A Very Levet Christmas Page 6

  Had he left behind his beloved mate to satisfy his arrogant ambitions?

  Non. Non. And non.

  Levet pointed the wand in the Were’s face. “It was your choice.”

  Damon’s lean face was a sickly shade of ash as he licked his dry lips, the champagne eyes dark with regret.

  “It was my mother’s dying wish.”

  His muttered words sparked a sudden question in Levet’s tangled thoughts.

  A demon lord artifact didn’t suddenly appear out of thin air. Did it?

  “How long did your mother possess the medallion?” he demanded.

  Damon regarded the golden artifact with a grim hatred. “Since my father banished us. I assume she stole it as a reminder of her position as Queen of Weres.”

  Levet was beginning to suspect it was more than mere vanity that had urged the theft.

  “Maybe she was compelled to take it,” he suggested in soft tones.

  Damon scowled. “What are you suggesting?”

  “The medallion clearly holds a connection to the demon lord that Salvatore battled.”

  The Were shuddered. “And?”

  “There are some objects that are created to manipulate those who own them,” Levet pointed out. He had seen entire villages controlled by the power of a magical artifact. One mere Were wouldn’t be too difficult to sway. “The medallion could have first tainted your father and then, sensing he had tumbled into his madness, encouraged your mother to steal it before she was forced to leave.”

  Damon sucked in a harsh breath, his expression twisted with a soul-deep pity for the female Were who’d been tormented for decades by her lust for power.

  “It could have caused her obsession.”

  “Oui.” Levet held Damon’s troubled gaze. “And your own.”

  A strangled groan was ripped from Damon’s throat. “God. What have I done?”

  Chapter 6

  Under other circumstances Damon might have been relieved to discover that his family had been controlled by the magic of a demon lord. After all, it was preferable to believe that it was the medallion that had made his father an abusive bastard, and his mother a demented lunatic, and himself a . . . a selfish idiot who might very well destroy the world.

  A sound of acute pain was wrenched from his throat.

  It didn’t matter how he’d come to this point in time.

  All that was important was making sure that the Weres were protected from destruction.

  With an effort he forced himself out of his fog of grief, grimly squaring his shoulders as he glared at the miniature demon at his side.

  “We can’t let this happen.”

  “We?” The gray eyes widened, the delicate wings fluttering in obvious agitation. “I have done nothing but attempt to halt your reckless quest.”

  Damon clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to give the gargoyle a good shake. The tiny bastard was right.

  Damon had no one to blame but himself.

  “Fine. I can’t let this happen,” he said between clenched teeth. “And you have to help me.”

  The gargoyle was shaking his head before Damon stopped speaking. “I told you; I do not possess enough power to defeat the magic of a demon lord.”

  Damon growled. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. His gaze shifted to the slender piece of wood sputtering tiny sparks that Levet clutched in his hands.

  “Then use the damned wand,” Damon commanded.

  “This?” Levet scowled. “But we do not know what it would do.”

  Damon shook his head in disbelief. The Weres were facing genocide and the stupid gargoyle was worried about something bad happening?

  “What can it hurt?”

  Levet’s eyes widened, as if he were astonished by the simple question. “What could it hurt?” He clicked his tongue. “Mon Dieu. You know nothing of magic. It could destroy us all.”

  “Give it to me,” Damon snarled, reaching for the wand. The Weres were going to die unless he did something.

  “Non. Do not.” Levet scampered backward, ridiculously smacking Damon with the slender wand.

  Damon barely felt the blow against his forearm, but before he could pluck the magical stick from the gargoyle, the mist abruptly thickened, and once again they were being whisked through the darkness.

  Shit.

  How much worse could it get?

  Not at all anxious to find out, Damon struggled to keep his balance as he felt his feet land against the frozen ground.

  This time there was no gradual clearing of the mist that surrounded them.

  One second it was there, and the next it was gone.

  Warily, Damon glanced around the moonlit field coated in newly fallen snow before shifting his attention toward the distant river that looked vaguely familiar.

  “What have you done?” he snapped, braced for whatever might be coming.

  Levet turned in a slow circle, his tail stuck straight out behind him. “I have brought us back to where we started.”

  The creature sounded as unnerved as Damon felt, but after slowly counting to a hundred he finally accepted that he wasn’t going to be forced to endure yet another out-of-body experience.

  Immediately his attention turned toward the golden artifact that remained warm against the palm of his hand.

  “There has to be a way to destroy the medallion,” he snarled.

  Levet grimaced, his expression troubled as if he had been struck by an unpleasant thought. “In the past the demon lord attempted to use Salvatore’s blood to gain entry into this world.”

  Damon glanced down at his naked body, belatedly realizing that his various wounds had yet to fully heal. A sickening horror jolted through him.

  “It’s feeding off my blood?”

  The gargoyle gave a slow nod. “I believe so.”

  Damon didn’t bother to try and toss the medallion away. Or even to demand to be taken to a healer. He understood that now that the magic had been awakened by his blood, there would be no stopping it.

  Not until the fuel it was feeding on was destroyed beyond repair.

