by Nikki Sex
While dematerializing is not the same thing, there’s a similarity. In both instances mind and spirit become momentarily free of corporeal form.
Are we traveling from one place to another?
My demon thrums with joy, savoring this new experience.
Six main elements make up 99% of the human body: oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. Seen closely, each atom is unique and beautiful, spinning into infinity.
Every particle disappears, then rematerializes. Every sparkling molecule, every drop of heat, magic, and energy.
I’ve heard of vamps flying, but had no idea they could zap themselves from place to place. Is this mode of transport instinctive once a vampire reaches a certain age? Maybe it’s a rare ability, or something certain vamps can do. Who knows?
When we rematerialize, I find myself standing in an underground parking area. The vamp pulls away from me, taking the comforting heat of his hand and arm with him. The moment we part I feel an aching pang of loss. Sadness grips me. I feel alone and bereft.
Great. Just great. Fucking vampire tricks!
I slant my gaze upwards, checking to see if his “walking dead” has followed along. They’re here, alright. The moment I see them, their souls press in upon me, making me almost sink from the—dare I say?—“dead” weight of them.
These ghosts are trapped by their past. Dismembered, confused, crawling or walking; they may as well be buried in chains. Looking again, some of them are in fact, literally covered by chains. If I tune in, I can hear them clanking.
Strong emotion is unconsciously connected to painful images from one’s past. Without counseling or other resolution, such memories can be a heavy burden to every soul—living or dead.
A spirit floats by, her mouth wide open in a silent scream. My demon shifts within me, a physical display of his interest.
I wish I could free them all.
I sigh heavily, turning my attention to our new location. The light is dim, almost non-existent. A flash of yellow “crime scene, do not cross” tape catches my gaze. I look down to view a familiar pentagram chalked onto the concrete floor.
Not a similar scene, this is the crime scene. The one I visited with Detective Joseph only yesterday. It feels like days ago.
The Jugulo gets right down to business. “Do you see any ghosts?”
What a ridiculous question! Obediently, I look upward, but only for show. If there was a spirit here, I wouldn’t be able to find them in this crowd. It would be like searching for one particular tree in a forest thick with them.
Thankfully, it doesn’t matter. I dealt with the imprisoned ghosts yesterday.
I’ll gladly help catch this foul-smelling demon before the creature murders anyone else. Preferably before the evil spirit meets and transfers his knowledge and inclinations to my own inner monster.
The last thing I need is for those two to meet.
What should I tell the Jugulo? I don’t want to get poor John Joseph embroiled in my paranormal problems. But if I don’t tell my new boss what I know, and he finds out later, I’ll be in trouble.
From the corner of my eye, I glance uneasily at a limping, handless ghost. The Jugulo threatened to “punish” me. Well aware of his idea of punishment, I don’t want to piss him off.
Torture is such an ugly word.
I school my features but I can’t stop my rapid pulse. Am I scared of this assassin? You bet your sweet ass, I am!
The vampire steps into my space, puts one large hand around my throat—a classic nonverbal message. His physical communication would be understood by anyone, whatever language they speak.
I respond, but not in the way he hopes.
My demon loves this son of a bitch, while the vampire’s magical touch makes me instantly wet. Oh, yeah, everything’s just peachy. Hanging out with Mr. Sexy ‘n Scary is so not going to end well.
His voice is soft, low, and full of menace. “What aren’t you telling me?”
How do I play this? Meek? Normal? This supernatural powerhouse is used to humans being submissive and obedient. Maybe if I’m different, if I obey but question or fight him a little, he might find me more interesting. It also might help excuse any blunders I make.
“I’m worried you’ll be mad at me when I tell you what I know.”
“That is a possibility,” he acknowledges, tightening his grip around my throat—reminding me of my earlier exciting adventure in oxygen deprivation. “However, I shall definitely be mad at you if you don’t tell me what you know.”
“Fine,” I say. Talk about a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t scenario.
He studies me expectantly.
“I was here yesterday with the police (see how I didn’t mention the detective?) There were a number of people tortured and murdered in this pentagram, four of them had Down syndrome. I was able to speak to one of the ghosts. His name was Ray Mitchell Delaney.”
“Go on.”
“I believe a sorcerer summoned a demon using this pentagram after killing a local homeless man. Something went wrong. The sorcerer is now demon-possessed.”
“Do you know the sorcerer’s name?”
“The man you’re looking for calls himself Legion. He’s just under six-foot tall, has red hair, and smells terrible. He also has a black chain around his neck with a circular green stone in it. That’s all Ray could tell me.”
The vampire’s heart-stopping, jaw-dropping smile makes my knees turn to mush.
“Very good. Now I know how to find him.”
One approving curl of his lips and he’s suddenly Mr. Congeniality, a much nicer personality to deal with.
Mental note, keep on his good side.
He grips my wrist, places his arm around my waist. Hmm. Apparently, we’re going somewhere. He doesn’t ask or explain. I have no choice.
You’re not the boss of me!
I feel like screaming it, except he is the boss of me in every way possible. To him I’m a possession to keep as long as I’m useful. God, I miss Stafford, but he can’t rescue me. How would he find me?
