Demon Ensnared (Demon Enforcers Book 4)

by Jenn Stark

  “Are you tracking those others?” Sara asked, and Simon nodded.

  “We’ll know if any of them so much as sneezes. What we know about our favorite warlock is that he pitched the idea for AugTech, they wanted a demonstration, and for that, the warlock needed a witch. But he also wanted to scale up in a hurry, which meant he needed more than one just in case. It was his great good luck that the Serbian attack happened, and since I don’t believe in luck, I suspect there’s more to it than that.

  “Either way, when the attack on the Serbian coven happened, the warlock was ready to strike. He’d already singled out several of the women who held the most potential in the coven but were not yet ascended to power. He didn’t want anyone who would be noticed right away or who would be too strong for what he had planned. Collecting the bodies from the carnage went according to plan, and you can bet he left several dying coven members in his wake whom he didn’t consider strong enough to be worth saving. Once he had the witches, he could go back to his friends in the private sector and make good on his promises.”

  “Where does Angela Stanton fit into all this?”

  Once again, it was Sara Wilde who spoke, and when Gregori shifted his glance to her, he found her studying him intently.

  “I went back into the case files at Justice Hall,” she continued. “To see if there had been any complaint leveled on Angela’s behalf. There had. Apparently, her parents are both minor-level Connected, so low that they probably never considered themselves as such. But when their daughter was kidnapped at eight years old by things they couldn’t fully explain, they turned to their friends, who were more highly placed. Those friends turned to Justice Hall for help. Unfortunately, nobody was manning the store at the time, and nothing happened. Angela was left to fend for herself, which she did. But she should have had more support. Now, here she is twenty years later, in a very unique and public position to affect the outcome of demon use in a military deployment. How did that happen? Surely this warlock wasn’t playing his game that long.”

  “The warlock wasn’t, but someone was,” the archangel said. “I was made aware of Angela Stanton only on the cusp of the attack in Atlanta. While her abduction and trauma was recorded to some extent, I didn’t know she’d been abducted by demons until after she shared that intelligence with the Syx. But someone clearly knew.”

  “Yup,” Simon said. “We’ve run the data, and all evidence points to Martin Filmore.”

  “No,” Gregori said instantly. “Not him. There’s nothing in her knowledge of him even remotely negative. She considers him a friend.”

  “Yup, yup,” Simon agreed. “Longtime friend of the family and sympathetic supporter of their research. Took a little digging, but as it turns out, he was the family friend the Stantons were dining with the night Angela’s grandmother had a heart attack. He stayed with Angela after they rushed Grandma to the hospital.”

  Gregori felt his blood turn cold. “He didn’t harm her.” Surely he would have picked up on that.

  “Nope, there’s no mention of any further contact between the two of them after that point, other than the occasional get-together, up until he contacted her last year regarding her potential interest in running for a congressional seat. But what’s interesting is where his research took him from there. A review of his internet usage from that point forward proved he became obsessed with the occult. Carefully, slowly, using computers that weren’t hooked into any official networks so he couldn’t get into trouble or put his political aspirations at risk. But he started doing his research, no question. There’s gotta be a correlation.”

  “Angela told him something, something that triggered his interest, something she truly believed. Maybe there was even some evidence left behind at the scene that nobody else noticed,” Sara said thoughtfully. “He goes off and starts studying everything to do with demons, and then takes a seriously wrong turn.”

  She turned to Simon. “Where was he during the college abduction? When Angela was eight years old?”

  “Right down the street working for the Pentagon.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Richer than God—oh, sorry, guys.” Simon shot a glance to the archangel, who remained impassive. “Seriously rich, governor of Georgia. He’s an enthusiastic supporter of artificial intelligence research, and he not only was instrumental in Angela’s political success, but he—you guessed it—used his clout to get her assigned to the committees she’s on. She knows none of this, of course, other than that he encouraged her to run. His role with AugTech—”

  Simon broke off as an alert code seared out of a nearby computer, which he immediately yanked closer to him. “We’ve got a break-in at the condo,” he snapped.

  But Gregori was already gone, the barked command of the archangel for him to leave ringing in his ears. The command, he knew, wasn’t only for him. He reappeared a moment later in Angela’s condo with Hugh and Raum, the three of them instantly turning around as a torrent of demons attacked. Demons and—panicked dogs?

  Ambush.

  In such tight quarters, the Syx didn’t have the luxury of being elegant. Gregori roared an order to Angela’s faithful protectors to get them out of the way—he couldn’t focus on them if she was in danger.

  The howling changed cadence at once, then the demons attacked, all flailing claws and teeth and knives. The Syx were compressed back toward each other with no room to move. Rage exploded through Gregori, and he lashed out, breaking through the wall of demons and creating a larger space. He was the largest of all the Syx, and he towered over the creatures as well as his brothers. He had killed his share of demons, sending hundreds of thousands of them back across the veil over the course of millennia, and for the first several seconds, he did that here too, sending geysers of black goop splattered across the luxurious furniture and cloth wallpaper of Angela’s home. But once the initial curtain of rage lifted, he realized something else.

  These weren’t normal demons.

