Wind blew and lifted the edge of the taller one’s hood, showing the face of a young man, only a few years younger than me, by the looks of it. He took a couple of steps toward me. It wasn’t a very smart move, even if I were temporarily paralyzed, but they’d run from the cathedral before they saw what went down in there. They didn’t know the half of what I was.
“Grab her,” the girl hissed, stopping her chanting. The spell held, but only just. I could feel it start to weaken immediately.
“Do you see her eyes?” the warlock asked, stopping his own incantation. “They’re red—”
“I don’t give a damn what her eyes look like, Nathan. Grab her before—”
I bared my teeth in a malicious smile, and the warlock in front of me paled. His already milk-colored skin turning the color of bone.
“You’re a—” he started to say. I lunged forward and sunk my fangs into his neck. Blood touched my lips, and a ravenous hunger threatened to consume me. I bit down hard, and then snapped back, spitting. A chunk of his flesh hit the cold pavement.
The warlock lifted a hand to his throat. Shock running through him.
He collapsed to his knees and then toppled sideways, bleeding out.
I raised my eyes to the girl before me.
In her fear, she didn’t even try to stop me.
It was the greatest mistake she could have made.
I rushed her, and she lifted her hands in surrender.
“Please don’t eat me,” she cried.
I narrowed my eyes, seeing my own reflection in her dilated pupils.
Blood covered my lips and ran down my chin, splattering my coat.
I looked like a monster.
But I suppose I was one.
Just like them.
I backhanded her hard enough that her body half whipped around before her head hit the alley wall. She toppled to the cracked pavement, unconscious.
I sighed. To carry her, or to drag? Hard question. I was still mulling over the answer when an inhuman roar shook the very ground I stood on. Not wasting time, I bent my knees, slipped one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees. Hoping like hell she didn’t wake up, I took off down the alley, as fast as my legs would carry me.
Heads turned as I bolted down the main road. My energy was flagging, and fast. I didn’t usually tap into my other side. While powerful, it was draining.
Not to mention unnatural, my brain inserted. All magic had its price, and the price of using mine took its toll on my body.
Slowly, the red faded from my vision, and with it, the strength and speed I’d possessed.
This mission had been a complete and utter shit show.
I’d unleashed a demon on earth for nothing.
I’d let those bastards live for nothing.
I took a ragged breath, the girl in my arms still unconscious.
“Not for nothing,” I muttered. I lifted my head and surveyed my surroundings. I was a block away from an L station. New Chicago kept the old metro system, but what was once public transport powered by electricity was now just another part of my past controlled by magic. While I usually avoided it like the plague, my options were limited if I wanted to get out before the demon found me. I may already be too late.
Screams sounded in the night. They were coming from the direction I’d just escaped.
I glanced over my shoulder just as the demon stepped beneath a streetlight.
I swallowed hard, and my feet took off. The soles of my boots thudded against the cobblestone as I veered right and headed for the station.
In the old days, you presented a card to enter and your money was subtracted. These days, the method of payment was infinitely more and less, depending on who you were.
At the sliding gates, instead of a reader for a card, a single needle jutted out.
My eyes flicked between it and the train approaching.
A shrill whistle blew, and people crowded the doors. I took one look behind me.
The demon was a mere twenty yards away.
His silver gaze burned into me.
Shifting my hold, I clumsily held the witch’s body with one arm as I lifted her hand and stabbed the fatty part of her palm down on the needle. It was probably a bit overkill, given that the payment required was only a single drop of blood, but I didn’t have it in me to feel bad.
The barrier flashed green, and I bolted to the other side.
I sensed more than saw the demon run for me. I pumped my legs as the train let out a second shrill trill. My foot just touched the train floor as the doors started to close. I stepped inside and turned around.
On the other side of the plastic window the demon lifted his hand and blasted the entire machinery apart that controlled the entry and exit of the trains. He started for me, that black fire in his eyes threatening to set me aflame.
Then the wheels started moving.
A slow smile curled up my lips as we gained speed. He ran beside the train, keeping pace with my window until we hit the tunnel. Darkness took over. The metal contraption shook. Bodies were packed in. Men and women pushed up against walls. Children cried, and the homeless solicited acts of entertainment for scraps of food or coin—not that the latter did much good. Most places no longer took physical money because witches and warlocks were prone to scamming people. Still, solicitors took any and everything they could get because in this world, nothing was free.
The L smelled of desperation and depravity, but as the train shot out from a tunnel, and the cloudy sky opened up, I sighed in relief.
I’d come toe-to-toe with a demon, and I’d lived.
This time.
I sagged against the double doors, looking through the foggy plastic at the city below. My relief at getting away slowly faded as worry tinged it, seeping in like ink on paper.
A niggling feeling ate at me. As relieved as I was to be alive, this was far from over.
6
The Demon
My hands clenched into fists.
There was a pounding in my ears and everything aside from the retreating lights of the moving train faded in a cloudy haze.
She ran from me.
I unclenched my fists and took a few hard breaths, trying to settle into this new form. It was different from my previous one. More confined. Contained. It held all that I was beneath a sinewy package of muscle and bone. Once, I would have hated it.
