Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series

by Holley Trent

  “I’m certain that’s the ring, too, because I damn sure have never been able to talk to Candy Corn.”

  “It’s not me.” He shrugged. “You understood her because she had something important to say.”

  “You could understand her, too, then.”

  He shook his head, and drew her out of the condo. He turned the lock and pulled the door shut. “No. She wasn’t talking to me. What she had to say wasn’t meant for me to overhear.”

  Gail was two steps down the breezeway before she turned and put up a hand. “Wait. You’re going to trust an unseasoned witch’s course of action?”

  “What choice do we have?” He pressed his left hand to the small of her back and nudged her on.

  “So you’re accepting it just out of lack of a better plan.”

  He pushed his baseball cap down and sighed his exasperation. “No. I’m accepting it because you stated it as fact. You believed it as truth when you spoke it, but you’re doubting yourself now. If a witch can’t trust her own gifts, of course they’d remain hidden. If you don’t use them, don’t value them, they recede.”

  “Great. How can I use them when I don’t even know what they are?” She snatched open the Jeep’s front passenger door and climbed up to the seat. Before she could slam it, he worked his body into the gap and grabbed her wrist.

  “Your parents should have taught you. Your grandparents. They would know what traits run in your family and be prepared to help you harness them.”

  One by one, she lifted his fingers from her wrist, and then flicked his hand away. “So you say. Judge me if you want, but in my family and all the families I know that are like mine, we don’t explore the natural gifts. We study our spell books, light candles, and talk to cats who never talk back. What you have is what I grew up believing was wild magic.”

  Sweetie sighed from the backseat.

  Gail didn’t bother turning around. She didn’t want to hear her friend’s judgment on the matter. What could be wilder than werewolves?

  “What you have, Claude, and what you want me to use, is something I was raised to believe was improper and off-limits to a girl like me.”

  “Yet your grandmother discredits your common sense. She’d try to strip away the defenses witches have developed over time not just to defend ourselves, but to thrive, and then give you a fucking cat to compensate.” He mumbled something in low, rapid-fire maybe-French and slammed the door on her rebuttal.

  Marion cleared her throat from the backseat as Claude walked around the front of the vehicle, still muttering to himself.

  Gail pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and rubbed. “Go on and say it. Quick.”

  “I’ve never actually seen Claude truly angry, and I get the sinking feeling I’ll get to witness what that looks like in the near future.”

  “I don’t like your sinking feelings, girl,” Sweetie said. “They always forecast me getting bruises on my shins and some of my fur yanked out.”

  Claude pulled his door open and climbed into the seat, stabbing his key into the ignition without another word. He threw the Jeep into gear and peeled out of the complex.

  They rode along for several miles with the only sounds coming from the stress he put on the engine, the transmission as he shifted gears, and the occasional inhale and exhale from the backseat.

  Gail turned to the left and looked at Marion and Sweetie. They sat rigidly, hands gripping the oh, shit bars, and lips pressed into tight lines. Gail didn’t know if it was Claude’s frantic driving that had shocked them into silence, or Marion’s previously mentioned fear of Claude’s anger.

  For some reason, Gail wasn’t afraid of it. What was the worst he could do to her? He didn’t want her soul, so he probably couldn’t think of a damn thing that hadn’t already been done to her. She’d survived Shaun, and so she had the path of keep on keepin’ on memorized.

  She faced forward and pointed at the upcoming light. “Turn left. We’ll drive up to the back lot. The windows should be boarded, so if anyone’s in there with Ellery, they won’t see us approach.”

  “Who’s taking point?” Sweetie asked. “I don’t have to get too close to hear or smell them, so I can go in first and assess the situation.”

  “We’ll all go at once,” Claude said in a flat voice. His eyes had taken on that unnatural red color Gail had surmised indicated he was actively using his magic. She couldn’t feel it and couldn’t guess what he might be doing, but whatever it was had him gripping the steering wheel like a vise long after he’d stopped the Jeep.