  “Then there is only one solution,” Damon said, more to himself than to the creature who watched him with a wary gray gaze.

  Falling to his knees, Damon clutched the medallion tightly in his hand, trying his best to clear his mind.

  He had no practical knowledge of how to call on the Telos. Weres didn’t teach their children how to commit suicide. But it had to be like any other natural instinct.

  Or at least, he hoped to God it was.

  Focusing first on the destruction that was about to be unleashed, Damon slowly allowed himself to visualize himself kneeling in the snow. He was still naked. Still coated in blood from his wounds. Then he imagined a fire being lit deep in his soul.

  It wasn’t a normal fire.

  It was a cleansing fire.

  A fire that would consume him utterly and completely.

  Just as it had his mother.

  “What are you doing?” Levet demanded as Damon felt a trickle of sweat inch down his bent spine.

  “Ending this,” he muttered.

  A searing heat began to spread through his bloodstream, making the snow steam where it touched his legs.

  Levet sucked in a sharp breath. “Non.”

  The heat continued to spread, the pain swiftly threatening to become unbearable.

  With an effort Damon lifted his head, needing to pass along one last message.

  “Tell Gia . . .” His words broke off as he caught the unmistakable scent of chamomile. Was the lethal magic making him delusional? Gritting his teeth against the pain, he turned his head toward the line of trees that framed the edge of the field. On cue, a slender female Were stepped out of the shadows and ran across the snow. Damon gave a slow shake of his head. “What the hell?”

  The female halted at his side, clearly having overheard at least the tail end of the conversation.

  “Tell Gia what?”

  Damon desperately savored
the pale, perfect face and dark, oblong eyes. The long, black hair was pulled into a tidy braid and her slender form covered by a sensible pair of jeans and bulky winter coat, but she’d never looked more beautiful to him.

  “I love you,” he rasped.

  Her eyes briefly lit with a joy that pierced Damon’s heart. Damn. Why hadn’t he simply appreciated what he’d already possessed? Why had he allowed the madness to consume him?

  Easily sensing Damon’s distress, Gia’s happiness vanished, her gaze belatedly taking in the sweat that now coated him from head to toe.

  “What are you doing?” She slowly lowered herself until she was kneeling next to him. “Damon? Tell me.”

  He grimaced, caught between delight that he’d been blessed enough to see her one last time, and regret that she would be forced to witness his end.

  “I must call upon the Telos,” he admitted in low tones.

  “What?” She reached out to touch him, only to yank her hand back as if his skin had burned her. “Oh God, Damon, stop it.”

  He gave a weak shake of his head, trying to distract himself from the fiery agony that was increasing with every sluggish beat of his heart.

  “How did you get here?”

  She futilely tried to choke back her tears. “I followed you, you stubborn, pig-headed Were.”

  His lips twisted. “I should have known.”

  “Yes, you should have,” she growled, her raspy voice revealing her wolf was close to the surface. “I can’t live without you.”

  His own wolf struggled to reach her, understanding the need for death but still anxious to feel the comfort of its mate.

  “I’ve been so wrong, Gia,” he admitted, his heart heavy with sorrow. “I allowed myself to be blinded by madness. But this time I will make it right.”

  “No.” Tears tracked down Gia’s lovely face, her expression pleading. “Please—”

  “All right.” A light female voice abruptly intruded into the very private conversation, and Damon jerked his head toward the side where Levet was standing next to a tiny woman with a heart-shaped face and long, black hair that tumbled nearly to her waist. In the moonlight her skin appeared as pale and smooth as ivory, and her ears were pointed. She also had a pair of gossamer wings in shades of white and silver. Fairy? “I believe that is enough.”

  “Who are you?” he asked in confusion.

  Levet gave a loud sniff. “This is the Christmas angel you refused to believe was real.”

  Damon scowled, studying the strange creature with a wary gaze. “I’m still not convinced.”

  The angel moved across the ground without leaving a trace of her passage in the snow, a beguiling smile curving her lips.

  “You can call me Sera.”

  Damon narrowed his gaze. The tiny creature might look all fragile and charming, but she’d put him through hell over the past . . . Damn, he didn’t even know how much time had passed.

  “It is your magic that has been jerking me from the past to the future,” he accused in a harsh voice.

  She gave a lift of her hands, her pretty face devoid of any hint of apology. “It was important for you to see the danger,” she informed him, as if he hadn’t just realized he was the doom of his people. “And what you were sacrificing.”

  He flinched, his gaze briefly moving to the female Were who kneeled beside him.

  He didn’t need any reminders of all that he’d lost.

  “Oh, I see.” He turned back to glare at the angel. “But only after it’s too late.”

  The jade-green eyes widened as if Sera was astonished by the savage pain in Damon’s words.

  “But the clock has not yet struck midnight.”

  Damon blinked, trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about as he aimlessly noticed that the snow had begun to fall again. Odd. Hadn’t they been bathed in silvery moonlight only seconds before?

  He gave a shake of his head. Obviously the ruthless pain was clouding his mind.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out, the smell of his burning flesh beginning to fill the air as he felt the flames ignite just beneath his skin.

