Wicked Game (14 page)

“
I won’t be back till late.”

“
Okay.”

“
I may see a hot girl and fancy a good fuck.”

“
Okay.”

“
So don’t wait up.”

“
Okay.”

She knew her short, non-committal replies were
vexing him a little bit more each time. After the last one he stalked towards her, his eyes flashing threateningly, becoming completely black, and she thought she had made a mistake and pushed him too close to the edge this time. He stood before her, looming over her like a dark, portentous shadow, his face a mask of inhuman rage, seemingly trying to repress his primal instincts. She didn’t know if he was going to kiss her, hit her, fuck her or kill her. Maybe all of them, all at once.

He didn’t do anything of those things, instead he growled under his breath and stormed
out of the house, the back door crashing shut behind him.

Hazelle hesitated for a few moments, waiting to see if he was gone or if he would return for something he had forgotten during his tantrum. When she was sure she was alone she locked the doors and checked the windows were secure, not wanting to be disturbed by her mother, Kaden…or Chris. She switched her cell phone off and left the hallway phone hanging off the hook, so that there would be no interruptions, short of a fire or an earthquake. The spell required her complete concentration and dedication. Anything less and the spell might backfire and strip her or her memories instead. Kaden would find it much easier to have his way with her if she didn’t even know her own name.

She carried the spell ingredients down into the cellar (it took two trips) and then fetched the spell book, the page folded down on the ritual she had to perform, with some of the notes from the research she'd done. It was more complicated than the one that had invoked Kaden and she had to be very specific about what she wanted. She set up, re-drawing the pentagram in white chalk and connecting the five points with lines to create a sacred circle, one that should protect her from any repercussions of the spell and any evil skulking nearby, out of sight, on another plane, entities that might seek a way into her realm through the exchange of ethereal energy. She didn’t want to entice anything more dangerous than Kaden, more uncompromising. He was more than enough for any novice.

The main component of the spell was missing, the last and most vital ingredient. She ran upstairs and yanked open her sock drawer, of much less intrigue to Kaden than her bra drawer. At least something useful had come from her last encounter with Chris. Bundled inside was the blouse she had been wearing that day, stained with his blood, his essence, the key to directing the magic towards him and infiltrating his mind. The blood was crusty, flaking away, but the stain was deep and she was confident it would be enough for her purposes. She returned to the cellar, lighting candles, flickering flames illuminating the stone bowl and pedestal used for grinding herbs, making the silver snake scales shimmer iridescently.

“Okay…you can do this, you can do this,” she reassured herself quietly, and then added firmly, “You
have
to do this.”

   
With that inspiring little speech and the certainty of no other choice Hazelle began grinding the herbs, rosemary and thyme, cloves and fig leaves. There as a balance of nature and nurture with spell casting, and the more dedicated, the more patient and careful she was the stronger the spell would be. Considering it was only her second spell she felt confident, perhaps more than any rookie had a right to be. She knew what was expected of her, what the elements expected of her should she wish for her energy and efforts to be accepted.

She poured the herbal dust into rose sweetened water, as had been detailed in the book. It turned a muddy brown, nothing magical or mystical about it…yet. She added the more potent ingredients, the monkshood, the bat wing, crushed snail shells, toad bile and a lizard’s egg. When it came to the snake scales shed under the light of a full moon she disregarded the instructions, doubling the recipe, and while only one raven feather was required she used two, to give the spell extra punch. She then stirred in a generous amount of Highland whisky; the fumes making her feel dizzy, though she wasn’t intoxicated
because of the alcohol. It was the energy buzzing all around her, the elements awakened, the power bristling in her hair like electricity, prickling her skin, congealing in her gut, making her heart beat faster than ever before.

It was time for the most crucial part of the spell, the essence of whoever it was she planned to curse. Spit, tears, sweat or
semen would do it, but blood was the most powerful, the most effective offering. She scraped some of it into the potion, swirling it around, until it was blood red, glittering like liquid ruby in candlelight. Would it be enough? To make sure she dunked the whole blouse into the bowl, letting the blood infuse with the potion, staining the blouse pink. If this spell worked Chris would never know the favour he had done her.

