He had. Nikko had taught her how to question everything and everyone, how to fight, survive, and blend in. Which is why it made no sense when he gave her up before. Now, when she had already written him off like so many others, here he was helping them.
Nikko stopped walking, but waved them on. “I gotta go back, before they put two and two together.”
“Why are you doing this?” He didn’t owe her. He did what he had to do. Not many people who said no to her uncle lived.
He gave her an unreadable look. “Because I couldn’t before.”
“I did lose your bike,” Becca reminded him. He loved that motorcycle.
“You did indeed.” He gave a short laugh. “Now, get out of here, and go raise whatever hell you’re working on.”
“Me?” Becca asked innocently.
“Always.” With one last look, Nikko strode away. His black spiky hair and dark suit was something Becca thought she’d never see again.
“Wake up, princess. Time to move,” Leon said.
She glared at him sideways and started into the city. “You did not just call me princess.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Every nerve ending on Peter’s face burned, his scars more sensitive than ever since Nevada first worked on his face over a week ago. Peter gently touched the puckered wounds. His stomach churned, and he quickly dropped his hand. Night had fallen some time ago, and now he was waiting in the entry room of a local witch’s home.
“Welcome.” She appeared in the doorway and invited him into her study. Her haggard face had seen many years, and the scars on her arms, echoes of sacrificial offerings, were often done by weaker magicians.
Peter stood and pulled his hood down to cover his face.
“I have seen worse,” she said. “Wear it as a badge of honor for service to your coven.”
“Only one so ugly would say that,” he snapped. “I need to use your phone. My cell gets no service in this Godforsaken place.”
“No need to get nasty,” she retorted. “I’ve let you in my home.”
“If you didn’t, I would have returned with reinforcements and destroyed it. You are a coven member. It is your duty.”
“Of course.” She lowered her head, submitting to Peter, the stronger magician, as etiquette dictated. “The phone is there by my desk. Anything else you require?”
“Your absence.”
The door clicked behind him. He lowered his cloak, and a sigh of relief escaped him. The rough material scratched at his skin, a constant irritation.
At the desk, he picked up the phone and dialed Ryma’s number. A servant picked it up and went to deliver it to Ryma. It took several long minutes. Peter’s pulse quickened. He had actually found Darion.
“Peter.” Ryma’s cold calculated voice sounded on the phone. “What is your report?”
“We found him. Next to the ocean with other rebels like you heard.”
He was rewarded with silence. Peter knew better than to push though. He slowed his breathing and waited.
“I’m wondering why your report didn’t include his death. Here you are speaking to me in sound health, I assume, but yet he lives and is free.”
Peter froze. The next words he spoke were important for his future. “Everyone on my team is dead or taken. I was in the clutches of a man immune to magic. I fled only to get this information to you.”
Peter could hear Ryma’s breath on the phone. He tightened his hold on the handle, waiting for a verdict.
“They are stronger than we expected. These rebels think they can live outside the law with such magic. Let me speak to Arturo. We need to see how far those underground rats go.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Becca experienced an odd sense of déjà vu as they grabbed a cab and drove through the city in the early morning. Only months ago, she was grabbing coffee at Bonnie’s and heading into work at Nikko’s. She’d not only survived, but even prospered on these streets in an odd way. They never were quite home, but comfortably familiar.
Thankfully they had no other problems being recognized. Most people kept to themselves. It helped that the guards stuck to their regular routes Becca had memorized when she ran illegal goods for Nikko.
Leon stopped the cab a mile or so before Richard’s estate and paid the driver—a kid with long, shaggy hair who couldn’t be older than seventeen. He even gave him a tip to keep his mouth shut. Becca didn’t approve, because the driver now knew they had something to hide, but it was too late to do anything about it, so she let it go.
In the northern-most part of the city, there were only old, large estates. The forest had begun to claim the streets as weeds grew between the broken asphalt. They walked to the side of the road, hoping to hide their presence in the foliage of the trees.
“So have you met Richard before?” Darion asked Leon, keeping his voice low.
“No. Only Andre met with him.”
“I’d imagine magicians don’t like you much,” Becca mused.
“That’s how I like it.” Leon pulled out his small gun and kept it by his side.
“There isn’t any use for our weapons here.” Darion motioned at Leon’s gun. “Richard is well guarded against any physical or magical threat.”
“I’m not worried about Richard. It’s others who may be here.” Leon’s pace picked up as his eyes roamed the woods. “What else can you tell me about him?”
“He’s old.” It was the first thing to pop into Becca’s mind. “And confident.” She remembered the oddly friendly magician with more wrinkles than she thought possible.
“He has a right to be,” Darion said. “He fought on the front lines of the original takeover. My parents told me that’s why Ryma had to put up with his eccentric behavior. He has old allies in covens all over the world. Too tired to be a high priest over a coven, he leaves Ryma alone and asks for nothing but solitude.”
“So he’ll be excited to see us, then. Great.” Heavy sarcasm laced Alex’s words.
Becca didn’t care what it took. They weren’t leaving here until they had that grimoire.
