Her Soul to Take (Souls Trilogy)

Demons have two names.

There is the name we are known by: I was Leon, it was how I introduced myself, the name by which I was called. But there was also the name by which I was summoned, a name that could only be written and never uttered. It was the name that commanded my very essence, a mark that was connected intimately to my being. My mark was written in the grimoire, and as such, whoever had that grimoire could summon me at will.

Being summoned felt like fish hooks wrenching my insides out through my navel. It demanded obedience. But merely having my name called by my summoner was only a nudge, a suggestion.

So when I first felt Kent Hadleigh call my name, I ignored it.

He hadn’t bothered me since the night I took Marcus’s body up to White Pine, and I was on too much of a high to let him spoil it now. I had my new favorite prey in my sights: little Rae, defiant Rae, curious Rae. Fuck, the self-control I’d had to exercise to not make her scream in that alley was absolutely unholy. It was going to make me feral if I couldn’t have her again. Have all of her. I wanted her blood, sweat, tears, cum. I wanted to taste it all.

Zane just laughed at me. He’d known me for centuries, seen me in my darkest days. He’d been a lover and a friend, when I didn’t want to rip his head off. He called me out on my obsession immediately, as if he was one to talk. He hunted souls for fun, always eagerly pursuing the next prize. I’d watched him chase a human for decades just to get them to promise him their soul for eternity.

“No, no, you can’t compare the two,” he said. “I’m methodical. Concentrated. As for you, well — you fixate. Like a dog with a bone in front of it. I’ve seen the way your obsessions go, Leon. They don’t end well for you.”

Which was why I seldom had obsessions.

And I wasn’t obsessed.

I was…interested.

And fucking hell, Kent Hadleigh kept calling me.

He’d been at it long enough now that it was a goddamn annoyance. He had to be furious that I wasn’t coming, so why hadn’t he summoned me? It was his usual method: pull out the grimoire, chalk my mark onto the ground with a few runes, and demand I come. I couldn’t say no. The use of my mark left me no choice.

The fact that he was going about this so gently was odd. So odd it piqued my curiosity enough to obey, if only to see what the hell was going on. 

Teleporting was tiring, so I didn’t do it often, but I also didn’t feel like running all the way to Kent. Light and shadow rushed around me as I dispersed my corporeal form, before assuming physical form again in the living room of the Hadleigh home. Perfectly white carpet, white couches, a shining metal chandelier overhead. The room’s main wall was all glass, giving a view of the trees that covered the Hadleigh property’s expanse. Everything was so clean and delicate, it just made me want to smash it.

Kent stood in front of me, hands behind his back, his suit looking a bit more wrinkled than usual. His protective iron amulet, carved into the shape of a sword crossed with a wand, wasn’t hidden beneath his shirt today, as if he’d put it on hurriedly. The humans wouldn’t notice it, but the damn thing made the air smell pungently metallic, so much so that it gave me a headache. His wife, Meredith, was seated on the couch behind him, and she went rigid as I appeared — at least, a little more rigid than her overly Botoxed face already was. Jeremiah was sunk into a chair nearby, his chin resting on his palm as he watched me, looking bored and a little annoyed. At the bar in the kitchen, Everly watched in silence, wringing her hands on her lap.

Something was strange, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly.

“What took you so long?” Kent’s voice was snappy, anxious. That was unusual for him indeed.

“Just doing my duty.” I shrugged, cracking out the usual tension that resulted in my neck from going in and out of physical form. “Didn’t want to leave the campus unprotected. Figured you could wait.”

“Slaves don’t tell their masters to wait,” Jeremiah sneered. “Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” I growled, turning from facing his father to focus on him instead. He immediately straightened up, his jaw working nervously as I stepped closer. “What are you going to do, hm? You want to try me?” He shifted in his seat, his eyes darting back to his father. Typical. “That’s better. At least you know when to shut your mouth. You should be scared, boy —”

“Kent, control him,” Meredith hissed, and Kent cleared his throat.

“Leon, enough!”

I straightened slowly from leaning over a cringing Jeremiah. No pain. No punishment. Kent loved looking for any opportunity to torture me, and he’d just passed up an opportune moment. I looked him over, once more taking in the rumpled suit, the bags around his eyes, the way his hands —

His hands. Empty hands. No grimoire.

No grimoire? 

No…no, that couldn’t be. Kent never let that thing out of his sight.

“I have a job for you, demon. A soul meant for the Deep One has returned to Abelaum. The time has come for the next sacrifice.” 

I was distracted, trying to determine why the hell Kent wouldn’t have his grimoire with him. The special thing about a demon’s second name, about their mark, was that it couldn’t be recalled simply from memory, and it could only be permanently recorded in a few specific mediums: if scarred into flesh, or if written by a powerful witch. Without my mark, without the grimoire, Kent couldn’t summon me and he couldn’t contain me.

