by Debra Dunbar
Dark Iron was the Stranger. And if he was ruthless enough to kill three witnesses from his own group, to watch while Fiore Noir murdered people and used their souls, to have them use Bliss, then he was capable of anything. Had Bliss even known? Had she innocently gone to a meeting with the leader of her magical group, only to wind up on the sacrificial table?
“Raven, get out of DC. Go to my place in Middleburg. I’ll call Mom and let her know you’re coming. You’ll be safe there.” She would be. I don’t care how powerful Dark Iron was, nobody got past Mom. Nobody.
“I will tomorrow. I’ve got something I need to do first.”
I didn’t like the tight waver in her voice. “Get out. It’s not important.”
“You want that demon mark off or not? That was the other part of my call to my friend this morning. Seems Dark Iron got himself marked once and has a ritual to remove it.”
“No,” I practically yelled. By now the whole coffee shop was staring at me. “We’ll get it after he’s in jail, or from someone else. I’m sure he isn’t the only one who’s removed a demon mark before. Get out of there.”
“He’s got no idea that I know. We’re on reasonably good terms. Heck, Reynard is one of his closest friends. I’ll tell him it’s preventative, for Blaze, one of the noob’s I’m mentoring.”
“No.” I didn’t know what else to say. Panic was starting to fill my chest and steal my breath.
“I’ll call you late tonight, around midnight, when I’m on my way to your parents’ house. I got this, Kite. I got it.”
She hung up and I stared at the phone as it blurred with the tears spilling out of my eyes. I didn’t know Dark Iron’s name. He was one of the few Haul Du members I’d been unable to track down in the real world. Raven was smart, sneaky, a good mage. She was tough and capable. And I was terrified for her. Dark Iron was a killer. And my soul was not worth Raven’s life.
Chapter 31
SEAN SENT ME home early since I was such a mess. I really had the best job. I was only a part-time employee but was constantly sleep-deprived, coming in late, leaving early, or barely able to function because I was injured. I had no idea why they put up with me, but Sean and Anna seemed very concerned that I get some rest and help my “troubled” friend.
Once home the first thing I did was call Mom and explain the situation. She put me on speaker phone so Dad could hear.
“Of course we’ll shelter your friend. She’s welcome here as long as she needs,” Mom told me, her voice warm and sympathetic. They’d take in a total stranger, defend her if necessary from evil mages. It made me feel a connection with my family that had been missing for quite a while. Maybe we were all still Templars deep down after all.
“You need to come, too,” Mom added. “The police have most of the mages in custody. They’ll get the rest in the next day or so. Come down here until it all blows over.”
Oh sheesh. “Would you run home, Mom? They’ll never catch Dark Iron. Heck, I’m not even sure I can catch Dark Iron, but I can’t walk away and let the man responsible for at least five deaths walk free.”
I heard her sigh. “Solaria, you be careful. I know you like to be an honorable Templar and all that, but you need to swing first and ask questions later, got it?”
“Mavia!” I heard my Dad’s shocked voice in the background.
I smiled. “Will do.” I’d done that and nearly broke Gryla’s shoulder, but Dark Iron wasn’t a little old lady, and I didn’t doubt he’d try to strike first if I caught up to him.
“How are things with the angel?” My Dad asked, curiosity thick in his voice. Leave it to my father. Death mages, stolen soul traps, and he wanted to know about the angel.
“He’s weird, Dad. He showed up at my coffee shop yesterday trying to convince me to rid the city of evil by killing what would probably be a good chunk of the population. I got him to agree to hold off, but then he went and killed someone else last night, saying it was pre-emptive to save innocent lives. Are they all like this after they cross the veil? It’s like he’s not even an angel anymore.”
“That doesn’t sound right, Aria,” my father said. “I was uneasy when you told me about the two addicts, but this seems far outside an angel’s scope. Are you sure it’s Araziel? Are you sure it’s an angel?”
