Wicked Game (22 page)

“
Kaden,” she moaned his name, biting her bottom lip, ignoring the sting of the cut as she closed her eyes and gave herself over to absolute pleasure, so close to arriving already that she wanted to scream.

             
The guttural laugh made her blood run cold, her lust quelled when her eyes flew open and she saw Kaden looming over her, a larger shard of the smashed mirror in his hand. His eyes were black, not the deep, jet black of his demonic nature shining through  but a wispy, rolling, smoky black, like oil on water. His smile was savage, revealing the sharp fangs that had once frightened her, that terrified her again now.

             
“You are not Kaden!” she spat, wriggling beneath him. She was trapped, completely at his mercy...and Chris didn't have any left.

             
“Clever little witch,” he rasped, a combination of Kaden's voice and his, a hint of decay mixed with the spices of Kaden's skin. How could she have missed it before? Kaden was possessed by Chris's spirit. The battle wasn't over yet.

             
Chris positioned the glittering point of the shard over her heart, indenting the silk of her chemise. She didn't dare to breath in too deeply, should the glass pierce her chest.

             
“Kaden, I know you are still in there. You're stronger than him!” she cried, trying to appeal to Kaden locked away inside his own body, to the demon that had defended her, seduced her, stolen her innocence and introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh.

             
Chris's lips skimmed back from his sharp teeth in a sneer.

             
“It's useless sweetheart, he isn't even fighting. He doesn't care about you, he
never
cared about you. He just wants to go home.”

             
“Liar. Liar!” she shouted at him. She paid the price. The glass pricked her, a trickle of blood staining the peach silk.

             
She hissed in pain and when she looked up into his eyes she saw them flash entirely black for a moment. It was so quick, gone before she could blink, but she knew she hadn't imagined it. Kaden was still there, lingering beneath the surface, trying to push through, still fighting for her.

             
“Kaden,” she begged breathlessly, smiling up kindly at him, “I know you can hear me. Fight him, please, you're stronger than him, you're stronger than anyone I know.”

             
“Shut up!”

“
I trust you. Don't let him kill me. Don't let him win.”

             
Chris gritted his teeth as if in pain, the hand holding the piece of glass beginning to shake. He drew back a little giving her room to breath, space to manoeuvre. She didn't move a muscle. He gripped the shard so tightly it sliced his skin, Kaden's blood spilling over Hazelle's breasts. She could see the internal battle raging, could see that Chris was losing his hold over Kaden, his eyes flashing from the swirling, oily smoke to iridescent black and back again. She tried to encourage Kaden to come forward with her voice.

             
“That's it. That's right. Come back to me Kaden...I'm not ready to let you go yet.”

             
“Silence!” Chris roared, striking her across the face. The skin above her eye split and bled.

             
Hazelle closed her eyes, reached up boldly and took his face between her palms, drawing his mouth down to hers with such delicate control. She kissed him slowly, sensuously, holding nothing back, letting him know everything she felt for him and because of him. She savoured the kiss, knowing it could be her last, that Chris could reclaim him at any second and carve her heart out. She felt his restraint slip away as he gave into her, returning the kiss, tasting of honey and sex and spices, with everything she associated with Kaden, not a trace of death or decay remaining. When she opened her eyes she saw that his were entirely black, Kaden's true eyes, the eyes of a demon instead of a spirit. He began coughing violently, breathing out black smoke, expelling the last vestiges of Chris's soul.

             
Kaden's face showed confusion, his eyes glazed over with bewilderment until he saw the blood on her chest and looked down at his own hand, blood dripping from it, staining the mirror shard he still clutched. He dropped it, wiping his hand hastily on his shirt, as if trying to rid himself of the evidence to the crime Chris had been about to commit through his body. His skin was glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and he was still shaking, his russet hair plastered to his cheeks. She swept it away and kissed one.

             
“I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the hijacking. He sounded like a human did when they had a sore throat. He had told her demons couldn't get ill but maybe spirit sickness was different?

             
“No, you didn't...and it wasn't really you,” she reassured him, believing that in her heart. He'd hurt her before, he might hurt her again but she knew he would never hurt her as much as Chris could.

             
“It wasn't true, what he said. I was fighting. He took me by surprise, I didn't expect  him to be so foolish as to try and posses a demon. I was trying my hardest to back to you.”

