by Krista Walsh
She opened her eyes, and the world teetered around her as she adjusted to the living plane. Her legs trembled, barely able to hold her weight. She reached for the wall and braced herself on her hand until her breathing slowed and her heartbeat calmed.
Once she was centered, she stood up and balled her hands at her sides.
“I understand now,” she said to the spirits lurking just out of sight. “I understand, and I’ll find a way to stop it. I’m going to get help, but then I’ll be back.”
Pushing off the balls of her feet, Daphne sprinted down the stairs, through the imprint-busy foyer, and out to her car.
The flood of adrenaline slowed to a trickle, replaced with the sweet rush of satisfaction.
Mary Ruth’s story and the sight of that ghost demon had done more than confirm her theory about how the ghosts were trapped — they had answered the question of how the Morgrin demons had survived their supposed extinction.
They had gone into hiding.
They’d hidden in the genetic line of the Ancowitz family, all the way through the bloodline to the most recent generation.
The ghosts had spent enough time trapped in Peony House — now it was time to lay a trap for Charles Ancowitz.
16
Daphne raced home, praying at every intersection that she didn’t pass by any lurking police cruisers. When she reached her driveway without incident, she ran up the steps and burst into the downstairs apartment.
“Mom?” she called. “Gram? I think I figured it out. I think I know how this whole thing happened.”
“Figured what out? What happened? Don’t talk so quickly, Daphne.” Evelyn came into the living room from the sunroom, a cloud of dust trailing after her. More dust coated the shoulders of her peacock-blue cardigan. She brushed it off with her free hand, her other arm full with three thick tomes.
Daphne rushed over to her and grabbed the books. They must have weighed at least fifteen pounds, but Evelyn had hardly seemed to notice it.
“Did you have any luck finding anything about Morgrin demons?” Daphne asked.
“Maybe a start,” Evelyn replied, “but if you tell us what has you jumping around like a kangaroo, it might help us narrow down what we’re looking for.”
She led the way into the sunroom, where Benji was curled up on a chair in the sun, his thick gray tail curled over his nose and his blue eyes staring at her over top. His tail flicked upward, but he didn’t move from his warm seat.
Cheryl was on her knees, browsing through a row of books at the bottom of her built-in bookcase. The fluffy paperback thrillers she enjoyed had been moved out of their usual place on the shelf to reveal the leather-bound volumes hidden behind them.
Daphne pulled forward the cushioned wicker chair from beside the matching loveseat and dropped into it, placing the books on the coffee table.
“You’re white as a sheet,” Cheryl said when she turned around.
Daphne held up a hand to stop her from fussing. “I’m all right, just probably still in a state of shock. I learned a lot in a very short amount of time, and I’m still processing.”
“I’ll go brew up a pot of tea,” said Evelyn. “You start telling the story. Don’t worry about me missing anything, I’ll hear most of it.”
She left, and Cheryl moved to the seat beside Daphne. “What happened?”
While the kettle rose to a singing pitch in the background, Daphne told Cheryl everything Mary Ruth had shared about her experiences with Arthur Ancowitz and his demon-like behavior.
“You think they’re taking human shape?” Cheryl asked. Her gaze fell on the books on the table. “I don’t remember reading about any ability to do that.”
She leaned forward to grab one of the books, but Daphne rested her hand on her mother’s arm to stop her. “I don’t think it’s a full Morgrin demon. I think it’s a half-breed.”
Cheryl’s eyes widened, and she sagged back in her seat. “Now there’s a thought I don’t feel comfortable with.”
“Which one?” Daphne asked, dryly. “The thought that somewhere down the Ancowitz line one of society’s great figures decided to get it on with something that looks like it crawled out of a fireplace, or just that they exist?”
Cheryl’s mouth turned down with distaste. “I think it’s far more likely the binding was made via a summoning spell instead of anything so biblical. I was actually thinking more about how these demons could be masquerading as anyone and we wouldn’t know it. I’ve never liked shifters for that very reason. I prefer to know who and what I’m dealing with. So who do you think it is?”
