Bittersweet Magic (The Order #2)

“What?” Piers had been thinking about what he was going to do to Roz once he found her. He had a few options; it was which one would come first he couldn’t decide upon. Christian was driving, but now he slowed the vehicle and pulled up at the side of the road. Through the side-mirror, Piers could see the black van with Carl and his men pull in behind them.

He glanced up ahead as Christian gestured toward the couple who were heading their way. Sister Maria he recognized immediately even without the habit, but the tall man beside her, helping her along, he didn’t know.

They saw them at that moment and came to an abrupt stop about fifteen meters away. Piers climbed out of the car. Sister Maria obviously recognized him. She spoke quickly to the man and hurried up to them.

Piers examined her closely; she had a bite mark on the side of her neck, her skin was pale, but otherwise she appeared unharmed. The man had an impressive set of bruises that were healing fast, fading as Piers stared.

“Mr. Lamont—” Sister Maria began.

“Where’s Roz?” he interrupted her.

“We need to call the police, get back-up,” the man beside her said. “I’m Detective Ryan of the Metropolitan police.”

Piers turned to him. “Do you really think the police can help here, detective? Now where is Rosamund?”

The detective opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but they didn’t have time for this. Christian stepped forward. “We have to get Roz first. Afterward, we can call the police, if they’re needed. I can assure you we’re better equipped for this than the police. You’ve seen what we’re up against.”

The detective studied the group. Christian stood beside him at the front, Carl with four of his werewolves behind, and Jonas looking frail and old in the middle. The magic had exhausted him, but he’d insisted on coming, and Piers hadn’t tried to dissuade him. The warlock might come in useful, and this was to some extent his fault. He claimed he couldn’t reverse the spell, but it was still better he was here in case magic was required.

“Go get her,” Maria said. “She’s by the bridge. She gave us time to get away, but they’ll kill her—or worse.”

Piers didn’t believe there was anything worse than killing her. Death was final. But he didn’t bother explaining that to the sister. Religious types tended to have some weird ideas on the subject of dying, though he suspected Sister Maria’s beliefs might have undergone a radical turnaround in the last few days. He looked a little closer and saw that she was holding the ripped pieces of her shirt together at the front. He removed his coat and handed it to her, revealing the firepower beneath.

“Hope you’ve got licenses for those,” Ryan said. “Though come to think about it, I don’t think it’s possible to get licenses for sawed-off shotguns.”

Piers didn’t bother replying. He glanced around. The night appeared quiet, but he preferred not to involve any more humans in this. Time to get it over with.

“How many with her?” he asked.

Ryan answered. “A guy called Jack, a whole load of these monster things, and a woman—I don’t know her name; she just turned up tonight.”

“A blond woman?”

“Yeah, with these weird marks on her face.”

“Shit.” Andarta. She must be getting stronger.

He could feel something building up inside him and realized with a flash of shock that it was panic. Jack and a whole bunch of lesser demons they could deal with, no problem. Andarta was another matter entirely.

“Come on.” He had a feeling time was running out. “Carl, your guys take on the lesser demons. Christian, you take Jack.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to save Roz, then go after Andarta.”

“Sounds like a plan.”





Chapter Sixteen


This was it.

The end.

A fine sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. Any minute now, it would roll down her face and probably drip off the end of her nose. What a weird last thought.

She tugged the Key out of her pocket, and the metal snagged almost as though it didn’t want to come. But it did—no magical reprieve there. Was she still hoping for a happy ending? She’d believed she’d given up on them long ago.

She dangled the Key in front of her. Jack reached for it, and she edged away. “Wait, I have to remove the spell first. Otherwise…poof.”

He cast her a dirty glance, but he did step back. No one wanted to go “poof.” Andarta was watching her, her face expressionless, but at least she didn’t appear suspicious.

“So you’ll take me with you, let me be part of this?”

“Of course. I said so, didn’t I?” Andarta sounded just a mite irritated.

“So you did.”

And of course, demons never lie.

She dug into her other pocket and pulled out a pin; she needed blood. Then she had to speak some words. For a second, her mind went blank. Crap, she couldn’t remember the words.

Panic threatened to envelop her mind, drag her down, and swallow her up. Under her breath, she muttered a calming mantra and slowly her brain cleared.

She could see the words in her head, crystal clear. Raising the pin, she looked around her one last time. And stopped. The pin poised in mid-air.