Hollywood Demon (The Collegium Book 6)

by Schwartz, Jenny

  The blank lenses of Rivera’s sunglasses turned in Clancy’s direction.

  So did Mark, and he smiled.

  Us, that was the word that had triggered their response; not simply that she’d ventured an opinion.

  “All right,” Rivera said. “I’ll summon it, now.” She drained the last of the green sludge in her glass.

  “Don’t you need more time to prepare?” Clancy asked, startled.

  Mark sat too tensely, signaling that he also had doubts.

  “For summoning a small demon?” Rivera stood. Her yoga clothes emphasized her flat stomach beneath full breasts. “No. Mark mentioned your theory that the demon uses his old tie to Phoebe to manifest in this plane of existence. It’s a theory with merit, and one I’ll use.”

  In more ways than one, Clancy thought, watching the way Rivera stroked and adjusted her clothes. The studied gestures held an echo of how Phoebe had moved; like a dancer, leading with the wrist, flicking out the fingers.

  The privacy bubble burst. It was one way for Rivera to end further discussion. Neither Mark nor Clancy had the magic to create their own. Mark’s magic was too small, and what he did have, he’d no doubt be saving for more important uses, and with Faust around who knew what those might be! As for Clancy, privacy bubbles were of the air element, rather than earth, and she struggled to command them.

  Mark stood and gestured for her to walk in front of him, following Rivera.

  She led them into her yoga studio, over bamboo floors with eggshell white walls and subtle green and amethyst color accents. “This is my private retreat. Please, remove your shoes.” Rivera slipped off her ballet flats.

  Clancy and Mark had to sit on chairs in the corridor to unlace their boots. A couple of women carrying yoga gear walked past and looked at them curiously, before saying good-bye to Rivera.

  “Instructors,” she said briefly. “We’ll be alone for an hour, and my retreat is warded, anyway.”

  It certainly was warded. Clancy felt the hard crush of the magical protections as she walked through the doorway, and had to stop her instinctive reach for the earth power beneath the floor to counter it. The ward isn’t a threat to me. Obviously a demonologist would need a secure base for her activities.

  The wards, however, seemed to give Mark second thoughts. He put a hand on Clancy’s arm, pulling her back to the door. “You should wait in the car.” He met her gaze seriously. His warded car, he meant.

  As if she’d leave him alone. “I’m curious.”

  “Clancy may stay. As long as she’s still.” Rivera pressed a hand to a side wall, murmured under her breath, and a hidden, entire-wall cupboard opened. Tall, glamorous and standing beside a demonologist’s stash of esoteric spell aids: the situation was surreal, especially with Rivera’s resemblance to Phoebe.

  “I think Clancy should go,” Mark said. He studied the bare room with its easily washed vinyl floor and lack of windows. “Faust said—“

  “I’m staying.” Clancy pushed up the sleeves of her sweater that had fallen over her hands. “I’ll wait here.” She sat down on the floor. She mightn’t be a yoga instructor, but Taekwondo gave her its own grace and flexibility. She crossed her legs, tucking out of sight her sock-covered feet. If a demon appeared—and Rivera seemed confident Faust would—Clancy would have been far happier wearing her kickass boots. Perhaps it was just as well the café hadn’t sold coffee. She was already too jittery.

  Mark frowned at her, but accepted that she wasn’t about to leave. “Where should I stand?”

  Rivera bent supplely, butt in the air, and placed some items in the center of the floor. “Near me.” She clasped Mark’s hand and led him near the center of the room, positioning him so that she was between him and Clancy. Between him and the door.

  A door that had silently closed and—Clancy would be willing to guess—was locked. She shivered. Now was not the time to freak out. You had your chance to leave and you refused. She concentrated on Rivera’s preparations.

  The pentagram was drawn in some powdery gray substance. Please, don’t be graveyard dirt. Then Rivera placed and lit small candles at the five points. Finally, she drew a larger circle to enclose it all, and stepped inside it. The candle flames all stretched up before extinguishing.

