In the Witching Hour Read online

  Jason swallowed hard and grasped her shoulders, pulling her back into his arms, cradling her against his erratic heart. “Our enemies are strong and vicious. They fear the strength of our progeny.”

  Shock waves attacked her and she reeled. “We had children?” Well of course people in love had children….

  Sorrow flickered in his eyes. “None were ever born.”

  She held her stomach and stared down at it with dawning horror. “They murdered me and our child, didn’t they?” What cruel fate. She didn’t want that destiny for herself much less her child. This cycle couldn’t be allowed to continue. Soul mates or not, their child was more important. It seemed the only way to protect him was not to conceive. Far better than to subject him to a painful death.

  How bizarre to wrap her mind about such an ephemeral concept. How convoluted.

  What had she just done, letting the half-demon sweep her away in a frenzy of lust? It could already be too late….

  “We can’t just sit around waiting to be slaughtered!” Meg paced the floor. Did a room get decorated by itself? Did a Halloween costume pull itself together? No! They had to be proactive.

  Jason lounged on the settee, one leg crossed over the other knee. Gazing at her with narrowed eyes, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What do you suggest?”

  He seemed so calm, so normal—it boggled her mind to equate him with the beast. Yet he was every bit as sexy, as dangerous in this mode. But more aggravating! At least the demon had a one-track mind that was easier to understand.

  Stopping in front of him, she fisted her hands on her hips. “We go after them and stop them before they can kill us.”

  “No! Too dangerous.” Jason’s eyes glowed red as he leapt lithely to his feet. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with, their powers.”

  She bit back an exasperated sigh, feeling like a caged animal, ready to attack. “So we just wait around here like sitting ducks? For how long? Forever?”

  Eternal prison.

  True hell.

  Jason laid heavy hands on her shoulders and gazed deeply into her eyes. “They vanquish their enemies with fireballs. They pop out of nowhere, without warning.”

  Shuddering with the creeps, she glanced about at the long dark shadows. “Is this a safe sanctuary? Can they get in here?” Even if they couldn’t she couldn’t live her life trapped here.

  “They can come here but most won’t dare.”

  “Most? But not all?” Obviously one had dared.

  “No, not all.”

  “Is anywhere safe?” She felt as if she had a bull’s eye painted on her head. Or was that on her heart? Either way, she seemed to be the target in this bizarre game.

  “Some places are safer than others.”

  “Like here?” She pirouetted around, taking in the gloomy, depressing manor. “I have a life. I can’t stay here forever. We have to fight back.”

  Jason was on his own deadline. If they weren’t united by midnight of All Hallow’s Eve, he’d be sucked back into demon prison for another century. Then he could miss Meg’s next reincarnation. He could miss her for centuries.

  No, he couldn’t permit that. Even one hundred years loomed like an eternity. One hundred miserable years with his heart ripped out … He might as well be 100 percent demon his world would be so bleak.

  He had to believe her world would be desolate without his love, too. Destiny had paired them. She was his mate. But fate was cruel and kept separating them, leaving him to wade through empty decades, always searching for her.

  So many times he wanted to purge his heart of his love for her. Oh, he’d tried. It would be the sane path, saving him countless heartbreak.

  He cursed his demon father for his predicament. Full-blooded demons didn’t suffer such trivial human failings as love. They satisfied their carnal lusts and moved on. In this case, his human half was the curse.

  “So? How are we safer here?” His spitfire faced off against him, glowering up at him.

  “Show yourselves,” he commanded his guards.

  Ghosts suddenly appeared, some soaring, some floating leisurely about the room. “Meet my guards.”

  Meghan froze except for her gaze, which followed a particularly rambunctious fellow. Finally, breathlessly, she asked, “If they were here before, why didn’t I see them? How did your—our—enemy, get in?”

  Jason took her elbow in his hand and guided her to the couch. “Because they were under instructions to remain invisible. Who do you think alerted me to Balberith’s presence?”

  Meghan mumbled under her breath almost imperceptibly, “Demons, ghosts, and exorcists … what next? Witches? Vampires? I take back liking Halloween. Give me cuddly, harmless little Easter bunnies.”

