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

by Linsey Hall

  Roarke slung Orson’s body over his shoulder, his face slightly pained, probably at the idea that he was currently carrying an Order member into a place that practiced black magic. But when his gaze slid over me, it cleared. Like he was reminded of why he was doing this.

  I turned to the stairs, trying to reconcile the distant guy he’d been lately with the one who was here now, protecting me by breaking his own rules. I failed.

  Before I reached the top, the door opened.

  Aerdeca, dressed in her usual impeccably tailored white pantsuit, stood in the doorway and stared at us with a blond brow arched.

  “You’re alive, Del.” Her voice was cool as rainwater, but sweeter. Her lips twitched up at the corners, just a couple millimeters. It was the biggest smile I’d ever seen her give, but it was genuine.

  She and her sister had been at the battle that had killed me. I’d hoped they hadn’t seen my body and that we could play it off as a bad injury that’d taken a while to recover from. No luck, apparently.

  “Wasn’t ever dead,” I said.

  “Hmmm.” She blinked her blue eyes impassively. “Then to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Her magic flowed over me, sounding like chirping songbirds. With her pale good looks and lovely voice, you’d think she was a pushover. Far from it. I’d seen her in action. She was tough and scary.

  Two things I respected.

  “Can we step inside?” Roarke asked.

  She sighed and stepped back. “I suppose.”

  We hurried into the dimly lit foyer that felt like it should be in the Addams family movie. All dark wood walls with black and white tile flooring. Ever-blooming black roses climbed up the staircase bannister.

  Aerdeca gestured with white-tipped nails and headed to the back of the foyer. “You’d better bring him this way.”

  We followed her across the tiled floor and into a short hallway that led immediately into a workshop. Shelves stuffed full of crystals and jars lined the walls. A hearth lay dead in the corner, its embers now dark. The scent of wood smoke lingered, along with a floral aroma from the herbs that hung from the ceiling. A massive wooden table sat in the middle of the room.

  Aerdeca walked around to the other side of the table, looking entirely out of place in her white suit. She should be in a boardroom instead of here.

  She pointed to the table, blue eyes calm. “You may as well put him on the table.”

  Roarke offloaded his burden, still knocked out cold. Cass and Nix leaned over him, peering down at his slack face.

  “What is it that you want?” Aerdeca asked.

  “I’d like you to make him forget something,” I said.

  Her brows rose. “That’s not easy. It’ll be expensive.”

  “It’s worth it.” Ancient Magic had been doing well lately, bringing in more money than we were used to. I’d have less cash in my account and lucky charms stash, but paying the bill wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Excellent,” Aerdeca said. “Let me get Mordaca. She’s going to need to help.”

  “Oh, boy.” Cass whistled as Aerdeca left. “Mordaca’s not going to like that. This is like midnight for her.”

  I grinned. There was something so prickly about Mordaca that I kind of liked poking at her.

  It didn’t take long for Aerdeca to return with Mordaca trailing behind her. Mordaca’s hair was up in its usual bouffant, though slightly flattened on one side. The mask of black eye makeup that she wore was smudged, and her black silk robe draped over her Barbie-doll figure. Even in the middle of the night—which it was, for her—she looked like a sexy lady of darkness who’d just gotten off an all-night bender.

  “Do you even realize what time it is?” Mordaca’s raspy voice filled the room, followed by the whiskey taste of her magic. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “It’s two in the afternoon,” I said.

  “It’s the middle of my night.” She pointed at herself with one of her glossy black fingernails, her brows arched. “And that’s what matters.”

  I grinned. “Sorry about that. We were hoping you’d be willing to help us.”

  “For a price.”

  “Aerdeca mentioned that,” I said. “It’s fine.”

  “Memory eraser for this fellow.” Aerdeca poked him and glanced at me. “He’s an Order member, isn’t he?”

  “And I assume he knows something incriminating about one of you three.” Mordaca’s gaze traveled between me, Cass, and Nix.

