Sins of the Father (Bloody Marytown Book 1)

by Mansell, Lucie J.

  Sons of God Saw The Daughters of Men. No wonder he had looked so forlorn.

  Heading back around into the room, Martha locked eyes with Olivia who seemed to be somewhere in the midst of shock and sadness. With a steely and frightening determination, she asked the pagan, ‘Do you have what you need for the summoning?’

  The blonde woman nodded. ‘Yeah, I know what I want to do.’

  ‘Good,’ she retorted. ‘Because I want to look that bastard in the eye before I kill it.’

  ‘I think I can help you with that,’ Olivia said, crossing the room to the long bag that she had retrieved the pretty amulet from and opening the main compartment. What she pulled out both surprised and impressed Martha – a sword, long and gleaming silver with ancient runes carved into the blade and a simple black hilt.

  Olivia held it out to her. ‘It was anointed by an old shaman that I used to know back home. He claimed that he killed many demons with it.’

  Martha reached out for it. ‘May I?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she nodded emphatically. ‘I get the feeling you’ll be better at using it than me.’

  On that, Martha could not comment. For all she knew, MPIA’s resident magical expert was a great fighter and had swung a blade many times. However, on that particular night, she wanted to be the one to avenge the man who had died because he wanted to make amends for the life that he had led and the daughter that he had spurned. She needed to do the killing.

  The anointed sword felt good and weighty in her grip. Stepping back to give herself enough room, she gave it a couple of swings. It would do. Nicely. She had a weapon. Now all she needed was a demon. It was finally time to end this. For her sister. For her mother. And for the man who she had hated for so very, very long. For all of the sacrifices that had been made.

  William Ford had died for her. She would kill for him.

  After all, where she now came from, it was what family did.

  Chapter 33

  It did not take long for Olivia to adjust her original set-up to be ready to summon the demon who had killed William Ford. Martha paced the room with nervous energy, not because she feared the encounter to come but that she feared it might not come at all. She needed this. Now.

  With the study secure and all of the magical elements set, she warned Parker and Walsh to be ready and then nodded to Olivia, who had taken centre stage in front of the summoning circle. The cracks of light from the broken window lit her up like she was on stage.

  ‘I’m not going to repeat the exact incantations that your father did,’ she informed Martha, as if she wanted her to know the method used. ‘Instead, I am going to invoke it, make it believe that I am its pawn and that I wish to worship it. The words have been carefully selected so that if it chooses not to heed my call, it will be banished from the property. Either way, this will be over. But I’m confident that it will feel compelled to show its face.’

  Martha nodded. ‘Do it.’

  Standing before the circle, Olivia took a deep breath and put the talisman that William Ford had used around her own neck. Martha found that an odd decision to make but supposed that she wanted to honour the fallen practitioner who had blessed it by using her remaining magical energy to right the wrong that it had inadvertently caused. In a clear, commanding voice, she spoke out to the ether, ‘Of the sky and of the ground, May you cast your divine energy down. Unto the light and unto the dark, Old Spirt, descend to heed my heart. Hear my pleas and come forth from the night. I give you the portal to ascend to the light. I invoke thee, Giver of Wishes, Taker of Souls. Bless me with your presence, or be here no more.’

  Martha waited, expecting something to happen almost immediately. It did not. The magical energy that had filled the room swirled but did not change, nor did it dissipate as she supposed it might if Olivia’s call had been rejected. The pagan did not give up, though, trying again and again. Something was definitely happening but Martha couldn’t tell exactly what. From a novice, outside perspective it appeared to be a test of wills, as if the demon was listening but was not sure whether or not it believed Olivia was worthy of its attention. Perhaps it sensed an ambush. Perhaps it was simply bored and did not want to play. The invocation went on for so long that Martha began to give up hope of an encounter which only made her angrier.

  However, Olivia instinctively seemed to know what she needed to do. Leaving her spot, she walked around the entirety of the summoning circle before yanking the talisman from her neck so hard that the chain bit into her skin before it broke. Blood pooled. She reached in and dropped the trinket into the middle of the circle, muttering, ‘Take it then, you son of a bitch.’

  No sooner did the gold hit the ground then the space was filled by a presence. A man. A slender, ineffectual and ultimately disappointing looking man in a blue, pressed suit and a red tie. On the surface, the monster appeared utterly unimposing but Martha was not about to be swayed into underestimating him. Demons often lost their intimidating forms when they came over into the mortal plane. They instead became what their human slaves wanted them to be so that they could exact the most influence over them. Ultimately it was costume and nothing more.

  The demon looked on Olivia as if he found her exceptional, which was an accurate compliment because she was, in beauty and in sheer talent. His voice was smooth and lilting, almost mesmerising, as he spoke to her, ‘My mother was actually a wonderful woman but since I am suddenly feeling in a very generous mood, I will let that one slide and allow you to worship me, you magnificent creature. I thank you for the token. I’ve always been fond of gold.’

  ‘You can keep it,’ she smirked. ‘It wasn’t mine to start with.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, sounding impressed. ‘The essence of a dead woman. Very naughty that one was too. Such wicked sins she committed. I am most touched, my little buttercup. But this is not why you summoned me. Shall we… parlay?’