  He winced at the mention of his mortal enemies—witches. “We don’t allow witches here. In fact the word is taboo.”

  Sir Wesley floated up to them, a flirtatious twinkle in his eye. He straightened his cockeyed hat. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, my dear.” Quite debonair and dashing according to the ladies, he took Meghan’s hand in his and bent to kiss it. The top half of his body teetered and then did a swan dive to the floor.

  Meghan squealed and jumped into Jason’s arms, clutching him. “He’s cut in two. His hand was so—so clammy.”

  “Tally ho!” Sir Wesley kicked his torso into the air like a balloon and it landed on his waist—backwards. Jason gave him a 6.2 for merging his two halves.

  Meghan just gaped, blinking. “He’s all twisted around.”

  “Righto, that I am. Happens all the time.” The cockeyed ghost spun his torso around until he faced her. “I’ve never been the same since the Battle of Alnwick. Bloody conflict.”

  If Jason didn’t cut him off, they’d be treated to the long tale ad nauseam.

  Meghan regarded him in horrid fascination, her jaw slack.

  Irving the Terrible whipped around Sir Wesley, jostling him so that his two halves came apart again. He bellowed, “None of us want to hear about how you got sawed in half, again. Stop monopolizing the lady.”

  “Pardon me, my dear,” Sir Wesley said in a huff as he kicked his body up and tried to catch it on his waist. The other ghosts began punting and punching Sir Wesley as if playing soccer, to the soundtrack of Wesley’s passionate protests.

  Meghan slid a look of derision Jason’s way. “They’re your body guards?”

  Jason scowled. “Game over! You can introduce yourself to the lady if you line up in an orderly manner.” As if this chaotic bunch ever had a sane moment.

  “This is supposed to make me feel secure?” Meghan twisted her earring stud around in her ear, frowning.

  Sir Wesley must have heard for he floated up to her and placed a hand solemnly over his heart. “I pledge my allegiance to you and would willingly sacrifice my life—again—to protect you.”

  “Uh, thank you.” Meghan leaned close to him and whispered, “Some of these guys look like soldiers. We need to strategize our attack.”

  Jason tried not to grimace. “In the Dark Ages, they fought with bows and arrows. Battle axes.” To make his point, he nodded at Irving the Terrible’s back where a broken arrow stuck out of his neck.

  “Demons throw fireballs.”

  “Which would go right through the ghosts? Wouldn’t they? So they couldn’t be harmed?” Meghan puckered and unpuckered her lips.

  “Right. But they can’t leave the manor. And they can’t hurl fireballs.” He gave her a stern look. “Neither can you or your cousin.”

  “But they can provide a distraction while you throw the flame.”

  “If we can lure them here.”

  “They came after me….”

  Oh no!

  He didn’t like the direction of her thoughts at all. “That was on the grounds, where the ghosts can’t go.”

  “Can’t we lure them inside? How many enemies do you have to eliminate?”

  If he told her “countless” she’d be overwhelmed. “The primary one is Bal
berith.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Meg had definitely slipped into a demented dimension. Since when did she fight anyone over anything more consequential than room layouts and color schemes? And then it was a mild discussion, not kick-ass heroine-type stuff.

  She could lay out a mean room, but could she strategize battle? Against supernatural beings?

  What alternative did she have?

  Hunker down and wait to die?

  About as appealing as being wrapped in a spider’s web waiting for the spider to return.

  Shudders raced up her spine.

  Not an option.

  Better to go down fighting than hiding like a coward.

  Still, what prayer did one human stand against a legion of demons?

  Lucy meandered into the parlor, rubbing her arms, a dazed expression in her eyes. When she walked through Sir Wesley’s top half, her eyes registered shock. “I’m in hell.”

  Make that one and a half humans. Her cousin didn’t have her full wits about her.

  For that matter, did she?

  “Close enough,” Meg murmured, skirting Irving the Terrible and Sir Wesley to hug Lucy.

