Demon's Vengeance Page 7

  A little voice in my head screamed, This is a mistake! But I was already on this course and I’d made enough mistakes in the past by hiding important things from the ­people I was depending on to help me. It was time to be honest. Unfortunately, a TAPSS agent wasn’t the best place to start.

  “I want to tell you why my file at TAPSS is locked.”

  Serah immediately perked up and I had her full attention. She was going to get her hands on something that would give her a bit of clout over some of the other investigators who were giving her shit. Fantastic. She was going to hate that she couldn’t tell another soul.

  Taking a deep breath, I just spat it out. “I’m a warlock.”

  She stared at me for a second, her eyes wide, before a burst of laughter jumped from her open mouth. The tiny woman was nearly doubled over as she staggered to the side in her mirth. Well, she seemed tiny to me, but then I’m surrounded by six-­foot-­plus creatures all day.

  Shaking her head, she straightened and looked at me. “Geez. You had me going for a minute. I thought you were going to actually tell me something,” she said around lingering chuckles.

  “I’m being serious.”

  “Whatever. You’re not a warlock.”

  This had been a lot easier with Trixie, but then Trixie recognized when there was magic shit about that had nothing to do with potions. Serah didn’t stir, so she thought my hidden stockpile was for potions, or at worst, she thought I was running a black market for illegal goods.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled. I had wanted to do this without scaring the shit out of the woman, but she refused to make it easy for me. Reaching up my left sleeve, I withdrew the wand I had hidden there while keeping my eyes on her. Serah stubbornly kept the smile on her face, but it had become a little more forced and sickly. Fear clouded her eyes and I knew I was now edging onto dangerous ground.

  “Funny, Gage. Let’s quit the joking and get down to business,” she said, her gaze locked on the hawthorn wand like I was holding a poisonous snake in my hand.

  “Stay calm, please.” Pointing the wand at the ground, I murmured some words for the binding spell and a red laser-­like beam shot from the end of the wand, which I used to draw a large circle in the dirt. When it was complete, I waved my hand over the circle and a series of swirls and symbols were drawn around the circle as if a dozen invisible children were seated in the dirt doodling.

  Serah screamed. I turned back to see her drop the blood-­soaked tissue and box of matches. In one fluid motion, she reached behind her and pulled her gun. It trembled, but I had no doubt she could put a ­couple slugs in my chest at the blink of an eye.

  “Stay back!” she shouted, still trying to sound authoritative while slowly edging toward the stairs.

  Apparently she didn’t trust me enough to leave the gun upstairs. I knew I should have taken the damn thing instead of leaving it behind. Fear tightly clenched my stomach. I wasn’t worried about her shooting me. I could stop a bullet. No, terrified ­people waving guns around while rational thoughts flew from their brains led to disastrous things happening. I’d asked her to leave the gun behind to protect herself—­not me. “Serah, you agreed to the rules. You said you’d stay calm and let me explain.” I prayed my own calm voice would help her. It didn’t.

  “I’m calm.” Her voice jumped in panic and the trembling became more pronounced in her gun. “I’m in a basement with a warlock. I know your secret and now you’re going to kill me. How could I not be calm?”

  I sighed and was almost overwhelmed by a wave of frustration and hatred . . . and helplessness. The Ivory Towers had fucked with ­people over the centuries. They destroyed families, businesses, and hope so that all that was left now was fear. “If I was going to kill you Serah, I would have done it already.” But even as the words left my lips, I knew I hadn’t said the right thing.

  She snorted. “Like I’m going to believe that.”

  Kill her.

  The low voice rumbled through the basement, sending a chill up my spine. Serah swung her gun around, searching for the unseen assailant. She stopped trying to edge toward the stairs and was now focused on defending herself.

  She’s a threat. Must kill her.

  “Gage!”

