Destined for Dreams

by Susan Illene

  His nerou charge, on the other hand, hadn’t learned that lesson yet. Before Bartol could warn Tormod, the young man reached down and touched the woman’s shoulder, a look of concentration on his face. It didn’t take long to figure out what he was doing. Tormod might be part demon, but he had a good heart. The elderly lady pulled away from him at first, cursing at him in both Hungarian and English. A moment later, though, she quieted and started leaning toward him.

  Her wizened features softened. “You’ve got a good touch, boy. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

  “It won’t last forever,” Tormod informed her. “But you should feel better for at least a little while.”

  She patted his hand. “Thank you. I always said not all of the magic users were bad.”

  Bartol probably shouldn’t have let the nerou heal a stranger when they had more important matters to attend, but Tormod had been rather shaken up by what he’d seen—and had to clean up—in the cathedral. This was the first time the anger and helplessness that had filled his features for days was gone. They all had their ways of dealing with tragedy. The nerou hadn’t faced much in his life, so if healing one old woman made him feel better, it couldn’t hurt to allow it.

  They wiped their feet, making a big show of it, and entered the building. It was dim inside, but they found the elevator and took it to the third floor. The apartment they sought ended up being at the end of a long, dark hallway where half the homes contained shouting adults or crying babies. At least it was clean and didn’t smell all that bad.

  An older man in his mid-fifties answered the door and waved them inside. “Thank you for coming.”

  He had an accent similar to the woman outside, but his English was clear enough to comprehend. Bartol nodded at him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it sooner.”

  Caius had already explained over the phone what had delayed them.

  “I understand.” He looked the group of them over after shutting the door. “My name is Norbert, by the way.”

  They each introduced themselves. Bartol went last, adding a question, “You mentioned during your phone call that there were several unusual deaths in the area you wanted us to see?”

  The man scratched at his peppered gray and black hair. “Yes, three of them over the last ten days to be exact. I’ve seen a lot in my life as a coroner with the police department, but this is unlike anything I’ve handled before.”

  He turned toward his open kitchen and put a kettle on the stove, beginning to heat it.

  “When did the last victim die?” Caius asked.

  “A few days ago.”

  Bartol stilled. Could they finally be that close to the demon? And would Haagenti stay in one place that long just to kill a few people?

  He watched as the mystic reached for teacups in the cupboard, wiping them with a cloth before setting them on the counter. The older man likely didn’t get guests often.

  “What makes these deaths unusual?”

  “For one,” Norbert said, pulling a tea canister out, “I could sense the dark energy about them. For two, there was a symbol carved into their chests that I didn’t recognize, but I was able to find it later after searching through my books.”

  The mystic nodded toward the other end of the living room where several shelves sat against two of the walls, filled with both newer hardbacks and tomes that had likely been passed down the mystic’s family for generations. They took up a lot of space in the small room. There was also an older television, a worn couch and chair, coffee table, and a space heater. Thin curtains covered the only window, providing just enough light for a human to see and be able to get around. The mystic wouldn’t win any decorating awards, but he kept everything neat and tidy, which Bartol knew from experience wasn’t always easy in tight quarters.

  Tormod addressed the man, “What was the symbol?”

  “Well, it was…” Norbert hesitated. Then he moved to his bookshelf and pulled an older tome out, bringing it over to the couch where they sat so they could see it. The page he opened to said it all.

  It was Haagenti’s symbol.

  “Wise of you not to speak the name out loud,” Caius said, meeting the mystic’s anxious gaze. “The more powerful he grows, the more dangerous mentioning him will become.”

  They’d all agreed not to say the name or even mention it to anyone else since the day in the woods in Belarus. It was too risky. Better people just know that they were tracking a powerful demon and leave it at that.

  “How did the victims die?” Bartol asked.

  Norbert set his tome aside and returned to the kitchen to finish the tea. “One of them had their wrists slit. The second either hung himself or someone else did it, and the third was from poison. In every case, it isn’t quite clear whether they killed themselves or if the demon or a minion did it.”

  That didn’t sound like something Haagenti would do. Everything they’d investigated so far led them to believe he preferred the mass deaths, but then again, Zoe had said she suspected the demon of smaller crimes on his way out of Russia. Could he have just been topping up his power as he went along?

  “We’ll need to see the bodies.” Without viewing them, they couldn’t determine anything for sure.

  The mystic brought over a tray with steaming tea cups. “Can’t do it today, but I can get you into the morgue tomorrow morning during my shift. You can look at them all you want then.”

  They each took a cup. Bartol and the others weren’t particularly interested in drinking the hot brew but chose to humor the older man by taking a few sips. Norbert had been kind enough to allow them into his home, so it was the least they could do.

  “Then we’ll meet you first thing in the morning,” Bartol said.

  ***

  Norbert already had the bodies pulled out and ready for them to view when they arrived the next day. He’d greeted them at the front of the building and led them into the morgue without anyone questioning them along the way. The older man was nothing if not efficient.

