Charms & Demons

by Kim Richardson

  “Sit down, Tran,” ordered the older male witch with a beard. “You’re giving me whiplash.” A wave of force echoed out from his words, giving the feeling of a gust of wind.

  Tran gave me a foul look as he let himself fall in his chair, looking like a spoiled brat who just got his time-out.

  Small, pale eyes found me as the old male witch lifted a bony arm and pointed to the row of seats behind me. “Take a seat, Samantha Beaumont.”

  I cast my gaze about the court. A nervous energy hung about them with the way they shifted in their seats. It was almost as though they were scared. But scared of what? This wasn’t a trial either. This was something else.

  I turned and lowered myself in the nearest seat facing the stage. “Who’s the old guy?” I whispered to Poe, resisting the urge to wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans.

  “That’s Darius Gruenwald,” answered the raven, his voice low so only I could hear. “Head of the dark witch court.”

  Ah-ha. So this was the infamous witch Darius.

  “He took a turn for the worst three years ago when he summoned the demon Beleth,” continued the raven. “The demon turned on him and he barely made it out alive. Beleth gave him that scar on his face to remember him by, so he wouldn’t be summoned again. The old fool’s never been the same since.”

  Old fool was right. Another witch playing with demons, thinking they could control a mighty powerful demon. He probably had no idea who Beleth was. I did.

  Beleth was a mighty and terrible king of the Netherworld, who had eighty-five legions of demons under his command. Demons like Beleth didn’t take kindly to being forced into a summoning circle. Darius was lucky to be alive.

  Darius shifted in his seat, and a pained expression flickered across his face for a second, as though just that small movement caused him great amounts of pain. Seems like Beleth left the old man some scars on the inside as well.

  “Thank you for coming to meet with us on such short notice, Samantha,” said Darius as he folded his hands on the table. His gnarled fingers looked like they’d been broken too many times to heal properly.

  I wasn’t sure what to answer. “Sure.” It’s not like I had a choice. They knew it. I knew it. My eyes found Tran, and he was glaring at me. I glared back. “Why am I here?” I didn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in my voice. I hated not knowing what was going on. If this had nothing to do with my gift, why was I here?

  Darius nodded his head. “James, if you please.”

  A male witch stepped from the shadows next to the stage, making me flinch. I’d never even noticed him. He wore a dark gray robe similar to the ones from the court members, though he was down here in the shadows while they were up on display.

  He disappeared through a wall of heavy red curtains to the right of the stage, and when he came back, he pushed a gurney.

  “What is that?” I whispered, leaning forward.

  “Cake?” prompted Poe, excitement in his voice. “I’m starving.”

  The gurney was covered with a black sheet, and under it was a bundle that had the right proportions to be a body.

  “That’s not a cake,” commented Poe.

  “That’s not a cake.”

  “A cake would have been nice.”

  “Definitely nice,” I agreed.

  James pushed the gurney on the lower level and parked it at the front of the stage. Then he stepped back, leaving it covered with the black sheet.

  Darius cleared his throat again and I pulled my eyes from the gurney to his face. “An unfortunate incident has been called to our attention,” he intoned. “Of a somewhat... delicate nature. It is the reason we called you here tonight, Samantha. The court needs your assistance.”

  I stood up, Poe balancing on my shoulder with his wings tickling my neck. My pulse rose as I moved towards the gurney, the thumping of my boots on the carpet forming a rhythm with the drum of my heart. I clenched my jaw, already knowing what I was going to find under the sheet.

  Standing where I’d assumed was the head, I gripped a handful of the sheet and yanked it off.

  Shit.

  A wave of nausea hit as I stared at an emaciated, mummy-like face and withered hands, delicate and small. My gaze moved to the tiny chunks of flesh missing from the neck next to the jugular vein.

  And behind the dried and emaciated skin, was the face of another woman.

  I blinked into a smaller, more petite face than the one I’d seen in the alley. It had withered from life but was different all the same.

