Shadow Demon

by Judith Post

“Me? I don’t even keep pets.” Andre sighed and relaxed in his chair. “I thought it might be like the movie Free Willie. You know, open the doors and let the whale return home. It flips its tail in undying gratitude.”

  “It doesn’t work that way with demons. Sometimes, they go on a rampage instead.”

  “Ungrateful things.” Andre made a face. Stubble covered his cheeks and chin. Sexy Frenchman. Damian’s face was smooth. Gargoyles didn’t need to shave. His golden, albaster skin was carved, minus pores and blemishes.

  Damian ran a hand through his dark hair, tousling it. He had no idea how appealing he looked that way. “So what do we do? We might have a little time before the demon strikes again. How do we prepare?”

  Reece spoke up. “I want to spray around my studio, even across the street in case someone parks there to drop off a kid. I won’t have classes for a while yet, but I’d feel better if the whole area was protected with our potion.” It was a boring, repetitive job, but well worth the effort.

  Damian agreed. “Even your side lot and the alley behind it. That would give you some time before an enemy could attack you like the rogues did.”

  Hecate finished her French toast. She ran her finger around the inside of the bowl of whipped cream, then licked it clean. She visibly steeled herself. “We need to go to my shop, to get ready so that we can look through Nen’s spell books.”

  A shiver slid up Reece’s spine. She didn’t want to touch their covers. How did you get ready to douse yourself in evil? “The books you stole belonged to Nen?” She should have thought of that, but she hadn’t.

  “I’m sure he has more by now.” Hecate’s voice was dry.

  “What do you have to do to read his books?” Andre carried his sticky plate to the kitchen sink.

  Hecate did the same. “They’re full of black magic. The smell gags you. We need to make cleansing and purifying potions. We need to light candles.”

  “Any candles?” Andre stared.

  “Witch candles, made from tallow and herbs.”

  Andre shook his head. “Disgusting. No cinnamon scents?”

  “If you want to add some.”

  “Damian and I’ll stay in the kitchen, far from your study. We don’t want to get in the way.”

  Hecate gave a smug smile.

  Andre ignored it. “You won’t have me underfoot for long. I have to go to the restaurant early tonight. We have a party of sixty upstairs.”

  “What’s the deal?” Reece asked. “No assistant to the grunt work?”

  Andre gave his typical, European shrug. “He's busy. A woman. He must be getting serious. He’s looking for rings.”

  Damian whistled. “Till death do us part. Your friend has important matters on his mind.”

  “So do we.” Reece glanced at her watch. “Sounds like we all have plenty to do today. Let’s get going. I want my studio protected while no students are there to notice.”

  “What about the businesses on your block? Won’t the owners wonder what you’re up to?” Andre asked.

  “I’ll tell them I’m treating for weeds.” Reece reached for her leather jacket, but Andre said, “You don’t need it. It’s warm today. All you’ll want is a sweater.”

  Happiness bubbled inside her. Finally. Sweater weather. She grabbed her keys and started for the door. Damian tossed on his oversized shirt, then followed.

  They made small talk on the way to the studio. “I’m feeling bad. You and Hecate got gypped,” Damian said. “Andre's assistant is looking for a diamond, and neither of you got anything. Do you miss a ring?”

  “As clumsy as I am? I’d always be snagging it on something.”

  Damian shook his head. “Maybe jewelry and martial arts don’t go together.”

  “Just keep cooking for me. Nothing makes me happier.”

  She turned into the parking lot beside her studio and drove to the small, gravel area behind the back door. She and Damian both grabbed spray bottles. “Let’s start inside, then do the perimeter of the roof. After that, we can work outdoors.”

  Reece sighed when she entered her dojo. She stopped to breathe in its atmosphere. She took off her shoes and felt the smooth wood floor warm the soles of her feet. Stepping onto the mat, she took a stance. It centered her. The dojo always did.

  It took them about an hour to spray the baseboards of each room. Before they climbed the metal steps that led to the roof, Damian gave her a quick hug. “This place is part of you. Your face relaxes the minute you step through the door.”