  He pulled back the sheet on the first body for them to view, stopping just below the collarbone. It was a young woman with bruising around her neck consistent with a rope. “What did she hang from?”

  “The fifth story of an apartment building—out the window,” the coroner replied. He pulled the sheet further down to reveal the Haagenti symbol carved on the victim’s chest. “These were made before she died, so she would have felt every bit of it.”

  Bartol shuddered. He’d had his skin carved into many times by Kerbasi, and the pain was considerable, but at least he’d known he’d heal and recover. Had this woman known her attacker would kill her, or had he taunted her for a while first?

  “I don’t sense any demon energy,” Tormod said, grimacing at the woman.

  “How can you tell?” Norbert asked. “The energy feels dark to me.”

  The nerou nodded. “It is dark, but it’s not demon magic. It’s something else.”

  “But…”

  Bartol interrupted, “Tormod is a quarter demon. He would know.”

  Norbert took a step back. “How…how did I miss that, and why would you bring someone who is part demon here? What good could he do?”

  Tormod stiffened. “I’m also part angel.”

  “I don’t understand,” the man said, and muttered something in Hungarian.

  “He’s training with the nerou and considered one of them, but he has unique parentage. His father was half demon and half angel. His mother is a sensor,” Bartol explained.

  Recognition lit in the mystics eyes, and he relaxed. “Ah, now that makes sense. I’ve heard of this young man’s father, and I saw him on the news earlier this year.”

  That must have been when the supernaturals came out to the world and made a complete spectacle of themselves to ensure the angels couldn’t possibly cover it up. Tormod’s father, Yerik, had led the way by flying through the air around the Seattle Space Needle and then landed on the ground for extra theatrics with fire. The media ha
d been there to catch it on film, which was replayed around the world.

  “I wish I’d been here to see him on the news,” Tormod said, sighing. “But I was still in Purgatory then.”

  It had been the same for Bartol, but Emily had been helpful enough to show him the video on YouTube. She’d likely shown Tormod as well, but it didn’t have the same impact as if they’d had the chance to see the action live. It was more like watching an event from the past the way he’d done to catch up on other events over the last hundred years. He still found computers daunting, but he’d learned how to do a few things—mostly searching for videos. There were quite a few featuring cats, which he found strange.

  Norbert shook his head. “Life hasn’t been the same since we were brought into the open.”

  Bartol couldn’t agree more. He would have found the world a dramatically changed place when he returned to Earth regardless, but supernaturals being out in the open after hiding so long made it even stranger. This trip was only highlighting how much he’d missed.

  “Could you show us the other two bodies?” Caius asked.

  “Of course.” The mystic turned and unveiled the next two—both men.

  There was nothing more that stood out about them than the first, except in how they died. Each had the same symbol carved into their chest, and they all appeared to be young adults.

  Bartol looked at Norbert. “Did the victims have anything else in common?”

  “They lived within a mile of each other, so I’ve concluded the attacker isn’t straying far.”

  “You think he’ll do it again?” Bartol asked.

  “The bodies have been appearing about every three days, but he’s late this time, so perhaps not,” Norbert replied.

  Caius gently pulled the sheet back up on the victim he stood next to. “Maybe three was all that was required of him. One thing I do believe—the demon didn’t do this.”

  “I agree,” Bartol said.

  “But that means there’s still a killer out there,” Tormod pointed out.

  The mystic covered the next body. “I’ve been reporting my findings to the local master. Now that you all have looked these victims over, I’ll add your own assessment. We’ll find him.”

  Bartol would have liked to stay and help on the hunt, but they had a bigger target to find. “Keep us posted and let us know if you need anything else. We’ll do what we can.”

  “Thank you.” Norbert dipped his chin. “But I’ve heard what the demon has been doing, and now he’s got followers helping him. You have to stop him before this gets worse.”

  “That is our goal,” Bartol said, giving his partners a grim look.

  The stakes had just been raised even further.

  Chapter 17

  Cori

  Cori stared at her cards—a king and a seven of diamonds—and debated drawing another. It was rather risky, considering she’d lost the last five games. She should have known better than to play against a fallen angel who still had her prescient abilities.

  For several moments, she tapped her fingers on the table and pondered what to do. “I’ll hold.”

  Ariel nodded. “Wise decision.”

  The former archangel sat across from Cori in a small booth inside her luxurious camper. This was Ariel’s home for the time being until she recovered from her confinement in Hell. To look at her, one would think of her as soft and delicate. She had thick, long brown hair that ran all the way to her waist, fair skin with a hint of gold, and amber eyes. Her body was still frail, but that was likely because she wasn’t eating enough. She hadn’t needed food before and wouldn’t listen to anyone who tried to explain that falling from grace meant she would have to do some human things from now on. When Cori cooked, she ate, but otherwise, she rarely bothered. Even stocking food in her RV didn’t tempt her. There was still a hint of haughtiness in the way Ariel thought and behaved, which made her reluctant to do anything that would require excreting bodily waste—because of course, that was an awful thing to have to do.

