Personal Demons

by Phoebe Ravencraft

  “Now, close your eyes again, and picture that landscape.”

  I shut my eyes. It was pretty easy to envision the boring-ass scene I’d just observed.

  “Look for the threads of eldritch energy,” Devlin said. “They’re out there.”

  Sure they were. This pastoral wasteland was just teeming with powerful magic.

  Okay, come on, Sassy. Luke learned to perceive The Force. Obi-Wan put the helmet on him, so he couldn’t see and then had him fight that remote. He could do it. So can you.

  I blew out a breath and concentrated. Where was the magic? It was there, right? Devlin said it was.

  Magic is a little like music, Ash had once told me. Every spell has a rhythm, a pitch, a melody. You should be able to detect a hum, a song.

  Yes, that was the key, right? I’d had the same struggle to work the decharmer. But even then I’d been able to perceive the magic.

  Ash’s music metaphor hadn’t worked quite right for me, but I’d eventually found one that had. I envisioned crackling currents of electricity. Turning my head towards the window without opening my eyes, I looked through the glass with my thoughts.

  There they were! Little ropes of green and blue energy sparkled against the grass and sky. I could feel their pulse. I could hear their buzz. Some were thin, weak, difficult to even see. Others were thick and bold. But they were there, and I knew on some instinctual level that this was magic, this was the hidden power of the Earth.

  “I see it,” I said. “I feel it.”

  “Good,” Devlin said. “Now, try to pull it to you.”

  Okay, this was something I understood already. The decharmer had worked the same way. Once I could see the ward, I could draw it into the ring.

  I imagined myself standing in the midst of all that eldritch current. I turned my hand over and beckoned with my index finger.

  Nothing happened.

  Surprised, I tried again. It still wouldn’t come. What the hell was wrong? It had been easy with the decharmer.

  Glaring at the thread closest to me, I mentally commanded it to come to me. This time I felt a surge. There was a connection of sorts. But it was like I had roped something too heavy for me to pull in. Like it was a dump truck or a house. My will went taut, trying to draw it towards me, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “I can’t do it,” I said. “I can’t make it come to me.”

  “You can,” Devlin said. “Command it to your will.”

  My whole face screwed up in concentration. I must have looked like I was trying to lift a five-hundred-pound weight. It still refused to come to me.

  “I can’t,” I said again. “It’s too strong. It’s . . . it’s too big.”

  “Don’t think of it as a size or a strength, Sarah,” Devlin said. “You are locking it up with your own mental constructs. By defining it, you make it impossible to manipulate. Think of it instead as something that belongs to you, something you can simply reach out and take.”

  Size matters not, Yoda would say. Judge me by my size, do you?

  Yeah, and I was the same way. I was five-foot-four and a girl. I had an athletic build, but I did not look like much. Yet I won every single karate tournament I ever entered. It didn’t matter what belt rank I held at the time. I beat everyone.

  Partly, that was because I was Nephilim and had enhanced combat reflexes that allowed me to anticipate opponents’ moves before they made them. But I hadn’t known that when I was learning Kenpo and participating in all those tournaments. I’d just fought like a wildcat.

  And that was the real truth: I was a badass. You did not fuck with me unless you wanted a serious hurting.

  So if I could conquer anyone on the mat in a martial arts tournament, I could totally make this magical energy obey me like I was its mama threatening a whuppin’.

  I sucked in another breath, then let all the tension drain away. I smiled. Then I stared down the current of magic and raised my right hand.

  “Come here, bitch,” I said. “Now.”

  A thread of that green bolt snapped to my hand. I felt it wash into me. I smiled at the familiar sensation of receiving magic. It was good, pleasant, healing.

  “I did it!” I exclaimed.

  “Excellent,” Devlin said. “Now, turn your hand over so your palm is up, and shape that magic into a ball of light.”

  My eyes popped open. I gazed on him with doubt.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “Of course you can,” he replied.

