“Okay, can we be done with the silent treatment, please?” Caleb asked, handing her a cup of coffee.
Azrael clasped it between her hands, closing her eyes against the morning sun streaming through the window. Last night, she’d slept on the couch with her ankle propped up and iced. Caleb had questioned her relentlessly about what happened, but with her mood and the fact he’d burst in on what she hoped would be a kiss, Azrael refused to talk about it. Now, having slept, she felt guilty about that.
“I’m sorry. I swear I’m becoming a hateful bitch lately. I don’t know what is wrong with me,” she admitted, grabbing Caleb’s hand and squeezing it.
“Lack of sex, probably, unless someone scored last night,” he responded, edging closer to her.
“Nope. No scoring. Just hurt both my pride and my ankle. Seriously though, thank you for icing my ankle and bringing me coffee. You’re a lifesaver.”
“And don’t forget it.” Caleb lifted her legs with care and slid under them, setting them across his lap. “Although I am practically foaming at the mouth to find out what events led to that lover’s embrace you were in when I opened the door last night.”
“Ugh,” she replied, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t even know what that was. Last night, I could have sworn Lance was going to kiss me, but this morning I’m doubting it.”
“Looked like it to me. Why don’t you just go down there and ask him?”
“Because he’s out of town for a while. Speaking of which, I need to go feed his cat in a little bit.”
“Feed his cat? He has a cat? Okay, wait, why don’t you start from the beginning?”
For the next hour, she drank her coffee while relaying the events from the night to Caleb. With anyone else, the story would have only taken twenty minutes, but Caleb stopped her every few minutes to ask questions. When she finished, she set her cup of coffee down. “Anyway, that’s when you burst out the door.”
“He actually said he noticed how sexy you looked?” Caleb asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes.”
“Az, he was totally going to kiss you. How can you doubt that? Look at the facts. He broke up your date, paid for your drinks, carried you when you were hurt, called you sexy, and that moment in the hallway—hell baby, the way he was looking at you made my knees weak.”
“I don’t know.” Azrael shut her eyes. “He’s just so freaking hot and cold.”
“Not to mention he’s your landlord and temporary boss. Sweetie, you sure can pick them. He’s right about those judgement issues of yours.”
“Shut up, Caleb.”
~*~
It was around five o’clock before she felt stable enough on her ankle to go down to Lance’s apartment. The list he’d left her was pretty easy. All she needed to do was take the checks out of the dropbox and put them in a deposit bag for Monday. That and feed the cat. Although she was positive he’d left already, she knocked and waited a second before sliding the key into the lock and opening the door.
The apartment was quiet. Azrael grabbed the checks from the box and sorted them. Minutes passed in eerie silence. Something felt wrong. Every few seconds, she would glance over her shoulder, sure something was behind her. Watching. Waiting. She checked to make sure the door was locked.
“Probably that damn cat,” she mumbled.
Speaking of which….
Putting the checks away, she went in search of Bumpkins. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
She shook the bag of food, but still no cat. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Stupid cat.
Azrael sat the bag of cat food down and searched the apartment. Both the living room and kitchen were empty, leaving her only the bedroom to check. From under the bed, she saw a grey and black striped tail.
“There you are, Bumpkins,” she said, moving to the other side of the bed and leaning down. The cat was crouched beneath the railing, its body trembling. “Hey, I won’t hurt you.”
Bumpkins continued shaking. Azrael decided it was best if she left him alone. She was about to stand up when she saw a magazine under the bed.
Is that the one he was hiding from me?
Azrael glanced over her shoulder, even though she knew she was alone. Curiosity got the better of her, and she slid her hands underneath the bed, pulling it out.
“You’ve got to be fricking kidding me.”
Her face was on the cover. Underneath it, the caption read, “Sexy Summoners.” She set the magazine down on the bed, her heart racing. Based on the condition, it wasn’t new. Azrael picked it back up and flipped through to the centerfold. The corner was turned down to mark the page. She stared at her naked image, breasts bared, hair flowing about her shoulders, on her face a look of desire.
“How long has he had this?” she mumbled.
“Oh, that thing? About eight months or so.”
Azrael dropped the magazine and spun around. A few feet behind her stood a man, his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, an expensive pair of sunglasses on his face. He strolled over to her.
Azrael took a few hesitant steps back. “Who are you?”
“Blais,” he said, grinning at her. “By your lack of reaction, I’m guessing he hasn’t mentioned me.”
Although there was nothing to warrant it, a small voice in the back of Azrael’s head warned her that Blais was a dangerous man. Not to mention the fact he was in an apartment that was locked from the inside. She thought it was unlikely Lance would have forgotten to mention a guest. “Well, um, he’s not here, but I can tell him you stopped by.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that. I’ll leave him my own personal message. I’m curious, though. What is your relationship with Lance?” he asked, moving closer.
It’s the glasses, she thought. His features were no different than the average man’s, and his tone was charming, but she sensed a darkness in him. A darkness hidden behind tinted lenses.
