“Let’s concentrate on getting this ritual to work,” Lucy said.
“How many times have you been successful?” I asked.
“Including yours, once. I’m hoping for my second success tonight.”
I blinked at her. “Let’s not tell Marge we’re pinning all her hopes on a mostly untested ritual.”
She grinned at me. “Understood.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Take the braziers and set them up in a circle around the center of the room. Pour the herbs in each one.”
I carried the braziers into the living room. Marge crouched on the floor, gathering the stack tarot cards that must have fallen while I was in the room with Lucy. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line and she held one of them up. The front was white with a gray symbol painted on the background. A stick figure stood in the center holding a scepter. Long strands stream from under a crown on its head.
“Wasn’t this one of your cards?” she asked.
I took the card. Color began to fade in the background. The arms of the stick figure fleshed out. The skin turned a rosy peach and the hair thickened to black locks.
“Interesting,” I said.
“Is this some sort of sick prank with you two?”
“No. Lucy’s turned her deck into a talisman. It reacts to the person she is reading for.”
“Like those necklaces that you made for us in Texas?”
“Yes, but those protected us against Ose’s madness.” I handed the card back to her and placed the braziers on the floor in a circle. “A Talisman depends on your intent upon its creation.”
“What are those for?”
“The circle for the ritual. It’s to keep the power she’s manifested inside.”
Marge snorted. “Why? She’s just going to spout some mumbo jumbo.”
“It’s a little more than that. Lucy’s going to call on the power of Apollo. It should give her the ability to answer your questions.” That is, if Lucy could pull this off.
“And those bowls are supposed to help.”
I poured the herbs. “Braziers. And Lucy needs to empower it.”
“Why won’t it work like that binding circle you taught me to trap demons?”
I emptied the bag into the last of the braziers. “That was a symbol. The pattern and the writings powered the whole thing. At least enough to keep demons bound and powerless.”
Lucy stepped out of her bedroom, carrying a large box with a bowl balanced on top of it. She wore a red shawl draped around her shoulders. “Are we ready, dearie?”
“Yeah. I’m not here for a tea party.”
Lucy set the chest in the middle of the circle I made and picked up the bowl. She pulled a knife from her belt and held both out to Marge. “I need some of your blood for this to work.”
“What?” Marge said the word like she wanted to hurt Lucy with it.
“It’s to attune the ritual to you. Otherwise it won’t work.”
“This better not be a curse.”
Lucy smiled. “Why would I need that? You’re already living on borrowed time.”
Marge let out a half growl. “How much?”
“Just a few drops.”
Marge raked her finger on the point of the blade and let the blood drip into the bowl. I handed her a handkerchief as she stepped back. Lucy took the bowl back to the chest and set it on the floor. I sighed, sat on the desk, and crossed my arms. There wasn’t much for me to do now but sit and watch. I had to be here just in case something went wrong.
Lucy pulled out two candles with holders, a long wooden stick, and a lighter. She placed her bowl and the two candles back on the chest and lit the stick. She lowered the stick to the brazier sitting in the East and lit the herbs inside. She followed the circle clockwise, chanting softly as she lit the rest of the herbs. Smoke rose from the braziers and intermingled, creating a hazy veil between Lucy and us. A musky scent filled the air.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and allowed my second sight to take over. The room became a misty gray. Mage sat on the pillow, her impatience and anticipation flaring. She wanted this so much that it buried the disbelief she had. I turned my gaze to the circle and saw nothing but a thick gray curtain. I blinked and let my vision return to normal. Lucy sat before her chest and lit the contents of the bowl in front of her. She raised the veil above her head and leaned over the bowl.
“The Arabian vapor rises toward Olympus,” she sang in a light, breezy voice. “The shrill rustling lotus murmurs its swelling song, and the golden kithara, the sweet-sounding kithara, answers the voice of men.”
She inhaled loudly, and her voice gained a slight burr to it. “And all the hosts of poets sing your glory, Apollo, famed for playing the kithara, son of Great Zeus. Beside this snow-crowned peak, oh you who reveal to all mortals the eternal and infallible oracles.”
Lucy rocked back and forth as she continued to breathe in whatever fumes rose from the bowl in front of her. With a wheezing breath, she threw her head back and let out a rasping giggle. She sort of rolled to the side while still sitting and lolled her head to the right with her gaze landing on Marge.
“You have questions, Marguerite Devereux.” Her voice started out a raspy whisper and rose to a high pitch. “Ask them.”
Marge looked at Lucy as if she was crazy and glanced at me, opening her mouth. I gave her a slow, solemn shake of my head, hoping she would understand not to ruin her chances by making a smart ass comment.
She rolled her eyes and straightened her shoulders as she turned back to Lucy. “What demon has my contract?”
Lucy leaned back, cackling, and ran one hand up her chest to her collarbone. “Ah, yes, the deal of Deception. The Throne of Lust possesses your contract.”
