Chapter Three

Demetria

Claire stopped for coffee. Coffee. It was then Demetria realized Claire didn't comprehend the severity of the situation. Claire had only lived in the supernatural world for a short time, and they were able to defeat the bad guys.

This time it wouldn't be that easy.

Dark magic was different from the magic Demetria was born with. It had no limits. No boundaries. You want to bring someone back to life.

Sure. Now hand over your life for it.

You didn't get something with dark magic without taking something away. It was the balance of the universe, and Claire was getting … coffee.

"Do you want anything?" she asked over her shoulder.

Demetria gave her a deadpanned look. "Claire, Sweetie, I'm going to be dead in five minutes, it won't matter if I'm energized or not."

Claire gave the worker a look and chuckled. "She's joking. Here, keep the change."

She looped her arm through Demetria's, and tugged her out of the coffee shop toward the courtyard.

"Aunt D. We're going to figure this out—,"

Demetria sighed heavily, and stopped Claire, placing her palms on her shoulders. "Claire. We don't have time to figure it out. Your pack is strong, but this isn't a werewolf or lycan. This is a warlock. He's into dark magic, and I can feel it growing near as we speak. He's on his way for me."

Claire swallowed. Maybe the reality of the situation hit her or maybe it didn't. Either way, it didn't matter. Ike was coming to get her. Claire grabbed her hand and pulled Demetria toward the clock tower in the center of the courtyard.

A slight breeze blew against Demetria's skin, forcing goosebumps up her spine. The woodsy scent of magic filled her nostrils, and that familiar 'someone is watching you' feeling overwhelmed her.

Claire stopped next to a bench, but as she went to bend down, everything froze. Demetria looked around, her heart hammered against her chest as she slowly glanced across the way. "Aunt D,"

Claire said softly, standing up beside her. "I can't see anything. The fog."

Demetria looked from side to side, not noticing any fog, only a straight line of sight to a piece of her past. Like he'd been plucked from her memories. Not a hair had changed.

"I smell him," Claire said, reaching over and grabbing her for support.

"But I can't see."

Ike casually glided toward her, his walk smooth and confident, his silver hair styled back from his face, showcasing his handsome features. The ice blue eyes, high cheekbones and pore less face still looked the same after a decade.

Staying young forever was why he took souls. He took their youth.

Demetria began to shake with nerves. She wanted to run, but knew it wouldn't do any good, because he would catch her.

"Demetria. You're just as beautiful as I remember. I love your hair."

Ike stopped several feet from her, wearing a suit as if he'd been taken from a 1800s romance novel. The knee-length pants were tucked into a pair of crisp white socks, and his waistcoat matched it all.

The only part of him that didn't scream I don't belong here was his hair. Everything else was from centuries ago. Which was where Demetria figured he belonged. He should have died years before, but lived because he'd taken many souls along his lifetime with no intention to stop, apparently.

"You know I didn't understand what that favor meant," she said.

He chuckled humorlessly. "No pleasantries, I see. The people in this decade are rude I must say. So be it," he said. "I'm not here to negotiate. We made a deal, and I'm here to take you up on it. My favor is needed to survive. As you can see I'm looking rather old these days."

The smile on his face pushed vomit up her throat. The bastard had nerve, alright.

"Pretty girl," he said toward Claire who still held on to Demetria's hand, unable to see him. "Your niece, I take it. What power she holds. You're lucky."

"You're not. Because if you hurt one hair on my aunt's head, I will rip you apart."

He chuckled. "Doubtful. Maybe if you could see. I guess those lycan-werewolf genes aren't as strong as you thought, hmm?"

Claire reached forward, but he easily sidestepped her. Demetria pulled her back toward her side. "Claire needs me," she whispered.

Ike tilted his head to the side. "She'll be fine, Demetria. She's not the one that promised her soul to a warlock. She's protected with her pack of dogs. That Axel will do anything to protect her. You know that. If only you hadn't pushed away your mate, Demetria. He'd be here to save you from me," he said with a chuckle.

Hot angry tears threatened her eyes, and began to drip down her cheeks. "Ah, don't cry, Dove. I will make this as painless as possible."

She took a step back, dragging Claire with her. Ike smiled devilishly and pushed his hands into his pockets. "Demetria is there really any reason to fight? It'll just get your niece hurt. I'm here, and there is no getting out of this. We made our deal, we shook on it, and it's a done.

Come with me, Love, and I'll make sure your niece doesn't see a thing."

Part of Demetria wanted to take his hand and gracefully be led to her death. It would be easier, wouldn't it? She'd already tried to reach out to her powers, but whatever was in the fog stopped her from reaching them.

Every witch was different. Most held their power within, but with Ike, he held most of his magic within the pendant around his neck. Dark magic worked that way, because you weren't born with it, you channeled it.

There was a twinkle within that brass pendant around his neck. The chain was long, hanging between his breastbones, taunting her. If she could grasp the pendant, she could control his power.

"Ah, Dove, you won't get it. You know your magic isn't reachable right now." He stretched out his arm, offering it to her. "Come."

"Don't," Claire pleaded beside her. "Just let her go—,"

Ike huffed in annoyance, and reached forward, slinging Claire easily from Demetria' side. She gasped as Claire hit a tree behind them, only to immediately shift and bare her teeth.

Ike smiled. "She's beautiful, isn't she? If you were willing to give me her soul, I'd gladly take it instead. She'll out live you by years—,"

Claire leapt forward, snapping at Ike's arm that he easily sidestepped, and watched as she rolled and bounced back up without problem. She seemed to sense more or see more when she shifted through the fog.

Demetria tried to reach her magic, but hit a wall every time.

Ike began to walk a semi-circle around Claire, his hands shoved into

his pockets, as he studied her. "I admire your determination to save your aunt, Claire, but it won't work. Not this time. Your boyfriend is playing football all the way across campus, and you have no one to help."

Claire jumped forward, catching the sleeve of Ike's coat, and tore it from the shoulder, ripping it from his body. Ike's eyes blazed a deep red, and he backhanded Claire, making her whimper.

However, it didn't stop her.

None of it did. She was relentless, snapping and tearing into bits of his flesh.

Until he bent swiftly, took out a small knife tucked into his boot, and sliced it across her eye.

Claire backed up, shaking her head and trying her best to shake off the pain as Ike moved his hand in a circle, causing a thunder of noise, opening a portal in front of them.

Time fell back into place as he dragged Demetria toward the open portal. She kicked, screamed and bit, anything within her human power to get away. But she knew it was too late.

Claire shifted to her human form, wiping the blood from her eye so she could see as Ike pulled Demetria even closer to the portal. Demetria wasn't sure how she pinpointed them, or maybe she could tell where the portal was due to the growing wind.

Claire screamed, rushing toward the two of them, she leapt out, her eyes forward but not meeting Demetria's, as the wind of the portal sucked her further into the unknown.

Fury formed on Claire's face and she reached, searching for a grasp on something through the fog, when she snatched the pendant from Ike's chest, and he roared in anger.

Before he could pull them from the portal, it closed, and Demetria fell into a tornado of magic that would lead her to death.