Kindling Flames: Blazing Moon (The Ancient Fire Series Book 6)

by Julie Wetzel

  Phelan cleared his throat, held his arms wide, closed his eyes, and began. “I do conjure thee, O thou Spirit, by all the most glorious and efficacious names of the Most Great and Incomprehensible Lord God of Hosts, that thou comest quickly and without delay from all parts of the earth and world wherever thou mayest be, to make rational answers unto my demands, and that visibly and affably, speaking with a voice intelligible unto mine understanding as aforesaid. I conjure and constrain thee, O thou Spirit, by all the names aforesaid; and in addition by these seven great names wherewith Solomon the Wise bound thee and thy companions in the Vessel of Brass,” Phelan paused and drew in a deeper breath to speak the names with power. “Adonai, Preyai, Tetrag—”

  A slow clapping interrupted him.

  Phelan opened his eyes to find a man standing in the triangle. He was tall, lean, and well-polished in a finely tailored suit. Phelan reached for the sword by his side, but didn’t draw it out.

  “Very nicely done,” the man said in an appreciative voice. He walked around the triangle, looking at Phelan’s work. Using the toe of his dress shoe, he pushed at the edge of the chalk lines. “I haven’t seen a proper summoning circle in ages. Most of the calls I get nowadays are from want-to-be Satanists who think a hastily scrawled pentagram and some salt will be enough to hold a daemon.” He walked to the edge of the triangle facing Phelan, placed his hand against the hardened air, and leaned on it. “It’s nice to see the old ways haven’t died.” He turned deep purple eyes at Phelan. “What do you want?”

  Phelan suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine and picked up the summoning spell where he’d left off. “Tetragrammaton, Anaphaxeton.”

  The daemon gave him a pointed look as he stood up away from the barrier. “You don’t have to continue that, I’m already here.” He held his hands wide, giving Phelan a warm smile.

  “Inessenfatoal, Pathtumon, and—”

  “Enough,” the daemon bellowed.

  Phelan smiled at him. “Itemon.”

  The daemon glared back as Phelan finished.

  “That thou appearest here before this Circle to fulfil my will in all things that seem good unto me.”

  The daemon turned sideways and crossed his arms over his chest, disgusted with Phelan. “I pay you a compliment and this is how you treat me?”

  Phelan’s grin widened. Elliot had been very insistent that Phelan finish the invocation. A partial ritual would summons the daemon but leave it free to do as it pleased. “I had to make sure I had your complete attention.”

  The daemon glared at him. “Well, you have it now, mortal,” he said through clenched teeth. “What do you want?”

  “I thought we could chat for a bit,” Phelan said pleasantly.

  “Chat?” the daemon said with a note of surprise. He smiled at Phelan. “I’d like that. No one ever calls me up to chat.” The daemon turned and paced across the length of his prison. “It’s always for money or power, never anything pleasant.” He stopped and turned to face Phelan. “Maybe we could even do lunch. In fact, we can spend all day tomorrow talking about anything you like.”

  “But I want to chat now.”

  The daemon’s eye twitched slightly, but he kept a pleasant air to him. “I’m a bit busy at the moment, but if you insist,” he said, holding his hand out to invite Phelan to speak. “What would you like to chat about?”

  Phelan clenched his teeth and tried to remain pleasant. He reminded himself that the object of this evening was to either convince the daemon to leave the wolves alone or to trap it permanently. As daemons were notorious for fulfilling their deals, Phelan didn’t think he was going to be able to talk it out of whatever scheme it had laid. That meant he was going to have to trap it. He had the supplies to do it, but he needed to know the daemon’s name to force it to comply with his will. He had a list of possible names, but it was going to take a long time to go through them all. He needed to get the daemon talking and see where he had to go. “What’s the weather like in Hell?”

  This seemed to amuse the daemon. “Hot,” he answered.

  “Surely it can’t all be hot,” Phelan said, trying to draw the conversation out.