She said the chant out loud, three times, in quick succession, the words hovering around her in the dank darkness, trapped by brick and
shadow. She reached over and picked up one of the candles, tilting the flame over the potion. It ignited instantly, flaring to life like dragon flame, burning away the alcohol and consuming the blouse. Black smoke gushed from the potion, gathering around her, immersing her in thick, cloying, demanding darkness. She embraced the smoke, letting it conquer all her senses and dictate her mind, lure her and guide her to where she needed to be. The pungent smell made her nose tingle, hot flames fanning her skin and she knew, whatever she had invoked, whatever had come to claim her, that she had succeeded in the first part of the spell and she was, so far, still in control.

Closing her eyes she let the energy wash through her, her nerves fizzling, her blood boiling, her body attuning on a biological level to the magic that was trying to sway it. When she opened her eyes she was dazzled by bright, pulsating white light and she wondered if she was in heaven, if the black smoke had choked her, if she had somehow died
while experimenting with forces she couldn't understand. She hadn’t been sure she believed in heaven before Kaden, but if there was a hell and he came from it then there had to be a flipside. A ying to the yang. The universe was all about balance, light and dark, sin and innocence, action and consequence, and if there was evil in the world that meant there also had to be good. Magic had taught her that much.

She didn’t see any angels with
white wings and Jesus sandals playing golden harps, or any deceased family coming to welcome her to the afterlife. The light faded, allowing her to see other colours, pinks and purples, emerald greens and aquamarine, tarnished gold and shimmering silver. There were dark spots too, black, thorny crevices that exuded so much negative energy she wanted to recoil from them. Everything flickered and fluxed, throbbing with energy, with life, with potential.

Chris’s mind was nothing like she’d anticipated. She knew he was a complicated character, but until she’d been able to
see inside his head, his thoughts and feelings and desires she had never realised how truly fucked up he was, how twisted and perverted he had allowed himself to become. She was able to take a peek into his memories, the blond, cute little boy who admired his new uniform in the mirror on his first day of school, the lanky, freckled teenager who was being teased because he had been outrun by a girl on sports day, the geeky, gangly youth who had stuttered his way through a speech at a school assembly and lost his glasses when his head was flushed down the toilet later that day. There was all that and so much more, memories whizzing  past Hazelle, some so quickly they were blurry snarls of pain and emotion.

There were so many factors that made up a person, so many important points in their life that shaped them, some so small others might have forgotten them, but some so traumatic that they transformed the victim's mental state, their outlook on life, perhaps forever.

She tried to avoid the dark purple tangles of his pain as much as she could. Like bruises when she touched upon them they were still tender, and though they had left little damage on the outside they had scarred him deeply on the inside. She was able to immerse herself in his memories, to see things as he did, from his eyes and his point of view, to see herself the way he did. He saw her as a possession, like a car, or a cell phone, his property and nobody else’s. She made him crazy, made him forget himself, he knew he was mad with passion for her, and he hated her for how much she made him want her, increasing his longing for her by denying him time and time again. It was scary to see the process, to know how deeply and intimately he thought about her, how he truly felt about her and what lengths he would go to just to have her.

Through his eyes she was the brightest thing in his world of grey,
a drab landscape of neglect and broken promises that he believed she could cure. It was like she was stood in direct sunlight, her hair golden, her eyes enticing, her smile seductive. In reality she was none of those things, she never felt particularly pretty or sexy, and her hair wasn’t that shiny, the blue in her eyes never so vibrant. It showed how warped his memories were, how disconnected from the real world he truly was.

This was what she had been searching for, this was what she needed, his memories of her, his depraved desires and perverted longings. She stood facing them, not cowering in their shadow as she thought she would have, as she almost certainly would have done had she been facing the man himself. Would he notice her in his mind? He had accused her of meddling with it before, of bewitching him,
heart mind body and soul. Now there was actually some truth to it.

