20. Mayhem

"Son of a bitch," Shade ground out.

"No! Son of Balor." The voice came from deeper in the room.

"Can you freeze him?" I asked as we rushed toward the sound.

Shade stopped, still bent forward and clutching his stomach, and pulled a bottled spell from his pocket. "If we can find him."

Blood soaked his shirt, and he paled. "The bastard got me good."

"Not a bastard." The slap, slap, slap of his shoes on the tile moved toward the showroom door. "Dad was king. Mom was queen."

A thud sounded from the aisle littered with boxes. The door swung open and slammed shut. I charged for it, but the handle wouldn't turn.

"Those who can't pay have to stay." George laughed maniacally from the other side. "Time to drain my witches."

"Over my rotting corpse." I slammed my shoulder against the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"Step aside." Chaos braced himself to break down the door. His brow furrowed, and he paused before turning the knob. The door swung open easily.

"It's this damn bracelet." I hooked a talon beneath the offending silver and pulled. The snake writhed and tightened, taking more of its tail into its mouth.

Shade stumbled through the door. I reached a hand out, testing the Formorian's spell, and my arm passed the threshold. I stepped through as if there were no spell at all. His magic was waning. Good.

Miles stood in front of the women, a knife in one hand, his phone in the other. "Sha—?" He closed his mouth before he could finish the name. Concern furrowed his brow, and he cut his gaze between the now visible creature and the shadow witch.

"It's a gut wound. He'll bleed out slowly." George wrinkled his pig-like snout, sniffing the air. "Move, witch. Father needs to eat."

I lunged for the Formorian. He disappeared in a blink and reformed behind Miles, crouching over Ember and pressing his snout to her mouth. Miles spun, swinging his knife. George disintegrated again, reforming in an instant.

Chaos moved for Ash and dragged her away from the wall. She kicked and screamed, begging to return to her place amongst the corpses.

Every swing, lunge, and jab I threw at George, he dodged, returning his snout to my witch's mouth faster than anything I'd seen. Ember's pallor grew pale. Dark circles ringed her eyes as he sucked the life out of her.

Shade threw the binding spell at the creature and recited the incantation. George merely laughed and continued devouring my soulmate.

Fire ignited in my hands, licking up my arms until my entire body was ablaze. I hurled a ball of hellfire at the beast, hitting him in the back of his head.

He squealed like the pig he was and spun to face me. "Hellfire burns. Don't do that."

He waved his arm, and a wall began to grow from the floor. He strained with the effort, the grimace contorting his face making him look like a clone of Balor.

I shot a stream of hellfire from my palms, blasting the growing wall. Fire billowed around it, lighting a rack of shirts ablaze.

"Brother…" Chaos laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You'll burn the place down."

"Our witches are immune to fire." The blaze leaped from the shirts to a shelf of folded jeans. "M, take S outside and tend to his wounds. I'm ending this now."

Ash wiggled from his grasp and returned to her spot along the wall.

"If you vanquish him, our witches will be stuck in their trance forever." Chaos tugged my arm, lowering it as the fire consumed the wall and spread throughout the store.

"Call it back," he said. "There is another way." He held up the phone Mile's had handed him. "Angus, son of Balor."

The Formorian froze, turning to my brother. "Angus is an imbecile. He was the first of the royal family to die."

I took the phone. Twenty-three names filled the screen. I called my fire back, the flames rolling into my being, leaving charred bits of leather and fabric in its wake.

"Cormac," I growled the next name on the list.

"No, no. I'll drain them both before you guess it." He turned to Ember and pressed his snout to her mouth again.

She groaned, and my stomach wrenched. "Eachan, Duncan, Cian," I shouted.

My witch's cheeks began to sink in. A vise squeezed my heart. I swiped my thumb on the screen, scrolling to the last name on the list. "Donal, son of Balor, you will release the witches at once."

He jerked his head away from Ember, his body stiffening, a hiss escaping his mouth.