  She looked back at the ladies once again, and both shrugged. Sweetie released her seatbelt from the buckle, and Marion followed in suit.

  Slowly, Gail turned to the front and reached a tentative arm across the center console. She nudged Claude’s right arm and drew her hand back quickly.

  He didn’t respond immediately.

  In fact, he took so long, she’d given up on waiting and had her right fingers tucked beneath the door handle and was ready to pull.

  His ragged exhalation made her pause.

  He swiveled his head slowly toward her and locked a wary purple stare on her. The red was bleeding away and the blue taking its rightful place. Even when they were blue, though, he didn’t look quite normal. Now that she’d seen his father in the flesh, she knew why. Gulielmus had eyes that looked like the portals to heaven, although she knew he’d abandoned his ties to the place eons ago.

  “Papa’s gone off the grid,” Claude said.

  “What?”

  Marion leaned up between the seats, brow furrowed. “Don’t you two usually mentally shield from each other?”

  “Yes, but even with the shield there, we both have awareness that there’s someone on the other side of it. He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone? Someone bring me up to speed.” Gail had a lot to learn, and hated that she was so far behind the curve on something that could potentially be life or death.

  “It wasn’t abrupt.” Claude stabbed his seatbelt release, lifted his backward baseball cap, and pushed his curtain of curls back. Setting the hat down atop them, he said, “I don’t think he’s been smote or anything of that sort, but something disrupted his psychic outreach.”

  “He could be losing more power,” Sweetie said. “He was sort of green around the gills last night, and we can’t even begin to guess how fast he’s getting drained.”

  “If he loses the ability to teleport, he and Jason will be conducting this search from the ground just like us. That’ll slow him down significantly.” Claude didn’t say anything for a long moment. His jaw ground side to side for a few beats, and then he pulled his keys from the ignition. “I’ve had more than two hundred years to learn Papa’s tricks, and while I’m sure he’d kill me if he could just for being a pain in his ass, we’ve grown comfortable in our song-and-dance routine. He threatens. I threaten back. We each know we could kill the other if we tried, but it would be too much work so neither of us goes out of our way to make it happen. Ross, though—”

  “Ross would make it happen,” Marion finished. “I’ve only met him once, and that was enough. I didn’t know who or what he was during that brief meeting, but I couldn’t help but feel like he had a void where his soul should be.”

  That made Claude turn in his seat. “Are you sure?”

  Marion shrugged. “No. It was gut feeling. It’s what the little voice in my mind said to me, although I didn’t have any history to pin that to. I didn’t know I should be listening to that voice back then. I dismissed it and didn’t think about it again.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, then his actions are clear now.”

  “How so?”

  “Every now and then I hear of a part-demon who forsakes his humanity for power. They want invincibility and the gifts of their sires, and the guys in Hell occasionally grant them their wish if it suits their purposes. There are a finite number of demons of Papa’s rank. Most demons are humans, witches, shape-shifters, and so on
who were made demons at some point. They’ll never be as powerful as Papa, but they can certainly make your life inconvenient. If they see something in Ross that would make him a good soldier, they’d put him through certain tests to verify his allegiance.”

  “Like stalking me.”

  Claude grunted. “And kidnapping Ellery, apparently. Let’s go.” His pushed his door open and had one foot on the ground before adding, “If he’s gaining power with each act of loyalty, we shouldn’t underestimate his ability to get back here quickly if he so desires. Although Charles can’t teleport, Papa can, and perhaps that’ll be a gift Ross will earn during his conversion.”

  Gail didn’t need to be told twice. She bounded from the Jeep, closed the door as quietly as she could manage, and set out for the converted warehouse’s back door.

  Claude grabbed her arm. “Wait, chéri.” He waved Sweetie ahead, and she took off at a clip toward the entrance. Turning to Marion, he said, “Will you watch the door?”

  “Sure. I’ll stab anything that comes out that isn’t on the right side.”

  “Just no mortal wounds, okay?”

  She pouted.

  Claude pulled Gail along, increasing their pace with each step.

