Demon Rising (Dark Rising Trilogy Book 1)

by DeAnna Browne

  Darion flinched at her words.

  “It’s my sister,” Becca answered. He had to know she’d do anything at this point.

  He stared at her, not willing to reply.

  “Maybe the answer isn’t getting in undetected,” Grace proposed as she took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “We can’t just ring the door bell,” Caleb said. Grace flashed a smile. “Why not?”

  “I’m listening,” Darion added.

  “I have been to Ryma’s, on Zaq’s arm, of course. But if they’re having a gathering, and a big one at that, then they’ll have extra servants on hand. And not only servants, but…” She drew out her sentence looking cautiously at Becca.

  “Whores, you mean. You want me to go as a prostitute?” Becca almost dropped her cup. This girl couldn’t be serious, could she?

  Caleb’s slammed his mug on the table. “We can’t take the chance you’ll be safe. It’s not worth it.”

  “It’s not like that.” Grace took a drink of her coffee. “Escorts are hired for important events. Also maids, companions.”

  “And don’t forget disposable humans,” Darion said with a sardonic edge. “It’ll be dangerous. Getting you hired is one thing, but escaping once you’re there is another.”

  “You’d be surprised what servants or slaves can get away with,” Grace countered. “Like little mice scurrying around. They can chew through wall sometimes.”

  Becca hated to agree with Grace, but it just might work.

  They had all been thinking about how they would get in, and no one had a good idea. This might be a stupid idea, but at least it was an idea.

  “Why can’t we be indentured to you?” Grace suggested to Darion. “You’re a wizard. We can be your servants to get inside.”

  Darion shook his head. “I’m just as wanted as you guys are. Jeremiah and Pove will have already appealed to Ryma. You’d be taken as retribution immediately.” He trailed off, a distant look on his face.

  “You can’t seriously be considering this?” Caleb asked Darion.

  “Maybe if I can track down Nevada again,” he mumbled to himself.

  Caleb turned to Becca. “Killing yourself won’t help Elizabeth.”

  She stared him straight in the eye. “I have to do something.”

  “How about we kill him before he gets there?” Caleb mouth was set in a grim angry line. “Get me within fifty yards of that bastard, and I can shoot him down. There can’t be that many ways into the place.”

  “He’s guarded. And it won’t be a clean shot,” Darion countered.

  “I could draw him out. He’d stop for me.” Becca turned to Caleb. “It’ll get you the shot. Maybe even distract him enough for his wards to be down.

  Darion was sober, but contemplative. “Maybe. Let me try to call a couple of people I trust and see what I can learn. A fight just outside Ryma’s gate is going to be dangerous.”

  “Every option will be,” Becca reminded him.

  He nodded but remained silent. Did this mean Darion thought it could work? If he thought so, this might be their chance.

  “We don’t have much time, if we’re to get there early to intercept Jeremiah.” Darion got up from the table. “In the meantime, Becca needs to train.”

  He was right. The more she trained, the better chance she had of surviving, of them all surviving. That meant doing things she didn’t want to think about.

  “Can you grab the fox, Caleb?” she asked, heading for the door. She’d seen him caring for it out back before. “We’re going to need it today.”

  The pentagram was set. Becca dusted the chalk off her hands. In each tip, the elements sat in silver bowls. For wind, the window was open, welcoming in a cool breeze. And, in the spot reserved for spirit, Becca stood.

  A small fox crouched in the middle circle of the pentagram. She imprisoned the fox inside the pentagram, which came easy, a little too easy for her taste. Darion appeared encouraged by it, though. Whatever his reservation was before in the kitchen, it was gone. Only the tired eyes remained.

  “Remember one of the most important parts of the evocation is choosing the right demon,” Darion said, a few feet beside her. “Magicians spend years studying demons, searching for new names, torturing other wizards and demons alike to find them.”

  She hid her speeding heart behind a sarcastic smile. “So my two days of preparation should work wonders?”

