Page 36 of The Devil of London

“Is that what you heard?” His eyes didn’t leave my face. Closing off all emotions again, I offered him a bored look before grabbing the athame from the skeletal fingers that held it. I’d taken it from a horrible witch, who’d had pretty hands I’d wanted to use on my altar. After all, I’d needed someone to hold my athame for me.

Tipping my head back, I called my grimoire up from my soul. Black smoke billowed from my lungs before solidifying into my book in the air above me. Nasir frowned at finally discovering where I’d been storing my darkest, filthiest secrets. He’d been after my grimoire for a very long time, but it was partial to me. It was a part of my soul, after all.

As I whispered the spell to unlock it, and the snake that adorned the cover slithered from the front to open the book. Another whisper of sound had it flipping through the antiqued pages full of hand-drawn images and incantations until it reached the spell I needed.

Nicking my thumb, I spoke in ancient Latin, which caused the room to tense as they listened to the spell. Nasir stood beside me, examining the spell that would bind all of our minds together. The moment he tried to touch it, the grimoire shot out of his reach. Lifting a dark brow at him, he offered a wolfish smile in reply.

“Someday I’ll get it, Aderyn.”

“When I die,” I stated with a smile on my lips, spinning to glare at him. “Because that is the only way it would ever allow you to touch it, Nasir.”

“Is that so?” he countered softly. His attention shifted to the magic moving over my altar, despite my attention being on him. The grimoire floated beside me, and the candles spun slowly in a circular pattern, while herbs lit, extinguished, and then drifted between the circle being erected and as the mortar crushed and stirred. My pestle continued grinding the ingredients in clockwork patterns, each full rotation coordinated with the chime of the witch bell. In the center of the altar, the chalice waited for my blood, patiently. Lifting my hand, I held it up, ready to offer it my blood. The chalice moved to catch the droplets, wasting not a single drop.

Deciding I wasn’t inclined to answer, I turned, giving him my back.

“You’ve grown much more powerful than I’d expected, brat.”

“I asked you politely not to call me that. Considering your impending nuptials, one might assume you have impure intentions for your bride.” I’d meant it to end the subject. It didn’t.

“You’d still be mine in the end. No one can change that, ever.”

“Which is why it should be you doing it,” I whispered as my grimoire moved closer and the candle’s flames burned higher. “By air and earth. By water and fire. So be you bound to me as I desire. By three and nine, your secrets become mine. By moon and sun, my will be done. Sky and sea keep me free of curses and harm while I am within me. Cord goes ‘round, power be bound, light revealed. Once I end the spell all will then be revealed. State of mind is mine to control, show me who played with theirs and reveal the foe. By water be linked, by fire raise and bring me their link. By the earthen channel, I wish to be led through the minds of those who’ve forgotten. Bring me the memories of those who wished to steal from Khaos as we join our minds to theirs.” Then I held out my hand for Khaos’s, and the moment he touched me, sparks zinged up my arm to sizzle through me. “By this blood, I ask for you to protect him while I connect us through this knot.” A length of rope appeared as the athame sliced deep into Khaos’s thumb. Once he’d offered his blood to the chalice, I pressed my thumb to his and wrapped the rope around our hands three times.

“It’s been a while since our blood has been mixed together.” My eyes lifted to his as memories of our bloodied bodies holding one another flashed through my mind. He’d risked certain death to free me from the bastards who’d sought to burn me at the stake in Salem. I’d thought we’d died together. It was why I’d admitted that I’d always loved him. We hadn’t died, which was tragic, but mostly because I’d admitted I’d loved the bastard who’d told them I was a witch. Of course, I had been the one to whisper into the ears of others that Khaos was a dark lord who served Satan. “Feels good.”

“Feels like warm blood, Khaos. Nothing more,” I whirred before breaking the connection.

“I like it when you’re jealous,brat.”

Snorting loudly, I shook my head. “Jealousy would imply I cared anything for you. I don’t. You abandoned me to death, and anything you and I had in the past was left in that swamp. Leave it there. I have.” I returned to focusing on the spell. Sure, I felt his hard, angry stare burning into my spine, but I’d be damned if I took back my words. He would not be allowed to break me again. “Unless you wish for us both to end up as vegetable soup from the spell going awry, you’ll be silent until I’m finished. I need space to work without you hovering, Nasir.”

He didn’t argue as he normally did. Instead, he moved toward the men huddled in the farthest corner of the old mill. When they began trying to dissuade Khaos from going through with this, I smiled. None of them trusted me not to fracture his mind. They had no idea that I couldn’t break his mind without also breaking my own, which was not something I sought.

The entire room was thick with my magic, which felt good. Really good. Everything inside the place was scented with watermelon, lemonade, and sugar. I’d somehow stolen the scent for my own when an old priest had returned from Asia with a dried watermelon rind. Without being aware, I rejuvenated it with lemonade and lavender before activating my magic. The priest had thought it held powers with virility, which it had. Not that I’d known what that had meant back then. Either way, it had become my scent whether I’d wanted it.

Turning toward Nasir, who hadn’t stopped watching me, I said, “I need their blood, and then I need to connect us. Once I do, then if I die, you’ll die,” I admitted, sliding my eyes toward the men, who exhaled in relief. “However, I will need you to remain tied to me inside the memories. I am that which will ground us to this world. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” he informed softly, but something dangerous simmered in his depths. “Remember what happens if you fuck me over, Miss Caine?”

“I remember perfectly what happens when I seek to end you, Devil.”

I’d lived through enough abuse at his hands. He’d ensured I’d never forget the lessons he’d taught me. But he was also about to learn why men shouldn’t fuck with women. When we’d had enough, we became the evilest creatures in the world.

Chapter Sixteen

Theroomremainedelectrifiedas the hypnotic spell hummed through my veins, forcing everything else to remain outside of my circle. I moved toward the men with the chalice as well as the athame. Floating beside me on my left was the grimoire, to my right was Khaos, who stopped as soon as I did in front of the first man hanging in chains.

“You fucking, evil bitch!” the man snarled before trying to lunge at me, but Khaos’s tatted fingers wrapped around his throat. “She’s Satan’s whore!”

“No one calls my girl filthy names except for me,” Khaos hissed softly. The dark tendrils of magic slithered off Khaos’s arm and cut through the man’s muscles and tissue. The sickening sound of ripping flesh, combined with his pain-filled shriek, sent pain splitting through my ears. “If anyone else thinks to touch her, insult her, or so much as look at her longer than necessary, I’d reconsider doing so.” His warning held the promise of death. The man’s body contorted as Khaos’s magic rearranged his insides. Closing my eyes, I exhaled the memories of how it felt inside me, fucking me from within. “You moan one more time, brat? You and I are going to end up spending the rest of the evening making fresh memories together.”

“Sorry, Nasir,” I muttered before handing him the chalice. “If you’ll hold this, I’ll get started.” The grotesque sound of the man’s bones crunching and snapping continued as I grabbed the next man’s hand. “This won’t hurt much.”

His features tightened with fear, and even though he trembled, he didn’t move to pull free of my hold as I brought the athame down on his thumb, cutting it open. I carefully counted the droplets of blood before releasing his hand so I could slice my fingertip and trace the binding symbol on his forehead.

“This is going to show you what happened?” the kid asked cautiously.

“Something like that,” I admitted, not seeing why it mattered if I answered him. “How do you guys know one another?” I asked the man in front of me.

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