Inner Demon

by Jocelynn Drake

  “Hey Dad!” I called as I stripped off my coat and hung it in the hall closet between my mother’s and father’s. “Did you catch the score for the Warriors game last Sunday?” Low Town was lucky enough to field its own professional football team, though it had been a long time since we’d had an actual shot at a championship game.

  A frown puckered my brow when no one responded. I thought I was loud enough to be heard through most of the house. Hell, at least one of the boys should have heard me and come banging down the stairs to greet me as they usually did. My parents had generously agreed to take in a pair of runaways from the Towers and were keeping them hidden while trying to give them some semblance of a normal life.

  Walking down the hall, past years of family pictures, I stopped in the living room to find it empty. The small television was on in the corner with the evening news signing off in favor of a game show. My father’s favorite glass sat on the side table next to his chair, half filled with iced tea. I stood in the center of the room, straining to hear any sounds in the house, but it was as silent as a tomb. There should have been something. My parents were always home in the evening. Hell, they should have just finished dinner and the smell of my mother’s amazing cooking should have filled the air. But there was nothing.

  “Mom?” I called, turning toward the kitchen.

  My heart stopped as I took my first step. Lilith stood in the open doorway, a haunting smile playing with her nearly black lips. Her gray skin took on a somewhat pearlescent shine in the soft lamplight and her black dress clung to her curves like a second skin.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, forcing the words out past a lump of fear in my throat.

  “I thought we could take some time to chat,” she purred, taking a step toward me. I could see her legs moving as she approached me, but her motion was so sinuous I was sure she was slithering.

  “Where are my parents?”

  The Queen of the Underworld smiled, but it was all sharp teeth and fangs. “Occupied.”

  “Where the fuck are they?” I roared, my temper snapping in the face of nearly crippling fear.

  Lilith was on me in a second, her face less than an inch from me. Her smile was still in place but it looked all the more menacing now that all I could see was her teeth and bottomless black eyes. “Don’t forget yourself,” she snarled. “I have a piece of your soul. You also belong to me for two years of your life and I don’t have to return you to the land of the living if I don’t want to.”

  I swallowed back my own angry retort and straightened. There was no need for the reminder that I was headed straight into her hands at some point. The thought of my parents being in her clutches was enough to make me shut my damn mouth.

  Stepping back, she arched one pencil-­thin brow at me in question, but I didn’t say a word. “Good. What I want to discuss with you is this association you’ve apparently struck up with one of Simon’s playthings.”

  The demon. This was not something I wanted to talk about with her. Not when this demon planned for me to destroy Lilith.

  “I want you to stay away from it,” she continued, slowly strolling back toward the kitchen. “I’ve got it under control so it won’t kill you, but demons are nasty things full of lies. I don’t want it whispering things in your ears, filling your head with tales that will only get you destroyed. It’s only looking out for itself.” She flashed me a soft smile, trying to appear as if she was actually concerned for my safety.

  “It’s only looking out for what it wants.”

  Her smile widened. “Exactly.”

  “Like you,” I added.

  Lilith’s smile melted away like heated wax. Her long bony fingers curled into fists, but she didn’t rush me like I expected. No, she did something worse.

  “You forget who the true power within the Underworld is, Gage,” she hissed. The lights in the kitchen blinked out so that the shadows in the dimly lit living room lengthened. “My reach includes both this world and the next. Stay away from the demon or face the consequences.”

  Lilith slithered backward into the kitchen so that she was instantly swallowed whole by the darkness. A second later, I heard a voice that shot straight to my gut.

  “Gage?” My mom’s frightened voice warbled from the blackness and my knees nearly gave out. A low growl rumbled after my name, followed by a crash of broken furniture. A woman’s terrified screams cut through the silence, slicing my soul in half. I plunged into the darkness . . .

  And sat straight up in bed on a strangled cry.

  Blinking and fighting the twisted blankets around my legs, I struggled to get my bearings. I was in my room. In my apartment. Safe. The fucking bitch had invaded my dreams . . . again. Covered in a cold sweat, I tamped down a sob of equal parts fear and relief while I tried to find a peaceful center in which to think. My hand was shaking as I pushed it through my tangled hair.

  Despite my attempts to reassure myself that it was only a dream, I snatched up my phone and called my parents’ home. My mother’s sweet voice danced across the distance after the second ring and she only laughed at my concern. Everyone was fine and safe. Nothing had happened. I got off the phone as quickly as I could, not wanting to worry my mother since I was struggling to get my emotions under control.

  Dropping my cell phone back on the bedside table, I fell back into bed and ran my hands roughly over my face as I tried to organize my thoughts. Serah had dropped me off at my apartment at just before ten the night before, after taking Bronx to Asylum. I had stripped out of my filthy, bloody clothes and collapsed in the bed. I had no memory of falling asleep. But then, I think I was out before I’d finished pulling my blankets up around me.

  The alarm on my phone had me jumping a ­couple minutes later. It was time to start my day whether I wanted to or not.

