Demon Born Magic (Ella Grey Series Book 3)

by Jayne Faith

  “We’re good for a while,” I said to Damien. “So. What’s the first thing you’d do as a mage? Join the Order?”

  The Order of Mages was a very old, very secretive organization.

  “If they invited me . . . maybe,” he said. His tone implied he might not accept the invitation, and his smug expression said he’d possibly relish turning it down.

  “Is this really just about revenge?” I asked. “Getting back at your family for treating you like an outcast?”

  “Maybe in part, but it’s also to prove something.” His brow furrowed, and his face darkened as he spoke. “I want to show them that they’re not as special as they think they are. If it’s possible to achieve mage power without being born with it, that kind of takes the shine off the whole thing, doesn’t it? It’s the superiority complex that I hate the most.”

  His jaw worked for a moment. I waited, sensing there was more coming.

  “They didn’t just treat me like I was different,” he said. “They treated me like I was inferior. A mistake of their genetic line. Growing up, we had family portraits taken every year. They always did one without me in it. That was the photo displayed in the formal rooms where my parents received their mage friends.”

  My mouth fell open. “Damien, that’s . . . it’s just flat-out cruel.”

  He gave a little shrug. “That’s just one example of many. Oddly, they still fund my trust. I haven’t touched the money since I left home, though.”

  “Huh,” I mused. “You’re not quite the silver-spoon baby I thought you were.”

  He let out a bark of a laugh that made me jump. “That’s really what you thought?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, the nice clothes, the Lexus, the expensive downtown loft . . . I figured that in spite of your strained relationship with your family, you must be living off a trust fund.”

  He laughed again. “I guess I do let people think that. The truth is, I have family money but I don’t have to rely on it. I sold some magical technology patents when I was still in college. I invested the money and hit pretty big with those investments, and, well . . .” He trailed off and gave a modest little shrug.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry I assumed all those things. Here I thought you were a spoiled rich kid, and you’re actually a self-made man.”

  A raucous bunch of people entered the pub, and we both twisted around to see a crowd of first-shift Demon Patrol officers crowding in.

  A couple of them spotted us, and a moment later we were surrounded by former coworkers.

  Sasha Bowen grabbed my shoulders from behind. “We never got to give you guys a proper send-off!”

  I waved a hand, scoffing. “Aw, no need for that.”

  “Oh no,” she laughed. “We’re going to make up for it.”

  I groaned as she ordered a round of shots.

  Two shots and another beer later, I clutched Damien’s arm.

  “We’ve gotta get out of here while I can still walk,” I said, my head fuzzy and warm. He’d managed to beg off after the first shot, but drinks kept appearing in front of me. “There’s still a chance Rogan might give the go signal late tonight.”

  “Okay, you leave first,” he said. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  With what I hoped was a nonchalant expression, I vacated my spot, wove through the crowded pub to use the restroom, and then slipped out the delivery entrance. I jogged down the alley and around to the front of the building where Damien was already waiting.

  “I don’t think they even noticed,” he laughed.

  The alcohol had lifted his mood and seemed to have loosened the previous tension between us.

  “Let’s go back to my place,” he said. “I have an idea.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve any more shots, I’m game.” My head was spinning a little more than I’d have liked. I really needed to down some water.

  Back at Damien’s loft, soft atmospheric lights came on automatically when we entered. He went to the fridge and tossed me a bottle of water.

  “Ah, mind reader,” I said, and twisted the lid off.

  I chugged half the bottle, watching him, and then took off my jacket and lay it over the back of a rich person’s version of a La-Z-Boy recliner. He had his notebook out on the counter, and he was flipping pages slowly with a studied furrow of his brow. Leaning my forearms on the counter beside him, I peered at the neat rows of handwriting, diagrams, and symbols.

  “What’s all this?” I asked.

  “Notes on exactly what I did to increase my magical aptitude,” he said mildly, still concentrating on the notebook. He straightened and turned to me, his eyes glittering. “How would you like to become a high Level I tonight?”

  That sobered me up.

  Chapter 17

  I STARED AT Damien for a couple of heartbeats, playing his words over again in my mind to be sure I’d heard correctly.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  The prospect of raising my magical aptitude both freaked me out and piqued my curiosity.

  “Sure,” he said. “What, you don’t want to?”

  “I do, but . . . I don’t,” I said honestly. I pressed my hand against my stomach in an attempt to still the fluttery sensation there. “The healer said I shouldn’t do anything strenuous.”

  He gave me a look out of the corners of his eyes. “Like go challenge a bunch of wild vampires?”

  He had me there. I couldn’t come up with a snappy response, so I just lifted a shoulder and let it drop.

  “This won’t hurt you,” he said. “It should be pretty simple. Well, relative to what I did to adjust my own aptitude. If it were simple, everyone would be doing it. I hesitated before because of the reaper soul. But that’s under control now, right?”

  I nodded, and I swear I could still feel a vague lump at the base of my esophagus, as if the three stones had settled there. The reaper soul had been very quiet since Jen and I had performed the spells out in the foothills. I could feel it, though. Maybe that was just how it would feel forever.

  “I’d like to do this for you,” he said quietly.

