Demon Witch (The Ternion Order Book 2)

by Daniel R. Marvello

  The couple entered and warily scanned the other guests in the spacious living area, which was approaching maximum capacity. Their eyes lingered on the two visiting strangers. Baldur cut his gaze back to Adolphus. “I understand we have new leadership,” he said in a low voice that Marcella barely caught.

  Adolphus held up a hand, suggesting patience. “We can speak later, if you wish. I’m sure many of your questions will be answered shortly.”

  Baldur narrowed his eyes briefly and then nodded. He took his wife’s arm and led her toward the living room. Adolphus closed the door behind them.

  The Selkirk Pack had seven members. Counting the two “guests,” the Foundation was hosting a complement of nine lupusdaemons. The group milled around between the wine buffet along one wall and the two long leather couches that faced each other in the center of the room.

  Marcella and Cyrus stood at one end of the couches, watching attentively while the others poured beverages and checked out the two visitors with furtive glances. Marcella was pleased by their subdued curiosity. It seemed that Adolphus had followed her orders and given them minimal information about who she really was.

  After the guests had served themselves, Marcella called for everyone to take a seat. Although the long leather couches that faced each other could have comfortably accommodated everyone, Marcella and Cyrus remained standing.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Marcella said. “I asked Adolphus to call this meeting so I could introduce myself and discuss how we are going to deal with the exorcism threat that has been allowed to grow over the past few months.”

  Iledaste growled guidance. Too polite. You are alpha. Command them.

  The demon was right. She had a role to play, and this wasn’t a dinner party. It had coached her relentlessly on how to conduct the meeting.

  “I thought that crisis was behind us,” said Baldur Peri.

  Marcella raked a disdainful gaze over Baldur and said, “You thought wrong. The crisis continues as long as we are at risk, and our pack should be the most concerned. The witch who succeeded in sending one of us to the abyss lives in our own back yard.”

  “You say our so casually. What would you know about it?” Baldur demanded.

  “More than you think,” Marcella answered in a smug tone. “In fact, you could say I had a front-row seat.”

  The room went silent while everyone stared at her.

  “Iledaste,” Baldur whispered. He shot a glance toward Rutlinger who confirmed the conclusion with a nod.

  “So what?” Skyler Arpin snapped. “It’s easy to second guess our actions after the fact. Most of us have been here for generations without a hint of trouble. No one could have foreseen what would happen as a result of your poor choices.”

  Insolent bitch, grumbled the demon.

  “You didn’t have to foresee anything,” Marcella said. “You knew what the witch was going to do, and you did nothing to stop it.”

  “That’s not quite accurate,” Adolphus interjected. “Kyle Nelson proved to be remarkably resistant to your subconscious persuasions, so we brought him here at great risk to keep him away from Amanda Clark. Kyle escaped, but even if he hadn’t, the Order was already pounding on the gates demanding his release.”

  Marcella shook her head, rejecting the excuse. “Bah. The Order. You worry too much about their petty little police force. We are stronger, faster, and smarter. You should have killed the witch the moment you discovered her plans.”

  Privately, Marcella did not entirely share Iledaste’s characterization of the Order. She imitated the demon’s derision mostly as a psychological ploy to play down the risk of her plans. There was nothing petty about the hunter who had tracked her coven the prior year. That hunter had paid for her perseverance with her life, but more of her kind would eventually follow. Although Marcella’s skills with the dark arts were powerful, she hoped that her alliance with Iledaste would give her the additional edge she’d need to deal with future hunters. She would force the Order to reconsider the cost of trying to arrest her.

  A Pack member who had introduced himself as Tim Osterberg ran a hand across his balding scalp and leaned forward to set his empty wine glass on the long center table that separated the two couches. A pink button-up shirt, tan slacks, and leather loafers were his concession to casual attire. As CFO of Northern Peaks Sports Equipment, he could afford to have expensive tastes. Tim sat back and crossed his legs, giving Marcella a disarming smile.

