Dark Gift

by Kim Richardson

  I didn’t want to have to explain that Satan was just another name for Lucifer, the fallen archangel. Sure some dark witches worshiped and tried to summon Lucifer for his wealth and power, but I seriously doubted he ever showed up in one of the summoning circles.

  “I don’t understand,” said Detective Walsh, his voice harsh and skeptical. “You just said this had all the signs of the occult. Of ritualistic crimes.”

  “It is. It does,” I said, trying to find the right words without sounding like a crazy person to a human who didn’t believe in the paranormal. I released a breath. “This is a different group. A more dangerous one. In this case, it’s demonic, not Satanic.”

  “Demonic?” he asked, clearly startled.

  “Demonic hocus pocus,” I told him, trying to ease the tension I saw flitter across his face.

  The detective swore. “So we’re looking for cult fanatics who believe in demons?”

  You’re looking for a demon. “Yes. In a matter of speaking.”

  The detective mumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t catch. “Do you know what’s written on the body?” he asked, glancing at the dead half-breed.

  Shit. I couldn’t tell them without revealing too much. I thought about it. Worry colored my irritation, and I moved my gaze back to the body and the writing on her chest. He wanted something he could use. Telling him demons carved up this poor woman wasn’t going to help him. I pulled my eyes away and found the detective’s sour expression directed at me.

  The man’s pale face darkened with anger. “You know what it says. Don’t you? I can see it on your face.”

  I looked at the body again, my tension rising.

  “Damn it,” said the detective, stepping closer to me. “You’re holding out on me. I know you are. I can get a warrant for your arrest,” he said smoothly, his anger an icy thread in his voice. “I can have you brought in for questioning. I can have you arrested for withholding information pertaining to this crime scene.”

  My tension spiked. “The group you’re looking for think they’re demons,” I said. Close enough. I watched the detective’s eyes widen as I added, “Her chest was carved in an old demonic language. It’s a signature, a marking for this particular group.”

  Visible stiffness released from the detective’s shoulders. “What else can you tell me?”

  “The way the body is presented fulfills the spiritual, sexual, and psychological needs of this killer.” My eyes traveled over the body again. “This ritual behavior fulfills basic criminal needs to manipulate the victim, to send a message. I believe the leader of this group is playing upon your fears, your beliefs, and your superstitions. I think he’s trying to convince everyone he has ‘supernatural’ powers.”

  The detective raised his brows. “Supernatural powers? You think they have supernatural powers?” he said, his face showing visible hostility.

  Of course I do. I tried exceptionally hard not to roll my eyes as I said, “Of course not. But they want you to believe they do. They want to scare you.” My eyes moved around the policemen. “And I think they achieved that. Your men look like scared little boys.” I waited for the detective to stop grunting. “They enjoy killing. They lack empathy. They’ll kill for sport. They’ll only kill at night. And you can expect more bodies.”

  The detective cursed. “How do we find them?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” Yet. “You can start by finding out who she is.”

  Detective Walsh’s gaze moved to the body. “She had no ID. We’ll have to fingerprint her and run them through the system to see if we get a match. Other than that, without an ID, we have no idea who she is.” As a half-breed I doubted she was in the system, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Still, I was curious who she was. And for my own investigation, I needed to find out.

  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I had the nasty feeling of being watched. I felt cold, like I’d just stepped into a fridge. I whipped my head around, but all I saw were policemen and the forensic team.

  Was the demon killer watching me from the shadows? Getting its thrills by watching us discussing its work? I sent out my senses, but I got only the wave of human answer back and a small tingle of demonic energy coming off of the dead half-breed.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and knelt next to the head. A chill crawled neatly down my spine and I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

  Dear God. It was Vicky. Danto’s vampire friend.

  Oh, hell. This was bad.

  2

  After spending another half-hour with Detective Walsh, I got into my subbie and drove back home. Well, to my grandmother’s. She’d called when I was at the crime scene and left a message to come home for lunch. My fridge was empty, and free food always tasted better.

