Demon Born Magic (Ella Grey Series Book 3)

by Jayne Faith

  A few seconds ticked by, and a sense of dread began to fill me.

  “Okay,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we accept.”

  Chapter 10

  DAMIEN SENT A message to Phillip Zarella telling him we would take the job.

  We watched his laptop expectantly but after a few minutes figured we needed to at least pretend to do something else or we’d go nuts waiting.

  I sent a quick text to Rogan.

  I’ve found a different fix to the reaper threat. No need to see the dragon now.

  My phone rang almost immediately.

  “Sorry, but it’s too late,” Rogan said. “You don’t cancel on the oracle.”

  I growled a frustrated noise. “Oh, come on, there’s got to be a way out of it.”

  “Nope,” he said with finality. “Remember the part about cooking like a rabbit on a spit? The dragon already knows who you are. Trust me, if you tried to get out of this, it would likely be the last thing you did. I don’t think even your reaper soul could save you from getting cooked in dragon fire.”

  I huffed a loud sigh. “Wait. Did you try that route? To, you know, get back to the in-between?”

  “Actually . . . yeah, I tried to provoke him,” he said reluctantly. “But he knew what I was doing and wouldn’t take the bait. He doesn’t like being manipulated.”

  “Ugh, fine, I’ll go,” I said. “By the way, in return for the reaper fix, I’m gonna have to join the underworlders.”

  “Hey, cool,” Rogan said. “You’re a necromancer, after all. Practically one of us already. You’ll fit right in.”

  I snorted. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better about all of this,” I said sarcastically.

  He chuckled, taking no offense at my tone, and we ended the call.

  Lately my life had become one stupid, unwanted obligation after another. Lynnette’s coven. Zarella’s demand that I join the Society of the Underworld. And now this audience with the oracle.

  “Um, I have a favor to ask you,” I said to Damien. I explained how I needed three others to accompany me to see the damned dragon.

  Damien leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, and his mouth twitched as he did a poor job of holding back a grin. “You’re picking me as the good guy? The shining light of goodness in your unholy trinity of friends?”

  I rolled my eyes, relieved to see his posture loosening and some of the intensity fading from his expression. “You’re going to make us call you by some stupid title, aren’t you? What, Bearer of Light and Goodness? Damien the Innocent and Fair?”

  He snorted. “Nothing lame like that. You can call me The Ethereal Prince. You know, something with real dignity behind it.”

  I snickered, and he laughed with me, and for a moment, everything felt good. But as our laughter trailed off, a sense of weighty anticipation crept back in like a dark sea reaching high tide.

  I held a breath for a second and then let it out. “He’s saying he can make you a mage, Damien.”

  It wasn’t phrased as a query, but the inherent question seemed to hang in the space between us. Was Damien planning to go for it?

  He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and shifted his sky blue eyes to gaze out the tall windows overlooking downtown.

  “I won’t do anything stupid,” he said finally, with forced lightness in his voice that I didn’t buy for a second. He smiled at me, but his eyes looked haunted. “Don’t worry.”

  A swirl of disquiet seemed to gather strength around my heart. “Don’t agree to anything without me, okay? I’m serious. Promise?”

  “Yeah, I promise,” he said.

  Usually he was the one trying to get me to swear I wouldn’t go off and do something impulsive on my own. I wasn’t a fan of this reversal, and I didn’t like the gleam in Damien’s eyes. But I’d be able to keep tabs on him. We were partners, and this was a job we had to work together. That was what I told myself, anyway.

  “I can’t take all this standing around,” I said. I tilted my head toward the staffs mounted like pool cues on one wall. “Spar?”

  He grinned, and to my relief, the old Damien seemed to return. “Oh, yeah. I owe you an ass-kicking.”

  We moved barefoot to the mats and sparred until my arms shook with fatigue.

  When we stopped for water, his laptop pinged.

