Spells & Ashes

by Kim Richardson

  Logan clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a demon. I can smell the stink on you.”

  “Just like I can smell the stink of angel on you, boy,” drawled the demon.

  The angel-born didn’t move, but his eyes found the chalk triangle with a smeared edge a few feet away from my previously drawn circle, the gap where I’d broken the binding spell with my foot.

  When Logan looked at me again, his face was livid. “I knew you were a dark witch, but I didn’t take you for one stupid enough to deal with demons.”

  I raised my brows. “Did he just call me stupid?”

  Faris clapped his hands and bounced on his feet. “He did. Can I kill him now? Oh, please, please, please.”

  “No.” I glared at the angel-born. “Look. Faris is a... friend of sorts. He’s here as an adviser. In case I screw up or need more guidance. You don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

  Logan’s anger was dark and heavy, tight in his expression. “I’m staying.”

  “Good,” I exhaled.

  “Tell it to back off,” said Logan, his voice low and threatening. “Or I’m going to cut it up into tiny demon cubes.”

  Faris threw back his head and laughed. “I like him. I know of a few demonesses who would just love him to bits. Maybe if he survives tonight he’ll get to meet them.” His eyes widened. “Claudina is to die for.”

  I let out a frustrated growl. “Now both of you shut up so that I can finish this.”

  Suddenly, Faris straightened and stuck out his chest at something he saw on Logan’s face. “Sam is mine. She’s my witch. You can’t have her.”

  What the hell. “Excuse me? I don’t belong to you, Faris.” What was wrong with this demon? He was acting like an overprotective dog who didn’t get his belly rub.

  “Faris,” I growled and waited for the demon to look back at me. “Sit down, or I’m sticking you back in your triangle. Got it?”

  He made a face. “Fine.” Then he took off his hat and placed it on Logan’s head, just a tad too forcefully. “Here you go, cowboy. You’re a real John Wayne now.” Looking pleased, the demon walked back to his chair and let himself fall into it, his eyes forever on the angel-born.

  This was going to be a long night.

  Logan tossed the cowboy hat off his head and moved to stand next to me, more like hovering.

  I took a quick breath, my frustration turning to anger. “Do you mind not hovering like that?” I said. My voice came out a little louder than I’d anticipated. “You’re breaking my concentration.”

  He said nothing but took one step away, still too close, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t budge. At least he wasn’t breathing down my neck anymore. Why the hell had I agreed to let him come?

  I took another deep breath and calmed my emotions. I placed the ceramic bowl with my blood and Julia’s hair in the middle of my circle. Then I grabbed the amulet.

  “Is that what you’re going to use to track Vargal?” asked Logan, and at what he saw on my face the guy actually had the nerve to smile.

  I raised my brows in annoyance. “Yes. Now if you will please shut up. I mean it this time. One more word”—my eyes darted to Faris—“from either of you, and I’m kicking you both out.”

  Once I was satisfied that they’d taken my threat seriously, I shifted closer to my circle, the amulet still grasped tightly in my right hand. The amulet was the receptor, which I’d carved the receptor sigil on the back, like a signature. The amulet was going to help me find Vargal.

  Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I reached out with my left hand and dipped my fingertips into the bowl, careful not to soil my glove.

  “Monile sanguine ligaveris,” I breathed, channeling the energy from the sigil and into me. I felt a tug on my aura as I willed the power, holding it in place like a light switch waiting to be turned on.

  Spindling the energy inside me, I let it simmer for a moment as I gathered more emotional strength from my fury and hatred for Vargal. With my other hand still wrapped around the amulet, I hurled my energy into the spell and cried, “Dominus invenire sanguinis! Invenies eum Vargal!”

  There was a rush of energy overflowing my aura. My breath caught, and energy from the sigil flooded me. Groaning, I held it. Damn. That hurt. It burned. All tracking spells burned. It took a piece of you, your aura, and made it its own, aiding in the spell. I let it.

