by Jayne Faith
With every muscle tensed and my hands half raised, I swiveled left and right, scanning the yard. Nothing out of the ordinary, except . . . something in the grass. I focused more fully through my necro-vision and it revealed the dull glow of something dark pooled near the fence. I started toward it but then stopped when a blob fell from above.
With my heart in my throat, I looked up. High in the maple where Atriul’s small demon had been hours before sat a great winged creature. Coal-black smoke—no, magic—also seemed to lick the air around the creature, like dark flames. Neon blue sparked within the smoky magic here and there. The dark magic that dripped from it was what I’d spotted on the ground.
At first I relaxed a little. This thing wasn’t nearly as big as the arch-demon that had killed me. But then I focused on its face, and my eyes widened as the chill of horror rose up my spine.
It was a winged demon, yes, but not like the arch-demons I’d seen before. This one had a rounded head and a twisted human-like face. It raised its wings and revealed a humanoid body. From each index finger a scythe-like claw extended several inches.
Revulsion filled me as I tried to reconcile this creature that appeared half-human and half-demon. What was this thing?
Loki’s growling changed to a loud snarl, and he rose up on his hind legs as his snarls became punctuated with barks. The man-demon’s lips parted, and its mouth stretched into a sharp-toothed grin.
I didn’t have time to further contemplate how this nightmare creature could exist. With unexpected grace, it sprang from its branch and spread its wings for a gentle descent into my yard and landed in a crouch.
In a reflex, I pulled magic, grasping at earth energy in addition to the maroon magic. The two energies clashed, jolting my insides so hard it felt like lightning burst inside my ribcage. White noise filled my head as the powers mingled within me.
The creature rose, a horror of gray flesh and wing that stood taller than me.
Its lips peeled back to reveal its sharp teeth again. “Give me the blond witch,” it hissed. “She’ll be the next to die. One by one, they’ll all fall.”
Deb. This thing wanted to kill her. My skin crawled at the sound of its voice, but I held my focus. I opened myself to earth magic, and green-laced maroon spun around the whip handle and shot down the length of it. I barely had time to register that I’d managed to pull the two types of power at once.
I twisted my upper body to get maximum momentum and lashed out with the whip with cobra-strike quickness. The end of it caught the demon down one shoulder, ripping flesh and tearing a hole in the leathery wing attached to its arm. The wounds knitted themselves before my eyes, and the creature cackled at me.
“Such tame little magic,” it hissed, mocking my use of earth and fire. Part of me could hardly blame him. My elemental power was barely worth acknowledging.
I tensed to strike again, and the creature opened its mouth in a silent scream. Dark flames edged in neon blue blasted from its throat as I struck out, stopping the forward progress of the whip as if it had hit a wall. The brush of the unfamiliar neon-edged magic washed over me, stinging my skin like a thousand ant bites. It was all I could do not to fall to the ground and writhe around in agony. My magic recoiled up the whip, to my hand, and into my body, and I nearly dropped it. I lunged and fell into a roll, barely avoiding the lick of fiery demon breath as it arced out. The smell of sulfur and burnt meat filled the air.
That was how this thing killed—by distracting its prey with stinging magic and then slashing it to ribbons with its knife-claws.
The dark magic pouring from its mouth petered out, giving me an opening. Rising to one knee, I summoned blood-red power, swept my arm out, and sent the end of the whip flying with as much magic as I could bear.
The creature balked at the sight of the maroon magic, and that split second of hesitation gave me the upper hand. The whip seemed to elongate, stretching beyond its physical length to reach the creature. Under my direction, the whip roped around its neck, doubling and then tripling in a blur. I stood and heaved back on it, yanking with both hands. Blood-red magic surged through me with blinding pain, but I kept my hold as I pushed the power down the length of the whip.
Through squinted eyes, I saw the creature scrabbling at its neck as its eyes bulged. Any second I would deplete my capacity to sling magic. I bore down and sent one more pulse—as much as I could draw—through the whip. Shaking with the strain, I heaved back as hard as I could.
