by Michele Hauf
A creak from the other room alerted Jett. She turned to check over her shoulder. Had Savin returned so soon? She listened for a few breathless seconds, then decided she was spooking herself. The thought was ridiculous. Someone such as she, spooked?
Never.
She would not understand these devices, and that was frustrating. With a snap of her finger she should be able to summon an answer.
Jett studied her thumb pressed against her middle finger, ready to snap.
“No longer,” she said.
She must learn to exist in a new manner now. With new rules, or, rather, the old rules of the mortal realm she’d once known.
Replacing the device where she’d found it, she perused the rest of the items. At the corner of the cabinet sat a metal tin much like the one Savin had shown her at the café. Morphine? She opened it to find inside a syringe, and rather an old-fashioned one at that. It wasn’t disposable or plastic like the sort she’d once seen her father’s brother use because he had diabetes. This device was metal and wasn’t rusted, but the glass tube did reveal discoloration. And nestled in the red velvet beside the syringe was a white vial with the fading word Morphia on it. An elaborate brass cap screwed on the top.
“Like something out of the nineteenth century,” she whispered. It couldn’t be sanitary or even safe for Savin’s health.
He’d said he needed it to keep the demon inside him subdued. Addicts in Daemonia drank morphine like some kind of sweet beverage and then lapsed into an eyelid-twitching reverie. If they had eyelids, that was.
What demon had hitched a ride in Savin Thorne to come to this realm? And why? If she was incorporeal, she had to have known before leaving Daemonia that she could never leave her host. Or rather, she might switch bodies, but only at great risk. Hmm... On the other hand, sometimes corporeal demons could only maintain that form in Daemonia, and a trip to the mortal realm reduced them to seeking a human host as an incorporeal passenger.
Should Jett have known about that apparent escape from Daemonia? It sounded as though Savin might have been there only a short while, so at the time, Jett wouldn’t have had reason or the capability to tap in to what had occurred with his exit.
Now she was curious to learn more about his demonic passenger he called the Other. But she had to be careful because her sheen could crack at any moment. The last thing she wanted was for Savin to see her true nature exposed.
“I will learn what drives you, Savin. And I will have more than kisses from you. I need intimacy,” she decided. “To finally feel like a real, human woman.”
* * *
Ed had been heading out to meet with one of his troop leaders, so he directed Savin to speak to Certainly Jones, who worked in the Archives. The Archives kept a vast storehouse of all documents, texts and artifacts related to every known paranormal species. As well as the most rare and volatile magical objects, devices and even creatures. It was rumored that to obtain some of those things, by trick or by sword, they utilized retrievers in the branch called Acquisitions to do so.
Savin knew their methods were peccable, and that was fine with him. He wasn’t big on following the law to a tee. And here in this realm, there was no paranormal code of ethics beyond “Don’t make yourself known to humans.”
But he was human, and he did know. And he was glad he knew about all the things that should only be myth or legend. Then some days he wasn’t so glad. The things he had seen in his short lifetime would turn a man’s hair gray and force him to drink. His hair was still brown, but the drinking part...
Upon entering the Archives, he’d let CJ test the wards tattooed on his skin for efficacy and deflection. With Savin’s approval, the dark witch had whispered a spell to place a sort of “plastic wrap protector” over those tattooed sigils that could interact negatively with the wards in the building. Still, they retained their power to protect him should something wish to invade or harm him while he was here.
Feeling the wrapper tingle over his skin, Savin shook out his muscles with a good doggy shake. He then nodded thanks to the witch. “Ed says you’re nervous about the wards on the rift.”
“I am. And I appreciate you remaining involved in this, Thorne. It’s good to have a reckoner handy when all Beneath breaks lose.”
Beneath was the paranormal version of the humans’ hell.
“I think Daemonia ranks worse than Beneath.”
“Fair enough. I’ve been to Daemonia for a visit myself. Been there, done that, wasn’t about to get the T-shirt.”
Savin knew that, because CJ was the one he’d gone to in an attempt to get rid of his passenger demon. After his return from Daemonia so many years ago, CJ had been successful in banishing all the unwanted demons from his soul. Yet they both remained baffled on how to oust Savin’s guest.
“Right, you know about that adventure,” CJ amended. “I wish I had known you when I was full of demons. Would have been much easier to reckon them than the hell I went through getting rid of those bastards.”
“It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid.” Savin turned a shoulder against the office wall and leaned against it. CJ offered him a clove cigarette, which he took. “I can’t reckon a demon within a human host. Tried it on myself.”
“That’s right. I forgot about that. Sorry, man. You’ve still got that bitch inside you?” He handed Savin a lighter, then blew fragrant smoke to the side.
“Yes, but let’s not call her a bitch today. She’s quiet, and I like to keep it that way.”
“Got it.” CJ leaned against the limestone wall beside Savin and the twosome shared the quiet as they inhaled the sweet smoke.
