Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations

by Lydia Sherrer

  Mounting the stairs as silently as possible, he crouched by Sara’s door, pressing his ear to the wood. What he heard made his blood boil: harsh whispers in the demon tongue over a string of muffled screams and sobs, as if the victim’s mouth had been stuffed with cloth. Knowing the assailant thought himself alone, Sebastian carefully checked the door, hoping he’d left it unlocked. He had.

  Sebastian stood and took several deep breaths, calming himself. This was not going to be fun, mostly because he had no idea what was behind that door. Yet he couldn’t wait for the cops. He had to go in all guns blazing. But who said he had to do it alone?

  “Elwa Pilanti’ara, Elwa, Jastiri’un,” he whispered, almost too quietly for human ears to hear. Fortunately, the ears he wanted weren’t human. “I have some serious ass for you to kick, double our normal payment, just get your butts over here now. Keep the ugly human occupied, protect the pretty one, and I’ll take on the demons. Got it?” He heard a faint squeaking laugh, but that was all. Well, at least Pip had answered the call. Who knew where Jas was. It would have to be good enough.

  Extending his right hand, he drew on that part of him that wasn’t truly part of him, the fae magic he’d been given. It rested like a lead weight at the back of his mind, a burden to carry, an irritant on his psyche, but so very, very useful. The pain was a small price to pay to use that which no human was meant to touch. Immediately, the back of his right hand seared with pain, the black tattoo on it shining for all to see. Usually it was hidden by fae glamour, but when he summoned the staff Thiriel had given him, he couldn’t hide the mark.

  The black, twisting, ebony staff crowned by a green jewel materialized in his grasp, and he gripped it firmly with both hands. The jewel was glowing brightly, its magic thirsting for demon essence. Fae and demon were not friends, to put it mildly. If one wanted to be particularly effective against demonkind, making friends with fae was the way to go. He had a brief thought, wondering if Lily had taken an even more effective path, if indeed she’d been aided by angelic power. But angels hadn’t been seen or heard of for centuries, so he wouldn’t hold his breath.

  “Ready, Pip?” Sebastian whispered, grasping the door handle. He felt something tug a lock of his hair, and that was answer enough. Silent as a panther, he cracked open the door and slipped inside, hoping to take his opponents by surprise. The sight that greeted him almost stopped him in his tracks. A portly man in blood-red robes was bent over Sara who lay, bound, on the living room floor. It looked as if she’d put up a good fight, because the surrounding furniture had been smashed and overturned. He saw a gash on her forehead that bled sluggishly, and her eyes were wide with abject terror, her screams muffled by the cloth stuffed in her mouth. Worse, two lesser demons were couched over her, holding her struggling form still while the witch chanted, painting demonic symbols on her breast in her own blood. He’d ripped open her blouse to get access to the bare skin, and Sebastian could see Sara’s chest heaving up and down, almost hyperventilating. This witch was preparing to summon a third demon to possess Sara and, Sebastian assumed, force her to tell him where Veronica’s demonology manuscripts were. There was no time to waste.

  Taking three swift yet silent strides, he was upon the group and waded in swinging. Pip went straight for the man’s eyes while Sebastian took aim at the demon on the right, the larger of the two. But the demon was quicker on the uptake than the oblivious witch, and it glanced up in time to dodge Sebastian’s blow, the ebony staff whistling by bare inches from its face.

  No longer held down, Sara started flailing. The red-robed witch fell back with a scream, hands upraised to protect himself against Pip’s gouging attacks. The smaller demon, temporarily out of his master’s control, saw his chance for blood and bent over Sara, pulling her toward him as his eyes glowed in anticipation. Sebastian put an end to that demon’s plans for dinner with a golfer’s upward swing to the face. The staff crushed and gouged the scaly flesh so that black blood bubbled forth, hissing as it dripped to the floor. The demon fell back, screeching in fear and pain.