  My gaze had dropped to the floor, but his tone brought my attention back up. Our eyes locked for a long moment, and I felt words trying to bubble up because I knew what he was doing, and I didn’t want it to happen.

  Damien was offering me a parting gift.

  I opened my mouth, intending to refuse, but then I closed it again. A slow, sad smile tugged at my lips.

  “Okay, let’s do it,” I said.

  He rubbed his hands together and let out a little cackle. He pointed to the sofa.

  “Let’s move this so it’s lined up with magnetic north,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “Just help me swing it around so it lines up this way.” He drew an invisible line with his arm.

  We scooted the low profile dark gray leather sofa around, nudging it this way and that until he was satisfied. Then he started gathering props. He produced a bowl full of lava rocks, which went on the floor at the north end of the sofa.

  He stood. “This is for earth.”

  “Ah, gotcha.”

  He wanted representations of the four basic elements.

  He had me fill a large white ceramic salad bowl with water. I set it on the west side of the sofa. An empty bowl for air in the east position. And he set up a plate with pillar candles at the south point.

  “This is just to help me focus,” he said, lighting the candles with little sparks of fire magic. “But we won’t even need to cast a circle or anything.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “Lie down with your head at north, and relax,” he said. “I’m going to read my notes one more time.”

  Relax, right. I was about to undergo a magical procedure that literally only one other person had experienced. It was like Jen’s spell all over again. My heart thudded dully, and I couldn’t help wondering if maybe I shouldn’t push my luck. I’d already subjected myself to two questionable
spells today. Could I really expect another one to go off without a hitch?

  “Ah, screw it,” I mumbled softly to myself.

  I trusted Damien. In spite of our recent difference of opinion on finishing Zarella’s job, Damien was still the expert. He’d devoted his entire life to this type of magic. He’d never do this if he didn’t have complete confidence in it.

  The soft brush of Damien’s power moved through the air, raising the tiny hairs on my arms and neck and setting off a cascade of shivers over my skin.

  “Reach for your magic, but don’t draw any,” Damien said. His voice had the flat, faraway quality of trance.

  I did as he instructed, closing my eyes to center myself and then sending my awareness down as if to draw earth power.

  His magic flowed thickly in the room, seeming to saturate the air with a sense of anticipation like a combustible gas ready to ignite at the slightest scratch of friction.

  I was bracing myself for a boom like the one that Jen’s spell had set off. But instead, gentle tendrils of magic seemed to drift into my head to curl around like a soothing mist. I sank deeper into my focus, losing track of time and my surroundings as I dipped in and out of the lightest feathery edges of a meditative state.

  I began to dream. I felt the top of my head begin to turn, unscrewing like the cap of my water bottle. It lifted away, and the chilly touch of air brushed the top of my brain. The magic drifted in, soaking into the cells of my brain as it had drenched the room. My head felt heavier and heavier, like a sponge taking on water.

  Suddenly there was a sharp pop at the base of my cranium. I gasped and bolted upright.

  Magic swirled in multicolored streamers, twisting around Damien in a vortex.

  “Did it hurt?” he asked, still partially immersed in trance. His magic began to fade.

  I blinked rapidly, taking stock of my physical body as if I’d been separated from it for hours. I shook my head.

  His power blinked out, leaving us in the glow of the candles still burning at the foot of the sofa.

  “Try pulling magic,” he said.

  I reached for earth, grasped a strand and tugged. The thread turned into a rope that grew into a rush of power. I rose to my feet and kept pulling, drinking in the earth power and letting it fill me. It was ten times what I’d ever drawn before. My entire body began to glimmer with magic, casting a pallor of green light around me. I felt powerful enough to take down a building.

  Damien was watching me intently. He cracked a grin and nodded.

  “Careful,” he said. “Don’t overdo it.”

  I let the magic sing through me for another second and then released my hold on earth power.

  “Whoa,” I breathed. I stared at him. “It worked. And you made it seem so easy.”

  “Easy?” he scoffed. “That took almost three hours!”

  Three hours? It hadn’t felt like more than twenty minutes, tops. I looked out the window, but that was no help. It’d been dark when we got here, and it was still dark.

  “Damn, if that’s what it feels like to be a high Level I, I can’t even imagine how it must feel to be you,” I said, staring at him.

  He sat down heavily and ran his hands through his hair, messing up the comb marks.

  “Are you going to be okay?” I asked. “Should I take you to a healer?”

  “I’m good,” he said. “It was more about complexity than brute force amounts of magic. If I’m tired, it’s mostly because it’s after two in the morning.”

  My brows lifted, and I went to my jacket to rummage for my phone. I flipped through a couple of missed texts, relieved to find that Rogan hadn’t sent any crucial updates while I’d been high on Damien’s magic.

  I slipped my coat on. “I should let you get some rest.”

  He nodded wearily. “You need it, too.”

  We walked slowly together toward the door. When we stopped, I hesitated for a second and then threw my arms around him. He stiffened, clearly surprised but then wrapped me in a firm hug.

  “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m out in the desert kicking vampire ass,” I said.

  “Stupid isn’t my style,” he whispered back.