  I’d dreaded the call to Danto, but I had to do it. I owed him that. I hadn’t seen him in months, which made the phone call worse.

  And as I’d predicted, it had been bad, followed by an uncomfortable silence as I gave the vampire time for the news of the death of his good friend to sink in. I’d explained to him my theory of a possible demon attack.

  He kept silent as I continued talking, nerves making me babble like an idiot. I gave him all the gruesome details, trying not to forget anything. But when I mentioned that Vicky’s body was in police custody and would end up in one of the human city morgues, he’d thanked me and said he’d take care of it before hanging up. Whatever that meant.

  The drive to my gran’s was long due to traffic, and after an hour and a half I pulled up into the driveway of 7997 Maple Drive. I killed the engine, got out and shut the door.

  Trimmed boxwood hedges lined a small stone walkway leading up to the front porch of a tiny gray cottage with white trim. I made my way up the path and bounded onto the front porch.

  After wiping my boots on the doormat that read, WELCOME MORTALS, I pushed the door open, knocking at the same time and shouting, “Hi, Grandma. It’s me.”

  The scent of spices and coffee filled the air as I pulled off my boots and dropped them by the front door.

  “We’re in the kitchen,” my grandmother called back, her voice merry. Other voices—I suspected Tyrius and his wife Kora—drifted back from the kitchen as well.

  It had been a real surprise to find out that my best friend of more than nine years was married. Granted, he was a demon and had gotten hitched fifty years before I was born, but it had still surprised me. It was a good surprise, though.

  Kora, it turned out, was a Turkish longhaired cat—a purebred and a baal demon. She was every bit as lovely as Tyrius, clever and just as fierce. All baals were.

  It all worked out really well. While Tyrius accompanied me on Hunts, Kora stayed with my grandmother, who absolutely adored her. I couldn’t be happier knowing that she had a baal keeping her company and making sure she was safe. I’d never seen Kora hulk-out, but I was willing to bet she’d be fiercely beautiful and deadly.

  My stomach rumbled as I made my way down the hallway towards the back of the house where the kitchen was located. My grandmother stood with her back to me, pouring coffee into a cup on the small table in the breakfast nook. She wore her white hair in the usual loose bun, but instead of her flowered house dress, today she was wearing a long gray cardigan with dark gray pants and had matched it all with her pink slippers.

  My tension rose as I smelled an unfamiliar perfume and heard the muffled voice of a stranger. Someone else was with her in the kitchen.

  When my grandmother moved, my breath caught and I froze.

  First I saw the cane resting on the chair’s armrest. Then my eyes found the old lady sitting in the same chair.

  Pale, crooked fingers speckled with age spots were wrapped around a cup. Her cowl rested on her shoulders, revealing her thin white hair cut close to her scalp. She wore the thick, gray linen robe that all Gray Council members wore.

  Light-colored eyes, cold and piercing, blinked at me through her glasses
. “Hello, Rowyn,” said Lisbeth, her heavily wrinkled face twitching in a false smile.

  My adrenaline pulsed as I stood staring at the old woman. Damn her. She had balls coming here to my grandmother’s house after the threat she pulled on me. I still hated her old, withered guts.

  If I still had my death blade, I would have cut her up into neat little squares and fed her to the hell hounds.

  I shouldn’t have been so surprised. I knew eventually she’d come to collect on her threat. I had just hoped in her ripe old age she’d have gone senile and forgotten. Yeah, well, guess that was wishful thinking.

  Both Tyrius and Kora shared the chair next to her with their fur bristled and their pupils dilated, looking like they were about to pounce on her and scratch out her eyes. I would have given away my car just to see that.

  “Rowyn, don’t just stand there with your mouth open,” said my grandmother, a slight flush to her cheeks and still holding the coffee pot. “Come and say hello to Lisbeth.”

  I’d rather gouge out my own eyes. I’d kept Lisbeth’s threat from my grandmother. She didn’t need more stress added to her life. After the fiasco with the bank and with her high blood pressure, I didn’t think her health would support another major blow—like a death threat.

