Demon's Dance

by Keri Arthur

  There were three doorways that led off the small hall and an arch down the far end. We moved forward, switching on lights as we did. The door to our right revealed a living room, the one on our left was a bedroom, and next to that was the bathroom. Each room was empty of both life and death. Which wasn’t really a surprise, as the fading sense of evil was coming from whatever rooms lay beyond the arch.

  Monty glanced at me, his face pinched with tension. I didn’t say anything; I simply nodded. After a moment, he moved toward the arch. The repelling spell tingled around my fingers, its soft buzz seeming extraordinarily loud against the thick pall of silence.

  Monty stepped through the arch, turned on the light, and again stopped. I did the same. The room ran the width of the house and comprised a kitchen—which was to our left—and a dining area to our right.

  In between the two lay a body.

  And beside it, the almost inevitable pile of skin.

  “Oh fuck,” Monty said. “Another one.”

  “But is it Mrs. Dale, or is it Alice?”

  “That I can’t tell you.” He moved around the skinless body and squatted at the end of it. “There’re burn marks on the soles of her feet, though, and I doubt that's a coincidence.”

  “Meaning it could have something to do with how this spirit is stealing—” I broke off the rest of the sentence at the sound of a car’s engine roaring to life.

  That sound was close—at the front of the house close.

  I glanced at Monty, then swore and ran for the front door, getting there in time to see a woman in the seat of the Focus.

  That woman was Alice.

  Or was it?

  Something within me suddenly wasn’t so sure.

  I leapt off the front porch, yelling her name as I ran for the car. She didn’t look at me; either she couldn’t hear me, or she simply wasn’t acknowledging me. Maybe it was shock. Maybe she’d walked into that house expecting to see her mother, and instead had found a raw body and a pile of skin beside it. It was a sight that would certainly send even the strongest of minds into turmoil—and I doubted Alice would ever have been described as strong.

  I lunged for the door handle, but at that very point, she hit the accelerator and reversed out of the driveway. Tires squealed and rubber burned as the car lurched back. The mirror clipped my hand and pain surged; I swore loudly and flung the repelling spell. It was designed for flesh rather than metal, but it nevertheless hit the front of the car and sent it spinning sideways.

  Alice didn’t brake, didn’t ease her speed, and the smoke coming from the tires grew thicker as she fought to control the spinning car. I leaped the small brick fence, gathering magic across my fingertips as I ran again for the car. But somehow, Alice had regained control and was now reversing down the street.

  “Duck,” Monty yelled, and I immediately did so.

  Magic sizzled over my head and hit the front of Alice’s car. It didn’t stop.

  “What the fuck?” I spun around, only to see Monty leap the fence and then sprint down the street.

  “It’s a tracker,” he said. “So get in the fucking car, Liz, and let’s stop this bitch.”

  I ran after him, grabbing my keys and opening the car just as he reached for the passenger door. I jumped in, reversed out as quickly as possible, and accelerated after the Focus. The wagon’s headlights were barely reaching the other car.

  “I take it you think it’s not Alice in the Focus?”

  “I do.” His voice was grim. “After all, if it was Alice, would she have reacted so violently?”

  “If she thought we were the ones who killed her mother, it’s possible.”

  “Except that she must have seen you—”

  “She didn’t look at me, Monty. She just got the hell out of there.”

  The taillights of the car ahead flashed briefly, then it spun around and disappeared into another street. I reached for the seat belt and pulled it on.

  “It’s okay,” Monty said. “The tracker spell has a very good range, so it’s unlikely we’ll lose her.”

  “That may be so, but given the fact things keep happening in this reservation that shouldn’t, I’d still rather keep her in sight.”

  I swung around the corner, the tires squealing in protest. The street ahead was all but empty.

  “She took the next right,” Monty said.

  I grunted and swung into it. Something flashed toward us—something that was round and sunlight bright. I swore and automatically wrenched at the steering wheel in an effort to avoid it. As the car slewed sideways, the bright ball hit the back of the wagon, and we were sent spinning in the opposite direction. Around and around we went, the speed of our turns gut-wrenching. I swore again and fought for control, trying to stop—or at least slow—our spinning. Then smoke began to curl through the cabin—thick black smoke—and panic surged.

  It wasn’t smoke from the tires. It was much worse than that.

  The car was on fire.

  “Get out,” Monty said. “Now.”

  “We’re still moving—”

  “Yes, but the fire is supernatural in origin, and it’ll take too long to craft a spell to stop it. We’ll die if we don’t jump.” He unclipped his belt, did the same for me, then reached across and thrust my door open. “Go.”

  I hesitated and, in that moment, the choice was taken from me. Magic hit me, thrusting me into the air and away from the car. I hit the ground hard, scraping my arms and hands as I rolled along the verge for several meters before coming to a sudden stop against the thick trunk of a tree. My breath left in a gigantic whoosh, and for several seconds I saw nothing but stars.

  What the fuck is happening out there? Belle’s mental tones were filled with urgency. Do you need help? Are you okay?

  I am, but I have no idea if Monty is as yet. You’d better call in Aiden and an ambulance, just in case. Give him Alice’s address and then tell him to follow the smoke trail.