I wonder where we’re going this time as we dematerialize, launching into the void once more.
Chapter 68. Demon Seeking
The vampire transports us deep into a cavern complete with glittering stalactites, stalagmites, and ribbons of limestone formations. The room I’m in resembles a cathedral.
Magic presses in on me, invisibly shining out of the earth. The air is cool, heavy, and full of minerals. I hear running water, maybe a subterranean river. Likely, that’s how this cavern was originally formed.
Crystal rock formations glow from well-placed ambient lights. Without interrupting colorful formations, the room gives a human habitat impression. Expensive carpets, chairs, and tables are aesthetically placed. Ancient symbols pulse with enchantment.
It’s so beautiful.
This incredible cavern is nothing like the evil-underground-parking-area-of-death. My demon is overjoyed—he vibrates with excitement. This place really does it for him. I feel the same.
Earth magic combines with an electromagnetic field. It makes my hair stand on end, and my teeth hum—but not in a bad way. The soundless purr of power beneath me is unbelievable.
When the vampire lets me go, he recognizes the incredulous look in my eyes.
“You sense it, don’t you?”
“Is it a Ley Line?” I ask.
“No. A vortex.”
His voice is cool, dispassionate. My knowledge hasn’t surprised him. Regrettably, to him a monkey who can speak to ghosts or sense magic is still only a monkey.
Vortices are rare high energy spots—Earth energy, in fact. These hot spots of magical focus are linked by Ley Lines. A Ley line is an enchanted line of power, some more potent than others.
“Um…may I ask where we are, exactly?”
“Vancouver Island.”
“I see.”
He’s transported me to the ancestral land of John Joseph’s forebears, known
site of an important Ley Line. Yet I’ve never heard of these caves, nor was I aware of the presence of a vortex.
Interesting.
The smell of blood distracts me. More accurately, it attracts my constantly hungry demon. I peer downward seeking its source. In the darkness, near a doorway, I sense a body. The blood scent is a few days old.
“Do you know there’s a dead guy down here?” I ask.
“Many were recently murdered in this sanctuary,” he replies with callous indifference. “This is the Sorcerer’s Guild. Only the Regius Magnmus wears the iron chain and Spirit-Orb. I very much doubt she wears it now.”
“Oh, so this was kind of like a coup? Someone killed her and stole the Orb?”
He gracefully inclines his head. “Possibly.”
“If the sorcerer intended to summon a demon, why did he bother traveling to the mainland? Why didn’t he conjure it here, using one of these deaths as payment?”
He frowns. “This site is too pure for summoning.” He shifts impatiently, gestures toward me with one elegant hand. “Use your gift. Speak to a ghost. One of these spirits will tell us which of their acolytes committed this crime. Find out what happened and obtain the name of the man I seek.”
I’d been trying not to view the overabundance of ghosts that constantly surround throat slitter, but at his command, I do.
With this barrage of vortex magic running hot—his restless spirits have far more life. Colors are brighter, their faces are whiter. Blood from their wounds drip red.
The boy near Sparagis is so vivid, I could count individual threads on his woolen tunic. With his black wavy hair and striking blue eyes, it’s obvious to me now. The Sexy Iceman, this scary Jugulo, once had a close relative.
Brother? Cousin? Maybe even his own son?
The assassin hit the roof when I mentioned this boy. Why the reaction? Did the Jugulo commit fratricide, or what?
For a long moment, I stare at his agitated spirits as they moan, and crawl, and sob. What might I say or do to make him kill me? Will I be one of his grisly ghostly followers in time?
This is as real as it gets. Right here, right now, I am in serious trouble. It’s time to face the facts. I may not get out of this alive.
“I have two problems,” I say.
Irritated, the vampire tires of my hesitancy. The quick flash in his eyes is my only warning. Oh, yeah, he’s not the kind of guy who puts up with shit.
“Yes?”
“If a ghost is here, I can’t tell. You’re going to have to go into another room before I can sense his presence. I can’t see anything except the numerous spirits you’ve dispatched over the years.”
He says nothing, so I forge ahead.
“I have another request. I want to use my phone.”
His lips compress, but again he remains silent. Fine.
“If I don’t return home, my dog will die. It’s not his fault you came looking for me because I can talk to ghosts. He’s a good dog—he hasn’t done anything wrong. Let me call my friend. Then I’ll find you a spirit who will tell me about the rogue sorcerer.”
His mouth twitches with the barest hint of puzzled...amusement? Surprise? Contempt? As I suspected, humans have no free will around him—or they fear the vamp too much to do anything except instantly comply.
“Are you attempting to bargain with me?” His tone is incredulous, yet cold as ice. The vampire is curious, but not that curious.
If I say yes, will I make him mad?
I’m willing to go that far and even further. Hell, if I have to, I’ll refuse to help him to save my dog’s life.
A small pang stabs my chest at the thought of Toby in trouble, stuck all alone in my high end, sound-proof apartment. He trusts me to come home to him. How can I betray him? Hungry and thirsty, the poor thing will sit and stare at a door that will never open.
I bite my lip, making no attempt to hide my anxiety. “I know you can compel me to do anything you want, but I love my dog. Wouldn’t it be better to own a willing ghost buster?”