  Cori had decided to come by and visit that morning before work so she could check on the former archangel and keep her company. It was something she tried to do whenever she could, but it wasn’t easy now that business was picking up at the tattoo shop again. Derrick had put the word out a few days ago after the human trials were a success, which had made quite a difference at her shop. She was almost back up to the level of business she’d been at before her problems started.

  “What about you?” Cori gestured at her opponent. “What are you going to do?”

  Ariel studied her two cards for a moment, closed her eyes, and knitted her brows. A slow smile spread across her face and her long lashes lifted. She reached for another card, revealing a five. She set it face up next to a jack and a four.

  This was the sixth win for her today—probably the fiftieth over the last month or so.

  “Using your abilities is cheating, you know,” Cori said, narrowing her eyes.

  “So you say.” The fallen angel rounded up the cards. “But you keep coming back for more. And, regardless, I merely ‘look’ to see what I will draw next, but I don’t cheat.”

  “If you say so.”

  Cori knew Ariel wasn’t stacking the deck in her favor because she’d had Melena—using her lie detector skills—ask the former archangel about it after losing for the dozenth time. There was no trickery other than peeking with her foresight. The deck was shuffled properly without using any special powers, and she swore she never rearranged it during a game. Still, the only reason Cori ever won was that sometimes the cards were naturally stacked in her favor.

  “Try playing for even one day without using your abilities and see how things go,” she said, cutting the deck after Ariel set it down.

  Cori was purposely baiting the fallen angel for fun because it helped them both get other problems off their minds. The time she spent with Ariel helped remind her that things could always be worse—like getting tortured in Hell for months. Cori might have barely survived being kidnapped by an ex-husband and nearly killed, plus she was suffering from the distance between her and Bartol, but those issues were small in comparison to what the woman across the table had been through. Ariel had lost her wings, her grace, her celestial home, and she’d suffered major physical and psychological trauma.

  “You behave as if,” the former archangel began, pursing her lips, “you would not do the same thing if you had the ability.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Cori said, defensive.

  Ariel let out a delicate snort. “You’ve already developed one new ability and plan to use it for personal gain. What will you do if you gain more gifts in the future?”

  Cori could get more abilities? Having the one had seemed liked a huge deal to her, but the former archangel almost seemed to be hinting more could come along. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and leaned forward. “What do you mean by that?”

  “When you become immortal, you’ll find out.”

  Cori gritted her teeth. “I haven’t decided on that yet.”

  “Well, there is no rush for now,” Ariel said, not looking up as she dealt the next hand. “But when the time is right, you’ll know.”

  Cori checked her cards, finding she had a ten and a two. “You sound so sure of yourself.”

  “You are in a state of denial, but events will happen to change your mind.” The former archangel stared at her own cards, frowning. “It is only a matter of time.”

  “What could possibly happen to change my mind?”

  “There are some things you must discover on your own,” Ariel replied curtly.

  The damn woman had spent countless millennia acting as an angel who rarely gave direct answers to anything. Falling hadn’t changed that. “I must be a glutton for punishment to keep coming here.”

  “You come here so you won’t have to think about your own life.” Ariel waited for Cori to draw another card—a four—and smiled. “And because you think keeping me company will someho
w draw me into socializing again.”

  Cori chose to ignore the first part of her comment. “Is it helping?”

  The fallen angel pursed her lips. “I suppose your visiting me is better than keeping my own company. There are times when I grow bored, and that guardian is hardly as entertaining as he thinks he is, except when Emily is pummeling him with snowballs. She should do that more often.”

  Cori got a kick out of that as well and sometimes joined in the fun.

  “We could go to that new supernatural bar that opened up a couple of months ago,” she suggested.

  She’d never gone before because it wasn’t a good idea for humans, but now that she’d changed and wasn’t quite mortal anymore, it couldn’t hurt to go if she had a friend with her. Anything would be better than her routine of going from Melena’s house to work and back every day while waiting for Bartol to return. She needed to find new ways to distract herself from her worries.

  Ariel lifted a delicate brow. “What sort of entertainment are you looking for?”

  “Anything that isn’t what my life has been lately.”

  “After what happened with that vampire ex-husband of yours, I’m surprised you’re willing to go anywhere near his kind,” Ariel said.

  Cori shrugged. “I know a few decent vampires who aren’t that bad—like Kariann.”

  “Perhaps you should ask your mate to go with you when he returns.” Ariel drew a card, amber eyes lighting up as she set it on the table. “I’ve won again.”

  Cori sighed and grabbed the cards to shuffle the deck. “Bartol is antisocial. You know I’ll never get him to go there.”

  As much as she would have liked to think she could eventually draw him into going out in public someday for something other than buying groceries or demon hunting, she didn’t plan on holding her breath.

  “He will get better with time if you are patient.” Ariel reached across the table and touched Cori’s hand. A look of surprise flashed across her face before she covered it up and continued speaking, “Believe it or not, it has bothered me to watch the two of you suffer after all you’ve each been through. I advise being there for him in every way you can and letting him know how you feel. It will help.”