Page 5 of Discord and Cinder (Fire Witches of Salem #7)
DISCORD
W hen the witch first cast her rudimentary spell, attempting to bind herself to me, I laughed.
The magic was weak, but the audacity of the woman intrigued me.
The fact someone with such limited skill thought she could not only find me, but summon me, stirred in me the first emotion I had felt in centuries. Possibly millennia.
I had been imprisoned for Lucifer knew how long, denied the use of my senses. Without a corporeal form, my concept of time deceived me. Shadow and darkness, once old friends, had become my wardens, taking pleasure in my mind’s demise.
In the beginning, I had stewed in rage, my anger at Isabel, the insolent witch who had tricked me, gnawing at my soul, devouring my essence until nothing but this emotionless shell of a former demon remained.
I had failed my brothers. Failed Hecate and my creator. I barely existed anymore, and I wished with every thread of my being that I would slip away into the nothingness. That I would cease to be.
Then I sensed it. I would like to call it first a tingle and then a pinch, but I had no physical or spiritual form to feel such sensations. So, how could it be?
My consciousness had awakened when the spell took hold, the sensation of my eyes opening, of my lungs drawing a deep breath though I possessed neither in this form, reminding me that I did indeed exist. As the tether formed, no stronger than a single strand of hair, a hint of the witch’s essence whispered across the thread.
A tiny spark, reminiscent of the fury I felt for Isabel, flared in my being, but it suffocated beneath the weight of my apathy as quickly as it had formed.
This witch was not the one who had vanquished me. The bond she created indicated weak magical ability, mediocre at best. Isabel possessed the power to summon my brothers and myself on her own. Now that she had stolen Hecate’s amulet, her strength and that of her descendants would be unmatched.
This witch was neither a descendant nor did she possess the amulet. It wouldn’t be the first time someone with limited power attempted to harness mine, but it would be this woman’s last.
If the bond she created between us was a true indication of her minimal ability, the vim it would require for her to attempt the feat of summoning me would drain her completely. She would die in the process. Any witch versed in demonology should understand the tax of evoking a Prince of Hell.
Perhaps she knew not of my power, of my rank. Or perhaps she, too, wished to end her existence. The reason mattered not. The conclusion would remain the same. She would die, vim depleted, and I would remain floating in this sensory-deprived state for the rest of eternity.
I should appreciate the entertainment while she made it available. A bonding spell like this would last two days at most, so I…
What in Lucifer’s name?
The pinch of the elementary bonding spell turned into a clench. The tether strengthened into steel, wrapping around my essence, penetrating my soul. A stabbing sensation pierced the left side of my imaginary skull, and the sensation of my entire body seizing rocked me to my very core.
That was the binding spell of a worthy witch. An elemental fire witch.
Hours passed, or it could have been minutes or days. Time was irrelevant. Her intent to set me free, however, was overpowering. I felt it through the bond she had created. Her strength, her determination, her sense of urgency… I felt it all, and it was enthralling.
A vibration formed at the base of my would-be head, spreading downward and taking root in my chest. The tether between us tightened, coaxing me toward the barrier of my dark prison, toward the veil.
The prison fought back, shackling my essence with tendrils of despair, but the bond the witch had created between us was stronger than any magic I had ever felt. Her essence called to me, demanding I appear before her. It was a call I could not ignore, not even if I tried.
Her magic, her command, unraveled the prison around me. My shackles dissolved with her intent, and the veil, normally impenetrable for a creature of my level, dissipated into a thin fog, allowing me unhindered passage.
In the form of dark green smoke, I poured through the opening, my essence billowing into the summoning circle the witch had created for me.
My skull lay in the center, atop a sheet of parchment bearing my sigil, and my fluid form spiraled around it, my senses returning with overwhelming force, the realm and everything in it coming into sharp focus.
The witch’s mark, a triangle inside a triquetra, marred my bone, binding me to her, rendering me incapable of causing her harm in this realm. A clever woman, indeed.
My essence gathered around my skull, the bone absorbing my being as it lifted from the ground. The page bearing my mark sparked flames, burning to ashes in seconds as my body finally took form.
I gasped at the sensation of the cool grass beneath my feet, and I dug my taloned toes into the earth, rooting myself, lest the prison attempt to suck me back through the veil. I fisted my hands and then splayed my fingers, cat-like claws extending from my fingertips before retracting inside them.
