Nava Katz Box Set 2

by Deborah Wilde

  Ms. Clara still had access to it and we’d spent a good two hours combing through the titles in preparation for our visit. We’d divided our list into three categories: 1) the Ring of Solomon and Gog and Magog, with the Gates of Alexander as a subsection, 2) Satan, and, 3) Lilith.

  We’d narrowed the list down to thirty of the most promising titles on those subjects, ten books each, which was all that our backpacks could hold.

  The three of us ran through the library, gathering books as fast as we could, but despite the neat rows, they were no longer in any particular filing order. Properties of Magic was filed in with books about King David, and A Treatise on the Genetics of Sorcery was wedged between Tenants of Jewish Faith and Shacharit, Minchah, and Arvith: Three Daily Prayers.

  The library door crashed open.

  Mohawk Witch, the one who’d almost crippled Kane with a spear made of ice during the compound fight, bounded into the room.

  Both Leo and I were in the far back corner of the library leaving Ms. Clara exposed.

  Mohawk Witch and I both unleashed our magic: she went for Ms. Clara and I fired at the witch. Unfortunately, the invisibility shield had depleted me and my magic was a weak joke.

  Ms. Clara rolled over a tabletop. The witch’s magic hit the bookshelf behind her, sizzling into one of the wrought iron struts running along the top. The top shelf of the bookcase listed precariously. Dropping into a crouch, Ms. Clara uncoiled her whip, snapped it around Mohawk Witch’s legs, and yanked.

  The woman hit the ground on her back, her magic blasting a hole in the ceiling. Plaster rained down around her.

  I grabbed Leo, portalled over to Ms. Clara, and got us all out of there.

  Thirteen books. That was all we’d managed to acquire. After the gross sewage, Leo tangling with lasers, Ms. Clara almost being obliterated by Mohawk Witch, and those stupid songs that were still earworming in my brain, we’d gotten a fraction of the titles we needed. We’d never find answers at this rate.

  I spread them out on the library table back at Vancouver Demon Club with a sigh.

  Rohan rubbed my shoulders. “You prepared in every way you could.”

  “The best laid plans… Any luck finding Hybris?”

  “The other demons have stopped hunting her, but there’s no sign of where she’s holing up.”

  My next question was cut short by a yawn.

  “You need to sleep,” Ro said.

  “No, I need to go through these books.”

  He led me out of the room. “Nava, it’s 2AM. You haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week.”

  “I’ve had crazy-ass hallucinations and blackouts, do those count? No?”

  “No,” he said sternly. “Your room or mine?”

  “Yours. I want the deluxe bed experience tonight. Oh.” I came to a stop. “Uh, could you get me a glass of water?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked at me oddly, but went into the kitchen.

  I sprinted down the hall to his bedroom. Quickly, I straightened out his covers, folded his blue hoodie, and balled up the pjs I’d left there, stuffing them under his bed.

  “Slept here, did you?” He lounged in the doorway with no water in sight.

  “You didn’t get me water and you’re spying. Wow.”

  He prowled toward me. “It’s my room.”

  I scooted back, hit the bed, and fell onto my ass. “Fine. I slept here once while you were in Los Angeles.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Or twice. But you’d so callously abandoned me without a word of how much you missed me.” I shoved him back out of my personal space. “I revenged myself upon your bed linens.”

  He wrapped an arm around me, sweeping us both onto the mattress. “Lucky bed linens.”

  No, lucky me, here and now, to have him holding me. I laughed despite myself. “You’re a sick puppy.”

  “You caught me, you keep me. Them’s the rules.” He nipped my lip. “I like the idea of you in my bed every night.”

  He leaned in to kiss me and I yawned in his face.

  Ro chuckled. “Get changed and then you can get some sleep.”

  “Wait.” I yawned again. “I’m totally good to have sex. Take me.”

  He gently slapped my butt. “Go.”

  Yeah, no. I was pretty damn comfy. I held up my arms. “Undress me.”

