Nightsoul

by McKenzie Hunter

  “No,” he asserted in a low, raspy, and uncompromising tone.

  Landon would have to make an offer that was just as appealing, but I had no idea what it could be that would match a sale without any restrictions.

  Dragging his gaze away from me, Mephisto eventually meandered back to the window. I was convinced he must live most of his life underground, because outdoors just wasn’t that damn interesting.

  “Are you finished?” Although he asked, the finality of his tone indicated we were.

  “Besides the Obitus blade, what else can be used against Immortalis?”

  “I just know of the blade,” Mephisto said.

  Now I had his full attention and he, along with washes of magic, was right in front of me.

  Move normal. Not your normal. The other normal. Pre-confession normal.

  It had to be freeing to be able to be himself. To move in a godly manner and indulge in his magic and be who he was behind the Veil, but sometimes it was off-putting. Besides the other Huntsmen, I was probably the only person who he could be like this with. Then it dawned on me that Benton wasn’t just the answerer of doors, the drinker of beverages, and the laziest employee ever, but also the keeper of the Huntsmen’s secret.

  “You were attacked again?” he asked before I could inquire about Benton.

  I nodded and told him everything that happened. His hands went to my ribs when I told him about them breaking. “They’re fine now.” He didn’t move his hands.

  “Why wasn’t this the first thing you told me? Landon and his problems are the least of your worries.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to be attacked. You can’t expect me to just wait around for Malific to kill me, so I accepted a job.”

  “No, but more should be done.” He was examining my arm as if it would prompt his memory of a spell. Frowning, he said, “She’s here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “They wouldn’t have attacked without a reason. You said they seemed like they were trying to take you.”

  “Initially they appeared to be content to break rank. He threatened to kill me after I kneed him. I get more threats that way.”

  Mephisto fought the smile that flickered at his lips before shooting me a disapproving look. “You are trained and quite skilled,” he said.

  “And? There are no rules when trying to save your life. I fight to win. Training is fine, but I’ve never brought a man down faster than kneeing him in the groin. All my fancy hand work, throws, tosses, strikes, and parries don’t compare to a punch to the man berries.”

  He chuckled, still looking at the area on my arm that bore the mark of the raven. “Do you have your weapons?”

  I nodded and headed out of the office to my car with him behind. Oh great, now I have a god as a bodyguard.

  I retrieved the weapons and we returned to his office where he examined them. He kept questioning me about the magic.

  “Were the Immortalis gone, or were they disposed of?” he inquired, his scent teasing my nose and the turbulence of his uneasiness a reminder of the Immortalis attack.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But if they are immune to magic and only an Obitus blade can kill them, perhaps they left.”

  Mephisto didn’t seem convinced. My eyes attempted to track him as he moved back and forth. It made me appreciate not having gods living among us, even if I was one, or a demigod, anyway. I was a magical dud until my restrictions were removed.

  “You have to be more careful with your life, Erin.”

  Irritation bloomed in me. I was at my therapist’s office. I had my weapons on me and I fought back. “Go to hell.” Wrong choice of words. “Don’t blame me for being attacked. I didn’t ask for any of this,” I shouted. “A month ago, my life wasn’t nearly as crappy as it is now. The only thing I had to worry about was staying away from magic and trying not to kill someone. Now my life is in jeopardy, someone’s using magic against me, and I can’t stop it. I’m magicless and in a situation where I really need it. And my mother wants me dead. You think I’m not being careful? How can I not be?”

  He didn’t deserve my anger. I was an emotional bomb and he’d unintentionally detonated me with his words. His lips pressed together and he kept the distance between us, his expression impassive, his silence disconcerting. I needed Mephisto as an ally and I was doing a terrible job at it.

  Exhaling a heavy breath once the silence became too much, I backed myself to the door. “I’m trying to be careful.” The uncomfortable silence remained and he didn’t stop me from leaving. That bothered me the most as I sifted through what had happened between us. A part of whatever we had had wilted, maybe even died.

