by LJ Swallow
Dex now sits in the back with me and stares through the window. My fingers stay on the black mark and I rack my brains for anywhere I know that contains relics the age nephilim bones could be. Museums? No. Private collections, I’ll bet. I wish I knew Malvorn’s contacts to ask.
Halfway home, we come across a traffic jam. Morgan's patience wears thin after five minutes. We crawl along until he can reach a turning to a minor road, then he slams his foot down to pull from the main road as fast as he can.
"Shame you can't teleport the whole car," I say to Morgan.
"I don't teleport, I create portals. And correct, I can't shove a Land Rover into one."
Other cars take the same route as us, bypassing the traffic jam for a longer but quicker journey along the quieter road. Cillian fiddles with the GPS and directs Morgan while I watch the countryside whiz by—trying not to think about death marks and nephilim bones.
A car overtakes and swerves in front of us, narrowly missing another travelling in the opposite direction. "For fuck's sake!" Morgan growls and slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I bet she has a car full of kids. I wouldn't drive like that with children in the car."
The car continues in front of us, a large red SUV. I saw the hassled woman's face when she drove past, but no kids in the car seats. She slows then speeds up every few minutes, and Morgan's irritation grows. Half a mile later, he slams his foot on the accelerator and pulls into oncoming traffic to pass her.
"Holy crap!" I yell as we take up half the narrow road. "Morgan!"
A white car hurtles towards us and I close my eyes. I'm pulled to the left as Morgan swerves back into the line of traffic. I'm not scared easily, but the last day has been a strain on my heart.
"Everything's fine."
Cillian huffs at Morgan's words. A few minutes later, Morgan's swearing starts up again as the woman drives too close to our car. Am I about to witness a road rage incident between a wizard and a human mum?
We turn onto a different road and the SUV turns after us.
Then she overtakes the Land Rover again.
This time, the SUV driver slams the breaks hard enough that our car smacks into the back of her.
I blink at Morgan's reaction—this Dweller certainly picked up human swear words. He pulls the car to one side and kills the engine. A middle-aged woman climbs from the car, waving her arms in apologetic gestures. She’s dressed in denim shorts that reach her knees and a light-green tee covered in flowers. Curled brown hair frames her flushed face.
Morgan throws open the driver's door and jumps out before marching over. Cillian follows. The woman's eyes widen. I spend time around fae and demons and forget how humans react to them. Yes, they're blended into society, but there's something odd in the way they look. Cillian's unnaturally pale hair and skin, plus those bizarre blue eyes, are off-putting.
I hop from the car too, and the woman takes a step backwards as I join him.
"I'm so sorry." She apologies profusely, over and over.
Cillian places a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. "Dude, calm down, it's just a scrape."
Dex remains in the car, and I glance back. "Is Morgan going to hurt her?" I whisper to Cillian.
Cars behind sound their horns as we block the small country road. Cillian points at a place several hundred metres away. "Pull into the stopping area and we'll exchange details. Sort this out calmly."
Did I enter a parallel universe when I stepped into the portal with the guys yesterday? One where elementals involve themselves in insurance issues. What's he going to write—Mr. Freeze, c/o secret place in London? With a relieved smile, the woman hops back into her huge car.
We drive into the tarmacked area to our left—a space between the field and road. Somewhere safe to stop and often used for drivers who need to rest. Our cars are shielded from the road to the right by large oak trees between us and traffic, and to our left fields filled with wheat stretch into the distance.
Still muttering, Morgan climbs out and heads towards the woman. They stand on the left-hand side of the car, out of view of passing cars, behind the two large vehicles.
Do I climb out again too? Seems Morgan has a temper on him I should’ve expected. The last thing we need is attention drawn to us.
"Let's go with him," I say to Cillian and Dex. "Hmm. Maybe stay in the car, Dex, in case she feels threatened by you."
His face darkens. "Why? Just because I'm a big guy?"
"Exactly that. You're scary as hell with that sullen look on your face."
