CHAPTER TWELVE

"She's going to steal my soul."

Ella stared at the human male opposite her, words failing her. Neve had texted his address earlier, adding, This one is weird even for me. I leave it in your capable hands.

Ella had to admit she'd been curious. And so here she was, sitting at his kitchen island while he stood on the other side of it. Brock was his name. Only twenty years old, he still lived with his parents and was home for his college break.

He was also presently a nervous wreck—biting at his lips, rubbing his nape, tugging at his tousled brown hair, restlessly rocking back and forth on his heels.

"She comes every night," he said, a tremor to his voice. "It doesn't matter what I do, it doesn't matter that I removed all the mirrors and that I've covered all reflective surfaces." Desperation glinted in his slanted, green eyes. "She always finds a way in."

"Who?"

He hesitated before blurting out, "Bloody Mary."

Oh, Lord. Her demon shot him a look of contempt. It urged Ella to leave; felt they had better shit to do and bigger things to deal with. Like tracking their annoying pen pal, or even heading off to see Viper, who she hadn't heard from since he'd called two days ago.

"You don't believe me," the human mumbled, a self-depreciating smile curving his mouth.

"I don't think you're lying." She believed something was going on. But the real Bloody Mary had merely been a witch who died a long, long time ago. The legend that had built around her wasn't something to be taken seriously. "All sorts of things happen in this world that we don't understand," she added vaguely.

Mollified, he shoved a hand into his hair. "Neve said you can break curses. She said anyone could do it, really, if they had training in herbs and rituals and stuff. I don't. And I'm going to die unless you help me."

She tilted her head. "How is it that you came to be cursed?" She almost stumbled over the latter word, quite sure no such issue was at play here.

A flush crept up his neck and face. "It was my own fault. You don't mess with this kind of stuff, I know that. But I didn't believe it would really work. I said her name in front of a mirror six times while holding a candle."

"And she appeared?"

"Not in the mirror right then. She came that night. She comes every night. Each time, she moves that little bit closer." He swallowed, absently fisting his tee, fear a flickering flame in his gaze. "Soon, she'll be close enough to touch me. Then it's game over."

Her demon gave an exaggerated eyeroll as it let out a sigh weighted with boredom. "When was it that you invoked her?"

"Five days ago. It was a dare. I was at a party, and someone dared me to do it."

Ella squinted. "This someone. Who was it?"

"Oh, my ex-girlfriend, PJ." He waved off her interest, as if the mention of his ex didn't matter. He gave Ella a pleading look. "Can you help me?"

"What time does Mary usually come here?"

"Always midnight."

Ella planted her lower arms on the surface of the island. "Okay, here's what we'll do. You'll pack some things and go to a hotel for the night. I'll perform a blessing here that will undo the curse."

Relief crossed his face first, but then his brow wrinkled. "I can't be here for that?"

Nope, but such a response would make him suspicious, so she replied, "You can if you want. I'm just thinking you might wish to skip having to smell all the herbs and listen to lots of chanting. It's not a quick or quiet process. The scents can give people headaches, and you're unlikely to get any sleep."

An O shaped his mouth. "Well, I'm happy to sleep elsewhere. But … are you sure she won't come to wherever I am?"

"I'll have broken the curse before midnight, but I'll stay here until then. Text me after midnight, let me know if she has come to you. If she has, I'll drive straight to your hotel." Ella rattled off her number, which he saved to his cell, and then slipped off her stool. "I'm going to get my ritual bag out of the trunk. You go pack whatever you need for your stay at the hotel."

Once both held their respective bag, Brock said, "I'll leave you to it." He cleared his throat. "Thanks for this. It will definitely work?"

"It will work," she assured him.

He didn't seem entirely convinced, but he did appear hopeful. After he'd driven away, Ella tossed what was really just an overnight bag on the sofa. She always kept it in her car, just in case a job required her to stick around awhile. It did contain herbs and stuff, but they were really just for show.

Following the directions he'd earlier given her, she went upstairs to Brock's bedroom to check it out. It would have been easy enough to identify without his help, what with all the sports posters, the dirty male laundry, and the collage of pictures featuring him and many other people his age.

