Dark Harvest Magic (Ella Grey Series Book 2)

by Jayne Faith

  Walking in silence, Deb and I went to the Lexus and got in.

  Instead of starting the car, I turned to her. “Is there anything to what she said?” I asked.

  Big surprise, I knew very little about ley lines, the underground veins of potent magic forming a web in the earth. One of the many ley lines in the Boise area followed Crystal Ball Lane before veering off into the foothills. I knew it was no coincidence that a street of magical shops had sprung up along an invisible river of supernatural energy, but I didn’t really know much beyond the fact that a crafter’s magical power got a little boost near a ley line. I’d heard of crafters who were able to draw ley line magic directly, but it was dangerous and very difficult to control.

  Deb tipped her head to one side, her gaze lifted at an angle for a moment as she thought. “Considering everything else that’s happened to you, I’d say it’s not out of the question.”

  “Good point,” I said.

  For a breath or two, I sat with my hands on the wheel and stared through the windshield at the row of maples beginning to shed their flame-shaded leaves. I started the car, and steered us back to my place.

  Damien had been busy.

  “Okay, I’ve got the protection charm ready.” He held up a plain round metal pendant on a leather cord. “I need a few minutes to probe the magic in your ankle monitor so I can figure out how to temporarily freeze it.”

  He patted the sofa cushion beside him, indicating I should take a seat.

  “While you do that, I’ll be stirring up the spell for the amulet,” Deb said. She took her bag of supplies to the kitchen. Loki followed her, his nose in the air as he sniffed the trail of scents left by her purchases. A second later, I heard the sounds of drawers and cabinets opening and closing.

  “Put your foot up on the table,” Damien instructed.

  I did as he asked, pulling up my pant leg to expose the ring clamped around my ankle. He moved to kneel on the other side of the table and then wrapped his hands around the monitor and closed his eyes in concentration.

  A tingle of magic in the air washed over my face, neck, and arms, and the glow of yellow air magic illuminated around his hands. I sat still as he used his magical senses to examine the device. Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. I tried to keep my breaths quiet so as not to disturb his focus.

  Finally, he opened his eyes and sat back on his heels with a sigh. His face looked drawn, and I realized he had the beginning signs of magical exhaustion.

  “Don’t tire yourself too much,” I said quietly, my brows pinching. “I don’t want to leave you here defenseless.”

  He brushed off my worry with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay.”

  Maybe Deb could do some rudimentary healing to restore some of his energy. Though I didn’t really want her to wear herself out either, especially if I wasn’t going to be around for a few hours.

  “The device isn’t as sophisticated as Barnes probably wants you to believe,” he said, lifting his chin at my ankle monitor. “I’m pretty sure I can freeze the signal and get it to communicate something boring for a while. A signal that makes it look like you’re taking a nap, maybe.”

  “So getting it completely off my leg is out of the question?” I’d figured he wouldn’t be able to remove it, but I had to ask.

  His mouth pressed into a grimace. “I can tell how the locking mechanism works, and I could release it, but I’m not confident I could stop the alarm in time.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. “As long as I don’t have Barnes up my ass while I’m trying to engage the killer.”

  He shook out his hands and blew out a loud breath like a gymnast mentally preparing at the start of a routine.

  “Keep still, and no matter what, don’t draw any magic,” he said. He wrapped his hands around my ankle again. “Ready?”

  I nodded.

  A shock of heat, ice, and electricity jolted through me, and I clamped my arms against my sides to keep from squirming. The sensation strengthened, as if I’d grabbed a live wire and couldn’t let go. I ground my teeth and watched Damien through slitted eyes. Magic swirled so brightly around his hands, I couldn’t see them through the furious flashes of yellow, red, and green.

  Then it was over. We stared at each other, both a little breathless. Then he pushed slowly to his feet.

  “You should be good to go,” he said.

  “I’ve got your amulet.” Deb appeared at the end of the sofa, holding out the ring I’d loaned her. “The stone will turn red if anyone with magical aptitude is within about three hundred feet of the ring.”

