*
“The smell’s worse once you’re out of the pits.” Annie grimaced at her smell as Spencer held the lab door open for her. Graham Lightner, manager of the VAU, and Perkins Abernathy, the Wizard Hall lab manager, were discussing the clothing samples laid across the farthest stainless steel table in the large laboratory. “Oh, good, you’re here,” Perkins said and waved them to the table.
The lab had been blown to pieces three months ago when a rogue French Wizard Guard attacked Wizard Hall with an ingenious spell. Marielle Beauchamp was now serving time in a nonmagical prison in France after killing several family members for the remaining Beauchamp money and property.
Annie was surprised how much work they’d managed to do with the lab in such a short time. Rather than holding just three stainless steel tables, the room was now large enough for five gleaming tables. The shelves below each table held clear storage boxes filled with implements and tools. Cabinets and shelves covered all the walls, a new door led to the shower room. She noticed the vent to the incinerator was no longer in the middle of the floor, open and exposed. She guessed it might be hidden in the changing/shower room.
The room was clean, smelling of disinfectant and ammonia.
The wall between the lab and gym space was rebuilt, including a window that was thicker than the previous one. She glanced inside the gym. The massive space was partially finished. The floor had been installed, the walls were bare. The wall between the gym and the maintenance department had been blown out in the blast and was now rebuilt.
“It looks good,” Annie said as she and Spencer joined the two managers at the table.
“Thanks, Annie. I’ve got to say, yet again, you bring me the most unusual things,” Perkins said as he picked up a vial. “What’s your impression of the demon?”
“Well, he seems half human and half demon,” Annie responded.
Perkins raised his eyebrows. “Yes. He’s a weird combination of the two, and there’s nothing like it in the databases.”
“Awesome,” Annie said without cheer.
“He is a demon. We just don’t know the species, location of orientation, or how he was created,” Perkins added.
“But he is a hybrid? Please tell me he was created with magic, and not by intermingling of the species,” she said.
Perkins chuckled. “Well, I can’t say that with any confidence, but I will say it’s a bit weird. There is a dark magical trace attached to the demon, but it’s old. So old that we ran the trace twice. It’s one hundred years old,” Perkins said.
“The demon’s one hundred years old?” Spencer asked.
Perkins shook his head. “I thought that, too. So I sent Minka and Roscoe back to the demon to examine him best they could. You know freezing him, checking his teeth for wear, taking X-rays. If we look at the demon as if he’s a human, the demon would be about fifteen years old. But then, he’s a demon. His teeth could wear quicker than a human, or not as much. So we looked at his pelvic bones and how they were formed. Also about fifteen years old. Because he’s not magical, we can’t measure his trace, but honestly, I think the demon is younger than one hundred years old.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Annie said.
“The body is young; the magic is old. So no, it doesn’t make sense,” Perkins replied.
“Could it be that the species of demon was created a hundred years ago, and they have been reproducing,” Spencer suggested.
“That’s my best guess. I’d have to do more tests if you need an exact age of the demon. But I think if the species was originally created, the demons are now reproducing on their own,” Perkins explained.
Annie frowned. “We don’t need an exact age. I’m more concerned about where he came from. He had to be conjured from somewhere. And I’ve never seen a demon like this.”
Graham stepped in. “Well, the VAU did a little sweep of the house after you left. Good catch on the mullein. It was recently used, probably to conjure the demon. We haven’t determined from where. However, that brings us back to Perkins and the clothing.”
She raised her eyebrows in anticipation.
Perkins held up one of the many fabric swatches they pulled from the demon. The first came from his tunic. What had started as a white garment was now dirty gray and covered with black smudges and dark brown spots of dried blood. “This is from his shirt. We dated this to the late ninth century.”
“Seriously?” Spencer asked.
Annie and Spencer each donned latex gloves and held the fabric samples. “Late ninth century? And the rest of the items?” Annie asked as she picked up a sample of the leather belt and a sample of the pants.