  A cold wind lashed Clancy in the closed room. Rivera blocked her view of Mark, who stood just outside the circle the demonologist had drawn and entered. Rather than stare at Rivera’s butt and thighs as she chanted, Clancy slipped into mage sight. Most magic users were able to see magic as it was exercised, but she struggled with it. For her, as a geomage, geo-lines of power were easy to see. In contrast, mage sight felt fleeting, transitory; a butterfly’s wing against the great age of geo-forces.

  But all of Clancy’s instincts yelled that something evil was coming. She had to lock down her magic or it would have linked with the earth power beneath her. Fear. She identified her own emotion. She set her jaw. This time she would not let her emotions rule her magic. She would not annoy her brother by linking with the geo-forces in his territory.

  She concentrated on her breathing as, in mage sight, Rivera’s power flared purple and orange.

  Rivera stepped out of the circle.

  The pentagram inside the circle glowed orange, brighter and brighter.

  Rivera’s voice grew louder, shouting in Latin.

  I’m only imagining it, Clancy tried to reassure herself. Only imagining that Rivera sounds panicked.

  Mark leaned around Rivera to glance at Clancy.

  She got her right hand to move in a small thumbs-up gesture.

  He nodded, and as he straightened, she couldn’t see him again for Rivera in the way.

  And then the demon was there! and Rivera wasn’t in the way, anymore. She was levitating up near the ceiling and the demon was in human form, standing beneath Rivera, clad in jeans and a shirt that were a mirror to Mark’s, and facing him.

  Clancy stared at the rear of the demon and scrambled up, her back to the wall.

  Faust resembled a young man: hair dark and scruffy, but clean; really well-muscled, but not overly bulked; and, devastatingly powerful. In mage sight, red energy wove around the demon.

  “She sells herself well.” Faust tipped his head back to glance at Rivera, and the demonologist floated through the air away from Mark and Clancy to bump against the far wall. She kicked it. Faust laughed. “But the Collegium rejected her for a reason. You should have done your research, Mark.”

  Clancy shuddered. The manner in which Faust lingered over Mark’s name was lustful.

  The demon continued. His tone now resembling that of a teacher. It was detached, assessing. “Rivera is too emotional to be trusted.”

  Too emotional. The words, and their condemnation, resonated with Clancy, echoing the criticism she’d heard repeatedly at the Collegium. But she had to ignore their stab.

  Rivera had acted too emotionally. She’d been driven by the emotion of wanting Mark. She’d suddenly seen Clancy as a threat—an ally whom Mark accepted as part of an “us” with him—and she’d pushed forward the summoning of Faust. Possibly she’d cut essential preparations.

  Or…the demon was lying and twisting their thinking, and Rivera had never had a chance in hell of controlling him.

  Focus on essentials. Rivera might be floating through the air, evidently at Faust’s command, but so far the demon hadn’t attempted to step out of the circle. Did that mean it was still contained, that Rivera’s control of it was frayed but not destroyed? If it wasn’t contained, how on earth were she and Mark to save Rivera, save themselves, and keep the demon from rampaging through LA?

  Although, studying the demon, it didn’t seem as if Faust was much interested in rampaging anywhere.

  “It’s a pleasure to have this chance to chat with you,” Faust addressed Mark. It was as if Rivera and Clancy weren’t in the room.

  Is there any way I can use that? Clancy eyed the cupboard filled with demonology paraphernalia. In an emergency, what might w
ork against a demon? Holy water? That depended on faith. Silver? Silver would accept Clancy’s magic if she pushed it, then she could amplify silver’s natural antipathy to evil to protect herself and Mark, and Rivera—who was chanting hysterically up against the ceiling, while gently bouncing against it like a helium-filled balloon. But Clancy wouldn’t be able to contain Faust if he broke the circle.

  So, she needed to banish the demon.

  Rivera was evidently trying.

  Clancy sidled sideways two steps.

  Faust shifted around so he could see Clancy as well as Mark.

  She froze.

  The demon was beautiful. Masculine arrogance and full kiss-able lips were a potent lure, even if the red flickering in his brown eyes was an unmistakable indication of his true nature.

  I should have thought to wear something silver, Clancy chastised herself. Even a simple ring might have helped.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Mark brought the demon’s focus back to him.

