Текст книги "Demon's Bride"
Автор книги: Zoë Archer
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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
The final soul came spiraling out of the vault, gleaming brighter than the others. Instead of winging off to find its possessor, it stopped in front of Leo. Anne dropped her hands, and the tempest abruptly halted. Enervated, fascinated, she swayed on her feet as she watched Leo look wonderingly upon the soul. It bathed him in warm radiance. He gazed at the soul, awestruck, reverent, and reached out a shaking hand. Slowly, like a wary animal, the soul approached.
It was his soul.
All of the souls had been lovely, but Leo’s was so beautiful, so full of brilliance and possibility, tears gathered in her eyes.
Movement in the corner of her sight caught her attention. She turned to see the geminus leaping to intercept the soul.
Livia flung out her hand, and the geminus stumbled back, forced away by unseen magic. Though Leo winced from this impact, he remained standing, and held himself still as his soul drew nearer. Yet it hovered inches from his chest, as if uncertain.
“My vow to you,” Leo whispered, speaking to his own soul. “Never again will I give you away. I promise.”
Anne held her breath, waiting. She had done what she could. This moment belonged only to Leo and the soul he had relinquished. She had the distinct impression that the soul was assessing Leo, judging him. Seeing into the deepest part of him, where there could be no manipulation, no falsity. Only Leo, and the truth of his heart.
Leo, too, waited, his expression torn between hope and fear. He had never looked more vulnerable, and her own heart ached for him. As if sensing her emotion, his gaze found hers. This is because of you, his eyes said. Whatever comes afterward, it is you that made this possible.
With a sudden, darting movement, the soul shot forward. Right into Leo’s chest. He sucked in a breath, his whole body going rigid. Radiance filled him, an inner light that shone brilliantly. A smile of profound amazement and peace curved Leo’s mouth. Even as the light dimmed, the smile remained, and Anne felt the paths of tears tracing her cheeks.
“We’ve done it,” she murmured, awed.
He turned silver bright eyes to her. “You did it, Anne.” He drew himself up fully. “And I will thank you properly. Later.” Turning to the snarling geminus, he gave a predatory grin. “The gloves are finally off.”
The geminus ran.
A look of utter panic on its face, it shoved past Leo, past Anne, and plunged through Livia as it sped toward the front of the house. For a moment, Leo could only stare in astonishment. He had not anticipated the creature would run.
But he would not allow it to escape. He sprinted after it. Anne’s footsteps sounded behind him.
The spectacle in the entryway nearly stopped him in his tracks.
“Oh, my God,” whispered Anne.
Whit and Zora faced a pack of demons—scaled beasts with long, beaked faces and serrated tails that gouged the floor and walls wherever they struck. Numerous creatures swarmed through the collapsed door. Whit struck at the demons, his saber engulfed in flame, and Zora brandished a whip of fire. Both Whit and Zora made impressive sights as they combated the monsters, their movements sharp and deliberate, felling the seething horde as it tried to advance.
Of all the sights Leo had anticipated seeing in this marble-floored, elegant foyer, he never thought to observe a battle between flame-wielding humans and vicious beasts from Hell.
Immediately, Livia joined the fight. More demons swarmed into the house through the windows, and the ghost used her magic to hurl them aside like so much kindling. Some of the creatures sprawled on the ground and lay still, but others instantly clambered to their feet and charged.
A demon rushed at Whit, approaching him from behind. The entryway echoed as Leo shot the creature, its dying scream merging with the bang of the pistol.
Whit spun and saw Leo standing at one end of the foyer. Whatever he saw in Leo’s face made him smile. “So it’s done.”
Leo nodded. This was not the moment, nor had he the time, to examine how he felt now that his soul had been restored. Yet he sensed its presence within him, a wholeness that had been missing for so very long. Right now, what he felt was the need for vengeance.
He looked for the geminus. Blocked from escaping by the thick mass of brawling demons, it vaulted over the banister and ran up the staircase. Leo glanced back and forth between the ascending geminus and the battle going on in the entryway to his house.
Another surge of demons attacked. Whit swung at one beast with his fiery blade, and the creature’s head went rolling. The snap of Zora’s whip severed the arm of another, and Livia hurled demons to the walls and ceiling. Plaster dust rained down in clouds as Leo’s costly house was being decimated—and the sight filled him with vicious satisfaction.
“We have this front,” Whit yelled above the chaos. “The geminus is yours.”
Leo glanced up at the geminus. It had reached the top of the stairs and was starting down the hallway. Frustration welled—even if Leo ran full-out, he wouldn’t be able to catch the damned thing.
