Incubus Dreaming (The Incubus Series Book 3)

by A. H. Lee

Azrael massaged his temples. He’d lost track of time during his possession. This was a narrow miss. Just as well they’re here, though. They’ve got some explaining to do. Indeed, he was almost as anxious to get his hands on the High Council as he was to get his hands on this rogue sorcerer.

  “Show them into an audience chamber,” said Azrael to the servant. “Provide them with refreshment. Put their luggage in their rooms. And Micah…”

  The man went still at the mention of his name. “My lord?”

  “I’ve been dealing with something very bad for the last few days. It is almost over. Please tell the rest of the staff that there’s no need to be…concerned.”

  Micah’s posture visibly loosened. “This is good to hear, my lord.”

  Azrael gave the staff some time to see his guests into the audience chamber. He visited his tower and picked up a few supplies—half-finished spells that required only a little magic to activate.

  At last, he squared his shoulders, straightened his cravat—red to match Cleo’s eyes—and marched into the audience chamber. Two men and a woman sat in comfortable chairs around a cut-glass table, sipping drinks and talking. Lord Loudain—Tod’s grandfather—was easily the most imposing. He was a big, square-jawed man, mostly bald, his fringe of red hair frosted white, with streaks of silver in his neatly trimmed beard. He wore a sword and looked very capable of using it. Lady S was a middle-aged woman, slightly plump, with dark hair and a freckled nose that crinkled when she smiled. She wore her lemur demon like a stole. The demon himself had a silver collar studded with blue and green gemstones. Jacob—who was not actually a council member, but merely a consultant—sat a little apart from the other two. He was a lanky man with sharp features, salt and pepper hair, and dark brown eyes that missed nothing.

  A few weeks ago, Azrael had envisioned a pleasant meeting here—a few uncomfortable questions, reassurances on all sides, discussion of what to expect from the rest of the Council, then a tour. He’d intended to make nice with these people as he’d never done before.

  Well, that’s right out. Azrael entered the room, Cleo on his heels, and instantly both doors shut, locks clicked into place, and invisible wards engaged. The lemur on Lady S’s shoulder managed one hiss before Azrael sucked all sound out of the room. The three magicians leapt to their feet with what would have been cries of alarm, except that the room had gone as quiet as the bottom of the sea. At the same time, the lamps dimmed, shadows leapt and darkened. Cleo giggled at his side, although Azrael only caught the motion and no noise. One of the stains on the front of her jumper had become unmistakably a bloody handprint.

  The three magicians stood mute. Loudain had drawn his sword, Lady S had pulled something that looked like a wand out of her purse, and Jacob had thrust both hands into the pockets of his jacket. Under other circumstances, any of these three would have made a formidable opponent. But not here. Here they were in Azrael’s territory.

  “You can put those toys away,” he said into the unnatural silence. “My wards tend to react badly with the magic of other magicians. Fatally, in fact. I am not here to attack you, but I am going to get some answers. I have had one hell of a week, colleagues. Someone is trying to use me as a murder weapon to annihilate you and the rest of the council. This person is a skilled dream-walker. He has obviously been well-trained, and he has a vendetta. I find it difficult to believe that the High Mage Council did not know about him or anticipate such an attack. I find it offensive that I was not warned. This sort of chicanery is exactly why I dislike dealing with other magicians. You brought this to my island. My people have suffered and are still suffering as a result. I do not appreciate being put in the middle of other people’s squabbles without my consent, and I highly resent being used as puppet!”

  “Do we get to talk, or are you only going to shout at us?” The voice was Jacob’s. Of course it was Jacob’s. Azrael resisted the urge to demand to know how he’d done it.

  “Talk,” he spat and released the spell of silence.

  Loudain gave an audible inhalation.

  “Hello to you, too,” drawled Lady S’s lemur.

  “Maybe you should not greet the rest of the council with a dark aspect of Wrath on your heels,” said Lady S. “If I could offer some advice, I’d start there.”

  Azrael snorted. “My lady, if I don’t get some answers at once, the council will definitely not like my greeting. I’ll give them a real reason to call me a dark sorcerer.”

