by T. G. Ayer
“No way of telling.” My eyes sent her a question. “James Lam is a low-level mage. Calling in a more powerful supernatural would be a blow to his ego, and would draw more attention to the case than is necessary.
“I see.” I paused. “Okay. I’ll take it to Natasha.”
The white witch was the only person I knew who knew anything about demonic entities that would actually divulge such information to me. Witches, warlocks, sorcerers and necromancers were a level of magic unto themselves. Some helped, others didn’t, while still others enjoyed making things worse.
“Be careful with it. It’s all I was able to take without drawing attention,” said Captain Murdoch.
“Are you sure it’s safe for you to do this?”
He frowned. “Why?”
I shrugged, averting my eyes. “After the house . . . after what happened to your house, surely the CPD have been asking questions. You don’t want to draw any more attention by making people suspect you are still helping me?”
“My dear girl. I’m way too old to give a damn about what people think.”
“Now you’re being reckless.”
“Am I now?” he was getting defensive, the way he usually got when he knew he was wrong.
“Yep. What will I do if you get kicked off the force? Who’s going to help me with info and keep Fulbright off my back?”
Both Chloe and the captain burst out laughing, but I left my mirth level on low simmer.
“I’m being serious. You can’t be too careful. What if you’re targeted for helping me out?”
Murdoch smiled. “Don’t worry about that. Come the day I have to stand up to them because of you, I’ll be only too happy to tell them where to get off. I wonder if they even have any idea of how many closed cases are solved by paranormal investigators. How many live cases are concluded only because of paranormal help.”
I was still shaking my head, but I knew it was a waste of time trying to battle with him. The man was worse than a mule when it came to being stubborn. I pocketed the metal tube and got to my feet.
“Right. I think maybe I should get going and drop this off. I don’t exactly feel comfortable with it so close to my skin.”
“Honey, I don’t think you need to worry about germs.”
“Germs are not what worry me, Chloe,” I said, bending to hug her tightly.
I felt a lot better now that I’d confirmed they didn’t hate me. I probably hated me enough so they didn’t need to. A lot was still left unsaid, given my propensity to avoid emotionally loaded conversations. But for now, I figured I’d let it lie and ease up on beating myself up. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe I’d feel less guilty tomorrow.
Not bloody likely.
I left the apartment in better spirits, comforted by the care they showed for me. But my mood was tainted by the presence of the tube. I’d been honest with Chloe. I didn’t care about the germs. It was the demonic taint that it was meant to contain that made me feel uncomfortable.
I already had one demonic possession to deal with.
Chapter 30
I jumped back into our living room to find Drake pacing and furious, his sweat-soaked tee sticking to his skin.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he snapped as I materialized, skin flushed probably from a training session.
I raised my eyebrows. “Breakfast with the Murdochs. I had to ask him for help with access to top secret files.”
He paused, shoved out of his attack-dog mode. “Top secret?”
“Yeah, Steph hit a few walls and needed clearance so the Captain is going to arrange it discreetly and fast.”
“What was top secret?” He’d stopped pacing.
“Steph’s search for families who have died under suspicious circumstances that appear similar to the Santiani’s. Once I added suspicious affairs or relationships with younger females for the fathers, Steph hit her walls.”
The gargoyle frowned. “Why would anyone classify that as top secret?”
“Maybe it’s something to do with this?” I said, drawing the metal tube from my pocket.
He reached for it, turning it over in his hand. “Interesting?” He handed it back. “What is it?”
“It’s a tube of Santiani’s blood that Sentinel wanted tested.” Drake frowned. Before he could ask why, I said, “Apparently they suspect that it has traces of demonic magic.”
“Suspect. Do they not know?” Drake was certainly short-tempered today.
“Low-level mage.”
“Ah. Makes sense.” Drake nodded. “So the Captain wants you to test it as well. Covering all his bases. Smart man.”
I snorted as I turned on my heel and headed upstairs. “Not smart enough to know he should keep the hell away from me. Look what he got for sending me clients.”
“For someone so smart you are sometimes very dumb.” Drake’s words brought me to a standstill and I turned on the riser and looked at him. He was two steps behind, and leaned against the wall, a cold smile on his face.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I was partly curious, partly pissed off.
“It means that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. The Murdochs care more for you than they do for the house they lived in.”
“It wasn’t just a house. It was a home. Years of memories. Of a life lived together.”
“And you really think memories mean more to them than your life?”
I shrugged. “I know they care. I do. It’s just I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Drake snorted. “Stop waiting. They don’t hate you. They never will. People don’t turn on family and from what I’ve seen of your relationship with them, you are the child they never had. It’s likely why they devoted so much of their lives to you.”
I pursed my lips.
“Okay, look. You saved Samantha Cross from certain death or worse, right?” I nodded. “What if the demons who came for her destroyed this house, your parent’s home? Would you hate Samantha because she brought the demons to your doorstep?”
I frowned and folded my arms. “Of course not,” I snapped. “I knew what I was getting into and besides, the girl’s life means more-”
I stopped speaking, staring at Drake for a few seconds. Then I sighed. “Fine. I get your point. But it’s not like a magical switch, ok? I need to work it out for myself.” Drake nodded, looking a little calmer. “So what got you so fired-up?”
