Demons & Djinn: Nine Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Novels Featuring Demons, Djinn, and other Bad Boys of the Underworld

by Christine Pope

  “My name is Steffahn, of the Mayfanata.” He inclined his head slightly, a soft chuckle dancing in his throat. “I do not wish to be your parent. Far, far from it.”

  He squeezed her hands. Power cascaded from his hands into hers and traveled up her arms. She’d never felt anything like it. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how far away her own magic was in this place. Time, space and talent held no meaning here. His power surged into her.

  The tracer inside her neck lay dormant, uninterested. Her shoulders relaxed, the muscles at ease for the first time since the demon attack. The rest of her body responded to the additional power by raising goosebumps all over. She shivered. Tingles traveled up and down her arms and legs and settled somewhere in the center of her chest.

  Tarian closed her eyes. Whatever he was going to do next, she didn’t think she wanted to see it coming. She expected to feel his hands explore her body or his lips touch hers, and braced for it.

  Instead, magic forged a way through her entire body, but his hands never left hers. With her eyes closed, her other senses heightened and took charge. Every pulse and trickle of power permeated her skin and entered into the core of her being. Her groin pulsed with it. Her body filled with pure, raw, power, like sunshine on her skin.

  It came from all around them. From the trees. From the grass. From the very air. And from Steffahn. It heated her blood, played with the hairs in her nose and the back of her arms, and made her toes dig into the ground. Enticing. Exhilaration. Exhaustion. As if she dove into deep water and drifted there. Surrounded. Pressure building. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. Yet filled with life, teaming with power, encompassed by energy.

  Deep inside, her own power responded. Weak, at first. Then stronger, until it surged toward the influx of power from Steffahn. The two powers met, collided, merged. A lightning show erupted behind her eyes, providing a kaleidoscope of color with forks of white that danced and played over her eyes. Electric pulses covered her body from head to toe, prickling the skin as if a thousand tiny gnats nibbled around and inside her. Her skin, on fire. Her eyes, blinded. Her mind, filled and overflowing with the immensity of it.

  She gasped as the pulses reached her groin, her uterus, her heart. Powerful. Omnipotent. Amazed, her heart soared. She could do anything. With this much power, she’d never fear anything, ever. Half of this force was hers. Even after the demon had stolen so much of it, she held plenty in reserves. Somehow, Steffahn had known.

  She sensed he gained as much as she did by this joining of power. This was what he had meant. Not sex. Not as she thought of it, anyway. This was something different. Intimate, but more than that. Her spirit opened…a flower that had never truly seen the sun.

  Tarian ached for more. She groaned with need, but heard no response from Steffahn. No moans or whispers of her name as a man in passion might make.

  On instinct, she tried to draw more power, to pull from him the essence he seemed to be taking from her. She thought she heard him chuckle, but no extra surge greeted her. She couldn’t pull more than he allowed. He tugged on hers, and she blocked it. They joined as equals, just as he’d promised.

  Power built, cascaded, ascended. Her pulse throbbed as it raced through and around her. Her heart felt as though it would explode, and her head filled with pressure. She sensed overload. It was an orgasm created entirely with magic, and it wouldn’t take more than a tiny shove to push her over the edge into burnout. She’d heard of something like that before and wondered briefly if that was what had happened to Sucole. Was this why the archivists didn’t want her to join with a daemon? This surge of power might burn her out forever?

  “Stop.” She gasped the word. Fear and panic set in as she realized just how close she was to losing it.

  “Your side of our agreement is complete.” Steffahn dropped her hands. When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She stood alone in the meadow, trembling, panting for breath, reaching for control of emotions she didn’t understand.

  So much energy. She’d never known it existed. Not like this. It scared her, how badly she’d wanted more. In the middle of what was more power than she’d ever held in her life, she’d still wanted more. Nobody should have that much. If the demon got as much from her as she’d just experienced with Steffahn…so much in one person couldn’t be safe. Add that to the Dolphin Throne’s power, and nobody would ever be safe again on the Earth plane.

