Her Black Magic (The Dark Amulet Series Book 4) Read online

  She eyed him sideways. “Uh huh. Right. You say you’re an angel, so I assume you’ve never had sex.”

  “Pfft. Why would you assume angels don’t have sex?”

  “I’ve read a lot of the bible, angels don’t have the equipment.”

  “Says who?”

  “The Bible. God.”

  “God? No,” he said, shaking his head. “Believe me, He didn’t write the Bible.”

  “I know He didn’t write it. I’m only saying it’s a known fact that angels don’t have junk.”

  “Oh, I have junk, sweetheart, and it works too.”

  “Then you’re not an angel.”

  Man, he wanted to show her his wings right now. However, she didn’t believe a word he said, nor was this the time or place. “Remind me later and I’ll show you my wings.”

  “Why not now?”

  Two women entered the ladies room at the head of the hallway, giggling. “Too many people around.”

  “Interesting game, bible boy.” She grinned devilishly.

  “It’s not a game.”

  Running the feather across his chest, she said, “What poor pigeon did you pluck this feather out of?”

  “You know, you’re going to be really surprised when you learn I’m telling the truth.”

  Freya moved closer to him, rising on the balls of her feet until her lips grazed the side of his neck near his collarbone. “Suppose I believed you. What would an angel want with me? You have no idea what—”

  “Maybe you need saving.” His body tingled, and blood rushed to his “equipment.”

  “The only thing I currently need saving from is you.” Placing her hands on his chest she sucked his bottom lip, lightly kissing him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He snaked his hand around her petite waist. She pulled her head back, but she didn’t remove her hands. They stayed locked together. She wet her lips. Light from overhead glinted off her teal blue eyes. He gripped her tighter and bowed his head until he could almost taste her cherry lip gloss again. Closing the gap between them, Freya pressed her lips to his.

  Wrapping his other arm around her, he brought her flush with his body. She melded into him as the heat between them rose. His heart pounded, causing his insides to vibrate. If he wasn’t gripping her waist, his hands would be shaking. In this moment, her scent and her lips were the only things on his mind.

  He ran his lips down her neck, kissing and sucking. She tilted her head, moaning softly. Wrapping her arms around him, her hands passed through his translucent wings that she couldn’t see. He purred, the pleasure hitting him below the belt, the steel shaft she didn’t think angels had aching for freedom. He ground his hips into her. “I want inside you,” he whispered against her mouth.

  Annnd…she squirmed. The first sign and only sign he required to stop. Falling for the person he was tasked to redeem? Yeah, he knew it: stupid. Good thing she wasn’t. Stepping back, he released her waist.

  She wiped her puffy red lips with the back of her hand.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he sucked in a breath and peeked at her with one eye. She drew his feather between her fingers a few times. He couldn’t feel her fingers on the barbs, however, imagining her stroking his wings sent a ripple of desire down his spine.

  “I never realized how silky feathers are.”

  “Yeah, very soft.” He held out his palm. “Can I have it back?”

  “Why, so you can use it on another gullible girl? Oh, darlin’, I’m an angel. I can’t show you my wings, but here’s a couple feathers. Don’t you believe me?” She batted her eyelashes. “No, I think I’ll keep it.”

  “You know what, believe what you want. End up in Hell.”

  She glared at him. “Still playing it up, huh? I’m not sure if I should laugh or call the asylum.”

  “Maybe if you had a little more faith and a little less attitude you wouldn’t be on this path toward damnation.” Joelle stomped away with his jaws clenched, gripping the wallet he lifted from her hip pocket during her panic attack. He needed a reason to visit her later.

  Chapter Three

  FREYA

  What just happened?

  Had he said she was going to Hell? How did he know? Freya’s stomach lurched. She rushed into the bathroom, flinging open a stall door. The soup she ate for dinner landed in the toilet.

