Her determined expression fell slightly at my accusation. Having heard it out loud, she was no doubt rethinking her suspicion due to its sheer apparent ridiculousness. “It’s possible,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. Another pang of guilt twinged in my chest, but I brushed it aside. I had her where I wanted her—where I needed her. It was not time to buckle under my guilt.
“Really? You’re telling me that you think a demon—a demon that I, more than anyone, would have been able to sense—saw me weak and vulnerable on the streets and decided that he would help me by bringing me to our secret guild he couldn’t know about instead of absconding with me or killing me right then and there? Yes, Ivy, that sounds wholly logical to me.”
“It’s just that Agnes—”
“Agnes is afraid of mice who skitter through the halls at night and the sound of a book dropping.”
“That’s unfair and unkind, Oleander—”
“Be that as it may, it’s true nonetheless, and you damn well know it. I’m not saying that whoever this man may be is a gentleman, by any stretch of the imagination. He could be a pedophile or a murderer—I have no idea—and maybe Agnes was right to fear him. But he did what I could not and got me here, so for that, I’m grateful. Beyond that, I can’t tell you anything.”
Frustration tugged at her brows, knitting them together in contemplation, but they eventually softened, her smooth, delicate features arranging themselves into her pleasant countenance once again. “You’re right. I think seeing you like that just has us all on edge.”
“I’m sure I looked a fright.”
“That’s an understatement,” Hazel yelled over her shoulder from across the room. She flashed a grin and a wink to follow.
“I’m not certain you have much room to talk, Hazel. Your hair looks as though a bird has been nesting there for weeks and a feral cat went in after it.”
“Yoooooooo…harsh, much?” Her grin fell to a scowl in an instant. “Keep it up and we won’t tell you what we finished while you were sawing logs on the chaise.”
I shot Ivy a confused look.
“Ah, snoring,” she said, realization dawning, “she means snoring. It was intolerably loud. I think you actually shook the glassware on Hazel’s—”
“Understood. I was snoring. Thank you for the clarification, Ivy.” I quickly turned my embarrassment to irritation and looked at Hazel. “You were saying?”
“What was I saying?” Hazel asked herself before bolting upright, arms high overhead. “Oh, right! The grimoire! Ivy and I managed to finish the translation, thanks to one special nobody-knows-what-the-hell-any-of-these-words-mean-so-help-us spell, courtesy of moi.” She took a dramatic bow and remained there for several seconds before righting herself and bouncing on her toes with excitement. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get your ass over here so we can talk about it!”
Needing no further encouragement, I rushed over to where she stood, Ivy at my side. Together, we leaned over the worktable and stared at the massive tome.
“Okay, here’s the deal. With the spell, we were able to get the words and characters to morph into English, but like, ollllld English, so we had to work a little more magic—pun totally intended—to smooth it all out a bit. But here’s what we got.” She pointed to the script on the page, and I read it over with bated breath. Too impatient to let me finish, Hazel interrupted. “WE CAN TOTALLY KILL DEMONS!” she screeched in my ear, then followed it with clapping and more toe-bouncing.
“Shh! Let me finish,” I said, trailing my finger along the page to stay focused as I read. By the time I finished, I could not suppress my elation. “This is brilliant, Hazel,” I muttered under my breath as my disbelief lifted. “We can kill them.”
“That’s what I just said!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, ladies,” Ivy cautioned. “The bit about needing something evil to do it is vague at best. First, we must ensure that we have an item that will suffice. Then, as a guild, we can go after a demon together.” She over-enunciated that final word, for my benefit no doubt. “Which reminds me, Oleander. You and I are due for a conversation today.”
“Of course,” I said, daring a look at her.
“We have strength in our numbers,” Ivy continued, referencing the spell, “and we may well need it if everything goes to pot.”
“It won’t,” I said, staring at the page again.
“So,” Hazel said, hedging slightly, “totally not trying to bring the mood down here, but…where do we get something evil?”
I lifted my gaze to Ivy, and she gave a quick nod before hastening over to the locked cabinet in the corner. She fished a ring of keys from her skirt pocket and fingered through them until she found the right one. I straightened as she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Inside was an assortment of threatening items: pieces of ancient relics, magical totems, and talismans with power too strong to be kept anywhere other than under lock and key (and heavily warded). In the center of the middle shelf was a glass jar with a single object inside. She pulled the jar out and brought it over to us. I stiffened at the sight of its contents, memories of my time in the demon realm flashing through my mind.
“This should suffice, I think, should it not, Oleander?”
I looked at the broken piece of black obsidian and nodded.
“What is it?” Hazel asked, reaching for the glass. Ivy caught her hand before she touched it.
“That is the tip of a demon claw,” she said calmly. “It was embedded in Oleander’s body when she arrived here. I kept it in case it should ever prove important in finding her soul.”
“Holy shit—”
“There’s nothing holy about it.” My voice, unlike Ivy’s, was low and threatening and accurately portrayed the rage building inside me. Xandros would soon regret that final swipe at my chest. He’d meet his death because of it.