  “The Order has a strong presence here,” he said, “and you never did appreciate the political realities of that. If this is all about some petty revenge for the exorcism, I’m sure you’ll discover exactly how foolish it is to antagonize them.”

  Iledaste surged forward in Marcella’s mind with a snarl. Its fury overran her, curling her hands into claws and widening her eyes into an angry glare. Adolphus looked like he might applaud Tim’s remarks, and his smugness fueled the demon’s ire.

  Marcella waited for the demon to subside and leveled an icy stare at Tim. “I’m well aware of the strengths and weaknesses of the Order. As a dark witch, I have had to evade their hunters for many years. Now I have the power to strike back.”

  “Just because you have a witch’s memories doesn’t mean you can think like her or control her powers,” Tim scoffed. He gestured toward her body. “The witch Marcella may have evaded the Order, but Iledaste has been lounging around here, living off the largesse of the Foundation.”

  Adolphus sat forward, waiting for her response. He probably sensed that the moment to reveal the true nature of the Pack’s new alpha was at hand.

  If Marcella were going to convince the Pack that she had the power to command them and to stand up to the Order, she had to address Tim’s remarks. Everyone in the room knew that, after full possession at First Moon, a lupusdaemon had access to the victim’s memories for a while. Those residual memories made it relatively easy to step into the human’s former life. But the demon did not automatically acquire the victim’s skills, and no demon could command the mortal magic of a dark witch.

  Marcella glanced at Cyrus, who raised a questioning eyebrow. She pursed her lips and nodded, subtly warning him of what was to come. If the Pack rejected them outright, they might have to fight for their lives.

  She addressed Tim, but as she spoke, she peripherally watched the reactions of the entire group. “Marcella was no ordinary witch: she was a summoner.”

  Tim nodded with satisfaction. “So that’s how you returned from the abyss.” Then his brow furrowed as the implication sunk in. “But why would she let you take her body?”

  “I didn’t,” Marcella answered.

  The shock on the werewolves’ faces amused Marcella, in spite of the dangerous tension her revelation triggered in their posture. Only Adolphus sat unsurprised as he monitored the reactions of the others.

  “You share that body?” Tim said. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t think it is possible except through a summoning. We struck a bargain that benefits both of us.”

  That’s enough information for now, Iledaste warned. Stay on task..

  Marcella put a warning edge into her voice. “How it happened doesn’t matter.” She raised her voice and addressed the entire group. “All you need to know is that I am both lupusdaemon and dark witch, and I am alpha. I expect your obedience, not your understanding.”

  The demon chuckled into her mind. Good. You’re learning.

  Tim’s eyebrows went up at her unexpected reply. He appeared to consider saying something more, but stopped himself. Marcella’s expression was that of an angry predator waiting for an excuse to attack. In a subdued voice, Tim asked, “What would you have me do?”

  Marcella smiled. “That’s better. The Order is still reeling from the speed of our attack, so we must act quickly to keep them off-balance. The only good thing about waiting two months for our retribution is that the delay has lulled the Order into complacency.”

  Marcella evaluated the Pack’
s reaction to her interaction with Tim. Skyler had retreated into the corner of the couch, clutching her wine glass to her chest. Reggie seemed bored, sitting back with his arms folded and his eyes half closed. Lawyer Fenris Kellen’s keen attention followed the unfolding action with interest and some amusement, as if he were attending a boxing match. Joslin Peri shifted her gaze among the other occupants in the room, holding her husband’s hand tightly all the while.

  Baldur’s frown had grown deeper while he listened. Finally, he was unable to hold himself back. “You mean your retribution. We’ve reached a balance with the Order. Most of the time, we get what we need, and they stay out of our way. You make it sound like the Order is about to embark on some jihad to rid the world of our kind. I don’t believe it. What I do believe is that you are trying to manipulate us into supporting you on some personal agenda.”

  “I don’t care what you believe, as long as you follow orders,” Marcella said.

  Baldur released his wife’s hand and stood. “You don’t scare me, and I want no part of your vendetta. Let’s go, Joslin.” He turned his back on Marcella and headed for the door, but he took only two steps before she started an incantation. Joslin, who was rising from the couch, fell back into her seat, her eyes wide.

