Stone Cold Magic (Ella Grey Series Book 1)

by Jayne Faith

  “No,” he said, his voice stony.

  I pulled my hands away from his and stood. “What do you mean, ‘no’? It’s not your choice.”

  He rose too, his eyes fiery. “There’s no choice to make, here. You don’t need to risk your soul. There are other ways to find your brother.”

  “Yeah, there are other ways, but you know what? It’s been five goddamn years and none of those have panned out,” I hissed, trying not to raise my voice and attract Roxanne’s attention.

  His hand whipped out to grasp my wrist, and he stomped toward the back door, pulling me along. I tried to twist out of his hold, but he squeezed harder. Once he had me outside, he pushed the door closed and let go of me and planted his hands on his hips.

  “You feel guilty about your brother, and you think making this sacrifice will somehow ease your guilt.”

  My hands clenched into fists against my thighs, my pulse high on a surge of anger. “What the hell do you know about how I feel? You haven’t been living with this every day!” I knew he didn’t deserve to be yelled at, but I couldn’t seem to hold back the tension that had been building up in my chest all day.

  He stepped closer, getting in my face. “You’re being stupid, and it’s not worth it.”

  “I know I am, but I’m going to do it anyway. I have to,” I said. I let out a long breath, not in the mood to try to further defend my choice.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.” I shoved my fingers into my hair, pushing it back off my forehead.

  “I’ll help you try to find him,” he said. “I’m a private eye, Ella.”

  “Look, I really appreciate everything you’ve done, everything you’re doing. Really, thank you. But I have to do this.”

  We were silent for a couple of breaths. He lowered his chin and looked at the ground and gave a slight, reluctant nod. I knew he wasn’t going to let the argument go, though.

  “Don’t thank me yet. Your IOU list is getting pretty damn long.” He cocked his head and lowered his eyelids partway.

  I snorted. “Yeah, well, you better collect soon. I may not be around long enough to pay up.”

  He moved closer, and for one insane second I thought he was going to try to kiss me, but instead he leaned in and with his cheek close to mine and his lips at my ear, whispered, “Fair warning, I just might do that. Prepare yourself, sugar.”

  My breath caught for a split second. I couldn’t help it. But I managed to recover, remove myself from his personal space, and punch him lightly on the upper arm. “Don’t assume it’ll be that easy, sweet cheeks.”

  Too late, I realized my mistake as a new fire lit in his eyes. I’d inadvertently issued a challenge. Oops. I exhaled a soft laugh and turned to go back inside. He followed a few feet behind me.

  Inside, the lamp beside the sofa was out, and Roxanne was a still, curled-up lump under the covers. I’d thought she might have trouble sleeping, considering what we were planning the next day, but it looked as if she was already sound asleep.

  “See you tomorrow,” Johnny whispered.

  “’Night,” I said.

  I waited for him to leave and then locked the front deadbolt.

  A vertical line of light shone from my room through the cracked door. I pushed it open and found Deb sitting on the bed in girl-style plaid boxer shorts and a pink tank top, with her book of shadows—a notebook bound in cream-colored faux leather that was a sort of journal of the witchy part of her life—spread open on her lap.

  She looked up, closed her notebook, and raised a brow at me. “Was Johnny showing you his toys?” she asked in a purr.

  I tossed her a withering look as I unbuttoned my shorts and let them slide to the floor, grabbed some cutoff sweats from a drawer and put them on, and hopped up on the bed. “Actually, yeah he was.” I grabbed the edge of the quilt folded on the end of the bed and pulled it over my legs.

  Shifting over on her hip so she was facing me, Deb waited for me to say more.

  “Apparently I’m no longer a hundred percent human. He picked up the other, the reaper, on his scanner thingy, though he wasn’t sure what it was.”

  “How much did you tell him?” she asked quietly.

  “Pretty much everything. He tried to talk me out of keeping it.”

  “You like him, don’t you.” She said it in a wry tone with a hint of accusation, and there was no upturn of a question at the end.