The irony brought a smile to my face.
“Oleander—”
“I know, Ivy.” Her warning tone was duly noted.
“There is still much that we do not know or understand about this. Now is not the time to let your desire for vengeance cloud your judgment.”
“Isn’t her judgment always clouded?”
“Hazel—”
“I won’t do anything reckless,” I said, tucking the translated text away in my mind. And as soon as I figured out how, I’d tuck that broken claw away in my pocket.
“Good. Now, Grisholm sent a message while you were sleeping with more details about the auction. It seems there may be an issue involving some other parties.”
“Other parties?”
“Yes. Grisholm hasn’t tied down exactly who just yet, but there are warlocks involved, and nothing good can come of that.”
I scowled in agreement. “Unsavory bastards…”
“At any rate, he should know more soon. For now, we can rest somewhat easy knowing that the jewel is under magical protection and also guarded by humans. Since demons cannot kill them, or conspire to have them killed, it should be safe for the time being.”
Unless he absconds with them to his realm…
“And since we know how to kill them now, that can’t hurt, right?” Hazel asked.
“Has Petal been able to see anything surrounding this Demonheart Opal?”
Ivy shook her head, a stray tendril of dark, wavy hair landing on her face. “No. It seems as though it’s immune to her powers—like it repels her attempts to connect to it.”
That sounded far more ominous than I wanted to admit.
“What are we supposed to do in the meantime? Demons are out in the streets.”
“I have been tasked with cozying up to a certain judge in an attempt to see this jewel—”
“And possibly get him to hand it over to you?” Hazel asked with a laugh. “Ah, to be a Daughter of Air—that wind-talking must come in super handy sometimes.”
“It is a gift one must learn to control very carefully, or else risk isolation and death.”
“Isolation and death?” Hazel pressed.
Ivy leaned in closer. “Nobody likes to think they’re being manipulated by the words of another—especially not if it’s true.” Our fearless leader flashed the younger witch a smile, then locked the claw away before heading to the adjacent room to change. She’d wear her finest when she went to charm the judge.
And with any luck, she’d leave her ring of keys in her pocket for me to get the claw.
Minutes later, she emerged, looking like a high-class lady. Her deep blue silk dress was stunning, and the amount of skin it revealed toed the line between fashionable and scandalous. In short, it was perfect for the task at hand.
“Willow and Petal should be returning any time now, and I expect you both to await their arrival and fill them in on all that has been discussed.” She turned her serious gaze to me. “Oleander, you will see to this in my absence, is that clear?”
“Fine.”
“I shouldn’t be long—the judge is hardly a challenge.” With a laugh that sent shivers down my spine, she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and slipped through the hidden library door. Hazel immediately turned her attention back to whatever she had in progress on her worktable, her focus fully absorbed by the task. I took that moment to slip into the room where Ivy had changed—the room filled with the costumes and disguises the others used whenever a mission deemed them necessary. In her haste, Ivy had cast her violet dress aside on the floor in a heap. I scooped it up and rifled through the hidden pockets. Each one came up empty.
“Dammit, Ivy…” I threw it back down, and the soft tinkling of muffled metal cut through the silence. I bent down and jostled the garment until I heard the sound more strongly. With frantic hands, I searched the fabric until I found a secret fold in the hem of the skirt. “You tricky little minx,” I muttered under my breath as I worked the keys through the tiny opening. Once they were free, I tucked them in my coat pocket and rejoined Hazel.
“Hazel, could you track down Agnes for me? I want to ask her something about the man who brought me here.”
She peered up through a curtain of red waves. “Why don’t you go?”
“Because I make her nervous. You know that. She could die of fright if I accidentally snuck up on her.”
“Then don’t accidentally sneak.” She looked back down at her potion book.
“Nobody accidentally sneaks on purpose, Hazel.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
I slowly walked over until my hip brushed against her hers. “Hazel, you do know that I could burn that little book of yours with one fireball, do you not? And if you insist upon ignoring my request, that is precisely what I’ll do.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, eyes wide with concern that I just might.
“I would indeed, so perhaps you should go fetch Agnes for me before we both find out.”
“Ugh, you’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”
“I do. Now, if you please…” I gestured toward the door, and the witch who claimed to be from the future stomped out in dramatic fashion.
The second the door shut behind her, I rushed to the cabinet and unlocked it. I grabbed the vial, locked the cabinet, and hastened to the hidden door opposite the library exit. With my palm on the painting and the incantation spoken, the door appeared and I bolted through it and down the stairs to the alley door. The spell I’d read in the book was clear in my mind. It was time to see if their translation had succeeded.
It was time to go demon hunting.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It didn’t take long to find a trail of evil to follow. After only fifteen minutes wandering the streets of New York, the faint niggle of it crawled up the back of my neck and didn’t let go. I followed it as it grew stronger and stronger. The hunted had become the hunter, and I smiled in anticipation of the satisfaction I would soon feel as I brought the first of many monsters to its knees.