  Loudain stepped between Azrael, Lady S, and her bristling demon. “Please calm down,” he said in his deep rumble. “We’re all on the same side here. Azrael, where are your two bright magic creatures? Where are Mal and Jessica?”

  “Taken,” snarled Azrael. “Trapped in a spirit vessel that is feeding on their magic. It was supposed to wipe my memories of them and direct me to build a gate that will summon a creature to kill you. It almost worked.”

  A moment’s silence. Loudain licked his lips. “Please tell us the whole story. Let us help.”

  Jacob’s perfectly controlled expression revealed nothing when he said, “Did it take Lucrecia?”

  “Of course it took Lucy!” snapped Azrael. “It took every demon who came near it!”

  “Except that one,” said Lady S, still looking distrustfully at Cleo.

  “She’s a dark aspect,” said Jacob quietly. “The creature providing power for the vessel is probably dark aspected as well?” He directed this at Azrael, who nodded. “It’s easier to fight dark magic with dark magic,” finished Jacob.

  “Perhaps easier,” began Lady S, “but—”

  “Let us not judge what Lord Azrael has done until we understand his position,” said Loudain. “Azrael?”

  “First, I want to know who is attacking me. I cannot believe you have no idea who it is.”

  The three magicians looked at each other. “Chester?” ventured Lady S.

  “He’d never do something like this,” muttered Loudain. “He’s no dream-walker, either. What about Carlisle?”

  “Not her style at all,” said Jacob.

  “Are you certain that you weren’t the target?” said Lady S to Azrael. “Plenty of people don’t like you.”

  “I am aware of that,” said Azrael. “And, yes, I am certain.”

  “I agree with Loudain,” said Jacob. “You need to tell us what happened. Trust that we are not fools and that we really have no immediate idea of who is doing this. Give us more information.”

  Azrael looked between them. He felt so frustrated with all this dithering. Dimly, he was aware that Cleo was probably making his reaction worse. Like Mal, she stirred up the vice on which she fed. He should tell her to stop. But dear gods, feeling angry felt so much better than feeling afraid.

  Loudain cleared his throat. “The longer you wait, the less chance we’ll have of retrieving your…”

  Azrael glared at him. If you say ‘creatures’ again…

  “People,” finished Loudain.

  Azrael shut his eyes, took a deep breath. “I think you should have a look at my garden.”

  Chapter 46

  Azrael

  Azrael gave them a rapid-fire version of events as they walked through the palace and grounds in the crisp, wintery afternoon. He didn’t mention the exact circumstances under which he’d broken the dreamcatcher’s encryption charm, but there was no way to avoid the fact that Mal and Jessica slept in his bed. He didn’t mention anything about babies, but the engagement rings were a critical piece of the story. He didn’t give the werewolf’s name—although he was certain Loudain guessed—but there was no way to avoid the fact that one of his wards was a werewolf.

  Azrael was coming to the end of the story when he realized exactly how much he was revealing under the influence of Cleo’s reckless fury and his own desperation. He faltered. To his surprise, Lady S—whom Azrael knew and trusted the least—came forward and looped her arm through his. “It’s alright.”

  “It really isn’t,” said the lemur from her shoulder. �
�This book has forced you to do an appalling amount of work. I am sickened, simply sickened!”

  Azrael laughed in spite of himself. He glanced at the lemur. “I don’t believe we have been introduced.” You are obviously Sloth, but who else?

  “I call him Amos,” said Lady S. “He’s very relaxing. Would you like him to counter the effects of your minion of incandescent rage?”

  “No, thank you,” said Azrael. After a moment, he added, “I’ve summoned Cleo before, but only briefly, and it’s been more than a decade. She’s not a usual part of my household.”

  “We laid waste to an army once!” piped up Cleo.

  “She’s often underestimated,” put in Jacob. “I know of two sorcerers in the last fifty years who have summoned her and lost control of her.”

  “Jacob, Jacob,” piped Cleo, “you sent me home once.”

  “I did.”

