Murder The Light: The Demon Whisperer #2

by Ash Krafton

To help him up.

  Simon grabbed His hand—cool, not cold, not fiery, not acid-burn or electrocution. Just flesh—and pulled up to his feet, glancing around. Every lamp, every sconce was ablaze, casting shimmering false warmth onto every surface, illuminating the golden spell work. "So. Is this it? Am I a permanent fixture here?"

  "No." Lucifer withdrew His hand, rubbing His fingertips against His palm. "You are not dead."

  "But I'm drowning upstairs in the pool, right? Should I start running back now?"

  "No. We have unfinished business." Lucifer stepped over to a side table and poured a glass of dark, red wine. "You've made excellent use of that tattoo. Am I correct in saying you've enjoyed the enhancement?"

  One glass, Simon noted. The Devil was a terrible host. Not like he would have accepted a drink, but hey. Manners.

  He shrugged. "It came in handy."

  "Most decidedly so. You knew just what needed to be done and had no regard for the cost."

  An over-reaching statement. The costs had simply been too numerous to tally. He remembered every nosebleed, every wave of pain, every conviction that he was bleeding to death from the inside. The symptoms had stopped in Atlanta—especially the bloody eyes, praise Jesus—but he hadn't considered himself cured. More like a new stage of terminal. "Not like I enjoyed it."

  "Who would? Not you. You send demons back to Hell. Exorcists don't wield hellfire. But you did, didn't you? You tapped into a power you never imagined possible. And it was killing you, wasn't it?" He paused for a long swallow of wine, His eyes alight with a silver gleam, before setting down the glass on the mantelpiece. "Did it stop you? Of course not. Not Simon Alliant. The unstoppable exorcist, kicking all my messengers back home, one by one by one. The hellfire erupted in your hands and you exorcised by the dozens. Incredible!"

  Simon stared at the floor, the light from a thousand lamps puddling at his feet. Thin shadows flickered at the edges, held back by the flood of light. He titled his head, eyes shifting. A memory of something he'd read. A memory that was only now triggered. It itched in his brain like a cadaver worm, digging its way to the surface.

  Lucifer clapped His hands together, each slap measured and hollow.

  "Even I was impressed. Even more so when you destroyed an angel." The Devil smiled and wagged a finger at him in admiration. "But you—you laughed in the face of sense and self-preservation. And conventional wisdom, too. Hell gates are not supposed to exist. Yet, you know they do. You saw your first one, in Baltimore, months ago. Then you opened one, just for me."

  Simon felt like a traitorous wretch. Hanging was too good for him. Every unspoken vow he'd ever made had been broken in that moment, when he did the worst thing he could imagine. He did open a hell gate. He did give Lucifer access to their plane, even if only for a few moments. What he'd done wasn't just sinful. It was abominable.

  And it had saved Chiara. That was the only thing that kept his pieces together. She was worth it. She was worth everything.

  "I must say." Lucifer's voice took on a curious tone, one that raised the hair on Simon's neck. Clasping his hands behind His back, the Devil slowly paced a slow circle around him, momentarily blocking each lamp as He passed in front. "It was a bracing feeling, watching you open that gate. A door opened, right here, right where you stand now. I didn't even have to go looking for it."

  Simon wiped his mouth, watching Lucifer's deliberate circuit, the play of shadow passing in front of the light. Where the hell was He going with all this?

  "And although you and I accomplished a significant task, I am left feeling…disquiet. Not because I have the misfortune of listening to Luminea's endless complaints—" Lucifer dragged His fingertips through the hair at His temple, sounding harried. "Really, she hates me. It's going to be a long time before she slows her tirade."

  "She's a little bit of a bitch," Simon admitted.

  Lucifer chuckled and nodded. "A little bit, yes. But she has earned the right. I did a terrible thing to her. I hadn't realized how she had rotted away inside. The only thing worse than a righteous hate is a love that has eroded into pain. A love ripped away, leaving one stranded in darkness. That transcends hate. And you…"

  Simon swallowed hard, his throat bobbing painfully. "Me?"

  "I just plain-old ordinary hate you." Lucifer shook His head slightly, wearing a bemused expression. "So, no big thing. And, no hard feelings, really. It was a mutually beneficial partnership. But I do not like how comfortable you've become wearing my mark. It made you bolder than you should have been."

  Simon rubbed his shoulder, where Lucifer's hand print stained him. "This? I hadn't even known it was there until—"

  "Not that mark. The other." Lucifer pointed a finger at Simon's arm and swirled His fingertip in a circle.

  The tattoo lit up, a pulse of light that zipped around the outer edge, a searing sting chasing behind. Pain and power exploded behind Simon's eyes and he spasmed, every muscle locking. Doubling over, he cried out, convulsing, sucking breath.

  Lucifer leaned over him. "My mark and the power that came with it. The hellfire. The height and the expanse of limitless power. Every time you tapped into it, it just got better. Stronger. Higher. You knew it. And you knew that it would kill you if you kept using it. Trouble is…"

  The Devil crossed His arms. "You didn't die. Not even when that petty Watcher withdrew his support. You should have died opening that hell gate. That was the plan. So, now I must come up with a new plan. I don't like knowing that the very first hell gate you opened was right here, to this very spot, inside my fortress. I don't like knowing you can survive after using my power. You've proved you can tap into my eminence any time you choose, take what you need, and do what you like with it. And I don't like sharing."

