Curse of Tempest Gate by Karen Michelle Nutt Page A

with Samael’s mood as if
the air around him was manipulated with his temperament. The clouds
overhead darkened to black now, and the only form of light came
from the lightning streaking across the sky.
    Michael had taken his prize. “Clarity Shaw
is mine!” He shook his hand at the sky. The moment she sat in his
chair, Samael felt the difference. Her blood hummed with power and
he wanted it, needed it to set him free.
    He looked over at Hester who huddled with
fear at the gates. To her credit, she hadn’t scampered away like a
frightened rabbit as he thought she would do. But then she did have
her reasons. She wanted her niece healed. Hester didn’t realize it
was too late for her niece. He took what he needed from the little
chit and cast her aside. He couldn’t fix her, but Hester didn’t
have to know his little secret. He needed minions on the outside to
do his bidding.
    He looked down at his fading hand. He
couldn’t keep a solid form for long and it didn’t help that he’d
used some of his energy in anger. He had only hours to complete the
ritual. If he missed the window, he’d have to wait another year and
hope for another descendent of Sophie Peabody’s to waltz into the
graveyard. The chance of that happening was next to nothing.
    “Open the gate, Hester. I need your
help.”
    He needed the energy from humans to maintain
a corporeal state. Unfortunately, the process leaves the human’s
brains fried.
    Mr. Donner appeared beside Hester with his
intent to interfere with Samael’s plans. “Don’t do it, woman. I beg
of you.”
    Hester’s gaze darted to Mr. Donner. “I have
to.” She chewed on her lower lip, which worried Samael. Mr. Donner
might be able to persuade her to his side. He couldn’t allow that
to happen.
    Samael floated closer to the fence, wishing
he had the power to step over the barrier that kept him locked
within the graveyard’s limited perimeter. “If you don’t do as I
say, your niece will remain in the hospital.”
    “He lies to you,” Mr. Donner told her.
    “What if he isn’t?” Hester’s hand fiddled
with the key, slipping it into the keyhole. With her shoulder, she
nudged the gate open.
    Mr. Donner reached for her, but his fingers
slid through her body. He had no substance and was beginning to
fade fast. Good.
    “Don’t do it,” Mr. Donner pleaded. “You’ll
end up like your niece. He saps energy from humans. You can’t get
it back.”
    Damn the meddling ghost. All Samael
needed was for Hester to take one little step over the line and he
would have her.
    She edged closer, her toes almost over the
edge. The tension rose to where he could barely contain
himself.
    “Lock the gate, Hester. Step away before
it’s too late.
    It was already too late. She leaned her
weight on one leg and in doing so her toes had slipped over the
edge and into his world. “Gotcha,” he murmured under his breath
before he used the last of his powers and snaked a vine around her
ankle, pulling her toward him.
    He ignored her screams of protest and her
hands clutching at the earth, trying to latch onto something that
would keep her from his grasp, but he proved too strong. She lay at
his feet, a whimpering bag of bones. The woman didn’t weigh much.
She was fragile with age and worry, but her essence would
suffice.
    “Leave her alone. She does not consent,” Mr.
Donner appeared in front of him.
    His pleas did not move him. He needed energy
and Hester would provide it. He leaned down and she tried to
scramble away. Fear etched her features and caused her heart to
pump faster. Adrenaline would only amp what he took. His palms
clasped her head, stilling her movements as he pressed against her
temples and absorbed her essence. Her terror filled eyes glazed
over and her mouth hung open, saliva sliding down the side of her
mouth. When he was finished draining her, he tossed her body like a
discarded ragdoll. He inhaled deeply, taking in the thick ozone
layer hanging in the air. He withdrew