  A gasp slipped from me as, with the feeling of being poured out of myself, a shimmering wave of translucent red swam up from the sigil on the floor. Shaking, I watched as the spell made its way around the circle to the bowl and reached my fingers. I stilled as it continued to spread all the way up my arm, to my other arm, and finally to the amulet.

  My breath came fast as another torrent of energy surged in me—larger this time—with a force that sent me shaking. Then the energy exploded into existence.

  And then I was blasted back on my ass.

  Fantastic.

  Worse, my body ached all over, like I’d lain under a bulldozer and let it back up and run over me a few times. It was a miracle the amulet was still in my hand. A shadow appeared in my line of sight with a strong jaw and mesmerizing, dark eyes.

  “Did it work?” Logan was staring down at me, his eyes expectant, but I could see some disbelief there as well. I hated that I was looking up at him like some poor, incapable female. I was not.

  I stood up, aware of Faris watching me intensely. He hadn’t moved from his chair. Good boy.

  I turned the amulet in my hand, letting it rest in my palm, and then I stepped toward the northern part of the room. And waited. And nothing.

  Then I took a few steps south. Still nothing.

  “Maybe you did it wrong?” said Logan.

  “Maybe you should shut your piehole, cowboy, and let the witch do her magic,” warned Faris. I didn’t have to look at him to know the scowl that was on his face.

  I’d done it right. I was sure of it. So why wasn’t it working?

  Shit. And I had witnesses to my failure. Nice one, Samantha.

  Pulse fast, I turned and stepped westward toward the window—

  And then it came to me, quite strongly. The amulet pulsed. A soft throbbing pulsated around my palm and fingers, and the metal of the amulet grew steadily warmer. It was as though it was alive, with a heart of its own.

  I gripped the amulet and turned around, a slow smile forming on my lips as I looked at their faces and said, “I’ve got him. He’s somewhere in that direction. That son of a bitch is probably already stalking his next victim. And I won’t let that happen.”

  I let out a long breath, my own heart thumping fast in rhythm with the amulet. I had the son-of-a-bitch Greater demon. I was going to use my tracking spell to find him.

  And then I was going to kill him.

  14

  We were running.

  Adrenaline surged, mixed with an intoxicating high of magic as I ran down West 86th Street, pointing my amulet in front of me like a compass.

  Angry New Yorkers cursed me as I plowed into them, not stopping to say sorry, and rushed down the street. Logan was running alongside me like a seasoned runner and annoyingly managed to not hit a single human. The angel-born had moves, I’d give him that. But I was prettier.

  Yes, I looked like a fool, a crazy woman to the eyes of humanity, but none of that mattered when there was an innocent life at stake. And I still hadn’t discovered what ritual Vargal was performing or what it was for. And that had real worry forming tiny icy pricks up my spine.

  We’d been tracking the Greater demon for about an hour now, going at a slow pace on foot first, following the amulet’s direction. And well, since I was the queen of impatience, I’d opted to use the local subway to reach the demon faster. That had gone terribly wrong terribly fast. The amulet had gone cold and silent.

  So, we had only one option—follow the amulet’s route on foot through the streets of Manhattan.

  I sprinted in pursuit of my quarry, bolstered by anger and adrena
line and determined to catch the demon bastard before he killed any more innocent humans.

  I was not used to running for long periods of time. Yes, I had to run down the occasional demon now and again, but I’d always ended up cornering the demon so I could use a sigil on it.

  Now, my thighs protested at the increased speed, and my lungs began to burn. As we passed the next block, I vowed to go running more. I was woefully out of shape.

  I cut a glance at Logan. He was almost gliding now, his breath even like he was taking a walk. I was certain he was doing that on purpose just to piss me off.

  A raven cawed from above, and I caught a glimpse of Poe as he flew above us, like a giant fruit bat in an inky-black sky. He was doing his surveillance from above and would warn me if he saw anything out of place.

  We turned right on Columbus Avenue and went north. Where the hell was this Vargal?

  Different muscles worked as I ran, like gears shifting as I pushed into a faster pace. My heart pounded with the air slicing in and out of me, my lungs on fire.

  And when I thought my lungs had exploded into chunks and I was about to spew them from my mouth, the amulet went cold.