Daphne leaned forward on her knees. “It has to be Charles. Laura has no magic.”
“But you said his magic didn’t match what you sensed,” Cheryl reminded her.
“I know, but it’s still the most plausible explanation. Maybe he gives off different magic when he’s in his demon form than when he’s human. It would also explain why he got so tetchy when I mentioned the dead bodies at the hospital. He knew what had caused their deaths and didn’t want me poking around. Just like us, he wants to protect his identity.”
Cheryl bobbed her head, accepting the theory.
The kettle turned off, and Daphne heard the clatter of dishes as Evelyn got the cups ready. Benji’s head shot up and he jumped down from his chair, hurrying into the kitchen to see what he could beg off her. Cheryl went to help her mother while Daphne remained in her seat, mulling over her ideas. The more she thought of it, the more solid her theory seemed to be.
If Charles was Crispy, it made sense that he was anxious to tear down Peony House. While it stood, his demon instincts would keep his feeding ground limited to the hospital, and these days the pickings were slim.
Mary Ruth had said there had been several instances when the demons were stronger, which meant there had been times when other people besides Jack had found their way into Peony House at the same time as the demon and suffered the consequences. That was assuming the ghost demons weren’t able to attack the living, which she suspected or they likely would have caused her far more trouble than they had. But that couldn’t have happened often now that the hospital was closed. And according to Harold, whoever the reigning demon was when the hospital was open had fed every couple of months.
A longer gap would be difficult to deal with for something so driven by hunger.
With Peony House out of the way, Charles would be forced to look elsewhere to feed. Human self-preservation moving against demon instinct.
No wonder he’s so grumpy these days.
But as soon as her certainty solidified itself, another challenge appeared. How was she going to bring Charles to justice? She doubted she’d be able to appeal to his humanity when his demon side was so strong. She only saw two options available to her, and she disliked both of them.
Cheryl returned with the tea tray, and Daphne moved all of the books off the table to make room for it. An empty-handed Evelyn followed behind, clutching her cardigan closed to do something with her hands. Daphne knew her grandmother hated feeling useless as much as her mother loved being in control.
“What’s wrong?” her mother asked, no doubt reading the concern on Daphne’s face.
“I was just thinking about how I’m going to stop Charles. I think…” She pushed out a breath and steepled her fingers against her brow before running them down her face to her chin. “I think I’m going to have to go after the ghost demons before I go after Charles, and I think Detective Avery needs to see me do it.”
“What?” Cheryl exclaimed. She dropped down on the loveseat, her fingers splayed over her knees. “I step out of the room for three seconds and my daughter loses her mind. It’s bad enough that Emmett has found out. What’s the next plan? To write all about it in tomorrow’s edition of the Chronicle?”
Daphne glanced at Evelyn to find her grandmother’s narrowed eyes watching her closely. Yet there was no judgment in her gaze.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Daphne replied to her mother,
“but Charles needs to be stopped, and the only evidence I have that he’s guilty is a bunch of ghost stories. Literally. Hunter will never believe me if I call him up and tell him that some demon ate Jack’s soul and now there are some very unhappy ghosts in the hospital. If he sees me bring down the ghost demons, maybe he’ll be more willing to listen to me about Charles, and then he can help me take him down. If I don’t bring Charles in legally, what else is there for me to do but kill him? I like that option even less.”
“Hunter?” Cheryl asked. “So you’re on a first name basis with this man you want to risk your reputation for? Risk your life? I don’t care how well you think you know him, you know what the dangers are if we reveal ourselves. Not only will the mundane world have a field day at our expense as they try to have you committed, but worse — what if they run tests and find out you’re telling the truth?”
“I know, Mom,” Daphne said. It was the same lecture she’d heard since she was a child.
“You might know, but you’re not thinking. Just who is this man to you, anyway?”