It didn’t matter. If the spell worked then he wouldn’t remember who she was to know she had trespassed in his mind.

She reached out, her fingertips glowing hot and white, brandishing the flames and summoning energy that she had left behind on the mortal plane. She embraced it, hot, white, blinding light streaming from her hands, expelling flame and eradicating his memories.

“
I absolve you!” she screamed through fire and flame, wind blasting through her hair with the heat of retribution,“I renounce you, and reject you and forget you as you shall forget me!”

The fire danced around her, leaving her unscathed but burning away the memories of her like old film, leaving them spotty and distorted, disjointed, before the memories were consumed completely, obliterated, and she was liberated.

When she opened her eyes again she was back in her own body, in her own mind. The smoke had vanished, replaced by shadow and light battling for dominance around her pentagram. She could feel the energy receding, her own energies thoroughly spent, the ritual completed.

The candle closest to her was extinguished by a gust of wind, the last whisper of magic, silver smoke twisting on the air like a lingering spirit.

The spell had been a success.

Chapter Nine

As it was Kaden did return late,
and he returned alone.

Hazelle
was lying in bed; eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling above without really seeing it. Her mind was too preoccupied for sleep, fretting about the spell, about the magics she had experimented with and any repercussions that might befall her because of it. She wished she had a number for Chris, to call and see if the spell had worked, if he did remember her. When they'd broken up she'd thrown all his numbers away in a bid to rid him from her life the first time, after the court order, but even if she did have a number she wouldn’t mention her name, should the sound of it break the spell and re-spark his old memories of her.

She heard Kaden unlock the door, her mother still not home, and heard him stamp up the stairs, slowly, worryingly, like something out of a horror movie. Could she be so certain it was Kaden? Chris might have been spying on him too; he might have mugged him and stolen the key. This could be him coming up the stairs, having realised she’d cast a spell on him, eager for his revenge.

She realised if it was him he might be a bit more subtle about it and not give her the chance to escape. Besides, she didn’t think any living mortal could best a demon, and anyone who tried was sure to suffer Kaden’s wrath. She had yet to see the full extent of it, but she would wager it was a sight to behold and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

“
Hazelle,” Kaden’s raspy voice came through the door. He tried it, finding it locked. That wasn’t enough to stop him.

Or at least, it shouldn't have been.

She tip-toed from the bed and pressed her ear to the door, hearing his harsh, uneven breathing from the other side.

“
Kaden?” she said gently, unsure of his temperament. He had been the angriest she had ever seen him earlier when he'd stormed out of the house. She had hoped his anger would dissipate, or at least diminish, but with him there could be no assumptions, no second guesses.

“
Hazelle.”

He laughed wildly, and when she unlocked the door and opened it she saw him slumped against the
opposite wall, a degree of madness in his eyes. They were fully dilated, black as night and shimmering with demonic light. There was no evidence of teeth and claws, which was fortunate. It would not do well to have reports of a monster prowling suburb streets on the morning news.

“
Hazelle,” he repeated her name and it seemed to drip from his tongue like honey. His shirt was grubby, his jeans covered in grass stains, his hair dishevelled and he reeked of liquor.

“
You’re drunk,” she stated, surprised. She thought someone like Kaden would have control over substances that affected mere mortals.

“
Intoxicated. Inebriated. Legless.”

“
I can see that,” she said lightly, gesturing at his legs, splayed indecently, “I take it you had a good night.”

“
Good.” He gave a short laugh. “Yes. That’s one word for it.”

“
Got any others?”

