“And I suppose the dozen reports about a warlock vanishing from your side are a coincidence?”
Shit. Apparently he’d seen, too. Not that there was ever any question of my obeying the warlock and keeping my mouth shut when he potentially had information and did have the pentagram.
“I was getting to that,” I said. “I found the warlock near the first murder scene. Then I tracked him. He claimed not to have been involved. The second attack happened literally while we were talking. He couldn’t have done it. The timing’s all wrong.”
“Demons of his sort would certainly be capable of killing in such a manner. If a warlock is making an assault on the guild, there will be consequences.”
“All right.” I threw up my hands. “Maybe calm down a little before declaring war on anyone? Have you even looked at the crime scene yet?”
“Why,” he interrupted, “is your hand green?”
Oh. “My demonic detector fell to pieces.”
“Demonic detector?”
“Handmade. Can I go and wash my hand? Melted brimstone is a bitch to clean up.”
He sniffed. “Brimstone. You walked into the crime scene carrying this?”
“I was looking for any demonic traces.” I pulled the remains of the device from my pocket. “A demon of that level of power can’t pull off a magical murder without needing to recharge. I figured if it was still in this dimension, it’d be feeding off a crowd. But this thing’s faulty.”
“It led you to the crime scene, though?”
“Too late,” I said bitterly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to clean this crap off my hand and—”
“The next time you want to cover for a warlock, I’d advise you to remember they’re nearly as far from human as pure demons are.”
“Sure, whatever. You know warlocks supply all the guild’s ingredients, don’t you?” In fact, it’d likely been a warlock who’d made the pentagram. Warlocks might not be trustworthy, but they were half human, mortal, and an asset to the guild. I didn’t trust Nikolas, but the number of demons summoned by non-magical humans outnumbered those summoned by warlocks twenty to one—and that was taking into consideration that warlocks were actually half demon. So, you’d think they’d have more cause than most to summon one. Then again, they also had more of a clue than humans just how dangerous demons were.
Instead of responding, the inspector asked, “What exactly did this warlock have to say for himself? Tell me everything you know about him.”
“He’s powerful.” Half arch-demon powerful, to be precise. But I wanted to confide that particular detail to Gav or someone trustworthy, not someone who’d send the entire guild out with pitchforks if he had reason to. “He can use the shadows to cross over into another dimension, but he can’t teleport. He couldn’t have reached the victim in time to kill her. Also, he’s not a fire demon.” Having seen him fight, I didn’t peg him for the type who enjoyed torture either. And again—why show up at the crime scene afterwards if he was the killer? Unless he’d vanished on purpose to confuse and terrify everyone, of course.
“These demon kin have skills beyond human comprehension,” he said. “What exactly did he tell you?”
That I’m a demon, apparently. “He said he wasn’t the killer. As I said, it doesn’t add up. The demon has to be able to touch or at least see the victim to attack them. Even Grade Three or higher demons obey that rule.”
He gave me a stern look. “You’re correct, but that doesn’t mean this warlock wasn’t involved. Perhaps he had an accomplice.”
“He’s not a fire demon,” I repeated. “And the aura around the victim didn’t match his, like it would have if he’d used magic on her.” I hadn’t considered that part, but those dark spots on her aura weren’t a sign of regular demon magic. I wasn’t sure what they were. But they’d taken her body away.
“Is that all you got from questioning him? Why are you sure of his innocence?”
“It was a thorough interrogation.”
That’s one way of putting it. My skin still burned where he’d brushed his lips over it, searching for a mark that wasn’t there. A mark this man should have been aware of, if it existed. And what about how the pentagram had trapped me?
Seven hells. If the inspector put me under interrogation, the guild’s own angelic magic would turn on me if the warlock had told the truth. Besides, the real culprit might be getting away while we sat here bickering.
“Will you let me get on with the investigation now?” I asked. “I did nothing wrong. I had every reason to suspect the warlock was involved. Now, I don’t believe he is.”
“I believe you’re hiding something,” he growled. “You’ve been given entirely too much responsibility for someone who’s known for flaunting the rules.”
“Tell that to Gav or Mr Roth, not me,” I said. “I’m doing my job. I’ll thank your people not to shoot at me while I’m working.”
“The light wouldn’t have harmed you.”
It would if I really did have demonic magic. Crap. I needed to find that bloody warlock again. But where did I even start looking for him?
“The only reason I’m letting you go,” he added, “is because you’re correct in saying that the victim was at the guild earlier. She was seen leaving alone, and therefore, the warlock you were with couldn’t have been the one who initially caused her to move across the city. Unless, of course, I find proof you were lying.”
Okay. Her vampire boyfriend must have left separately, then. “Have you questioned the people she was with? Wasn’t she meant to be on a mission today?”
“We’re still gathering the details,” he said. “You, Celestial Lawson, should leave now, before you implicate yourself further. And I’d clean that brimstone off your hand too.”
“Of course.” I got to my feet, left the office, and made a beeline for the lab.
