Demon's Play

by David McBride

  “Then you’re definitely not going to like the rest of what I have to tell you.” He smirked and drank the last of his coffee.

  “What?” The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my nerves felt like ants under my skin.

  “A Duke of the infernal realm has contacted the Council and offered to be the mediator for the peace deal.” My jaw dropped open, but he pressed on, not giving me a chance to voice my opinion. “The Duke will temporarily assume control of a willing human host for the course of negotiations. I have been selected as the Committee’s representative and I have chosen this city as the meeting place. I would like you to assist me in this matter, Frank.”

  My jaw opened and closed, but no sound came out for a long minute. When words finally came they were a bit less professional than Ben was used to. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  7

  He wasn’t kidding. I was going to assist in bringing peace between my people and the demons. Yippee. My hands gripped the wheel of my Honda with unhealthy intensity as I made my way to Jon’s Magic Shop a couple of blocks away from my home in the Second City. The streets were sparse with other cars as it was still midday and most residents of the Second City were still sleeping. Even the magic users and werewolves who could move around freely during the day chose to keep similar hours to the vampires.

  Before Ben had left my house to make his inquiries about our errant necromancer, he had told me that the first meeting with our Demon liaison would take place the following afternoon. I looked around at the few people that dotted the streets and couldn’t fault his logic. The meeting would be held on neutral ground and the less people around the better. If things went sour a battle with a Duke of the infernal realm could get a lot of paras hurt or killed. And I was sure that things would go badly, if not a straight-out fight then something more along the lines of what Demons are best known for: betrayal. They were the masters of deceit, and to think that we could barter with one to control the tribes was just foolhardy and arrogant.

  Pulling into Jon’s parking lot, I noticed that there were more cars here than I had seen on the entire road on my way over here. I parked in the last spot in the small lot and walked in, the garish purple and white of Jon’s sign smiling down on me. Invisible bells tinkled melodically as I pushed through the front door, the hardwood floor creaking lightly as I entered. Rows of dark wooden racks held books of all varieties, from histories and theoretical ponderings of magic to instruction manuals on how to properly dismember a zombie. Towards the back were glass cases filled with various trinkets and enchanted objects. Jon didn’t have the special licensing needed to sell anything above a level-two enchantment, but with his salesmanship skills most people ended up being more than happy with what he sold them.

  There was a crowd gathered around a round table set in the middle of the store. Jon stood in front of the entranced (figuratively of course) semicircle of customers and delivered his version of a sermon: the sales pitch. Off to my right, Juliet slouched behind the cash register rapping her fingers on the counter, each tap punctuating the boredom she was feeling. A pretty teenage girl with blonde hair strung up in a tail down to the middle of her back, the world was her oyster and she no doubt had more important things to do. Her eyes went wide upon spotting me. The tedium of customer service obviously made me more popular.

  “Mr. Goldman,” she said in a stage whisper and waved me over.

  Juliet was a witch like Terri. Unlike Terri, though, Juliet was a mere novice and would never be able to control the amount of sheer power that Terri could. But even though she had a limited future in spell casting she had a love for the purity of magic that even a non-magic wielder like me could appreciate.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Frank? What’s up Juliet?” I asked, and nodded towards Jon.

  “Oh, he’s giving a presentation of the new defensive wards he just got in from Tibet. Supposedly they’re geared towards dark magic, mostly necromancy.” She rolled her eyes. “The zombie attacks have got everyone peeing their pants and running for cover. But I guess that sort of stuff makes people overreact.”

  “You think they’re overreacting?” I raised my eyebrows at her. Juliet was a petite girl, thin as a rail wearing an oversized forest-green sweater and baggy jeans, but she was tougher than she looked.

  She fingered one of the miniature gold crosses that hung from her ears and said, “Well sure. You destroyed the two zombies in the city, right?”

  Images of gnashing teeth and sloughing flesh played across my mind. I repressed a shiver. “Right.”

  “So I don’t think you’ll have a problem finding the guy that raised them and stopping him. I know you’ll stop him.” Her pale cheeks flamed red and she turned away from me to fiddle with something next to the register.

  I smiled and quickly wiped it away, coughing lightly into my closed fist to cover it up. Juliet was on of those rare teenage girls that played down her attractiveness by wearing oversized clothes and wearing minimal makeup. What she achieved with that was something more charming and down to earth than most girls her age were interested in. Add the fact that she was as friendly as a cat at feeding time and intelligent enough to make the high honor roll three semesters straight and you had the perfect girl to bring home to meet the parents. It was both encouraging and frightening that a smart girl like Juliet had such confidence in my abilities. “Thanks Juliet.” She nodded without turning around.

  “So what does Jon think of all that’s going on?”

  She turned back around to face me, at ease now that she could get back to something she was comfortable with: gossip. “Oh, you know him. Mister anal-retentive decided that we should re-set the store as soon as he heard about what happened. All of the defensive magic books that are right over there?” She pointed past me to the first two rows of books. “They’re getting moved to the back to increase traffic flow since those are what people are going to be buying for the next week or two. I have to work a double shift to help out. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.” She cradled her head in her hands and slouched further down.

