Demon Master (Demonsense series Book 2)

by Sara DeHaven

  She went somewhere else again for a time, and when she came to, it was to find Daniel stroking her hair. She was still lying against him. She willed her head to move to one side so she could see his face, and it actually obeyed her. He was looking up at the ceiling, and tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes, down into his hair. His hand paused on her hair as she turned her head, then resumed it’s stroking. She felt his other hand move to the small of her back and rest there, but he didn’t try to look at her. Neither of them said a word. Bree wasn’t sure she could have if she’d wanted to. Not that she wanted to. It felt nice, being petted like this. Slowly, she became aware that Gelsenim was still with her. I think Daniel must be better, she sent fuzzily.

  I believe he is no longer completely divided. It seems clear he does not presently wish to kill you, he returned dryly.

  And what about you? You seemed awfully willing to go along with hurting me before, when you possessed Daniel.

  I fear I was taken up with the violent energy, the demon told her, mental voice sounding regretful. It is the form of assuaging hunger I have most desired for many of your centuries. It is very difficult for me to resist.

  And how do you feel right now? Bree asked curiously. She felt drowsy still, and doubted she could move more than a finger, but her thoughts had started to whirl.

  I feel… coherent.

  Interesting choice of words. I thought you might be hungry, given how much energy you expended.

  I am not hungry in the usual way. I never am when I am with you. I feel depleted. But I feel clear.

  Bree remembered how Gelsenim had told her before that he felt ‘clarity’ with her. How is that different from what you usually feel?

  When I am in the Void, I feel little but the hunger. My only interest is in finding a point of weakness in the barrier between worlds so that I may possess a host and feed. When I possess a human, I feel at one with their feelings and hungers, and I wish only to urge my host on to greater intensity that I may feed more. It is difficult to form words in that state. It is difficult to have thoughts.

  Well, you seem to be having plenty of thoughts now, Bree offered. Her mind was awake now, unpleasantly so, even though her body was still exhausted.

  It is a novel sensation, one I had nearly forgotten, Gelsenim replied, mental voice bemused. I have felt it in some of my interactions with Daniel. His will, his desire to question me, helped me in some way to create a form.

  What do you mean by a form?

  A form that is capable of thought. A structure. Such as that I create for you. An image of Gelsenim in his human form came briefly to her mind’s eye, then vanished. A form such as that, he continued. But it is far easier to make the form when we are joined. Then it does not even feel like form. It feels like myself.

  That is very, very interesting. Do you mean like yourself when you were joined with the Seldenai?

  Very like. More like than I had first thought possible.

  Does that mean you’re good now? Bree asked hopefully. She heard the echo of Gelsenim’s laughter inside her head.

  What is good, my host? What is good for me? For you? For the humans you think so much of? For this damaged one you lay atop?

  So now you’re a philosopher, Bree sent back. That was a serious question.

  And I attempt to provide a serious answer. It is the question which is in error.

  Bree had been so focused on her internal conversation with Gelsenim that she didn’t register at first that Daniel had spoken. Belatedly, her mind processed that he had just said her name.

  “Are you awake?” he asked hoarsely. A jolt of fear went quickly through her as she realized she was about to find out what she had wrought. She had better get her wits about her, and more importantly, she’d better get back some control over her body. She tried pushing herself up off of him so she could at least roll to one side, but her arms gave out almost immediately.

  “I’m awake,” she belatedly answered.

  “Are you hurt?” It was a reassuring question, but she did not have a reassuring answer.

  “I’m not exactly sure. I can’t seem to move much. I’m pretty sure I drained my base energy badly.”

  “You feel possessed.” Daniel’s voice was still rough, but his tone gave nothing away. She couldn’t tell if the idea concerned him or interested him.

  “Gelsenim is still with me,” she admitted.

  “I’m not sure I can do anything about that at the moment,” he told her, and this time, some hint of how he was feeling entered his voice. He sounded worried.

