5.0 - Light Of The Stygian Orb

by Krista Walsh

  To her left had been Vera Goodall, the vengeance demigoddess who also ran a bookstore. At this time of night, the store wasn’t likely to be open and Molly had no idea where she lived, so that was off the table. Beside her had been Allegra Rossi, the succubus. Molly didn’t mind if she never encountered her again. That woman had been, to put it politely, a bitch.

  Daphne Heartstone, the sorceress and crime journalist for the New Haven Chronicle, had sat beside Allegra. Molly tapped her fingers on the top of her dresser, mentally putting Daphne’s name aside as a possibility. At eleven o’clock, the sorceress would likely still be awake, or at least available by email.

  Next was Gabriel Mulligan. Thinking about him made Molly’s cheeks flush with warmth, and she was glad no one was nearby to notice. His voice and charm had been enough to disarm her uneasiness, but while she wouldn’t mind chatting with him again, she had no idea where to find him.

  Antony the Incubus would have been out of the question even if he had been a possibility.

  That left the daemelus, Zachariel.

  For many reasons, he should have been her first and easiest choice, but although he’d sworn to protect her, he also scared her more than the others. His uncertainty about which side of the world he fell on — a literal good versus evil debate — made her leery about seeking him out on her own. What if he’d decided evil was the better way to go?

  The thought of coming across him on a dark and isolated street was enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck.

  Yet even as her fear rose to hold her back, her desire for information protested against her backing away. Daphne could easily ignore her email if she didn’t feel like answering, but if Molly found Zach in person, she could make him tell her. She could tell him that if he answered her questions, she would consider his debt of honor complete.

  Alone in her room, Molly clenched and unclenched her fists, psyching herself up. Sure it was a school night, but tomorrow was an easy day. As long as she got a few hours’ sleep, she could handle it. This would be worth it.

  If she could manage to sneak out of the house.

  Slowly, she stepped to her bedroom door and eased it open. Tilting her right ear toward her parents’ bedroom, she worked to find the best angle to catch any sounds through her cochlears. Although most noise would fall outside of her frequency range from this distance, there were certain sounds she’d learned to recognize as her mom and dad getting ready for bed. Tonight, there was nothing.

  To further test it, she felt for the bedroom light and switched it on. If either one of her parents was still awake, they would notice the light spilling into the hallway and ask if everything was all right. Molly counted to three hundred, and when neither of them reacted to her sleeplessness, she turned off the light, slid the door closed, and moved to her closet.

  This close to the end of October, the night air was chill and damp. Most of the snow was gone from the freak snowstorm a couple of weeks ago and it hadn’t rained lately, which meant she could probably get away with wearing her old ratty sneakers lined up in her bedroom closet instead of the new pair in the front foyer downstairs.

  She grabbed a fleece jacket from her closet — red plaid, her mother had told her when they’d gone shopping, in a tone that suggested it was a bad idea — and snuggled the warm material around her throat.

  Then she grabbed her phone from the bed and her white cane from the bedside table, and slid on her shoes.

  Finally, she moved to her dresser and picked up the bow case from where it lay flat against the wall.

  Although she didn’t anticipate coming into any trouble, she also didn’t want to be caught off guard while snooping around in the dark for a supernatural creature. The bow wouldn’t be great for short-range defense, but — she shivered — her arrows hadn’t failed her yet. She also hoped the prop might make it easier for Zachariel to identify her if she happened to walk by him.

  She unzipped the case and pulled her recurve bow free. After stringing it, she slipped the bow into the leather sling, then pulled it over her shoulder, settling it against her back. Once it was secure, she slid six arrows into the quiver, then strapped it to her belt and above her knee, keeping it firmly in place against her thigh.

  Her gear boosted her confidence, letting it crawl out from under the rock it had scurried under while she’d made up her mind about things. Now she could prowl the streets without concern.

  Keep telling yourself that, Harris, she thought.

  She grew still in the middle of her room, again listening for any noise coming from her parents’ end of the hallway. Nothing.

  Releasing a breath, she went to her window and slid it open, enjoying the touch of the cold wind as it brushed over her neck.

  The next part would be tricky, but she had faith in herself. After all, she was the miracle girl who could “see” without seeing, right? Surely that had to come in handy for something.

  Molly eased one foot out of the window and tested her weight on the roof. Keeping a firm grip on the window ledge, she ducked her head out, careful not to knock her bow against the frame. When she’d wriggled her way out, she inched toward the tree that stood beside her window.

  The branches tapping against the glass had driven her crazy while studying on more than one occasion, to the point where she’d had to remove her cochlears just for a bit of quiet. Now it would make up for all of its obnoxious behavior. If she could find a solid branch. She stretched her left hand out and swallowed a shout of victory when she came in contact with a branch as thick as her torso. That would do.

  Molly slid on her butt toward the edge of the roof, grabbed on to the branch, and allowed her body to drop down. With her fingers tight around the flaking bark, she shifted closer to the trunk, then stretched her foot down to find another branch below. For a while, she felt nothing, then a low groan wormed its way along her auditory nerves and her toe found purchase.

