Demon Leap: an Urban Fantasy (The Specials Book 1)

by Tricia Owens

  Elliott shifted uncertainly. “Am I allowed to give you a hug? Or is that bad because you’re my boss?”

  Surprise lit Arrow’s face, making her look vulnerable in a way he hadn’t seen before. In the next moment, she’d flung her arms around him. He quickly overcame his shock and returned the embrace. Maybe he’d needed it, too, after what had happened in the lobby. He didn’t want to let go.

  “Thank you,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I’m not your boss out here, Elliott. I’m your friend. Please be my friend here.”

  “You’re my friend inside, too, Arrow, but I’ll do what you say.”

  She laughed a little and stepped back. “I hope I don’t crash and get my new friend killed,” she quipped, a little bashfully. “I left my helmet inside. You want me to go get it for you?”

  He shuddered involuntarily. “Let’s not go back inside for a while. Not until we’ve given plenty of time for Drishna to leave. Besides, I don’t think we have time to waste. The other Specials will be out in the city by now.”

  Arrow’s expression hardened with a grim determination. “We can’t let them beat us. Come on. Let’s go save a witch.”

  Chapter 15

  The address Jasper had given me after great—and inexplicable—reluctance comprised two blocks in the heart of the city. It was the former site of City Hall. Because of the terrible fighting that had occurred there involving The Pyrologist and members of the army as they’d fought the demons, the city leaders had decided to rebuild elsewhere, on land not stained by so much blood.

  Apparently, this coven of witches had no problem with working atop the bloodshed. I wasn’t surprised. Witches tended to be more than a little perverse. They, like vampires, occupied a strange limbo land when it came to classification. Because they didn’t change form they weren’t technically cohabs. But neither were they human since they tapped into supernatural reservoirs for their magic. I always thought it disingenuous that someone like Calia could summon bolts of electricity from thin air or a Time Manip specialist like Sheridan could speed up or slow down Time and yet both were considered ‘natural’ versus a witch who was ‘supernatural.’ Then again, a witch’s primary magic involved reviving and invoking the dead. I could see why people would have a negative knee-jerk reaction to that.

  As I pulled the scooter up to the sidewalk in front of the city’s rebuilt library, I tried to picture Jasper spending time with Rogette. Jasper was so carefree and breezy that it boggled my mind that he’d gotten involved with a witch. They were as opposite as they could be, so was it purely a physical connection? Was my friend really that shallow? I hoped not, but I couldn’t find any other explanation for why they were together.

  “What’s going on?” Elliott asked nervously as he dismounted and stood uncertainly on the sidewalk. He climbed a few of the library’s steps to try to gain a better perspective on the crowd half a block away. “Why are there are so many people here?”

  “You don’t know about witches?” I shook my head at his bemused expression. “Come on. It’s not pretty.”

  I led the way at a brisk pace and kept a constant eye out for Calia, Drishna, or the sixth Special—Taurus—whom I hadn’t met yet. I didn’t think we’d been followed, but I also didn’t know what information the others had. They might be aware of the witch connection, too.

  My heart pounded loudly in my ears, nearly as loudly as the cheering that erupted from just ahead. As we reached the next block—eerily flat compared to the buildings which had been rebuilt around it—we merged with a crowd of a hundred or so people, most young like us and skewing heavily toward alternative types.

  Alternative, in this case, meant supernatural groupies. Possessing magic was something mundane. Most people had some sort of skill that they leveraged into a profession. Witches were different. They didn’t attend schools and they didn’t perform typical jobs. Their members tended to be artistic types—painters, sculptors, and musicians—but they were hardly flaky or starving. Because of ancient bloodlines, most covens were deeply connected throughout finance and government, mysteriously earning fortunes where others struggled. The end result was a bunch of enigmatic bohemian types who were often stinking rich. Non-witches clung to them like fleas, hoping to catch their attention.

  It bothered me, but I had to wonder if money was the clinching factor for Jasper.

