Celestial Magic (Celestial Marked Book 1)

by Emma L. Adams

  He blinked. “What? In Babylon? Of course.”

  “And you’re allowed to walk in and out of there anytime you like, right?”

  “Naturally.” He sounded a little wary. I’d officially weirded out the warlock. Awesome.

  “The celestials have helpfully shut me out of their investigation,” I said. “I could break in, but I can’t be bothered dealing with their security. That castle of yours overlaps with the guild. I looked it up.”

  He went still. “Yes, it does. But even though it’s mine, I’m not the only person living in the castle. There are others.”

  “Your brother.”

  “One of the towers is his. It’s not him I’m concerned about. Your celestial light will draw any demon nearby, if you use it.”

  “And if I didn’t? If I took a shortcut through your dimension, sneaked into the morgue to see the body, and—” I stopped. “If you’re right, and it is one of them who’s the killer. I can’t think of a better way to sneak into their top-secret room.” The west wing was only open to higher celestials, and contained the library with information on forbidden higher demons… and arch-demons.

  “It might be possible,” Nikolas said. “I do know precisely where this city overlaps with the shadow realm, but it’s still risky for me to take you there. The demonic dimension is not there to use as a shortcut. There’s a reason there are so few of us with this power.”

  “Yeah, I suppose we can’t have the world overrun with people hopping between dimensions. Anyway, I never asked if you had any more ideas. I can’t be the only one. What about your amazing warlock powers of deduction? Or do you really think one of the celestials has gone dark?”

  “I don’t know.” His brows drew together. “What else do the victims have in common? I’m beginning to believe that someone wanted to do more than stir up the celestials. Killing multiple victims in a short space of time suggests a purpose. If they weren’t using magic to kill, I’d suggest the purpose was to feed on or harness their life energy.”

  “But if they used magic to kill the victims, they need to recharge,” I said. “Which throws that theory out. Unless there’s a demon who doesn’t get tired from using powerful magic or need to recharge.”

  “High-ranked demons,” he said. “That part, I’d guessed. However, that doesn’t explain how they choose their victims. They’re targeting younger, new recruits.”

  “I guess it has to do with them being easier to target,” I said. “They don’t have the training to fight Grade Three or higher demons.”

  “Or their influence.”

  I frowned. “What, recruiting them to the dark side? You think the victims were the ones working with the demon doing this?”

  “No, but they’re more susceptible to being recruited.”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “Training level doesn’t affect intelligence, for one thing.” Just look at Inspector Wilfully Ignorant.

  “I suppose not.” He looked at me. “So you wish to sneak into the castle tonight. Hoping to get a peek at my room?”

  “I suppose it’s painted in the fiery colours of hell.”

  His expression went stony.

  “It’s a joke,” I said. “But you can definitely take me there?”

  “There’s one thing I’d like from you in return,” he said.

  “Yes?” Oh, boy. I knew there was a reason he’d caved in so easily.

  “An arch-demon experienced in putting marks on humans recognised your name when I spoke to him,” he said. “He wants to see you.”

  “What?” I said blankly. “Did you say arch-demon?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Okay, you’ve lost it.” I shook my head at him. “I met with Javos. I met your lunatic brother and nearly died in the process. I am not talking to one of the leaders of hell. They want me dead.”

  “One of them gave you their mark,” said Nikolas. “I can’t say I know which, but Themedes might know.”

  “Gave me their mark?” I echoed, my heart sinking. “Can you see my aura? Is that how you know?”

  “Why?”

  “Just a thought.” I swallowed. I didn’t want to think about what I’d done to draw their attention… but if it was true, then maybe the reason they’d killed Rory and not me… was because I was already damned.

  “I told you, auras look different to us,” he said. “We’re not viewing them through the same lens as a celestial. To you, ours look dark and shadowy. Not to us.”

  “But what does it look like?” My voice rose, brittle and sharp, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Bright blue, like the other celestials’,” he said. “Humans show up as pale grey, usually.”

