Taming Demons for Beginners: The Guild Codex: Demonized / One

by Marie, Annette

  Quiet spread through the room. I switched off the light, plunging us into darkness, then settled back down and forced my shoulders to relax.

  “Payilas dilēran,” he muttered.

  That one I couldn’t translate, but I would bet my measly savings it wasn’t complimentary.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I cleared my throat. “Are you sure this is the place?”

  Standing beside me in the sheltered doorway, Amalia looked at her phone for the third time. “This is the address. And it says right there, ‘Grand Grimoire.’”

  Across the street, a plain three-story building with a faded white exterior sat next to a narrow alleyway. The road slanted downward and the main level of the building was embedded in the hillside, giving it a weirdly crooked appearance. Steady rainfall pattered the asphalt, and muddy rivulets followed the curb as they raced down the slope.

  A faded green awning boasted the guild’s name, and matching green bars covered the main-level windows. The building’s exterior had been recently painted but graffiti tags covered the glass panes.

  “They might not be open,” I hedged. “It’s a holiday.”

  “Halloween isn’t a real holiday.” She shot me a stern look. “Quit being a chicken. You need to act like a proper contractor.”

  She marched into the rain and I reluctantly skittered after her. Regardless of how I acted, no one would believe a five-foot-one waif with glasses was a demon contractor.

  The entrance was set back from the sidewalk and green gates blocked the alcove. I stubbornly hoped they’d be locked, but Amalia pulled them open with ease.

  The dim interior revealed a few shelves and racks half stocked with board and card games. Guilds were required to masquerade as legitimate public or semi-public businesses—so the comings and goings of their members didn’t draw suspicion—but this was a poor effort. Dust liberally coated all surfaces.

  Amalia swept to the counter and slapped the small bell beside the abandoned cash register—a model from the eighties, by the look of it. It took a solid two minutes of bell abuse before a lock clattered and a door at the back flew open. A burly man with a thick beard and shaved head scanned us, his dark eyes glaring.

  “We’re closed today, girls,” he barked. “Shop somewhere else.”

  “We’re not here for your shit games,” Amalia shot back. “Is your GM in? We sent an email about doing an interview this morning.”

  “What hole did you two just climb out of? We ain’t doing interviews today. There’s a code-black alert in effect. The MPD shut down most of the Eastside and every combat guild has teams on a search rotation.”

  The Eastside? But the demon had been blowing up Uncle Jack’s house in West Vancouver when Amalia and I had fled … to the Eastside. Had the winged demon tracked our departure? I shuddered at the thought of that thing stalking us.

  “So …” Amalia drawled. “Your GM isn’t in, then?”

  “Shit,” the man growled. “We’re busy, princess. Half the guild was up all night. Come back when the alert is off.”

  She folded her arms. “We’re here now. If your guild wants a shot at recruiting a newly discovered, one-of-a-kind demon, you’ll make time for an interview.”

  My eyes bulged. That boast was the opposite of blending in!

  The man reassessed Amalia, taking in her tight black jeans and leather jacket—purchased this morning to replace her ruined dress. Her dirty blonde hair fell down her back in loose, messy waves, and makeup—borrowed from me—darkened her eyes. She looked like a total badass.

  Then he shifted his appraisal to me. As his gaze traveled from my shoulder-length brown hair to my powder-blue raincoat and snug jeggings, his eyebrows bunched together. He gave my white sneakers a final disapproving grimace.

  “You should’ve left your little sister at home,” he told Amalia. “Our guild isn’t kid-friendly. This way.”

  Amalia followed him through the door and I trailed after them, fuming. Just because I was short didn’t mean I was a child. I adjusted my glasses, wishing I could take them off.

  Beyond the dusty shop was a maze of equally neglected offices. Our guide led us up a dimly lit staircase to the second floor, where we entered a large room scattered with comfy sofas and chairs. A projector screen occupied one wall and a few tables, jumbled with computers and laptops, lined the back. Large windows let in abundant light, brightening the space despite the dark maroon walls.

  A dozen people were slouched in chairs or lying across sofas. If I were stereotyping them, I’d go with “biker gang.” Leather, tattoos, beards. Big guys with big muscles. There were no women.

