Shadows in the Mist

by Jeri Westerson

  “He doesn’t do that now, does he?”

  “No. I daresay, if he did, you’d be dead by now. No, he lost favor over the centuries. He once had a mount, a black wolf.” He grinned, but it slowly waned when I didn’t so much as smile. “He’s a minor demon now and resentful of it. When someone needs an assassin, they often summon him.”

  I began to slowly walk around the perimeter of the house, trying to keep warm. “And would you know how to summon him?”

  He walked beside me, hands in his coat pockets. I knew he didn’t need to keep them warm. He must have picked up the habit from watching humans. “A seal, sigils, blood sacrifice.”

  “That much I know. But specifically. What kind of sigils?”

  “Ah. I see. For your de-summoning. I’m sure your junior Wiccan can find the answers.”

  “It would be helpful if we could hurry this along.” I couldn’t help glancing back into the woods around us. Any change in the shadows made my heart race.

  “And he was using the ghoul to bring you right to him. Clever.”

  “And now there’s a second one.”

  “And that disturbs me.”

  “Why?”

  He stopped at looked at me intently. “Because I’m fairly certain…there is only one such ghoul in the book.”

  “So wait. If there is only one in the Booke—and I have no reason not to believe you—then Andras—”

  “Somehow brought the same ghoul out of the book. And I know that this is impossible.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  It looked like we had a big problem. I gathered the Wiccans sans Nick, who George was fussing over. We retreated into the dining room, keeping our voices low, and I told them what Erasmus had said.

  Doc worried at his lip with his fingers. “This is very alarming. If Andras could get the ghoul out of the book—”

  “Then he can get anything out of it,” I said. “Anything I’ve already put back in it. The werewolf, the kelpie, the succubus…”

  “That’s not good,” said Jolene.

  “No. It isn’t. We’ve got to get this guy.”

  Seraphina tapped her nail on the table. “Is Shabiri helping him?”

  Erasmus grunted. “It’s a possibility. She wants control of the book. With Andras’ help, she just might get it.”

  “I…have an idea,” I said. “Would you all excuse me for a minute?” I walked around the table and grabbed Ed’s arm, pulling him along to the kitchen. I dared not look back at Erasmus.

  Once the door was closed, I bit my lip. “So…George checks out?”

  “As far as I can tell. He was pretty shocked that I’d accuse him. Then he got mad. But…now that I’ve seen him with Nick…well.” He shook his head. “He looks like a different guy. I can’t believe he’d do anything like that.”

  “Good. Because I have a plan. It’s going to be dangerous, and it might mean taking you out of circulation for a while. George will have to be in charge of the law and order around here.”

  He gave me a sidelong glance. “What do you have in mind?”

  When I told him, the whole house likely heard his yell. But after some convincing, he sourly agreed.

  * * *

  George quickly drove home, tried to return to Alderbrook Lane, got lost twice, but was eventually able to bring over new clothes for Nick. After, he wouldn’t leave his side, even when Jeff showed him the spare room.

  “Looks like you might have an extra roommate tonight,” I said to Jeff.

  Jeff shrugged. “As long as it makes Nick comfortable, I’m all for it. But it’s starting to look like a frat house here.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, I guess. Feeling guilty as hell. I didn’t know I’d be making recruits. What if—you know—in the middle of the night, what if Nick shifts and accidentally bites George? I don’t know how this alpha thing works or if they’ll both listen to me.”

  “Seraphina said they gave Nick a double dose tonight. He’ll mostly sleep.” I yawned.

  “Looks like you could use some sleep, too.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s three in the morning. You can’t run a shop this way.”

  “I don’t even know anymore, Jeff. What’s the point of pretending everything is all right and there’ll even be a future?” I paused to gather myself. “Look, if…if something happens to me, I want you to have the shop. As long as you still let Jolene work there.”

  “Whoa, girl, don’t talk like that. You’re gonna get through this. You’ve got all of us watching your back.”