  She smiled. "Once we finish here, I'll be ready to face evil, spell books." Probably a lie, but it sounded good.

  Damian gave her a skeptical look. He wasn't buying it either. They climbed the steps to spray the roof. Probably not needed, but Reece didn’t want to take any chances. When that was finished, they started on the parking areas outside.

  It was a beautiful day. Not too warm, not too cool. A crisp, blue sky held swirling clouds that skittered overhead.

  Reece sprayed lines across the street that joined the sidewalks on each side, creating a safe zone. Then she went to help Damian with the perimeters of the parking lots.

  They were both busy, heads down, when a young man strode toward them. He wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt. His golden hair parted to frame a handsome face.

  Reece glanced up at him, to admire his beauty, but unsmiling, he walked past them. She stooped to finish her boundary. Damian was spraying on the other side of the alley. Something shimmered in her peripheral vision. She looked up to see the young man dissolve into a glittering fog.

  “Damian, cross over my line!”

  Her gargoyle frowned at her, bewildered. He glanced sideways and saw the fog, but too late. She watched it slide inside his nostrils. Panic raced through her veins. A vision of bloodied rib bones flashed before her. What to do?

  She grabbed Damian’s shirt and yanked him toward her. As his head and shoulders tipped over the line, the fog started to slide out of him.

  “No enemies allowed,” Reece whispered. The potion was working. She pulled Damian closer. More fog hurried from him.

  Damian’s eyes widened. He understood. The demon couldn’t cross her spell. He gave a quick nod, then yanked out of Reece’s grip and stepped onto the far side of the alley.

  “No!” Reece reached for him, but he wheeled out of her grasp.

  The fog whirled back inside him, and Damian clamped his fingers over his nose. He pressed his lips into a grim line.

  “What are you doing?” Reece gripped his shirt again, but he planted his feet. He was too heavy for her to move. “Damn it, Damian! I won’t let you sacrifice yourself to save us!” She took a step backward and raised her arms. If she had to, she’d blast the damned thing out of him!

  Damian shook his head in a violent no. She hesitated. He tried to smile. He seemed fine.

  Reece stared, not sure what to do. What did it mean? Nothing seemed to be happening to him, no pain or torment. No flesh melted. Damian looked whole. She felt her jaw drop as swirls of smoke crept out of his ears. They rose above Damian’s head and traveled a few feet away before they coalesced into the young man once more.

  Damian stared at him, then lunged. The young man turned on his heels and ran. Before Damian could grab him, he dissolved once again into fog and rose rapidly. Damian scraped his fingers through the swirling mists, but how did you catch vapors? Reece watched the demon soar away.

  “I almost had it!” Damian punched the air.

  Reece didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Panic had been replaced by relief so profound, her legs felt rubbery.

  Damian grabbed her shoulders, giving her a slight shake. “Maybe we can still follow it, catch it.”

  She glanced skyward. No smoke in sight. “How?”

  He grimaced. “Let’s finish up. I want to tell Hecate and Andre about this.”

  She couldn’t concentrate. They finished spraying the alley, sealing the entire area around her studio, but her thoughts wouldn’t gel. What
would she have done if the smoke had eaten Damian, if he ended up….what? Were there bones inside him somewhere? What were gargoyles made of? Stone? Flesh? Did they have organs?

  When it was time to drive home, she handed him the keys. He studied her and slid behind the wheel. “You would have saved me. When you pulled me over the line, the demon couldn’t stay inside me.”

  Her throat closed. She couldn’t swallow. She was a witch. Why couldn’t she do more? Zap the demon? Would that work?

  He reached over to touch her cheek. “You’re the one who yelled a warning, who yanked me to you.”

  A sob tore from her throat, and she could breathe again. “You could have died.”

  “So could you. We both took a chance. We thought the potion would stop the demon, but we weren’t sure.”

  She pushed that worry away. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!” Anger replaced fear. She turned on him, mad as hell.

  “Your eyes change with your emotions, do you know that?” he asked.

  “What did you think you were going to do? Trap the thing inside you? And then what?”