I blinked. Interesting. We’d believed Wrath was the one we were after. Apparently, we were wrong. Hell was divided into kingdoms, called Thrones, according to the Cardinal Sins. They were each ruled by a devil who was also called the Throne. Naamah was the Throne of Lust, and Allegra served her. Maybe this is what Lucy meant by our connection. My right hand twitched. This could be more beneficial than I thought. If we pushed hard enough, perhaps I could bring Allegra to me. Marge glanced at me with her brow furrowed. I shrugged with my arms up. She sighed and turned back to Lucy.
“Who is the demon that killed Oulixes?” Marge asked.
Lucy ran her hands up her face and through her hair with a manic grin on her face. “Cambione absorbed the original holder of your contract and took everything that was his.”
Marge looked back at me and mouthed “Cambione?”
I shook my head. I’d never heard of that particular demon. I would have to check my books to see if it was mentioned, but it was a long shot. Hell held so many and most weren’t documented. There was a theory that demons were human souls damned to Hell, but I hadn’t found any proof of that.
“Where can I find Cambione?” Marge leaned forward to where her nose was inches from the smoke.
Lucy raked her nails down her cheeks, leaving deep red marks in her skin. She slammed both hands on the chest and dropped her head. A low wheezing whine emanated from her. “Forty and eight three nine one by seventy-three and eight six oh four.”
Blood ran in rivets from her nose, her ears, and the corners of her eyes. Her cheeks concaved so that the bones stuck out like pointed sticks. She jerked, and her body stiffened with her hands in a claw like position. She let out a throaty breath and the candles sputtered and the smoke from the braziers wavered before they began to dissipate. She went limp and collapsed to the side of the chest. Her whole aura looked wispy, as if something had drained it. The usually vibrant blues and yellows had faded to pale washed out imitations of their true color. She would need a few days to recover. Lucy’s stamina was no match for something that drained on her soul.
“What the hell was that?” Marge followed behind me.
“The ritual makes her a little crazy, but her answers are accurate. We have a name and a location.�
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“Location? When did she say a location?”
I laid Lucy on the only side of the bed not covered with clothes and luggage, pulled the comforter over her, and brushed her hair from her face. She would be out for hours, but she’d succeeded.
“Well done,” I whispered to her and turned back to Marge. “The number she gave. They were longitude and latitude.”
“And where is that?”
“I can find out.” I pulled out my phone and dialed Adrian.
“This had better be important,” he answered.
“As if you were doing anything important.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“I need the location to some coordinates.”
“What is it for?”
“Possible demon.”
“Are you going after it now?” His voice held a tone of interest.
“Marge and I.”
“I’m joining you.”
“I thought you had important things to do.”
“Give me the coordinates,” he said with a slight edge.
I gave them to him. “Come and pick us up at Lucy’s hotel.”
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter 5
I STARED UP at the brown brick building across the street. Firelight tried to make its way through the dingy windows that lined the four stories. The world had given up hope on any safe habitation for this place long years ago. Streetlamps flickered on as the shadows swelled at the fading dusk.
“So, this is it?” Marge asked.
I nodded, scanning the street. It was a narrow two lanes with a few cars parked along the curb. A group of street rats stood on the corner in heavy jackets and sagging pants, laughing and talking to each other.
“How do you want to do this?” Marge asked.
“The blueprints show that there is a door in the back,” Adrian said, looking at his phone.
“Let’s go down the street and come up through the alley. If those kids are spies, they won’t see which way we went,” I said.
“We’re here to kill the demon, right?” Marge asked.
“We’ve been over this. We’re not going through the front.”
“Fine.”
We headed down the street, around the corner, and into the alley at the backdoor of the building. I climbed the rickety chain-link fence and hopped down the other side. I pressed my back to the wall of the building and rubbed my hand over the handle of my sundang to calm the buzzing that raced through my veins. The lose chain clattered against the metal pole as Adrian scaled over. Marge landed next to him and brushed her legs as she stood. Adrian pointed to the concrete steps and a small metal door that marked the back entrance. With the nod of my head and crept to the door, slid my fingers in the crease, and pulled it open a crack, peeking in.
The hall was almost completely dark, with only the light from outside. I pulled out a small flashlight from its hook on my belt then shone it down the hall and over the dirty white paint that flaked from the walls. I slipped in and headed deeper inside, pausing at an intersection before a staircase for the others to catch up. I nodded to the right and pulled out my sword. Adrian pressed his back against the wall with his gun drawn. The pistol looked like something out of a science fiction novel. The grip looked like it belonged on a 17th century flintlock while the barrel and cylinder was that of a revolver. Two metal tubes traveled from the back of the gun to attach where the sight should be.
Marge waved me along with a sour look on her face. I pushed open a door on the opposite side of the staircase. Bits of trash littered the worn carpet and dirt layered everything. The already muted colors faded as I scanned the room with my second sight and ghostly furniture replaced the barren shell. However, there were no demons lying in wait for us. I shook my head at the others and moved to the next apartment. We cleared the first floor in a few minutes, finding nothing. We stood in front of the door labeled basement.
“Second floor first,” I murmured, and Adrian nodded.
I took a deep breath and crept up the stairs. Halfway up, I switched off the light. A pale yellow glow emanated from the hall above us and music thrummed from somewhere farther back, shaking bits of paint from the walls. The first room held a dirty mattress with the springs poking out of it in places. Needles, bits of paper, and cigarette butts were scattered across the floor. Marge scanned the room, her lips curled into a sneer.
