Demons (Darkness #4) (11 page)

“But why would he come back and scratch the pentagram?” I asked as I turned back to the tree. “That doesn’t make sense. And the feel of that symbol is all tingly and lovely. Everything else in the air is…”

“Rank,” Charles helped, letting an exaggerated shiver roll through his shoulders.

“
I can’t feel the magic, but it does smell off. Also smells like…” Ann kneeled to the circle, eyes scanning the now empty area. “I’d bet something was killed here. Something small.”

“Something nobody
would miss,” Jonas said as he strolled back into the area. He only looked mildly more relieved.

“What’d you do with him?” I asked
in a testy voice I couldn’t help.

“Wiped his memories, threw his clothes in a tree, and sent him stumbling through the park naked. I hope he gets pneumonia. He signed his death warrant when he went after you.”
Jonas flexed from head to toe. He cracked his neck.

“Do you kill small animals, too, psycho?” Ann asked offhandedly.

“Only
human ones,” Jonas growled back.

“Look here.” Dominicous extended his finger to a few scratches in the bark, further up from the pentagram. “Someone of my height drew these. They look older
. The weather has worn the freshness.”

I handed him the lighter so he could hold it up.
They were characters.

“Run
es,” Dominicous said to my stare. “But I don’t know what they mean. Toa would know.”

Of course he would.

“Well, this happened before that warehouse thing. And being as though there wasn’t a mass riot, I’d assume this attempt at bringing a demon through didn’t work,” I surmised, stepping away.

“Bringing
it through what, exactly? A portal?” Ann asked, giving me room.

I
bit my lip, thinking. “From wherever they exist when it isn’t here. We should consult Toa.”

I hated that hint of sullenness in my voice. Dominicous did me a favor, and kept himself from nodding.

“Okay.” I dusted off my hands and looked to Jonas. “Anythi—”

“Incoming,” Charl
es interrupted in a low voice. Before I could even open my mouth to ask a question, he rushed across the small clearing, threw a thick arm around my middle, and bodily carried me into the treeline. He dropped me against a trunk and stood over me as Dominicous melted in beside me. Jonas drifted toward the opposite side of the clearing, his tattoos glowing faintly right before the shadows seemed to reach for him, pulling him into their bosom protectively. Ann was beside me a moment later, her brow dancing on her face as she processed smells. It was her “huh?” face.

She showed that face
to Charles all the time. But then, we all did.

“Smells like women,” Ann said softly, the sound barely tickling my ears. “Fresh scents, fragrant, floral soaps…”

“Why would women come here so late—”

“
Shhhh!”
Charles hissed in my ear.

“Humans can’t hear as well as you,” I softly whispered back.

“Might not be human,” he answered.

I felt a light touch on my shoulder.
Dominicous telling me to shut it.

We waited in silence as the bodies drew near. Footfalls were the first thing to reach my ear. Someone pounded the ground with decisive, no-nonsense steps. Fabric swished, like tracksuit pants. So
mething dragged, tinkling and jingling.

“Human,” Charles assessed. “Sounds like a pack of elephants in a lightning storm.”

Where did he come up with this stuff?

Dominicous shifted, his body melting down into a pose of patient relaxation. Jonas shifted across the way, too, only his was in irritation. He obviously had other things he wanted to do tonight. We were not great with time management.

A moment later, four women walked cautiously into the clearing. The woman in the lead, wearing a thick gray skirt and black, long-sleeved shirt tucked in, was the force behind the thumping feet. Probably five-foot-eight and pushing
sixty, her large bosom took up her whole chest, straining the effectiveness of her bra as they reached for the ground. She broke the tree line and paused, hands on hips, surveying the surroundings like a groundskeeper might notice his freshly mowed lawn. Behind her skulked a small woman in her early thirties, thin and mousy, sporting glasses held together with tape in two places. She held a Taser in one hand and pepper spray in the other.

She wouldn’t have been my optimum choice for a battle unit.

Behind them crowded a pair of twins, which had Charles perking up considerably. If it wouldn’t draw attention to our hiding place, I would’ve punched the idiot. Pudgy with round faces, each had a smile and a splash of freckles. They looked around like they were waiting in line at the fair.

“Okay, ladies, let’s set up,” the woman in the lead said, glancing down.

Each woman spread around the circle, not one of them stepping over the now disturbed line. One of the twins dropped a small satchel, the burst of metallic tinkling making the mousy woman jump and crouch, weapons of destruction aimed at the disturbance.

“No one’s here,” the leader said, waving away the mousy attack unit. “You can calm down.”