  Clancy inhaled raggedly as the weight of Faust’s attention lifted. Rivera had been totally wrong, but so had Mark. Faust wasn’t some minor demon.

  “Old memories,” Faust said softly. “Do you remember Phoebe?”

  “You took her soul.”

  “I did.” A chair appeared inside the circle with the demon, and Faust sat on it, big and male, legs sprawling. Sprawling but staying within the circle. Was he contained or wasn’t he? “But her soul was so much less than I wanted from Phoebe. If only she hadn’t driven so recklessly. I had such plans.”

  “As I’m sure you still do.” Mark matched Faust’s suave tone with his own sardonic one.

  “And my plan fascinates you, doesn’t it?” The demon smiled at him. “Such earnest endeavors to chronicle my manifestations, to plot and predict. You’ve come so close, and then, you wouldn’t believe your own deductions.”

  Clancy glanced at Mark.

  “It’s a ridiculous idea,” he said.

  Faust laughed. “Which is why the Collegium would never believe you. They’re not alone. My colleagues didn’t think I could pull it off either. But, here I am, on the verge of becoming the premier tourist operator to Earth.”

  Clancy ceased inching toward the cupboard in search of silver. “The what?”

  Mark signaled by a quick shake of his head, that she shut up.

  But Faust smiled. “I shall open a gate for other demons. Demon lords, such as my humble self, are generally the only demons summoned to Earth or powerful enough to remain and move around it freely after we’ve consumed the soul of our summoner.”

  Rivera’s low-voiced chanting rose shrilly.

  Clancy wished she’d shut up. The noise was distracting, and from the lack of effect on Faust, she might as well save her voice. Rivera’s chants and magic weren’t doing anything.

  Faust stood and the chair vanished. “However, many lesser demons want to visit Earth to drink despair and riot in violence. And why shouldn’t they?”

  “Because they don’t belong here,” Mark said.

  “If we’re invited, we belong.” Faust’s teeth lengthened till his incisors resembled a vampire’s—and vampires were meant to be mythical. Perhaps demons were the source of those legends? “And humans will invite us. I have written the lure into the code. Not into the image-capture software. So dull. But where humans are more vulnerable.”

  Clancy’s mind spun over a thousand possibilities.

  “Our vanity,” Mark said flatly.

  “And that is why I adore you.” Faust praised him. “You think like a demon.”

  “God forbid.”

  Faust ignored the heart-felt repudiation. “As humans are manipulating their images, updating their photos to lie about themselves and their lives, they’ll be offered a linked contract. Don’t simply doctor one image. Instead, enhance your entire life. Appear more beautiful. Have your life seem more enviable—”

  “And all you have to do is sign over your soul,” Mark finished.

  “No, no, no. Souls are delightful, but it is bodies I am after. Just a short possession.”

  Clancy’s stomach roiled and she fought not to retch. The demon was diabolically clever. Human flesh could hide a demon’s presence from the Collegium. From Faust’s own boasting, such possession was only achieved by demon lords, but he intended to open the gate to ordinary demons. Humans possessed by demons on holiday…the world would become hell.

  “A simple contract. Three scratches on their left palm.” Faust held up his hand. “Deep enough to scar, and press to the screen.”

  A blood oath.

  Mark shook his head. “It won’t work.”

  “You’re thinking of your great-grandfather’s spell.” Faust flicked a hand and Rivera landed on the floor, almost gently. But then she seemed stuck to it. “Such an annoying man. You’re much more charming, Mark. It’s your lack of magic I appreciate.”

  It was a wicked insult. Clancy flinched, but Mark showed no response.

  Perhaps it was his lack of response that prompted Faust to continue.

  The more worrying question was why Faust was sharing so much information. This boasting could undo his plans. He had to know they’d share what he said with the Collegium—and Clancy vowed she’d make the Collegium listen. So, did Faust intend to kill them? Were they to never leave this room?

  She lunged for the demonology supplies cupboard.

  Mark shouted.

  Magic cracked.

  As much as she wanted to see what was happening, she had to reach the silver crucifix she saw on a shelf.

