“It’s not your fault,” she murmured. “Well. It is. But you didn’t know it would happen.”
“Thanks,” Brax said, rolling his eyes.
Mr. Minegold continued, his voice urgent. “I don’t know how long we have until all of this comes to a head. But the night of Christmas Eve would be quite a feather in the cap for any demon to breach the mortal realm and add sacrilege to destruction. Furthermore, it’s likely being influenced by the location. Pine Ridge is a tempting spot for several reasons. To destroy a place where so many ‘evil’ creatures choose peace and kindness would further satisfy a wicked demon’s perverse senses.”
“A wicked demon? Are there other kinds?”
“Not often, but some do try. There are ways to redeem even the uttermost.”
Brax licked his lips. That was a strange new thought. But everything in this little town seemed strange and new, especially the sexy sloth wannabe on his back. He’d had a century of living on the edge, of festering in the darkest parts of himself. If he wanted to try a little something new, a little something kind and good—well, wasn’t that the greatest perversion a demon could offer? “If we get out of this, I’d like to hear about them sometime.”
“Excellent. But for now...”
“For now. There’s a chalice? And Marietta has to be here, right? Or did the witchling do enough damage that now the demon does the rest?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to research—and quickly. The ice is spreading, and people will be waiting to head out to holiday parties and the Christmas Eve carol service.”
Brax gritted his teeth.Wonderful. The world may burn, but let’s worry about the little old ladies getting to belt outHark the Herald Angels. “Time is of the essence. Got it. Anything else in the book?”
“I’m texting members of the Pine Ridge coven and the members of the Night Watch for assistance, pooling ourknowledge. Farrah Fenclan—oh, how lovely, what a nice picture of all the family—”
“Focus!” Brax snapped.
“Very well, she says that she knows of a reference to a ‘Chalice of Brimstone.’ She says it can be wielded by great evil, a servant of the most low, the kings of the lower depths. I think a soul-sucking demon would count as a servant of the most low. And he would be a servant of a ‘Voodoo Queen,’ as well. Kings, queens, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
“Sexist,” Penny muttered, now nibbling on Brax’s collarbone.
“Erhm. Yes. Archaic. Anyway, the ‘Chalice of Brimstone’ must be filled with the blood of an innocent.”
“Marietta has buckets of it. Literally.” Brax’s stomach growled. “She was always good for a meal.”
Penny’s nibbles turned into hard, reproving bites.
His cock stiffened at the pinch of pain, even at this horribly inopportune moment. “I saidwas.”
“Was, is—the point is that she has blood to spare. Once the chalice is filled—and presumably it’s some literal chalice that works in tandem with the spell, Farrah says, ‘The fire shall pool and in its place the frost will creep, and the cold wax, and by the dawn will it reach its full.”
“What the hell? Who waxes until dawn? That is one majorly hairy piece of glassware.”
Brax felt as though he and Mr. Minegold were bonding simply by being forced to listen to Penny’s delirious ravings.
“I don’t think the chalice is what’s being waxed, my dear,” Mr. Minegold responded patiently.
“It’s old lingo, love. It means it shall grow. That tracks. It’s only getting colder.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Oh, dear—what?” Brax’s voice was sharp as Mr. Minegold made a startled exclamation. He had the feeling that ‘Oh, dear’ was the gentlemanly vamp’s equivalent of ‘Shit!’
“Ah. I believe we’ve gotten to the point where your burning companion comes into play.”
“Penny. Her name is Penny. She’s my neighbor.”
“She’s also the other half of the spell. ‘Once the chalice is drained and the frost is at its full, two sacrifices will be claimed, one burnt and one frozen.”
“That’s us,” Penny whispered.
Brax nodded.
