Page 80 of Shadows of the Soul

“What are you going to do about it?”

This was surreal, chatting with the menace that was wreaking havoc in my life about my family issues. I sighed. Sadly, it wasn’t the weirdest moment I’d ever experienced.

“Let’s focus on more pressing matters, Mr. Proctor.”

“Like?”

“The blood magic you have cast over my property. What is its purpose? If you think I’m scared by a little murder and gore, we clearly haven’t met.”

He chuckled. It was a warm dark sound that caused goosebumps to erupt down my arms. “Perhaps I underestimated you. But if I wanted you frightened, I could have done this.”

He snapped his fingers, and the world fell away. I gripped the seat, lifted my feet and gasped as the floor disappeared and in its place was a vast labyrinth of fire, destruction, and suffering. The sulfur burned my nose. He was showing me Hell. My spine itched as my monster fought me for control. She wanted to obliterate the threat and save me. I closed my eyes and forced my heart to slow. I was safe. Visiting Hell wasn’t as simple as snapping one’s fingers, no matter what company you kept. My eyes sprang open. No Satanist was going to have me running scared. That path led to my enslavement by Lucifer. I’d be damned if I let that happen. I ignored the lurch in my stomach and put my feet back down, then stood, seemingly in midair, hanging above the web of agonizing pain. The thing was, I’d experienced pain that broke the mind and terrorized the soul, and I’d survived it.

I twisted to face him and folded my arms. “You are going to have to do better than that.”

He tilted his head and studied me. The illusion fell away to my back porch. “Yes, I have underestimated you. Only a scarred and dangerous psyche could withstand my power.”

Perilous ground, steer him away, Cora. “What did you do to that boy?”

He leaned back in the swing and smirked. “His sacrifice was necessary.”

“The words of a true sociopath,” I mumbled as I leaned against the railing.

“In some cultures, it is believed we are born with a finite amount of luck and power. As we progress through life, we deplete that source until finally we die.”

“You sacrificed a child because his luck bucket was full?”

“Each religion and belief system has its own rules and rituals. If you perform them correctly, that belief system translates into power.”

“Giving you the opening to bastardize any culture to meet your demands.”

He inclined his head. “No matter the underlying heritage, blood magic will always hold power.”

“All so you could grow a pretty display?”

“No, I have no interest in the aesthetics of your home. Although I like the symbolism.” This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I needed to goad him into parting with information.

“White roses and blood, the ultimate symbol of death for The Undertaker. Well, aren’t you a clever little puppet Satanist?”

His stare turned flinty. One thing you could count on for all these power-tripping idiots, they hated people pointing out that there was someone pulling their strings. “It’s an honor to serve him.”

“Sure, and when he gets what he wants, he’s going to give you a place ruling at his side and shower you with riches and gold? Perhaps a few virgins to sweeten the deal?”

He pressed his lips together and leaned forward. “You know nothing, Cora Roberts.”

I laughed. “I know more than you think. Do you realize who I truly am?”

He blinked. Ah, clearly not. Another thing sociopaths hate—not knowing all the facts. “Ask yourself why the King of Hell is interested in a southern girl with a retro gift?”

“You are holding open a portal to the promised land.”

Okay, so he knew a little. “A bit much for an elemental to manage, don’t you think?”

He frowned and stood. “What are you?”

I smirked. “That would be telling. Now you find yourself in a situation with an unknown foe. Remove your magic from my grounds and I won’t retaliate.”

He quirked a brow. “It doesn’t matter what you are, no being on Earth could stop what is coming.”

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