Dark Harvest Magic (Ella Grey Series Book 2)

by Jayne Faith

  I got dressed, re-did my ponytail, and put on a little blush and mascara for good measure.

  I sent Damien a text to see if he’d been called in by Devereux for his new assignment and then went to let Loki out and make myself a ham sandwich.

  By twenty till one I still hadn’t heard from Damien, but it was time to head back to Supernatural Crimes.

  With a faint stir of anticipation stirring in my stomach, I grabbed my service belt and headed out.

  Chapter 14

  THE SUPERNATURAL CRIMES briefing room looked more like a small university classroom than the scuffed-up and overcrowded space I was used to for Demon Patrol briefings. Supernatural Crimes was the governmental policing and investigative arm for the supernatural world. The department housed at my own station, which included Demon Patrol and Supernatural Strike Team, was technically under the same branch of government as Supernatural Crimes—under the umbrella known as Supernatural Law Enforcement and Public Safety—but there had always been a division and rivalry between our two departments. The separation was literal, in that we had different facilities, but there were also marked differences in the work culture. And the difference in funding between us and SC was painfully obvious.

  Demon Patrol and Strike Team were seen as blue-collar, military wannabes who enjoyed waving our weapons around and frying Rip spawn. That was true of some of us but not enough to make such a sweeping generalization.

  Supernatural Crimes had a lot more resources and reach within the government, and their detectives drove fancy cars and wore nice clothes to work. SC was the governmental policing and investigative arm for the supernatural world.

  We protected the population from the demons that came through the Rip. They investigated crimes involving supernatural people like shifters and vampires, arrested crafters for magic violations, and generally held themselves above the outright killing, the so-called dirty work we did on Demon Patrol and Strike Team. There were also other Departments in the governmental branch of Supernatural Law Enforcement and Public Safety that conducted research, cataloged supernatural creatures, issued the implants that turned vamps docile—probably more departments that I didn’t even know about.

  The SC briefing room had tiered seating with cushy upholstered swivel chairs behind long rows of tables. As I took a seat next to Lagatuda, I noted there was not a coffee stain in sight. The floor was carpeted—and clean—in contrast to the dingy linoleum of the Demon Patrol briefing room.

  More detectives and SC officers were filing in, so much more orderly and subdued than the start-of-shift Demon Patrol meetings. I missed the noise and raucous jokes of my co-workers.

  I had one eye on the door, still hoping Damien would make it. Lagatuda’s vague assurances weren’t exactly convincing me that SC was truly following through with getting my partner on this case. I hoped the delay in getting Damien here was just due to red tape. I really wanted another ally in the room.

  A man I recognized from the news as Orestes “Rusty” Garcia, the head honcho of the local division of Supernatural Crimes, took the lectern.

  He was a little paunchy and round in the face with a heavy-lidded gaze that made him look like he was always on the verge of a nap, but I remembered him seeming sharp-minded and articulate.

  He ran through some department business, not unlike the types of items Devereux and the other sergeants presented at the start of our Patrol briefings—local supernatural crimes activity, as well as some national news. Then Garcia stepped away and nodded at Barnes, who was sitting in the front row. She took his place, tablet in hand. Using the device, she brought up an image that stood out against the white wall behind her.

  I straightened as I recognized a picture that had been taken in my own back yard. It was a rotating three-dimensional holographic image that showed the corpse of the beheaded Baelman from all angles.

  “These are the remains of the creature that was retrieved from the yard of Demon Patrol Officer Gabriella Grey two days ago, after she killed it,” Barnes said. She gestured to me. “We have Officer Grey working with us for the next couple of weeks, as she has unique knowledge of the creature.”

  Those were the nicest words Barnes had ever said in my presence. No accusations, no pinched-faced looks. Maybe she and I would turn over a new leaf.

  Most of the faces in the room had swiveled my way, so I raised my hand in acknowledgement.