  “Awesome, thank you.” I took the ring and slid it onto the middle finger of my left hand.

  Damien sat heavily next to me and reached for the charmed necklace he’d been working on. “This is a one-time thing, but it’s powerful protection if you need it. To activate the charm, yank the necklace to break the cord, and then throw it at your attacker. It doesn’t have to hit the person. It’s just a directional thing so the magic knows which way to go. It’ll give a blast that should stun strongly enough to incapacitate for a few seconds, similar to what our stun guns do to minor demons but a whole lot more powerful. But like I said, it’s only got one charge. I also souped up my Demon Patrol net launcher for you. It’ll trap and hold things much bigger than minor demons now.”

  “You guys are the best.” I slipped the cord over my neck and settled the pendant under my shirt, the metal cool against my skin. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Don’t die. That’d be thanks enough,” Damien said wryly.

  “I won’t,” I said, my tone sober.

  I glanced out the front window. The sun had set, and it would be dark enough to sneak out soon. My fingers tightened into loose fists as anticipation began to churn around in my stomach.

  If things went the way I hoped, I’d soon come face-to-face with the only other person in the world I knew of who might hold the key to my survival, and I’d end the threat to Deb and the other witches.

  Chapter 8

  “JUST PULL THE trigger like normal.” Damien was holding out his modified service net launcher. He’d juiced it so I could use it to trap not a demon but a man. I intended to net the killer and turn him in. Only after I’d had the chance to do some questioning of my own, of course.

  The last order of business was my disguise. Even Damien wasn’t a strong enough crafter to make me look exactly like Deb, who was eight inches shorter than me and a good deal curvier. He managed an obfuscation spell that made my hair appear to be Deb’s strawberry blond color, but the best I could do otherwise was to change into the most Deb-like clothes I owned and hunch to try to look shorter.

  I wore a knee-length jacket to conceal the weapons I carried, and flat slip-on shoes I’d worn to a wedding reception a couple of years back but hadn’t touched since. A light gray wool sweater and jeans were the best I could do for a Deb outfit.

  Before full darkness fell outside, we dimmed all the lights in my apartment. Deb handed me the key to her Honda, and I checked one last time to make sure I wore the charmed pendant, the amulet ring, and had Damien’s net launcher and my whip.

  “Take this too,” Deb said, producing a little fabric drawstring bag from her pocket. “Spell salt. It’s simple, but it’s powerful. You never know when you might need it.”

  She’d always tried to get me to carry salt, but I told her that even if I had some on me I’d probably forget it was there. It was handy for dissolving small amounts of magic and used in combination with a magic circle could offer protection.

  I took the bag and slipped it in the front pocket of my jeans. “Thank you.”

  Deb gave me a quick hug and then went into my bedroom so she wouldn’t be visible when I opened the front door.

  Damien touched my shoulder. “I really think I should go with you. I can tail you in my car.”

  I shook my head firmly. “No, stay here with her. If we left Deb alone and something happened to her, I’d never get over
it.”

  I reached down to give Loki’s head a pat, and then I was out the door.

  After sitting around in the itchy wool sweater, the cool fall air was like a refreshing splash on my face. As I made my way to Deb’s Honda at the curb, I kept my head bent, my shoulders hunched, and walked with my knees flexed to try to appear shorter.

  When I started the car, 80s rock blared from the speakers. I turned it down with a faint smile. Deb tended to listen to music by decade, and she’d get on a kick that would last for weeks.

  With frequent glances in the rearview mirror, I steered across the west end of downtown and caught the connector ramp to the freeway, heading west to Meridian and Deb’s house. I suddenly realized I had no idea how long I would be away pretending to be my best friend. I’d stay overnight if I had to.

  By the time I pulled into the familiar driveway and the garage door sensor activated, I was keyed up with unspent energy. I parked in Deb’s garage and went into the house. Before I turned on the light, I pulled out my phone to send a quick text to her and Damien to let them know I’d arrived.