“Yes I’m sure.” My tone was a bit snappish, so I took a calming breath. “I checked the sigil and—”
The sigil. It had been under Ronald Stull, but I didn’t remember seeing it under the two dead junkies. And it certainly wasn’t under any of the dead in my parking space. I’d just assumed they’d been moved there post-mortem, or that Araziel hadn’t bothered. But an angel would bother.
And I’d never summoned him, called him, prayed for him. He’d just shown up conveniently every time, before I could call on him with the very specific sigil for Araziel. Shit.
“Uh, Dad? Can demons impersonate angels? Would they bother to do that? How can I tell?”
“When you call them with a sigil, then you know you’ve got the right one, assuming your calligraphy is properly done. Yes, demons can impersonate angels. They have in the past to try to encourage righteous people down a path of sin. Demons can twist the worst of deeds around so that someone believes what they are doing is right. Remember the three temptations of Jesus, how Satan cloaked his offers in the guise of a greater good. Often the desire to do the right thing can lead a person to justify horrible actions.”
“All this I will give to you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” The passage from Matthew was very much what Araziel had been advocating. I could save the world, and it would only cost me my soul.
Balsur had marked me. He wanted my soul and how better to prepare it, and me, for an eternity in hell than have me voluntarily damn myself for the “salvation” of many. I was reasonably certain whoever the demon was impersonating Araziel it wasn’t Balsur, but one of his legion. If three demons could cross the veil on the strength of Mansi’s mark, then surely one of Balsur’s could, too.
“They won’t mention God,” Dad continued. “They’ll only refer to Him obliquely. They’ll twist your words around. They’ll flatter you. The good news is if it’s a demon impersonating Araziel, then the angel has returned to heaven. One would never tolerate such a thing if he were this side of the veil.”
I thought of Ronald Stull. Araziel had delivered justice, then gone back home. And getting rid of a demon would be a whole lot easier than getting rid of an angel. Except who was to say Balsur wouldn’t just send another of his minions over to harass me.
I got the feeling he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his style to beat away at me with bulldog determination, employing the same technique over and over again. No, Balsur was a Sun demon, not a Mars one. He’d plan something different for next time, and he’d be patient about waiting for the right moment. Hopefully that moment would never come. As scared as I was for Raven, I hoped with all my might that she would get the ritual and that it would work.
I thanked my parents profusely for offering to shelter my friend, then hung up and promptly called Tremelay.
“Progress.” The detective sounded cheerful if not well rested. “One more came in. According to everyone we’ve interviewed there are two more Fiore Noir members at large. Of course, every last one of them claimed they never participated in the rituals and blamed it all on the dead mages, but we’ve got evidence enough to nail at least four of the eight on second degree murder, and the rest as accessories.”
It was good news, but all I could think about right now was Dark Iron. “I know who the Stranger is, the non-member who gave Fiore Noir the soul trap. He solicited for the murder of three people who died in the Dupont Circle explosion, as well as Bethany Scarborough. He was present at Bethany’s murder and the one before.”
“I’m glad you know that, because no one else does,” Tremelay grumbled. “I get the feeling Ronald Stull was the only one who knew the guy and he’s dead.”
I told him about Dark Iron,
everything Raven had told me. “I’m sure if you can catch him, you’ll find the soul trap to implicate him. If the Fiore Noir people can’t identify him, at least they’ll know the magical device by sight.”
“Can’t you give me anything on the guy? Anything? I can’t put out an APB on a man who goes by Dark Iron, six foot, fiftyish with graying brown hair. Do you know what he does for a living? Where he likes to grab a beer? Anything?”
“No.” Mages were protective of their personal lives and Dark Iron even more so. He’d taken to using burner phones, constantly changing email addresses and running his internet usage through offshore servers.
Tremelay sighed. “I guess I understand the need for secrecy. Even if they aren’t murderers I’m sure the Baptists down the street wouldn’t be pleased to find out their tax guy summoned demons on the weekend.”
