“I didn’t break—”
“Then you entered.”
“Well, technically, Riskus—” she tries, but I cut her off with a flat palm.
“Why were you in there?” she asks, trying to match my pose.
“Like I said, I don’t have to explain myself to you. It’s a serious matter that involves a crime. The question is: why were you snooping around in Adam’s house?”
The teenage attitude on her face vanishes in a moment and she smacks a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Are you a cop? Or… Or… a witch police?”
A witch police? Where would anyone come up with something like that? Teenage shadow dwellers have a habit of spreading all sorts of rumors when it comes to the Council of Elders. I’m tempted to play along—tell her that I’m a witch police and I’ve come to arrest her. But I don’t.
“My friend Tracy at school warned me about the whole witch police thing,” she starts rambling. “I thought she was messing with me. I figured—”
I take advantage of the situation. “She wasn’t messing with you. Witch police are all around us.”
She gulps hard, and although I feel bad for lying to a teenager, it’s for her own good. She’s going to get hurt, or worse, kill someone. Everyone knows that witches are supposed to be trained by an elder.
So where’s hers?
“Is your mom a witch?” I ask.
She aims her face at the ground like she’s about to cry. “I think my grandma was.”
“Was?” I ask.
She nods. “She died a few months ago. I found those in her closet. I didn’t mean to go snooping… Mom said the entire family was getting together to share her things, you know? I wanted the first pick. It sounds super selfish, I know. But I’ve never lost anyone before.”
“Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbles.
Although I should be comforting the girl, all I can focus on is the pile of books on her bedside table.
“Those were hers?” I ask, pointing at them.
She nods.
“Can I take a look?”
Another nod.
All five of them are caked in dust. The one at the top, a small glossy black book with yellow pages, displays a crucifix symbol within a triangle. I’m not entirely sure what it represents—witchcraft isn’t my specialty and I’ve never much cared for it—but it looks like something that shouldn’t be toyed with.
“Does your mom know about these?” I ask, my finger leaving a streak through the dust.
“No… Are you gonna tell her?”
I glance up, and for the first time, all I see is a frightened child. We stare at each other for a few seconds, her green eyes resembling wet marbles, until at last, I say, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
I quickly scan through the smaller books—Ancient Spells, The Art of Mastering Crystals, Demonology—until I reach the bottom volume. The thing is so big it takes two hands for me to lift it off the table.
“Holy shit.” I run my finger along the brown leathery surface. This thing looks like it was bound together during the early Middle Ages. Rusted metal buttons decorate the front cover’s border, and four metallic strips run down the spine. The page edges are yellow and crisp to the touch.
The title is written in pre-Christian Latin, I believe. Running my finger across the engraved text, I gasp.
No way. It can’t be.
How the fuck would some amateur teenage witch have the Book of Origin, the most powerful book in all of history, in her possession?
Chapter 17
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Rachel cranes her neck, trying to read my expression. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
I’m too intrigued by the book to pay any attention to her. Instead, I grab the corner of the cover and start pulling back.
Without warning, Rachel’s hand lands flat on the cover, sending particles of dust into my eyes and up my nostrils.
“What the hell, kid?”
With a petrified look on her face, she shakes her head, which can only mean one thing: You don’t want to do that.
I fight the urge to laugh. “Listen, there’s no way this is the original Book of Origin. It’s probably a good replica at best.”
“Book of Origin?” she asks.
Maybe what I need to do with this kid is give her a good smack in the head. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into her. How can she go around calling herself a witch if she doesn’t even know about the Book of Origin?
She must sense my irritation because she starts babbling again. “I know it’s important and stuff. When I opened it, weird things started happening in my room. I was about to look it up online yesterday. I mean, this is all new to me.”
I’m tempted to say, No shit this is all new to you, but instead, I say, “Don’t look it up online.”
“Why not?”
I shake the book in front of her. “This thing has been hunted by witches throughout the world for centuries. The second you start googling this shit, you’ll have all kinds of creatures popping up at your door to take it from you. Your grandmother must have been one hell of a witch.”
A proud grin stretches her face. “Really?”
Now glaring at the front cover, I say, “Yeah. It’s been missing for a long time, which means she must have concealed it with some powerful magic.”
“So, what is it?” she asks.
“It’s everything,” I breathe.
This doesn’t seem to satisfy her. She plops herself down onto her bed and punches at her pillow for added neck support. “What’s the point of it?”
“It’s a spell book,” I say. “And a glossary. It contains everything anyone ever wanted to know about magic—the history of magic, a glossary of every known demon, and spells that are way too powerful for you to even consider trying.”
Her eyes light up. “Sweet.”
“No, not sweet,” I say. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to have this thing?”
She frowns. “Well, I’m not getting rid of it. It was my grandma’s.”
Sighing, I place the book back down onto the night table. “You’re putting your life at risk.”
“I can handle myself.”
There’s no use arguing with her—her teenage hormones are too out of whack.
“Have you told anyone else about the book?” I ask.
It looks like she wants to say no, but I can see it all over her face: someone else knows.