  “Tae-min,” our burly guide called. “We’ve got visitors.”

  A head appeared over the back of a sofa. Black hair poked out from beneath the man’s vivid orange beanie as he scrutinized us. He pushed off the sofa, a gray-and-white plaid shirt hanging open over his plain t-shirt. A pendant bounced against his chest but it wasn’t an infernus.

  Burly waved at him. “Tae-min, our first officer.”

  Guild hierarchy was straightforward. The guild master, or GM, was the ultimate authority and responsible for everyone in the guild. He was supported by one or more guild officers, who were like the shift supervisors—or camp counselors, or maybe army lieutenants. It depended on the guild.

  I blinked bemusedly as Tae-min joined us. He wasn’t what I’d expected—neither bearded nor tattooed nor muscly. At maybe thirty years old, he was young for an officer.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  On closer inspection, he appeared exhausted. So did Burly; he mustn’t have been exaggerating about being up all night. Every guild in the city was hunting the winged demon.

  “This chick wants to interview for membership. She claims to have a newly discovered demon line on contract.”

  Tae-min’s brown eyes brightened with interest. “A new lineage? There hasn’t been a new one in, what, a century? Who’s the summoner?”

  “Confidential,” Amalia replied promptly. “Is your GM here?”

  “No. It isn’t a great time, you know, with the alert.” He flapped his hand like it was no big deal, the unbound demon loose in the Downtown Eastside and probably slaughtering innocent people. “But I could call him—if you and your demon are legit.”

  Other guild members, listening in on the conversation, wandered closer. I edged behind Amalia, my heart pounding. Things I hated: confrontation, any form of spotlight, and not knowing what I was doing in a strange place in front of strange people. This was my social-insecurities nightmare.

  Amalia folded her arms, boldly staring Tae-min down. “We aren’t here to entertain you.”

  “Look, we’d love to add a new contractor to our ranks, but Rocco is busy managing our teams for the demon hunt. I’m not calling him based on your claim alone. All things considered, I shouldn’t call him at all.”

  “Yeah,” someone muttered, “but for a new demon line … that’d put us on the radar for sure.”

  My nervous gaze roamed across the gathering crowd. It wasn’t a big group, but the men were so tall and beefy that it felt much larger. Was every person here a contractor? Had they all sold their souls to control a demon’s brute power?

  “Show us your demon,” Tae-min prompted, “and I’ll call Rocco. If you’re for real, he’ll induct you over the phone.”

  Show them? I squashed my alarm. Oh no. Definitely not. Zylas was safely confined to the infernus and I planned to keep it that way.

  Amalia nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

  What? No!

  Tae-min grinned and the other mythics drew closer, eagerness and greed livening their faces—until Amalia pulled me out from behind her.

  “Call your demon, Robin,” she ordered.

  A ripple passed through our observers.

  “Wait,” Burly growled at her. “You’re the contractor, aren’t you?”

  “Hell no.”

  A dozen pairs of disbelieving eyes fixed on me. I shrank in on myself.


  “Her?” someone said in an undertone.

  “She’s tiny.”

  “Is she even legal?”

  “No way she’s a contractor.”

  “Robin,” Amalia cut in firmly. “Do it. We don’t have all day here.”

  Her gray eyes lashed me with warning. I needed to play my part. I wasn’t a non-practicing sorceress who read lots of books and only knew basic cantrips. I was a contractor now.

  Swallowing hard, I tugged my infernus from beneath my jacket. The silver runes gleamed as I settled it on my chest. All eyes followed the motion.

  Breathe. I could do this. Amalia had spent over an hour coaching me and Zylas on how a demon and its contractor were supposed to behave. It would be simple. Easy-peasy. I grasped the pendant, as Amalia had instructed, and waited for Zylas to appear in a swirl of red magic.

  Nothing happened.

  Tae-min glanced at Amalia, then back to me. “Are you calling it or what?”

  I squeezed the infernus tightly, adrenaline flooding my veins. Why wasn’t Zylas appearing? He could detect some of what went on outside the infernus, couldn’t he? He’d popped out at exactly the right time to save me and Amalia last night.

