Personal Demon

by Susan Sizemore

  Duty first, though. Which was why she’d made that dangerous visit to her grandmother’s lair. And it was a black spider’s lair, no matter how nice the place was.

  “How’s—Grandfather—doing?”

  Brianna took a sip of tea, looking at Ivy over the delicate rim of her teacup. “Nice of you to ask,” she said after putting the cup down. “He’s not responsible for the dark sacrifices, if that’s what your ridiculous aunt wants you to believe.”

  “How’s he doing?” Ivy repeated.

  “Not well,” Brianna answered. “He’s safely locked in the basement right now. You know I take good care of him when he’s disturbed.”

  Ivy nodded. “What’s disturbing him at the moment?”

  The demon in the basement—the demon who’d tainted her own blood—was not the most mentally stable of creatures. What demon was? But he was highly intelligent for one of his kind. He was a powerful manipulator of energy, a top sorcerer in his universe and this one. He was a prince of demons. He was a happily married old guy who lived in luxury in an expensive gated community in the Chicago ’burbs with the wicked-drug-lord witch of the north side. Most of the time he was fine. Although defining the word fine could be a bit complicated.

  But being from one universe and dwelling in another was even more complicated than defining fine. The pressure got to him sometimes. Okay, he went batshit crazy and would have destroyed the world first and apologized to Grandma later if she let him. Which she never did. Her love for him, and her protecting the world from his bad days, was the saving grace that kept the white witches of this universe from taking her out. Since black and white needed to balance out, Brianna McCoy was the designated driver of the black car.

  “What do you know about the demon spells getting people killed?” Ivy asked.

  “I know that your grandfather is not involved.” She put a hand over Ivy’s, looked worriedly at her. “Someone using demon spells is trying to take over his territory. This isn’t good for him.”

  “It’s not good for the people getting killed, either.”

  “It won’t be good for the world at large if this wannabe demon lord succeeds. He’s taken over some magic users already, hasn’t he?”

  Ivy nodded. While it was true that magic didn’t affect most of the population of the world, the people magic did affect could certainly be used to cause a lot of misery for those in the normal world. Ten, twelve percent of a population of nearly seven billion people reacting to magic, was a lot of people.

  “Armageddon is not what I want for Yule, this year,” Ivy said.

  “Or a vampire in your Christmas stocking?”

  Ivy shrugged. “Do you know anything specific about this demon trying to take over from Grandpa?”

  “You should ask him yourself. You should talk to him, see if you can make anything of the visions he’s having.”

  Ivy almost choked on a sip of tea.

  Ivy so did not want this proposed family visit. But there’d been lots of things she didn’t want to do in the last few days that were also absolutely necessary.

  “He won’t bite you,” Grandma said. “Unlike your latest boyfriend.”

  Ivy gave her a stiff smile. “Ha. Ha.” She stood. Better get on with it.

  “A couple of things before you go down,” Brianna said.

  Ivy waited, happy to put this off as long as possible.

  “One,” Brianna said, “does your community know where every magic user in the territory is? I’ve heard you’re being stalked. Think about who from your past might want to do that.”

  Ivy nodded. “Yeah. Good thought. Thanks. The second thing?”

  “Leave your bag here, dear. The obsidian blade your aunt gave you will disturb your grandfather. We never, ever want to disturb your grandfather. Do we?”

  To disturb Brianna’s McCoy’s demon lover would be to disturb Brianna McCoy. Ivy never, ever wanted to do that.

  “I hope I can be as mean as you are when I grow up, Grandma,” Ivy said.

  “I’m sure you will be. If you grow up.” She shook her head. “A vampire. Silly girl.” She waved Ivy toward the lab door.

