Normally, setting up in a barn with big slats and holes in the ceiling was a bad idea for that reason. But we needed a semi-secluded place and I didn’t want to lure Ashraith to Conor’s house or my building in case something went wrong and he got loose.
Not that I was going to let that happen.
I pulled my baggies of ash and salt out of my purse. I laid down a circle of salt first, and then went around a second time with the ash. One would work, two would fortify it.
Conor watched before pulling out a baggie of herbs from his own pocket and walking the circle after me, sprinkling the mixture. I caught a whiff of something spicy.
“Cinnamon?” I asked.
Conor grinned. “Works wonders for circles that aim to call something from the Underworld.”
“Does it?” I’d never heard of that, but I wasn’t surprised. Every witch had family “secrets” about how best to cast circles.
“You’ll see.” His smile faded. “You really want to do this?”
“I’m here making a circle, aren’t I?” I countered. I finished with the ash and then considered. Blood was appropriate but I didn’t want to do that. Brimstone would help but it was illegal and I didn’t have any. Even if I did, Conor would probably refuse to use the illegal contraband out of principle.
Conor nodded. “All right then.” He lifted the obsidian sword from where he’d propped it against the wall and stepped over the line of salt, ash, and spices into the circle. He closed his eyes and bent his head.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Preparing myself to fight a demon.”
“Nope, sorry, that’s my spot.” I stepped into the circle with him and held out my hand for the sword. I’d made it big enough to park a large RV inside and it spanned most of the barn. I wanted the space to move when the demon appeared.
Conor gave me a sidelong look. “You’re blacking out sporadically and the demon who left the mark is probably causing it. The minute he appears, he can use the mark to render you helpless.”
I swallowed, cold washing over me. I hadn’t thought of that.
“Not if I’m fast enough,” I said. Much as I didn’t want to face Ashraith, I did want to be the one to kill him. “It’s my demon problem. I should be the one in there.”
“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t argue. But he has an advantage over you that he doesn’t have over me.” Conor’s blue eyes burned like fire. His inky hair fell over one eye and he stood, shoulders straight, sword in hand, ready to slay the demon who’d made my life hell for three days. In that moment, Conor looked like an avenging angel and it was sexy as hell.
My breath caught in my throat.
“What?” he asked.
I leaned forward, aching to kiss him. But that felt too much like a desperate act, the sort of thing one might do if they didn’t expect the other person to make it out of the circle alive.
I held out my fist. Conor frowned. I rolled my eyes. “Fist bump me, jack ass. It’s for luck.”
Conor snorted but made a fist and pressed it against mine. His hand was warm and the brief contact sent tingles down my arm. “Let’s get this over with.”
I nodded and stepped out of the circle.
It was time to summon a demon.
Chapter 11
Conor chanted in Latin. I knew some of the words—“open,” “command,” “hell,”—but I didn’t know exactly what he was saying. As soon as he finished, he ran the sword across his index finger, cutting it open. A bright red pearl of blood beaded out of his skin.
“Ashraith!” Conor yelled. The blood dropped from his finger and hit the cement floor. It sizzled, as if the ground were a hot skillet.
Air whooshed into the circle, blowing Conor’s hair around like a strong wind. Conor’s knuckles whitened around his sword. Blood thrummed in my ears so loud it sounded like drums beating outside the barn. I swallowed, trying to clear my ears.
I gripped my own sword, but kept three feet back from the edge of the circle. If I accidentally stepped over it, or so much as sneezed across the circle line, it would break.
Light and fog filled the circle. Conor moved cautiously in a semi-circle, watching for any sign of the demon.
I licked my lips, pulse racing.
Black shapes exploded out of the ground. An army of black leathery birds with bat-like wings filled the circle, flapping and zooming around. Conor swore and cut at them with his sword. Demonic creatures fell as the obsidian blade cut through them. But others dodged the blow and zoomed around, coming back to dive-bomb at him. There were several dozen of them, zipping around the circle at a frantic pace, a swarm of angry demonic birds.
