Demon Master (Demonsense series Book 2)

by Sara DeHaven

  He made it onto Aurora, where he could give some vent to his frustration and drive faster. He would call her tomorrow, as he’d promised. And he’d make sure she agreed to another get together with him. He’d play on her guilt over the read if he had to. And by the end of that conversation, he’d have the goddamned hiding spell and could be done with her. He didn’t care anymore if he got to sleep with her.

  A part of him protested the thought, and he pressed his foot on the accelerator in answer, briefly checking his mirrors for signs of cops. If he fucked Bree, she’d probably find a way to attune with him again. Women always wanted some kind of emotional bonding during sex, and he couldn’t risk that with Bree.

  She’d nearly seen too much during the read as it was. He was sure she’d seen images of Marton, but thankfully, she hadn’t asked about those. Now that he was out of the situation, he could think of basically honest stories that wouldn’t give away much with regards to his relationship with Marton, but being fresh from that mind fuck of a read, he wasn’t sure he could have come up with something good.

  He was able to get up to seventy once he got past the section of lights on Aurora, though he had to weave in and out of cars to do it. His eyes stayed glued to the road, his hands firm on the wheel. He was still in charge of the situation with Bree. He could have her whenever and however he wanted, and she’d sing for him, tell him everything he needed to find out, about Daniel Thorvaldson, and about what had happened with Scanlon’s son. And any other fucking thing he happened to want to know.

  Bree woke up in the morning to find the world had gone mad. Having slept most of the day away yesterday, she’d had trouble making herself sleep again at night, but had set the alarm for eight a.m., wanting to get her schedule back in order. She took a shower long enough to exhaust the hot water, trying to wash away lingering fatigue. She flipped on the radio in the kitchen while she made breakfast, and news she heard made her rush to the TV and turn it on. And there it was. Downtown Seattle billowing with smoke from a bomb that had gone off in one of the bank buildings. She put her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She knew things were bad, but somehow, she hadn’t been expecting this. There was talk of a terrorist attack, though no one had stepped forward yet to claim responsibility. And then, to her horror, the news turned to footage of two similar attacks that had taken place earlier in the day, one in Miami, one in Houston. In each case, it had been around eight o’clock in the morning, when some, but not all workers were in the buildings to start their day. Over a thousand people were believed dead total. Images of people wandering in shock, bleeding, crying, desperate family members of missing people interviewed, the ragged maws of exploded buildings, dusty, jumbled rubble trapping survivors, all assaulted her senses, her emotions. She felt suddenly, horribly alone in her little house as she absorbed the news. She remembered 9-11, and it had been a lot like this. It was hard to take in, hard to believe such mayhem was happening in her country, in her city. She got up and reached for her phone and called Sophie.

  “Have you seen the news yet?” she demanded as soon as Sophie answered the phone.

  “We just turned it on ourselves. It’s just so awful, I don’t have words. Do you think it’s related to this whole Keltoi-demon war thing?”

  “It must be. God, in a way, I hope it is,” Bree replied. “That way, we have some idea what’s going on and maybe we can do something about it.”

  “Like what?” Sophie asked doubtfully.

  “I don’t know, like keep fighting the Keltoi where we can. Like figure out this demon thing so maybe we can either get rid of them or get a few on our side,” Bree replied angrily.

  “I don’t think demons set the bombs,” Sophie told her, obviously trying to balance Bree’s heat with a little calming logic.

  “Maybe not. Or maybe it was someone possessed. Or maybe just some fucking Keltoi who were paid well.”

  “Or maybe it has nothing to do with any of that. There's unfortunately no shortage of violent, crazy people in the world,” Sophie said reasonably.

  Bree ground her teeth. She didn’t want reason. She wanted to be angry, wanted to feel like she could do something. She realized Sophie wasn’t the right person to call in that kind of mood. Her first instinct was always to calm troubled waters, to pause and consider. And usually, that was what Bree appreciated in her, what she counted on. Not today. “Well, I mean to find out, in any way I can. And I think I’ll start with Dion.”

