I didn’t even live that far away, maybe ten blocks.
I wondered who else with nefarious intentions might be living in such close proximity and then decided I didn’t want to know.
One monster at a time.
Chapter 14
I’d barely gotten in the door when something scratched at my window. I heard a faint cawing. I dropped my sword and rushed to the window, pulling it open. An inky black crow flew in. She hovered in the air for a moment before she changed into a woman wearing a black dress with a feathered skirt.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Penelope said matter-of-factly. Her dark hair was up in a loose bun, a delicate strand loose and hanging to the side of her face.
“I’ve been busy,” I said. Understatement of the year, given that I’d fended off two separate assholes trying to kidnap me in the past eight hours.
Penelope tilted her head, as if to examine me better. I stepped back and looked away, slightly embarrassed of what her assessment would no doubt conclude: I was a hot mess. My jacket was ripped and torn up on one sleeve, my hair was wild and loose from its ponytail holder, and my clothes were covered in mud, black ichor from the demon bat-birds, and probably splashes of the blue lizard man’s blood. My ribs felt better, but still throbbed slightly, and given how exhausted I was, I probably had huge bags under my eyes. My muscles ached, my magic was spent, and I was ready to collapse.
“What demon are you chasing now?” she asked.
My heart hammered. I knew she was using demon in a metaphorical sense, but she was right on the money. “My own personal demon, actually. And a mage who’s stolen a giant demon stone. And earlier, a lizard shifter who killed himself after I made him name his boss.”
I fell on the sofa, letting my muscles relax, and got Penelope up to date on what was going on, including the newest theory about my blackouts.
Penelope stood, arms at her side in a way that looked natural and comfortable. I never knew what to do with mine but Penelope never had that problem. She met my gaze with her dark eyes. “If you kill the demon that gave you magic, won’t you lose it?”
The floor dropped out from under me.
I plunged downward, cold enveloping me like I’d jumped into an icy lake. I gripped the arm of the sofa to make sure it was still there as my thoughts spun.
Lose my magic?
“Is that even possible?” I asked, looking up at Penelope. I’d been nervous that Pete might see it or be able to get rid of it with exorcism, but it hadn’t occurred to me that killing the demon who was the source of my magic might cut me off.
She shrugged. “If the magic somehow stems from the demon or its mark, then I would guess so.”
Fear radiated through me. The thought of losing my demon magic was terrifying. How many times had that magic saved my life and the lives of those around me? How many times would I have been totally, utterly screwed without it? I wasn’t totally dependent on it but I relied on it for self-defense and protection. It was fast and readily accessible, unlike witch spells that had to be prepared in advance.
“Then again, perhaps the magic is merely a side effect from the duration of your possession and will not be affected.” Penelope wiped imaginary dirt from her skirt, smoothing the silky feathers. “Had you not considered the possibility?”
I shook my head, too nauseated to speak without throwing up. I had not considered the possibility. I wanted the blackouts to stop and having Ashraith dead was a long-time goal of mine, so I hadn’t even stopped to consider what else his death might effect.
If killing him meant losing my magic, I wasn’t sure I could do it.
I’d lived without demon magic for the majority of my life. It wasn’t until my early twenties when I’d tried to summon the spirit of my grandmother and gotten a demon instead. But now, I couldn’t imagine not having it. It was a part of me. It was part of who I was.
Having it ripped away would leave me in pieces.
I swallowed, my throat dry.
“I can’t lose my magic,” I said.
Penelope considered for a moment, her head tilting the other way. “If it is truly yours, it cannot be lost.”
I groaned and sank deeper into the couch. Those kind of platitudes weren’t helpful.
“I am glad to find you alive,” Penelope said. “Do try and stay that way.”
She turned back into a bird and flew out the window, presumably around the building to her own apartment. I forced myself up and closed my window to keep the cold air out. Then I tripled checked the locks on my door and shuffled off to bed. I’d get a few hours of shut eye and then I’d start tracking down Jax Varta and figure out what the hell he wanted from me.
And then I needed to figure out how to kill Ashraith without losing my magic.
I slept fitfully, tossing and turning. At nine in the morning, I finally dragged myself out of bed. I didn’t feel well-rested, but my midsection felt more solid. The healing goop was working its magic and my ribs didn’t hurt as much. Even the wounds from the demon bat-bird and the Lizard Man’s blade looked days older than they were thanks to the healing potion. That was one good thing.
I showered quickly and put on jeans and a t-shirt and made a pot of coffee. Then I pulled out my computer and did a search for Jax Varta.
Nothing came up, which wasn’t a huge surprise. A lot of supernatural folks eschewed technology. There was a feeling among the community that magic was superior to anything mundane humans could create. Oftentimes, that gave me an advantage because I was willing to Google or use trackers. But sometimes it just made it harder to track people down. Jax Varta didn’t have a Facebook page or an Instagram, which would have provided plenty of clues.
Next, I hit the witch forums Belinda had sent me a link to. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could find easily without a direct path there. The forums had sections for spells and potions, which were the most active. People traded recipes and asked about ingredients they might substitute for some of the less common herbs or plants. Other sections, like the News or Share Your Photos areas, were mostly abandoned, with only a few old posts in each.