  I sagged back against the pillow and pushed the heels of my palms over my closed eyes. “Not really. I mean, I appreciate all he’s done, but he can be a bit of an asswipe.”

  “He probably finds you really frustrating,” she said. “You haven’t succumbed to his charms, and it offends his inner Don Juan.”

  “All the more reason to keep resisting,” I said.

  She laughed. “That’s just going to make you more and more attractive.”

  I groaned, and she closed her book of shadows.

  “We can’t really help who we’re drawn to,” she said, and reached to turn out the bedside lamp.

  I thought of Keith and wanted to ask her whether she’d talked to him—in particular if she’d told him yet she was pregnant—but sleep claimed me before I could form the words.

  The alarm on my phone burst through my slumber way too soon. I moaned in protest as I reached down to the floor for my shorts, pulled the device out of a pocket, and snoozed it for ten minutes. Despite the lack of adequate sleep, I was wide awake. Deb turned over to her back and stretched beside me.

  I had a text from Raf.

  Someone will be there to pick you up between 6:15 and 6:30.

  “Morning,” I said. Another groan for good measure, and then I swung my feet to the floor and went over to the closet and opened it.

  “It’s so early,” she grumbled.

  Neither of us were morning people. My workout was the only thing that really got me going—well, that and a big cup of coffee—and I was determined to get in a quick run before the day kicked into gear. I wasn’t okayed yet for strenuous exercise, but I figured screw it. I had an angel of death eating my soul. An aneurism brought on by jogging was the least of my worries.

  I flipped through some of the clothes hanging in the closet. “What does one wear to a gargoyle rescue mission, anyway?”

  Deb gave a short laugh, and I turned to the dresser and pulled out a pair of light running tights, a workout top, and an old Demon Patrol Trainee sweatshirt. I got dressed and tiptoed through the living room in my running shoes, pulling my hair up into a ponytail as I went. I grabbed Loki’s leash, and he dropped from the pullout bed to the floor and joined me near the door.

  Outside, it was still dark. The sun wouldn’t be up for another couple of hours, but I enjoyed the cool air as it whisked away any remaining grogginess left by sleep. Getting into a rhythm of breath and footfalls with Loki doing the same beside me, I headed toward Harrison Boulevard, a street of mostly large, upscale, historic homes. I zoned out and my mind stilled, but I had to cut the run short. The GSHO inspector would be landing at the airport soon, and after that Raf would mobilize us to Gregori Industries.

  Back home, Deb and Roxanne were up, and the smell of bacon and coffee filled the apartment. I quickly showered and then got dressed, settling on gray pants that looked respectable enough but were an outdoorsy brand so they had some stretch to them, plus a long-sleeved navy henley. There was no need to look dressed up, I’d decided, when it was likely I’d be trying to hold off an arch-demon. I strapped on my service belt, and snapped the tightly-coiled whip next to my left hip.

  Shit. I’d meant to practice with the whip last night. My stomach knotted.

  “Hey Ella,” Roxanne called. “Damien is here to give us a ride to Gregori.”

  Oh well, it was too late now.

  I filled a mug with coffee but didn’t take any food. I was too keyed-up and preoccupied with kicking myself for forgetting to practice circle casting.

  I slid into the plush front passenger seat of Dami
en’s Lexus, and Deb and Roxanne got into the back.

  “Hello, ladies,” he greeted us. “Big day, huh?”

  “I can’t wait to see Nathan,” Roxanne said, her excitement evident.

  Damien and I exchanged a glance.

  “This is just an inspection, remember?” I said gently, twisting around to look at her. I intended to walk out of Gregori with Nathan, but she didn’t know that, and I definitely couldn’t make any guarantees. “But we hope it will prompt his release.”

  She nodded, her expression turning solemn. I felt bad for dampening her enthusiasm, but I wanted her to be prepared. The sobering truth was that I didn’t even know for sure that Nathan would make it out of the ordeal alive. Exorcisms were tricky business, and though it sounded like I had the best in Lynnette Leblanc, I didn’t know what condition Nathan was in. He’d been alive during my last trip to Gregori, but even the best exorcist couldn’t do much if the victim was too weak to handle the separation.

