Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (Dowser Series)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “Why do it then? Why do any of it?”

  “To see what she can do.” Kett’s cool but matter-of-fact statement actually made me shiver.

  “What she can destroy.”

  “Or who.” Kett turned and looked at me then. I couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses.

  “She loves … loved me,” I whispered. The words sounded weak and hollow coming from my mouth.

  “Perhaps,” Kett said. He returned his attention to driving.

  I felt like crying, but I forced the feeling into the dark place in my heart where I stored all things Sienna now. I couldn’t even remember the sound of her laugh, or the secrets we’d whispered to each other, or the life we’d shared. It was all mixed into the remembrance of the gritty, sour taste of her corrupted magic, and the black veins that etched her face.

  I took comfort in the taste of the magic of the trio that surrounded me, closed the book and my eyes, and tried to sleep.

  ∞

  I’d never been to London, England. Actually, I’d never been out of North America. As we hit the traffic of the city, the crazily narrow streets, and the confusing street signs, I instantly wished I was home, cupcake in hand and trinket in the making.

  London was insanely large. True, the biggest city I’d ever been to was Los Angeles, and that sprawled for miles. But London was huge and full — full of people, buildings, overpasses and round-abouts, and shops. Lots of shops.

  This … this was utter chaos. In a human way though, not in a blood and magical mayhem way. That was entirely different, and actually — sickeningly — not as overwhelming as it once had been.

  Drake, of course, was unimpressed. It was his second visit after all.

  I’d pulled out the iPad and hot-spotted it to my phone at Kett’s request. Google Maps guided us effortlessly — avoiding one-way streets but not the bumper-to-bumper — into the heart of London.

  At least that’s what it looked like on the map. I actually had no idea where we were.

  “Was that … was that London Bridge?” I asked.

  “We’re looking for Waterloo,” Kett answered.

  “What? No. I mean, I didn’t know it was an actual thing … you … know …” I shut my mouth and pointed the way to Waterloo Bridge.

  We crossed the bridge and miraculously didn’t get caught endlessly in the traffic circle on the other side. I was seriously glad that Kett was driving.

  Without further direction from me, the vampire made a left and then two right turns. He slowed the SUV as we came up to a grand building, stone-tiled in cream. It ran the length — and, I assumed, width — of the city block, and was constructed with columns and everything.

  “Um, the sorcerer we’re looking for lives in a palace?” I asked.

  “It’s a university. A college actually,” Kett answered. “Blackwell was unsure of where his colleague resides, but you should be able to find him before class.”

  “The great and powerful sorcerer we have to protect from Sienna is a student?”

  “A professor in biomedical sciences.”

  Okay, I was aware that I was only sounding more and more stupid every time I opened my mouth, but I was baffled by the idea of a sorcerer also being a professor. Call me prejudiced, I guess. I stared at Kett.

  He raised a pale eyebrow at me. “Forensic analytical sciences,” he elaborated. “He and I have met previously. It’s best if you go on alone.”

  Kandy chortled in the back seat. All vampires had a long list of enemies. I wasn’t sure they bothered to keep any other lists, actually.

  “I’m sorry. You want me to waltz into a massive college, find some sorcerer, and convince him that a black witch might show up and try to drain him? Why the hell should he believe me?”

  Kett smiled. “Use Blackwell’s name. And Jade, the sorcerer will get one look at you and buy anything you’re selling.”

  Kandy snorted and climbed out of the SUV. The noise of the city filled and rebounded around the cab. I’d never known I’d be so sensitive to such things.

  “I’ll need to announce our presence in the city to the Conclave elder who resides here in London,” Kett said. “The fledgling guardian may come with me.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked. “I might be dim but I’m not that stupid. Drake doesn’t need to be in on any elder vampire meetings —”

  “As you wish.” Kett turned away from me to stare out the front windshield, and I briefly thought I might have hurt his feelings … like he had feelings.