“All the same,” Perkins said.
“So the demon was probably summoned from the ninth century? I wasn’t expecting that,” Annie said. She rubbed the fabric between her gloved fingers before placing them back on the table.
“Allen and Skye captured the magic. They’re trying to reverse the spell to determine the date and time the demon came from. The next bit of help should get us closer.” He offered a sly smile.
Annie and Spencer glanced at each other. “What about your target? He was dressed the same, wasn’t he?
“Yeah, he was,” Spencer said.
“You can’t summon a human,” Graham said.
“Is it a coincidence that he was there at the same time?” Perkins asked.
Spencer laughed. “He spoke a language we didn’t recognize, and he and the demon at least seemed aware of each other.”
“Our best bet is to trace the conjuring energy to find out where he came from. In terms of your target, Spencer, we just need to bring him in. He could clear all of this up as well,” Graham reiterated.
“Another thought, I can pull a tooth. There’s way to determine where a person or creature grew up by how their adult teeth were formed. I can try that with the demon,” Perkins offered.
“Let’s hold off on pulling the tooth for now. We can make the leap and assume if the clothes are from the late ninth century, the demon probably is too. At least that will give me a time frame for research into the demon,” Annie advised.
“Just remember, if he came from the ninth century, the magic inside him is still a hundred years old. You might want to start in the eighth century and work to the end of the ninth,” Perkins suggested.
“Next question then, why summon a ninth-century demon here?” Graham asked.
“And if the man is here for the demon, where did he come from?” Spencer added.
“Those are definitely the questions to ask,” Annie said as she thought of her dad’s letter, the prophecy, and Sturtagaard’s cryptic message.
*
After a quick shower, Annie and Spencer grabbed their lunches and found an empty table in the Wizard Hall courtyard. The summer day was warm but not too hot, and the bright sun invited several wizards to have an outdoor picnic on what felt like a perfect summer day.
The southwest corner of the courtyard held the elementary school, preschools, and camps. The enclosed playground was filled with young children, climbing on the equipment, laughing, shouting and running around, taking full advantage of their summer break. Annie wondered if Cham’s nephews, his brother Jimmy’s sons, were out for their lunch break.
Cham and Gibbs joined them, pulling her away from reflecting on the kids. “So what’s new?” Cham kissed Annie’s cheek and sat beside her. He unwrapped his meatball sandwich and took a large bite.
Annie explained the DNA test, clothing samples, and the mullein trace.
“Should we state the obvious?” Cham asked when he swallowed.
Annie played with her turkey sandwich. “That the demon is wearing clothing dated to the ninth century and was most likely conjured from the past?”
They were quiet for the moment as they continued to eat their lunches.
“You do realize that Sturtagaard was a Viking in northern England, specifically Northumbria, in the ninth century,” Gibbs said. He stabbed his stea
k with his fork and cut off a piece.
“Records are inconsistent. Some magical historians say he was turned somewhere in between 865 and 875 CE, other historians think he was turned in 950 CE. That’s generations apart,” Annie said.
“You should ask him,” Gibbs grumbled.
Annie frowned and turned to Spencer. “I didn’t get a great look at your target, but what did he look like to you?” Annie asked Spencer.
“You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?” Spencer asked. She raised her eyebrows. “He looks like a Viking.”
“So you’re suggesting time travel?” Cham asked.
Spencer chuckled. “No. I’m not suggesting anything.” He took another bite of his salad.
“Ugh.” Annie summoned the talisman she found in the house. “With everything else, I nearly forgot. The demon was looking for this.” She lay it on the table.
The three wizard guards stared at the talisman. “It’s weird. The Vikings started invading England in 793,” Annie began. “The coven came here at the end of the ninth century or early tenth century. The dates aren’t completely accurate.”
Spencer picked up the talisman. “These and mullein are used to conjure demons. So again I ask, why conjure a ninth century demon?”
