Fighting for consciousness from the haze of deep sleep proved slow, like trying to remove molasses from her brain. Her eyelids fluttered under the rays of warming sun, only to give up and stay closed despite the prickle of skin starting to burn. A body, with bones that had to be made out of bricks, held down her weary muscles from movement. The success of wiggling a few fingers and then toes wrought a faint smile, a light giggle, or whatever the strangled noise that actually came from her dry throat could be classified as. Memories of the night before tried to invade, hastening her from semi-coma to panic. She turned her head from the blinding light. Her cheek thumped lightly against a wooden floor, letting her open one eye despite the brightness.

Seeing Ciaran there, his eyes closed, his face unburdened with worry, obviously sleeping or unconscious, had her torturously sitting up despite every numerous and insistent protest of her body. His chest showed the slight rise of life, letting her frantic grasp for breath come in a painful blast through her strained and scorched lungs. Images of beasts dawned in her brain, making him, as a naked man, sprawled out, give her a moment's pause.

She took in her surroundings, found naked men everywhere. Given the men were creeps, of the most diabolical kind, she could only get excited about the fact they were unconscious. Each of them sprawled in various ways, surrounded by water littered with debris. They'd floated, faces up, rather than drown, and she just didn't know how to feel about that. The remnants of an explosion, the luxurious house brought to splinters and fragments of glass, filled the once gorgeous scenery as far as she could see. From what she could surmise, her and Ciaran had been at the epicenter of the blast, unaffected other than being rendered unconscious. She ached from the hangover of overused magic; absolute, sheer exhaustion. A sloth could move faster than her right now.

The whisper of the idea of them waking up, too, got her moving, standing, bracing, her mind in overdrive for a way out, a way to outrun these men with an unconscious Ciaran who had to be double her weight in sheer muscle mass alone. With their magicks having battled, she had no idea how long he or the others would sleep, how long their power would be down and out. Hanging over him, she could feel it all alive inside him, just dormant, asleep, weary like hers. She had no idea at this moment how to wake him, or how he would wake, more man than beast or more beast than man.

Options, each one worse than the last, rambled through her brain, raced against each other as they were each tossed aside for practical or fearful reasons. Each one left her more panicked, more desperate. Sheer survival mode kicked in when she'd tossed out the last thought, until another came calling again. An old spell, one she'd read as a child, that had been dismissed as 'dangerous' by a miffed mother, made it to the forefront of her thoughts again. Teleportation. It took a skilled practitioner, or it could end in disastrous results of magical cells raining down through the atmosphere. The spell, however, came to her crystal clear. She'd tried it before, truth be told, and lived to tell about it. Although, to be briefly honest with herself, she'd never taken someone along for the ride before. Ciaran wasn't exactly awake to ask permission of. And, if she remembered correctly, the fact she'd followed him blindly into some magickal situation last night, explained the explosion that had rendered them all unconscious.

As the man she loved stirred, a sound in the water around them taunted her as well. Out of options if the other beasts woke up, she started the spell in a reckless, frantic, turn of words which tumbled from her mouth. She took Ciaran's hand in her own, gripped tight, eliciting a groan from him along with a slight squeeze back. She imagined an underground lair of sorts that her mother had told her about; one used when her mother had been a young girl in Ireland to practice her youthful and wild magick in. While Allanah had never been there, her mother had shown her pictures, told her many stories, so growing up she'd imagined it many times, longed to go there herself. So much so, she'd looked for it on a map, used the wonders of the internet to pinpoint its location.

She'd always planned to go as a child, to teleport, pop in hopefully when no one was looking. So, she'd had the spell, the location, at the ready. Seemed like the best time to try it out. What other option did she have? Risking it all, only having an idea of what the place she wanted to go looked like, and hoping she'd gotten the location correct—the reasons that had held her back from trying it before—she began the teleportation spell. Recklessly, she continued, with love full in her heart, and an undying hope they'd actually make it to the lair. If not, she supposed anywhere in Ireland without beasts was better than in this place with them. However, this lair could possibly provide her with the answers she needed to save the man she loved. According to her mother, it was filled with old family grimoires that she had longed to read for years. Somewhere in them could be the key to dispelling Ciaran's demon.