Ella eyed his closet doors. They were slatted, so she'd be able to spy through them if there was enough space in there. A quick look showed that, yes, she could fit. When the time approached that Mary would show, Ella could hide in there to wait.

She'd just shut the closet doors when her phone beeped. Pulling it out of her pocket, she glanced at the screen. Her pulse leaped. She had a text from Viper.

Ignoring the butterflies fluttering excitedly in her stomach—someone really needed to shoot the little fuckers—she pressed the pad of her thumb on the screen to unlock it and then opened the message.

A redhead walked into my club just now. For a moment, I thought it was you. Almost went over there, thinking you'd finally come to me.

The idea of him approaching another woman shouldn't have embedded a shard of jealousy in her chest. Frustrated at herself, she typed: Maybe you should still go over there. I'm sure she'd see to your needs.

A reply came fast: I want you.

Her demon's mouth curled. Ella didn't smile—she was too busy cursing her belly for doing a happy little flip. I never would have guessed, you hid it well.

I'm subtle, I know.

Her lips quirked, the traitors.

What are you doing now?

Ella left the bedroom as she responded: Nothing very interesting. I'm on a job.

So late at night?

It happens sometimes.

Stop by the club on your way home.

Narrowing her eyes, she jogged down the stairs. You're a tenacious bastard, aren't you? And, honestly, all that tenaciousness was annoyingly attractive while directed at her this way.

When I want something bad enough, yes.

In the living room, she sank onto the sofa. You've already had me.

Three dots danced. I want you again. Stop by the club.

She groaned, far too tempted despite her better judgement. I won't finish up here until a little after twelve anyway.

I'll still be here.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She was so close to caving. So very, very close. And she would bet he knew it.

Dropping her hand back to her lap, she opened her eyes to find a new message: Come to me, Ella.

Oh, fuck him sideways. Because every time he said that, every time he coaxed her that way and she imagined him saying it in that gravelly voice, parts of her went tingly and warm.

She needed to end this conversation. I have to go . I have work to do. Go do club stuff, whatever that is.

When no reply came, Ella plonked her cell on the coffee table. The man was a sexual nuisance, in her opinion.

Her demon didn't agree. As a matter of fact, it felt she was stupid for not just succumbing to temptation already. But then, by nature, it had no problem doing such a thing.

At this point, honestly, Ella was struggling to hold out. Mostly because it seemed senseless when she was pretty sure she'd give in eventually.

It wasn't really him being an angel that made her hesitate. Not anymore. Nor was it that he was a practical stranger. It was how unnerving it was that he could so easily sway her.

It was like he knew what mental buttons to press, what words to use, what physical hot spots to target.

She had been braced to resist him at the club … but then he'd crowded her, touched her, whispered to her. All kinds of sexual levers had gotten flicked, and then she'd found herself thinking a fuck in the dark with a relative stranger wouldn't be so bad.

She could have a firm opinion in mind … but he could blow holes in it. Could have her looking at things from a different angle; could make her second guess her stance. And then she'd be thinking that maybe it wasn't a big deal for angels and demons to mix.

She had been set on ignoring any further advances on his part … but then he'd begun texting and calling her, flattering her demon with his attention, luring her with little phrases that went straight to her core. And now she was thinking it wouldn't really be so bad to go get herself some.

Ugh.

Inwardly shaking her head at herself, Ella inhaled deeply. She wouldn't think about it anymore tonight. She needed to focus on the present situation.

She flicked a look at the wall clock. It would be a few hours before Mary arrived and Ella would need to ‘lift the curse'. She figured she could watch some TV while she waited.

Ella switched it on and pulled up a movie on the streaming service. She had no intention of falling asleep. But her eyelids became heavy and she eventually nodded off …

Everleigh paced up and down in the kitchen of her home, refusing to look at the man who claimed to love her yet seemed set on keeping her at arm's length. "Why don't you trust me?" She heard the hurt lacing her voice.

"I do trust you," he promised her. "I don't trust many people, but I do trust you. I wouldn't have told you who I am if I didn't."

Yeah, learning that had been a shock. Especially when she'd assumed he was just an average angel. Halting, Everleigh turned to him. "Then why not tell me about the curse as well?"

