Chapter Fourteen

The vicarage at Highston was a crumbling bit of stone and mortar. It was an ancient structure and had seen better days. The church spire rose high into the night sky. Sage descended from the carriage he drove, Marianne alighting behind him.

He pushed open the church doors which creaked and groaned under the weight of years of service. Marianne crept in behind, coughing at the dust that stirred up.

“How can dust bother you? You have no substance.”

Marianne waved the dust from her face as she tried to suppress any further coughs. “There’s several things about my existence I do not understand.” She tilted her head to observe the many cobwebs hanging from the rafters. “Is it abandoned?”

“It appears so.” Sage noted the thick dust covering the fixtures. A lantern sat unused in the corner of a table. He struck flint to light it, lifting it to illuminate his way. The rows of pews stretched into the darkness, becoming visible only as he walked closer. Once at the dais, he saw what was left of the items the church used for their services.

“I don’t see anyone,” Marianne said, peering into the dark gloom surrounding them beyond the shelter of the light’s glow.

“Nor do I.”

“Perhaps we should look out of doors? She might be wandering the graveyard, searching for potential victims.” Sage sent her an irritated glance. She saw his expression and shrugged. “Is that not what demons do?”

“Along with the haunting of ghosts…”

Marianne scowled.

“Just an observation,” Sage said, his mouth lifting into a small smile. Even during this frightening time, Marianne could still make him smile.

Brilliant.

Marianne made a huffing noise and marched forward into the murky darkness. Sage followed, lifting the lantern high to illuminate her path. They found a side door. Opening the rusty hinges, creaking loudly, they found themselves outside among the buried dead.

Large and small gravestones littered the ground. Marianne picked her way about, scanning the edges of the dark. Outside the moon illuminated the area so they did not need the addition of the lantern, but Sage kept it in case they stepped farther into the wooded area behind the church.

Searching into the trees, he saw movement.

“Marianne,” he whispered to alert her. She turned toward the direction of his gaze.

A flash of red appeared beneath a hooded cloak. As the figure stepped forward, pale hands drew the hood back. Bright red hair, much like flame in the moonlight, identified Desmonda Green.

The figure at her side, they did not know.

“You are late,” Desmonda observed by way of greeting.

Sage glanced at Marianne.

“Fashionably so,” he said. “Miss Grey required a seamstress for her attire.”

Desmonda searched the space beside him, seeing nothing, she narrowed her eyes and returned her gaze to him. Sage smiled at the woman’s consternation.

“I see we have a guest,” Sage said, peering at the small unassuming man next to her.

“This is the Reverend Michael Blair,” Desmonda introduced. “He’s graciously agreed to assist us this evening.”

He was of average height, perhaps as tall as Desmonda, with mousy brown hair and spectacles. As he moved, his cloak fell opened to reveal simple garb.

Sage should be accustomed to the extraordinary, but the sight of a clergyman keeping company with a half-demon surprised him.

“How do you do?” Mr. Blair muttered, reaching out to shake Sage’s hand in greeting.

The tingle Sage felt upon contact surprised him, too.

“You’re not quite human, are you?”

Mr. Blair flushed and sent Desmonda a quick glance. He cleared his throat before speaking. “No. I’m a witch…of sorts.”

“A powerful sorcerer,” Desmonda added. “Though he’s shy of using his talents.”

The reverend looked away, glancing at his feet, then Sage’s feet, then the church beyond, keeping his gaze anywhere except on the faces of his companions.

“You look nervous,” Sage observed.

Mr. Blair shrugged. “Rather uncomfortable, I’m afraid. Miss Green and I have an arrangement. I’d like to get the ceremony finished so I might get back to my parish.”

“By all means,” Sage said. “What do we need to do?”

****

The Reverend Michael Blair and Desmonda prepared while Sage and Marianne stood back, watching. They each carried a pouch of white chalky dust which they sprinkled over the ground where they deemed a proper circle could be held. The graves of the dead littered the area, but none interfered with their movements. Desmonda said they needed the power of the dead for this spell. The way she spoke sent shivers along Sage’s back, but he nodded in compliance. What could he do to argue, after all?