  “College professor sounds boring,” Drake said. “Vampire elder sounds much more interesting.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Get out.”

  Drake laughed and climbed out of the SUV.

  “I guess we’ll have to leave our swords here,” I murmured. I hesitated as Drake stepped away, and wondered if I should attempt to repair the obvious breach between Kett and me.

  “You’ll have your knife … as well as your werewolf and your dragon.”

  Yeah, Kett was pissed, but what the hell? I was already in so much trouble — or so I imagined — because Drake was tagging along with me in the first place. I didn’t need to ask for more. I maybe had minutes left on my twenty-four hour pass. Even though time moved differently in the nexus, Branson was sure to notice when Drake and I didn’t show up for training. I just hoped the sword master went to my father, Yazi, with news of our escapade, because I really didn’t want to face Suanmi.

  “What does he …” — I consulted Blackwell’s list — “… what does Edmonds look like?”

  “You’ll taste his magic before you see him.”

  “Fine.” I climbed out of the SUV. Kett pulled away before I’d managed to slam the door shut — yeah, like the brat I was. If I’d been human, that maneuver might have broken my wrist. Pissy vampire. I wasn’t accustomed to him being quite so volatile.

  Kandy turned around from surveying the building and campus. “King’s College has one of the largest zebrafish facilities in the world,” she said. “This is the Waterloo Campus, but they have a bunch of campuses in London.”

  I stared at her.

  “You’re not the only one with a web browser on her phone,” Kandy said with a grin.

  “Let’s go there first,” Drake said. “I’ve never seen a zebrafish.”

  This was just a grand vacation for everyone but me … and the pissy vampire. Kett didn’t seem to like London at all, because there was no way I was capable of rousing his iciness that much on my own. If I had any sense at all, that should have scared the hell out of me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Professor Edmonds?” I rapped my knuckles lightly on the partially open door that helpfully bore a plaque reading ‘T.R. Edmonds.’ Of course, as Kett had snottily suggested, I’d tasted the sorcerer’s magic all the way from the stairwell to the third floor.

  A man about forty-five years old looked up from his computer and squinted at me through round tortoiseshell glasses. His wool jacket actually had suede elbow patches.

  “Yes? What can I …” Edmonds removed his reading glasses to get a better look at me, but it wasn’t my blond curls or ample assets that snagged this extra attention. Nope, the sorcerer had eyes only for my magic.

  Dropping all the professor pretense, Edmonds stared at me — open mouth and everything — and then smiled as if I was a perfectly wrapped birthday present. And maybe I was. Just not for him.

  Impatient as always, Drake stepped around me and into the small office, which was barely large enough to contain a sofa in one corner, and a desk with two guest chairs in the other.

  Edmonds lost the smile. He rose almost reverently and stared at Drake. His hands were palms down, flat on his desk. His shoulders slumped slightly forward. Yeah, Drake was the eighth wonder of the world.

  Sure the fledgling’s magic — all honeyed, salted almonds and steamed milk — was impressive. But once you’d laid eyes on a full guardian like my father Yazi, or the treasur
e keeper Pulou, it was easier to take Drake’s magic in stride.

  Kandy gave me a shove with her shoulder to nudge me out of the way of the door, which she then closed behind her.

  Edmonds tore his eyes away from Drake, who was rather rudely ignoring the professor to examine the bookcase, then looked back at the werewolf and me. He reached for something on his desk that looked like a carved dowel of dark wood, but before he could close his fingers over it, Drake was holding it.

  “Oh!” Drake said. “A wand!”

  Edmonds stumbled away from his desk. He hit the back of his head against one of the diplomas hanging behind him, hard enough to crack the glass and dislodge it from its hanger.

  Drake — once again moving too quickly to track — caught the picture before it hit the floor.

  Edmonds now began gasping like he might be having a stroke.

  “Drake,” I cried. “Stop doing that!”

  “What? Being nice?”

