Demon Rogue (Brimstone Magic Book 3)

by Tori Centanni

  Her arm had a red, raw mark where the tattoo had been, the remnants of the soreness, but no ink. The ink was gone.

  “She had a tattoo right there,” I said, touching her cold, red skin. My head pounded and a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I know I’d seen a tattoo last night, and the red irritation seemed to prove it had been there.

  “If the ink itself was cursed, perhaps it vanishes once the curse is completed,” Conor suggested. That made sense. At least I knew my tattoo wasn’t permanent. Just had to figure out how to get rid of it without dying.

  “Wait, wait,” Adam said. “Are we talking about cursed tattoos?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  Adam opened another drawer, a few down from the one where Leah lay. On the slab was a young man. His skin was blue, more so than Leah’s, and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. This man didn’t wear any clothes. Adam pointed to a red mark on his chest. “Well shit. This guy had a tattoo when he came in two days ago. It was of a phoenix. I thought it was cool.”

  “How did he die?” I asked. The guy looked so young and there were no obvious injuries that I could see, at least on his front half.

  “That’s the thing. He got locked inside his garage and apparently died of carbon monoxide poisoning. But he should have known to turn off his car, you know? His sister was in pieces. She swears it wasn’t suicide, though she admitted he’d been having a crappy run of luck. Lost his job, girlfriend dumped him...” Adam shrugged. “It struck me only because the way she put it, that his life went from near perfect to a train wreck in a week.”

  “Like he was cursed,” I said.

  Adam pointed at me. “Exactly.”

  I stared at the red mark on the dead man’s chest. How many people had Jade marked with her poisoned ink? How many lives had she ruined?

  “All the people this Jade woman is cursing are ending up dead,” I said. I didn’t actually know if it was true, but I knew of four curse victims total and two of them were lying on slabs in a funeral home, so the odds weren’t looking good.

  Conor headed for the door. “We need to get this woman in custody before she hurts anyone else.”

  I didn’t think it would be that easy. Whatever Jade was, she had powerful magic and she wasn’t afraid to use it. But I appreciated Conor’s determination to defeat evil. He always made it seem so easy to fight the good fight.

  Anyhow, I didn’t have a choice. I sure as hell wasn’t waiting around for the curse to kill me.

  * * *

  The tattoo parlor was gone. The building was still there, but the shop had been removed.

  “Are you sure it was this strip mall?” Conor asked, turning in a semi-circle to survey the area. “Many of them look alike.”

  “I’m sure,” I insisted, staring at the empty store front. This was the right place. There was the teriyaki shop, the salon, and the HomeGoods store, all where they’d been yesterday.

  I stared at the blank facade that had been Floral Ink. The signage had been ripped down from above, leaving an empty rectangle. The shop’s name and hours had been scrubbed from the glass doors and replaced with a “For Lease” sign. From what I could make out through the window, the reception desk had been yanked out, leaving a bare floor with pock marks where the fixtures had been.

  I groaned. “This isn’t possible. It was here.”

  “Perhaps it’s a few blocks down,” Conor suggested.

  I bit back my annoyance. I knew I was right and that this was the place, but his dubiousness was understandable. It didn’t look like anything had been here in at least a month. It wouldn’t be easy to gut a place and remove all traces of signage in such a short period of time. Even if Jade had a whole crew of people to help, there was no way she could have scrubbed the space clean that quickly.

  And yet, she must have. Because Jade’s shop had been here, in this now-empty storefront, less than twenty-four hours ago.

  I touched the glass on the front of the door and felt a slight tingle of strange magic. I repeated the process, but the more I did it, the less reaction I seemed to get.

  “Perhaps you need some sleep, Warren,” Conor said gently.

  I scratched at my tattoo. It was itching intermittently, but the pain had subsided. At least the healing salve hadn’t caused a blowback reaction. I guessed the curse didn’t care if I was trying to soothe the skin as long as I wasn’t trying to dull its wicked magic.

  “I’ll sleep once this is over,” I said.