  An inch from grasping the silver crucifix, a massive power seized and flung her. Taekwondo had taught her how to fall. She rolled up into a crouch, but couldn’t initially see what was happening. Rivera, still stuck to the floor, hands and feet glued, her whole body straining, was between Clancy and the circle where Mark struggled with Faust.

  Mark was in the circle with the demon!

  Clancy was too stunned to even swear. When she’d run for the cupboard, Mark must have attacked Faust in an attempt to win her the time she needed. To protect her. She thought it was her mage sight flickering, but it was the thin green light of Mark’s magic that was faltering. Faust’s glowing red magic pulsed.

  “Run…to the car.” Mark’s shout was strangled.

  The demon was killing him. Faust had enough physical reality to wrap his hands around Mark’s neck, thumbs pressing into the pulse at its hollow. However, no matter how Mark fought and kicked, nothing seemed to hurt the demon.

  Because Mark can’t back up his physical attack with magic, Clancy realized with horror. It had taken all of Mark’s magic to break into the circle of summoning, and now, he couldn’t break back out. He was trapped with the demon.

  “As amusing as this is.” And the damned demon smiled at Clancy over Rivera’s contortions and grunts of effort. “It’s time I left.”

  Mark’s struggles were weakening. Either he was dying or—

  Could Faust intend to take Mark with him to Hell? Circles of summoning were portals between the two realms of Earth and Hell. Did that mean Faust didn’t need Mark’s consent to drag him to Hell? If so, Mark faced the two awful fates of death or living death in Hell.

  Faust raised his arms. Mark hung from them.

  Power erupted beneath Clancy’s feet, surging up from the Earth, rocketing through her and blasting open the circle of summoning. She was running even as the circle broke. So be it. If the destruction of the circle released Faust into this world, she’d fight him.

  Faust’s eyes widened and lost something of their human shape. His face stretched. He vanished.

  Mark fell to the floor at Clancy’s feet, breath rasping in his throat as he struggled to stand.

  She helped him up, looking around for the demon. Earth magic thundered through her, violent and relentless. “Where is Faust?”

  “Gone,” Rivera said from behind her. The demonologist staggered to the cupboard, ignoring the silver crucifix and gra
bbing for a bag of something on the shelf below it. She returned to the blasted circle and dumped salt across it. “Get out.” She didn’t look at either Clancy or Mark, but the order was obviously for them. She threw the empty salt packet away.

  Mark stood straighter, taking his own weight. He stared at Rivera who was no longer graceful and confident, but sweating, scared and destroyed.

  Clancy thought he might apologize, taking the blame for bringing the demon to Rivera’s studio. He surprised her.

  He said nothing. He put an arm around Clancy’s shoulders and they walked out. They laced their boots in grim silence, with equal silence in the devastated room behind them. “Thank you,” Mark said to her as they walked out of the yoga studio.

  In the courtyard, the café’s customers were as relaxed and loud as before, unaware of the struggle that had happened so close by. Either Rivera’s wards or the demon’s intent had kept their activities silent.

  Clancy hesitated at the SUV. “Are you fit to drive?”

  Mark stared at her. His eyes were a clear blue, his face tired. He threw the keys to her and climbed into the passenger’s seat.

  The powerful ward of the SUV closing around them was blissful. A tremor of relief shivered through Clancy and she finally released the geo-power that had surged in response to her fear. It slipped back into its usual flow beneath California and off into the seabed of the Pacific Ocean.

  Jeremy would rant at her for the disturbance.

  She started the SUV’s engine and drove home. Her phone rang within thirty seconds. She fished it out of a pocket, then swore and dropped it as an idiot in a red sports car pulled out in front of her. “Insane LA drivers.” She picked up the phone and passed it to Mark. “Can you check if it’s Grandma?”

  Mark checked the display. “Yes.” He felt a bit like he was walking underwater; breathing water, too. His lungs hurt.

  “Can you answer it, please?”

  He did even as Clancy kept talking.

  “She probably felt the earth magic I used.”

  Doris probably had. She certainly sounded worried. “Clancy, are you okay?”