  “I don’t think I need you to do anything about it. He’s not giving me any trouble right now.”

  “I think… I think he might be giving me some trouble,” Daniel returned. “I think demon contact is bad for me right now.”

  “Oh, dear lord, of course.” Bree tried and failed again to lever herself away from him. A little “oomph” escaped Daniel as she fell down on top of him again. Gelsenim, she tried, I don’t suppose you’d be a dear and just leave when I ask you to? I don’t think he should have demon contact right now.

  I dislike the idea greatly, my host. Daniel seems relatively calm now, but the outcome of our experiment is still unclear. You may still be a danger.

  What could you do to help me anyway? You’re as trashed as I am.

  Less so, I think. You appear weak and unable to move. I believe you depleted what you call your base energy to a dangerous level. I, at least, am able to move.

  Well then, move on out, would you? I can always call you again if I run into trouble. Can’t you stay nearby or something?

  I always attempt to stay ‘nearby,’ my host. How do I know you will call me again? I dislike losing this form, this clarity of thought. It seems too cruel to ask it of me.

  Well, cruel or not, Daniel was at immediate risk, whereas Gelsenim was returning to a long familiar state that would not end his existence. He could surely be recovered to a like coherent state again, and she tried to reassure him of that. I’m beginning to understand more of your nature, she told him. I see how it benefits you to join with me, beyond ending your hunger. And once again, you have helped me when I needed you. So we begin to build some trust. I can promise you that once I have recovered some energy, I will call you. I may even do it without Daniel present if you can show me again that you’ll leave at my request.

  Bree registered a mental sigh from the demon. I will miss you, my host. Do call me soon. She felt a shiver of pleasurable energy move across her body as Gelsenim departed.

  And then it was Daniel’s turn to sigh. “Thank God,” he said faintly.

  “How are you feeling?” Bree's voice came out faint. A tide of exhaustion rose in her, and she realized it was only Gelsenim's presence that had kept her coherent.

  “Like I was run over by a monster truck. Two monster trucks,” he added after a short pause. “Maybe it’s a post possession thing, but I can’t seem to move much. And I feel like my brain has been turned inside out. Then there’s the shame and humiliation. That part’s really fun too.”

  It was funny and not funny at the same time. Bree almost laughed, but then she realized she didn’t have any response to hand that might make him feel better. So she didn’t say anything.

  After a few quiet minutes, Daniel spoke again. “I don’t know what to say to you,” he said, echoing her feelings. “Sorry just doesn’t seem to cover it. And I can’t say it’ll never happen again, because I don’t know what happened.”

  “Gelsenim says you became fully divided. He said something about how when that happens, the dark side always takes over.”

  “So why are we lying here, having this conversation? I don’t remember what happened. All I remember is getting really angry, and feeling the urge to call a demon. It was crazy strong, like I’ve never felt it before. I’ve been tempted a few times, but this was completely different.” His voice had started faint and hoarse, but it gradually got stronger. “I remember calling Gelsenim, I kind o
f remember him entering me and feeling better, but then it all turns into a blur. Except the part where I was trying to strangle you. And something about you being in my mind and doing something I didn’t want you to do. The next thing I knew, here we were, you lying on top of me, apparently unconscious. At first I thought you were dead.” That last was said with a catch in his voice, but he went on. “But then I felt you breathing, and I realized I couldn't move.”

  “I guess none of it really took that long,” Bree allowed. “It seemed to last forever at the time. You had some kind of break in your mind, and that dark energy thing just took over. I did a deep read with Gelsenim’s help and did some kind of attunement and energy work to try to get you back in balance. I’m getting the impression it worked, since you’re not a fire breathing maniac right now." She was trying to inject a little humor into the situation, and she craned her head a little to see if she had managed to make him smile. And there was just a trace of one, a tiny lift at the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m very much afraid the maniac is not missing so much as tired out and temporarily resting. I got a very bad feeling when I woke up and my Demonsense kicked. Almost like if I had the energy, I’d be gathering my will to call Gelsenim back.”

