Again it was repulsed. Which gave Ivan enough time to draw up an earth spell.
The tarmac cracked open between Ivan's feet. He spread his legs, but did not jump away from the mini-earthquake. Instead, he reached down to summon up the earth. Dirt particles swirled up and around the feet of the murk. The beast kicked at the growing coil of earth, and successfully jumped out of it. It romped around behind Ivan.
Sensing the murk building up to charge, Ivan lifted his hand high, commanding the earth in a sinuous arc over his head. The squeal of the murk satisfied him as a tornado of earth enveloped the creature in an inescapable straitjacket that tightened until bits of murk exploded through the sky.
Himself hissed. With a command, he brought up a raucous wave of white shadows from the crack in the earth. Ghosts. And not happy ones. These were pneumata vulnerata, spirits of the wrongfully murdered.
Ivan repulsed them easily enough, but even as he did so, he knew what Himself had in mind by sending lesser wraiths and ghosts at him. He was weakening Ivan, and that meant the biggest and baddest were yet to come.
Already he noticed a marked decrease in strength. He could not stand straight for the slash across his gut. He spat blood to the side.
The sight of Dez was all he needed to fortify his efforts. She would not be taken by Himself, forced to become the devil's bride.
Never.
Growling out in determination, Ivan swept the pneumata vulnerata from before him and sent them in a tangled twist of ectoplasm toward the ocean. Chalkboard-scratching cries rose from the shush of soft waves. Enough to give any grown man a fright.
Ivan thrust back his shoulders and planted his feet in the grass at the edge of the sidewalk. Wobbling, but standing, he sucked in a breath to clear his lungs. Narrowing his gaze on Himself, he silently conveyed he was ready.
"You think so?" Himself said. Wicked laughter shrilled up and down Ivan's spine. The shadow at his neck pierced deeply, bringing Ivan to his knees. "That's better, boy. Now, what is the proper address to your betters?"
Ivan clamped his jaw tight. He would not kowtow to Himself, after Dez had rightfully won her freedom and his soul. "Never," he growled.
"Then let's give this a try, shall we?"
Blood ghouls leapt out from the atmosphere, emerging through a part in the sky. They were shaped like hellhounds, hunchbacked and with long rangy legs, but they were twenty times more powerful, and thirsty for blood and meat.
Sharp, yellow teeth bit into Ivan's leg and pulled him flat, palms gripping at the rough tarmac. The pain in his ankle surpassed that of his shadow. Bones broke.This was going to be a long night.
Chapter 25.
W hen Ivan's mother and father gave birth to their son twenty-eight years ago, they knew he bore a horrible burden. They had done their best to raise him, instilling morals and a sense of all that is right.
They trained him so he could use his incredible vampire strength to protect not only himself but others who were less fortunate. As well, Nikolaus Drake had schooled him on the growing dissension between the witches and vampires. Some day, he warned Ivan, he might be called to stand between the two factions.
Ravin had worked with Ivan until his mastery of witchcraft surpassed all that she knew. When their son was sixteen the blood hunger emerged and he came into his vampirism. The infusion of blood to his wanting vampire soul strengthened him beyond measure.
Ivan Drake had become an incredible force upon this mortal earth.
But never before had he been forced to fight the legions of Hell.
Clothing shredded, and bleeding from every pore, Ivan staggered before Himself. Dez was still crushed against the devil's disgusting form, but her screams and struggles had worn her out. She'd watched helplessly as Ivan had been met with imps, demons, murks and dark denizens of every sort. And he'd mastered them all.
Until his body would not allow it.
Collapsing before his wicked master, Ivan struggled to keep his eyes open. Every part of his body felt open and raw. And yet, he did not feel anything. The bringer of pain had gone beyond pain. Numb, cold and...so hungry.
A single night as the fixer, shaking down marks and enforcing Himself's word always found him ravenous for blood. Now, after battling legions, he felt as though he needed to breathe in blood to survive. It was that essential. The taste of his own blood, copious and salty, merely teased.