             
“And you did,” she smiled, grateful that Kaden had fought for her, that he cared enough to fight for her. She kissed him again, on the mouth this time.

             
“You're crying, Hazelle,” Kaden whispered, sounding almost wistful as he touched her cheek, catching one of her tears on his claws. She hadn't realised before how scared she had been, how relieved she was now.

             
He wrapped a clawed hand gently around the back of her head, bringing his lips to her brow, kissing the cut Chris had given her.

“
Please...don't cry.”

             
He licked the blood from his lips and moved down her body, kissing her eyelids, her tears, her cheeks, her mouth, her throat, her neck, her collarbone and then above her breast, where the mirror had pierced her skin. He licked the wound, cleaning the blood away tenderly, and then pressed his clawed hand to her heart, reminding her very much of the same gesture the old witch had made. Her heart beat against his body, because his body was so close to hers, so hot, so desirable, so touchable. She wanted to touch him now, to taste him, so she reached out with her hand, mimicking his, placing the palm of her hand on his chest, over his heart. She could feel it beating, much slower than hers now, much more profound. Sometimes she forgot that he actually had a heart to use, that he wasn't dead inside like Chris, that he had thoughts, and desires...and feelings.

             
“What do we do now?” Kaden asked, his voice so quiet, as if realising that Chris's essence could still be lingering, “We can't risk him possessing me and hurting you again.”

             
Hazelle jumped up from the bed and hurried to her jacket, slung over the back of the wicker chair, untouched since they'd returned home from the occult store. She dipped her hand into the pocket and pulled out the potion bottle, holding it between forefinger and thumb, the way the old witch had. The liquid sloshed inside, as black as midnight.

             
Kaden's face darkened but he didn't reprimand her.

             
“We try this my way. We take the fight to him. This ends today, one way...”

             
Kaden's eyes widened.

             
“...or the other.”

*~*~*

Hazelle was determined to do it during the day, when the sun was still high in the sky and spirit powers were hopefully at their weakest.             

             
“That's vampires,” Kaden told her haughtily, when she'd explained her plan,“But all evil powers dwindle during daylight, even my own.”

             
“You're not evil,” she insisted, and then added meekly, “At least not anymore.”

             
He didn't contradict her.

             
They'd come to the graveyard where Chris was buried. Hazelle had been serious about bringing the fight to him, and this was as close as they could get on the mortal plane. Maybe if she was closer to Chris's physical remains in reality she could be closer to his spirit in death. She'd located the grave with much ease, remembering the shade of the sycamore trees where she'd taken shelter during the funeral, back when she'd believed Chris was gone for good.

             
The ground wasn't settled enough for a headstone yet so the plot was marked with a simple wooden cross, a brass plate bearing his name, date of birth, and date of death. It was a date she would never forget. Flowers, both fresh and dying, hid the mound of earth beneath.

             
Kaden had been reluctant to come here but for Hazelle it felt befitting, more than anywhere else could. They were doing this on her terms now. Chris wouldn't expect her to be so brave and challenge him outright. Something about raising a demon from hell and killing a man had changed her. She herself had never thought she could be so bold...and so reckless.

             
Kaden didn't look pleased with her plan at all. His face was dark even in light, brooding, and he hadn't spoken to her once in the car. She didn't care. She was resolved on doing this. She wasn't going to give Chris another chance to hurt her.

She shook a can of black spray paint she'd
found in the garage, shaking it so aggressively, with a rattle loud enough to wake the dead, and then she set about outlining a pentagram on the grass beside the grave, joining the points to form the protective circle she had come to depend upon so much. Should Kaden be possessed again, should Chris's spirit be able to make an appearance during daylight he wouldn't find her a sitting target, helpless and weeping and begging for mercy. She would be inside the pentagram, clutching the dagger she had used in her very first spell, safe from him, safe from anyone who wished to do her harm.

             
“So, let's go over the plan again. I drink the potion, we deal with Chris...
together
...you revive me, then we salt and burn his bones,” she said, counting the main points on her fingers, “Did I miss anything?”

             
“Then I return to hell.”             

             
“Oh...yes. I'd forgotten about that,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral and not show how miserable she was at that thought. She turned away before he could see the tears in her eyes.