  “What did the victim’s aura look like to you?” I struggled to keep my tone even. My pulse raced, my heartrate picking up.

  “The same as yours, but with traces of magic,” he said. “It’s difficult for me to describe it, and all demon magic tends to produce the same aura effect. Not all warlocks have the same aura, either, but I’m sure we look similar to you.”

  “Not you. Yours looks… pitch black. Your brother’s the same.”

  “Shadow demons.” He nodded. “But you mentioned the victims. I’m guessing you see all celestials’ auras as white, correct?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “The victims’, though—the one I saw had these dark patches in her aura. Like something was eating away at her.”

  “Magic,” he said. “A demon’s subtle magic, perhaps.”

  “Not—a mark? Like whatever it is you think I have?”

  He frowned. “No. What you have is latent demonic magic, but I can’t say which type. And it’s not like the magic that killed the novices.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Will you consider meeting with Themedes? He’ll know what type of demon magic you have.”

  “And he’ll know about this.” I raised my left hand. “It’s not like I can hide it. Arch-demons are kind of my ultimate nemesis.”

  “Technically, their nemeses are the Divinities. I doubt they care much for individual celestials. And if one of them marked you, they saw your potential.”

  “Potential for what?” I shoved my stool back from the bar. “Look, I don’t know how things work on Planet Warlock, but demons are meant to be disposed to tear me into bloody pieces, not put a mark on me. Unless they plan on using me as a bargaining chip with the Divinities in their war.”

  “What would give you that idea?”

  “Stories.” I shrugged. “The sort of thing they tell novices as a warning not to meddle with demons. They put a mark on your soul and steal it. The thing is, it’s total nonsense. Our souls are already claimed by the Divinities, so we’re no use to demons. As for arch-demons, they can crush a thousand of us like ants. They don’t need us as bargaining chips, and to be honest, I doubt the Divinities would care about sacrificing us for the cause, anyway.”

  “Precisely,” he said. “The part about the Divinities, at least—you’re their soldiers, so I doubt they care about your individual lives. If a demon claimed one of you, I doubt they’d notice.”

  “I think you missed the part where our souls are already claimed,” I said. “Normal humans can be possessed or influenced by powerful demons. We can’t. We’re immune.”

  “You’re not immune to all demons.”

  “You do realise that’s not going to make me more likely to want to meet this arch-demon of yours, don’t you? I don’t particularly want to get torn to pieces in an alternate dimension. I quite like this one.”

  “You won’t be torn to pieces,” he said. “If I were you, I’d be curious about why one of them marked you to begin with.”

  I don’t know. Maybe it was a taunt, or a reward for killing so many of them.

  Or because of Rory.

  “I’ve killed demons for nearly ten years,” I said. “This makes no sense. None. And are you sure this guy isn’t the killer? I’d bet arch-demons are perfectly capable of lighting
someone on fire from the inside out.”

  “Oh, he’s capable of it,” said Nikolas. “But he can’t move between dimensions, and is hardly capable of using his magic, let alone answering a summons. He’s dying, Devina.”

  “What?” I stared at him. “Aren’t arch-demons immortal?”

  “No, just ageless. They can die. This one has lived for many, many thousands of years. He knew my father. He’s the only surviving arch-demon in Pandemonium.”

  What? Pandemonium was Dienes’s realm. “But I thought there weren’t any left in that dimension.”

  “He doesn’t count,” said Nikolas. “His power wouldn’t register on the same level as even a demigod like me or my brother. You’re far stronger than he is.”

  “But—” I spluttered. “Did you say demigod? I thought you were a warlock.”

  “It’s the technical term for anyone with an arch-demon as a parent.” He shrugged. “Think of us as the upgraded form of regular warlocks.”

  “Because that’s not cocky at all. Look, how are we even supposed to travel to meet this demon? I thought you could only use your power to go to the shadow realm.”

  “There’s one exception,” he said. “Summoning. He plans to summon me to his side. All I need to do is give the word that I’m bringing you with me.”

