Demons (Eirik Book 1)

by Ednah Walters

  No one spoke, but they nodded.

  “Good. I’m late for my shift. Richard, we’ll talk later. Tammy? A word, please?” She marched out of the room, and Hayden’s mother followed her.

  I sat up and blew out air. “She’s ticked off.”

  “You can’t blame her. I don’t get your ways,” Dad whispered. “I’ve seen people go into a trance, but I don’t recall anyone going under for hours and turning blue.” His voice broke.

  Dad was a heavyset man with a full head of brown hair sprinkled with gray at the temples and blue eyes, which I’d inherited. His dimples were long slashes on his cheeks, while mine were rounder. I’d inherited a lot from him, except the shape of my face, my nose, and my lips. Those had come from Mom. He was pretty cool for a dad. And despite his words, he’d accepted that magic existed long before I was born. He was raised in the bayou, fell in love with a practicing Witch, and married her.

  I squeezed his hands. “I’m fine, Daddy. Really. I made it back okay, didn’t I?”

  “You were shivering and your teeth were chattering. Then it just stopped. Even Genevieve said she’d never seen anyone recover that quickly. Where did you go?”

  “I don’t know. There was a man.”

  “Man? What man?” Dad barked. He was so overprotective and saw red flags whenever I mentioned guys.

  “Richard,” Tammy warned. She’d come into the room without me noticing.

  “The guy I’m talking about, his mother is keeping him a prisoner in a dungeon. He’s young, like he could be in college. He’s scared and alone.” Anger crept in, but I pushed it down. I needed to focus on the vision before I lost it.

  Dad picked up the notebook and pen. He knew the drill because this was the story of our lives. I got visions, called him, and gave him information, which his department investigated. Sometimes, the cops arrived in the nick of time and saved a life, but other times, when I saw what had already happened, I helped them solve a crime instead. Dad liked to say he would not have made chief without my help. I might have added to his stellar performance as a detective, but his relationship with the people of our town, magical or normal, had put him in the chief’s chair.

  “Okay, kiddo,” he said. “When you’re ready.” He tapped the pen on the notebook. “Location, familiar features, anything I could use when we do a grid by grid city search.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think he lives in Windfall or anywhere near here, Dad. The dungeon was cold and old with no electricity. They used torches. His bed was a slab of rock with a thin mattress and blanket.” He scowled. “If someone would ask me, I’d say he’s being kept in an old castle in the coldest part of the world. Somewhere with mountains and mists.” Dad continued to scribble. “His mother visited him, and she was so mean. She plans to starve him. Slowly. She even told him how she plans to do it. No food, no water, and no light. I mean, who does that?”

  I couldn’t tell him what happened to me afterward. I was still trying to process it. The prisoner had claimed that magic was iffy in the place, but I never imagined it could affect my abilities like that. It was as though the magic there had neutralized mine or blocked it, until I reached the inner cave.

  The place didn’t make sense. Sure, I tended to imagine the ground I stepped on whenever I projected my spirit, but I never touched physical things. Grams had taught me to imagine everything solid. Once you convinced your mind something was real, then it became real to you. Still, it didn’t explain the guy’s ability to see me or connect with me physically.

  “Tell me more about this woman. Uh, his mother,” Dad said.

  I focused on him and found my balance.

  “She had guards with her and some outside his room. He called them her toy soldiers. When I left, they’d locked him inside the dungeon again.” My anger rose as I remembered the flash of torture in his eyes when he’d talked about living and loving without his mother’s evil presence. He might have been cocky, but he was hurting and scared, like an animal cornered by its owner. “How do you stop someone who’s supposed to love you from hurting you?” My voice shook. I hadn’t cried over a vision in years, yet this guy’s situation tugged at my heart.

  Dad moved to the bed and put his arms around me. “It’s okay, kiddo. You’re home now.”

  I hugged him. “Thank you for being such a wonderful father. If I had someone like her as a parent…” I did have one, but she’d stopped being important eons ago. I planted a kiss on Dad’s cheek, sat back, and took a long breath. “I’m okay now.”

