The neighbouring alley emerged into a street at a right angle to the one the pub sat on, and my mark was heading right this way. If I stayed out of sight, I could see my target. I fiddled with the band on my left wrist, wishing I didn’t feel so rusty with my celestial powers. The beeping grew so loud, I buried the device in my armpit to muffle the noise. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
I reached the alley’s mouth, and saw it, on the other side of the road. The demon was shaped like a tall broad-shouldered man. Wait. He wasn’t a demon at all, but a warlock. Their auras sometimes looked similar, so it was an easy mistake to make… and a warlock could certainly be capable of burning someone’s eyes out. Half demon, half human, they inherited their magic directly from their demon parent and could be just as powerful. My device had one big flaw I shouldn’t have overlooked: it was drawn to anyone with demonic origins, not just pure demons.
The beeping grew louder, and the device began smoking. Battery overload. I wrenched it off and shoved the broken device into my pocket. To have caused such a reaction, the man in front of me must be stronger than any warlock I’d seen. Definitely not my best idea.
But he was too close to the murder scene for me to risk running for backup and losing him, and besides, I’d subdued warlocks alone before. They were as vulnerable as any demon to my celestial weapons.
I kept following at a distance, until he veered down a side alley parallel to the one in which I’d found Caleb dying last night.
No way. He just did my job for me.
I barely restrained a smile as I slipped into the alley behind him, and white light flared around my hand, striking the ground in front of him and leaving a sizzling hole. Five holes would create a trap to encase him. I fired a second bolt of light from the mark on my wrist. Then a third. Three points on a pentagram. The fourth shot from my hand, and he spun around, raising a hand. Lightning sparked between his fingertips, halting my steps.
“Celestial,” he said. “What do you want?”
“You’re standing on a murder site,” I said, “and there’s demonic traces over both you and the body. I’m sure I don’t need to explain further.”
His brow furrowed. He didn’t look like your typical warlock. Half of them had horns or tails. He looked human. Strong jaw, chiselled cheekbones underneath dark golden eyes. His skin was deeply tanned. I’d have guessed he was from somewhere in the Mediterranean had he been human. As it was, I was pretty sure the dark red touch to his hair wasn’t from regular hair dye, and the golden glint in his eyes wasn’t from tinted lenses. His whole posture exuded danger, an electric sizzle in the air promised that when he attacked, I wouldn’t like it. He’d melted my demon detector without even touching it.
I had the distinct impression I’d unwittingly ambushed someone not only stronger than any warlock I’d seen before, but also stronger than most celestials I’d met. But backing down wasn’t an option.
“Going to confess?” I asked. “Or do I have to use this?” I switched on the light under my wrist.
He smiled. “You don’t want to do that.”
Tension gripped my shoulders, my body moving into a fight stance. “Tell me your name, warlock.”
“The name’s Nikolas Castor,” he said. “You don’t need to remember it.”
Shadows closed around him, like a cloak, and when they cleared, the warlock was gone.
It took a second for my brain to clock that he’d disappeared. I took a step forwards. He didn’t reappear. He’d opened a door into the netherworld—one of the demon dimensions—in two seconds flat, without a single prop.
“Well, shit,” I said aloud. The celestial lights died out at a snap of my fingers, and still, the warlock didn’t reappear. He really had gone.
I’d always thought of warlocks as living closer to the human realm than the demon one, and being mostly indifferent to their warmongering demon kin. I’d dealt with a few rogues in my time working for the celestials, but other than the occasional punch-up with vampires or weres, they were secretive and kept to themselves. We didn’t bother them, and they didn’t bother us.
Not so much anymore.
This was personal now. Mostly, it pissed me off that he’d slipped through my fingers. You over-confident, cocky warlock. You’ll be sorry you challenged me.
I found myself grinning stupidly at what was left of the trap. This was what I’d missed about the job. Not that I’d ever in a million years admit so to Gav.
I’d find that warlock, and if he was the killer, I’d make him pay.
Chapter 5
“A warlock?” asked Dienes later, when I summoned him into the alley wall, after switching off my half-formed trap.
“Yep.” I gave him a description, with no embellishment. The guy had spoken English, so he definitely lived in this dimension, even if he apparently split his time with another one. “He also walked through a shadow and disappeared. Know any demons who can do that?”
He swore. “Shadow aligned. One of the demon-ruled dimensions. Don’t mess with them.”
“Too late. I need to know how to contact that dimension.”
He groaned. “You would, wouldn’t you? The netherworld dimensions are bad news.”
“I don’t care. He might be the killer, and if we take him out, we stop other celestials from dying.”
He folded his arms. “I didn’t think you cared about them.”
“I care about people getting killed by a demon, Dienes. Or a warlock. Whichever it is, I want them caught and punished for their crimes.”
“You’re going to get me killed,” he said. “I’m only a lesser demon.”
“And my best source of information,” I said in my most flattering tone. “If demons are moving in on this dimension, they’ll reach you eventually. I seriously need to track this dude. His power broke my demon tracker.”
“Your what?”