They created symbols on the dirt with their dust, sprinkling heavily over there, lighter here, until many strange designs covered a large area. After that, they closed the circle around the symbols.

Michael clapped his hands together, dust from his fingers puffing into his face until he choked.

“That’s finished. Now, onto the next. Are you prepared?” He looked at Sage over his spectacles.

Did he have a choice? Sage shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

“What does he mean to do?” Marianne whispered from his side.

“I’ve no bloody idea,” Sage whispered back.

“I need to know your connection to the demon,” Michael said a moment later as he gingerly approached Sage. He took his spectacles off to wipe the sweat beading on his brow. “How did you meet? What did it do? That sort of thing.”

Sage’s face remained impassive, but with a glance at Desmonda and Marianne, he turned back to Michael.

“I’d rather not speak of it.”

Desmonda stepped forward. “He needs to know certain details in order to perform the ceremony correctly.”

Sage’s brow arched. “No.”

“Anything at all. Can you describe it? I cannot imagine it obliged you by giving its name. That would be too easy by far. But any pertinent details would be a blessing.”

“Pertinent details?” Sage repeated.

Michael nodded.

Sage sighed. “It changed form at will. Female to male and back. It had power of flame. When it…attacked me, it absorbed my power. I couldn’t use magic of any kind for several weeks after. And when I did begin to regain use of magic, it was tainted by fire. Now, every time I cast a spell it turns to flame.”

Michael nodded. “I know this demon.”

“You can summon it?” Desmonda asked.

Michael nodded again.

“Wait. What?” Sage took a step forward. “Summon it? You can’t. It’s dead.”

The reverend heaved a deep sigh. “It takes incredible strength to kill a demon. Most often, it’s cast back to Hell, back into the underworld. That’s where your demon is residing.”

“It’s alive?” A chill crept along Sage’s skin. The rest of Mr. Blair’s statement crept into his brain. “You cannot summon it,” he protested. “That magic is the blackest of its kind. And the demon is strong…terrifying…”

“If you have any hope of severing your bond, it must be dealt with, otherwise the connection with you will remain for as long as it pleases.”

Sage took several steps backward, stumbling for a moment before placing his hands on his knees to steady himself. The demon was not dead…For all this time, he had considered his family safe, thinking the demon deceased. Imagining now, the creature had access to him at any time in the last six months created a wave of panic that stunned him. After a few moments of deep even breathing, he regained his equilibrium. Tonight, the ties between him and the demon would be broken. Straightening with clenched fists at his sides, he nodded.

“Very well.”

“During the attack, did the demon take anything from you? A lock of hair, article of clothing?”

Sage shook his head. “Nothing of which I’m aware.”

“Did it have contact with any bodily fluids? Did it kiss you or…?”

“Yes,” Sage said abruptly. “It kissed me and bit my shoulder. She said she liked the taste of my blood.” He cringed at the memory.

“Ah, that’s it then. We’ll need a few drops of your blood to complete to circle.”

Desmonda pulled a small blade from a hidden compartment in her dress. She approached Sage, requesting his hand. A quick flick of her wrist and tiny drops of blood oozed from the cut on Sage’s arm. He followed her around the circle, dropping his blood to complete the magic.

Michael faced the circle, reciting words from a scroll he extracted from the bag at his feet. The words were in another language, one Sage was not familiar with. They felt ancient. As the reverend spoke, he sensed the power beginning to build. It rose from the ground, encircling them in a storm of magic. It was difficult to breathe.

Fear came with the magic.

Sage had been frightened when facing the demon before, but now he forced his feet to the ground when all he wished to do was flee. This was the blackest sort of magic. The sort that should never be attempted. And he was about to confront the demon who haunted his memory.

Within moments, flames burst forth around the circle, creating a ring of fire. Something dark and shadowy began to emerge from within the flames. A mass of dark clouds, coalescing into the shape of a dark-haired woman with flashing red eyes. As soon as she formed fully, she turned those demon eyes on Sage. A slow smile curved her lips.

“We meet again.”

****

Her voice was a seductive purr, more animal than woman, more creature than animal.