“I need your trust,” said Anne.
“You have it,” he said without hesitation.
Her eyes widened briefly at his immediate acceptance. Then she drew in a breath as if steadying herself and lifted her hands. Suddenly, Leo found himself surrounded by powerful currents of air. It was everywhere, all around him, and then it was beneath him. He started as he lifted up off the floor, his boots hovering above the marble floor.
Holy hell, he flew.
For a moment, he struggled against it. Then he saw Anne, and how her eyes widened with wonder at her own power. This was her doing. He was borne aloft by the wind Anne conjured.
Her awe did not last, for the geminus was getting away. Leo forced his body to relax. And then the stairs scrolled under him as he was lifted higher. The sensation was amazing—air all around him, flying up the staircase like a hawk. But all too soon, it was over, and his feet touched down at the top of the stairs, the wind dispersing.
He glanced down to Anne, still at the foot of the staircase.
“Go,” she called.
He did. Leo kept his gaze trained on the geminus’s retreating back as it ran down the corridor. It sought escape, yet every door it approached banged shut on a gust of wind. More of Anne’s doing. But her power did not reach the last door in time, and it ran inside. Into the master bedchamber.
The sounds of combat retreated as Leo sprinted along the hallway. His lone focus was the geminus. Reaching the doorway of the bedchamber, he growled when he saw the creature pushing the mattress aside to uncover the loaded pistol Leo always kept beneath the bed. Of course, the damned thing knew his secrets. It was him. Or had been.
Leo stepped inside. The geminus waved its hand and the door slammed behind him. He tugged on the doorknob. It would not move. He was barricaded inside with the geminus.
It had transformed from his double to his distortion, its features twisted, snarling mouth full of jagged teeth, its eyes solid black and awash with bitter hatred. Looking at it sickened Leo, knowing that what he saw now was his own darkness, his own hate.
He and the geminus faced each other, both with weapons drawn and aimed.
“The opportunity was yours,” spat the creature. “To rise above your station. To possess unlimited power. But, vulgar peasant that you are, you pissed it all away.”
“I never needed magic to forge my way in the world.”
“You could have had more.”
Once, that was all he wanted. More of everything. More wealth, more influence. More respect. But none of those things held value. Not when he couldn’t find peace within himself. Only Anne had given him that.
“I have everything of value.”
He fired. The geminus shot at the same time. Yet at that precise moment, the house shook with a massive impact. Both bullets missed, Leo’s hitting one of the bedposts, the geminus’s lodging in the door frame.
Before Leo could grab his musket, the geminus launched itself at him. Talons now tipped its fingers, and as he found himself grappling with the creature, its claws raked across his face. He barely felt the blaze of pain. All he knew was this fight, a fight he must win.
He and the geminus rolled across the floor of the bedchamber, slamming into furniture, trading brutal punches. This was a fight unlike any other he had known. The brawl during the theater riot was a nursery game by comparison. Now, he and the creature were vicious, relentless, determined to prevail by any means. Leo took punishing blows to the face, the chest, to any part of his body the geminus could reach. And he attacked the creature with the same ruthless cruelty.
A shriek sounded close by. Leo spared a glance to see that a demon had flown through a window, and now leapt forward to join the fight. The damned monster stood over him, slashing at his undefended back. Pain flared. He hissed as the demon screeched triumphantly. Though he struggled to hold both the demon and the geminus at bay, he was only one man.
Suddenly, the demon was hurled across the chamber, the solid bedchamber door flying off its hinges and plowing straight into the creature. As they flew through the air, the demon’s wing scraped across the geminus’s shoulder, sending it rolling across the floor. Both the door and the demon smashed through a closed window, the glass shredding the monster as it flew. It screamed once as it fell, then came a thud as its body hit the ground outside.
Leo glanced over toward the doorway. Anne stood there, hands outstretched. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, and her eyes blazed with righteous fury. She had torn the door from its hinges, throwing it and the demon across the room and through the window. She had protected him from secondary attack. And she looked ready to face any and all enemies.
“Behind you,” he panted.
Anne whirled around as four demons advanced, claws out, eager for blood. Dodging their talons, she held them back with sharp, targeted blasts of wind. It amazed Leo that she was the same woman who had shaken with terror on their wedding night, yet it made perfect sense. That fierce spirit had always been within her, merely waiting for the proper time to make itself known.