  Judging by Lisbeth’s cunning smile, she knew I’d said nothing. Bitch.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I barked, my hatred coming off of me in waves. I knew it was all over my face too. I was never good at hiding my emotions, which was why Tyrius always won at poker.

  “Rowyn!” exclaimed my grandmother, shocked. “That’s not how you treat a member of the Gray Council. What’s the matter with you?”

  I moved towards the table slowly. “Nothing’s the matter with me. Just, surprised. It’s not often we get visitors. Especially, from the Gray Council, and really, really old ones.” Lisbeth’s smile faltered just enough to make me feel a whole lot better.

  “Rowyn, stop,” said my grandmother, her voice raising dangerously and reminding me of my mom.

  A tug of guilt pulled in my chest when I met my grandmother’s glare. “It’s fine, Grandma. Lisbeth and I go way back. Don’t we, Lisbeth?” My grandmother knew how I felt about the angel-born’s own council and the Gray Council, which explained why she hadn’t told me off yet.

  Lisbeth’s mouth was a hard line as she said, “We’ve met on several occasions.”

  “Several occasions, my ass,” grumbled Tyrius.

  “And you two,” said my grandmother as she pointed her finger at the two cats, a frown wrinkling her brow, “better behave. You understand me? Or you’re both getting baths!”

  Kora and Tyrius barely took notice of my grandmother’s threats. They were way too preoccupied showing their pointy teeth to Lisbeth. I love these cats.

  “What took you so long?” said Tyrius, pulling his attention away from Lisbeth long enough to settle on me. “We’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

  I shuffled forward so I was standing right in front of Lisbeth, my hands on my hips. “Oh... I don’t know? A dead vampire in Central Park, maybe?”

  Lisbeth pulled her coffee cup from her lips and settled it on the table. “A dead vampire? You don’t say?”

  I scowled at the gladness I could see on her face, the faint delight in the tone of her voice. She hated all half-breeds. To her, they were abominations and she wanted to rid the world of them. Her hatred of the half-breeds was very similar to that of the demons.

  “Nothing that concerns the Gray Council.” I waited, daring her to say something, but she kept on smiling, looking like an innocent old woman enjoying a cup of coffee with an old friend.

  “A dead vamp?” questioned Tyrius, his head tilting. “But I thought Father Thomas said it was—”

  “He was wrong.” It was hard not to think of the multiple ways I could kill the old woman and bury her body in the backyard while she sat there looking smug, like she had a hold on me.

  And she did have a hold on me. She had my grandmother’s life.

  “Rowyn, sit down,” ordered my grandmother. “You’re giving me a headache. Here.” She poured me a cup of coffee. “Have some coffee,” she said and then moved to the kitchen stove and started to stir her spicy chicken soup.

  I pulled out an empty chair and sat across from Lisbeth. “What are you doing here, Lisbeth,” I asked again, trying to disguise my anger and disgust the best I could but failing miserably.

  Lisbeth’s pale eyes settled over to my grandmother and her smile widened when she caught me staring at her. “I was in the neighborhood,” said the old woman as she leaned back into her chair. “I thought I’d stop by and say hello to Cecil. We go way back. I thought it was time for a visit.”

  God help me. I am going to skin the bitch.

  “Funny,” I said. “I never pegged you as someone with friends.”

  “More like someone with enemies,” said Tyrius, making the corners of my lips curl.

  My grandmother turned around and gave me a hard look. “I’m so glad you stopped by, Lisbeth,” she said, beaming at the old woman. “It gets lonely sometimes. Rowyn’s so busy with her work. It’s nice to have company.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. I hated having this woman in my grandmother’s house, so close to her, pretending to be her friend when she’d only come to force my hand. Just sharing the space, the air, was making me ill.

  I hated the smug smile on her face. She wore it like an innocent old lady, but beneath the wrinkled skin was a monster. She was evil, pure and simple, the worst kind of evil. I wanted her dead.

