by Cat Devon
“I didn’t say help.”
“Would it kill you to say it?” she countered.
“Since I’m an immortal, clearly it would not kill me.”
“So are you going to say it? I dare you to. Go ahead,” she taunted. “Admit you need my help.”
Anger flared in his dark blue eyes. “This is not a game.”
“No? Not a Words with Friends game?”
“You’re in no position to judge me.”
“Right back at you, buddy,” she said.
“What did you do back in Boston that got you thrown out?” he demanded out of the blue.
“Where did that come from?”
“I’ve asked you before.”
“And I answered,” she said.
“Not really. You were deliberately vague and now we’ve got angry humans descending on Vamptown.”
“You make them sound like an angry mob pounding on the castle doors or something.”
“That’s not an image that vampires take lightly.”
“Witches, either, believe me. But that’s the problem isn’t it? You don’t believe a word I say.”
“That’s not true. I believe some words you say. Just not all of them. You have secrets,” he said.
“So do you,” she said.
“So do I,” a strange voice said. Startled, Zoe turned to find the hazy hologram-like image of … a demon? The astral projection stood there, dressed in strange clothes from another time. His skin was the color of sulfur, and his weird eyes gave her the creeps. Then he smiled at her and said, “Hello, dearie.”
Chapter Thirteen
Still amped up on the adrenaline from fighting with Damon, Zoe didn’t scream. So Damon thought she was a wimp, did he? She’d show him. Cool and collected, that was her. That wasn’t really a demon standing in her living room. It was just the image of one.
“What are you looking at?” Damon asked suspiciously.
“I suspect I’m looking at the astral projection of a demon. Am I right?” she asked the image.
“Spot on,” he replied in an English accent.
Damon shoved her behind him and looked around. “Where?”
She pointed to the edge of the living room.
“I don’t see anything,” Damon said.
“Because you’re not a witch,” she said. “Only witches can see this kind of projection.”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the demon said. “Silas Milton at your service.” He bowed like someone accustomed to doing so.
“I thought you’d have a lot more scales or something,” she said without thinking.
“I’m a demon, not a fish or a dragon.”
Zoe stepped out from behind Damon to stand beside him. While the projection didn’t terrify her, she was not naive enough to think she had nothing to be worried about. Better to keep a vampire Demon Hunter close at hand when having a conversation with a demonic astral projection.
“Are you the demon in charge?” she asked Silas.
“I am.”
“Why are you here?”
“We’re not here to bring you harm,” Silas said.
“Then why are you here?”
“To right a wrong,” he said.
“What wrong?” she asked.
“It’s a long story,” Silas said. “As you may know, astral projections only last a short time.”
“What’s he saying?” Damon demanded.
“The Demon Hunter is impatient,” Silas said.
“He says you’re impatient,” she told Damon.
“It’s a major fault of his,” Silas said.
“I thought the same thing myself,” Zoe said.
“You’re agreeing with a demon?” Damon said in disbelief.
“On this one matter, yes. But let’s get back to this wrong you say you are trying to right, Silas.”
“What wrong?” Damon said.
She turned to him in exasperation. “That’s what I’m trying to find out if you’d just be quiet a minute.” She returned her attention to the demon. “Go on.”
“I am being held captive against my will along with two of my associates,” Silas said.
Zoe couldn’t resist asking, “Which one of you tried to possess me?”
“That was an unfortunate mishap. I know that you now have a strong protection spell surrounding you, your grandmother, and your familiars.”
Zoe realized he hadn’t answered her question about who exactly was responsible for her possession—but there were more important matters to discuss.
“Give me the short version of the wrong you’re talking about,” she told the demon. “Is that why you stole that demon spell book?”
“I don’t have the book, dearie,” Silas said. “If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“He said he doesn’t have the missing spell book,” she told Damon.
“I already figured that out,” Damon said.
“Who did this wrong to you?” she asked Silas. “Are you here to get revenge?”
“Think about it, dearie. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He tipped his head in a gesture of farewell.
“Wait! Does it have anything to do with my talisman?” she said.
But the projection was gone.
Only now did Zoe realize her knees were shaking. She sank onto the couch. “I’ve heard about them but I’ve never actually seen an astral projection before,” she said. “And certainly not of a demon. I’m sure he wasn’t a warlock.”
“No, that was a demon. I could sense that even though I couldn’t see him,” Damon said. “Maybe it was just a hologram of some sort.”
“Then you should have been able to see him.”
Damon swore under his breath before admitting, “You’re right.”
Zoe considered pointing out that this was the first time Damon had ever said those words to her. She really should make a big deal out of it, and she would have if they weren’t facing demon demolition.
“He didn’t look the way I thought he would,” she said.
“How did you think he’d look?” Damon asked.
