The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Breaking Back In

If I was an evil warlock, where would I keep a stack of spell books?

No obvious answer came to her mind, and she shrugged before marching through the nearest door on her left, stopping when she realized it was the same open room in which the warlocks had tried to sacrifice her.

The same room in which their last dangerous spell book was still sitting on the podium, untouched and unguarded.

Too easy, was the first thought that spun through Mabel's mind. Way, way too easy.

But who was she to take such an opportunity for granted?

Going against her better judgement, Mabel snatched the book off the podium, waiting with baited breath for some kind of trap to pop up. When nothing happened, Mabel stepped back cautiously, sucked in a puff of shocked air, and then darted out of the room with the book before something could come out of the shadows and murder her.

***

It was by pure accident that Mabel finally found what she was looking for.

After scouring the entirety of the building, there was still no sign of any spell books, and Mabel was beginning to doubt the truthfulness of Packer's words. What if, after Packer had rescued her, the warlocks had gotten rid of their spell books?

The sound of hurried footsteps coming from further down the corridor made Mabel freeze.

Crap.

Flint must have missed a few of the warlocks. Mabel searched frantically for a hiding place, ducking down a narrow stairwell and into the candlelit cellar. When the footsteps followed behind her, she held back a string of curses, sprinting across the room and into the darkest corner.

Pressed against the brick, she held the spell book to her chest, as though it would help hide her. But the footsteps grew louder, and she was going to be caught and killed, and then they'd bring her dead body back to taunt Aleron and oh, God, what had she been thinking? How had she ever thought this stupid plan would work? There was no way—

Mabel's thoughts skidded to a halt when the brick gave way behind her, and she tumbled back into the darkness with no more than a muffled shriek.

***

Standing with a grumble, Mabel brushed the dust off her pants and did her best to cough it out of her lungs. Shuddering at the feel of all the grime and the many spiderwebs she'd probably swallowed, she bent to retrieve the spell book that had slipped from her grasp and . . .

Froze.

Oh. Oh, no.

The blood drained from her face as she absorbed her surroundings.

Books, covered with a layer of dust so thick she couldn't read their titles, stacked on top of each other, with no shelves or door in sight.

It was the room from her nightmares.

"Oh, God," her stomach tightened with a panic so raw she struggled to keep breathing, her chest heaving as she sucked in the mildew-thick air. Though the urge to break down and accept death was strong, Mabel managed to shove it away.

Even with the fear pulsing through her veins, she refused to die from drowning in black blood. Besides, the blood hadn't started flowing yet, which meant she had time to find the real book.

It had to be in there, after all; where else would a critical spell book be other than a horrible room that spewed black blood?

I swear, she couldn't help but muse, my luck is a never-ending pot of 'this sucks.'

Leaving the dark spell book by the door, Mabel began sifting through the stacks, her movements jerky as she formed a routine, tamping down the hysterical thoughts that simmered in the back of head.

Pick up book, wipe off dust, attempt to decipher title, rifle through pages, throw away if no good.

On her tenth book, her fingers landed on a sticky substance instead of worn leather, and her entire body stilled.

No. No, no, no, no, nonononono!

Mabel pulled her hand back slowly, as if in a daze, and a scream got lodged in her throat when her eyes registered the black, murky substance that dripped from the book down to the floor.

It was starting.

"Don't freak out," she ordered herself, even as more blood began to seep from the books' pages. "You have to find the book. You do not have time to freak out, so you will not freak out."

With her resolve strengthened, she kept on, digging through the books with nothing more than a cringe as the blood coated her arms like morbid jacket sleeves.

The black liquid was up to her knees when she pulled out one of the books near the bottom of a stack, wiping it of liquid and holding it up to see it better in the dim lighting of the candles. It looked familiar, almost like . . .

Mabel whirled around with a stunned gasp, her eyes wide as they looked for the dark spell book she'd brought with her. She pushed her way through the thick ooze, holding the new book under one arm as she used her hands to sift through the blood. A cry of victory tore from her lips when she pulled the dark book out of the blood. Wiping it off as best she could, she compared the two, grinning with relief when she saw the similarities.

They were a set of sorts, if their matching covers were any indication. The only difference inside were the words to the spells, but, without the titles, there would really be no way to tell.

An idea blossomed, and Mabel would have done a celebratory dance if not for the blood that was soaking through her pants, at her hips now.

Before she could go back to Hell and save everyone (again, the back of her mind noted smugly, cause I'm just that good), she had to get out of the room first. She knew perfectly well that calling for Aleron would have no impact; both the nightmare and her common sense told her that.

"You can't get out, Mabel." The familiar, spiteful voice hissed, the words echoing off the blood-coated walls and ringing in her ears.

"Shut up," she snapped, wading through the substance, her fingers fumbling with the books in her grasp. She made it to one of the tallest stacks that she hadn't touched; it rose several feet above the rapidly rising goop and would give her time to figure out an escape.

"You can't save them," the voice continued. "You can't, Mabel. You're weak. A weak, puny, human."

"Shut up," She gritted her teeth, clutching both books with one arm as she struggled with the other to climb.

"You never should have tried. It's pointless. Give up, Mabel. Give up!"

"Shut up!" she screamed, blinking back the tears that formed in her eyes.

She could do it. She could!

But she was only a foot above the blood when the stack gave underneath her feet, and she toppled into the ooze, closing her mouth and eyes, and clutching the books tightly to her chest as she was swallowed. 

***

A/N: Oh, Mabel. Always getting into trouble, girl. *shakes head sadly*

Not about the cliffhanger lifestyle? Next chappie is up on my website (link in profile)! 

(No account, no money, blah, blah, cause ain't nobody got time for such nonsense.)

Thanks for reading!

A.R.