bedeviled & beyond 05 - bedeviled & besmirched (21 page)

Unfortunately for me, I soon had something much worse to cry about.

She reached down and grabbed my hand. “Just one more mark to rid you of, greedy, greedy, Astra. You probably won’t survive this one. Most have only one binding mark to dispatch. Unfortunately for you there are two men who care about you enough to want to protect you.”

When she touched the mark Slayer had given me, I was beyond screaming, though I was pretty sure she put even more into destroying that mark than she had the first. If I’d have been able to think through the all-encompassing agony, I’d have realized she had some ego wrapped up in that one.

Slayer had rejected her. But he’d marked me for protection.

My skin was splitting apart, my blood pouring freely onto the garish, red carpet from the horrible wounds. And numbness claimed my body from the waist down. Probably due to the cracking and wrenching of my spine as her power ripped through it.

Near the end, despite the battering she’d given me, my bloodied, broken fingers reached for her across that carpet, tearing the blood coated fibers in an effort to get to her.

My body was broken and mashed like a bidgie bug under a giant’s foot. But my traitorous mind wouldn’t shut down...wouldn’t give me relief.

And as my sanity slipped away under the searing pain, my devil reared up in impotent rage, spurring a blind and focused need to kill. To take revenge.

Unfortunately, my body wasn’t up to the task.

Crisanne eventually grew bored trying to kill me and stepped back, barking out orders for the guards to take me away.

Agony seared as they wrenched me, none too gently, from the floor and my mouth came open, my throat working in a silent scream. But as they dragged me toward my next Hell, my vision finally started to darken to charcoal gray around the edges. The light shrunk to a pinprick at the center of my vision. And the world finally disappeared behind a wall of blessed oblivion.

~SC~

I woke up in a locked room that was situated deep in the bowels of the earth. I’d been in the room once before, when I’d been destined for a power sapping ceremony that was meant to give Prince Nille all the power his tiny, black heart could desire. The room was warded against magic, which would have been a problem if I still had any. As it was, the ward was a bit redundant. I could feel the total lack of power in my body like a huge, black pit under my skin. Every cell of my essence had been emptied of it. My head felt muzzy and my muscles quivered, useless and weak without the sustenance of my power.

The silence pounded against my bleeding ears.

I tried to sit up but couldn’t. Nothing worked. My muscles, my bones, my coordination were all broken. The internal beating Crisanne had given me had done me completely in. I was like a rag doll without fabric stiffener.

After two attempts I gave up, allowing myself to lie on the torn and stained silk covering the bed and just embrace the pain that pounded against me like laser-rock music set on reverb.

There was nothing left to do but take stock of my surroundings. The room had only one door and no windows. The walls were rock, covered in faded burgundy damask draperies. The huge, four-poster bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. It dominated the center of the space and was covered in once-beautiful silk that was coated in dust and other, more disgusting things. The cushions that had once been strewn around on the floor were gone, apparently moved to other rooms over the months since I’d last been there. The carpet had been a rich, golden color when I last saw it. It was currently matted and clogged with mud and old blood.

The white silk that had been draped over the bed’s canopy when I’d been there before hung in tatters around the iron frame. The room had been an elegant, sexual playground before. Its current state of decay perfectly represented the fall of Nille’s evil hopes and ambitions.

I lay there for what felt like hours, trying to summon enough magic to at least call for help. But it was hopeless. I was empty. I tried not to think about what the loss of my magic would mean for the future. It didn’t matter anyway. I could feel my body dying a little more with each passing moment. Without magic to heal myself, I was just another badly damaged husk of cells that was too far gone to heal.

With a jolt of understanding that, in my arrogance as a creature with mad powers I had never thought I’d experience, I realized I was well and truly helpless. I was no longer special in any way. I had only a weakened collection of bones and muscles with which to save myself.

I’d been reduced to nothing. A mere human.