  “Yeah… no.” I shook my head. An arch-demon wanting to meet me after a monster with powerful magic had murdered my former colleagues was a major red flag if I ever saw one.

  “I can promise you won’t come to harm, as long as I’m there,” said Nikolas. “I offered to take you through my own realm to help you in your investigation, and in return, you’ll get to learn about your demon magic. Seems a fair trade. You never know—you might find you like being one of us.”

  “I’m not one of you,” I said. “Never. I’m not signing over my soul, or whatever it is you want me to do. That wasn’t part of our deal, Nikolas. I’m not getting an arch-demon involved with my life. No way.”

  His jaw tightened. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked almost insulted at my outburst. “If you change your mind, my offer stands open.”

  “Wait.” Shit, this was a mistake and a half. But if he was right—if I could find out what’d really happened to me, and by extension, the victims—then I might be able to solve the murders without needing to sneak into the guild. If anyone knew the comings-and-goings of all things demonic, it was an arch-demon.

  Assuming he wasn’t the killer.

  Chapter 13

  Despite every shred of my better judgement telling me this was a terrible idea, there I was, walking with Nikolas through warlock territory in search of a suitable place to answer an arch-demon’s summons.

  “How does this work?” I asked. “It’s not your dimension, right? So if this demon wants us to come and see him, how do we get out?”

  “I’m going to set up a portal,” he said. “A true one, not a dimension hole. That means he can take us to wherever he chooses on the other side, and then send us back—but obviously, he’s completely in control of that. Kind of like when you used the pentagram on me.”

  I grimaced. “You’re going to hold that against me forever, aren’t you?”

  “Just stating a fact,” he said. “The power always rests with the person controlling the summoning—and in the case of an arch-demon, even one whose power is low, they always have control. It’s what makes the idea of summoning an arch-demon impossible to contemplate. We’d know if one had been anywhere near this dimension, for instance.”

  A not-so-subtle way to remind me that Nikolas thought the arch-demon was innocent. Sure, as innocent as a Prince of Hell. He might not be the killer, but he was old as sin and evil enough to fall from heaven. Of course, I’d considered the possibility of a similar demon’s involvement, but he was right—there was no way to summon one inconspicuously.

  Nikolas took me through a warren of roads lined with brick houses, some with the windows boarded up. Vampire nests, most likely.

  “By the way,” I said to him, “a vampire was found near the second victim’s house. Dead, in sunlight. They were dating.”

  “Any reason I needed to know that?”

  “Evidence,” I said. “I admit it, I’m jumping on any clue possible, but I suppose none of it will matter if the arch-demon of Pandemonium decides to skin me alive.”

  “He won’t harm you as long as I’m there,” said Nikolas.

  I jumped at the sound of a loud bang from the nearest house. “What was that?”

  “Warlock spells. Nothing to worry about.”

  Oh yeah. We were in the thick of preternatural territory. Flashes and bangs indicated spell use, and the smell of sulphur and brimstone made my eyes water.

  “Has nobody here heard of air freshener?” I coughed.

  “It wouldn’t do any good. Brimstone is too potent. We’ll stop here.” He halted in the mouth of an alley with a high fence on one side and the brick facade of a large house on the other.

  “Do you live somewhere here?” I asked. “I mean, when you’re not in the castle.”

  “I do, but I’m not opening the portal near my house.” He put a hand in his jacket pocket and started pulling out handfuls of herbs and small bottles containing what looked like powdered rock.

  “What’s that?” I asked, indicating a bright power. “I know the other ingredients, but that’s a new one.”

  “You really do know demon summonings.” There was an approving note to his voice. “Like you know demon languages. I’m assuming you’re still fluent in High Chthonian.”

  “Only you would find that impressive rather than disturbing. Yes, I am, but I’ve contacted that dimension before, and never used… whatever that is.”

  “Demonglass,” he said. “Powdered. It forms a connection between here and the arch-demon’s palace.”

