Curse of Tempest Gate (7 page)

She skimmed a few pages more, hoping for a
miracle.

He blew out a frustrated breath and threw
his hands wide. “Sophie toys with us and thinks these fairytales
are humorous.”

She gently closed the book. “I don’t know.
I’ve always believed a kiss held some power. Its emotions are a
part of us we share with a special someone. Like…” She met his gaze
and hated the despair she saw there. “It’s like giving a part of
your soul.”

His brows lifted and he gave her a grim
smile. “A bit dramatic, do you not think?”

“You were affected by our kiss. Don’t deny
it. Even lust is a reaction.”

“Woman, you are too bold.” She was primed to
argue, but he lifted his hand to halt her words. “Let us just say
for the moment, there is some merit in what you say, but if it is a
kiss that is needed to break the curse, why am I still trapped?”
His wings opened to their full length, a majestic beauty of
dove-colored feathers, but then he closed them again with a snap of
frustration.

“Well that is the million dollar question,
isn’t it?” She paced the room, trying to come up with a good
answer, but coming up short.

A low rumble startled them both. It vibrated
the flooring and then to the walls.

Clarity held out her hands to steady
herself. “What’s happening?”

Michael withdrew his sword. “Come stand
behind me. Hurry.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. Her feet
moved and she stumbled toward him and he reached out his hand,
pulling her behind him, shielding her from whatever was coming.

Chapter Eight

The weather changed with Samael’s mood as if
the air around him was manipulated with his temperament. The clouds
overhead darkened to black now, and the only form of light came
from the lightning streaking across the sky.

Michael had taken his prize. “Clarity Shaw
is mine!” He shook his hand at the sky. The moment she sat in his
chair, Samael felt the difference. Her blood hummed with power and
he wanted it, needed it to set him free.

He looked over at Hester who huddled with
fear at the gates. To her credit, she hadn’t scampered away like a
frightened rabbit as he thought she would do. But then she did have
her reasons. She wanted her niece healed. Hester didn’t realize it
was too late for her niece. He took what he needed from the little
chit and cast her aside. He couldn’t fix her, but Hester didn’t
have to know his little secret. He needed minions on the outside to
do his bidding.

He looked down at his fading hand. He
couldn’t keep a solid form for long and it didn’t help that he’d
used some of his energy in anger. He had only hours to complete the
ritual. If he missed the window, he’d have to wait another year and
hope for another descendent of Sophie Peabody’s to waltz into the
graveyard. The chance of that happening was next to nothing.

“Open the gate, Hester. I need your
help.”

He needed the energy from humans to maintain
a corporeal state. Unfortunately, the process leaves the human’s
brains fried.

Mr. Donner appeared beside Hester with his
intent to interfere with Samael’s plans. “Don’t do it, woman. I beg
of you.”

Hester’s gaze darted to Mr. Donner. “I have
to.” She chewed on her lower lip, which worried Samael. Mr. Donner
might be able to persuade her to his side. He couldn’t allow that
to happen.

Samael floated closer to the fence, wishing
he had the power to step over the barrier that kept him locked
within the graveyard’s limited perimeter. “If you don’t do as I
say, your niece will remain in the hospital.”

“He lies to you,” Mr. Donner told her.

“What if he isn’t?” Hester’s hand fiddled
with the key, slipping it into the keyhole. With her shoulder, she
nudged the gate open.

Mr. Donner reached for her, but his fingers
slid through her body. He had no substance and was beginning to
fade fast. Good.

“Don’t do it,” Mr. Donner pleaded. “You’ll
end up like your niece. He saps energy from humans. You can’t get
it back.”

Damn the meddling ghost.
All Samael
needed was for Hester to take one little step over the line and he
would have her.

She edged closer, her toes almost over the
edge. The tension rose to where he could barely contain
himself.

“Lock the gate, Hester. Step away before
it’s too late.

It was already too late. She leaned her
weight on one leg and in doing so her toes had slipped over the
edge and into his world. “Gotcha,” he murmured under his breath
before he used the last of his powers and snaked a vine around her
ankle, pulling her toward him.