  “That’s the saddest proposition I’ve ever had.”

  “Please. I rock your world.” I waved my arms around, making puppy dog noises.

  “Not so much right now.” Ro got my clothes off while I did my best rag doll impersonation.

  I snuggled under his covers and yawned again.

  Ro tossed his clothes off, substituted the overhead light for the dimmer lamp on his bedside table, and crawled in with me, wrapping himself around me, skin-to-skin.

  “Snowflake?” I buried my face in his chest, drinking him in, and savoring this hushed pocket of bliss. “Your bed’s better with you in it.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Glad you think so.”

  I fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating comfortingly against my cheek, waking up refreshed and ready to take on the world. Or find answers to far too many questions, all while staying out of the hands of my many, many enemies.

  It was going to be a busy Friday.

  Showering with my own bath products and clean clothes went a long way toward a positive mindset. I leaned in to the mirror to brush on some mascara, my damp curls blotting my T-shirt that read “Behold the field of f**ks I give and see that it is barren.”

  Rohan was shaving and singing along with a playlist of classic rock, when “Sympathy for the Devil,” came on.

  “I’m starting a list of banned songs.” I screwed my mascara shut. “Starting with that one.”

  Ro tilted his head to shave under his chin. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  “After we go through the books we collected, I’m going to see Malik.”

  “We’re going to see Malik. Together. The two of us. As in, you and also me. Very strongly also me.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. I think I want to see him by myself.” I winked and gyrated my hips teasingly. “He is a good kisser.”

  My ears filled with a buzzing that had nothing to do with Ro’s electric razor.

  Impossibly bright stars crowded a pitch-black sky. Waves lapped at the shore, the sand cool under the woven blanket. He held his naked body over mine, his eyes boring into me, seeing me, revering me.

  Rain pattered on the cedar roof. Rubbing my swollen belly listening to his laughter as he poured himself wine.

  “If it’s a girl, we’ll call her Mahlat,” he said.

  The crowded market. Goat dung and human caterwauling. Clutching my chest to catch the grief. The same smile spent on another, seeing her, revering her in the same way he had me.

  Burn.

  SMACK!

  I rubbed my stinging cheek.

  Ro stared at me helplessly. “I’m so sorry.”

  The metal faucet was melted, the sink bowl cracked. My hands were still on the tap, as if throttling it.

  “You spaced out,” he said. “Your eyes rolled back, you stiffened up, and you weren’t responding.”

  Forget swallowing the painkillers, I crunched them like Flintstones vitamins, since my accelerated healing abilities were duds on the debilitating headache front. I sat down on Ro’s bed, threading my hands through my hair.

  “She loved him,” I said dully. “She loved him, he fathered her child, and he betrayed her.”

  The mattress depressed as Ro sat down beside me. “Who?”

  “Lilith and Malik.” I leaned against Rohan. “By the end, I’m not sure there was anything left of her other than that rage and I totally get why.”

  “Why?”

  “Think about it. If there’s any truth to the old testament, Lilith was kicked out of the Garden of Eden for not being subservient. David took advantage of her magic then kept her
out of his new order. Malik… That’s its own shitshow. Lilith was a world-class witch, penalized by scared and threatened males for being a master in her field, and literally demonized for daring to be a strong, intelligent woman.”

  I winged a pillow across the room. “I don’t want to be the keeper of her life. I don’t want any of her in me and I don’t want to keep wondering where she stops and I begin. Or if what I’m feeling are my emotions or hers. I have enough anger of my own. I don’t need hers.”

  “What if this is the price of having any of her magic?”

  “Haven’t I paid enough? Have a purpose. Be happy. Work together to keep humanity safe. I had some pretty good goals here, Snowflake.”

  “You’re doing all that,” he said.

  “Then why did I get her final fuck-you?” I dropped into a cartoon witch impression. “‘You broadcast as me, but you only have a fraction of my power. You will never be safe again. Mwahahaha!’”

  Ro said all the right things: that he was here for me, that he loved me, that I was strong and full of light.

