Lucifer
The contract burned away in a flash of flame, leaving behind a scroll. It floated in front of the red-haired witch, patiently waiting for her to reach out and take it.
For over two hundred years, no Owen witch had dared to summon me, let alone make a bargain. They knew better. But those witches didn’t let their emotions leak, either. This one lacked the finesse I was used to from her ancestors.
Oh well. All the better to appease the council before they took matters into their own hands.
The witch, Bronwyn, snatched the scroll out of the air and hugged it to her chest. She grinned at me from the other side of her useless salt line, her excitement overpowering the nauseating grief emanating from every pore. Her grey eyes sparkled with it.
Really, when would these witches learn? No power in the world could confine me. Not even The Morrigan’s veil, protecting the human world from the old gods, could touch the Underworld as it had intended to do.
When she’d sacrificed her twelve warriors, all the doors were supposed to close. Instead, her witches got trapped and most of the old gods were confined to their realm.
No, little Bronwyn couldn’t control me with a salt line and her barely tapped power — she needed far more.
She was a comely thing, I supposed, with fiery waves of copper hair cascading over her shoulder. Pleasant enough features on her heart-shaped face, though that wicked smirk, both tempting and trouble-stirring, whispered of the bedlam she could unleash if given half the chance.
Not that the council cared one bit what the last Owen witch looked like. All they cared about was balance. Specifically, returning balance to the world now that the old gods had left a void the rest of us stood no chance of filling alone. We needed to pull more power from the core, and to do that, there needed to be more of us.
She had more guts than sense, that much was clear. Possibly a good thing considering the fate she’d signed herself to. A pleased glint in those stormy eyes betrayed her youth and inexperience. She couldn’t have seen more than thirty mortal years.
“Good thing I never wanted kids,” she thought, failing to so much as smother her thoughts or try to shield them.
Really, had these witches fallen so far from their roots they had forgotten everything that had made them feared among demonkind?
What a shame.
Bronwyn chuckled while reading through the spell. She truly believed she had outsmarted the devil.
Now it was my turn to grin.
My power surged forward, reaching for her as it had when she’d first summoned me.
A trickle of unease slithered through her mind and she glanced up, meeting my gaze with one of confusion.
“Didn’t your grandmother teach you anything about dealing with the Devil?” My grin widened as her pulse raced. That would be a no. “Read the fucking fine print.”
I stepped towards her, through the magic surrounding her summoning circle and over the pointless salt line. Her eyes widened and she scrambled away with a squeal, hitting a wall of power she clearly hadn’t sensed. The contract burst back into being before me and I snatched it up, smudging the velum. The ancient thing hissed its displeasure in my mind, but I paid it no attention.
“What does that say, witch?”
“That — that I give you my firstborn child,” she said, her voice shaking. Then her gaze hardened along with her voice. “Like we agreed.”
I chuckled, and a flare of annoyance speared through her, making energy swirl in her eyes.
“Read. It. Now.”
I shoved the contract at her, holding the end of it up so that she couldn’t do anything but stare at the tiny letters appending the contract.
Her eyes widened and I sighed. Idiotic mortals. “Read it aloud. Prove to me that you actually understand this time.”
“In exchange for the aforementioned services, the female party consents to conceive and deliver into this world the blood-child of Lucifer Morningstar…” Her voice rose on my name, and her panicked gaze clashed with mine. “You can’t be serious.”
“Keep reading.”
“Within thirteen nights of the pact fulfilment, or upon successful conception, whichever comes first.” Her face paled. “That seems extreme. What if I can’t even have children?”
“Keep reading.” Boredom coloured my tone.
“Should conception not occur naturally within the allotted span, the female party hereby agrees to undergo any and all magical treatments prescribed by Lucifer Morningstar or his appointed physicians to induce or enable pregnancy. Refusal to comply will be counted as a breach of contract.”
Pure unadulterated fury claimed her features. She thrashed against the power holding her still, calling me every insult imaginable. It impressed me for a tick of the clock but I’d rather not be in the mortal plane when the lust spell kicked in.