  Smiling, I said gravely, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and smiled back. “Yeah, you look all broken up about it.”

  “Hey, speaking of defensive magic, do you think you could help me find something?”

  She perked up, losing the sullen working-teenager look of a moment before. “Sure, hang on a sec.” She waved to someone in the back of the store. A tall boy came from the back, loping along like he was reluctant to make the journey all the way to the register. He matched Juliet’s clothing style, loose fitting and drooping, but on him it just looked like he stole his big brothers clothes off the floor. An unruly mop of hair hung limply over one of his eyes. “Mark, can you watch the register for a few minutes while I help Mr. Goldman find something?”

  “Sure Juliet.” He slid behind the register as Juliet walked past me towards the bookracks. His eyes followed her as she walked, and I felt a surge of protective instinct fill me, like an older brother might feel. I didn’t have any siblings so it was new to me. I followed her and made sure I was directly between his eyes and Juliet’s backside.

  “So what are you looking for?” she called back to me.

  “Something for protection against Demons, or maybe a way to trap them.”

  She tapped her chin with a manicured nail while she thought. “Well, our books on the tribes are kind of—”

  “Not the tribes,” I interrupted. “The real Demons.”

  Her finger stopped in mid tap. “Oh. I…uh…don’t know if we have anything out here that deals with…them. Let me look.” She ran a finger along the spines of the books, shaking her head as she did. She stopped, leaned in close to me, and in a secretive whisper said, “I thought all of you Inquisitors had your own books dealing with this stuff.”

  “We do, but it’s all the stuff that the Council thinks is aboveboard. Sometimes t
he uncensored stuff is the most effective, and I know Jon would carry both types.”

  She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “You rebel. Let me check the back. I’ll just be a minute.”

  She ran off past Jon, still enmeshed in his speech to the masses around him. He watched her go to the back, and then looked back at me and nodded, never letting his sales pitch falter. They all looked enraptured by him. It looked like he would have a big day at the register.

  A few months ago if I had wanted a book about Demons all I would have had to do was ask Jon to get the Book of Names out of the back lock-up. It was an ancient tome written in the infernal realm and brought here millennia ago. Bound in thick, pebbled hide and written on pages of a thin membrane that was tougher—and veinier—than paper, the Book gave the true names of Demons and spells to summon them or cast them out. It had come into our possession years ago and had been kept in Oakland because of the relatively few demon tribe members living here. The SEC had given me discretion as to where to store it, and it had come down to three choices: my house (which had very limited magical defenses), Howlerz, or Jon’s shop. It would have taken a heavy investment of time and money to keep the Book at my place, and the werewolves hated everything that stank of the Demonic, so Jon had won out. He had kept it for me in a heavily warded back room for almost two years without incident. But someone had stolen it from the room that I had thought was close to impenetrable and used it to summon a Demon. It was a fiasco of the worst kind, and took a lot of cleaning up. Needless to say the Book was not kept here any longer. Ben took it, and at my request did not tell me where he stored it. I didn’t want the responsibility of knowing where that thing was. Unfortunately that was probably the one thing that would help me out the most right now.

  Juliet came back two minutes later, a slim black tome under her arm. She handed it to me with a sly grin, like she was handing me her diary and trusting me to keep her secrets. The leather binding was old and cracked. The title A Guide to the Demonic was emblazoned in gold across the cover. I flipped through the pages and glanced at the spells and incantations within. Juliet circled so that she stood next to me, looking over my shoulder.

  “Looks good, thanks Juliet.”

  “No problem,” she said brightly. “It was just in the far corner of a dark room on the top shelf. I had to climb up the rickety ladder that’s back there, maintaining my balance while watching out for rats, but that’s all in a days work for me.”

  I chuckled. “I owe you one. If we ever start giving out medals I’ll make sure your name is at the top of the list for going above-and-beyond.” I closed the book and stuck it under my arm.

  “Hey, you got a new tattoo,” She said, pointing at the bands of dark green ink that poked out from under the cuffs of my jacket and circled my wrists. “It’s cute.” I frowned at her. “I mean it’s cute in a manly way.”

  “That’s better.”

  “Can I see it?”

  I pulled back the cuffs of my jacket to reveal the magically inked bands around my wrists. Pointing to the dark green ink I said, “These act like magic resistant handcuffs. I’ve got a couple basic defensive wards on my chest, too.”

  “What about the bands you used to have on your arms? They were so cool! It was like you had a bunch of snakes on your skin the way they always moved around.”

  “They wore out,” I said, grimacing. The enchanted ink was supposed to fade once it had served its purpose, but the coiling formation I had before had burned out after a single use. The enchanter I had used was apparently more interested in the aesthetic value of his work and less in the utility of it. The new ones were simple parallel bars of green with symbols interspersed between them. If they helped keep me alive I could live with simple. “These are supposed to be better, but I haven’t field tested them yet.” We started walking towards the register. Mark looked at Juliet, saw I was still beside her, and looked away. I might have growled at him then, I’m not sure. I had been hanging around the werewolves too much.