  “Could hell be worse?” Lucy stared at Sir Wesley as he pulled his torso onto his waist.

  Remembering the attacking demon and fireballs she’d encountered outside, Meg shuddered. “Much worse.”

  Were they the Halloween-loving twins? They were failing the ultimate test.

  Black, glittering ice, Jason’s gaze narrowed on her. “Gather ‘round soldiers. We’re waging war.”

  Irving the Terrible grunted approvingly and swung his battle axe over his head.

  Sir Wesley separated, flew around him, and merged back together. Saluting sharply and clicking his heels, he said, “At your service, Lord Althorp.”

  Lord? Meg’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  The ghosts hovered about, their gazes rapt. “Between us, we have well over one-thousand years battle experience.”

  Jason pursed his lips and studied his troops. “Demons don’t play by the rules.”

  “Then neither shall we.” Sir Wesley floated to the middle and turned slowly to look everyone in the eye.

  “I never played by the rules,” Irving the Terrible bellowed. His terrifying voice boomed through Meg and she suppressed a shudder.

  Her stomach picked that moment to growl embarrassingly loud through the chamber. Covering her stomach with her hand, she felt the angry rumble. Funny, she had no appetite in the face of all this.

  Jason turned a concerned gaze on her. “You’ve not eaten since you arrived. How rude of me. Demons and ghosts don’t require nourishment.”

  Lucy waved her hand in the air demandingly. “Yo! Me neither. I take it there’s no pizza delivery in this medieval back of beyond?”

  Jason looked at Meg. “Lead the meeting while I find you food.”

  Before Meg could answer, he blinked away. “I hate it when he does that,” she mumbled.

  “Spooky.” Lucy scooted close to Meg so that their thighs rubbed. “Do we dare eat what he offers?”

  “If he wanted to harm you he wouldn’t be so subtle,” Sir Wesley said, stroking his goatee.

  They’d go up in a puff of flame.

  Meg wondered if demons ever lost control of their fireballs? If flames ignited spontaneously like the little girl in that horror movie. His temperature boiled, and poof! No more Meg.

  Ice froze her veins.

  Could Jason have vanquished her in any of her prior lives during a fit of anger? Even if she believed him that he meant her no harm, could he still be dangerous?

  Of course he was dangerous!

  His enemies wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her to get back at him.

  How could a human become invulnerable to mystical beings?

  Magic? Would a spell protect her and Lucy?

  “Where can we find a witch?” A wizard would do.

  Silence fell upon the room. Finally Sir Wesley whispered, “Witches are a demon’s mortal enemy.”

  “But we need magic to defend ourselves. Do you know any witches or wizards you can trust? At least make a mutually agreeable alliance?”

  Lucy piped up. “Your enemy’s enemy is your friend. Who else is an enemy of Balberith?”

  Kelvin the Brute floated forward. “If you’ll beg my pardon, Sherena and Therena Pembridge have a centuries old feud with Balberith. They are reputed to protect innocent humans. Perhaps they would be sympathetic to your plight.”

  Jason rematerialized holding two grocery sacks of steaming food. “Sherena and Therena?” Thunderclouds flashed in his eyes. “Why are you speaking their names?”

  Meg stood and faced off against him. Tilting her head toward her cousin, she said, “We’re vulnerable. You can’t be with us every moment. We can’t defend ourselves against magical enemies. Thus we need protection we can evoke. A force field. Magical protection.”

  Jason scowled and set the food down on a table. “If such strong magic existed do you think witches or demons would ever be vanquished?”

  Meg dug in her heels. “It would give us a fighting chance! This way, we’re doomed.” She paced the room, her head down, staring at her feet unseeingly.

  “In any of my past lives, did I have any magical protection?”

  “No.”

  Maybe she was progressing. “It’s worth a try. How do we contact this Sherena and Therena?”

  “It is not so easy. They could vanquish me—us—if we’re not careful?”

  “The ghosts are already dead, right? Duh warbled in Lucy’s voice. “They can’t die again, can they? Let them contact the witches.”

  Sir Wesley stepped forward and puffed out his chest. “I volunteer. I was quite close to their great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother.”