  Sliding out of bed, I snatched up my phone and turned off the alarm. But I stood there, dumbly staring at it for several seconds. There were no missed call or text messages from Trixie. I had seen her briefly last night when she arrived at the shop for her shift just before Bronx and I left with Eddie. But she’d never called to check on the progress of the sting or if everything was okay. The distance between us was growing by the second and I no longer knew how to close it. She was pulling away so that it would be easier to return to her own ­people.

  Was I going to let her go without a fight? Not a fucking chance.

  I kicked the coffeemaker on before jumping in the shower to scrub away the dirt and blood I hadn’t bothered to get off myself the night before. Clad in some nearly clean jeans and a T-­shirt that had only one small hole it in the side, I grabbed some white chalk, my wand, and a mug of black coffee as I walked into the living room.

  Putting down the coffee, I inspected the twelve stitches I’d received the night before, closing the wound the goblins had given me. The skin was red and puckered around the dark thread. It looked so barbaric and medieval compared to the neat and tidy touch that magic was capable of. Lightly holding the wand in one hand, I concentrated on the healing spell that Gideon had shown me. The power flowed easily through me and up the wand to hit my arm with laser-­like precision. The wound closed and healed before my eyes while the stitches slipped from my flesh, leaving the thread coiled on the coffee table. In a matter of seconds, I had completed what would have taken weeks of natural healing. Magic had some positive purposes and I was going to show Trixie that.

  Putting my wand down on the table, I picked up the piece of chalk and cleared a large open space in the middle of the scarred coffee table with my arm. I drew a large circle on the slightly uneven surface and then decorated the edge with a series of symbols, linking the circle to a specific location within Trixie’s apartment on the other side of town. With the circle grounded and locked against any potential intrusions, I put down my chalk and picked up my wand again.

  Holding the hawthorn stick and my free han
d up before me, I paused to draw in a slow, deep breath. My eyes slipped shut and I relaxed the muscles in my shoulders. The energy in the air seeped in through my flesh and flowed through my veins so that my soul was now bound to the energy of the world in a deeper way. In my mind, I created the image of a tall crystal vase filled with colorful flowers. I could see purple and yellow irises, pink carnations, and orange birds of paradise.

  As I released the breath I had been holding, I pushed the energy out through the tip of the wand, directing it toward the circle, building the image in my head up from the bottom. The crystal and the water in the vase caught the light coming in through my blinds and bounced it about the room. The flowers formed in a colorful profusion, overflowing from the vase.

  When my creation was complete, I spoke a word, activating the connection I had drawn with the circle. There was a flash of light and the vase of flowers was gone. If I had done it right, the vase was now resting in the center of her dining-­room table. She’d see it when she walked to the kitchen to brew her first pot of coffee for the day. If I had done it wrong, it was very likely that I had created a large mess in her apartment.

  After sending the flowers, I swiped my hand over the top of the table, smearing the chalk so that the writing was no longer legible and the spell couldn’t be tapped by another. Feeling confident and a little more at ease, I finished getting ready and left for Asylum.

  Something was wrong.

  Stepping over the threshold at the Asylum parlor, an odd tingling crept over my body. Something felt wrong about the place. Locking the door behind me, I sent a series of seeking spells through the building to see if anyone was hiding or if any spells had been left on the place that I hadn’t put there. But nothing turned up. I used more aggressive spells, but still nothing turned up. I restarted the antiglamour spell and searched every inch, including the second floor apartment and the basement.

  It was only when I stepped into the basement that I finally relaxed. And I realized why something felt wrong when I stepped into the lobby. The tattoo parlor was my home; the one place I was sure I belonged in this world, but it wasn’t helping me find my center any longer. The sickening part was that the cellar now gave the peace I unconsciously longed for.

  The symbol spray-­painted on the far wall rippled as the demon shifted, its powers stirring to life with my presence. I couldn’t sense its emotions or feel the contact with its thoughts like I could in the Towers. The spell that bound it at the parlor kept it more tightly locked down, but there was no question that it was watching me.

  Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I checked the time. It was barely after eleven. I had nearly an hour before the parlor was supposed to open and my first appointment of the day wasn’t until two. I had some time to myself. Time for research.

  Turning off the lights and leaving a sign on the door that I’d open the shop at two, I teleported to just outside the Dresden Tower. The memory of Lilith’s nightmare haunted my thoughts, but I wasn’t going to let her put me off. I could keep my family safe from her. I needed the secrets hidden in Simon’s rooms if I was going to find a way to protect Trixie.

  An uneasiness crept through me, squeezing my chest until it became difficult to breathe. It was early evening in Dresden. The warlocks and witches would be about in the Tower at this time. There would be no avoiding them. But I had an easy excuse. I was unraveling the defensive spells on Simon’s rooms. I was also a member of the guardians, sort of, and had a right to be there.

  There were a ­couple gasps and murmured comments when I walked through the front door. I didn’t stop as I walked straight to the empty tube and rode it up to Simon’s level. The dark energy was no longer present in the hallway and there was no resistance when I entered the pitch black rooms.