As she recited the words, again and again, conjuring her tired powers, she imagined herself by the fire as she let what magick that had recharged swirl around them. She pictured Ciaran in the cage she'd seen in the pictures, the one in the lair her mother had said was for animals, who had been used, never abused, in their spells. It had also been used a time or two for prisoners, dangerous witches from other covens, who needed to be questioned. Her mother, of course, had claimed to spend time in the cage herself, when her family had put her 'on trial,' as she'd called it, for magical mistakes made during the desperation of love. She'd managed to escape, the cage and Ireland, in ways she'd not told Allanah about, never to be able to return again. Hence, the whole deal with Ciaran's dad.

Simple metal rods, close together, pushed into the floor and ceiling of a low, small crevice of the cave. The bars had been cemented and spelled into place. A door, spelled as well to hold, still held heavy chains and locks. A bed sat in the back, one they had put in for her mother during her stay there after her infamous screw up, something Allanah believed she'd never get the full story on. Again, from the stories of her mother's vivid, painful memories, Allanah felt she'd been there. So she hoped to make it there for real now, in one piece rather than as a blob of spelled cells exploded during travel as other witches had arrived, or more to the point, never arrived, in places they'd attempted to teleport to.

She banked her magic on the desperation of true love, though, on the belief they had to make it or die trying. At this point, for her at least, there was no longer a life without Ciaran. If this short trip, their time apart since seeing him at the party, had taught her anything, lesson learned, the extravagant, well-lived life she'd had without him was not one she wanted to return to. Nothing mattered without this man in her life

Sounds of the others stirring from around them, groaning, hastened her reticence of the spell. Just as Ciaran opened his eyes, looked into hers, the water around them, littered with debris of the beautiful home they had shared for one night, blurred, disappeared. The power of her ancestors called upon for help, the magick swirled in iridescent colors, blinding, dizzying, until she had to close her eyes. She fought, as well, the urge to cover her ears from the roar of the tornado-like wind around them. When the sounds stopped in an instant, her breathing heightened, rough, burnt her lungs. The tight grip they had on each other's fingers overshadowed any pain wrought of the desperation, a blessed reminder of being alive. She dared to open her eyes. The far reaching beauty of the water had been replaced by the dirt walls of a cave, her hand holding his through the wire trappings of a cage.

"What the fuck?" he yelled, as their fingers fell apart.

She brought her hand to her chest, sitting up, scooting back and away from him. She'd have started pacing if her rubbery legs could've managed it. She wiped at the sweat which had formed on her neck, wishing she could politely rid herself of what dripped between her breasts. Muscles jumped under her skin, yet as she observed her surroundings, she had to hold back a squeal, the need to high five someone for a job well spelled. She fanned herself, tried to calm her breathing, all while avoiding his scowl lest he dim her moment of astounding achievement here.

"I did it," she said, her words choked but high pitched as she did a happy dance in her head, one short and sweet as even for that she didn't have the luxury of time. "I transported us without killing us."

"I'm in a fucking cage," he grumbled back, his voice deep and full.

While she ignored a few more decadent seconds, he rattled the metal until she thought it would fall to pieces around him. Yet, it held, spelled to hold in even a bear or a powerful witch, her mom had told her. Looking his way, though, as his eyes flashed red, she wasn't sure it would secure a demon.

"We are in a secret cave in Ireland, one my mother told me about. I'd never been here before, but had seen pictures, knew the location, and I needed to get my hands on the family grimoires if I had any hope of saving you...us. So, I brought us here. Having no idea what shape you would be in after last night, I took the precaution to imagine you in the cage. Odd thing is, the whole spell worked. While I had a pretty good idea as to where I wanted to go, if I walked out of here right now I'd have no idea what is above us. I mean, a house is, but from there I'd basically be lost in Ireland."

