“I’m fine, Grandma,” Clancy raised her voice.
“Why are you shouting?”
Mark stirred himself to answer. “Because I’m holding the phone. Clancy’s driving.”
“Mark.” Silence for a moment. “What’s happened?”
He glanced at Clancy, who kept her gaze on the road. She’d fought a demon for him. Well, for her own survival, too, but she could have run. Instead, she’d blasted open a circle of summoning and the demon had fled from her.
“Mark?” Doris demanded.
How long had he been silent, thinking. “We’re okay. We’re on our way home.”
“Come straight to the cottage.” Doris hung up.
He wasn’t sure if she meant Clancy or both of them. It didn’t matter. At a minimum he owed Clancy the courtesy of standing with her when she told Doris about their encounter with Faust. Damn. He closed his eyes. He’d brought Clancy into danger. He had believed Rivera when she’d said she could handle Faust.
Had the demon been lying or was Faust a demon lord?
Chapter 6
Clancy drove through the ward around the Yarren Estate and felt even safer than on entering the warded SUV. Her foot lightened on the accelerator, and she no longer had to wonder if other drivers on the public roads were possessed by Faust.
She just had to worry about Mark. He looked terrible. Then again, how else would you expect someone who’d been drained by a demon lord and almost taken to Hell to look? She drove to Doris’s cottage and parked behind her own little white car.
The power in the chamber beneath the cottage crested in a huge wave and gathered her in.
She was safe. She was home. But now, she had to calm the geo-forces she’d stirred up.
Jeremy was probably trying to do the same thing. If he hadn’t been, he’d have already phoned her to yell about her reckless use of geo-power in his territory.
What else could I have done? She couldn’t have stood by and let Mark die; or stood by and let the demon consume her and Rivera, next.
Doris met them on the front porch. She wore slippers with her good “going shopping” clothes: a green corduroy jacket with a yellow turtleneck sweater over a denim skirt. She reached for Clancy. “Mark will explain. You go on down to the chamber.”
“I didn’t mean to disturb things,” Clancy said.
“I’m not blaming you for anything, honey. I think you need the chamber as much as it needs you.”
Clancy thought of entering into the silence that would cradle her like a baby. “Maybe I do.” She turned to Mark. “Will you be okay?”
“Absolutely.” Lines of exhaustion bracketed his mouth. He appeared ten years older.
Clancy glanced at Doris, who gave a small nod. She’d look after him. Clancy walked in, straight through to the laundry room, and opened the trapdoor to the chamber. She didn’t bother crouching to do so, but shifted it with magic and a thought. Then she climbed down the ladder and the trapdoor closed by itself.
Once upon a time the ladder down to the chamber had been wood. Before then, it had probably been rope. Now, she climbed down a sturdy steel ladder until the dirt of the chamber met her boots. At Rivera’s studio she’d taken off her boots and fought a demon in her socks. Here, where her family had stood for generations, she took off boots and socks and curled her toes into the soft dirt that covered solid rock.
The chamber glowed with its own light. It came from the gentle friction of quartz particles. She was hardly aware of requesting it with her magic. Jeremy called it a parlor trick, but it never felt that way for Clancy. For her, it was her magic meshing with the power in the chamber so that it welcomed her.
She’d never wanted to learn the geological science of how the chamber had been created. For her, as it had been for her ancestors, it was enough that it existed. She walked across to a rock that was a comfortable height for a human to sit on, and was worn smooth from generations of people doing just that.
The geo-power in the chamber lapped around her like a warm sea. This was a well of such power. A spring. If the power had been pure magic and not solely geo-forces, then the place would be known as a strong nexus. As it was, her family knew it as a site of stabilization.
The geo-power she’d tapped beneath Rivera’s yoga studio had disturbed the raw energy of California. Immense, unfathomable forces ground against one another as the tectonic plates that created the San Andreas Fault rumbled. Yet in the chamber, she didn’t feel panic at what she’d unleashed. She felt centered.