“She’s my best friend,” she blurts out. “She won’t tell anyone.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because she’s my best friend.”
I wish I could explain to her that she doesn’t have enough life experience to understand that people are imperfect—that anyone can become someone else at any given moment.
“Listen, Rachel, I need you to be perfectly honest with me.”
She swallows hard.
“What were you doing sending your little goblin to Adam Shaw’s house? How did you conjure up the magic to do it?”
Reluctantly, she points at another book, the one with Ancient Spells written in cursive on the front cover. It looks about as old as the Book of Origin, only it’s much smaller… small enough to fit in the back pocket of a pair of jeans.
Arching an eyebrow, I reach for the book. “Am I allowed to open this one?”
She nods.
The pages are crisp and white, but they’re blank, so I slam the book closed. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“What’re you talking about?” she asks.
“It’s blank, Rachel.”
“No, it isn’t.” She leans forward to yank it out of my hands, but I pull away. “Page ninety-eight. It talks about the Heart of Danu… Some super powerful talisman. It had coordinates and everything on that page. All I did was google them until I found some fancy house on Google Maps. Then I found out it belonged to some rich guy. And then,” she says, becoming even more lively, “
I found out that the guy was killed, so I figured I wouldn’t be hurting anyone by trying to find the talisman.”
Without blinking, I stare at her. “Why are you trying to find a talisman? Honestly, it’s like you’re trying to get yourself killed.” I flip the book open again and locate page 98. It’s blank, too. I raise both eyebrows at her as if to say, Page 98, huh?
“It was there! I swear!”
“All right,” I say. “Let’s say I believe you… You still haven’t answered me. Why do you want it?”
“Because it sounds super cool,” she says. “It can amplify your power tenfold. You can do things others can’t. It can even absorb magic… or something.”
I scoff. “If this thing is as powerful as you say it is, you can’t be the only one after it.”
“I’m not.” She looks down for a moment.
There’s something she isn’t telling me, so I glower at her until she breaks.
“Riskus overheard people in that Adam guy’s house the last time he went. Like, a lot of people.”
I’m about to cut her off and ask her how many times she’s sent her little minion out on a treasure hunt, but I keep my mouth closed.
“Apparently people keep fighting in his basement. I guess when he died, the talisman made itself known. Well, that’s what the book says. Once the owner passes, it sends out some sort of signal.”
“You’re telling me some feeb—some normal human guy had this talisman?”
She nods. “Why do you think he was so rich? It might not have brought him magic, but it made his life super awesome.”
“Who else was in that house looking for it?” I ask.
She parts her lips to speak, but a squeaky voice fills the room instead.
“T-t-tall people,” Riskus says. He balls his fists and rests his chin on them. His eyes, which are about the size of tennis balls, move between me and Rachel.
“It’s okay,” Rachel says. “You can tell her.”
“V-v-very pale… Sharp teeth,” he continues.
“Vampires?” I ask.
He nods so fast his little gray bun wiggles atop his head.
“Why would—” but I stop myself when it hits me.
That’s why Clock Dragon was at Adam Shaw’s house. He was looking for the talisman, and I’m willing to bet Lucius is the one who sent him on the hunt.
Clock Dragon isn’t a threat—the talisman is. If anyone gets their hands on it and gives it over to Lucius and his new girlfriend, there’s no telling how much damage that couple could cause in San Halos.
Chapter 18
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“You sure this’ll work?” I ask, staring at the swirling portal.
Inside is nothing but darkness, and around the oval shape, sparkling blue lights twirl so fast it looks like water. Riskus pokes his head inside but flinches when Rachel tells him to step back.
“It should work, but no, I’m not sure,” she says. “It’s worked the last four times with Riskus, but I’ve never tested it on a human before. I mean, it should work…”
Luckily, I’m not a human.
“That’s reassuring,” I mumble.
Suddenly, a knock against her bedroom door echoes throughout the room. “Rachel?” comes her mother’s voice.
Rachel shoots me a frightened look, and I don’t need to be a mind reader to know it’s time to get my ass moving. As her bedroom door creaks open, I snatch the Book of Origin from Rachel’s night table and jump headfirst into the portal.
* * *
Wooden panels snap and crack all around me as I come rolling through Adam’s basement bar. The Book of Origin flies right out of my hands and lands in front of a man wearing glossy dress shoes, perfectly hemmed pants, and a white button-up shirt.
In the middle of his face are two yellow-brown eyes and above these, curved horns that stick out below his pointed hairline. His lips, plush and red, curve into the shape of a seductive smile under his pronounced cheekbones.
Who the fuck is this guy and why can’t I stop looking at him?
“Interesting,” he says, his voice hypnotizing.
Interesting? What’s so interesting? I want to ask, but I inhale his crisp cologne like it’s oxygen instead. Why can’t I stop staring at him? His jawline, square and well-defined, makes me picture his face between my legs.
As I take him all in, I imagine myself straddling his naked body. His firm hands around my waist… Me, thrusting back and forth.