Despite him being a practitioner of dark magic, Savin liked Certainly Jones. The man had been around for longer than a century and was the ultimate laid-back, bohemian witch. And his woman was gorgeous. Savin had met her one time. Viktoria St. Charles was a cleaner, which meant she and her sister (Libertie, also a witch) cleaned up dead paranormal bodies before they were discovered by humans. She also had a sticky soul, which attracted wayward and lost souls. Interesting.
With the Other inside him, Savin wasn’t sure what nature his soul was. Did she inhabit his very soul? Or merely this chunk of meat he called a body and used while in this mortal realm? He didn’t look forward to dying and bringing her along with him. At the very least, he prayed death would release her. Because he’d felt her pull him away when he wanted to kiss Jett longer and more deeply earlier. Bitch.
Yeah, she could hear his thoughts. Screw it.
“Can I ask you something?” he said to CJ.
“Shoot.”
Savin held the cigarette before him and blew on the end, brightening the embers. “When you were there, in Daemonia, how was it for you?”
CJ’s heavy sigh said so much. No one in their right mind ever wanted to visit that place. But, apparently, CJ had gone there on purpose, for some magical quest. He’d gone into Daemonia of his own accord, and...well, as is usually the case, he’d gotten trapped there. His twin brother, Thoroughly, had to rescue him and bring him home. And with that return, Certainly had been accompanied by at least a dozen nasty incorporeal demons.
“You must understand,” CJ started, “that a child’s perception—your memory of the place—is going to be vastly different from a grown man’s. And I am a man who went there on purpose.”
“I know. I was scared beyond shitless. It was all I could do to survive and not go insane. And believe me, part of me thinks you’re one hell of an idiot for walking into Daemonia like you did.”
“Most of me thinks that, as well. But you know, sometimes a guy has to make the leap and go for the adventure.”
“I’m all for adventure. And that part of me admires your ballsy trip to the Place of All Demons. But is the place...hospitable? How can a person survive there?”
“I’m not sure it’s possible for a human to exist in Da
emonia for more than a short time. Time is weird there, you know?”
“I know.” What he’d thought was weeks in that place had been a little over thirty-two hours by the time he returned to his parents’ loving and worried arms. “Do you think a human could survive there for decades?”
Certainly shook his head and flicked ash to the side. “Not without becoming one of them.”
“What does that mean? Like a demon?”
“Anything that isn’t demon, and which stays there overlong, will ultimately assume, at the very least, some demonic qualities.”
Savin hadn’t known that. Could Jett...? No. He would have sensed if she had any demon in her. “But they change back to human when they return to this mortal realm?”
“If they don’t have passengers. You know as well as I how difficult it is to come out of that place clean.”
Savin blew out a breath and lifted his foot to stub out the cigarette on the bottom of his boot. He looked around for a garbage bin and, spying one by a desk, flicked it into the steel container.
“Why do you ask? You ever accidentally reckon a human?”
“No. Never.” He hooked his thumbs at his belt loops. Should he tell Certainly about Jett? It didn’t feel right. The witch had no need to learn about his houseguest who might have returned to this realm not as human as she seemed. Savin hadn’t considered that she could have developed some demonic qualities. Hmm... She was sensitive to sunlight, and still the wards bothered her.
“Need more morphine yet?” Certainly asked.
CJ was also his supplier. The witch provided him with a clean yet powerful drug that appeased the Other. “Soon. Might have about a month’s worth remaining.”
“That old mixture is hard to come by. Requires wormwood and dragon’s bane. Nasty stuff.”
“It’s the only thing that works.”
CJ nodded. “I’ll mix up a larger batch in a week or two. Should keep you in supply for a while.”
“Thanks, man. So.” Savin rubbed his hands together expectantly. “What’s the plan?”
“Ed has two sentries posted out at the site. I visited this morning. I can feel the wards shaking. I think we’ve got a few days, at the most, before it opens up again.”
“How to close it securely?”
CJ leaned against his desk, crossing his legs at the ankle. The guy was barefoot. Savin had never actually seen him wearing shoes. Witches were strange.
“The wards should have held securely,” CJ said. “However, there is a reason this suddenly feels loosey-goosey to me.”
Savin lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
“I feel as though something got out that wasn’t supposed to,” CJ offered.
“Like every single demon that made its way into this realm?”
“Not exactly. Some demons come here without making an indelible mark on the realm. They blend in and learn our mortal-realm ways. You know that.”
Much as he wished otherwise, Savin knew he’d always have to coexist alongside demons.
“What I’m thinking is that something immense—not necessarily in size, but importance—needs to be returned to Daemonia in order to seal the rift and hex a good lock on it. If something that shouldn’t have been allowed comes to this realm?” The witch shuddered. “Realm rules are big on stuff like that. Keeping the balance and all.”
“Realm rules?” Savin whistled lowly. “Don’t even tell me. I’ve got enough in this brain that I’d rather not know about, as it is. Something important? Isn’t Ed finding most of the demons who got out? I reckoned a handful yesterday.”
“He is, but you know demons can cloak themselves. They call it a sheen. Some are so talented they can walk right by you, rub against your skin, and you’d never think they were anything but human.”
“I’m better than your average bear at sensing demons. I do have my demon radar sitting inside me.”
