Coven of the Raven: box set

by Shona Husk

  Noah closed his eyes. It was better this way. Simpler. He didn’t invite women into his bed, his life or his home. She knew that. If he was the last person she slept with before she died, she was aiming too low. She could do better. The thought snagged in his conscience. Something that he’d read in the notes that Oskar had given him. Most of it had been copies of news stories about Cory’s career, a few pictures from events with Rachel on his arm. There’d also been a few other bits thrown in, things he’d skimmed over and not given a second thought…until now.

  If he was the third, Cory was number two. Noah was willing to bet that Cory knew the name of the first guy she’d slept with. He sat up, grabbed his cell phone for light and opened up his bag.

  “What are you doing?” She mumbled as though she’d been half asleep.

  “Checking something. What was your first guy’s name?”

  “What?” She sat up, her hair mussed around her head like a halo.

  He started flicking through a file. It was all about Cory and Rachel. “The first guy you slept with, what was his name?”

  “Rob. Why?”

  Noah found what he was looking for. Oskar had included a news story about Cory and Rachel’s wedding, and also a snippet about a man who had committed suicide on the same day. A man who’d played football at their high school and would’ve known Cory and Rachel. To most people it would be a freak coincidence, but Noah was getting to know Cory rather too well, and Cory didn’t like other men messing with what he saw as his. “Robert Jones committed suicide on the same day as your wedding.”

  “Yeah.” She flopped back onto the pillow.

  “The divorce lawyer he thought you were sleeping with was killed.”

  He could almost hear the wheels turning and the gears grinding in her mind. “You think Cory killed Rob?”

  “I think it’s something we have to consider. Interesting coincidence when you consider Rob was happily engaged and everyone was shocked by his death. You don’t think it’s odd that your ex-boyfriend ended his life on your wedding day?” But it had been years before Cory had grown himself a demon.

  “Just how much research did you do into my life?”

  “Between me and Oskar, lots. However, I didn’t know you and Rob were connected. Oskar thought the suicide of an old teammate of Cory’s on the same day as your wedding was odd, so he put it in the file.”

  “You’re odd.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He put the file back in the bag, feeling more awake than he was before. Now Cory had a real reason to be gunning for him. Not smart, but when he looked at Rachel, he knew he wouldn’t take it back even if he could. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed sex enough to want seconds with the person. Usually he just wanted a shower.

  “You’d take anything as a compliment.”

  “That’s because they are few and far between.” People had to be alive to be able to say thanks, great job. He lay back down and turned off his phone.

  It was a few minutes before she spoke. “Do you really think Cory killed Rob?”

  “Maybe. Do you think he did it?”

  “He was always possessive. I thought that was love.”

  “Love is not killing your partner’s exes.” He closed his eyes and relaxed. “Go to sleep. Tomorrow will be more exciting than today.”

  “I’m not sure how much more excitement I can take.”

  Me either. His shoulder ached and so did his cheek. He needed a plan and a lucky break. He listened to her breathing, then his. He let himself drift in a light trance, not awake but not asleep. He pictured his lighter, so real to him he knew every curve and the weight of it, and flicked the catch a few times to see if it would light this time. It didn’t, but it happily sparked. He gave it a shake. It was still empty. What did he want to fill it with? Rachel and the way she’d looked at him in the mirror as he’d fucked her? His lips curved. He’d never forget that. The way she’d pushed back to meet his thrusts, burning off a need to feel alive after brushing death, but it wasn’t quite that simple. He’d wanted her, and he still did.

  And she liked him, even though she knew him. She knew more about him than anyone outside of the coven, except his uncle, and she was still brave enough to close her eyes and sleep in the same room as him. His lips curved in a grin.

  Could he fill his lighter with memories of sex with Rachel? And what if she didn’t survive and he failed? Would he have to start again and find another fuel for his fire?

  Sex was a powerful magic on its own, but using anger to make fire was very different to using something else. Rage was raw and all consuming. It had consumed him until there was nothing left but the empty vow to keep going. He spun the lighter in his mind, raven and the sun flicking past. Light and dark.

  He wanted to win this time. To save Rachel and help her finish her damn list. Drinks in the Icehotel and the promise of celebration sex—he hadn’t had that in years, not since his last game. Hope and lust flared in his chest. The lighter became heavier for a moment but he couldn’t hold onto it. He was too tired for this. Maybe tomorrow, if they dodged the demon for long enough, he’d work it out. He let go of the trance and let himself fall into darkness and sleep.

  He knew as soon as he opened the door something wasn’t right. His ex-girlfriend, Tahlia, was on the doorstep. She’d been ringing him every few hours, day and night. It had started off as pleading for him to come back to her, then she’d turned nasty. The last few had been threatening.

  “She’s here now, isn’t she? The little whore.” Tahlia tried to push past, but Noah held his ground. She tilted her chin, her once-pretty face now distorted with hate, then she shoved him out of the way with a strength she shouldn’t have had. He was sure there was something else with her, a presence.

  “What’s going on, Noah?” Louise came out of the bedroom in one of his crimson Sooners t-shirts.