His speed was formidable, but near enough to a human’s that I managed to gain on him over the blocks of winding road he traveled. It was clear that he was searching for something, but I didn’t know what that something was. I hoped it wasn’t Ivy or Hazel, out looking for their rogue sister with a penchant for making reckless decisions.
I picked up my pace just in case it was.
The evil seemed to stop outside a tenement near the Fourth Ward, and I crept toward it, pushing my way through clotheslines and broken shacks in a reeking alley. With every step, I could feel the pull of darkness, and I ran the words I’d read in the grimoire over and over in my mind. The spell was ready. The claw was in my hand. All I needed was the target in sight, and I could put the ancient text to the test.
There were few people out at such a late hour, and those that were in that neighborhood would be too drunk or too diseased to notice a demon and a witch fighting. Even if they did, they’d never be believed. There was no better place to stage my battle.
I brushed a soiled sheet aside and saw a figure in the distance. He was too well-dressed to belong in that part of the city, so I would have known in an instant what he was even without that familiar crawl of evil along my skin. “Demon,” I whispered to myself as I held the claw out before me.
I started the incantation, drawing power from deep inside me and beyond. Power from the ground I stood upon coursed through me as I pulled it up from within the Earth’s core. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—it was heady and wild and utterly intoxicating. I reveled in the feel of it as it filled my body, ready to be unleashed on the unsuspecting demon. My arms wide, I moved to snap them together and close the circuit so I could channel the power through them.
But a steely voice in my ear startled me. “Precisely what do you think you’re doing?” Zen asked. The magic sputtered out, my concentration broken, and I wheeled around to find him nearly on top of me, dark eyes filled with literal flames yet again. His hands wrapped around my arms, gripping them so tightly I gasped from the pain. “Walk with me,” he said, steering me away from the demon I had almost cornered.
“Enough,” I growled, wrestling out of his grasp.
“What were you thinking?” he snapped back, eyes still alight with a red, flickering glow. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“I was trying to kill something else,” I replied, clutching the claw in my hand so tightly it pierced the skin.
“You don’t get to try death out, you know. It’s a one-shot deal.”
I stared at him for a moment, letting him think that he’d gotten the better of me—that he’d cowed me with his anger and show of strength. But instead, I was silently calling my fire, reciting the incantation over and over in my head.
Maybe I’d lost one target that evening, but I had another glaring at me from only inches away.
I muttered the spell under my breath and shoved him away, followed by a kick to his chest that knocked him into the far building. With the claw in one hand and fire growing in the other, I snapped them toward each other, aimed at him.
The animal sound he let loose in return blew my hair back as he shot across the distance and tackled me to the ground before my palms could meet, breaking the spell before I could let it loose. He pinned my hands above my head and made that horrible roaring sound again, right in my face, to intimidate me before he did whatever he planned to do.
I’d taken my shot and failed.
Maybe I truly was courting death that night.
“Have I not made myself clear enough for you to understand, witch?” he said, his voice more beast than man in that moment. “Do you need me to explain again that I cannot be killed by your powers or spells or trinkets or whatever you have convinced yourself can accomplish the task? This is where you would have found yourself had I not stopped you from letting your hubris get you slaughtered tonight.” I struggled beneath him, to no avail. “Is that what you want? To be butchered by one of my kind? Because if it is, I’ve already offered to see to it myself once Xandros is dealt with. But until then,
your fascination with hunting and killing demons stops, understood?”
He leaned in closer, flames dancing in his dark eyes. I spat in his face. “Get off of me!”
He cleaned his cheek with a swipe of his sleeve, then reached for my clenched hands. I couldn’t stop him from prying them open. He plucked the claw out of my palm and rocked back onto his heels, letting me go.
“Is this what made you so brave?” he asked, holding it up to the light of the moon. I said nothing in response, which was answer enough in his mind. He laughed, and the deep, throaty sound ricocheted off the buildings surrounding us and wrapped around me, making my hair stand on end. “I don’t know where you got the notion that this could help you, but since you’re clearly convinced it’s true, I think I’ll hold onto it for now. Just to be safe.” He tucked it away inside his coat, then stared at me expectantly as he stood. When I didn’t move, he reached his hand out to me to help me up. I shoved it away and stood on my own.
I walked past him, headed for home.
He was at my side in a moment, his demonic side once again tucked deep inside the human he pretended to be. “I don’t know why you’re sulking about this—you weren’t the one on the receiving end of an assassination attempt.”
“Fuck off,” I said, using a phrase I’d heard Hazel use before.
“Fuck off?” he repeated. His amusement with the term was plain in his voice. “I’m not sure I know how. Care to show me?”
“You’re awfully chipper for someone who narrowly escaped his death.”
He let out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have died.”
“So you say, though what was the advice my mother always gave me? Oh yes: ‘never trust a demon’.”
“Smart woman, that mother of yours.”
Just as we were about to enter the street, Zen’s hand grasped my wrist and held me back. Before I could argue or resist, I felt the press of evil—not his own—surrounding us from every direction.
“Where did they come from?” I whispered.
A Curse of Nightshade (Witches of the Gilded Lilies Book 1) Page 10