  The pain was receding, allowing him to choke out words between gasps. He slowly straightened. "I..imagine that's…how you…would feel."

  "Yes, well, try to imagine what it will feel like when I take it away."

  He rolled his widened eyes up at the King of Hell, panicking. "Wait—what?"

  With a gesture of curling fingers, Lucifer beckoned to the remnant of power that had been residing in Simon. The tattoo glowed once more, brighter than the lanterns that lined the room, and emitted a searing pain as it lifted itself from his skin. The power, a streak of mercury, writhed up into the air, away from Simon.

  He roared with agony. His arm was being ripped apart, like a giant claw just hooked into his tattoo and tore it away. Pain so massive he saw it, saw the color of pain because he could see nothing else. An Enochian nut-crushing had nothing on this.

  So. This is what Hell feels like.

  After what felt like an eternity, the pain began to abate. His vision slowly cleared, but remained dim. The glimmer of Lucifer’s protection spells had vanished. Stripped of the tattoo, his link to the Devil, Simon realized he’d lost the ability to read His spell work.

  He felt…denied. It was a terrible thing to feel. No exorcist should miss being one with the King of Hell.

  Through the bleary haze, Simon looked up at Lucifer's smile.

  The Devil's face was illuminated by the glow of His many lamps, only His eyes holding the shadows. The shadows and the silver gleam of the Morningstar, the Light that Fell into Darkness.

  And here he was, on his knees before the Devil again. This was getting to be a habit.

  "That's better. " Lucifer tugged His sleeves straight. "Good to have all of me back again."

  Simon held his arm, tears stinging his eyes. It still hurt like shit. And suddenly, more than anything, he needed a smoke.

  Lucifer walked over to the mantle, reaching for His wine glass. "Feeling more like your old self, magician?"

  More and more, he thought, and not all of it helpful. Funny how much his old self was full of the wrong stuff. At least his sense of sarcasm hadn't been altered by the experience. Simon raised his left hand toward the Devil's back, giving Him the finger.

  "I saw that," Lucifer said. "Oh, by the way?"


  He pointed overhead and smirked over His shoulder. "Now. Now, you should run."

  Simon felt the burn in his chest before he could even get to his feet. Leveling a glare at Lucifer, wearing a smile that said oh, you son of a whore, he banged it up the steps and raced for the hazel pool. Laughter was a phantom rider on his heels.

  Running from the Devil, again. Another habit.

  Finally, a habit he hoped never to break.

  The story will continue in

  THE ABSENT-MINDED MAGICIAN

  (The Demon Whisperer #3)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction author from the Pennsylvania coal region. If she's not writing, it's probably because she's distracted by all the cool junk on her desk or by the stacks of books that have grown up around it.

  She writes novels, short fiction, and poetry for mostly adult audiences. (She's mostly an adult.). Some of those novel titles include:

  The Books of the Demimonde: urban fantasy trilogy

  Enter the world of the Demimonde.

  Look outside your window. Same old town, same streets, same people, same stories you've lived all your life. Or... are they?

  Sophie Galen is an advice columnist from the suburbs of Philly. Like many sensitive women, she's done her best to create a shelter for herself in order to live in a safe, predictable world, protecting her vulnerable self: her mind, her heart, her soul.

  Then he came into her life and blew the walls in.

  When Marek Thurzo arrived, he brought with him all the secrets she never wanted to know: the world outside was not what she thought. There were people and creatures and powers she'd never dared to believe exist and at the very center of this humongous supernatural web was one single person.

  Her. The Sophia. The one hope for redemption for the Demivampire race.

  Some days, she still can't wrap her head around the whole thing. Other days...

  ...she's ready to do whatever it takes to protect her Demivamps, no matter the obstacle, no matter the enemy, no matter the personal cost.

  While meeting her deadlines, of course. Who says a girl can't multitask while saving the world?

  Bleeding Hearts (Demimonde #1)

  Currently featured in the SPELLBOUND boxed set

  Blood Rush (Demimonde #2)

  Wolf's Bane (Demimonde #3)

  WORDS THAT BIND: paranormal romance

  Social worker Tam Kerish can’t keep her cool professionalism when steamy client Mr. Burns kindles a desire for more than a client-therapist relationship—so she drops him. However, they discover she’s the talisman to which Burns, an immortal djinn, has been bound since the days of King Solomon…and that makes it difficult to stay away from him.

  Ethical guidelines are unequivocal when it comes to personal relationships with clients. However, the djinn has a thawing effect on the usually non-emotive Tam, who begins to feel true emotion whenever he is near. Tam has to make a difficult choice: to stay on the outside, forever looking in…or to turn her back on her entire world, just for the chance to finally experience what it means to fall in love.

  Words That Bind

  She also writes New Adult spec fic as AJ Krafton. THE HEARTBEAT THIEF (Victorian fantasy) is a little bit Jane Austen, a little bit Edgar Allan Poe, and a whole lot of stealing heartbeats in order to stay young and beautiful forever... How far will Senza Fyne go to avoid Death?

  "There was something smart, ominous, and romantic about this strange story..."

  The Heartbeat Thief by AJ Krafton rated 4.5 stars on Amazon

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  Thanks for reading!

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