  “I’m gonna get those bands as soon as I turn eighteen. I can’t wait! I know an enchanter who can do it no problem.”

  “Sorry Juliet,” I said, holding up a hand to cut her off. “Those types are for Inquisitor use only. You won’t find a legal enchanter in the country who would give you that tattoo.” She sighed, crestfallen. “Besides,” I said smiling, “you don’t want something like that do you? You probably want a pixie, or a unicorn.”

  She glared at me. “Thanks Mark, I’ve got it,” she said, pointedly ignoring my comment, and waited for him to come out from behind the counter so she could take his spot.

  “No prob, Jules,” he said as he brushed past her a little too closely, I thought. They smiled at each other, then he slouched his way off towards the back.

  I waited till he was out of earshot then said, “Jules?”

  Her cheeks lit up like roses blooming in spring, and she started fiddling with her earring again. “It’s just a stupid nickname,” she mumbled in a way that said it was anything but. “What are you smiling at?” she demanded.

  “Nothing,” I said, and wiped the smile from my face. “What do I owe you for this?”

  “Two hundred and fifty. It’s a limited edition.”

  “For an eighty page book with more pictures than words?”

  “Hey,” she said, waving a finger at me. “Those pictures are the whole reason it’s so expensive. A book with diagrams to creating protective and entrapment circles isn’t easy to come by you know.”

  “Hopefully it’s worth it.” I handed over the money and leaned toward Juliet. “One more thing, Juliet. Can you keep this a secret? I mean you don’t have to lie to Jon or anything, but I’d rather no one else knew about this particular purchase.”

  She frowned at me. “Mr. Goldman, I never reveal anyone’s purchasing history.”

  “Thanks Juliet, and please just call me Frank.” I turned to leave.

  “Bye Frank,” she called after me.

  8

  Half an hour later I was home, storing the book in my basement with the other tomes I had acquired over the years. The two shelves I had were full to overflowing, so I just tossed it on top and tried to forget about why I needed it in the first place. The Council in its infinite wisdom had decided to try to deal with Demons. To me it was too ridiculous for words. Even the tribes were beyond things like morals and basic emotion. Demons from the realm were far worse; they understood human feelings and used it against us, playing on our hopes and fears with the experience of millennia behind them. And to add insult to injury the Council had decided to hold the meeting here in my city. It made me sick just thinking about it.

  I walked over to my gun cabinet, opened it up with a key, and withdrew a couple extra clips of ammo for my pistol. The silver coating of the bullet clashed against the matte-black color of the clip, flashing like a coin in dark water. I laid the gun and clips on the pool table in the center of the room and went back to the cabinet. Looking through the contents I decided that I could use a backup for the next couple days. My eyes passed over the rifles and shotguns that were held vertically and wandered to the top shelf. Smaller pistols were there on the left, while the ammo for them was in boxes on the right. I withdrew a .38 revolver, spun the cylinder open, and loaded it from one of the boxes that held soft-tip ammunition. At the tip of each bullet the copper jacketing had been stripped away to expose the lead core. After loading it I put it and its ankle holster on the table. I took no extra rounds for it because that was an emergency-use-only gun. If I was desperate enough to use that gun in a firefight it meant that I would not have time to reload it anyway.

  Looking at the equipment spread out on the table, I felt there was still something missing. Perhaps it was the feeling of smallness when compared to a Demon from the realm that made me seek weapons like an infant looking for his favorite blanket. Not many paras had met a Demon and survived, yet I had. At the time it hadn’t seemed that different than an encounter with one of the tri
bes, yet in the months since I had begun to think differently. When I had gazed into the black eyes of that being I had felt miniscule and powerless. That this creature could snuff me out with no more thought than I give to changing channels on the TV. But I was alive. I had beaten the one who summoned him and banished the Demon back to his own dimension. Back then it had been wearing a body that it had fashioned out of the ambient magic of the earth, but this time it would be wearing the skin of a human as a conduit. When they were in bodies of there own creation they had limits, rules to follow. When in possession of a willing human the rules were entirely different and heavily dependent on the agreement between the person and Demon. The Council would keep a close eye on the contract, but there were always loopholes.

  I found myself looking at the knives and clubs that lined the left door of the cabinet without remembering walking back over. I selected a double-bladed throwing knife and its sheath from the wall and closed the cabinet and locked it. After arranging everything on the table I went upstairs and locked the basement door behind me.

  It wasn’t long before my mind returned to the problem that should have been foremost on my mind: the necromancer. Ben said he had inquiries to make, but he hadn’t fulfilled his promise of telling me what was up yet, and I couldn’t just sit back and wait. This rogue magic user had killed a number of people and nearly caused a panic by trespassing into human territory. A death order was a foregone conclusion. Now I just needed to find this Christian guy Paulo had spoken of in order to carry it out. When the bracelet that Paulo had on turned to dust in my fingers, my biggest lead went with it. Without it Terri couldn’t trace the source of the magic. Ben might have been able to do something without it, but he seemed disinclined to do so until he talked to whoever he needed to. Frustration and nerves made my gut burn. What could I do?