It took fifteen minutes of scrubbing to return my hand to normal, and the neon green demonic battery acid had left streaks all up my sleeve. I also disposed of the now-useless demon detector. Weird how it’d reacted to the attack even in its broken state. The way the warlock’s power had set it off, though… even if I believed he wasn’t the killer, he was definitely a world of trouble. As for what he’d said…
You’re a demon. The pentagram reacted to you. Something was off, and once I’d eliminated all the other possibilities, it was entirely possible that was the only likely conclusion. But until I had confirmation from anywhere other than the mouth of a warlock, I’d put it in the back of my mind and get on with the job.
My first step: I needed to find an antidote to his lure ability, in case he used it on me again. Considering I planned to confront him over the pentagram the next time I saw him, I needed a way to protect myself. In the end, he hadn’t tried to hurt me. But he was clearly dangerous, if not outright deluded. Problem was, I didn’t know exactly how the lure worked. By touch? Or scent? He must have control over it, because he hadn’t used it on me during our first encounter.
“What are you doing this time?” asked Gav, opening the door to the lab. “I thought the inspector told you to go home.”
“I’m trying to brew a spell to counter a warlock who can… affect emotions.”
“In what way?”
Ack. I really didn’t want to have this conversation with my supervisor. Not to mention, the paralysis had been down to the pentagram, and I wouldn’t be mentioning that to anyone.
“Someone who can touch you and make you feel whatever you want them to.” That covered it, right?
He gave me a strange look. “You might need more information to go by than that.”
“Not to worry. I’ve got it in hand.”
“Well, try to stay out of the inspector’s way.”
Great. I’d been deposed within only hours of being re-hired. Not that I’d expected the guild to want me to stick around for long, not now their backup had arrived. But the warlock was my responsibility. I’d found him, now I’d find out how he was connecte
d to the case. If I could figure out his damn lure ability. If I did something obvious like removing my sense of smell, I was leaving myself wide open to being sneaked up on by any other demon. My senses were too valuable to mess with. And short of covering myself with a full suit of armour and gas mask, there was nothing I could do to stop him from touching me again, except maybe cover myself in something that warded him off. Or a weapon that activated if I was touched by unwanted hands.
I looked up and jumped out of my skin at the sight of someone standing behind me. “Damn, Clover. Don’t scare me like that.”
With vertical scars along her face courtesy of a saw-toothed water demon thirty years ago, Clover had refused any cosmetic surgery and instead let the wounds heal as they were. The result was that she terrified everyone she came across, including some demons, but had the mild manner more reminiscent of a friendly grandmother when she wasn’t telling horrible stories of dismemberment to the novices. After retiring from the field, she’d spent her time perfecting the art of standing silently in corners and scaring the crap out of people. For some reason, she’d taken a shine to me when all my other tutors threw their hands up in despair.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in here since you came back,” she remarked.
She didn’t ask why I’d come back. Or why I’d been gone for so long. I appreciated that.
“I’m in trouble,” I told her.
She scratched her chin where two scars intersected. “How big?”
“Warlocks,” I said.
She grunted. “Bad news, they are.”
“Yeah, you could say that. I’m trying to brew up a way to counter a warlock’s lure.”
“Give him blisters,” said Clover. “You know how to make a blister charm, right?”
“Blisters?” I snorted. “You mean the most basic charm would work on a high-level warlock? I thought they were immune.”
“Surprisingly not. It’s when you factor in demonic magic that problems arise. Basic spells are the key.”
“Awesome.” I started separating ingredients again. I’d make a pendant, hide it under my shirt, and if he touched me again… I smothered a laugh. I almost wanted him to try it. Full-body blister attack. It’d be worth the indignity of being overpowered again.
“What did this warlock do to you, exactly?” Clover enquired. “Is he a suspect?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “But he did appear at both murder scenes. I know what it looks like, but from the reports, there’s no way he could have killed that girl. Anyway, whether he’s the killer or not, I need to find him again. He stole something important from me.”
“It sounds like this warlock operates on his own clock. They all do. But if he wants to find you, he will. Set up your defence, and be ready.”
I frowned at her. “You aren’t going to tell me to leave it to the experts?”
“You are the expert. I told the inspector how many demonic cases you’ve solved. Between me and Gavin, you might just be able to get away for another day before someone realises the inspector’s pentagram is missing.”
Oh. “Believe me, I didn’t know that would happen. I thought it could hold a warlock.”
“It can, usually.” She paused. “Be careful, Devi. Call me or Gavin if you need backup, but not the inspector. It’s not good news he’s here.”
No kidding. But it lifted some of the weight from me to know I had at least one authority figure on my side.
“You’re better without the celestials at your back, if you do decide to find him,” she added.
Was she giving me permission to go rogue? I was halfway in that direction anyway, but the fact was, I needed the guild. They held my weapons—and my freedom—in their hands. Like it or not. So I had to toe the line, as far as they could see, anyway. But that left me with some options.
And I really did need to find out if Nikolas was telling the truth.
Chapter 8
A couple of hours later, I sat down at a cafe in the shopping centre to read over the files from the celestial archive I’d downloaded onto my phone. Specifically, the ones concerning warlocks, and their relationship with their demon kin. Gav had been true to his word and sent me everything he had on arch-demons, so I’d be prepared with at least some knowledge if I managed to track the warlock down. I also had the contact details of the local chief warlock, so calling him was next on my list.
