Google doesn’t give me squat. It just tells me that a pentagram is a symbol of magic. Each point has a meaning: the one at the top represents the spirit, the other four point to water, earth, air and fire. I have no clue what that has to do with demons or saving someone.
I try the pictures on the iced card next. The skyscraper in the middle, and the glasses, faces, the capital T and the plus sign. I still think I have to look for a man with glasses, living in a skyscraper. Someone with a name starting with a T? How would I google that?
I try all the combinations and phrases I can think of, but nothing seems to fit the pictures on the card. Then an idea hits me. I should look for skyscrapers nearby.
The largest in Idaho is in Boise. It houses several companies. I click them all. Timson and Sons is the last in the list. When I click it, a photograph of two men appears. The ‘sons’ who now own the business. They look alike, although one is clearly older than the other. He has glasses and a streak of gray in his hair.
Glasses… Could this be it? I click on the ‘about us’ button and my mouth curves into a smile. This is it, I found him. I found the man I have to save.
I jump up, snatch the cards and the notebook from my desk and bounce down the stairs.
“I’m going out for a minute,” I yell at Mom, still in the kitchen. I don’t wait for an answer.
The Shield is still sitting where I left them.
“Don’t you ever move?” I ask tauntingly.
They don’t bite.
D’Maeo gives me his serious look. I’m starting to wonder if he even has another look. “We were discussing what we found out about the demon cards.”
“Found out? Were you googling, as well? I didn’t know you guys had a computer.”
Jeep shakes his head. “We don’t. We asked around.”
“You asked around? I thought you couldn’t leave the house without me?”
“We can’t.”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. The implication of what Jeep just said hits me like a punch in the stomach. Nausea creeps towards my throat. “Are you saying you invited other ghosts into my house?” The hairs on the back of my neck immediately respond to the thought.
Suddenly they are all busy studying the surface of the table.
“Are you crazy?” I yell, losing control of my temper a bit faster than justifiable. “What if you accidentally bring someone evil here? Or something? This is supposed to be our safe place. You should protect it, not let strangers in.”
“Calm down, we know what we’re doing,” D’Maeo says with his usual calm demeanor.
I jab my finger at him. “Calm down? You’re forgetting that this is my house. I decide what happens here.”
A mumbling from my left. “Here goes the power trip.”
I shoot Taylar a warning glare. “Try not to insult me,” I fume. My feelings are rapidly spinning out of control. I can’t help myself.
“Maybe you should go and smash something outside,” Jeep suggests. “Or punch a tree or something.”
My anger turns to him, but he’s not taunting me. “I’m serious. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. You have discovered things that most people will never find out. You have lost your father and gotten back your mother.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “How did you know about my mother. I never told you.”
He points his thumb at Vicky. “She sensed it.”
“Great.”
“He is right though,” Maël says.
I turn my attention to her, my emotions already more controlled. The ancient woman only speaks when she has something important to say.
“Who is right?” I ask.
“Taylar is.”
I shoot her a confused look.
“When you have this much power, you have to be careful not to let it go to your head.”
I frown. “What power? I don’t have any power.”
“You don’t know what powers you have yet. But you do know that you are the master of this house and the master of your Shield, us. It is a dangerous thing to have if you don’t use it wisely. If you go on a power trip, as Taylar put it, you might find yourself in a dark place soon.”
I want to argue with her, tell her that I don’t care about power, but who am I kidding? Is it so crazy that I like being a ‘master’? That I like having a Shield doing my bidding? But I know she is right. I can feel the dark pulling at me already. I have to use what I have to do good things. I don’t ever want to follow in my father’s footsteps. Even the thought of it makes me nauseous again.
I nod at the African queen. “Thank you, Maël. I needed that.” I turn to the others. “Thank you all, for giving me a chance to get used to everything, and to sort my feelings.”
Vicky beams at me. “You’re doing great.” She looks at the others. “He’s fine. I told you he’s different than John.”
“You were reading me again?”
“Well, yes. I have to keep us safe. If you are making any dirty plans, I want to know about them. We never saw it coming with John; took us totally by surprise. That won’t happen again.”
I blink. “You never noticed he was turning evil?”
“Well, I did sense something changing within him. But he was such a good man before, I just couldn’t believe…”
Jeep reaches out and squeezes her hand. I have never seen him this compassionate before. He must really care for her. Or maybe he’s just not as tough as he wants me to think.
“It wasn’t your fault, Vicky,” he says gently. “None of us saw it coming.”
“If you sense anything evil in me, please tell me,” I urge her. “And protect yourselves.”
They all nod.
“Now, tell me what your friends found out about the cards.”
D’Maeo takes a deep breath. Somehow I’m guessing that isn’t a good sign. “There are a lot of different kinds of demon cards. The ones you got are called Cards of Death. They tell you who is going to die and how. They can be sent as a threat or a warning, depending on who sends them.”
I shiver. “So who sends these kinds of cards?”
