Page 21 of Warmongers and Wands
Chapter 8
Hadur
Diebin came back sometime around midnight, having delivered his note. Whoever had received the missive would find themselves minus three pounds of bacon and a dozen eggs. I gave the raccoon two of the eggs in appreciation, with the promise that I’d share tomorrow’s breakfast with him. My witch would have her bacon. And with the note delivered, soon someone would arrive to take her home.
The thought caused me more distress than anything in the last two centuries. Having her here was sweeter than freedom. She made me laugh. I cherished her company. I loved caring for her, providing for her. I wanted her, and from the heated glances she sent my way, from the way her breath hitched and her pulse raced every time I touched her, I knew she wanted me, too. It was torture, but I held myself back, wanting our first time together to be one of unbridled passion, without worry about her broken leg or the bruises she still sported across her chest and legs. Her family would probably be here at daylight, and then she’d be gone. Would she continue to want me once she left?
Would she truly set me free as she promised?
I had mixed emotions about that. The usual arrangement was that a witch would request a task and in return the demon would be granted their freedom, returning to hell after the task was completed. I didn’t always relish these tasks, but such was the way things worked between demons and witches.
But this witch was different. I got the idea that my freedom would not be in exchange for any service on my part, that she considered my freedom already earned by my assistance in helping her, or actually just her duty without any need for recompense on my part. I loved that she had such a big heart and a sense of moral duty, but the thought that I would be set free and returned to hell bothered me.
Would I ever see her again? In the course of my infernal duties, could I somehow squeeze in extra time to visit her? That spoiled, pampered Lucien got as many vacations as he wanted, but my requests for them had never been granted. Not even Satan wanted a war demon roaming among the humans with no purpose, potentially causing widespread violence. The only time I was allowed here was as part of my job and if I was summoned.
And if this last summoning was any indication, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through that again. Being called out of hell, only to find myself trapped for two hundred years? If Bronwyn hadn’t found me, how much longer would I have remained here?
I looked over at her, feeling a very unfamiliar emotion. Fear. Fear not that she’d leave and forget her promise to free me, but that she’d be unable to do so, that she’d maybe die before breaking the circle that bound me. I’d remain here, possibly forever.
Alone.
Or worse, she’d free me and send me to hell, not caring if she ever saw me again. It would be that good deed, that nice thing she’d done for the demon she’d found imprisoned in the woods, the one who had helped her from a smashed vehicle and cared for her. I feared that I would be nothing to her, when in such a short time, she’d become everything to me.
It was the fear that made me go to the bed, laying down beside her and gently gathering her into my arms. Her hair was soft and silky, red-brown like the autumn leaves. Her skin warm and soft, shivering under my touch.
I wanted her so badly, but she was hurt and needed sleep. Besides, it wasn’t whatIwanted that mattered, it was what she wanted. But in the meantime, there was no harm in lying next to her, lending her my warmth, thinking of all the other things I’d like to do to her.
Something prickled at the back of my neck, a sense that another had entered my circle. Animals came and went all the time, but in over two hundred years, I’d only felt this feeling twice before—when Bronwyn came crashing through the boundary with her vehicle, and when the werewolf had arrived.
Only a witch could free me from this place. When I’d seen that the trespasser decades ago had been a werewolf, I’d been inclined to ignore him. He was the one who’d attacked me, claiming I was illegally living on their territory. It was a fight to the death—his death. War demons often have that effect on others, increasing their anger and willingness to fight. He hadn’t backed down, and I could hardly comply with his demands to leave.
Butthistrespasser…. Diebin had taken Bronwyn’s note to someone, and the most likely scenario was that they’d come to rescue her. In the middle of the night. In the dark. I smoothed her hair back, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before sliding out of bed and into my clothing. Diebin stirred by the fireplace, his eyes glowing an eerie shade in the reflected light. I gestured for him to stay, wanting someone here to guard my witch just in case the being outside was more foe than friend. Yes, she was a witch and most likely perfectly capable of defending herself, but she was also injured, and I knew firsthand how fierce an angry raccoon could be.
Moving silently to the door, I listened for a moment, then eased it open just enough to slip out into the night.
A fingernail moon shone faintly behind thin clouds, but I didn’t need the light to see. With a quick glance backward at the cheerily lit cabin, I transformed into smoke, rolling along the ground, and approached the intruder.
Not a witch. Not that spoiled arrogant demon she’d said her eldest sister had ensnared either. No, this was another werewolf.
Perhaps things had changed in the last few decades, but I doubted it. As a demon of war, I was skilled at sensing malevolent intent. What had that note of Bronwyn’s said? Had the witch-sisters sent this creature thinking my witch was in danger? Was this Lucien’s doing? We’d certainly had our disagreements in the past, but I hadn’t seen that demon in over two hundred years. Surely, he’d be more concerned about the well-being of a witch, the sister ofhiswitch, then any old grudges. And Lucien, as entitled and self-absorbed as he was, wasn’t likely to send a werewolf to do his dirty work.
Maybe I was just being paranoid.
Drifting behind a tree, I transformed, deciding my demon form was more likely to send the sort of message I wanted. Then I stepped out from behind the tree and into the view of the werewolf.
The wolf held up his hands. “I mean you no harm. I’m just here for the witch.”
My heart sank. This was it. I wasn’t sure if I was more upset that my time with Bronwyn had come to an end, or that her sisters had distrusted me so much they’d sent a werewolf to retrieve her. This must be Lucien’s doing. He’d turned them against me. Lucien distrusted me.
But that was my problem, not Bronwyn’s. She needed to be home where her healers could help her. She’d promised to release me, and I just needed to be patient and trust that she’d do so. And as for the rest…I’d pledged to be hers, to serve her, but if she didn’t want the service of a war demon, then I would just return to hell.
Figures. I finally met a witch to partner with, one I wanted to do more than partner with. I’d finally met a witch I felt I could bond with, one I actually liked, one I enjoyed spending time with, one I wanted to make mine in every sense of the word. Finally, I met a witch I felt I was destined to spend all eternity with, and she might not want me.
“We appreciate your taking care of her,” the werewolf told me. “To show our gratitude, we would like to offer you a gift. Are you…are you staying here long?”
“I hope not.” I peered at the werewolf, suddenly realizing that he would hardly know my fate. “I’ve been trapped here for over two hundred years. I cannot leave this area until the witch frees me.”
The werewolf shifted his weight. “We never come down this part of the mountain. Two hundred years? No one has known you were here for two hundred years? And you can’t leave or anything?”