  It tugged at me enough that I didn’t go back for my dagger that Mephisto had been assessing. I could use it as an excuse to come back. What I would be returning to, I wasn’t sure.

  CHAPTER 10

  I couldn’t be more careful then being behind the secure walls of the Supernatural Task Force, which consisted of well-trained shifters, talented witches, skilled mages, and adept fae. And one sat across from me picking at the chicken roti I’d bought her for lunch. It took a lot to distract her from her favorite meal, and I felt bad telling her the unedited version of what happened with the Immortalis. She took it in stride, even the attack, nodding as she picked at her meal.

  “Is Sumner going to discharge you?” she asked, holding a forkful of food. If it bothered her that I kept that from her, she was doing an excellent job hiding it.

  “I think so. I’m seeing him for something that never happened.”

  She frowned but didn’t comment. “The blacking out—”

  “I didn’t black out. Someone used magic on me, a sleep spell without the need for ingredients.” If I hadn’t been bespelled, that person wouldn’t have died. I would have felt the tug that notified me to return the magic.

  “Another god?” she asked. I had a feeling she felt like I did about them, that our world was better without their existence. She shoved her fingers through her hair, which was starting to show the ringlets she’d cut off and the hints of her natural deep-sienna color. Mussed up, she looked out the window in her office at the small park where she liked to have lunch.

  “Erin, I have no idea what to do.” Her tone was despondent and defeated. “It’s like we’re waiting for someone to kill you.”

  In a way, we were. We were sitting around, waiting to play defense when the time came. It was frustrating. Proactive measures had failed.

  “We tried to find her. We don’t have a lot of options. But she can’t make any more Immortalis,” I emphasized, with a level of confidence and optimism that I hoped would ease the strained look on her face.

  Giving me a weak half smile, she said, “Yeah.”

  We tried to let the conversation fall into something more lighthearted, but her questioning kept coming back to me describing the magic. “And it wasn’t like Mephisto’s and the other…Huntsmen’s magic?” She paused over the title, a strain in her voice. Did she imagine them as ruthless overpowered mercenaries as I sometimes did? Images of them fighting the Immortalis resurfaced and a reminder that there’s always three sides to every story: his side, their side, and the truth, which often lay somewhere in the middle. I couldn’t help but remember the way the Veil shifters regarded Mephisto. There was more to them.

  I shook my head. “It was different. More similar to witches’ magic, maybe.” I wasn’t confident about that. The magic felt too different and it overwhelmed me. I was lulled into the spell in a manner that I hadn’t been with any other magic. It overtook me so quickly, I felt helpless.

  Giving up on finishing her food, Madison packed it away. “Do you think they can be trusted?” she finally asked, pensive.

  Mephisto wanted to avenge Oedeus’s death. For that reason, I knew he could be trusted when it came to me and dealing with Malific, but I was still left agitated by his bid for the Amber Crocus and his indifference about the complication his acquisition of it might cause. Bu
t I didn’t disclose that to Madison.

  “Yes,” I simply said. Something in my response made her eyes narrow and her lips pucker.

  “Then our goal is to remove your magical restriction. At least if Malific comes for you, you can make her see how bad a decision it was.”

  I smiled at her overly ambitious and enthusiastic confidence in me. Yeah, the only thing standing between me and defeating an Arch-deity was magic I wasn’t totally sure how to use.

  But it did embolden me. Now I just had to fix the situation with Landon and the coven and have one less thing to deal with.

  When I looked at the incoming call, I figured the fates were having a time screwing me over or betting on who could make my life the most hellish.

  “Landon.”

  “Ms. Jensen,” he purred. “It seems as if you’ve decided to play on both sides of the fence. Your perfidy will not be tolerated.” His voice was so calm it sent more chills through me than if a bellowing voice had reverberated throughout the room.