  Baldur’s steps faltered at the sound of the incantation, and he turned toward Marcella with a daring glare. Finishing her spell, she gestured toward him with a twist of her hand. Strands of purple lightning stretched from her fingers and broke free. A crackling ball of energy formed at the end of each twirling strand like a magical bolas. The strands whipped forward and wrapped around Baldur, shocking his body into spasms. He screamed and fell to his knees when the rounded ends smacked into him. They left scorch marks where they struck and the room filled with the odor of burning flesh and clothing. Unlike a real bolas, the strands continued to twist spasmodically, repeatedly bouncing the spherical ends against Baldur’s twitching form.

  In Marcella’s mind, Iledaste cackled with glee while Baldur suffered.

  “Stop!” screamed Joslin, jumping to her feet. She took a step toward Marcella, but Cyrus immediately moved to block her. “Please,” Joslin begged, glancing helplessly at Baldur.

  Marcella sent a mental query to Iledaste, and the demon responded. You made your point. He’ll heal, and he’ll remember.

  Marcella closed her extended hand into a fist. The strands retracted into the balls of energy, which then disappeared with a loud zap. Baldur collapsed onto the floor, panting, and Joslin ran to his side.

  “He’ll be fine in a few hours,” Marcella said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Addressing the rest of the group, she added, “I don’t intend to control this pack with fear, but it was becoming obvious that you all needed a demonstration. You can thank Baldur later for volunteering himself.”

  “That was remarkable,” Fenris said. The lawyer’s expression and his tone showed admiration.

  The reaction was unexpected and she wasn’t sure if she should trust it. Iledaste had warned her that Fenris would be one to watch and that he was not easily impressed. He could be a valuable ally or a dangerous foe.

  “We aren’t here to talk about me,” Marcella said. “We’re here to talk about what I want from each of you. Have we established who is in charge here, or will another demonstration be necessary?” Marcella glanced around the room, but no one challenged her.

  Meanwhile, Joslin helped Baldur back to his place on the couch where he collapsed with a grunt. His burns were already healing although pain still contorted his features.

  Adolphus retrieved two open bottles of wine from the buffet and poured a glass for Baldur who accepted it gratefully. He then went around the table refilling everyone’s glasses while Marcella spoke.

  “For now,” Marcella said, “I don’t want any of you to do anything to compromise your cozy little lives. You’ll sow more confusion by going about your business as usual. The Order knows a dark coven has visited the witch’s farm, but they don’t know exactly who it was or where we are now.”

  Adolphus stopped his pouring to chuckle. “How can they not assume your coven is here at the Foundation? Who else but our kind would have an interest in the items you stole?”

  Marcella blinked at him as if the answer to his question were obvious. “I can think of many factions who would be interested in the ritual. Who among us has no enemies? Don’t you think the ritual would have value to anyone who might want to seek vengeance against us or coerce us into doing their bidding?”

  “Perhaps,” he conceded, returning to his seat. “But even if you eradicate all record of the ritual, the proverbial cat is out of the bag. The Order knows it can be done. The witch Amanda is intelligent and resourceful, but she is not uniquely talented. Someone else will eventually reconstruct the ritual.”

  “Eventually, someone might,” Marcella agreed with a nod, “given the right incentive.” She glanced at Reggie. “But we know about the real reason for the witch’s dedication. She had an uncommonly powerful motivation for constructing the ritual. If we eliminate the ritual and its creator now, we’ll send a clear message that dissuades any casual practitioner from trying to duplicate it. It could be another hundred years before fate delivers someone with reason enough to try again.”

  “But for now, you want us to do nothing?” Adolphus asked.

  “No, for now, I want you to go about your business as usual,” Marcella clarified. “If anyone contacts you, claim that you know nothing about a dark coven. You can truthfully deny any involvement in our attack on the farm. The Order will have no reason to storm the gates, and we will have more time to act.”