  Should I call his name out loud? No, Amalia had explained that a normal contractor controlled his demon through a telepathic connection, puppeteering the demon’s body in silence.

  Angry rumbles grew among the watching mythics. The infernus cut into my palm as I gripped it harder.

  Zylas, get out here! I silently shouted. As the words rang through my head, red light bloomed over the infernus. It streaked to the floor, then flowed upward into Zylas’s shape. The glow died away, revealing his solid body.

  He stood utterly still, arms hanging at his sides, expression blank and eyes staring straight ahead. Not even his tail twitched, exactly as Amalia had told him. His imitation of an enslaved puppet was perfect, and a mixture of pride and relief swept through me. We could do this!

  I looked up eagerly, but the Grand Grimoire mythics were gawking at Zylas in disbelief. Had he done something wrong? Why—

  Burly burst into laughter.

  Roaring guffaws erupted from the others, and they exchanged gleefully derisive looks as they slapped their thighs with mirth. Only Tae-min kept his composure.

  “That’s your demon?” a man called between chuckles. “That little thing?”

  “Is it even full grown?” someone else asked mockingly. “Did the summoner catch an adolescent by mistake?”

  “I’ve never seen such a pathetic demon!”

  “Mine would tear it apart in half a second.”

  “If the demon isn’t bigger than a human, what’s the point?”

  Burly snorted. “A new line, eh? Now we know why. Who would bother contracting such a weak demon?”

  My hands curled into fists. “He’s not weak!”

  My loud protest silenced all the laughter and I stiffened under the weight of the group’s judgement.

  “You think your baby demon can compete in our guild, little girl?” Burly scoffed. “This is a real demon.”

  He dragged an infernus from under his leather jacket and crimson power leaped off it. The light pooled on the floor, then crawled up—and up and up. When it reached seven and a half feet, the light dispersed to reveal the demon.

  Thick gorilla arms were bound by heavy muscle. Spikes protruded from its elbows and shoulders, and its tail was thick and powerful and tipped with more spines. Two pairs of six-inch horns curled off its head, its scalp covered in bristling black hair, and its eyes glowed like lava in a swarthy, reddish-brown face with a heavy jaw and protruding fangs.

  In comparison, Zylas looked like a toy version of a demon. Burly’s beast was so huge that Zylas could’ve walked under its outstretched arm without ducking.

  “Aw, look, you scared her,” a guy said with feigned sympathy. “Take your pet demon and go home, girl.”

  “A demon like that wouldn’t put us on the radar,” Burly told Tae-min. “It’d make us a laughingstock. I’m sorry for bringing them up here.”

  My fists tightened. “My demon isn’t weak!”

  Burly laughed again. “Should I demonstrate for you?”

  His attention turned to his spiky demon. The creature, who’d been standing as statue-still as Zylas, lifted its huge arm. Its monstrous hand zoomed toward its smaller cousin’s face.

  Zylas! I silently screamed.

  That gigantic, talon-tipped hand reached for Zylas’s head—and he ducked. The demon’s hand closed over nothing but air. Legs already coiled, Zylas sprang up and grabbed the demon by its horns. He vaulted over the demon’s head and landed lightly in front of Burly.

  Before the man could do more than widen his eyes in shock, Zylas grabbed him by the throat. He lifted the taller, heavier man off the floor with an easy flex of his arm.

  “No!” Tae-min shouted, whipping out a small, rune-marked wand. “Ori imped—”

  Still holding Burly in the air, Zylas pivoted and slammed his foot into Tae-min’s chest. The officer flew backward and crashed into two other guys.

  The Grand Grimoire mythics shouted furiously. They surged into motion, infernus pendants appearing everywhere. Someone began an incantation and electric magic crackled up another’s arms.

  Zylas hurled Burly into the crowd—then leaped in right after the man’s tumbling form.

  Chaos reigned. Shouts, bellows, flares of crimson light as contractors tried to summon their demons. Zylas was a spinning flash of reddish-toffee skin, shining armor, and dark fabric. I couldn’t follow his movements.