"That's the odd thing?" He said, obviously pissed, his voice harsh in more ways than just angry would have made it. In fact, he seemed a bit scared, wide-eyed, rather than having them in tight slits. "You teleported us with a spell? You do that often?"

"Well, no. Once before. Alone," she mumbled the truth, unsure why she felt the need to tell all. "A thank you or congrats on a job well done would be nice."

"Once. You'd done it once? Alone? You could have killed us!"

"I had to try. Your coven, your brothers, for heaven's sake, would have killed us if we'd stayed. They were going to wake up more pissed than you are, and ready to fight again, I'm sure. I wasn't sure what I had left in me to fight with again, and I figured the next fight was going to be to the death."

"You weren't sure you had enough to fight, but thought you still had enough juice to move us, two bodies, overseas?"

"You're alive. Get over it." She pitched a fit right back at him, sudden ire catching in her throat, making it hard to swallow.

"I'm alive but in a fucking cage. Get me the hell out."

"No!" She yelled back at him, then took a deep breath to calm herself before she continued, "No. Sorry. I don't know what shape you or your demon are in after the flashes and fights of magick last night, and if you would calm the fuck down you'd realize you probably don't either."

"You're right," he screamed, then she watched him take a deep breath as well. "Sorry. Just sorry. I don't know what kind of shape I'm in. You are right. Fuck. Sorry. My demon is frightened, I think. Pissed. But scared, too, I guess, though for a fiend from hell it seems illogical. Yet, there is no other explanation. Anything can fear its demise, I suppose. You are that threat."

He sat there, quiet, speculating she assumed, so she gave him a moment. Thrilled to have one herself, she attempted to center herself a bit. She needed to be clear-headed to figure out what their next move was, and she had been anything but since he walked into her building.

"Yes. The beast is fearful, in a way, and I didn't know it could feel such an emotion. Sure, it's basically rage, but rage built out of fear of annihilation . Apparently every living thing, even if spawned from hell, has it. It makes sense, right? Somehow, when we joined together, it made it fear for its life inside of me enough to tick it off big time. It's agitated and confused. It fears your magick. So that has to be it, what can save me. Us. I'm now sure of it."

He laughed, a sound abrupt enough to startle her, though also deep enough to bring an icy chill down her spine.

"I'm not sure whether to be happy or terrified myself," he continued. "Yes. Keep me in here. It's definitely best. Do you think you can actually eradicate this thing inside of me?"

"Not sure. And, even if I find a spell that makes me think I can, I don't know enough about the original spell to know if the only way I can get rid of it is to kill you."

"I have no life with this beast inside me, because as long as it is, I can't truly have you. I want it gone, and I believe with it all the others go, too. Get to work, babe. Again, sorry about the temper. And, sorry I can't help. I feel so useless, and that, well, that pisses me off. So, I will sit in here and work on that."

"One hundred percent understandable. I did something stupid. Yes, it worked. Yes, it saved us. But, it was still stupid."

"I love you, Allanah. Save me. Save us."

"I'll give it all I have in me. I love you, too, Ciaran."

With those words, something inside her healed. And, with that hollow filled, she felt her magick build, the pure and vibrant heat of it swirled like a sudden tornado inside of her core. Rather than double over with the overwhelming ache, she stood up, straighter, lighter, ready to go as she'd never been before. Miraculous, she'd have to term it, to get something you never realized was missing, and to be full of it until anything seemed possible. Love. Magick. Wiping out a demon to save the love of her life. She felt invincible. Unstoppable.

With all of this bubbling up inside of her like a cauldron over a fire, she stood with a smile, drawn to the energy emanating from the wall of books opposite where she sat. The pages whispered to her, as if generations of witches in her bloodline were rooting for her. As foreign an occurrence as that was, she stood, grateful, her fingers wiggling beside her, itching to touch the books.