  She yanked her arm away. “I’m not an accessory,” she hissed. “This is my sister, and I don’t appreciate being treated like a tag-along.”

  “Hush.”

  “I will not hush. I’m not a fucking child you need to—”

  “Knobs are chained,” Sweetie said, pointing to the double doors. “Either this is the wrong place, Ross covered his bases before he left, or he used an alternate entrance to get Ellery in.”

  “Or maybe he teleported in.”

  Gail couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Claude shudder in her periphery.

  What to do, what to do?

  Fuck. She hated having to think on her feet like this. She paced angrily near the stairwell while Claude squinted at the chains, feeling the links.

  Was he going to magic them off somehow? Was there a spell for that?

  More likely, he and Sweetie would resort to brute force. Brute force was loud, and that was exactly what they didn’t need. Gail sure as shit hadn’t made any friends in the Durham Police Department during her divorce. Shaun was city manager and had too many friends there. If she got arrested for breaking and entering, she’d be going to jail, and a certain demigod demon would be bailing her ass out. She’d refused to take money from Charles before, but if this scheme went pear-shaped, she’d have no choice but to accept his generosity.

  What was a little bond money between friends, anyway?

  Think. Think.

  Scanning the back of the building, her gaze landed on a partially opened window on the second floor, just over the porch roof. If she could get up onto that little overhang, she could climb in.

  The brick walls had no footholds for her, and because she wasn’t a cartoon character, she didn’t have a Go-go Gadget Grappling Hook in her utility belt.

  Sparks flew from the chains upon Claude’s attempt at some spell, and both Claude and Sweetie jumped back from the recoil. “Merde,” he mumbled. “No way that little fuck could have done that. That’s witch magic, not demon. That confirms that he’s working with someone.”

  “I’m going to check for other doors,” Sweetie said, already taking off.

  Gail didn’t follow. This was taking too long. The next time she had to go on a search-and-rescue mission, she’d hoped they’d all be a bit more prepared.

  No.

  She jumped and gripped the tall metal support holding up the roof. If she had anything to say about it, there wouldn’t be a “next time.” Pressing her thighs tight to the pole, she wrapped her ankles around it and shimmied up, hand over hand.

  “Gail, what are you doing?” Claude asked. “Come down. We don’t need any more injuries.”

  She kept climbing until her head neared the edge, and took a deep breath. Looking down, she saw the fall wasn’t so bad. It was just one floor up, but she didn’t want to fall from it, either. She’d need to maneuver carefully. She counted to three in her head and shifted first her right hand, then the left, to the ledge.

  Arms, don’t fail me now.

  Slowly, she unwound her legs from the support so she was left dangling.

  She vaguely registered Claude and Marion moving on the ground beneath her, but she didn’t want them to grab her ankles. The time for thinking was over. She summoned up all the strength she could muster and pulled her body up just enough to swing her right leg onto the porch roof. She rocked a couple of beats, and then threw the rest of her body onto the platform.

  Panting, she rolled onto her back and stared at the gray early-morning sky. “Oh, my God.” It’d been easier than she expected. She’d practically flown over the ledge. She must have really strengthened her arms hauling all those heavy sacks of corn meal and flour at the bar.

  “She’s up!” Marion whispered.

  Gail rolled over once more, onto hands and knees, and crawled to the window. She entered with her left leg first, then bent her head in. She took a moment for her eyes to adjust in the dim light, and familiar structures in the club were revealed to her. The catwalk up above. The balcony which she was on. The stage and open dance floor down below.

  There. There was something happening on the stage. Two figures shrouded in dark were moving, though not struggling.

  “Ell—” Her sister’s name caught in her throat. If that was Ross with Ellery, Gail didn’t want to accidentally escalate the situation to violence. She wouldn’t forgive herself if her little sister were further harmed because of her. It was Gail’s fault they were in this mess in the first place. She should never have taken Claude home with her, no matter how alluring his magic was. No matter how that handsome face sparked some ingrained familiarity in her that even her soul recognized. She’d known he was trouble and she courted it anyway.