  Maybe you should stop trying to justify their relationship and just accept it.

  At the first roar of an engine, Elliott shot me a startled look. I had to laugh and tug him along, determined to get to the edge of the crowd. With some pushing and a few muttered threats—this was an aggressive crowd that ddin’t respond to politeness—I pulled us out of the crowd to the front, where we had a clear view of the action.

  We were just in time to catch the two motorcycles charge from the starting line. The bikes zoomed down the course, which at the moment was the poured concrete foundation where the government buildings had once stood. A quarter of the way down the course, a gray, gauzy figure rose up out of the concrete. The first bike’s rider swerved smoothly around the figure. Its competitor reacted jerkily, apparently not ready for the obstacle. The bike wobbled as it rounded the ghost and then straightened up with a snarl of its engine.

  Two more ghostly figures rose up out of the concrete and the bikes slalomed around them. Four figures now, two for each rider’s side of the course. They kept coming. Other figures materialized fifty feet from where the others had been, forcing the bikes to crank their brakes so they could drift around these outliers. One bike missed the turn around a ghost and drove straight through the apparition. The crowd groaned and cheered, split by supporters and opponents.

  “Witches race against ghosts?” Elliott blurted incredulously.

  “Witches race each other around ghosts,” I corrected him. “They summon the spirits beforehand and then race directors call up the individual ghosts according to the course layouts.”

  “It’s…kind of cruel, don’t you think?” Elliott looked unsure of himself. “I mean, they’re forcing these ghosts to participate in this as course markers. As traffic cones.”

  “It’s disgusting,” I told him. “This is garbage. But they’re witches. Dignity for the dead is a foreign concept to them.”

  “These ghosts are of people who died in the war,” Elliott murmured.

  I was as disturbed as he was. Of course these were war victims. There were more ghosts in downtown than there were in the city’s cemetery. The appeal for witches was obvious. Less so was their respect for the fallen.

  “Let’s find Rogette.” I couldn’t stand to be among the onlookers who continued to cheer and jeer as the next two racers lined up to take their shot against the ghosts.

  The non-racing members of the coven stood on the other side of the course, in a congestion of black leather and vinyl. Elliott and I slowly worked our way through them in search of Jasper’s fiancée.

  Witches and warlocks were usually fairly easy to pick out singly because of their attractiveness and long hair, which even the males sported. In a group, they were a lot to take in. Their sense of superiority was almost palpable.

  And there was a scent they gave off that I hadn’t been aware of until entering the midst of them. It was an earthy, herbaceous fragrance like freshly turned earth after a rain, or damp tomato plants at night. Combined with their apparent love of silver buckles and chains and hand jewelry that turned their fingers into sharply tipped claws I formed a mental image of ravens stashing their shiny bits and bobs in a rain-wet midnight forest.

  A body abruptly stepped in front of me, forcing me to jerk to a stop.

  “You’re Jasper’s friend,” Rogette accused, acting as though she couldn’t believe I was here. This was driven home when she glanced around quickly. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”

  “We’re looking for you, actually.”

  Rogette frowned and didn’t allow me to elaborate. She took hold of my arm and pulled me throug
h the members of the coven and off the concrete foundation. She kept going, until we’d reached the next side street, where she ushered Elliott and me into an alley.

  “I’m guessing you know something’s going on,” I said with a pointed look at our surroundings.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” she repeated, angrily this time, as though I’d ruined her evening. “Did Jasper send you?”

  My gut told me not to involve him. Was it that flicker of fear I’d seen in his eyes when he talked about Rogette or something else that warned me their relationship was even odder than it appeared on the surface?

  “It’s not too hard to find a hundred people cheering on witch races,” I said calmly. “You should be glad we were able to track you down. You’re in danger. Something’s out to kill witches in your coven.”

  Rogette only laughed and propped her hands on her hips. “Is that what this is about? Well, you’re mistaken. There isn’t one single killer. Anyone inflicted with the virus turns homicidal. Try stopping that.”