  “I’m not sure what you are talking about,” I said.

  “Oh, but you are. Apparently Mephisto has made an offer. I’m not blind to your history with him. He’s made it quite clear that what he wants he expects to get, and you’ve been instrumental in making sure it happens.”

  I was a retrieval specialist, I helped him find things. A glorified bounty hunter. But it was just jobs.

  “The same can be said for my relationship with you. I’ve worked for you and acquired things for you on more than one occasion.”

  “True. The question is, who are you working for now, me or Mephisto?”

  My mind raced through every possible scenario and the most likely outcomes. If I told Landon that the witches approached Mephisto, would he feel the urge to take matters into his own hands out of offense?

  “Landon, you hired me to handle this, and I will. You’ll have the Amber Crocus, okay?”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” The menace had left his voice and he quickly ended the call.

  My job for Landon wouldn’t take priority. Magic had stolen time from me, my magical restriction was leaving me vulnerable, and there was an impending face-off with my mother. That had to take priority. Because if the stories were true, me running into my mother without magic or the ability to defend myself would have the same result: The Landon situation wouldn’t be resolved because I’d be dead. Staying alive had to be my first objective.

  I needed to talk to Cory.

  CHAPTER 11

  Trying to ignore Cory’s scowl and his scathing sidelong looks was becoming increasingly difficult as I navigated the unpaved road and wound farther into a stand of trees. If I managed to miss those signs of irritation, occasionally he’d let out a huff of annoyance.

  “What’s with the mood?” I asked with a sigh.

  “It’s not a mood. I seem to recall receiving a lecture about dealing with witches who dealt in dark magic. Hmmm, let me see if I can remember who gave me that lecture. The name escapes me at this moment.” There was a long and very unnecessary pause. “Oh, I remember now, it was you. And I agree.”

  I had chastised Cory for going to Harrison for help when we were trying to stop Ian.

  “I just have a few questions,” I said. “The magic I felt was so different, what if…”

  “You think it was a demon?”

  “I don’t know, but since neither one of us is really versed in anything more than what we’ve read in books, and Harrison dabbles in dark magic, I’m not convinced he hasn’t summoned a demon.”

  “You know what he is, how he operates, and if you’re asking about dark magic, he’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

  I grew silent. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “You’re going to let him summon a demon on your behalf, aren’t you?” Cory accused.

  I pressed my lips together for fear that the words would spill out. Cory and I didn’t keep too many secrets from each other, and glancing in his direction, I could see the look of betrayal, sense the frustration and the glint in his eyes as he pondered how to take control of the car.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised.

  “Careful wandered out the door and gave us the finger the moment we decided to deal with Harrison.”

  “You dealt with him,” I reminded him.

  “Just to question him,” he said softly. “Erin, I have a feeling you’re willing to do more than just ask him questions.” His finger curled around a lock of my hair. It was a reminder of the many times we’d lain next to each other. I thought just being close to magic would ease the urges and prevent me from giving in to the cravings. It didn’t. But Cory would stay there for as long as I thought I needed him.

  “I’m desperate,” I admitted. “You have no idea what it feels like knowing someone wants you dead.”

  “I might know. Do you know how many women I dated before I realized I didn’t like them?”

  My breath hitched. He was finally saying it. Out loud. He was dating Alex, which was the first time I’d seen him openly date another man. But this was the first time he’d admitted he didn’t like women.

  “Look at me, I’m a total smokeshow. I’m charming. My body looks like it was sculpted out of marble. My wit is amazing. And I effortlessly straddle the line between hot boy next door and sexy guy in the gym you want to bonk—”

  “Don’t you dare forget modest. Modesty is where you truly shine. It is your wheelhouse. Hands down you might be the most modest. The modest-est. Your humility makes me want to be a better person.”

  “Good, that’s my goal. I want people to see me and want to do better,” he countered, flashing me a teasing smile. “I’ve left a string of broken hearts. They might not want me dead, but I’m sure they hate me.”

