“You’re going to lie to a fellow Council member?” I balked sarcastically. Conor had already done that for me once, but I was touched he was willing to do it again.
Conor looked away. “He doesn’t need to know details to do his job.”
I wasn’t sure about this plan. The idea of a Council member trained in demonic possession studying me freaked me out. But Conor was right. Best to rule it out so I could focus on finding the real source. That was usually how I worked any job, and this weird bout of strangeness was no different.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But bring a pizza, too.”
Conor smiled weakly, but at least it softened his expression. “Get some rest, Warren.”
When he left, I forced myself up to double check the locks (professional hazard) and close the chain lock for extra measure. Not that a tiny metal chain would do much to keep out an angry mage.
And it wouldn’t do anything to ward off what illness was plaguing me.
But it made me feel better.
I managed to change into pajamas without too much pain, and then did my best to sleep.
A loud knock jarred me awake. I sat up and my ribs screamed in pain. I gritted my teeth and checked my phone. It was after five in the evening. I’d been asleep for over twelve hours. I vaguely remembered waking up once or twice but still, that was probably a record for me.
Moving slowly, I made my way to the door. I peered through the keyhole and saw Conor’s handsome face. He was actually holding a pizza and that alone made me want to kiss him. I opened the door, my stomach growling at the aroma of bread and cheese.
“You look marginally better,” Conor said.
“You’re such a sweet talker.” I took the pizza to the counter. Inside was a relatively fresh pepperoni pizza, the cheese still warm and gooey. My mouth watered and I pulled down plates, moving slowly so as to avoid more pain in my ribs.
A man, Pete I presumed, came in behind Conor. Conor wore his gray Watchers uniform. Pete wore a similar uniform that was navy blue in color. He was tall with sandy hair and laugh lines on his face that made him look kind.
“This is Peter Wozniak,” Conor said. “Pete, this is Dani Warren.”
Peter bowed his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Conor has told me much about you.”
I narrowed my eyes at Conor even as I bit down on my first slice. The cheese and bread dulled my annoyance but only slightly. “Has he?”
Conor gave me a look I couldn’t read, one that was clearly trying to tell me something. I just didn’t know what. “Just the basics. That you’re a PI who works hard and sometimes helps me on cases. And I mentioned how we’d both been in very close proximity to demons during a case and how now you’re having symptoms.”
My shoulders relaxed and I resumed chewing. As promised, Conor hadn’t divulged my secret to this man.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Peter said. “Call me Pete.”
I gestured to the plates. “Have some pizza. Conor and I need a moment.”
I grabbed Conor’s hand—his was warm and mine tingled in response—and dragged him to my bedroom. I dropped his hand and shut the door, going to my closet to pull out clothes.
“You need help changing?” Conor’s voice shook and he looked askance.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure about this guy.”
Conor crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s here to do a job. Like I said, he doesn’t need to know the specifics.”
“He could find out. He’s an expert on these things and I don’t know how my magic works. It might be obvious to him. And then what?” I pulled a t-shirt out of my dresser, along with under garments, and set them on top of the yoga pants.
“I don’t believe he’ll be able to tell.” Conor dropped his arms. “I wouldn’t have brought him here if I thought that was likely. Trust in this process.”
I glared. Easy for him to say when it wasn’t his butt on the line. But really at this point, I didn’t have a choice. Something was wrong with me. I didn’t think an exorcism could fix it, but Pete might be able to help. If nothing else, it needed to be tried and crossed off the list of possible causes. I sighed. “Fine. Get out.”
Conor’s frown deepened, his brow furrowing.
I gestured to the pile of clothes on my bed. “I need to get dressed.”
Understanding dawned and he left my bedroom.
When I came out, dressed like I was ready to hit the gym but at least no longer in pajamas without a bra, I was happy to see Pete had grabbed some pizza. I didn’t want to be the only one stuffing my face and I was starving. I loaded up my own plate and started eating, making small talk with the exorcist.
After a moment, Conor grabbed a slice too and I pulled out some cans of cola that I had in the fridge. We talked shop for a bit: about cases Conor and I had worked together and how we’d defeated the demon-worshipping mages. I stacked our plates in the sink and put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for later.
Then Pete asked me about my recent illness. I described the experiences as best as I could, his expression shifting from politely interested to horrified.
“I recognize what you’re describing.” He met my eyes, not shying away from his terrible diagnosis. “It means a demon has left a mark on you.”
I raised my eyebrows and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sloshing in my stomach. “A demon mark?”
“If a demon has possessed someone or been in a circle with them, they can leave a mark on the person,” Pete explained. “It allows them some modicum of power or control.”
I looked to Conor, who wasn’t looking at me. Conor didn’t know I’d gone toe-to-toe with Ashraith, the demon who’d possessed me, only months before. He’d been in spirit form—most demons came into our world that way, only able to manifest corporeal bodies if they were small or extremely powerful—and then he’d possessed Silas, my friend and a vampire. He’d attacked me and even tried to possess me. If he had a foothold in me, why hadn’t he used it then?