I pulled a broken piece of the tracker out of my pocket. “Homemade demon tracker. It almost worked, but he was too powerful. I need a list of the ingredients to set up a trap to drag him back into this dimension. He’s not a full demon, so I won’t need to go all-out.”
He sighed. “You’re determined to get yourself killed, aren’t you? You can’t catch a shadow demon using your celestial whatsit.” He butted his head against the line of white light keeping him caged, and yelped as it singed his forehead. “You’ll need a proper sturdy pentagram to keep him enclosed. And to summon him, you’ll need goat’s blood, a ton of brimstone—”
“By a pentagram,” I said, “you mean a guild-made one, don’t you?”
“Unless you know someone else who does custom-made demon traps.”
No. The guild were the only ones authorised to make demon-summoning equipment, as he knew well. And the only pentagram I’d seen was in Gav’s former office… which was, of course, where Inspector Deacon had been conducting his investigation. Oh, that was just bloody perfect.
“And,” said Dienes, “you’ll need something from the dimension itself.”
I blinked. “Like what? The guy didn’t drop anything.”
“If he skipped dimensions, it’s not possible to do that without leaving residue behind.”
“Well, that means I’ll have to do it here.” I looked down at where he’d vanished. “If I spend any longer hanging out in alleys, people will think I’m the killer.”
“That would be unfortunate. I do enjoy our conversations.”
“You know, sometimes I do, too,” I said. “Not sure what that says about me.”
“You have good taste,” he said, and disappeared.
I exhaled in a sigh. Wonderful. Just what my day needed—stealing from the very people who’d given me my old job back. Apparently my teenage rebellious days were back in full force.
Since the warlock had left no traces, I’d have to summon him here in this alley—without the celestials catching me. Since a certain inspector approached such things with the subtlety of a vampire on a blood craze, there was no way I’
d tell him about the warlock until I knew for sure he was the killer. If the pentagram didn’t work, no harm done. If so… I’d interrogated and killed demons before. A warlock would be no trouble.
Once again, I rode the train to the guild, wishing I’d asked for my guild-issued car back. Handing the keys over when I’d quit had been more difficult than signing away my demon-killing weapons. But the trains were quieter now the morning rush had died down, and I got there in record time. So far, so good.
I stopped at the lab first. It looked like Louise and her vamp boyfriend had run off, which was probably for the best. I slipped into the room and shoved as many ingredients as I could into my rucksack, in case things went wrong and I had to run. Then I went the long way around the campus-like structure, walking casually to avoid giving myself away. There were a handful of people about, but the crowds from earlier had dispersed. And the office was unlocked, probably because Gav figured I’d be back.
Naturally, as soon as I’d entered the room, footsteps carried down the corridor. I cursed under my breath, glad I’d taken stock of the room’s layout when I’d been here before. The spacious desk had just enough room to hide underneath, even for a tall-ish woman. I ducked under the wooden surface as the door opened again.
“The timing doesn’t add up,” said Gav’s voice. “He couldn’t have reached the scene of the crime so quickly. It’s not possible, even if someone got him in a car and drove him. I think you’re appointing blame in the wrong direction, Inspector.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
The foul smell of one of the Inspector’s cigarettes drifted overhead. I shoved my hand in my mouth to avoid coughing. Damn. I’d forgotten that slight detail about the murder.
The victim didn’t end up in that alley because he walked there. Something took him there.
Like… a warlock who could skip through dimensions.
“Perhaps not,” Gav said, “but the murder itself was likely not committed at the place where he died. Alerting the human authorities will only cause panic amongst the public.”
Damn. One murder and he was already talking about letting the humans know? Just imagining what the tabloids would do with that information made me shudder. They were convinced we were waging an invisible war every minute of the day, and gleefully sought out any netherworld drama. Demons loved the attention. They’d be doing them a favour. I’d have hoped the inspector would know better, but apparently not.
A moment passed before the inspector said, “Was one of your novices treading in brimstone? It’s on the carpet.”
“Probably,” said Gav, without missing a beat. “You know how novices can be. This is a mistake, Inspector. We can discuss the matter later. Maybe you should give orders to the novices. I think it’d help for them to have something to occupy their attention.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” said the inspector. “You’re running close to overstepping your boundaries. Don’t forget who’s really in charge here.”
“You, of course, Inspector.”
I bit back a laugh. The inspector apparently didn’t pick up on the sarcastic hint underneath Gav’s tone, because seconds later, retreating footsteps sounded. I owe you one, Gav. I counted down from ten, then climbed out from underneath the desk and darted to the cabinet at the back of the room, where the gold-plated pentagram lay. I pulled out a lock pick and opened it, thanking the inspector for being so bloody hopeless when it came to security. In fairness, no non-celestial could actually step into the building, even through the back doors. And nobody but one of us would be able to operate the pentagram. Didn’t mean I wanted it missing or damaged, but hopefully the summoning would go smoothly enough that I could return it in one piece. I’d talk to Gav in confidence later and explain what I’d been doing.
