Page 53 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

ROMAN

M an, I hated being carried. Necessary right now, fine, but feeling weak and helpless frustrated the hell out of me.

Still, I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy being carried by the silky demon.

The nausea passed, but my body had lost so much energy. Like when you have a nasty virus, everything shooting out from both ends, and you’re as weak as a kitten for days after. That was me, coupled with the sensation of being absolutely ruined after a night of too many beers.

I wished beers had done the ruining.

Xavier carried me past those blossom trees onto a dry dirt path lined with blue daisies, some blue-and-black bees collecting pollen. Curved lampposts lit the way, candles burning in the glass lanterns hanging on metal hooks swinging gently in the chilly breeze.

“It’s always cold here,” Xavier told me, his eyes dead ahead like some robotic tour guide. “Demons love the warmth of your realm, which is why they want to claim it. We don’t have that warmth here. Nor do our cakes taste the same.”

“Huh? You were praising those cranberry and custard Danishes back at my place.” A nice moment between us before this shit hit the fan.

Can’t we go back to then?

“They are pastry,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Demons have never mastered the art of cake making. There are plenty of delicious baked foods, but our cakes pale enormously compared to yours.”

“Now I understand the motives behind a demonic takeover completely.”

“And I enjoy your sarcasm.”

“I’d flip my hair if I had the strength.”

He smiled down at me. “Everything about your realm is richer, warmer, coveted.”

“It’s pretty here, though,” I countered.

“Yes. It is.”

This little chat was nice. And every passing second without being dragged forward in time felt like a win to me. I waited, ready for it, body trembling with expectation.

We passed a large tree, possibly an oak, a two-headed owl perched on a thick branch. It cooed, both of its heads turning in that three-sixty move owls did.

The path dipped, leading into a circle of dark green willow trees, their branches bent over a river flowing toward a dark forest. A small waterfall poured into the river from a rocky crag covered in moss, more rocks piled in a half-moon shape around a cottage.

Two small birds tweeted on the thatched roof, another five enjoying a bird bath in the small front garden.

Violet tulips filled the rest of the garden. A blue swing bench rocked gently beside the yellow front door. The place looked like something from a postcard, tinged with a touch of the weird, sprinkled with melancholy.

Man, did I miss the concrete of London, the warmth of my flat.

“Can you put me down now?” I asked.

Xavier stopped, glancing down at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Really need to make friends with my feet again.”

A faint smile touched his face as he made me vertical, his hand resting on my lower back.

I swayed, unsure of myself at first. “Whoa.”

“You don’t have to push yourself.”

Maybe he was right.

Fuck that!

With some deep breaths and determination, I slowly walked toward the garden gate. The other Xavier and Ismael stood either side of it. The former scowled while the latter smiled.

“Welcome to our cottage,” the demon prince said. “I am Prince Ismael. It is nice to meet you.”

“Roman Gold, Your Highness.” I bowed to him respectfully. “Witch from the future.”

I realized my error too late.

Shit. What an idiot.

Past Xavier responded with an aggressive surge, grabbing me by the neck. “Witch!”

Shit. What a grip. He cut off my air supply.

Reflexively, my Synth ignited in my hands, a beam ready for the attack.

Maybe cast a diversion spell instead… Yeah, confuse the prick. Now you see me, now you don’t. It would spare me being strangled to death.

My Xavier grabbed him by the back of his neck, his long fingers curling around his Adam’s apple. “Get your hands off him.”

What would happen if they hurt each other?

God, thinking about this time travel business made my head pound harder than it already did.

“Witches die,” Mean Xavier declared.

“My love…” Ismael tried.

“I won’t let you kill a single demon.”

My Xavier tightened his grip. “Unhand him right now. This is your last warning.”

Did the two demons share pain? I didn’t see anything to confirm that idea.

Ismael came closer, Mean Xavier’s grip loosening in panic.

“Stay back, Ismael!”

“Your magic is red,” the prince said.

Past Xavier looked down at my hands. “What… What is this?”

“Arcana is orange-gold,” Ismael added. “Not red. And there are no killing arrows to strike us dead.”

My choker blinked, scrutinizing me with a heavy stare. “Red?”

With enough air coming in to formulate a sentence, I answered their confusion. “There’s no Arcana in the future.”

“It’s true,” Nice Xavier confirmed quickly. “He doesn’t have the power to kill demons.”

“No Arcana?” Ismael said. “Is this possible?”

“We can explain everything,” my Xavier answered. “I’m not sure if we should reveal any details of the future, but what choice do we have?”