I climb from the car and squint at the sun setting on the horizon before approaching the pair with Cillian.
Then halt. I should've bloody known. Something close by reeks of demon magic. Not a scent—a feeling. Her? Or the location? I walk slowly toward the car then to the nearby tree and back again, like a kid playing the 'warmer/colder' game.
"Morgan," I tug his sleeve. "I need to talk to you."
He turns. "What?"
The woman eyes me with a poker face as I lean in to Morgan 's ear. "There's an item with demon magic around here."
"What?" He jerks his head up to look at the woman as he replies in a shocked, hushed tone. "Where?"
"In the car, I think. It's strong."
Without a word, Morgan steps to the rear of the car and yanks open the door before leaning in. The woman looks around him. "Do you mind?"
Cillian appears at my shoulder. "What the hell is Morgan doing now?"
I don't have the chance to respond. Two creatures leap from the back of the seat and onto Morgan. They're the size of toddlers but there’s nothing childlike about these reptilian-looking demons. Brown and green mottled skin covers their bodies and their short limbs end in unsheathed claws. The creatures whip their long tails side to side as they knock Morgan to the floor. They bear down on him with white teeth and salivating mouths.
The woman calls to them in a harsh, foreign language and they turn their heads towards me. Orange eyes with a slit-like black pupil regard me.
Oh shit.
As the creatures spring at me, Morgan stretches his arms upwards from the floor and energy pulses from his hands. The magic created comes between us and the creatures in waves that obscure the colours in the world around. Breaking from my stupor, I reach inside my jacket. My hand curls around a carved ivory handle and I pull out one of my favourite fae daggers that Col gave me after weeks of my unsubtle hints. Col says the weapon isn't important to him but suits me because the blade never needs sharpening.
I launch myself forward, toward the now-stumbling creatures who shake their heads as they attempt to stay upright. Cillian steps toward them.
The woman turns to us and outstretches her hands again. Her school mum look rapidly disappears as her eyes burn orange, black slits down the centre to match her companions. I'm as frozen as if Cillian had used his magic on me. What the hell is she? The woman's red hair erupts into flames, swirling round her head like Medusa tendrils. Her features transform as her face cracks like an eggshell to reveal lava coloured skin beneath. Flames dance in her outstretched palms.
And she's coming right for me.
I cry out as she grabs me around the throat, and I plunge my dagger into her shoulder. She doesn't flinch. The burning stench from her clothes assaults me and I gag. Morgan attempts to throw a barrier at her, but flames burst across his hand as she flicks her fingers at him. He yells in pain and stumbles to the ground.
I move my fingers to her face and attempt to dig my nails into the creature’s eyes, my vision blackening as she squeezes. The pain from her crushing my windpipe also burns.
Morgan lies on the floor beside me, blood streaking his face, and with the blackness comes a sense of dread I've felt twice before—twice when I've been close to death.
A huge thud behind shakes the earth and my throat thickens in panic. What else is with her? I'm pushed forward and the woman falls back with me spread-eagled on top of her, and my lungs ache from where the blow from behind winded me. Her grip on
my neck drops and she tries to push me from her.
No argument there. I roll off the creature, choking for breath, and land on the rough ground. I stare upwards, straight into eyes matching the demon’s. Fire.
Eyes in a dog's face.
I blink away the black shadows clouding my vision, positive I'm hallucinating. A fiery orange magic glows around the beast disguising his coat in a very familiar way. There could be more than one demonic dog from the portal that Spot pounced through—dogs with teeth and paws three times the size of a normal one. One who could pull me to pieces in seconds. Is this one working for the woman?
Shit.
The dog's head snaps around to the woman. I wince in disgust as blood splatters across my face and the sound of ripping flesh turns my stomach. Okay. The dog is definitely not working with her.
I roll again, onto my hands and knees, and focus on breathing away the dizziness. From the corner of my eye, I see a line of ice spreading across the ground from Cillian's feet towards the demons. They slide on the ground as they attempt to run closer but fall down and pull themselves upright over and over, not reaching him. Cillian sneers and ice shoots up from the ground, huge spikes impaling their chests.