The pentagram—a bulky metal device carved with runes I couldn’t read—wouldn’t fit in my rucksack, so I shoved it up the back of my coat instead. This was a stupid idea. Between the pentagram’s points poking me in the spine and the added weight of my rucksack, I was out of breath and sweating by the time I’d boarded the train. I picked an empty carriage and did my best to avoid the occasional stares.
After disembarking at the stop nearest to the crime scene, I hurried out of the station as fast as possible. Luckily, nobody had shown up at the alley yet.
“This had better bloody work, Dienes,” I muttered, when I’d finally got the damn pentagram set up. I pulled out the ingredients and scattered them into the centre, using my celestial light to ignite each of the five points.
As light filled the gap, it turned fluid, expanding to cover the ground and half the wall, too. I backed up, hoping nobody wandered past the mouth of the alley. The area where the warlock had vanished was entirely covered. Hopefully it’d be enough.
Seconds ticked by. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, and the taste of brimstone coated the back of my throat. Come on, warlock, I thought.
The liquid-like surface of the light glimmered. Then, the shadows came.
Chapter 6
Shadows filled the gap in the pentagram, from one point to the next, until I looked down into a mass of total darkness. I held up my left hand, ready to grab a weapon. If the trap had caught the wrong person, considering what Dienes had told me of that dimension, I’d be in trouble. Or not. They can’t escape the pentagram. It was strong enough to hold a high level demon, after all.
The outline of a man appeared, arms held out as though to push against an invisible force. Furious words in a language I didn’t know grated against my ears. And then he appeared properly, trapped between the points of the pentagram.
Damn. I’d actually got him.
“You again,” Nikolas snarled. “Release me.”
“Nope,” I said. “You and I are going to have a little chat.”
He glanced down at the point of the pentagram beside his foot. “You dared to trap me?”
“You’re a murderer.”
He looked me in the eyes. “So are you.”
A shiver ran down my back. Sure, I knew what I was. And what he was. But I hadn’t got a close look at his aura before. Pinned in my trap, it was like a shadow, charcoal-black—cold, and ancient, and terrible. I might as well have stared in to the very depths of hell.
“You killed a novice celestial last night,” I said to him. “Didn’t you? How did you do it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He stepped forwards, reaching out a hand to touch my face. “You’re an interesting human.”
Shit. He shouldn’t be able to touch me. I recoiled from his ice-cold fingers. The pentagram was meant to contain him. How—?
I looked down, and froze. The pentagram’s points had shifted towards me—surrounding me. Now I was the one trapped.
“How the hell did you—?”
His hand caressed my face again and the smell of brimstone washed over me, abruptly turning to something more appealing, warm and enticing. Damn. He was using a lure on me. Even celestials weren’t immune, and with the trap caging my feet, I got the full blast of it. My eyes watered as though he’d sprayed perfume in my face, and all my senses flared up. My body fell still, even as I fought to move. The pentagram’s magic had trapped me, immobilised me.
How? It’s supposed to only work on demons.
His hand moved down my face to my shoulder, his gaze inches away as though searching for something invisible. He took my wrist and flipped it over—not the celestial hand, but the other one. Fear churned inside me, even as scorching heat followed the path of his fingertips. My blood responded to the lure, a primal longing stirring.
“Where is it,” he growled, his lips close to my neck. “Where is your demon mark?”
He thinks I’m a demon.
The thought broke through the stupor of his lure, and I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting with all my strength. Holding my breath to avoid inhaling any more of that intoxicating scent, I clenched my left wrist and pushed.
The light spli
t, and I broke free, slamming into him. The warlock hit the wall, and my fist collided with his. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t burn the darkness out of you right now.”
“Celestials.” He laughed softly. “You think yourselves righteous purely because you hold the power of the divine in your hands. As though light could ever exist without the dark. You’re marked, celestial. Maybe the mark isn’t visible, but a demon has left its magic inside you. And when the celestials find out…” He trailed off suggestively.
He was lying. He must be. Demons made lying into an art form. He was screwing with my head, now the lure hadn’t worked.
“How long did it take you to practise that line?” I asked. “Luckily for both of us, I don’t give a crap what the other celestials think of me. Same as you.”
Light suffused my palm, washing over him.
“You can’t kill me,” he said. “I’m the son of an arch-demon, and even your celestial light will merely tickle. You can try it if you like.”
Oh, boy. He was the offspring of a fallen angel, which made him virtually indestructible. If he was the killer, taking him out would be all but impossible. If not, he’d violated me with his magical ability, screwed with my head, and shoved me into my own trap. That was enough to earn an arrest, but I highly doubted he’d meekly agree to come with me to the celestial guild.
“Did you kill any celestials?” I asked in my most threatening voice.
“I told you,” he said, “I didn’t. And I’d advise you to leave this place before things get… uncomfortable.”
“Sure, like I’m letting you go after what you did.” His aura alone told me he was a cold-hearted killer. Who other than the offspring of a major demon could have committed such an awful murder? He was the perfect tool for the true arch-demons who wanted to take our world. I’d really screwed up. But come on, how was I supposed to know what he was? The chances were one in a million. I might as well have set up a trap for a mouse only for an escaped lion to wander into it instead.
Celestial Magic (Celestial Marked Book 1) Page 5