“Exactly.” I closed my eyes for a second, wondering if Tremelay could somehow pull off a miracle and manage to find Dark Iron, preferably before Raven got herself killed.
“Look, I know this is a long shot, but my friend that helped me last night? She’s meeting with him about some stuff tonight and I’m scared for her. If you could go through all the stuff you collected, put thumbscrews on Fiore Noir and see if there’s anything that hints at where Dark Iron lives or who he is, I’d appreciate it.
“Your friend is meeting him?” I heard Tremelay’s excitement and realized he was thinking of bugging Raven, possibly jumping in to grab the mage at the meeting.
“That’s not going to work. He’s paranoid. He’ll have detection amulets. He’ll know, Raven will die, and he’ll be gone before you get him.”
The detective growled. “I don’t want this guy to get away.”
“Me either, but it may take time. I’m a bit of an outcast in the magical community, but my friend Raven has connections. We’ll eventually track him down. I’m just hoping you’ve got something in those boxes of case files that will help.”
I heard a noise in the background, as if Tremelay was rubbing a hand over a stubbly cheek. “All right, Ainsworth. I’ll see what I can do.”
I hung up, feeling completely helpless. There was a source I could go to, but I wasn’t about to summon Balsur when Raven was risking her life to rid me of the demon.
Wait—I did have someone else to go to. Unfortunately he wasn’t really Araziel so summoning him with a sigil or praying wouldn’t do me any good at all. If the past day were any indication, he’d come to me. I just needed to be patient, continue to play his game, and hope that Raven was as tricky as her namesake.
Chapter 32
RAVEN HAD CALLED right before the game at Zac’s. I nearly wept with relief when she told me she had a copy of the ritual to remove the demon mark and was on her way to my parents’ house. The Anderon game was a welcome diversion now that I knew she was okay. It was almost over. Tremelay had his people to prosecute. All I had to do was reel in Dark Iron and banish the Araziel imposter. Of course to get rid of Dark Iron, I’d need the Araziel imposter. That was going to be a waiting game, so I battled Orcs and Goblins with my adventuring friends, leaving Zac’s house just after ten for my late-night dinner with Dario. Or meeting. Whatever it was we were doing.
The staff at Sesarios had been courteous and professional when I’d been there with Zac, but I immediately realized the difference when I walked in this time. The hostess beamed at me, welcoming me by name. Dario rose as I entered the room, waiting for the lurking waiter to slide my chair in under me before sitting once more. In seconds I had a glass of wine, a plate of calamari, and a neatly pressed napkin in my lap. I felt like the Queen of England.
Dario waved the waiter off. “So, how did your Anderon game go?”
Oh sheesh, he remembered. I’d told him last week about how I was hoping to be invited to the Wednesday night game, but hadn’t mentioned why I might be a few minutes late to our meeting tonight.
“I single-handedly killed eight goblins and six orcs. Seven orcs, actually. I ate one and was informed he was not tasty. Hopefully we’ll be able to retrieve the Heaven’s Shard within the month. I have my doubts though. My team is easily distracted by festivals and gambling establishments, as well as offers to participate in side quests.”
His lips twitched. “Orcs taste bad. I’ll remember that if I ever encounter one.”
I relaxed and took a sip of my wine. I’d missed this. I’d missed him. “I’ve got kind of a good-news/bad-news thing. Good news is I’m close to certain that Araziel is no longer this side of the veil.”
Now Dario relaxed, smiling warmly and snagging a calamari from my plate. “That is good news.”
“Not necessarily. The first kill in the park? That I’m certain was Araziel. I think he left right after that, having delivered justice for the theft of Bethany Scarborough’s soul.”
Dario nodded thoughtfully. “But there were other angel kills, and you’ve seen him since then.”
I drank more wine, needing some alcoholic encouragement to confess that I’d been duped. “I believe that the being I’ve been communicating with is a demon who is impersonating Araziel to get to me. None of the other kills have born the angel’s sigil, and each time he’s appeared on his own. I consulted with my father and he feels the same.”