“I don’t know if that’s the case with me,” I said. “Maybe I just need to eat more salads and get more sleep.”
Pete laughed good-naturedly but Conor gave me an admonishing look. “Well, there’s one way to find out. Let’s find out if you have a demon mark.”
I swallowed uneasily but nodded. The sooner we got this over with, the sooner I could pursue other, better answers.
Chapter 8
Twenty minutes later, I was seated in the center of my living room. Conor had pushed the sofa and coffee table up against the walls, the coffee table on its side to make more room in the compact space. Pete made a circle of salt around me which made me nervous.
Circles made of salt and blood or ash could be used to summon spirits or demons. Circles could be opened into the Underworld. Being inside one when it was opened was very dangerous, because anything that got in with you could rip you to shreds or possess your body. The safest place around a circle was on the other side of it.
“Relax,” Pete said. “I’m just trying to isolate your magical signature. And to do that, I need to cut you off from other influences in the room.”
That did not make me relax. I didn’t know what my magical signature might reveal. I kept an eye on Conor, who hung close. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Unless he thought I was a demon in sheep’s clothing…
I pushed that thought away and met his eyes. He met mine and gave me a reassuring nod. Conor Ramsey was on my side. I had to believe that. He hadn’t turned me in, or told Pete my secret. I had to trust him.
It was so hard to trust him.
It was so hard to sit in the circle and let Pete start a magical ritual I’d never heard of.
But I did it because sometimes facing your problems head on meant doing things you were super uncomfortable with.
Pete moved around the circle, sprinkling herbs. I smelled juniper berries but there were other scents I couldn’t identify, earthy and rich.
Light filled the circle. It washed ov
er me, making my skin tingle. My nose started to itch and I sneezed. The warmth of the circle enveloped me. I squinted through the brightness, trying to see Pete and Conor, but I could only make out their silhouettes.
Something popped, like the sound of a can of biscuits being opened. The light went out suddenly and cold air rushed into the circle. Goosebumps erupted on my arms.
Pete stared at me with sadness in his eyes, the way you might expect a doctor to look at you when they were about to deliver bad news. Conor, who’d had his arms crossed, dropped them.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked, getting to my feet carefully and dusting bits of dried herbs off my pants.
Pete pressed his lips together in a tight line and tried to catch Conor’s eyes. My stomach dropped.
“Give it to me straight, doc,” I said, trying to lighten the mood even though my stomach roiled.
“It appears you have been marked by a demon,” Pete said. He bowed his head. “I’m very sorry.”
I swallowed uneasily, my throat raw. “What exactly does that mean again?”
“It means a demon has put a dark mark on your soul. It will allow the monster to control and torment you, and make it easier for them to get to you once they reach this plane.”
“How do we fix it?” Conor asked. “An exorcism?”
Pete shrugged. That didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “I would recommend an exorcism just to be sure there’s nothing lurking in you. Demons are sneaky and a mark means one has been there. Better to be safe than sorry. But the mark is harder to eradicate.”
“Harder how?” I pressed.
Pete swallowed uneasily. “It’s like a scar, of sorts. Certain rituals might be able to remove it but they’re intense and dangerous.” His eyes watered and he had to grab a handkerchief out of a pocket to dab them dry. “Forgive me. I’ve only ever witnessed one mark removal, and it was quite intense.”
I shuddered. “Not a great sales pitch.”
“What else?” Conor demanded.
Pete sighed. “Killing the demon who put it there will do it, but obviously that’s quite difficult.”
I thought of Ashraith, a vile demon who’d possessed me and then come back to attack me. He’d possessed Silas, a vampire, and after we’d fought him out, he’d vowed to kill me. I had no problem killing him if I ever faced him again. But the thought of having to be near him again made me feel sick to my stomach.
“And this mark is causing these weird blackouts?” I asked, still unclear on how this worked.
“I assume so,” Pete said.
I glanced at Conor, who furrowed his brow. If there was a mark on me, it had been there for a long time. At least two months, when I’d last encountered my demon, and probably years, since back when the demon had possessed me originally. So I still didn’t understand why it was making me sick now.
“How does that work?” I pressed. “Does it mean the demon who put it there is close by?”
“Not necessarily. But it might mean someone or something knows it’s there and is using it to attack you.”
A chill ran down my spine. Just what I needed. An enemy who could attack me by using some magical scar I didn’t even know I had.
“I can do a cleansing now that will help alleviate the symptoms and make the mark harder to ‘see’,” Pete said, using finger quotes around the word “see.” “It won’t get rid of the mark or stop anyone who knows it’s there, but it might help.”
“She’ll take a cleansing,” Conor said, without missing a beat.
I started to argue but Conor nodded vigorously, saying that it would be very kind of Pete to perform a cleansing ritual. I didn’t want to be cleansed of my demon magic but if the ritual couldn’t even remove the mark, I doubted it was that powerful. And I did want the blackouts to stop.
I let Pete wave his incense around and chant, occasionally sprinkling random spice mixtures over my head. He finished by dousing me with a vial of salt water. When it was done, I felt lighter and a pressure that had built up in my head seemed to ease.
