Bileth’s body vibrated with fury, skin blazing bright red with his aura. When he flung out his arms, he threw Caine back in a blast of magic. The incubus landed hard on the pavement; in the next instant, he was on his feet again, his silvery aura whirling around him.
What the hell is he supposed to do? He was clearly the stronger fighter, but he couldn’t kill Bileth, which meant he was at a severe disadvantage. Diplomacy clearly was not on the table, and neither was an all-out battle with Nyxobas’s crony.
Bileth snatched his scythe from the ground, and Caine slid his sword from his scabbard, blocking another swing. The two demons whirled and parried in an intense blur of movement, their blows ringing out into the air. Metal sparked in the night air.
Bileth’s aura burned hot around him, and he intoned a spell. His voice rang through the air like the knell of a hundred discordant church bells. As he spoke, Caine’s spine arched, and his body lifted into the air, suspended in apparent agony. Caine dropped his sword, and a look of intense pain contorted his beautiful features. His eyes turned black as pitch while his primal instincts took over.
Bileth was torturing him. Caine’s fingers curled, his body shaking.
Horror spread through her. This was her fault, and she needed to help him. Clutching the iron blade, she sprinted through the hallway, thundering down the stairs. She had no plan beyond ripping Bileth’s attention away from Caine, and her seething fury leant her courage. She slammed through the front door, heart pounding.
Bileth whirled, locking his red eyes on her.
“Bileth,” she said. “I think you were looking for me. What the fuck do you want?”
His lips curled in something like a smile, and he beckoned her closer with a long, taloned finger. She gritted her teeth, but his noxious red aura seeped into her body, infecting her limbs. She clamped her eyes shut, imagining a clear sphere that forced out the red tendrils. Her pulse raced with the effort. When she’d pushed his magic out, she threw the knife.
The blade pierced Bileth’s shoulder. He roared, and the sound slid through her bones. In the next instant, his hands were around her throat, pressing hard on her airway. In about six seconds, her neck would be crushed. “You filthy, human animal. You were born to serve,” he whispered.
Panicking, she strained her foot up until she could yank a knife from her boot. She slammed it hard into his arm, and he lurched back, roaring. She reached for the other knife, ripping it from her boot.
A burst of powerful magic from Bileth surged through her veins, overtaking her. It seeped into her limbs, claiming territory in her muscles too fast for her to block it out. Her stomach churned as Bileth compelled her to stalk over to Caine.
Caine’s large eyes landed on her, black as smoke from a funeral pyre. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Bileth would force her stab Caine.
This is my nightmare come true. I’m going to murder him.
Her arm reared back, ready to plunge the knife into Caine’s neck, and dread ripped her apart.
Caine’s silver aura exploded from his body, and in the next second his hand darted out to grab her arm, lightning fast. He tightened his fingers around her wrist until she dropped the knife, and pulled her closer, slipping the iron ring from her finger.
Power bloomed in her body as her mage took over. Caine chanted an ancient spell, and something in her mind recognized the words: a spell for traveling. Instantly, she joined in, the familiar Angelic words tumbling from her lips. As they spoke, their bodies glowed with a protective light—a thick, vernal aura that rushed over her skin, whirling around the pair like a storm wind.
At the spell’s completion, mist surrounded them, and Caine slipped the ring onto her finger again. His arms encircled her protectively, his heart pounding hard against her chest.
Where were they? She didn’t want to utter a word in case Bileth still lurked nearby, but when the air thinned, she found herself looking at a thick grove of firs. This wasn’t Salem.
Rosalind let out a long, slow breath as relief flooded her. “Where are we?” she whispered. Caine’s body was a beacon of warmth in the cool forest, but she forced herself to step out of his embrace.
He smiled. “Great Misery Island. You do realize we just performed a powerful spell together? Our auras mingled beautifully.”
Her head throbbed. “You mean, your aura mingled with Cleo’s perfectly.”
“Either way, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said.
In the chilly sea air, she hugged herself. “I didn’t feel the flames. The mage seemed more focused.”
“I was with you the whole time. And Cleo must have known it was life or death. Maybe she hates you, but she doesn’t want her host’s body to die. Especially not before she got a chance to get her hands on me.”
Rosalind studied him. “Were you pinioned by Bileth’s magic the whole time? It seems awfully convenient that you only broke free at the last second when I was about to stab you.”