  The door slammed ominously as I stepped in as if it had been caught by an errant wind. Elation surged from the demon to hit me in the chest. I had returned. I had come back without its coaxing, because it thought it had me. Sadly, I wasn’t too sure that it wasn’t right about that.

  The rage and anguish that had plagued me on my first visit were noticeably subdued this time. The childhood memories that constantly followed me, whispering of pain, blood, and betrayal were silent. I knew if I continued to visit and study here, I’d succeed in chasing Simon’s ghost away at last and these rooms would become mine. And there was some small part of me that was excited with the thought.

  “Lights,” I said in a firm voice.

  In an instance, lights flared to life around the main room and then on through the kitchen into the bedroom. A fire crackled in the hearth while the magical orbs glowed warmly overhead. And still the eagerness from the demon didn’t wane at the idea of being commanded by someone it considered to be inferior.

  Not inferior. Just poorly trained.

  The demon’s cool voice whispered through my head, making me more than a little uneasy that it was picking apart my thoughts.

  “And you’re planning to change that.”

  If you let me. . .

  “I’ve got a few hours to do some reading,” I said, walking over to the table in the center of the room, where I had left the two books the demon had pulled aside for me. The first one looked ancient and I suspected that Simon had “borrowed” it out of the Dresden library and never gotten around to returning it. The book on demons was more disturbing because it looked as if most of the handwriting was Simon’s, though the first few chapters were in a different script. Simon’s mentor?

  Picking up the general magic book, I carried it over to the large, overstuffed chair in front of the fire and tossed it on the seat while I pulled off my coat. When I turned back, the demon book was in the chair.

  “I don’t think starting with demons is the best idea when I’m weak in too many other areas,” I grumbled as I turned back to the table to pick up the other book.

  But I can help you in those areas until you grow strong.

  “Or I can just grow dependent upon you and never learn those things for myself,” I snapped irritably.

  That works too.

  The demon’s amusement never wavered.

  Grabbing the book I wanted, I dropped the demon book on the floor beside me and flopped down in the chair, putting my feet up on the footstool. I flipped open the old tome and started skimming over the topics laid out before me. A lot of the information was familiar, though it gave some background that I had been sorely lacking. Yet it wasn’t long before I was craving a notepad and pen so I could make some notes.

  The thought had barely occurred to me when a hardbound journal appeared at my elbow along with a black pen. I stared at it for a moment, surprised that it looked identical to the ones I had been using for years to make notes regarding spells and potions I uncovered since leaving the Towers. When I picked it up, I got a whiff of a familiar scent, marigolds and blood.

  “Did you get this from my basement at the parlor?” I demanded, sitting up with a jerk.

  Of course. You needed to make some notes.

  “You can bring things from one place to another?”

  As long as they’re connected.

  As the words crossed my mind, there was a soft shifting of the stones in the center of the room that contained the demon’s symbol. Simon’s rooms were connected with the parlor because I had drawn the same symbol that Simon used.

  “Did he know I used the same symbol?” I asked softly, suddenly wondering if he could have used the same connection to walk right into my parlor during the past several years.

  No.

  “Can you bring through larger items?”

  Size has no bearing.

  “What about a person? What if Bronx or Trixie walked into the basement? Could you bring them here?”

  It would not be . . . healthy for living creatures.

  I could feel the demon’s amusement at the thought and a chill pricked al
ong my flesh.

  “It would kill them,” I said, crossing off the idea as a potential way of getting my friends immediately out of danger should the need arise.

  No.

  “But . . . ?” I prompted when the demon chose not to elaborate.

  Their minds would break under the burden of the journey.

  Before I could question the demon about what it meant, the book at my feet opened with a snap and the pages flew until it found the proper entry. With a grunt, I picked up the book and placed it on top of the one I had been reading. A quick glance revealed that the original writer of the book had done quite a bit of research on the region where demons resided, or rather where their corporeal form resided.

  It wasn’t a pretty place by the sound of it, making the Chris­tian version of Hell look like a summer retreat for girl scouts. Not a place I wanted to visit. Luckily, Lilith had something entirely different planned for me, though I doubted it was much more pleasant.

  A groan slipped from my lips as I sat back in the chair again, when I realized that I’d turned the page twice since picking up the book. I wasn’t supposed to be reading this one, but my mind immediately starting soaking up the information, as if it had been starved for too many years. And maybe it had been. It had been a decade since I’d been permitted to study any kind of magic, leaving me eager to study anything I could get my hands on.

  “Look . . .” I started and then stopped when I realized that I had been about to use the demon’s name, but didn’t know it. Hell, I didn’t even know if demons had names. Did they need them?

  Zyrus.

  I flinched at the hissed sound. It was like someone had stabbed a red hot knitting needle through my frontal lobe.

  Say it.

  “Why?”

  Say it.

  “Why? Will it give you some kind of power over me?”

  The demon chuckled. No.

  “Will it give me power over you?”