  “Snatching things out of the air.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Drake looked at Edmonds, who now seemed calm enough to at least take air into his lungs. “Sorry, sorcerer.”

  Drake placed the diploma and the wooden dowel back on the desk. Then with over-exaggerated slowness, he walked around and back to my side.

  Kandy snickered. I sighed.

  “I apologize, professor,” I said. “We didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No. No. I — I —” Edmonds loosened his bow tie.

  I guessed the professor getup and gig were cover. Too bad Edmonds didn’t seem to have the Indiana Jones alter ego to pull it off.

  “My name is Jade Godfrey. These are my friends, Kandy and Drake.”

  Edmonds nodded but once again fell into staring at Drake. I wondered if I ever looked that … well, that moronic when I saw or tasted new magic.

  “Blackwell gave us —”

  Edmonds darted for the dowel. Runes carved along it flared at his touch. Drake shifted, probably to snatch the wand again, but I simply held my hand forward, palm facing the sorcerer.

  “We’re only here to ask you some questions about a witch, my sister Sienna, who we believe is in London.”

  Edmonds narrowed his light brown eyes at me. More magic bloomed in the wand. It was a fairly cool way to harness his sorcerer powers, but kind of silly looking.

  “Probably not a good idea to grab the wand again,” I said, clearly and deliberately addressing Drake. “It might sting you.”

  Drake tilted his head to look at the wand for a second. “I doubt it.”

  The fledgling guardian’s nonchalance didn’t help Edmonds calm down.

  “We aren’t here from Blackwell —”

  “And you aren’t a witch,” Edmonds said. He wasn’t completely sure where to point the wand. Three of us against one runed stick. Even if he could cast three spells at once — which I seriously doubted — he wouldn’t even make it to the door of his narrow office without one of us laying hands on him. Unless he managed to kill us. Dragons were as immortal as a being could get — even more so than vampires in my mind. If it wasn’t for Drake’s parents being dead, and the obvious limp that kept Branson as a trainer rather than a guardian, I would have thought them to be utterly indestructible. I, however, was a half-witch, and therefore not immortal at all.

  “Whether I’m a witch —”

  “You said you were looking for a witch, your sister. Therefore you’d have to be a witch, but your magic isn’t like any witch I’ve ever known.”

  “I have a rare dowsing ability.”

  “You’re one of Blackwell’s collectors.” Edmonds spat the other sorcerer’s name like he didn’t even want the memory of saying it in his mouth.

  “I’m not,” I replied as calmly as possible, though being thought of as Blackwell’s chattel rankled me. “I’m simply Jade Godfrey, granddaughter of Pearl, chair of the Convocation. I bake cupcakes for a living.”

  This admission only deepened Edmonds’ frown. “I’m not the Adept liaison in London.”

  “We have questions and perhaps a caution, nothing more. Our presence in the city will be brief, hopefully, and another of our group is making sure we’re welcome.” At least, I really hoped that was what Kett was doing.

  Edmonds lowered the wand and sat. He kept it in hand, though. He straightened his bow tie and smoothed his hair, which was starting to recede. “Blackwell,” he said, “is not a name to evoke lightly.”

  “You give the sorcerer far too much power with your deference,” Drake said. His gruff tone was so unlike a thirteen-year-old that I had to stifle a laugh. Kandy snorted.

  The sorcerer shook his head at our indifference. “He’s an outlier, as his family has always been. But more so for the last decade.”

  “And yet,” I said, “when asked to provide a list of sorcerers powerful enough to draw the attention of a blood magic-crazed witch, he gave yours at the top of a list of three.”

  Edmonds nodded but didn’t seem to soften on Blackwell. Which was fine with me, as I certainly wasn’t a fan either. “This witch is your sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “My condolences. Witches have a more difficult time holding the blood lust at bay. Sorcerers are naturally distanced from its consuming effects.” Edmonds thoughtfully rolled the wand beneath his fingers on the desk.

  “That makes sense,” I said.