He ignored her screams of protest and her
hands clutching at the earth, trying to latch onto something that
would keep her from his grasp, but he proved too strong. She lay at
his feet, a whimpering bag of bones. The woman didn’t weigh much.
She was fragile with age and worry, but her essence would
suffice.

“Leave her alone. She does not consent,” Mr.
Donner appeared in front of him.

His pleas did not move him. He needed energy
and Hester would provide it. He leaned down and she tried to
scramble away. Fear etched her features and caused her heart to
pump faster. Adrenaline would only amp what he took. His palms
clasped her head, stilling her movements as he pressed against her
temples and absorbed her essence. Her terror filled eyes glazed
over and her mouth hung open, saliva sliding down the side of her
mouth. When he was finished draining her, he tossed her body like a
discarded ragdoll. He inhaled deeply, taking in the thick ozone
layer hanging in the air. He withdrew his sword and headed for the
caretaker’s home. Michael would be there and so would Clarity
Shaw.

Chapter Nine

“What’s happening?” Clarity asked Michael.
The wall shook as if a giant had taken an interest in them and now
demanded entrance.

Mr. Donner appeared beside them, making
Clarity jump. A curse left her lips and her hand flew to her chest
as if she could prevent her heart from leaping from it. “Dear Lord,
can you give us a warning before you pop in for a visit?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, but I
came to warn you. Samael has gained power. He’s in a solid form
now.”

“How did he manage such a feat?” Michael
asked.

“He took Hester Higgins’s essence.”

“Is Hester dead?” Clarity swallowed back the
lump in her throat. Even though the woman had some serious issues,
she didn’t wish her dead.

Mr. Donner nodded his head. “Most likely.
She stepped over the line and into our plane of existence.”

“But I thought they were working
together.”

Michael turned toward her. “Samael
manipulates and uses. He has no loyalties.” His gaze shifted toward
the door again. His restlessness made his wings pulsate and his arm
muscles flex. “It will be over soon.” He spoke the words more to
himself than to anyone in the room.

“What will be over soon? What do you mean?”
Her hand lightly caressed his arm and he looked back at her, his
brows furrowing as if for a moment, he forgot she stood there.

“He must fight Samael,” Mr. Donner informed
her. “It’s the ritual that cannot be avoided.”

Michael caressed her cheek with the back of
his hand. His eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and lethal
determination. “You must stay here, where it is safe. Remember, you
gave me your word.”

Her fingers gripped his arm. “Stay here,
too. Don’t fight him. This could be the answer to breaking the
curse.”

He shook his head. “Once long ago, I thought
so, too. I tried to stay away, but the compulsion to fight grew too
strong and my feet moved of their own accord. I have no choice,
Clarity. I’ll be drawn to the fight as if I have no will of my own.
I must live the final moments of Mary’s death. The only difference
is that only Samael or I die.”

Tears stung her eyes and she gritted her
teeth tightly, trying to keep her emotions under control. “The
outcome being different each time, but nothing ever settled.”

He nodded. “Once one of us lies in a puddle
of blood, the night ends for us. We both return to our stone
slumber to wait for the next thinning of the veil, where we’ll
fight once more.”

“Halloween is the only night to break the
spell.” She glanced at the book she still held in her hand. “What
do fairytales have to do with your plight?” Her gaze met his again.
Then she looked at Mr. Donner, hoping he had the answer.

His bony shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’m
afraid, I do not know. I had hoped you would. The witch’s journal
claimed the female descendent would know the meaning of the
kiss.”

“It is the kiss, but I have kissed him. It
didn’t break the spell.” She didn’t want to let Michael down, but
without seeing the connection the kiss had to the stories and to
the curse placed on him, how could she free him?

“I know you’re in there. Come out and face
me.” Samael’s voice rumbled from outside the door, anger pouring
over each word with a promise of death.

Michael closed his eyes as if wishing to
block out the summons. Sweat trickled down the sides of his
forehead. “I must go.” He looked at her one last time. Passion,
longing, and regret radiated from the depths of his eyes before he
turned away from her and headed for the door.