  “Palace. Of course.”

  “By the way,” he said, “you should address him as ‘sir’, or ‘Arch-demon Themedes’. Like one of his subjects.”

  “And are you absolutely certain he won’t smite me on the spot for being a celestial?”

  “I wouldn’t take you with me if I wasn’t.”

  Black lightning crackled from his hands, burning the shape of a pentagram into the ground. He tossed the ingredients into the centre, finishing with the demonglass.

  Liquid-like shadows spread across the surface, swiftly turning bright red. A voice rumbled through me—“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

  “You summoned us,” said Nikolas.

  Mother of all demons. Pure, raw fear rooted me to the spot. No way in seven hells did I want to see the owner of that voice.

  “THEN COME,” said the voice.

  The pentagram lurched towards us, as though it contained a life of its own, and orange flames sprang up. Burning fire, too bright to look at. So close I expected to feel the heat searing my bare skin, charring my clothes and turning my body to ashes. I raised a hand to shield my eyes, and the fire vanished.

  The brick alley wall had been replaced by smooth obsidian stone, and the smell of flaming brimstone faded. I blinked the sting from my eyes and looked down. Stone lay beneath my feet. Slowly, I swivelled away from the wall. We appeared to have landed on a balcony above a city, with sand-coloured roofs undulating like hills and valleys as far as the eye could see. We must be miles off the ground. Seven hells.

  “This is the city of Pandemonium,” said Nikolas. “He brought us directly to the palace.”

  “Nice of him.” I dragged my gaze away from the view as Nikolas opened a sliding glass door next to the obsidian pillar I’d landed in front of. The mechanism was surprisingly modern-looking, though now I thought about it, I hadn’t gleaned a lot from Dienes about what this world was actually like to live in. Just all the species of demon—except the one we were about to meet. Weird how Dienes hadn’t mentioned him, but arch-demons scared the crap out of their subjects at the best of times. And apparently he was less powerful than me. Hmm.

  Our footst
eps echoed on polished obsidian flagstones, while clear pillars climbed to the ceiling, reflecting golden light through the high windows. And between two such pillars was an ornate gold throne. I’d expected either a human-like being or a horned demon squatting on a pile of human skeletons. The arch-demon, however, was built more along the lines of Javos—huge, muscled, maybe seven feet tall, with leathery wings folded against his back. He looked up, and his aura hit me like a freight train. Blood red. Flaming. Terrifying.

  My throat dried up. The potion that enabled me to see auras had worn off. For me to be able to see his hinted at the level of power he contained—too much to hide behind an acceptable facade. He swept long, tangled dark hair from his tanned face, and stared at me with golden eyes of pure flame. Even though I knew all arch-demons must look the same, I couldn’t help thinking of the murder victims, how they’d burned. How I’d burned when I’d come here.

  He’s going to kill me. And if he’d asked for me, knew who I was…

  Fire blazed around him, an aura of darkened light outlining his wings with jagged edges. A fallen angel, cast down into hell, the Divinities alone knew how many centuries ago. I swallowed, not daring to look away in case he raised a hand to smite me.

  “Why,” he rumbled, “is a celestial here?” He spoke in High Chthonic, the more refined version of the language Dienes and other lesser demons spoke.

  Somehow, I found my voice. “You asked for me, Sir,” I said. “I’m Devina. From Earth. Ring any bells?”

  “And why would I ask for you?”

  I couldn’t look away to see if Nikolas had my back, but he’d said the arch-demon wouldn’t harm me as long as he was present. The reality was, though, I’d been too confident in my own ability to kill demons. The guy in front of me hardly fell into the same category. It was like staring at a force of nature—an earthquake, a tidal wave, a torrent of pure wrath contained in an almost human-sized form.

  Nikolas had said he was powerless. I’d hate to think of his idea of a normally-powered arch-demon, because this guy was fucking intense.

  “It was your idea,” I said. “Nikolas told me I have a demon’s mark, and you sent for me because you can tell what it is.”