  Success.

  She held her breath as she released her hold on the higher branch, hugging the trunk until she lowered into a crouch.

  The edge of her foot slipped on the bark, and her heart jumped into her throat, causing her head to swim. She held on to the trunk, clinging desperately as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. She was almost there, she could do this.

  Keeping her concentration on the branch beneath her feet, she grabbed hold of it with both hands and once more dropped her body below.

  Her feet brushed against nothing but air. Dammit. She tried to swing her body around the trunk to find one more landing, but she was on her own.

  The branch over her head shifted as her body moved toward the trunk again, seeming to lower itself down. Had it snapped?

  In her moment of distraction, her fingers slipped. She managed to cross her legs around the trunk and caught the branch before she fell backward.

  This is so stupid.

  Exhaling sharply, she hugged the trunk, intending to shinny the rest of the way to the ground.

  She made it a foot before her arm cramped. She squeezed with her legs, but the trunk was too thick. Her stomach jumped as she went airborne.

  Terrified of landing on her back and snapping her bow — having no idea how she would explain it to her parents — she twisted mid-flight and landed a second later on her stomach, grunting as the air pushed from her lungs.

  Her back ached from the sharp wrench, and her already sore knees screamed at the fresh impact, but she’d made it.

  She was in her backyard, armed, and ready to track down her first demon.

  2

  Zachariel hunched over the small gas stove as he waited for his water to boil. The heat wafted out of the element toward him, and he rubbed his palms together to seal the warmth into his skin. The nights were getting chillier, and the basement of the New Haven Trade College was getting damper. The building had been closed for over six years, and the lack of a working furnace had taken its toll.

  A tuft of black fur brushed against Zach’s leg. He ran his f
ingers along it, evoking a loud purr, the volume surprising for a creature so tiny. The kitten rose on her back legs and rested her front paws on Zach’s calf. Her green eyes stared up at him in supplication.

  Zach gave in and scratched her behind the ears. Her purr grew louder as she twisted her back and nosed the stove.

  “There’s nothing here for you,” Zach said, but they both knew that wasn’t true. The kitten — which he called Dusty for the gray streaks constantly appearing in her black fur — had become a regular dinner guest over the last couple of weeks. No matter how little Zach had managed to scavenge throughout the day, he always made sure there was enough to share.

  The nights were too cold to let the little beast root around for herself.

  A loud clatter echoed through the alley outside the narrow window near the ceiling. Dusty bolted across the room and burrowed under the blankets Zach had piled on the floor as a bed, and Zach stepped into the shadows, pressing his back against the wall beneath the window. He hoped the light from the gas fire wasn’t bright enough to be seen through the layers of dirt on the cracked glass pane.

  He growled into the darkness and rose on the tips of his toes, craning his neck to peer through the grime to the pavement in the driveway, which was now littered with scattered tin cans. Someone had set off one of his traps.

  A dark figure slipped deeper into the night, but Zach couldn’t make out if there was more than one.

  His fingers curled into his palms as heat radiated out from his core, his blood catching fire. The dark skin on the backs of his human hands took on a glow as his veins grew red, and his pores slowly expanded into thick red scales.

  Instinct urged him to go outside, track down whoever had thought it smart to play spy through his window, and beat them into a mangled pulp, but he held back. Confronting them would only make them think he was taking them seriously, which would encourage them to make more of an effort to get to him. It was better not to feed their interest.

  Zach cursed and shoved away from the wall, returning to the wooden crate in front of the stove that he used as a chair.

  He should have dealt with the problem when it had first reared its head. At the time, he’d thought he’d made his opinion clear enough, but obviously he’d left room for doubt. He should have just killed the demon who had come to him and settled the matter once and for all.

  That encounter had been three weeks ago. A Topan demon had taken him by surprise on his way back to the college one night. The demon had been nothing more than a sleazy salesman — black hair neatly cut and slicked against his cone-shaped head, black eyes glittery as onyx above a wide grin. He’d been alone, casual, confident, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Nothing about him had marked him as a threat.

  He’d set Zach’s teeth on edge.

  “You must be the daemelus,” the demon had said in greeting.

  Zach hadn’t thought it possible for the Topan to take a worst first step. Only one being had ever called him by that term, and he’d been torturing Zach to try to gain control of the demon living under his skin. That man was now dead. Good riddance.

  Although it did make him wonder how the demon knew the word. How wide had Jermaine spread his net in his search for Zach? Who else knew he existed?

  Irritated, he hadn’t answered the demon’s question. But his silence had only seemed to amuse the man.

  “I’m Karl,” he’d said, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out a business card. Zach had refused to take it, so Karl had tucked it into the pocket of Zach’s overcoat. “I work for Mayzell Industries. I’m sure you’ve heard of us?”

  Zach glared in response. Mayzell made equipment for medical and science laboratories. It had nothing to do with him. In fact, it was such a random connection that Zach doubted it was real. The demon had probably plucked the name out of the phone book to lend him an air of professionalism.

  “I’ve been asked to speak with you about a business opportunity,” he said.