  Why the hell is there smoke?

  We were supernaturally firebombed. I pushed onto hands and knees and looked around. Saw our car still spinning down the road. Saw one door flapping open, the other still closed. Saw the smoke and fire burning inside as well as out. It’s not looking good for the old wagon, let me tell you.

  I couldn’t give two hoots about the damn wagon. It can be replaced—you can’t. Are you sure you don’t want me out—

  Yes. And yes, I’ll also be careful.

  Heard that before, and I’m still not believing it.

  There were faces peering out of windows in the houses opposite but no familiar figure anywhere nearby.

  “Monty?” I croaked. “Where are you?”

  He didn’t answer. I twisted around and called louder. Still nothing. I returned my gaze to the car.

  At that precise moment, it exploded.

  Five

  “Monty!” I screamed, as a huge cloud of thick black smoke, metal, and unnaturally bright fire that plumed toward the brightening skies.

  He couldn't have been trapped in the car; he was too damn strong magically to have let something as simple as a jammed door stop him from escaping.

  He had to be here. Had to be alive.

  I pushed upright, ignored the dozen different hurts that instantly assaulted me, and staggered toward the blazing car. I didn’t get far. The heat was too damn intense.

  I flung one hand up to protect my face, hastily created a grasping spell around the other, and then flung it at the remains of the car. Once it had locked onto the front passenger door, I took a deep breath then wrenched the spell back to me. Such was the power of my desperation that the remains of the door were ripped from its hinges.

  Monty wasn’t inside.

  Relief surged. I released the spell and, as the door crashed to the road with a loud clang, spun around and desperately scanned the area. After a moment, I caught sight of a red sneaker poking out from the deep drain that ran along the other side of the road, and sprinted over.

  Monty.
<
br />   His clothes were singed and there were bloody scrapes on his face and his arms, but he was breathing, his fingers were twitching, and his magic stirred through the air.

  I jumped into the ditch and knelt beside him. One of the strands of magic ran around me and then quickly faded. He might not be fully conscious, but he was nevertheless aware enough to create a protective spell and that was pretty damn impressive.

  The other strand of magic slid past me, growing ever thinner—the tracking spell. Still attached, still working.

  I touched his shoulder and his eyes sprang open. For a moment, there was nothing but confusion, then awareness surged and his gaze sharpened on mine.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Battered and bruised, but alive. The same can’t be said of my car, however.”

  He tried to move but I pressed him back down. “It’s probably best you don’t move until the ambulance—”

  “Fuck not moving.” Though his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, his silver eyes were afire with anger and determination. “That bitch tried to kill us and I’m not about to let her get away with it.”

  “The tracking spell is still on her car—”

  “Yes, and while it does have a good range, it’s not infinite. We can still lose her.” He knocked my hand away and pushed into a sitting position. His breath hissed between clenched teeth and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “Help me up.”

  I rose, took his offered hand, and helped him up—an effort that left my head briefly spinning. I took another of those breaths that really didn’t do a whole lot, and then glanced around at the sound of sirens. Headlights swept around the corner down the far end of the street, and then a SUV raced toward us, red and blue lights flashing.

  I scrambled up the ditch, ran to the edge of the road, and waved my hands.

  The SUV slid to a halt beside me, Jaz at the wheel. We didn’t give her a chance to get out, instead flinging open the doors and climbing inside, me in the back, Monty in the front.

  “Go,” he said urgently. “She’s getting away.”

  “Who the hell is ‘she,’” Jaz said, even as she obeyed. “And who the hell are you?”

  “Jaz, meet the new reservation witch, Monty Ashworth—no relation to Ira,” I said. “And the ‘who’ is April Dale. Or, at least, something that’s currently impersonating her.”

  “And your car? How did that end up ablaze?”

  “The thing impersonating April set it alight.”

  “Meaning it’s possible she can do it again, to us?”

  “No, because she won’t catch me unawares a second time.” Monty motioned to the left. “Head down the next street then turn right three blocks down.”

  As she obeyed, the onboard computer came to life. “Jaz, report in. What’s happening?”

  Aiden’s voice was flat and very, very controlled. I knew him well enough now to understand it meant he was very worried.

  Jaz touched the screen and then said, “I have Monty and Liz onboard. Both okay, though Liz’s car is a burning wreck. We’re currently chasing a supernatural entity.”

  I leaned forward. “And there’s a body and more skin in Mrs. Dale’s place.”

  “I’ll head there, then. Keep me posted.” He paused. “And be careful, all of you.”

  “Right at the next street,” Monty said. “And go faster if you can—the spell is almost at breaking point.”

  “What spell?” Jaz asked.

  “A tracking spell—but if we don't damn well move faster, we just might lose her.”

  Jaz swore, but the SUV didn’t noticeably increase its speed. We were obviously already at its top.

  “How long will the remnants of the spell last on the car once the connection breaks?” I asked. “And will you be able to sense it if we get close to it?”

  He motioned to another street then glanced over his shoulder. “I created the spell on the fly, so it could fade within minutes or it could last a couple of days.”