They turned down a dirt lane. The trees grew tall, creating a canopy over their head. Several birds hid amongst the branches. Becca made eye contact with two large black crows, perched on a limb. They tilted their heads back and forth a few times, and then with a short squawk, they both flew away towards the house.
They approached the gates that swung wide in silent invitation. Green vines covered the tall iron gates, entwined around the rusted bars.
Darion stuck a hand out. “Wait!”
It took a moment before Becca sensed the magical shield. “How strong is it?”
“Strong enough to kill anyone that crosses it.”
Leon shifted his stance. “I can make it through. Then come back for you.”
“You don’t have to.” Becca pointed ahead. “He knows we’re here.”
A large dog with curly, sandy hair trotted towards them. It almost came up to Becca’s chest. The eyes were pitch black, a sign of possession. She grabbed her knife, but the dog didn’t appear poised to attack. It barked twice, and the magic shield that had previously buzzed with power dissipated.
“I think this is our escort.” Becca started forward.
Darion and Leon each put out an arm, as if to hold her back, but there was no harm. The dog quickly turned and headed toward the house. It looked back occasionally to make sure they were following.
“Not bad as far as help goes,” Alex commented.
“Is everyone else seeing what I’m seeing?” Leon asked. “This rundown house may have been grand at one time, but the mice probably live better than any humans in there.”
Leon was right; the mansion at one time must have been majestic. Now the wood shutters hung warped and crooked on the windows. An oversized porch wrapped around the house, and a large wood swing lay on its side. A gray cat currently sat on the broken swing, eyes open and alert. The two crows from before perched on the porch.
“Y
ou sure that’s the place?” Alex asked.
Leon shrugged.
“Sounds like the Richard that I met,” Becca said. “He liked everyone to know exactly how old he is. He’ll probably tell us he built this by hand a hundred years ago, and that the dog is sixth generation.”
Darion stayed close at her side. “You don’t become a crazy hermit for fun.”
“Is this a damn zoo or what?” Leon carefully followed the dog up the steps and tucked the gun into the back of his pants. Even though Becca knew their weapons would be useless here, she touched the familiar handle of her blade.
Unlike the rest of the home, the huge mahogany door stood proud, lacquered to a shine.
The dog barked at the door twice. A moment later, it opened.
Leon spoke first. “Richard?”
“And you are?” Richard lifted one of his graying eyebrows.
He hadn’t changed since the market. His aging skin hung heavy, and his white hair remained short. An oversized nose took up major real estate on his face while his eyes peered from their deep openings. He wore simple, clean khaki pants and a flannel button-up shirt.
“I’m Andre’s brother. You told him he could call on you again. He sent me in his stead,” Leon said.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors today, but a little variety at my age doesn’t hurt. Please, come in.” Richard held the door open for them.
They entered an aged hall perfect for any horror story. A gold dusty mirror hung next to an empty coat rack.
With a loud click, Richard closed the door behind him. “I wondered when I would get to meet you again.” The statement was directed to Becca.
“Again?” Uneasiness turned Becca’s stomach. The only time Richard had met her was when she’d donned the illusion of an Asian woman.
He stepped forward, crowding a bit too close. “Oh, I’d taste your flavor of magic anywhere.” He turned towards Darion who hovered nearby. “And who else would be on the arm of the city’s runaway pyro? You two are quite the scandalous couple. Let’s get comfortable, shall we?”
He escorted them into a living room with matching faded floral sofas and chairs that surrounded a fireplace. She hesitated briefly, wondering at the age of the furniture and what other creatures took up residence there.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have tea or something set out for you, but I don’t have much in the way of human servants.”
“No need. We can’t stay long.” Leon didn’t look pleased with the situation.
“Well then, to what do I owe this visit?” Richard reclined in an armchair, and a plume of dust floated above him. The dog followed and sat at attention at his side. Richard dug his hand into its fur coat.
Becca finally perched at the edge of the sofa. Darion stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder. She felt a shield rise around her.
“We are in need of information on how to remove a demon from a human host,” she said.
Richard’s hand stilled. “Is this for your sister?”
“How do you—”
“Your fight with Ryma didn’t spread too far through the city since he didn’t want to lose face. He came to me. He wanted to know how two magicians, one with no training, could overpower him and escape.”
The dog lifted its head, and Richard began petting the dog again. “Ryma was quite put out.” A small smile creased his face, and he nodded to the fireplace. “If you would, please,” he said to Darion.
Without a word, fire soon roared in the brick fireplace, and Darion asked, “What did you tell him?”
“What I could. I didn’t know much. Since the girls were sisters, they could have some old bond that her Uncle Jeremiah overlooked. Or maybe he planned it that way, and then his nieces turned on him.”
She folded her arms, chasing off the memories of that night. “Jeremiah stole us. We fought back.”
“No need to explain yourself. Jeremiah’s despicable character will not be missed in this home.”
“Can you help us?” Becca tried not to sound eager.
“Save your sister, the one containing Bael? Is she still alive?”