  “It may be too soon for the council to know anything, or the Ecclesias,” Sophie cautioned.

  “I know you’re right, but it won’t hurt to put in the call.”

  Sophie clearly read the writing on the wall and didn’t try to dissuade her further. She signed off with a demand that Bree call to check in later. Bree immediately called Dion, but got his voice mail. Then, reluctantly, she tried Javier Ortiz. He was probably swamped with responsibilities and had no reason to tell her anything, but he was someone who might actually know something. He didn’t answer his phone either. He probably saw it was her and chose not to answer. She slammed the phone down with frustration, watching the terrible scenes on TV being replayed. She paced around a bit, trying to work off her upset, but then it occurred to her to call Daniel. She knew he’d be pissed too. He answered after only two rings. “Are you watching the news?” she asked.

  “Yeah, for about the last hour. Fucking Keltoi.”

  Bree felt a thrill of satisfaction hearing him echo her own sentiments. “So you think it’s them?”

  “I know it’s them. The cities targeted all have unusually large and organized clans of Keltoi. New York and L.A. are missing on that list, but I have no doubt something will be staged in each of those cities as well. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe there will be some terrorist group that will lay claim to all of it. But if they don’t, I would bet you anything it’s all part of the Keltoi’s political agenda.”

  “Can I come over and watch the news with you?” Bree asked impulsively. “Maybe we can figure out something to do, some role for ourselves in all this. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

  There was a long pause while Daniel thought it over, and Bree felt a moment’s intense embarrassment. Maybe he’d think she was going against the whole “working relationship only” thing. “You know, as friends, as colleagues,” she added awkwardly. “I only have three clients today, and they’re not until late afternoon.”

  “Sure, come on by. I could run down the street to the donut shop if you haven’t eaten. I think the situation calls for excessive sugar and caffeine.”

  Now there was a man after her own heart. “Perfect,” she told him. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  She managed to make it out the door in record time, driven by a sense of intense restlessness. The anger and shock were fading a little, but she felt full of purpose, an arrow nocked and half pulled, awaiting a target. She pulled up at Daniel’s just as he was returning from the store, paper bag in hand. He must have showered but not shaved, because his hair was damp and his cheeks were dark with stubble. Her breath caught in spite of herself as he looked back over his shoulder at her. She trotted up, taking the bag so he could use both hands on his door lock. “Hey,” she said in simple greeting.

  “Hey yourself. Come on in. I put some coffee on to brew before I left, it should be ready.” She followed him into his living room, pulled off her coat as she went and dropped it over the coat tree. He’d left his TV on, and she settled herself on his old leather couch and put her booted feet up on the coffee table, thought better of such rude behavior, and put them back down again. The sound was down low, but the pictures she’d seen out of Miami earlier were replaying.

  In a moment, Daniel returned with the donuts arrayed on a plate in one hand, and a wood cutting board put into service as a makeshift tray, holding two cups of steaming coffee along with some milk and sugar. He set them down with extreme care on the coffee table in front of the couch. He was prone to abrupt movements, and wasn’t the
most graceful sort. Bree imagined he’d make a lousy waiter. She was deeply grateful for the coffee. She poured milk into hers and inhaled deeply, then chose a chocolate glazed donut, while Daniel snagged a cinnamon-sugar cake variety.

  “You know, I will never be able to get how someone could do something like this to innocent people who are just showing up for work,” Bree commented around a mouthful of half chewed donut.

  “I know what you mean,” Daniel replied, eyes glued to the images on the TV screen. “I mean, on one level, I get it. There are people who are so lacking in a conscience that they don’t care who they hurt in pursuit of their goals, and there are those who think the means justify the ends. But what I don’t understand is being the one to actually plant the bomb and watch it blow people to bits. I can’t imagine being able to live with myself.”

