the metal down his arm? “Let me have that, please?”
CJ viciously slashed it toward her, and she avoided getting cut only by dodging and landing hard on her elbow. Throaty coos of pleasure sickened the demon’s laughter. He slammed his fist against the wall and dragged his knuckles slowly, peeling away the flesh.
“Stop it! You’re hurting him.”
“And so I must,” the demon growled. “It feels so good, yes? Ah, delicious pain.”
“Pain,” she muttered, wincing that this man must be tortured by something so hideous.
“Torn flesh is orgasmic,” he intoned as if in the throes of wicked pleasure. “Come closer, red witch. Me want to share the witch’s pain with you.”
“If you kill him, then what will you do? No one to torture with your sick games.”
“Me won’t kill him. He’s a healing spell tattooed here.” The demon snapped out Certainly’s arm, displaying the bloodied tattoo on his biceps, the shirtsleeve torn away from the shoulder seam. “He used me to get to Daemonia. Now I shall use him well.”
“What does that mean? He used you?”
“Pain inflicted upon others.”
The demon cackled and slammed the metal piece across CJ’s leg, cutting through the heavy jean fabric. CJ’s body reacted, stiffening, and he howled, but the cry was accompanied by the demon’s macabre smile.
He felt everything, Vika knew, but could only witness, not control.
“Blood must be shed to enter the place of all demons,” Pain said. “This dark witch shed much.” He leaned forward, his wet hair hanging like black oil across his face. “You don’t think the vampire goes painlessly with the stake, eh?”
“Of course not, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Certainly would never harm—” Vampires? Staked? Had CJ—
The demon’s laughter exploded, as did CJ. He leaped up, hooked an arm in Vika’s and swung her about, then pushed. She tumbled toward the stairwell, yet grasped the railing before soaring headfirst down the steps.
He lifted her as if she were but a doll and kicked open the roof door.
Vika grabbed the iron rail and managed to hold long enough to tug the demon off balance. He clattered down the stairs, releasing her to fall onto the top step. The demon cursed her and scrambled up behind her. This time he tossed her over a shoulder.
“Slippery little witch. Let’s try the next stairs together. Your bones can break my fall, and my fall will break your bones!”
Through the inky darkness, he charged toward the stairway. His boots slipped from the wetness, and he stumbled, slamming them both against the wall at the head of the stairs.
Vika kicked—clutching the nail at her neck—and connected her heel with the back of his knee, and found her freedom. She grabbed the doorknob to his home and said blessings it was open. Inside, she dashed toward the center of the loft. All was dark. The crystals tittered with her frantic movement. There would be no safety here unless the electricity returned.
But there were the sigils placed on the walls, floor and counters by the protection demon. She raced to a wall where a red spray-painted sigil depicted something she couldn’t translate. What the hell did it protect?
The pain demon tracked the dark room with Certainly’s eyes, sniffing, clutching the air with his fingers in anticipation of finding her. He could use only the witch’s senses, and those were not as heightened as those of a corporeal demon who could assume his own form in this realm.
Suddenly the lights flickered. Vika slammed against the fridge, searching the constellation above. It had been only a flicker.
“Lumos!” she tried. Stretching out her fingers to connect with the latent electricity in the air, she scoured the ether.
Nothing.
She couldn’t see CJ or hear his demonic passenger lurking, but he must be close. Despite the floor-to-ceiling windows, the loft was dark. It clattered with crystals that shivered as if as fearful as she felt right now.
Stupid to have come up here after the concierge had told her the electricity was out.
“Asking for trouble,” she muttered, and made her way along the kitchen counter. Her fingers glided before the knife stand. She considered arming herself but decided the demon would have the weapon out of her hand and to her throat in but a blink. She had a more powerful weapon.
Whispering a command and forcing her earth magic through her fingers, she sent a stream of phosphorescence before her. It whipped through the loft, snaking below the chandeliers and illuminating, if but for a moment, its surroundings.