“I’m just the maid,” she said, glancing around for the quickest way to escape, her mouth going dry.
Blais leaned down and picked up the magazine she’d dropped.
“Oh, I think you’re a little more than that,” he replied, flipping to the centerfold. “You know, I’ve been wondering what his obsession is with this thing. Not that you aren’t sexy as hell, but it’s unlike Lance to hold onto anything personal. Now I know why. Sexy and a summoning witch to boot? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Well, we can’t have that now. So very unfortunate for you. I think I’ll keep this, though.” He rolled up the magazine and shoved it in his back pocket.
A bead of sweat ran down her forehead. Her eyes darted to the bedroom door. There was no way she could get past him quick enough, especially with her hurt ankle. She’d just have to stall until the opportunity arose.
“So,” she said, leaning against the nightstand, hands feeling around for a weapon. “If you know Lance so well, what’s the secret behind his guarded and grumpy attitude?”
“Well, that would be me.” He curled his lips up in a toothy grin and reached for her. “By the way, you’re discrediting my intelligence. Do you not think I’m aware of you stalling to plan some sort of escape? Lucky for you, I like to play with my toys before I break them.”
Azrael darted to the side. The world seemed to slow. She saw Blais reach forward, watched as his hand slipped around her waist, and screamed as he tossed her into the nightstand. She slammed into the ceramic lamp, and it shattered against her lower back. Her knees hit the floor, the pain radiating through her thighs. She tried to crawl away.
His hand clamped over her mouth as he picked her up. “Don’t scream again, or I’ll break your neck. There is a small chance I might let you live, for now at least, as long as you behave. Of course, I haven’t decided yet. Do you understand?”
She nodded, eyes wide. He was going to kill her. She couldn’t overpower him, couldn’t fight. Couldn’t summon without her spells. In that moment, she heard her grandmother’s voice.
You don’t need all that mumbo jumbo to cast a summoning spell. The power is inside you. Use it. Summon.
Gran could do it without a spell. Azrael, on the other hand, had never succeeded.
“Now, I’m going to let you go, and I want you to lie down on the bed and be a good girl,” Blais said, removing his hand from her mouth.
She moved slowly, not because she didn’t want to escape, but because she needed to concentrate.
Partition the mind, she thought, remembering her grandmother’s teachings. Think of it as two separate doors, one in the front, one in the back. Except the back one is hidden. Separate your magic from your mind.
Azrael envisioned the back door, in it the room with all the strands of purpose. At the same time, she laid down on the bed like Blais instructed.
“Good girl,” he said, sitting beside her. “Now, what to do with you? I sent Lance on that little goose chase so I could come here and kill that nasty looking cat of his, but you are a much better prize. If he’d just keep his nose out of my business, then I wouldn’t have to leave him a little warning at all.”
Azrael entered the room. I need a protection demon. I need a protection demon. I need a protection demon.
“So, now I have two choices. I could mess up that pretty little face of yours as a constant reminder to him, or I could kill you and leave your body here for him to find,” Blais said, smiling.
I need a protection demon. I need a protection demon. I need a protection demon.
Azrael spun around in the imaginary room, every strand repelling from her. If she didn’t find one soon, she was just going to have to grab something random and hope it was distracting enough for her to escape.
“You know, now that I’ve given it some thought,” Blais said, removing his glasses and wiping them on his shirt. “I’m going to need to kill you. Can’t have a summoning witch on my tail. But first, I think I’ll take those powers of yours.”
Azrael’s breath hitched. It wasn’t his eyes that terrified her. They were a normal shade of medium blue. It was the tattoos on his eyelids. A taboo to all witches.
“You’re a konsumo demon,” she whispered.
“Oh, yes. A very successful one too. I’ve taken more powers from witches than any in history. But don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. You won’t feel a thing except when I remove your eyelids. That might hurt a bit. Since I need eye contact to withdraw your powers, I’m going to need to remove those. Can’t have you blinking in the middle of the process. Hope you understand.”
I need a protection demon. I need a protection demon. I need a protection demon.
Azrael watched as he pulled a knife out of his pocket and flicked out the blade. Its sharp edge glistened. Blais leaned in, his mouth pursed in concentration, knife hovering over her right eye.
I NEED PROTECTION!
Azrael felt a strong pull as her powers attached to a strand. She grabbed it and closed the partition, bringing herself fully back to the world. The tip of the knife brushed against her lids as she thrust her hand out, casting her power.
A cloud of smoke filled the room, and Blais jumped back. Azrael tried to roll off the bed in the opposite direction, but he grabbed her ankle. She screamed and kicked him in the face. He let go, and she fell to the floor. Blais started after her but froze when the smoke cleared. Lance was standing above her, looking down, a bewildered expression on his face.
“Azrael, what the hell are you—?” He stopped short, realizing they weren’t alone. “Blais,” he seethed, his eyes darkening as he looked at the other man.