The two men looked at me like I was a moron, but the woman frowned thoughtfully. “Grand Grimoire wouldn’t report damage caused by their own demons, but … do we have any record about the Keys’ movements?”
They resumed their debate, and I headed back to the bar, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. Slipping into the kitchen, I checked on our food supply. An MPD agent had stopped by a few hours ago to see what we needed and promised a grocery delivery would arrive later this evening, but we were down to two sandwiches that had surpassed soggy and devolved into beige gelatin. I’d served most of our burgers—a bit charred compared to Ramsey’s cooking, but edible.
Sighing, I wandered out again, helplessness weighing on me. What use was I? I had two artifacts and a familiar with just enough magic to make puffs of wind. Hoshi was sleeping in my purse, where she spent most of her time when I was out of the house. She liked being close to me, and since I always kept my purse nearby, the arrangement worked well.
My phone buzzed against my butt cheek. I yanked it out, terrified it might be Aaron—or worse, the police department calling Justin’s emergency contact, which was me. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” My voice wavered with nerves.
“Hello, Tori Dawson? This is Puffs & Pastries Bakery.”
I wilted in relief. “Oh. Yeah.”
“I’m just calling to see if you’re coming for your order? Your invoice says you planned to pick it up at three.”
“Uh, right.” Baked goods for the Halloween party—which, safe to say, wasn’t happening anymore. I glanced around the pub but couldn’t see any of my jack-o’-lanterns. I wondered where they’d ended up. “About that. I’ve had a, uh, family emergency so I’m not sure when …”
I trailed off, considering our barren kitchen. I’d thrown out a lot of food today, but fresh-baked cupcakes might tempt the tired mythics to eat.
“I’m not sure when I can come,” I said quickly, “but I’ll try to get over there. How late are you open?”
“Until eight.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Ending the call, I strode over to Felix, who was manning the command center with bloodshot eyes and a mug of black coffee.
“Felix.” I pulled out the chair beside him. “You know how I ordered eight dozen cupcakes for the Halloween party tonight?”
“No.” He smiled tiredly. “But okay. What about it?”
“Can I go get them? We’re almost out of food, and something sweet and easy to snack on might wake up some appetites.”
“Where’s the bakery?”
“It’s in Gastown—a ten-minute walk west of here.” I pointed at the map screen, which showed that all the demonic activity was to the east. “That should be okay, right? Gastown isn’t closed down or anything.”
“The area is in the clear, but we’re keeping all members under cover.” He rubbed his goatee. “We do need something to snack on, and it isn’t far. Take Ezra with you. It’d do him well to get out for a few minutes.”
“Great. We’ll go right now.”
He nodded. “If they have muffins or buns, buy those too.”
“Got it.”
I hurried up to the third level to wake Ezra from his nap on the floor by the officers’ desks, his head pillowed on his folded jacket. I grabbed my coat and purse, and checked that Hoshi was snoozing in orb form at its bottom. Two minutes later, we were stepping out into the crisp evening air.
The streetlamps were already lit, their orange lights gleaming on the wet pavement. The rain had let up, but the air was so damp it was like breathing underwater. Ezra and I walked fast, looking over our shoulders every few steps, but all was quiet. I clamped my arms around myself, shivering from nerves and cold.
Within a few minutes, we’d entered the better-lit neighborhood of Gastown, and suddenly, the streets were full of people. As laughing groups and costumed partiers filled the sidewalks, I remembered that Halloween festivities hadn’t come to a screeching halt for the rest of the populace. A handful of tense police officers were scattered around, presumably to prevent people from wandering off, and I scanned them for any sign of Justin.
As the sidewalk grew crowded, Ezra shifted behind me, and I led the way through droves of revelers. The cafés were bursting with lines out the door, their patios filled despite the chilly air. Dodging teenagers in anime costumes, I tugged my thin jacket tighter around me. How could those girls stand wearing such short skirts in this weather?
Catching my arm, Ezra pulled me out of the flow of foot traffic and into a shop, so fast I didn’t see what store we’d entered. Warm air washed over me, and I blinked at the shelves of toys.
“This isn’t the bakery,” I pointed out dryly.
