The Struggles of Marrying a Demon {Completed}

Flying Friends

"Packer!" Mabel cried as she careened into the dry heat of the dungeon, following the lone, flickering light from one cell to find Packer sitting at the far side, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. "Packer!"

"Mabel, what are you doing?" Zephyrine suddenly stood in front of Mabel, her eyebrows raised suspiciously. "You're not supposed to be down here."

But Mabel waved her off, moving around her to address Packer once more. At the final call of his name, Packer's eyes opened, and his head fell forward until he was regarding her quizzically. "Yes, Mabel?"

She set her hands against the bars, her fingers gripping them tightly. "How much human blood did the warlocks need?"

He considered the question for a moment, and then shrugged noncommittally. "Not much to actually start the spell, but they have to more-or-less drain you to finish it."

Uneasiness coiled in Mabel's gut, and she felt the air spark when Zephyrine tensed. No doubt the ala knew where this was going. "And . . . and do they have to use the same human's blood through all of it? They can't get the blood from a different source?"

"No. It has to be a pure human, and once they start, they have to finish within two days. What's all this about?" He pushed himself off the groun, striding to the bars and scrutinizing her carefully. "What are you thinking?"

"Did any of my blood fall when we transported here? I can't remember." She couldn't, but the bile growing in the back of her throat answered her question even before Packer could.

His face paled. Gone was the emotionless mask, replaced by raw fear. He'd tried so hard to save her, and she had no doubt that this small mistake would torture him. "Shit." Packer muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I don't remember, but it would explain why they're on their way, and why they've already gotten stronger. You have to tell Aleron, Mabel." He turned to Zephyrine, whose expression matched his own, "You need to get her out of Hell." His tone was desperate.

"We can't," Zephyrine admitted apologetically, her eyes flickering to Mabel before falling on Packer once more. "Come on, Mabel. Let's try to get you somewhere safe before your stupid luck gets even worse."

While Mabel appreciated Zephyrine's attempt to lighten the situation, she ignored it. "No." She shook her head vehemently, her words firm. "Packer, if they get the spell books, what will happen?"

"They'll gain all their lost knowledge and, with the blood of a human not touched by evil, the ability to rule over Hell, Earth, and possibly Heaven."

Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap!

Don't freak out, idiot—focus.

"Okay, so, my blood gives them power?"

His eyes grew grim, and he leaned even closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "Take a spell, magnify its power by a thousand, and you get the answer. The blood of a pure human is gold here, Mabel. It gives godly abilities to those who don't deserve them."

Mabel's mind spun with all the terrible possibilities, and she wouldn't have snapped out of her inner turmoil had the entire castle not suddenly shaken as though an earthquake had struck.

Zephyrine's eyes narrowed, and she eyed the dust that fell from the bricks above their heads with poorly-hidden dread. "Let's go." In one smooth motion, she had opened Packer's cell door, snatched both him and Mabel by their wrists, and begun to lead them off.

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" Mabel asked no one particular.

The groaning of the brick walls and sudden darkness when the candles went out was answer enough.