Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I make no profit from their use; other then the joy of playing with them that is! xD
Notes: I started this story back in June of 2013 after Hunt the Moon (which is how it got it's title) and then I got busy; and then got my hands on TtS and went Oh YEs! Ms. Chance is a genius and had Cassie sleep shift through time to find Pritkin...so I didn't finish this...but now I have to wait ANOTHER YEAR to get Pritkin back and Dear god I'm Dying over here; just like the lovely Miss Palmer...
So I decided to post this; and finish it, *fingers crossed* so that I can get my Pritkin fix while I wait...
oh and if you haven't been to Ms. Chance's official website and read the blurb for the next book yet and your a Cass/Prit fan like me? Go do it right now! Seriously, I'll wait!
Because, Oh My God; if the whole book is like that you guys wont see me for at least two months after it's release; I'll be too busy re-reading it over, and over! Wow.
Raising Hel
A Cassie/Pritkin Story
"Get OUT Marco!" There is nothing more frustrating than not being able to throw someone out on their ass when they've overstayed their welcome and all you want to do is be alone.
"Cass, listen. I know you're upset. And maybe Mircea he overstepped his bounds, but He's worried about you!"
"We, all are." That last comment hadn't come from the guy I was currently trying to shove out the door; which was pointless really since he was only about six foot eight and built like an impassable mountain; oh yeah, and a vampire.
But I'd had about as much success trying to shove the other guy chiming in at the moment out of my room as well seeing as he was a ghost and not exactly corporal enough to shove anywhere.
"Shut up Billy!"
Marco didn't even raise an eyebrow at my outburst; maybe he'd gotten used to the idea that I talked to a ghost, or maybe he was just so worried that he didn't care who I talked to, he just wanted me to talk.
"Get. Out. I have nothing to say to you, or him, or anyone else he sends for that matter!"
Marco winced, probably because that last bit had come out kind of screeching and vampire hearing being what it was we could have been whispering this conversation across a football field and he'd have heard me just fine; but I didn't feel like whispering; or talking, Fuck that.
I felt like screaming, and kicking, and smashing the crap outta something which is probably why most of the objects in the room at that moment took that opportunity to fly off the wall, not fall; no they flung themselves at odd angles smashing into odd bits of furniture; fancy columns and other walls sending arcs of shattered glass all over the floor.
Okay oops.
So I hadn't quite gotten a handle on all this extra power I'd been endowed with; it was more like someone had opened my mouth jammed a funnel in and poured super-juice down my throat till I was glowing.
Even worse than not knowing how to turn it off, or control it was not being able to fucking give it back!
Something no one could help me with, because, the only person I could think of to help me was the person who had stuck me in this world of hell to begin with! He'd given me an unimaginable amount of raw seemingly unending power to draw from that I didn't understand and couldn't contain half the time!
He'd given it to me to save my life, when I was teetering on the verge of death; and in the process effectively ended his own.
"Cassie, Please. Look you're not eating, you barely sleep, you look like hell..."
I felt my shoulders slump in defeat and my breathe catch in the back of my throat.
No, No. I was not going to do this, not here not right now. I would not show weakness in front of him; in front of any of them; never again.
"If you won't leave, I will." I shifted before Marco could snatch his hands around my upper arms effectively hitching along for the ride.
Which is saying something since he'd been using vampire speed, but I was faster, I was a lot faster now. Whether it was from the extra Pritkin juice, or just practice I didn't know.
But shifting was effortless now; in a way that nothing else was; even breathing hurt.
I let my body crumple into the chair behind me without needing to look to know it was there, I'd spent enough time here over the last two months to know this room; this house like the back of my own hand. And the fact that it was about as far away from Las Vegas, in both distance and relative time from Marco, Mircea, and the rest of the Vampire Senate, and my stupid Pythia council and my body guards was a small comfort.
I could cry here.
Half-way around the world and in a different time where no-one expected to find me; or even knew to look for me. I felt my breathe hitch in the back of my throat again and choked on the next inhale.
Three months.
I'd tried everything; I'd talked to every contact, every lead, and still I was no closer to getting him back.
Pritkin.
A sob escapes, I don't even try to hold back. Even thinking his name sends a hot knife of agony through my chest.
I let my head drop onto the armrest and breath in as deep as I can; this place didn't smell like him…
Hell if he hadn't brought me here himself once in a desperate attempt to evade our pursuer's I would have never guessed he had ever stayed here; let alone that the small stone house with its dark and dusty wood floors belonged to my wayward war mage.
That in a different time; a whole other lifetime Pritkin had bought this house for the woman who was supposed to be his bride.
She'd died in this house too. Another sobering thought…
On their wedding night, of all horrors…tricked by Pritkin's asshole of a demon prince father, lured by her own misguided ambitions into trying to share power with her new husband; power she didn't understand she didn't have enough to share being barely a demon herself.