  “News of this heretofore unknown species hasn’t been released publicly, and details are not to leave this room,” she continued.

  The image changed to a shot of the creature—and its detached head—laid out on a stainless steel table, the type you’d find in a medical examiner’s autopsy lab. The Baelman was hideous but also disturbingly human-like in its build.

  “We have unverified information that another of these creatures will transit into our dimension upon the next new moon,” she said.

  She didn’t have much more to say about the Baelman after that and moved on to another investigation involving rumors of new black-market, magic-laced drug that supposedly produced the same euphoria as vampire bites. The mention of such a drug brought a sudden pang in my chest. Evan had gotten mixed up with illegal drugs before he’d disappeared.

  I pushed aside sad thoughts of my brother. I was anxious to find Atriul so I could get more info about the Baelmen, and by the time the briefing was over, I’d fidgeted one of my shoelaces into knots.

  While Lagatuda and I were waiting for the detectives on either side of us to file out of our row, I tapped him on the arm.

  “I understand we’re working together on this, but my contact who knows about the Baelman isn’t going to talk to me if you’re hanging around,” I said. “No offense, but I need to be alone if there’s any hope of getting his help.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and slid a glance over at Barnes, who was talking with Rusty Garcia.

  “I’m really not supposed to let you go out on your own,” he said.

  Remembering the SC app, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “You’ll know where I am at all times. Is there an open mic setting on the walkie or something?” I flipped through the menus on the device. “When I make contact I can turn it on so you can listen in, if you want.”

  At this point I was less concerned about independence and privacy than contacting Atriul again.

  He took my phone and tilted it so I could see what he was doing. “I’m setting up a quick-connect channel between the two of us, and then you just have to make sure it’s active when you want to use it. You push and hold this symbol for a couple seconds to turn it on. If you contact me on this channel, I’ll be sure to keep myself on mute. It’s like wearing an old-fashioned wire.”

  “Great. Perfect. Thank you.”

  I took my phone and shoved it into my pocket and began moving toward the aisle. I wanted to get out of there before he changed his mind about letting me go off on my own or Barnes came over to poke her nose into things.

  “I’m going to try to make contact tonight,” I said over my shoulder. “You’ll know if I’m successful.”

  I practically speed-walked out of the SC station and to my pickup. I tore out of the parking lot.

  When I was halfway home, my phone jangled with an incoming call. I glanced at the I.D., ready to hit ignore if it wasn’t a number I recognized. I could almost hear Barnes’s voice demanding I return to the station. But it was Damien.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hey, we just missed each other at the Supernatural Crimes precinct,” he said.

  I felt a grin forming. “So you’re on board, too?”

  “Yep.” He laughed. “Devereux tried to block it, but somebody higher up must have pulled rank.”

  I let out a relieved breath. “I suppose they’ve got a pile of paperwork and stuff for you.”

  “Yeah, I’m waiting for all that right now.”

  We arranged to meet at my place later so we could dig into some heavy-duty research for anything that might g
ive us more information about the Baelmen. Or more likely, Damien would be doing the academic work while I tried to find Atriul.

  I was glad for some time to myself at home. I eased up to my usual spot on the curb next to the four-plex, shut off the engine, and went into my apartment.

  I left the back door partway open so Loki could go in and out as he pleased and then settled cross-legged on the sofa.

  When I closed my eyes, I turned my awareness outward. With swiftness that made me gasp, my necromancer senses stretched wide, beyond the room, the house, the block. My heart pounded as I tried to get my bearings.

  Like dots appearing on a sonar readout, I felt the presence of the Rip spawn in the surrounding area. It was way beyond anything I’d ever been able to do before. There were three minor demons within about a five-block radius. I could sense even more of them beyond but kept my focus narrowed to the nearest ones.

  I picked the nearest one and concentrated my awareness along the invisible line that connected us. Probing into its brain like a chopstick sliding into Jell-O, I took control. While I sighted through the creature’s eyes, I steered it toward the foothills to the east, aiming for Tablerock.