  That had to stop.

  She walked along the balcony edge, keeping her back to the wall and eyes on the stage as she moved. If her memory served her well, there was a stairwell near the second level’s bar, and she was less than a hundred feet from it. She’d be able to sneak up right behind them.

  But maybe she should find a way to let Claude and the others in first?

  Ellery groaned, and the other party made a shh sound.

  Gail squinted at the stage, but couldn’t see anything beyond the tall figure bending over Ellery. Gail couldn’t tell what was being done to her sister, but certainly by now, she’d had enough of it. Nope. No time for backup.

  Pulling her dagger from its sheath, she tiptoed down the stairs. Her heart seemed to thrash in her chest as she approached the doorway. Her blood coursed so fast that her head had gone light and vision spotty.

  Breathe.

  She took a deep, bracing breath through her nose, let it out through her mouth, and repeated the exercise twice.

  And then the starting gun in her brain went off, and she sprang to action, running to the stage with her dagger ready to strike and her other hand balled into a fist, only to stop in her tracks.

  Agatha lifted her hooded head. Her gray eyes went wide with—was it surprise? She dropped the rope she’d been untangling, looked once at Ellery, up at Gail again, and then vanished.

  “What the fuck?”

  Ellery shimmied her arms free from the rope, and ripped the strip of tape off her mouth. Her eyes were wild, nurse’s scrubs dirty and ripped, and her hair stood up at odd angles. “Heifer, you’re asking the wrong person. Someone’s got some ’splainin’ to do, and I don’t care who does it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Claude put two fingers between his lips and blew an ear-piercing whistle that silenced everyone in Clarissa’s kitchen in seconds. They all turned to him, including Gail, who’d been pointedly ignoring him for much of the past four hours. She’d been silent in the backseat with Ellery all the way back from Durham, and now back at their safe haven, she’d com
pletely withdrawn from him. It was as if she thought this thing was his fault. Her pulling away from him in such a way made that jealous demon part of him threaten to rise, but he refused to give it an outlet. His self-control had been hard won over the centuries, and this seemed to be the ultimate test that had been put into place for him all along.

  “If we could all just calm down and speak one at a time, I’m certain we can get to the bottom of this. Let’s try again without all the histrionics.”

  Ellery slapped the kitchen table, sending saucers clattering and coffee mugs splashing. “Who the hell are you calling hysterical?” Her voice careened to a high pitch that was borderline incomprehensible. “I’m not hysterical. I’m pissed!”

  Claude put up both hands, palms out, in a calming gesture. “I apologize.” Here we go again. They’d be back to the same unproductive din in a moment if someone didn’t diffuse the situation soon. He cut his gaze to John, who’d taken refuge by the coffee maker. “Could you do me a favor?” he projected.

  John nodded once and stared down into his coffee cup. At least two of the people in the room could tell when the cambions were communicating telepathically. They weren’t sure about Clarissa’s abilities, but if Marion were close enough to Charles, she could talk to him the same way. They imagined Clarissa’s skills would be stronger, being that she was closer to her supernatural ancestor. Clarissa was probably catching a snippet here or there. This was a conversation he didn’t want them butting into.

  “Can you calm her a bit?”

  John picked up his coffee and sipped it. “I could. It’s been a while since I’ve done that, though. If I do it wrong, she’s going to be knocked out until Tuesday.”

  One of John’s incubus gifts was being able to put people to sleep. He’d discovered that trick accidentally after meeting Ariel. They could hardly have a conversation without her passing out on him. He kept that particular skill tucked away now as it didn’t have much usefulness in the real world, save for curing the rare bout of insomnia.

  “Do your best.”

  “Got it.” John set down his cup and walked around the table. “Be right back. I left my phone at the house and Charles owes me a phone call.” On the way past Ellery, he skimmed her back with his fingertips—a bare touch that wouldn’t raise suspicion, especially since he repeated it on Marion and Sweetie. He left through the deck door, and when he’d slid it closed, Ellery yawned.