I tilted my head, turning it from side to side, my vertebrae cracking into place as I straightened my spine and inhaled my first breath in centuries. The scents of pine, salt, and earth greeted my senses, and I turned around to face the powerful witch who had freed me.
Her beauty slammed into me like a hammer to my chest, taking the breath from my lungs and stilling my newly beating heart. Long hair in a shade of rose I had never seen hung in loose waves down to her waist. Her pink lips formed a perfect bow, and her dark honey eyes seemed to penetrate to my soul.
Her style of clothing indicated centuries had passed since I’d last occupied this realm, her shirt and pants clinging to her body, revealing feminine curves and ample hips.
Her skin appeared soft and smooth, and my gaze snapped to her left arm, where my mark glowed red, pulsing in response to my breaths.
Her mark on me. Mine on her. A dangerous bond, indeed.
She raked her gaze down my form and rested a hand on her hip before looking into my eyes. “Hello, Discord.”
I arched a brow but said nothing in return as I opened my senses, allowing the energy of both the realm and the witch to wash over me.
“Can you not speak?” She closed the thick book she held and slipped it into a bag with two straps. “I believe a thank you is in order.”
I tilted my head, studying her. Strength and power emanated from her aura, but the darkness I expected to find in her soul did not exist. Why, then, did she summon a Prince of Hell and use blood magic to bind us?
“A light witch with questionable morals. You know not what you’ve done.” I stepped toward her but met the wall of a containment spell, which stopped me short.
She crossed her arms. “I know exactly what I’ve done, what I’m doing, and what you’re going to do for me.”
I pressed my palm against the magical wall and chuckled. She was new at the dark arts. I could break through in seconds. “My mark on your arm means you belong to me,” I lied.
She swung the bag over her shoulder. “Mine on your skull means you belong to me.”
“To what end?” I extended my claws and drummed them against the invisible wall. It shimmered with each tap.
She swallowed hard, the first indication of her wariness. “I freed you from your prison. You owe me a favor.”
“What gave you that idea?” I laid my other hand against the wall and drummed both sets of claws against it, gently weakening the magic bit by bit.
She flinched, attempting to hide her reaction by straightening her spine. “That’s how demons work. I did something for you, so you have to do something for me.”
“You want to make a deal, but…” Tap, tap, tap. The magic grew thinner. “I am a Prince of Hell. I do no one’s bidding.”
She laced her other arm through the bag’s strap, situating it on her back. “I won’t let you out of the circle unless you do, so you might want to change your tune.”
“You mean this circle?” I jabbed my claws into the wall and tore it open, the magic unraveling around me as I kicked her ring of salt and prowled toward her.
She gasped, her eyes widening, and she backpedaled into a tree.
“Here is your deal.” I wrapped my fingers around her neck and squeezed, pressing her harder against the trunk. “You have bound me to yourself, so I will not kill you. But the last thing I need is a wretched witch following me around. Leave me alone, and I will not make your life a hell on earth.”
“No deal,” she wheezed, her pulse sprinting beneath my grasp, betraying her fear.
I growled and released her throat, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her. “You know not what I can do.”
“I’ll send you back to your prison if you don’t help me.” Her mouth tightened, a tendon in her neck flaring as she ground her teeth.
“Go ahead and try.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of.” She bent an elbow, showing me the fireball in her hand.
“I was born in the depths of Hell itself. Are you so na?ve to believe witch fire can harm me?”
Her nostrils flared, and she slammed the flames against my side in a feeble attempt to cause harm. Perhaps she was so na?ve.
The idea intrigued me, or maybe it was the fact this was the first interaction I’d had with another being in centuries.
Either way, I felt something. Intrigue, annoyance, and yes, a bit of superiority, which was my right, but underlying it all, I felt the primal, feral need to plant my mouth on hers and make her mine.
Damn the witch and her infernal blood magic.
If she had not bound us together, I would snap her neck and be done with her. Perhaps, when she agreed to revoke her spell, I would. “We must dissolve this connection. Release ourselves from this bond.”
“No.” Her nostrils flared again, a look of determination tightening her eyes. “I released you from prison. You owe me.”