  “It’s not a virus and it’s targeting your coven. The last names prove it.”

  “Those victims weren’t members of the coven,” Rogette argued. “Whoever claimed that was misinformed. Sorry you came all the way out here, Arrow, but you’ve wasted your time. You should have—”

  “What do you mean I was ‘misinformed?’” I cut her off. I thought immediately of the inexpensive information I had purchased from the news agent. “Are you saying their last names didn’t contain a variation of ‘heart?’”

  “They did. But the victims hadn’t been members of this coven for a decade. Maybe longer. The reason they were targeted had nothing to do with us because we had nothing to do with them.”

  I tried to wrap my head around this twist. “But the dead witches outside of the Sinistera—the ward said they’d been members of your coven, too.” I studied her with skepticism. “Don’t you think it’s concerning that so many witches associated with you have wound up dead?”

  “I know the witches you’re talking about. They acted on their own and stained our coven’s reputation.” Her tone was sharp as if with indignation. “Again, we have nothing to do with them. Stop trying to link us together. We’ve worked hard to restore this coven and fill it with good, loyal members.”

  “Who have zero respect for all the people who died in the war here.” I couldn’t help myself. Her antagonistic attitude and the continued cheering of the spectators behind me were rubbing my nerves raw. Being slightly resentful of her place in Jasper’s life didn’t help matters.

  “The dead are dead,” she said, but her tone, at least, was less aggressive. “We can’t hurt them with anything we do here, and some appear to enjoy interacting with the living. Some say we’re doing the dead a favor.”

  “That’s unlikely,” Elliott muttered.

  “Is it?” she asked him. “Does anyone know? Of course not. Because they’re dead. They’re trapped in this place because of wrongful death. We’re at least showing them they’re not forgotten.”

  “By using them.” I wasn’t buying any of it, but I wasn’t here to argue the point. “Something’s coming for you, Rogette. If you’re not willing to look out for yourself for your own sake, think of Jasper.”

  “You mean my fiancée?”

  I could tell by her smile that she knew about my feelings for him. It was humiliating and I wanted to leave. But he was my friend no matter what, so I would do this for him.

  “Think of how he would feel if you were hurt,” I said without flinching beneath her knowing gaze.

  That didn’t appear to move her, however.

  “I appreciate your help, but I can take of myself. I have the coven to back…” Rogette trailed off, her gaze moving off me to something behind me.

  I turned just as a bolt of electricity zigzagged through the air above the crowd. Pandemonium broke out.

  “Calia!” Elliott gasped. “She must have followed us.”

  But I could already tell by the flow of the panicking crowd that she wasn’t the only Special who’d arrived. The crowd rushed away from the left side of the course, colliding with those fleeing from the right. Was this the sixth Special, Taurus, herding them? Or had Drishna come and was altering perception? It would be a difficult task in a crowd this size, but all it took was a handful of manipulated people suffering from a twisted reality to cause chaos for the rest.

  “Stay here with—” But when I turned back around, Rogette had already run off, sprinting back to the members of her coven who were trying to regain control.

  “I don’t think she wants our help.” Elliott flinched as more electricity cracked through the air. “Oh, fudge. Just what does Calia think she’s doing?”

  I sucked in my breath. “Maybe we’re not who she followed here.”

  I pointed at the anomalous dark shadow rearing above the running spectators like a cobra searching for its prey.

  “It needs to jump into someone near Rogette so that person can attack her.” I looked for her, but she was already swallowed by a sea of black-garbed witches and wizards. “We need to stick close to her!”

  We sprinted for the madness.

  “But how do we stop it?” Elliott yelled, struggling to be heard above the screaming and the loud cracking of electricity. Calia seemed to be trying to strike the leaper out of the sky despite it being made of shadow.

  Elliott’s question dug into my gut. How would we stop it? All that I knew of the leaper was that it had been set loose by Tower and it could leap into the minds of whomever it chose and control their actions.