Jeremy had mocked her for imagining that the chamber “talked” to her. He hadn’t needed to. She’d always known that the forces in the chamber weren’t sentient. They were natural forces, like the wind in the world above. But just because they were natural forces didn’t mean she couldn’t think of them in ways that helped her relate to them.
So as the tumbling geo-forces poured into the chamber and into her, she greeted them as wild puppies and gathered them closer. In this chamber, familiar since childhood, she let go of her Collegium training and simply soothed the “puppies”. A small analytical part of her mind knew that she was channeling and lowering the geo-temperature of the forces with her own magic, but that was only a small part of her trained mind. Most of her was simply in the moment, which was how the chamber wanted to be used—and yes, she still remembered that the chamber wasn’t sentient! She laughed, no longer afraid of Faust as the geo-forces tickled her feet and drew patterns in the walls’ quartz lighting.
She’d forgotten the rightness of being in the chamber. Forgotten, or perhaps, memory had dulled the experience. Or—her breath caught as power swirled in the center of the chamber and erupted into a dazzling display of quartz on the ceiling—had it not been so strong before? Had her ability to interact with the chamber increased?
Dimly, she was aware of Jeremy arriving in the cottage above. The power in the chamber stalked his progress playfully. She ought to leave the calming of his territory to him, but she couldn’t. Everything was quieting and her spirit was soothed with it. She didn’t want to wrench herself out of this meditative state. Later, when Jeremy protested, she’d tell him that since she’d caused the out of control geo-crash, she’d naturally attempted to fix it herself.
It hadn’t quite been a geo-crash, but it had been cascading. The geo-forces beneath California had stormed to her when she’d prepared to fight Faust. Now, she was thanking them—very unscientific of me—and letting them go.
Jeremy strode into the kitchen. “Do you know what Clancy’s done?” he demanded of Doris.
Escaped a demon. Rescued me from one. At a frown from Doris Mark clamped his mouth shut. He’d told her the story of Clancy and his morning, and now he was on the phone, on hold to the Collegium. A soft tinkle of music confirmed that the call hadn’t disconnected although he’d been waiting twenty three minutes since the receptionist had forwarded his call to the department of demonology and Mark had made it clear that either he spoke with the head of the department or he’d make a devil of a fuss. He mightn’t have enough magic to start a storm, but he had the money to raise hell.
Belatedly, Jeremy realized Doris wasn’t alone. He nodded jerky acknowledgement at Mark. Framed by a fashionable beard, Jeremy’s mouth was thin-lipped and angry.
So was Doris. Then she sighed. “Yes. I know what Clancy did. And why.” There was a warning in the last two words.
A warning Jeremy ignored. “Where is she?”
“In the chamber,” Mark said. He hadn’t expected Jeremy to jolt to a halt, his furious pacing frozen. Mark glanced at Doris, uncertain if what he’d thought an innocuous answer was a dangerous one.
She was studying her grandson.
Mark felt a wave of love for her. She, as much as the old cottage above its earth power chamber, gave him a sense of security. His parents and grandparents loved him, but they’d always been intent on their own movie-related projects. They’d loved him, but he’d had to fit himself to their Hollywood schedules. Doris had always adjusted her plans t
o accommodate children’s needs. She understood people and she never expected them to be more than they could be.
On the other hand, she didn’t tolerate them being less.
“Why is Clancy in the chamber?” Jeremy walked slowly and stiffly across the kitchen toward the open door to the laundry room. The relaxed t-shirt and jeans he wore seemed a lie when he was radiating tension. Not just anger any more, but—
“Hello?” The brisk female voice came from his phone.
“Hi.” Mark stood and moved toward the back door. He’d take his conversation outside and let the Ramirez family resolve their problems in private. Still, he overheard Doris’s quiet comment.
“I love you, Jeremy. So I’m saying this out of love. Open your eyes. Clancy won’t refuse the truth forever.”
Involuntarily, Mark turned and looked at her, then at Jeremy.
Clancy’s brother was pale and taut enough he looked like he’d shatter. He slammed his hand against the kitchen wall. The wall was built of stone. It didn’t move. Jeremy stalked out, back through the house and the front door slammed.