“He’s no one,” Daphne shot back. “Just someone I respect and who I’ve unfortunately screwed over a hundred and one times over the last five years. But in all that time, he still put up with me when he didn’t have to, so yes, I trust him. I trust him to keep his mouth shut, and I trust him to focus on the goal — to make sure a murderer is put behind bars.”
Cheryl looked to her mother, silently pleading with her to talk some sense into her granddaughter, but the family matriarch simply stared at both of them.
After a moment, she reached across Cheryl to rest her hand over Daphne’s. “You’ve changed so much. I never thought I would see this side of my granddaughter again, the side that cares more for others than for her own gain. I believe you know what you’re talking about, my dove, and I agree with your choice.”
Cheryl let out a squeak, and Evelyn sat back in her seat.
“Look at the decision your daughter is faced with,” she said. “Does she reveal her nature to a man she cares about” — Daphne opened her mouth to argue, but the sound came out as a croak — “or does she fall back into old habits and kill a human man for the crimes his demon side has committed? She’s taken wide steps to separate herself from the woman she used to be, and I believe that honesty is the better path for her to take here.”
Cheryl’s mouth opened and closed as she carried on the argument in her mind, but after a minute, her shoulders stooped and she nodded. “You’re right.” She looked to Daphne. “I admire what you want to do, honey. I just worry about what it will mean if he doesn’t handle it well.”
Daphne pressed her lips together and shrugged. “It won’t mean anything. I’m not telling him for any other reason except that I feel I have to. If he never speaks to me again, nothing will really have changed.”
But the thought of how it would feel if he stared at her in horror pinched her heart.
“Now that we’ve settled that question, go on with your story. I heard enough from the kitchen, so no need to repeat anything,” said Evelyn as she poured the tea. “I’m guessing something else happened after your epiphany about the Morgrin demon, am I right?”
Daphne glanced at her mother and rolled her neck to relieve some of her tension. “I was attacked by another demon.”
Cheryl’s teaspoon clattered against her cup, and she huffed, raising her gaze to Daphne’s face. Behind her green eyes swirled all the frustrations of a mother doing her best to keep her child safe and being barred at every step.
“I know,” said Daphne. “I didn’t go looking for him — he just came out of nowhere. But it wasn’t Crispy this time. He was a ghost demon, like we talked about, and I’m pretty sure it was Arthur. Mary Ruth told me she sensed herself coming, and I’ll bet he appeared because he’s still carrying pieces of her soul and heard us talking about him. So that kind of confirms my theory, and on top of figuring out how to kill the demon, we need to find a way to free the victims’ souls before we kill the ghost demons. I don’t want Mary Ruth and the others to be destroyed.”
Cheryl groaned, and Evelyn calmly chewed a biscuit. She held the plate out to Daphne, who took one and crunched down on it as she threw herself back in her chair.
“Based on what I’ve heard,” Evelyn said, “I believe the idea Cheryl and I were developing is still our best bet. But you’re not going to like it.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes as she took another bite of biscuit. “I’m listening.”
Evelyn grabbed one of the books off the floor and opened it on her lap. The page had been marked by a thick black ribbon. In one corner of the page was a hand-drawn picture of what looked to be a thick chain made up of three knots.
“This is a disentanglement spell. The purpose of it is to separate different spells from each other, but I think we can alter it to focus on energies instead of spells. If so, then all you need to do is launch this spell at the ghost of the demon to untangle its victims’ energies from its own. It should also separate out the demon’s human soul, which would ensure nothing of it is left behind.”
“We’ve also found a way to add a fourth knot to the chain, which should destroy whatever’s left of the demon,” Cheryl added.
“It’s very likely there’s more than one ghost demon in the house,” said Daphne. “If they’ve been around as long as Harold suggested, I could be looking at dozens. Would I need to cast this chain thing for each one of them?”