  She rubbed her neck. The tracer was still there, but quiet. Her stomach, though, shifted and complained. Her uterus too felt oddly raw, and a bit crampy. The ritual. If this counted as one of her Potentials…

  She closed her eyes again. If this counted as sex, and if she could get pregnant from this sort of joining, she needed one more donor. If it didn't, she needed two. How would she know?

  This was getting her nowhere. Focus. She had to focus. One thing at a time. The book. Where was the book?

  “Sucole?” She turned to look behind her and found Sucole standing there. Her eyes, dull and lifeless, looked anywhere but at Tarian, and her shoulders drooped. She held the Book of Daemon in her arms as if she cradled a baby.

  Tarian extended her hands to encourage Sucole to turn over the book. After hesitating and working her mouth up and down as though trying to spit out words that refused to come, Sucole held the book out to Tarian. Tarian took it and heard a voice say, “The agreement is fulfilled.”

  So that was it. It was over. She had what she needed. She took several deep breaths, but it didn’t help. She struggled to create a calm void around her, but it eluded her.

  The meadow dissolved around them, and the tree room formed once more. Sucole sat in her chair with the cup of tea in her hand, staring at Tarian as if that was where they’d been the entire time.

  “That…was joining?” She hugged the book to her chest, her prize for sacrificing…what, exactly? It had better be worth it. “Which spell in here will help me destroy the demon?”

  “A good question.” Sucole smiled a small, sad movement of her lips. Placing the teacup on a table next to her she stood, Sucole joined her on the floor.

  Tarian examined at the ancient volume in her hands. It looked like it might have come from the House archives. It smelled old, musty and cloying in an odd, sweet way. Sucole placed her hand over the book and the pages turned themselves, settling on one near the center. Tarian felt a rush of power rise up and wash over her. Not enough to do anything specific, but the book obviously held potent energy.

  “Will this catch the demon?” Tarian studied the page. The spell was in an ancient, dead, magical language. She’d had lessons on it from tutors, but not enough to read this.

  “Banish.” Sucole winced as though the word caused her physical pain.

  “Thank you.” Tarian rose, and then on impulse gave Sucole a quick kiss on the cheek. As her lips touched the cheek, she could swear she felt something old and leathery, but when she moved back, all she saw was the beautiful young face surrounded by flowing blonde hair.

  She started to make a travel portal but found she couldn’t. Closing her eyes, she pictured the clearing where she’d first met Sucole. The swampy one, with the old woman.

  “You do not see.” The soft whisper followed her as she left.

  Chapter 27

  “What don’t I see?” Tarian asked the empty air in the swamp. Silence greeted her. No frogs, no birds, no flies. Nothing. The swamp was a dead, empty thing, except for the trees and the gross water and the tiny island she stood on. After a moment, she gave up waiting for an answer and turned her attention to the book in her hands.

  She needed a quiet, safe place to study the ritual Sucole had indicated. A good, strong cup of coffee to chase away the feelings left behind by the joining would be nice. And she needed to find Daric. He must have gone crazy when she disappeared right in front of him.

  She had no idea how long she’d been gone, but surely he wasn’t still waiting on that beach. She’d try him back at PJs. It was turning out to be their own sp
ecial meeting place. She smiled at the thought. She’d never given much thought to having something special with a man. Her position didn’t really leave room for that sort of thing. Not many men wanted to have a relationship with a woman who was in a power position and couldn’t marry them, and who would be having multiple partners in order to have a child by someone else. Despite the bravado they displayed in bars, most of the men she knew wanted something steady. A partner they could share their life with. It was one thing she couldn’t give. All she could offer was a one-night stand and a promise of friendship in the morning. Most of the men who didn’t mind that sort of thing weren’t the kind of men she wanted to be friends with anyway.