“One minute,” Mark said to the phone. “Doris, does Clancy need help settling the geo-power she used? This is Jeremy’s territory.” And he’d just walked away.
“Clancy’s fine.” Doris braced her hands on the table, stood and walked to the stove.
Mark took himself and his phone conversation outside. “Sorry about that,” he apologized.
“I think it’s us who should apologize. How long were you on hold? Never mind. I’m Gilda Ursu, the chief demonologist. I hear you have a demon in Hollywood?”
“Yes,” Mark said bluntly. “And I think I’ve made the situation worse. I hired an independent demonologist to banish this particular demon. She attempted it this morning—”
“Who? Not the demon, the demonologist.”
“Rivera Dryden.”
There was click of keys audible through the phone. “Natural talent, undisciplined. Can handle minor demons.”
“This one said he was a demon lord. Faust.”
“They’re all liars,” Gilda said. “But I take it this one refused to be banished?”
Mark stared at the sunlight glinting off the swimming pool. It was a beautiful winter’s day, the kind Californians liked to brag about. He wouldn’t mind a swim. It would clear his head. “Before it could be banished, Rivera had to summon it.” He paused, and the chief demonologist waited out his silence. “She lost control of Faust immediately. He controlled her without leaving the circle. When he threatened a friend of mine, a geomage, I entered the circle of summoning to distract the demon.”
Gilda muttered something uncomplimentary about his recklessness.
He bit back his own anger. None of this would have happened if the Collegium had only listened to his suspicions. “My friend then blasted the circle with geo-power. Faust departed. We survived. The demon said a few things while he was in the circle.”
“We’ll get to that,” Gilda interrupted. “The message I received was that this demon has taunted you for several years.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s escalated recently.”
He inhaled deeply. “Yes.”
“I’m coming out there.”
He blinked at the phone. “To Los Angeles?” He’d wanted action. He hadn’t expected a visit from the Collegium’s chief demonologist.
“I’ll travel by portal. I’ll be with you in an hour. What’s your address?”
The Collegium probably already had it on file, but he gave his address anyway. Gilda disconnected and he was left alone. No, not quite alone. A raven stared at him from a nearby pine tree and gave a mournful croak. It seemed as good a summary of his situation as any.
He returned to the cottage. Doris was vigorously beating something in a bowl. “The Collegium’s chief demonologist will be here in an hour.”
Doris continued beating.
“She’ll want to talk with Clancy.”
“I’m here.” A quiet voice from the doorway. Clancy was barefoot, carrying her boots.
Mark had never seen her so centered, as if she was the still center of a storm. He switched to mage sight to try and see if it was the effect of the chamber, and winced. He’d pushed his magic beyond its meagre limits to break into the circle of summoning and distract Faust from attacking Clancy. In a sense, you could say his distraction had worked. Faust had ignored Clancy to concentrate on him. Reminded of the consequences, Mark swallowed and felt the rough soreness of his throat from Faust’s stranglehold. The tea with honey that Doris had given him had helped but not healed.
“Jeremy was here.” Clancy looked at her grandma.
“I think I’ll grab a shower before Gilda Ursu arrives.” Mark reached for the handle of the back door which was behind him.
“I’m making pancakes,” Doris said. “There are strawberries in your fridge.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll bring them.” He accepted the implied invitation to lunch and got out of the cottage.
Clancy sat down at the kitchen table. By unspoken mutual agreement, she and Doris waited till Mark was gone. “He looks awful,” she said.
“Messing with a demon will do that.” The sharpness in Doris’s voice failed to hide her concern. She lifted the wooden spoon and watched the pancake batter run off it before putting the bowl aside. “You look better.”
“I am.” Better than she’d been in a long time. The energy of the chamber had a healing effect on her. Unfortunately, she didn’t think it would work that way for Mark. He’d have to recover naturally, and slowly, on his own. For the moment, she put aside thoughts of Mark and the imminent arrival of the Collegium’s chief demonologist, a woman with a fearsome reputation. “Jeremy.” She and Doris had to discuss her brother. “How angry is he? I sensed him here, but he left?”