"I'm not sure whether to cheer or fear that smile you just got there," he said, his voice calmer than it had been just a few moments ago. "Whatever just changed in you, it's contagious, and it's antagonizing the shit out of my demon. So, you must be on the right track. I'll shut up now. Let you get to it. If I beast out, please ignore me."

A glance his way showed the physical trauma of his peculiar aliment weighing on him. The oppositional feelings in one being had to be agonizing to deal with. His dark brown locks appeared black, probably from the debris of last night along with the dark corner he had curled up in, having scooted to the back of the cage. His heavy-lidded, ice blue eyes flashed red and then back to blue in a mesmerizing way. He crouched, like an animal about to attack, every muscle tight, bulging. She couldn't be sure if he was ready to pounce or fighting the urge to. Probably both. His hand clutched at his washboard abs. She'd be lying if she said the look of a fierce and dangerous man, one so strong, so wounded at the same time, didn't excite her in her own twisted way. Yet, her sympathy won out, along with her drive to save him. As she turned back to the books, she clamped down on that sexual energy, planning to utilize it when she needed to, anything to power the spell she so desperately hoped to find.

She started to search the grimoires with no real idea what she was looking for or where to look, letting the magick, the connection of her power to her ancestors guide her hand. She kept willing a spell to just show up, repeating a locator spell in her head, to no avail. More to the point, did a spell that mixed her nature-given magic with a demonic one even exist? The whole idea was crazy, to use the demon against itself in order to send it screaming back to hell. If she could just find something close, any spell that had worked the two magicks together, she would at least have a place to start. Yet, she knew better. One of her kind wouldn't work with one of his, so this hopeful search would surely all be for nothing. Still, she had to try.

At the very least, something about exorcising a demon might come up, give her a viable starting point. They could pull in his magick as they went, dangerously play with it all. She glanced back at him again. He looked worse, if possible, struggling to hold on to his human form, she supposed. He gave her a short-lived smile, but he knew as well as she did the wild goose chase ahead, a desperate attempt by desperate people fighting to just keep hope alive. She glanced over the spines, the many dull colors, old bindings, her frustration mounting. If nothing else, she didn't want to face the reality that hope was all they could realistically have. 

"Shit!" she said on a long sigh. "I'm getting nowhere here. I've found a few spells that are protections from demons, but nothing to stop, kill, or better yet, exorcise one."

"Just try something," he countered, his own sigh more audible, yet more broken due to physical discomfort.

He still crouched in the cage, only wearing pants. With a side glance, she watched his abdominal and shoulder muscles jump, tense, ripple as each wave of whatever his body was going through passed over him, whatever the demon was doing to get out. She looked away, at her book, and as her stomach growled, painfully, she realized they'd not eaten since dinner last night. She looked to the bowl filled only with an overripe banana, and a sad looking apple. A box of open crackers sat there as well. While she could have grabbed something to eat long ago, the food represented the fact people still used this place; people who could come back at any time.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, trying to refocus him from his short, spasm-like convulsions.

"I don't want food. I want this hellion out of me. The more you move around, stir up the residual energy in this place, the more I see and think about you, the more pissed off this thing becomes. It's getting erratic, crazed. I don't know how much longer it will be before I beast out. Maybe permanently. Just try something, Allanah. Just mess with your magick. Work a protection spell against demons or something. Maybe it will shove the thing out of here," he urged with a gasp.

"And what happens to you then?" she argued.

"I don't fucking care. This is no life. I'm trapped in hell on earth with this monster inside of me. I'm not going to live in a cage forever while you look for a cure to my disease here."

"It's only been a few hours. Eat something," she said, grabbing the box of crackers, walking toward the cage.

His eyes changed to crimson again, as they had been off and on, but rather than the flicker back to blue, they stayed. A growl emanated up from deep in his chest as he clawed his way back further until he pushed his back firmly against the back wall of the cage.