The collar tightened around the demon’s neck, and with a sickening pop that I heard as well as felt down the length of the whip, its head severed from its body. It rolled a couple of feet in the grass while the headless body collapsed forward.
My eyes fuzzed over, and I fell to my hands and knees, sucking wind. I looked up at the sound of an angry sizzle. The white liquid spilling from the severed neck was forming a smoking puddle in the grass. The stench of rotted flesh reached my nose, and I slapped a hand over my mouth as bile rose up my throat.
“Ella.” Damien was at my side, his hand curled around my shoulder.
My head still hanging, I turned so I could peer at him. I was too nauseated and drained to respond. All at once I was frozen to the bone. Every muscle began to shake as if my blood sugar had just taken a dive off a cliff.
He bent to slide his hands under my arms and then straightened, pulling me up to my feet. I nearly pitched forward onto my face when his grip slipped.
“Come on, we need to get you inside,” he said. He grunted with the effort of keeping me upright as I listed weakly to the left. My legs felt like limp spaghetti as he half-carried me into the house.
Loki was alternately whimpering at me and running to the back door to snarl at the demon corpse.
I swallowed, trying to work some moisture back into my throat. “That stinking thing is going to ruin my lawn,” I said hoarsely. My vision was fuzzing and narrowing to a tunnel as lightheadedness washed over me.
Damien chuckled wryly. “We’ll reseed it.”
The living room light flipped on, and I squinted in the painful brightness. Deb let out a high-pitched squeal of alarm and ran to help Damien get me to the sofa.
“Oh my god, what happened?” Her voice was already ragged with the threat of tears. “Ella, you’ve got severe magical exhaustion. We’ve got to get her warm. Hurry, lay her down here.”
“That thing wanted Deb,” I murmured. “It’s the killer. It said it’s going after you one-by-one.”
Everything seemed to fade to a pleasant, faraway buzz. I knew they were saying things but hadn’t the energy to try to make out the words. Through the freezing numbness, I felt my body move under their hands, the softness of a pillow behind my head and the weight of heavy covers over me.
A pleasant hum of magic washed my skin from scalp to feet, and it drove away some of the cold. I wanted to speak, to tell them I knew now that Atriul wasn’t the killer, but my mind grew too heavy, and the world dissolved into darkness.
I awoke to the sharp smell of singed herbs and Loki’s wet nose nudging my wrist.
The smell wasn’t unpleasant, but it seemed to overwhelm my brain momentarily. I cracked my eyelids open. My attention automatically drifted to the group of spell candles burning on the coffee table, as they were the only source of light in the room. Someone moved in front of them, and I blinked.
“Ella?”
I winced as the sound of my name seemed to knock around inside my head, though Deb’s voice was gentle and quiet. The rustling of her clothes felt like a cheese grater across my eardrums.
“Your senses have been damaged, and pretty much everything is going to hurt for a little while,” she whispered. “After-effects of magical depletion.”
I groaned, and the vibration of my own voice in my throat made me want to vomit. Squeezing my eyelids closed, I waited for the sensation to pass and then carefully nodded.
“Time?” I croaked.
“It’s almost three thirty,” she said. She touched my fo
rehead as if checking for a fever. “In the afternoon.”
My eyelids popped open as my heart lurched.
“Damien’s at work. He told your supervisor you wouldn’t be in today.”
I started to groan again but then thought better of it.
I heard Deb settle on the leather chair. Sounds were growing slightly less offensive.
“I made him go to a healer before his shift,” she said. “He was too drained to help you fight that nasty thing out there. He felt horrible about it. I shouldn’t have let him get that depleted.”
I wanted to protest. He had no reason to feel bad, and neither did Deb. I was the one who’d pushed to track down the witch killer last night, and if anyone was at fault for Damien’s weak state, it was me.
“We had to call Supernatural Crimes to come and pick up the body of that demon thing. Barnes didn’t show up, but the guy, Lagatuda, came.”
