Demon Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker Book 2)

by Linsey Hall

  “Hey!” Cass said.

  “Are you safe?” Nix asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you know?” Cass asked.

  “Not much.” I told them about Cassandra and my powers.

  “Oh, that’s such shit.” Cass frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But they couldn’t help you get rid of the magical block on your mind? Or control your power?” Nix asked.

  “No. But they gave me a map that’s in a foreign language. It’s supposed to lead me to answers. We’re waiting to hear back from Dr. Garriso or Roarke’s friend. Hopefully one of them can read it.”

  “That’s a start,” Cass said. “Let us know how it goes.”

  “I will.”

  “How’s Roarke?” Nix asked. “Everything good there?”

  My face heated. “Yeah. About that. I did something stupid.”

  “What?” they demanded in unison.

  “I tried to kiss him.”

  “Aaaaand?” Cass said.

  “It went…badly. He pulled away immediately.” My mind replayed the way it had all started. “But it was weird! I mean, he clearly wanted to kiss me. He was giving me the most obvious look, and he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him until our chests touched, and he even leaned down!”

  “Hmmm.” Nix’s voice was thoughtful. “He would have definitely had to lean down. That’s the only way you’d have managed to reach his lips, he’s so damned tall. So he was definitely interested.”

  “Exactly!” A memory poked at me, sending hot embarrassment flooding through my veins. “But I did kinda have to give a little hop to get up to him though.”

  “Oh man,” Cass groaned. “Once you have to jump to reach a guy…”

  “Yeah.” I grimaced. This was the exact reason that setting up permanent residency under the house seemed like a great idea. Except it was Roarke’s house, which would turn me into a weird, troll-like stalker. “It wasn’t a big jump though.”

  “He has to have a reason,” Cass said.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” I leaned against the wall, thudding my head against it.

  “You could just ask him,” Cass suggested.

  “I’d rather shave my eyebrows off than admit to what just happened.”

  “Yeah, give her some time to recover from the humiliation,” Nix said. “And remember… He’s the Warden, and she’s technically still a fugitive from his hell. And don’t forget what Dr. Garriso said about him turning his brother in to the Order.”

  Nix’s words only fueled my fear. “Exactly. He says he’s on my side, but it’s so hard to trust that. I thought I was crazy suspecting him, but this proves I wasn’t. I’m not saying he has to kiss me to prove he’s on my side—that’d be pretty freaking creepy of me—but he’s giving me such mixed signals. He clearly wants me. I may have had to jump, but the pre-jump moments were very clear. But something’s holding him back. And he talked to me way more last week than he’s talking to me this week. He doesn’t trust me.”

  “Do you trust him?” Cass asked.

  “Not really.” I had a hard time believing anyone other than my deirfiúr were on my side. It’d taken me years to grow to trust Connor and Claire.

  “It’s smart to be wary,” Nix said. “Between running from the Monster from our past and keeping our FireSoul natures a secret, wariness has kept us alive. And Roarke—he’s got so much power. One change of heart, one word to the wrong person….”

  I’d be done. Was that why he’d cooled off in his approach to me? Because he still wasn’t sure of me? He could just toss me aside any time.

  The idea of being abandoned felt all too familiar. Like I expected it.

  Nah, that was nuts. I had no reason to think that.

  “Yeah, be careful. But not so careful that it hurts you in the end,” Cass said. “Give Roarke a chance. There’s gotta be a reason he’s changed his tune.”

  My thoughts exactly. But I was afraid of what that reason was.

  Chapter Five

  After hanging up with Cass and Nix, I showered quickly, then dressed in my old clothes. I could try borrowing some from Roarke, but that was now out of the question. It’d just feel weird to wear his clothes after my failed jumping-kiss. Too personal.

  I headed down the stairs to the kitchen, my heart thundering. I tried to distract myself by studying how beautiful Roarke’s home was, but it didn’t work very well.

  As I’d expected, he was in the kitchen, pulling something out of the oven.

  “Vegetarian lasagna.” He set it on the counter and glanced at me, his gaze so normal that it made me wonder if anything had happened at all.

  “Thanks. That was quick.”

  “I had it in the fridge.” He gestured to the box of wine on the counter. “Help yourself.”

  He’d gotten my favorite kind. “You got that for me?”

  “I asked my housekeeper to pick it up.”

  So, he didn’t want to kiss me, but he’d obtained my favorite wine. What the heck?

  I poured myself a mug, desperately pretending everything was normal and that I hadn’t just made an idiot of myself. “Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  I poured him one as he set two plates on the table.

  “Dr. Garriso hasn’t texted back.” I set my phone next to my plate where I could hear it if he sent a message. “Did you hear anything from your guy?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Damn.” I dug into the lasagna, burning my mouth in my haste.

  “Careful.”

  Good advice. I didn’t follow it, chowing down instead. Not because I was hungry, but because I really didn’t want to make conversation.

  After I’d taken my last bite, both of our phones buzzed at the same time. We grabbed them. I pulled up the message, my heart sinking when I read Dr. Garriso’s response.

  “He doesn’t recognize it,” I said. “At all.”

