Heirloom Magic (Paranormal)

Chapter Nine

Harper woke with a yelp. The last thing she remembered was those men rushing her. The side of her face hurt as she recalled the attack with vivid clarity. She had thrown fireballs at them, and they had just walked through the flames. What kind of creatures could do that?

She tried to move her stiff body, but she was tightly bound to a chair. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap and cuffed together, and let out an annoyed breath. She was terrified, but she was also angry and worried about Jasper. Had those things killed him? Had she accidentally burned the house down with him inside? Her guts rolled with worry as she tried to wiggle herself free.

"I'm glad to see you're awake. I was beginning to worry my minion had hit you too hard." Harper froze when a large man walked in. He was dressed casually in a loose white shirt and khaki shorts, but there was something unmistakably dangerous about him.

Harper tested out her jaw, bitterly thinking the guy had hit her plenty hard enough. "What do you want?" she demanded, making the man chuckle.

"You certainly are spirited," he told her, running a finger along her cheekbone. Harper flinched, but only for a second before she used her teeth to take a snap at the intruding finger. It hurt her face to do it, but it was well worth it to see him yank his finger away.

"I mean you no harm," he assured her, making Harper arch an eyebrow in his direction.

"You could've fooled me," she disputed, motioning to her tied hands. Her kidnapper's attention snagged on the cuffs she wore, and he frowned.

"Interesting," he muttered, making Harper want to ask what was so interesting, but she stubbornly refused to give him the satisfaction. "They put the silver cuffs on you." His eyebrows arched. "They are not burning you?" he asked, and Harper shook her head before regretting giving him any information at all. The man looked intrigued. "That is interesting news. Demons cannot touch pure silver without immeasurable pain. The affect is like acid." Harper frowned down at her cuffs.

"So you mean me no harm, but you tried to slap a pair of acid cuffs on me?" she couldn't help pointing out, and the man nodded like that made perfect sense.

"It is usually the only way to subdue a demon," he said without any hint of remorse.

"I am not a demon," Harper spat, even though she knew it was at least a quarter untrue.

The man studied her. "I know the truth. I can see the demon fire flash in your eyes because you are angry," he told her, making Harper's stomach roll. Was this guy talking about the same thing she'd witnessed with her grandfather's spirit?

"What do you want from me?" Harper asked again, feeling deflated.

"Right down to business. I like that," the man told her. "My name is Malachai, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, I am a demon." Harper hadn't figured it out, at all, and felt ill at the news. "I won't harm you, at least not if you cooperate," he told her with an evil grin, and Harper noticed that he had fangs, though they weren't half as large as Jasper's. She vaguely wondered if bringing it up would make the demon feel insecure—but then she shook the crazy thought from her mind. She was obviously breaking down from the stress, and she couldn't afford that right now. She had to stay sharp and figure out a way to escape.

"Yes," Harper said, licking her lips—they felt dry and cracked—and it was what finally made her realize that it was very hot and humid wherever they were keeping her.

"Yes?" the demon questioned, looking taken aback. "You haven't even heard my proposition yet."

Harper gave a weak shrug. "I don't want to die. I will do whatever you want to insure that doesn't happen." The demon laughed uproariously at her surrender.