That Old Black Magic - By Michelle Rowen Page 0,37
element to call, and his happened to be fire. He didn’t have a ton of power left in reserve—plus, he was feeling strangely weakened ever since the curse removal attempt—but he had enough to reduce this woman to a pile of ash if he was properly motivated. And seeing her press a knife against Eden’s throat was more than enough to properly motivate him.
He didn’t want Eden to tap into her black magic, but he knew it was only a matter of time. By the shade of her amulet, she couldn’t delve too deeply. Unfortunately, life or death situations like this called for a bit of delving.
“Who are you?” Brenda’s gaze shot toward him.
The guard stood up from behind the security desk. “What are you doing?”
“Mind your own business,” she hissed.
“Okay.” The guard’s eyes glazed over and he sat back down to begin fiddling with his computer.
“You’ve got some tricks up your sleeve,” Eden managed.
“A few. Now in case you didn’t hear me before, who the hell are you and what do you want with me?” The blade pressed closer, and Darrak was afraid to move too quickly or he might spook her. Black witches, even reluctant ones like Eden, were as easy to kill as a regular human. He wasn’t willing to risk her life.
Eden met Darrak’s gaze and concern tore through his gut. He hadn’t expected this, although he should have. If this chick was someone Lucifer wanted, that meant she was extremely dangerous.
“I’m Darrak.” He forced his tone down to one much calmer than he felt. “That’s Eden. A pleasure to meet you. Now, let go of her right now or I’m going to introduce you to Mr. Third-Degree Burn. He’s not so friendly.”
“Why are you looking for me?” she demanded. “And don’t tell me I just won the lottery.”
“Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes,” Darrak corrected. “Much cooler than any boring lottery. Did I mention there was going to be cake? Then you had to go and ruin all the fun.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Start talking or I’m going to slit her throat.”
The heat of his fire increased along with his temper. “You really don’t want to do that.”
“Maybe I’m feeling like I don’t have many choices here.”
“You’re right, you only have one choice and that’s to let Eden go. Not to quote from old TV shows, but you really don’t want to see me when I’m angry.”
People continued to walk steadily through the lobby, but were completely ignoring their standoff. This Brenda woman was able to work some sort of cloaking magic—much as she’d done to hide herself from Lucifer, he was sure, but on a smaller scale—and also she had the power of verbal influence over humans. Handy tricks, actually.
Suddenly, Darrak’s fire energy flickered and nearly went out.
Damn it, not now.
He was having difficulty maintaining what little power he had left. He wasn’t sure why he felt so off today. Demons didn’t suffer from ailments or illnesses. If they were injured, they healed quickly. But this didn’t seem as if it was from any specific injury.
The pain began in the center of his chest when they’d first arrived here and had slowly radiated outward. He barely noticed it until it now made it difficult to concentrate. Then it accelerated and felt as if something was attempting to claw itself out of his chest, tearing him in two pieces from the inside out.
Another wave of agony followed the first in rapid succession and was equal to what he’d felt that morning when he’d lost form. It knocked him right to his knees, and he braced his hands against the smooth marble floor. He gritted his teeth and tried to see past the white-hot flash before his eyes.
“Darrak!” Eden shrieked.
The other woman screamed as a wave of Eden’s black magic hit her and she flew backward across the lobby. A pain-filled glance up showed more dark veins spreading across Eden’s amulet.
Not good.
Also not good was the sensation that he was going to turn to smoke again at any moment. It took a lot of energy to maintain his corporeal form during the day, even with Eden’s celestial help. But he felt he had nothing in reserve. The well was dry.
He looked down at his hand, previously covered in fire from fingertip to elbow, as it turned to smoke before his eyes. This time, however, the smoke wasn’t only black. It was black and bright white—swirling together like a tornado.
What the hell?
A moment later the tearing pain eased off completely