  “I knew your parents,” said Lisbeth, making my pulse throb. “How unfortunate that they died in that horrible house fire.” She paused for a moment. “It’s just the two of you now. Isn’t it? You must be very close.” She blinked, looking at me. “You must be beside yourself, Rowyn. With your grandmother living all alone in this big house.” A small, infuriating smile grew on her face, shocking me. “We live in dangerous times, which is especially true for us older ladies. We can’t be too careful. Well, just the other day a friend of mine had a break-in. They beat her so badly, the doctors feared she wouldn’t make it.”

  Hell no.

  Both Tyrius and Kora jumped on the table, their backs arched as they spat and hissed wildly at Lisbeth, their eyes swirling with demon energies. Tyrius swatted her mug and I caught it just before it flew off the table.

  Lisbeth recoiled in her seat, clearly affronted by the behavior of the baals. But I’d had enough.

  “What is the matter with you all?” cried my grandmother. “You’re all acting crazy.” She took a sip from her coffee mug with transparent liquid that looked suspiciously like white wine.

  Heart pounding in my ears, I jumped to my feet, startling my grandmother. I reached out, grabbed Lisbeth by the arm and hauled her off her chair. “Visit’s over,” I said, surprised at how hefty she was. The thump of her chair hitting the linoleum floor was heavy in the sudden silence.

  “Rowyn! What are you doing? Stop!”

  Ignoring my grandmother’s cries, I pulled my arm away from Lisbeth and forced her cane into her open hand.

  “Time to get back to your counseling.” I gripped her elbow hard, steering her away from the table. A smile reached my lips as she winced in pain.

  But then Lisbeth’s face curled into a smile of her own as I manhandled her, making my anger rise. “It’s fine, Cecil,” she said. “I’ve overstayed my welcome. Besides, Rowyn and I have council business to discuss. Don’t we, Rowyn?” Her eyes widened with a sick delight that had bile rising up in the back of my throat. “Walk me to the door, dear?” She turned her head to my grandmother. “It was a pleasure, Cecil. We’ll get back together soon.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” stammered my grandmother, pink spots marring her face and making me feel worse. She glared at me when I caught her eye. Crap. We were going to have a talk later.

  I hated seeing my grandmother like this, but I hated Lisbeth much, much more.


  Clenching my jaw, I hauled the old woman, none too gently, by the arm down the hall and out the door.

  As soon as I shut the door, I whirled on her. “You stay away from my grandmother. You hear me?”

  Lisbeth’s smile was infuriating. “Calm down, Rowyn. Nothing happened to her,” she said as she leaned on her cane and looked up at me, her eyes cold and calculating. “Well, not yet.”

  I clamped my hands into fists so that I wouldn’t shove her off the front porch because that would be bad. “What do you want?” I heard a car door slam and looked up to see a man walk around a parked gray, Audi Q7 SUV that had appeared on the curb right in front of my grandma’s house. He opened the back passenger-side door and waited.

  Lisbeth reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a creased piece of paper. She held it between her gnarled fingers that looked more like tree roots. “You remember our conversation? About you working for me? For the Elders?”

  “Mmm... let me think about that,” I said, my anger making my head spin. “As I remember it, I blacked out. Oh, right. You left me for dead.”

  “It begins today, Rowyn,” said Lisbeth, seemingly pleased at my outburst as though I was showering her with compliments. “You’ve had seven months to adjust. Far longer than I usually allow my business associates to assimilate to a new contract.”

  “I’m not your associate,” I seethed. “Quite the opposite.” You’re my enemy.

  Lisbeth made a noncommittal grunt. “It’s time. Today you work for me.”

  “Work for you?” I gritted my teeth until I felt I would chip a tooth. “It’s called blackmail, you old hag. It’s not real work.” I opened my mouth to tell her to shove her blackmail up her bony ass—maybe even kick her in the stomach—but I bit my tongue.

  “This is very real,” she said, seeing my resolve. Her tone had returned to her usual patronizing and superior cadence. “Take it,” she ordered, pushing the piece of paper at me.