“More like a scaly goat somehow. Which isn’t fair to goats. I mean, I like goat cheese as much as the next person. Or as much as the next witch.” She could tell by the look he gave her that he thought she was losing it. “I’m just saying…”
“A lot of demons have scales, depending on how long they’ve been in hell, but demons can take many forms as you found out earlier today.”
“He didn’t look like a regular human. Not like the cable guy. I mean, Silas had a human form, sort of, but there was something about him…” She shook her head.
Damon checked his smartphone. “We didn’t get the astral projection on-screen from the cameras.”
“I didn’t make him up,” she said.
“I’m not saying you did. I already told you I sensed a demon presence.”
“He said his name was Silas Milton. He was wearing strange clothes that looked like they were made out of snakeskin maybe? His skin was a gray-yellow color. Not a human color. Wait, he didn’t have eyebrows. He had a series of bumps over his eyes. Acne maybe? And his eyes…” She shook her head. “I can’t even begin to describe them. They were red. Like he’d been ass-kicked in the eye but there was no other bruising.”
“The bumps represent horns,” Damon said. “He had them drawn in.”
“I thought he’d have a goatee but he didn’t.”
“Did he go into any more detail about this wrong he’s talking about?”
She shook her head. “Just that I’d figure it out if I thought about it.”
“Then do that,” he ordered her. “I’ll have Neville check on a demon named Silas Milton.”
While he did that, Zoe went to speak to her grandmother in her bedroom.
“Gram, the head demon just appeared to me as an astral projection.”
“Where?”
“In the living room. But he’s gone now. I mean the projection is gon
e.”
“Damn. Why didn’t you call me?”
“There wasn’t time. He said he was here to right a wrong.” Zoe sat on the edge of the bed before hesitantly asking, “Do you think it might have something to do with my mother?”
Gram’s expression turned serious. “What makes you say that?”
“She was trying to use dark magic when she died,” Zoe said.
“True.”
“Did the black magic my mother was conjuring have something to do with demons?”
“I don’t know what she was working on,” Gram said. “She didn’t tell me anything.”
“Yet you knew she was dealing with dark magic. How did you know that?”
“I could feel the darkness. I tried to warn her but she wouldn’t listen. There are predators who hunt witches and want us dead. The same way that Damon is a Hunter.”
“You think he wants us dead?”
“He wants us gone, but I don’t think he wants us dead,” Gram said. “I was just using him as an example.”
“Of what?” Damon asked as he strolled into the room.
“Of an impolite vampire,” Zoe said. “You never heard of knocking?”
“I’ve heard of it. I just don’t believe in it.” Damon turned his attention to Gram. “You heard about the projection?”
Gram nodded. “I’m really sorry I missed it.”
“Neville checked the video feed from in here to make sure you hadn’t done anything to assist with that demon’s appearance. You’re in the clear.”
“Of course she is,” Zoe said. “When are you going to believe that?”
“When all this is over,” he drawled. “Maybe.”
Zoe remained silent, refusing to argue with him over his lack of trust. What was the point? That didn’t stop his attitude from aggravating the heck out of her, though. Especially when he got that sly yet intensely sexy expression on his face. She wanted to smack him in both forms of the word—as in kiss him and hit him.
“So neither one of you is familiar with a demon named Silas?” he said.
“I’m not familiar with any demons,” Gram said.
“Me, either,” Zoe said.
“I heard you ask the demon if he was the one who possessed you,” Damon said.
“He never answered that question,” Zoe said.
“Of course he didn’t. Demons never speak the truth.”
“He did say you were impatient and that was true,” Zoe pointed out.
Damon just glared at her.
You’d think that a vampire’s angry stare would make her think twice, but instead Zoe focused her attention on his mouth. A vampire who kissed like an angel. A fallen angel. Why was she so focused on noticing what a sensual mouth he had? She hadn’t felt that intensely about it yesterday, probably because before she’d been afraid she’d find signs of blood dripping from those lips of his.
Ick. That should be a major turn-off. Should be but wasn’t. Not that she wanted to see him that way, all bloodied up. But she’d kissed him and knew that he tasted really really good and she wanted to taste more of him.
Okay, enough of that. She really should be thinking about something else and not Damon’s mouth. She returned her attention to the conversation going on around her.
“What was he wearing?” Gram asked.
“That’s irrelevant,” Damon said impatiently.
“No, it’s not. It might give us an idea of his original time period. Was he dressed in a toga like a Roman or a Greek?” Gram asked Zoe.
“No.” She tried to concentrate. “He wore dark brown clothes. A shirt and vest and pants. But not modern. All dark. The vest had long sleeves and looked like it was made out of snakeskin or eel or something. I can do some research into men’s attire for the past five hundred years or so.”
“Or he could have been wearing that to throw you off,” the ever-suspicious Damon said.
“That’s possible, too,” Zoe said. “Even so, I want to check it out.”
“Of course you do,” Damon said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zoe said.