  “Wait!” I cried and halted, my heart thrashing against my ribs.

  Logan moved up next to me, a frown on his face. “What?”

  I pinched the cramp at my side. “The amulet,” I panted. “It went cold. I’ve lost the trail.”

  “How could you have lost the trail?” he cried, his face slightly red and his eyes wide.

  “I don’t know.” I circled around, waiting for a pulse from the amulet. “We went too fast maybe. I think we passed him.” Worry had me wired tightly. Crap. This could not be happening, not when I was so close. This was our only shot at finding Vargal. Jaw clenched, I circled around again and doubled back.

  The flutter of wings brought my attention upwards. Poe landed on the nearest bench. “Let me guess. You’ve lost the trail?”

  “Not now, Poe,” I hissed. Worry colored my anger, and I moved back a step and turned the amulet like a dowsing stick searching for water, waiting for a pulse.

  “You think my soul blade can kill the Greater demon?” Logan stepped into my line of sight.

  I looked up at him. “Yes.” God, I hoped I was right. “Your blades are made of some special metal forged to kill demons. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll immobilize him. You stick him with your blade. Preferably in his heart.” Did demons have hearts? I was pretty sure Poe did, or something close to a heart. Or the brain. The brain was always a winner.

  “I’ll get him,” assured Logan, his expression tight with a reckless determination. “That bastard’s mine.”

  Just as I took another backstep, the amulet pulsed to life again, warmth tingling my fingers. I turned slowly and moved in the direction of the signal, toward a dark alley where the streetlight couldn’t reach it, taking slow steps this time. The amulet throbbed, harder, faster.

  “There,” I said, excitement making my voice loud. “The alley. Come on.”

  Not waiting for Logan, I walked as fast as I could without it being considered a run and hauled myself laboriously into the alley. Of course Vargal was away from the more populated areas; this one totally unlit. Darkness fell on the alley. I looked up seeing the reason for the darkness. The streetlight bulbs were broken.

  With each step closer I got to the Greater demon, my pulse increased, and I stood a higher chance of running into something I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t going to have another Julia on my hands.

  The amulet pulled me through the alley into a small parking lot. I stood and waited. Listening. Only the thrum of engines two blocks away answered back. Parked cars were lost in shadow. The tall buildings that surrounded it added another layer of darkness, looming over us like metal and stone mountains. A dull, orange light flicked in a corner, and the scent of candles reached me.

  That was the Greater demon’s first mistake.

  Adrenaline hit so hard my body shook as I angled the amulet toward the flickering lights. I tried stilling my hand. I didn’t want Logan to think I was nervous. Okay, maybe I was. But only because I didn’t want to screw this up. I was not afraid to face Vargal. In fact, I was looking forward to seeing him again.

  Admittedly, I wasn’t what you would call a self-sufficient street fighter. My hand-to-hand combat skills were limited to the one year of karate I took when I was a teen. That’s why I had magic, so I didn’t have to face my quarries with my bare hands. But sometimes the magic didn’t work, and I had to rely on my own body strength to get me out of some tight situations. I hoped I wouldn’t have to tonight.

  Poe flew above me in a clatter of wings. Knowing he was there, that he had my back, gave me a renewed sense of courage. Logan moved into my line of sight, his eyes on the orange glow, and then his gaze slid to me. We stared at each other for a moment. The slight press of his lips and the nod of his head told me he was ready. It was as though I knew what he was thinking, like we’d worked together for a long time. How did that happen?

  I pocketed the amulet. The pulse of magic thrummed heavily in the air and coated my skin like a thick mist. Whatever magic this was, it was ancient and powerful.

  A scream cut through the silence—the voice of a child.

  I sprinted across the parking lot, Julia’s terrified ghostly face flashing in my mind’s eye. No. Not this time, you bastard.

  “Samantha, wait!” hissed Logan behind me, but I barely heard him over the killing spells I was preparing in my mind. I was going to fry the demon’s ass.