  “Precisely.” He nodded, no humor on his face. “You’re calling a weaker demon. One that teenagers call to booby trap their bedrooms. Nothing too complex.”

  “So then how can I make him obey?”

  “That’s where magic comes in. No negotiations. Just imprison him and link him to you with the spell.”

  “What’s the point of this?” She wiped the sweat from the back of her neck. The fire was roaring in the room, keeping it warmer than necessary and setting her on edge. “It’s not like this fox can take on Jeremiah.”

  “You need to practice controlling a demon, drawing power from it, and protecting yourself from one. Magicians can learn to store a demon and can siphon power from it where ever they go.”

  “If it’s that simple, why don’t magicians have a ton of these things all over. I didn’t see any at Jeremiah’s”

  “They’re hard to control, and names are hard to come by. But trust me, they were there.” He wiped sweat from his forehead and the fire dimmed slightly. “Names stay with families and are extremely expensive.”

  “How did you get this one?”

  “I have several names memorized. If you dismiss a demon and don’t kill it, then they can be reused. This demon I called several times through school.”

  “Do you have a demon hidden somewhere?”

  He paused for a moment, hesitating, as if the answer would offend her. “No, but I plan on doing it. I’ll need to hide a stronger demon somewhere for strength later on. If I thought you could control a level-three demon, I’d have you do the same, but you’re not ready. Demons have to be strong enough for the tie between a demon and magician to carry across great distances.”

  “Okay.” She turned back to the pentagram, not sure if she wanted to be tied to a demon. She swallowed, a slight pain in her throat, reminding her of the last run-in she had with one.

  She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Let’s do this.” Before I lose my nerve.

  He nodded slightly, urging her on. “You know the words.”

  The Latin they had rehearsed poured from her lips. Slow and steady, she made sure she enunciated each syllable correctly. The words were an evocation for the lesser demon, Talpha. When she finished the incantation, nothing happened.

  Before she could step back, Darion raised a hand. “Don’t move.”

  Pinpricks ran up and down her arms, and the fire grew ever so slightly. The demon materialized above the space where the fox huddled on the ground.

  It hissed at her, speaking a language she didn’t understand. Its small dog-sized body housed an elongated jaw with oversized teeth. Its eyes were dark and shadowed by a heavy brow.

  Her breath caught at the sight of it. She focused on the humming power deep within. Projecting her power, she silenced the demon. Its jaw opened in a silent howl. Then it repeatedly snipped at her, the snapping of teeth filling the room.

  “Good,” Darion said from the sidelines. “Now, do you feel its power? Follow the lines of the pentagrams to the source.”

  This was nothing like Darion’s magic. As she drew closer to the demon, a dark cold substance hung in the air. She worried she would get lost in that darkness, that it would swallow her whole.

  “Remember to draw it out. Focus on the edge of the circle. It will be attracted to you—despite itself. Your magic is warm and bright.” His voice had an edge to it. Maybe he wasn’t enjoying this either.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. Staring at the chalked line, she waited. After a few minutes, its magic flowed toward her. Its bitter edge was nothing she wanted to pull to her, bu
t it had a strength she couldn’t deny.

  “Do you feel the power?”

  “Yes.” The word came out as a whisper.

  “If you gather that power and focus it, you can use it like your own. You can drain the demon dry.”

  A repulsion rose in her stomach. She didn’t want to take the demon’s power inside of her. She wanted to kill it.

  “Keep a hold on the power. You’ll need it to place the demon in the fox.”

  She gathered the power and completed the spell. A rush of exhilaration and magic flowed through her body. The fox sprang to life, eyes flashing a pitch black, and a yowl erupted out of its throat. She quickly silenced the fox.

  The control, the power, felt like a whole different world coursing through her body. The fox silently screeched and threw itself against the barrier to no avail. Becca took a shaky breath. She could feel Darion’s heavy gaze and struggled to remember what came next.