  “Florence did.” Roarke met my gaze. His was dark. Full of questions. “But she can’t read it.”

  “What language is it?” It was a long shot, but maybe there was a Google translate or something.

  “It’s a dead demon language. She doesn’t know which.”

  “What?” I dropped my pone onto the table. “I’m supposed to know an ancient demon language?”

  “Apparently.”

  Damn. “That’s not good.”

  “It’s strange, that’s certain. Are you sure you don’t know anything about your past?”

  “Nothing.” I rubbed my forehead. “What are we going to do? How do we read it if everyone who knows the language is dead?”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew. Dead.

  Death couldn’t stop me.

  “I think you know what to do,” Roarke said. He was on the same page.

  “Yeah. But can I? What about the block on my mind that Cassandra mentioned?”

  “That gift is an inherent one, so you can still get around it. If you try hard enough.”

  He was right. The experiment with the A.J. Goddard hadn’t gone well. But I had brought it back.

  And the person who had written this map had a message for me. If only I could talk with them. Even if we didn’t speak the same language, it was better than nothing. We could figure it out.

  “I can try,” I said.

  “Do you want to try now?”

  I nodded, then pushed back from the table. “In the living room. There’s more space.”

  I grabbed the map from where it sat on the counter and led the way into the mini ski lodge that Roarke called a living room. He’d built a fire while I was in the shower, and it crackled away merrily in the stone hearth. Comfortable couches and a massive coffee table were crouched in front of it.

  I set the map on the coffee table and took a seat in front of it. Roarke took the chair to my left. It all looked so normal, with the exception of the fact that I was about to bring back the dead.

  The squig
gles on the map stared up at me, daunting.

  I could do this. The shipwreck had been practice, and I’d succeeded there. Kinda. Whatever block was over my magic, I could get around it sometimes. Cassandra said I might be getting stronger.

  So I’d have to try to be strong.

  With that in mind, I rubbed my remaining lucky necklace for luck and then knocked on my head for good measure.

  I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, focusing on the hum of magic within me. When the voice of Horatio Penderren echoed in my head, telling me that no one had ever truly mastered this gift before, I pushed it aside. This was harder than anything I’d ever tried before, since I wasn’t technically in the place where the map had been created.

  Since the visualization trick had worked last time, I tried it again. My magic formed as a dim orb of light in my mind. I reached for it, straining. After a moment, my fingertips itched as if they were close. I tried to picture what the scene had looked like when this scroll had first been created. Some supernatural had sat down and left me a message.

  The image grew in my mind, stronger and brighter. Magic hummed in the air. The space around the map shimmered slightly, as if something were trying to come forward.

  My heart raced with the effort, and sweat broke out on my skin. My magic still felt wild, uncontrollable, but I was directing it in the right way.

  Something was happening. The air was definitely shimmering.

  Then a wall slammed down in my mind, crushing the orb of light that had symbolized my magic. The air around the map stopped shimmering. My magic died on the air, leaving it still and dead.

  I collapsed back on the couch, panting and exhausted.

  The cozy fire-lit scene was just as normal as it had been before I’d started, much to my dismay. Tears prickled at my eyes. Embarrassed, I blinked them back, determined not to cave, and looked at Roarke.

  The sympathy on his face just made my eyes prickle worse. I wouldn’t let the tears escape, though. They stayed stuck in my eyeballs, right where they belonged.

  “It’s not easy,” Roarke said.

  “No.” Thankfully, my voice was firm. “But it’s necessary. What kind of Guardian am I if I can’t do what’s necessary?”

  This magic would kill me eventually. I wouldn’t even have a chance to figure out what it meant to be Guardian. Without any control, demons would find me. One day, in such great numbers that I couldn’t protect myself. Maybe I’d bring others down with me. More than likely, I would.

  “You can do it, Del. We just need to find a way.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’m serious. Just because you failed now, doesn’t mean you will always fail. Sometimes we try our best at the most important thing we will ever do, and still we fail.”

  My gaze snapped to him. There was first-hand knowledge in his voice. “What do you mean? What did you fail at?”

  He shifted, his gaze suddenly blank.

  “Does it have anything to do with your brother? Is that who Horatio tried to help you with?” I couldn’t help but poke, wanting to know now more than ever. Needing to know.

  Roarke frowned. “This is the second time you’ve asked that.”

  “And the second time you haven’t answered.”

  “I told you not to pry. Not everything is your business.”

  But it was. If he’d really turned his brother in, it was pretty freaking relevant.

  “I really can’t talk about it.” Roarke’s voice was heavy.

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to succeed. And that I understand the failures that can be had on the path to success.” His gaze was sincere. He meant what he was saying. He couldn’t be that good at faking it. “You can do this, Del.”

  I sighed. Odds were strong that he was a good guy, right? I’d thought so countless times.

  But he’d turned his brother in to the Order, that dark little voice inside of me said.

  Shut up, you.

  I had bigger problems than worrying about Roarke. True, he knew my secret and could turn me in. But I just had to trust him for now and fight my own stupid instincts to blow things up that seemed too good to be true. Because I was currently facing a seemingly insurmountable problem.