  They’d been together for two weeks. Yeah, he’d dropped Tahlia for Louise, but Tahlia had been getting clingy. She’d tried to stop him from hanging out after games, and she’d turn up after training all pouty that he wasn’t spending enough time with her. He didn’t have enough time for anything. He had classes and training and games. And he still had to put time into the whole witchcraft thing. Not that he spent a lot of time on that. Give the games to the goddess. Meditate a bit. He was like a non-practicing Catholic paying lip service to tradition.

  Come summer he’d be out of college and going professional, and neither girl would be following. Louise had a few more years of medicine to do and he was not doing the long distance thing—not that she knew that.

  The two girls looked at each other. Tahlia’s face contorted in anger. “Noah is mine. You stole him. I’m going to tear your face off and kill you, bitch.”

  Then something happened. Her shadow thickened and swallowed her. She’d gotten taller and her fingers had lengthened into six-inch claws. Her face had become ugly and wizened. He’d known what it was then.

  Demon.

  As the creature that had been Tahlia lunged for Louise, he’d thrown spells at it, but all he knew were basic protection spells. He tried to bind it in a circle but failed. The Tahlia-demon pulled on Louise’s hair, dragging out a bloody clump. He punched and kicked the Tahlia-demon and it dug its claws into his ribs. His lungs were on fire.

  Its bright green eyes stared into him. It was like looking into a pit of all-consuming jealousy. There was nothing he could do to stop her. She was here to kill Louise and get him back, but in the process she’d taken the demon into her. The human body wasn’t made to hold demons or gods; possession killed the host eventually.

  “It will kill you, too.” The words barely formed on his lips.

  Louise was screaming, clutching her head. She should be running. Why wasn’t she running? Then he realized she was on the phone. What would the cops say when they found a demon? What would they find?

  The demon howled and threw him into the wall. Plaster exploded around him like snow and
pain lanced up his arm. The sound of fracturing bone resonated in his skull. His vision darkened as he tried to get up. Louise had stopped screaming. The demon was holding up a piece of skin in victory, then it turned to him and started eating it.

  “No.” It was more thought than spoken.

  The demon laughed. Rage poured through him, burned his veins and stole his breath. Then there was a snap and hiss of fire. The demon vanished and Tahlia was burning. Sirens, and then darkness that swallowed the pain.

  Noah sat up, his heart pounding, hands ready for a fight. His elbow was aching as if it had hit the wall again, and the taste of smoke was on his tongue. He didn’t know if he’d made the fire or if it had simply been Tahlia burning up after being possessed and the demon achieving its goal. He’d thought about it a lot. He’d had plenty of time to think. Fire had come easily to him after that, but he’d been angry at everyone. Mostly because everyone had pointed to him as the killer. What was he going to say, no it was a demon—that would’ve been a one way ticket to a psych ward. He wasn’t crazy; he was a witch who knew what existed in the shadows.

  He’d been walking in those shadows ever since.

  He wanted sunlight and something other than demons in his life. He glanced over at the lump in the bed that was Rachel. One leg was sticking out from under the blankets. He swallowed and looked away. At least she wouldn’t get her face ripped off—the cops had shown him the photos and he’d thrown up on their nice clean floor. They’d still thought it was him despite his injuries. There was no one else at the scene to blame.

  With a grunt, he got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. He hated that nightmare, hadn’t had it for at least six months. Why tonight? He wasn’t dealing with a face-eater. Cory had a horned thug at his disposal. He rolled his shoulder and felt the glue tug, then skulled a glass of water and hoped he’d be able to get back to sleep without seeing the face-eater’s lurid green eyes watching him from the dark. The string around his wrist was cool, so Cory and his demon weren’t close. They were safe for the moment. He needed to sleep or he wouldn’t be functioning on full speed tomorrow. He’d have to ring the coven and let them know what was going on. He probably should have rung them tonight but he really hadn’t felt up to it. He didn’t ring every day when away, they weren’t his parents. He rang his parents less.

  He should ring them in case it all went bad and he got his arms ripped off by Cory’s one-eyed demon. He tried not to think about the demon, it wasn’t conducive to sleep, but the thick shadow with one green eye refused to be put aside. He shook his head. They were two totally different demons. Tahlia’s words echoed in his mind, along with Cory’s.

  Noah is mine. I’m going to tear your face off and kill you, bitch.

  Rachel is mine. Till death do us part.

  Then why did they sound the same, as if they had the same orders? No, demons were classified by appearance. They had been for centuries. There were face-eaters, horns, and giant, toothy, worm things…and yet…the answer was there, just out of reach. Sleep moved further out of reach and he knew he wouldn’t be able to chase it down until he’d worked out whatever his subconscious was trying to tell him. He needed his database.

  He turned on his bedside light and pulled out his laptop. He had the database open when Rachel lifted her head and looked at him. “You are insane; it’s two a.m.”

  “I had a nightmare.”

  “I’m not surprised; you were stabbed by a demon.”

  Noah shook his head. “Cory is a possessive, jealous type who may have killed before?”

  “Yeah?” She sat up, pulling the blankets with her as if they could protect her.