  Deb and Keith’s place was a two-level family home in a sprawling neighborhood development built about five years ago. She’d always wanted a house like this, which I never really understood. To me, it looked the same as the bazillion other houses that surrounded it, and I couldn’t see the draw.

  Inside, the place felt cozy, the thermostat turned up and the air infused with the faint smell of herbs and flowers that I always associated with Deb’s things, but it also somehow emphasized the warmth and scratch of the wool I wasn’t used to wearing.

  Turning on a couple of lights as I went, I headed upstairs to Deb and Keith’s room to look for something to change into. I stripped out of my sweater, found a pink t-shirt with a flowery peace symbol silkscreened on the front and pulled it on. It was too short on me, but it was better than the wool.

  With my hands on my hips, I glanced around the room. It was too early to pretend to go to bed. What to do?

  I tapped my lips with the end of my index finger, considering. I spotted the book on Deb’s side of the bed, a nonfiction title about circle casting. I grabbed it and headed back down.

  Tea and reading, that would be a very Deb-like way to pass the evening. I heated up water in the microwave, found some boxes of tea in the pantry, and picked a pouch of the least gross-sounding one.

  A few minutes later I settled on the overstuffed sofa with a steaming mug smelling of cinnamon and oranges in one hand and the book in the other. After a few pages I gave up trying to read and flipped the TV on with the sound muted.

  When my eyelids tried to drift downward, I realized the warm tea and flickering screen were too comforting. With a shake of my head, I stood and set the mug on the side table, intending to turn the thermostat down several degrees. I’d have a better chance staying alert if the house were chillier.

  When I straightened and turned toward the front hallway, I realized the crystal on my ring was glowing angry red. A shadow moved across the carpet. My pulse jolted. I wasn’t alone.

  It was him. The blood-magic man I’d seen through the demon’s eyes. He was taller than I’d expected. Maroon magic surrounded him in a faint corona.

  My heart lurched, but the flash of panic I expected didn’t come. Instead, there was a stirring in my chest, whether mine or my reaper’s I wasn’t sure. But I knew what it was: recognition.

  “You’re better as a brunette,” he said, his voice calm, surprisingly smooth and resonant. He stood with his feet planted wide, his elbows slightly bent. In his duster he looked like an old West gunslinger.

  I felt myself automatically shifting into a similar posture. Readiness. Expecting a fight. The pulse of the reaper grew in the center of my forehead, spreading rapidly until my entire body seemed to thump with its rhythm. The shadows gyrated around the edges of my sight, and my right eye blurred and then revealed the room in the necro-vision tones.

  With my necro sight, I could more clearly see the blood-red aura of magic that surrounded the man.

  “Who are you?” I demanded. My fingers twitched with the urge to reach for the net launcher at my hip.

  A cold smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Ah, humans, always wanting to put names to things.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You’re not human?”

  “That depends on your definition.” He sounded almost bored.

  “Why are you trying to kill witches?”

  His face turned dark. “I’m not a killer, and I don’t care about the coven witches and their fascination with darkness. I’m not here for them. I’m here for you.”

  Hell no, I wasn’t going anywhere with this guy. But so many questions swelled in my mind. He saw my distraction, and I realized too late it was what he’d been waiting for.

  With a blinding-quick flick of one wrist, a disc of blood-red magic sprang from his hand. The disc grew arms, turning into a whirling spiral as it flew.

  My reaper took over, gifting me reflexes beyond my human capabilities. In a flash I dove to one side, and the disc only kissed one shoulder. On the floor with the sofa between me and the man, adrenaline surged through me. My vision changed again, revealing the gray mist of the in-between. This time, there were no reaping knife or cloud of souls in my hands. And the sofa—my cover—was absent in this realm.

  My chest clenched when I realized I had no net launcher, either. Damien’s pendant was gone from my neck, too.

  But for some unknown reason, my whip remained. I pulled it from my belt, gripped the handle, and sprang up to a crouch.