  All I could do was focus on that and try.

  The dream came in fits and starts, feeling so real that I knew it had happened before.

  I stood in the middle of a circular room. Windows covered the walls, allowing a view of mountains rolling into the distance. The tower was an older part of the castle, the place where I spent most of my time.

  Alone.

  The sword I gripped in my hand hung limply, pointed toward the ground. Blisters stung my fingers and palms, right where the hilt of the sword rubbed. The blade was small, like me, a child’s practice weapon.

  Hopelessness welled inside of me. No matter how hard I tried to learn, still I failed.

  I was clumsy and inept, capable of only the most rudimentary moves.

  How did a girl like me, child of such a powerful family, do so poorly with a skill I needed to learn?

  “Try again.”

  I jumped at the sound of my teacher’s harsh voice, gripping my sword tight and blinking back tears. I sniffed, trying to stay quiet, and resumed my stance.

  “Wrong!”

  I jumped again, unable to help myself. No matter how much I expected to hear the censure, it stung every time. With a deep breath, I focused on the move to come. If I didn’t master this, my parents wouldn’t permit me an audience with them. Showing them what I’d learned was the only opportunity I had to see them.

  “Again!”

  I resumed my stance, then lunged forward, sweeping out with my sword. Before the movement was even over, I knew that I’d done it improperly.

  The door slammed shut behind me, even worse than the sound of my teacher shouting.

  He’d left.

  The key clicked in the lock.

  My shoulders drooped and I sobbed.

  I was worthless. No way I could do this.

  A sweep of blue light caught my eye, rushing in through the open window.

  Draka.

  The Phantom dragon landed gracefully beside me and enveloped me in her wings. Comfort and warmth flowed through me. Not as good as the rare moments when my mother embraced me, but good enough.

  As good as I was going to get.

  I woke with a gasp, my chest feeling empty and heavy at the same time. Darkness blinded me. I blinked frantically until my vision adjusted. Pale moonlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the artistically rustic furnishings in the lavish bedroom.

  Roarke’s house.

  I was in Roarke’s house. I was an adult. No longer the child in my dreams.

  I pushed a shaky hand through my hair, which was damp with sweat, and sucked in calming breaths of cool air.

  Had that been me in my dream? Sure felt like it. I’d never had a dream of my childhood before.

  So was that why I’d always been so good with a sword? I’d been practicing since I was a child? I hadn’t been very good back then, though. It had been something that my parents had wanted me to accomplish, but I couldn’t.

  My heart ached as yearning for my parents swept through me. It didn’t matter that my memories hadn’t been particularly good. I still wanted to see them, desperately. I’d lost some of that desire over the years as I’d grown to love Cass and Nix, my new family. But this felt just like when I’d been fifteen and awoken with no memory. I longed for my family. Wished for them.

  Tears prickled at the backs of my eyes, but I forced them away.

  There was no time to be weak or wallow in self-pity.

  So what if my parents had locked me in some horrible tower and made me practice with a sword until I had blisters on my hands? And that now, I still wanted to see them more than anything?

  Focusing on that wouldn’t fix the problem ahead of me.

  Had the
y even loved me? asked the mean little voice inside my head.

  Draka had loved me, though. I tried to focus on that. But I hadn’t seen the Phantom dragon since she’d appeared to me last week when she’d helped me kill the Ubilaz demon. Was she okay?

  Fates, I hoped so, even if I didn’t get to see her again.

  At least I had one figure from my past on my side. And my deirfiúr. Roarke and I had agreed to go to Ancient Magic in the morning and present our problem to Cass and Nix. Hopefully they’d have some ideas. Between all of us, we’d come up with something.

  Right?

  Chapter Six

  The wind was bitter cold when Roarke and I stepped out onto his front porch the next morning on our way to Ancient Magic. Sunlight sparkled through the trees, and the rush of the river cut through the silence of the morning.

  I glanced around at the forest, but saw nothing besides the big trees that surrounded Roarke’s place. We hurried down the steps to the drive where his car was parked about ten yards away. Dreams of the car’s ferocious heater were warming me from the inside when the snapping of a branch made my hair stand on end.

  I whirled around, expecting a bear.

  Instead, I saw a demon.

  Stupid me, expecting a bear. I knew what hunted me, and it wasn’t bears.

  The demon was a tall, slender variety that would look harmless if not for the fact that it had six-inch claws that dripped with a neon yellow substance.

  Poison. No question.

  Its yellow gaze searched mine, as if trying to decide why I didn’t look like an Ubilaz demon but possessed its power. Finally, it hissed, “Abomination!”

  “I’m getting so sick of that word.” I sneered at him. “What, you don’t like me?”

  At least, they really didn’t like the idea that I’d taken another demon’s power.

  “Get to the car,” Roarke said. “I’ll take care of it. You can’t risk killing it and adopting another power.”

  As much as it annoyed me, he was right. Until I knew exactly what this demon’s power was, I didn’t want to steal it. I sure as heck didn’t want to become poisonous.

  I backed toward the car, keeping my gaze trained on the demon. I was so intent that I almost didn’t notice the other monsters who crept from the woods.