  In response to Marcella’s questioning gaze, every member of the Selkirk Pack nodded their heads in agreement with her plan. Even Baldur nodded grudgingly although she recognized a smoldering resentment in his eyes that might lead to future trouble.

  Adolphus and the others probably thought she had let them all off the hook. For now, it was better to keep them out of her way and ignorant of her planning details. They would all get their chance to contribute to her mission … once she ensured they had no other choice.

  Chapter 10

  Pyrotechnics

  Marcella inspected a bundle of herbs tied to the fence post, taking care not to touch it. Her filtered and hooded flashlight cast a red beam, but she didn’t need to see true colors to recognize the components. She sighed in disappointment. “Amanda Clark is still alive. Her wards are consistent, if unimaginative.”

  “Shall we tear them down again?” asked Cyrus.

  “No. She would sense their destruction.”

  Marcella often included a feedback component in her own wards, and she assumed Amanda would do the same. Although the range was limited, it was easy to enhance a protection ward to alert the caster when someone triggered or destroyed it.

  “We need to get closer,” Cyrus complained.

  “I know that,” Marcella snapped. “Let me think.”

  Marcella took a deep breath to calm her edgy temper. Earlier that evening, she’d taken Cyrus and Fenris with her to visit all of the addresses they had uncovered for the Gold Ridge Coven, but every home was empty. They managed to sneak into the Pesce home undetected, but found nothing related to the exorcism. The wall safe might have given up something of interest, but Marcella wasn’t willing to risk tampering with it yet. At that stage of their mission, stealth was essential, and she’d reached the conclusion that the entire coven had gone into hiding. For a while, she wondered if one of her pack mates had warned them she was coming. However, the move was not unexpected: it was typical for the Order to be overly cautious.

  Guessing where the Order had stashed Amanda’s coven mates wasn’t difficult. The farm was an established sanctuary and relatively easy to defend. When Marcella had circled the grounds with her strike team, they discovered an abundance of vehicles near the farmhouse and Order hunters patrolling the area. It would be difficult to overcome their defenses with a direct physical assault.
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br />   Fortunately, Marcella had alternatives.

  The wards were skillfully done, bordering on adept-level work. But they had a limitation she could exploit. Turning to Fenris, she said, “Transform now. If you do so inside the ward, it will be like lighting a bonfire to announce our presence.”

  Fenris nodded and closed his eyes. A glorious black cloud of writhing smoke encompassed him, flashing violet arcs of dark power and buzzing like a thousand swarming flies. When the cloud dissipated, a large panting wolf stood atop a pile of clothing.

  Marcella didn’t entirely trust Fenris, but she applauded his unquestioning obedience. When he had offered to assist her with her mission, Iledaste had spoken into her mind and insisted she accept. The demon argued that Fenris had been one of her few allies within the Pack when she had walked the mortal realm as Clarissa. Fenris’s hostility toward Rutlinger certainly seemed genuine enough, as did his desire to eliminate the meddlesome witch.

  Time would tell. The risk was low because she had no intention of confiding in the lawyer werewolf. If he betrayed her, she would send him to the abyss with Iledaste’s blessing. In the meantime, he could prove himself by being useful.

  Taking a vial of oil from a pouch attached to her belt, Marcella fumbled in the dark through a second pouch for a polished chunk of clear quartz. She spoke an incantation and dropped oil onto the stone and then rubbed it off onto the wolf’s forehead fur. After repeating the spell, she rubbed the stone across Cyrus’s forehead. She finally gave herself the same treatment.

  She put the items away and waved a hand toward the fencing. “If you would, please. But be quick. The shield won’t last long.”

  Cyrus bent down next to the fence and took out his own vial. He poured the salted water it contained down one of the vertical wires of the field fencing. Muttering an incantation, he touched the wire. Within seconds, it had darkened and crumbled to rust. Cyrus pulled the fencing aside, opening a triangular gap.

  Fenris loped through without preamble and stopped to sniff the air on the far side. He disappeared into the underbrush along the fencing. Cyrus waved a hand toward the opening in invitation, and Marcella ducked through.