He frowned, his forehead crinkling, as if she had asked him to calculate the square root of four thousand and
sixty-six, or asked him what the meaning of life was.               She shook her head, disappointed and disillusioned by him. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Wrapping her arms around his torso she helped him to his feet.
He was slow and stumbling, rambling incoherently about something. She paid it little attention, concentrating more on support his weight. He dwarfed her, his muscles adding more pounds to his towering frame than she weighed soaking wet. A drunken demon was not something she had ever dealt with before, and she only reason she did now was because he had been so caring and considerate with her when she'd been ill. This was different, self-inflicted, but she supposed, in a way, she owed him. She couldn’t sleep anyway and helping a demon in distress was a good distraction.

She washed his dirty hands and
teased the knots out of his hair, tugging bits of leaf and blades of grass from it. He must have fallen several times on the way home.  He was lucky it was only mud and grass on his shirt. When it came to undressing him she didn’t blush for once, suspecting he wouldn’t remember any of this. He stood there, swaying on the spot as she unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his heavenly golden abs, the pictorials bulging with pure muscle and power, a body any man would be envious of and any woman over the age of puberty would want to own. Except her, apparently.

He let her undress him, humility not in his nature.

“Like what you see?” he slurred, a stupid, lopsided smile on his face. Did this mean he had forgiven her?

“
Yes,” she admitted, her voice much too breathy. There was no point in lying, the answer was written all over her face.

He gave a quirky smile of approval and pressed
his lips to her throat. Considering the state he was in it was surprisingly gentle and reserved, almost as if he was shy, when she knew he was not. She thought he would kiss her elsewhere, maybe hoped it, but instead he stood there and let her finish undressing him without comment or criticism.               When he was naked she shoved him into the shower, handing him the shampoo and soap, a small part of her wishing she could join him. It would have been the perfect excuse to run her hands over that tempting, tawny skin, to test his muscles and admire his…appendage. Not that she hadn’t seen it often enough already. Instead she was dutiful, averting her eyes and wrapping a towel around him when he stepped out of the shower, his golden skin glistening with water like a freshly oiled god, preened for some sex ritual.

She felt the familiar, frustrating warmth pool between her legs at the sight of this man, and this man alone. This insufferable, impossible, irresistible beast of a man that made her feel what every other man had failed to. Did this mean there was something seriously wrong with her? Was she
evil for being so attracted to a demon? Was she damned?

No. Not damned.

Doomed.

When he was dry she led him to his bed, not wanting to humiliate herself further by trying to put boxers on him and having them both end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs and lust. He didn’t seem to mind being naked at all; he revelled in it, and why shouldn’t he? He was sex personified, idolised, his body faultless, his face flawless, his hair like spun gold stained with blood. That grisly thought made her think of the spell again and she wondered if such a spell would give her any insight into Kaden, into what he thought about her, what he planned to do with her, how many times he would accept her refusals.

She drew back the sheets for him and he lay down in the bed obediently. When she dropped the duvet back over him he reached out and patted the space next to him, a depraved smile on his face.

“
Lay.”

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to be forced into anything she didn’t want to do, not ever again.

He frowned.

“
Lay,” he repeated, sounding like a sulky child. He was so drunk he could scarcely stand on his own two feet and currently not much of a threat to anyone.

“
Okay,” she conceded, “But my clothes stay on.”

He smirked.

She perched nervously on the edge of the bed, drawing a spare blanket over her as she lay down. He snuggled against her, his head in the crook of her neck, his nose tickling her skin as he breathed her scent in deeply, sighing as if he savoured it. His breath warmed her skin, making her tingle with anticipation. He must know the affect he had on her, on all women, and even some men. She had never met a man like Kaden, had never seen his physical equal, and unless she was willing to summon another sex demon she doubted she ever would.

“
Could have…” he breathed, “Could have…didn’t…”

“
What?” she asked, puzzled.

“
Woman…beautiful…begging for it…could have…could have…but didn’t,” he muttered, half asleep. She’d heard enough to assume what he was babbling about.

“
Why didn’t you?” she asked in awe, “You said you would.”

It was a question with an answer she might dread to hear. She didn’t want to think of him with another woman, smiling at her he way he smiled at Hazelle, charming her, seducing her, fucking her. Kaden’s language was rubbing off on
her, in all the wrong ways and yet the harsh reality of it was that he had been made for sex, designed to tease, thrill and devour women.