  “Hold still!” I snapped. My heart was thudding in my chest like a freight train, threatening to explode. I knew where the voice was coming from, but didn’t want to believe it. The once-­dormant protection spell had awoken when Serah had pulled her gun and was now actively pushing against its restraints in an effort to get to her. This was an unexpected development. But then, this was the first time I had invited someone down, vouching for them, only to have them later threaten me. Apparently my protection spell was more sentient than I had thought.

  Fearful that any movement toward her on my part would set her off, I had to quickly defuse the situation from where I stood. Pulling in as much energy as I could from the air around me, I first turned my attention toward strengthening the binding on the defensive spell so that it couldn’t lash out at Serah. Once I was sure that it wasn’t going to strike my guest, I extended my hand toward the small woman. Despite her tight grip, the gun jumped from her hands and landed on my open palm.

  “What the hell!” she said and lurched after her gun until she saw where it landed. She froze, tears glistening in her eyes. Bitter anger rose in my chest to see such fear directed at me. Those looks followed me no matter where I went. I might not have earned them for my actions, but there was no doubt that her life had been touched by the Towers. No one escaped the Ivory Towers.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said slowly and in the most soothing voice I could muster.

  “But . . . the voice . . .”

  “The gun pissed off my security system.” I forced a little smile as I shoved my wand into the back pocket of my jeans with the hope that its absence would help her relax a bit. “It’s a little protective and not very discriminating.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  Holding up the gun, I took several steps backward and placed it on the table along the far wall, putting out of our reach for the time being. “We’re just going to put this here for now. So we’re both safe.”

  “So . . . so . . . you’re a warlock.” She violently blinked back her tears, fighting to keep them from falling. I admired her for trying to get her emotions under control and it wasn’t an easy task. Her face was frighteningly pale and her hands were shaking, forcing her to ball them into fists at her sides so that I wouldn’t notice.

  “Yes. I am a warlock.”

  “Do the Towers know?”

  A surprised laugh escaped me. I liked the idea that I might have slipped past the Towers’ notice all those years ago; not that it was at all possible, but it was a nice thought. “Yeah, they know. I studied in the Towers when I was a kid before escaping. I’ve been trying to lay low and avoid their notice but it doesn’t always work out too well.”

  Some of the fear eased from her eyes and her body relaxed as I spoke. “Are they looking for you?”

  “No,” I said quickly and then scrunched my face up as that didn’t exactly feel like the full truth. “Well, some might be, but they’re not supposed to be.” I groaned and rubbed my face. I was exhausted and the story of my escape was not a quick one. Or an easy one. “Let’s just say I got away, but not everyone is very happy about it. I’m here in Low Town pretending to be an average tattoo artist. I’m not supposed to be using magic, but I thought you could use some help to stop this sicko.”

  “And you’re not going to kill me?”

  Sadly, that was not the first time I’d been asked that question. “No, it’s not my thing.”

  “Does your girlfriend know?”

  Nor was it the first time I’d been asked that question. “Yes, Trixie knows,” I said, though there was a little bit more of an edge to my voice. I wanted to get home and snuggle in
bed with my girlfriend. That was assuming that my lovely Trixie had decided to stay at my place rather than retreat to her own apartment. Fuck, this had been a long night!

  “Shall we get on with trying to identify Kyle’s killer so we both can return to our respective homes before the sun rises?”

  Serah jerked at my question as if suddenly remembering why she had come back to Asylum with me in the first place. She twisted around, looking for where she had dropped both the tissue and the box of matches. Scooping them up, she hesitantly joined me back at the circle I had drawn in the dirt.

  “What are you going to do?” The soft waver was still in her voice, but she was fighting hard to bounce back from shock.

  “It’s an identity spell. I’m afraid that the blood might be too damaged for an actual tracking spell, but we might be able to get a glimpse of what this bastard looks like.”

  Reaching over, I plucked the box of matches out of her hand and tossed them onto the ground next to the jug of water. Pulling the jar of sea salt out of my pocket, I unscrewed the lid and handed her the jar.

  “Sprinkle the salt over the tissue, but be careful not to get the salt in the circle.”

