Demon Fire (Brimstone Magic Book 1)

by Tori Centanni

  After I’d gotten home last night, I’d taken a long shower and thought long and hard about the punk mages, Marcus’ death, the dead demon, and the vial of blood. It added up to a group who was summoning demons and using their blood for power. I didn’t know where the brimstone fit in, whether it was like an added bonus, or whether it actually worked with the demon blood somehow. All I knew was that I was tired of fighting guys who never seemed to run out of firepower.

  Even my demon magic had its limits. I could only pour out so much fire before the well dried up and I had to recharge for a while. A demon might never run out of magic, but as a witch using it, I did. Which meant the mages should have, too. So either I hadn’t seen them hit their limits, even with as many spells as I’d seen them toss out in rapid succession, or they didn’t even have one.

  I forced a pleading smile and added, “Please let me speak with him. I promise it’ll be quick.”

  Lady Vera considered. “I suppose I can allow a few minutes of conversation, if you’re careful not to upset him.”

  I nearly barked a laugh. I doubted it was easy to upset a murderous, power-hungry vampire. I swallowed it back. “Of course I’ll be careful.”

  “And you must promise to come to my Halloween Ball.”

  Inwardly, I groaned. I wasn’t a party girl in any sense. I preferred small get-togethers. Large gatherings made me uncomfortable. But if there was anything worse than a giant costume party, it was one hosted by a vampire.

  “Halloween isn’t for three months,” I hedged.

  She smiled. “That’s nothing, darling. It will be here in no time.”

  Normally, I’d agree and then find an excuse not to go closer to the event, but in the supernatural world, promises were promises, and breaking them was a good way to get yourself killed. If I agreed, it meant I was obligated to go, come hell or high-water.

  But I really needed to speak with Alaric. Maybe he could give me some hint as to how they were using demon magic and a way to cut off their power. It was a long shot, but worth a try. Even if it meant getting all dolled up and subjecting myself to a night of vampire formalities.

  “Okay. I’ll come to your party.” She tilted her head down and gave me a stern look. She wanted me to say it correctly, in the way that bound me to my word. I sighed. “I promise to come to your Halloween Ball.”

  She clapped her hands together again. “How lovely! And don’t forget, costumes are mandatory.”

  Of course they were.

  She led me up the winding staircase to the third floor. She swept down the hall, her skirts dusting the floor, until she reached the end. A picture window looked out onto a field of pine trees. Lady Vera’s mansion was off the beaten path, several miles away from the city. She owned twenty or so acres that surrounded her property and kept them wild. She pulled on a cord in the ceiling. A narrow staircase pulled down.

  “Remember, don’t upset him,” she whispered, though there was a good chance Alaric could hear us. Vampires had fantastic hearing.

  “I won’t,” I said and followed her up.

  The attic was maybe half the length of her massive mansion. Silver bars lined with iron and spaced only an inch apart cordoned off most of the space, leaving only a few feet outside the “caged” area where the stairs were. The “cage” had a living room set up with a television, a massive black leather sectional sofa that was so big it would take up my whole apartment. There was a wooden screen propped up in the left hand corner, mostly blocking a large bed. If it had a kitchen, bathroom, and no bars, I’d be asking about the rent.

  The large jail cell also appeared to be empty.

  “Alaric,” Lady Vera said in a sing-song voice. “You have a visitor.”

  A figure materialized at the bars. I started, my heart pounding. It looked almost as if he’d teleported, though I knew that wasn’t possible. Vampires could move at super-fast speeds that confused the human eye. He must have been on the bed, hidden by the screen, and rushed to the bars at a speed my witch brain couldn’t process.

  Knowing that didn’t stop my pulse from racing like it was in the Indy 500, though.

  “Why hello, little witch,” Alaric said, grinning. His fangs looked sharp. His eyes were blue but ringed with red. He had soft blond hair, pale skin, and a lean frame. He wore sweat pants and a faded blue t-shirt that said “Cool” across the front in white letters, with little snowflakes falling from the words. It was such a strange choice in this place, a prison run by someone who looked like she was Jane Austen’s contemporary.