"I already have."

"No, you told me a curse would befall you when you left heaven. You have not explained what that means." She'd asked and asked, but he'd evaded the question each time. "It can't be worse than what my imagination has conjured up."

He gave her a sober look. "Don't be so sure."

"There's only one way either of us can be sure." She crossed to him. "Tell me about it."

A resigned sigh slid out of him, and his shoulders lowered. "Something happens to angels who fall, Everleigh. It changes them. Twists them. Turns them into a kind of monster."

A loud beep pierced her sleep, making a dozen cracks spiderweb through the scene in her mind. She groaned, feeling her dream slip away image by image, word by word, thought by thought.

Ella opened her eyes, her brows meeting. She rubbed at her throat. It felt thick with emotion, as if she'd been sad during the dream. She frowned, striving to dredge up snippets of it. None came to her, annoyingly.

Realizing it had been the arrival of another text message that had woken her, Ella sat up and reached for her phone. The message was from Neve: Is Brock's situation as weird as it seemed?

Checking the time, she swore. It was 11:45pm. She had fifteen minutes before Mary would appear. I'll soon find out , she texted.

Ella tossed her cell back on the table, pushed off the sofa, and then went upstairs. Inside Brock's bedroom, she confined herself in his closet. There she waited, still and quiet, alert for any noise.

It was when 12am hit that she heard it. The slightest buzzing sound. It was coming from the en suite bathroom, and she recognized it as being the sign of a portal opening. Not one that enabled people to travel from realm to realm, only from spot to spot within this realm.

Ella would need to act quickly to subdue her visitor or they'd escape her clutches by opening another portal. She called to her magick, not yet bringing it to the surface of her palms but letting it dance beneath her skin. The magick would otherwise be seen and heard; would glow through the door slats and slice through the silence with all its crackling and zapping.

The light patter of bare feet on tile came next. Each step was slow, deliberate, taunting. The bathroom door lazily creaked open, and mist spilled out of the room.

Mary then came into view. Petite. Dark-haired. Clothed in only a ratty nightgown that, like her hair and every visible inch of her skin, was streaked with blood.

Ella acted fast. She burst out of the closet and unleased her magick, chanting quietly as the shimmering ribbons of red, green, and yellow rushed at Mary and snapped around her like a full-body straightjacket.

"The fuck?" the newcomer burst out.

Ella gave her a polite smile. "Hello." She walked over to Mary, easily noticing the spell that clung to her. Ella didn't need to take any time to ‘read', it, she'd seen many such spells before.

She focused on unraveling the magickal threads, picking at them; unwinding them; tearing them. Finally, they fell away … and the vision before her altered in an instant. The petite woman's face morphed into another, her lank black hair turned a shiny golden-blonde, her old-style gown became pajamas dotted with tiny sheep, and every streak and dot of blood vanished from her body.

"Nice glamor spell," Ella praised. "You're PJ, Brock's ex, I'm guessing. And a demon to boot." A fellow incantor, as it happened. "But I imagine he doesn't know that last part."

PJ bared her teeth, struggling to free herself from Ella's magickal hold. A hold so secure that it prevented PJ's own magick from rushing to her rescue. "Let me go."

"Just why did you want him to believe that he'd invoked a vengeful spirit?" asked Ella.

PJ jutted out her chin. "He deserved it. He fooled around with my best friend, and then he lied to me about it."

Ah. "That makes him an asshole for sure. But all this? A little melodramatic, don't you think?"

PJ's ears turned red.

"Look, I don't judge those who seek revenge. I do the same myself. But he hired my services, and I don't let down my clients."

"You can't make me stop."

Ella gave her a hard smile. "Of course I can. I wouldn't have taken the job if I wasn't sure I could deliver on my promise to ensure the ‘curse' is undone. For instance, I can make it so that no glamor spells—whether cast by you or anyone else—ever work on you again."

PJ's lips parted, a reluctant admiration flaring in her eyes. "No way."

"Yep way. Is he worth that?"

Her shoulders slumped. "No," she mumbled.

"Don't you think you've scared him enough? Do you really see a need to drag it out any longer?"

"He really pissed me off," she groused.