  “What is it?” Poe whispered in my ear. “Something’s wrong. Isn’t it?”

  My heart thundered in my ears, and I stilled my face to keep from showing any emotion. “This isn’t the same victim,” I whispered back, my lips barely moving.

  The ancient vampire had killed another human.

  5

  When people say they “require your assistance,” it usually means it’ll be bad for you. It’s a way for them not to get their hands dirty and for you to get all muddied up in whatever they wanted you to do. Me. Well, I had no choice. I was screwed.

  Okay, so the situation wasn’t great, but it wasn’t disastrous either. If they knew I’d come across this vampire and hadn’t reported it, I’d be in deep in the crapper. It was part of my job to report suspicious half-breed activity, not to mention killings. However, vampire killings were not our problem. The vampires were responsible for taking care of their own. Or better yet, it was the Gray Council’s responsibility. I knew I’d better keep that bit of information about the other killing to myself.

  Relax, Sam. They still don’t know.

  Darius leaned forward on the table, his face wrinkling in anger. His small eyes blazed with scorn and fury. “A vampire did this. That—we can all agree. The proof is undeniable.”

  And I saw him.

  “Though it was hard to identify her in this state of... disintegration,” continued Darius, “her family was able to recognize her by her clothes. Her name was Audrey.”

  Her family? Edgy, I shifted my weight. “You knew her?” Strange how the dark witch court would know a random human by name. Maybe she was a friend to the witch community. It wouldn’t be the first time a human and witch alliance was formed. Usually the human wanted to become a witch. I didn’t blame them. Witches were awesome.

  My eyes darted back to the victim and I thought about the horrible death she probably suffered at the hands of that vampire. With that kind of powerful magic and strength, this poor human female had no way of escaping. I swallowed the bile rising at the back of my throat.

  And yet, the vampire had let me live...

  “She looks like a dried-up prune,” noted Poe, a hint of concern in his voice. “Must have been painful.”

  “Very.” I looked up and met Darius’s eyes. “Okay, so we can all agree a vampire did this,” I said and stepped away from the gurney, my hands on my hips. “I still don’t understand why you called me here and why the dark witch court is involved. If there’s a rogue vampire killing off humans, you should contact the vampire court. Let them deal with this.”

  “Because,” said the head of the witch court, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening with anger, “a vampire is killing our own.”

  It was warm in the theater, but I felt a shiver roll up my spine, magnified by the sudden stillness of the room.

  The vampire was killing witches? Oh, hell no.

  Again, the room descended into a chaos of shouts and wails and arguments with Tran the loudest of them all. The witches stirred, leaving most of the noise to be swallowed up by the space.

  Darius leaned back in his chair, letting the witches fuss a little more, and then, “Order!” he called out in a ringing voice as he slammed his hand hard on the table.

  Silence.

  Impressive. I wish I knew how to control a room like that.

  Frowning, I blinked slowly at Darius. “She’s a witch?” My head whipped back to the dead woman, the dead witch. It was impossible to differentiate wi
tch from human now. There was no substance to her anymore. No blood. No essence. No magic. I couldn’t sense the witch energies that all witches were born with. Not anymore.

  “She was a witch,” interjected Tran, a slant to his eyes. “She’s dead now.”

  “No shit,” I said, wondering if the other victim had also been a witch.

  Darius’s lips moved but no sound came out at first. “This is the fifth victim,” said Darius after a moment. “We found Emma’s body in an alley just last night.”

  I’m so sorry, Emma. I met the old male witch’s eyes. “And you’re sure all the victims are witches?”

  “I’m afraid so, yes,” he answered and I stifled a flinch as he answered my question. “And they were all dark witches.”

  My stomach was a flurry of emotion—anger, doubt, fear, and regret. I was angry at myself, thinking if I had moved a little quicker, I might have saved Emma’s life. I feared an old vampire powerful enough to kill off witches, and finally I regretted I hadn’t said anything.

  Would Audrey still be alive if I had contacted the court about Emma?