“
Didn’t…because of you,” he murmured, his voice muffled by his lips moving against her skin, sending shivers of longing down her spine.

“
But…
why?
” she asked incredulously, unable to put her disbelief into words. He was a demon of lust, of carnal desire, sex was in his blood, in his nature, it was what he had been designed to do and she had been denying him that. Unless he had found his kicks elsewhere, as she had assumed, it was at least a week since he’d indulged. She’d suspected he needed sex like humans needed food and water, maybe even air. It must have been killing him inside, and yet he still abstained?

It didn’t make any sense to her. And she didn’t get her answer because Kaden was asleep, quietly and rhythmically breathing as he was nestled against her, his arms trapping her. He was very drunk, perhaps disorientated from hitting his head when he fell over, obviously confused and she tried to convince herself that it didn’t mean anything, that it didn’t make her special, or unique, or important to him.

Closing her eyes she knew he was too deeply asleep to hear her as she wept.

*~*~*

“Well this is a nice surprise,” an amused male voice whispered in her ear, tickling it.

Hazelle woke slowly, realising she was curled up against a soft, warm, unmistakably male form. When she opened her eyes she was looking into black ones, dilated with wicked glee. She sat up quickly. Kaden was propping his head up with a hand and elbow, looking thoroughly entertained, exuding mischievous menace.

“What happened?” she demanded, suddenly fearful. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, to leave herself to the mercy of Kaden, a creature she was so sure didn’t have any. Glancing down at herself she saw a blanket half covering her and her pyjamas still in place, her bra still intact, her innocence untouched.

“
You tell me,” he drawled with a lazy shrug. His hair was ruffled from sleep and still slightly damp from the shower, “I’m naked under here, which means you must have undressed me.”

She tried her best not to blush, but his heated gaze never failed to spark a reaction in her.

“You don’t remember anything?” she asked suspiciously.

“
I remember shots. Lots of them. Then everything else is a blur.”

“
Oh.”

“
You sound disappointed. Did something happen I should know about?” he asked seriously, narrowing his dark eyes at her. They flickered completely black before returning to his human façade.

She shook her head.

“Nothing I can think of,” she answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

She
was
disappointed, in a way, that he could forget what he’d done, or rather hadn’t done, and what he he'd confessed to her before passing out. She didn’t fully understand the implications herself. Perhaps it was better that he had forgotten. She didn’t think she could bear the humiliation of having to ask him to explain what he’d meant by it. Kaden was as much a mystery to her as ever…but she had a sudden solution for that.

Shoving back the blanket she hopped from the bed quickly
, before he could lay a claw on her. He collapsed back on the bed, closing his eyes wearily, his skin paler than usual. Did demons get hangover?

She left him to snooze while she showered, dressed and combed her hair. It was another fine, clear day, sunlight blazing through the windows with all the promise of a bright future. The black blight in her life, the main one at least, had been eradicated by the spell; she could feel it in her gut, like some sort of sixth sense. Now she had only the dark bruise of Kaden to contend with.

Mom wasn’t home and Hazelle assumed she had stopped over at David’s house. She was a grown woman, with years of dating experience, though Hazelle still worried about her sometimes, especially now she knew the dealings of demons in the dark, that the legends, and stories, and movies were true. Her mother was the only family she knew, apart from distant cousins and other relatives she had no affiliation to. Since the death of her father, a step-father that had died in her first year of school, and the occasional rich boyfriend it had always been just her and her mother. They were best friends as well as mother and daughter.

Hazelle liked David, could forgive him for mistaking Kaden as a mortal man and letting him get blind, stinking drunk, but she didn’t know if she was ready to call her boss ‘Dad’. Mom fell quickly and fell far, and didn’t always make the right choice, though with how she currently felt about Kaden, a despicable, decadent demon, she couldn’t criticise anyone’s choice of companionship.