With a last glance around, the mousy woman slightly relaxed, hunching just a bit more in bad posture as she settled to the ground cross-legged. Soon everyone else joined her, each shifting and moving until they found a comfortable spot.

“Okay,” the leader said, straightening out her skirt with firm pats. “Focus, now.”

Charles sighed softly and leaned his forearm on the tree over me, getting comfortable. His hard chest pushed into my face, squishing my nose and having me gasping. I grabbed skin in my two fingers, squeezed, and twisted for all I was worth. It was a pinch to tell the masses about. They probably used it in the Spanish Inquisition.

Charles grunted and backed off quickly, the slid
e of his skin on bark permeating the space. The heads of all four women snapped toward us.

Oops.

It was all his fault, obviously.

The mousy girl raised the pepper spray, her face pointing to the area between Dominicous and Charles.
In other words, between the two trees. Time tumbled by, soaking the area in silence. A dry leaf clicked off another dry leaf above us, like miniature skeletons dancing. Still the women stared. Still we froze.

What were we all waiting for?

Jonas put his hands on his hips on the other side of the clearing.

Oh, good, I was developing Jonas’ impatience.
Fabulous.

“Did you hear that?” one of the twins asked in
to a hush with an unlit lighter hovering over a corroded silver candleholder. She had forgotten about the candle part of the whole affair.

“Are we not all staring in the same direction?” the leader asked with a verbal rolling of the eyes. “But I ca
n’t see anything, and there’ve been no other sounds, so…”

The pepper spray dropped a fraction.

“Well?” the leader prompted.

The lighter clicked as the twin got back to business. “Oh.” She went rummaging through the bag for the missing candle.

“Should we not head out?” Dominicous whispered, the words barely reaching my ears.

“Yes, but…just a second.
I want to see what they’re up to.” My gaze was riveted to the leader, stretching out. Loosening her joints. For what? An intense game of thumb war? I’d bet these people scratched that pentagram—I had to know why.

“Boss, something’s come up.”

Stefan looked up from the desk where Sasha’s text message from earlier lit up his phone, letting him know of a potentially uncomfortable dinner later that night. Just this once he’d love to say no to her. He hadn’t been able for the diffidence he was supposed to be showing the Regional lately, grinding the two of them nearer an altercation. But that woman had him by the balls. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes, or pout, or smile, or—hell, text message, and he couldn’t help immediately bending to her whims. He’d turned soft with regards to her, but…

No. End thought there. She’d turned him soft.

Stefan unconsciously flexed. Jameson stood in the doorway, cell phone clutched in his hand.

“What is it?” he asked his second in command.

Jameson stepped into the room, the dim light reflecting off of the sword hilt at this back. “I just got word from the West Three. We’ve got another one.”

“Grade?”

“Low. Probably not much better than a Dulcha. It’s confined in a circle. Creator is nowhere to be found.”

A low-powered demon meant Stefan’s magic, and that of his more powerful Watch, would be enough to dispatch it. He wouldn’t have to involve Sasha.

Stefan stood from the desk in one quick, fluid movement. “Who else knows?”

“Some humans found it. They were sitting around, staring at it when we showed up.”

“Their memories?”

“Wiped.
They were relocated.”

Stefan nodded, feeling adrenaline fill his body for what he knew lay ahead. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands. No distractions this time. No mangy animals, Regional, or fear for Sasha.
Just him, his Watch, and his sword. It was time to test his resolve.

A grin worked onto his face as he hefted his sword and some battle leathers.

“Should I contact the mage?” Jameson asked in a level voice.

“No. Get a crew together and meet me out front. Ten people should be fine, with an additional ten on call if something goes wrong.”

Jameson nodded, phone already at his ear.

Stefan brushed passed his Second and out into the hall. A younger female startled at his appearance and shuffled out of the way with a red face. He strode powerfully toward the weapon room. Members of his clan always gave him plenty of space, but now everyone jogged out of the way, sensing his mood and reading his body. It was time for battle, and the wise got scarce or joined in.

After gearing up, he nodded to Tace, a stout male with spikes on his shoulder piece, before heading toward the front of the house. At the end of the hall by the door waited the bleached blond head of a huge pain in the ass.

“Guards are generally on the
outside
of the building,” Stefan growled as he neared, Tace right behind him, ready for war.

Toa didn’t
so much as blink. “Were you planning to alert the mage that a magical anomaly dictates her presence?” he asked in his quiet tone.