“Admirable, yes,” hissed the geminus, getting to its feet, “yet futile. Like your friends downstairs, she will be slaughtered, and you shall spend eternity reliving her last agonizing moments. Over and over again.”
Rage, brilliant as an inferno, tore through Leo. He slammed his fist into the geminus’s sneering face. The creature spat blood, then struck back.
As Leo and the geminus were locked in combat, he heard Anne holding back the onslaught of demons, throwing the monsters into the walls, thrashing them with her power. Exhausted and battered as he was, his whole body aching, he drew strength from hearing her fight. Though they were each engaged in their own battles, he felt their unity of purpose, of heart, and felt a surge of power course through him.
Staggering to his feet, he hauled the geminus to standing and rained punches upon it. The creature tried to fight back, but Leo backed it into a corner. Desperate, furious, the geminus struck out with its claws. Yet it weakened.
The geminus suddenly launched itself at Leo. He acted instinctively, grabbing hold of its lapels. He swung its head toward the marble mantel. A wet crunch sounded as its head collided with the stone. Blood coated the marble, a dark smear dotted with clumps of hair, and the geminus fell to the carpet.
Leo strode over to where the creature lay on its back. It stared up lifelessly, its gaze already glazed and vacant. Taking up his musket, Leo placed the muzzle directly between its eyes and pulled the trigger. The smell of blood, brains, and gunpowder filled the room.
He did not waste time standing over the body. In two strides, he was beside Anne, still holding back the demons.
She glanced from him to the geminus. Though she blanched at the grisly sight, a small, victorious smile curved her mouth.
“An ungentlemanly fight,” she said.
“I’m no gentleman.” He swung his musket around, holding it like a club.
“Oh, I know that very well.”
The remaining demons, seeing the geminus’s inert body, turned and fled. Yet sounds of combat continued to rise up the stairs. The battle was far from over.
He walked to Anne, and held out his hand. When she took it, sliding her palm against his, he felt a hot, purifying rightness.
Together, they headed downstairs to join the fight.
Chapter 18
Chaos reigned at the foot of the stairs. Aside from the riot at the Drury Lane Theatre, Anne had never seen such destruction. The few pieces of furniture lay in splinters. The chandelier hung crookedly, swaying like a glittering pendulum above the melee. Demon bodies were everywhere, sprawled across the marble floor or slumped against the walls.
In the midst of this stood Lord Whitney and Zora, standing back-to-back. Hard to believe that Lord Whitney had ever been one of the idle elite, wasting time and money at the gaming tables, for now he fought like a born warrior, his fire-wreathed sword hacking down three demons.
Zora, too, made an awe-inspiring sight as she snapped her flaming whip, felling two creatures and pushing back two more who sought to advance. Distant crashes in the front chambers of the house revealed Livia locked in combat with more demons.
“This cannot be Bloomsbury,” Anne murmured as she and Leo stood at the top of the stairs.
He quickly readied his pistols and musket, tamping down the powder and loading the bullets. “It’s the first circle of Hell.”
And so it looked. Two humans fought at the center of a dozen writhing, snarling demons, with a specter providing reinforcement.
Leo brought his musket up to his shoulder, took aim, then fired. A demon attacking Zora fell as the bullet shattered its chest. The Gypsy woman looked up and offered a nod of thanks.
“The geminus,” she called up, “is it dead?”
Lord Whitney glanced toward Leo, then answered before Leo could. “Aye. I suffered the same wounds sending my geminus back to Hell.”
Anne and Leo hurried down the stairs. Leo used his pistols to take down two more demons, then wielded his musket like a club, knocking the monsters down with brutal efficiency.
“Most of the demons have fled,” Lord Whitney shouted above the din. “These are the holdouts.”
“They’ll regret their obstinacy,” growled Leo.
Anne guided her magic, throwing demons into the walls. The creatures twitched, then fell, landing in broken heaps. She directed gusts of wind to take up tongues of flame from Zora’s whip and set several of the demons alight. Their screams echoed in the vaulted room as their bodies burned, filling the air with noise and the stench of charred flesh.
And then, suddenly, the humans outnumbered the demons. Only two monsters still lived. With terrified screams, the demons clambered toward the door, anxious for escape. Anne and the others found themselves standing in the middle of the entryway, panting and bloodied, but alive. Leo’s coat was torn, revealing angry gouges across his body, he had a cut across his cheek, and crimson dripped down his hand to mingle with the black pools of demon gore. Yet he stood tall amidst the destruction.
“The final retreat,” Zora said, staring at the open, empty doorway.
“A wise decision.” Leo glanced at the walls.