  “I’m not interested.” Zach pushed away, but Karl reached out and grabbed his arm. Zach tried to jerk free, but the Topan demon stepped into his path, preventing him from walking away.

  “You haven’t even heard my offer. It could be a life-changing experience for you.”

  “I doubt it’s any change I’d be willing to make if it has anything to do with you.” Zach took a step to the left, but Karl followed him.

  As though he wasn’t being an obnoxious pustule, the demon still wore that same oily grin. “Then perhaps it’s something you can offer us.”

  “I have nothing to offer.” He wished he could grab Karl’s shoulders and simply shift him out of the way, but he didn’t trust the demon not to release the acid secretions from his skin at contact. It was one of the few defenses Topan demons had, and while it wouldn’t cause permanent damage, it did run the risk of ruining his coat.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s true. I’ve heard much about you, Zachariel. You’ve done a good job keeping your strengths to yourself, but you’re special.”

  “The last person who used a line like that on me ended up trying to kill me. I’m not about to fall for it a second time. What’s that saying about fools? That they end up dead?”

  Karl chuckled. “I understand and appreciate your skepticism. I would think less of you if you bought into my pitch so easily. But, please, hear me out.”

  Less out of serious consideration and more out of annoyed curiosity, Zach agreed with a nod. He crossed his arms and Karl took a step back, as though suddenly aware that he’d invaded Zach’s personal space. Zach glowered down at the demon and exerted all the intimidation he could muster out of his six-foot-six, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame, knowing the angry red scars that traveled down the right side of his face and disappeared under the collar of his leather coat only added to his forbidding appearance. But Karl wasn’t fazed.

  “My bosses are looking for strong, healthy workers to help set up their new factory. The hours would be decent, the pay better than you’ll find anywhere else. They’re looking to make some big changes, and they want you to be a part of it.”

  Zach stared at him, letting the moment stretch out. Finally, he uncrossed his arms and allowed them to hang slack at his sides. “No.”

  Karl’s smile widened, the whites of his teeth catching the glare of the streetlight, making him look even more the shady salesman. Zach wanted to punch his fist through the demon’s face, but doing so would probably mean another just like him would turn up at his doorstep tomorrow. Better to let this one scurry home with his answer.

  “The offer is just a courtesy, Zachariel,” Karl said. “You can turn us down now, but don’t think this will be the end of it. As soon as we’re ready, we can force your hand. We know about your little human pet that you watch so closely. We know where you live. There is no escaping us. Join us now and make things easy on yourself.”

  At the mention of Molly Harris, Zach squeezed his hands into fists and took a step closer to the demon. He towered over Karl by an easy half foot, and a rush of satisfaction coursed through him when the demon’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “You come near me or the girl, and I will string you up by your ankles and bleed you dry. Do you understand?”

  Karl’s cheeks had drained of color, but then his eyes had hardened and he’d stepped away. “So be it, but it won’t be long before you regret this decision.”

  He’d turned on his heel and melted into the shadows.

  Zach had thought that would be the end of it.

  He hadn’t heard or seen anything of Karl since then and figured he’d gotten the message. Now he wondered if the feeling of being watched over the last couple of nights hadn’t been his imagination after all.

  As far as he was concerned, Karl was nothing but a two-bit criminal with delusions of grandeur, throwing names around like Mayzell Industries as though it lent his offer some weight. He’d said nothing that couldn’t have been picked up by any local demon with a taste for gossip, an
d even the offer had been vague enough to sound bigger than it probably was. If Karl was telling the truth that Mayzell was doing something involving demons, Zach doubted they’d bring a Topan demon into the racket. Those slimeballs were good for nothing except grinning and oozing grease. Good for slipping unseen in the shadows, maybe, but no good for reinforcement.

  But if whoever had tripped the wire by the dumpsters tonight — a wire installed too high for it to be set off by anything other than a being at least four-feet tall — was one of Karl’s lackeys, if not Karl himself, it suggested a determination rarely seen in a no-account demon gang.

  More fools them.

  He wished he knew why they felt the need to pester him. Did they honestly think it would change his mind? If so, they were setting themselves up for disappointment. He considered turning on them and tracking them down the next time he sensed them watching, but if Karl was telling the truth and they didn’t know the full extent of his abilities, he didn’t want to showcase them. It wouldn’t do to give himself away to anyone else who might be coming after him. That scumbag Jermaine had been proof enough of that.

  These lowlifes had already pushed him to make a few moves of his own, however. If Karl actually did have a connection to Mayzell Industries, it only seemed smart to do a bit of research to find out what they might want. He had no intention of letting some sleazeball coerce him into slavery or whatever else they were planning.

  The day after Karl’s visit, he’d gone to the public library and learned everything he could about the company. There hadn’t been much information beyond the public image. The main factory was based in New Haven, near the northern city line. Edgar Wenzell and Arthur Mayes had founded the company forty years ago, and still held top positions in overseeing the business’s progress.

  Nowhere did he find any hint of an otherworldly connection. Either the CEOs had taken a sharp turn in their hiring requirements, or they were very good at media relations and covering their tracks.