"Don't get any closer," he warned through another growl, one of a wounded animal. "Just try something; the last spell that mentioned demon. Just do it. I will try to force the demon to help by redirecting its power, trick it, maybe. If it's possible."

The change had started, cut off his words. She scrambled back to the table, grabbed one of the many books left open to protection spells, and began to scurry around, grab what supplies she needed. Trying to read labels on bottles through tears, she cursed.

Once she had sage burning, and had created a wash with a base of holy water mixed with various oils for protection, purification, and banishing, she sucked in a deep breath. Taking the bowl of water and oil to the cage, she dipped her fingers in, swirled them around, then moved her hand to splash the water toward Ciaran. She said her makeshift spell, incorporating his demon's name into it.

"Ariazural, demon, spawn of hell, I do not stand here alone. I call upon the Goddesses to banish you back to your burning home. I stand here as protector, reversing the roles, making myself your bane. You will go back from whence you came."

As she repeated the spell, continued to splash water into the cage, Ciaran, changing, crawled toward her. She wouldn't back down, not to his beast, not this time. She stood firm. Continued even as he turned completely, his large furry hands clawing at the dirt floor. The growls grew in intensity, and she could feel Ciaran's power, the demon's magick, moving with hers, pull back, come again like a hot wave, nearly knocking her over. Still, she continued, her spell, her splashing.

The hole it seemed to be digging grew deeper. At times the beast convulsed. It fell as many times as it threw itself against the metal rods, trying to get at her, she guessed, before throwing itself back into the growing hole. She knew Ciaran fought. She could feel him. Yet, when his energy started to fade, so did her resolve. The evil increased, the growls fierce enough to hurt her eardrums until she threw the bowl from her hands to cover her ears. The cage rattled, and she could feel Ciaran dying along with the demon. They were one, and she was killing them both.

"No!" she screamed, the pitch of her voice rivaling the demon's wailing at this point.

She grabbed for the cage, for him, for the man she loved, somewhere, she knew, within the fur, the claws, the glowing red eyes. "No. Leave him be. Ciaran, my love. Come back to me!"

She wept, then, as a clawed hand came to hers, then changed into a man's hand right in front of her eyes before it slipped to the floor. He laid there, a man now, naked, half shaking, half convulsing, looking up at her with a longing in his eyes she'd never seen before. This man. He'd wanted for nothing his whole life, until her.

"Why did you stop," he wheezed out the words.

"I was killing you."

"You were killing it, more importantly."

"I won't sacrifice you."

"It would sacrifice me. Promise me, Allanah... Promise me..." his voice, hoarse, tired, she waited for him to continue on. "Promise me that if in all of this it takes me over, for good, you will kill it. It won't be me anymore."

"I couldn't know if it was a permanent switch. I couldn't risk it."

"If I am the beast for more than twenty-four hours, I'm never coming back. So, promise me," he begged.

"Have you ever begged for anything in your life," she said, not smart, but with sorrow in her voice.

"Yes. Once. I begged my father to let you stay, or to let me go, whatever it took to be with you."

"I didn't know. What did he say?"

"He said nothing. I was a grown man then so he didn't have to; he had his son beaten by his coven. At that point, I swore to never ask again. If he would do that to me, I couldn't imagine what he would do to you if I dared ask again. He'd already threatened to take everything away from you if I did. I couldn't. I couldn't risk you, so you can't either. The beast, it is twisting my love for you. If I turn for good, it will be obsessed with your destruction. So, promise me, Allanah."

"I pro—"

Her words were broken off as the door in to the cave opened with a loud bang of wood against brick. Turning, she saw a man about her age, with her eyes and the family's long, narrow nose with thin lips.

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here?" he asked, his voice booming at first, until he looked past her, to Ciaran. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm Allanah, Allanah Adams. Eilean is my mother."