“A drug den,” she said.
“Come on,” Adrian said. “Let’s see if we can find the demon.”
In the third room, we found the first living person. Living was relative. He lay on the floor, his eyes glazed and a vapid smile on his face. A syringe rolled from his hand and onto the floor.
I nudged him with the tip of my boot. “Hey.”
His head lolled to the side.
I sighed and looked to the others. “This will take a while. How about we split floors? If we find anything we call. Otherwise we meet back here?”
They nodded and moved back to the stairs, arguing quietly about which floor they would take. I moved on. Two doors down, I found two girls that looked a little livelier. Very little. They leaned against one another in sitting positions in one corner of the room. A phone with a glassy front blared music, and their head bobbed out of time with it. I let my second sight take over and gasped. Muddy orange mixed with a dull gray and brown in their auras. Physically, the drugs had unbalanced them, but that wasn’t the worst. The auras had withered and rotted, leaving small holes throughout.
What had caused such damage?
I crouched in front of them and reached for the baggie lying on the floor. Bile rose in my throat as I stared at the mustard yellow powder that clumped in the corner. Ose’s grinning face came to my mind. The devil that had killed the Van Helsings parents and older brother, had developed a drug to make humans easily possessed by demons. It had radical side effects, like warping the human to look more like the demon. It shouldn’t be here. I’d destroyed him along with the drug.
One girl raised her gaze to me and smiled through her stringy bangs.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” I replied. “You look pretty happy.”
She rested her head against the wall. “This stuff is amazing.”
“What’s it called?”
“Blasphemy.”
Well, some demon actually had a clever thought. “Where can I get some?”
She pointed her finger to the floor. “See the man downstairs.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“He must be way down,” the other girl said, and the two burst into laughter.
I stood and headed back into the hall. The rest of the floor was filled with much of the same. I stood at the stairwell with my arms crossed, waiting on Marge and Adrian.
“Well?” I asked when both had returned.
“More junkies up top,” Marge said. “I couldn’t find anyone handing the stuff out.”
“Same for the fourth floor,” Adrian said.
“One said he’s downstairs,” I said.
“Basement then,” Adrian said.
“Right.” Marge grinned, nodding to an ancient contraption in the center of the hall. There were no doors, just a rusty metal gate. “Want to take the elevator?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not going in that death trap.”
“Come on. It can’t be that bad.”
We took the stairs. Marge liked to give me shit, but she knew the elevator would give away our position if there was a demon down there. Halfway to the basement, a purple haze lit the stairwell and a spicy musk clogged my nose. I paused, holding my hand up to the others. Two voices mixed together in a steady cadence. I couldn’t make out the words. My grip on my sword tightened, and I hugged the wall as I snuck down. Like the rest of the building, the basement was empty of any furniture or boxes, but someone had decided to fill the space with a glowing purple circle painted on the floor. Strange symbols lined just inside the ring, curvy and hooked in a
primal fashion, like the ones on the back of Lucy’s tarot cards. A triangle filled the center, and a man lay in the middle of it with his eyes closed and dirty hair clinging to his face.
Two demons stood outside the circle chanting. A set of horns peeked out from the hood of one, and a tail poked out from the bottom of the robe the other wore. The light of the circle pulsed with the rhythm of their chants. I felt the pressure building. Marge snorted and pushed past me, heading for the closet demon.
“No, Marge, wait,” I hissed, and my hand brushed against her coat, but she slipped away.
Her kick caught him in the middle of his back, and his chant broke as he stumbled forward. He turned just in time to get caught in the chest with a sidekick. The force knocked him into the circle, and all hell broke loose. Literally.
When the demon’s foot crossed the line of the circle, a reddish purple flame ignited. It licked his legs and traveled up his body in a flare. He barely had time to scream before he was ash. The fire filled the entire circle, incinerating the man in the middle within seconds and gouts flared out at the walls.
“Get out of here,” I yelled to Adrian.
I ran to Marge, coughing as the reek of brimstone caused my eyes to water. The other demon had pulled out a dagger and swung it at Marge. She ducked and slammed her heel into his knee. He screamed. I grabbed his arm, spun, and tossed him into a burning part of the wall.
Marge glared at me. “He was mine.”
I waved to the havoc around us. “No time. This place is going up and us with it.”
I grabbed her arm and sprinted to the stairs. A piece of flaming ceiling chose that moment to come crashing down on us. Marge tackled me, and we went tumbling to the side. Bits of flaming plaster caught me in my shoulder and arm, burning holes through my jacket and searing my flesh.
“We’re stuck,” Marge yelled.
I swung my head to the staircase. The ceiling blocked our only exit in a purple inferno. I was going to die down here, burned by that freakish flame I hated. My breath caught in my throat, and I gripped Marge’s arm. No, there had to be another way out, some small opening we could get through. I hopped to my feet and ran to the rubble. My hands dug at the debris, the flames searing my flesh. The more I pulled away, the more slid down to replace it. Marge yanked me back.
Paranormal After Dark Page 4