I swallowed hard, wanting to ask if they still thought I was involved.
“They want you to come in as soon as you’re able to so they can get your account of the whole thing,” Deb said before I could form my question, as if she’d read my mind. “I hope by then they’ll have done whatever magical forensics they need to do to that will prove that creature killed Amanda and you had nothing to do with it.”
Irritation simmered under my skin. How could they still think I was involved? The killer had come to my house with the aim of murdering my best friend, and I’d done SC’s job for them by taking it out. And I’d nearly gotten myself killed in the process.
“Lynnette and some of the others came over and tried to clean up the mess on the lawn, but they’re afraid that spot where the thing bled out might be permanently damaged,” Deb said, already moving on to a different topic.
She appeared to believe I didn’t have anything to worry about with Supernatural Crimes, but I wasn’t so sure. SC could have removed the device from my leg if they really thought I was innocent.
“They left a big bunch of flowers. Desiree tried to do some healing—one of her specialties is treating magical exhaustion—but she couldn’t do much. I’m not sure if it’s because you were too far gone and couldn’t handle it yet or if the reaper interfered.”
Deb paused and let out a long breath. “They’re so grateful, Ella.” She giggled softly. “Lynnette practically teared up. I’ve never seen her get emotional.”
My cheeks flexed in a small smile. I kind of wished I could have seen the exorcist witch all teary-eyed over little old me.
I cleared my throat, determined to get my vocal chords up and running again. “Did anyone know what that thing was?” I asked hoarsely. I shifted so I could peer at her. My head swam with dizziness at the movement, but my hypersensitivity seemed to be settling down a little.
Her face grew serious. “Supernatural Crimes was very tight-lipped, and they were in and out really fast. If I had to guess, I’d say they’d never seen anything like it around here. Maybe ever.”
My eyes slid to the spell candles, which had burned down to just an inch or so. By the array of crystals, incense burners, and other items, it looked as if Deb had been working healing magic for hours. I hoped she’d at least taken a break to sleep.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, my voice still just a scratchy whisper. “Do you need to rest?”
Her hand moved to her belly. “Feeling good. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything that would harm the baby.”
I gave a slight nod. My eyelids felt weighted, and I couldn’t resist the downward pull. I closed my eyes, intending only to rest them for a moment, but sleep tugged me under.
The next time I awoke, my heart was thumping as if something had startled me. I blinked several times, trying to clear my eyes, before I realized the living room was bathed in darkness. I sat up and waited for vertigo to slam me back down, but the world gave only a small tilt before my equilibrium righted itself.
My stomach felt like it had been hollowed out with industrial cleaner, and there was an uncomfortable pressure in my sinuses and behind my eyes. But I felt . . . good, all things considered.
I looked to the leather chair. Damien was sleeping there. My fingers slid over my pockets, searching for my phone, but I was still wearing the cutoff sweats I’d slept in the previous night. Yep, I’d battled the man-demon in my pajamas.
I needed to figure out what time it was. I intended to keep my midnight appointment with Atriul, magical exhaustion and ankle monitor be damned.
As quietly as I could, I pushed the covers away and placed my feet on the rug. The reaper seemed to stir, sending the shadows dancing through my vision and its presence pulsing in my forehead. With a determined set of my jaw, I pushed to my feet. My head swam for moment, and I breathed through it. I kept my knees flexed, ready to sit back down if my legs didn’t want to hold me up.
Seconds passed, and my head settled. I straightened and took careful steps toward my dark bedroom. Loki rose and followed me, the tags on his collar making soft metallic clinks. I glanced back at Damien, but he didn’t stir. The bedroom door was open, but I couldn’t tell if Deb had crashed there. I waited for my vision to adjust to the darker room.
The bed was made, and the covers were flat. She must have tagged out and gone home when Damien came back.
The red numbers on the digital clock next to the bed said 10:58 p.m. Yes. I could make it.
