her soul to take (Harley Laroux)

page 24

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Her Soul to Take
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I sent out smoke ahead of me. I brought the wind, I encouraged the rain, I filled the space with the scent of burning. Whoever dared summon me would know they were in over their heads. With luck, they’d make a mistake, they’d flee, they’d step outside their protective circle and when they did—oh, when they did, I’d make them scream. Most mortals weren’t so lucky to possess a protective amulet, like Kent had. It was the only reason I hadn’t killed him in all the years he’d held me captive, and his father before him, and his grandfather before that.
The room came into focus—a high steepled ceiling and ancient boards. The smell of dust and mold, flesh and blood...mint and sage? My gaze pierced through the dark, through the smoke, toward the punitive figure standing there, wide brown eyes staring at me through her glasses.
No...nofuckingway…
She was scrambling, but as I came into being, she raised something above her head. In a fury I cleared the smoke away, dissipating it with a single breath but letting it linger around my feet—for effect, of course. There stood Raelynn Lawson, holding up a stick as if it were a baseball bat.
“Get back!” she screamed, her voice trembling with fear but vicious nonetheless. “Get – away – from me!” She punctuated every word with a swing of the stick, each swing coming closer.
Of all the people that could have summoned me, of all the goddamned people in this goddamned town, it had to beher.
I began to laugh at the absurdity of it all. My laughter was dark and loud, and it filled the room like a roll of thunder. She remained steadfast, stick at the ready, facing me down instead of running for her life. But as my laughter quieted, her face twitched and recognition gleamed in her eyes.
“What the…” She lowered the stick, fumbling for her phone. She flicked on her flashlight and shone it in my face, and I was quick to smooth out my disguise. Golden eyes became green, my claws retracted. The urge to disguise myself was an automatic reaction to having a human look at me, but in this case at least, I also couldn’t have her completely losing her mind and fleeing.
I didn’t know how, but she had the grimoire.
And she was going to hand it over, one way or another.
“Leon?” She gasped, utter disbelief in her voice. I stopped laughing, letting the silence surround us. I dampened the sound just a bit too, so the quiet was smothering, so that it pressed down around her. I wanted her to realize this was a mistake. I wanted her to feel afraid. Just afraid enough to cooperate, not to flee.
Or so I hoped.
I could smell the adrenaline as it rushed through her, savory in its aroma of blood, sweat, and salt. Instead of backing down, she raised the stick again in one hand and kept holding up her phone with the other. What did she think she was doing?
“What the hell?” she yelled. “Is this your idea of a prank, asshole?”
A prank... she thought this was a prank. I chuckled, entirely unamused. “Oh, this would be a good prank, wouldn’t it?” I looked around, taking in the familiar pews, the altar behind me, the stench of old burned herbs and below—farbelow—the unnerving smell of seawater. We were in St. Thaddeus. She’d come here, despite my warnings not to, andsummonedme.
The stubborn, disobedient, foolish littlebrat.
I leveled my eyes on her again, my gaze cold, and the stick shook in her hand, at the ready to strike. “What do you think you’re doing, Raelynn? Why are you here?”
“None of your business,” she snapped, baring her teeth at me.
“You’vemade itmy business,” I hissed, taking a step towards her. She swung the stick wildly, ready and willing to try to bash my face if I got too close. She was brave, if nothing else. Foolishly, blindly brave.
God, I wanted to put her over my knee and teach her a lesson. She hadn’t even given herself any protection: no herbs, no sigils surrounding her feet,nothing. No one with a bit of sense would do something so ridiculously dangerous, and for what? She didn’t even seem to realize what she’d done, she thought this was aprank—but then I noticed the camera, set up on its tripod.
She’d recorded this.
She’d done this for avideo.
“You little fool,” I said softly. “You hard-headed, insolent, reckless woman.”
“Shut up,” she said furiously. “Why the hell are you here, you creep? What the hell is wrong with you? Did you follow me out here?”
She truly didn’t understand. She thought I was merely here by coincidence. I was honestly stunned into silence at the realization. Never, in all my centuries of existence, had I been summoned byaccident.
This woman was a walking disaster, a stunning danger to herself, and she didn’t even know it.
She threw down her stick and stomped passed me, kneeling to collect an open book from the ground. My heart lurched as I realized it was the grimoire, the urge to rip it from her making my fingers twitch. That book was my ticket to freedom. All I needed was for her to hand it over.
Hand it overwillingly. The protective spells on the damn thing meant I couldn’t take it by force.
“Fucking weirdo,” she grumbled, shooting a glare over her shoulder as she collected her camera and tripod. “Who the hell does this shit? You’re lucky I’m not calling the cops!”
Oh, what I would have given in that moment to see her expression if I revealed my true form. I wanted to see that righteous indignation melt from her face, I wanted to see her fall to her knees in terror.
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Harley Laroux's Novels
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