“I know.” He raised his eyebrows. “But I saw these.”
Stepping over to the window display, piled high with Harry Potter collectibles, he plucked a red- and gold-striped scarf off a rack and looped it around my neck. I picked up the end to examine the embroidered coat of arms. “Gryffindor?”
“It’s perfect for you.”
With a goofy smile I couldn’t quite squash, I lifted a second one off the hook. “You too, then.”
He took it away before I could put it over his head. Hanging it back up, he chose a yellow and black one and slung it around his neck.
“Hufflepuff? You’re not a Hufflepuff.”
“Definitely am.”
“How would you know?” I teased. “You don’t even like Harry Potter—which I don’t understand at all, by the way. What don’t you like?”
His amusement faltered. “It … it’s stupid.”
Curiosity lit through me. “Come on, tell me.”
He picked up a Harry figurine, stared at it, then sighed. “It’s the scar thing.”
I glanced from the figurine to the jagged white line that cut down Ezra’s face, an injury that had stolen half his vision. In the near six months I’d known him, how many times had complete strangers stared at him, pointed, or rudely asked what had happened? He had a collection of ridiculous explanations for the obnoxiously curious; last time, he’d warned the person to be extra careful with knitting needles.
I plucked the figurine from his hand and set it on the shelf, then unwound the Gryffindor scarf from around my neck, replaced it on a hook, and put on a Hufflepuff one instead. “Hufflepuffs are loyal and hardworking. That’s where I want to be.”
Smiling crookedly, Ezra adjusted my new scarf, snugging the soft knit up under my chin. The backs of his fingers brushed my cheek. “There. You’re ready.”
My skin tingled, but I pretended to be unaffected. “Ready for what?”
“To run for it. The cashier will never catch us. On the count of three. One—”
“Whoa, what? We are not shoplifting—” I belatedly noticed the sparkle in his eyes and growled. “Oh my god! You!”
Huffing, I playfully—mostly—swatted his shoulder, and his laughing grin broke free. With a roll of my eyes, I stalked up to the counter and dug into my purse, but he appeared beside me, bills already in hand. The cashier rang up the scarves, passed Ezra a handful of change, then cut the tags off our new winter wear.
“I can’t believe I fell for that,” I muttered as I swept ahead of him and pushed the door open. “Just wait until—AAHHH!”
The high-pitched shriek erupted from my throat as a blood-splattered face loomed six inches from my nose, mouth gaping in a loud moan. I fell backward into Ezra.
“Gaaahhhg,” the zombie burbled.
Dragging one leg, it lurched past me—and behind it followed two dozen bodies in torn clothes, their pale faces artfully smeared with glistening gore. As the horde shambled down the sidewalk, pedestrians stepped aside, laughing or pretending to cower in fear.
I clutched Ezra’s coat, wheezing as my brain caught up to reality. Halloween. It was Halloween, and those were costumes. A zombie walk. Fun downtown event, with professional makeup and all that. Pretend dead people. Ha ha, fun.
Sliding an arm around my
waist, Ezra nudged me away from the shop’s doorway. I sucked in air and told myself I’d only freaked because my nerves were shot from the real-life horror show going on right now, unbeknownst to the public.
“I didn’t scream, did I?” I muttered.
“No, not at all,” Ezra lied solemnly.
I puffed out a breath, amused and embarrassed, then drew away from the safe circle of his arm. Straightening my jacket, I took one step—and a girl’s purse smacked me in the face as she flung her arm up to wave at someone.
“Oh, sorry,” she said brightly and hurried away.
Holding my throbbing nose, I took another step. Ezra grabbed my hand and hauled me back as a trio of knee-high kidlets in dinosaur costumes ran past, a frazzled dad chasing after them.
Ezra led me into the chaos, weaving through the jostle with better coordination than I’d displayed; he could use his air magic to sense movement around him. After half a block, we broke free of the worst of the crowd and I fell into step beside him. My fingers were curled around his, his warm palm engulfing mine. I didn’t need a guide anymore, and it was silly to pretend I did. I should nonchalantly free my hand. I really should.
Only when the bakery’s glowing windows were one shop away did I finally withdraw my hand from his. As I shoved the door open and stepped into the humid interior, my mouth immediately watered.