  “Me!” I stepped forward. Mordaca knew we all possessed forbidden magic, but I didn’t want her pointing it out in front of Roarke. “I’m the one.”

  “Ah, that little trick you pulled with coming back from the dead?” Aerdeca asked.

  I frowned.

  “Don’t worry,” Mordaca said. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

  “And soon, this fellow won’t have it either.” Aerdeca pointed to Orson. “But memory control is difficult. Very precise. You’ll have better luck if he forgets a certain period of time rather than a thing.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Can we do the last few days?” Ever since he’d learned what I was. We could knock this problem out real quick.

  Aerdeca shook her head. “Not if you want him to have any kind of higher functioning reasoning left. The best we can do is half a day. He’d be groggy and feel a bit weird, probably have a killer headache.”

  That wasn’t ideal.

  “Could you give us a moment?” Roarke asked.

  Aerdeca and Mordaca gave identical shrugs, then left the room.

  Roarke turned to us, keeping his voice low. “That should do it. He’d forget what the Constable told him. Once Del has mastered her magic, Claire can tell him that she’s fixed everything and hopefully this problem will disappear.”

  “How, though?” I asked.

  “He mentioned that he thought the demon magic was imbued in an artifact. She can give him a dummy artifact and say that she got rid of the spell that was causing the demons to flock to it.”

  “That would work,” Cass said.

  “What about the Constable?” Nix asked. “He might know stuff.”

  “It sounded like he just thought she was causing trouble and now he’s reported it to the proper authorities. And without Del’s lost necklace, he’ll have no proof.”

  “That’s good,” Nix said. “Could work.”

  “Yeah, I think it will.” I looked toward the door. “Mordaca? Aerdeca? You can come back now.”

  They entered the room. Mordaca rubbed her hands together “Let’s get to work.”

  “So, you want the maximum memory loss that will still keep his mind intact?” Aerdeca asked. “That’s about half a day.”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” Mordaca sauntered to a shelf and removed a heavy onyx bowl and silver-bladed knife.

  Aerdeca drifted to Orson’s side and picked up one of his hands.

  A shiver raced over my skin and guilt prickled. A hand clasped mine, warm and familiar. I glanced over at Cass.

  “This is the right thing,” she said. “Not just because I don’t want anything bad to happen to you—which duh, I don’t—but you’re the Guardian.”

  “Whatever that means,” I muttered, but my heart warmed at her words.

  “Something important,” Roarke said. “And you won’t learn what it is with the Order after you.”

  I nodded, forcing myself to watch Aerdeca take the knife from Mordaca and make a slender cut at Orson’s wrist. As she drained the blood into the bowl, I asked, “This is a lot like those old doctors who bled their patients, isn’t it?”

  Mordaca nodded. “It’s a bit barbaric, but effective.”

  “For our magic, that is,” Aerdeca said. “It didn’t work so well for the doctors.”

  Mordaca sneered. “A bunch of monkeys, mimicking something they didn’t understand.”

  “Doctors had been copying blood sorceresses, only without the magic?” Nix asked.

  Aerdeca nodded
. “Yes. One of them probably saw a blood sorceress heal someone once and tried to achieve the same effect. Didn’t work, obviously, but that didn’t stop them.”

  Yet another reason humans shouldn’t be allowed to mimic magic.

  After a few more moments of letting Orson’s blood drain into the bowl, Aerdeca returned his wrist to the table. Mordaca dabbed a gray paste onto the wound as Aerdeca gathered ingredients from the shelves.

  They worked in tandem, quickly and efficiently, never bumping into each other. It was a dance that they had choreographed to perfection. Aerdeca poured the powders and liquids into the bowl of blood, while Mordaca stirred with a paintbrush. When it began to sizzle, they both smiled.

  In low voices, they began to chant over the bowl. The language was foreign, but the intent was clear. Memory loss.

  Finally, they quieted, then took the bowl to Orson. Mordaca raised the paintbrush, which dripped grotesquely with blood, and painted a line on Orson’s forehead. It smoked and sizzled, then disappeared, sinking into his skin.