  “Are you going to send me home now?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You know I’ll lead you all to a grisly death,” she continued in her child’s voice.

  “No, you will not,” said Azrael. “I’ll send you home quite soon. In the meantime, there is something that needs killing, and you like that.”

  “I do!”

  “Then be patient and stay a while longer.”

  She giggled. “You’re just angry because they took Mal. I wonder if he will even remember you once you get him out of the book. He might have unraveled, you know—waiting for you to come, thinking you’d abandoned him. He might be just a shell of magic, all hollowed out with nothing—”

  “Cleo, shut up,” said Azrael.

  Loudain gave him a clap on the shoulder opposite Lady S. “She’s Wrath, my friend. She’s going to keep saying whatever will keep you angry.”

  “Azrael,” said Lady S, “I know you would not choose to reveal quite this much about your private business if you thought you had any choice. However, you brought us here early, presumably because you trusted us. Assume that trust was well-placed.”

  Azrael relaxed a fraction.

  “Actually,” said Loudain, “I think you might consider making your personal arrangements more widely known. At least then people won’t think you indulge yourself with all of these courtiers.”

  Azrael was momentarily speechless. “They think I sleep with the courtiers?”

  “What did you expect them to think?”

  “Well, I—” Azrael was indignant. “I don’t.”

  Jacob spoke quietly. “I find that mundanes and even many magicians suppose that sorcerers are prone to the vice of the creature they most often employ. This is simply a misunderstanding, probably because sorcerers are so rare. In my experience, we work best with creatures who are most unlike ourselves. It’s easier to ward against them. Lady S, for instance, is one of the most industrious people I know.”

  Lady S spoke again. “Mal sleeps with the courtiers?”

  “Sometimes,” said Azrael, “if they’re amenable. More often, they get involved with each other and he feeds indirectly. They entertain political guests, which gives me a way to exert influence. The volunteers do know that sex will be expected. Mal must be fed. I create a sensuous environment, but I don’t force anyone to do anything. It wouldn’t help if I did. Mal wouldn’t feed.”

  Lady S patted his arm reassuringly.

  Azrael couldn’t decide whether he was sharing too much or not enough. He wasn’t accustomed to explaining himself. “I don’t even go to the orgies,” he offered. “Mal keeps pestering me to go lately. He says he just wants me to be friendly and play games—”

  He broke off when he realized that Loudain was laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said when he got himself under control. “I’ve never heard anyone talk about orgies as though they were afternoon bingo.”

  Azrael wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so he said, “Since you’ve all been privy to intimate details of my life, can we not pretend that you don’t have a vested interest in getting my people back safely? Loudain, we both know why you should care. Jacob, I believe you have more than casual interest in getting Lucy back in one piece. And I believe Lady S and Amos wanted Mal and I to help them figure some things out.”

  “We will do our best to help you get them back,” said Jacob quietly.

  They reached the hedge maze and stood in silence for a moment, staring at the elaborate summoning circle Azrael had drawn in spelled chalk. The dreamcatcher lay on a picnic table nearby, bound and warded. Nothing was getting into that book now. Unfortunately, nothing was getting out, either.

  “This isn’t really a summoning circle,” murmured Lady S as she walked around the edges. “This is a gate.”

  Azrael nodded. “That’s what the sorcerer called it, too. I think my delusion was meant to make me think I was summoning a creature whose name I knew. However, I was, in fact, intended to open a gate to a creature over which I had no control.”

  “Was there no map?” asked Loudain as he examined the runes around the edges. “No anchors?”

  Azrael shook his head. “I think it opens into dream space. That’s why it looks so strange.”

  Jacob was examining the dreamcatcher. “I think this is the anchor. You’ve built the lock, and this is the key.”

  “Can you tell what kind of demon it is, Jay?” asked Loudain.

  “Dark aspect for sure,” muttered Jacob. “Azrael, can I use magic here?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. I was going to build an airlock for guests to learn what parts of their magical signature might be compatible with mine. That was right before all this happened. Instead of building an airlock, I built this damn gate.”