His shoulders tightened.
Crap.
“You did. I told you, no teleporting while you’re on this case for Kailin. You need to preserve your energy and strength you’re going to end up wearing yourself out. You seem to forget you’re not just jumping yourself on these missions.”
I smiled and turned to head up the stairs. “Yes, Dad.”
“I’m not playing, young lady,” he barked after me.
Ignoring him, I headed down the hall to my room. At the threshold I peered out at him, still standing at the top of the stairs with his hand on the banister.
“I’m going to see Natasha. Are you taking me?” I enjoyed the pained look on his face. He disliked visits to the white witch because she tended to make him stand outside, as if his mere presence was contaminating to her white magic.
I watched, amused, as he swallowed, knowing he couldn’t back out now. Not after all the blustering he’d done.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, schooling his features. He hated revealing how Natasha made him feel. “When do you leave? I need a shower.”
I smirked. “Making yourself beautiful for the witch?” Sometimes I wondered if something was going on between the two, but I hadn’t yet been able to confirm it. I’d decided to say nothing because Drake was the kind of teenager-in-a-man’s-body who’d rather punish himself than be proven wrong.
He glared at me then stalked past me to his room. As he reached his door he peeled his sodden tee-shirt off, wadded it into a ball and threw it at me.
“Gross,” I yelled, batting the wet garmen
t away, letting it fall with a slap onto the floor. I scampered into my room and shut the door, but he’d already gone.
I laughed to myself as I threw my closet open and grabbed fresh jeans and a gray peasant top that matched my eyes. According to Steph, Drake’s behavior was very much annoying-older-brother. She’d know better, having had such things as older brothers.
I should be thankful though, that he hadn’t dared grab me and stick my face in his armpit after a training session. He’d subjected Steph to that torture a couple times, which I’d thought hilarious until he’d looked at me as if I was next.
I’ve been watching my back ever since.
Drake drove me to Natasha’s house just outside the city. The area was farmland, beautiful single-storied villas almost half hidden by ancient trees, seemingly untouched by pollution and urbanization. But if you looked just right you’d see the wards she’d erected around her property, a dome of magic that kept humans and paranormals away. Only those with the ability to see magic, like me, would detect it.
Drake elected to remain in the truck, while I alighted and headed up the stairs to the shaded porch. The sun was high overhead, beating down on my head despite the fall chill. The door opened before I could knock and Natasha gave me a bright smile, followed closely by a gentle hug.
She wore a pale blue floor-length kaftan adorned with beads and finely embroidered with glittering silver thread. Her white hair crowned her head, piled untidily to allow strands to fall just perfectly framing her face. A style that I’d need to work on for at least two hours and which would no doubt last ten seconds.
Despite my hairdo envy, I adored Natasha who I’d clicked with despite her age. Witches tended to live much longer than mages. Like gargoyles.
I watched Natasha survey the truck, zoning in on the front window like a sniper. She waved at Drake, beckoning him to come up to the house, an instruction he wouldn’t dare to decline. Behind me the car door slammed and Drake’s booted feet scraped at the stone on the path.
“Hello, Drake. I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable here than in that stuffy truck.” She smiled at him as she turned to enter the house she said, “I’ll get you something to drink.”
Drake’s expression was unreadable as I gave him a wary glance. A stone statue, giving away nothing.
I left, deciding it was safer with Natasha.
She led me to the kitchen and I sat at the white oak table, setting my bag on the chair next to me while she poured Drake a tall glass of something deeply red and dangerous-looking. It was probably blackcurrant or pomegranate or something but I’d have loved to see his face when he received it. The two had danced this dance a number of times since they’d met, and on our last visit Drake had received a bright green drink that had made even me shudder. He’d drunk it obediently and without complaint.
What was it about Natasha?
Was Drake afraid of her?
Not likely.
She returned and sat, pouring the same drink for us before asking, “So what do you have for me? I hope it’s exciting.”
I slipped the steel tube out of my bag and presented it to her with a flourish. “How about human blood contaminated by mad cow disease with a dash of demonic essence.”
“Why Melisande, you know just how to make me happy,” she said sweetly before taking the tube.
I shrugged. “I try.”
She paid little attention to me as she studied the tube and ran her fingers along the length of the metal. After a few moments, she glanced up at me. “I can’t say anything about the disease.” She paused. “Prions?”
I nodded.
“Thought as much. Legitimate mad cow would be unusual.” She sighed. “What I can say something about is the traces of demon.”
“Au de Demon. Just peachy.”
She pushed the tube away, allowing it to roll a few inches before rocking slowly to a stop.
“So, now what?” I asked, feeling a little frustrated.
“Now, you wait a little while and I identify the demon for you.” When I grinned she laughed, the tinkling sound no doubt drifting to the gargoyle on the porch. “Let’s hope it’s something I have experience with.”
