Bone Lantern Witch

by Kat Simons

  “Depends on the hunter,” Sebastian said, his voice very deep. He was letting his will seep out more. And if Carmen didn’t talk soon, there was every possibility Sebastian would try to force her to.

  Carmen seemed to recognize the tone. And since she hadn’t won their clash of wills earlier, Angie had to wonder if she fancied her chances now or not.

  Apparently, she didn’t. But she didn’t answer the unspoken question of what the lantern was. “I kept Grant in line,” she said. “That was my job. To keep him doing all the wicked things that kept his corrupt little soul in line with my master’s goals.”

  “The Molder demon is your master?” Sebastian asked.

  That was a slightly different level of relationship than just a summoner asking for a favor from a demon. The master-minion relationship meant Carmen was getting something regularly from the demon—and vice versa—and that she worshiped the beast in an almost religious way. A typical human summoner didn’t refer to a demon as their master unless…well, unless the demon was. Most didn’t know enough to use that phrase. Those like Grant usually thought they were the masters in the relationship.

  Until their part of the bargain came due.

  “Do you know how many greedy, rich, white bastards there are in the world?” Carmen asked.

  “Oh lots,” Sebastian said without any hint of amusement. “Encounter them all the time. Occupational hazard.”

  Carmen lifted her lip a little, an expression halfway between a snarl and a smile. “I bet you do. Did you know that greedy white bastards never give their household staff a second glance? That particular brand of asshole just…lets their gaze skim right over the top of their staff.”

  “Hiding in plain sight?” Angie guessed.

  Carmen smiled fully this time. “So so easy to be overlooked if you’re a Latina woman working in a wealthy white man’s house. No one thinks you understand very much. They don’t think you have good English if you put on the right kind of accent—even if your English is better than theirs, accent or no. No one thinks twice about you except when they need something done. Oh, they’re quick to send you away if they want privacy. Careful if they don’t want to be overheard by the ‘staff.’ But never careful enough.”

  “Should I ask what drove you to this or is that too monologue-y?” Angie asked.

  “Too monologue-y,” Carmen said with a shrug. “All you need to know is the intent was never a child sacrifice.” She narrowed her eyes at both Sebastian and Angie. “You two don’t seem entirely stupid. I’m sure you can work it out.”

  “But why should we, when you can just tell us?” Angie said.

  She’d already worked out some of it. The target was Grant and had been Grant from the beginning. And the why had to do with some sort of revenge goal against greedy rich bastards—at least on Carmen’s part.

  Angie almost couldn’t blame her for that. She liked balance, and the greedy rich bastards of the world threw that balance off. They’d usually earned any bad consequences that came at them. Unfortunately, a lot of times they never received those consequences in this realm. Some people chose to believe there was another way in which punishment was meted out after death—Hell, or a bad reincarnation, or bad luck visited upon their descendants, or any number of outcomes used by religions to promote good behavior in this lifetime. For some, that wasn’t enough.

  Angie got the feeling Carmen was one of the latter.

  “Let’s just say,” Carmen said slowly, “that you shouldn’t worry too much about what happens. Mara is safe. Her mother is safe. Grant is…not worth worrying about.”

  Angie narrowed her eyes as something niggled at the back of her mind. She went with her instincts because she trusted them—in all things but romantic entanglements. “Did you know Mara called a demon? Did you…give her that idea?”

  Carmen frowned and looked away. “Damn it, she wasn’t supposed to—” She pressed her lips together. “I take it you stopped her,” she said to Sebastian.

  He didn’t respond, and Carmen’s expression darkened. “That child should not be allowed to summon demons. Her will is strong now but not strong enough. She still needs—”

  Again, Carmen cut herself off. But she’d slipped and they all knew it.

  “Training Mara to take over where you leave off,” Angie said more than asked. “How can you claim you weren’t sacrificing her to a demon when that was clearly your aim? She enters a bargain, takes over your bargain, and she’s lost.”

  “You think I’m lost, too, then? Poor little lost Carmen doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into?” Carmen attempted a haughty, dismissive smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “As I said, I believe in letting people make their own choices. You chose this? Or it was forced on you?”

  “Choice,” Carmen snarled. “A choice I’d make again.”

  “Then the consequences are yours, too. But is it a choice Mara would make without…manipulation?”

  Angie knew the answer. She’d sensed a lot about Mara when she’d read her room. This sort of revenge life, subservience to a demon to wreak havoc on people who may or may not deserve it, this wasn’t an innate part of Mara’s nature. But at twelve, the girl’s fundamental kindness could be manipulated, distorted.

  From the beginning of her training, Angie had to learn where she drew her moral line and which side of that line she wanted to be on. All witches with real magic had to make that choice—and the choice always came with consequences, no matter what, good or bad. She’d had a good teacher, who helped her to clearly define that line, to make her own decision about what kind of witch, what kind of person, she wanted to be. Temptations to do harm were abundant in a world full of horrible people. Giving in to those temptations led down a path Angie didn’t want to travel. She made another choice.

  Carmen had chosen the do-harm path.

