The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Wrong Plan

***

Mabel screamed herself awake.

It was the same dream she'd been having every few nights, even before Aleron . . . left. She was surrounded by books, black blood poured from the ceiling, nasty voices hissed in her ear, and then she was swallowed by the blood.

Cradling her head in her hands, Mabel wondered how much longer she could go.

It was all too much, and she was beginning to question her own sanity.

Sucking in a shaky breath, she let her gaze wander over the moonlit expanse of her apartment. She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep, but the crick in her neck reminded her to never do it on the couch again.

Pulling herself up, she ran a hand through her tangled hair as she carefully maneuvered her way into the kitchen. Flipping on a light and wincing at the glare, she got right to business.

"Zephyrine? Thora?" Waiting several minutes, tapping her fingers along the counter, another muttering of their names, more waiting, and a full lap of pacing around the kitchen still produced no results.

"Ugh, this is so ridiculous," Mabel complained, bending her arms against the countertop and letting her head fall on top of them. She had closed her eyes and was settling into a state of semi-comfort when three sharp knocks came from the door.

Snapping up with a squeak, Mabel eyed the door as though it was going to whip out a gun and murder her. Perhaps she was paranoid, but . . . her luck was questionable at best, so who could really blame her?

Plus, she currently had no Hellish protectors, so she was at more of a disadvantage than normal.

Creeping forward cautiously, she pressed her eye against the peephole, face falling slack with surprise at what she saw on the opposite side of the door. Unlocking the wooden obstacle and pushing it open, the greeting on her lips faltered and died at the look on her visitor's face.

While she'd only met Pele once and didn't know him all that well, the man's expression was not comforting. His features were lined with ripe despair, and Mabel suddenly couldn't stand still.

She wanted to run, hide, cry, or do just about anything to avoid hearing whatever it was he wanted to tell her.

"What is it, Pele?" the hesitancy was clear in every word she spoke.

He blew out a weary breath. "Ah, Mabel, I'm so sorry."

She threw a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to fall out. She was shaking her head numbly, her thoughts a blind panic filled with, not Aleron, not Aleron, oh, God, please don't take my Aleron.

She hadn't realized she'd fallen to the floor until Pele kneeled in front of her, setting gentle hands on her shoulders. "No, Mabel, nothing t'bad, I promise. I didn't mean to scare ye."

It took several minutes for her to calm down, and once she had, she struggled to keep from ripping Pele apart. Who shows up in the middle of the night, greets someone with the words I'm so sorry, and doesn't expect a terrible reaction?

"Okay," she declared once she felt relatively stable, her heart still pounding out an uneven beat in her chest. "What is it, then?"

"Well," Pele began as he helped her to her feet, pulling her further into her apartment and closing the door behind him. "Flint and I weren't able t'find yer Aleron and Death, but I think it's just because of a barrier the warlocks put up. Those nasty mongrels are nothin' if not crafty."

Mabel tried to keep her doubts from resurfacing. That news really wasn't all that good, and how the heck were they supposed to find Aleron if a barrier was up? "What can we do about it?" she asked desperately, "Anything?"