I shivered. Demons rarely possessed inanimate objects on purpose, but in the olden days before summoning demons was illegal, one way to deal with rogue demons was to magically trap them in mirrors or glass orbs or really anything made of glass. Though I’d seen clumsy attempts to trap them in wooden boxes, which wouldn’t work unless the box had some powerful spells laid on it.
“So what are you going to do? Stab every vase and glass tabletop in there until the demon’s gone?” I asked.
Conor smiled. “Much as I would love to, I prefer to keep the peace for now. Brett has a habit of finding things that get stolen.”
“You mean people use him as a fence to unload stolen goods.” I ran my finger around the edge of the cheese container, sweeping up all remaining cheese with my finger and popped it in my mouth.
Conor did not comment on my lack of manners. Normally I wasn’t such an affront to table manners, but even after the massive pretzel, I was still hungry. “Yes, that’s what I mean. I would like to get the rug back if possible. But more, I want to catch whoever did it. Breaking Rita’s wards is no small task. Anyone who can manage that is dangerous.”
“So is anyone summoning demons and getting witches killed,” I countered. I understood his desire to catch the robber. But it didn’t feel like priority number one to me, especially when other Watchers were on the case. Plus, I wasn’t being paid to catch that guy. I was being paid to solve Marcus’ murder, and I needed to have progress to report to Savannah tomorrow.
“I need to follow this. I have a feeling and I try to listen to my intuition.” Conor met my eyes. There was something intense in his but I couldn’t read his expression. “I’ll drive you home.”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected that. I guess licking cheese off my fingers had not been the way to Conor’s heart, or even his better sensibilities.
I shot a look at Home and History. Whatever was emitting demonic energy on that mess of a store wasn’t my problem, any more than who stole the rug. I had a murder to solve.
Chapter 12
“I can make it up the stairs myself. I have a sword for a reason,” I said to Conor, who had walked me to my building’s front door. Even that was overkill, but he had insisted and I’d finally given up arguing and let him follow me down the block from his car.
“There’s something nefarious going on,” he said. Despite his insistence on following up on the rug thief, he was pensive. He’d spent the whole drive fiddling with the radio and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, as if in debate with himself.
“There always is,” I said.
He furrowed his brow. It was wrong how sexy the worry was on his face. “How so?”
I shrugged. “There are always people doing shady things. Witches, vampires, shifters… spend an evening at a fae bar and tell me there aren’t five illegal things happening in the room.”
“The Council does not police the fae,” he said. That was because the fae were not exactly willing to listen to or follow rules set by mortals. They were ruled by their own royals and laws.
“The point is, there’s always trouble afoot, Sherlock. The key is to focus on the bad stuff you can stop.”
Conor’s lips twitched and finally settled into a faint smile. “I thought you were in this for the profit.”
I gestured to the crumbling building with its white molding in desperate need of a new paint job and the greasy glass front door that needed a good spray of Windex or ten. “I’m not exactly a private eye for the riches. I just want to pay my bills like everyone else. Doesn’t hurt to do a little good in the process.”
“You know, the rumors that proceed you are…” He started and then stopped, pressing his lips shut as if he’d accidentally revealed too much.
“Kind of bitchy?” I supplied. The rumors about me varied but the most popular one implied I hated the Council and was determined to cause as much chaos for them as possible. It was a silly rumor. Just because chaos seemed to follow me like a shadow didn’t mean I was causing it. I just had crappy luck. And I was willing to take on jobs the Council wouldn’t, which often led to stickier situations.
His smile returned. “I was going to say ‘wrong’.”
“Same thing.” I winked.
He took a tiny step closer and extended his hand. I took it and the warmth of his skin against mine sent a ripple of heat through me. “See you around, Warren.”
“Dani,” I said.
“Dani,” he repeated, my name like velvet on his tongue.
A crow cawed overhead. Penelope. I groaned inwardly but pretended not to notice as I unlocked my door and gave Conor a little wave before heading in.
Penelope was waiting—in her human form—on the third floor landing. I went to the window at the end of the hall and looked down. I didn’t see Conor below.
“You were flirting with a Watcher,” she said mildly. I opened the window and leaned out. Connor’s SUV was gone. He’d gotten out of here fast.
“I wasn’t flirting,” I said, closing the window and facing her. The black feathered dress was back, the feathered skirt falling to her knees. “Not seriously, anyhow.”
Penelope tilted her head curiously. “Witches have strange courting rituals.”
A small flare of heat rushed into my cheeks and I hoped I wasn’t blushing. Conor was attractive and strong. He was a good guy, despite being too tangled up in the Council and his own black-and-white vision. But that was the problem. If he ever learned my secret, he’d have to choose between me and those laws, and I was pretty sure I knew which one he’d pick.
“That was not courting, I promise. Just trying to stay in the Watchers’ good graces while I attempt to solve a murder.” I pulled my keys out of my pocket and jangled them in my hand. Penelope stood, still watching me carefully. “What?”
“A murder?” she asked, tilting her head the other way, her big black eyes studying me.
“A witch was killed. His sister hired me to find out whodunit. He was found next to the remains of a demon, so the Watchers are spooked.” I shrugged. “You know how they get.”