  “And two of my friends have been turned into werewolves. What next? Will I get one of you killed?”

  “Kylie.” He took me in his arms and rested his cheek against my head. “Babygirl, you sure know how to whip up the drama.”

  “I didn’t want to. I just wanted a new start, a new shop…”

  “And everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

  A low growl sounded behind us. Jeff moved with speed and grace, pushing me behind him while he spun and partially shifted, pointed ears pricked and snout full of sharp teeth.

  But it was only Erasmus. “Step away from her,” he growled again.

  I thought Jeff would challenge him, but he only laughed. His ears receded, and his snout shrunk back to normal. “He’s the jealous sort, isn’t he? Stand down, Frodo. Mordor’s not going anywhere.”

  Erasmus frowned.

  “Besides,” said Jeff with a dark smile, “isn’t this a Sheriff Ed night? Since you can’t seem to make up your mind—”

  Great. My love life was the stuff of jokes now. “We’re not…” I took a breath. “Goodnight, Jeff.”

  He waved and trudged up the stairs. Seraphina had offered to stay, too, but Doc decided that between Jeff and George, they could handle things.

  I could tell that everyone was exhausted. We’d worked on everything we could think of. Erasmus had spent a lot of time with Jolene, going over possible rituals and discussing the Booke’s unique qualities.

  I had a plan that I hadn’t told the coven about. I preferred asking for forgiveness rather than permission.

  But it was time to turn in. Everyone retreated to their various cars, with Seraphina steering a sleepy Jolene toward her Saab.

  I turned to Erasmus. “Can you take me home?” He frowned at first, until the realization hit him.

  “Not your constable?”

  “Has your transporter mechanism suddenly broken down?”

  “No. But I—”

  “You don’t appear to be listening.” I stepped closer and put my arms around his neck. “Are you going to take me home or what?”

  Before I got the last word out, the cold and dark enclosed us. When next I blinked, we were in my bedroom. And he was kissing me.

  He wasn’t hesitant. He knew what he was doing, what he wanted. In fact, he seemed rather jubilant that it was him here and not Ed.

  I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. Both our clothes burned away at the same time, and I met flesh for flesh, thinking vaguely how I was going to have to invest in more jackets.

  He tore his mouth away from mine to run his lips over my face and neck. “Why must you torment me?” he whispered.

  “I don’t mean to.”

  “But you do. You torment me with jealousy. With uncertainty.”

  “I’m here now.”

  “Yes. Yes.” He lifted me so that my chest was in reach of his lips. “You’re here.” His kisses ran slowly over my skin. He mouthed my breasts, burying his face between them, sliding his tongue across the curve of one and taking the tip deeply into his mouth. A warm feeling shot right down into my belly. He licked his way to the other but then seemed consumed with moving further downward. He fluttered his hot tongue over my stomach while hiking me higher. Unbalanced, I fell back onto the bed. His strong hands caught me, still clutching my hips, and continued his slow mission lower without skipping a beat.

  His hands were talented, but so
were his mouth and tongue. I squirmed, winging higher and higher on a crest of heat and pleasure. I surprised myself when a gasp transformed into a fevered whiteout of bliss. I was still gasping when he raised his head and grinned—proud of himself. But it was his eyes that held me. He let my legs fall to either side of him as he crawled up my body with intent. I was beyond ready for him, and he entered quickly, then settled in and paused.

  “What are you waiting for?” I said breathlessly.

  He watched my face and gently moved.

  I smiled. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  And he did. He was working in earnest, breathing hard as he thrust, hips snapping. He bent to kiss my breasts, my neck. Everywhere he touched or licked burned with heat. Did it feel so intense because he was a demon? Was that why it was actually hotter where his body touched mine? I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t care, wrapping my thighs tight around him and rocking my hips up to meet him.

  When he roared his culmination and his shoulders smoldered…I felt a little proud myself.