The expression on his face is blank.
Yeah, I guess he missed the movie.
“Fine.” He draws my phone from his inner suit pocket, casually tosses it to me. “Vortex…it will work. Call this friend of yours. If you say anything I don’t like I will find them and I will kill them.”
“No problem.”
It’s too risky to phone the Beast Lord. Stafford will demand to know where I am. He’ll want to know what happened to our bond. He will also be mad as hell—angry due to anxiety and concern. I know he’s worried about me.
The vampire will hear his every loud, excitable word.
Owen? No.
I hit speed dial for Hope.
Chapter 69. Demon Close
Hope immediately picks up. “Jan!”
I have no metaphysical sense of her, which I find disturbing. “Hi, Hope. Look, something very important has come up,” I say swiftly, hoping she remains quiet. “I want you to go to my apartment tonight. You remember I gave you a key?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Well, I need you to pick up my dog. Keep Toby with you until I come back, OK?”
“OK.”
“Thanks, Hope. Gotta go. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Thank you. Thank you for not asking me questions.
God, I love that kid. My bond with Stafford is broken, but Hope never knew about that. I haven’t been missing long. She can’t know I’ve been taken—or does she?
I’ve been surprised before by what Hope knows.
Maybe her reaction is a simple act of trust. Hope’s an adult, but I doubt she’ll ever grow out of her innocence when it comes to me. The woman’s faith in me makes me want to be the heroic savior she thinks I am.
“Thank you.” I smile as I hand him back my phone.
He stares at me intently. “How far apart do we need to be?”
I scan the cavern, noticing four different exits into other, no doubt, equally fascinating rooms. One of the doors draws me. More specifically, it attracts my demon.
I wonder what’s in there?
Maybe whatever it is can help me figure a way out of this mess.
“How many people do you think are dead in this cave?”
He shrugs with indifference. “Many. As I told you.”
“OK.” I point to the place that interests me. “How about I go into the room right behind that door. You stay here with your ghostly entourage. It won’t take long. I’ll return the instant I find out what happened. Does that work?”
He studies me suspiciously.
“What? I’m assuming the only way out is up, right? Not down.”
“So you might think, but you will never find the way out without me. Without me, you’ll die here.”
I raise my eyebrows, slant him an ironic glance. “Wonderful. I need you, but first, you need me. It’s the beginning of the perfect relationship.”
Before he can comment, I turn from him and trot down several stairs. I open the thick iron door, step inside, and close the door behind me.
My attention focuses on a frantic female ghost wearing a flowing blue robe. Wildly pointing and gesticulating in my direction, she’s obviously terrified.
Distracted and surprised, I don’t sense danger.
I do however, smell it.
How could I forget the putrid, rotting stench of my nightmare? The nightmare that’s suddenly come to life.
Legion is here!
My actions are instinctive. In one fluid movement, I reach down, draw my silver blade from my boot, spin on my heel, and face the danger.
I don’t meet his eyes—there is power in a demon’s gaze. Instead, I focus on his lips, more particularly under his jaw.
The exact place I intend to thrust my knife—upwards, deep in his brain.
I’m not a killer, but in life there are no absolutes. As it says in the scriptures (I had pounded into my head as a child) there’s a time for every season. A time to be born, a
time to die, and a time for a righteous kill.
God, he stinks!
A man with red hair, the skin on his face taut and fleshless, wears the green orb on a dark iron chain. He looks a shrunken shell of a man, as though he’s being eaten alive by an aggressive form of cancer.
Maybe he is. Emaciated as a mummy, I’m shocked he can even stand.
The creature’s thin lips draw back; his teeth are foul, broken and rotten. He smiles at me with a creepy, disturbing “I-am-a-pedophile-children’s-clown” grin.
My skin crawls.
All of this takes only a fraction of a second.
I open my mouth to scream as I quickly drive my blade upwards—
—then freeze into immobility.
Still as death, I’m alert, aware, but utterly unable to move. The press of the demon’s ancient, elemental power is beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.
Oh, lordy, lordy fucking hell. And here I thought the vampire was a powerhouse!
Demonic magic captures me, my body, my mind, and even my own inner monster. My human heart beats, my lungs take in air—but only because Legion allows it.
My life is in his hands.
If he chooses, he could stop everything.
I hold my razor-sharp silver knife under Legion’s chin, longing to thrust it deep into the soft underside of his skull, up into his brain.
So close! I’m so damn close! Yet I can go no further.
My inner friend roils with awe, wonder, and excitement at finding another of his kind. He’ll be seriously pissed if I manage to kill his new demon friend.
Too bad. If I could, I would. Legion’s dark magic permeates everything, sticking like tar.
I’m lost. I’m trapped. I’m shit out of luck. It’s “game over” without me even having a chance to put up a fight. Exactly like those people whose spirits were imprisoned in a tangle of evil enchantment, I’m overcome by Legion’s insurmountable power.
I refuse to give up. This can’t be happening! There must be something I can do!
He moves my head, directs my eyes toward his. How does he do it? Legion controls my body as easily as I can. It’s terrifying!