However, thousands of years of searching for her made me ambivalent. I didn’t particularly care which form I took, as long as it led to her.
She ran from me. The words repeated in my mind, but I did not feel pain like one might expect. A hint of anger was there, but more than anything it was a driving desire to hunt her. Find her.
I had to know who this female was, and why she ran.
The distant roar of another train approaching pulled my attention back to my surroundings. I looked over the disgusting train station. It was so unlike the world I’d come from.
To find her, first I needed to understand this plane. While my magic made it possible for me to communicate with all life-forms, it did not grant me instant knowledge. That I had to take.
The two warlocks I’d killed in the cathedral gave me enough to understand some things, but they didn’t know who my mystery female was, or why she wanted their leader alive.
No matter. All I needed to do was retrace my steps and follow the trail.
I’d find the leader that created the door between realms, figure out why she wanted him, and then use him to track her down.
She could run all she wanted. She wouldn’t be able to evade me forever. I’d waited too long for her. I followed her from my world and into this one. If I had to, I’d follow her into the next.
There was no escaping me.
7
I groaned, climbing the last few steps. While she wasn’t very big, the cloaked witch was heavy when it was pouring rain outside and the water weighed us both down. My clothes were mostly dry from my shoulders to the knee w
here my trench coat ended. From there down had been soaked to the bone in icy cold water.
I shivered and leaned against the doorway as I let the witch’s body slide down my own. My arms were shaking from the exertion of carrying her so far. While I was strong, I wasn’t Superwoman. Especially when the crash hit.
My fingers fumbled with the ties on my jacket as I worked to open it and dug out my key from one of the inner pockets. I touched the end of the bronze fob to the panel on the door. It beeped once, and the tiny light at the top of it changed from red to green.
I wrapped my hand around the handle and the door swung open on its own. Sighing once more, I bent down and hauled the witch up as carefully as I could manage. While I didn’t have much left before the crash, I needed to get her tied up before she woke.
I took one last look up and down the stairs, checking my neighbors’ apartments. All was quiet, and as far as I could tell, not a soul knew I’d brought an unconscious woman back.
“Good,” I muttered under my breath as I stumbled inside. Using the toe of my boot, I nudged the door, and it swung shut behind me, closing with an audible click. There was a whirring sound before the lock went back into place.
My apartment was spacious, at least by most human standards. Two bedrooms, a working bathroom, kitchen, and living room. It was filled with mismatched but comfortable furniture. The floors were fake wood, but they looked nice, just a bit scuffed. In this age, my apartment was the cream of the crop for a human. Because of our lack of gifts, we scraped the bottom of the barrel. The unwanted leftovers. There weren’t many people that were well-off unless they had magic. Then again, I wasn’t completely human. Not that anyone but a demon I’d set loose in the city knew that. I pressed my lips together, kicking the chair leg from under the shoddy dining table. I dropped my guest in the seat, arranging her so that she wouldn’t fall over while I went to grab rope and a dishrag from the kitchen.
She was just beginning to stir when I came back. I stuffed the rag between her parted lips and tied it tight behind her head. Her eyes were fluttering open when I pulled the knife from my coat and cut a length of rope. I grabbed both her arms and pulled them taut behind her before she gained full consciousness.
My nimble fingers wound the rope tight around her wrists and in between her fingers. The latter was unusual, until you considered that some witches could do magic without words. I had no idea if she fell in that group. It was safer to make sure she had no use of her hands or her mouth, though.
I was just tying off the knot when she pulled against them.
A scream of outrage left her, but it was muffled by the rag as she tried and failed to pull at my binding. I came around to kneel in front of her. Flashes of hot then cold ran through me. Dizziness was impending. The crash was upon me. I had minutes at most. Which meant I’d better not fuck this up.
She kicked out, and I took one to the mouth before I managed to catch both her legs.
Blood scented the air. A mild pain broke through the numbness setting in.
She’d split my lip.
I smiled, knowing it would scare her more than anger her further.
She shuddered. I lifted my knife.
“Kick me again and I will plant this in your thigh,” I said in a low tone. Her eyebrows furrowed. Indecision warred in her expression as she debated how serious I was. “You saw me rip your coven member’s throat out with my bare teeth. You wanna test it?”
Her face paled, the fight draining out of her muscles even as she glared at me.
I didn’t have it in me to smile again as I tied her lower limbs to the wooden legs of the chair. My hands were visibly shaking when I finished. I reached up, gripping the edge of the nicked wooden table to drag myself to my feet. By the time I was standing, spots danced in my vision.
I started for my bedroom. If the witch made a fuss about me leaving her like that, I didn’t hear it. The sound of my heart beating was a riot in my head. Blood pounded as the mother of all migraines hit me. I reached out, pressing my forehead against the door as I fumbled with the knob, trying to twist it.