Anne gasped. Fire crawled up the walls in a blazing webwork, catching on draperies. The banister became a line of flame leading up to the first floor.
Zora’s whip of fire immediately disappeared. “Apologies.”
Yet Leo merely shook his head. “Couldn’t be helped. But we need to get out. Now.”
Smoke filled the entryway, and Anne coughed as it saturated her lungs. She took Leo’s offered hand, and together they ran from the house. Lord Whitney and Zora followed, with Livia meeting them on the sidewalk outside. The street glowed in the lurid illumination. Soon, the fire inside the house would find its way outside.
Anne turned to Livia. “We cannot let the house burn, or it will spread to the other homes.”
“Air will merely encourage the fire to burn,” the specter answered.
“I’ve another idea.” One she was not certain would work, but she hoped the natural science lecture she had attended long ago had been accurate.
Closing her eyes, Anne focused all her energy on the power within her. She held out her hands, calling to the air. She sought not to create air, but to draw it into herself. This was a new challenge, one beyond anything she had attempted before. It took every ounce of her will, fighting to drag the air out of Leo’s house. Her teeth clenched with the effort and sweat dampened her clothing as she struggled.
She cracked open one eye. Her heart leapt to see the flames within diminish. Yet it took far more strength to smother the fire than she knew she possessed. Abruptly, the burden lessened. Anne glanced over to see Livia also working to draw out the air. The ghost’s head was thrown back, and her image flickered, taxed almost beyond endurance.
With a final, hard pull, Anne and Livia stifled the fire. The last tongue of flame guttered, then went out.
Anne sank to her knees. She felt herself carefully pulled to her feet, and she leaned back into Leo’s firm, strong body, weary beyond imagining.
He murmured her name, lips pressed against the crown of her head. She felt utterly spent, and he formed a solid wall behind her, around her. She fought against a wave of exhaustion, released in the aftermath of battle. It was over. Finally.
Leo tensed. She felt his every muscle contract into readiness. “Hell,” he growled, looking off into the darkness.
She turned her head to see what set him on edge. Her own body stiffened when she beheld the new threat.
Three silhouettes. One long and lanky. Another shorter, but ready for combat. And the third, tall and broad-shouldered, with the distinct posture of a battle-hardened warrior.
Like omens of disaster, the Hellraisers emerged from the shadows.
Here, then, was the biggest threat of all.
As Leo watched the men he once considered friends stride toward him, he understood how dangerous the Hellraisers truly were. He’d been one of their numbers, capable of anything.
All three men carried swords, and as they appeared out of the darkness, their faces wore similar expressions: hard, determined, pitiless. Even Edmund, the most affable of the Hellraisers, looked ready for violence. John appeared as though he wanted done with this pesky annoyance so he might return to more important matters. And Bram, with his cold eyes, his long dark coat flaring behind him, resembled the tough, merciless soldier he had been after returning from the brutality of war.
Leo gathered Anne close, sheltering her with his body. None of the Hellraisers would touch her. He would wet the cobblestones with their blood before he allowed any of them to hurt his wife.
Damn it, he hadn’t the time to reload his firearms, and he wasn’t trained to use a sword. Bare hands, then. He knew plenty of strategies for fighting against an armed enemy. Even enemies he once thought of as his brothers.
They faced one another in the middle of the street: Leo, Anne, Whit, Zora, and a flickering Livia standing against Bram, Edmund, and John. Yet despite the uneven numbers, it would be a fatal mistake to think the Hellraisers at a disadvantage. Leo had fought beside them enough to know the threat they presented now.
“Never believed you so weak,” Bram said on a growl.
“Not weakness, but strength,” countered Leo. “The same strength that’s in each of you.”
John snorted. “This isn’t the Exchange, Leo. You can’t wheedle your way into our favor.”
“Leo does not wheedle,” Anne said, rousing. Strength gained in her, and though she kept close, she stood upright on her own. “He is trying to save your cursed souls.”
Edmund started, as if suddenly becoming aware of her presence. “You ... know about everything? And yet you remain at your husband’s side?”
“Where else should she be?” rumbled Leo. Yet he knew that Anne’s continued presence next to him counted as one of the greatest marvels of his life—if not the greatest marvel. “It was she who finally managed to reclaim my soul.”
He turned slightly and pulled at one of the tears running along the back of his coat. The tear went all the way down, through his shirt, to his flesh beneath. Tugging on the slashed fabric, he revealed his shoulder.