The General Chat section, however, was busy, with the most recent post only seconds old. I clicked over there and scanned the list of posts. There was the normal type of stuff you saw in all forums: What’s your favorite spell? What’s your star sign? Best spell you ever cast? Those kinds of things.
But there were also posts like “Weird Encounter in Grocery Store,” where a young witch described getting lectured about seasonings in the spice aisle of Safeway. I kept scanning titles and finally got to one called “Guy Asking About Local Witch.”
I took a sip of coffee and clicked the link.
The post was short. A guy bartending at Cauldron & Cat, a witch bar up in Bellingham, said that some guy came in asking about a witch who worked as a private eye. As far as I knew, I was the only witch PI in the area.
Most witches who wanted to do my job went to work for the Council and joined the Watchers. I preferred to freelance. But people asking about me wasn’t exactly new. Word of mouth was how I got the majority of my business. After all, I couldn’t exactly take out ads that said “Witchy Investigations” without raising the wrong kind of eyebrows.
The post went on, “It drew my attention because he had the aura of a mage and acted really cagey when I asked why he wanted to hire a PI. I suggested he contact the local Watchers office if he was having problems. He got up and left, and stiffed me on his drink.”
I smiled faintly. I’d never worked food service but one thing I’d learned in my career was that you never stiffed waitstaff if you don’t want to draw their ire or attention. Servers were way more likely to remember the jerk who didn’t tip than someone who left a few bucks on the bar.
Replies to the post varied. Some people felt the poster was stupid and the guy probably just wanted to hire this PI. Others thought it was weird a mage would go to a witch for help. After all, mage magic was obviously superior (no doubt pos
ted by a mage). No one had useful info though until someone else posted a grainy photo of Lizard Man with the text “Is this him?”
Lizard Man hadn’t had a mage’s aura. As far as I could tell, he was a shifter. Non-mammalian shifters were rare but not unheard of.
The original poster commented that no, it wasn’t that guy, but I saw someone else comment they’d look into him. I assumed that was Belinda.
Sadly, nothing else came of the thread and no one had replied to it in two days.
According to the original post, the mage—presumably the one who stole artifacts and tricked me into opening the Museum—had been asking about me a week or so before his first theft. That didn’t tell me a lot. It confirmed the mage thief had been looking for me specifically and no doubt stole items from places I was likely to be hired to investigate—the Mages would call me first, as the Magic Council was unlikely to take a small theft seriously, and I’d worked for Rian before.
I already knew I was the target. But now I had proof.
And it all but confirmed my other suspicion: the blackouts weren’t random or coincidental. It couldn’t be. The mage had come after me specifically knowing I’d help him get a demon stone and he’d exploited my demon mark as a weakness.
I shivered as the thoughts coalesced in my mind: he wanted a demon stone because he was working with a demon.
He was working with Ashraith.
Suddenly it all made sense.
We couldn’t summon Ashraith from the Underworld because he wasn’t there. The bat-birds may have been a trap or maybe it was just bad luck. Either way, Ashraith was here.
And he had a friend with a demon stone who could send him back to the Underworld and then summon him up in a physical body.
And if that happened, the demon would be twice as deadly and twice as hard to kill.
I got up and grabbed my sword. I didn’t know where the hell the mage and demon were hiding out but I was going to kick some ass until I found out.
Chapter 15
The Mage’s headquarters seemed abandoned. The blinds were drawn and no one answered when I knocked or rang the bell. Maybe they were out having some kind of Mage Picnic or whatever.
Annoyed, I went around the back. The gate was locked so I hefted myself over the six-foot fence and only got a few splinters. I walked around the back of the house. Since it was a split-level, the sliding glass door led to the downstairs and I could see Hayley, the mage, in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans.
I tapped on the glass. She jumped about three feet in the air, scowled, and then slid open the door. Popcorn kernels exploded in the microwave. “What?” she demanded.
“You know a Jax Varta?” I asked. No sense in beating around the bush, after all.
“Why?”
“Because I’m looking for him. Does he stay here? Come for meetings? What’s his deal?”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to check the microwave. “Why should I tell you?”
I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her attitude out, but that wouldn’t do me any good. I took a deep breath and mustered whatever patience I could. “I’m looking for that stolen chalice and I need to speak with him. Is he here?”
She folded her arms over her chest and examined her perfectly manicured peach-colored fingernails. “He’s not with us anymore.”
I frowned. I knew he wasn’t dead. The dead didn’t fling magic at your face. Well, not usually. “How so?”
She shrugged. “He wanted to join those idiots over the summer, the ones who got all demon-worshippy?” It wasn’t a question but she made it sound like one, so I nodded to tell her that I knew who she meant. “He didn’t like that they included witches, and talked about starting his own thing. Said he knew how to use demons to really change shit.”
“Like what?” I pressed. The more I knew about what Jax wanted out of this whole arrangement, the better. It might give me some idea what he was planning.
Hayley shrugged again. “Who knows? The Council’s rules? I didn’t ask because I thought he was puffing and full of shit.”
