The demon laughed. Between one instant and the next, it vanished, and then it was standing directly in front of him. One hand lashed out, catching hold of the back of his neck. Their bodies pressed together, and the demon reached out and licked his cheek.
It burned like acid. Lucien gasped, trying to push it away, but all he could hear was that mocking laughter. Its grip was iron. The press of its body mocked him, and the fingers that glided down his chest clenched in his shirt, driving through what felt like the first layer of skin covering his heart.
"This is where I rule," Lascher whispered. "You are not the strong one here. I am. All I needed to do was wait for you to open yourself up psychically, wait for blood to ssspill." It leered closer, its breath smelling faintly of cinnamon and burnt spices. "Have you not dreamed of me?" A poisonous whisper. It conjured memories of nightmares too horrible to remember. "Yes," it taunted. "That one."
Red silk sheets. Naked flesh. The creature entwined with his body, its skin sinking into his, its mouth on his, their bodies slowly becoming one until Lucien lay alone, blinking up at the ceiling with black eyes...
No. No. He wouldn't remember. This wasn't happening. The demon couldn't take from him; it was only granted power when he willed it.
"Are you certain?" Lascher taunted; its body pressed against his. The movement dragged him back into the nightmare...
Ianthe. Lucien threw the thought out there, clinging to her memory. Of the perfume she wore, the feel of her skin, the taste of her smile... It grounded him a little.
"She's lovely. Perhaps when I'm in your body, I'll get to enjoy her too?"
Rage spiraled through him. Somehow Lucien caught the creature by the throat and shoved it back against the icy walls. They throbbed and the demon flinched. Lucien found some strength in that. "You'll never touch her. Never!"
This... this was his boundary. Fury gave him strength that hadn't been there before. Suddenly, he felt like there was distance between them. He felt like himself again.
But how did he get out of here?
A whisper of skirts brushed against him. "Lucien!" A hand slid over his sleeve. There, but not here. "Lucien, wake up! Here! Take my hand!"
And then Ianthe shimmered to life beside him, her hand curling through his. Her figure was as opaque as the vision the demon had shown him.
She was blind to the demon beside him. Blind to this world. But somehow she stood on the threshold of it. The lilac color of her skirts seemed so bright, so vibrant against the cold, dark walls of this inner prison, even though she was not wholly here. Lucien could see right through her, but her touch... that anchored him. Suddenly, the ground felt real beneath his feet. Flashes of sorcery crackled off wards around him, and he saw Drake with his hands outspread, his rings sparking and smoldering as he flung sorcerous weaves at his ex-wife. Morgana retaliated, stumbling back in a rush of red skirts, staggering as both Drake and Sebastian hammered at her. It all swam around him in an eerie dream-like sequence, the figures moving so slowly as they ducked and threw battle globes at each other. Only the weft and weave of sorcerous power held any weight to it, any significance in this world. Battle globes met each other, erupting in violent coruscations of red and blue.
The only thing that looked real was his body, gasping on the floor, and Ianthe curled over him, holding onto his hand, while she frantically tried to staunch the blood.
Holding his hand, even now.
"Ssshe's the only thing holding you back," Lascher said spitefully. It reached out, gripping Ianthe's wrist.
Ianthe screamed. "He's mine!"
"The only thing holding you back," Lucien corrected, shifting so that his body was between them. He felt stronger now. "You have no hold over me. She does. She owns me; body, heart, and soul."
The demon hissed. A malicious cloud seemed to be building behind it, little sparks of malevolent green lightning crackling within.
"Lucien," Ianthe called to him. "Come back! You belong to me."
One last look at the demon, and then she was dragging Lucien back, through some sort of hazy tunnel, Lascher receding into the distance.
The demon hissed and flung the cloud at them. Lucien thrust up his hands, but it passed right through him, a sting of icy needles that tore at his skin. Ianthe, however, screamed.
As if it were cutting her apart inside.
Drake staggered, torn between opposing forces as Lucien's spine arched off the floor and he screamed. Sebastian was on his hands and knees, swaying and bleeding from the nose and ears. He didn't know which son was in worse condition. Standing halfway between them, he eyed Morgana.
"Lucien?" he called.
Ianthe ground her teeth together, blood dripping from her nose as she lifted her face. "I've... got him."
A black haze enveloped her. Then she screamed as Lucien gasped, his eyes springing wide open.
"No!" a woman cried out. Eleanor.
Just a split second where his attention had been misdirected. Enough time for Morgana to make her move.