The savage sound and tearing noise beside me continues; I'm strong-stomached, but I don't want to see what the dog is doing.
Dragging myself upright, I steady myself on the woman's—demon's—car and stand, legs trembling. Sucking in a breath, I dip my head, still trying to pull myself back from the edge of unconsciousness.
I will not faint. I will not faint.
"Syv?" Cillian touches my shoulder and the trembling moves from my legs to my body. He gently pushes hair from my face and cups my cheek. "It's okay. You'll be okay."
The horrific sound beside me stops and heavy footsteps thud toward Morgan. The dog, paws and muzzles stained by dark blood, pads closer. I tense, ready to help in case the hound attacks Morgan, but instead he attempts to walk past him. Morgan grabs the dog's scruff, and its eyes flash. The dog growls.
Man, Morgan is braver than I realised.
"Don't walk away," says Morgan to the creature.
They exchange a silent look. Is the dog—who I'm now convinced is Spot—Morgan's familiar? Do wizards have familiars? I tense, ready for another fight.
"Yeah, there's no point hiding anymore." Cillian steps over the smaller demon’s disintegrating bodies at his feet and heads toward the overgrown fields. "Morgan, protect the scene and follow us."
The dog remains still and doesn't follow Cillian. The world around shimmers. "What's that?" I ask Morgan.
"Humans won't be able to see through. We're in somewhere parallel. The location looks the same, but without the cars and bodies."
Whoa. The whole fight took place behind both cars, obscured from passing traffic by the vehicles and tall trees, but somebody else could stop at any moment.
"Right." I rub my sore neck.
"Come on." Morgan inclines his head and walks behind the trees. Are we hiding from other demons who could be nearby? Cillian rests against the trunk, arms crossed as he waits for Spot to follow. Spot walks, head bowed, and stands the opposite side of me, beside Morgan.
"Dude. Come on, we don't have all day. There could be more on the way."
I think Morgan is talking to Cillian until I see his eyes on Spot.
With a low growl, Spot dips his head and, for the second time in five minutes, I'm frozen by shock. The dog's body changes, muzzle shortening and eyes becoming human. Brown curly hair appears on his head.
Oh no.
No fucking way.
The body morphs into a tall, muscular human guy who watches me warily. I attempt to keep my eyes off his junk because, really, a girl's curious. And there’s a lot to be curious about. A nearby crow squawks in a tree and I startle, jerking my head upwards.
When I look back around, nothing in the scenario has changed.
Naked dude, behind a tree, in a field.
I tear my jacket off and hold it out between us, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on his, and away from any other part of his anatomy. "Get the guy some clothes."
As Dex loops the jacket over his blood-stained hand and holds it in front of his crotch, Cillian darts away, back to the car.
Morgan splutters a laugh. "Your face, Syv..."
Dex shoots him a look. "Not funny."
"Well, if you'd just told her the truth we could've avoided this awkward reveal," Morgan replies.
Dex's frown deepens and he stares at the floor. I'm still fighting for a response when Cillian reappears and drops a small rucksack at Dex's feet. He crouches down and turns his back, dragging the bag in front of him. As he rummages through, I watch the powerful muscles moving in his sinewed back and consider how I patted him when he was furry.
Nice arse.
Also: mind fuck.
Cillian places a hand on my arm. "Sorry this happened."
"What? The random attack by who knows what they were, or that Dex is a demonic hound shifter and currently naked?"
"Both. I think this search will be more complicated than we realised. This isn't just about the box, because we don’t have it—I think this is about you. They came for you."
I swallow, forgetting Dex for a moment as the breeze chills my heated skin. Is Cillian right?
Morgan peers between the trees and cars by the road. "I don't know how long the barrier will hold. We need to deal with the bodies before it breaks."
Cillian straightens. "Good point."
I brush dirt from my backside. "I can help. I have some experience in disposing of demons’ bodies."
