“Fine,” I said, surprising myself. What the hell am I doing? “I’ll tell you what I know, but first I want his name.” So that I can commit it to memory and then burn his demon ass.
He waited for my full attention, as though to add to the full effect of the name he was about to utter, and said, “Vargal.”
Vargal, I repeated. I’d never heard of that name before. It was either because the Greater demon was ancient, or worse, really, really powerful. Most likely both.
My gaze fell on Julia. Perhaps with his name, I could get her soul back somehow. Faris did say that demons loved to trade. Now, that I had its true name, perhaps I would trade it for her soul. It would be worth a try.
I twisted my face. “How do I know it’s really his name and not one you just made up? He wouldn’t have just offered it to you. It would make him weak and stupid, and I seriously doubt he’s either.”
“He didn’t,” said the angel-born, a smug smile on his face. “I overheard a demon call to him. Right before I cut its head off. It’s his name.”
Okay. Made sense. Vargal, I’m coming to get you, you bastard.
The angel-born crossed his arms over his chest in a casual gesture, and I couldn’t help but stare at the muscles bulging under his shirt. “And the markings on her wrists? The symbols? The weird letters?” he asked again. “I can tell you know something about them.”
“It’s Mesopotamian,” I told him and watched his eyebrows as they reached new heights. “I haven’t deciphered all the text yet, but the carved sun on her wrists is all part of some ritual.” And to quote my aunt, I added, “To summon something powerful who will seek death and destruction upon the world. One that will claim Earth as its own.”
“So they’re being killed as some kind of offering?” he said, his face twisting in question.
“That’s what I’m thinking.” I licked my lips. “Is there a connection between the victims?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to link them together. They’re all human, as far as I know, but it’s all I have.”
“It’s not enough.” Damn. What about them made them special to this Vargal? The angel-born was staring at me like he was about to ask me something but wasn’t sure how to ask it.
“What?”
“Can you track him?” he asked, his voice smooth and even. “Now that you have his name, his true name.” He hesitated for a second. “I know dark witches are skilled with tracking spells.”
“Oh, do you now?” Damn. Who was this guy? “Yes,” I said, wanting to kick myself for not thinking of it first. I blamed it on his pretty face and his fine behind.
Tracking the Greater demon with his true name was a hell of a lot better than trying to summon him with it. The thing with summoning Greater demons was it didn’t always work, and in turn, the summoner generally died. Greater demons came in different classes. Some were too powerful to fit within the class of generally summoned demons. Sometimes they were so powerful that summoning usually took two witches, and even then it didn’t always work.
Which is why tracking Vargal made a hell of a lot more sense.
“We track him and then kill him,” he said suddenly, a dangerous gleam in his eye.
“Excuse me?”
“You just said you could do it.” He watched me intensely. “Or maybe you can’t. Maybe you don’t have the skills.”
I got right in his face. “Oh, I’ve got the skills. But I can’t track him with just his name. It’s not that simple. I need something tangible. Something linked to him, from him. Like a piece of clothing or better yet, his blood.”
The angel-born raked a hand through his hair. “We don’t have that.”
“No.” My eyes flicked to Julia, and my heart gave a start. “But maybe we don’t have to.” My pulse throbbed in my veins as I leaned over the dead girl. From my bag, I yanked out a pair of miniature scissors and cut a lock of her hair.
“It’s not the demon’s blood,” I said as I dropped my scissors in my bag and took out a piece of paper, which I then proceeded to put Julia’s hair on, folded it carefully and slipped it in my bag. “But I’m willing to bet there’s still a demonic imprint.”
His eyes narrowed. “A what?”
“A demonic imprint, like a small part of his aura. Demons can leave a mark on the person’s soul, but I’m willing to bet it goes to the mortal body first. Leaving his imprint there too. Which means—”
“Julia must still have some of it in her,” he said, his expression thoughtful.
“Exactly,” I answered, glad he was using her real name now. “Her blood’s been exposed to chemicals, but her hair should be fine.”
He looked at me, his face blank in wonder, and I almost smiled. “How do you know all that?”
“I’m a genius,” I huffed. “Demons are my thing.” And have been for most of my life.
“Let’s track him now,” said the angel-born, his hands on his hips and a grim determination on his face.
“Now?” I said, incredulous. “Forget it. I’m tired. Hungry. Not to mention that a tracking spell takes a while to prepare. High magic. Difficult and complex stuff. I need to focus, and I can’t focus if I’m tired and hungry. All kinds of things could go wrong, and you wouldn’t want that.”
His face wrinkled in a frown, and for a minute I thought he was going to argue with me. “Tomorrow night?” he asked, and something flashed behind his eyes that I couldn’t quite catch.
God, how did I get into this mess. “Tomorrow night.”
“Your place?”
There wasn’t a better place to perform a tracking spell. “My place.” Why did that sound weird leaving my lips?
He blinked slowly, his features smoothing out, and a real smile curved over his face. “It’s a date,” he said, turning around and making his way toward the door.
My mouth dropped open. “Wait. You don’t know where I live.”
“My name’s Logan,” said the angel-born over his shoulder. “And I know where you live. It’s nice to meet you, Samantha.”