It seemed too good to be true.

“Do you want me to kidnap someone,” I muttered, “Or do you just want me to babysit Jeremiah while he mangles another sacrifice?”

“Fuck you!” Jeremiah raised his voice, getting a worried glare from his mother. Kent’s nostrils flared with the force of his exhale. He reached into his jacket and withdrew two photographs, holding them out for me to see. I got closer to have a look — and cold, clenching fury washed over me.

“Her name is Raelynn Lawson, but Victoria tells me you already know that, don’t you?” Kent smirked. He was holding an enlarged student ID photo of her, as well as one of her sitting at a bench between Jeremiah and Victoria. “Bring her to us, and ensure no one sees you. Make sure you leave no signs of a struggle. You are to make it appear as if she left her house of her own accord, drove to the coast, and was in a wreck. Bring her to St. Thaddeus tonight, at midnight: alive, unharmed, and blindfolded.”

I didn’t take the photos. I simply stared at him. “No.”

Kent laughed. “Have you lost your mind? Your summoner has commanded you —”

“Make me. Go on, Kenny-boy. Make. Me.”

In other circumstances, I knew what would happen. He’d whip open the grimoire, trace over my mark to lend him power over me, and utter some spell from within its pages to cause me pain. Break my bones, crush my lungs, give me the sensation of being burned alive — the punishment spells within that book were wicked, and even I could only endure so much pain. But instead his jaw just tightened, his empty hands clenching.

He’d lost the grimoire. He was powerless.

“She is a Lawson,” he said, as if he could persuade me to do what he wanted. “A descendent of the Blessed First Three, one of the God’s chosen.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Everly shifting in her seat. She was the only person in this room with any innate magical abilities, but would she dare turn those against me? “She must go to the Deep One, and you will bring her.”

This was why the Hadleigh brats had latched onto Rae so quickly, like goddamn leeches eager to feast on the God’s favor. It made sense now: Rae was born here, her family had likely been here since the town was first built. Some unfortunate ancestor of hers had gone down into the mines, and came out with the God’s mark on him forever.

“If you hop to it quickly, you’ll still have hours with her before midnight,” Jeremiah said. “I see you staring at her on campus. Her cunt can be your reward for —”

He didn’t even see me move.

One moment he was leaning eagerly forward in his chair, watching the rage spread over my face, and the next I had him by the throat, held aloft over my head as his mother shrieked and his father cursed.

“I should pop your pathetic little skull,” I snarled, squeezing his throat until he gurgled and his face began to go purple. His feet twitched, trying to kick at me, as if his pathetic squirming could stop me.

I’d kill them. First Jeremiah, then Meredith, then Victoria, and I’d enjoy every second. The amulet Kent wore, blessed with old magic, prevented me from harming him, but I’d gladly slaughter his whole family and have him watch.

“Leon!” Kent’s voice was loud, but even with the protection hanging around his neck, he didn’t dare to approach me. Meredith was screaming hysterically. Everly watched from her chair, all the blood drained from her face. I laughed, the sound reverberating around the room as my claws dug into Jeremiah’s neck, drawing blood. “Put him down! Obey me! Obey at once!”

“Obey?” I laughed again as I turned to him, holding up Jeremiah with one hand. “Obey or what? What will you do? What will you do without your precious grimoire?” Kent looked as if I’d slapped him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I wouldn’t notice?” I squeezed a little tighter, and a slow squeak came from Jeremiah’s mouth, like air being let out of a balloon. “After all these years, did you really think I’d let you slip up for even a second, Hadleigh? All these years of serving you, risking my life for you as you continue your foolish quest to please a God that will crush you like a bug the first opportunity it gets.”

Kent was shaken, but not down. Instead of addressing me, his eyes looked past me, and I felt a brush of magic against my back.

I glanced back. Everly was standing, tears streaming down her face. It was her magic I felt.

Witch magic.

She was young, and untrained, but I still didn’t want to deal with fighting a witch.

I looked back at Kent as Jeremiah continued to twitch in my grip. “Dismiss me. Now. And I’ll let your son live.”

“Dismiss him, Kent!” Meredith shrieked. “Get rid of him!”

Kent hated to lose. Fury contorted his face, his mind likely grasping for another option. But Jeremiah was limp now, and given a few more seconds, I’d squeeze even harder and crush his windpipe.

“You’re dismissed, demon,” Kent ground out the words. “Leave my presence. Leave this house. Go back to Hell.”

God, it felt good to win. Jeremiah dropped to the floor in a limp heap, and I vanished with a grin and two middle fingers up.