He had the kind of strong jaw she loved, and his messy black hair soaked up the afternoon sun. He wore jeans, a black wool coat and relaxed confidence. A shiver crawled down her back and settled in her groin. If they’d met in a bar, she’d have bought him a drink. Or three.
The stranger raised his eyebrows as his eyes passed over the slice in her jacket, then had the nerve to wink at her as his gaze traveled down her leather pants.
“You’re in some kinda trouble. Need help?” His smile stretched up and lit a sparkler in his eyes. “I felt that blast all the way inside the coffee shop.”
“I’m doing just fine, thanks. I have a job to do, if you don’t mind.” Great, just what she needed, some Society member thinking he was a detective. She needed to finish her original mission and get the hell out of here.
“You’re anything but fine. Whatever job you think you’re doing, you need to have that arm looked at first.” His eyes didn’t lose the sparkle, but his voice took on a serious tone. “It smells wrong, like rancid mud. He’s earth and you’re obviously not. If he’s done what I think he’s done, you need to have it seared and sealed. Fast. And then you need to catch the guy, quick, before he uses what he got.”
She couldn’t stop herself from putting a hand over the injury. He was right. The wound felt wrong, somehow. The cold inside her wove in and around it as though a living, breathing, scaly thing. She didn’t want to think about what it searched for. It pulsed in time to the throbbing in her arm. But surely the healers could handle this when she got home. No big deal.
“Look, I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine. I don’t have time to get it looked at right now.” She resolutely put her hand down and pushed past him. Her target couldn’t be far. She’d only been here for what, a few minutes? He was probably in the nearest bar.
The man put a hand on her good arm to stop her. The warmth soaked into her bicep and loosened muscles all over the place.
“Make time.” The sparks were gone from his eyes. “I’d hate to see someone so fine used by something that foul.”
“Just who are you, anyway?” She pulled her arm away from him.
He put a hand in his back pocket, fished out a card and handed it to her.
Daric Voltain, Private Society Investigations
The address was the building next to the alley they stood in, the home of her favorite coffee shop. No wonder he’d felt the backlash of spell power. He must live above the shop.
“I told you, Scion, I’ve had some experience with this. And it’s obvious you haven’t. That arm is bad news. He’s left a mark on you. And if you have some of him, it means he has some of you.”
Her skin turned cold as she remembered the lizard man tasting her blood.
“It’s no big deal.” She put the card in her back pocket and matched his know-it-all stare with a glare of her own.
“I’ll take that as confirmation. The clock is ticking, hun. If he’s a demon, the stronger he is, the faster it will tick. If he knows what he’s doing, I’d say you have a week, maybe less.”
A week before what? Before her arm fell off? She put her hand over the wound again. It didn’t feel life-threatening. Her head pounded. Dizziness threatened to drop her on her ass.
It was as if Daric read her mind.
"A week before he has control over you. Your powers. Everything. You'll be his to command. That would be a very bad thing, for you and the rest of us. Scion.”
Her thoughts swam as she slumped to the curb. Daric knew who she was. Not surprising, with her position in Society. His comment about her powers, though, pushed at her gut. If someone had control of her power, they could use her to destroy the throne, her mother, the House of Xannon, everything.
“How the hell do you know about demons, anyway?” She wished her head would stop spinning.
Daric sat next to her on the curb. “My mother is a teacher. And I have a tiny amount of healing talent. Enough to know you need to get that fixed. Whatever you’re here for can wait.”
“This should have been easy.” She shook her head. “I do this sort of thing all the time.”
“Get attacked?”
“No. Not that part.” She didn’t add that most people never got close enough to attack her. With her tracking ability and power, she wasn’t usually in a vulnerable situation. What was different about today? “I was just doing a favor for a friend. Picking up a skipper.”
“Some friend.” Daric pointed to the alley. “They didn’t tell you he’d have claws?”