  Ivy took the elevator down from the second floor. The demon wasn’t kept in the basement during his bad spells, but held in a secure subbasement two levels below the basement. Everything in what was cheerfully referred to as the Cage Level was made of a cold, shiny black metal not of this earth. The guards on the doors leading to the Cage weren’t from around here, either. Ivy suspected that some of them had worked as orc extras in the Lord of the Rings movies, saving the production money on makeup. Best not to inquire of the sinister creatures who opened door after door for her. It was doubtful if any of them had a sense of humor—or a sense of anything other than complete and ruthless loyalty to their masters. They all sniffed her before letting her by, identifying her demon blood relationship to the demon and the witch.

  She wondered which, if any of them, was responsible for baking those great ginger cookies.

  You babble when you’re scared, inside or out. Chatter, chatter, chatter.

  Christopher.

  He couldn’t be here. In her head. It wasn’t possible. She stopped walking but continued slowly toward her goal when the nearest demon guard growled inquiringly.

  She touched the black metal when she reached the next door. Feel that?

  It burned cold on her skin.

  The guards who opened the doors all wore heavy insulated gloves. The place was protected, psychically, magically, physically.

  I sense that no one is supposed to break out. I’m breaking in.

  How long have you been—?

  Ginger tastes red.

  That makes sense.

  She tried to recall if she’d wondered about Christopher’s extra senses before or after discussing vampires with her grandmother. She blocked the memory of earlier in the day from her consciousness. She would hide as much of herself from the intruder as she could for now. Other things required her attention.

  Another door was opened before her. The next door in line was also black, but it was heavy, silver-bound ebony. Spells in beautiful cursive script were carved into the hard wood.

  Beyond that door a demon was roaring in pain.

  The sound broke Ivy’s heart. She began to cry for the animal agony pouring through the sound. She hadn’t expected that reaction. She wanted to help him.

  He was a demon.

  He is your blood kin. And a sentient being in need.

  She wasn’t sure if the thoughts belonged to her, the vampire, or both of them.

  She didn’t want to feel sorry for a monster, but she couldn’t cut off her emotions. No reason to be cold as long as you did what you had to.

  She turned the key in the lock, heavy, silver, inscribed with runes and covered in ice. Doing what she had to do.

  However, in Ivy’s opinion, no one should ever see their grandfather naked, no matter what species he was. Grandpa was as red as Hellboy, but a lot better-looking. The size and prominence of his junk was hard to ignore.

  Avert thine eyes, woman, the vampire in her brain said.

  The demon was manacled to the wall, wrists and ankles in heavy cuffs. An iron chain was around his waist. It looked cruel, but the restraints were of his design. He knew what needed to be done to keep his madness at bay. He did this to himself to keep from killing the world. You had to admire him, in a way. Oh, he caused plenty of damage in his sane state, but the violence was selective. He’d never practiced dark sacrifice to build power. Of course, he didn’t need to.

  Ivy concentrated her attention on the demon’s face. The screaming ended abruptly. Glowing red coal eyes looked at her, into her.

  The angry scream nearly tore her apart. GONE! GET OUT! PARASITE GET OUT! GET OUT!

  Pain in her head drove her to her knees. The demon hurt her, but he wasn’t shouting at her. She was empty when the pain stopped. Or the pain stopped when she was empty. Christopher’s presence no longer shared her mind.
>
  “Thanks, Grandpa,” she managed to croak. Her throat ached, so she must have been screaming. Her gratitude was minimal, but she accepted that what he’d done was his way of protecting her. She hoped Christopher wasn’t seriously injured.

  The demon was grinning at her. Your parasite was strong. That was fun.

  His eyes might be red coals, but they were really quite beautiful. The expression in them was lucid at the moment. On the edge of lucidity, anyway.

  “Is the pain better?” Ivy asked.

  He nodded. But the clown is still dancing. Multiplying and dancing. All around you. He strained his arms against the manacles, but nothing budged. The fat clown wants to eat flesh. Fine with me. But not here. Not you.

  “Hello, Lilith,” Grandpa finally spoke. “You’re looking lovely. Why did you bring a vampire into my private study?”