  “The demon had one green eye?” He was typing everything he knew so far into a new entry. He was going to solve this or die trying—that was the promise he’d made to the Morrigu—but solving it was so close. He could feel the answer like a building storm on the horizon. The pressure was dropping, clouds were gathering, he just needed… He had no idea what he needed to grab it, but he would. Could centuries of data be wrong? No, not wrong, just sorted wrong, as people—monks and witches and observers—noted the after effects, not the cause.

  Plenty of medical conditions caused headaches—the result was the same but the cause wasn’t. Intent was everything in magic. The same spell could be labeled black or white depending on perspective and use. True black magic channeled the darker gods that required blood and other sacrifices. Death magic required death. Manifesting a demon was a symptom of the disease… What was the disease, the intent?

  Not all horned demons killed. Some intimidated. Possessed a man with a fury that let him win battles. Performance enhancing.

  Not all face-eaters ate faces. Some stole babies or money.

  Hounds made people suffer, some tore the victims apart and others ran them down until the person collapsed of a heart attack.

  Some victims died just from seeing a demon.

  He knew what demons looked like. He knew that a person had to be cracked like a sidewalk that let weeds grow through the concrete. And he knew that a person could have a demon on their back for decades and it would never hurt anyone except the host.

  The answer was in the crack. What let the demon form? He didn’t have that information in his database. No one had stopped to ask why.

  Why could some be exorcised and others couldn’t? His uncle said it had to do with the manifester being willing to let go. Noah had seen that proven time and time again. Exorcism didn’t touch a demon that had a target. Only after the goal was achieved did the demon leave, usually killing the host in the process and leaving a mess for those who’d witnessed it.

  He scrubbed his hands over his hair. There was a commonality between Tahlia-and-Louise and Cory-and-Rachel.

  Louise had been killed by his jealous ex.

  Cory was a jealous man whom Rachel wanted to make her ex.

  What did it mean? How had their personal demons gone bad? Worse…why had they started lashing out?

  “What have you found?” She got out of bed and sat next to him, her eyes on the screen, her bare leg against his.

  “I don’t know. There’s too many incomplete records. Few people ever looked back at why the demon was summoned.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s not right. What if…” He resorted the data. “What if the way a demon looks tells me more about the manifester than why it is here.” Face-eaters were often summoned by women, that hadn’t changed. The same for horns forming on men—usually bullies, if the old data was to be believed.

  He shuffled the data again and looked only at his cases. Four years wasn’t much, but he’d made good notes and could remember all the cases.

  “How does that help?”

  “It doesn’t, not yet, but it means the old classification is wrong. Which means I’ve been looking at it wrong. The way everyone else always had. Why do you have a headache?”

  “I don’t.”

  “But if you did.” This is where talking to another witch would be helpful, but he doubted anyone would appreciate a phone call this early for brainstorming.

  “I don’t know. Dehydration, head injury, tumor, tension—”

  “Do you treat them the same?”

  She didn’t make a noise but her lips made a silent “oh.”

  “Yeah. It’s got nothing to do with how the demon is going to kill or even if it is going to kill. It’s about why it manifested.” And it was no wonder that people had been failing to kill demons for so long. Without knowing the intent behind it, they were pissing into the wind and hoping not to get splashed.

  “How do you find out why?”

  “By asking questions.” How did he dissolve a demon fuelled by possessive rage and jealousy? He’d failed the first time and he didn’t want to fail again. He needed to have a chat with Cory about his demon.

  Rachel placed her hand on his leg, well aware that neither of them was wearing very much and she was now sitting on his bed. But demons were hardly bedtim
e talk. She had to be careful, if she asked the wrong question he’d clam up again.

  “Your nightmare wasn’t about Cory, it was about Louise.”

  “I get it every so often.” He was staring at the screen as if the answer was going to suddenly pop up. Wouldn’t that be nice if it was that easy? He started tapping the side of the laptop and it had one hundred percent of his attention.

  She could slide her hand up his thigh and he wouldn’t even notice. She’d had all of his attention in the bathroom. His gaze had been locked with hers. It had made her burn for him because he’d been there with her for those few minutes.

  He scrolled through lines of information. Words jumped out at her and none of them were nice. Claws, dead, liquefied, town slaughtered, mad dog. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about what these records meant. So much death. Noah had told her what happened once the demon had a target, that the victim was as good as dead. She was as good as dead, and yet they were running and hiding and hoping to find some way of defeating the demon. Despite the evidence of centuries of failure. The failure Noah lived with every day.

  “What happens if the manifester is killed?”

  “The demon dissolves.”

  It was such an obvious way to save her life. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Then why not kill Cory?”

  He stopped tapping and scrolling. “Every time I take a demon case I think of killing the manifester. You think I haven’t considered that already? That the temptation to tear his soul free wasn’t there when he punched me?”

  “Was it? Wouldn’t it be easier?” Safer for her, and everyone could get back to their normal lives.

  “I can’t kill him.”

  “Because of the murder charge?”

  “Death isn’t clean, it’s messy and violent and it leaves a mark. People who kill carry that with them forever.”

  “What about soldiers and cops?”

  He nodded.

  “I thought the Ravens were warriors?”