“No one knows exactly. They could only tell us that the Cards of Death can be sent by good or evil. Since the voice you heard told you to save someone, we figure these cards were sent by someone good.”
“Or something,” Taylar adds.
D’Maeo ignores his comment. “If we are right, the fate of the world might rest in your hands.”
I grind my teeth. “That’s what the voice said.”
“We have to find out who is going to die and save him, as soon as possible.”
This is where I hit them with the good news. “No problem. I found out who it is.”
The Shield looks impressed. “How?”
I tap the side of my head with my finger. “Google and a bit of logical thinking.” I take the cards out of my pocket, add a little salt I still carry with me, and show them. “Timson Medical Equipment and Supplies. It has an office in the largest skyscraper in Idaho.” I jab my finger at the building in the middle. “The owners are brothers.” I point at the two faces. “The eldest wears glasses.” I wave at the picture of the glasses. “T for Timson, and the plus sign…” I drop my finger to the bottom of the card, “…stands for medical.”
The ghosts lean towards the pictures. Their eyes scan every detail. D’Maeo is the first one to sit back down. “That must be it. Good job. Now we have to find out who is going to kill this man, and stop them. You will have to observe him. Discreetly. Can you do that?”
I don’t have a clue how, but there’s no way I’m telling them that. “Sure. No problem.”
Vicky bats her eyelashes at me. “I can come with you, if you need someone who is actually invisible.”
Now that would be really weird, walking through Boise with a ghost by my side. But before I realize it, my voice says, “Sure, that sounds great.”
Did I say that myself or did
Vicky bewitch me again?
I glance at my phone. “It’s too late now. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
It’s starting to sound more and more like a date, and she is looking pretty pleased about it.
I raise my finger in warning. “But no mind poking.”
She bows. “Whatever you say, master.”
An image of me tying her to a bed pops into my head and makes my whole body tingle. “Stop doing that,” I scold her.
The others follow our conversation as if they’re watching a tennis match. I can’t make out what they’re thinking.
Vicky doesn’t seem to notice. She just smiles knowingly at me. “I didn’t do anything, babe. That was all you.”
CHAPTER 12
After jotting down the address of the Timson office, I flop down on my bed and open my father’s notebook.
I never wanted this power. I just wanted a quiet life with my family. But now none of that is possible. I have seen too much to just sit back. I have to help those in need. But how will I be able to do so without endangering the ones I love?
See, I knew it. Dad was a good man. Maybe I can finally find out what happened. Why he left us, why he did all those terrible things the Shield talked about.
I see Dante growing up and it makes me so proud. But every time I look at him, I can’t help wondering: will he be in as much danger as I am? And if he is, can I protect him somehow? There’s a big, crazy world of magic out there that most people don’t know anything about.
I keep hoping he doesn’t have any powers, but I know the chances are slim. It can’t have been a coincidence that we ended up in Blackford.
I frown. What does that mean? Is there anything special about Blackford? If there is, I never noticed it. It’s the most boring town in Idaho.
The rest of the page is a bit smudged, and when I turn it, I’m confused. There’s some sort of recipe, with herbs I’ve never heard of. Burdock root, horehound, mugwort and blessed thistle. I’ve heard of the last one, I think Mom gave it to me once when I was sick. Thistle tea.
I try to make out the words at the top of the page, but the book must have gotten wet, because the ink is all smeared. Or maybe Dad was crying when he wrote this. Considering the tone of voice on the previous page, I wouldn’t be surprised.
I flip some more pages.
I can’t let it control me. I have to be strong, for my family, for the world. But darkness is slowly filling my soul and I don’t know how much longer I can withstand it.
Today I tried to save a girl. She was possessed and no one dared to come near. Not even the strongest Mages. So I was on my own. I couldn’t just leave her.
I chanted for hours, blessed her, used my fire to threaten the demon inside her, read the whole Bible, but nothing worked. She only seemed to get worse. And so did I. The darkness got stronger with every minute, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I left. There was no other choice. An hour later I got a message. The girl died. I’m not ashamed to say I cried for her. But at the same time, something inside me was stirring. Something evil. And it was happy about this girl’s death.
I blink. Dad knew something was wrong. He was fighting it.
A tear forms in my eye, but I refuse to cry again. I can’t lose grip, because apparently the world depends on me to save it. Was my father in the same position? Were his concerns justified? Did he also receive cards?
I turn the pages more rapidly, scanning them as fast as I can.
About halfway in the book, the writing changes. Sentences have been scribbled down with haste. They no longer follow the printed lines. With every page the words get thicker, as if Dad was pushing his pen down harder and harder. I can almost see him sitting at his desk upstairs, with a maddened look on his face. Although, he probably had left us by then. There are no dates on any of the pages. Maybe he wrote most of this at Darkwood Manor.