  She recalled the words to force a demon to obey. She closed her eyes, picturing the words in her head, but as soon as she said them, she knew she’d pronounced them wrong. The fox sprang forward. She raised an arm to protect herself. But with a demon infused inside, this fox was beyond ordinary. Its jaw, stretched wide, froze inches from her face.

  Darion grabbed the fox and, with a simple spell, forced it back into the pentagram. Becca tried to slow her racing heart, a bit embarrassed at her failure. After it was securely placed back inside, Becca acknowledged the burning sensation on her arm. Long deep cuts welled up with dark blood.

  “You okay?” he asked, handing her a small towel.

  “Yeah. It’s only a scratch.”

  He helped her sit up, his magic radiating around her. “I’m sorry."

  “For what?” The words came out harsher than she intended. “It was my mistake.”

  Closing her eyes momentarily, She tried to pull herself together. She had fought lesser pet demons that were found in the slums. Frustration built at how remedial she was with her powers.

  “It’s okay.” Darion placed a hand on her shoulder. His touch brought a warmth and comfort she missed. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so soon.”

  She opened her eyes. It was one thing to take comfort from Darion, but another to let herself be babied when things needed to be done.

  “No.” She stood up. “I need to do it again. I was stupid.

  I messed up.”

  “You should take a break. Get that wound cleaned.”

  She held his gaze, not backing down. “It can wait.”

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s work on manipulating this beast.”

  Her stomach twisted with uneasiness, but this would be the least of her fears in the days to come.

  It had been a quiet couple of days for Caleb. He’d barely seen Becca, Grace was elusive, and he could only go as far as the property line would allow him. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed with Becca, though. She needed to focus on her magic.

  He tried not to compare her to how she used to be, how they used to be together. It had been too many years for that. But it was hard, when he continually glimpsed a bit of the girl he fell in love with years ago—that girl he would go to the moon and back for. If only they could connect, start over, then maybe they could find each other again.

  He finished resetting his last snare and picked up the dead rabbit. Rabbits were abundant, but any bigger game was kept out. It wasn’t much, but better than nothing. Fresh rabbit actually sounded good. He hadn’t had any since before the fire, which felt like forever ago.

  His eyes burned, and his chest tightened every time he remembered his parents buried in the cold earth. He closed his eyes and reminded himself how he was going to make this all right. Get revenge on those who took their life so carelessly.

  “I miss you guys,” he whispered to his parents.

  They may no longer be living, but he liked to imagine their spirits were in the woods, free and ever watching him. Waiting for him to start his usual conversations he had whenever he went hunting.

  His mother always chided him that the chipmunks heard more about his day than she did. Maybe she could hear him now too. He paused at the edge of the tree line just for a moment.

  Grace sat on the back patio smoking.

  “You would have liked Grace,” he told his mother. “She has a spirit to her. Just like you, except for the clothes, smoking, and occupational hazards.”

  He said goodbye and then headed toward the house. A cold breeze bit through his jacket as he eyed the sky for a sign of what was to come. The clouds were heavy but no sign of rain yet.

  “What did you catch us there, muscles?” Grace said as he approached, taking on a horrible country accent.

  He lifted the rabbit high.

  “Yum—mmy,” she announced with an oversized grin.

  He took a seat next to her on the wooden bench. “How do you keep up your spirits?” he asked.

  She finished her cigarette, rubbing it out on the side of the bench. “What?”

  “You know. You’re always smiling, joking, and carrying on, ignoring the possibility that we’ll end up dead or worse by the end of the week.”

  She pulled out another homemade cigarette. “I’m alive, free, and rolling old pipe tobacco. What’s not to be happy about?” She lit the smoke before continuing. “And then there’s the next part. I get to kill my past owner, the devil itself, Jaqar. That would make any girl happy.”

  He had numerous questions he wanted to ask about her past and how she was going to manage to kill Jaqar.