Annie took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly.
“Think back to Jason’s letter. He mentioned a prophecy. Sturtagaard is at the house when you get there. Let’s say he knows what’s going on, that you need to find the demon. Conjuring a demon and leaving it to terrorize a neighborhood would bring out the Wizard Guard,” Gibbs said.
“It’s all too… perfectly planned and executed,” Annie said.
“Why? Because he got you to the house when he wanted you to be there? It did take a week for us to be connected with the demon.” Spencer said.
“Okay. So not perfectly executed.” Annie took a swig of water from her bottle.
“I can’t see Sturtagaard conjuring a demon. Too much work, too little reward. I wonder what his role is?” Cham frowned.
“Annie. How long have you had that note?” Spencer asked.
She glanced at Cham and quickly at Gibbs. “I’ve had it for three months.”
“Have you tried to find the prophecy your dad mentioned?” Spencer asked.
Annie had spent the last three months not sleeping well as she waited for Bucky to find her mother. It had seemed more pressing than finding a prophecy. But now she realized Spencer was right. “Honestly, there were some other things in my dad’s missing file I wanted to investigate first. I hadn’t thought to search for the prophecy,” Annie explained.
“So what should we tackle first, the prophecy, Sturtagaard, or Gila Donaldson?” Spencer asked, rolling his sandwich wrapping in a ball and stuffing it in his bag.
“Sturtagaard won’t give us an honest answer. Let’s find out what Mrs. Donaldson knows. Maybe she can clear it up and we can send the demon back to where it came. If we need to, I can have Mrs. Cuttlebrink look for the prophecy,” Annie said.
“And the other one?” Spencer asked.
“Gibbs and I will go and find a tall man dressed in ninth-century clothing. What could go wrong?” Cham teased.
*
As the Wizard Guard department manager, it wouldn’t be odd for Milo Rawley to come to Tartarus Prison to interview suspects or to conduct other Wizard Guard business. He mostly chose not to come unless absolutely necessary. Today wasn’t, but he couldn’t stay away from a demon far too interesting to not observe for himself. He sat on the edge of the pit as the creature paced, scratched feverishly at the stone wall, and grimaced at the blood dripping from his raw fingertips. Milo wanted to cast the spell to blow him up, but refrained.
When the demon wailed a slow, anxious cry, Milo inched closer for a better look.
Very strange.
The demon paced, glanced around the empty pit, and appeared to be thinking of something.
Milo moved his palms, thinking about blowing the demon up, but for a second time, he rested his hands on his knees.
“So, have you seen him regenerate yet?”
Milo smiled. Ryan Connelly, the Grand Marksman of the Wizard Council for America, was standing behind him and looking into the pit.
“I haven’t seen you at Tartarus in a while. What brings you here?” Milo asked.
Gracefully, Ryan lowered himself to the edge of the pit and crossed his long legs, taking a look at the regenerating demon. Ryan rarely ventured to Tartarus Prison unless it was of great importance. This wouldn’t normally be considered important.
“Well, I must admit, I’m very curious about this demon.” Ryan said, sounding nearly giddy. As a former wizard guard, he rarely came across something he hadn’t seen before. “And that is the creature Annie went up against. I’m surprised she wasn’t more injured.”
“She can fight,” Milo said. He was reflective, silent, his usual gruffness not present.
“What are you thinking?” Ryan asked. It was unlike Milo not to share.
“They think the demon is from the ninth century,” Milo said.
Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Have they caught the other one yet?
“Cham and Gibbs are going out later today.” Milo sighed.
The demon, tired from pacing, from the chase yesterday, and from the present day demon pit, sat in the center and stared at the bloodstained wall.
“What’s he doing?” Ryan asked.
“Thinking,” Milo said sardonically. “You ready to see this?” Ryan offered a nod.