  “Hi,” I said, as casually as I could manage. I knew better than to react, though he could probably hear my rapid heartbeat. Alaric was bored and probably hungry for attention (among other things). I wasn’t here to be his play thing. I just needed information.

  Alaric grabbed the bars and pressed his face close to them. “You smell of brimstone and ichor.”

  I winced. I’d showered when I’d gotten home last night and scrubbed down again this afternoon. I sniffed my arm.

  Alaric’s grin widened and he tapped his nose with his pointer finger. “Vampire senses.”

  Annoyed, I decided to get to the point. “I’m here to ask some questions about demon blood.”

  That wiped the smile off the vampire’s face. Behind me, I heard Lady Vera suck in a breath. “We do not speak of what occurred,” she hissed, coming toward me, probably to drag me out.

  I held up a hand in her direction but didn’t turn away from the cage. “There’s a group of mages, or witches, or maybe both and they’re using demon magic to enhance their power. A witch is dead and it’s my job to figure out why. That means going up against these guys.”

  Lady Vera paused and I glanced over my shoulder to see her frowning, brow furrowed.

  “Are they drinking the blood?” Alaric asked mildly.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “That’s the most direct way,” he said.

  I frowned. I knew they were using demon blood, but ingesting it seemed desperate, somehow. Like a last resort. “Even for… uh… non-vampires?”

  Alaric tilted his head. “Yes. Demon blood enhances one’s strength when consumed, mortal or not. But it does not last long. And it has…” He rolled his hand and then met my eyes before saying, “side effects. As I’m sure you know.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you?” He tilted his head, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

  “No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  He slid along the bars until he was right in front of me. He stuck as much of his face between them as he could and sniffed at me. He reared back, eyes wide. “I see,” he muttered. “You have demon blood in your veins but it’s not from another demon.” He looked at me in wonder, as if suddenly fascinated. “It’s your own.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said, taking a step backward. But was he? Demon magic flowed through my veins, moved through my muscles, invaded my thoughts. It was part of me, whether I liked it or not. Whatever the demon who had possessed me had done to my body, he’d fundamentally changed me somehow. But I wasn’t a demon. And I wasn’t drinking demon blood.

  “I just need to know how to stop these guys. How do I blunt the demon power they get from the blood?”

  Alaric shrugged languidly. Not his problem. “Kill them. Cut off their heads. Set fire to their bodies until their bones are black.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I was hoping for a less fatal solution. I just need to cull their power so I can fight them off.”

  Alaric barked a laugh. It surprised me so much that I jolted in fear. “My dear, demon blood wears off. For an immortal like myself, the boost is short, a few hours. For a mortal? I have no idea. Perhaps a whole day. Personally, I’d use that pretty little sword of yours to cut them into pieces too small to make use of such magic.”

  I swallowed uneasily. I wasn’t a killer. I was willing to kill in self-defense, but I tried to avoid it. I just wanted to bring Marcus’ killer or
killers to justice and stop this little group of superpowered mages before they killed me first. And I wanted to get paid.

  “You mortals are so fussy about death,” Alaric said, now smirking at me.

  “I just don’t want to end up in a jail cell,” I said. It was a crappy thing to say to a man behind bars and the moment it came out, I wished I could suck the words back into my mouth. I quickly added, “The Council’s dungeon isn’t as nice as this.” It was a sad attempt to mitigate what I’d said and it didn’t work.

  I watched Alaric’s expression close until his face was as impassive as could be. He moved away from the bars and turned his back to me, waving a hand.

  “Please take my guest away now, my lady. I am done with her.”

  “Thanks for your help,” I offered. I meant it.

  He did not acknowledge it, though.

  Great, I thought. I managed to tick off a murderous vampire without even getting any new information I could use against this group of maniacal mages.