  Bree felt in total sympathy with Daniel on that. “Yeah, it just boggles the mind. I mean, how can you watch people’s faces, the people coming out the building, the people looking for their families and not feel some kind of guilt?”

  “Maybe they do feel guilt, on some level, if they’re not monsters, or they’re not in an advanced state of possession.”

  “Well, not enough guilt by half, if you ask me,” Bree commented between slugs of coffee. She was enjoying the sensation of the caffeine and sugar getting her even more wound up. It was a way to stay angry, to not let herself feel too much about what she was seeing.

  “Agreed,” Daniel replied, then wiped his mouth on one of the the paper towels he’d provided in lieu of napkins. Bree found herself feeling strangely comfortable with him. Though they’d largely stuck to business in the last few months, either working on teaching her casting or on the demon research, they had sometimes hung out socially here at his place, watching a movie together, or just chatting after one of their work sessions. So there was a certain normalcy to the scene. She hoped it spoke of the possibility of them being able to be around each other in future without so much weirdness and angst.

  “Did you try contacting Dion? I bet the Seattle Powered Council called an emergency meeting.”

  “Yeah, I tried. He may be in the meeting, come to think of it. Although, I turned my ringer off. I hate listening to that stupid thing. Let me check my messages.” She got up off the couch and went to root around in her coat pocket for her phone. She had two messages, both from clients canceling their appointments, one directly saying she was too upset about what was happening and wanted to be with her family. That left her with one client for the day, and she half hoped he’d cancel as well. She wasn’t feeling in a good space to do calm, healing work although, she reflected, it would probably do her good to have to shift into that vibe. Well, she wouldn’t be the one to cancel, not after how much she’d been doing of that lately.

  She went and plopped down next to Daniel again. “No Dion,” she told him. She reached for a second donut, not so much hungry as greedy for distracting sensation. They watched the news together for awhile, just venting their outrage and speculating on what public reaction would be.

  “Paranoia,” Daniel predicted. “You remember what it was like after 9-11."

  “And total fear-mongering,” Bree added. “There’s no way this isn’t going to be a factor in the November elections.”

  “I almost feel like this is happening too soon, if that’s the true goal. If so, I’m concerned things are going to get worse again before the elections.”

  “Daniel, we've got to do something,” Bree told him, still looking more at the TV than him. She couldn’t seem to stop watching. “I know that sounds ridiculous on one level, but honestly, if I can’t feel like I’m doing something proactive to stop all this, I’m going to bust into about a million pieces.”

  “I’m with you on that,” he told her. “And I’m not without ideas.” There was something in his voice as he said it that caused Bree to fully look at him for the first time since she’d got there. She could see the anger in him without reading, and more unsettling, a grimness to his expression. She had a bad feeling he was about to say something that she wasn’t going to agree to.

  “One of the things I’ve considering is having you call Gelsenim. Do you remember how I sent him out on some intelligence gathering last year?”

  “Yeah, but he wasn’t that helpful,” Bree reminded him, watching him carefully. His face was striped with the shadows caused by the intermittent morning sun coming in through the wood blinds, making it hard to judge his expression.

  “Well, from what you’ve told me, he’s gotten more intelligent as he’s gotten more time with you. And besides, the Keltoi use high level demons effectively that way all the time. If there’s one we can access without being harmed, why don’t we go for it?”

  “'Without being harmed' are the operative words there, Daniel. I probably won’t be harmed, but what about you?”

  “I think how I got through seeing Kevin and working on him spoke pretty well of the fix I put in place. And God knows I felt plenty of emotion this morning when I saw the news. I’m still feeling more calm overall than I have in months. I think I’m ready to see what a little demon contact does. We need to know if I’m going to be able to be a functioning part of the demon research anyway. And besides, I know Gelsenim has been cooperative with you lately, but I’m not counting on him staying that way. We need to know that I can banish him in case of an emergency.”