  ‘Oh, but should I be so worthy of such a thing,’ Olivia lamented with a shake her head, seeming to all intents and purposes genuinely meek. ‘Sadly, I am but a go-between. There is somebody else much more important here who wishes to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘There is?’ he sounded coquettish, as if he were enjoying their game when Martha was more than convinced that he was as aware of her presence as she was of his.

  ‘There is,’ she repeated his own words back to him before smiling, wickedly. ‘Walsh?’

  Before the demon could react to her change in demeanour, a backdraft of red hot psychic energy flowed through the room, capturing the monster in its wake and lifting it off its expensive shoes, leaving it hanging in the air like a jostled ragdoll. Martha turned her head to admire the young psychic in action, stood the opposite side of the circle as Olivia on braced legs, focusing hard on maintaining the binding that he cast out. It did not surprise Martha that Walsh knew a lot about magic. His power was too strong to only be mystical in nature.

  The demon however was not impressed. He glared at Olivia with the look a scorned lover might give to somebody who has just stomped all over their heart. His tone was thin and full of spite as he spat, ‘Oh, you are in so much trouble.’

  ‘Well, maybe if you prove yourself worthy, I’ll let you spank me.’

  ‘I’m going to do more than that,’ he warned, in strained aggression. ‘You shall be my new favourite pet. I look forward to breaking that spirit. Your friend can’t hold me here forever.’

  ‘He’s not meant to,’ Olivia stated. ‘Just long enough for my other friend to have her say.’

  ‘Oh, right. And where is this most important person, then?’

  ‘I’m right here,’ Martha said, stepping around so that she took the place that Olivia had been standing in. The blonde pagan took a step back, behind her shoulder.

  The demon cocked his head in a surprised, appraising manner. ‘Nephilim?’

  ‘Martha.’

  He laughed, in a sing-song voice said, ‘You’re not meant to be here.’

  ‘Neither are you,’ she
pointed out. ‘The difference is that this is my home. Or it was. The man that you killed here raised me. He was not a saint but he was a good father to my sister and he was devoted to my mother. He did not deserve to die by your hand.’

  ‘Do you even know what he did?’ the demon taunted. ‘That sad, sick little old man.’

  ‘He upset you. He summoned you and then he treated you with disrespect and so you decided to make an example of him.’ She smirked, ‘Was that close enough?’

  ‘Fine,’ he haughtily admitted. ‘He disrespected me so I gave him what he wanted.’

  ‘He didn’t want to die.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose that he did. But what was I supposed to do, let him go? Let all of the little humans scurry around, making their demands and thinking that they can get whatever they want without there being consequences? There are rules and that man chose to try and strong-arm me into serving him?’ He let out a noise of disgust, shaking off the indignation that he felt from her challenging his methods. ‘He summoned a demon. He got what he wanted.’

  ‘No, he wanted me,’ Martha argued. ‘He wanted you to tell him where I was or better yet, give me to him so that he could make amends. So that my mother would love him again.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’ the demon asked. ‘That he was sorry for what he did to you?’

  ‘I saw it with my own eyes. I know what he wanted.’

  The demon stared at her for a long moment before bursting into a barrage of laughter so hard that Martha could swear that she saw tears in his eyes. Either he was a complete lunatic or he was deliberately goading her. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Seething, she asked, ‘What can you possibly find so funny about any of this?’

  ‘You,’ he replied, quelling the laughter with a jovial breath. ‘Little girl lost, going to the extremes of summoning me in order to seek revenge for a man who hated you and wished that you had died before you were born. You are so overdramatic!’

  ‘And you are going to die tonight,’ Martha retorted, with certainty. ‘So why don’t you tell me what it is that you think I don’t know about William Ford before I see you ended.’

  The demon chuckled, ‘He hated you. Oh, how he hated you.’

  Martha bristled, ‘Tell me something that I don’t know.’

  ‘He wanted me to get him access to you,’ the demon said. ‘But he did not want to make amends. At least, not with you, silly little girl. He wanted your mother to forgive him for her losing you. The only way he thought that he could do that was by getting you back. But he did not want you, little nephilim. He did not want a daughter who was a freak and who reminded him that the woman he loved betrayed him. He wanted a daughter that would be obedient and a good little girl, like you should have been… Do you understand yet?’

  ‘Not really,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘He wanted to rob you of your dirty nephilim power and take it all for himself!’

  She shook her head. ‘You lie.’

  ‘And you are a fool.’

  ‘Better a fool than demonic piece of shit in a cheap suit.’

  The demon’s eyes widened in angry defiance. He stated, with outright clarity, ‘I don’t like you. I’m going to take that blade you have in your hand and hold you down and take a blood oath from you with it, making you mine. And then, when you’re all nice and compliant, I’ll make you kill all of your friends – Apart from Buttercup, of course, I’m keeping her.’ Martha sensed Olivia stiffen behind her in fear. ‘Then, when your mind is broken from that delicious mental torment, I am going to metaphysically turn you inside out until you choke on your own dirty, little humanity and then your ugly, murdering soul. And I’m going laugh the whole time.’