  She tried to open a portal but found her ability still blocked. Since she hadn’t arrived here in the normal way, maybe she had to leave the same way. Worth a shot, anyway.

  Tarian closed her eyes and pictured the alley near PJs in her head. She constructed every detail of it, from the dumpster to the smell. Opening her eyes, she found the stink was real, and she stood beside the dumpster. She looked around to be sure no demon lurked in the shadows and put her hand on the dumpster just to be sure it wasn’t a dream or vision.

  She’d give anything to know how she’d managed to travel without a portal. For one thing, it was a lot more comfortable than spinning through freezing white non-space. For another, it seemed a lot more efficient, and it hadn't set off her tracer at all.

  It was late afternoon, and the rush hour traffic filled the air with noise which made her smile. It was familiar, expected. Normal. She held the book close and went into PJs to place her usual order, then took a seat on one of the cushy chairs inside the tiny shop. She had no doubt Daric would show up here sooner or later.

  The place smelled of rich, freshly ground coffee and hot fresh pastries, and helped dispel some of the tension in her shoulders. After several sips of coffee, she turned her attention to the book.

  The cover of dark, ancient brown skin released a musty odor into the air, which she tried to avoid by alternately sniffing her coffee and holding her fingers strategically under her nose as she leaned against her hand. Engraved runes on the front announced a title she couldn’t read, since she’d pretty much slept through runes class.

  A ringing bell caught her attention, and she looked up expecting to see Daric walking through the door, but instead a tall, thin, very tanned man in black slacks and a blue-striped shirt sauntered in. His eyes flicked over the crowd as he made his way to the counter. They were an odd shade of grey and stood out against his sun-darkened skin.

  The back of her neck tingled a bit as he passed behind her. He was Society, but he didn't feel very strong in power. He barely registered on her radar. Not surprising, for a man. Women generally held a lot more power.

  Except for Daric.

  Her pulse picked up at the thought of how Daric’s personal signature had traveled up and down her spine. He had been equal to her in raw strength. Not as immense as Steffahn, but more than a match for her. She could tell by the way it tickled all her senses and made the tiny hair on her arms stand up. Or maybe that was her hormones talking.

  Tarian watched the stranger order coffee and then take a seat at the back of the shop. He never glanced in her direction, even though he must have felt her own power. She never bothered to hide it, not here in the city. She watched him open a newspaper and start to read, and then she looked back down at the book.

  Inside, the pages were extremely thin, like onion paper, and each was hand lettered in what looked like several different handwriting styles. Gold, embossed drawings decorated pages here and there, as well as full-color illustrations of things she quickly hid. Naked bodies, burning animals…all the sorts of things you really didn’t want anyone seeing you studying. At least, not in Center City, Philadelphia. This sort of thing caused the witch hunts after all, and even though society had progressed since then, she had no desire to start up something like that again, or attract attention from some random Goth person here in an innocent coffee shop.

  A shadow crossed the table just as the scent of spice reached her nose. She smiled and looked up.

  Daric didn’t look happy. The hard line of his lips and the crinkle in the middle of his forehead made her think he was, in fact, livid.

  “Explain.” He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. He radiated anger from the whites of his eyes, which practically bulged at her, to the twitching muscles on his arms.

  “I found Sucole.” She closed the book and pointed to the title. “I got what I needed.”

  “That’s not an explanation, Scion.” He crossed his arms.

  If he kept this up she was going to get pissed off. Fast.

  “If you mean my abrupt departure, I didn’t plan that. I asked you to come, didn’t I? How was I supposed to know she had some sort of travel spell on that coin?”

  Daric looked down at the table.

  “Look, believe me or don’t. I didn’t do it on purpose. I was just as shocked when I opened my eyes and I was in a swamp as I imagine you were to see me vanish.”

  “Shocked is not the right word.” With one finger, Daric doodled on the table. At least he’d uncrossed his arms.

  “You were worried?”