  “No, I can’t,” I protested. “I’ve never done that before. I don’t know how.”

  He smiled sympathetically. A warmth I’d not detected before lit those blue eyes of his. I’d thought he was sexy before, but he was suddenly really, really hot. The perfectly straight tresses of black hair that hung immaculately on either side of that rugged face. The stubble on his cheeks from not having shaved this morning. And the heat coming off him. Dear God, I could feel his temperature, like he was a furnace turned on high in a tiny room.

  His patience and understanding were huge turn-ons. He wasn’t soft and awkward like Ash. Alistair Devlin wasn’t cute. He was powerful. And he wanted to help me. It was damned attractive.

  I bit my lip, trying to remind myself that I was in love with Felicia. I told myself getting involved with this guy was a really bad idea. But it was hard to remember why.

  “Tell me something,” he said. “Had you ever thrown fire from your hands before you did it for the first time?”

  “No,” I said, mesmerized by his handsome face and his gentle, instructive tone.

  “Had someone taught you how you might do it? Did they tell you could take the magic stored inside you and convert it to fire you could project at an enemy?”

  “No,” I said again.

  “And yet, you managed the task well enough to dispatch a vampire.”

  Holy shit, he was right! When Gerard Dulac had us all at his mercy, I’d known I was only going to get one chance to kill him and rescue us all. I’d known I could absorb his charm power and use that fuel as a weapon. And I’d known fire was one of the ways to kill a vampire.

  So I’d let him charm me until I had enough magic inside to send it back as hot, flaming death. And I’d just done it. I hadn’t thought about how to do it. I hadn’t wondered if I could do it. I just did it.

  “Take the magic inside of you and turn it into light in your hand,” Devlin said.

  I’m not sure he could have said anything more unintentionally metaphorical. I was practically drowning in sorrow, in darkness. It was a sea of self-loathing agony, and I hardly knew the way up. But I could do something with it. I could turn it into a light to use for . . . well, for whatever I wanted.

  I looked at my hand. I turned it over as he’d instructed. Then I pushed magic into it.

  A tiny globe of light sprang to life just above my palm.

  Despite the fact that I’d fully expected it to work, my eyes popped open wide enough that they nearly fell out of my head. Holy shit, I’d actually done it! I pulled magic from thin air and created a specific, desired effect with it!

  I looked up at Devlin, joy covering my face. He smiled. God damn. That smile was freakin’ sexy. I’d not really seen it before. He’d chuckled a few times when I’d amused him, but this was the first time I’d seen real happiness on his face. It looked good.

  “Well done, Sarah,” he said. “See if you can make it larger.”

  Eager to please him, I returned my gaze to the globe of light in my hand. I pushed more magic into it, and it swelled until it was the size of a softball.

  “Good,” Devlin said. “Now reduce the amount of light, while keeping the ball the same size.”

  Hmm. That felt trickier. I was uncertain how to make it less intense but still large.

  I closed my eyes and imagined the magic was a crystal ball or a snow globe or something. I envisioned a dimmer switch at its base. I reached out with mental fingers and turned the dial.

  “Good!” Devlin said.
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  I opened my eyes again and saw that the ball in my hand was still the same size, but it was throwing off only a quarter of the light as before.

  “Now shrink it back to its original size,” Devlin instructed.

  Nodding, I squeezed off the power like there was a tap or something inside me that controlled the flow. The globe shrank quickly, until it was just a tiny pin prick.

  “Now, extinguish it,” Devlin said.

  I turned the tap all the way, shutting off the flow. The light went out like I’d flipped a switch.

  I beamed at Devlin like I was a kid who’d just taught the family dog a new trick. I couldn’t wipe the satisfied grin off my face. I was used to screwing up. But this was more like Kenpo. With a little effort, I’d learned a new technique. I was insanely proud of myself.

  “You see?” Devlin said. “There is much more that is possible than you might believe. You must give yourself a chance to accomplish something that seems impossible.”