             
“Hazelle...look, its not a case of me wanting to leave you, but we both know I don't belong here. Humans and demons don't mix...we
don't
...we are natural enemies for a reason,” he told her soberly, though she noted that his voice lacked any real conviction. She felt his arms wrap around her from behind and she rested her head on his chest, feeling his heart beat, quicker than before.

             
“I know...I just didn't realise it would be this hard to...to let go.” She gave a shrug. “I kinda got used to having you around, ya know?”

             
“I know,” he breathed in her ear, his lips brushing her cheek.

             
She almost sank into him then, almost surrendered to him, almost begged him to take her right there and then on the grass, in the middle of the pentagram, beside the bones of her old boyfriend. Instead she forced herself to step out of his embrace. They couldn't afford to be distracted, either of them. They had to stay focused, vigilant, alive.

             
Hazelle slipped a hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out the potion bottle. Sunlight glinted on glass, making the potion glow with all the promise of a quick and painless death. She glanced at the flowers covering Chris's grave, imagining them on her own, with her mother crying over her coffin the way Chris's mother had. She had to accept the possibility of that becoming a reality if the plan was to fail. There was so much that could go wrong, so much that depended upon a demon, and yet she had little choice but to accept the risks, all of them, and trust in Kaden.

             
She did. Trusting a demon should have been a lot harder than that but when she gazed into his tender, tame black eyes she believed in her heart that he wouldn't let her die.

             
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kaden asked in a low, daunting voice, giving her one last chance to change her mind.

             
She uncorked the bottle and downed the potion in one mouthful, flinging away the empty bottle.

“
I'm sure.”

C
hapter Fourteen

The darkness came to claim Hazelle long before her heart stopped beating.

             
The potion slithered down her throat, scorching it despite the cold, sour, slimy taste making her want to gag. She closed her eyes and swallowed desperately, trying to keep it down, and managed to.             

             
Kaden watched her helplessly, one leg inside her pentagram and the other on Chris's grave, straddling the line between light and shadow, good and evil, mortal and magic, the way he always had. He became agitated, breathing heavier as her own breathing became slower, shallower, her organs starting to shut down and welcome death, almost like an old friend. She closed her eyes again, allowing herself to be swept away, her heart pounding loudly, echoing all around her in the great expanse of nothing. She concentrated on the beats, counting them, the time between them growing gradually longer and longer as they became softer and more distant.

             
When she opened her eyes she was still in the graveyard, still with the sun shining down on her, still by the side of the silent grave. She thought for a moment that the potion hadn't worked, that she had failed before she had even really begun, fearing that she was already dead, completely dead, before she realised that Kaden was absent, that she was alone in the rolling, never-ending landscape of the graveyard, no walls or gates or salvation as it stretched on into forever and whatever lay beyond that.

             
When she felt the first touch of slimy, dead flesh she knew the potion had worked perfectly.

             
“Hazelle...I didn't expect to see you here,” the voice hissed from behind her, icy cold and so close it made her stomach muscles clench with disgust.

             
She turned of her own accord, not letting herself be controlled anymore, not by mortals or demons or malevolent spirits. Chris's hand fell to his side as he appraised her, his eyes dark with disdain and death. He was slightly bloated, his body beginning to rot for real and it was reflected in death, his greying skin stained with black, congealing blood that dripped from ever orifice. She wondered if this was his current state of decay in real life, if his physical remains were his ghoulish body in the afterlife, or whatever this realm was. She didn't know, she had never taken the time to dwell on the mysterious of life and death and anything that lay between them. She had no idea where she was, only that she was, Chris was too...and Kaden wasn't.

             
She span on the spot, scouring the landscape for any sign of the elusive demon. There was none. He had broken his promise to her, forsaken her, left her to face Chris on her own and die alone. Was it from fear or a lack of obligation? She was only human, only expendable, easily replaceable if he fancied another romp in the sack. She needed him but he didn't need her. The harsh reality of that fact brought tears to her eyes and she brushed them away, heartbroken.

             
Chris chuckled.

             
“What? Did you think the demon was your knight in shining armour?” he mocked her, waving an invisible sword around before dropping the pretence with a sneer, “This isn't a fairytale and you are no princess, little bitch witch.”

             
“I am not a witch!” she cried, and then added quietly, with less conviction, “Or a bitch.”