Anne gave a small inhalation, Whit chuckled lowly, and Bram muttered a curse. For the skin on Leo’s back was unmarked. The images of flames were gone. He knew he would find the same on his calf.
“A soul is a very little thing.” John sounded unimpressed. “Compared to what we might have, the power we can wield, who requires a soul?”
“Even the greatest emperor has one,” Whit said. “Without it, he becomes nothing more than a tyrant.”
“I’m certain I’ve no soul to save,” countered Bram. “What I do have is pleasure in abundance, and that is my only necessity.”
“Bodily pleasure,” said Leo, “but what of your heart?”
John made another dismissive sound. “Marriage has transformed you into the veriest weakling.”
Gazing at Anne, he saw the ferocity in her face despite the exhaustion beneath her eyes, her torn and dirty gown. And her arm, around his waist. “It has made me far stronger than I could have ever dreamed.”
Her grip tightened, sending another pulse of energy through him.
Bram rolled his eyes. “Enough of this maudlin twaddle.” He raised his sword. “You have chosen your allegiance just in time to die.” Assured as an officer, he commanded, “Hellraisers, advance.”
Leo braced his feet wide, making himself ready. Whit brandished his saber, and the fiery whip reappeared in Zora’s hand. Anne, weary as he knew her to be, still prepared herself for battle, her chin tilted and hands upraised as she stood beside him.
Edmund’s gaze continued to move back and forth between Leo and Anne, and Whit and Zora. Leo saw what Edmund saw: men willing to fight and die for their women, and women just as ready to do the same for their men. A pained look crossed Edmund’s face.
Both John and Bram edged forward. But Edmund remained where he stood. “I ... I cannot.”
“Edmund,” snapped Bram over his shoulder. “This is no time for tender sentiment. Move. Now.”
Leo watched, warily amazed, as Edmund slowly lowered his sword. He wore an almost baffled expression. “No. This must stop.”
Clever as always, John said, “Do you want to lose Rosalind? For surely you will if these traitors have their way.”
Yet Edmund shook his head. “I never truly had Rosalind. Since I received my gift, she has not been the woman I wanted, the woman I loved. Merely an empty shell that looked like Rosalind.” He stared at Whit and Zora, and then Leo and Anne, his gaze hollow with longing. “I merely own a thing. But I do not have love. And I know ...” His voice thickened. “I know that the Rosalind I love would hate the life I’ve given her.”
“Edmund,” said Leo, but he did not know what he could tell his friend. If Leo were in Edmund’s place, if he had Anne but not Anne, missing the crucial essence of who she undeniably was ... Leo could not endure it.
“You mean to turn traitor, just like these two?” John snarled. “Take up arms against us?”
Carefully, as though releasing an adder, Edmund set his sword upon the ground. “I’ve no wish to fight you. All I seek is to relinquish my gift that I might set Rosalind free.”
Bram and John hissed in frustration and anger, but Leo felt the blossoming of true hope. With Edmund as an ally, surely they could defeat the Devil. He might wish to retire from the battle, but Leo knew that Edmund was too gallant to turn away from such an important fight. It might take a little while, yet he would come to their aid. In this war, they needed every ally, every advantage.
And Edmund was far too good a man to be damned. Of all the Hellraisers, he had been the one who preferred laughter to rowdiness, friendship over debauchery.
Edmund moved toward Leo. “I will need your guidance.”
“You have it.” Leo held out a hand.
“No,” growled Bram.
“He is our enemy,” John snarled. Swift as a viper, he lunged forward, sword upraised and aimed at Leo.
Leo moved to dodge the blow, but it never came. Instead, the tip of John’s blade protruded from Edmund’s chest. Edmund had leapt in front of John, blocking him from running Leo through. And had taken the sword strike intended for Leo.
Anne gasped in horror, and flung out her hands. A blast of wind tossed John backward. Both Leo and Whit ran forward. But they were too late. Edmund stumbled for a step and sank to his knees. John got to his feet, still holding his sword. Blood streaked the metal, and he gazed at it dispassionately.
Gently, Leo lowered Edmund to the ground, careful to support his head. Edmund’s wig slid off, revealing his closely shorn hair. Leo tore off his coat and wadded it up to press against the wound, but blood spilled from Edmund’s chest and back, coming up in pulses as his heart beat out his life. Already, Edmund turned ashen, his eyes glassy.
“Help him,” Leo shouted to Livia. Out of all of them, the ghost possessed the most power.
Yet Livia only shook her head as she hovered near. “Were my strength not so diminished, even then I could do nothing. I’ve no authority over life and death.”
