Page 4 of What The Hex (The Family Spells)
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he snarled as something big and awful and smelly crawled out of the darkness. When it stood up and flared its nostrils, I caught sight of those dark eyes and almost lost my shit.
Holy freaking Hecate’s tits.
Remember what I said about category eight and nine demons?
Yeah, I was looking at one—one besides Monster, that is.
Category eight demons were always bad news, and I knew exactly what this one was.
A freaking vrag … aka a krampus.
You might be asking yourself: who is this guy with the giant horns, cloven feet, and mane of hair tangled with bones and charms? Oh, just a guy who eats witches. Literally, that species of demon—the vrag—are born witch-eaters. They come from the same world my people originally hailed from. Once upon a time, all the covens banded together to eradicate the vrag. And yet, every now and again, one would pop up here or there.
This one, however, was not just a random encounter: he was summoned.
A summoned demon always has gold, silver, or black shackles on their wrists and ankles.
“Most likely this is a gift from Coven Wyrmwood or Cabal Ungeist,” Monster explained, running his tongue over his lower lip again. That look on his face, I’d seen it before, and it scared the crap out of me. That was his I’m hungry for sex or violence face.
At least it wasn’t directed at me.
Also, pretty sure he wasn’t hungry for sex from krampus.
Or, if he was then his tastes had certainly changed from our last encounter …
I pulled my broom from its sheath, considered the cursed pistols under my jacket, and then decided that I’d better keep those hidden. They only had six shots, and if needed, I could blast Monster to queendom come with them.
Thing is, in my heart of hearts, I knew I didn’t want him dead, just … gone. Away from me. Forever.
“Can we kick this thing’s ass together?” I asked, and Monster paused to look over his shoulder at me. He didn’t look scared, but then, he never did. He was a master manipulator, and an expert at hiding his true emotions.
So, when I got a loose shrug of those giant, muscular shoulders, I was not surprised.
“I guess we’ll find out,” he purred, and then winked at me.
Krampus let out a scream like shattering glass, and charged.
What the hex?! I wondered as I blinked through the haze and found about three dozen cats crouched and staring at me from the shadows, their yellow, orange, and green eyes blinking as they hissed and batted clawed paws in my direction.
Familiars, from Coven Wyrmwood.
The coven was watching me, but from afar. A witch’s best trick. My own familiar, Connard, had been summoned alongside me and sat quietly to my right, afraid to voice his usual displeasures in front of such a crowd. The tip of his tail, however, was twitching in unmasked annoyance.
“Hex.” My grandmother, Lulu, was standing in front of me with a cool, stoic expression on her wrinkled face. Her hair and makeup were done, a pointed hat resting on her braided silver hair. She never got dressed up unless … I blinked several times to clear my head and squinted past her, at the row of three women situated in chairs behind her.
The ruling members of our coven: the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone.
Every coven had them. They were always scary powerful, and ridiculously badass. I was a cocky bastard on the best of days, and I was still rightfully terrified of those fuckers. Every single one of them had enough power in their little finger to kill me … if they wanted. So, guess I just had to keep them from wanting to kill me, right?
“What the fuck is going on?” I snapped, gritting my teeth and trying to remind myself of what I’d just realized. Be nice, right? You get more flies with honey and all that. And yet, growing up, my grandmother had always told me that I was made of piss and vinegar. How was I supposed to change that now?
“Relax, son,” Lulu said, her expression softening. Maybe she realized how goddess-damned fucked it was for me to be travelling through Hael with Grace, and then … to be summoned?!
I seriously felt like I’d been rammed up the butthole by an un-lubed dildo. Sorry for the rank visual, but ouch. I felt weak and shaky, like I’d been violated in a way that was impossible to describe. Everything felt off, like I had an earache and couldn’t walk straight. My tummy was roiling with nausea, my head was pounding, and I felt … almost like I was coated in a thick, warm jelly. Something viscous and suffocating.
“What’s going on?” I asked, rubbing at my forehead and trying to get a bearing on where we were. Probably in the Coven House would be my guess. I wasn’t even allowed in here on a normal basis, and yet, I’d been dragged in kicking and screaming for a task that could literally make or break me. I had a magic mark, gods-damn it—I had a deal.