  “Hazel eyes are like that,” he said. “They’re fascinating.”

  “Will you quit with my eyes?”

  “I love your coloring—your dark-brown hair, your mocha skin, your….”

  “Stuff it!”

  He laughed. “You’re feeling better. Your temper’s back.”

  She started to say more, but he stopped for a red light and bent to kiss her. She stammered to a halt. “We have to catch the demon. I hate the foul thing.”

  He nodded solemnly. “We will. Now we know it can’t hurt gargoyles, and there are three of us in Bay City.”

  She frowned. “What saved you?”

  “I’m not a mortal. I was carved from stone. The cosmos breathed life into me. I have flesh, but nothing feeds it. No heart, no lungs.” He hesitated. “I’ve never thought about what’s inside me before.”

  She hadn’t either. She didn’t care. She loved every inch of him, inside and out. “If that demon ever touches you again….”

  Damian laughed. “There’ll be hell to pay.” He reached a long arm across the car seat and pulled her to him. “We’ve learned something that will help us. We’re one step closer to defeating it.”

  Chapter 7

  Hecate wouldn’t talk until they were in the SUV, on their way to her shop. Then she listened carefully as Reece started her story. Andre followed them in his Land Rover—one of his many toys. It had tinted windows and seemed more practical for the dangers they faced.

  The minute Reece mentioned the demon, Hecate held up a hand in warning. “Don’t tell me anymore. Wait until we’re all together. Andre should hear this too.”

  Obediently, Reece held her tongue until they entered Hecate’s shop near the water front. Its big display window advertised crystals and Tarot readings. Right now, a "Closed" sign dangled near the front door. They climbed the steps to Hecate’s private apartment, and once both men huddled at the kitchen table, Reece recounted their meeting with the demon.

  Hecate leaned forward, hopeful. “So gargoyles are impervious to demons.”

  “It looks that way.” Damian rubbed his forehead. “The thing didn’t try a different kind of attack.”

  Andre stared. “What are you made of, friend?”

  Reece didn’t want to think about it. “Sugar and spice….”

  “The odds have changed,” Hecate interrupted, ignoring them. “If Reece and I learn the right spells, and gargoyles can battle the demon without harm, we might be able to catch the thing.”

  “And then what do we do?” Reece remembered the beautiful young man who’d dissolved into glittering fog. He didn’t look like a demon. If they caged him, would they have to feed him?

  Hecate’s expression went grim. “We try to send him back.”

  “With blood?” Reece wasn’t sure exactly how that worked. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it.

  Andre scraped a hand through his thick, black hair, his brows furrowed in thought. “I don’t get it. Why did Nen send his demon instead of coming after Reece and Damian himself?”

  Hecate flinched when Andre said the warlock’s name. She glanced toward the small, private room she used as a study. It contained all of her magic books. “Because he’s setting up his game board. He sent out his pawn to make a first move, to see what happens. He enjoys the game almost as much as he enjoys victory.”

  “So we’re entertainment for him.” Damian didn’t sound amused.

  “He wants us to suffer as long as possible. He wants to make us worry. He wants to smell our fear.”

  “In that case….” Andre rolled up his shirt sleeves. “If I remember, you need to brew potions. How can we help?”

  “By staying out of our way.”

  Andre laced his hands behind his head. His pose was relaxed. His voice wasn’t. “We don’t always have to sit on the sidelines. Damian and I can stir and measure.”

  His ease didn’t deceive Reece. Andre wasn’t used to being shoved out of the way and told to be a good boy, and when he turned on the charm, he was hard to resist.

  Hecate managed it. She squared her shoulders. “Stay put. Reece and I have work to do.”

  “We can’t even help stir?”

  “We have magic. You don’t.” Hecate went to a shelf and tossed him a deck of cards. “You’re here for moral support. Stay happy.”

  Brewing the potions hadn’t frightened Reece, but now she wondered. She’d thought it was just a matter of mixing, chanting, and charming. Once she learned the process, it was hers to keep—another step in becoming a stronger witch. She'd been looking forward to that. It was digging through dark, spell books that she dreaded. But maybe even the potions were more serious than she’d anticipated.