“A demon? How odd. But then, I just saw a summoning circle in the park,” Penelope said, turning to go back inside her apartment.
“Wait, what?” My heart beat quickened. “Where?”
“When I was flying around, I spotted it in Howarth Park, near the tree line.” She waved a hand, as if dismissing this information as unimportant.
Howarth Park was a green space overlooking the waters of Possession Sound at the west end of Everett. It wasn’t exactly a private space where people could freely do magic, but if Penelope said she saw a summoning circle, I believed her.
“I’ll check it out. Thanks for the tip.”
Penelope went inside her apartment and shut the door.
I looked longingly at my own door, picturing the box of macaroni and cheese in my kitchen cabinet, waiting to be cooked, and my bed. Then I put my keys back in my pocket and headed back out.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered as I examined the summoning circle. It was, as Penelope said, near some of the trees, not very far from the small parking area. The white salt surrounding the circle shone in the moonlight. It was big enough to fit a small car inside and it still exuded a strong magical energy. Who was stupid enough to do a summoning—or any kind of magic involving circles—in the middle of a public park?
Sure, the park was currently empty as far as I could tell, but still, risky move.
Summoning things was intense, involved magic. Even if one only intended to summon a spirit, opening those doors meant other things would try to slip through, as I knew from personal experience. That meant you had to stay focused. And public places meant you couldn’t control for distractions.
I shivered and pulled my leather jacket tighter. I walked the perimeter of the circle. It was still “hot.” It had been used recently, less than two hours ago the way it was radiating magic.
Something rustled in the trees. I froze, grabbi
ng the hilt of my sword. A bat squeaked and flew out of the branches. I watched it flutter into another copse of trees, and let out a breath.
Bats were pretty common in the area, especially at night. Despite what people may think, bats were not demonic.
I turned back to the circle and closed my eyes, letting a little demon magic flow into them so I could see shadows. I gasped.
A shadowy figure paced back and forth in the center of the circle. I could only see the hunched figure in silhouette, but the outline of its snout and curved claws made my pulse race. Its legs were bent like a goat’s.
My heart leapt into my throat. My fingers tingled with magic, eager to spray the thing with fire until it was no more.
Demons had two forms: corporeal and non-corporeal. They traveled to our realm when summoned in a non-corporeal form. With enough magic, that form would be visible to witches and onlookers. With only a little magic infused into the circle, the demon would be restricted to the shadows, as this one was. A demon could become corporeal with even more magic, which was another reason brimstone was dangerous: it allowed demons to amplify their magic and manifest in physical form.
The circle kept demons trapped, in theory. A lot of things could break a circle. Really, all anyone needed to do was accidentally put a toe over the salt line. Something as simple as accidentally spitting a little while you spoke to the demon and that spit passing through the circle could break it. Circles usually extended about twelve feet up (or to the ceiling, if there was one) and that was a lot of space to accidentally enter.
Yet another reason casting such a circle outdoors was borderline suicidal: all it took was a big enough bug or bird flying through it, and bam, circle broken, demon or entity freed.
I swallowed. The shadow creature stopped pacing. It turned and looked at me.
I froze, blood thrumming in my ears so loud that I couldn’t hear anything else. It was only a shadow so the face had no definition. I couldn’t even be sure it was looking at me except that I could feel his beady eyes on me.
A hiss emanated from the circle. At first I couldn’t make it out over my heart beat. But then the words seem to clarify in my brain: “demon witch.”
I swallowed, my throat dry. My hands shook. I gathered my magic, feeling the heat spread through my center and down my arm, into my fingers. I wanted to burn it with demonic fire. But it was better to send it back where it came from.
I pulled my small packet of sea salt from my pocket. I walked the circle, pinching salt along the barrier and forcing my magic into it. When I completed the circle, green light flared up from it and faded. The creature was chanting “demon witch, demon witch,” in a gravelly voice that I was pretty sure I was only hearing in my head. It wasn’t speaking so much as sending me a direct mental message. I ignored it as I pricked my finger with my sword and squeezed a drop of blood onto a discarded leaf.
I gathered my witch magic, pushing aside the hot and eager demon magic, and pushed my witch power into the leaf. “By the salt and the earth, I close this circle and banish its occupants.” I dropped the leaf on the edge of the circle. Another rush of magic filled the air. The circle collapsed with an audible snap!, sucking the demonic energy and the demon out as it did, like a small, magical black hole.
The magic in the air dissipated, replaced by calm stillness.
I let out a breath and kicked the ring of salt. I went around the whole perimeter, disrupting the salt and grinding it into the dirt so the circle could not be used again.
Headlights came shining through the trees and cut out. I straightened and strained to listen. Car doors opened and shut. My pulse raced. I wanted to run but there was no time. I heard footsteps approaching. I stood sideways to hide my sword.
Conor appeared, looking dashing as ever, his dark hair falling into his face.
Relief was my first feeling, replaced quickly by horror. I’d been close to using my demon magic to expel the demon. What if I had? He might have caught me.
“Dani,” he said, surprised at seeing me. “What are you doing here?”