  I didn’t expect Atriul to be just hanging out there waiting for me to come looking for him, but I wanted to investigate the area and take a closer look at the spot where he’d jumped over the edge when Barnes and her crew had interrupted us. He’d seemed, I don’t know—comfortable up there overlooking the city, as if he went there a lot. It seemed as good a starting place as any.

  I kept the demon flying high so anyone glancing up from below would think it was a bird. It was still full daylight, though the sun wasn’t too far from the horizon in the west. We circled Tablerock. Finding a couple of vehicles parked there, I angled the creature out toward the undeveloped hills so we could swoop back under the plateau and out of the line of sight of anyone enjoying the view from above.

  As I drew the demon closer to where Atriul had jumped over, I sensed through the creature that there was life hiding nearby—Rip-born life. The one I controlled seemed interested in its kin but also wary about approaching. I didn’t want to instigate some sort of demon turf war, so I didn’t force it too close. But there was something on the rocky side of the plateau . . . there. A narrow slit of an opening that would have been invisible to any hikers below and positioned on a nearly inaccessible vertical face. Well, inaccessible to all who didn’t have wings. A flock of minor demons were roosting there, and something about them felt familiar. Not friendly, exactly, but perhaps a bit less wild.

  It was the same sensation I’d noticed when Atriul’s messenger demon had appeared in my yard with the net and the handwritten note.

  I didn’t think he was hiding in there, but I’d bet my paycheck—yep, even the fat Supernatural Crimes one—that the demons in the cave belonged to him. As much as Rip-spawn can belong to a person, anyway.

  Now, how to signal that I wanted to meet?

  I’d follow Atriul’s lead.

  I turned the demon west, bringing it to me. While it made its transit, I opened my eyes and rose and went to the cabinet in the kitchen where I’d stuffed the net. I scribbled a note on the back of a flyer that sat on top of last week’s mail I still hadn’t sorted. I didn’t have any pretty pads of paper like Deb. I bundled the note into the net, tying it tightly with a piece of twine I found in the junk drawer. I suppose I could have sent just the note, but I wasn’t sure how dexterous—or how careful—a minor demon would be with a single piece of paper. The net seemed like it would be easier to keep hold of.

  As I did these small tasks, part of my awareness stayed with the demon, making sure my hold on its mind was firm enough to keep it on course. It felt almost natural to do so, an observation I didn’t particularly want to dwell on, but my thoughts kept circling back.

  Was I destined to keep a flock of demons and hide away from society like Atriul?

  I grimaced down at the bundle I held. Probably not. My reaper would likely kill me before it got that far.

  The demon I was driving arrived and alighted in the tree in the back yard. If I hadn’t sensed it, I’d have known of its arrival by Loki’s growls.

  I went outside.

  “It’s okay, boy,” I said, snapping my fingers to get Loki’s attention. He came over to stand at my left side, fur spiked along his spine. “This one’s not dangerous. He’ll be gone in a sec.”

  I communicated my intention to the creature and then moved closer to where it perched. With a gentle toss, I sent the net up into the air. The demon jumped from the branch, spread its wings, and swooped to catch the bundle in its sharp talons. It sped away into the twilight, back toward Tablerock.

  Now, I just had to wait for Atriul.

  Chapter 15

  I LET LAGATUDA know that I expected to make contact with Atriul sometime that night, if things went my way. He was cool about letting me pursue the meet-up without trying to bust in on my plans. For his part, he was making the rounds to check in with Deb and her circle of friends. He genuinely seemed to care about how they were doing, but as he mentioned, we still didn’t know why the Baelman was targeting her group.

  Each time I recalled that the nasty creature had been standing right behind me at Deb’s house as I’d faced off with Atriul, I got the willies. Deb had been the Baelman’s third target. If I hadn’t taken her place that night, she’d probably be dead. I pushed the thought away. Deb was fine, and I needed to focus on next steps.