  Blah, blah, blah. I didn’t want platitudes. I wanted Lilith in front of me so I could punch her in the throat.

  “Say what you will about dark magic, it’s damn convenient when you need something big and bad enough to protect yourself with. But if I don’t rid myself of all traces of her, I’m scared this echo I’ve been feeling will grow, feeding off me until there’s nothing of me left.” I shook my head. “Safety or sanity. Is that really my choice here? Because I gotta tell you, Snowflake, it sucks.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  Was I crazy to contemplate becoming less powerful? My heart pounded at the very thought. Was I crazy not to, given the alternative?

  I wasn’t alone. I had allies and more people could still join my team.

  I thrust double middle fingers up in the air. “I will not be the repository of your rage, Lilith. I am Nava fucking Katz and I will purge you. Become one hundred percent organic me, baby.”

  Rohan’s eyebrows drew together, and he bounced a curled knuckle against his mouth. Yes, his girlfriend sounded like a crazy person confronting a non-existent witch, but he didn’t comment. Didn’t voice any perfectly reasonable feelings of helplessness and uncertainty. He merely leaned into my side, lending his support.

  My headache throbbed from my skull into my teeth with a side dish of nausea. “Bring on the enemies. I’ll face them as me because I am enough.”

  I had to be. There was no other option.

  11

  Ms. Clara had found three books pertaining to the ring, Gog and Magog, and the Gates of Alexander. A lot of hypothesis and speculation with no actual leads. I’d asked Leo about it, but even as plugged in as she was to demon intel, all the stuff about the gates and Gog and Magog were merely urban legends to her.

  She also didn’t know what kind of demon the current Satan was, though she had explained that “Satan” was a Hebrew word meaning “adversary.” Glad that was cleared up. One of the four books on Satan that she’d procured had a detailed history of previous demons who had held the position of King Demon, but the record ended about a thousand years ago. Demon or human, throne-holders always had challengers. If the current Satan had successfully fought off all attempts for a thousand years? That was one powerful motherfucker.

  It was also very bad news as far as Satan coming after me was concerned, but since even the boosted power I had wouldn’t be enough to defeat him, I didn’t change my mind about purging Lilith. His defeat was going to require more than a one-on-one assault. If I had all her magic, I would have been a worthy contender and this would have been an entirely different conversation.

  I flipped through the six books I’d found that contained some mention of Lilith. Five were entirely useless. The final one was a slim volume called the Malleus Maleficarum, entirely in Latin, written by Henricus Institoris. Esther would have been able to help. She’d known Latin.

  “Catchy title,” I said. “Does it have any useful information for getting Lilith out of me? Who do we know who speaks Latin?”

  Rohan peered over my shoulder at the page I was failing to decipher. My French didn’t qualify me to translate this. “Raquel does,” he said.

  Rivka might also, but I’d imposed on her as much as I was comfortable with and I missed Raquel.

  “Got chummy during your convalescence, did you?” I said.

  “Yup. Between the coma and destroying her safe house, we got in some good flirtation.”

  “Poor girl. She’ll never recover.”

  Rohan swore softly. I twisted around to see what was the matter. The dark magic was sizzling off him in fits and starts, scorching holes in his shirt. He glanced down at it with a helpless resignation, his fists tightly closed as if to trap the magic sparks shooting out through his fingers. “Better change.”

  I just nodded, though I wanted to throw my arms around him and ease his frustrations and doubts that this would get better.

  We made a quick stop at a liquor store, and then I portalled us to Raquel’s studio in L.A., gift and book in hand.

  Rohan knocked.

  Raquel’s smile when she threw open the door was as sunny as her butter-yellow sleeveless romper with adorable daisy-printed bra straps peeking out.

  Then she saw, or sensed, me.

  I was lifted off the ground, sped into her loft, and crashed against the wall, pinned inches off the ground. I clawed at my throat.

  Ro pulled on Raquel’s arm. “It’s Nava. Put her down and we’ll explain.”