  My insides laced tighter and tighter the closer we got to the Gregori campus. Half a mile away from the main gate, I could already tell it would be a mob scene. Vehicles lined the usually quiet two-lane highway beyond the edge of town, and I could see police cars blocking one lane farther down. Damien pulled over to the side of the road.

  “Raf wants us to wait here.” He turned to me. “He’s sending a car so the five of us going in will arrive together.”

  I pressed my lips together, nodding and taking a slow breath in through my nose.

  A car pulled up behind ours, and I turned to see it was Johnny’s Mustang. He got out and ambled up to Damien’s side, and leaned down to rest his forearms on the window. “Fancy running into you folks out here. How’s everyone feeling?” His eyes rested on me for an extra beat before he looked around at everyone else.

  “Hopeful,” Roxanne said.

  I reached back to pat her knee. “Same here.”

  Johnny stuck his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out an object. He held it up, and his gaze locked on mine. “I thought you might want this.”

  A grin spread across my face.

  “What is it?” Roxanne asked.

  “It’s a demon trap,” I said. Johnny had somehow procured a Strike-level canister. I’d brought a couple of brimstone burners on my belt, even though they’d be useless against a Rip spawn large enough for possession.

  I reached across Damien to take Johnny’s can. “I don’t know how you got that thing, but you’re a lifesaver.” I noticed he also had a flat black foam case, the type that usually held a laptop or a tablet.

  His fingers brushed mine, and his smile widened. “Not a problem.”

  He straightened, looked back, and then smacked his hand lightly on the top of the car. “Looks like our ride is here.”

  I turned around to peer down the road just as a long black sedan eased over to a stop behind the Mustang.

  I wasn’t expecting a limo. I gave a wry laugh. “I feel a little underdressed for prom.”

  Deb leaned forward to squeeze my shoulder. “See you soon.”

  Damien handed her the keys so she and Roxanne could drive to the front gate.

  I swung the door open and stepped out, and just as I turned to head to the limo, a blond-headed blur ran around the back of the Lexus and crashed into me. Roxanne’s thin arms squeezed my waist as she pressed the side of her face into my sternum.

  “Thank you, Ella.”

  I hugged her for a long moment. “You’re welcome.”

  She stood next to the Lexus, watching as Johnny, Damien, and I got into the sedan. I waved, and she waved back. I pulled the door closed, and the driver turned around to give me a little salute. I recognized him as one of Raf’s beanie guys.

  “Morning,” I said, nodding to him and Lynnette Leblanc, who sat in the front passenger seat.

  The woman next to me, dressed in an orange and gold sari, offered her hand. “I’m Mishti Gupta, representative of the Global Supernatural Humanitarian Organization,” she said in a lilting Indian accent.

  I clasped her hand. “Ella Grey. Welcome to Boise, Ms. Gupta. Thank you for coming.”

  She had no magical aptitude, which didn’t surprise me. I vaguely recalled that GSHO inspectors were non-crafters, though the organization did have many magic users on staff and their governing body included vampires, mages, and sub-mage crafters.

  We were already approaching the main entrance of the Gregori campus. A few police officers manned the crowd barricades set up to keep people off the road. Another officer beckoned us forward and indicated Raf’s guy should turn onto the patch of asphalt in front of the gate.

  On her lap, Mishti held a thick binder with a couple of file folders stacked on top of it. She lifted them and tucked them against her chest with one arm.

  “Stay in the car while I issue the GSHO order,” she said.

  An officer appeared to open her door, and she stepped out. Media people were lined up behind barricades on both sides of us, and Mishti’s appearance set off the cameras. A member of the Gregori security team, an authoritative ex-military type I didn’t recognize from my previous visit, exited the guard house and came to stand on the other side of the fence, his expression stony. She went up to the gate and pulled a document from one of her folders. Our driver cracked the windows down a few inches so we could hear.

  “By international treaty, the Global Supernatural Humanitarian Organization requests immediate entry onto the premises,” she said in a voice strong enough for the nearby cameras to pick up. “By law, our request must be granted. Here is our order and my identification as an official of the organization.”