Dario’s eyes narrowed. “Are you positive? Angel or demon might not make a big difference to you, but it does to us.”
That stung. “It does make a difference to me—a huge difference. I could just summon Araziel using his sigil and know for sure, but I need to pretend to be ignorant just a while longer. I need this imposter to help me catch the rest of the killers, and then I’ll send him back to hell.”
“How long?”
I shrugged. “Probably no more than a couple of days. He’s not patient, and he wants something from me.”
Dario topped off my wine. “And that would be?”
I lifted the glass in a dramatic toast. “My soul.”
His eyebrows rose. “I’m assuming he won’t be getting that.”
“Not if I can help it.” I ate a few pieces of calamari. They were breaded with cornmeal that had been liberally spiced with Old Bay seasoning. I didn’t even need to dip them in the marinara. “So how are things with the Balaj?”
“Tense. Leonora sees every disagreement as a threat. She doesn’t realize how that kind of attitude weakens her in the eyes of the family.”
“And thus weakens the Balaj.” I got it. A family fractured by internal conflict was vulnerable to attack, and I remembered Dario telling me of those vampires who roamed outside of established territories waiting for a chance to break in.
He nodded. “We’ve had to take out a few rogues in the county this week. Nothing serious, just a few unstable vampires whose actions put us all at risk. Outside of that, business as usual.”
I didn’t want to think too hard on what business as usual meant. “How’s Bella?”
He smiled, every inch of him radiating fondness for the vampire he’d risked everything to turn. “Good. She was a little rough with one of her donors the other night, but Suzette was able to restrain her before she did any serious damage. Russell visits weekly, and I think having him in her life helps. She seems happier, and definitely more vocal after his visits.”
That was good to hear. We chatted about random events in Baltimore as dinner arrived. He asked about my family, and by midnight we were walking out the door. I couldn’t believe I’d spent two hours over dinner with Dario. I was so thrilled he’d made this time for me. Our relationship would never be what we both hoped, but this… this would do.
Dario walked me to my car and waited as I climbed in. “I saw Sarge last night.”
My heart stuttered, and I found I couldn’t reply.
“He said to tell you he is well and happy with his decision.” Dario’s dark eyes looked into mine, his hand reached out to touch my arm. “He looked healthy. And he did look happy.”
I appreciated what he’d done. This was none of his business, but
he’d take the time to check on Sarge for me. “Thank you.”
The vampire smiled, stepping back to shut my car door. “Anytime, Aria. Anytime.”
Chapter 33
I WAS JUST pulling into my second parking spot, the one without the crime-scene tape all over it, when my phone beeped. Raven should have been settled in at Middleburg by now. I figured the text was either from her, checking in, or Tremelay informing me of something about the case.
It was from an unknown number, giving me an address of a law office downtown.
I smirked, wondering who wasn’t going to show up tomorrow for a meeting when the phone chimed again. This text was a picture.
A body, splayed out in a ritual circle, sliced to ribbons. I barely recognized the sobbing noises as mine as I dialed Raven. No answer. Next came my Dad, who sleepily told me that my friend had not yet arrived, but that my mother was sleeping by the front door in wait.
Oh, God. She’d left seven hours ago. She’d said she was heading to Middleburg. Oh, God.
I started my car back up and drove as fast as I could. Downtown wasn’t far and parking was plentiful this time of night. I launched the Camry into a free space and ran for the building.
I had no idea why an office building was unlocked at midnight, why the elevator didn’t require any special pass card, why the law offices of Shuster and Shuster had doors that were wide open. I just ran, my breath coming in short gasps as I tore through the receptionist area into the gigantic conference room.
I knew before the coppery smell of blood hit my nose, before I walked into the barren conference room and saw the lines of circles and triangles intersecting with symbols on the carpet. This ritual had been a sloppy, hurried job. The carpet blurred the symbols, and from what had burned into my memory from Bliss’s sacrifice, I could tell this one was more for show than any actual magical output.