I tightened my grip on my own hilt, frustrated at my inability to help.
Conor moved like a trained fighter, his sword hitting target after target. The creatures hit the ground and began to melt, their manifested demonic bodies turning to black goo. Soon there were only two left and Conor was chasing them around the large circle.
I relaxed my grip on my sword and pulled out my baggy of ash to close the circle.
Another whoosh of air filled the circle, followed by another flock of demonic bat-birds. I gasped. Conor grunted and picked up the pace, stabbing what had been the last one through before turning to fight the new batch.
I resisted the urge to step through. I began to chant to the spell to close it, a fistful of ash and salt ready to throw in at the right moment to seal it shut. As I chanted, the demon bat-birds clustered together, wings flapping loudly. They rose in the air as one. Conor swung at them and they danced out of range of his blade.
And then they swooped down, dive-bombing him. Conor backed up, cutting at them, but it was like trying to attack a cloud. The blade kept cutting through air, occasionally felling one of the creatures, but mostly doing nothing. I chanted faster, ashing the perimeter, desperate to close the circle and suck those things back to the hell dimension they came from.
I was almost done when one of the demon bats flew into Conor’s face. He lost his balance and fell backward. My chant turned into a scream. He fell over the edge of the circle.
Light exploded, accompanied by a magical pop! The circle was broken.
The bat-birds filled the barn, flapping wildly in all directions.
I drew my sword and attacked the first demon that flew at me. My enchanted blade sliced right through its inky form and it hit the ground with a thud. The stench of ichor and smoke filled the air. The demonic energy that allowed it to manifest temporarily leeched out and the demon’s temporary body began melting into black goo.
Another demon bat-bird swooped at my head, its claws grabbing strands of my hair. I winced as it yanked out a clump and then turned, swinging my sword. My blade caught the demon in its belly and it fell to the ground, my hair still clutched in its unnaturally long Eagle-like talons.
Another pair of them came at me, flying at my face, sharp claws out and ready to do some damage. I swung at them, cutting through them with my blade.
More fell around Conor as he fought the little monsters.
I swung at another that was coming at me from the front and saw black, leathery wings in my periphery. I finished the first bat-bird and before I could turn, pain exploded in my arm. Sharp needles dug through my flesh. The bat-bird had dug its claw right through the leather of my jacket and into the meat of my arm.
I swore, shaking my arm to get it off. It screeched at me, the yell of a demented parrot. I turned my blade on it, cutting it in half. The top half of its body hit the ground. The bottom half clung to my arm, its claw embedded deep enough to keep it there.
I winced as I pulled it out and threw its bloody talons on the ground to melt.
More of the demon bat-birds attacked, shrieking, and I cut them down, dodging their talons. Conor did the same. After about five minutes—which felt like thirty—the floor was dotted in black puddles of goo and the demon bat-birds were gone.
Conor and I panted, swords out, searching the barn�
��s dark rafters for any stray demon things that might be hovering in the shadows. When nothing else came flying down to attack, I sheathed my sword.
“Well, that was fun. Ice cream?”
Conor gave me a wry look. “This is bad, Warren.”
I blinked. Did another search of the rafters. And then I started walking around the circle’s perimeter, rubbing the salt and ash out of line with Sketchers. “Seems like we got them all.”
One or two might have escaped through the holes in the roof, but demonic manifestations like that could only last so many hours. We should probably do a check of the area and try to catch any that got loose, but a couple of rogue demon bats were the least of our problems.
Conor shook his head, still struggling to catch his breath. A sheen of sweat glistened on his face. “That was a trap.”
“No, that was a demon summoning gone wrong. It happens. That’s part of why your precious Council outlawed the practice, remember?” I finished blurring the line of the circle to ensure it wouldn’t re-open. “Should we burn the barn?”