  I swore after this I’d take a couple of easy cases. At this point, even following around cheating spouses sounded like a vacation.

  Chapter 19

  Since public transit didn’t offer service to the Store-it Sunday, where Midnight was hidden away, and I figured having a quick escape vehicle wouldn’t be the worst thing, I decided to give in and pay Silas’ stupid car rental fee. It was pretty cheap, all things considered, and with the bonus Savannah had offered, I could afford it. Assuming I got this case wrapped up tonight.

  My plan was simple: charge into the club and demand answers. I mentally listed the pros and cons on my walk back to my building.

  Pro: I doubted mages who were using highly illegal magic enhancers like demon blood were going to show off their power in a crowded space.

  Con: There was no guarantee the club would be crowded.

  Pro: I had demon magic.

  Con: So did they.

  Pro: I’d be able to pay my rent with a week in the month to spare.

  Con: …if I survived.

  By the time I’d reached my building, I wasn’t certain it was the smartest course of action, but it was the only one I had, other than to tell Savannah I’d failed and hope she didn’t demand her money back. (Sure, I’d already worked for it, but people who want results don’t want to pay for partial credit.)

  As I walked around the side of the building to the garage entrance, a black SUV pulled up to the curb and parked. Heart racing, my fingers brushed the hilt of my sword. If the Watchers had come to arrest me, I wasn’t going quietly.

  Conor got out of the car.

  My relief was short-lived: he could easily be here to arrest me himself. My shoulders straightened and I glared in his direction.

  “Dani!” he called as he came toward me.

  I let go of my sword and folded my arms over my chest. “If you’ve come to ask for my help, you can forget it. I’ve decided to work alone.”

  Conor shook his head. “I’m not allowed to work with you, actually. Lana and the higher ups have decided the optics aren’t worth the risk.”

  “What risk?” I demanded, now irritated. I saved their butts and they were acting like I’d blown up the building myself. Then I thought of Maria and her warning, and cold washed over me. Some of them did think that.

  “The Watchers have strict protocols for a reason,” Conor said gently. “It can be dangerous hunting down criminals unless we’re all on the same page.”

  His tone ticked me off. I didn’t need this condescending crap. “You think I wasn’t on the same page?” I demanded. “What page was I on, then, exactly?”

  Conor put a hand on his hip and stared at me, not answering my question. His tousled hair fell into his eyes. My heart raced and my irritation burned hotter the longer his silence continued. I didn’t ask for his help. I had agreed to work with him because I thought it would benefit both of us but clearly I’d been wrong.

  Finally, he said. “I just came to check on you. But you seem fine.”

  “I am fine,” I said, a little too harshly. “In fact, I have a strong lead I’m about to follow up on.”

  I shouldn’t have said it. I regretted it instantly. When had I picked up such a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease?

  “You have a lead?” Conor leaned closer, suddenly interested.

  That made me angrier.

  “I have to go,” I said. I dug around in my pocket for my keys and produced them with a flourish. I turned to unlock the small door that would let me into the garage. I could open the big garage door from the opener in the car.

  “Wait. You have to tell me your lead.”

  “No,” I said. “I really don’t.”

  “Dani, don’t do this.”

  I put the key in the lock and turned it until it clicked. I pushed the door open.

  Conor sighed heavily. “If you don’t share your lead, I’ll be forced to take you into custody.” I froze. My pulse raced. Being in the custody of the Watchers, of the Council, meant being at their mercy for however long they wanted to keep me. Maybe indefinitely. It meant being questioned, possibly with the use of truth potions. It meant a chance they would learn my secret and that would spell my end.

  I turned and glared at him so hard he actually took a step back. He put his hands up in a placating gesture. “It’s my job to solve Marcus’ murder and catch the assholes who tried to blow us to kingdom come. I cannot let you walk away with a lead that could help.”