Nothing beyond the gray cotton sheets in my bedroom registered. I pulled at my coat, letting it drop to the floor at my feet. Next, I peeled off my long-sleeved shirt. I took another step forward, half collapsing on my bed. The black spots in my vision were growing. The pain consuming. I reached for the laces on my boots, pulling at them furiously. I yanked on the heel of either boot, tossing both shoes aside, then laid back on the knock-off memory foam mattress.
I’d wanted to strip my pants as well. The bottom half was wet, and the air was cold. It was December in New Chicago, and not a dry one. Past the jackhammer pounding in my brain, and the twitching of my muscles, I didn’t have it in me to hold off the crash any longer.
My eyes fell closed, and darkness welcomed me.
Hot flashes plagued me, followed by bouts of freezing cold. I alternated between shivering and sweating as nightmares held me under. I dreamed of my past and present, of the mistakes I’d made. The things I’d done. The people that had died in the crossfire along the way.
I dreamed of him.
The demon that hunted me.
Black fire danced in my dreams. Lighting everything I’d seen aflame until only the ashes remained.
When I finally opened my eyes, cold sweat coated my skin. My muscles felt sore, and my head still pounded.
The crash, as I’d called it, had run my body through the wringer.
I let out a shaky breath, my abdomen clenching as I hauled myself up in a sitting position. The door to my bedroom was wide open. Between here and there, my clothes littered the floor, like I’d had a one-night stand after too many drinks. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
If the clothes weren’t proof enough, the grunt that came from my living room reminded me just how much I’d fucked up my last mission.
I glanced over at the battery-powered clock on my nightstand. It was past four in the afternoon.
I got to my feet and dragged my exhausted ass out of my room and toward the bathroom. Another grunt drew my attention as the witch I’d captured pulled at her bindings. For someone that had cowered right before I knocked her unconscious, she was being awfully brave.
I turned on my heel and lifted both eyebrows. Whatever I was going to say dried up on my tongue as I took one look at her. Light brown hair stuck up in odd angles, strands of it were plastered against her sweaty face. Her lips were chapped, and her cheeks splotched and ruddy. The brown eyes that stared back at me were bloodshot and angry.
She was sick.
The grunts weren’t simply for my attention, but to clear her throat. Or at least attempting to.
I’d left her in her wet, sopping cloak for I don’t know how long, and I was too cheap to pay for heat. While most supernatural creatures wouldn’t fall ill to the elements, or anything else, witches and warlocks were the weakest on that front. Their bodies were mortal.
I let out a sigh. This was really the last thing I needed to deal with right now.
Not when I needed answers.
My eyes strayed to the second bedroom.
“I’m going to shower, and once I feel human again—I’ll try to figure out a solution for your . . .” My words trailed. Her eyes narrowed. “Predicament.”
Turning on my heel, I shut myself in the bathroom. Not wanting to look at my reflection, I flipped the shower on and stripped the rest of the way. I clambered in as soon as steam started to rise above the curtain. It wasn’t until I was washing the conditioner out of my hair that I noticed the bruises around my wrists.
The memory of his hands wrapped around me, his skin pressing against my own. It made me shiver.
Hatred, I told myself. Disgust.
He was a demon. Not a man. Not truly.
I finished washing myself and flipped the water off. Shoving the curtain aside, I stepped out onto the plastic bathmat. With a faded pink towel, I dried my skin and wrung my long blonde hair out in the tub.
>
When I opened the bathroom door, cold air kissed my skin. I strode across my tiny living room and closed the door behind me when I entered my bedroom, letting the towel drop.
First thing, I rehung my trench coat and emptied it of weapons. Then I dressed in black jeans and another long-sleeved shirt. Using a utility belt, I strapped a gun on each hip.
I opened my bedroom door and regarded the witch coolly.
“Now, you and I are going to have a little chat. If you’re good, I’ll give you food and medicine—and maybe even let you use the bathroom. If you’re not,” I paused to lift one of my guns for her to see. “I have zero problem shooting you.”
She continued to glare as I approached her. Kneeling in front of the chair, I lifted the gun and pointed it in her direction, before yanking the gag from her mouth.
She coughed twice, and I could see it in her expression that she was debating which was the worse evil. Being alive and questioned, or having me kill her.
“What do you want?” she asked.
I smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “The same thing I always want from your kind. Answers.”
She shifted in her chair, clearly uncomfortable, but compliant—at least for the moment.
“To?”
“Why did the Antares Coven want to summon a demon?” I asked, without missing a beat.
She laughed once, humorlessly. “Why does any coven try a summoning?” she asked rhetorically. “Power,” she spat the word.
I narrowed my eyes. “You sound like you don’t agree.”
Her expression hardened before closing down entirely. Her eyelids fluttered, lowering so I couldn’t read her expression as easily. “I’m not hearing a question.”
“The Antares Coven summoned it for power. Why did you summon it?”
“I’m part of the Antares Coven,” she answered simply. The problem was that I got the impression this was anything but simple.
I rocked back on my heels, letting my butt hit the floor, but still holding the gun extended. I rested my arm on my bent knee. “Why did you join the Antares Coven?”
Touched by Fire: Magic Wars (Demons of New Chicago Book 1) Page 4