  Mara should be left to choose her own path as well. But Carmen was giving her a push in a direction Angie suspected Mara would regret. And yet, in the end, it would be Mara’s choice…

  That didn’t mean Angie had to let Carmen be the sole influence in that decision. In fact, she didn’t have to let Carmen have any say in it at all.

  “You can forget about manipulating Mara anymore. Find a new replacement. Or better yet. Don’t. The world doesn’t need more evil people. We have more than enough already.”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you? Seeing into their souls with just a touch.” Carmen shifted a little in the dirt, but didn’t attempt to rise.

  Angie noted the adjustment though, watched the way Carmen’s gaze jumped to the lantern again. “I would,” Angie said, her attention divided between the conversation and the small, subtle movements Carmen made. “Though to be honest, most of the people I work with are lost souls in need of guidance. I shine some lights that give them options.” She adjusted the strap of her purse across her chest, letting the heavy part settle more comfortably against her hip.

  “Shine light? What a load of bullshit. Witches always say things like that. Do you know what balance, real balance is?”

  “Yup,” Angie said without clarifying.

  “It’s people doing what I do, to balance the scales. I don’t make them bargain with a demon. I don’t make them wish harm on others through greed. They do that shit themselves. I just ensure they get what’s coming to them.”

  “Been doing that for a while, have you?” Angie asked.

  “Long enough. Long enough to see the good I do.”

  Angie’s eyebrows popped up. “Good? That’s what you think this is?”

  “The horrid, evil men who would sacrifice babies for power and wealth end up punished. You tell me if that isn’t good.”

  Angie shrugged. “It’s their own doing. I won’t argue with that. But they’d get that end without your help. They always do when they try to bargain with demons. Eventually.”

  “Except that your kind keep showing up and stopping the demons!” Carmen roared.

  With
a suddenness that shocked Angie, even though she’d been watching for it, Carmen thrust to her feet and charged—not Angie, but Sebastian.

  And the lantern.

  Angie recalled the little ball of fire into this existence, raised her hand to throw it.

  Carmen reached for the lantern. “Give that back!”

  Sebastian stood his ground. He didn’t even move to one side. He just stood there and raised the lantern high over his head, and said, “No.”

  There was a moment… A moment with Carmen hovering mid-reach, stretching, straining forward, but unable to move closer to the lantern. The faint red in Sebastian’s eyes flared as his will washed over Carmen. Carmen’s jaw clenched as she fought against his will with her own.

  And Angie’s gaze accidentally slipped to the space between them. To a tree with a natural “V” shape in its trunk.

  To the demon world she could see just inside that “V”.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The sounds of chittering overwhelmed Angie as she took into the red heat, the glow, the sky like fire, the hiss and crackle of lava rock, the burning scent.

  The demons passing too close to the opening between realms.

  Caught. Caught. Trapped. No escape.

  The fire ball in her palm winked out as she lost the concentration to hold the spell. Her gut tightened. Panic clutched at her throat. She hadn’t meant to… She couldn’t. Not now. Not right now…

  Her fingers went automatically to the charm on her wrist, a little jolt of reassurance, of strength, of protection. She pressed hard into the pentagram, forcing her breath in and out.

  A demon turned. Saw her.

  Smiled.

  All she saw were its teeth and the red glow of its eyes. She couldn’t see any more, couldn’t have identified the species, the realm. Panic had closed her mind down and she couldn’t think.

  A shiver through her arm from the charm, another little jolt.

  She sucked in a breath. She had to turn away. Carmen. The lantern.

  Sebastian.

  She couldn’t let this happen. Couldn’t allow her fear to unleash this mess. Not again.

  Never, never again.

  She forced a blink. There, that was it. Just a blink. Just one more. Look away. Turn her head.

  She heard Sebastian call her name, heard someone else say something. Carmen. Carmen was a threat.

  She had to turn away.

  The sounds of the demons inside the hellscape grew louder, the chittering grating along her nerves.

  There was a laugh, and then the brush of something against her leg. That last sensation startled her and she glanced down.

  Nothing there.

  But it had been enough.

  Keeping her gaze down, only glancing at the tree with her peripheral vision, she heard the sound of a screeching protest from inside the demon realm as the rip between realms sealed shut, the barrier hardening once more. The red light cut off. The little patch of woods fell into darkness again.

  She blinked hard, trying to regain her night vision. The brightness of the hellscape wouldn’t have affected the others. No one could see into the breach but her—unless a demon got out. Even mundane humans could see the demons once they broke into this realm.

  But that hadn’t happened. She hadn’t let them through. She hadn’t been sucked in. She was okay. The world was okay.

  She looked up when Sebastian set his hands on her shoulders. It took her a good ten seconds to realize… “Carmen?”

  “Got away, I’m afraid,” he said.

  “The lantern?”

  He nodded down. He’d placed the lantern on the ground between them so he could still guard it, but so it wasn’t touching her in any way.

  “At least there’s that.” She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have known better. I…” She shook her head, no more words to explain. She’d made a mistake. And that mistake had distracted Sebastian, allowing Carmen to get away.