  Sebastian was just starting to feel proud of himself when the bigger demon, having retreated, now leapt on his back. It reached forward, claws cutting into skin as it tried to get at his face. Dropping his staff, Sebastian fell backward and landed with a crunch on top of the demon. It screamed, loosening its hold to struggle against him. In a flash he’d rolled off and flicked his wrist, putting all his strength behind a downward arch of the staff that had instantly reappeared in his hands. The green gem at its crown blazed as it hit, its sharpened tip sinking into the demon’s chest while the surrounding twist of pointed branches bit into the creature’s skin. With a last howl of agony, the red light in the demon’s eyes dimmed. Sebastian scrambled back, eyes searching for the smaller demon even as he hunched his back against what he knew was coming.

  The dead demon exploded, sending shattered bits of crystallized sulfur throughout the room. The hail pelted Sebastian’s back, biting through his thin cotton shirt. He ignored it, letting go of the staff so that it disappeared back to the fae realm. With the smaller demon nowhere in sight, Sebastian surmised it had fled through the open door, obviously deciding wisdom was the greater part of valor. Then again, it was a demon; they weren’t known for bravery or loyalty. All demonic threats neutralized for the moment, he delivered a swift kick to the groin of the witch still rolling on the floor, trying to fend off Pip, then crouched by Sara.

  Sara was still struggling and gasping, eyes wide and staring as if she didn’t yet understand it was all over.

  “Hush, hush! Sara, calm down, you’re safe,” Sebastian said, trying to untie the knots around her wrists. He gave up and flicked out a pocket knife, swiftly cutting through her bonds and then pulling out her gag. Now free, Sara threw herself on Sebastian, sobbing uncontrollably and gasping for air.

  “Oh—oh—god—my—god—th—thank you,” she said between sobs.

  As much as he understood her trauma, Sebastian only had time to give her a swift, reassuring hug, before he pried her off. “I’m sorry, but time is short. We’re going to call 911 and they’re going to come take care of you, but first I have to make sure you’ll be safe.”

  He got up, passing the witch who still lay on the floor groaning and clutching his groin, and poked his head out the front door. Nobody was about, so he closed and locked it and went back to the witch. “Enough, Pip, leave him alone. Go outside and keep watch. Warn me if anyone, or anything, comes.” The pixie gave a disappointed squeak but obeyed, leaving the witch’s bloody face and wiggling through the crack under the door.

  Taking the rope that had bound Sara, Sebastian roughly tied the witch’s hands and feet. Then he hauled the man into a sitting position and slapped him several times across the face to get his attention. And because it felt good. Gazing at the witch’s garish red robes, he categorized this thoroughly repugnant piece of slime as one of those nut jobs who enjoyed dressing up like some geek at a convention when doing magic. It was an insult to magic. And geeks.

  “Banish the demon, that little one that got away. If you don’t, I’ll let my pixie friend come back and cut off your balls. She’d like that.”

  The witch stared at him, eyes wide with terror, but still with enough spine to be stubborn. Sebastian put a knee to the man’s groin and leaned in. The witch screamed. “Okay, okay! Stop!”

  “Not until you do it,” Sebastian growled.

  Sobbing, the man gasped out a few phrases, and Sebastian saw a pendant around his neck glow briefly, then turn black.

  “Good,” he said, leaning back again on his heels. “Now, what were you doing here?”

  “That bitch, Veronica, she stole my book. I was just—just trying to get it back.” Still breathing hard, the witch attempted to look self-righteous.

  “Figured,” Sebastian said, disgusted. “Did you summon any more demons? Are there others about?”

  “N—no! I swear. Who are you?” the witch asked, eyes wide. He was obviously afraid, yet
Sebastian could see the hatred running deep. This man was a coward, but a vengeful one.

  “No one you need concern yourself with.” He let go of the man’s collar, and the witch fell back with a thump and a yelp as his head made painful contact with the hard, wood floor.

  Sebastian turned “Sara, do you have any tape?” The woman, lying propped up on one elbow where he’d left her, held her cloth gag to the gash on her forehead. Nodding shakily, she pointed to a cabinet drawer. Sebastian found a roll of duct tape and thoroughly gagged the witch, then wrapped it around the man’s hands, knees, and ankles, just in case.

  All threats neutralized, he crouched again by Sara. “I know you’re scared and you don’t understand what’s going on, but I need you to concentrate for me, just for a moment. Did Veronica ever give you a book for safekeeping? Probably leather? Maybe with strange symbols on it? I know she probably told you to keep it safe for her, but Veronica is—” he almost said dead, but stopped just in time: Sara didn’t need any more trauma at the moment. “—gone. I don’t think she’s coming back. But that book is trouble, and if you don’t give it to me, people will keep coming after you. Will you please tell me where it is, so I can get rid of it?”