  My emotions were all mixed together until I felt as if I was going to throw up. A quiver went through me. If an old vampire was targeting witches, there had to be a reason. Why would a vampire go after a witch who could fight back with powerful spells and hexes when an easier, weaker human was right there for the taking? It didn’t make any sense. Why was the vampire targeting witches?

  My eyes flicked up to Darius. “What does the Gray Council think about this?”

  “They don’t know,” answered the old male witch, his face wrinkling in a deep frown. “We want to keep this between us witches. We would appreciate your... discretion in this matter.”

  “Yeah, right,” muttered Poe.

  Darius moved his gaze along the members of his court before settling back on me. “We don’t want a mass panic. If word got out that a vampire was killing witches, well...”

  “All hell would break loose,” I offered, knowing the panic it would cause within the witch community. Let’s not forget the tension and animosity it would create between the vampires and the witches if the dark witch court accused the vampires. It would get ugly. And then there’d be a war. Shit, this was really bad.

  “Quite right,” said the old witch as he shifted in his seat. His face was partly cast in shadow, adding a new layer of grotesqueness to the scar on his face. “Which is why we couldn’t risk sending you a messenger pigeon with the detailed information.”

  “Right.”

  “The relations between the witches and vampires have been on good terms for over a hundred years,” continued Darius. “Before we can make any accusations or even bring this to the attention of the vampire court, we need to be certain. We need to be absolutely sure. Without a doubt. So you see, Samantha. We need to keep this quiet. The fewer who know what’s going on—the better.”

  I took a breath. “Yes, I get it.” I was already involved, whether I liked it or not.

  But something didn’t settle well with me. If the vampire was targeting witches, why hadn’t he killed me?

  I looked to the stage, my eyes traveling over the members. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “To track and kill it,” commanded the bald female witch, surprising me. Her voice was harsh and cold like a winter storm.

  I gave the old witch a knowing smile. “Okay, then.” So, this was about a hunt.

  “Ask them for a pay raise,” said the bird, and I had to agree with him on that.

  Darius cleared his throat. “There are rules about this sort of thing, Magda,” he said, a hint of warning in his tone. “We can’t go around killing vampires,” he added. The name rang a bell as I remembered reading it from the note sent with Tank. The bald witch was the dark witch court’s secretary. Magda Ratson.

  Magda bared her three teeth. “Do you see this vampire following any rules? It’s killing witches.” She pointed to Audrey’s dried out corpse. “Five dead already. How long do you want us to wait before more witches are killed? And I’m not the only one here who wants to see its head on a plate.”

  At that, the other witches all mumbled their consensus, all apart from Tran and Darius. Interesting.

  Once the members quieted, Darius’s scarred face turned towards me. “Samantha. The court would like you to find this vampire—”

  “Make it disappear, Samantha,” barked the old witch Magda, her eyes fierce and determined. I was starting to like her.

  Nothing like shoving vampire bodies under the rug. “No problem.”

  Darius’s posture shifted to one of nervousness. “The court would appreciate your silence on this matter.” He looked to Poe, and a ribbon of fear slid behind his eyes before he mastered it. “I would like your word that your familiar won’t spread stories. We all know ravens are fond of tales.”

  “Bite me, you old fart,” muttered Poe.

  “I promise,” I said loudly, hoping to hide the bird’s voice. “He can keep his mouth shut.”

  “No I can’t,” said the bird.

  “Shut it, Poe,” I warned.

  “So, that’s it?” exclaimed Tran. “You’re just going to give her the job?” he yelled, stirring the witches into a buzzing murmur.

  Now I’d had just about enough of his crap. “Don’t be such an infant.” I glared at Tran. “If you’ve got a problem with me, be a man and spit it out,” I growled, making Poe laugh.

  The smile Tran gave me was truly feral. “Problem?” his smile widened. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do have a problem with you. I don’t trust you. You’re an outcast. You don’t have any friends in the community. Nobody likes you.”

  I pressed my hands on my hips. “I like me.”