  The guard didn’t make a move to let her in, so Mishti had to bend down and slide the documents under the inch or so of space beneath the gate. I flipped a glance over my shoulder. There were a lot of people crowded around.

  The guard carried the documents back to the guard house, and I could see him talking on a phone. Mishti was steadfast, standing at the gate alone with her binder and folders in one arm, waiting. She’d likely been in much sketchier places around the world than Boise, Idaho on behalf of GSHO, but Gregori Industries was like its own dimension.

  The military guy, trailed by three armed guards, emerged from the little house. He said something to Mishti. Our driver rolled down the passenger window the rest of the way as she came back to the car.

  “They won’t allow us to drive in,” she said. “But they’re opening the gate for the five of us.”

  I took a deep breath as Damien swung the door open, and I followed by his side. I quickly secured Johnny’s demon trap to my belt. The four of us split, Damien and I standing to Mishti’s left and Lynnette and Johnny on her right, facing the gate as it began to roll to one side. I caught Damien’s nervous scan of the gathered crowd and how he tried to angle his face away from the cameras. The petite Indian woman glanced up at each of us and nodded and then stepped forward. I squared my shoulders and tried to think calming thoughts, but my pulse was thin and fast with anticipation.

  Together, the five of us entered Gregori territory.

  Chapter 22

  THE GATE CLOSED behind us with a soft rattle, but in my mind somehow the noise was much larger.

  A large golf cart appeared—one of the big ones that was more like a little open bus than a cart—and we were instructed to sit in the second and third rows. The guards with their big guns got on too, one in the front and two standing in the cargo area at the back. As during my previous visit, we were ushered into the squat building with the scanner and lockers.

  “Leave your belt and its contents here, ma’am,” one of the square-jaws, a guy with quads that strained his fatigues, said to me.

  I shook my head. “Sorry, this stuff comes with me. The young man trapped in the gargoyle is possessed. We need protection in case the Rip spawn decides one of us looks more attractive.”

  Lynnette and I both knew the real plan was to free Nathan from the gargoyle and exorcise the demon
possessing him, but that sort of thing was definitely outside GSHO’s humanitarian inspections. The organization likely wouldn’t have sent a representative if they knew my true intention was to use them to get us onto the Gregori campus.

  “We have protective measures in place.” The end of Square Jaw’s automatic weapon had been pointed at the ground next to his feet. It raised a few inches, and I wasn’t sure if he was trying to remind me that armed guards surrounded me and I didn’t need additional protection or give me a not-so-subtle nudge to follow his orders. Maybe both.

  I pointed at his gun. “Regular ammunition is no use against arch-demons. We have the right to protect ourselves. The only thing I’m carrying that could be used to harm a human, though not lethally, is my stun gun. I’m willing to leave it here.” I unstrapped it and held it up with my fingers splayed wide, well away from the trigger. I turned it and presented it handle-out to him, hoping the offering would be enough.

  He took it from me and gestured to my belt. “Leave the whip, too, and we have a deal.”

  My insides knotted as I handed over my whip. Maybe this was my karmic punishment for not practicing like Damien had told me to. At least I still had Johnny’s demon can.

  Johnny had to open his black case for their inspection, revealing that it held the souped-up tablet with the handles. His supernatural scanner, as I’d come to think of it. Square-jaw allowed Johnny to keep it on condition that he keep a little device plugged into it that would prevent Johnny from sending any data, and after our inspection Johnny had to allow them to make sure he didn’t capture any video.

  Once we’d all relinquished our phones and my weapons and passed through the scanner, we were escorted back out to the cart. Instead of the circuitous route Jacob had taken me, we went straight to the tall central building where the gargoyle was held.

  The guards surrounded us and marched us inside, into the elevator, and up to the second floor—one of the windowless ones. Instead of the cell-like viewing room where Jacob had shown me the gargoyle, we were taken to the door of a much larger room positioned in the center of the floor. It reminded me of a surgery theater, as it was two stories high and there were windows up above as well as on our level.