She got to her feet and beckoned for me to follow her. Inside her study, I took a seat and waited as she lay a piece of white fabric on the desk and took a seat in front of it. From one of the drawers at her side, she withdrew a shallow metal bowl, the dents and scratches revealing its age and handcrafted beauty.
Carefully, she unscrewed the tube, allowed a few drops to coat the base of the bowl and resealed it.
I sat back and watched in silence, knowing it was safer to be quiet and wait. Although a white witch, Natasha could inflict a nice bit of torture should she feel the need.
Natasha lifted her index finger, dipped it into the blood and raised her hand. Stunned, I watched in horror as she placed the blood on her tongue, closed her eyes and tasted.
I didn’t bother hiding the disgust on my face.
Her eyes popped open, now fully white, and the air around her fizzed with energy. The ends of the strands of hair around her face lifted, as if gravity around the white witch had disappeared. When the table began to rock, and Natasha’s body convulsed wildly, I decided enough was enough.
“Natasha?” I yelled, realizing only then that the entire room was shaking, the sound like a low rumble of thunder enclosing us.
Boots hit floorboards as Drake broke the rules, and probably Natasha’s wards, and came running inside from the porch. He slammed into the room and I twisted to give him a shocked look. I wasn’t sure who was more horrified, him or me.
I was terrified of touching Natasha, knowing contact with a witch while their energy was in full force could send me to the astral plane so fast I’d be knocked unconscious. And being stuck in the Ether while unconscious was a dangerous thing.
I didn’t need to worry though.
Drake dashed into the room, pushed through the magical energy cocooning the witch, scooped Natasha up and looked up at me. “Water?”
Wordlessly, I pointed out the window behind him, in the direction of the hidden pond at the back of the house. My mouth still hung open with shock. I couldn’t decide what was going to be worse. That the demon’s blood had caused such a reaction, that Natasha had lost control for the first time in ever, or that Drake had entered the white witch’s house after being expressly instructed not to.
Drake of course, didn’t seem to be bothered in the least.
As the gargoyle turned and raced out of the room and down the hall to the front door, I yelled after him. “Natasha’s going to be so pissed off at you.” I was thinking about her instructions that he was not to break her wards.
“She has to be alive first to be pissed off.”
Good point.
Weaving through the trees, Drake followed my lead until we reached the small pond fed by an aquifer below ground. The water was clear and pure; white water. Drake didn’t even pause to take off his shoes, just crashed right into the pond and submerged Natasha into the water until only her face remained visible. Her hair spread out around her like a halo, white cloud on a dark canvas.
I wasn’t done being shocked, though.
A pale light began to glow around the gargoyle and the witch, giving their skin a white sheen. I gasped so hard that the inhalation turned into a choking cough. Drake’s entire body shone, every midnight blue tattoo on his skin glowed so brightly I had to shade my eyes. They weaved and swam along his skin, alive and filled with energy and light.
Yup. I was dreaming.
Maybe we’d never left home. Maybe at this very moment I was lying on my bed, fast asleep, because shit like this can only be dreamt up.
Drake looked up at me, his expression fierce and fearful, and said, “Stay back.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond, just held Natasha tightly and submerged the both of them. They disappeared beneath the surface of the water and seconds later the dull thud of an explosion rocke
d the ground, sending vibrations through my feet and up my bones. A million shockwaves rippled across the water. Around me birds squawked and fled the safety of the branches while the leaves shuddered and danced. Waves danced and slapped at the edge of the pond, as if someone had bumped into a bowl of water.
I sucked in a breath, realizing almost too late that I’d been holding it all this time.
What the hell was going on here?
A dark patch appeared on the surface of the water and Drake rose with his still unconscious burden. The kaftan now clung to Natasha’s curves and I smirked. She was going to kick herself for forgoing a bra, today of all days.
Drake lifted her out of the water and laid her on the grass on the bank beside me. As soon as her body came into full contact with the earth she shuddered and gasped, sucking in air before coughing so hard that her entire body shook.
Clearing her throat, she lifted herself up onto her elbow and stared at me. Natasha looked so calm, as if shit like this happened all the time.
Knowing Natasha, it probably did.
I leaned toward her, pushing strands of sodden hair out of her eyes. “Can you explain to me what the hell just happened.”
She smiled, then shifted to sit upright, giving Drake a cool glance. “Hint of demon essence, my ass.”
I snorted. Natasha didn’t do foul language.
“Whoever the demon is that contaminated that blood, it’s extremely old and extremely powerful. The power is demonic and magical.”
“Shit.”
“And human.” Her face was still pale, but she managed to also look amused.
“What?” My voice broke into a squeak.
Natasha got to her feet, paying no attention to both her soaking wet kaftan and her soaking wet savior. “She’s a half-human half-demon witch. Which explains the power in her magic. She draws it from both worlds.” She swiped her soaking hair from her face, then swiped droplets of water from her eyes.
“You sound like you admire her,” said Drake, clearly not impressed. He didn’t hide the criticism in his voice either.
Natasha lifted her chin. “Not admiration. Acknowledgment. All creatures are unique and must be respected as such.” With that she turned and headed up the path through the trees.