“Oh,” Ezra murmured. “It smells really good in here.”
It smelled like heaven, if heaven were made entirely of chocolate, vanilla, caramel, and cream cheese icing. The place was packed with salivating customers, and I got in line, Ezra right behind me. We slowly made our way to the front counter, and surrounded by warm light, chattering people, and delicious aromas, I could almost forget why I was bone tired and jittery with apprehension.
I finally stepped up to the counter. “Pick up for Tori Dawson.”
“Oh, you made it! Excellent.” The pretty eighteen-ish-year-old tucked a lock of blond-streaked hair behind her ear. “Can I get you anything else?”
I asked about buns and muffins, and she piled a dozen on the counter, then disappeared into the back. She returned with four big bags stuffed with cupcake trays, and we wrestled the new items into the bags. As we finished, she peeked at Ezra, who was drooling over the cake bombs in the glass display.
“Would you like to sample a pumpkin-spice cupcake?” she asked him, smiling shyly as she held up the bite-sized goody with pale orange icing. “They have orange buttercream icing and they’re to die for. I have one left.”
“Thanks.” He took the cupcake and offered it to me. Unable to resist anything sweet, I unwrapped it and bit off half. The moist cake exploded with flavor, its smooth, light icing melting on my tongue. “Oh hell, that’s delicious. You have to try this.”
As I held the second half out to Ezra, I started to ask the cashier if this flavor had been included in my order, but her gaze was darting from me to Ezra and her expression had dimmed with disappointment.
Sometime in the last eighteen hours of hell, I’d lost all coordination. Instead of holding the cupcake bite out for Ezra to take, I’d stuck it up toward his face—as though to feed it to him, like the cutesiest newly-in-love-and-revolting-everyone-around-them couple.
Ezra hesitated, caught off guard. Embarrassment ricocheted through me and I yanked my arm down to navel height—now weirdly low like I was trying to pass it to him in secret. Failing to maintain any dignity, I stuffed it into his hand and turned back to the counter.
“Are we good to go, then?” I asked gruffly.
“Yes, that’s everything,” she replied in a glum tone. “Have a nice evening.”
As Ezra took two bags, I heaved the other two off the counter and sped onto the sidewalk—almost crashing into a group dressed up as plastic green soldiers, faces painted and everything. I squeezed past them, my bulky bags bouncing off their legs. Behind me, Ezra apologized to someone he’d knocked into a bus stop bench.
We inched through the throng, trying to protect the cupcakes, but it was impossible. Spotting a group of thirty people, probably in the middle of a Halloween pub crawl, I ducked into the opening of a nearby alley. Ezra slipped in with me, just missing the oncoming swarm.
I watched them pass—but another group came in right behind them. If I tried to go through that horde, I was likely to punch someone out of my way. And then I’d get arrested for assault, and the police would confiscate all the delicious cupcakes before I got to eat any.
“Let’s cut through here,” I said, turning away from the sidewalk. “Skip some of the crowds.”
Ezra hesitated, then nodded. He didn’t like crowds either.
With the space to walk together, we fell into step side by side. He glanced warily around the alley, the darkness broken by lonely bulbs hovering above the back doors of shops. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, seeing what the bakery cashier had been admiring. Soft, loose curls in a perpetual tousle tumbled across his forehead and teased his eyes. Dark, sexy scruff edged his strong jaw, and his full lips formed a serious but somehow sultry line when he wasn’t smiling—but he usually had a quiet tilt at the corners of his mouth, subtle but warm.
His head swiveled, shoulders tight.
My steps slowed as I broke out of my reverie. “What’s wrong?”
Stopping in the center of the narrow alley, he turned in a circle, his smile nowhere in sight. As his brow scrunched with focus, he faced the way we’d come—then his head snapped back, gaze jumping to the rooftops three stories up.
He dropped his bags and the cupcake containers hit the ground with a crunch. Grasping my arm, he yanked me so hard I almost fell.
“Ezra?” I gasped.
“Run!”