It wasn't his fault; not that that fact stopped Pritkin from hating himself for what happened; and beating himself down with self-hatred and loathing whenever he got the chance.
He was a master at the whole self-hate, I don't deserve happiness mentality.
Nevertheless,Trying to kill his father when he realized what he'd done; resulted in the Demon's version of a council deciding that Pritkin was too dangerous to live what with how successful he was at causing mayhem and death and destruction to other demons and trying to kill his father a council member himself.
They'd sentenced him to death; and would have killed him if his father hadn't stepped in and suggested that instead Pritkin be exiled to earth; banned from the demon realms; and unable to feed or share power with anyone he encountered; effectively starving him of power and hoping to drive him mad so that when he slipped up, when he broke his sentence he would have to return to Hell and sit beside his father doing his bidding.
For a couple hundred years Pritkin had starved, and suffered, and clawed his way towards an iron will and control of his other half; denying his father the chance to use him.
Until me.
Fuck. Hot tears tracked down my cheeks. It was all my fault.
Hundreds of years of living within the confines of his sentence; making a difference in this world; fighting the good fight. And it was all gone because of me. I was supposed to stop things like this, I was supposed to be the God damn Pythia. But I couldn't even protect the one's closest to me; the one person I was finding I couldn't seem to function without…
I dragged myself up out of the lumpy armchair and trudged up the stairs and down the hall to the stupid washroom, the one that didn't have a toilet; just a sink and a tub because as Pritkin had pointed out to me in clipped British tones in a voice that was all kinds of wrong (seeing as we'd switched bodies at the time; much to Pritkin's horror,) that's what a washroom was; or used to be rather.
I turn the tap on and splash freezing cold water onto my face sucking in gasps of air.
I wasn't going to cry; not again. It didn't change anything; and it certainly didn't make me feel any better. Turning the water off with a vicious twist that was probably unfair to a sink handle that was older than me I pause to stare at my reflection in the slightly warped glass.
The last time I'd stared into this glass had been a whole different experience; with Pritkin's green eyes staring back at me in Pritkin's face; accidently swapping bodies with my favorite Mage body guard had been an interesting experience to say the least; one he'd probably have harped on for a long time if our finally switching back hadn't been because I was mortally wounded in his own body; and he'd lied to me about his ability to heal the damage forcing me to take drastic measures or lose him forever; a reality I hadn't been able to accept at the time.
One that I wasn't coming to terms with very well now either.
The pale oval of a face staring me down now looked nothing like my former self. It felt like a lifetime ago that I'd been that girl.
Three months since my ill-fated inauguration party the calendar said; but it wasn't three months to me; to me it was 93 days…
2246 hours…
133,920 minutes…
8,035,200 seconds 201…202…..
Alone.
Lost.
With guilt thick and oily clogging the back of my throat, pain gouging my insides with razor claws that left gapping wounds no one else could see, let alone understand.
The day Mircea had come to me not long after my second coronation; the one I had no intention of attending; because fuck them; fuck obligation, and rites.
Fuck their goddamn traditions.
None of it meant a damn thing to me; they were all nothing but noise.
Buzzing, irritating, infuriating noise in a perfect sea of black.
8,035,215…..216….
I meet my own hollowed out stare in the mirror, wild un-washed curls flopped about my head like a drunken halo of strawberry blonde chaos. The old me would have been horrified by my appearance; by the sunken look under my cheekbones, the deep hollow at my collar bone, the lifeless drape of clothes clinging to my frame; pajama pants I think I've been wearing for a week barely staying up on my hips and a faded grey Henley that needed to be washed days; Hell weeks ago but I couldn't bring myself to do it: because it was his.
One of the last shirts he'd ever worn his smell long gone from the pilled worn cotton, my boney hands and wrists peeking out from the rolled sleeves gripped the cold porcelain of the sink basin.
I didn't have to squint my eyes even in looking through the reflected mirror to see the aura of stolen power that hung over me; swirled around me like a blue tinged silvery mist.
So much power, if I concentrated I'd learned over the last few weeks that I could manifest Pritkin's shields around myself…boy had that been the shock of Mircea's life.
He'd reached for me as I'd jerked my hand away, Some of Pritkin's more inventive curses flying from my tongue he'd had the audacity to say it was better this way; that without the Goddamn Mage interfering all the time I would be safer, and he didn't have to worry about him doing something he'd have to kill him for, because of course I was so stubborn; refusing to see what was best.
The cerulean and azure streaked shield that slammed into him full on had been an obvious shock; but it had been nothing compared to the animalistic snarl I'd felt tear from my lips; hand flung out as if to push him away even with the shield stopping him in his tracks; But push him away I did.
About 45 feet.
Through three walls in front of about 15 first level master body guards who'd moved to attack thinking that some berserker mage had somehow slipped past their defenses and attacked their boss.