  Damien showed up with his backpack, and he set up camp on the coffee table where charts, notebooks, and his laptop took up the entire surface. I let him know about my attempt to summon Atriul.

  “I’ll wait till it’s full dark and then take a drive up to Tablerock,” I said.

  I headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. It was going to be a late night.

  When the percolator finished, I carried two steaming mugs into the living room.

  I knew better than to interrupt Damien when his brows were this pinched in concentration, so I idly pulled one of his lunar charts closer to get a better look at it. It was an oversized piece of paper crisscrossed with a lattice of creases like a map. The current year was at the top, and it showed tables and dates with little drawings of moons in various states of ebb and flow plus a ton of other notations I didn’t understand. The sheer amount of information the chart contained was enough to give me a headache.

  After a while, Damien looked up.

  “You know, it’s possible that the Baelmen originate somewhere far away,” he said. “Just because one of them turned up here doesn’t mean they come through a local rip.”

  “Do we even know for sure that they come through a dimensional rip?” I asked. “Or are we assuming that because they have wings and magic and look demonic?”

  The tip of his tongue appeared at the corner of his mouth as his gaze unfocused. “Good question,” he said faintly. He pulled his computer onto his lap and began furiously typing.

  My phone vibrated on the side table. I picked it up to see a text from Johnny.

  Hey sugar, just got a call for a high-priority case. Flying to Nashville tonight. I’ll probably be gone a week, maybe more, maybe less depending on how it goes. Let’s catch up when I get back.

  I gazed at the message, realizing that he could very well be gone when Samhain and the new moon arrived. I knew Johnny couldn’t help from a magic perspective—he didn’t have any ability—but he’d helped me so much in the past I didn’t like the thought that he’d be clear across the country at such a critical time.

  I texted back. Good luck with the case. Safe travels. Talk soon.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment, looking absently down at my phone. I stood and stretched. I needed to move.

  “I’m going for a drive,” I said.

  I put on my Patrol parka and strapped on my service belt under the jacket’s cropped waistband. I shoved my phone into my pocket, grabbed my keys, and went out into the cold ev
ening.

  It wasn’t quite cold enough to see my breath, and the air was still fragrant with decaying fall leaves, but something about the chill had turned sharper in the past week, as if hinting at winter.

  I looked up and my boots scraped to a halt as my heart tried to jump up my throat. Someone was leaning against the side of my truck.

  Atriul. The shadows swirled around my periphery, and the pulse of the reaper bumped between my eyes, as if in recognition.

  He straightened, pushing away from the rail of the truck’s bed and letting his folded arms drop to his sides. I wondered how long he’d been waiting. He wore only his duster over a t-shirt and jeans. Maybe bodies occupied by reapers didn’t feel the cold.

  “Ella.” He stepped forward. “You paged?”

  “Yeah.” I stopped a few feet away, my mind oddly blank though it had been swirling with questions all day. “Thanks for showing up.”

  I shoved my hands deep in my jacket pockets, the fingers of my right curling around my phone.

  Did he expect to get invited in? Somehow I doubted that was his preference. I couldn’t really picture him sitting with me and Damien in my living room, bouncing around theories about the Baelmen while we drank coffee from my mismatched mugs.

  Atriul might look human, but what I saw was only a shell. The human originally inside had been extinguished long ago.

  I nodded at my truck. “Want to take a ride?”

  “Yes.”

  We got in, and I started the engine.

  “Any preference for destination?” I asked.

  “Let’s go to the edge of town. Federal Way,” he said, naming a road that skirted the edge of a canal for some distance and then veered out into the boonies south of the city.

  I nodded and pulled away from the curb. Acutely aware of my phone in my pocket and my promise to Lagatuda, I hoped he wouldn’t try to call. I was sure he saw that I was on the move, but I didn’t want to allow him to listen in on me and Atriul just yet.