  “Me too,” answered Poe.

  Tran’s jaw clenched. “Witches like you can’t be trusted,” he added, his dark eyes gleaming with belligerence.

  “You mean the pretty ones?” I took a challenging step towards the stage. The nerve of this guy. I couldn’t see his fingers. If he was starting up a dark curse, I was going to hex him.

  “Tran. That’s enough of that,” ordered Darius, a hint of frustration in his voice. His gnarled hands were clenched into fists. “We’ve already discussed this. The matter is closed.”

  The young witch glared at Darius. “It’s not.”

  How did he get a seat on the dark witch court? I stood with my legs apart and tapped into the energy of my rings. Just in case.

  “Out with it then, little witch. What’s gotten you all work up?” I flashed Tran a brilliant smile. “Is it because you like me? It’s not your fault. I’m irresistible.”

  At that, Tran let out a long and spiteful laugh. Then another one.

  Damn. I never thought I was that ugly.

  A savage light lit Tran’s eyes, and his chin lifted. “You know nothing.”

  “Well, then,” I said with a breath. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me.”

  With a sliding sound of wood, the young witch jumped up from his chair, and his expression became almost taunting. “You’re a pity hire.”

  I stilled. “Excuse me?”

  He let out a rough cackle. “You barely have any skills as it is. I wouldn’t even call you a witch. More like a human playing a witch.”

  “I’ve got plenty of skills.” You black-haired bastard. “Want to see ‘em?”

  “Please,” exclaimed Tran, his face a shade darker. “A dead mother, and your father abandoned you. You only got the job because the members here feel sorry for you.”

  My lips parted and a flush rose from my neck to my face. It hurt. Everywhere hurt and I felt as though Tran had hit me with a dark curse. Was it true? Was that the only reason the dark witch court hired me in the first place? Because they felt sorry for me?

  I met Oscar’s eyes, and for a moment I saw pity there before he mastered himself. Then it was gone. But I’d seen it. It was all true.

  I stood feeling like an idiot, like the biggest fool in the world
, the butt of a universal joke. Me, Samantha Beaumont, a big ol’ fool.

  It had been a pity offer. All those years of working for the dark witch court, just because they felt sorry for me.

  Anger and frustration filled me, and I curled my fingers into fists to keep them from shaking.

  “Don’t believe him, Sam,” said Poe, the anger in his voice triggering mine tenfold. “He’s a liar.”

  I gritted my teeth, unable to answer. Not because I feared I would break down in a slop of tears but because of the anger simmering in my gut. I might do something stupid. Very stupid.

  Tran watched me with a sour expression. “No offense,” he said.

  I bared my teeth. “None taken.” Anger stirred in me. I took a steadying breath and looked at Darius. “Is that all?”

  Darius watched me for a moment, his eyes pinched and his expression weary. “It is.” His lips moved in anticipation of what he was about to say next. “We’ll have a pigeon sent to monitor your progress. The dark witch court thanks you for your service—”

  I spun around, Poe gripping my shoulder to balance himself, and trudged back up the aisle. The last of Darius’s words were merely a muddled whisper behind me, and I caught a few gasps of outrage from the witches over the loud pulsing of blood in my ears. I didn’t care how rude this looked. I didn’t care about any of them. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.

  My eyes burned but I would never let any tears fall. Never in the presence of this witch court.

  Poe was silent on my shoulder. He knew better than to try and speak to me when I was like this. Smart bird.

  My body was tight with emotions as I fumed. I was beyond humiliated. I wasn’t a failure or an incompetent witch, not by any standards. Okay, so I needed a little magical boost with my sigils—sue me. It’s not like other witches didn’t borrow their power or direct their energy from magical objects as well. What set me apart was that I didn’t borrow magic from demons. Instead, I used them for whatever skill they mastered.

  But I had another skill—the one I’d kept a secret my entire life. I had discovered it accidentally when I was eight. I’d I touched my father and tapped into his inner magical power—and took it for my own. Then he’d tried to kill me.