  His body was covered in a sheen of perspiration. His hair fell damp and bedraggled across his face. I reached up and swept a strand from his eyes, and he looked down at me, surprised. We were still joined, but his face was more perplexed than ever before.

  “I don’t understand you,” he said quietly. He reached down and touched my face, fingers trailing over my cheek. His eyes softened, and he cocked his head. His fingers gently ran up my face and then through my hair. “You are difficult to fathom,” he said. And he seemed about to say more when the window exploded.

  Chapter Twenty

  I screamed, and Erasmus threw himself over me. I could feel bits of glass raining down on the bed around us, but he took the brunt of it. He grabbed me and transported me into the shop and then instantly transported back upstairs. A burst of roaring and growling echoed above. I raised my hand for the crossbow…then remembered it was still at Grandpa’s house.

  I whirled toward the fireplace, grabbed a poker, and ran upstairs. From the doorway, I saw a naked Erasmus in hand-to-hand—and tooth-to-claw—combat with Andras. I was naked, too, I realized, but I didn’t suppose it really mattered.

  They tumbled over the bed and onto the floor, the demon assassin’s wings spread wide, touching both walls and sending my carefully hung pictures crashing down, breaking even more glass.

  Erasmus’ mouth had morphed again into that wide version with all those teeth, and he was biting down on Andras’ clavicle, trying to get closer to his neck. Andras was biting him, too. Both of them were covered in black blood. Their bodies smoldered and smoked, leaving burnt scarring across my wood floor.

  Erasmus was on top when Andras suddenly flipped him around and ground him into the floor. But there was Andras’ long, unprotected back. I leapt forward and plunged the poker into him through the skin suit. He threw back his head, arched his back, and wailed.

  Where the poker entered him, it burst into flame. He screamed and rolled, twisting at a painful angle to try and avoid the poker. I hadn’t even realized it when I grabbed it, but it was made of iron.

  Andras rose and turned toward me. He was grimacing in agony, his eyes burning with hatred. He twisted his frame and managed to pull out the poker, dropping it to the floor with a clang. Black blood gushed over the rug. He staggered toward the open maw that was now my window and fell through. Down he went, disappearing into the night. I rushed to what was left of my window sash and looked down. No body. He must have saved himself at the last minute and flown off. Damn! I wish I had killed him.

  Erasmus lay moaning on the floor. I rushed to him, not caring about the bits of glass embedding themselves into my knees.

  “Kylie,” he muttered. “Dammit, woman. You’ll catch your death.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “In a moment. Put something on.”

  “Stop worrying about me.” I began to notice my teeth were chattering.

  There was a lot of blood, some of it Erasmus’. He lay on the floor as I tip-toed through the carnage for my shoes. I shook them out first to clear them of any broken glass before slipping them on. Then I hurriedly searched for a robe and shook it free of glass, too.

  When I was vaguely dressed, I helped him up. There were glass shards all over him, along with scratches from debris and that ass-hat’s teeth. “What can I do to help you?”

  He grunted in obvious pain. “I will heal momentarily.”

  “Shall I try to pull out the glass, or—”

  “No need.” As I watched, the skin around the glass puckered, spitting out the shards. The black blood soon stopped dripping from the wounds as the skin slowly cleaved together. Fast healing didn’t mean fast pain relief. He suffered. All I could do was hold his hand as he squeezed hard and silently take the pain from his crushing grip.

  After a moment, he released me. I shook out my hand to get the blood flowing again. He bent forward, breathing hard. That’s when he saw my knees. “You’re hurt.”

  “I guess.”

  He put hands to both my thighs and instantly any pain was gone. I checked my knees and there was no glass, no blood, no scarring. Even the pain Baphomet’s claws had raked through my scalp was gone, as were the wounds Andras had made to my shoulders. I rolled them, luxuriating in the cessation of pain. “How did you do that?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “You could have healed me before…”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean? Erasmus, what’s going on?”