  Raquel pushed him back with invisible magic.

  Rohan threw his hands up in surrender and she dropped me.

  I straightened my clothes. “I’m getting a shirt that says ‘I’m not her.’”

  The studio was crowded with witches of all ages and ethnicities. Every single one of them was tense and focused on me.

  “Prove you’re Nava and not Lilith possessing her body,” Raquel said.

  “I called you McGonagall when we first met.”

  “Proves nothing. Possession could easily come with access to memories.”

  The women pressed in, cutting me off from Rohan.

  “Cut me and I’ll bleed red?” I said.

  Raquel shook her head. The witches grew grimmer.

  “Fuck, Raquel. I dunno.” I shoved the gift bag with the wine at her. “I came here to thank you for healing my boyfriend and because I felt bad that I put you in Hybris’ path. Also, I need help translating this book to get whatever remains of Lilith out of me, because I register as her magically, whatever the hell that means, and now Satan’s on my ass to make me his own personal baby momma.”

  “Likely story.” A witch stepped forward. “I’ll take care of her.”

  “No.” Raquel peered into the bag. “That would really be Nava. She’s a walking disaster. Plus, she has terrible taste in wine.”

  “The label was cool,” I protested. “And it cost me like twenty bucks.”

  “Canadian,” she sneered. “This stuff is plonk.”

  The witch mob broke up, though I stuck close to Raquel since not all of them looked like having me here was the better option.

  “I know I’m broadcasting as Lilith, but how does that even work?”

  “Magic broadcasts on its own frequency,” Raquel said. “Back in the day, when we were stronger, we were sensitive to the entire spectrum, from something with the tiniest bit of magic to the blare of a powerful demon. It was part of our defense system. Identify threats on a subconscious level. We don’t have that ability now, not even with demons. But you’re blasting like a television on full volume that you are Lilith and the signal is strong enough that we can sense it.”

  Awesome.

  Raquel’s loft had become less lingerie design studio and more war room. Photos of Sienna’s posse covered one corkboard, complete with names, next of kin, and other identifying details. Next to that was a whiteboard that the women gathered around. Various policies were written in dry
erase marker on it.

  “We’re trying to come up with a central governing body,” Raquel said, leading me past all the fabric samples and dressmaker dummies that had been pushed up against the walls. “The witch community needs to be on the same page and know what each of the individual covens is up to.”

  So that someone like Sienna could never get the jump on them again. I motioned for Ro to follow.

  “I’ll stay. Maybe someone can get me a new angle on finding Hybris,” he said.

  I entered a bright kitchen with gleaming white cabinets. An Asian woman in a floral sundress was making tea.

  “Niña!” Catalina, the woman in charge of the Mexico City coven, embraced me warmly, then held me out at arms’ length. “What happened to you?” She set out tea and cookies as I caught her and Raquel up on my adventures.

  Raquel reached for the book that I’d brought and rolled her eyes. “Not this bullshit.”

  “Qué?” Catalina said.

  “The Hammer of Witches.” Raquel tapped the cover with a perfectly manicured crimson nail. “This was written by this dude Heinrich back in Germany in 1487. It’s all about how witches need to be exterminated, yadda, yadda, yadda, and presented a very detailed legal and theological theory to that effect. Needless to say, it was a bestseller, second only to the Bible for like, two hundred years.”

  “Is there anything in it that could help me?”

  Raquel flipped through the pages. “Not unless you want to expunge Lilith’s magic by being burned at the stake. Even the Church basically tossed it out because Heinrich’s ideas were inconsistent with their doctrine of demonology.”

  This book had been my last hope for answers and it was worthless. Nor was I getting a second shot at the Jerusalem library. Fuck. I lay my head on the table in defeat.

  Raquel unfolded a piece of yellow parchment covered in dense, cramped handwriting that was stuffed in the book. It had been written with an ink nib, and several tiny blobs of dark ink smudged the page. “What does this say? My Spanish isn’t good enough.”