  I focused on the Tower connection. How did he have access to the leaper? The Architect had made it sound like Tower had acted on his own. What could Tower do that would—

  My eyes widened at an incredible thought. Was it possible?

  “I need to get close to it,” I panted as we dodged and weaved between the fleeing people. Elliott shot me a wild look.

  “That’s crazy.” He took a hit from a big guy who kept on running, oblivious of having nearly decked Elliott. Rubbing his chest where the other man had hit him, Elliott gasped, “But whatever it takes to end this.”

  Easier said than done. I felt a familiar pressure in the air and then Elliott and I and the people nearest to us were blasted off our feet by a pressure wave. I landed on the bodies of other people who let me know how much they appreciated me landing on them by punching and kicking at me. With difficulty, I climbed back to my feet. In the cleared crater of fallen bodies I saw a familiar bearded man with striking silver eyes who, while still wearing his Housekeeping uniform, aimed his fists at the sky to try for another shot of kinetic energy at the leaper.

  “That won’t stop it!” I yelled at him. He must indeed be Taurus. He was the salt shaker guy. “You can’t hit it.”

  “Nice try,” he said in a deep, grumbling voice, “but this bounty is mine.”

  I dropped to the ground when he let loose with another blast. It rocked me against the other bystanders who had been knocked down, but I quickly jumped back to my feet. Immediately I looked up at the leaper, but the shadowy creature continued to hang in the air, completely unaffected.

  A bolt of electricity stabbed at the black mass. The crack of it made me flinch and caused more people to scream. Calia cursed.

  “What the hell is it?” she demanded of no one. “I can’t hit the stupid thing.”

  Angry with their impulsiveness, I didn’t bother trying to explain anything to them. Instead, I looked for Rogette since she would be the leaper’s target. A flash of red hair amid the fleeing coven members caught my eye. Should I run straight for her and risk drawing the leaper’s attention? Or did I try to trick the leaper into following me in the opposite direction?

  Before I could make my choice, an enormous hatchet came flipping through the sky. I flung myself to the ground beside Elliott to avoid it. Electricity whipped through the air and struck the metal head, flinging it off course.

  “Who the hell do you
think you are?” an older woman yelled at Calia and Taurus. She looked like someone who’d joined a biker gang young and had aged quickly. In her hands she held a metal trashcan which she gradually meddled into an enormous, sharpened disk. She was IMT, but not very good. Still, a weapon was a weapon. “Get the hell out of here!” she yelled before she whipped the disk at the two Specials.

  I still had my guns but the net bullets I’d meddled for them wouldn’t be effective against such a large, heavy object already spinning through the air. So I meddled one gun into a square magnet and flung it into the air.

  The disk veered off course and snapped sharply to the magnet. The weight of both brought them down to the ground with a metallic clatter. I didn’t receive any thanks or acknowledgement from Calia or Taurus. Calia just sneered and shot a bolt of white electricity at the older IMT specialist which struck her square in the chest and flung her off her feet. The woman hit the ground and lay unmoving.

  I stared at Calia in shock. Had she just killed that woman in front of all these people? Even Taurus lowered his hands to give Calia a narrow-eyed look of disapproval.

  “That was ugly and unnecessary,” he growled.

  “So was she,” Calia retorted.

  He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the abrupt blare of police sirens.

  The people still sprawled across the ground exploded into action like cockroaches revealed by a kitchen light. Evidently the fear of being arrested was greater than their fear of being electrocuted or smashed by energy. Elliott and I were roughly shoved around as the crowd fled. I heard him cry out in pain and go down.

  Tires screeched. More shouting. I fought through the bodies to reach Elliott.

  “There she is!” one of the police officers shouted. He pointed at me.

  My options had just dwindled. If I tried to help Elliott they’d grab him, too. I backed away from Elliott, pretending I didn’t know him. I raised my hands in surrender for the sake of the officers who rushed up.