“I wasn’t here for him. I was here for…” The hair on the back of her neck tickled her, and she looked up in time to see Mark Chester falling out of the bar across the street. She watched as he tripped over his own feet and fell to his hands and knees on the broken concrete.
The whole reason she was here was to pick up that drunk fool. But from the looks of it, anyone could have picked him up. Alex, her best friend and trusted guard, had asked her to do this quietly, as a favor for his friend Daryl. But why had Daryl asked for help in the first place? The idiot sprawled in front of her couldn't have run from anyone, let alone a trained Sentinel guard. And that bum in the alley had told her he was sent to grab her. The whole thing smelled of setup. And if it was a setup, Chester might know something about it.
Chapter 5
Spurred on by the thought of finding out what the hell was going on, Tarian jumped to her feet. Vertigo set in, and her stomach roared and bubbled in protest. She needed to eat, and she didn’t have time for it. Her tussle with the lizard had drained more than her blood. It had drained her strength for the moment as well.
“Hey, seriously, you need to go to a healer.” Daric put a hand on her elbow to steady her.
“I know. But I need this guy. He must know something about all this. Look, thanks for your help, Daric, but do me a favor and stay back here. I have a super power for guys like this, but it won’t work if you’re next to me.”
She glanced at Daric and saw the question in his eyes.
“Boobs.”
He laughed, and put his hands up in surrender. She took two deep breaths, willing the world to stop spinning. When the ground under her feet felt firm enough, she dodged her way through the traffic and blaring horns. She reached the other sidewalk and thanked the stars that Chester hadn’t managed to get off his hands and knees. She offered Chester a hand—and a smile.
“Hey, Mark, how’s it hangin’?”
Chester looked up. His brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes traveled over her cleavage, then he beamed at her.
“Hey, baby! I hope I know you.” He attempted to take her hand but missed.
“You’re gonna know me real well.” She helped him onto his feet and held on while he struggled to stay upright.
“Why don’t we have a chat?” She offered him a view of her cleavage again. He swayed toward it, his smile even wider. Men were so easy. Show them breasts and they’d follow you anywhere. Tarian pulled Chester through a group of suits and away from the bar toward the alley next to it.
“There’s shomthing different ‘bout you. You sure I don’t know you?” Chester stumbled on some trash.
“Oh, I’d remember if we’d met, sweetie,” she purred. Chester let her lead him to the end of the alley. This one hadn’t been sullied by a clash of magic energy. It was just a normal, average, every day, rat-infested alley. Once she had Chester behind a dumpster, she pushed him up against the grimy concrete wall.
“I know about your little game, Mark. I know you were sent to lure me in. Who sent you? Was it one of the Sentinels?”
“Huh? Shentinels…you?”
“I’m not a Sentinel, you idiot. I’m the one taking your butt to prison unless you start talking. You remember the Cellar, right? I seem to remember them saying you’d spent a couple of months on Level Two last year.”
At the word “Cellar” a spark of recognition appeared in Mark’s inebriated eyes. He made a lame attempt to struggle, but she kept a firm grip and leaned her
body weight into him.
“I got friendsh, ya know. Po.. pow… big friends. And stuff to do. I’m important. I’m doing shomthin important. For him.” Fumes of alcohol overload escaped his mouth as he made his pronouncement.
“Who’s that, Mark? The garbage man?”
“Him. You know, the demon. He got you. I can shmell it.” Chester hiccuped. “My talent. I can shmell it. He’s gonna be happy with me.” He poked himself in the chest for emphasis.
The pit in Tarian’s stomach squirmed and moved up into her throat. She swallowed hard to keep herself from throwing up.
“What do you know, Chester?” She pushed him hard against the brick wall. “Spill it.”
Chester started to giggle. “You in such trouble. He wants you, you know. He gets what he wants. And he got you.”
“Do you know how to stop him? Do you know who he is?” The words tumbled out of her in a rush.