"Eilean. I haven't heard that name in a long time. Eimile is my mother. Guess that makes us cousins. Welcome," he said, his entire demeanor changed in an instant. "But, how did you get here, and what are you doing to that man. He looks sick. Honestly, he looks like he's dying."

Since he'd come to her, shaken her hand, then knelt down beside her to look at Ciaran with concern on his face, she answered, "I teleported us. We were in a very dire situation, and my mind trying to come up with a place to hide us, thought of this place my mother had told me of so many times growing up. I knew the city from her stories and maps. I visualized the pictures she'd shown me, and here we are."

"So, he's in there why? Good guy or bad guy?"

"Both," Ciaran answered him, the weak sound of his voice frightening her, making her heart beat even harder in her chest than it already was.

"I don't understand," the cousin answered.

"I'm sorry we are here when we shouldn't be. I really didn't know where else to go. I really hoped that it would be unused now. A place we could hide until we figured things out. I know our mothers have issues. I don't know where that leaves us," she got out as fast as she could manage.

"It leaves us family. Theirs was a feud of another generation. It doesn't concern us. My name is Aedan,  and, this place is as much yours as it is mine as far as I'm concerned. Please, tell me the situation and how I can help. Does your mother know you are here?"

"Thank you, Aedan," Ciaran managed, still prone on the floor as if he had no bones, couldn't move. His continued path toward lifelessness knotted her stomach more with each glance.

"Yes, thank you. It's a long story, which I will tell you,  and no, my mother doesn't know we are here. She would panic. What if your mother found out?"

"She won't. She passed away a few years ago. I believe at the end, though, she forgave yours. She never talked about it, what happened, other than to call it a magickal accident that should have never happened. As much as she blamed your mother for causing this unfortunate incident, she missed her. I know that for a fact. But, she knew there were others who would retaliate if your mother returned, so she mourned the loss of her sister. She never spoke of the details."

"I'm so sorry. My mother has told me as much, only from her side of it, of her guilt, of the loss of her family. It was something she never wished to really speak of either. I've no idea what happened."

"Ancient history. What can I do in the here and now to help you?"

She let out a long sigh, one of relief, one tinged with hope as this savior had appeared and didn't want to kill them.

"This is Ciaran Byrne," she said, gesturing toward him.

"Of the whiskey Byrne?"

"Yes," Ciaran offered.

"So, is he cursed then?"

"He is. You know?"

"Only the rumors. Tell me."

She did. She told her cousin everything, pouring it all out, her heart, hoping he might have the answers she needed.

"I'm sorry, I can't help, as in, I can't give you a spell. This is a spell very specific to the coven. It's called a geis, a gift or a curse, depending upon your perspective. It places both the demon and human under an obligation to each other. Like a legal agreement of sorts, that if not followed by both sides promises pain, permanent damage, even death. What I do know, if I am recalling it right, is that only the recipient should know his demon's name. And, with this name, the recipient can subvert the obligation of its use."

"You mean, like me knowing the other demons names, the ones in my brothers, in the men of my coven, gives me power over them?" Ciaran asked.

"Yes, actually. From what I understand, with this name, you can gain some control over it for yourself."

"Problem is," Allanah added, "the demon hates me, and is killing him because of it. So, you are saying it's because Ciaran isn't holding up his end of the demonic bargain."

"Not loving you. No. Sorry. I can see it in the man's eyes. He loves you."

"I do," Ciaran grunted. "But, I can't be with her like this. I want it gone."

"I'm not sure that is possible without the original spell. What I can do, though, is help you search, maybe, find some band-aid spell for now to at least get the little imp under control. Then, that buys you time to search the Byrne family lore for the original spell. And, I can also feed you, clothe you, and call your mother, Allanah. She must be sick with worry."

"Not sure what she knows, but yes, maybe. I, we, would appreciate anything you can do to help us. Thank you. I don't know how to say thank you enough. I honestly expected to be kicked out."

"You're family. If my mother taught me anything, it was that family comes first. She wanted my life to be better than hers, to learn from the mistakes of hers."