  Something moved inside the shop. I used my hands to shield from the glare of the morning sun and peered in. A small figure skittered along the shadows. I pressed my face against the glass, trying to get a better look. A sleek little animal moved along the far wall of the shop. It wasn’t large, maybe the size of a small dog or big raccoon. It had fur and eyes that glowed when they caught the light.

  I felt the heat of Conor’s body next to mine as he stepped up beside me to see inside. “Looks like a stray dog got in. That means we can, too,” he said. “Let’s go have a look around.”

  I started to say that from what I could tell, there wasn’t anything to see. The shop had been completely gutted. My words died in my throat when the dog stepped out of the shadows.

  It wasn’t a dog at all. Its eyes burned red. It had gray fur but its feet ended in claws that belonged to a lizard-creature. Its snout was too long and its ears formed sharp points that looked like horns on its head.

  I reared back, pulling out my sword. The dog-like thing flew at the window. Glass shattered outward as it came crashing through, barking. The sound rattled my bones. It was far too loud and low a sound for such a small dog.

  I swung my sword as it jumped at me. I missed. The dog-thing dodged, turning its attention on Conor, who had moved away as he readied his daggers. Its claws clicked on the pavement as it raced toward him. Conor had his daggers out and slashed at it. The creature reared back, out of his range. Conor flew at it, trying to stab it in the back. He missed.

  My heart hammered against my ribs. My fingers itched with the desire to wield demon fire and I suppressed the urge. With Conor here, I’d have to rely on my sword.

  The creature growled. A glow surrounded it and when the glow faded, the dog-creature was twice the size, with horse-like legs and hooves and ram’s horns. Conor reared back, away from the thing. He steadied himself against the wall. The creature scraped the ground like a bull, put its head down, and charged.

  I ran at it, bringing my sword down on its back, though it managed to duck low and escape the blow. My blade only scraped it, fur flying as it kept charging forward.

  Conor dodged its blow and it smacked its horns against the wall of the building.

  The creature snarled as it whirled on me. Conor attacked it from behind, ramming a dagger into its backside. It howled and reared up on its hind legs, kicking out its front legs.

  Even though I was several feet back, it galloped forward and its hoof managed to smack me in the shoulder. The blow slammed me backward and I lost my balance, falling butt-first onto the sidewalk. My shoulder burned, pain radiating from the injury. I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore it as I got back up.

  I lifted my sword again and rushed at the monster from the side. My preternaturally sharp blade sliced through its side. Blue blood spurted out.

  The dog-goat creature howled. I pulled my sword back, ready to attack again. It skittered across the sidewalk, stumbling until it hit the wall of the former tattoo parlor.

  The creature moaned. I marched toward it, ready to slice its throat, but there was no need. The gash I’d cut open was huge, exposing blue innards and organs. It went still. Its body shimmered and when the glow faded, all that was left on the sidewalk was a blue stain from its odd-colored blood.

  “What the hell was that?” I demanded, panting, as I stared at the blue splotch.

  “A pooka, I believe,” Conor said, sheathing his daggers. “They’re fae shifters with animal forms. They don’t turn humanoid but they can go
from friendly neighborhood dog to…” He gestured at the blue splotch. “Well, that. They’re not always malicious but they can be trained or compelled to attack for someone else.”

  I wiped the blue faerie blood from my blade and sheathed my sword. “Seemed pretty malicious to me. It was ready to pulverize you with its horns.”

  Conor licked his lips. “I suspect it was left here with orders to attack.”

  That was a chilling thought. “Attack me or anyone who came looking?”

  Conor shrugged. He didn’t know any more than I did.

  “Maybe it was here for Jade,” I said.

  “Maybe. Or perhaps she’s not a witch, after all,” Conor said. “No witch could command a pooka.”

  Witches could use magic to compel demons (which was super illegal) and spirits, but fae creatures were as resistant to our persuasion magic as we were to theirs.

  The air inside the empty shop glimmered and my hand went to the hilt of my sword, ready to fight whatever threat materialized next. Conor stiffened and reached for his own weapons.

