Pure & Sinful (Pure Souls) - By Killian McRae Page 0,84

is so great, considering. Oh, what a day I’m having.” He twirled the dagger in his grip. “I get a Keystone and a shiny new toy.”

“How dare you lay your putrid hands upon it!” Ramiel growled, his voice becoming like thunder in the small space. “You’re not worthy…”

“The Keystone gave it to me willingly,” Lucifer snapped back, as he again looked at the blade in his hand more scrupulously. “Hmm… Not as big as I remember it. I’m actually really under-impressed.”

Jerry couldn’t help himself. “I bet women say that to you all the time.”

As though realizing he’d revealed himself, Jerry’s hands flew over his mouth. But it was too late. His pun had drawn Lucifer’s examination, and the devil could see the truth plainly in the unnatural blue of his eyes.

“You!” Lucifer hissed. “How the fuck did you get out of that cell?”

Jerry jerked his head in Ramiel’s direction. “A little divine intervention.”

“That’s impossible! Angels can’t descend into Hell.”

Jerry shrugged. “I found a loophole. You know, kind of like the ones I’ve been finding you for centuries. Wise up, bitch. I’m going state’s evidence now.”

Hellfire ran through Lucifer’s veins, casting an eerie red glow that crawled over the surface of his skin. “I keep telling you, demon, the road to Hell is a one-way street. Ain’t no getting out of my service. I own your soul. All I have to do is uncouple you from that body and you’re on a beeline for Beelzebubland. And, as a bonus, I get to kill the Pure Soul whose body you’re using, so yay me.”

Lucifer’s arm whipped back, and it didn’t take Riona but a moment to see what was going to happen. On impulse, her magic took command, like the day it had in the freezer, long ago, when she walked through a wall without even knowing how. Instinct willed her body to do the impossible before her mind could come up to speed.

She flashed, her corporeal being melting to mist, only to reform itself dead on in front of Jerry.

Just in time to catch the dagger in her chest.

Jerry vied with the carpet-covered floor for the right to catch Riona from her fall. He barely won. The blood, oh goddesses atop Olympus, the blood… She was bathed in it. He could hear her heart, wild with the excitement and racing to save a body rapidly oozing life. The dagger had lodged itself just under her right breast, and likely pierced a lung, guaranteeing her but a few minutes to cling to this world. The witch gasped like a goldfish forced from its bowl, every labored breath leaving more dark red dots on her chin.

Marc was beside her in a moment, holding her hand, covering it in kisses and tears. Jerry, dumbfounded, flanked her other side, looking at the damage done by the sacrifice the witch had made of her own body to save his pitiful self.

“Stupid, stupid,” he found himself uttering mindlessly. “I’m already dead. I’m already fucking dead.”

But Riona wasn’t paying any attention to him; her eyes, wet and dimming, were focused on Lucifer. “Blood…” she uttered as her hand skimmed her chest, leaving a sanguine smear across her fingertips. “Must… seal… agreement…”

“Yes!” Lucifer leapt, trying to make his way to Riona. “She must agree with a mixing of blood before she dies, or the exchange is void. Let me!”

Marc and Jerry together outstretched their hands, as though thinking with one head. “Minxia verbaet!” they chanted in unison. The repelling charm gave the devil a walloping punch in the chest, strong enough to land him on his back.

“I won’t let you take my place,” Marc promised as he pushed Riona’s hand against his cheek. Her fingertips left patches of red on his brow. “I love you, Riona Dade. You hear that? I don’t care if I’m going to Hell, I love you.”

She smiled with effort. “Me too, that’s… why… I must.”

Marc’s eyes turned steely as he got Jerry in his crosshairs. “You still inside there, demon?”

“Yeah.”

“You truly love her?”

Jerry nodded. “I do.”

A confused Lucifer picked himself up off of the floor, shaking his head and blinking rapidly.

Marc’s expression shifted as he lay Riona’s hand back on her chest, his fingers wrapping around the handle of the dagger that rolled and jutted in time with each agonized breath the witch drew. If he didn’t do this now, he might lose the chance.

“Dee has the ability to heal her,” Marc uttered as he flexed his arm and drew the dagger from her