I sighed. “Since you refuse to follow instructions, I’ll help you.” I turned the contract to face me and read the final lines. “The resultant child, begat of the Morningstar, shall upon birth be relinquished to the custody and authority of the Dark Lord exclusively until the end of days.”
“Why the hell would you want an innocent child?”
I snorted. “No child of mine would be innocent, petal. Use your head.”
She clamped her lips shut. Maybe there would be hope for her yet.
“By signing in blood freely given, this covenant is sealed beyond all contestation across all planes of existence — material, spiritual, infernal, and otherwise. These are the irrefutable conditions of our arrangement herein.” I threw the hissing contract over my head and willed a portal to open, sending the disgruntled thing back to Hell where it belonged. “So, Bronwyn Owen, are you going to willingly fulfil the terms of our infernal bargain, or are you going to make this difficult on us both?”
Her eyes flashed silver. “What are you going to do, make me?” she spat, outrage etching lines in her face.
I sighed, barely refraining from rolling my eyes. “You misunderstand, little witch. The magics binding our arrangement care not for what either of us desires. They will run their course with or without your... cooperation.”
I held her gaze, watching the implication sink in as those stormy eyes widened. “The only question is whether we reach the inevitable outcome in hours”—I trailed a suggestive finger down her rapidly paling cheek—“or days.”
Silence reigned but for her thrumming pulse. The gears turned behind her eyes as she glowered at me. Oh, how I hoped she would test me. How long had it been since a mere mortal sparked more than cruel amusement within me? I schooled my features to stillness, refusing to betray my growing excitement.
A clock ticked in the next room, its grinding cogs loud in the silence that descended. I waited with diminishing patience, longer than I should have. For at least two centuries, this contract had waited for an Owen witch to call me. The rest of them had been too sensible. Their ancestors had warned them what would happen should they bargain with me.
Why The Morrigan mandated that the child be of Owen blood, I hadn’t asked. It mattered little to me. But the longer I watched them, pushing themselves to the brink of extinction, the more concerned I’d grown.
What would happen if I didn’t produce an heir to the Infernal Throne? Would my kingdom lose power? Become overwhelmed?
I had contemplated drawing more from the core. One more council meeting, and I might have tried.
Now it didn’t matter.
This one had signed the contract and she was mine.
“Well, witch?” I forced through my clenched jaw when I couldn’t bear to wait any more. “What shall it be?”
She rocked back on her heels, her eyes almost rolling back in her head. “What the…” Her face paled and her eyes narrowed on me. “What’s happening to me?”
“The Morrigan embedded a failsafe into the contract.” My grin turned feral as I pulled her flush against me. “When you signed, you triggered the lust spell.”
She stared at me, dawning horror spreading across her face. “Lust spell?”
“Yes. By signing the contract, you’ve cursed us both to thirteen days and nights of this madness.” I caressed her jaw, the spell beginning to burn through my veins.
Unconsciously, she tilted her head, chasing my touch.
“Our bargain. His heir. I had to…” her stilted thoughts echoed inside my mind, serving as an early warning system.
She tried to shove me back, but I had already tightened my grip.
“This isn’t me. Isn’t real. Just magic, twisting my will.”
My fingers trailed down her neck, leaving a blazing trail over her fevered skin. Her breath came faster, desire and panic building inside of her.
“Shh, relax.” I stroked a hand down her back soothingly. She trembled, but her body leaned into me. I gently grasped her chin, tipping her face up. “I know you’re frightened. But we’re both trapped in this spell now. Fighting will only bring you pain.”
“I don’t—”
“Let go, Bronwyn. Allow yourself to feel it. The magic won’t be denied.”
I lowered my head towards hers. Against her will, her lips parted in anticipation.
At the first brush of my lips against hers, unwanted pleasure cascaded through us. Electricity zinged through me as her hands slid up my chest. My heart raced impossibly as her fingers tangled in my hair, intensifying the heat between us.
With my last ounce of control, I opened a portal and dragged her through it. She whimpered once but barely seemed to notice the rollercoaster rush of power around us, her lips never left mine.
It had been aeons since I had experienced anything like this. It was intoxicating, a dance of temptation. Any thought of resisting the spell evaporated from my mind. I could only revel in the sinful feeling of it all.
Who knew a kiss could feel like a brand?