  But she beat him to it. “How about you? How come you haven’t run for the woods yet? I can tell how much you love them.”

  His eyes drifted to the multicolored trees, and he couldn’t help the longing he felt. “I’m needed here.”

  “A boy with no magic powers, sneaking into Ryma’s estate. How do you think you’re going to help?”

  He didn’t have an answer. As much as he’d thought about it, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t going to stay behind and do nothing.

  “Take a good long look at that rabbit,” Grace said, pulling her hair back. “You might be him in a couple of days.”

  He leaned back in the seat, looking at the woods. His death had crossed his mind more than once. And, for some reason, he wasn’t afraid. His family was already there, why not him? He felt like he cheated death at least once. “What about you? How are you going to manage to kill off Jaq?”

  “I play dirty.” She exhaled a large cloud of smoke. “Don’t worry, muscles. I have a few tricks up my sleeves.”

  He raised an eyebrow in question. She winked, but didn’t explain further. She had survived this long, maybe she did have a few surprises left.

  “Have you thought about after all this? What you want to do?” He wanted to see past the next few days. If he didn’t die, was there a chance for a life in this chaotic world?

  “Nah.” She stared out into the wilderness, a softness falling onto her features. “I learned long ago, not to plan too far ahead. If there’s no hope in tomorrow, there’s no disappointment either.”

  “That’s a depressing way of looking at things.” He couldn’t help the pity that crept into his voice. He wondered who this young woman could be in a different time and place.

  She shrugged, and her lips curled up into a large smile. Her confident facade snapped back into place. “That’s life, muscles.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Becca’s body protested as she headed upstairs. She desperately needed a shower. Who knew magic could make her sweat? Magic had drained her energy in a way nothing else had.

  Becca rubbed out her tired muscles under the hot shower, the long shallow cuts burning from the soap. She still had to be careful with the burn on her back as well.

  After working with Darion all day, she still didn’t feel confident with her magic, but she’d finally controlled the demon. It was something.

  They planned on getting to Ryma’s early. Maybe even intercept Jeremiah before he g
ot through the door. Would it be enough? She ignored the sinking sensation in her stomach.

  The water began to cool. She reluctantly stepped out of the shower and dried off. Her arm burned as she dried it, but at least it had stopped bleeding. With a towel wrapped around her, she dug through the bathroom cabinet in search of a first aid kit.

  Someone knocked on the door. “Done yet in there, princess?”

  Becca rolled her eyes at Grace’s mocking tone. “One sec.” There it was, in the back behind a variety of fragrant lotions. Becca grabbed the kit, and opened the door. “It’s all yours,” she said, squeezing through the door. She headed to her bedroom, and Grace followed leaving the door open behind her.

  “Muscles wanted you to know it’s dinner time. Guess he likes you well fed.” Grace looked her up and down as if criticizing his decision.

  “I’ll be down in a minute.” Becca opened the first aid kit on the bed. She reached for the antiseptic for the cuts. And then realizing the injury was on her right arm, her dominant hand, she switched hands.

  “Demon claws can be nasty. Let me do that for you,” Grace offered, stepping closer.

  “I got it.” Becca’s wet hair fell into her face as she struggled to keep her towel up.

  Grace grabbed the tube out of her hand. “I’m not nice very often, why don’t you take me up on it while the mood strikes me?”

  “Uh, okay.” It seemed as if Becca didn’t have a say in the matter.

  Grace carefully dabbed the ointment over her cuts. Her touch was gentle, unlike anything else about Grace. She reached for the bandages—it would take a few. The shallow cuts ran long down her arm.

  “So why the good mood? Figure out how to break into their liquor cabinet?” Becca tried to joke.

  She had steered clear of Grace as much as she could while here. Grace only appeared when she wanted to make snarky comments about her, and Becca loved to return the favor.

  Grace’s focused on the wound, her face soft. “Guess I figure we’re on the same team, maybe it’s time we started acting like it.”