I let go of my bags. The plastic containers broke open, spilling orange cupcakes onto the wet pavement. He hauled me into a stumbling run and we sprinted to an intersection of alleys. Fifty feet away on our right waited the brightly lit and bustling street. The other three directions were dark, narrow alleys full of dumpsters and graffiti-marked overhead doors.
Ezra glanced at the bright street, then pulled me in the opposite direction.
“Ezra!” I yelped, his grip on my arm painful. “What’s wrong?”
His gaze shot upward. This time I turned fast enough to follow his line of sight, my neck craning back. The rooftops loomed over the narrow alley, the silhouettes marred by power lines and rickety fire escapes.
Fear hit me like a bolt of arctic lightning, seizing every muscle in my body.
Two buildings down, perched on a rooftop, was a shape that belonged only in nightmares and horror movies. Something blacker than ebony, horns rising off its head, curved wings like a bat, and eyes that glowed like twin drops of magma.
Chapter Six
Ezra and I fled down the alley.
Panic squeezed my lungs but my legs pumped anyway, driven by animalistic terror. Death stalked us, and my lizard brain knew it. Survival instincts screamed in my skull, and I clutched Ezra’s hand as we dashed through the maze.
My blind fear said to run, to flee, to escape, but human logic was screaming something else. How do you outrun a demon that can fly?
I didn’t look back to see if it was following us. I just ran, half a step behind Ezra, struggling to keep pace. He kept pulling away until our arms were stretched between our bodies, then he’d slow again to let me catch up.
We reached another intersection and he wheeled into an even narrower alley. Heading east. Fleeing toward the Crow and Hammer.
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. The guild was full of combat mythics resting between shifts. We didn’t have to outrun the demon. We just had to reach the guild before the demon attacked us.
We sprinted between buildings, and I prayed I wouldn’t trip. Couldn’t fall. Had to run.
Ezra slammed to a halt. I flew past him before he yanked me off my feet and into his chest. He scrambled backward, holding me tight against him, the soles of my shoes brushing the wet pavement.
Met
al creaked overhead, then groaned under a heavy weight. Two stories up, dark wings unfurled from atop a fire escape.
Ezra dragged me backward, keeping the demon in sight. Hysterical babble filled my head. Demon. The demon was here. It was stalking us. Why was it here? How was it here? It was supposed to be terrorizing combat mythics twenty blocks east of Gastown.
Reaching what he must’ve considered an acceptable distance, Ezra spun around and broke into a run, pulling me with him. We raced back to the intersection, and he turned north. Yes. Go north, cut east again, bolt for the guild. We weren’t that far. Only a few more blocks.
We got six steps before Ezra pulled up short again. He backpedaled and I almost fell from the sudden change of direction.
Black wings flared as the demon landed on a wooden beam above a set of power lines, halfway along the northern alley. Waiting for us. Taunting us with our inability to outrun it.
Ezra backed up step by step, his breathing fast and harsh. I clutched his hand, my limbs shaking. We retreated into the intersection of alleys. The demon had cut us off when we went east. It’d moved to stop us from going north. Just south of us was the crowded street the alley paralleled.
With nowhere else to go, we ran west—away from the Crow and Hammer. Where else could we go? I raced beside him, too frightened to think beyond the next moment. Just run. No time for strategy. Just—
We skidded to a stop again, but not because the demon had cut us off.
A four-story wall rose in our path. A dead end. I scoured the rows of tall overhead doors, all shut and locked. A single lightbulb glowed above a recessed metal door with a heavy padlock hanging from it. We were trapped.
Ezra and I spun around.
The demon prowled into the alley, its magma-red eyes radiating malevolent power. A low, growling laugh throbbed from its throat.
Terror buckled my legs. Ezra grabbed my waist and pulled me against his side.
The demon was huge—seven feet tall with a heavy head and monstrous wings. Four thick horns rose off its hairless skull, covered in dark skin with a reddish undertone. Bands of muscle crossed its broad chest and its thick arms were weaponized by the spines protruding from its elbows and the curved talons tipping its strong fingers. Black cloth, covered by interlocking metal armor and a wide belt, wrapped its hips and upper thighs. A heavy tail dragged behind it, ending in a bony plate that could crush a human skull with one hit.
Demon Magic and a Martini: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Four Page 5