  Spitting one last time, she closed the lid and sat with her face buried in her hands. She figured ten minutes ought to be enough time for Joelle to clear out of the place. Avoidance was the goal. Who the hell was he anyway? No one. And he’d continue to be so forever. She marked this club off her list of places to hang out. Dammit.

  Forcing herself out of the stall, she washed her mouth out with water from the sink and left the bathroom. She walked all the way to the exit.

  Outside, she jogged across the street to her car parked two blocks away, shivering from the crisp breeze whipping between the buildings. The pavement stung the bottoms of her feet even though she was wearing her favorite platform boots. Silver buckles jangled with her every step.

  Freya made it to her car, sitting near the mouth of a dark alley. A noise caught her attention from behind and she froze. A man with a Mohawk and leather jacket strode toward her, his expression dark. He carried himself like a man looking for trouble and he towered over her small frame. He slowed. She stabbed at the door lock with her key, scratching the paint.

  “Get in there,” she hissed.

  Finally, the key slid into place. She cranked it to the left, swinging open the door.

  Without hesitation she jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The man breezed by her car. Jesus, when had she become so paranoid? Just a dude minding his own business.

  Starting the engine, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Joelle ducked into the alley that dead-ended at a brick wall. Where did he think he was going? Slowly, she backed her car up until she could see into the alley. In the dark, she could only make out a couple of milk crates and a wooden pallet leaning against a dumpster. The further back, less light reached the gap between the brick buildings.

  Where did he go?

  She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.

  What am I doing?

  If he wanted to linger in a dead end in the middle of the night, what the hell did she care? But that kiss... She’d meant the kiss as a joke, to tease him. But she liked it…a lot. His lips were velvety soft, and he tasted like mint. And the way he held her with his warm, comforting hands. Perhaps that was a weird way to describe how she felt being in his arms, except the word fit. Two minutes passed on her dash clock. She lit a cigarette and cracked the window. Three. Four. Five…

  “Worried about me?”

  Freya gasped and coughed on her exhaling smoke. Joelle stood next to the driver’s side window. “You all right there?”

  “I’m,” cough, “fine.” She covered her mouth.

  “Couldn’t get that kiss out of your mind, could you?”

  No. “Yes. It was terrible. Hated it.”

  He pursed his lips. “Yeah, I could tell. Your moaning gave it away.”

  “I. did. Not. Moan.” She put her fingers up to her lips. Did I?

  “Kinda did.” He chuckled. “Go ahead and deny it, but it doesn’t change the fact—”

  She let off the brake pedal and the car inched forward.

  He stepped back. “Doesn’t change how you felt while you were in my arms.”

  Damn you. “Yes it does!” she yelled out the window while she drove away.

  Why did I kiss him?

  It was that club. They pumped something into the HVAC system. Okay, so she had made out with random guys before. Somehow, though, Joelle didn’t seem random. She drove home, tossing her third Marlboro in twenty minutes out the window when she reached her street. Marching into her house, she paced the front hallway. Her keys clanked the side of the bowl set on the long thin table along the wall where she’d thrown them. How could she get him out of her mind? A banishing spell
might work. Freya ran to her kitchen and hit the stairs to the basement.

  Standing in front of a work table, she took out “Joelle’s feather” from her pocket. She ran a finger over the silky barbs of the feather, then ran the quill under her nose, inhaling Joelle’s scent. Her stomach fluttered. Jeez, what was she? Nervous? Thinking about the trash can at her feet, she swallowed. Nope. Not going to puke again. After a steadying breath, she aligned three black candles into a triangle and lit each one. Since she didn’t have a picture of the “angel” she hoped the feather would work. She began chanting.

  “I banish you once. Twice. I banish you out of my life.”

  My thoughts.

  “Mote it be.”

  Her chest tightened for the second time tonight. Guilt was a bitch and she wasn’t even Catholic. Why did this bother her so much? Because she believed in evil spirits and they couldn’t exist without their opposite. She had never seen either. Although, there was that vivid dream she had once about a horned beast named Abaddon. Perhaps Joelle was telling her the truth.