Everything I’d built my life on was gone. My job, my love life, my family and friends, all counted on my magic. I’d taken pride in my ability to keep people safe. I’d made a living from that ability. I’d been chosen by Dialle, the devil I wanted more than life itself, because of my powers.

That was all gone.

Not to mention the fact that Dialle’s Royal Court would suffer for my loss...until he replaced me with someone at least as powerful.

Realization hit me between the eyes.

Crisanne!

She’d never been after Nille. Nille had probably never even been involved.

It was Dialle. She wanted Dialle. Why would she work so hard at maneuvering Nille into a position of power, when she could grab Dialle with a single swipe, just by getting rid of me?

And I had nothing left with which to fight her.

With that thought I lost the tiny bit of hope I’d been savoring at the very bottom of my weakened, lonely heart.

Dialle would take her. Because he’d have to.

And I would be alone. Unloved. And unemployed. If I even lived to experience those horrible outcomes.

I was well and truly frunked.

With that thought I closed my eyes and willed myself to die. With little hope, and nothing to look forward to, it didn’t take long for my weakened body to succumb to lethargy and fall into restless sleep.

~SC~

The sound of wings pounding the air disturbed my pain drenched sleep. A soft breeze sent my hair flying around my face and the sweet sound of an angelic choir surrounded me. I tossed and turned, sensing turmoil beyond the thin veil of my rest. Gentle hands touched my forehead and strong arms wrapped me in warmth. I was aware of a shift in my surroundings.

I came partially awake, though I was drenched in fever. Voices spun through my mind. They were far away and faint, but came to me with varying degrees of intensity.

Deep, worried voices, high-pitched frantic voices, and a single calm, soothing tone that overrode all the others.

Along with the voices came the hands. Their touch was gentle, careful with my battered form. But despite their gentleness, pain blossomed through me like an ancient nuclear bomb, ripping at my insides and pulling against the bloody fissures in my broken limbs.

I cried out, screaming to be left alone. But the hands still pulled at me, twisted me, and rolled me to and fro. There was no rest from the pain. It formed the core of my awareness, serving as a focal point for my helpless rage.

Soon I flailed out at them, but the hands halted my feeble attempts and still moved over me. I fought to close them out and ignore the voices, which had gained a pleading tone.

I was gone. Beyond help and past hope. I just wanted to die.

Finally the shadows of unconsciousness folded fully over me again and the hands and voices went away.

I sighed in relief.

That was when the dreams started. Nightmares really.

The first one had my aunt Myra and my sister Darma in it, the pairing alone a nightmare that most couldn’t endure. They floated in the air a few feet away and glared at me, disapproval painting the air between us in vibrant hues.

Myra cocked her head.
You look like hell. You might want to put some lipstick on or brush your hair before Dialle gets here.

I panicked.
No! I don’t want to see him!

Too bad. He wants to see you.

I shook my head.
Just let me die. I’m worthless now.

Darma put her hands on her hips and made a disgusted noise with her lips.
Astra, stop being such a baby and fight.

I’m not being a baby. I have no magic. I can’t heal myself.

I can heal you. If you’ll let me.
Darma’s words hardly matched her tone, which would have been more suitable if she’d said,
I’m going to beat the bat-snot out of you.

I tried ignoring her, hoping she’d go away.

Astra, this can be fixed.

I looked at my aunt and saw the sadness in her eyes that belied her words.
Just go away, auntie and leave me alone.

Like magic, they were swept away and I was left in darkness for a while. I tried to rest but, alas, it wasn’t to be. In the dream, the air in my room shifted and I opened my eyes again, ready to yell at whoever was there. It was Emo. He stood a few feet away, tall and slim with shiny, black hair that drifted around a strong jaw and full, kissable lips.

I’d missed him so much, I didn’t have the heart to yell at him. I smiled.
Hey, partner.

Emo’s handsome, golden face was stern. His pretty black eyes were filled with rage and touched with angry, red sparks. He strode to my bedside and touched my hand, the touch filled with incredible heat. It was so hot it should have burned, but I suddenly realized I’d been frigid and shivering before he’d come, and when he touched me I started to warm.

