Green-Eyed Demon (Sabina Kane #3)

by Jaye Wells

  I frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “You told us Kevin said ‘cat piss.’ ” Rhea pointed to the plaque. “Requiescat in pace. And the other part, about the big box—maybe Stryx meant a tomb.”

  Adam bumped my arm. “Oh, gods, Sabina. What was the other part Kevin said?”

  I was too distracted to answer. My sister was being held in a fucking tomb. In a sick way, it made perfect sense that Lavinia had Maisie hidden in one of New Orleans’s Cities of the Dead. Lavinia no doubt found it amusing and somewhat inevitable that our final battle would take place among so many symbols of mortality.

  “Sabina?” Adam prodded.

  I shook myself out of my morbid thoughts to answer. “Something about ‘Master, come,’ and then”—I paused, my eyes shooting to his knowing gaze—“Oh, my gods. All this time I thought he was saying my last name. But he was really telling us Master Mahan’s true name.”

  Rhea and Zen exchanged a confused look. “I think you two better start talking.” Rhea said. “What exactly did the recreant tell you?”

  I was so busy cussing at myself that Adam filled them in on Erron’s revelations about the leader of the Caste.

  “Gods,” Rhea said when he finished. “Orpheus is going to have a stroke when he hears this.”

  “But before we figure out how to stop the summoning,” Zen said, “we have to figure out which cemetery they’re keeping Maisie in.”

  “Well,” Adam began slowly. “At least we know she’s in a cemetery, right? That should narrow things down.” As much as I appreciated him trying to put a positive spin on things, I couldn’t muster even a forced smile.

  Zen clicked the mouse and the image zoomed out again. “I wish I shared your optimism,” she began. “Do you have any idea how many cemeteries there are in greater New Orleans?”

  Adam shrugged. “A dozen?”

  Zen shook her head. “More like forty.” As that sunk in with the weight of lead, she continued. “Some we can rule out immediately—like Holt Cemetery, the one Sabina and I were at the other night—but that’s maybe a handful. There’s no way we could search the remaining thirty or so by tomorrow night. And even if we could, we don’t have any way of knowing which crypt she’s in.”

  Hearing the odds laid out in such intimidating numbers made my heart sink.

  “There has to be a way. Lavinia wants Sabina to find this place.” Rhea tapped the screen. “It would take all the fun out of it for her if she failed. We must have missed something.”

  Zen leaned back in her seat. “I’m inclined to agree with you, but I’m not seeing anything else in this photo that could point us to the exact place.”

  She looked at Adam for confirmation. He hesitated and then shook his head. “I don’t see anything else, either.”

  My fist slammed into the desktop, making the monitor jump. “I don’t accept that!”

  Three pairs of solemn eyes looked at me with something bordering on pity. Rhea touched my shoulder. “Sabina—”

  I shook her off. “No. Don’t tell me to calm down. We’re too close to getting her back to give up.”

  “No one’s saying we should give up,” Rhea said, ever the voice of reason. “We just need to come at this from another angle.”

  “Right. Maybe Rhea and Zen missed something when they cleaned the shop,” Adam said. “We can split up and scour the whole building.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “For what, Adam? It’s not like they left a brochure for the cemetery lying around. Lavinia wouldn’t want it to be that easy.”

  “But you said it yourself, she wants you to find this place. There has to be another clue, and right now all we have is this picture to go on.”

  I took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “You know what?” Rhea said. “Enough with this guesswork. I say we try to find Maisie using the best tools at our disposal.” When Adam and I stared at her blankly, she smiled. “Magic.”

  “I already thought of that,” Adam said. He pointed to the picture and the cuffs binding Maisie’s hands. “The brass makes it impossible to trace her, because it blocks her energy.”

  Rhea shook her head. “Not a tracking spell.”

  “Are you saying there’s some voodoo spell that might work?” I asked, glancing at Zen.

  “Nope. Voodoo isn’t good for this kind of thing. I think Rhea’s talking about something Hekatian,” Zen said.

  “Not precisely.” The silver-haired mage squinted at me as she chewed at her lip. “More like something Chthonic.”