  Call it maternal instincts or just the overwhelming need to protect any child, but that scream triggered some sort of primordial sense of protection in me, a feeling born ages ago, before reason, before logic—a maternal instinct, ruled by the overwhelming drive to protect our young. That instinct shackled me.

  I felt the flutter of wings near my ear, an indication that Poe was right there with me.

  As I dashed in between two cars, I felt it, the cold haze of energies that accompanied a supernatural being when it came into the mortal world, disguised until now by the darkness of the alley and parking lot.

  I hurled around a parked car and came face-to-face with what I’d call a hell of a lot of pagan, ritual magic. I skidded to a stop. There must have been at least fifty candles placed around an empty parking space. The same Mesopotamian letters and symbols marked in blood were painted on the pavement and on the cars.

  A boy of about ten years of age stood in the middle of a circle lit with black candles. A figure stood next to him, hunched over, whispering in his ear. Even in the semidarkness I could see the boy’s pale, petrified face, too scared to move.

  I knew what the demon was doing. Demons couldn’t just possess a body, human, or half-breed. A person needed to let it in. And demons, seemingly the most treacherous tricksters of all beings in the Netherworld were master manipulators. They knew how to play with people’s emotions. They knew exactly what to whisper in the person’s ear—the would-be tortures of loved ones, the promise of fame and glory—to let them in.

  I could only imagine the horrors a demon would have to whisper to a boy to take control of his body. Rage shook me so violently that I nearly lost my footing.

  I knew who was whispering in the boy’s ear.

  I knew the creature I was staring at was Vargal, a Greater demon from the Netherworld.

  15

  The demon turned his head at the sound of our approach, and I nearly vomited the few remains of my morning breakfast.

  The demon’s flesh was pale gray, pasty, and wrinkled like a newborn. Through his seeping skin, black bones protruded, cracked and filthy. There was something wrong about his shape, something that just wasn’t a part of this world. He was tall, at least seven feet, and large horns protruded from his head like a goat, but thicker, the ends sharp like talons. His face was somewhat humanoid in shape but too big to be considered normal by our standards; his jaw was just a littl
e too big, his cheekbones too high and protruding, his nose just too wide and flat. A tuft of black hair sprouted from the top of his head and disappeared down his back. Thin, skeletal arms, dripping with black sores hung at his sides.

  The last time I’d seen him, he’d been nothing more than a specter, a shadow of himself. But now he was solid. Though I had a feeling this wasn’t his true shape at all, merely a creature he’d created to scare the kid.

  Vargal darted his gaze to me, his red eyes gleaming with a deep hatred that scared the crap out of me. He was not a happy camper. Too bad.

  Still, why a boy and not a man? Wouldn’t a man give the demon more strength? Seemingly, this had nothing to do with physical strength. This was something else I hadn’t figured out yet.

  Vargal stared at me, sizing me up probably. I was sure he’d recognized me, and in those mere seconds, I took a better look at the boy. He was small with light brown hair cut close to his head. Blood trickled from his nose, and behind thick glasses were round eyes as big as saucers. His eyes darted from me to Vargal, looking petrified, as though Vargal in this form was the root of his nightmares. Perhaps he was.

  But from what I could tell, Vargal hadn’t possessed the boy yet. There was still time to save him.

  I gave the Greater demon my best pageant smile. “Looks like we’ve crashed the party.” I stood close enough to him to smell the rot and carrion. Feet wide for better control, I said, “Leave the boy alone.”

  “Or what, little mortal?” Vargal grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him closer, almost as though he was using the boy to shield him. Demon scum. “What do you think you can do?”

  I frowned at how human the demon’s voice was, even in that ghoulish shape. Unnatural. Totally creepy.

  Vargal’s gaze flicked to Logan. “What’s this? The same angel-born who’s been following me like a puppy? The darkness has brought me gifts. It has blessed me tonight.”

  Logan pulled out one of his soul blades and let it slide into his hand with some fancy finger work evident of an exceptional swordsman. “Yeah,” said the angel-born. “I’m onto you like stink on shit. You got a problem with that?” His jaw was set in a hard line, and he looked as pissed as I was.