Pete left and I went to shower.
The minute the bathroom door shut and I was alone, I conjured demon fire. A little blue flame danced in my palm. Relief loosened the knot in my chest.
Conor was standing in my living room, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to sit down. He’d vacuumed up the spices and put all the furniture back where it belonged, and now he looked lost.
I walked gingerly to the sofa and sat, careful of my injuries.
“How do you feel?” Conor asked.
“Cleansed,” I said. “Very cleansed. And not just because of the shower.” Though in truth, I felt the shower had probably done more.
Conor frowned. “And your magic…”
“Still intact,” I said.
Conor struggled to keep his expression neutral but I could tell he was disappointed.
“You didn’t honestly think waving some incense around would take my powers away, did you?” I’d been scared of the possibility, but if I’d really thought the cleansing had that much oomph, I never would have agreed to it.
“No. An exorcism would probably be necessary for that.” He didn’t meet my eyes. We both knew I wasn’t going to agree to such a thing unless it became unavoidable.
“So,” Conor continued, “in order to get rid of the mark, we must hunt and kill the demon who left it.”
“That’s the plan,” I said. “As soon as I figure out why there’s a mage stealing ritualistic pieces.”
Conor’s frown returned. “This is a priority, don’t you think?”
I snorted. “My priority is getting paid. Side quests for personal stuff have to take a back seat.” I shifted and winced as my ribs screamed in pain. “Besides, there’s still a chance the mage is causing these attacks. After all, they only happen when I’m somewhere he’s been.”
“You passed out hard enough to bruise your ribs, Dani. You need to take it easy,” Conor said. His tone was stern but his voice was soft and it made my skin tingle in a totally different way.
“I got some rest. I’ll take some pain killers and get this job done. I have people counting on me.” Including a dragon, who wasn’t exactly known for his patience. He wouldn’t come after me if I didn’t catch the thief but the offer to pay me for the job would only last so long and I needed the money. Business had been slow lately and I was broke.
“One day of rest hardly counts,” Conor said. “And you need to take your second dose of healing potion.”
I made a face. The blue goop was gross but he was right. I started to get up but Conor gestured for me to remain seated and got the jar out of the fridge for me. Then he watched as I chugged it down, pretending it was a milkshake instead of a floral smoothie of medicine.
When I was done, I did get up—carefully—and took the jar to the sink, rebuffing Conor’s efforts to do it for me. I pulled on my jacket and grabbed my keys and put my sword in its sheath.
“You’re not seriously going out.”
“I am.” I ducked into my bathroom and took a fist full of ibuprofen. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to the Museum.”
At this, Conor raised an eyebrow. “The Museum of Artifacts?”
I shrugged, opening the front door. “If anyone knows why some random mage stole a sacred mage cup and a ritual dragon dagger, it’ll be a museum nerd.”
“I’d avoid calling the curator on duty a nerd.”
“Hot tip,” I said, and gestured for Conor to leave so I could lock the door.
He grunted and stepped through the door. I turned to lock it and shoved my keys into my pocket. Conor was still there.
I glared at him.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
I opened my mouth to argue, turning sideways to look at him. Pain exploded in my middle. The healing salve was helping me heal faster than any human would but it wasn’t instantaneous and my ribs were still hurt.
“Even if you weren’t injured, you need a key to get in. You wa
nt to go apply for one at the Council? It’ll take seven to ten days for them to process your request.”
I frowned. I hadn’t thought of that. I knew the Museum of Magical Artifacts was magically locked—it existed inside a faerie hole, dug out of the human world, and therefore wasn’t even technically on this plane of reality—but I’d assumed I could find some way to get in, either with brute force or maybe just demanding entrance. Last time I’d been there, I’d been let in.
Conor seemed to read my thoughts. “You can’t just throw demon fire at the door. It won’t burn. This is fae magic mixed with witch wards. Even if there is a way to break the magical locks, it would take days.”
I decided not to argue. I didn’t have a key and I didn’t have a car. I could usually borrow Silas’ if he wasn’t being weird about it but it added another layer of complication. Besides, Conor made for good back up. And now that he knew my secret, it meant I could still use demon fire even when he was around.
“Fine, but I pick the music.”
Chapter 9
Janis Joplin blasted out of Conor’s speakers as he drove at high speeds down narrow streets toward the Everett Community College.
The parking lot was about half-full though it was already after six. Evening classes, I guessed. Conor found a spot near the right building. I left my sword in the car—it was easier to pass as students if we weren’t brandishing weapons—and we went inside.
We hurried past classes in session and closed classroom doors until we reached a metal utility closet door that had a faint magical blue glow around it. Mundane humans couldn’t see the glow, of course. It was meant for supernaturals to see. Witches and fae could find it easily. Shifters could sniff it out. Vampires could sense the glow even though they couldn’t see it.
The utility closet could be opened by the janitorial staff with their keys, but it would only open to the actual closet. In order to get the museum proper, one needed a magical key.
Conor pulled a scrap of paper out of his wallet. “The key,” he said.
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