“Show no fear,” Michael shouted. Marianne hadn’t noticed the rumbling that began when the magic started. The wind picked up, roaring around them like a giant thunderstorm. “It feeds on fear.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Marianne heard Sage mutter. Since she practically crawled up his arm in fright, she could hear him quite clearly. She took a moment to gather herself. Marianne was frightened, more than ever before, but she reminded herself this demon could do nothing to harm her. She was already a ghost. How could anyone harm a ghost?

Marianne didn’t hear Mr. Blair begin his exorcism. He shouted words at the demon, words she couldn’t identify since it sounded much the same as the ancient language he had used to summon the demon.

The demon turned to the reverend, her smile sickly sweet on her beautiful face. She spoke to the man in the same language, growling the words. Her eyes widened at his response, and if possible appeared a brighter, angrier red. She lifted her head back and howled in rage, the fierce wind whipping her hair around her naked form.

Then she stopped, turned her head, pointing at Marianne.

“You,” she said with the evil smile back in place. “I want you.”

“What?” Michael appeared baffled. He looked at Sage, a puzzled expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, no.” Desmonda rushed toward them, grabbing Sage’s arm in her hurry to reach them. Sage flinched, brushing her off. She released him with a quick apology. “You said Miss Grey arrived with you? Is she here now?”

“Of course,” Sage said. “She goes with me everywhere.”

Desmonda’s eyes closed. Her lips moved in a prayer Marianne had heard before, one seeking protection. When the woman’s eyes opened, grief and sorrow poured from her green gaze.

“Tell her to run!” Michael shouted.

“It will do no good,” Desmonda said quietly.

“What’s happening?” Sage asked with a worried glance at Marianne.

“Michael has bargained for your freedom. At the price of Marianne’s.”

“What?” Sage asked. The fury in that single word chilled Marianne, enough for what Desmonda said to sink into her brain.

“Tell her to run!” Michael repeated.

At his words, the demon surged against the circle. The flames shot up higher. Michael dropped the scroll he’d been holding, and Marianne saw his mouth move. Then he lifted his hands, pushing into the air. Vibrations echoed through the air, and a faint light pulsed from the reverend’s hands. He was holding the demon back, keeping it trapped in the circle.

“Marianne, you must run. She doesn’t have your blood scent. You must hide.” Desmonda spoke into the air as she had no sense of where Marianne stood.

“Sage? What’s happening?” Marianne’s voice was a faint whisper. She stared at Desmonda like the woman was a creature she’d never before seen, one just as frightening as the demon now surging against the wall. Michael pushed against the barrier, attempting to keep the demon in its place.

“There’s nothing more we can do,” Desmonda said to Sage. “Marianne is vulnerable. Her body can be possessed with anyone who controls her spirit. Do you understand what that means? The demon can take over Marianne’s body!”

“Come, Marianne,” Sage said without waiting to hear more. He turned to run.

“No, wait!” Desmonda grabbed Sage’s arm before he could take another step. “You cannot go with her. The demon has tasted your blood. It can track you. It will take longer to find Marianne if she goes alone.”

“Marianne,” Sage said, turning to her. “My love…”

“There’s no time! Marianne, run! Hide!” Desmonda said tugging Sage back to face her. “Sage, you must help us give her time to escape. Help us hold the demon in the circle.”

Marianne took several backward steps, watching as Sage nodded. Desmonda pulled him away.

“Go, Marianne!” With one last look, he turned to confront the demon with the two spellcasters at his side. Sage lifted his hands, a ball of flame extending from his fingertips, then blasted into the circle to keep the demon locked away from Marianne.

Marianne’s legs bumped against a gravestone, shivering as the stone passed through her. Then she turned and ran into the darkness.

****

Sage kept slinging fireballs at the circle, to keep the demon distracted while Marianne escaped behind him. After a while, he realized his magic was having little to no effect on the demon. The only one seemingly able to control the circle was Michael, and just barely. The man was nearly to his knees. Sweat drenched his hair and stained his collar. He held his arms high, the power flowing from his fingertips even as the demon surged against him.

“Enough,” Sage said, lowering his arms. Chills shivered along his skin when the demon’s gaze met his. “Leave Marianne alone. I’ll come with you. Willingly.”

“Sage, you don’t know what you’re doing!” Desmonda’s voice echoed eerily behind him.