“Dani,” Conor said, his voice stern, but his tone strained. I finally looked him in the face and met his eyes. He looked…worried. Scared, even. My stomach clenched. “The demon laid a trap so that if anyone tried to summon him, this happens.” He gestured to the melting gobs of dead demon all around us.
“Demons can do that?” I knew demons had lots of tricks I’d never heard of but that was definitely news to me.
“Powerful ones can, especially if they have help from a witch in this realm.” He gave me a pointed look and then finally sheathed the obsidian blade.
Ice rushed into my veins, and then melted from the sheer heat of my fury. Who the hell would help a demon? And if Ashraith had help from a witch, who knew what else he might be capable of? “I guess the demon having a new best friend might explain why these attacks on me are happening now. Some witch asshole taught him a new trick.”
Conor nodded. “Makes sense.”
“I’m torching this barn. I need to watch something demonic burn.” I conjured demon fire in my palms, the blue flames dancing in my hands. Conor didn’t argue. He made his way out the big barn doors. I threw fire at the rafters and one of the walls and then rushed out myself. We stood outside watching the blue flames lick up the sides of the old wood, devouring the barn faster than fire had a right to. Acrid smoke filled the air, along with the faint odor of sulfur.
“What now?” Conor asked, when the flames went out and smoke rose over a pile of blackened boards and debris.
“We find whoever’s stupid enough to help a demon, kick their ass, and then kill Ashraith before his new alliance allows him to level up any higher.”
It sounded so cut and dry but it wouldn’t be easy. Plus, now we had a mage on the loose with a giant demon stone to hunt down.
I stifled a yawn. My muscles ached and ribs pulsed in pain. I needed more pain killer, another dose of healing potion, and a giant cup of coffee.
I was about to say so when I caught a flicker of green pulsing light in my periphery. My first thought was that mortal cops or firefighters had arrived, but their lights weren’t green. And then it clicked. I jumped out of the way as a big ball of green energy smacked into the grass where I’d been standing.
Conor rushed forward, drawing his sword as he flew at the attacker. I got to my feet and conjured demon fire. The mage in the jacket and hood was standing near the road, a beat-up old pick-up truck parked not far behind him.
He conjured more energy and threw it at Conor, who dodged the magic and continued forward. I ran, too, throwing a fireball when I was close enough. The mage dropped the new ball of energy he’d gathered and jumped out of the fireball’s path. It slammed into the pavement of the narrow road behind him.
He recovered and gathered a green energy ball in his hands. I conjured two demon fireballs, one in each hand, and threw them at him rapid fire. He dodged and tossed the energy at Conor, who was only feet away, blade drawn.
Conor ducked under the attack, then swung his blade at the mage. The mage danced backward. Conor kept attacking and the mage struggled to gather magic as he danced out of the path of the blade.
I conjured a large fireball. While Conor kept the mage busy, I’d torch his truck and ruin his getaway. Then Conor could apprehend him, we could return the demon plate to the Museum, and we’d have one less thing on our list.
The mage managed to get a green ball of energy in his hands and tossed it at Conor. Conor was too close to dodge and hit the ground, the energy catching him as he did. He howled in pain. My stomach roiled at the sound of his agony.
Anger burned through me. I turned from the truck and tossed my fireball at the mage. It caught his new jacket and ignited. He swore and hurriedly took off the coat, stomping out the flames. The flames finally died, leaving a burned husk of a jacket. I smiled. It was the second jacket of his I’d ruined and while it was a small victory, it was something.
I gathered more fire and watched out of the corner of my eye as Conor got up.
The mage smirked at me. I was going to throw my fire right at it and wipe it off his face.
I finished conjuring my fire. He kept smirking, not even bothering to conjure his own attack. His loss. I aimed the fireball right for his face.
He flicked his arm toward me.