  There was one chair in the bare prison room. Ivy crawled over to it and sat down, folded her hands primly in her lap. “I am sorry. He shouldn’t have been there. Grandma said you were having visions and that I should ask you about them.”

  Dancing clowns, for example. Of course, if there was one thing creepier than demons, Ivy thought it was probably clowns.

  Knife clown. Strangling clown. Raping clown. Crack in the old door blood light dripping through one drop on tongue sticky sweet hungry taken temptation hand my hand set on light flooded filled pain light.

  “He’ll be coming for me. Replacing me. That’s not a good idea, honey. New demon for old is never good for the balance. Demon princes at war not good for the battleground. You can stop this. It’s up to you.”

  Hearing this from Aunt Cate had been bad enough. Now evil wanted the same thing from her as good. Grandma and Grandpa had always wanted her to tap her deeply suppressed power. Now Aunt Cate wanted her to give it a shot as well. Nobody knew which way she’d go. She certainly didn’t. Good. Evil. Shit.

  If you fought a demon, destroyed a demon, did you get angel wings, or did you have to replace the demon?

  Never mind the vampire in the mix. Except that she minded very much.

  “I’m no warrior, Grandpa.”

  “You don’t know that yet. You might get eaten,” he added. “If you do, it’s because you’re weak. Blood of mine isn’t weak. Remember that.”

  Blood attacking blood. Always. Blood must take blood. Dying for power. Killing for power. Broken necks in Volkswagens. Knives in the streets. Knives in shadows. Screams in dorm rooms. Brains stuck in brains. Puppet players for fun. Fun and profit. Prophet. Master. Always there will be a master. Beasts within beasts. One beast the strongest. Who?

  “Good question,” Ivy said.

  She absorbed the words and the sick images, fear, anger, and greed that came with them to take out and study later. She suspected she’d understand some of it if she let herself soak in the nasty mix.

  Damn.

  The demon against the wall began to scream again. Ivy stood and backed toward the door. This was no time to give her grandpa a peck on the cheek when she said good-bye. Not that it ever was.

  Ivy took the elevator back to the first floor. The door was concealed behind tall library shelves that had already been swung back, waiting for her. Her grandmother was seated in a leather chair. The fragile old pages of the book in her lap were illuminated by a glass table lamp designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

  Brianna put the book down next to the lamp. “Did he say anything useful?”

  “I think—” Ivy slowly nodded. “Yeah. He probably did. I’ll work it out.”

  “Be careful,” her grandmother said, standing. She went to the desk and returned Ivy’s purse to her. “I will be grateful if you save him from any rivals. His welfare is always my first priority.”

  Ivy was aware how carefully her grandmother chose her words. She did the same. “I’ll do my best to—”

  “Something else for you.” Her grandmother gave her a small plastic container. There was a grainy white powder inside.

  Salt? Meth? Crack?

  “Uh—”

  “To neutralize your vampire problem. Take a pinch of this for vampires if you think he’s going to taste your blood. It will blend with your demon essence, overshadow it.” She smiled wickedly. “It should pack quite a kick.”

  Naked grandfather. Grandma passing out an aph-rodisiac.

  “I think I better go.”

  “Of course. I’ll have one of the mortal security guards give you a ride home.”

  There was no hugging or cheek kissing when saying good-bye to Grandma, either.

  chapter thirty

  Where’s Ted?”

  Jack closed the front door of the house, bowed before his Master, and said, “Hunting. We separated several hours ago.” He held out the bags of groceries in his hands.

  “His mind is distracted. He isn’t answering his cell phone, either,” the Master complained. “I need him right now.”

  It hurt Jack to hear the way the demon said it. He tried not to be petty, they each had their specific uses for the Master, but there was no way he could stop the jealousy.

  “I can look for him. I could—”

  “I can’t reach his thoughts. I try touching his mind, and my own fills with bloodlust.” The Master laughed. “I like the feeling, but I don’t want his single-mindedness right now. I want obedience.”