And with that, Logan, the angel-born, disappeared through the doors, leaving me staring stupidly after him. And yes, he did have a tight butt.
But something was off. I had never told him my name. So, how the hell did he know it? And who told him where I lived?
13
This time I’d really gotten myself into a tight spot. And I wasn’t talking about the time when my skinny jeans got stuck halfway up my thighs and I had to cut myself out before I lost all blood flow through my legs. I was talking about a real mess. The kind that has a droolworthy face and perfect behind.
An angel-born was coming over to my house in a few hours. My house. Breathing my air.
Not only were angel-borns a rare commodity in Mystic Quarter, not to mention even rarer strolling down Witches Row, they weren’t especially popular nor liked among half-breeds. The fact that they had angel essence and we had demon essence had a part to play in it. The light and the dark didn’t always play well, or nicely.
His hotness wasn’t what had me all hot and bothered. Okay, maybe a little. But he’d practically invited himself over. And he’d probably called it a date just to shake me.
He’d known my name and where I lived. The sneaky bastard had inquired about me. Just that merited a few dark hexes. I might even throw in a “going-bald” spell because I found him annoying, and his hair was too perfect.
And I, the idiot, had said yes.
The only men who had ever stepped foot in my house were my grandfather, Faris, and Kyllian—which didn’t count since technically they weren’t real men. Well, not mortal men.
Still, Logan had given me the Greater demon’s name, and without it, I wouldn’t be able to conjure up the tracking spell, so we could finally vanquish the demon bastard before he killed anyone else. Without his name, I had nothing.
But it’d all be worth it just to see the look on Vera’s face when she saw Logan march up those steps.
&n
bsp; Tonight, I couldn’t think about how the witch community would react to an angel-born in our midst. I had a Greater demon to find.
“You need to update your liquor cabinet, Sammy, darling,” said Faris as he strolled across the room with a drink in his hand. He eased himself into the chair facing me, next to my working table on the third floor. “There’s bad alcohol, and then there’s rubbing alcohol.” He lifted his glass toward me. “This is somewhere between the two.”
I exhaled noisily. “There’s nothing I can do about that now.”
His dark eyes fixed on me. “You could let me out of your home. I could get a decent drink at this new nightclub that just opened up on West 47th Street.”
“No. I need you here. Just in case.” If you had told me five years ago that I would have a mid demon in my employ, or kept as my backup, I would have said you were crazy. And yet, here we were.
“We had a deal, Faris,” I told him and placed my hands flat on the table, looking at him. “You get another free night out on the town—after I successfully perform the tracking spell. It’s like you said, this is a Greater demon of incredible power. Your job is to make sure I don’t screw this up.”
He took a sip of his drink and said, “Whatever you say, master.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me put you back in your triangle, Faris. You know I will.”
“Don’t make me put you back in your triangle, Faris,” mimicked the demon, matching my voice to an eerie perfection. I wasn’t in the mood for his drama right now. My blood pressure was already through the roof.
Last night, both Kyllian and Faris, true to their word, had come back to my place with what I’d already suspected. The other victims had the same sun symbol carved into their wrists.
Faris had showed me the pictures he took with his cell phone. Yes, some mid demons carried cell phones. But I was more surprised when he came back wearing the exact same clothes as Kyllian, matching baldric, and matching face and body. The demon did have a sense of humor.
Kyllian, though, had not been impressed by Faris’s doppelganger skills, and it took every bit of soothing and blackmail with a beer to get him to forget about it. He’d drunk the beer and left.
Faris, though, had a specific request before dropping the Kyllian doppelganger glamour. “I wouldn’t say no to a nice dip in a hot cauldron. That one there could fit two people, very cozy.”
He’d only returned to his true self after I’d threatened to never let him have another one of his nights out.
At that moment, a raven swooped in through the open window in the top floor, a silver chain hanging from his beak. He flew to his nest of treasures, dropped the chain, and then dove back down, landing on my table with a bounce.
I cocked a brow. “Do I want to know?”
The raven ruffled his feathers and shook his head. “Nope.”
I frowned at the laughter in his tone. Damn that bird. That was Vera’s necklace. I’d swear it on the cauldron. Having Poe as my familiar was like having an uncontrollable teenager on my hands. I never knew what that bird was up to.
“Where’s the old man?” asked Faris as he swirled the contents of his drink.
“No idea,” I answered, my flash of annoyance slipping. “He upped and disappeared this morning without a word.” Probably sharing that widow’s bed again.
“Has the old witch figured out what the ritual says?” inquired Faris. He crossed his legs at the knee. He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of black leather pants, a cowboy hat, and flip-flops. I wondered if this was his true self, what he truly looked like, or was this just another glamour. Maybe he was really red skinned and had giant, black horns on the top of his head. Maybe even a tail. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“Not yet. I went to see her this afternoon. She said she should have it ready by tomorrow.” I took a small dagger and sliced the inside of my palm. Wincing at the pain, I then squeezed some of my blood into a ceramic bowl. I needed “blood of the summoning witch” to start the tracking spell. It was the fuel to start the magic engine.