“My job,” I said curtly, my nerves on edge. I reminded myself that any residual demonic energy he sensed was purely from whatever had been done before I got here. I just had to hope he didn’t keep catching me out in places like this and start connecting demonic magic with me.
“I see. I was sent here to check on the existence of a summoning circle.” He raised an eyebrow in question.
“It was there,” I pointed to the mess on the ground. The outline of the circle was still visible where I’d blurred it out with my boots. “I closed it.”
Conor’s eyes widened. “It was still active?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Whoever cast it was here recently.”
Conor bent down by the circle, putting his hand in the grass. No doubt it was still warm. Magic was energy and energy tended to generate heat, after all. I took a step toward him at the same time he stood, putting us suddenly very close together.
“How did you find the circle?” he asked. There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.
My stomach roiled. I folded my arms over chest. “I’m good at my job, remember? We talked about that.”
His brows knit together. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Cast his eyes back to the destroyed circle and then met mine. He spoke softly. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. Just a big coincidence finding you here after leaving you less than an hour ago.”
My blood curdled. I didn’t like the suspicion in his words. “I thought you were off chasing the rug thief,” I said.
He smiled, softening his expression. His lips were painfully close to mine. We stood only inches apart, our faces so close we could almost kiss. And part of me desperately wanted to kiss him. God, I needed to get ahold of myself. I was too old and too busy to harbor a schoolgirl crush like this.
Conor’s face twisted, darkened. I frowned, confused. He lunged, pushing me to the ground. My back hit the grass with a thud. Conor landed on top of me. The red bolt of magic flew overhead straight as an arrow, right through where we’d been standing. Conor pushed off of me and pulled out his daggers. I staggered to my feet, ignoring the pain in my back.
A mage in a green coat stood at the edge of the trees, readying another spell.
“Not again,” I muttered. I pulled my sword out of its sheath and ran toward our attacker. He fired off a spell at Conor before turning to face me.
I heard Conor suck in a breath and turned to check on him, giving the jerk mage a chance to fire off a second spell at me. Pain exploded in the back of my hand and I dropped my sword out of reflex. My hand burned and turned bright red. That couldn’t be good.
Conor had fallen to his knees and was clutching his midsection.
Not only was this guy fast, his spells were powerful. A hit in the face might even be fatal.
I ducked down to grab my sword but my hand wouldn’t bend to lift it. Any small movement sent bolts of pain down my arm. I swore and glanced over at Conor, who had managed to get back to his feet. He held out his shield wand just as a bolt of magic was about to hit him in the head. The spell arrow bounced away. The mage shot off a second shot almost immediately, flinging magic like it was nothing. This one hit Conor in the knees and Conor fell over, hitting the ground with a loud thud. He groaned. But he didn’t get up.
I couldn’t fight with my sword, not with my right hand injured so badly. I didn’t have any witchy protection spells because I never freaking learned. So I did the only thing I could think of: I ran toward the mage and tried to tackle him. He shot off a bolt of magic. It zoomed toward me, its pointy green tip looking sharp as a real arrow. I ducked into the trees.
The mage followed. Good.
Now that I was out of sight of Conor, and he was probably too injured to come running after me, I could fry this son of a bitch.
I gathered my demon magic, letting the blue fire burn in the palm of my left, uninjured hand. The mage came ready, firing off a bolt of magic when he c
aught sight of me. I dodged and shot my fireball at him. He tried to deflect it with his coat but the demon fire caught the fabric.
“What the—” He pulled the coat off and stomped it to the ground. The fire went out. Demon fire burns until the energy in the spell runs out, but apparently that fireball had run its course. I shot another small one at his chest. “Holy hell, what are you?” he demanded.
“Come closer and I’ll show you,” I said, letting a new ball of demon fire flare up in my palm.
He did not accept my offer. Instead, he turned tail and ran. Guess he wasn’t as stupid as I thought.
Chapter 13
I emerged from the trees. Conor reached for his dagger and then, realizing it was me, stood down. He’d gotten to his feet again, though he was wobbling a little bit. He looked relieved, if a little green.
“He went that way!” He gestured into more trees across from us. “I couldn’t stop him.”
I nodded and gave chase but once I was in the trees, I lost any sense of direction. I stopped to listen, my own breath loud as a dragon. I heard twigs break and what might have been footfalls, but I couldn’t pinpoint the direction. Soon it got quiet and I had to accept the guy had gotten away.
Back in the clearing, I put my sword in my sheath and then examined Conor. “You seem okay,” I said. He had a scorch mark on one leg of his pants, over the upper thigh, but his vest and shirt looked intact.
“His spells were fast, not powerful,” Conor said, though he was still a little pale.
I tried wiggling my hand and it erupted into searing hot pain. “No?” I asked. “Hurt pretty bad on my end.”
He nodded and swallowed like it was an effort. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”
I balked. “Maybe I don’t need one.”
Conor actually rolled his eyes at me. He was half-turned away and I don’t think he knew I could see, but I totally did. And here I thought Mr. Stuffy was above that sort of thing. “Take the offer or don’t. I have a lot on my plate right now. It’s no skin off my nose if you decide to walk.”
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