I pulled clothes from the hamper to avoid the noise of drawers opening and closing and changed out of my pjs and into dark gray cargo pants, a sports bra, and a black sweatshirt with the Demon Patrol logo on the chest. Socks, boots, and a heavy jacket to combat the lingering chill of magical exhaustion, and I almost felt like a real human being. Now I just needed my keys and phone. And some water and food. I was starving all of a sudden. I’d have to stop somewhere—I couldn’t afford to make a racket in the kitchen.
I lifted my service belt and held it while I crept back into the living room, where I swiveled my gaze, trying to make out objects in the dark. I found my phone on a side table next to the sofa, my keys where I’d left them near the door, and my whip coiled next to them. Atriul had said no weapons. I’d leave everything in the truck when I reached Tablerock, but I wasn’t leaving the house completely unarmed.
I slipped the front, feeling triumphant about my escape but also guilty for sneaking out on Damien. On the front porch, I hesitated. Damien had set multiple wards around the house that would magically signal us if someone or something unwanted passed through them. Would I set them off, or would I pass through the wards like a ghost as I had at Jennifer’s house?
Only one way to find out. I took a deep breath, held it, and sprang across the porch, down the walkway, and zipped to my pickup as fast as my still-weak legs would take me.
Chapter 11
MY STOMACH RUMBLED along with my pickup’s engine as I pulled away from the curb. I glanced in the rearview mirror, expecting to see Damien trying to wave me down, but the sidewalk in front of the four-plex was empty. I made a quick left at the end of the block, as if getting out of sight of my house would help me escape his notice.
I took another turn at State Street, heading toward a nearby fast food taco place that I knew would still be open. I ordered at the drive-through, paid at the window, and then parked for a couple of minutes so I could wolf down part of a burrito and drain one of the three bottles of water I’d purchased.
With my gnawing hunger somewhat satiated, I got back on the road and drove with one hand while I finished my first burrito and guzzled more water with the other. I kept checking my phone, wondering if maybe I should at least send Damien a text to let him know I was okay. I knew it would wake him up, though. I compromised by deciding to send him a message as soon as I reached Tablerock.
While I drove, I tried to take stock of my condition. I still felt weak and achy, as though I’d spent the past several days laid up with a nasty flu bug, but my strength was starting to return. I hoped the food would speed up the process. The swollen sen
sation in my head had subsided somewhat, but I now recognized it as one of the signs of magical drain—one that warned of the brain damage that would happen if I repeatedly exhausted my magical energy. I needed a strong healing session, and sooner rather than later.
But I’d get through the next few hours. I blasted the heater to combat the late fall chill in the air and the cold still sitting deep in my bones.
As I wound my way through Foothills East toward the dirt road that would take me to Tablerock, I felt unexpectedly buoyant. The killer was dead, and if the universe had any love for me at all, I would soon have a solution to my reaper problem, something to freeze it in its tracks. Hell, by tomorrow life might be almost back to normal. And most important, I could funnel some real effort into figuring out where Evan was being held.
The pickup’s tires left the asphalt and crunched onto gravel. The uneven road bumped me along as I ascended the back face of Tablerock and rose above the city. When I reached the plateau, there were no other vehicles. Apparently it was too cold for teenagers looking for a spot to make out or drink beers they’d stolen from their parents’ refrigerators.
I eased partway across the natural plateau and killed the engine. A sliver of moonlight faintly highlighted the angles of the rocky formations, and the city lights stretched out in a wide twinkling river below.
A glance at my phone showed it was eight minutes till midnight. I got out of the truck, leaving my whip and service belt on the passenger seat, and a flicker across my senses drew my attention to the sky. High up, a minor demon circled. I couldn’t see it against the dark background of night, but I knew it was there. Probably Atriul’s minion, checking to see I’d kept my word about coming unarmed.
A gritty whisper of shoe sole over rock behind me strung my muscles tight and sent a little punch of adrenaline into my bloodstream. I whipped around to find Atriul approaching. I couldn’t see his face, but I recognized his stride and the duster that billowed a little around his legs.