             
He laughed at that, a dry, scratchy sound. Hazelle was finding strength in her anger, an untapped and powerful source, despite her forlornness. Kaden or no, dead or alive she still had a mission. Chris was still a threat to her, still a smudge that soiled her soul and blighted her life.

He smirked, his rotting lips dangling off. The first time he lunged at her she wasn't ready for him, wasn't prepared for the physical strength in his body as his dead hands closed around her throat, trying to throttle her. She kicked out at him hysterically. Her foot connected with his kneecap but it wasn't enough to distract him. He had a firm grip on her and he wasn't about to relinquish that for a few trifling bruises. He was dead and decaying, done for, what did mortal wounds matter to him now?

              The world was starting to dim. Could she die here, in death? She didn't understand the mechanics or the laws of life and death, had never wanted to. It felt like she was suffocating, drowning in darkness, as she had been the night he'd tried to smother her with smoke and shadow and destroy her from within. His yellow, claw like nails dug into the soft skin of her throat, piercing it, warm blood dripping down onto her bosoms. She could breath, and cry, and bleed in death, but could she die?

             
He released her then, air rushing back into her lungs and she gasped, drinking in oxygen as the world slipped back into focus. He licked the blood from the top of her chest, cupping her breasts, squeezing them hard. Repulsed, she shoved him away.

             
“Kaden...Kaden...” she pleaded weakly, needing him now more than ever. After everything that had happened, after everything they had shared, after everything he said said...did she mean so little to him? That thought alone crushed her spirit, her resolve to fight, and Chris took advantage of that, scorning her.

             
“He isn't coming. He doesn't care about you, he never did. He liked that you played hard to get, we all do. He knew you'd surrender eventually and he'd be able to use you for a good, hard fu-”

             
Hazelle slapped him before he could finish. Her hand smarted from the violent contact with his squidgy, purifying flesh and she felt some sense of satisfaction, some semblance of self-belief. She wouldn't let Chris get to her, she wouldn't, she wouldn't...

             
Her blow had whipped Chris's head to the side. She'd heard tendons snapping in his neck and knocked his jaw out of joint, the muscles that kept it all together wasting away. He cracked it back into place with a crunch that made Hazelle cringe.

             
“You little bitch. I could have given you everything your heart desired and more. Money, cars, clothes, holidays in the south of France, the tropics, the top of Mount Everest...and instead you choose to damn yourself by fucking the spawn of Satan, a blind stupid bastard who can't see how special you are.”

             
Chris pulled a face of disgust.

             
“How special I
thought
you were,” he corrected himself.

             
His words chipped at her armour and she found her confidence ebbing, death drinking it from her. The world had begun to darken again, this time from thunderclouds rolling in from all directions and blotting out the sun, plunging them into a permanent twilight. Everything was controlled by Chris here, from the ground trembling beneath her feet to the ravens screeching in the trees, shedding their feathers as rain began to fall. This was all perfectly designed for her, to disturb her, disorientate her, destroy her.

“
You are a shadow to me now,” Chris rasped, reaching up to stroke her cheek with bloody, dripping, fetid fingers, “You are death waiting to happen...”

             
Hazelle retreated from him, step by step, the wind screaming in her ears like a banshee, cold rain pelting her skin like needles. She winced at the sting but the rain didn't wash the blood away, didn't slow Chris down for a single second. He was on her again, pinning her to a square monument with a marble angel atop, the statue's head bowed as if in prayer while it wept real blood tears that splashed on her skin. Black rot began to creep across the marble, encrusting the eulogy as Chris held her there, his soulless black eyes burrowing into hers, showing all his hatred for her, all his lust for her, all his loathing for the thing he had become, the monster she had turned him into. Everything was about her, for her, focused on her, trying to choke her into submission.

             
This time when he wrapped his hands around her throat she knew he meant to finish the job. He was through with bluffing, with playing games, with letting her live. He held on tightly, crushing her windpipe, cutting off her air supply, ignoring her retaliations. She clawed at his cheek, slices of his dead flesh under her fingernails as she kneed him in the balls. He didn't even flinch. What did the dead care for balls, the instruments of life? His cock was useless now, limp and dead, never to taste female flesh again.