Doris put two frypans on the stove and switched on the gas. Blue flames licked up, then settled.
“Grandma?” Clancy pushed. “You don’t have to protect me from Jeremy. I promised him I wouldn’t use my magic here, and then, today, I pulled on the geo-power in a big way. He has reason to be mad with me. If you sent him away because you thought I’d been through enough with the demon…I should call him.” Jeremy, she meant. Not the demon.
Butter sizzled as Doris melted it in the two frypans. “I didn’t send Jeremy away. I told him you were in the chamber. He could have joined you. He could have taken over from you the role of calming the forces you’d stirred up.”
Resistance stiffened Clancy’s spine, an instinctive rejection of having to cede control of the power in the chamber to her brother. And yet, isn’t that what I promised him?
Doris ladled pancake batter into the two frypans. She’d made so many pancakes over the years, fluffy and perfect, that she didn’t have to concentrate. “Of course, if you weren’t willing to hand over those forces, he’d have had to take them from you.”
And there they were, at the heart of an issue she was only just unpeeling. She’d hidden from it her whole life. On one side were Jeremy, their parents, the Collegium and her own uneven, emotional control of geo-forces. On the other was Doris and her stubborn belief that Clancy’s affinity for the chamber indicated powerful geomagic. Everyone knew that Jeremy was the stronger geomage—except Doris.
“I came home determined not to use my magic,” Clancy said slowly.
“And that’s your choice.” Doris flipped the pancakes. Two minutes later they were on a plate and two new pancakes were cooking.
“Jeremy needed the geomagic more than me.”
The cuckoo clock struck the hour. One o’clock.
“Yes, he did.” Doris added two more pancakes to the stack and returned the plate to keep warm in the oven. Butter sizzled in the pans, again. “It healed him.”
“He healed himself using it,” Clancy corrected.
“Kennett guided him through the process. I remember. I’d prayed so hard that the power would wake in him at puberty.” Doris’s expression
was sad.
Jeremy’s leukemia had haunted their lives.
“My power didn’t grow during my teen years. If anything, it got more erratic.”
Doris sighed. “One day, you’ll join the dots.”
“I don’t understand.” Clancy got up and set the table for her and Doris, and Mark.
Doris concentrated on her pancakes. “Jeremy had a difficult childhood. An unusual one with unusual demands and constraints. He had to be tough to survive.”
Clancy nodded and waited. Her grandma was picking her words too carefully. Worry and love vibrated in the cottage’s cozy kitchen.
Two more pancakes went onto the stack and back into the oven. “Your parents performed miracles keeping Jeremy alive till his magic woke and he could heal himself. I don’t fault them for one minute in all that they did. But in amongst his fight to survive, they taught him that he had a right to anything he needed.”
Clancy frowned as she poured herself a coffee from the old pot. “Are you saying he was spoilt as a kid?” She recalled her loved older brother as a child, pale and listless, needing more than her. “I never noticed.”
“No, you never did.” Doris’s voice was heavy. “You never noticed. Your parents were set in their pattern. Whatever Jeremy needed, he got. Then, he healed. And the pattern changed. Jeremy no longer needed things, but he had a life and experiences to catch up on.” Clancy nodded, remembering. Doris beat the remaining batter, which didn’t need beating. She beat it hard. “So the pattern shifted to deliver not what he needed, but what he wanted.”
“I brought the strawberries.” Mark knocked and opened the back door in one movement. “Uh. Should I come back later?”
Clancy wondered what expression her face held. Shock? Anger? Confusion?
“No. Come in,” Doris said.
He entered cautiously, heading for the sink where he washed and hulled the strawberries.
Clancy realized she was staring at his butt, the phone in the pocket of his old jeans stretching the fabric. She was staring but not really appreciating the view. Embarrassing though if he turned around and caught her. She watched Doris, instead, as she set the warm plate of pancakes on the table and surrounded it with maple syrup, cream, the fresh strawberries, slices of lemon, and sugar. Sugar for shock. Comfort food. Doris topped up her mug of coffee.
Hollywood Demon (The Collegium Book 6) Page 9