  Gia cried out, but as he bent forward, it was another hand that softly touched his shoulder.

  “Damon, there is time to change the future,” Sera whispered into his ear. “Give me the medallion.”

  Damon managed to lift his head, meeting the angel’s steady gaze. “You can destroy it?”

  She gave a nod. “I can.”

  He hesitated. Not that he wanted to keep the medallion. Hell no. The evil chunk of metal had caused untold misery for his family.

  But, the night had been one long nightmare, and he couldn’t be certain that this wasn’t a trap.

  He didn’t believe in Christmas angels. And he didn’t trust magic.

  This could all be one elaborate scheme to . . .

  To what?

  His fuzzy brain tried to imagine what Sera and Levet could have hoped to gain by the elaborate charade.

  At last he heaved a sigh of resignation.

  If someone wanted to take the medallion from him, there were a thousand easier ways. Right now he had little choice but to trust the strange demon.

  With an effort, he held out his hand, loosening his fingers to reveal the medallion that glowed with an evil light in the darkness.

  “Here.”

  Sera held his gaze, a hint of sympathy on her face, as if she could sense the agony that continued to sear through his body.

  “You give it freely?”

  Damon scowled. Why didn’t she just take the damned thing?

  Then he abruptly realized that it had been bound to him by his blood. He had to consciously offer her the artifact for the bond to be broken.

  “Sì.”

  The word had barely left his lips when the angel snatched the medallion from his hand. She flinched, but Damon suspected that it wasn’t the heat that bothered her. The vile magic that clung to the medallion pulsed in the air, making all of them shudder in horror.

  With a low, musical chant, the angel bent down to place the medallion on the ground. Instantly snow began to coat the golden surface, hissing as it hit the hot metal. Damon watched in fascination as the snow began to swirl faster and faster, dimming the sickly glow that had surrounded the medallion until the filthy thing was completely coated in white.

  There was a long, breathless moment, almost as if the world were standing still, before there was a strange pop and abruptly the snow stopped falling and the moonlight returned.

  Damon had no idea if the medallion was buried beneath the ice or if the magical snow had destroyed it, but there was no mistaking the sudden sense of relief that managed to override the flames still blazing through his body.

  God almighty, he’d had no idea just how heavy a burden the medallion had become. Or the stain of darkness it had etched onto his soul.

  Not until it was gone.

  Now he sucked in a shuddering breath, deeply thankful that the taint had been removed, even if it was seconds before his death.

  Lost in his pious sense of sacrifice, Damon was unprepared for the feel of a tiny hand slapping the back of his head.

  “Really, Damon, what are you doing?” Sera demanded. “If you don’t stop you’ll hurt yourself.”

  Damon blinked in confusion, belatedly realizing that there was no longer a need for his destruction.

  The inner flames began to recede as he met Sera’s chiding gaze. “It’s over?”

  She offered a sweet smile. “Unless you’re devoted to the thought of martyrdom.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head, turning his gaze toward Gia who remained kneeling beside him.

  “There’s only one thing I want,” he breathed. “My mate.”

  Gia wiped away the tears that streamed down her pale face. “Damon.”

  “Gia.” Releasing the last of the lethal heat, Damon weakly reached to wrap his arms around the female he’d loved for as long as he could remembe
r. “My beautiful Gia.”

  She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. “Come home with me.”

  “Home,” he breathed, for the first time in years able to think of a future filled with happiness. “Sì. Our home . . . together.”

  Levet covertly dabbed his eyes as he watched the two Weres embrace, their love for one another blatantly obvious.

  Ah. L’amour.

  “Perhaps we should give these two some privacy,” Sera murmured at his side.

  Levet parted his lips to protest, his gaze focused on Damon as the male Were efficiently began to strip away Gia’s thick layer of clothes. It was just getting interesting.

  But before he could say a word, Sera reached to grasp his hand, and he found himself being magically whisked from the snowy field to a small, cozy cabin.

  Giving a sharp snap of his wings, Levet struggled to maintain his balance at the abrupt teleportation.

  Sacrebleu.

  What was it with females and the need to jerk him from one place to another?

  It was just rude.

  With a sniff, Levet glanced around the cabin, discovering a portion of his annoyance fading as he took in the festive beauty.

  The room was rustic with wooden floors and paneled walls. Along one side of the room was a vast stone fireplace that burned brightly to dispel the chill in the air. There was a long mantel above it that was decorated with several red stockings and strands of evergreen and holly draped along the top.

  In one corner a huge Christmas tree was decorated with big red bows and silver bell-shaped ornaments. And in the center of the floor was a round table with a large crystal bowl filled with eggnog.

  It was . . . magical.

  “Where are we?” he breathed.

  Sera moved to stand directly in front of him, her beauty shown to advantage in the firelight.

  “My private lair.”

  Levet abruptly cleared his throat, aware of the angel in a way that had nothing to do with her good deeds.

  “What about the medallion?” he forced himself to ask.

  “I had it properly disposed of,” she assured him, stepping closer to wrap him in the scent of freshly baked bread.

  Levet’s mouth watered. And not with hunger.