  Stepping back from the circle, Serah held the balled-­up paper towel out with the tips of two fingers and very carefully sprinkled a few salt crystals on it. I rolled my eyes at the sight. She was acting as if I had just handed her a dangerous acid that was going to dissolve her fingers.

  “It’s sea salt. It’s not going to hurt you if it touches you,” I said blandly.

  Her narrowed eyes snapped to my face. “I didn’t know that! You said you’re doing magic. I thought this was dangerous shit.”

  “Magic can be dangerous, but I’m not going to give you something dangerous after you just held me at gunpoint. Now really put some salt on that thing, please.”

  After making a face at me, Serah put the paper towel in the palm of her hand and liberally poured the salt over it. “Why am I doing this?”

  “Salt is good for nullifying potions and some spells,” I explained as I knelt on the ground and unscrewed the lid of the water jug. “Kyle’s potion is in that blood and I need to hinder as much of it as possible if I’m going to get to the blood’s owner.”

  “Yeah, but why am I doing this?”

  “I thought you’d want to help,” I said with a smirk. “That and I don’t want the salt on my hands. It could mess with my control of the spell.”

  “And that’d be bad.”

  “Real bad,” I muttered, watching the salt slip through her fingers and rain onto the floor. I’d have to go through tomorrow and try to pick up most of the salt. I didn’t want to risk it coming back to bite me in the ass later when I was casting down here. “That should be enough. Hand me the jar and carefully shake any remaining salt out of the paper towel.”

  Screwing on the lid on, I shoved the half-­empty jar back into my pocket as Serah rejoined me at the circle.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Build a killer,” I said with a smile that she didn’t return. Picking up the jug, I held it out so she could see it. “All living creatures have at least three basic elements. Earth.” I paused and pointed to the nice, fresh dirt within the circle. The shit was expensive. It took me two years to have it all shipped in from a remote island in the Pacific. “Water.” I held up the jug of water, which had started as snow. This snow water was from the first snowfall of 2011, which turned out to be a heavy snow year. Pouring the water into my cupped left hand, I then sprinkled it over the dirt within the circle. I repeated this three times while whispering the first words of the spell. After a moment, the drops stopped falling and were captured in the air, becoming a mist.

  “Whoa,” Serah whispered, taking a tiny step backward. “And the third is the blood,” she said, holding out the paper towel toward me.

  I shook my head, but smiled encouragingly at her. It was a good guess. Putting the jug back on the ground, I grabbed the box of wooden matches and withdrew one. “Nope. It’s energy. The closest I can come to reproducing that same energy without blowing the roof off this place is fire.” Striking the match, I let it burn for a second so that the flame was as large as I could get it and then dropped it into the center of the circle. Like the drops of water, the burning match stopped falling a ­couple feet from the ground, flickering within the thickening mist.

  The magic energy within the basement thickened, and a strange breeze stirred the hairs on the back of my neck. This spell tapped into something deeper, more basic than what most warlocks and witches ever bother with. It was as close to the old magic as any of us ever got. Old magic, the stuff of the big bang and the start of life, was wild and untamed. It didn’t like to be controlled, and the inhabitants of the Ivory Towers were all about control.

  I took one last glance up at the back wall and the protective spell that had nearly attacked Serah just minutes ago. It wasn’t completely dormant but appeared content to watch us. I was really gonna have to find a new security system for down here.

  Plucking the wadded-­up paper towel out of Serah’s open hand, I whispered the last words of the spell and dropped it into the center of the circle. The air shifted and stirred within the circle as if I had created a mini tornado. The dirt, water, and fire mixed together, spinning around so that the bloody towel was at the center. What I hadn’t told Serah was that the blood contained the tiniest bit of the killer’s soul and I had just added it to the pseudo-­person I had created. Unfortunately, I’d never had a reason to use this spell and I wasn’t quite sure what the blood was going to carry into my creation.