  My joyful grin turned sardonic. I’d be a lot keener on this sort of thing if people didn’t always couch it in tin-can philosophy. That was one of the things I’d liked about my sensei, Kai. He didn’t try to steep all the moves in Eastern, kung-fu-movie bullshit. He just taught you how to do it and why it worked.

  “You must unlearn what you have learned,” I said, mimicking Yoda again.

  Devlin cocked his head and looked confused.

  “That’s the second time you’ve spoken in that funny voice,” he said. “Why do you—”

  “I told you,” I said, trying not to sound like an asshole. Not sure I pulled it off. “You sound like Yoda from the Star Wars movies. It’s like you’re trying to train me to be a Jedi Knight.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  I sighed. Then I leaned back and closed my eyes.

  “It’s hard to believe that in three hundred fifty years you ain’t seen or done hardly anything,” I commented.

  Devlin didn’t respond. I had no idea if he was staring at me in confusion or just giving up. Either way, I was ridiculously pleased with myself. I decided to savor it.

  The feeling didn’t last.

  “Cecily!” someone shouted.

  I opened my eyes in alarm. My father was standing in the aisle of the train car right in front of me. I looked at Devlin. He stared out at the window at the passing scenery. I elbowed him.

  “Do you see this?” I asked.

  He gazed at me, confused.

  “Cecily, listen to me!” my dad shouted.

  I looked at him. I turned back to Devlin. He gave no indication of seeing. I turned around. No one else in the car was paying attention. A kid played a game on a Nintendo Switch. His bored mom read a book. Two women talked quietly among themselves. A man leaned back with his ballcap pushed down over his eyes, sleeping. No one noticed the commotion happening just in front of them.

  “Cecily, listen to me!” Dad shouted again. “You do not know enough. Do you understand? You do not know enough.”

  “Know enough about what?” I said. “What are you talking about?”

  He didn’t answer me. Instead, he took, like, two steps past me and pointed the index finger of his right hand furiously.

  “You cannot help her!” he shouted. “Let her go! You cannot help her!”

  I had no idea who the hell he was talking to. No one was there. He stood among the other passengers, but he wasn’t addressing any of them. It was like he could see someone in the next car, and he was shouting through the doors at them.

  He opened his mouth to berate whoever it was again, when he heard something. He cocked his head, listening. Then he looked up. He scanned the roof of the car, as though he were searching for something.

  Then he vanished.

  A hand grabbed my wrist. I turned to face whoever it was and raised my left fist preparing to smash them.

  But it was Devlin, looking concerned.

  “Sarah, are you all right?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth to snap at him, but then I realized I didn’t know the answer to the question. I looked around. The scene was as it was before. The other passengers acted as though nothing strange had gone down.

  “I—” I began, but I still wasn’t sure what to say next. “What was I doing?”

  “You had your eyes closed. You appeared to be dreaming. Then you sat up, turned around, and looked in every direction, as though you were searching for something.”

  I had my eyes closed? Shit, had I had another dream?

  “Did I ask you if you saw something?” I said.

  “When?”

  “Just now, a few seconds ago. You were staring out the window, and I elbowed you and asked if you saw it too. Did that happen?”

  “Not to my recollection.”

  “Shit.”

  God damn it, I’d had another crazy-ass dream. I was going to lose my mind soon, if this didn’t stop. It was like I never slept. It was just a matter of which world I was awake in.

  “What is it?” Devlin asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied. “My father appeared to me. He said I didn’t know enough. He looked up at the ceiling as though there was something to be afraid of there. Then he disappeared.”

  I gotta give Devlin credit. He didn’t look at me like I was crazy, which frankly, I kinda thought I was at this point. Instead, he showed concern, like the dream was important somehow. How could he know that?

  He cast his gaze up at the roof of the train car, his blue eyes flicking back and forth like searchlights. Then he shut his eyelids and concentrated for several seconds. His brow creased in worry.