  Excellent news, I am so pleased. As soon as the lady pays her visit to the oracle and enters the Society of the Underworld in earnest, I will deliver the reaper fix. She shall not ever again have to worry about her reaper causing her untimely death.

  I don’t know what I was expecting from Zarella, but the short note felt like a bit of a letdown.

  “What’s with the lady this and the lady that?” I asked irritably. “Is he mocking me?”

  Damien crooked a half-smile at me. “I think he’s just trying to avoid using our names.”

  I gathered my hair off my neck and held it up, my mind already spinning ahead. “I need to talk to Jennifer. If she’s willing, then I have my team, and we can check off this oracle visit. The sooner the better.”

  I texted Jennifer while Damien worked on mundane business setup stuff. My conversation with Jen turned into a call when her reluctance became obvious.

  “That oracle has close ties to the Society of the Underworld,” Jen said. “The Society has tried to recruit me. Several times, in fact.”

  I didn’t know about that connection, but also didn’t see why it was relevant.

  “But my visit to the oracle has nothing to do with the underworld,” I said. “It’s just a, uh, thing I have to do. But out of curiosity, what turned you off of the underworld?”

  “I’d feel like a tuna in a tank of sharks.”

  I frowned. “Huh? Sorry, but I don’t get it. I know you’re sensitive about your vampire-witch status, but . . .”

  She made an exasperated sighing sound. “The underworld is full of necromancers. Necromancers, Ella. They can control the minds of the undead.”

  I slapped a hand over my eyes. “Oh crap. I’m so sorry. I’m a total ass. I’ll find someone else to go.”

  She started to protest, but I cut her off.

  “Seriously, Jen, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Does it help at all to say that I don’t think of you as undead? To me, you’re just as alive and vital as I am.” I went for a comically contrite tone, and thank the universe it elicited a throaty laugh from her.

  “And you’re pretty cool for a necromancer,” she shot back with another laugh.

  I felt like a total idiot. But I had a new respect for Jen’s willingness to be my friend.

  “You’ve got another option,” she said. “Lynnette is death-touched.”

  I grimaced at the mention of the coven leader’s name. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that fact slipped my mind.”

  “Don’t sound so excited.”

  “No, it’s just . . .”

  “I’m kidding. I get it. You’re not besties.” Jen paused. “But you know she’ll say yes.”

  “True.” I stifled a sigh. “I’ll see you soon at some coven thing, I’m sure.”

  “Bye, Ella.”

  Damien glanced up, his eyes snagging on me when he took in my expression. “What’s with the puke face?”

  “Jen doesn’t want to do it,” I said. I pulled one hand down the side of my face. “But she reminded me that Lynnette qualifies.”

  His brows drew together. “Huh. I guess as an exorcist she would have be death-touched. I wonder how death marked her.”

  The pit of my stomach constricted. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it wasn’t an accident.”

  He gave me a doubtful look.

  “Really. She’s that power hungry,” I said slowly, my eyes glazing over as I tried to imagine how Lynnette had gained her death-touched status. “She lives for it. She’d do just about anything for more power, even risk death.”

  My gaze sharpened and darted to Damien as I realized what I’d just said and how blatantl
y the accusation could apply to his longing for mage magic.

  He shifted his weight as an uncomfortable silence seemed to suck the air out of the room.

  I lifted my phone. “I guess I’d better get it over with.”

  I called Lynnette, and of course she agreed immediately. I tried to focus on the task in front of me rather than the fact that I’d just handed Lynnette yet another opportunity to gather more personal information about me that she’d no doubt use against me later.

  I sent Rogan a message to tell him my group was complete. He replied with a smiley face, and then a message about how we’d have to wait for the hermit mage to tell us where to go for the rip that would take us to the dragon.

  “We’re still pursuing paying contracts, right?” I asked Damien. “Even if we accepted Zarella’s so-called payments, those aren’t going to keep the power on in my apartment.”

  “I’ve got some feelers out to Supernatural Crimes,” he said. “Maybe Johnny knows some other avenues?”