  The daemon slipped his hand into his front pocket and cocked his hip. “Actually, most of it is pretty nice. We do have a few places that are bitterly cold and a few that are blistering, but most of it is rather pleasant. If you can stand the stench and the noise, that is.” He gave Phelan a pointed look. “But I’m sure you didn’t call me here to discuss the weather in Hell. What do you really want to know?”

  “Not much,” Phelan said, starting to pace in his small space. He was careful not to disturb the design on the ground. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

  The daemon laughed. “You mortals are all alike.” He smoothed the front of his suit coat down as he spoke. “Always looking for our names.” He waved his finger at Phelan. “You don’t think I’ve lived this long by falling for that ruse?”

  Phelan shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

  “And it was a good try,” the daemon replied.

  “But I can’t just call you ‘hey you’,” Phelan added. “Is there something I can call you?”

  The daemon considered him for a moment. “Misha,” he answered.

  “Misha?” Phelan asked. That didn’t sound like a proper daemon name.

  Misha shrugged. “What can I say, I like TV, and he plays one of my favorite characters.”

  Phelan stared at him in disbelief. “Then shouldn’t I call you Cas?”

  The daemon shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare use the name of an angel, even if it is fake. It goes against my very nature.”

  “Ah.” That made perfect sense to Phelan.

  “So, wolf,” Misha said, lowering his face and staring at Phelan. “What do you really want?”

  Phelan drew in a breath and held it for a moment. He did have a question for the daemon. “Why are you targeting the Brenton pack?”

  “Oh, that,” Misha waved his hand in the air as if he were dismissing the matter. “Just a bit of fun. Nothing you should be concerned with.”

  “But I am concerned,” Phelan rumbled. “They’re my people.”

  Misha looked put out. He shifted his weight to the other foot and rolled his eyes. “It’s just a means to an ends. You shouldn’t take it so personally.”

  Phelan clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay in his space instead of going over and smashing the daemon’s face. “Then stop it.”

  The daemon let out a deep sigh. “I can’t.” He ran his hand up through his short, brown hair. “I have a deal to uphold, but I do have to commend you. Those amulets aren’t making my job any easier. Where’d you find them?”

  “We made them.”

  “Impressive,” Misha said with an approving nod. “It takes a lot of energy to make so many of them in such a short time. I didn’t even sense it. Tell me, how did you know I was affecting the wolves?”

  The question came out casually, but Phelan could tell the daemon really wanted to know. “Does it matter?” he taunted.

  “Of course it matters,” Misha said. “I’m subtle in my work. It’s irritating to think someone discovered my plans. How did you even know to look for a daemon?”

  Phelan could see that being discovered was really bothering Misha. He smiled wickedly. “Someone talked.”

  Misha froze and stared at him in shock. His eyes narrowed. “You lie,” he hissed.

  Phelan cocked his hip and grinned. “How else could we discover your carefully laid plans?” he taunted. “You have a leak.”

  Misha started pacing back and forth in the small space like a caged animal. “Impossible,” he snapped.

  “Is it?” Phelan goaded him. “Do you really believe that we mortals figured everything out on our own?” He started to slowly walk back and forth as he laid out his speculations as if they were facts. “Removing Sue from the pack so Rupert and I would clash was a brilliant idea.”

  The daemon stopped and smi
led. “That bit was pretty good. Although Ross was supposed to kill her, but having her locked up with that damn vampire was almost as good.”

  Phelan clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react. “And making things harder by forcing the wolves out of control… I bet it was even your idea for Eckert to bring his pack here.”

  Misha’s grin widened. “Nothing destabilizes an area like a good war.”

  That bit of information piqued Phelan’s curiosity. It didn’t sound like the daemon’s goal was to help Eckert take over. He wanted the general area unstable, but the question was why did he? “It won’t work,” Phelan said, breaking into Misha’s pride. “We know your whole plan and we will stop you.”

  The smile on Misha’s face died. His eyes narrowed. “You can’t stop me.”

  “But we already have,” Phelan said smugly. He was sure Eckert’s pack would fall without the daemon’s help. It would disrupt the general stability of the area for a very short time, but they would do their best to clean up the mess as quickly as possible. This earned him another glare.

  “You may win tonight, but I will win in the end,” Misha said. “You can’t keep me here forever.”