             
The darkness closed in, a combination of the storm and suffocation, and she began to see the statues around her move. She didn't know if she was hallucinating from oxygen starvation or if Chris could manipulate them. The angels were coming to life, spreading their wings, raising their head and looking wistfully up at heaven, stone gargoyles growling and crawling along the earth towards her, demons blinking with eyes of onyx...

Back in life she felt her heart stop.

              Something yanked Chris away from her and he lost his grip on her throat. He was hurled across his own grave as Hazelle sank to her knees, gasping, massaging her throat and trying to encourage life back into her lungs. Aching, bruised and battered she knew time was truly of the essence now. When a strong, tanned, golden hand complete with black talons was held out to her she took it without hesitation, without regret, relief coursing through her, everything in her singing with joy.

             
Kaden had come for her. He stood before her in the clothes he had worn in real life, so tall and intimidating that if she didn't know he was on her side she might have been more than a little afraid of him. His demon blood had claimed him, was in control, his teeth sharper than ever, his claws wickedly long, his face vicious and his eyes glittering with the need for violence, for chaos, for revenge.

             
Hazelle gazed up at him in awe, excited and terrified, trembling in his shadow and was only comforted when she looked down at their hands, at their intertwined fingers, at the connection between human and demon, one that was impossible, one that was irrefutable, one that Chris could never break.

             
“Sorry I'm a little late for the party,” Kaden apologised, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, careful not to prick her with his claws.

             
She squeezed back, inspired by his presence. “Better late than never.”

             
Chris was climbing to his feet, shaking his head as if dazed, then she realised it was with disbelief, with denial. One of his arms was hanging uselessly at his side where it had popped out of the shoulder socket and he dragged a foot behind him, both irrevocably damaged. The dead couldn't heal. She could see the fury on Chris's face but underlying that was fear, the first time she had ever seen it from him in life or death.

             
“How are you here?” he demanded, “You can't be here...”

Kaden swept his arms out in a mocking gesture, glancing around, pretending to be surprised by the turbulent surroundings, “And alas, here I am.”

              Chris growled, more of an inhuman sound than she had ever heard Kaden make, and he attacked, fast and foolhardy, not taking the time to fully appreciate his foe. Kaden was subtle and swift, in his element, wasting no-more energy than needed to send Chris sprawling into a cenotaph with a flick of his wrist, exhibiting powers Hazelle had never seen him use in life. Maybe it was because they were on the spirit plane, somehow between life and death where everything was amplified, or maybe it was because this was the middle ground between heaven and hell and being closer to home  gave him access to more potent powers.

             
Whatever the reason she was grateful for it, knowing that having Kaden on her side would more than level the playing field. Already the rain had begun to lessen, the storm weakening, and even with Kaden's sodden shirt clinging to his chest and his hair sticking to his cheeks he looked formidable, frightening, feral and Hazelle pitied Chris ever so slightly for challenging him, though not enough to plead with Kaden to spare him. Redemption was beyond him. Chris deserved hell, deserved the same torture he had put her through and, if she survived this, she would sleep soundly knowing he could never touch her again.

             
Chris didn't learn from his mistakes, that much was clear. He was on his feet again, neither of them much good now, lumbering towards Hazelle with a murderous light in his eyes, his arms outstretched, fingers grasping at empty air as his lips peeled back from his teeth, revealing dirty, disgusting brown stumps of teeth. His decomposing had been sped up somehow, slowing him down. Maybe it was because he was losing control, or because he was already so rotten inside.

             
Hazelle stood in the shadow of Kaden as Chris lurched, trying to avoid him, but it was pointless. Kaden was quick and relentless, mean and without mercy. He obviously didn't like playing games that didn't involve the carnal pleasures of flesh. He punched Chris so hard half his face caved in.

             
Hazelle watched, horrified, Chris gurgling as he was drowning in his own blood, his face grotesquely disfigured, more like a mask of death than ever, the bones of his nose jutting from under the skin and one of his eyes reduced to a glob of useless jelly that fell out. The hatred she saw burning in the other one was enough to boil her blood. He would have hurt her again if Kaden hadn't overridden his powers and left him defenceless, weak, little more the degenerate scumbag he'd been in life. Hazelle couldn't believe she had let herself be so scared of him, had let him bully her, blackmail her, make her life a misery for so long. She should have cut his cock of years ago and fed it to him through a straw. Now she saw that Kaden wanted to do that for her.