“Yes. She’s becoming unstable though. We keep her unconscious most of the time. “
“We need to separate them soon,” Darion added.
“What makes you think she can do it?” Richard asked Darion but motioned to Becca. “She is powerful, but doesn’t know what to do with it.”
Darion squeezed her shoulder. “So it has to be her?”
“I’m right here, you guys. You know that, right?” Becca bristled under their conversation.
Richard turned his gaze to her. “Even if you can pull this off, your sister won’t be the same. She never will.”
Becca glanced at Darion to see if Richard was telling the truth, but Darion gave nothing away. This had always been a fear of hers, but it didn’t mean she’d stop trying to save Liz.
“I have to try.” Becca’s voice broke slightly as she fought to keep her emotions from slipping.
“I’m not sure you can manage Bael, but the replacement host would have to be strong, nothing lying around on the streets.” Richard looked at Leon, as if he was pressing him.
Leon stood firm, his arms taut and ready for an attack.
“Interesting,” Richard mumbled.
“We’re not giving Bael another host,” Becca said. “We’re going to banish him.”
“Shame.” He stood, pressed a hand to his lips, and then headed out of the room, the large dog at his side.
All of them stood, uncertain on whether to follow Richard or not.
Richard returned with pen and paper in hand. He leaned on a nearby end table and wrote on the paper. When finished, he handed it to Darion. “Here’s what I know. It requires a great deal of blood and sacrifice to entice Bael out of the body. And he will require a push.”
Becca glanced at the dark ink hastily written across the paper in Darion’s hand.
“We were hoping to get the grimoire.” Darion folded the paper neatly.
“I burned my books.” Richard said matter-of-factly. “I expect a promise that you’ll do the same to that once you have it memorized.”
A flash of surprise crossed Darion’s face, but he looked the man in the eye. “I promise.”
A small spark appeared in front of Darion and traveled over to Richard. It was more than a promise, more like some type of magical vow. Richard reached out and grabbed the spark, which vanished in his hand.
“Wait.” Becca remembered that young mage at the marketplace, waiting for auction. “Why burn it? This could save people. Mundanes and wizards alike.”
Richard creased his brow. For the first time, annoyance crossed his face. “Naive girl, Mundanes can’t use this. Only magicians can. Their demons won’t die. They will use and reuse every living thing on the planet to contain their pets until there is nothing left. If you ever want to limit a magician, this is the way to do it. When they kill a demon, they can’t call it again. Why do you think the price of demon names is weighed in gold? Why Soultorns are younger and younger? They’ve played with demons for over thirty years now, and they are starting to realize they are a limited resource.” He spat the last words.
Becca couldn’t tell where the anger was coming from. Darion had said Richard had helped with The Rising. He stole the Mundanes’ power and helped the magicians build secure cities. Becca stepped back, Richard’s magic hanging heavy in the air, emanating from him.
Darion flashed her a warning in those dark eyes.
She ignored it. “Why do you care?”
Richard glared at her, and a small pecking noise sounded from the window. Like a light switch flipping, Richard’s countenance shifted. He lifted his head back and laughed, actually laughed. “Oh, girl, you have the spirit of old Cleo here when she was a wee bitch.” He placed a hand on the dog’s head. “I wish we had more time to discuss the downfall of mankind, but alas I have more visitors.”
Richard lifted his hand, and the hound headed towards the
door. It swung open, and the dog trotted through. As its tail disappeared, it closed behind her.
“I have a feeling this will be Ryma’s men checking up on me. And if it is Ryma, I will have to tell him the truth, or as close of a version to it as I can manage.”
The urge to flee readied her legs to run. Leon tightened his grip on the knife, and Alex’s gun appeared at his side. Becca knew not many could lie to Ryma and was grateful for what little warning Richard had given them.
“No need for weapons. Not yet.” Richard turned and left the room, then called after them. “Come on.”
They followed him through a maze of rooms and hallways and out the back door. He whistled a particular tune, and another dog came running up to greet him, this one with darker fur. Again he placed a hand on its head. There must have been an exchange. Becca could only guess as she had never seen anything like it.
“He will lead you through the forest to an exit where you can bypass city guards out of the city.” Richard nodded and the dog started off.
Leon and Alex followed the dog. Becca started down the porch but realized Darion wasn’t coming and turned back.
At the top of the porch stairs, Darion turned to Richard. “Why are you helping us? You helped with The Rising, establishing the city covens, so why the change of heart?”
“You’re still young. You imagine a better world, like I did, where people rise up to do it better than our fathers.” He sighed, a tired, aged look on his face. “Let’s hope you do a better job than we did.”
“Then come with us. We may have a chance with you on our side,” Becca said. With someone as powerful as Richard on their side the odds improved greatly.
“I don’t have the stomach for dark magic like I once did, and I cannot oppose Ryma without it.” Richard glanced at the forest, and then his gaze rested on Becca. “You better hurry. Ryma is out for more than blood.”
“Thank you.” Darion headed down the steps.
They took off at a fast pace to catch up to the others. Becca raced, not only from the oncoming threat, but from the memories of what Ryma could do.
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