  Phelan’s eyes narrowed, and he gave the daemon a smug smile. “Are you so sure about that?” He knew there was no way to destroy the daemon, but he’d come prepared. Reaching behind him, he unrolled the brass cup from his shirt and held it out for Misha to see. The cup was dark with age. There was a thin line of unreadable script wrapped around it. Elliot had mashed some chalk into the makings so they could be seen from a distance.

  The daemon stared at the cup in shock. “Impossible!”

  Moving so he wouldn’t step on the chalk lines, Phelan set the cup at the mouth of the snake. “I guarantee you that it’s genuine.” He moved back to the center of the circle.

  “King Solomon’s brass vessel was destroyed ages ago,” the daemon yelled.

  “No,” Phelan corrected him. “Only the seal was destroyed. The vessel itself was lost, but it did come into the hands of a good friend of mine.”

  The daemon bristled with rage. “But it won’t do you any good without the seal.”

  “You mean this?” Phelan asked as he pulled the parchment from his sleeve and unrolled it. “The Seal of Solomon, and not the one circulating around on the internet. This is the real thing.” He held it up to show off the intricate circle. “Drawn with the blood of a black cock on virgin parchment by a righteous man in the midst of a fasting on a Tuesday under the sign of Virgo at midnight by the light of a waxing moon.”

  The color leaked from Misha’s face as Phelan described the seal. “Impossible. We destroyed that knowledge over four hundred years ago.”

  “This is older than that,” Phelan said.

  “Impossible!” Misha shrieked again.

  Phelan turned the seal so he could look at it. “You know, I do not think you know what that word means.”

  The daemon bristled again. “But you don’t have my real name. You still need that to force me into that thing.”

  A slow smile crept over Phelan’s face. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out another piece of paper. It was slightly damp from where he’d poured the water over his head, but it was still in good condition. “True, but there are only a limited number of possibilities. It may take me a minute, but I’ll get it.” He looked down at his page and started to recite the Latin incantation that would force the daemon to his will.

  Standing in the tree line, Krissy watched as Phelan chatted up the daemon. The man in the triangle looked just like any number of businessmen she’d seen. He was well dressed and finely groomed, not someone she would expect to be evil. But then again, evil came in all forms.

  As Phelan pulled out his sheet of names, Krissy let her attention drift away from the pair. She had a feeling that something else was there, but she couldn’t see it. After the fifth unsuccessful incantation, Krissy’s eyes caught movement across the clearing. Her hand tightened on the halberd as she squinted, trying to see what it was.

  Without warning, something burst from the tree line with a mighty roar and barreled its way towards the circle.

  “Phelan,” Krissy shrieked. Her hands tightened on her weapon, and she pushed her way out of the bushes. All thought of her safety rushed from her head as she lowered the steel tip of the poleaxe and rushed to save her mate from danger.

  ***

  The noise that ripped through the night startled Phelan, and he dropped his paper. The sound of a battle cry should have drawn his attention first, but he turned to the more unexpected sound of Krissy’s voice. He was shocked to see her there, racing towards him out of the darkness. She had her eyes trained on something behind him.

  Spinning on his heel, he saw his attacker right before the man hit. Pain ripped through Phelan’s ribs as the sharp edge of a knife glanced off his side. Grabbing the weight that hit him, he dropped to the ground, rolled backwards, and kicked it into the air. The attacking body flew away from him, and he lost track of it as he scrambled to regain his footing. He heard the man hit and spun around, ready for the next assault. His eyes met his attacker, and he instantly knew who it was.

  Ross bunched up, ready for the next pass, but it never came. As he stood up, a loud yell broke the air and the sharp end of a halberd erupted from his chest. Shock widened his eyes, and he looked down at the silver point sticking out of his chest. Ross coughed, and a thin line of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  Phelan froze, not sure what had happened. It wasn’t until Ross dropped to his knees that Phelan saw Krissy holding the shaft of a poleaxe. The business end was lodged firmly in Ross’s back. When she looked up from her kill, her eyes were wild. She didn’t look anything like the kind woman he’d come to know.