  “Augments,” Hugh growled. These were the same kind of demons that they’d run into on the field at the AugTech demonstration and that had appeared at the truck rally in Atlanta. They smelled different and they acted with a precision that simply was not normally part of a demon fight. They’d been trained, and they’d actually taken to the training, whether by choice or more likely by force, crackling with tech, but who was controlling them? There had to be a witch nearby, right?

  Even as he thought it, Gregori recognized the fallacy of this assumption. The entire point of the AugTech demonstration was that witches, or somebody, could control these units from afar. The witches they had in the field were there for precaution, but surely they’d already had some success with distance control.

  He swiped at another demon, who leered at him, the demon’s mouth stretched wide and its eyes manic. Gregori could tell there was something behind those eyes. None of these creatures attacking them were the Possessed, thank the Father, but there was nevertheless a focus, an awareness that wasn’t normal.

  And then the creature opened his mouth.

  “Angellllaaaaaa…” it crooned.

  Gregori leapt at him. He could hear the shouts of surprise of the other Syx, but what he was doing now, he’d never done before—had never needed to do before. Ignoring the other demons ripping at him with tooth and claw, he slammed the demon who’d said Angela’s name up against the wall, his hand tight around the creature’s skinny neck.

  As the demon bucked and kicked, clawing at Gregori’s hand, Gregori leaned in close, fixing it with his glare. The demon tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere for it to go. He was forced to stare directly into Gregori’s eyes, and Gregori lifted one hand between them while the other choked the demon half to death. Tilting his head forward, he joined the two of them together—thumb to his forehead, small finger grazing the demon’s brow—and saw into the mind of the creature.

  It was sheer madness. But useful madness.

  In a flash, Gregori learned everyth
ing he needed to know about the creature’s present and past. This was not a Fallen angel. This was not even an ancient member of the horde who had lived in the shadows all these long millennia. This was one of the newest creatures that had been loosed upon the Earth, scrabbling, clawing, always hungry, always desperate, driven to experience everything this world had to offer by blackening mortal souls for power. It had already begun picking off humans, contenting itself with the weak and the infirm, like a jackal on the edge of a herd of sheep. It’d also begun hunting in small gangs, never an easy thing for demons, because so few of them were capable of controlling the others. But this demon crew had been surprisingly successful. They’d found shelter. They’d tried to hide—

  Gregori tightened his grip, forcing the demon to race through its memories more quickly, and the rest fell into place. The pain that had hit it one day, the terrible pain, waking up in a cage, more pain, always more pain—then surgery, metal, and, yes, more pain. Being sent on this mission with one name on its mind, one name that it could speak with its misshapen lips.

  “Angela…”

  Gregori didn’t see her, and the images filling his mind were nondescript, rows of cages, wide concrete spaces, rooms with computer panels. There was nothing to indicate where these images came from, but there was no denying the demon in his grip was being controlled with a current of energy. As Gregori became one with the demon’s mind, he could track that energy, feel its pull. He could follow it.

  Now.

  Gregori squeezed, and the being exploded in his hands, gouts of black goop spraying the walls and ceiling. He turned to see the other members of the Syx fighting and realized Angela’s animals hadn’t fled. Instead, they still fought on, staunch and furious—Hey Mister with his teeth sunk into a demon’s corded calf muscle, Old Sir chasing another demon around the room, and Hellboy riding a third high on his shoulders, his jaws clamped on his neck. The cats were in on the action as well, Ghost and Domino hissing and snarling at three demon attackers they’d trapped in a corner.

  Gregori took all this in with a glance, and then he roared, grabbing another of the demons who had the stink of technology on it and squeezing it hard, feeling the energy current jump and rattle, soaring through the city.

  A sudden crackle of electricity sparked at the demon’s neck, sweeping through the space—

  And Gregori was gone.

  21

  Angela woke with a start, realizing immediately that her hands were bound and she was strapped into a chair. It was almost laughable how reassuring that was. The last time she’d been taken, all those years ago, she’d woken up in a cage. A chair was a definite upgrade.

  “Angela.” The voice was friendly, comforting, and efficient, and one she recognized. But not one she expected.

  “Martin?” she managed, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She was in a conference room of some sort, but definitely not one of the congressional conference rooms used for committee meetings. This place was sterile, cold, and gave the impression of being underground, though she didn’t know why.

  Martin Filmore sat opposite her across the broad table, and notably, he wasn’t tied up. The governor of Georgia was a tall, thin man, wearing his habitually too-loose, off-the-rack suit that gave him a working-man air he didn’t truly merit—he was richer than anyone Angela had ever met. He had sharp, angular features and warm eyes, and he smiled easily and earnestly—the kind of man who could laugh with a group of roughneck dockworkers and take tea with a bevy of society dames with the same self-effacing good nature. He was smart and he was stubborn—but he tried to downplay both, like most Southern men used to others in politics and business disregarding them because of their soft drawl and easy manner.

  Now he drawled with credible dismay. “I didn’t expect things to escalate like this, and I certainly didn’t want it.”

  “Didn’t want what?” Angela asked, desperately trying to get her bearings.