  “Demons,” he said. “Can you sense them?”

  “How?”

  “Reach out with your senses, just like you did to find the magic.”

  I closed my eyes and concentrated. I pictured the train moving rapidly over a pastoral landscape. I tried to see something out of the ordinary. Nothing came.

  “No,” I said.

  “They’re there,” Devlin said. “Are you sure you can’t? Clear your mind of all other things.”

  I sighed and tried to do as he said. I tried to blank out everything but the rocking of the car over the tracks. But I couldn’t get the vision of Eli Silverman out of my head. I kept hearing him shout at me, warn me about . . . about what? That wasn’t even clear. Damn him for not making himself plain.

  “I can’t feel anything,” I said.

  “Hmm. We clearly haven’t developed your sight enough,” Devlin said.

  You do not know enough.

  “Sarah, we need to get off the train.”

  “What? How?”

  My eyes snapped open. My mind raced. Get off the train? In Iowa? But we were going to Denver!

  “If necessary, we will jump,” Devlin said. “But we’re twenty minutes from the next stop. Hopefully, they will wait until then. We can disembark there.”

  “Devlin, what the hell are you talking about? Get off the train? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “It doesn’t matter; we must get off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the demons prepare to attack us,” he said, his voice urgent and low. “If we fight them on the train, we will break The Veil, which will cause a number of messy complications.

  “Additionally, there are tens, perhaps hundreds of innocent people aboard. We cannot risk them being harmed in our battle.”

  Shit. He was right about that. Every demon I’d ever fought had been terrifying, ruthless, and absolutely unconcerned about collateral damage. If a fracas went down on the train, we were as likely to derail the whole thing as not, and innocent people would die one way or the other.

  We didn’t have much choice. We were getting off the train in Nowhere, Iowa. Then all hell was about to break loose.

  Ash

  Ash rubbed his temples as he stared at his computer screen. The program he’d been running on Ephraim’s expense reports had concluded. It had detected thirty-nine patterns, nearly all o
f which were unlikely to help locate him. If Ephraim had been meeting with Gerard Dulac or his agents on company time, he’d been smart enough not to expense it.

  A second program was running in the background, attempting to hack his credit card receipts. Ordinarily, that would be child’s play. Most large financial institutions had sophisticated software to prevent breaches, but they were designed to thwart mundane hackers. Magical code was another matter.

  But once again, Ephraim had proven himself clever. His personal accounts were protected by sorcery as well. Some of it was issued by The Order. If the magical world was to keep its secrets, it had to make sure they couldn’t be uncovered by a normal person with a computer and an Internet connection. Those spells had been easily defeated, since Ash had the counter-codes and passwords.

  However, Ephraim had additional wards on his charge and bank accounts. Whether he’d stolen a techno-spell program or hired someone to cast them for him, he’d clearly taken precautions to make sure his own people couldn’t spy on him.

  Sassy and Felicia’s words haunted him. He should have known. He should have realized Ephraim was a security risk. Ash began to doubt he was good at his own job. He was supposed to be The Order’s tech and security guru. But he’d let his boss commit treason in the name of revenge without even suspecting him.

  Ash sighed. Hating himself didn’t help. He needed to focus on what he could do if he was going to solve any of these problems.

  He switched apps to the program he had running an analysis of all magical activity in a six-state region across the Midwest. He scrolled through data looking for some sign of Sassy’s peculiar ability.

  It was a daunting task. So far as he knew, Sassy was unique. Unlike other magical creatures that projected power, she instead absorbed it. She sucked it in and could convert it to any effect she liked.

  And that was the problem. Any instance of magic could be Sassy, and Ash would have no way of knowing. Her ability morphed to the specific needs of the situation. When she’d killed Gerard Dulac, she’d converted his vampiric charm into a blast of fire that incinerated him. Against D’Krisch Mk’Rai, it had been even more impressive, killing the dragon with a bolt of magic straight into his brain.