  “Carmen said something before she abandoned the lantern and ran off,” Sebastian said quietly. “She seemed to know what had happened.”

  “How? She couldn’t have seen into the realm breach.”

  Even during the years they’d worked together, Sebastian couldn’t see directly into the demon realm she opened unless a demon had moved mostly out of it. He trusted that it was there because he had seen demons roll out of one of the openings before. He’d seen demons disappear back through the portal.

  And once he’d reached into the breach to save her from a hellscape. Though he couldn’t see it, he’d held it open with his will and reached in for her because…

  Because he said he loved her and refused to let her die.

  That had happened two years ago. And it had been the last straw for Angie and demon hunting—or at least she’d tried for it to be. She’d moved across the country to escape that world because she didn’t want to experience that fear again. She still had nightmares about those moments being stuck in the hellscape and knowing the opening she’d made between the realms was about to close. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to open another one because there were no trees inside the hellscape. Knowing the demons overwhelming her would kill her before she could even try.

  The fear haunted her. It popped up at odd moments. It chased her through her nightmares. And despite how much she loved him, that fear of what had almost happened hovered in the back of her mind every time she looked at Sebastian.

  She was almost glad when he’d dragged her back into his world a couple more times, enough to anger her, enough to make her so mad at him, she wasn’t tempted to go running back to him every time she thought of him.

  She shook off the fear, the memories, the past. “What did Carmen say that made you think she knew what I’d done?”

  “She called you a demon witch, a realm splitter.”

  Angie frowned. “I’ve studied witchcraft for years. I’ve even seen notations about my particular skill in one or two books, and how rare the ability is.” It was a once-every-four-or-five-generations rare. So rare… “I’ve never seen it given a name before. And I haven’t heard the term realm splitter before.”

  “Carmen might have been making up the terms,” Sebastian said, though his gaze flickered briefly away from hers when he did.

  “What don’t I know?” Angie said, dropping her voice to a deeper, warning tone.

  “The question is, what does Carmen know. And how?” He glanced down at the lantern. “And how did she get her hands on one of these?”

  Angie wanted to stick to the original topic, to what he knew about those terms, what that flicker in his gaze meant. But the immediacy of the lantern drew her away. She had questions about that too, and they were more important at the moment.

  “You know what it is? What it does?” she asked, though she already suspected he did. And she had no intention of letting him get by with a half-assed explanation this time.

  “I haven’t seen one personally before,” he said, releasing her shoulders and leaning back a step. They both looked down at the lantern. “There are rumors of such things but you won’t find them in most books on demons.”

  True enough or Angie would have a better idea what it was—she’d made a point of studying demons alongside her witchy studies.

  “A bone lantern.” He glanced up at her. “They’re a kind of demon reliquary.”

  “A reliquary? As in a housing for religious artifacts?”

  “In this case, a housing for demon artifacts. Demon bones.” His gaze flicked down to the lantern again. “Demon god bones.”

  “Demon gods?” That was in the books, that there were demons of such immense strength and power they were essentially on par with gods. They were often worshipped as gods among demons. Rumored to be from realms most demons couldn’t even access. And, like most human gods, considered myths by the hunters. Considered myths by a lot of demons as well.

  Sebastian shrugged. “In reality, they don’t require actual
god bones, as far as I know. Like Catholic reliquaries often contain the supposed bones of saints? A bone lantern can contain the bones and essence of a powerful demon with specific gifts. Specialized magic. Something else unique that makes their lantern powerful.”

  Angie looked between Sebastian and the lantern. “This is really made from demon bones.” She scowled. “And it has magic of some very specific variety. That’s what you’re telling me.”

  “It may well be why our Molder demon can move into this realm, in a host body, without sacrificing power. The Molder might not need all the usual blood bonding and sacrifice to make it happen.”

  “You’re telling me that with the bone lantern, the Molder demon can move into a host’s body…easily?” She took a single step away from the lantern. The idea of a demon moving into her body, taking her over without effort, work… Consent.

  She shuddered.

  “That’s one of the rumored possibilities with a bone lantern. But like the demon gods, hunters have assumed bone lanterns were rumors, too. I’m not sure even Aidan has seen one, and she’s been fighting demons for a very long time.”

  “So…what do we do with it? How can we tell if it’s a real bone lantern or just a prop used by the Molder demon to manipulate the humans its dealing with?”

  The bones lining the lantern’s sides could be plastic for all she could tell in the dark, without touching it. Seeing it in real life, rather than as a brief glimpse in a vision, she could at least study it better now. The top and handle were beaten wrought iron that seemed to support the bones running down the sides. The glass between the bones was warped, with visible bubbles in it, like it hadn’t been properly blown. She couldn’t tell what color the glass was with only ambient city light to see it by, but it was clear enough to see through to the center of the lamp.

  She backed up another few steps so she could bend down and see inside without touching it. The center was just an open space as far as could tell. There didn’t seem to be a candle or a place to insert one, certainly no modern plugs for light bulbs. The base was the same wrought iron as the top, shaped like a flattened wide brim hat, giving the lantern stability.