“Especially as we can see you here before us,” Ismael responded. “This cannot be unseen.”

“Exactly.”

Mean Xavier didn’t seem so sure. “A trick. This must be a trick.”

I understood his distrust. If you live in an age where witches could snuff you out, it’s bound to make you uneasy seeing one outside your cottage.

“I really, really can’t kill you,” I threw in.

Ancient instincts from my ancestors whispered through my blood, telling me they would very much like me to kill him.

Yeah, yeah. Those days are done.

“And why would I want him to kill myself?” my Xavier put to the meaner him.

I thought the present Xavier could be scary, but he had nothing on his former self.

Whoa. What a death stare.

“A very good point,” Ismael said.

Please give my neck back! “Scouts honor.” A wasted sentiment here.

“Let him go, my love,” Ismael implored.

Mean Xavier released me, grunting. My Xavier let go of him in turn, backing off. The two versions of the demon glared at each other, then refrained from making eye contact.

I rubbed at my throat, a little steadier on my feet. “Can we start again? Talk about this?”

“Of course,” the prince said. “Please come inside.”

Mean Xavier stood rigid to the point of cracking. But he didn’t stop me following Ismael inside. If he put his hands on me again, I’d break that perfect nose.

Considering where I was, the royal demon I trailed, I remained pretty calm. I guess I was just so happy to not be zipping through time, puking my guts up.

For now.

I scratched at an itch on my left bicep through my jumper, stepping into a cozy home. Low ceilings with exposed beams, very much a traditional cottage vibe with an open fire, two armchairs, and a table with two matching teacups.

Must be a love nest for this pair.

Candles burned in glass lamps, casting a soothing glow over the brown walls and exposed floorboards.

A narrow stairwell in the corner connected to the second floor, three closed doors on my right leading to the rest of the house.

Closed doors in demon houses gave me goosebumps.

“Welcome,” Ismael said, gesturing to a chair. “Please sit.”

“Thanks.” I took the one on the right.

Mean Xavier stomped off through one of the doors.

Ismael gestured for the present Xavier to sit.

He refused. “You take it.”

The prince didn’t argue, sitting down gracefully. Xavier moved to stand by me, a hand on my shoulder, his head bowed.

God. How brutal for him to be in the presence of the love of his life again after mourning him for so long. I wanted to say something. Better yet, get him the hell out of here. This wouldn’t be good for his mind and those two hearts of his.

If I got dragged back in time to see my grandma in her healthier days, I’d break. I’d seriously fall apart knowing I had to leave her behind and face more of the present without her.

She was my mum as well as my grandma, the woman who brought me up. My confidant, my world. And now she was gone.

Could I go back to her? Oh, God! Seriously? Could I do that? If I got the hang of this magic? Change her fate. Cure her illness. Mend my sorrow.

Mean Xavier returned wearing white clothes, a black garment flung over his shoulder, more white clothes dangling from his arms. He also carried two wooden stools. He dumped one at Nice Xavier’s feet along with the white trousers and jumper, placing the other stool beside the fire.

He handed the black garment to Ismael, then perched himself on the stool.

My Xavier got dressed quickly, hand back on my shoulder within seconds.

The prince slipped the black tunic shirt on. “Much better. I was getting chilly.”

Shagging outside in this cold realm didn’t sound fun. However, Xavier radiated some serious natural heat, so that would keep the cold at bay.

Mean Xavier left the room again, returning with a cup of water. “Here.” He handed it to me. “Tea?”

“Thanks. And no, thanks.” A hot cup of tea would’ve been so nice, but I didn’t want to get too comfortable here.

The moment someone in my line of work relaxed was the moment the knife slid between their ribs.

“My prince?” he addressed the pretty man beside me.

“Not now, thank you.” He took his lover’s hand and kissed it. “I am sorry you are so angry, my love. I will make it up to you.”

The spider demon smiled, returning the kiss to Ismael’s hand. “As long as you’re safe.”

“Very safe.”

Shooting me a steely glance, Mean Xavier returned to his position on the stool.

“At the first sign of any trickery or Arcana,” he said to me, “you die. Horribly. Is that clear?”

Not before I take your eyes out… I nodded, sipping on the water.

“You don’t have to worry,” Nice Xavier chimed in.

I did wonder if my powers would change to be correct for this time, or if they wouldn’t work at all.

Imagine getting my hands on Arcana. Man, the damage I could do.

Count the dead demons! One, two, three…

But my Synth magic remained the same, time fuckery be damned. Thank God. I couldn’t handle any Arcana drama.