  I shook my head before she finished the word. “No way. Zen, you saw what happened with the zombie. Tell her she’s crazy.”

  Zen rose from her chair and went to a bookshelf against the wall. “The revenant rose because I didn’t know I needed to adjust the spell. If someone had told me in advance that you were a Chthonic, the whole thing could have been avoided.” She paused to shoot a pointed look at us before she continued searching the shelves.

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” Adam asked.

  Rhea joined Zen at the bookshelves. Together they scanned the rows. A couple of seconds later, both made little “Aha” sounds and reached for the same book.

  “Here it is,” Zen said, taking the book from Rhea’s hands. She blew across the surface of the leather binding. Dust plumed up like smoke. She coughed and waved away the cloud. “This book belonged to my grandfather. He was an energy manipulator like Adam, but he had an extensive library of magical texts.”

  Rhea went to look over her shoulder while Zen flipped through the pages. Finally, she stopped and opened the book wider. She pointed to something on the page and Rhea’s eyes lit up. “Hmm.”

  “Yeah?” Zen said. The two females seemed to forget Adam and I were in the room. “I’d need to get some friends here to help, but I think it’ll work.”

  “She’ll need a focus,” Rhea said slowly. “Something to tether her to this plane.”

  “Hello?” I said. “I’m right here?”

  “How about Adam?” Zen offered. “He’s powerful enough to handle the magical output, and their connection is strong.”

  Adam cleared his throat and shifted uneasily beside me. I avoided his eyes but began tapping my foot.

  Still, they ignored us. “It’d be nice if we had something of Maisie’s, too,” Rhea said.

  “Guys!” I raised my voice. “Not that you bothered to ask me, but I do have something of Maisie’s.”

  They both looked up as if suddenly remembering they had company. “Oh?” Rhea said.

  I held up my sister’s amulet by its chain. “Now will you please tell us what the hell’s going on?”

  Later, there’d be plenty of time to regret this. But for the moment, I didn’t care about the inevitability of penance owed. Zen and Rhea promised this would work, and I trusted them.

  Adam leaned in close, setting off a flurry of flapping wings in my stomach. A halo of candlelight glowed around his head. I swallowed and tried to focus on the soothing drums from outside the circle. The beat braided through the small room, surrounding us with its own kind of magic.

  Zen’s friends had arrived half an hour earlier. Four black women varying in ages from late twenties to an octogenarian with milky eyes riddled with cataracts. They’d brought with them two young males, who drummed in the corner. Zen and Adam quickly filled them in on the plan while Rhea tried to soothe my worries by explaining exactly what was going to happen. I was surprised anyone had been able to reach the store with the sea of Halloween revelers clogging up all the French Quarter’s avenues. This ritual must be something special for all of them to miss one of the biggest holidays New Orleans had to offer.

  The plan was for me to astral project, using Maisie’s necklace as a homing beacon to track down her location, or more specifically, the smear of her blood on the box in the picture. Rhea explained it wasn’t so different from interspatial travel, except my physical body would remain fixed while my soul mad
e the trek. I didn’t exactly love the idea of my soul leaving my body, but she assured me every precaution would be taken to ensure my safe return. Which was why Adam sat inside the circle with me. He was to act as my anchor, a lifeline should I have trouble finding my body again.

  “Relax,” he whispered. His breath tickled my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

  I blew out a long, slow exhale and willed my shoulders to relax. Hard to do when my heart insisted on pounding a staccato beat in my chest. He took my clammy hand in his warm palm. His eyes met mine, and a small smile flirted with his lips. “Do you trust me?”

  I swallowed, my throat clicking from dryness and nerves. “Yeah.” The word was so quiet, I wondered if he heard me. When the smile widened, I knew he had. He moved closer, so close I could feel the heat of him on my face. My lips parted—

  “We must hurry,” Zen said. “Once the portal is open, you will only have a few minutes. If we can’t hold it long enough for you to return, Adam will pull you back.”

  Adam winked at me before pulling away. He mirrored my posture—a half-lotus position—and placed his hands over my upturned palms. Just beyond his shoulder, I saw Rhea watching silently, ready to lend aid if magical intervention was needed.