But it’s not the words and the way they are written that worry me the most. Scare me even. It’s the drawings he made. Or scratches, for lack of a better word. They become more frequent the further I get into the book. Black figures with red eyes and long limbs. Others with wide open mouths and large claws reaching out to me. Dark spots without a recognizable form. Splashes of red in between, like blood. Dark eyes without heads, looking right through me. And words, screaming in agony.
STOP!
LEAVE ME ALONE!
GO AWAY!
My whole body has gone cold. I can’t read any more of this. I can’t watch my father getting swallowed by some dark, twisted thing inside him. I close the notebook and throw it towards my trash can.
Lying back on my bed I close my eyes and try to get rid of the images in my head. But it’s no use. There’s blackness everywhere, even when I open my eyes again. Dad’s face floats in front of me, grinning menacingly. I almost scream in frustration.
My gaze flicks towards the notebook lying on the floor. I can’t throw it away. It holds answers to questions I’ve had for years. And to questions that have arisen since I met my Shield. I should hand it over to them, see if they can find something useful in it. But somehow that thought makes me uncomfortable. This book contains my father’s deepest thoughts and feelings. I can’t just hand it over; not to anyone.
During dinner, I feel guilty not telling Mom about the notebook. But she is so happy and so healthy, and… I’m afraid she’ll think I have gone crazy if I start talking about powers and ghosts. I have hardly convinced myself that this is all really happening.
Later, I lie on my bed, holding the book, trying to decide if I should read more. My fingers follow the outline of the scratches on the front. What kind of animal could have made those? A bear? A wolf? Or maybe just a cat? A large cat then.
Eventually I fall asleep, but I don’t get much rest.
I wake up from a scream somewhere in the house. In a second I am out of my bed and in the hallway. My heart thumps wildly in my chest. I know what’s going on, and I know things will get worse before they get any better. Mom has one of her fits again.
A loud rummaging is coming from the bathroom. I tiptoe towards it and peek around the corner. Mom is throwing things around, jerking her head with every movement of her hands. She studies a bottle of shampoo with a low growl, surrounded by pieces of glass. There’s a brand new crack in the bathtub.
“Mom?” I say gently.
Her head spins around so quickly, and so far, that for a moment I think her neck will snap. It makes me want to throw up every time, but I have to be strong.
“Mom. Take it easy. It’s going to be all right.”
She snarls like an animal. I know she’s about to leap at me, so I brace myself.
“Breathe, mom. Please,” I plead.
I know she doesn’t see me, not really. But my voice always seems to soothe her a bit.
She drops the bottle and barges for the door. She ignores my presence, so I let her pass.
I wait for a moment before following her downstairs. Out of everything she does during her psychotic fits, the way she walks down the stairs is the hardest to watch: on all fours, with her head dropped between her shoulders. It’s like something out of a horror movie. Hard to describe, but let’s just say I can never watch the uncut version of The Exorcist again.
A thump indicates that Mom has reached the bottom of the stairs. The sound of wood being torn apart confirms this.
I run downstairs. “Mom,” I use my firm tone now. “Stop that right now!”
She looks up. There’s a red glow in her eyes. It’s faint, but it’s there. She lets out a shriek and bites into the wooden table-leg she’s holding. Blood drips down her chin and she grins at me, her teeth a dark red.
My whole body tightens when she starts uttering strange foreign words. I can never get used to this low voice coming out of her mouth. It’s as if a big old man has taken over her body. I recorded it once so I could google what she said later. But there was only static on my p
hone.
I raise my hands. “It’s okay. Take it easy.”
She utters some more guttural nonsense, which I try to ignore. I know the end is near now. It’s not so bad this time. She only wrecked the bathroom and the coffee table.
I cringe when she flings the table-leg at the mirror above the sideboard. Then she groans and drops to the ground.
In a millisecond I am kneeling next to her, checking her for injuries. She cracked a few teeth, but other than that, she’s okay.
I get up to get a towel so I can clean her up before she wakes. But I freeze when the front door slams open. A dark figure looks at me from the doorway, panting. Dad.
“You two are cursed,” he says. He points at Mom. She lights up like a bonfire.
“NO!” I scream, and pick up the cover draped over the couch. But before I can move towards Mom, who is now spinning like crazy, my hair catches fire. I throw the cover over my own head, but now my feet are burning. The crackling of fire is deafening. Smoke makes it impossible for me to breathe.
I drop to my knees and look up at Dad, still standing in the doorway. “Please… save us.”
But he just shakes his head and turns around, walking away as if nothing has happened.
The last thing I see before jerking awake, is Mom’s face. Or what’s left of it.
She’s by my side in a second, stroking my hair. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”
I take some deep breaths. “I know, but it was so real.”
She hugs me. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I hesitate, but I know I won’t be able to sleep again if I don’t tell someone. And who else is there to tell in the middle of the night?
“You had a fit.”
She squeezes me tighter. “Oh, honey.”
“You broke the coffee table, and you were speaking in that awful voice again.”
She sighs. “I’m so sorry. It must have been horrible.”
The First Demon (Cards of Death Book 1) Page 8