  “I hear a lot of ‘ifs’ in all that,” Bree protested automatically, but she forced herself to slow down. The truth was, she was both afraid of seeing Daniel’s new system tested that hard in case it failed and she couldn’t fix it, while another part of her almost hoped it did fail so she could try her own version of a fix. Still, he was going to want to test out having some demon contact at some point. Maybe if we went slow, she was thinking when Daniel interrupted her thoughts. The sun had gone back under a cloud, and she could see his face again. He was giving her a look of exasperation.

  “We can go slow,” he told her impatiently. “We can call him and banish him, check my restraints, then call him again for longer if everything is cool.”

  “Well, excuse me for not wanting to see your little house of cards go tumbling down so soon,” Bree responded with far more irritation than the situation called for. She immediately regretted the loss of temper, but fortunately, her comment didn’t seem to upset Daniel all that much.

  “No, I get it. You want us both to be safe. Maybe it’s false pride talking, but I think I’ve got it figured out now. I think it will be safe. But like I said, we’ll go slow.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Bree admitted.

  Daniel smiled, and Bree realized she had forgotten what one of his smiles looked like. And there went her telltale heart, galloping along in response. She forced her eyes back to the TV screen. “So what were these other ideas of yours?”

  “I’d rather not go too far down that path until we really are certain who caused all this. If it is the Keltoi, then we’ll talk strategy and tactics. And besides, I’ll want to hear what the Ecclesias will advise, and what the local Keepers will want to do. That will give us a far better idea of what our role might be, what niche we might take on.”

  What he said sounded perfectly reasonable, but it didn’t quite satisfy her itch to do something immediately. “Okay, when do you want me to call Gelsenim? I don’t have a client until four.”

  “Tell you what, why don’t we stoke up on some more calories, then maybe we can both do a little meditation to prepare. Then we can try it out.”

  “Sounds good.” Bree reached obediently for a third donut. She really ought to be having some protein instead. She promised herself she’d have something more substantial for lunch. She checked her phone again after they had both eaten their fill and were ready to start doing some meditation. Daniel had gone on up to his work room to start his.

  She saw that Leander had called. She didn’t even think seriously about returning his call. She knew he’d said he wanted to help, b
ut Daniel was the person best suited for that job, so long as his internal restraints held. She was feeling cautiously optimistic on that score. She knew he tended to be over confident, but on the other hand, he did seem quite well after some serious emotional hits. It was a little strange to her, how his emotions were still there, clear to see, but he still seemed muted somehow.

  She did her meditation in the living room with the TV turned off. It took her some time to settle. The images from the bombings kept intruding. After a bit, she tried opening her eyes and looking at one of Daniel’s paintings. She chose the one hung up on the brick wall to the east. It was a spring scene in a forest on a misty morning, trees formed in a not quite natural way that seemed to have them caught in a slow and subtle dance. There was a bright delicacy to the spring green of the small leaves on the tips of the branches, contrasting with the deeper shades where the stream depicted faded off in the mist in a thicker part of the forest. It caught a feeling of awakening while making you wonder just a little if the awakening was a good thing. It captured her. She allowed herself a moment of infatuated awe at Daniel’s talent as a painter, something she had worked hard to repress before when she had been so set on not falling in love with him. Sadly, more evidence that his distance made it somehow safer for her to have these feelings.

  She sighed and made herself close her eyes again, and this time, surprisingly, she was better able to settle into her meditation. When she felt she was ready, she went on upstairs. Daniel was sitting on the floor on a pillow, in a patch of sunlight, and his eyes opened as she approached him. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “As I’ll ever be,” he replied, getting to his feet and setting his pillow under the long wood table, out of the way. They settled into familiar postures across from each other. Daniel raised the wards and cast the sound stop spell. “So, just call him, tell him this is a test, and ask him to leave. I’ll banish him if necessary.”