“Did you report him to Mark?” I asked. I assumed that was standard procedure when a mage was threatening to work illegal demon magic.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not his mom or whatever. Besides, he vanished a few weeks later.”
“So he doesn’t ever come around?” It would be so easy if I could just stake out this house and nab the guy.
She shook her head. The popping in the microwave slowed and she shot an impatient glance over her shoulder. “Haven’t seen him in a couple of a months. I thought he went to Arizona. He has cousins there.”
“He didn’t.” I gave her my card. “Will you call me if he shows up or contacts you?”
She didn’t quite roll her eyes this time, but she clearly didn’t think that was going to happen. “Sure. Whatever. I have to go.”
“Wait. Where did he live? Do you know?”
She leveled a look at me that told me just how stupid she thought that question was and slid the door closed. So much for this being a hot lead.
At least I knew why Jax’s magic was so similar to that of the mages in the demon club. He was stealing a page out of their book, and probably drinking demon blood to enhance his power. But I still had no idea where to find him and it seemed like the mages probably wouldn’t be any help.
The changeling squinted against the sunlight that was shining right into his eyes as I held him against the wall of the alley.
It was mid-afternoon, too early for most fae to be out and about but there were exceptions, like, say, changelings who worked for a weapons dealer.
“Where’s Lachlan?” I asked. It wasn’t the first time.
“I told you, probably asleep,” the changeling said, desperation dripping from his words.
Lachlan rounded the corner of the alley. The changeling—a half-fae I’d once seen in Lachlan’s company—immediately bolted down the street and out of sight, not daring to stick around.
Lachlan was dark-skinned with a light dusting of dark facial hair and intense, gorgeous blue eyes. Like all fae, he was inhumanly beautiful but he was particularly striking in the daylight. Maybe because I’d never seen him in the daytime before. He wore a hooded sweatshirt and the hood was crusted with what looked like brown paint but was actually the blood of his victims.
“What have I told you about abusing my minions?” Lachlan asked, arms crossed over his chest.
“You told me to stop,” I said. “But you don’t exactly answer calls. I don’t even know if you have a phone.”
He gave me a hard look. “I don’t give out my number to witches.”
“Exactly.” I sheathed my sword. “That’s why I have to grab your underlings and shake them until you come out to stop me.”
He sighed, dropping his arms. “What do you want, Warren?”
“I need information.” Lachlan was a red cap, a faerie assassin, but he made his living by selling weapons. That meant he was generally aware of nefarious figures in the area.
Lachlan held out his hand, palm up. He wore leather gloves. “Payment upfront.”
I groaned and pulled out a crisp hundred dollar bill I kept in my pocket for these situations. But doing so reminded me that unless I got the mage chalice and the dragon dagger back, I wasn’t getting paid for this job beyond the small upfront fee Mark had paid me. Add that to my to-do list when I confronted this guy: kick his ass, kill his demon friend, break the demon stone, and retrieve the stolen items. Like I didn’t have enough to worry about.
Lachlan took the money and stashed it in a pocket.
“I’m looking for a mage who stole some artifacts, including a demon stone. He’s working with a demon and trying to grab me for whatever fun magical ritual he has planned.” Saying it out loud made goosebumps erupt on my arms and I was glad my leather coat concealed that fact. If Jax wanted me, it was probably to use me to empower Ashraith somehow, a fact I’d only just put together. This just kept getting
worse.
“I sell weapons, not artifacts,” Lachlan said. Faeries couldn’t lie but they could avoid telling the truth, and Lachlan was no exception.
I narrowed my eyes. “So you don’t know anything about a mage named Jax Varta?”
Lachlan shifted from one foot to the other. The movement was unconscious and slow, but it betrayed him. “I said that it’s not my area of expertise.”
I conjured demon fire in my palm and held it up. I didn’t want to fight a red cap, especially one I sort of liked, but I wasn’t going to stand there and let him tap dance around answers when I’d already paid him. “Tell me what you know.”
Lachlan’s blue eyes glittered and an expression I couldn’t decipher crossed his face. Then it was gone. “I know vast oceans of information, my dear witch. But what I know about the mage you seek is this: he is working in tandem with a demon, and I don’t truck with demons. Foul creatures who think themselves superior.”
As if the fae didn’t think the exact same thing about themselves. I didn’t say so, though. “I’m not asking you to hunt them down with me. I just need to know where I might find them.”
Lachlan gave me another hard look and for a moment, I worried I’d wasted my money. But then he sighed and said, “I’ve heard the mage is living somewhere in South Everett, in an abandoned house. It reeks of ichor and sulfur and there are screams in the middle of the night.”
I shuddered at the thought of what Jax and Ashraith might be up to.
“South Everett is kind of broad.” I waited for Lachlan to offer more. He didn’t. “Where did you hear about this weird house?”
Lachlan smiled. “I never reveal my sources.”
I rolled my eyes but I wasn’t surprised. “Did you sell this Jax guy any weapons?”
Lachlan’s smile faded. “No. I know of him because his presence is making locals nervous. People who are nervous buy more weapons. But a man working with a demon doesn’t need weapons.”
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