  She stepped back and smiled. “That should do it. He’ll wake in a few hours, confused, but fine.”

  “Thank you,” Roarke said.

  “Don’t thank us, pay us,” Mordaca said.

  “We will.” I stepped forward. “But first, I was wondering. A seer said that a magical block was placed upon my ability to control my powers. Can you remove that?”

  Aerdeca frowned and stepped forward. She raised her dagger, holding its point toward me. “Prick your finger on this. I will try to see if we can help.”

  I poked the blade’s tip with my index finger until pain flared. A drop of blood welled around the silver tip and I removed my hand.

  “I’m going to touch your head now.” Aerdeca raised a hand and I nodded.

  She placed her fingertips against my forehead as she licked my blood off the tip of her blade. Her magic pulsed on the air, the sound of chirping birds and the feel of a breeze. My mind fuzzed briefly, my thoughts going blurry.

  Aerdeca’s eyes widened and she stepped back. “No, we cannot remove that. It is far too powerful, and far too dark.”

  My heart dropped. Too dark for the woman who licked blood off a dagger? I wanted nothing to do with that. “Then if you can make Orson forget, can you help me remember something?”

  “Maybe,” Aerdeca said.

  Mordaca frowned. “That’s a far more difficult and dangerous matter.”

  “I’m not afraid of danger.” My whole life was danger these days.

  “How dangerous?” Roarke asked.

  “It’s nothing like making that man forget a few hours. This goes deep into the mind. Depending on how old the memory is, and how deeply it’s in her mind, it can be deadly,” Mordaca said.

  “What do you want to remember?” Aerdeca asked.

  A lot of things. “How much can I remember?”

  “Pick one thing, start there,” Mordaca said. “You may not even manage that.”

  Shit. “I’m supposed to be able to read an ancient demon language. I need it so that I can interpret a map that has directions on it. But I don’t remember how.”

  “Did you ever know how?” Mordaca asked.

  “Yes. According to a seer called Cassandra.”

  “Cassandra?” Aerdeca looked at Mordaca, whose dark brows had risen comically high. “The one at Cambridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s a descendent of the Cassandra,” Aerdeca said. “The one from Greek myth. If she said it, then it’s correct. She is never wrong.”

  “Good. Let’s do it.”

  “How long ago did you forget the language?” Mordaca asked.

  “No idea.”

  “You don’t even know when you once knew this language?” Mordaca exchanged glances with her sister, then looked back at me. “This could kill you.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I said. “I seem to be good at popping back.”

  Aerdeca grinned. “True.”

  And either way, this wasn’t as risky as having dozens of demons coming at me out of nowhere. This procedure only risked my life. The demons were a threat to anyone who was around me.

  “Do you have this map with you?” Mordaca asked. “That will help us.”

  “I do.” I pulled it out of the bag I’d brought.

  “Right, then.” Mordaca pointed at Orson’s body. “Someone needs to get him out of here, then we can start.”

  Roarke picked up the body and glanced at us. “Where do I take him?”

  “Back to Claire,” Cass said. “She’ll know where to deliver him.”

  Roarke looked at me. “Be careful. I’ll be back.”

  I nodded, then swallowed hard. Just because I’d come back from death once, didn’t mean I was keen to repeat the experience. But this was the only way.

  Roarke left, Orson draped over his shoulder, and I turned to the blood sorceresses. “I don’t need to get on the table, do I?”

  “Depends on how much blood we have to take,” Aerdeca said.

  “Is blood loss what would kill me?”

  “That, and the shock of the magic, if it has to go too deep into your memory.”

  “Great.”

  “We’ll start with you sitting in a chair,” Aerdeca said.

  Oh fates. I was going to let the blood sorceresses poke at my mind. I was used to the supernatural, but this was a bit creepy even for me.

  Mordaca went to the chair near the fire and pulled it over to the table. She set it up as if someone were about to sit in it and have dinner. Mordaca pointed to it. “Sit here. Put the map on the table.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mordaca and Aerdeca hustled around the room as I sat in the chair and put the map on the table. I positioned it so that I could read it.