What the fuck is happening here?
Then it hits me… There’s only one explanation for this. The guy’s an incubus.
Blinking hard, I fight my attraction to him.
“What do we have here?” he says, bending down to pick up the book.
Yeah, you bend down, big boy.
Shit. The book. He’s about to grab the book.
Fuck. Stop it, Alexis. Focus.
He reaches for it, sharp claws digging into the cover’s thick leather. They resemble mine, only they’re much thicker and white.
“Don’t touch that,” I growl.
What was I thinking bringing such a powerful book into the portal with me? I’m a bit remorseful for stealing some kid’s book, but it’s far too dangerous for her to keep it. Some demon or witch would have easily cut off her head to get their hands on that thing. It’s safer with me.
Hopping onto my feet and dusting chips of wood off my jeans, I say, “How’d you get in here, anyway? There are police everywhere.”
I’m not sure why I’m trying to have a conversation with an incubus. Clearly, he’s here for the same reason as everyone else—the talisman—and if I’m not careful, I might fall prey to his Lure.
Fuck that. He can try, but I’ll make sure he’s the one who ends up begging on his knees.
“What does this even say?” he asks, ignoring me. He raises the book to eye level and tries to read the Latin on the cover.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I say, though what I want to say is, Who cares? Let’s fuck.
This only seems to intrigue him more. He’s about to open the book when I smirk, igniting my Lure.
“Hold on, big boy.”
He doesn’t appear affected at all, but I have to keep trying.
“How about we deal with this amicably?” I say, taking a step closer.
His eyes narrow on me and he smiles, almost arrogantly.
“A hot guy like you must have a pretty huge—” I peep at his manhood.
Under his belt buckle is a bulge so big I hesitate.
As I move toward him, my horns come out and my hair lightens. This seems to excite him—he drops the book flat on the epoxy floor and lets both hands fall to his sides.
“Do you mind if I—” I point at his belt and he licks his lips.
With hips swaying from side to side, I make my way to him, slide the book aside with my foot, and slowly unclip his belt buckle. My eyelids flutter as his intoxicating scent fills me up.
Focus, Alexis.
I grab his bulge, and a vivid flash enters my mind—this incubus mounted on top of me, pounding me hard as I scream for more.
Holy shit.
I’ve never wanted anyone this badly before.
Reaching inside his pants, I wrap my fingers around his massive erection. With eyes closed, I breathe out hard and inhale his scent. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up wanting him more than he wants me, which could end up being my demise.
I’m about to reach for my pants and tear them off when something totally fucked up happens.
All around us, flashes of red and white light bounce off the walls, across the ceiling, and throughout the entire basement. It’s like being in an arcade, only without the constant dinging and acne-faced preteens kicking at machines.
I spin around to find a man with an oversized green cloak masking his face. At the tip of his drooping sleeve is a wand that appears to be firing lights like bullets.
The receiver of these light bullets is a hairy beast runni
ng at the other end of the room. His hair is so long that his eyes aren’t visible, but he must be seeing the male witch with the wand—every few seconds, he dodges to the side, the witch’s light bullets missing him by a millimeter.
Finally, the witch shouts something in Latin and a massive fireball the size of a smart car blasts out of his wand. The werewolf-looking creature doesn’t have time to dodge this one. It hits him in the chest, sending him flying right through the wall behind him. Ceiling tiles fall from above and drywall dust fills the entire basement.
Suddenly, the witch’s dark hood turns toward the incubus and me, as does his wand. The incubus glances at me and smirks—a look that says, This isn’t over—then clicks his fingers and disappears.
What the fuck? Why can’t I do that? A hot, searing pain on my thigh is enough to draw my attention back to the witch.
“Fuck, watch it!” I say, looking down at a melted patch of skin on my leg.
He points his wand at me again. This guy means business. I could lunge at him and snap his head off, but I risk getting torched and more importantly, I need to get the Book of Origin to safety.
“Why are you here?” he asks, his voice slow and calculated.
My eyes involuntarily dart toward the Book of Origin, and the second I do that, I feel like a fucking moron.
Why the hell would I look at the one thing I’m trying to hide?
His gaze follows mine, a slow turn of his hood.
If anyone will know how important that book is, it’s a witch.
“Fuck it,” I say, diving headfirst for the book.
The second I land on the cold floor with the book squished under my chest, another flash of blue light melts the skin right off my thigh.
The witch raises his wand again, prepared to fire another crippling blast when I catch sight of a two-by-four leaning against the wall. Grabbing it, I throw it at his chest with all my strength.
It sends him flying through the wall and into the cement foundation.
That’s payback for burning me, asshole.
I immediately get up, bend my knees, and jump upward as hard as I can.
Ceiling tiles split, sheets of plywood snap in half, and hardwood flooring breaks apart as I tear through Adam’s Shaw’s house and land in his living room. Wrapped around me are cable wires I must have dragged up as I tore through the ceiling.
Mortal Blow: An Urban Fantasy Series (Succubus Hitwoman Book 1) Page 10
