Of Witches and Warlocks: The Complete Series

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Slowly, Vance slid me off his lap, standing and walking over to the edge of the cell. He looked Darcy up and down.

"Well, you're awake much earlier than expected," he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I assume you're referring to the drug I was given? You should know demons are more powerful than regular witches and warlocks. We recover from things much quicker," she goaded him.

"Is that so?" He removed his hands from his pockets, folding one arm across his chest, and resting his other arm on it, raising a finger to tap on his lips. "Nope. I just don't recall those demons I killed being more powerful than I was." Turning, he looked at me. "What do you think, Portia? Should we dig up Brian and ask him?" He glanced back to Darcy. "Oh, that's right! We can't, because he lost his head. Unless he's still recovering, that is."

Despite his proclamation otherwise, Vance's inner bad boy was still running strong and flaming to the surface. Darcy's face twisted into her demon form. Releasing a large hiss, she jumped, slamming her body against the glass. Instantly, the current running behind the magical pane shocked her, and she fell backward to the floor.

Vance stared at her, a long, low, wicked-sounding laugh coming from deep inside him as he watched her climb to her feet.

"Is that the best you've got, Darcy?" he baited her, clearly enjoying this. "I've got to say, I'm still not impressed."

"You killed Brian?" she asked, her disbelief evident in the tone of her voice.

"Yes, I did. Would you like to see?" Vance asked, sounding very accommodating, and he waved his hand slightly, gesturing toward the hallway behind him. "I could run out and get him for you real fast."

"I believe you," she said, hanging her head in a way that almost made me feel sorry for her.

"Are you sad, Darcy? Surely a demon isn't capable of any real emotion," he continued to push her.

Lifting her head, she glared at him. "He was my . . . we were together!" she spat at him. "The two of us shared something special!"

"Did you now?" Vance asked, stepping closer to the glass, and I could feel the anger course through him. "Then perhaps you could explain to me why I caught him here, trying to feel up my wife!"

"You're lying!" she screamed, an earsplitting sound that echoed off the walls. "Brian would never leave me!"

"Well, Darcy, apparently you weren't meeting his needs well enough because he was definitely off looking for greener pastures than you have to offer," Vance replied with obvious irritation. Turning away from the glass for a moment, he tried to cool down—the very thought of Brian in the kitchen with me threatened to overwhelm him again.

"He was the one who came to comfort me," she said, raising her chin a notch, "after you killed your father."

Vance turned quickly back to the glass at that remark. "What are you saying, Darcy?" he said seriously, a glowering look crossing his face. "Were you intimate with him, too?"

She paused for a moment, as if she were weighing her answer. "Yes, not that it's any of your business. He was good to me. I think he even loved me," she added almost as an afterthought.

Vance let out a quick choked laugh. "Boy, Darcy, you're really off your mark when it comes to judgment, aren't you?" he asked incredulously.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.