  Lord Barrel Chest appeared and opened the glass door of the shop from the inside.

  “Ah, I see you’ve found this well of power, witch,” he said, as if appearing out of thin air was totally normal. Which for him, I guess it was.

  “Hands up,” Conor ordered.

  Mace’s lips quirked in amusement. “You have no authority over me or my kind, Watcher.”

  Conor glowered but he didn’t argue. He couldn’t. The Magic Council didn’t have any power over the fae. They had their own sovereigns. The most the Council could do was appeal to the fae lords or royalty for help if one of theirs was causing trouble.

  “Jade was here yesterday,” I said. “Where did she go?”

  Mace crossed his arms over his broad chest. He wore the same silks and linens as he had last night, his black boots shining in the sun. “If I knew where the changeling went, I would be there,” he said simply.

  “So Jade is the changeling you’re looking for,” I said, disheartened. I’d suspected it earlier but I hadn’t wanted to believe it.

  Mace tilted his head, as if he was confused. “Yes.”

  “But she’s not a faerie, she’s a witch,” I insisted. She was using witch magic, after all. And yet, that couldn’t be right. Too many things pointed to her being fae: the slickly sweet paralytic, the fae chasing her, the pooka.

  Mace said nothing.

  “But I thought she was a witch! She uses atramancy and her tattoo parlor was here yesterday,” I said, as if I were trying to convince myself. But then, I of all people shouldn’t have found the idea of a fae using witch magic so hard to believe. After all, if I was a witch who could use demon magic, what was stopping some powerful faerie from using a witch trick or two?

  “The shop was merely an illusion,” Mace said. “I can still feel the remnants of the spell as they fade.”

  My pulse raced. That wasn’t true. It had been solid. Real. “It wasn’t an illusion. I was inside the shop. It was all set up and furnished. I sat in chairs, I touched the desk...”

  “Some fae illusions are so strong as to be indistinguishable from reality.”

  A chill washed over me. Conor and I exchanged a glance. I couldn’t tell whether Conor felt as out of his depth as I did, but I really didn’t like the idea that I had been in a room full of nothing but illusion and trickery and hadn’t been able to tell the difference. It was too unsettling.

  “You’re saying this whole shop, which has been here long enough to find legitimate customers, was a faerie illusion? Wouldn’t that require an incredible amount of power?” Conor asked Mace.

  Mace nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid the young runaway changeling is more powerful than originally estimated.”

  I looked at the abandoned retail space. That was a major understatement. Not only could she weave illusions that felt solid, but she could use witch magic to boot. Just who the hell was this girl?

  “Why are you hunting her?” I asked. I’d met plenty of runaways from the Summerlands, some fae or changelings, some human. Almost no one ever chased after them. The fae had short attention spans and when their toys escaped, they simply found new ones. But now that I knew it was Jade he was looking for, I had to know why.

  “I am not,” Mace said simply.

  I glared at him. “Yes, you are. Why else would you be here?”

  “I’m seeking her out so that I may protect her,” he said.

  I thought my head might cave in on itself. Not literally, but the weight of everything was too much and it was crushing my fragile, tired brain. This Jade woman, who was apparently a faerie with witch magic, had built a whole illusionary business in order to curse people so badly they wound up dead, and Lord Barrel Chest over there thought she needed protection. It was too much.

  Conor apparently agreed. “That’s absurd. This woman doesn’t need protection, she needs to be contained.”

  “I am doing my duty to my lady,” Mace said, with a slight bow as though his lady were standing there. “I have promised to protect her daughter in the mortal world. Others have been sent to return her to the Summerlands but they cannot force her. She is not obligated to go.”

  “Great,” I mumbled. “That’s just great. So the Seelie court is trying to grab her. And let me guess… the Unseelie court is trying to kill her?”

  “So it would appear.” Mace looked me over, his expression turning from mildly curious to deeply concerned. The corners of his eyes wrinkled and he scratched his chin. “She has set a dark curse on your head.”