  The doorbell rang. “Go away,” she muttered.

  DING. DONG.

  “Okay.” It was probably April. The woman always came over after ditching her at the club to apologize after the “hook-up.” Which was odd, why didn’t she ever spend the entire night with them? Whoever they were, Freya never met any of them.

  She blew out the candles. After she got rid of her cousin she would attempt the spell again. She stomped up the stairs and looked through the peep hole.

  Joelle. What the hell? How did he find…

  “Freya, you drop—”

  “Go away,” she said, sliding the chain into the door guard.

  “I found your wallet.”

  “Uh.” She patted her hip. Unbelievable. “You stole my wallet?”

  “No. I found it next to where you parked your car. I’m not a creeper, I swear.”

  Good God. That’s what all murderers and rapists said. “Slide it under the door.” Freya knew the thing wouldn’t fit but said it anyway.

  “Please, just open the door. We need to talk.”

  “About what? And if you say anything about me going to Hell, I’m calling the police.” She should probably do that anyway. Guy finds her wallet and comes to her house late at night to return it? No. Not creepy at all.

  “Okay. I won’t. For the record, you probably don’t want to tell me what not to say.”

  What was with the dumb crap that kept coming out of her mouth around him? Her heart raced. The sensory memory of their kiss resurfaced, tingling her lips. She opened the door as wide as the chain allowed. He had changed into a pair of blue jeans and a black leather jacket.

  “Wallet.” Freya held her hand out, keeping it on her side of the gap.

  He hesitated before handing over the knock-off Prada. She snatched it from his hand. “Thank you,” she said, pushing the door. His hand blocked the panel from shutting all the way. “Move your hand. What’s your problem?”

  “We need to talk, Freya.” There was something in Joelle’s tone which caught her attention. Whatever he thought he needed to talk to her about he believed was serious. But what? They had only met tonight.

  “You don’t even know me,” she said. Freya put her back to the door, set her feet, and shoved. His hand remained between the jambs. He didn’t make a sound either. What the hell? That had to hurt.

  “That’s true, but you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Leave!” She slammed her back into the door again.

  “I can’t do that. You have an amulet that doesn’t belong to you.”

  Freya breath hitched in the back of her throat. He couldn’t be talking about her father’s—no way. Get a grip. “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s round and made of a shiny metal with markings on it, triangles with sixes.”

  Sixes? “Don’t you mean swirls?”

  Shiiiit! What was she saying?

  “They aren’t swirls. Unlock the door.” Joelle removed his hand and the door shut.

  Letting her head bump the door, she cursed under her breath. Did he know her father?

  “How much did he say he’d pay you? Cos’ it’s bullshit, he doesn’t have any money, you know.”

  “This isn’t about money.”

  “Then what?”

  “The amulet doesn’t belong to you and I need it back.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can have it destroyed. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Try.” Her father believed the pendant had magical powers. Daddy dearest thought the thing spoke to him. His lawyer tried going with the insanity defense during the trial. She locked the amulet away afterward because the only power it seemed to possess was to tear apart people’s lives, including her own. Not that her life was so great before her father’s arrest and her mother’s suicide. She’d endured and participated in unspeakable acts.

  Freya glanced at her hands and yelped. Blood. On her skin, clothing, everywhere… “Oh, God!”

  “Freya, what’s wrong?”

  “Go away!” she cried, sagging to the floor. The blood retreated over her knees and down her shins until disappearing completely as if was never there. Would she ever stop having these visions? They had lessened after putting the amulet in the safe deposit box. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly like Joelle taught her earlier. Except all she saw was red walls all around her. “Uh.” Not red. Bleeding. “Stop!” Freya wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth.

  Now she was sitting in a chair with her forehead resting on her arms. Had she blacked out again? Lifting her head, it took only a second for her to realize she was in her kitchen at the table. Joelle leaned against the counter drinking ice water. The cubes clinked the side of the glass.