  “If it did last, then it at least still gives us one means of finding the vehicle even if the tracking thread snaps.”

  “Yes, but finding the car won’t help us find the entity. She’ll be long gone.”

  “But maybe not her spore.”

  “That depends entirely on how quickly we can find the car.”

  “So we drive around until you find the damn thing,” Jaz said. “Because the sooner you two know what you’re dealing with, the better off everyone else is going to be.”

  Monty grunted and continued giving directions. The chase soon led us out of Castle Rock, off the main roads, and deep into a heavily forested area.

  As the trail moved from paved roads to gravel and then onto what was little more than a rough track, the silken thread that was the connection between Monty and his spell broke.

  “She’s driving a damn Focus,” I said immediately. “She can’t have gotten too much further up this track—the car isn’t equipped to deal with this sort of road.”

  “Unless she’s using some sort of magic to force it through,” he said.

  “Why would an entity capable of creating fireballs and stealing human flesh bother? Even dark spirits have energy limits—she’s more likely to abandon the car and run than make a futile attempt to force it through the damn trees.”

  “It would seem the latter is the case.” Jaz slowed the SUV down and pointed. “There’s a car in the trees up ahead.”

  “Stop,” Monty said.

  The SUV slid to a halt and dust plumed, briefly cutting the Focus from sight despite the brightness of the headlights.

  “Stay here,” he added. “I’ll make sure it’s safe.”

  “Jaz can stay here but I’m sure as hell not. It may take two of us to pin this bitch down.”

  Monty didn’t say the obvious—that my magic probably wasn’t going to be strong enough to handle this entity if his failed. He simply got out and moved to the front of the SUV. I scrambled out and joined him.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Hard to tell whether she’s still there or not, as the whole car is practically vibrating with the force of her nature.”

  And that force was very dark. It definitely wasn’t Alice who’d run from her mother’s house—and that meant the body was probably hers. But I doubted the skin beside it was. This thing was obviously—for whatever reason—shedding one skin and then stealing another.

  I glanced at Monty. “What do you want to do?”

  Power stirred around him; the spell was one I recognized but had never actually tried simply because we’d run just as they’d begun teaching us the more complex stuff. He was creating a demon snare.

  “I’ll take the direct approach,” he said. “If she’s still there, she’ll sense my magic and react to that. You move around the side and hit her only if you sense my magic failing.”

  Tension wound through me but I didn’t say anything. I simply nodded, moved into the trees, and carefully made my way through the shadows, making sure I kept the same pace as Monty. If I got there before him, the dark spirit might well attack, even if it was also aware of Monty’s magic.

  So much for you being sensible and it being Monty’s job not ours, came Belle’s thought.

  He’s battered and beaten. If this thing is here and attacks, he might need magical help. Not that my magic alone would have much hope if his did fail, but there were glittering, silvery threads of wild magic drifting through the trees here and—

  How long have you been able to see the wild magic as threads? Belle’s mental tones were sharp.

  I don’t know. I studied the threads through narrowed eyes. They were as fragile as moonbeams and yet pulsed with a power I could both see and feel. I reached out as one drifted by. It curled around my finger and warmth tingled across my skin. With it came a sense of acknowledgment. Of kinship.

  It should have frightened the hell out of me.

  It didn’t.

  This stuff was a part of me now, even if tha
t should have been impossible.

  There has to be a reason for it, Belle said. I know Monty said he’d check the archives, but maybe we should also ask Ashworth to do some discreet research.

  To what end? I crept past a few more trees, watching the ground more than the car ahead, trying to keep my steps as silent as possible. If the wild magic was going to cause me harm, it would have done so by now.

  It’s already changed both your eyes and your power output. We need to know if that’s it, or if there’s more to come.

  I grunted. She was right—it would be better to know than not. I’ll ask him next time we see him.

  Depending, of course, on how busy he was. He and Eli might have decided to move into the reservation, but Ashworth still worked for the Regional Witch Association—or would once his arm healed.

  There was no movement inside the car ahead and, despite the pulse of wrongness coming from the vehicle, little indication that the spirit remained.

  I glanced at Monty. His expression was a mix of determination and trepidation, and the barely leashed spell that spun around his fingertips was an interweaving connection of furled strands that glowed with power.

  I blinked. Not only could I now see the wild magic rather than just feel it, but I also saw ordinary magic. Not just the creation threads of the actual spell—which was something most witches saw if they took the time and concentrated—but the actual force of it.

  I could see—and understand exactly what it was—with just a look.

  What the hell was happening to me?

  I had no idea and, right now, no time to wonder or worry. I needed to concentrate. I took a deep breath to quell the stirring fear and studied the car. The closer I got, the more evident it became that the spirit had already fled. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t left a clue behind. Didn’t mean we couldn’t still track her via her power output or spore.

  Monty motioned me to stop; I immediately did so. He continued on cautiously, a thread of magic spinning out from his free hand—the hand not enmeshed by the leashed spell. It gently probed the car, then slipped in through the open window. After a moment, the thread dissipated and some of the tension left Monty’s body.