  The demon shook his head, smiled, put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. Soothed with his warm touch. “I got a telepathic call from John—a pity he was too stupid not to use a telephone and make himself seem normal. Maybe no one will notice he didn’t ask for his phone call when you show up to bail him out.”

  “Bail? He’s been arrested?” Jack was thunderstruck with shock. “We’ve been—”

  “Would he be waiting to be bailed out if he were a murder suspect?”

  Jack’s heart lightened at this news. “Then what happened?”

  The Master tapped his forehead, between the horns that grew with every intake of death energy. “From what I can make out, Dick was pulled in on some sort of trespassing charge. He was wandering along the Des Plaines River, and some scared person called the cops. I love how our work is scaring the city. Love that taste of fear.”

  “It is wonderful,” Jack said.

  “I need John back. Fetch him for me. You can do this,” he assured Jack. “I trust you most of all.”

  Jack glowed with pride of place. He didn’t like being around people, except when killing them. But he would do what was necessary.

  “Should I put away the groceries first?” he asked.

  chapter thirty-one

  It’s not like there’s a registry of psychic people living in the area,” Selena replied to Ivy’s suggestion of checking for missing people.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if there were one?” Ivy asked.

  Once again she was seated on the steps outside Ariel’s, talking on her cell phone. Dusk was falling, lights were coming on, and she hadn’t yet decided whether she was going inside the vampire lair or not. What did one do with a problem like Christopher Bell—sung to the tune of a song from The Sound of Music?

  “It has its pros and cons,” Selena said. “There’s got to be several thousand folk in a population area this size that have some mental gifts. But there are plenty who don’t realize it, some who think they’re crazy and are highly medicated because they hear voices.”

  “What about doing a census of the ones involved in the magic community? Who aren’t related to us,” Ivy added.

  “There are plenty of practitioners involved in secret cult things. Some of those groups are dark, some are posers—and it’s not our job to find them if they don’t want to be found.”

  “We might be able to keep them safe from vampires, and demons, if we knew about them.”

  “And we might be leading the vamps and demons to them. Besides, there are civil rights issues—”

  “Demons don’t believe in civil rights.”

  “We do.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Got
it. But what about just checking up on everyone we know about? I already sent out a text to everyone I know asking them to check in.”

  “That’s good. I will do what I can. Did you get anything else?”

  Ivy hadn’t actually mentioned visiting her grandparents. One just didn’t talk about them in the family. Especially not to the cop in the family.

  “Nothing I can talk about.”

  “Ivy, if there’s any evidence you’re keeping—”

  “No! I mean I haven’t been able to figure out what any of what I heard means. If it means anything. I swear—and I don’t care what Grandma and Aunt Cate want from me—”

  “Each for their own opposite reasons.”

  “—I’ll let you know what I find out. And you tell me whatever you find out,” she added. “And don’t pull ‘this is police business’ on me. Not with demons and possession and—”

  “Vampires.”

  “Don’t put this on me,” Christopher said, suddenly sitting beside Ivy on the stoop. “I’m in town for the sights.” He huddled in his leather jacket. “And the balmy weather.” He took the phone from Ivy. “Hello, Selena. When can you and I get together for a nice chat?”

  “Vegas. You want to go to Vegas.” Then Selena hung up on him.

  Christopher tossed the phone back to Ivy. He stood and held out a hand to help her up. They went down the stairs and turned right when they reached the sidewalk. “It’s a nice evening.”

  “You were just complaining about the weather.”

  “Ah, but it is much better weather than when I arrived in town.”

  “It seems you arrived in the wrong town,” Ivy said.

  “Then you wouldn’t have met me.”

  “It’s always about the vampires. What’s that saying you vamps have about the rest of us? Not my species, not my problem.”

  “I’ve never heard that before. It must be an Americanism.”

  “The thing is, you are human, aren’t you?”

  “Once upon a time I was human. I became something better.”

  “You don’t stop being human! You had parents, family, friends, a life. And some vampire stole you away and ruined your life.”