  “How did you get in here?”

  He set the glass in the sink. “We already went over this. How often do you pass out?”

  “Oh, right. You think you’re an angel.” She spoke with derision, rolling her eyes.

  “You know what? I think a small part of you believes me.” He leaned his elbow on the counter all casual like he lived there.

  “You know what I think? You’ll do anything to get in my pants.”

  “Excuse me?” He stood to his full height. “I only want the amulet and I’ll be gone from your life forever.”

  “I don’t have it,” she snapped, jumping out of her chair.

  “Uh huh. Riiiight. You wouldn’t have thrown it out.”

  “You’re wrong. Now get out.” She pointed toward the kitchen’s side door.

  “No.”

  “I’m calling the police,” she said, fishing her cell from her pocket. Her thumbs fumbled over the screen. She hit the home button. His hand clamped on the phone, cracking the glass. As he ripped the thing from her grasp, one of her nails caught and bent backward. “Ow!” She squeezed her fingers with her other hand. Tears stung her eyes.

  He put the phone in his front pants pocket.

  “Give that back.”

  “Not until you listen to me,” he said, pulling out a chair from the table. “Sit.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I prefer to stand.”

  “Sit.”

  “Why? So you can tie me up with the rope in your pocket?”

  “No. I would never do that. Please, just listen for five minutes.” He’d taken his braids out. He ran a hand through his hair that reached the middle of his back. She had a compulsion to touch the silky strands.

  Glowering at him, she sat. But not in the chair he selected. Freya considered screaming, though in all likelihood no one would hear her. Making a run for the door seemed like too much work for her since she kind of wished she were dead anyway. “You have four minutes.”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said I’m an angel. Actually, I’m not supposed to reveal that under normal circumstances, but this isn’t—never mind.”

  Freya held her palm up. “Wait a second, enough
of the angel crap. It’s tired.”

  “It’s not crap.”

  “Show me your wings then.”

  “All right, you asked for it.” Joelle shrugged the leather jacket off and laid it on the back of the chair he pulled out. He also took off the white t-shirt underneath which he let fall to the linoleum.

  She swallowed hard at the sight of his bare torso. Not only was he ripped, four long, jagged scars ran diagonally from his shoulder to his waist. Her jaw dropped. “What happened to—”

  “I was attacked.”

  “By who? Wolverine?”

  “A Fallen angel named—”

  “Abaddon.” She didn’t know why she knew it was the beast from her dream.

  He cocked his head and narrowed his focus. “You’ve met him?”

  “Only in a dream.”

  “Doubtful, considering he’s the Supreme Demon Ruler of Netherworld.”

  “Netherworld is…”

  “Is what you call Hell. We don’t though. Neither do demons.”

  Freya put her hands on her head. This couldn’t be happening. It was a dream. She’d wake up tomorrow with a raging hangover. “I’m going to bed now,” she said quietly, averting her eyes from him. The wounds that caused those scars must have been agony to endure. Her stomach knotted.

  Bright light filled the kitchen and she squinted at Joelle. Jumping out of the chair, she knocked it over. She walked backward until hitting the wall.

  Chapter Four

  FREYA

  The light faded so she didn’t have to squint. Two wings rose about six inches above Joelle’s head and ended at the floor. “Wh-where did you get those?”

  He came toward her. “Deus. Sorry, that’s what we call Him.”

  Circling him, she examined the feathers. They were so pure white they had to be bleached before being glued to the obvious pieces of cardboard. But how did he stick them to his back? “Those are fake. What costume store did you buy these at?”

  “This again? Feel them, they’re real.”

  Freya slid her hand down the right one. He arched his back and hissed. She pressed her hand to the wing again, sinking her fingers into the feathers. So soft. And warm? How was this possible? Her hand met with a bar and she felt along the length. “Wow. This is more sophisticated than feathers glued to cardboard like I thought, they’re animatronic too?”