  I let him go and left. All the way to my truck, a strange, uncomfortable carousel of emotions played through my heart.

  Back at home, I pulled my phone and wallet from my jacket pocket, and something fluttered to the floor. I bent to pick it up and realized it was Lagatuda’s card.

  I rummaged in the junk drawer and found a pen and a sticky note.

  Tall Detective asked about you.

  I stuck the note to the card and propped them against the coffee maker so Deb would see them first thing in the morning.

  The next day was Saturday—actually, it was technically already a few hours into Saturday—and Deb would sleep in. I crashed on the sofa so I wouldn’t disturb her, and the thought of sleeping for the next twelve hours quickly pulled me from consciousness.

  My plans for a half-day spent comatose were not to be, though. I was dreaming of the compound where the vampires were keeping Evan, watching through the eyes of a small demon perched high in a tree on the site.

  I don’t know if I jerked in my sleep or if it was a sound that pulled me from the dream, but when I awoke to a tapping noise it was no longer dark out. The weak light of the winter morning told me I’d probably only slept about five hours.

  The noise came again, from the front door.

  Grumbling under my breath, I stumbled from the sofa, ready to send away the person on the other side. I didn’t want a subscription to the Idaho Statesman, I wasn’t interested in Girl Scout cookies, and I couldn’t afford to buy chocolate bars to support the Boise High School marching band’s trip to the state competition.

  But it was Rogan.

  “It looks like the vamps are planning on a venue change,” he said. “Time for us to go get your brother.”

  I stared at him dumbly for a moment and then blinked several times.

  “Come in,” I said, swinging the door open wider so he could come in. “Deb’s still asleep. Let me just grab my things and we can leave.”

  I turned and took a step away, but he caught my forearm. With a motion that just skirted the delicious edge of roughness, he pulled me hard against him and covered my mouth with his for a deep, lingering kiss.

  That got my blood going and pushed the sleep from my system.

  “Something about you has changed,” he whispered, leaning back just far enough for his eyes to roam my face.

  “I got my magic back,” I said. “And, I got a little boost. Apparently I’m a high Level I now.”

  I couldn’t help a grin.

  “Damien?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Damn, that guy has some serious tricks up his sleeve,” he said.

  “No shit,” I said. “Keep this one to yourself, though, okay?”

  I reluctantly pulled from his embrace as the press of the task ahead cut through to the forefront of my mind.

  I seemed to blank for a moment as I looked around the weakly lit apartment.

  Loki whimpered and trotted a circle around me, snapping me out of my stupor.

  This was the moment. It had finally come. We were going to bust Evan out of the vampire den and bring him home. Now, what does one need to take to such a rescue?

  I sprang into motion. I found my whip, and it sang like a plucked string in my hands when I touched it, as if recognizing and relishing my newly amped-up magical ability.

  I strapped my knife sheath to my ankle and pulled on my boots. My rarely used Sig Sauer was locked in a box stashed in a cubby at the back of the coat closet. As soon as I’d discovered Evan was in a vamp den, I’d gone about procuring black market anti-vamp bullets. They were made with a silver alloy that guaranteed they’d penetrate the skin, but they were designed to lodge within the body and explode with a giant burst of UV light. With the right kind of hit, one of those babies would nuke a vamp’s insides. It wouldn’t kill
it, but a well-placed torso shot would do enough damage that a vamp would stay down for hours, if not a day or more, before he regenerated. Vamps were very, very hard to kill.

  The bullets were an incredibly intricate creation of technology and magic—not to mention illegal—and their price tag had reflected all of these things. As such, I could only afford three of them.

  They were packed like the precious jewels they were—in a little box with molded foam depressions.

  I cinched the Sig holster around my waist and snapped the coiled whip on my other hip. With no access to a service belt, I didn’t have a good place to stash the Brimstone burner, so I’d just have to tuck it in my waistband before we stormed the vampire den.

  Loki came to stand next to me, and when he looked up, I saw hellfire flicker in his eyes.

  Rogan looked me up and down with a gleam of approval in his eyes. “Ready to go, Indiana Jane?”

  I nodded. “Let’s go kick some vampire ass.”

  Chapter 18

  LOKI SEEMED TO sense the gravity of the situation as he jumped in the back of Rogan’s Jeep and sat there like a sentry, with none of the eager tongue-lolling and panting he usually displayed when I took him somewhere. I’d hesitated at first about bringing him, but he’d gone to the door with an expectant look back at me as if there was no question he was coming along, and I decided to trust his impulse.

  We had a five-hour drive ahead of us, and Rogan began making use of the time by briefing me on what he’d discovered and what he thought the best approach would be.

  “There’s been a lot of activity, and it looks like they could be in the process of changing locations,” he said. “I wish I knew what spooked them. It must be a serious threat because the compound is the perfect setup for a vampire den. I can’t imagine they’re going to find something better.”

  He talked about the layout of the place, which I already knew in part from my visions of Evan.

  “Any idea who the compound actually belongs to?” I asked, imagining the owner must have been very wealthy and had some major pull to keep the house obscured from public aerial photos. Maybe the owner was now a vamp. Or maybe the vamps had killed him or her and taken possession of the compound.