Chester laughed, his eyes wide and near hysteria. The laughter turned to coughs.
She wouldn’t get anything out of him when he was this drunk. She needed to sober him up first, and then she’d force him to talk.
Tarian glanced back up the alley. Daric stood at the entrance, far enough back to avoid notice but close enough to see. She gave him a wave and nodded her thanks.
With one hand she held Mark in place. She thrust the other out to cast a travel portal spell. Nothing happened. Her focus refused to cooperate, and her power felt like an empty battery in desperate need of a recharge. The alley and Mark’s dopey face swam around her in lazy circles. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.
The feel of grimy lips on hers popped her eyes open. She drew back in disgust as she realized Chester had mistaken her closed eyes for an invitation. Maybe she’d played up the sex-kitten act a bit too much. She ignored his pursed lips and took another deep breath. Concentrating on pulling together what was left of her strained resources, she tried again to pull her focus together. This time, she felt it coalesce inside her like it always did, as a pool of liquid energy that radiated from her chest down to her hands and out, connecting her with the unseen power found in all living things. The first moments after calling power were always the sweetest, and the most dangerous. The trick was to keep complete focus and control over it, even as it threatened to consume her soul.
She pulled on the energy with her mind, wrapping it into a complex web that most people would never see. Next to her the air shimmered and undulated like an ocean wave. At first it looked like a trick of the shadows in the dark alley. Then the hole expanded to a large oval big enough for an adult to step through. The alley could still be seen beyond it, but overlaid on top of it was the faint image of the small, stark room made of black rock that welcomed criminals into the Cellar.
Chester lurched sideways the moment the travel portal became clear. Debris tangled his unsteady feet, and he fell headfirst into the trash bin before landing in a heap on the ground.
“No point in running, Mark. It’ll only make things worse. You’re going to tell me what I want to know.” Tarian grabbed his arm and helped him back up. She added a small magic push to force him toward the portal as he struggled and made himself deadweight. He gasped, then started to retch. Disgusted, she shoved him through the portal, then glanced back to the mouth of the alley. Daric stood there, a grin spreading his lips and creating a dimple she’d love to dive in to. She rolled her eyes at him, then then stepped through herself.
Chapter 6
The travel spell embraced Tarian in an icy hug that squeezed her body, then shattered it. The pieces of her body whirled toward her destination, a journey that seemed like an eternity inside a vacuum, but in reality only took a few minutes. Inside a travel portal, there was nothing to see, hear, taste or touch. Enveloped in a white blanket of nothingness, she suppressed the urge to wander into the “what if the spell went wrong” thought process and focused on her destination.
Just when it seemed like she’d remain a jumble of ice cubes forever, the bits and pieces of her body slammed back into place one by one. Her senses returned as the portal opened and ejected her out into the reception area for the detention center of House of Xannon, more commonly known as the Cellar. More than just a basement, it secured all levels of criminals with magic ability under rock embedded with centuries old magic power and surrounded by deep ocean.
Chester huddled on all fours in front of her, his body wracked with telltale heaves. She dodged to the side just before he threw up on the polished black rock floor and then fell into it. The stench of stale beer, cigarettes and stomach acid greeted her. She suppressed the urge to puke. Her body felt off, as though she’d gone on some sort of alcoholic binge, and the smell didn’t help.
Chester groaned, but didn’t lift his head. She almost wished she could join him.
With everything that had happened this morning, she was glad it was her best friends on duty. Alex had his feet propped up on the desk and a baseball game playing on the laptop. His brother Frankie had his glasses on and his nose glued to his monitor.
“Tari! You’re kidding, right?” Alex pulled his feet down and wrinkled his nose. “Damn. What did he have to eat?”
“More like what he had to drink. I don’t think travel agreed with the whiskey.” Despite the stench, Tarian’s stomach growled. She suppressed the urge to gag. It was an odd sensation, to feel like throwing up and still be starving for food.