“He’s not dying,” Whit insisted.
“And you ... call yourself a ... gambler,” gasped Edmund. “Terrible at ... bluffing.”
“I’ll fetch a surgeon.” Leo started to rise, but Edmund gripped his hand with surprising strength.
“Give me this ... one favor.”
“Anything.”
Edmund fumbled weakly to pull his shirt up from his breeches. Helping him, Leo tugged on the fabric when his friend’s strength failed.
“On my ... right hip,” Edmund whispered.
Leo examined his hip. “You are not wounded.”
“And the ... marks?”
He saw only pale flesh. “If they were there, they have gone now.” Edmund’s sacrifice had done that, restored his soul.
A small smile appeared on Edmund’s mouth. “She is ... free. Make certain ... she is ... cared for.”
“I swear it.”
“And I,” added Whit.
“Tell her I ...” Edmund’s words trailed off, and his chest went motionless. His hand fell away from Leo’s, lying on the blood-slick cobblestones, the wedding band on his finger gleaming dully.
Only when he had closed his friend’s sightless eyes did Leo surge to his feet. John stared back at him, his expression tight. Bram was a dark, motionless figure, his face wreathed in shadows.
“You damned coward,” snarled Leo. He hardly believed what had just happened. Only a few weeks ago, they had all sat around his table, taking a meal together. And now Edmund lay dead in the street, murdered by his friend.
“I take all threats seriously,” said John.
“He was no damned threat to you.” Leo’s hands were wet with Edmund’s blood.
“Everyone is a threat. Especially you.”
Leo dove for Edmund’s sword. He hadn’t training in the weapon, but the need for retaliation would make him a quick study. All that mattered was avenging Edmund.
Seeing the fury in Leo’s face, John edged backward. For the first time that night, John seemed uncertain, his gaze flicking between Leo and the others. All of them, even Anne, stood ready to fight.
Everyone jumped back when a thick column of smoke suddenly appeared in the middle of the road. Not smoke, Leo realized, but a concentration of darkness, drawing in all light as if consuming it. The shadows swirled, then collected into the form of a man.
The darkness dissipated. A figure stood between the Hellraisers and Leo. Though Leo had seen this man only once before, he recognized him immediately. Immaculately groomed, he wore a gentleman’s suit of ash gray satin, his dark red waistcoat covered in rich embroidery and gems. He wore a fashionable bag wig, tied with black silk. A ring, topped with a large, black stone, adorned one of his slim white hands. In every way, even in his upright posture, he looked an elegant, wealthy gentleman.
But he was no gentleman. He was not a man at all.
“My dear Hellraisers,” he drawled, his diamond white gaze glancing down at Edmund’s body, “this was not how I envisioned our reunion.”
The Devil had returned.
Anne had not yet recovered from the shock of seeing Sir Edmund Fawley-Smith murdered by the Honorable John Godfrey. The poor man had surrendered his life trying to protect his friends. He had been run through like meat upon a skewer. His blood was everywhere. And there had been nothing she could do to help.
Now his lifeless body sprawled upon the ground, and someone, something had appeared. Her every nerve tensed, and chill spread through her body. For she knew instinctively who stood before her, wearing the guise of a nobleman. She had seen too much to be astounded, and yet there was no way to prevent the shock that froze her in place. To have heard so many times about the Devil, and now, to see him made real ... If Anne lived to see the dawn, she doubted she would ever forget this sight, burned as it was into her mind.
She sidled closer to Leo, threading her fingers with his.
“Two of my Hellraisers gone in a single night.” The Devil shook his head, a disappointed tutor. “Edmund offered me little, but you, Leo, you could have been such a wonder.”
“I’ll live with the disappointment,” he answered flatly.
The Devil offered a chill smile. “Not for much longer.”
Anne stiffened. She did not care for those ominous words.
“I believe it was one of your natural philosophers who said, Actioni contrariam semper et æqualem esse reactionem. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The loss of two Hellraisers, and their power, means that the two remaining Hellraisers shall have more power.” The Devil curled his fingers as he turned to face Bram and John. Black energy gathered in his hands, seemingly drawn from the night itself.
Both men drew upright, as though preparing themselves. John looked eager. Bram’s expression was opaque. He had not spoken since Edmund’s death, and continued to maintain his silence. Yet he did not turn away from the Devil’s offer.
Good God, Anne already felt Bram’s menace. She could not begin to fathom what he might become if further corrupted. And John had already proved himself a villain. With more power at his disposal, he would transform into a monster.