  “Uhh . . . we broke up.”

  Damien groaned.

  “What?” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “We don’t need him to get work.”

  “I’ve been using him as, well, not a reference exactly, but I’ve referenced that we worked together on the Gregori gargoyle case and it would be easy to hire us together, seeing as how our services are complimentary.”

  I put on a nonchalant expression. “Well, I can be a professional about it. If he can’t, that’s on him.”

  “Sorry about your breakup, though. I assume you did the breaking?”

  “Why do you say that?” My voice took on a snarly edge.

  He raised his palms defensively, and his eyes widened. “Because you’re an independent, strong woman who’s too good for any man alive, and how dare he even exist? Also, you’re super pretty, and you smell nice.”

  I gave him a withering look. “Yeah, well, you guessed right.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “I’m not. It’s good. I’m fine.”

  I made a frustrated noise deep in my throat and started pacing around the loft. Talking about Johnny had soured my mood.

  “I miss being on the move all day, Damien,” I groused. “I liked patrolling the beat. All this waiting and talking and standing around and staring at a laptop bullshit makes me antsy. Maybe I’ll go get Loki and take him on a trail run. Might be my last chance before spring.”

  I started to go for my keys, which I’d tossed on the counter, but Damien stood with a sudden look of urgency on his face.

  “No, you can’t go home,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “I mean, how about we go get something to eat instead?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and folded my arms.

  He scratched at the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you go home.”

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “I . . . promised someone.”

  I let my head drop back and moaned at the ceiling. “Oh shit. My surprise birthday party is going to be tonight, isn’t it?”

  His shoulders lowered with relief. “Oh good, you know. She can’t blame me for spoiling it. Hey, how did you figure it out?”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Deb is like an open book. Also, I saw the party decorations.”

  I let my tongue loll as I made stabbing motions at my chest and shot a finger gun at the side of my head.

  “You’ve got a best friend who wants to throw you a birthday party, you poor, poor thing,” he said with mock sympathy.

  “Whatever.” I waved a hand at him. “If we’re stuck here for a while, let’s get something done.”

  I went over to peer at his laptop. We spent the next couple of hours scrolling through a database of government contracts available for freelancers to bid on. Most of them weren’t a good fit for us, either too far away or requiring magical talents we couldn’t provide. Damien tagged a few with potential so he could come back later and begin the lengthy application process.

  After a while he pushed back from the counter and stretched.

  He slid a glance at me. “Ready to put on your surprised face?”

  I gave him a glowering glare.

  “C’mon, you can do a lot better than that.” He giggled gleefully at my misery. “Practice on the way home. I’ll see you at your place.”

  Once in my truck, I seriously contemplated jerking the wheel in the opposite direction of my apartment and hightailing it out of town. But knowing Deb, she’d probably spent too much money and way too much time on planning this little shindig, and I just needed to suck it up and try to enjoy her efforts.

  When I got to my block, there was no row of cars out front to give away the surprise. But I thought I passed Rogan’s Jeep a couple of streets away from home, and I caught a glimpse of Jen’s SUV around the corner. And was that—?

  I groaned and swore under my breath as I recognized Johnny’s Mustang two blocks down. Deb knew we’d broken up. Johnny sure as hell knew we’d broken up. I couldn’t imagine why he’d show up at my birthday party.

  I parked in my usual spot and killed the engine, watching the front bay window out of the corners of my eyes. It looked dark inside, but I thought I saw the blinds twitch. Damien parked behind my pickup and then came up to grin at me through the passenger window. He made a slow beckoning motion. With a heavy sigh, I got out and dragged myself up the front walk, pausing with my hand on the doorknob.

  “C’mon. Just rip it off like a Band Aid,” he stage-whispered over my shoulder.

  I lifted my hand to flip him off and then shoved the door open.

  The lights flicked on, and I staggered back a step as what seemed like a hundred people hollered, “Happy birthday, Ella!” in unison.