“Maybe. But you don’t sense them all, I’m sure.”
“Probably not,” Savin conceded. But how to know about the ones he couldn’t sense? And did he really want to know? Besides, if it was important or immense, as CJ had described it, surely he would be aware of that disturbance to this realm.
“It’s a hunch,” CJ offered. “I’m going to spend the afternoon in the demon room, reading up in the Bibliodaemon.”
“The Book of All Demons. Doesn’t sound like light reading. How can I help?”
“Just stay alert to beyond the usual. Which I’m sure is pretty fucked for you.”
“You got that one right.”
“I’m going to defer to you as the expert on demons in this case. Did you encounter anything odd following the spell to close the rift?”
Savin shrugged. Jett was human and finally free. She couldn’t possibly have an impact on the continuing issues. And if he did let CJ know about her, the witch might have questions. He didn’t want to subject Jett to that. Not yet. Not until she was comfortable being back in this realm.
If he could help locate her mother, that might be a start to returning some normality to her routine.
“Savin?”
“Huh? Oh. No. All’s the same. As usual. I’m going to head out. You’ve got my number if you need me. Do I turn left or right at the end of the hallway?”
“Right,” CJ said. “Left always tends to lead one into the sinister, don’t you know?”
Savin smirked at the joke. But not really a joke, since he did know his witchery and demon lore. “Talk to you later, man.”
He strode down the hall, which was entirely of limestone, carved directly from the earth beneath Paris. So the dark witch didn’t believe a human could survive Daemonia without becoming part demon? The notion disturbed Savin. If that was the case, would Jett know if she wasn’t completely human?
And if so, would she tell him?
Chapter 7
Savin’s mother, Gloriana, was wire-wrapping the new growth on her boxwood bonsai when he arrived at her cozy sixteenth-arrondissement apartment. He kissed her on the head—she was five foot two on a good day; he’d gotten his height from his dad—and she rubbed her hands together as she led him toward the kitchen, where it smelled divine.
“Just took some chocolate madeleines out of the oven,” she cooed. “I knew I’d see you soon.”
She had a weird sense for things like that. She always knew who was on the phone before picking it up (she still had a landline; cell phones weren’t her thing), knew who was at the front door before answering and generally knew within a day or two when Savin would call or stop by. And yet the one time he’d mentioned such precognition to her, she dismissed it as woo-woo stuff. Good ol’ Maman. She strived to walk a wide circle around her son’s reality.
“I love the chocolate ones,” he said as she set the plate before him.
Savin downed three cakes, which were still warm, then got up and checked the fridge for milk. “Your madeleines are the best, Maman. I still think you should go into business and start a food truck.”
“I’m considering it.”
“You are?” He took the milk carton to the table with a glass and poured. “That’s awesome. You and Roxane?” Her best friend, who tended to convince his mother to check out the latest clubs and to wear the highest heels to prove that women in their fifties were only as old as they acted.
“Yes. She’s got the marketing skills. I’ve got the recipes. It could happen.”
“I’m impressed. Be sure you cruise around the fourteenth, will you?”
“Oh, mon cher, I will deliver yours special every day. I’m working on a cheesecake version. Would you like that?”
“I like them all, Maman, you know that.” He downed two more moist and dense cakes in but four bites.
“Now, what’s up?” Gloriana asked. “I just spoke to you last week and you generally go a few weeks without getting in touc
h. New girlfriend?”
Savin set down the half-eaten cake. “What makes you think that?”
She wiggled on the chair and smiled a toothy grin. “You’ve shaved that unruly beard, and your hair is combed.”
“Am I really such a slob otherwise?”
“You do tend to avoid the mirror. So tell me what she’s like.”
“She’s...” Savin pushed the plate of madeleines aside and stretched out his legs, preparing for this strange announcement. He and his mother had always shot straight with each other, even when it came to the weird stuff. “She’s not my girlfriend, but she is an old friend.”
“Oh? Like from school?”
“Jett Montfort is back, Maman.”
“What? Did you say Jett? But she...” His mother’s lower lip wobbled.
A few years after the event had happened, Savin had told her the entire story about being kidnapped to the demonic realm. After the media’s interest had died down and his father had died. He’d had to. The truth had burned like a fire in him every time he tried to act as if it had been a kidnapping. He knew his mother had suspected he wasn’t being completely truthful with her.
But as well, he knew the truth wasn’t going to land on her believability radar. But she could get close. He trusted telling her things now. Weird things. She could believe him or not. Either way? She still loved him.
“Jett.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I can’t—But how? Where has she been?”
“If I tell you, you’d never believe me. Well, you know, I told you the truth of it all. It was a wild tale, but every bit of it was true, Maman. I swear it to you.”
She nodded. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.
“Jett was there, in that place, all this time.”
Gloriana gaped.
“Suffice, she’s safe now and looks well. I’m letting her stay with me until—I haven’t thought beyond offering her a place to stay. I’m sure she’ll want to find her own place. But she’ll need a job first. Hell, she needs to assimilate and become a part of the human race again.”