The flames surrounding the circle died down until Sage could meet the demon face to face with nothing between them.

“I’ve a taste for a body of my own. When I answered Drake’s summons, he forbid me from taking your ginger-haired beauty. Seeing as how he no longer has possession of her body, I’m no longer obligated to obey his commands.”

“Leave her be. Take me instead!”

The demon shook her head. “Our time together was precious, but I need you no longer.”

A flash of smoke and fire filled the space, swallowing the demon. When the circle cleared, the demon was nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve lost it,” Michael said, falling to his knees. Desmonda rushed to his side.

But Sage turned away, looking beyond the graveyard behind them into the dark forest where Marianne had vanished.

“Marianne,” he whispered. Pain swelled in his heart at the thought of Marianne falling into the demon’s clutches. The memory of his own torment at the demon’s hands haunted him. What damage would the creature do to an innocent such as Marianne?

How could he stop it? How could he protect Marianne? He didn’t have the correct spells or the magic. Even a sorcerer had difficulty controlling the demon.

Sage glanced back to where Desmonda comforted Michael. The reverend lay prone on the ground. The half-demon bent over him, running her fingers through his hair and along one cheek. Then she placed her lips on his.

The sight shocked him.

Were they lovers? The way they stared into each other’s eyes, it seemed only those truly in love would hold and kiss each other with such tenderness. Sage hadn’t seen the connection before, perhaps because he was so focused on freeing himself from the demon’s curse. But it was obvious Michael was beloved in Desmonda’s eyes.

Beloved.

The word crept into his mind, weaving through the possibilities. And then as if someone suddenly cast a light spell that brightened a dark room, he knew.

Only a beloved could break the spell cast over Marianne.

“I know what to do to save Marianne.”

****

Marianne ran for hours through the dark forest. If she had been corporeal, she would have stumbled through the brush, injuring herself and announcing her presence for miles around. As it was, she glided soundlessly along the forest floor, a ghost among the trees.

She stopped when the forest faded away to reveal a field. Beyond the farmer’s field, the tall spires of another church rising into the moonlit sky.

Holy ground. Sanctuary. Surely, the demon could not find her there.

She hurried into the church, passing through the closed doors with nothing but a tingle of awareness to mark the solid object. Though the interior was dark, she saw enough shapes illuminated from the moon’s light cast through the windows to find a pew and sink into it.

If she’d been human, she’d be struggling for breath from the frantic running. But her heart hammered in fright rather than exhaustion. She reckoned she could keep running indefinitely seeing as she was a spirit.

Why hadn’t she thought of finding safety in the confines of that other church where she and Sage had met Miss Green? It would have saved her being parted from Sage.

Now that she felt safe again, her thoughts returned to him. Was he still in danger? Had Michael freed Sage from the demon’s curse?

Questions plagued her as she sat in the still darkness, waiting. Waiting for what? How long must she sit? Sage would never know where to find her. But if Marianne set foot outside the church, she’d become vulnerable. The demon might catch her.

Marianne shuddered.

She wondered if Sage was safe. She wanted to go back, to search the area for him, but it was too dangerous.

For her and Sage.

Better to sit and wait.

Marianne groaned. She dropped her head onto her arms resting on the pew in front of her.

Perhaps it was better to find Sage. To fight. Instead of hiding and waiting.

A rustling noise echoed in the darkness. She lifted her head. Was it Sage? Had he followed her?

A shadow moved at the back of the church. She opened her mouth to call out to him, thinking it must be Sage, but hesitated.

What if it wasn’t Sage?

Although if it were not Sage, what difference would it make if she called out or not? Only three people could see or hear her so she’d be in no danger unless it was the demon. And everyone knew demons could not cross onto holy ground. She was safe enough as long as she stayed on church grounds.

“Hello?” Marianne called out. If it were Sage come to search for her and she remained silent, he might miss her in the darkness and move on in his search.

The shadow stopped, then changed direction toward Marianne. Expecting him to say something, she waited. As he stepped closer, she realized of the shape this person’s body did not match Sage.

She stood.

The shadow approached, and Marianne could identify the silhouette of a woman. When she walked into a pool of moonlight, Marianne looked into her glowing red eyes.

“Hello, Marianne.”

She screamed.