  For a moment, I regretted Giguhl’s absence. But I felt better knowing we had a demon keeping watch in case Lavinia or the Brotherhood decided to make another house call. Adam squeezed my hand, refocusing my attention on the present.

  “Good,” Rhea said. “The physical connection between you and Adam must not waver or the tether could be broken.”

  I swallowed, my eyes not leaving Adam’s as I spoke to Zen. “Won’t my body go slack once my spirit leaves?”

  “No,” she said. “Your body will enter a trancelike state. You’ll remain in that pose until your soul returns.”

  I nodded slightly, careful not to let my gaze wander from Adam’s. The intimacy of staring into his eyes for such an extended period should have made me want to squirm. Instead, I felt grounded, safe.

  “All right, let’s begin,” Zen said.

  The women in the circle began swaying, chanting. Candlelight flickered in my peripheral vision. The drums picked up tempo, the rhythm pulsing through the floor and up through me, into my chest.

  “Close your eyes and breathe deeply,” Zen said.

  With one last look at Adam, I allowed my lids to drift closed. My breath came in on long, slow inhales. The scent of herb-infused smoke spiced the air. It filled my belly, rounding it, before I pushed it back up and out to the count of five.

  The hair on the back of my neck tingled, signaling a rise of power. Unlike a magical circle cast to protect or bind those inside it, this one felt more like a door had opened. Air rushed through the room, bringing with it the scents of rich soil, black iron, fresh blood—the perfume of the underworld.

  “Keep breathing. Focus. See Maisie’s face, call to her.” Zen’s voice rose above the increasingly frenetic chants of her comrades.

  I blocked out everything but the whoosh of air into my nose. The deep, vibrating rush of exhalation. Maisie’s image appeared in my mind. She wore ceremonial robes: the traditional Greek chiton she wore for Hekate Council meetings and rituals. Her red-and-black hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck.

  Maisie? Can you hear me?

  A few more breaths. The vision in my head smiled and beckoned me with a raised hand. A faint sensation tickled the edge of my brain. My pulse quickened, but I kept my breathing even.

  Maisie, show me where you are. Help me find you.

  My body swayed in circles, like a compass trying to find true north. In my head, the image of Maisie shifted, morphed. Now her hair stuck out wildly around her head. Smudges of dirt and blood marred her face, her chiton. I knew on some level I was now seeing Maisie as she was the night Lavinia took her. The specter in my head raised a hand, beckoning me to follow.

  A deep hum pulsed through me, tugged gently at my cells. The image in my head wavered. I knew if I surrendered I’d lose her for good. My breaths were incredibly deep now, and after the next exhalation, I released my soul to the air. A faint pop, a contraction. And then, like mist, I rose from my body.

  I looked around, through the iridescent shimmer of the portal, and saw my body surrounded by a deep red aura. Adam still sat across from me, his eyes open and staring intently at my absolutely still form. His aura glowed dark blue shot through with tendrils of gold. Where our hands met, our energies combined and rose in sparkling ribbons of deep purple and gold.

  All around us, bodies undulated in hypnotic movements, their mouths moving in sync as they chanted and their auras flashing every color of the rainbow. Zen’s energy ring stood out among the hues, a flashy silver. And in the corner, a halo of golden saffron hugged Rhea’s body.

  Sound was different now. The chants and drums reached my ears slowly, distorted as if filtered through water.

  Sabina.

  The weak call gained my full attention. I lifted my face and flew upward until the ceiling gave way to starry night sky.

  When I was young, I always wished I could fly. I dreamt of taking wing over cities and fields and oceans. I prayed to the Great Mother Lilith to help me soar away from the life I’d been born into. Eventually, time passed and I grew resigned to never knowing that kind of liberation.

  But right then, as my spirit rose high above Bourbon Street, yearning for the thin sliver of moon, I knew real freedom. Far below, miniature costumed humans celebrated and danced alongside colorful floats. Tiny orange lights dotted the cityscape—pumpkins set out for mortal trick-or-treat rituals. Beyond the city lights, the dark waters of the Mississippi beckoned me with their secrets. Something niggled at the back of my consciousness. Some preoccupation I couldn’t quite recall.