"I can tell. But I'd say you've had your revenge. And surely you have better things to do with your evenings than come here every night. You're giving him way too much of your time."

PJ grunted, a that's true look on her face. "Fine, I'll stop."

Ella flicked a hand, freeing the other woman from her magickal hold, and then held out the aforementioned hand. "I'm going to need you to shake on it."

PJ blinked, realization dawning on her. "You're going to bind me to my word, aren't you?"

"Correct."

"Devious. Brilliantly so." She placed her hand in Ella's. "I really don't want to like you, but it's happening anyway."

Ella's magick sparked from her to PJ, who solemnly swore she'd leave Brock alone from now on. The magick then sank into PJ's skin, stamping the promise to her body; ensuring it could never be broken.

As always when it came to spells, Ella tangled it with a few others so that it would take a lot of time, sweat, magick, and incantors to ever unravel it. She liked giving such layers of protection to her spells.

Once PJ left through another portal, Ella closed the closet doors, nabbed her things from downstairs, and noticed she'd received a text from Brock to say that Mary hadn't showed at his hotel room. Ella informed him that she hadn't turned up at his home either—technically not a lie, since it had been PJ, not Mary—and so ‘the curse had been lifted'. She also sent a message to Neve, informing her of all that had happened.

Driving away from Brock's house, Ella debated on what to do next. She wasn't feeling all that tired. Maybe she could take a hot bath, drag on some comfy sweats, and read a book in bed.

Or you could go get laid. You know you want to.

Ella gritted her teeth. Okay, yes, she did. While she liked that Viper wanted her official consent rather than to seduce her into caving, the idea of toddling off to the Red Rooms to see him … it felt a little too much like answering a summons.

As an alternative occurred to her, she lifted her brows. She could instead go to the dive bar he owned. He wouldn't be there, but he could join her there. Then he'd basically be meeting her halfway in this ‘come to me or I'll come to you' thing.

Her demon smiled, totally in support of that option.

Reaching a turn that would take her to the club that doubled as the entrance to the Underground, Ella tightened her grip on the steering wheel, warring with herself.

She took the turn. Her demon's smile widened.

Ella parked the car, headed down to the Underground, and went straight to the dive bar. Stepping inside, she was greeted by the scents of yeasty beer, wood polish, spicy foods, and liquors.

Like the pool hall she frequented with Mia, the bar was dimly lit and featured some slot machines. One might be tempted to term this place dreary or in need of a makeover. But the choice of dated and eclectic décor was deliberate. It had an old-style, well-worn charm that she preferred over glamor and glitz.

Music played on the old-fashioned jukebox, mingling with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Unlike most other bars in the Underground, the dive was small and rarely cluttered with people. The drinks were cheap, the food menu was simple, and the clientele were mostly regulars.

She weaved her way around the heavy wooden tables as she began making her way to the bar. More than its usual skeleton crew was manning it this evening. Necessary, since not a single stool there was empty.

Feeling eyes on her, Ella looked to see the blonde from the Red Rooms staring at her. No, glaring at her. Huh. It appeared she still wasn't happy that Viper had paid Ella any attention.

Unbothered, Ella shrugged it off and finished crossing to the bar.

Foam spat out of a beer tap, making the dark-skinned bartender swear beneath his breath. "Omen, need you to change this keg over here," he grumpily called out. His blue gaze slid to Ella and … changed. Sharpened.

She pointed at the fridge full of beer bottles, preferring that brand. "I'll have one of those and some sweet potato fries," she told him.

He acknowledged the order with a tip of his chin. Moments later, he plonked her drink on the bar. "Fries will be ready in fifteen minutes."

She curled her hand around the bottle. "Thanks."

Ella claimed a corner booth and pulled out her phone. She texted Viper: Your bar's pretty busy tonight.

There. That was pretty much a hint that he had the option of meeting her here.

If, however, Viper hadn't responded by the time she'd finished her fries, she'd head on home. If he did respond and then subsequently drag his ass here … well, then, she'd hopefully get fucked good and proper.

Time would tell.

Viper stared at the steel door as growls rumbled from the angel trapped behind it. An angel who was pounding his fists on it with preternatural strength. If it weren't for the wards securing the door closed, Merchant would have knocked it down for certain.