Alex and Frankie both frowned at Chester. Alex came around the edge of the desk and then paused to survey her.
“Nice look you got going there, chica. I’m liking the pants. What’s this?” Alex tugged at the torn sleeve of her jacket.
“Just a scratch. That a new shirt?” An odd knot of something traveled up and down the wound on her arm in reaction to his touch. She snatched her arm away, then ran her fingers through her hair to distract him. Her arm throbbed, then a sharp jolting pain shot up the forearm into her shoulder. She had to grit her teeth not to curse.
“You know me, a style magnet.” Alex modeled for her, turning his body to the side to show off. His coffee-colored skin vibrated against the white shirt.
“Name?” Frankie tapped on the keyboard. He was a lot smaller than Alex, but she’d bet on him to win a fight every time. He was smart and fast, and he hid a lot of muscle underneath his crisp uniform.
“It’s Mark Chester.” Tarian watched Chester roll onto his side, coating his shirt and hair in vomit, and sighed. It would be hours before he’d be sober enough to tell her anything useful.
The wound on her arm jabbed, and again felt like it wanted to escape. Could it travel from her arm to someone else? Not on her watch. No way was that thing getting her friends too. She shifted away from them, hoping distance would help.
“Enjoy yourself? You got some nerve, skippin’ out like that.” Alex nudged Chester with his booted toe. Chester groaned.
“This is strange. The charges against him have been dismissed.” Frankie pounded a few more keys. “Three misdemeanor charges of negligent use of magic, one charge of attempted magical coercion of a non-talented, complicated by drunk-and-disorderly mischief, compounded by evading and resisting, all dismissed. This morning, after you left.”
“How is that possible?” Tarian moved around the desk so she could stare at the screen. As she got closer to the screen, static started to obscure the screen. “How do you see anything on there with all that static?”
“It’s not normally like this.” Frankie put a hand on her arm and pushed it away from the computer. The screen solidified into a solid image again. “It’s you.”
Tarian winced, resisting the urge to soothe the wound with her other hand.
“What’s up with your arm, chica?” Alex pointed at the tear. “That don’t look like no scratch to me.”
A cold knot in the pit of her stomach jumped. “Frankie, who dismissed the charges?”
Frankie studied the screen. “Doesn’t say who, specifically, but it’d have to be one of the
current panel of judges. I can find out. Any commands they put in are registered, so I can trace it back to the source. Go see the healers. I’ll have an answer by the time you’re done.”
“Who says I need the healers?” Her stomach lurched, and she fought the dry heave even as her shoulder sent a searing shot of pain across her neck and into her head. The reek from Chester’s puddle taunted her.
Alex raised an eyebrow at her.
“Okay, fine. I’ll see a healer.”
“The question is, chica, why do you need one? Did Chester do this?” Alex glared at the man on the floor.
She’d have to tell them something. Alex would never give up, and since they might be in danger she owed it to them to let them know.
“The alleys in Philly aren’t the safest places, as it turns out.”
Frankie looked up and took off his glasses. Alex stared at her.
“Something nasty was waiting for me. If I had to guess, I’d say Chester was bait.”
“What was it?” Frankie leaned forward.
“According to someone named Daric…” she fished the card out of her pocket. “Voltain, it was an old fashioned demon.”
The swift intake of breath from Frankie and the shout from Alex told her more than enough about her situation.
“You get that looked at right now, chica. Don’t even bother arguing.” Alex pointed at her arm, then over at the travel alcove. “We’ll talk about this Daric guy later.”
“In a minute.” She avoided looking at him, choosing to stare at the computer monitor instead. “You told me your friend Daryl asked you to hunt this guy as a favor. What exactly did he say?”
Her hand had somehow found its way to her stomach as though seeking comfort. She put it down by her side and ignored the pulsing throb of blood rushing to the fingers on her injured arm.
Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld Page 114