I’d been preparing the spell all day so I wouldn’t mess it up. I’d spent hours subjecting Julia’s hair to pre-spells and aura-detecting spells—adding the compass link, if you will, to her hair. If I failed. It would be disastrous.
One outcome would be that the tracking spell just simply wouldn’t work. The other, well, the other would act like a very loud car alarm. It would let Vargal know that I’d tried to track him, leaving a nice trail of residue back to me. Not good.
I had to make this count. It had to work. Also, I’d already subjected Julia’s hair to the pre-spells, which meant her hair wouldn’t work a second time. I had one shot at this. I couldn’t screw it up.
My heart thumped, and my hands shook. My stomach twisted and churned like I was on a roller-coaster ride. I hadn’t eaten anything since that morning because I had a feeling it wouldn’t stay down.
Next, I grabbed Julia’s hair and dropped it in the bowl, Poe following my every move with a frightening intensity. “Ut sphaeram,” I muttered, binding the hair to my blood. My eyes widened when a rush of energy flowed into me. Good. That part was done. Now came the harder part.
Grabbing my ceramic bowl, an amulet, and chalk, I turned from the table and moved to the center of the room to kneel down and draw a circle.
Poe landed on the floor next to me. “Vera won’t be bothering you anymore.”
Ah. Crap. I looked over to the raven, my mood souring. “What did you do, Poe?”
“Me? Nothing,” said Poe, and then he actually smiled, well, the corners of his beak curved upward a little, but I knew that was his way of smiling. “Because I know her secret.”
“What secret?” What the hell was he talking about? “No. I don’t want to know. I need to concentrate right now.” And it was really hard with a raven staring at me with a smile on its face.
Poe gave a little laugh. “I just thought you should know.” And with that, the raven took off and flew back to the table. Why me?
Focusing on my spell, I then drew the tracking sigil in the middle of the circle, which looked like a half-moon with the number six hanging down from its edge.
“So we still have no idea why Vargal killed those mortals and took their souls?” asked Faris as he took a swig of his drink.
I noticed how he said “we” like we were a real team. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “No. But it won’t matter after tonight. After I find him.” And kill the bastard.
“You are a clever witch, Sam, the cleverest among many, but I’m not sure you comprehend the complexity of this demon,” he offered over the sound of blood pounding in my ears.
I finished my circle and leaned back. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said and leaned forward in his chair. “How do you plan on killing Vargal? That is the plan. Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“The demon is considered extremely powerful in the Netherworld,” said Faris. “One of the Old Ones. A king of kings. A death spell or killing curse won’t do.”
Of course he was right. I split my time preparing the tracking spell and researching through my grandfather’s collection of books on demons, demonology, and his Netherworld encyclopedia. After eight hours of research, I’d concluded that my killing curses wouldn’t work. They would incapacitate the demon, perhaps banish him, but not vanquish him.
I needed something stronger.
“I need the help of a divine weapon,” I said, having discovered that as well in my research. Faris’s eyes widened in recognition. “A soul blade or something like that.” If I could incapacitate the demon long enough, a stab of a soul blade would kill him, his true death.
Faris thought about it a moment. He took the last gulp of his drink and said, “And you’re just going to stick it to him while Vargal the Great stands there and lets you?”
God, that demon was infuriating. “I will if I have to. But I’m going to have help tonight.”
“Rig
ht.” Faris leaned back. “And where is this infamous angel-born I keep hearing about? Took the night off, did he?”
I pursed my lips. Logan should have been here by now. Maybe he changed his mind. Didn’t matter. I was going to do this, with or without him.
Faris sniffed loudly and adjusted his hat. “Do you have a soul blade?” he asked sarcastically.
“No.” I exhaled in annoyance. “But I know where to find some if he doesn’t show. Turig the troll keeps them in his shop. They’ll be expensive, but I’m sure I can make a deal with him.”
“You won’t have to.”
I looked up to the sound of the voice to find Logan standing in the doorway. I frowned. He liked to do that.
“How did you get in? I didn’t hear the doorbell,” I asked, rolling my eyes over the angel-born. He was dressed in black again. Four blades were sheathed in his baldric that I could see, peeking through a black military-style jacket. He finished the look with steel-toe boots. He was heavily armed, looking like a merc about to go in search of his mark.
“The door wasn’t locked,” answered Logan, his eyes moving to settle on Faris.
“So you pushed in.” Figured. These angel-borns thought they owned the world.
Logan moved his gaze to the chalk circle on the floor. “See you’ve started your tracking spell already,” he said as he crossed the room with the sleek grace of a black panther.
Faris tossed his glass on the floor, which surprisingly didn’t break, and jumped to his feet. He got right in Logan’s face.
“Well, well, well,” purred the demon. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow?” He flashed his teeth and glanced back at me. “Should I be jealous?”
Here we go. “Sit down, Faris.”
Logan went rigid as Faris walked around him, very slowly, his eyes rolling over every inch of the angel-born. A pained expression creased Logan’s face at the proximity of Faris, which in turn, the demon just loved, I was sure. The huge smirk on his face didn’t help.
“Faris, stop torturing my guest.” Guest? That was appropriate, right? Not partner? No, never partner.
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