  “Yeah, I know that,” I said, annoyed. “I don’t suppose you’ll help force her to remove it?”

  Mace considered, tilting his head as he studied me. I made myself stand still, pretending to be unbothered by this examination. Finally, he said, “I can encourage her to lift it. But she may not be willing.”

  Conor snarled. “She’s attacked one of my people. If you refuse to help us stop her, then you have to stay out of my way. That’s what it says in the accords.”

  “The accords don’t allow the Council or its champions to interfere with the business of the fae.”

  “They do when the fae are getting people killed,” Conor growled, stepping menacingly closer to Mace until the two were practically nose to nose. Mace didn’t flinch. “Two people are dead because of her curse. And Dani might be next. So you will help us or you will sorely regret it.”

  Mace and Conor stared at each other for a long moment, a heated nonverbal exchange proceeding via very dark looks. Then Mace smiled. “Witches. So arrogant. I shall not help you. But nor will I hinder you, unless it becomes my duty to do so.” He bowed in my direction. “Choose your actions carefully, little witch. You know not on the ground you tread.”

  Mace vanished. Conor looked like he wanted to punch the air where Mace had been, though he resisted.

  “He’s a bundle of fun, isn’t he?” I asked, mostly to try and break the tension.

  “There’s something he’s not telling us,” Conor said.

  “You think?” I was pretty sure there was a hell of a lot Mace wasn’t saying. The fae couldn’t lie but they didn’t have to offer up facts, particularly not to people moving counter to their desires. If he wanted Jade protected, we were on opposite sides. And I really didn’t fancy the idea of having a fae lord as an enemy. “At least he didn’t find her and whisk her away somewhere we can’t get to her.”

  “He didn’t expect to find her. He came here to check up on us,” Conor said.

  I furrowed my brow. “What makes you think that?”

  Conor shrugged. “He wanted to know what we know. It’s a trick I use sometimes.” Conor looked up at the empty facade of the former tattoo shop. “Come on. No sense in wasting daylight.” He touched my shoulder lightly and I nodded, his hand slipping off and leaving warmth behind. I wished he’d kept it there as I followed him back to his SUV.

  I kept trying to make sense of things. Jade was a changeling, which was
a half-faerie. That meant she should have been less powerful than your average faerie, not more. And yet she could do far more with her magic than should have been possible, including atramancy, an old witch magic that no fae should have access to. Weirder still, I couldn’t figure out why such a powerful faerie would want to use witch magic, which was comparatively limiting?

  Something wasn’t right.

  None of this was adding up.

  Chapter 10

  Conor wanted us to go to the Watcher’s headquarters and ask for back up. I nixed that idea.

  I didn’t want the Watchers officially involved, at least not yet. Having Conor involved was bad enough and I knew he’d probably end up filing a report no matter what. But I didn’t want the Council overseeing this case while I had a bad luck curse over my head. That was a recipe for disaster.

  Lacking other leads, I’d tracked down the receptionist from Floral Ink. It turned out there were dozens of tattoo parlors with the same name, but by searching “Floral Ink” and the location, I was able to find a Facebook profile for the receptionist, whose name was Joel Austin. Guess it didn’t matter that the shop had been one big faerie illusion. To Joel, it had been a real place and he’d listed it as his place of employment.

  Sometimes, I was eternally grateful to live in the age of oversharing on social media. It sure made my job easier.

  As we drove, I texted Krissy photographs of the faces of both corpses to see if she recognized either of them. And yes, I warned her and asked if it was okay before sending photos of dead people. Not the kind of thing you want to spring on an unsuspecting person.

  Sadly, she didn’t know either of them. I’d been hoping to find some connection between Jade’s victims, only there didn’t seem to be one beyond the tattoos. That meant she wasn’t targeting a specific group but randomly doling out curses to anyone unlucky enough to go to Floral Ink.

  Conor pulled up to yet another red light and groaned as the car rolled to a stop. So far, we’d hit every single red light, even ones that were usually timed to stay green together.