"Extraordinary," Himself offered. Sepulchral and cold, the devil's voice crept over the open wounds on Ivan's body and pierced with that familiar prick to raw nerve ending. "You impress me, boy. I am really going to miss you."
Did that mean he had won?
Not so easily as this. It simply could not happen.
Give Dez to me. Release her.
The words formed in Ivan's brain, but he could not mouth them.
"Yes, she must be yours," Himself cooed. The prince of darkness spoke so softly now, the sound actually comforted Ivan.
"Completely yours. You are famished, vampire. So hard you have battled and with great success. You have mastered my legions.
And now you must restore your strength. I've blood for you."
"Yes," Ivan whimpered. "P-please."
"She will feed your ache. Take from her, Ivan Drake."
And he saw the crisp piece of paper Himself held in clenched talons, and recognized it as torn from the Grande Grimoire. Like parchment, the paper, and riddled with tiny script Ivan couldn't read from his ground-hugging sprawl. Crimson beaded across the page like a strand of rubies glinting in the moonlight.Himself crushed the page in his claws, twisting it. Blood rilled along the edge of the page.
What spell could it possibly be?
And Ivan intuitively knew. Her spell. The blood bond that tied Dez to the Grande Grimoire.
"No," Ivan managed.
She would not want this. She had been adamant about his not drinking her blood. No matter this was not from her body, but a mere page. He would not. He could not- Scent of flowers purled in the atmosphere. No, it was sweeter than any summertime blossom, juicy with fragrance. Ivan recognized it. Once before he'd accidentally cut her and the aroma had overwhelmed, seeping into him and becoming an insistent ache he would forevermore chase. Apricots.
"No," he moaned. He wanted to roll to the side, to look away from the bejeweled edge of the paper, but the fight had depleted him.
Such delicious crimson jewels shimmering above him.
"Yes," Himself whispered. "It is Desideriel Rosaline Merovech's blood pact written upon this page. Taste her. Consume her.
Take her completely and she is yours. I walk away. You have back your soul. I renege my bride to you."
She was never your bride, Ivan wanted to shout.
So weak. He could but think of moving. But thought did not manifest movement.
So...delicious...The bouquet of her life embraced Ivan. Must have blood. Dripping across his tongue, forging through his tattered body. Renew. Become. Make her yours.
Ivan summoned a lost store of energy and pushed up. Growling fiercely, he spread his mouth wide. A droplet of crimson parted from the paper. It fell as if through a fog, slowly, anticipation silencing Ivan's heartbeats and the sound of Himself's rigorous breathing.
The drop infused gorgeous fragrance into the night. It entered Ivan's senses even as it still plummeted downward. No devil's cancer could overwhelm the sweetness of her blood. Exploding within him, the scent, the taste, the dream of Dez's life.
I belong to no one. If you drink my blood, you would take a part of me I am not willing to grant.
"No!"
Slapping away the blood droplet as it neared his face, Ivan crawled forward and landed on the dew-and ash-laden grass, where legions of demons had just been exterminated. He would die of hunger before he would consume a drop of Dez's blood.
"Stubborn, resistant fool! You have been this way since the first day I seized your miserable soul."
The thud of Dez's body landing on the ground near Ivan made him want to weep. Dead or alive?
"I chose incorrectly," Himself hissed. "What a waste of time. That is the last time I try to manipulate a fixer from the womb. Bah!"
The midnight bells began to ring in the Catholic church down the street. A call to Willow Cove to settle in for the night. A reminder of the greater powers that comforted and guided all souls.
A wicked deterrent to the devil Himself.Himself stormed about and clomped off. His strides took up speed and he quickly changed into a ball of fire that rocketed down the road and out of the town.
"Oh goodness!"
Ivan managed to lift himself on his elbows. Elise Henderson stood before him, lavender skirts shimmying about her narrow ankles.
Strappy sandals exposed red-polished toenails. She dropped a matching lavender purse near her lavender shoe.
The crumpled, bloodied page from the grimoire sat but a pace away on the grass.
Hell, the last thing Ivan needed was a civilian discovering what had gone on here. Though Dez needed immediate attention, he would not be responsible for the one act that resulted in the mortals finally having proof of vampires.