  ‘No, you won’t.’

  The demon was absolutely incredulous. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You’re not powerful enough to do even one of those things to me.’

  He bristled. ‘Get your friend to release me and you’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘See?’ Martha pointed out, laughing arrogantly. ‘You can’t even overpower a silly, little human who, while impressive, really isn’t as magically gifted as he thinks he is. Face it, demon, if you had any true power, I would have known that you were in town long before now. Because I would have sensed you and my friends on the hill would have hunted you down and torn you limb from gangly limb… You’re nothing. You’re a pawn. And I’m done talking to you.’

  Letting her defences slip ever so slightly to the side, she deliberately turned her back on the demon, waiting, hoping that his arrogance would make her do exactly what she expected him to do. He took the bait. Of course, he did. Lesser demons always thought that they had much bigger roles to play in the great scheme of things than they actually did.

  Martha barely had time to react before the fiend defiantly cast aside Walsh’s spell and launched himself in her direction. She turned as he landed on top of her, slamming her down onto the hardwood floor. Somewhat winded, the sword fell from her hand. The demon then simultaneously pinned her down while fighting off the people that came running to her aid.

  But it was not ever going to be enough.

  Martha smiled up in his face and said, ‘Get the hell off me,’ before rolling back and using both her legs and power to counter the assault. He flew forwards, in the exact same direction as he had launched the man that he had killed. There was a loud crash as the long windows once again gave way but Martha did not lie there and wait. It took more than a fall to kill a demon and he would survive that small manoeuvre so she had to keep on him.

  Following his direction, she launched herself over the stone balcony rail and down on the gravel driveway where the body of her sister’s father once lay, landing perfectly with bent knees and a determination for the kill. She was on top of the demon before he even seemed to know that he had been thrown from the building, straddling his waist and raining blow after blow down on his smug little demon face with her clenched fist.

  She became vaguely aware that somebody was chanting an incantation from behind her, something about wrath and fire and thunder and heaven but all she could feel was the purest of rages. This thing had broken her sister’s heart and deprived her mother of a husband. This thing deserved each and every single bit of pain she could make it feel before she granted it a well-deserved death. Nobody hurt her family and got away with it. Nobody.

  Somebody yelled her name. Martha stopped and turned long enough to see Parker in the front doorway of the house. He did not try to stop her however, instead throwing her the anointed sword which she expertly caught. Getting to her feet, she stood over the demon that had wreaked so much misery upon the people that she loved. It was not conscious. It’s face, a bloody pulp.

  From her perch up on the balcony above them, Olivia yelled, ‘Martha. Now!’

  Martha lifted the sword up over her head with both hands and then swung. As the demon-killing sword added another notch to its runic blade, she heard the blonde pagan finish the ritual with an emphatic, ‘Vadunt cum silentio in nocte… You son of a bitch.’

  Chapter 34

  By the time that Martha and Parker arrived at the restaurant, they were late for dinner. Beating a lesser demon to death with her bare hands was as messy a task as it sounded and she needed to wash and change so that she did not freak out her fellow diners by wearing a smattering of brain matter as jewellery. The director of the Marytown Paranormal Investigation Agency was keen to meet her but she figured that it would better to be gore free than punctual.

  Stefan had his brother Isaac clear the beheaded corpse off the driveway and Olivia performed a cleansing spell to make sure that no paranormal nasties crept back into the Ford residence and set up home there. Martha had taken great pleasure in grabbing a large axe from the anteroom by the back door, where the garden tools were stored and smashing the hardwood floor where the summoning circle was formed to uncover what had been buried below it; a small box of personal mementoes which would focus the intent of the magic used.
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  There was a picture of Martha as a child in the box. In it, she was about five years old, before her abilities become so powerful that they could no longer pretend that she was normal and William Ford could no longer convince himself that she was his biological daughter.

  Giorgio’s was one of the nicest places to eat in Marytown. Expensive enough to keep the clientele good but not too extortionate that you had to take out a small loan to pay for a starter. Martha had never eaten there before and would not normally consider herself to be a sociable person, but found herself looking forward to it as she dressed. After the events of the afternoon, she felt like she deserved a night of feasting and camaraderie. And maybe even some wine.

  Peter Maxwell, Olivia, Walsh and Amanda were already at the table when they arrived.

  The man in charge stood up to greet them. Maxwell was handsome in the way that old movie stars were handsome, with a debonair charm that did not surprise Martha at all given the small amount of time she had spent with his daughter. He was wearing a smart business suit that fit him like it was custom made as he was too broad through the shoulders to possibly have been able to simply buy a jacket that fit him so perfectly. He shook Parker’s hand and the two of them exchanged a few words about the investigation being finished up. Martha could not mistake the genuine affection and mutual respect that the two men held for each other. It went deeper than a professional relationship and had probably existed before the younger man had gone right ahead and married the older man’s daughter. They had known each other for a long time.

  ‘Martha Valentine,’ the man greeted her by name, holding onto her hand for a fraction longer than was professional, which she attributed to the less than formal setting. ‘I am sorry that we have not had the chance to meet sooner. You have been very busy, it appears.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry that I took over the investigation. It was not my intention.’