As if they were kids in a toy store, the two men excitedly stood. Milo grinned as he jinxed the demon. At impact, the creature blew apart. His innards flew across the large pit; bits and pieces of the demon covered the walls and the floor, some landing beside Milo’s foot. Yet, as quickly as the creature blew up, body parts—muscles, sinew, fluids—inched together, reforming the large creature. Arms and legs sprung out of the torso, and hair grew from the new head. The demon shrieked; his voice reverberated across the basement.
Other demons throughout the prison reacted with grunts, cries, and barks.
“That was cool,” Ryan said. “Buy you a beer?”
Chapter 5
Annie and Spencer landed in the side yard of the house belonging to Gila Donaldson, a corner lot along Sheridan Road in Evanston. At this time of day, most residents were still at work, though the well-traveled street was quite busy.
They separated as Annie strolled to the empty backyard where the pool water glistened and the cushions on the chairs baked in the sun. Annie glanced at the three-story home towering above her before strolling to the front yard, stopping at a side window. The lights were off, and the expensive television above the fireplace was black. She gazed across the yard, along the sidewalk, and to the house next door. She met Spencer at the front door.
“She could be at work,” Annie suggested. She and Spencer walked up slate-covered steps and stood before the intricate, leaded glass window on the front door. She pressed the doorbell.
“Nice house,” Spencer commented.
“It pays to be a descendant of the original Wizard Council, I guess,” Annie said.
They waited the acceptable amount of time before Spencer pressed the bell again. Annie stepped off the porch and peered at the windows. The curtains in the attic window fluttered.
“Someone’s home.” Annie pointed up. “I saw movement in the attic window.”
They waited for a moment longer. Just as Spencer was about to push the bell for a third time, the door squeaked open.
Seventy-two-year-old Gila Donaldson was slim with nicely coiffed silvery blonde hair. Her skirt and blouse were contrasting shades of beige. She looked put together though perhaps overdressed for the hot summer day.
“Hello, Mrs. Donaldson, I’m Annie Pearce and this is Spencer Ray. We’re wizard guards.” Both held their badges for her to see.
The descendant of the original coven mumbled to herself incomprehensibly, though Annie thought she
heard the name Anaise.
“So, how can I help the Wizard Guard?” Gila asked cautiously.
“We have some questions about the house you own on Freeny Avenue in Evanston. Can we come in?” Spencer asked. Gila Donaldson tightly held the handle of the front door, Annie glanced uneasily at Spencer.
“I can’t figure what the Wizard Guard is doing with that knowledge. It’s really none of your business,” Gila said curtly.
“Actually, ma’am, may we come in? There’s been some trouble at the house we need to discuss,” Annie said.
With her hands tightly gripping the door handle, Gila Donaldson motioned them inside, closed the door quickly, and walked them to the front room. “Please sit. Can I offer you some water or some tea? Coffee?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. Just a few minutes of your time,” Spencer said.
Reluctantly, Gila Donaldson sat across from Spencer and Annie and placed her hands in her lap, wringing them. “How can I help you?” she finally asked.
“Ma’am, I chased a demon to that house yesterday morning. He stormed inside as if he knew the house, and he completely destroyed the front bedroom looking for this.” Annie held up the talisman, observing Gila carefully as she did. Gila’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“Do you know what this is for?” Annie asked.
Gila shifted in her seat and pulled a loose strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her neatly styled short bob. “It’s a talisman,” she mumbled.
“We found mullein trace and magical summoning spells in the house. Did you or someone you know summon a ninth-century demon?” Annie asked.
“That’s private property. You had no permission to enter the premises. I can report you,” Gila said indignantly.
Annie and Spencer exchanged glances. “Mrs. Donaldson. We realize that we didn’t have permission to enter, but a demon was running loose in the neighborhood, and we were not aware that you owned what looked to be an abandoned home. We as wizard guards are within our rights to investigate a magical creature in a nonmagical neighborhood. We captured the creature and secured him at Tartarus,” Spencer told her.
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