  After a ­couple of seconds, the swirling mist started to clear and we could see the beginning of some form. The creature had two legs and two arms, which didn’t help to narrow down the species much. Color flushed its pale skin, revealing a human-­like complexion, which narrowed the field a little further. The killer was proving to be slighter in frame than I had been expecting, considering it had overpowered Kyle, beaten him to a bloody pulp, and stabbed him in the chest with his tattooing gun.

  “Holy shit,” Serah whispered.

  Following her gaze, my own mouth dropped open. “Fuck.” Whoever this was had a really nice set of breasts. I was not expecting a woman to be Kyle’s killer. After seeing such brutality, I had been sure that it was a man who’d killed him.

  The creature within the circle stirred, lifting its featureless face. Glowing red eyes focused on me and my heart jerked in my chest. The creature was conscious in some way, which shouldn’t have been possible since it was little more than a shadow of the original person. But it was aware of me. This was not good, particularly since my protection spell had noticed it as well. Was the protection spell going to think that a third person was now in the basement? Really not fucking good. “Serah, I want you to go calmly and quickly up the stairs now.”

  “Why?”

  “Please, do it now.”

  Too late.

  Something had finally snapped within the creature I’d summoned. Its face contorted, as though it was screaming, but no sound came out. It launched itself at me and slammed into the invisible barrier that rose up from the circle. Lurching back, it pounded its fists and clawed at the binding spell, fighting to get at me. At the same time, the defensive spell broke free, ready to shred the creature that was trying to attack me. Unfortunately, the spell was prepared to go through me and Serah to get at my would-­be attacker.

  Diving into Serah, I tackled the small woman into the dirt, covering her as best as I could. Pain slashed across my back near my shoulders like someone had taken a hot blade to my flesh. I swallowed back a scream, tightening my hold on the woman beneath me. A black mass circled the bound creature I had summoned. They slashed again and again at each other, but neither made contact because neither was technically there. Only Serah and I were at risk of being killed.

  As soon as
I could draw in a breath through the pain, I shouted the counter-­spell to lock up the protective force in the symbol again. The black mass gave a high-­pitched scream of frustration that scraped across my eardrums before diving back into the symbol. The creature in the circle pounded on the wall of its cage a ­couple more times, but with less force, before disappearing as well. The water and fire were spent. All that was left was a fine ash hanging in the air. Sadly, the killer’s features had never fully resolved, so we couldn’t make a positive I.D.

  Fuck. While the effort hadn’t been a waste, it certainly wasn’t as fruitful as I was hoping it would be, particularly considering that we had nearly been killed in the process.

  With a groan, I rolled onto my side so that Serah could move free of me, while being careful not to press the open wound on my back into the dirt. Dirt was good for spells; bad for gaping, bleeding wounds. Serah didn’t move. She stared up at me with wide, stunned eyes; her face was stark white except for a smear of dirt across her cheek.

  I tried to smile, but I was suddenly too tired. Muscles twitched and trembled from exhaustion. It had taken a considerable about of energy to summon the creature and hold it within the circle. A second helping of energy had been required to shove my so-­called guard dog back in its kennel. I was ready to sleep right where I lay. “Sorry about that,” I mumbled, trying to pull myself together for the poor human who was having a rough night.

  “Yeah . . . ummm . . . thanks.” She sounded shaken, but was holding it together a little better than when she first discovered that I was a warlock.

  Clenching my teeth, I pushed to my feet, struggling to ignore the pain that was screaming across my back. “No problem. I’m sorry we didn’t get a better look at the face, but I think it’s a pretty safe bet that the killer is a human female.”

  “Maybe. Were the eyes supposed to be red? Is she possessed?”

  I stood staring at the circle where I had cast the spell. The ash was starting to settle, but there was still a smell hanging in the air, part burnt ozone and part . . . something else. “No, they shouldn’t have been, but she’s not possessed. She wouldn’t have looked human if she had been, but more like the creature possessing her. The red was a reflection of her soul, her rage. I’m guessing that the potion Kyle tattooed her with has only amplified her strength and her anger.”