  The man I faced was no longer a man. He was a specter, a skeletal nightmare with glowing blood-red orbs for eyes, clad in the clothes, boots, and duster he wore in the living realm.

  His face had an eerily familiar quality. It looked like what I’d seen in Jennifer’s scrying mirror. My face when I’d learned that the soul of an angel of death was feeding off me.

  I pushed the horror of it aside, and without even consciously thinking of it, I drew magic. Not soothing green earth magic, but sickening dark red magic. Just before I snapped my wrist in a practiced motion, sending the whip and a bolt of blood-red magic blurring toward him, I registered that he was hesitating.

  My whip, fueled by magic, found its target and wrapped around his exposed neck above the collar of the duster like a little bloody boa constrictor. It happened so fast, and I wasn’t sure I’d directed my own actions or if it was my reaper controlling me. The man’s skeletal hands flew up to clutch at it.

  The mist suddenly cleared, and we were standing back in Deb’s living room. In a lightning-quick motion, I switched the whip to my left hand and yanked it hard, pulling him off balance. I gripped the net launcher, aimed, and shot him.

  My breaths fast and shaking on a tide of adrenaline, I strode to where he lay paralyzed within the trap. The net was alive with strands of magic of all four elements pulsing and writhing like a light show at a rave. For a split second I marveled at the sheer volume of magic Damien had infused into it.

  I loomed over the man as if he were my trophy kill. “Who are you? Who’s paying you to kill witches?” I yelled down at his still form.

  For a moment I wondered if I’d knocked him unconscious. I wanted to nudge him with my boot, but I hesitated. He was on his side, and I couldn’t see through the flashing magic well enough to tell whether his eyes were open.

  “I was called Atriul,” he said. “I have killed no witch.”

  I took a breath, intending to call him a liar, but lights through the front windows caught my eye. Blue and yellow bubble lights.

  Shit. Supernatural Crimes had shown up. Had my ankle monitor given me away? I wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

  I sprang toward the hallway leading to the den with the door that let out into the back yard. Before I turned the corner, I glanced back over my shoulder. The net was crumpled on the floor—empty.

  Scrabbling at the deadbolt, I turned it just as someone bange
d heavily on the front door. I closed the door as quietly as I could behind me, having no choice but to leave it unlocked, and raced across the dark lawn.

  Damn, more fences. My attempt to scale a fence earlier hadn’t ended very well. I angled toward the pine in the corner and heaved myself up into the prickly boughs, fighting through needles until I could reach for the top of the wood slats and throw myself over. I landed on my side with a rib-cracking impact, but at least my fall was partially cushioned by a strip of grass next to the sidewalk that lined the west side of Deb’s property. Hissing a breath out through clenched teeth, I pushed to my feet and tried to ignore the pain along my ribcage.

  Pumping my elbows for all I was worth, I raced away from the house and into the cover of night.

  Once I was a few blocks away, I dropped to my hands and knees next to a minivan, trying to listen for approaching cars over the pounding of my pulse and heaving of my breaths.

  I peeked around the bumper to look back the way I’d come. Just when I thought the coast was clear, a Supernatural Crimes cruiser rounded the corner from the next street over, moving fast and heading straight toward me.

  When a hand clamped around my upper arm, I barely held in a shriek. I tried to whirl around but couldn’t yank free of the iron grasp.

  “This way,” a voice hissed near my ear.

  Chapter 9

  FOR A WILD, illogical moment I expected to see the man with the blood-red magic. But instead of a duster my would-be rescuer wore a familiar leather jacket.

  “Johnny?” I said in disbelief as I allowed him to tow me at a sprint around the side of the dark house that presumably belonged to the minivan owners.

  He pulled me with him into the tight space between a hedge and the house’s siding. The bushes scratched at my bare arms and caught on the thin fabric of Deb’s pink t-shirt. The thing was going to be in shreds by the time the night was over. We slid to the ground, our knees pulled up tight against our bodies and our backsides pressed into the dirt. Cold moisture began to seep through the seat of my pants. I clamped my arms around my torso, trying to hold in some of my body heat.