It was a relief to get outside again. I remained on my guard, of course, but I’d had a hell of a day, and needed food and a caffeine fix. I ate my sandwich one-handed while skimming through Gav’s notes on my phone. When I reached the part on arch-demons, it was about as useless as I’d expected. Arch-demons were princes of hell, fallen angels, all-powerful, et cetera. Nobody seemed to want to tell me what exactly made them so powerful, except that they were ageless and terrifying, and any world with an arch-demon still living in it wasn’t a nice one for either humans or warlocks. As for warlocks, they were generally shunned by their arch-demon parents and kicked out into another dimension. I couldn’t imagine anyone doing that to the warlock I’d met, but I couldn’t really imagine an arch-demon either. I imagined most people who saw one didn’t live long enough to remember it.
I turned my gaze back to the table and found Nikolas sitting in the vacant seat opposite me.
“Seven hells,” I said.
“It’s delightful to see you, too,” he said. “I believe we got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to offer you the opportunity to speak to the leader of the warlock community in this city.”
“What?” I said stupidly. Where in hell had he materialised from?
He flashed me a smile, all white teeth. “You wished to speak to a warlock, did you not?”
“I never said that.” Was I cracking up? I hadn’t told anyone except Gav I planned to speak to the warlocks’ leader, in order to find Nikolas himself. I must have looked away for too long, because even he wouldn’t use his shadow power to appear in the middle of a public cafe. Right?
“You implied that you’d like to meet my contacts,” said Nikolas. “So, I’m offering you the chance to meet with our leader. Oh, and you might need this.” Something sharp bumped against my leg under the table. The pentagram. I grabbed its sharp edge firmly, tugging it from his hands.
“Why give it back?”
“I don’t need it,” he said simply. “And given its design, I highly doubt it originally belonged to you. We need to keep good relations with the guild.”
“You do realise they suspect you, don’t you?” I asked, moving the pentagram underneath my chair out of his reach. “You vanished in front of several witnesses. If you wanted to avoid suspicion, I doubt they’ll forget easily.”
He regarded me with a cool gaze. “Yes, I expect not. However, when we find the real criminal, that’ll be irrelevant.”
“Okay, is there a conversation I don’t remember having with you?” I asked. “Because I thought we established that if the celestials found out about you, you were going to delete all their records.”
“I believe I said that if you told the celestials about me, I’d do so. Given my investigation into the killings, I assumed we’d run into one another sooner or later. I have nothing to fear from them.”
“Right.” I shook my head. “So according to you, we’re retracting the threats and pretending that never happened?”
Warlocks. It was sort of surprising that he wasn’t their leader, given his level of power, but I kept forgetting he wasn’t anywhere near human. He was someone who thought society’s usual rules didn’t apply to him. Never mind that I wasn’t a model celestial: he acted like the whole world ought to step out of his way. The side of him I’d seen in battle attested to that. I should have told him to leave me alone. We were in a public place, for crying out loud. Though if anyone got suspicious, I suspected he could use his mind trick again and make them look away.
“I don’t doubt you’ll remember, celestial, but I have need of your assistance,” said Nikolas
. “The celestials were likely to suspect me sooner or later. What they won’t find is any evidence connecting me to the crime, because there isn’t any.”
“You’re that confident, huh. You know the inspector is in town, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. That’s what prompted me to repair our arrangement.”
I shifted the pentagram underneath the chair. “There is no arrangement between us. I was trying to eat in peace before you intruded on my personal space.”
“But you’d still like to meet our leader?” he asked.
“How did you even know that was my plan?” Could he read minds, on top of everything else? Warlocks had only one power, the files said. Bollocks.
“If you needed to find me, it’d be the logical response,” he said. “In fact, I already told him about you, so you won’t have to wait for a meeting. He wishes to speak to you tonight.”
Suspicion flared. “About the killings?”
His eyes bored into me. “You know why.”
“No.” My hand clenched around my half-full coffee cup, and I suppressed the urge to throw it at him. “I’m not one of you.”
“Then why are you avoiding telling the celestials about me, aside from the regrettable incident two years ago with your partner’s death?”
My composure slid away. “Why the hell are you so interested in my life?”
I know what you did, he’d said. I should have known better than to give him the chance to explain himself. I ought to call the authorities right now—but given his shadow power, he’d vanish before they got here. And I wasn’t a hundred percent certain the celestials could take him. He was so… unpredictable.
“You have your resources. I have mine.”
No kidding. “You know the celestials think one of your people is the killer, right? You’re the main suspect. Not me. See to your own issues before you start accusing me.”
“My people?” he echoed. “The celestials are fools if they think to blame my fellow warlocks for these attacks, but if they want to challenge us, we will meet them with all our might.” His tone was as matter-of-fact as though we were discussing the weather. Of course, he might be posturing, and it was none of my business whether he decided to start a war with the celestials or not, but I was supposed to be finding a killer, not playing head games with overconfident warlocks.
Celestial Magic (Celestial Marked Book 1) Page 7