  I kept glaring so intensely I thought I might set his silky hair on fire. “You kicked me to the curb and now you’re blackmailing me to do your job for you?”

  “Of course not.” Conor had the decency to look abashed. “Look, I can’t officially work with you. Orders are orders. But I suppose I could give you a ride so you can show me where this next lead of yours is. And then if we happen to be there at the same time, talking to the same people…” He trailed off, twisting his hand palm up in a ‘so you see’ gesture.

  I looked at Silas’ car. It was parked, unused, because despite his protests that I always took the stupid thing when he wanted it, he rarely bothered to use it. Then I sighed. I wouldn’t mind saving fifty bucks. And besides, it would be smarter to go in with backup. Maybe not backup that would happily arrest me along with the bad guys if I needed to rely on my demon magic, which had been the case way too often for comfort lately. But at the same time, I didn’t know what I’d find at Midnight. Maybe nothing.

  I groaned and shut the garage door. “Fine. On one condition.”

  Conor raised an inky eyebrow.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and met his eyes. “Tell me you don’t think I’m involved in this mess.”

  Conor’s expression remained impassive. He said nothing.

  “Seriously? You think I’m working with the punk mages who tried to blow us up?”

  “I think you have secrets, Dani,” he said in a low, silky voice. It should have been sexy but it sent ice down my spine.

  “Everyone has secrets,” I said. “But I’m not working with people stupid enough to summon demons. Trust me on that.”

  Conor nodded. He met my eyes, an intensity burning in his. “I do.”

  “Good.”

  I climbed into the passenger seat of his SUV and told him to head to Midnight. Conor gave me a funny look I couldn’t read and then he focused on driving.

  Tonight, the parking lot of Store-It Sunday was packed with cars. Conor parked in front of a fire hydrant, since it was the only place to wedge the SUV.

  I got out, sliding my sword into my sheath and heading for the door. Conor was more cautious, stopping to assess the area. He stood with his eyes closed and pushed his hands out in front of him, and then moved them around himself like he was feeling the air.

  My breath caught. It looked like he was doing some kind of tai chi only I could sense magic in the air. Witch magic was more subtle than mage magic, invisible and yet powerful in its own way. Witches couldn’t throw out spells that hadn
’t been cast previously, which limited our power in terms of offensive magic, but it had a thousand other uses.

  Watching Conor cast this spell was hypnotizing and strangely intimate, a glimpse into his personal magical practice. He finished doing his hand motions and reached into his pocket. He flung a handful of something into the air and let it fall on top of him. The aroma of basil caught my nose. When he was done, he clapped his hands together and opened his eyes.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “A protection spell,” he said, with a small smile. “Won’t stop a bullet, but it may lessen the damage of a spell if it hits you dead on.”

  On the way over, I’d told Conor my theory that this was the headquarters for the mages who kept attacking us. He was dubious but apparently wanted to cover his bases.

  “I can do one for you,” he said.

  I glanced at the building, eager to go in there, throw Wilder against the wall, and demand answers. But then, if I was right about this being Demon Summoning HQ, a little extra protection wouldn’t hurt.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  He stepped closer and I felt his breath brush against my cheek as he said, “Close your eyes.”

  I did. I could hear the air move and his boots crunch on the dirt as Conor did his gestures and moved around me in a circle. A moment later, the sweet smell of basil surrounded me and the warmth of magic tingled my skin. As bits of basil landed on me, the warmth seemed to cling to me.

  “Open your eyes,” Conor said softly.

  I did. A sudden calm had descended over me, along with the warmth.

  “Feel it?” he whispered.

  I nodded. He smiled. “One of my grandmother’s spells. She was a very talented witch and she lived to be a hundred and six.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “Now, let’s go test your theory.”

  The door to Store-It Sunday opened. The elevator was waiting for us, open and ready to whisk us up to the club floor. Conor and I exchanged a glance. It hadn’t been this easy last time, but then, the club had been closed that night. Maybe this was how it always was on nights the club was open.