This Wicked Magic - By Michele Hauf Page 0,94

to Daemonia, and I’ll give you one soul ringer’s soul in exchange.”

CJ had promised Vika he would never return to Daemonia. And the damned whistle was broken. Did the demon want it in pieces? So much to consider, and not the time or place to do so when War stared him down.

“It must be a specific soul,” CJ said. “One belonging to Reichardt Fallowgleam.”

“His complete name?”

“Kryatron, Angel of the Seventh Soul.” Cinder had been a member of the angelic ranks at one time; he had come through for CJ.

“Gratitude in the form of my release to Daemonia.” He considered it. “Then we’ve a bargain. And I will have that promised kiss from the red witch.”

CJ nodded. “Someday.”

War spread out Grim’s arms, lifting his head and closing his eyes. “Commence!”

Using the blade, CJ drew a pentacle in the air before the demon-possessed warlock and recited the Latin exorcism rites. The body took the force of his rede, plunging against the wall. Grim cried out as War was forced out and back to Daemonia. The warlock collapsed forward, catching his palms in a bloody smear across the cobbles before CJ’s feet.

“No!” Grim cried as CJ strode away. “Get the other out! I can’t control it. It’ll kill me to serve its desire for pain!”

“I doubt that,” CJ called back. “It’ll spare your life in order to use it over and over, even if it has to grind you to the core. You’d best get yourself to a Catholic church before Pain tears off all your skin. See you around, Grim. Next time, let’s do this the gentleman’s way and make it official dueling rules, yes?”

Veering toward the Metro station, CJ now had a new mission.

* * *

“You know, we’re cleaning up your boyfriend’s mess.” Libby tossed a severed werewolf head into the black bag.

“It’s not CJ’s mess—nor is it his fault.” How werewolves had gotten into the mix, Vika did not want to know.

“He let the warlock take the last demons from him. They, in turn, created this mess. Seems like it’s the dark witch’s fault to me.”

Vika looked up from sweeping up a pile of vampire ash sodden with blood. She blew a strand of hair from her face that had escaped the Tyvek cap. “This, coming from the chick whose boyfriend stole my soul?”

Libby gaped. “He was only doing what he promised! What he was owed!”

“Seriously, Libby?”

Her sister’s defensive posture deflated, and Libby knelt next to the werewolf’s headless body. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just feel so—”

“Cranky?”

“Yes. And bitchy. That’s so not like me. It’s what not having a soul is like, isn’t it?”

“I hope not. But I feel the same. Not right. And so cold.”

“Me, too. I need a sweater and it’s seventy degrees out. Hand me that foot. I’ll stuff it in this bag.”

Vika did so and shivered at contact with her sister’s skin. If she had wondered what having no soul would mean to them, she had to look no further than Libby. Her sister was growing hard inside, adamantine. She was sinking, and Vika didn’t know what to do to pull her to the surface. Because she was sinking right beside her, both failing to clutch on to the life raft neither could see.

She wondered, with futile hope, if CJ were having any luck contacting Reichardt. And then she cursed herself for wishing such a thing. She had meant it when she’d told CJ she would not tolerate him trading his soul for theirs. At least one of them in this relationship must retain a soul.

If it could be considered a relationship now. I don’t want a lover without a soul, either.

He may be finished with her. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d not had her say, a chance to fight for what she wanted. And what she wanted was Certainly Jones.

“Let’s hurry,” she said. “I suddenly need to know what CJ is up to.”

“Hopefully, he’s trying to get us out of this mess.”

“Yes, but at a risk to his own soul? I couldn’t abide such a thing.”

Libby sighed. “True. He’s suffered enough. And we did get ourselves in this mess by consorting with the soul bringer.”

Vika lifted an eyebrow. The true meaning of her sister’s statement soared completely over her head.

Libby gestured to the back of the hearse. “I can roll the vacuum over the vamp ash if you want to go.”

“No, I’ll help you finish. It’ll be faster that way.”

* * *

CJ located the place where he’d found Vika in the train station

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