"Donal," I said again, "release the witches now."

"You…can't…make….me," he strained against the magic taking hold.

"Donal," Chaos said, his chest rumbling with his growl as he approached the Formorian. "Release them."

Ember's head lolled to the side, and she slumped to her left, leaning against Ash's shoulder.

"Turn around, Donal," I said, and he groaned, fighting my command as he faced me.

Shade collapsed behind me, and Miles grabbed Ash's bag, yanking the strap over her head as she sat there in a daze, a maddening smile plastered on her face.

Donal disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Show yourself," my brother and I said in unison. Donal reappeared and vanished again.

Miles dragged Shade next to Ember and rummaged through the bag, cursing as he looked at bottle after bottle.

"I will not play this game, Donal," I shouted. "Show yourself and do not disappear again."

The Formorian appeared next to Ash, taking her head in his hands.

"For goddess's sake," Miles grumbled and blew a powder on the creature. "Standing tall or on your knees, in the name of the goddess, I force you, Donal, to freeze."

A wheeze escaped his throat, but this time, the magic held. I wrapped my talons around the insolent being's neck and jerked him away from the women. Ember slumped even more, falling into Ash's lap, and the vise gripping my heart nearly burst it.

"Tell me there is something in that bag to help my witch."

"I'm looking, but…" Miles turned it upside down and dumped the contents onto the floor. "I don't know. I don't know what he did to her. I…" He held up a bottle triumphantly, and hope sprung in my heart.

He turned to Shade and lifted his shirt, wincing at the three-inch puncture wound before pouring the yellow liquid onto his skin.

"Ember needs your help. Her state is dire." I kneeled in front of her, dragging the Formorian down with me.

"I know it is, but I know how to help S. I have no idea what to do for her. That's Ash's department." He recited an incantation, and Shade's bleeding slowed. "He'll need stitches."

With Donal's throat firmly in my grasp, I used my other hand to brush the hair from Ember's face. She didn't move, didn't react to my touch. "Take him, brother."

Chaos grabbed Donal's arm and hauled him up before clutching his throat. "Release the witches, Donal."

"He can't while he's frozen," Miles said.

I pulled Ember into my lap and brushed the hair from her forehead. The strands felt dry and brittle, her skin like worn leather. I laid a hand on her breast, searching for the rise and fall of her chest. It moved only slightly, her breathing slow and shallow, but she was still alive.

If she did not make it through this, I would never recover. After I burned the Formorian and shit on his ashes, I would beg Lucifer to end my life. I could not exist without my witch…and this was my fault entirely.

I should have paid attention to the signs. I should have noticed the vibration was off in this store the moment I stepped through the door. A sob rolled up from the core of my being, thickening my throat and making my eyes sting.

"I'm so sorry, my love." I kissed her withered forehead and turned my livid gaze on the motionless Formorian. "Undo your spell so he can release them."

Miles recited an undoing spell, and Donal gasped, clawing at Chaos's hand as he dangled from his grip.

"Release the witches, Donal," I growled.

"Never. I am Donal, Prince of the Formorians. My power is greater than yours."

"Release them, Donal," Chaos said.

The creature continued his struggle.

"Donal, let them go." Miles threaded a needle through Shade's wound.

The shadow witch winced and spoke through clenched teeth. "Do it, Donal. Let them go."

The Formorian groaned.

"Let them go," the four of us repeated again, and Donal let out a breath, his body going slack.

Ash gasped and blinked, confusion clouding her eyes as she took in the scene. "What…? Ember!" She crawled toward us and clutched her sister's hand in hers. "Oh, my goddess."

Ash held her fingers beneath Ember's nose. "She's barely breathing. What did you do to her?"

I gazed at my feisty witch, Chaos's command to answer her barely registering in my senses as my beautiful warrior exhaled a final breath.

* * *

Fate certainly is a fickle witch.

Don't miss Mastering Mayhem, book 6 of the Fire Witches of Salem Series…