  “Why, you sly dog,” Jason said with a wink and thumped his shoulder, knocking the ghost’s torso to the floor.

  Sir Wesley’s top half somersaulted across the room, before he bounded up. His two halves floated toward one another.

  “Sorry, old man. I keep forgetting.” Jason hid a smile behind his hand.

  A wry smile twisted the ghost’s lips. “Wish I could.”

  “Enough of the small talk. We’re at war!” Irving roared, scowling. He pounded the credenza and a breeze stirred the papers sitting atop it.

  “You pop in on this Sherena and Therena, like you ghosts do and get our magic potion.” Lucy shooed him away with a flick of her wrist.

  “Tally ho!” Sir Wesley blinked away.

  “Tally ho,” Lucy mimicked dryly, with a dour expression.

  “We need bait … and then an ambush.” Irving’s cheeks grew as ruddy red as his bulbous nose and he licked his mustached lip with gusto.

  Bait?

  Meg gulped as all eyes turned on her.

  “Balberith has been after you for centuries,” the Brute said, almost leering at her.

  “No!” Jason stepped protectively in front of her. “I won’t allow it.”

  Warmth flushed through her. So he was human enough to care what happened to her. He wasn’t a monster—not wholly.

  She laid a hand on his forearm and tingles shot through her. “Do you have another idea?”

  “I don’t like it either.” Lucy paced. “It’s suicide.”

  “Not if we’re protected magically. Not with our army watching over us.”

  Lucy threw up her hands. “You’re nuts! You have a death wish.”

  Jason squeezed her shoulders and gazed down into her eyes. “I can’t lose you again.”

  “That’s what I want to prevent also.” She gazed up at him, her mouth dry, her heart in her throat. Sudden yearning to bury herself against him struck her full force.

  Meg dragged in a deep, ragged breath to steady herself. Survival took precedence. She couldn’t give into fear … or other primal emotions.

  She was going to be the huntress and she needed her wits about her. Any distraction could prove deadly.

  �
�Specifics.” She tore her gaze from Jason’s and snapped her fingers high in the air. “We’re running out of time.”

  Meghan didn’t know the all of it. Jason’s deadline loomed in his mind. Soon, he would be zapped back into the Internet prison. As much as he dreaded being trapped again, he worried more about Meghan’s protection if left alone.

  But that wasn’t even the worst part. The demon master had called for worldwide chaos. By unleashing so many imprisoned demons, he had given them rein to pillage and ravage. The world hadn’t seen such horror, such destruction, since the ultimate battle when Lucifer had been cast out of Heaven to rein over the depths of Hell.

  Hurricanes were being hurled at the Caribbean with a dizzying ferocity unseen in well over a century. Their wrath lasted longer and their fingers reached further—up into Meg’s Ohio, a previous unheard of event. She wouldn’t be safe there even if Balberith wasn’t targeting her.

  Volcanoes erupted. Tidal waves crashed ashore. Tornadoes whisked people away, while torrential floods and mudslides ravaged island nations. People rioted in the streets, fighting for food. Humans blamed a bad hurricane season. Others suspected global warming.

  Very few recognized demon hands at work. Fewer still took any responsibility by acknowledging their own obsession with Halloween as the cause.

  How many had read the ultra-fine print on the Adopt-A-Demon site, to know or care that they set real demons free? How many checked the seemingly white spaces for hidden white text?

  Some would argue that the world had brought upon its own demise. Others knew it was a demon trick to trap the unwary and unholy.

  The witches tried to counteract the evil but were outnumbered since the prisons had been opened.

  Those like himself, half-human demons, were caught in the middle. If he could keep his beast in check, he might be one of the few capable of restoring the equilibrium, before the out-of-control demonic forces destroyed the globe and their own futures along with it.

  He’d been so embroiled in his own concerns; he’d been out of touch until he’d gone to get food for Meghan and her cousin. Cursing his myopia, his selfishness, he punched the couch.

  Meghan jumped and all gazes in the room focused on him. “The idea of working with the witches bothers you that much?”