  Edmonds inclined his head. He was still having a difficult time keeping his eyes from Drake, who’d pulled some books off the shelf and seemed to be glaring at the words rather than reading them.

  I sat in one of the two guest chairs. Kandy leaned against the door, always the protector.

  I could tell that Edmonds desperately wanted to ask about Drake but wasn’t going to. All of the Adept were secretive, which was probably a safe default position when outnumbered by human kind, like a million to one. But also, most Adept seemed to think that asking for information and receiving it put them under an obligation. Thankfully, I’d decided that was an antiquated belief — when it suited me.

  I pulled the leather-bound book of demon history out of my satchel.

  Edmonds’ eyes lit up as I placed the book before him on the desk. “Not the original, I’m afraid,” I said.

  “Ah, that is a shame.”

  I opened the book to the entry that chronicled the demon rising in London in 1888. “Professor, have you been visited by a witch — she might call herself Valencia — in the last three months?”

  Edmonds stilled. The hand not toying with the wand was already halfway across the desk. He wanted to touch the book. He probably also wanted to know what this visit was all about, but he didn’t want to give up any information if he could get around it. As I was quickly figuring out, and as Gran had always cautioned me, this was typical sorcerer behavior.

  “This witch is interested in demon history?” he asked.

  I smiled. Edmonds wanted more information before giving any himself, but I wasn’t in the mood for Adept games. The only times I really liked to play were on the dance floor, in my bakery, and in bed. Unfortunately for me, none of those locations were likely to be anywhere in my immediate future.

  I leaned forward. My necklace dangled slightly away from my chest in this position, and it immediately caught Edmonds’ attention. “I’m not here to trade information or bargain for power,” I said, keeping my tone even and polite. “I would prefer to be in my bakery making cupcakes in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Instead, I’m in England hunting my sister, who is killing Adept to drain and harness their powers. She has kidnapped, and most likely killed, a young girl. A necromancer who was under my protection. It is my understanding that she has this original book and this knife …” — I tapped the sketch of the weapon in the book — “… in her possession. Now you know everything I know. Have you seen or spoken to my sister?”

  “No,” Edmonds answered in a rush of air. “I apologize. I just … you …” He glanced at Drake, who was now sit
ting cross-legged in the middle of the floor and rapidly flipping the pages of a book on his lap. “You startled me and …”

  “Let’s move past that.”

  Edmonds nodded. I pushed the book toward him. He touched its edges carefully, then rotated it so the text was right side up for him.

  “You think because she has the knife and the book that she is interested in this demon summoning?” The sorcerer reached for his glasses and started to read the pages I’d indicated.

  “It’s the only clue right now,” I answered. “I could be wrong. I often am.”

  “As we all are.”

  “Why can’t I read this?” Drake asked, slapping the book he’d been glaring at closed with a boom.

  “It’s in German,” Edmonds answered, unruffled by the outburst.

  “I should be able to read German,” Drake declared.

  “Obviously not,” Kandy said with a smirk.

  Drake narrowed his eyes at the green-haired werewolf. Then, apparently up for the challenge, he reopened the book.

  Edmonds flipped a page of the demon history to confirm he’d finished the entry, then flipped back to read it a second time. “I’ve heard of this story,” he said. “Supposedly the unfortunate murdered woman was one of Jack the Ripper’s victims.”

  “Supposedly?”

  “Most sorcerers aren’t so careless with a victim’s remains. My understanding is that the Ripper murder of November 9th was particularly brutal. The crime … unnecessarily violent.”

  “To raise three demons?”

  “To supposedly raise three …” — he referenced the book — “… of the lesser fallen. The author of this history uses Christian classification.”

  “Because he believed that demons were born from fallen angels.”

  “Or are the fallen angels themselves.”

  “That belief doesn’t negate the possibility that three demons rose from a sacrifice performed with that knife. A knife now in the possession of my sister.”

  “Witches do not usually —”