  “Well, I guess that’s not good. But on the other hand, you seem pretty calm right now. And it’s looking to me like getting angry is doing something to put you over the edge. I guess it’s not only demon contact at this point that’s doing it.”

  “I’m only angry at myself right now, and I don’t really have much energy to put into that, so I think we’re good for now anyway.”

  “Well that’s hunky dory, because if you attacked me now, I couldn’t do anything about it.” Daniel didn’t answer, and Bree’s hope that the mood was lightening sank like a stone into a dark, cold lake.

  After more quiet moments where Bree fretted with feeling stupid for trying to be funny, Daniel said quietly, “I think it would be best if you left. I feel relatively like myself right now, but I have no way of knowing how long that will last.”

  “Well, if you can figure out a way to move me, and get someone to drive me home, we have a deal.” She felt Daniel’s muscles tense beneath her as he tried to sit up. He got perhaps a quarter of the way there before he fell back again onto the wood floor with an unhappy little thud.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Bree told him, smiling into his chest. “I have another idea. How about we just rest right here for a bit? That’s what I really want to do.” She knew he was right, knew it was safer for her to leave, but she really didn’t think she could do it. And she was so incredibly tired. Her spinning thoughts were slowing and she could feel sleep readying itself to pounce and claim her. And besides, she knew, with a strange and perfect clarity, that Daniel wouldn't hurt her, not right now.

  “There’s the little issue that my left arm is already falling asleep, but other than that, maybe a small nap wouldn’t hurt. Hopefully after that, we’ll be able to get up and I can call Kevin or Sophie to come get you. Or maybe you’ll be recovered enough to drive yourself home.”

  Bree tried to move her head away from the edge of Daniel’s shoulder, where the pressure was probably causing his arm to go numb. She managed to wiggle her way closer to the middle of his chest, her head under his chin, their legs closer together. “How’s that?” she asked drowsily.

  “Better.” His right arm went around her waist, holding her to him. Bree pretended not to notice and fell immediately to sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Leander had gotten the call late last night to meet Howard Scanlon at his home again that morning. Having to go somewhere on a Tuesday morning, through rush hour traffic, felt annoyingly like having a job. What was the point of being Keltoi if you had to put up with that kind of shit? As Leander made his way through downtown, then turned uphill on Olive Street for Capitol Hill, he reflected that in spite of the various annoyances and compromises of his position, in general, the Keltoi lifestyle agreed with him very much. He liked the independence of most of his assignments, liked the challenge, and he definitely enjoyed having weeks and sometimes months off at a time to enjoy the very comfortable income the work afforded. He was a specialist with some rare abilities, and that not only netted him decent money, it also tended to protect him from the worst of the power plays inside the Keltoi, both political and magical.

  He also got the impression that working for Scanlon was going to be a hell of a lot less complicated than working for Marton Varga. Leander respected the hell out of Marton, which was part of the problem from his point of view. Few people truly intimidated Leander, and Marton was one of them. Leander figured Marton could definitely give Daniel Thorvaldson a run for his money in the power category. Marton was high power as a Caster, Warder, Demon Master, Diviner, and Reader of energy. And of course, he was a low power Binder. Those types often came across as charismatic, as alpha style leaders. Though a few, like Leander himself, could manage a subtle binding without a complex spell, they usually couldn’t so much completely take over your will as intimidate you and manipulate you into doing what they wanted, in a way that often left you later wondering why you’d done it.

  Marton could be chancy in his temper, though he was usually smart enough to use that rather than be used by it. He could also be loyal to those he thought loyal to him. He was intensely ambitious, and there was no doubt in Leander’s mind that he was the originator of the demon war strategy that was getting its start in some of the major cities in the U.S. Leander didn’t know much about the eventual goals, other than that they were political. He didn’t concern himself with those things. What did concern him was Marton’s attitude towards him.