I remembered the shock, and confusion when they slide to a halt inside the now ruined wall of my suite; realizing there was no one in the room but me, staring not at the horror of what I had done to a freaking Senator; and the guy who was supposed to be my husband by vampire standards, but looking at my own hands assessing this new marvel; like I was considering whether I should get a manicure.
The look in Marco's eyes when he said my name and I'd met his gaze from across the room was one I'd never forget.
I hadn't waited around to see what else Mircea had to say, I'd turned to the balcony and shifted halfway through the next step.
There was nothing Mircea could say, I'd seen it in his eyes. The cold calculation of a master vampire moving his pieces into play. I was done listening.
I was done with being manipulated.
I'd read in my research over the past weeks some of the legends and stories surrounding my mother and father; some of them said that she was responsible for judging the souls of the dead, weighing them to measure the good or evil inside them; and that no one could hide their true self from her.
Maybe I had inherited a little of that from her…
Or maybe had finally stopped lying to myself about the world around me.
I'd always told myself that I knew exactly how the vampires in my life viewed me; and that I wouldn't forget it. But somehow I'd let myself believe that Mircea saw me as more than a pawn; that he saw me as an equal, and someone who could make their own decisions.
I'd been a fool.
Mircea might not be evil; he might truly care for me; and I could tell that on at least some level he did.
But he would never respect me as an equal; not while I was sleeping in his bed, and bowing to his wishes. Maybe not even with me out of his bed; old habits die hard.
Only one person in my life had ever truly treated me as an equal even as he made desperate moves to protect my life at ever turn; only one person had sacrificed himself to save me.
It was what seared and stung more than anything; Equals, and the bastard hadn't even bothered to tell me what he was going to do.
Of course knowing Pritkin and his warped logic and self-depreciation he'd probably object that it was an emergency; and there hadn't been time for a discussion; much less for the argument that usually took place when our roles had been reversed in the past.
When he had been the one in dire need and I'd have given anything; everything to keep him by my side.
But he'd known what his gift of life would do; the minute his lips touched mine and his power spilled into me he'd sealed his fate.
My lips still trembled with the thought of his last kiss, the heat and possession that was the very essence of Pritkin flowing into my veins, over flowing the coffers of power with more then I'd needed at the time; way more.
I'd only begun to poke miserably at the edges of stolen power he'd dumped into me; but it was enough to wonder if he'd had anything left when Rosier had snatched him away.
Dark thoughts flitted through my conscious not for the first time; images of Pritkin's face ghostly pale; still as death, drained of the Power that kept his human side; his Mage side alive.
Mages needed power to live; drain them and it was like cutting off their air.
All this time I'd been struggling to find a way to get Pritkin back from Hell; and I didn't even know if he was still alive.
Cornering Casanova at Dante's hadn't done me any good either; I'd asked and asked; knowing that the incubus that resided in his smarmy vampire body had a connection at least on some level to Hell, and as an Incubus might know something about what had happened to Pritkin; but he, or she as far as his resident demon was concerned wouldn't say; Even when I started to kick the shit out of him in a blind rage.
And that I had in spades now too: Rage.
Rage that radiated off of me in waves of blind fury just like it used to when Pritkin was on edge…I was after all Part-Pritkin now….having swallowed up most of his power; if not all of it.
In my research I'd learned that the Royal line of Incubus—which Pritkin was a descendant of could drain their opponents in a fight, not having claws or sharp teeth themselves they could take on the traits of those he drained for a short amount of time.
Hell I'd seen Pritkin do it once before when we'd been dragged into one of the levels of Hell by his scheming and conniving father; Pritkin had sprouted wings allowing us to fly to safety in a breathless moment that still made my heart flutter. And now it seemed that I was able to manifest parts of Pritkin's Magic and some of his other traits as well.
God knows my swearing had gotten decidedly more inventive in the last two months; and impudently more British.
I needed someone, anyone I could corner and kick the shit out of until they told me what I needed to know.
Maybe the old Cassie would never have considered such measures; but I'd tried subtle; I'd tried the pleading; and research and trading for information; It worked about as well as it usually did; which was to say painfully slow; or not at all.
Then I had tried some good old fashioned ass-kicking becoming increasingly more and more frantic as nothing panned out; and there was no word; no communication from
Pritkin or anyone who had seen him.
Nothing.
I was running on steam, and sheer exhaustion; I couldn't remember the last time I'd had anything to eat. I drank enough dark espresso these days that even Pritkin's coffee-addicted body would probably have a bad case of the shakes by now.
Even he'd known when to quit.
But I couldn't let this go.
I needed so, so badly to see him, touch his face; to kiss his lips and feel his arms around me whispering that everything was going to be okay; that he was sorry it took him so long to come back to me…
My eyes slipped shut blocking out the accusatory ice pale stare in the mirror; because maybe it was time to face the facts.
Pritkin wasn't coming back.