  He sighed, his fawn-colored eyes softening with a concern Angela almost found herself believing…except for the restraints. “Your outburst yesterday at the demonstration site was too much to ignore. We had to convince you more directly of the importance of this venture.”

  “By tying me up?” she asked, aghast, her mind finally locking down on what was happening here. Martin was working with AugTech too? “You have to know that’s not going to win me over to your cause.”

  He smiled. With a gesture, the bindings holding Angela fell away, as if he’d hit some sort of remote. “I apologize that our methods are somewhat crude, but in many ways, these remain crude tools. Primitive, but nevertheless effective. I assure you, you never once were in any danger, and again, that no humans were damaged in the demonstration you saw yesterday.”

  Angela thought about the comments Gregori had made regarding the Possessed, but kept her mouth shut for another moment as Martin continued.

  “When I stumbled on evidence of this technology, I didn’t know what to do with it. But I was definitely intrigued. As horrifying as your experience had been as a child, it paled in significance to the idea that there were creatures who could enact a sort of mental terror on their opponents, creatures that were not things of mystery and myth but of human creation.”

  “AugTech is working with robots,” she said evenly.

  He nodded, crossing one of his legs, the crease in his gray pants just off center. “Robots.”

  Then he chuckled. “But you and I both know they’re more than that. Don’t worry.”

  Something gave way inside Angela, something she didn’t expect. He knew. He’d known all this time that what had abducted her when she was very small had not been strictly born of mankind. That it had been this other, this creature as he called it, flesh and blood and heart and magic. All these years, he’d paid for her therapy, getting her to accept that the demons of her mind had been merely her own constructs. But he had known the truth. In the past, that realization might have staggered her, might have caused her to build yet another wall, but now she simply accepted it, categorized it, fit it into the puzzle as a larger piece of the whole.

  “These creatures, as you call them, are dangerous,” she said. “I don’t think you understand exactly how dangerous, or you wouldn’t be using them the way you are.”

  “But you see, that’s where it becomes so exciting,” Martin said, “because they can be completely controlled. You were the one who showed me that. I didn’t realize it at first. I didn’t understand, but I knew there was something there, something important that I couldn’t let go. I became obsessed with learning everything there was to know about the creatures that assaulted you that night.”

  She stared at him, aghast. “How did you even know what assaulted me? And it didn’t happen at night, it happened…”

  She stiffened, because of course it all became clear now. Martin wasn’t talking about the day she’d been taken by demons as an eight-year-old to endure eighty-seven long and horrible days in a cage. That wasn’t the event that so excited him, because he’d been behind it. Angela hadn’t mistakenly summoned the demons when she was eight…she’d barely opened the book before they’d arrived. Martin had sent the demons to abduct her.

  But the first time…that’s what fascinated him. The attack of demons on an unsuspecting five-year-old girl, terrified out of her mind that she had killed her own grandmother by reading words aloud from a book.

  “How did you even know about that attack?” she continued, more quietly now. “Enough to get excited about anything?”

  He smiled, his thin lips pressing over his too-white teeth. “By all rights, I shouldn’t have, but that’s how science works, isn’t it? A series of coincidences and fortunate events. I was there the night you were attacked. Your parents left me there with you as they rushed your grandmother to the hospital. I was a family friend after all, more than safe as a chaperone for a frightened little girl. And, to be fair, I never intended or expect to do anything that night but babysit. But you were traumat
ized, as any little girl would be, and eventually, you started talking to yourself, using strange words I’d never heard you speak before. When I asked you about it, you said it was all your fault, that you had made them come and you had made them go. That’s what you said over and over again, that you had made them come and you had made them go. When I asked you who ‘they’ were, you understandably clammed up again. But it was clear that something had traumatized both you and your grandmother. And eventually, I got your grandmother to agree to hypnosis.”

  She scowled at him. “Hypnosis? Surely you’re not serious.”

  He shrugged. “At first, she was a little resistant, but when I explained to her that you were having nightmares, that resistance dissolved. You have always had a very loving family, Angela. Or should I call you Jane? After all, your renaming was somewhat my doing.”

  At this point, she knew better than to dismiss his words and posturing. “What did you do? What possible value could renaming me bring you?”

  “Well, I was the one who helped facilitate it, after all. And there was a lot of paperwork involved. More paperwork than you would expect for a little girl’s name. Especially if you were a professor of anthropology with your head in the clouds and your mind on everything else but the ministry of your own family. When I offered to take care of all the paperwork to execute your name change, your parents gratefully accepted. They signed every document I put in front of them too, most without giving it more than a cursory glance. From that point forward, I had unlimited access to your medical files, including your psychology reports and therapy updates. You never would accept a drug regimen for your nightmares, which would’ve made things a little easier, but I enjoyed the challenge.”

  She couldn’t help herself—she gaped at him, her stomach churning. “You’ve been tracking me since I was eight years old?”

  “I’ve been tracking you since you were five years old. I’ve been tracking you effectively since you were eight, yes. And come on, it hasn’t been all bad, you have to agree.” He spread his broad hands, a gesture so ingrained, so familiar, that Angela felt her mind become slightly unmoored. Was all this really possible?