Beyond the alcohol-laden scent of old lady cologne, he fixed to the aroma of the woman's blood. Not sweet, but mellow and aged. Appetizing, for his hunger did not relent. And he didn't take a moment to struggle with morals.
"Help," he muttered, and reached up for Elise.
She knelt and began to fuss over him. "What's happened to the two of you? Were you robbed? Oh dear, you're bleeding, Mr.
Drake. And your clothes; it's as if you've been mauled. Oh...I feel so...warm suddenly. You're-what are you doing, Mr.
Drake? The way you're looking at me. It's been so long since a man...has...looked..."
Ivan latched on to Elise's neck. It was quick. Clean. He persuaded her into a dream of a long-lost lover come home from the war.
One she had often, but it usually ended in tragedy. This night he gave her the happy ending she desired.
And, too, he whispered of her beauty. That never must she tamper with her appearance. Wrinkles or no, she would always shine.
And when he'd drunk enough to rise to his feet and stand-but not nearly enough to sufficiently heal-Ivan lifted Elise's lax body and carried her to a park bench. She'd wake in a while with no memory of the bite he'd licked to warrant a fast healing. And perhaps she'd smile at the memory of her dream.
"May all your shadows be cursed," he said.
Staggering, he then turned to Dez, who sat with legs sprawled. Hair tousled about her weary face. Her lace dress was torn from hip to ankle. Blood shimmered at her neck, coagulated pearls of crimson. Must have been cut with a talon. Such a devastating sight.
Apricots. Sweet, sweet...
Ivan bit hard on his lip. The lingering taste of Elise's blood would not serve to repulse his hunger.
"No." He squeezed a fist and looked to the sky.
He'd taken blood. It would serve him for a while.
Dez lunged for the crumpled paper and spread it open. "My blood bond to the grimoire. It's been removed."
"What does that mean?"
"The page is still intact, so I'm not sure. Had the blood been drained, or a mere drop drunk..." She looked up to him. "Why didn't you take it?"
"It would have brought your death," he guessed.
She nodded. "I'm not sure what will happen now. I don't think I'm bound to the book. Where, where is the grimoire? That black demon lied!"
Halfway to standing, Dez's body was thrust back against the wall of her shop. A force chuffed out her breath and her arms curled about something heavy and big.
"The grimoire," Ivan said. He swept back his wet hair and offered to take it from her, which Dez relinquished gratefully. "Let's get this back to your house and safely tucked away."
"The Protection spell." She splayed open the book in Ivan's arms. Pages fluttered beneath his chin. "I'll do it right now. If it's still here. It's what the Gray Council wants, yes?"
"Yes, we are prepared for its reversal. Dez, are you all right? You've been through so much. This can wait."
She shoved the book into his grip. "Hold this. It must be done now before that bastard comes back for round three."
And she drew her finger across the page, nodding as she murmured the tones, remembering, pulling into her spirit the instant so long ago when first she'd crafted this spell.
A sweet tone vibrated in her throat. Dez tossed back her head and thrust out her arms as she called upon the world, the elements, and the very web of the witch nation.
It didn't last long. Ivan felt a pulling sensation within him, as if his blood were being sucked toward his pores, and it quieted as Dez hummed the final tones.
The world became very still.
Dez stood, head bowed, her hands out and shaking. "Forgive me if this destroys my fellow witches," she said. "I feel it is right, as I felt so many centuries ago that creating the spell was right. We are strong. We can overcome and renew. If presented with a challenge we will find a new way to accept and embrace it. All things have a cycle. This cycle is complete."
"It is complete," Ivan agreed.
Wide green eyes held his. No smile in the irises, but a sense of accomplishment brightened them fiercely. Dez nodded at Ivan. It truly was complete.
"Now to put this away for safekeeping, until I can find a replacement to take guardianship."
Chanting the seclusion spell, she swept the book out from this world and into that other realm which she kept close and where she stored all her pertinent supplies.
"You did it." Ivan swept her into his arms.