  “Krissy?” Phelan called to her. He took a step towards her, not knowing if she would rip the halberd from Ross’s back and attack him.

  The fierce look in Krissy’s eyes vanished. Humanity rushed back into her, and she stood there in a daze. Her eyes dropped to the weapon in her hands, and she released it as if it had burnt her.

  Ross groaned under the full weight of the weapon and he slumped to the side, taking the pole down with him.

  Appalled by what she’d done, Krissy took a staggered step away from the man. Terror shut her brain down.

  Forgetting his situation, Phelan rushed to grab her before she could bolt. “Krissy,” he cried as he caught her in his arms and forced her to meet his eyes.

  She focused on him as he held her. Her breath came fast and hard. She’d had panic attacks before, but nothing compared to what was flowing through her now. Her limbs were going numb as her brain screamed at her. She’d just killed a man. The full reality of her actions came down on her, paralyzing her. Her airways closed up, the edges of her vision starting to gray out.

  “Stay with me,” Phelan begged as he brought them both to the ground. “Breathe.”

  Krissy forced herself to take a deep breath. That seemed to help with her vision. She focused on Phelan and latched on to his emotions as her world swirled around her. He was there, concerned for her. She could feel him. Deep beneath the shock and fear was that solid core of warmth. She pulled it in and let it surround her. It calmed her. Closing her eyes, she relaxed and listened to Phelan’s string of encouraging and comforting words.

  “Master!”

  Ross’s cry broke into Phelan’s concern, and he looked over to where the man lay dying. Suddenly, the gravity of their situation hit him. He looked back at the summing circle. Misha was still standing in the triangle, but the lines of the main circle were scattered from the fight. Phelan looked down to find that he was right on the edge of the circle. Carefully, he drew back, pulling Krissy inside the circle. Had he gone outside the circle, the daemon would have been free to leave his confinement. That Phelan knew for sure, but since Misha was still in his triangle, the spell hadn’t been completely broken. It was that, or the daemon was just toying with them.


  “Save me, oh, Naber—” Ross’s words cut off with a scream of pain as electricity raced through his body. His corpse slumped on its side, smoking.

  Phelan squeezed Krissy tighter. The fact the daemon had used power outside of his prison meant he was free. Holding Krissy close, Phelan twisted them on the ground so he was facing the daemon. He’d heard the name Ross had started and recognized it from his list. “Naberius”

  The daemon clapped and stepped over the line of chalk. “So you figured out my name,” he said as he walked over the ruined chalk lines. “Too bad you’re not going to be able to use it.”

  Rage filled Phelan, and he glared at Naberius. “Why’d you do it?” Phelan didn’t understand why the daemon had fried his servant.

  “That?” Naberius asked, nodding to the dead man. “He was no longer of use to me,” he explained. “I was trying to prevent you from getting my name, but alas, just a second too late.”

  Phelan glared at the daemon and started into the Latin incantation that would bind the daemon to his will.

  “Oh no,” Naberius said and held his hand out.

  The air in Phelan’s lungs got hard. He gasped, unable to speak or breathe properly.

  “I told you, you would not get the chance to use it.” Naberius threw out his hand and Phelan’s body went unresponsive. As the daemon lifted his hand, Phelan rose in the air as if he were being hung by strings.

  Krissy slid from his lap to lay in a pile under him.

  Naberius walked up and scowled into Phelan’s face. “I should kill you right now for what you’ve done.” The threat hung between them for a moment before Naberius stepped back. “But I have a better idea.” He walked around behind Phelan and touched the golden chain at the back of his neck.

  Phelan screamed out in pain as heat ripped through the chain, melting the links and burning his skin. The gold medallion slipped down his chest and fell to the ground next to Krissy.

  “It would have been nicer if Eckert’s pack had taken over.” Naberius circled Phelan as he talked. “There would have been so much chaos as the remaining wolves squabbled amongst themselves to establish a new pecking order. My job would have been easy.” He turned and glared at the helpless wolf. “You ruined that.” His eyes eased a little as his mind turned things over. “But you may have just given me a much better opportunity.”