  Damien jabbed me in the spine with what felt like his key fob, and I winced.

  “Smile,” he muttered in my ear.

  I did my best as Deb rushed forward to grab my arm and drag me into the living room. I looked around wide-eyed as I realized just about everyone I knew was gathered in my tiny apartment. Okay, so it wasn’t a hundred people. But it was quite a few. The whole coven, some old coworkers, even Rafael St. James and a couple of his crew had shown up.

  Somebody turned on music, and Sasha Bowen from Demon Patrol came up to shove a bottle of local lager in my hand. I spotted Johnny talking to Lynnette over by the TV. I scanned the crowd for Rogan but didn’t see him. Maybe I’d been wrong about the Jeep parked down the street.

  “Deb,” I said urgently. “What the hell is Johnny doing here?”

  She gave me a baffled look. “He told me you guys were cool and wanted to stay friends.”

  I didn’t have time to respond before a blond teenager dressed in a baggy hoodie rushed me. Roxanne burst through the crowd. I threw my arms around her as if she were my life raft in this sea of people.

  “Come and see the cupcake tower we made,” she said, her eyes sparkling as she pushed her corn silk blond hair behind her ears with impatient swipes.

  She pulled me into the kitchen, where the meager counter space was covered with all kinds of food. The mismatched unfamiliar dishes told me it was a potluck affair, which gave me a small measure of relief. I’d have killed Deb if she spent a ton of money on this.

  “Look!” Roxanne held up her hands ta-da style at the tiered stand that stood on my tiny dining table. “Deb and I and some of the coven witches did it. We had to mix the frosting ourselves, ‘cause you can’t buy it that color.”

  The stand was stacked with purple-frosted cupcakes topped with sprinkles. I managed to summon up a shred of genuine appreciation as I admired Roxanne’s work. While I was oohing and ahhing, I happened to glance out the window into the back yard. Rogan was tending the barbeque, stacking hot dogs into a glass baking dish.

  “How’ve things been at home with your brother?” I asked Roxanne.

  She grinned. “It’s so good to have him back!”

  I returned her smile. “Good to hear. No ill effects from
being stuck in the gargoyle?”

  “I don’t think so. He sure seems like his old self.”

  I couldn’t help thinking of Evan and hoping his would be a similarly happy homecoming. It wouldn’t be as simple as Nathan returning to Roxanne, of course—my brother was going to need a lot of help to get his life on track—but I felt a rare swell of optimism.

  After I’d paid the cupcake tower appropriate homage, I excused myself and slipped out through the back door, closing it quietly behind me.

  The soft glow of twilight washed the back yard in muted tones that belied the chill in the air. I pulled my jacket tighter around me against the December cold. Rogan hadn’t heard me come out, and he was turned away from the door while he concentrated on flipping hamburger patties.

  I stood where I was, drinking my beer, watching him work, and enjoying the peace.

  Perhaps sensing my presence, he twisted around and brightened when he spotted me. The fading light cut angular shadows under his cheekbones and jaw, and his deep-set eyes were nearly hidden. His face relaxed into an easy smile.

  I walked forward, and the hint of a grin—a real one—tugged at the corners of my lips. For some reason it amused me to see him doing something so mundane.

  “Deb put you on BBQ duty, huh?” I asked, my words puffing out in ghostly white clouds that quickly dissipated into the evening.

  He lifted a shoulder. “I volunteered.”

  As usual, he was wearing only a t-shirt under his duster, seemingly impervious to the freezing temperature. I moved to the side of the barbeque so I could watch him. The duster had grown on me. It gave him an outlaw vibe, and somehow made glimpses of the thin cotton stretched over his obviously toned chest that much more interesting.

  “Happy birthday, by the way,” he said. “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be twenty-five in six days,” I said.

  “Just a kid,” he teased. He glanced up when I didn’t respond, and his tawny eyes reflected a tiny flare from the grill.