  Cass and Nix came to stand next to me.

  “You’ll be fine,” Cass aid.

  “Yeah, a little dying never killed you.”

  I grinned. “True.”

  Mordaca appeared at my side and nudged Cass out of the way. Nix followed, setting up vigil on the other side of the table with Cass. Mordaca set two large bowls on the table, one near each wrist.

  My heart raced. “Could this turn my mind to mush, you poking around and all?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Mordaca said. “But we’ll be careful. Honestly, death is more likely with this, if you have a hard time locating your memory of the language.”

  Great.

  Aerdeca appeared at my other side, two glinting silver blades in her hand. She passed one over to Mordaca.

  “Raise your wrists,” Aerdeca said.

  “Both?”

  “This spell requires more blood. Enough to make you woozy and weaken your mind’s defenses.”

  Barbaric. I grimaced and raised both hands, swallowing hard.

  Mordaca and Aerdeca each took one of my wrists. Pain flared when the knives sliced through my skin.

  “It will help if you try to focus on what you want to remember,” Aerdeca said.

  “Okay.” I did my best, imagining being able to speak whatever language was written on the parchment in front of my face.

  The scent of my blood drifted toward me, making my stomach turn. I did my best not to look, but the drip, drip, drip of the dark red stuff was hard to ignore.

  “Isn’t that enough?” Cass asked.

  “Do you feel woozy, Del? Tired?” Aerdeca asked.

  I shook my head, trying to see. “No.”

  “More it is, then,” Mordaca said.

  The blood continued to drip, filling the bowl until a sheen from the light overhead developed on the surface. Tiredness dragged at me.

  “I think I feel it,” I said.

  “Good.” Aerdeca put my hand on the table. Mordaca followed. From the corners of my eyes, I could see them sprinkling herbs into the blood. They stirred the concoction with their daggers, then laid the blades on the table and picked up boxes of matches. I was having a hard time keeping up with what they were doing.
r />   “Eyes on the paper.” Aerdeca pointed to it. “The real fun is about to start.”

  I glued my vision to the map, noting that the words were starting to wiggle in front of my face. I blinked, trying to make them stay still.

  The sound of matches striking filled the air. Unable to help myself, I peeked up just in time to see Aerdeca drop her match into the blood. It burst into flames, sending up a thick black smoke that smelled sweet and rich and horrible.

  I coughed, gagging slightly, as Mordaca and Aerdeca pushed the bowls closer to me so that I breathed in more smoke.

  No wonder people had a shitty opinion of blood magic. This was gross.

  “We’re going to touch your head,” Aerdeca said.

  “Uh huh.” My voice slurred, and I realized that I was still bleeding from my wrists. That wasn’t good, right?

  Two hands lightly touched my hair and I swayed.

  “She doesn’t look good,” Nix whispered.

  “She’s still bleeding,” Cass said.

  “Shut up,” Mordaca snapped.

  “Hey!” Cass stepped forward.

  “Guys, is cool,” I slurred, squinting at the lines in front of my face. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  Magic suddenly pulsed on the air, strong and rich. Mordaca’s tasted like whiskey, making my throat burn. Aerdeca’s chirping birds got louder, as did the feeling of a breeze over my skin.

  But even weirder was the feeling in my head, as if thin tendrils of smoke were unfurling in my mind, poking around all the crevices in my brain. It felt like it originated in my mouth.

  Oh, ew. Was that why they’d lit my blood on fire? I shoved away the thought, not wanting to focus on what exactly was going on here.

  “Focus on the words in front of you,” Mordaca said. “We’re going to try to find the memory.”

  The blood smoke choked me and hazed my vision and I squinted at the squiggles. Minutes or hours passed as my mind drifted. It was like being drunk on magic and blood loss. My vision began to darken at the edges.

  “Anything yet?” Mordaca asked.

  My head bobbed, dipping down toward the table. The words still looked like gibberish.

  “Nooo,” I slurred.

  “Try harder,” Mordaca said.