  He scooted to the end of the bed and clutched his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He looked up suddenly, scrutinizing me. “It’s you,” he said accusingly. “Ever since I met you, it’s all gone wrong.”

  I sat on the bed beside him. “Erasmus,” I said softly. “Do you think it’s because… you might be…in love with me?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Being in love means thinking about that one person all the time. Wanting to be with them. You’d sacrifice yourself for that person. You’d do anything to make them happy. It can be a nice thing.”

  “It sounds horrific.”

  I went back over what I had said and saw his point. “Well, mostly it means you just want to be with that person all the time and keep them safe. You…click with them. It’s a human emotion.”

  He stared at the floor, and so did I…at the sparkling shards of glass that I would have to clean up. I’d have to retreat downstairs now that my bedroom was uninhabitable. More money to spend getting Barry Johnson from Moody Bog Hardware to put in a new window. More expenses I didn’t need right now. And how was I going to explain it?

  Erasmus slowly turned toward me. “That’s not possible,” he all but growled.

  “Demons don’t get human emotions?”

  He scowled and looked away again. “No.”

  “I see. But you can get mad and jealous…but not feel love?”

  “Why do you continue to taunt me?”

  “Because I think there’s a lot about you that even you don’t understand. How long have you been alive? You said you wake up when the Chosen Host opens the Booke and then go to sleep when it gets closed, and sometimes it’s centuries between those times. You’re thousands of years old, but you’ve only been awake for a brief part of that. How would you know? How would you really know anything about yourself?”

  He stared at me now, a look of horror dawning on his face.

  I moved to face him. “Maybe it’s not so bad. Love can be a wonderful thing.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, it is. Especially…” I took a breath. “Especially when both parties feel the same way.”

  “No.” He rose, still naked. I looked away. There was something too raw about him, and I didn’t mean the unclothed part. He strode across my ruined floor, waved his hand, and vanished. As he disappeared in a puff of black smoke, the glass shards rose up from the floor and off the bed. The
remnants of my window rose, too, all heading toward where the gaping hole where my window used to be and carefully stitching themselves together. I watched, with dropped jaw, as each piece found its place again and painstakingly repaired itself, until every tiny shard had found its home and been sucked into position, and there wasn’t a hairline crack to be seen. When all the pieces had made it back into place, even the gentle tinkling sound of the glass sealing itself back together stopped. The room fell silent again…except for the ticking of my alarm clock.

  I ran to the window and looked it over, running my hand over the smooth surface of glass and muntin. When I glanced through it, there was only darkness outside, except for a lone figure in a black duster, pacing through my back garden and refusing to look up to the window.

  Something nudged my hip. The Booke. I reached down and grabbed it, holding it to my chest like an addict. I nearly swooned at the sensation of its nearness. It kept me company as the lone figure below paced and paced.

  * * *

  In the late afternoon, everyone showed up to the shop. Nick was there, and even Deputy George in uniform. Everyone but Ed. And Erasmus.

  While they were all serving themselves tea and cake, I pulled Doc aside. “Doc, I need to ask you something in confidence.”

  “That depends, young lady. Is it something that the rest of us need to know?”

  “I—hmm. I’m not sure. But I have to ask anyway. It’s about…demons.”

  “Does this have to do with the absence of a particular demon?”

  “Sort of. Erasmus seems to have more powers than even he thought he had. When Andras attacked us last night—”

  “Andras attacked you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll tell everyone all about that…in a moment. But he seems to have more power than he thought he had. And I think it’s because he’s…well. In love. With me.”

  His brows snapped up his wrinkled forehead. “I see. And why do you think that is?”

  “The closer we’ve gotten—and you might as well know we’ve gotten pretty darned close, if you haven’t already guessed—the more magic he can perform. But he keeps surprising even himself. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from. And it can’t be the Booke because he’s been with it all his life. It seems that the more he experiences human emotion, the more things he can to do.”