  Silence followed as though everyone expected me to start crying. I wasn’t going to. I knew how to control my tears. I’d had enough practice after Mom left and during my elementary school years. Dad frowned while Hayden and Tammy wore sympathetic expressions. I doubted they’d ever seen me this affected by a vision.

  “She’s also torturing someone else,” I continued. “His name is Viggo. The prisoner was worried about him.”

  “Can you describe her?”

  “I didn’t see her face. She spoke with an American accent like the guy, but he called home a resting place. I’ve never heard that.” I chuckled. “He could have come from some non-English speaking place, and he swore a lot. He also said something that made me conclude he didn’t grow up with his mother and she wasn’t too thrilled about it or how he turned out.”

  She’d called him a sniveling idiot. She couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d come across cocky, like he wouldn’t break or bow down to anyone. I felt bad for calling him an idiot three times and a jackass. I’d been blindsided by my reaction when he’d pressed his body so close to mine. I hated things I didn’t understand. And he’d touched my ass and called me Kewpie. What an insult. I looked nothing like a Kewpie doll, and my ass was off-limits to anyone who called me a scaredy-cat Witch. Gorgeous Witch, maybe. Badass Witch, he could cop a feel.

  Focus, Celestia. You have to plan something. He wasn’t going to last long without food or water.

  “That narrows it down somewhat,” Dad murmured while checking what he’d written. “American teens between ages nineteen and twenty-five. One is named Viggo. Sounds Scandinavian. Maybe they were traveling abroad when his mother snatched them. Can you describe him?”

  I closed my eyes and images of the prisoner filled my head. He was a contradiction, mean and rude one second then sweet and caring the next. He didn’t know me from jack and had been pissed by my presence, yet he’d protected me from his mother. And now he was going to be starved because of me. I had to do something.

  “Where’s my sketchbook?” I asked.

  Dad placed it in my hand and retrieved a pencil from my drawer. Hayden and her mom were quiet, but from their expressions, they weren’t missing a thing. As long as they didn’t see my confusion I was okay. And I was confused about many things.

  “He’s tall and built like a swimmer or basketball player,” I said, starting an outline. “His hair is blond mixed with some brown. Brown near the base and blonder at the tips, short on the sides and longer on the top. It seemed natural and wavy. His outfit seemed expensive, and from the way the clothes fit him, they must have been tailor-made for him. His boots were pretty unique, too. Probably custom-made. The place was freezing, yet he seemed warm.” Hot, actually.

  I added details to his face—the strong jawline and high cheekbones. The way his eyebrows slanted downward at the corners and the arch of his lips. Other things I hadn’t recalled, yet I did now as I sketched. The rebellious speck in his amber eyes and the unusual long lashes framing them.

  It seemed like forever before I handed Dad the sketch. He studied it. “Amber eyes with rebellious specks?” he asked and heat crept up my face.

  “Did I say…?” My voice trailed off when he laughed. I tended to talk when sketching details. It was a habit I picked up to help sharpen my vision. It worked up to a point. This vision was different. Everything was sharp and clear.

  “You did good, kiddo. It is the most detailed picture you’ve ever drawn.” He p
lanted a kiss on my forehead and stood. “If you remember anything else about the room and the surroundings, however small, text me or sketch it.” He left the room and Tammy followed him.

  “I think the surroundings didn’t even register because he had all your attention,” Hayden teased. “The arch of his lips. The way his hair curled at the top.”

  “Shut up.”

  Hayden stopped smiling. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I scared the crap out of myself. I didn’t tell Dad this, but I tried to project out of that place several times just before his mother arrived, and I couldn’t. The magic there is strong, Hayden. Probably the strongest I’ve ever felt and we’ve been around some powerful magic in the Quarter. It was working against mine.” I wanted to tell her about the cave, but something held back my tongue. “There’s something else. I don’t know what it means, but maybe your mother might know.”