  Marton had discovered him, living as a street kid, stealing, conning and selling his body when he needed to in order to survive. He’d run away at thirteen from one of a succession of foster homes, none of them powered, where he’d always felt like an unwanted freak. Oh, he’d be able to charm the latest foster parents in the beginning, that part had always been easy. But eventually, they’d get uneasy about him. Normals often had some rudimentary way of sensing when someone was powered. Not that they ever guessed they were dealing with someone capable of what they would call magic. They’d just sense the difference, the uncanny quality, something a bit off in responses. And always, in the end, Leander couldn’t keep up the façade of caring about what his foster parents wanted. He was too independent, and couldn’t keep to the rules for long. He’d been told he had “attachment problems.” He supposed that was true. His feelings for other people seldom went deep.

  In a very uncomfortable way, he was attached to Marton. Marton had found Leander at sixteen, brought him into his own home, had basically fostered him. It had been a completely different experience than those he’d had in other foster homes. For one thing, he couldn’t charm Marton. Not that Marton didn’t like him; he had always seemed amused by Leander, admiring his ability to manipulate, to lie and deceive. Marton couldn’t read Leander, but he could still usually predict what Leander would do, and he was powerful enough, intimidating enough that Leander had learned to obey him because an unhappy Marton was a very scary Marton. He had a cruel streak that, once activated, cut like a knife.

  And while Leander was usually good at reading what others wanted of him, he hadn’t always been able to predict what would upset Marton. He knew that on some level, Marton thought of him as a little brother, a replacement for the one that had been killed by Keepers in some Keeper/Keltoi conflict a year or so before Marton took him in. But Marton also seemed very ready to use Leander in whatever way he saw fit. He’d taken Leander in with a plan in mind, a plan to use Leander’s unique un-readability, which he had done to the utmost. There was a coldness, a calculation to it that let Leander know not to expect Marton to truly treat him like family.

  Marton didn’t let Leander in on the inner workings of the Clan either. In that, he was probably right because Leander didn’t really care to be involved. Marton seeme
d to understand his need to work on his own, to stay out of the oft times rigid Keltoi hierarchy, and Leander truly appreciated that. What he didn’t welcome was the fact that he cared what Marton thought of him, and not just because he was afraid of what Marton might do to him if he disappointed. He wanted Marton’s approval, he couldn’t help it, and Marton knew it and used it. On one level, Leander figured that most parents operated that way. But most parents weren’t Marton Varga.

  With Scanlon, all he had to contend with was a traditionally minded Keltoi Clan Chief. Scanlon wasn’t un-dangerous, but Leander thought he’d be predictable and easy to keep happy. Leander knew he could get results, and that’s all Scanlon wanted of him. A nice, simple, business exchange.

  Leander finally pulled up in front of Scanlon’s house, and was once again led by the butler towards the back of the house to Scanlon’s office. Scanlon was working at his desk, on his laptop, when Leander came in. He nodded to Leander and told him he’d be with him in a minute. The butler offered him a cup of coffee, which he took, and he stood looking out one of the windows at the view while he waited.

  It was a windy morning, with constantly moving patches of clouds covering, then revealing the sun. The back of the house overlooked a downhill slope towards Lake Washington, whose blue length was visible in the near distance. The skyline of the suburban city of Bellevue across the lake could be seen further out, and behind that was the long line of the Cascade Mountains in their snow dusted glory. He found if he shifted to the left and looked south, he could see the lower white slopes of Mt. Rainier looming in the distance, the volcanic cone three times higher than the mountains around it, a near sentient presence whose very top was covered by clouds. He had to admit that it was a stunning view. He’d found the amount of overcast skies and drizzling rain depressing since he’d moved to Seattle, but on a day like this, where everything was green and blue and white, trees and lakes, sky and mountains, he could see the appeal of the Northwest.