I snuggled closer, inhaling his familiar scent. The first, tiny bite of regret found me. Emo would love me even without my magic. Maybe I should try harder.
I’m glad you’re here.

Emo climbed into the bed with me and draped himself along my side.
I’ve been ranting and raging ever since I discovered you’d gone missing. Somebody should have been watching over you, Astra. It’s inexcusable!

His heartbeat pounded angrily against my ear. I didn’t care that he was angry, his hands on my body were gentle, soothing.

As soon as you’re okay I’m going after Flick...and then Myra...I’ll kill them both for what they’ve done to you.

And that was when I remembered he was in angelic therapy for anger management issues.

I shushed him like a child. He stiffened slightly but stopped his angry rant.
It’s all right. I shouldn’t have gone with Crisanne. It was my fault, Emo. I was w— I cleared my throat and tried again. I was wro—

No, Astra! Someone should have been with you. I should have been with you!

I shook my head, knowing better. Dialle should have been with me. But he hadn’t been. Because I’d become an obligation to him. A way to keep his court healthy. And I could no longer even do that.

With an audible pop, Emo disappeared from my dream. Darkness fell again but I knew it wouldn’t last so I waited, restless. Finally a single circle of bright, white light appeared across the room, like a spotlight in an ancient, human stage show. A few beats of my heart later, Dialle walked into the light. He stood with his long, leather-clad legs set apart, his arms crossed over a bare, golden chest, and one dark eyebrow lifted as he looked at me.

I’d expected solicitousness. I’d hoped for love. What I got was stern appraisal.

I stared back at him for a long moment and then he lifted a hand toward me, twitching two of his perfect fingers in my direction.
Come, Astra. We have work to do. We must kill Crisanne. I have no desire to mate with her. But I will if you do not come back to me. I’ll have no choice.

I realized I was probably seeing everybody as I perceived them. The real Dialle would probably have been softer, even if it were an act. He was the ultimate politician and my welfare became intricately tied to court politics when I mated with him. But his words managed to do what no one else could. Not even my own ego could push me to life again.

But the thought of Dialle sharing Crisanne’s bed as king and queen was enough to shove a stick up my spine and bring my temper back. In my dream I sat up and climbed out of that bed, walking carefully toward Dialle as my bones knitted and my body healed. In my dream I clasped his hand and smiled at him. In my dream I returned to his side, ready to kick me some Crisanne ass.

But the dream had to end sometime. And when it did, cranky was a soft cousin to what I felt. And only the strong survived my healing process.

Everybody else ran for the hills.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Take Me Back to Oz!

Is young miss an empty shell, her body bent and weak?

Or will she shake the misery off, again embrace her cheek?

It had been two weeks since I opened my eyes in Dialle’s bed. My body was broken, my spirit badly dented and my good nature obliterated. Though Dialle spared no resources getting my body healed, the non-physical parts of my being were beyond his scope. Crisanne had taken everything from me. She’d taken my future, my dreams and my sense of self, all in one magic-draining swoop.

I lay on my back most of the day, staring at the cracks that had started to spider their way through the walls and ceilings of Dialle’s once-beautiful Court. With the loss of my magic and mental health, everything around me was losing its shine. Everything looked just the slightest bit more tattered than before. Tempers flared more easily. And plots ran rampant through the Court.

Dialle was fighting for his throne every moment of every day. For his life, on a daily basis.

The only positive development was that nobody tried to kill me anymore.

Crisanne probably thought I was dead. I learned later that she’d abandoned me in that magic-free prison, apparently expecting me to just fizzle away to nothing. The angels who’d found me searched Nille’s court and had found no one. Crisanne had disappeared again.

The Puka King and his lover still hadn’t been found.

I’d heard Dialle and Myra speculating when they thought I was in a depression induced sleep, that Crisanne had carried them into the Shadows.