  She sat up. “Do you want me to get her?”

  “No. There was no aura with this vision. I mean, one second I was sitting there watching you and Zack going through your mating ritual”—she rolled her eyes—“and the next second I was in the dungeon.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “I know, right? So I don’t know if what I saw already happened, is happening right now, or will happen in the future. I wish I had asked him for his name and where he was, but he was so pissed. He just wanted me out of there.” I stood and stretched, and pain shot up my arm. I looked and saw a large Band-Aid on my right elbow. The right side of my skirt was filthy. “What happened?”

  “Zack and I were talking when we heard a thud,” Hayden said. “When we turned to look, you were on the ground. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Zack so scared. We reached here and you were still out, so I called Mom, who rushed over. She monitored you until your father came home. He wanted you taken to the hospital, but Zack said no.” She chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him act or talk with such confidence. He said we shouldn’t take you to the hospital where they’d stick you with needles you didn’t need. To calm your father, he called his mother. When she suggested the hospital too, he was equally firm with her. As long as you were in a trance, no one was moving you, and definitely not to a hospital. I think he shocked your dad and his mother. He hung around until you stopped shivering, then left. I promised to call him when you woke up.”

  My cousin might be a womanizing jock, but he had his sensitive side, which he hid from most people. “I’ll call him, too, after I shower.”

  “I think he’s embraced his gift more than we thought. Your aunt and Mom took turns making sure your vitals were okay and your aura was perfectly balanced, and he kept asking Mom questions about auras instead of asking his mother. And for a while there, you were physically, emotionally, and spiritually okay.”

  If only she knew about my verbal exchange with that annoying guy. “I felt great.”

  “Then you started to shake and your skin grew colder and colder. I’ve never seen anything like that. Even Mom was worried.” She touched my arm. “I’m really happy you’re okay.”

  “Me too, and I’m starving.” I started for the bathroom. “Did Dad bring home pizza?”

  “Nope. He got home and refused to leave your bedside. Zack ordered Chinese. Tiny spicy chicken, beef with broccoli, and your favorite…”

  “Kung Pao shrimp, yes! I’ll be out in a few.”

  Memories of my meeting with the prisoner played in my head as I showered. He was funny. Most people in his situation would have been miserable or indulged in self-pity. Not him. He was smart-mouthed and infuriatingly arrogant. It took balls to talk to someone with power over you the way he’d spoken to his mother.

  What kind of mother would keep her son a prisoner and deny him food? Stupid question. I was the poster child for children with shitty mothers. In fact, listening to his had reminded me too much of mine. I just didn’t think I would have talked to Mom the way he’d talked to his.

  I finished in the bathroom and pulled on a pair of joggers and a large T-shirt, and headed toward the living room. I called Zack. He was on his way over. I headed to the kitchen.

  Our house was in a subdivision by Lake Pontchartrain. The single-story was located at a corner lot, so we were close enough to the lake for Dad to fish at the farthest end of the property, but far enough that I didn’t have to see the water when I drove in and out of our compound. Dad didn’t know the extent of my fear of water, or he would have moved us far inland and away from the bayou. Then I wouldn’t be going to Laveau High. I loved the house. Grams had, too. The mature trees gave us the necessary seclusion in case a spell went wrong.

  My backpack was on the table by the door. I had one English paper to write and the math packet from Mr. Dupree, yet I couldn’t imagine focusing on homework. I unzipped the backpack and pulled out my laptop. There shouldn’t be many old family castles with dungeons owned by a maniacal bitch. Most were falling apart or had become preserved historical sites. No, he’d mentioned his father throwing him a welcome party before disappearing. What kind of father would do that and leave his son at the mercy of his wife?

  If you listen closely, you can hear screams of tortured souls.

  His words rushed at me. More followed. Corpse Strand. That was the name of the island where she supposedly tortured people. A mixture of relief and elation coursed through me. I knew I’d forgotten things. The castle was near an island called Corpse Strand.