  Sara’s eyes teared up and she looked ready to cry. “I don’t know. She never gave me anything, or else I would have already given it to those monsters who—who—”

  “Alright, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” Sebastian patted her on the shoulder, then turned away, resisting the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. Then had an idea. Speaking softly, he called out to Pip. “Hey, can you feel anything demonic in this apartment?”

  The tiny pixie joined them via the crack under the door and zipped around the apartment like a hummingbird, nosing in every corner. Sara’s eyes grew wide as they followed the pixie’s progress, but she said nothing. Finally, Pip gave an excited squeak from an adjacent room and Sebastian followed the sound.

  He entered what looked like Veronica’s bedroom—his guess because there were no pictures in it, neither of Sara nor Veronica. Pip was dancing excitedly on a section of floor at the foot of the bed. “Ah, so it’s under there is it?” Sebastian asked. Pip squeaked and flew in a tight circle.

  Lifting up the rug, Sebastian ran his fingers along the wood and found a tiny crack. With the help of his pocket knife, he levered up a section of the floor to reveal a leather-bound volume covered in blood-red symbols. Even without touching it, Sebastian could feel its demonic power. It oozed from every corner, making his skin crawl. He took it gingerly, holding it in his right hand, which made his tattoo shimmer and tingle uncomfortably. Pausing to replace the board and rug, he returned to the living room, showing the book to Sara. She looked horrified at the sight.

  Turning to the bound witch on the floor, he held the volume up so it could be clearly seen. “Is this what you were looking for?” The witch nodded, a greedy light in his eyes. “Good. Because I’m going to destroy it.” At that, the man began yelling through his duct tape gag, wiggling vainly like a worm. “Yup,” Sebastian continued, “I’m going to burn it to ash. This woman here doesn’t know me, my name, or where I live. So if I ever hear that you or anyone else has touched a hair on her head, I’ll track you down and kill you myself. Got it?” The witch glared at him with hate-filled eyes, and Sebastian knew he was making an enemy. He didn’t care. Raising a foot, he stomped down on the man’s groin. “I said, got it?” The man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he didn’t respond. Well, Sebastian thought with a shrug, that was good enough.

  He crouched down and cut off the many pendants hanging from the man’s neck, removed all the rings from the man’s fingers, and searched his pockets, collecting a few other odds and ends. Putting it all in his own pocket, he turned one last time to Sara, who had collapsed onto the couch. “As soon as I leave, call 911. Tell them you fought off this man yourself. I wouldn’t mention the demons if I were you, they’ll lock you up in a loony bin. This guy assaulted you in your own home, tied you up, and was going to rape you. That should get him behind bars for a while. I’m sorry all this happened just because you roomed with Veronica. It would be safest if you forgot she existed and never spoke her name again.” He turned to leave, but Sara reached out to stop him.

  “Wait! Who are you? What are you?” The look in her eyes was desperate, and he could only imagine how she felt, having her whole world turned upside-down in barely an hour. She needed something to give her closure. Unfortunately, he couldn’t give it to her.

  “It’s safer for you to not know, I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll...keep an eye on this place for a while, in case anything comes back to bother you. Now, call 911, and please, don’t mention me.” He turned and swiftly left the apartment, not giving her time to reply. He had no idea if she would respect his wish, but there wasn’t much he could do. He’d done what he’d thought was right, and there was no easy way to fix things.

  Pip joined him as he hurried down the stairs. “Good job, Pip. You earned your keep.” Pip squeaked and tugged on his ear, a sign of affection from the pixie. “Oh, stop it.” Sebastian grinned. “You just say that because I give you enough alcohol to kill a horse. Now get gone. I’ll have the usual waiting for you tonight.” Pip’s squeaking laugh quickly faded, and Sebastian shook his head in wonder. For having the body mass of a mouse, pixies sure could hold their liquor.

  * * *

  It was too late that night to visit Anton, so Sebastian spent the evening destroying everything he’d taken off the witch. None of it really wanted to be destroyed, but with a combination of fae magic, a hammer, and a small fire out back, he managed it.

