Scarlet Heat Read online

  “Who is he, anyway?” I asked, trying to get my mind off my own troubles. “And why did you tell him to go back to Hell?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “He’s nobody. A minor demon I had to ask for help when I made that stake for Corbin. Now he thinks I owe him or something.”

  “I thought you said you don’t call demons,” I said. “Didn’t you say that was a big no-no if a witch wanted to keep practicing white magic?”

  “It’s complicated. What I’m doing is sort of…gray magic.” She blew out a breath in frustration. “Look, do you want your bond broken or not?”

  I took a deep breath. “No, but it needs to happen. As soon as possible.”

  “I can do it tonight,” she said. “Let me get my things.”

  She went to the kitchen and I heard Laish speaking to her again.

  “So you’re really going to do this? Break a blood-bond sanctioned by the Goddess?”

  “I’m doing what the client wants,” Gwendolyn said and I heard some banging, as though she was looking for something in the cabinets.

  “In order to get the blood for your vengeance spell. This is dark magic, Gwendolyn. It will cast a long shadow on your soul.” Laish sounded serious. “Why don’t you simply tell me the name of the person who has hurt you? I’ll kill them at once and you won’t have to further compromise yourself.”

  Gwendolyn snorted. “And put myself further into your debt? I don’t think so, demon.”

  “You wound me, ma cher. I have only your best interests at heart.”

  “I wouldn’t believe that even if you had a heart—which you don’t,” Gwendolyn snapped. “Now leave me alone and let me work.”

  I thought I heard him murmur, “As you wish,” and then I had the distinct feeling that Gwendolyn and I were alone in the house again. Where had he gone—back to Hell? And was he really only a minor demon…or something else? Something more?

  The questions were driven out of my mind when Gwendolyn came back into the living room with some instruments wrapped in a black towel. When she unrolled it onto the coffee table, I saw matches, a silver bowl, the demon’s breath flowers, a long silver knife, and a lump of something that looked like black modeling clay or wax.

  “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Now let’s get started. This is going to be a little tricky since it’s not the usual breaking up spell.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “So this is like an everyday thing you do?”

  She shrugged. “Usually, no. Not unless the client is in a really destructive relationship. Like her husband beats her and won’t let her leave—something like that.”

  “So what do you do in that case?” I asked, fascinated despite myself.

  Gwendolyn shrugged. “Something a lot more subtle than this is going to be, I can tell you that. Usually I write the names of the people who need to break up on two slips of paper and burn them in the bowl with some personal effects—hair or fingernail clippings, that kind of thing. Then I cut a lemon lengthwise and sprinkle the ashes inside, seal up the lemon and tie it with a black cord. Then just leave it on the windowsill to dry up.”

  “And that works…how?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Like I said, it’s subtle. The relationship sours and dries up as the lemon dries up. The abusive man finds he wants to leave his wife and has no desire to see her or torment her again.”

  She was working as she talked, using the long, pointed silver dagger to chop the demon’s breath into tiny pieces, which she scraped into the silver bowl. The flowers had a very unpleasant scent now that they were chopped and I couldn’t help noticing that their sap was as red as blood.

  “I, uh, hope you don’t want me to eat that stuff,” I said, eyeing the silver bowl with distaste.

  “Good Lord, no.” Gwendolyn made a face. “Demon’s breath is poison no matter what kind of supe you are. Well, except for demons—apparently they make a kind of tea out of it. Ugh.”

  “Well, what are you going to do with it then?” I asked. “And how will it be different from your usual ‘break up’ spell?”

  “I’m going to burn it with six drops of your blood.” She frowned at me. “I don’t suppose you have anything of Victor’s on you, do you? A strand of hair maybe? Or a fingernail clipping?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry—it never occurred to me to bring anything like that and well, I took a shower tonight after…after. Does that mean this won’t work? Since we don’t have anything of his to add to the mix?” A surge of hope coursed through me. Maybe I wouldn’t have to break our bond after all!

  Gwendolyn frowned. “In most cases I’d say yes. But in this case…you’re drinking from Victor and no one else, right?”

  I nodded. “Well, yes.”

  “Good. Then your blood will do for both you and him—it came from him originally but it’s been circulating through your body. Perfect, actually.”

  My sudden hope died abruptly.“Oh. Okay.”

  She looked at me sharply. “Look, if you don’t want to do this…”

  “No.” I lifted my chin. “No, I need to. But…”

  “But what?” she asked impatiently.

  “Well…” I cleared my throat. “I, uh, heard you and um, Laish talking and he said something about how you doing this spell for me will cast a shadow on your soul…?”

  She shifted uncomfortably.

  “Look, sweetie, you worry about your soul and let me worry about mine. I’m fine and I want to do this deal—but only if you’re sure.”

  I thought of Victor lying there all bloody and bitten and scratched, his arm over his eyes, unable to look at me.

  “Yes,” I said softly. “Yes, let’s do it.”

  “All right.” Gwendolyn held out her palm. “Then give me your hand. I need your blood to make this work.”

  She pierced my middle finger with the point of the silver dagger, which she told me was called an athame, and carefully squeezed out twelve drops of blood—six for me and six for Victor—over the chopped pile of demon’s breath in the silver bowl. She collected twelve more drops for herself in a little glass vial and then put it aside.

  “All right,” she said. “Now for the fire. You might feel this a little.”

  She struck one long fireplace match and touched it to the bloody demon’s breath. It burned surprisingly well considering it was wet with both blood and the ruby red sap.

  At first I didn’t notice anything but a little warmth and tingling in my hands and feet. But then the burning sensation began in my veins.

  “Ah!” I gasped, jumping in surprise.

  Gwendolyn looked up, a concerned expression in her eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No!” I looked down at my arms, half expecting to see flames leaping from them. There was nothing to see but plenty to feel—the sensation of being set on fire from the inside out was spreading up from my hands and feet and into my arms, legs, and core.

  “What is it? What do you feel?” Gwendolyn asked anxiously.

  “Burning.” I writhed helplessly on the couch. “God, it hurts! Is this normal?”

  “I don’t know!” Gwendolyn bit her lower lip. “I’ve never tried to break such a strong bond before. Usually when I do a spell like this at least one of the people involved hates the other one.”

  “Then this shouldn’t be so hard. Victor does hate me,” I protested. Or if he didn’t, he should. The burning was spreading to the pit of my stomach now and I felt like any minute it would engulf my heart. “Gwendolyn, please—do something!”

  “It’s almost ash.” She stirred the bowl with the tip of her athame. “The pain will be gone once the last of the demon’s breath is consumed. Just hang in there.”

  “I’ll…try,” I said through gritted teeth. The burning was all through me now, flames licking from my toes to my hairline, one solid wash of fiery agony. I tried to hold still but I couldn’t help twisting in pain. God, it was awful.

  Just as I felt like I couldn’t take it a