  I followed the voices to the kitchen where Hayden and her mother were warming up the Chinese food. My father was missing.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “He went back to the office,” Tammy said. “He should be back any minute. How are you feeling?” she asked, studying me.

  “Good.” I dropped on a stool and put my laptop on the counter without opening it. “I just remembered something. The guy said his mother was torturing people on an island. He called them poor souls.” I laughed, recalling his first reaction when I’d appeared. “He called everyone souls, including me. His mother’s guards were looking for a missing person bound for an island called Corpse Strand.”

  Hayden and Tammy went pale. Tammy forgot about the food and grabbed a stool, her green eyes wide. Hayden flanked me from the other side.

  “Crazy, right?” I said. “It made my skin crawl, too. But I think it’s a good place to start.” I opened my laptop. “We can search for a kingdom stuck in the pre-industrial era with serious human rights violations and ruled by an evil queen.”

  Hayden closed my laptop. Her eyes were luminous with excitement. How had I missed that?

  “What?” I asked.

  “You don’t need the computer. Mom has something to tell you first.”

  My eyes volleyed between them. “What is it?”

  They exchanged glances and grins. Then Tammy took my hand. “What I’m about to tell you may seem weird and out there, but I want you to keep an open mind,” she said, speaking slowly. “It is something only whispered in the magical world. Some of our people think it’s only a myth because no one has proof, while others believe it’s real. We”—she glanced at Hayden, who nodded—“are part of those who know it’s real. In every coven across the world, the most powerful Witches are given this knowledge, which they pass down to their successors.”

  Okay, she was being downright scary. Hayden, on the other hand, sat on the edge of her stool. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her this excited.

  “There’s a hidden world within this world,” Tammy continued. “A world of beings so powerful they don’t get sick or catch diseases. They are strong, can move fast, and become invisible. We call them heroes or miracles. That is, if we remember them at all. Most people don’t. We do because they were once Witches, too. Spiritual leaders. Shamans. Now they are soldiers who walk through mines unscathed or escape an attack and rescue their platoons. People who walk in and out of fire without burns and disappear before the ambulance reaches the hospital. Fall from tall buildings and break every bone in t
heir body and walk away from ICU ten minutes later never to be seen again. People can’t describe them or even remember seeing them because they have the power to make you forget things. They are Immortals. Immortals have direct contact with the gods, and their job is to watch over us.”

  Seriously? They had me until the gods. And I wasn’t buying the former-Witches-turned-Immortal-protectors story either. My mother had claimed I couldn’t be hurt because someone was protecting me, but that had been a lie. No one protected me at age ten when I’d broken my leg. Or at thirteen when I’d contracted a strain of influenza that landed me in the hospital for days and scared the crap out of Dad.

  “Where do these Immortals live?” I asked, trying to keep an open mind. I respected Tammy. Grams had respected her, too. She was a knowledgeable and powerful Witch, but even powerful Witches had a few loose screws.

  “All over the world,” she said, smiling. “Most often they are very rich because of the wealth they’ve accumulated over the centuries.”

  New Orleans was thirty minutes away and I’d met Witches at the French Quarter from all walks of life. None lived like kings. They were average Joes trying to carve out a living just like everyone else.

  “And the gods?” I asked.

  Tammy grinned. “Norse gods are in Asgard.”

  Oh, brother. No wonder Hayden yaps on about various Norse gods. Her mother filled her head with nonsense.

  “Why Norse? Why not Greek, Roman, or Egyptian?” I asked, naming the big ones.

  Her eyes lit up. “Because the powers of the gods depend on people interacting with them, going to them for help. These Immortals interact with the gods daily. Some of them anyway.”

  This was all Marvel’s fault. They just had to make movies and turn two Asgardians into every woman’s dream man. I’d seen it online. If they weren’t drooling over Thor and imagining him coming for them and taking them to Asgard via the Bifrost, they had Loki, a badass Witch with more magic tricks than Houdini. Even I was guilty of drooling over him.

  “So the gods come down here from the sky through the Bifrost?”