  “Wait. You think that’s equivalent to a sociopathic god wanting me dead?” I asked, my mouth agape at the absurdity of the comparison.

  Giving my chin a light nudge, he said, “Let’s close that, sweetie. Okay, it’s not exactly the same.” Then the humor melted from him and his face became aggrieved. “I just don’t want you to become so single-mindedly focused on this that you make decisions with your emotions. We both know choices made solely on that aren’t always the wisest.”

  Sighing, I wished I had more options. It wasn’t my first choice to deal with a person who peddled in dark and demon magic.

  “I won’t let my emotions drive my decisions,” I promised. That was a promise I could keep.

  When I pulled up to the motorhome, the man with curly chin-length strawberry-blond hair, docile amber eyes, razor-thin lips, and a pudgy nose didn’t strike me as a demon magic dealer.

  But he walked toward us with a confidence that made me wary. Cory must’ve sensed the eeriness, too, because he tensed. Our eyes narrowed on the dark witch.

  “What can I do for you?”

  His quick approach didn’t leave a lot of room for me to assess the area. I did a cursory scan. The grass was healthy and verdant, a wealth of large trees surrounded the area, a barbeque pit was just a few feet away, and off in the distance was a large circle where the grass was stained brown. I assumed it was from the use of tannin, salt, and whatever other ingredients were needed to summon a demon or perform dark magic. Near the perimeter of the circle were half-buried stones marked with sigils.

  Harrison noted what I was looking at. “It’s good to have a backup to prevent them getting out,” he said. “They’re corporeal by choice, it keeps them strong. But if they see an out, like a weak boundary, they take it. Those stones are a magic-keyed defensive perimeter that can be quickly invoked.”

  I wasn’t well versed on what was needed to summon a demon. If I were ever in need of one, I’d have to go to my shadier sources to get it. The information was guarded—or rather very well hidden. If you decided to summon a demon, you had to work for the information on how to do it. Most people didn’t want to risk being ostracized by admitting they were peddling in demon-summoning magic.r />
  “So, you do summon demons?” I asked. There was a hint of accusation and judgment in my voice that I didn’t like. I hoped he missed it. I was the last person with any right to cast aspersions on another.

  His genial smile faded into a rueful smirk. “Don’t be coy. Me peddling in dark magic and summoning demons is the very reason you are here. On that note, what can I do for you?”

  Powerful caustic magic bathed the air, reminding me of the time I pulled magic from the Immortalis. Magic that felt acrid and toxic, making me turn from him and inhale a breath of clean woodsy air.

  Good question. What could he do for me?

  “A magical restriction has been placed on me, marked by a raven, and I want to know if you have a means of removing it.”

  “Where is it?”

  I extended my right arm.

  “There’s no raven.”

  “It’s there. It seems like magical fire and certain spells make it appear. A fire Mirra made it appear the first time.”

  “And the spells?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  He gave me a look as if he knew I was lying, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to tell him I had access to both Mystic Souls books.

  “We’ve tried to remove it several times, but nothing worked.”

  “And you think it’s demon magic.”

  “No, no one thinks that. But since you have a vast knowledge of magic, we thought you might be able to tell,” Cory offered.

  “Vast, meaning dark.” Harrison’s brow rose as he shot Cory a derisive sneer. Cory sounded a little judgmental, too, but when it came from me, it seemed to roll off him. My reputation probably made him see us as kindred.

  He went on. “Jung said, ‘Unfortunately there can be no doubt that man is, on the whole, less good than he imagines himself or wants to be. Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. At all counts, it forms an unconscious snag, thwarting our most well-meant intentions.’” He directed a castigating look in Cory’s direction. “The fact that you are here means that you aren’t opposed to dark magic, just opposed to doing it because you feel that it will make you bad. Does having someone do it on your behalf make you good and your magic light?”