  Lady S rolled her eyes. “Oh for gods sake’s. It’s Pride!” She gestured at Azrael. “Half the council thought he was Pride until he came to his trial. Nothing else would have such an easy time feeding on him. Do not look at me like that, Lord Azrael. I am right.”

  Azrael jammed his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure you are.”

  Jacob nodded. “Dark aspects of Pride are terrifying. They’re not often summoned.” He coughed. “They uh…tend to have an easy time feeding on magicians in general. It’s difficult to properly ward against them.”

  “Who is doing this?” demanded Azrael. “Are you really none the wiser?”

  Loudain and Lady S looked at each other. “The memory magic,” began Loudain, “the dream-walking, the circus…”

  “She’s dead!” exclaimed Lady S. “I saw her down the river myself. She is dead.”

  “Who?” demanded Azrael.

  “Lady Zersic,” said Jacob.

  “I heard the Council executed her,” said Azrael.

  “We did,” said Lady S. “People were disappearing at her circus. She’d gotten more eccentric over the years. Her demons were running wild. She’d been warned multiple times, but nothing changed. We received proof of one of the killings and that was enough.”

  “Did she have friends or relatives who might want revenge?”

  Lady S shook her head. “She’d cut herself off from everyone except her demons.”

  “Apprentice?” said Jacob quietly.

  Loudain hesitated. “We heard there was an apprentice…”

  “We heard a rumor,” objected Lady S. “We never found any evidence to support it. If he existed, he died in the fire.”

  Azrael stared at her. “You killed a woman with a dependent?”

  Amos rolled his eyes dramatically from his mistress’s shoulder. “We killed a dark sorceress with an apprentice. Maybe. Probably not.”

  “A woman with a dependent,” repeated Azrael.

  Lady S shrugged. “She was a murderer. Anyone she trained would have been a murderer, too.”

  Loudain nodded. “Demons were in control of Zersic, not the other way around. The Council doesn’t execute people lightly. I suspect that if they’d found an apprentice, they would have sent him down the river after his mistress.” He scratched his head. “This seems too advanced for an apprentice in any case.”


  “Maybe she got away,” said Lady S helplessly. “Maybe Zersic isn’t as dead as we thought. She certainly has motive to attack the council and the right skill set to create this trap. But nobody suspects she survived, Azrael. No one saw this coming, I promise you.”

  Azrael nodded. He felt he’d learned all he could from these people. He wasn’t sure it would be enough. “Cleo, I think you should take your other form now.”

  Cleo looked up from where she’d been drawing dismembered bodies in the dirt. “Why?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  Cleo shrugged. She melted into something that looked like a weasel the size of a cocker spaniel, still with alarmingly red eyes. She was, in fact, a mongoose. She zipped around Azrael’s legs like an excited squirrel. “Let’s go kill something! Or get you killed! I don’t care which!”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Jacob.

  “Go after my people.”

  “You’re going to open the gate?”

  “Yes. Would you like me to give you time to get off the island?”

  Loudain drew his sword. “Of course not.”

  Azrael looked at him skeptically, but Lady S spoke at once. “Of course we’re coming with you, Azrael. Give us a little credit.”

  “You do know that the sorcerer will be waiting, right?” said Jacob. “When you bound the book, you certainly triggered alarms. He’ll know something has gone wrong.”

  “I am aware,” said Azrael. “You know that you may not be able to use your own magic, right? Even in the dream space? The book is still on my island, and you may still be blocked by my wards.”

  “I think that’s a chance we have to take,” said Lady S. “Especially if the alternative is never knowing whether you’ve become a puppet of dark magic.”

  Azrael nodded grudgingly. “Alright then. Let’s open a dream gate.”

  Chapter 47

  Azrael

  The four magicians stood around the edge of the circle. Azrael placed the dreamcatcher in the center and drew the final runes. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Azrael noted a disturbance in the air over the circle—a shimmer like heat or the ripples from a pebble tossed into a still lake. The effect was unlike any gate Azrael had ever seen. It was, in fact, very like opening a pocket world in his charmed picture frame.