A laugh comes from behind me and I turn to a now-clothed Dex, with his rucksack across one shoulder. I stare at the biceps straining against his fresh black t-shirt. Again, not furry. No paws.
If I'd been on the whisky, I would've sworn I'd imagined this. I've been high on fae magic a couple of times and won't forget those hallucinations in a hurry. I've also met my fair share of shifters—usually wolves. But Dex? He's a conundrum on a whole new level now.
Chapter Nine
Portals are also useful for tipping dead demons into, apparently. Plus, dusty elemental remains can be scraped into dirt with a boot. We drive away and leave behind the demon’s battered SUV after stripping for parts that would indicate a stolen vehicle—the police will pick this up as an abandoned car at some point.
To my amusement, the guys are more worried about how Donovan would react to car damage than any chance their fight with demons was witnessed. I'm pissed off when the three disappear into his office and leave me standing in the oak-panelled hallway. I stand outside, ear to the door, in case I'm included in their conservation. Nope. They're arguing about safe driving, which tickles me.
I hastily step to one side when the door reopens. Why didn't they mention about Dex revealing his true form? Does Donovan know?
On the way back to the Institute, Dex avoided my eyes. Embarrassed I saw him butt-naked? I don't think so. Dex didn't want me to know who he was, otherwise he would've told me. But, I've only known Dex for a day, and barely knew Spot, so what's the big deal?
"Donovan wants to chat to you," says Morgan and inclines his head to the room. "Please try to rein in the attitude."
Donovan's room mirrors the house’s decor: dark wood and burgundy walls which darken the room. Between the doorway and the desk, a symbol is painted on the floor, the same one I've seen elsewhere. Due to the location, I’m surer than ever that this is a protective rune as well as a symbol for the organisation. I'm covered in dirt and feel out of place in the immaculate surroundings.
This time, Donovan is dressed in a dark grey suit, hair slicked back and fingers covered in gold rings. No longer in his gym gear, the guy's presence has magnified. Cillian sits with Morgan opposite him in a leather seat, and Dex rests against the wall beneath a painting of a castle on a hilltop. Again, no eye contact from him.
Donovan's stern look breaks into a smile. "Sorry to exclude you for a few
minutes there."
"All good, I'm sure secret societies have secrets they'd like to keep." I place myself in the chair beside Cillian. "Hence the name."
Donovan laughs. "Secrets we won't keep from you, once you join." He rests his elbow on what looks suspiciously like a contract beside a fancy pen.
"Oh, I've learned enough secrets today." I wince as Cillian kicks my ankle and I scowl at him.
"Oh?" Donovan sits forward. "What have the guys told you?"
"We visited Dana," puts in Dex, gruffly. "You know how many secrets these warlocks have."
Donovan's eyes narrow in disbelief as he looks between each of us. He lands them on me. "That's what I mean—the secret that nephilim exist. The issue here is that they don't any more. But there's a possibility we can find a bone."
Morgan rests back and crosses his legs at the ankle. "Where? There's not exactly a special graveyard."
"Research." Donovan taps his fingers on the table. "You'll need to spend time in the library. Start with the Enochian volumes. There could be information about angels and nephilim in there."
Books. Ugh.
"Do we have time for that?" I protest. "Seriously, sitting in a library and combing through books isn't useful. I'd rather be out there working my way through whoever has the info until we find a solid lead. Or—" I pause.
"Or? What else do you suggest?" Donovan asks. "The guys say you've no idea where to find the bones. With the books, we could at least narrow down to one country."
"Well... there's one option but I'm not sure what you'll think." I chew a nail. I've a definite feeling these four won't agree to my following suggestion. "Ewan is good at tracking down information online. He and Vee can search through websites and pull together information in hours. Something that would take most people days." I pause then add pointedly. "Quicker than books."
Cillian rubs a hand across his mouth as he watches for Donovan's reaction, who asks, "Ewan? Do you mean Pestilence?"
I nod. "We know people in groups hidden online trade in rare items, and they keep these items away from people like me. Ewan and Vee could look through those."