  Despite his victory, he slept badly that night, waking at odd intervals to what he thought was the sound of police sirens approaching the house. But it only turned out to be Pip and her friends having a party over several glasses of Captain Morgan on his windowsill. Those ridiculous pixies were actually small enough to swim in the glasses, which they did with great glee. One of these days an inebriated pixie would drown, and then he’d be in trouble.

  He turned over and tried to go back to sleep. Fae retribution could get in line with all his other worries that kept him up at night, the foremost being Rex Morganson and the crazy, demon-loving witches he seemed to attract. Sebastian finally fell asleep, but his slumbers were plagued by nightmares of demons holding down a screaming Lily, tearing out her heart.

  * * *

  The next day he parked by Anton’s gallery, frustrated. He’d tried calling Lily multiple times over the past few days, just to make sure she was okay, but it had always gone to voicemail. That was understandable; she didn’t always answer her phone. But he’d tried calling ten times since that morning and she hadn’t answered a single one. She was avoiding him. He punched the steering wheel and immediately regretted it. As he put away his phone and unbuckled, he decided to drop by her office as soon as he was done here. It was time the two of them had a talk.

  Sebastian had timed it so that he entered the gallery during a lull and no customers were about. As amusing as Anton’s bitching was, Sebastian didn’t have time for it today. He made a beeline for the back where he found Anton at his stand-up desk beside the computer terminal, writing in a datebook.

  “A word, Anton. I promise it won’t take long,” he said in way of greeting.

  “Any length of time is too much for one as tiring as you, Sebastian,” Anton replied without looking up.

  “Then I’ll get right to the point. Rex Morganson was your client for the museum job. What can you tell me about him?”

  At the name, Anton got very, very still. He looked up slowly, hands dropping from his datebook and behind the desk. He stared at Sebastian for a moment, then smiled quite pleasantly. Sebastian’s inner alarm bells went off. He was not a client, so a pleasant smile was bad.

  “Certainly, Mr. Blackwell. Please, step back in my office and we can have a word.”

  Nervous, but not sure what else to do and still keep Anton talking, Sebastian
opened the door at the back of the gallery that led to the offices and loading dock—not somewhere customers were allowed. Unsure which door off the dimly lit hall was Anton’s office, he turned to ask and was greeted by the sight of Anton holding a gun on him, face as blank as a slate.

  “I’m sorry Sebastian, but you’ve broken the rules. I can’t have that.”

  “Whoa, whoa! Wait a minute, what’s going on here? What rules?” Sebastian said, raising his hands in surrender.

  Anton’s face remained passive. “The FBI visited me last night and had some very...uncomfortable questions. Questions I did not like. Questions about Mr. Morganson. Now how would the FBI have known that name? I certainly did not give it to them. How would they have known to ask me? And here you are, asking the same question.” He tutted. “You spoke to the authorities. That is not allowed, you know.”

  “Wait, stop.” Sebastian extended his arms forward, palms turned toward Anton in a placating gesture. “You’ve got this completely backward. First of all, you know I would never talk to the cops, much less the FBI. I’m not that kind of guy. What would I gain? Second, I got that name off Veronica Paxton’s laptop which I might have possibly taken a passing peek at when I was at her place. But all she had was a name, I swear! If I had to guess, this guy Rex is a crook and the FBI already had him in their sights. I have no idea why they would come to you, but you’re not exactly an unknown player. Seriously, man, put the gun down.”

  Sebastian counted his breaths, blood pounding in his ears as he held motionless and tense, running escape scenarios though his head in case Anton didn’t back down. Finally, Anton lowered the gun. “Your logic, as usual, is convincing, if only enough to prevent your summary execution. But you are snooping, and I do not appreciate it, not at all. This man you speak of does not appreciate snooping, either. Yet, he is not fond of you as I am, which is why I tell you this: approximately three weeks ago, when he contacted me regarding the job Veronica failed so spectacularly, he inquired about you by name as well as any known associates. I informed him my rules of confidentiality prevented me from supplying the information he sought. But, to quote you, you are not exactly an unknown player. It would be best if you disappeared for a while, Sebastian, both for your safety and my sanity. It might also be wise to warn your...associates.”