It was this very room, down in the basement of their clubhouse, where any brothers who went into bloodlust were confined. There was no other choice. Not when they would kill indiscriminately and glut themselves on the blood of anyone they came across.

"I never saw any signs that he was going into bloodlust," said Prophet, who'd been the one to contact Viper and inform him that Merchant had turned.

"It took him fast and hard, completely out of nowhere," added Sting.

"Happens like that sometimes," Viper reminded them.

A red haze would abruptly fall over your vision and flood your mind, shoving down everything but your predatory instincts; turning your thoughts, needs, and wants feral and rabid. Several days would pass before you snapped out of it, and you'd have no memory of what happened during that time.

Blackjack folded his arms. "I suppose we should be grateful that we usually get enough of a warning that we can lock ourselves away before we hurt anyone. But I ain't feeling grateful, I'm feeling pissed that this is our reality."

Viper narrowed his eyes. "Do you regret falling?"

Blackjack seemed surprised by the question. "Shit, no. I just hate that we were lumbered with this curse. We thought we could handle it, thought we understood how it would be, thought we were prepared."

"I don't think you can really prepare for this life," hedged Prophet. "Do you ever regret making the decision to fall, V?"

"No. It was chipping away at everything that made me who I am; chipping away at every bit of my entity's innocence. I was on my way to becoming like Ophaniel when I found Ella. She saved me. And if I hadn't fallen, I wouldn't be able to make her fully mine." Viper would pay any price to keep her at his side.

"I don't have any regrets," said Sting, idly swinging one fist into his open palm. "This curse just makes me resent the Uppers even more. The last thing I'm itching to do is go back up there."

Jester nodded with a grunt. "We had no life before. Not really. Our choices weren't our own. Individuality was discouraged. We were numbers within a legion, not people."

"Any of our other brothers ever mention regrets?" Viper asked no one in particular.

"Nah," replied Prophet. "Not now that they've had a taste of freedom."

Viper studied him closely. "And you?"

"I don't wish I hadn't fallen. But I do wish it hadn't come to that; I wish life was different in the upper realm." Prophet teleported out of the basement.

"He's lying," Jester stated.

Darko sighed. "You think everyone is either lying or planning to lie to you."

Jester arched a brow. "You reckon I'm wrong?"

"No, Prophet definitely lied. I'm just saying, you expect it of everyone."

"Well, if people didn't bullshit me so often, I wouldn't."

Razor materialized, his gaze flying straight to the steel door that was still taking a serious beating. "I heard that Merchant had to be contained."

"The bloodlust hit him quickly," Sting told him. "He went from laughing at a joke to almost choking on his own breath while the red haze took over. We managed to restrain him before he could hurt anyone."

Razor twisted his mouth. "He didn't seem himself yesterday. I asked if something was wrong; he said no."

Darko frowned. "He would have said if he'd felt bloodlust creeping up on him, so it must have been something else bothering him."

"Or he lied," Jester put in, wrenching a sigh out of Darko.

Razor turned to fully face Viper. "Just wanted to let you know that Ella's at the dive bar. She's alone."

A spark of pleasure coursed through Viper. She'd come to him. Finally.

He dug out his cell, intending to tell her that he was on his way. It was only then he saw that she'd texted him—he hadn't heard the beeping of his phone over all the noise.

Your bar's pretty busy tonight.

Yeah, that was more or less an invitation right there. He replied: I'd better come see for myself just how busy.

Darko's brow pinched. "I thought you wanted her to meet you at the Red Rooms."

"I asked her to," said Viper, pocketing his phone. "This is her coming to me on her own terms, and wanting me to meet her in the middle."

"It has to have killed you to stay away the past week," Sting commented.

It had, but he'd needed her to make the informed decision to allow him into her life. He could have pushed his way into it by seducing her—she would have let him, because then she wouldn't have had to take any responsibility for having a fallen angel in her bed.

"Playing the waiting game clearly worked," said Darko. "Bet you're glad it's over."

"Fucking ecstatic," said Viper, a sense of purposeful determination filling him. Now he could go get his woman.