“That you don’t take orders well.”
“You’re not in the Union army anymore,” she said.
“But I’m still fighting,” he said.
“You don’t have to fight me. We’re on the same side.”
“Are we?”
“Yes. At least in this demon matter,” she qualified. “And I admit I don’t take orders well. It’s a family thing. None of the Adams women is blindly obedient.” She paused before admitting, “It’s also a witch thing.”
“Yes, well, it’s also a vampire thing.”
“I noticed,” she said.
They shared a look. It was the first time that Zoe felt this sense of sharing. In the past he’d glared at her and she’d glared at him. He’d eyed her breasts. She’d eyed his chest and abs. But this was something new. She didn’t even know what to call it, but it felt damn good. Too damn good.
She broke off the visual contact. “I’ll go check out that clothing idea.”
Her laptop was in the living room so she had to walk past Damon to leave Gram’s room. He stepped aside and gestured for her to go ahead of him. He quickly followed.
“I can’t think if you are leaning over my shoulder,” she warned him as she sat on the couch and picked up the computer.
“Because I’m a vampire?” he surprised her by saying.
“No. Because you’re you.”
He gave her one of his sardonic smiles.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
Half an hour later, she found what she was looking for. “He was wearing a doublet from the 1600s. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“That he’s been in hell a long time?”
“It means he could have been around for the Witch Hunt in Salem in 1692.”
“You have the date memorized?”
“Every witch does. It’s a critical date. Like the date you were turned.”
“July third.”
“At Gettysburg.”
He nodded.
“So this ‘wrong’ Silas was talking about doesn’t seem to be attached to your date but maybe to my family’s. Did I tell you he called me dearie?”
“No.”
“It wasn’t an endearment as much as a veiled threat or warning said in an outwardly courteous voice.”
“You’re sure there is no reference to a Silas in your family’s Book of Spells.”
She pointed to the thick book on the coffee table. “Do you know how many pages are in there?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. The book is wrapped in magic. Gram and I are the only ones who can access it. But maybe I could do a spell asking the book to find any reference to Silas.”
“Do that,” Damon told her.
Ex Libris,
Look in the book.
Give us a peek
At that which we seek—
“Don’t you have to include what we are looking for?” Damon said.
Zoe flashed him an angry look. “Do not interrupt me while I am casting a spell!”
“Or?” he said.
“Or your privates might fall off,” Bella said from the chair.
“Now I have to start all over again,” Zoe said.
Ex Libris,
Look in the book.
Give us a peek
At that which we seek.
Silas Milton is the name.
Find the same.
She’d deliberately left the Book of Spells open so the pages could turn easier. They flew back to one of the earliest pages in the book. Over time various generations of Adams witches had added their own variations of spells for everything from bee stings to love potions to hair loss, which accounted for the innumerable pages.
Zoe waited to make sure the spell was complete and this was the right page. Then she leaned forward to pull the heavy book onto her lap. “Don’t touch,” she reminded Damon as he leaned over t
he back of the couch.
“Don’t touch the book or you?”
“Either one,” she said.
She tried to read the old script, but she was no expert on this portion of the book.
“It’s in Latin,” Damon said.
“I know.”
She tugged on her left ear, and the words were translated into English. “A shortcut,” she said with a shrug. “We had to translate too many sections to do a spell each time, so we developed a faster way to translate Latin within this book to English.”
“What else do you have shortcuts for?” Damon asked.
“Never mind. Stay focused. It says here that Silas Milton had an evil soul.”
“That’s it?”
“You’re interrupting again,” Zoe told Damon.
“Then talk faster.”
“Or you could be a little more patient,” she said.
“Or you could talk faster.”
“Silas came to this country from England with a wave of Puritans. He ended up in Salem. Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh, what?” Damon demanded.
“He was one of the accusers of Rebekka Adams, my five-time great-aunt who was hung after being declared a witch.” She turned the page to read more but instead found an illustration of a man. “That’s him! That’s the demon I saw in the astral projection.”
“How could you not know that Silas was one of the accusers at the Salem witch trials? You memorized the date and not the names?”
“I don’t know everything. I can’t remember everything.” Zoe felt her control slipping. “I didn’t ask for any of this, you know! I didn’t practice magic for two years before coming here. And now look at me. I’m casting protection spells left and right!”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Damon said.
“I’m having to deal with demon astral projections.”
“Something new for you.”
“I don’t want something new. I want peace and quiet. That’s why I came here. To get away from…” Her voice trailed off.
“To get away from what?” he pressed.
“Everything.”
Zoe welcomed the knock on the front door that prevented her from having to answer further. She wasn’t about to admit that by telling her ex-fiancé that she was a witch, she’d broken one of the main rules of their coven. If Damon found out, he might think that she wouldn’t be able to keep the fact that she was living among vampires a secret.