Evelyn shook her head. “If they come at you more than one at a time, you just need to aim for the center. Always the center. You should be able to take them all down with one cast.”
Daphne’s heart quickened with excitement. “That sounds exactly like what I need. Will it work with the live demon as well?”
“To kill the demon half, yes,” said Evelyn. “If all goes to plan, Charles’s human side should be left untouched.”
“That sounds perfect. So what’s the problem?”
Cheryl cast her gaze down at her tea, and by the way she refused to meet Daphne’s eye, she was braced for her to throw a tantrum. Daphne took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. She would be calm for this. She had to be.
Evelyn folded her hands over the pages of the book. “This is not an easy spell, my treasure. It involves four complicated spells that need to be knitted together in a precise order and then cast at the demon with very delicate aim. If it doesn’t hit the center of the demon’s power, the spell will either backfire and untangle your own magic or do a partial job with theirs — and you’ve seen what these demons can do when they’re provoked.”
Daphne released another breath. “I understand. But I can study it, and you can help me weave most of the spells here first, right? Then I can carry the finished spell to the hospital.”
“It’s not that easy, dear,” Cheryl spoke up now, taking a sip of tea. “You’re the strongest sorceress in centuries, but holding on to this spell would still drain you before you even reached the hospital. You wouldn’t have any reserves left to finish the fight.”
“All right, that’s a problem,” Daphne agreed. “So what you’re saying is I’m going to need to weave these spells on the spot when I think I’m going to be attacked by demons.”
From her mother’s and grandmother’s expressions, that was exactly the case.
“The only way I see you succeeding in this spell is to practice it,” Evelyn continued. “I would recommend weeks of study before you attempt to unleash it on the demon itself.”
Daphne’s thoughts stumbled, and the leash she’d wound around her temper strained under her incredulity. Beneath her frustration, her magic tugged at her to be set loose. “You can’t be serious. I don’t have weeks. If Charles thinks Hunter’s getting close to him, he might attack. He could go full demon on everyone around him. And what if the ghost demons finally get a hold of their victims’ ghosts and drag them under? You didn’t hear Mary Ruth — she sounded petrified that she would be lost in that negative sludge.
I have to do this as soon as possible to make sure no one else gets hurt.”
Cheryl set down her tea. “We know, dear.”
Evelyn nodded. “We said you wouldn’t like it.”
Daphne tossed the other half of her biscuit back onto the plate and clasped her hands in her lap. “I know you’re looking out for me, but we need to find a way to speed this up. I’m asking for your help to get this done.”
Cheryl reached out to take her hand. “And you have it, Daphne. I can’t say I like your plan. I don’t agree with letting this police detective in on your secret, and I hate the thought of you going in alone with a powerful, untested spell. But we’ll do what we can to make sure you’re ready.”
“We considered coming with you,” Evelyn said. Daphne gaped at her, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach until her grandmother raised a hand. “But thought better of it. Both of us are too out of practice in handling strong magic like this to be able to wield it, and while we might help keep the other demons away, we decided we would be more of a distraction for you than a help. We have faith that you can do this, my dove. Just please promise us you’ll be safe.”
Daphne squeezed her fingers. “Thank you.” A wrinkled face popped into her head, and she smiled. “I won’t be going in alone, though. I’m going to have a guardian at my side.”
***
They spent the rest of the day going through the spell. Daphne took it one step at a time and had to admit her grandmother had been right when she’d said it was complicated magic. The process reminded her of the time Evelyn taught her to knit — or at least had tried to. Every tangle of the yarn had left her more frustrated, until she’d ended up with more of a second ball of yarn than the scarf she’d set out to make.
This time there was more at stake than a cold neck, and she forced herself to take her time and concentrate.
The unfamiliar patterns floundered in her head, and she kept forgetting the first step whenever she reached the third. The strength of the spell pulled on her power, and she knew she would have to be careful to avoid pushing too hard. She ran the risk of draining herself too quickly.