  All I knew was the men were falling.

  It lasted maybe thirty seconds, and by the end, Zylas was the only one still standing. Well, him and Burly’s demon, which couldn’t move unless Burly commanded it.

  Zylas leaped out of the tangle of groaning men and landed neatly beside me. He resumed his statue imitation, gazing blankly at nothing. I stared at him, then at the heap of mythics. No one was dead. I didn’t see any blood either. Zylas had merely beaten them into the ground.

  Amalia elbowed me and hissed, “Stop looking so shocked. You were controlling his attacks, remember?”

  I cleared my expression as Tae-min heaved himself off the floor, straightened his shirt, and glowered at me. Grumbling and swearing, the other mythics got to their feet and formed an angry, muscly ring around us. Would it look bad if I hid behind Zylas? He was my demon. I was allowed to use him as a shield, right?

  “One of a kind,” Amalia remarked into the silence, buffing her nails on her jeans and looking bored. I was so jealous of her acting skills.

  Tae-min stepped in front of Zylas. He and the demon were the same height, and the guild officer stared into Zylas’s crimson eyes. “You have a legal contract? I’ve never seen a contracted demon move that fast.”

  “Yes,” I lied, wishing I could sound as cool and bored as Amalia. “It’s legal.”

  He nodded as he reached under the back of his shirt. When his hand reappeared, he held a short knife with an engraved hilt. Did all mythics carry hidden knives around?

  “What are you—” I began shrilly.

  His dark eyes skimmed my face, then his hand snapped out—the sharp, deadly blade slashing at Zylas’s throat. I lunged forward.

  Blood splattered the floor.

  The knife pressed against Zylas’s cheek, dark blood running down the blade. My hand was clamped over Tae-min’s, stopping the weapon from cutting any deeper.

  I scarcely remembered moving—I only recalled the piercing urgency that had driven me forward to grab the knife. Sharp pain dug into my inner thumb and a tremor ran through me, but I didn’t loosen my hold.

  “What are you doing?” My hard, chilly demand surprised me.

  Tae-min pulled his weapon back, easily breaking my hold, and I curled my fingers into a tight fist. Tucking the blade under his shirt, the guild officer assessed my demon. Through it all—the sudden attack, my lunge, the cut—Zylas hadn’t so much as
twitched. He must have nerves of steel.

  “I had to be sure it’s fully under your control,” Tae-min explained casually. “Your handling of the demon is superb. How do you do it?”

  My mouth opened but I had no idea what to say.

  Amalia jumped to my rescue. “We aren’t about to reveal our family secrets to you plebeians.”

  An annoyed grumble ran through the mythics.

  “Well …” Tae-min rubbed his smooth jaw. “I’ll talk to the GM.”

  As the officer walked off to a private corner to make the call, I looked up at Zylas. Blood darker and thicker than a human’s dripped off his chin.

  My fist tightened, pain flaring through my palm, and I hoped no one noticed the slow dribble of blood squeezing between my fingers, its tempo matching Zylas’s almost perfectly. Something told me a contractor slicing her hand open to stop a blade from touching her demon might raise suspicion. Even I could hardly believe I’d done it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered for the fourth time.

  Arms folded, Amalia glared across the road. We were standing in the alcove outside the Grand Grimoire’s front door, waiting for Tae-min to join us. Pattering rain coated the pavement and heightened the colors of the spray paint that marked the opposite building.

  No matter where I looked, the street was ugly, but I should get used to the view. This was my guild now.

  Whatever Tae-min had told the GM had done the trick. I was officially a member of the Grand Grimoire, and Tae-min was putting through the preliminary paperwork right now. More forms and waivers awaited us but until the MPD lifted their “escaped demon” alert, no one would be processing anything.

  I assessed the heat level of Amalia’s glower. “I really am sorry. When he asked if you were my champion, he seemed to expect a ‘yes.’”

  Her scowl deepened.

  “You never said you weren’t planning to join the guild with me,” I added.

  “Of course I wasn’t!” she blurted furiously. “I was already in a guild! But you had to go and tell him I’m your champion and it would’ve looked suspicious if I’d corrected you.”