Nausea washed over me and I swayed, taking an involuntary step back. My vision narrowed to a fine point, the edges going fuzzy and then black. And then sound cut out. So did the rest of the light. Everything was dark and quiet and I was falling.
My sense of smell returned first as the overwhelming scent of grass and dirt filled my nostrils. For a panicked second, I was terrified that I’d been buried alive. I thrust my hands up and they met only empty air. Relief washed over me but my terror didn’t totally ebb.
Sound returned next. I heard tires screech and footsteps.
And finally, light came back in one big burst. I squeezed my eyes against the brightness, blinking until they adjusted. The sky was getting dark. Conor was walking back from the road, sheathing his sword.
I was laying on the grass, where I’d presumably fallen after blacking out.
No, after the mage made me black out. Or had he’d gotten lucky with the timing of my demon attack?
I shook my head and sat up, shakily getting to my feet. Conor rushed over to help but I was already standing when he reached me.
I glanced at the road. The truck was gone. I assumed that was the tires squealing I’d heard.
Conor read my mind. “He tried to take you.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “What?”
“The mage tried to grab you. I stopped him, but then he turned tail and ran.” Conor’s fists tightened.
“Why would he want to take me with him?” I asked. There were a lot of reason a rogue mage with a demon stone might want a witch hostage and none of them were good. He could want my blood for use in the demon stone, for one, a thought that made my stomach turn.
“Whatever he’s after, we need to stop him,” Conor said.
I couldn’t argue with that. I dusted myself off and we headed back to Conor’s SUV, which was parked on the other side of the lump of burned debris that used to be the barn.
“He made me blackout,” I said, as I opened the passenger side door. Conor, who was on the other side of the car, opened his door and gawked at me.
“He couldn’t do that,” he insisted.
“But he did, somehow. I suspected he was behind the attacks, and now I know I’m right.” I climbed in and buckled my seat belt.
Conor did the same. “If it’s a demon mark causing the attacks, how can a mage be behind it?”
“All I know is that he held up his hand and did something and suddenly, I blacked out. And then he tried to grab me. It was intentional. It’s not the demon. It’s him.” I remembered the mage’s nasty smirk and was positive that had been why. He’d known he held an advantage over me that I couldn’t hope
to fight.
“Perhaps he got lucky,” Conor suggested, pulling the SUV onto the narrow road that led back to the highway.
“No way. No one gets that lucky.”
Not with magic. Magic was energy infused with intent. Something was setting off my blackouts. They weren’t just randomly happening.
Someone was making them happen. The question was, why? What did the mage want with me?
“Where to?” Conor asked, as we reached the highway and he had to decide which direction to turn.
My midsection still throbbed lightly, though the pain had dulled a little.
“Infirmary. I need more blue goop. And then, we need to regroup and figure out our next plan of attack.”
Conor pulled out onto the highway. “I guess the ritual is out of the question.” He shot me a quick glance, laden with meaning.
“I don’t need a ritual. I need to stop the mage who’s triggering these attacks and kill the demon who left the mark,” I said. “I can manage that.”
“I know you can,” Conor said, without a hint of doubt.
My heart swelled at his confidence in me.
“To the infirmary it is, then.”
Chapter 12
I sat on Conor’s sofa taking big swigs of the blue goop to make it go down faster. After stopping by the infirmary, we’d come to his place and ordered take-out to eat while we came up with a plan. We were now awaiting the delivery of a generous amount of Chinese food from the only non-pizza place who’d deliver after midnight.
Conor had gone upstairs to change out of his uniform, a move I applauded. He made the drab gray look good but it was still the Council’s monochrome palette and jeans suited him better.
The doorbell rang. My stomach growled as visions of chow mien and sweet and sour danced through my head. I set my half-finished jar of healing goop on the coffee table and pushed to my feet.
When I opened the door, I was met with a guy glaring at me. He had dark eyes and a mustache, and was dressed head to toe in leather. He held no bags or food cartons.
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