“Wait,” she called to him, not sure he could
stop.

When he slowed his steps and turned to her,
she ran to him. Her hands lifted to her eyebrow earring and quickly
unfastened it. Slipping it free, she grabbed his hand. She placed
the earring in his palm, curling his fingers over it. “It’s not
much, but it’s all I have. For protection.”

“I am honored to carry this into battle.” He
pinned it to the sash of his leine. Then he opened the door and
stepped over the threshold to fulfill the witch’s curse, the
eternal punishment of the death battle.

Clarity wanted to turn away from the scene,
but she couldn’t stop herself from watching the fight unfold.

Michael’s powerful wings spread wide as he
lifted his sword. Samael had his sword in his hand, too. The fight
was like a lethal dance of thrusts and jabs. The clanging of steel
against steel the music filled the night air.

Clarity’s heart pounded in her chest at the
sight as she prayed for Michael to win. She had to find a way to
end this. She opened the book and skimmed the first story. She had
read all of them, word for word. “It has to be here.” She turned to
speak to Mr. Donner, but the ghost had vanished once more. She was
alone in this.

The battle drew her attention once more.
Samael’s eyes glowed red. He pursued Michael without mercy, the
gleam of hatred lighting his features. “You will not win this time.
I will slice you in half then claim the woman for my use.”

“You cannot have her,” Michael pledged,
blocking each blow Samael threw at him.

“Always so greedy, Michael.” The sword came
down again and again, but Michael blocked each blow.

Lightning shot across the sky, but both were
oblivious to the threatening weather overhead.

The clanking of metal against metal was
almost as loud as the thunder.

Samael jabbed and this time Michael’s
reaction was a smidgen too slow. The sword hit flesh.

“Michael,” Clarity screamed, she threw down
the book and ran to the edge of the door, her fingers gripping the
doorframe.

Michael staggered back, his hand flew to his
side and blood oozed between his fingers. Samael didn’t stop but
came at him with a vengeance. Michael’s blocks were slower and he
no longer made attempts to jab back. All his energy was used to
keep Samael from making the final deathblow. Michael wouldn’t last
much longer and the sun would not rise for another hour or so.

Even if she could discover how to free
Michael, would it matter if Samael managed to strike him dead
before the process could start? There was so much she didn’t know
or understand about the curse and what she did know didn’t help.
Both could die over and over again on Halloween night, but at the
dawning of the next day, they would resume their frozen hell for
another year. They were alive, but not alive when they were stone
effigies.

Samael backed Michael against the door of a
mausoleum. Michael lowered his arm, too tired to continue. Samael
went in for the kill. Michael’s eyes found hers, his gaze filled
with sorrow of a promise never spoken, a future they could never
have.

“Noooo!” She screamed as Samael lifted his
hand ready to deliver the final blow, but instead he placed the
point of the sword at Michael’s neck. His head turned to look at
her. His eyes red orbs, his lips curved in a hideous display
exposing his teeth, giving him the look of a demented Jack o’
lantern.

“Come to me,” he demanded of her. “Come to
me and I’ll let him live.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Michael rasped out.
“If you step outside the room, he’ll be able to take what he wants
from you. He seeks your blood to perform his dark magic.”

“Silence.” Samael punched Michael, hitting
him full in the face. The sudden movement snapped his head back and
his skull struck the stone with a sickening crack. Michael’s eyes
rolled back as he slid to the ground.

Clarity’s eyes filled with tears, but she
swallowed them back, not wanting to give Samael the satisfaction of
seeing how much he hurt her.

Samael crouched down beside Michael and
grabbed his hair. He yanked his head back, exposing the vulnerable
area of skin and pressing the blade of his sword against his
jugular. “I’ll cut his throat. It makes no difference to me.”

“If I stay in here, you can’t touch me.
You’ll go back to being trapped in the devil’s chair and Michael
will live once more.”

Samael sneered at her with contempt. “If you
call being a stone effigy living.” Lightning lit the sky as he
pressed the blade down. Even from where she stood, she could see
the red droplets beading at the tip of the blade.