  They spent the next two hours in the kitchen. The potions weren’t horrible, but there were many, many steps in making them. They had to concentrate on every detail, every chant for each new herb they added. There was no “eye of newt,” “tongue of bat,” but there were plenty of exotic ingredients that Reece had never heard of before—ancient herbs and roots that only a witch would grow—and long, involved instructions for each one.

  Reece was beginning to suspect that they’d never finish when Hecate carefully ladled cleansing potion into two, tall glasses. She pushed four, blue bowls—for healing—toward Reece. “You can fill these with our purifying potion.”

  “All four of them?”

  “One for each corner.” Hecate grabbed tallow candles, and she and Reece carried everything into her private study. Reece placed the bowls in their proper spots and said chants over them. Hecate lit the candles to line the doorway.

  Reece looked at the glasses with suspicion. They were filled to the brim.

  “We drink the potion after we close each book, to cleanse ourselves.”

  Reece tried not to fidget.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “No choice.” Hecate slowly bent to the bottom shelf of one of the many bookcases that lined the walls. She tugged an ancient, worn book from the shadows and put it on her library table. “When I open this, we’ll flip through the pages as quickly as possible. If you see something about demons, nudge me.”

  Reece grimaced and covered her nose. The book was closed, and a dank, musty smell already filled the room. She was surprised when Hecate poked her index finger and let a drop of blood land on the cover. She chanted a spell, and the book flew open. When its covers parted, an odor of overripe, rotting filth assaulted them. Hecate muttered a few words, and the candles flared higher. The smell diminished.

  Reece swallowed. The foul odor coated her throat. A thin film covered her skin. She felt as though she could shower for months and never be clean.

  Hecate turned the pages quickly. How to Sacrifice Sparrows. The pictures depicted a man, holding a fistful of dead, headless sparrows by their legs, sprinkling blood over an altar. How To Sacrifice
Doves. This spell had fastidious instructions for how to stick a pin through the doves’ hearts. How To Sacrifice Chickens. Reece grimaced. It didn’t pay to be a bird if you met a wizard.

  Reece squirmed with unease. Hecate didn’t look any better. When they reached the last page, Hecate slammed the book shut, squeezed another drop of blood onto it to seal it, mumbled a spell, and put it back in the dark corner.

  “Drink.” Hecate raised her glass and took a long gulp. Reece did the same. Some of the slime left her throat. She drank more. When the glass was empty, her nostrils were clear. She inhaled a deep breath of clean air.

  Hecate nodded. “We’ll need more glasses to make it through the next books.”

  Reece looked at the shelves on three sides of the room. Each had a bottom unit that held books barely visible in the shadows. “Do we look through them all?”

  “We can't stop until we find spells for demons.”

  Reece followed Hecate into her sunny kitchen. The waterfront shops were so close to the bay, that if she looked out the windows and glanced between buildings, she could see boats and docks. Fog formed on the water. It rolled into the city. Reece shivered. How could she tell fog from a shadow demon?

  They lingered at the counter a few minutes, filling six more glasses with potion. “We’re still into beginners’ dark magic. This is going to take a while.”

  “Wouldn’t it be in the last book?” Reece asked.

  “Not necessarily. Black magic users have lots of interests. Demons are only one of them.”

  Reece didn’t want to know what the rest of them were.

  Damian laid down his cards. “Gin rummy,” he said. “Are you girls okay?”

  Reece threw him a look. "What do you think?"

  “This could take a while.” Hecate loaded the glasses onto a tray. “We’re only in the start-up books. I don’t know how much a wizard has to do before he’s ready for demons.”

  Andre grimaced, thinking about that. “There are some things I’d rather not know.”

  “I understand.”

  Damian’s features twisted with concern. “Is there any other way to do this?”

  “No.” Hecate grabbed the tray and led Reece back into her study. The air smelled clean again, and the candles cast a warm, golden glow throughout the room. “The purifying potion,” she muttered.