  “Worried isn't the right word.” He looked up and offered her a ghost of a smile.

  She leaned closer to him. “What’s the right one?” She grinned, and stared straight into his eyes. It sent goosebumps down her arms.

  “Frantic.” Daric put his hand over hers where it rested on the book. He frowned and pulled both of their hands away. The crease in his forehead deepened as he looked at the cover.

  “She had it, then?”

  Tarian hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Daric about the joining with Steffahn. Not yet. Not until she sorted out what it meant and how she felt about it. But she didn’t want to lie. She settled for a portion of truth.

  “She showed me the spell I need.”

  Tarian flipped the pages until she located the spell Sucole had indicated. Daric turned the book to face him and studied it.

  A tingly, creepy crawly sensation chased up and down her spine, like someone was watching her. Tarian turned in her chair to see who might be looking in their direction.

  The tall, thin man remained at the table in the corner, absorbed in his newspaper. A few groups of students pretended to study, and a couple of business people chatted over a laptop. She turned back to Daric.

  “See the word here? ‘ Decipi’? I’m pretty sure that means ‘entrap.’ Are you sure this is the spell?”

  “I’m positive. Look at the diagram. She told me this would banish the demon, and the picture looks just like that. This has to be what I need. If he’s banished, he can’t steal my power, right? He can’t do anything at all.”

  Daric grunted and continued studying the page. She moved her chair around so that she could study it too.

  According to the diagram, she needed an object that had been personally touched by the demon. She rubbed at the back of her neck, this time searching deeper for the tiny knot she’d come to think of as a real, physical, implant of some sort. The tracer was her link to the demon, but it was a two-way connection. He’d feel her the minute she started this ritual because she’d have to open herself up to use it.

  Behind her, a loud scream of laughter, followed by a loud thud, jolted Tarian nearly out of her chair. She looked around the shop. The students in the front must have told an excellent joke, judging by two of them doubled over in laughter and more off to the side giggling. Out of the corner of her eye, she could swear the stranger watched her every move, but when she looked directly at him, he had a newspaper up in front of his face.

  “Something wrong?” Daric put a hand on her arm, concern in his eyes.

  “Just paranoid.” She went back to the book. After a moment of staring at her, Daric did too.

  "We should get this translated first. It's no telling what those words are really saying." Daric pointed to
another one. "Like that one. If I remember right, that means ‘void.’ But does it put the demon in a void, or does it do something else?"

  "I don't know anyone who can translate this, do you?"

  He shook his head. "Not fast enough. I'm sure my mother could work it out eventually. But it could take weeks."

  "We don't have weeks."

  "I know, Tari, I know."

  She smiled at his use of her nickname. It made her feel warm in a way it didn't from anyone else. She forced her attention back to the book.

  So, she’d need an old fashioned circle of power drawn, of course, with blood. Lovely. She hadn’t done one of those since she was about 17, but she remembered it being messy and a bit painful. It was the old way of doing things, but the instructors had insisted she be well versed in traditions. She’d done it, but it felt clunky and inefficient. It was so much easier just to focus on your inner strength instead of finding it from an external source like a circle. Still, if that’s what the spell required, so be it.

  “We need a container. What kind of container?” She glanced at Daric.

  “Anything will work, but metal or rock is best.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “My mother is a teacher, remember?”

  Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, Tarian looked up quickly. At first glance the man in the corner had vanished. Adrenaline surged for no reason. She was being ridiculous. The man was no threat here in this coffee shop surrounded by people and with Daric beside her.

  She looked around and saw the stranger behind her, pouring sugar into his coffee at the condiment bar. He was close enough to see and hear what they were doing, and he felt…wrong somehow. Spooked, she hastily put her arms over the pages to block them. She sensed Daric’s body tense, and he formed a fist with both hands.

  “Excuse me.” The man’s accent sounded vaguely British. “I couldn’t help but notice that remarkable book. Is it rare?”