  Pushing the urge to remember aside, I flew. Flew so fast the world ceased to be more than streaks of color. I spun and weaved through the air, separated from mundane sensation by a whisper-thin sheet of shimmering magic. Unlike the times I traveled magically in my body, no cold wind froze me now. No vertigo unsettled me. Instead, the air was calm and warm. I felt centered and at peace. No pain could reach me here.

  I’m not sure how long I simply indulged my desire to soar, but soon a deep, nagging awareness caught my attention. Like a muted pounding on a thick door. Or drums pulsating in my chest.

  To the northwest, a pixel of light throbbed in time to the sound. Drew me to it like a magnet. Almost as soon as I set my thoughts on discovering the source of the light, I flew toward it, as if thought alone had willed me toward the destination. And when I saw the patch of green punctuated with rectangles of gray, my purpose rushed back to me.

  Maisie.

  I looked around, trying to recognize landmarks or signposts that might clue me in to the location. Just beyond the cemetery was a large expense of green space—a park? Spotlights swung wildly through a canyon formed between tall oaks. Thousands of tiny human shapes undulated far below to music I couldn’t hear. But if I had to guess, the song sounded a lot like rusty nails and bitterness. Ironic that we’d been so close to this cemetery just a few short hours earlier.

  Pulling my thoughts from Erron Zorn and missed opportunities, I focused on taking note of landmarks. At the far end of the cemetery, a large stone building capped with a colorful dome loomed. A major road ran in front of the building, while residential streets bordered the three remaining sides of the cemetery.

  The light below tugged at me, drawing me down toward the earth. My spectral feet touched grass, but the sheet of magic kept me from registering any sensation. Now the vaults I’d viewed from above rose above me. And straight ahead, as if someone had held a black light to a splotch of white paint, my sister’s blood glowed brightly on a slab of stone.

  More a box than a tomb, the structure rose only to hip height. Just large enough to accommodate a single coffin.

  Until that moment, I’d held out hope that we’d been wrong. That even Lavinia
wasn’t sadistic enough to imprison Maisie in a crypt. But now I understood my grandmother’s cruelty knew no bounds.

  Instead of running, my feet swished just above the ground as I moved swiftly toward the light’s source. Finally, I stood before the tomb and reached out with my transparent hands. Only instead of grasping the stone, they passed through it. I tried again, focusing this time. Still useless.

  I cried out. “Maisie!”

  I bent over the tomb and listened. Called out again. No response. Then I realized that if my hands had passed through the solid form, then maybe my voice also passed through visceral reality. Like a ghost.

  If I’d been in my corporeal from, my chest would have tightened with pain. To be so close to Maisie yet unable to free her was torture. Since I couldn’t cry from the pain of it, my spirit contracted, grew heavier.

  “Maisie,” I said, my face bent over the lid. “We’re coming for you. Please be strong.”

  “She can’t hear you.”

  I reared up and spun. Out of instinct, my hand reached for a weapon that wasn’t there. An orb floated several feet away, pulsating hotly. Every instinct in my body told me to turn and get as far away from it as quickly as possible. I tensed for flight when it spoke again.

  “You’ve never been a coward. Why start now?”

  My heart turned to ice, and my feet suddenly felt encased in concrete. Slowly, knowing beyond reason I hadn’t imagined the familiar voice, I turned. Instead of the radiant orb, the silhouette of a man materialized.

  He leaned against the wall of a crypt. I say leaned, but he was far from solid. His body shimmered with translucence, but I would have recognized that frown anywhere.

  “David?” I breathed.

  “What’s wrong, Sabina? Aren’t you happy to see me again?”

  I’ve seen lots of fucked-up shit in my life. Hard not to when one spent the majority of their life killing for a living. Of course, since my family tree is filled with vampires and mages, and one of my best friends is a demon, one might also imagine running into a ghost wouldn’t be a big deal. But considering this particular specter was the ghost of a friend I’d murdered, I was having some trouble not pissing myself, metaphorically speaking.