“A nothing of a demon doesn’t dictate anything. I can handle this just fine.”

Toa glided from the wall and followed Stefan out the door. It took everything he had not to knock the meddlesome male through the wall he’d just been resting on.

“So, you did not tell her,” Toa accused conversationally.

“Correct. She is otherwise engaged.”

“I see. What about the Regional? Does he not deserve to know what goes on in the territory he is currently occupying?”

A flash of rage swept across Stefan’s consciousness. He stopped suddenly, muscles flexed. His eyes bore into Toa, having the other male’s back snapping straight and a foot retreating, his brain no doubt begging to find somewhere safe to hide. “This is
my
territory. I will run this territory as I see fit. If you keep meddling in my affairs, I’ll silence you, regardless of your higher level of magic. Is this clear?”

Stefan had to hand it to the
male, his gulp wasn’t nearly as loud as some.

“I will be accompanying you, of course,” Toa said in a calm voice, despite the sheen of sweat that coated his forehead. “I will fill in for your mage.”

“I don’t need you.” Stefan commenced walking, pushing through the door and out toward Jameson, standing beside a sleek sports car. Tace followed him like a shadow, waiting for directions.

“It is not a question of
need
,” Toa said as he drifted along beside Stefan. “I want to analyze the spell. I need to know more about the magical properties behind this. Whoever is calling these demons, he is not doing it with the same chants and old magic the humans use. He is working at it a different way. Being that it is one of our kind, I can figure out his reasoning. With study, I can get ahead of him. I can find him and take him to the council.”

Stefan took a silent, deep breath. It was always analytics with this guy. Thinking and pondering and twittering about it. He had no idea how Dominicous, a man of action like himself, could deal with it. But Toa did have a point. Knowing the enemy was always the first step. Knowing, finding, and then killing.

“Stay out of my way,” Stefan growled as the car door was opened for him. “I’ll give you time to look around before we kill it. After that, you can have all the time you need.”

He turned back, staring at the icy blue eyes with fire. “But everything you learn will be shared. You will dissect everything with Sasha or
myself. No secrets. Don’t forget within which territory you reside.”

“This is a dangerous road you are walking,” Toa replied in a low voice.

Stefan intensified his focus until Toa’s gaze hit the ground. He hated that he had to keep reminding the Regional and his mage that Stefan ran this territory. Deferring to a higher power was tolerable for short periods of time, but these two had overstayed their welcome. Alphas didn’t like to share, and Stefan liked it less than most.

              They arrived at the site: a deserted parking lot at a closed-down roller rink. On the side of the building, hunched within the shadows, moved a creature about the size of an average human male, confined within invisible walls, barely hanging onto its physical shape. It stared out at Stefan’s gathering clan, huge teeth protruding from black lips and gums. Saliva dripped out of its mouth and fell to the ground in strings.

“It greatly resembles a
Dulcha
,” Stefan noted as Jameson stepped next to him.

“
Dulcha
register at about a nine or ten—the lesser powerful end of the spectrum—depending on the magic used. This is probably a seven or eight. Small animals were sacrificed in the ritual,” Jameson conveyed.

“But it
was
a ritual?” Toa asked, focusing his unblinking stare on the glistening eyes and grotesque face of the demon.

Jameson concurred, “From what we can gather, it has all the elements of the warehouse. The pot, the fire, the blood sacrifice, the containment circle…”

Toa stepped closer, a white haze drifting across the ground toward the demon, his magic picking up clues. “He’d called too powerful of a demon the last time. It didn’t want to stay put. The caster wasn’t ready to battle wills, so he ran. This time, in order to continue practicing, the caster scaled way back. He called a lesser demon. A lap dog. Oh yes, I see…”

An orange light blared into existence around the demon, a circular, magical cage.

“Intricate,” Toa droned, talking mostly to himself. His eyes had lost focus. His magic spread around the area in a pale white glow. “The spell is tied off. It doesn’t want for more power. Stronger in construction, this time. Fine details. Someone working on his craftsmanship.”

Toa straightened up, ignoring the horrible rasp coming out of the demon’s mouth. His gaze hit Stefan’s. “The wielder of this spell is getting close. This spell is polished; sophisticated. I imagine the chants for the various demonic power levels have been mapped out. The confinement is water-tight. The workmanship is
just so.
Yes, he’s not far now. It won’t be long before he calls a nasty demon. One, maybe two more tries, and he has something that will bend to his will.”

Ten warriors, armed in leather, knives and swords, tattoos glowing and eyes fierce, waited silently for the fluffy, white-haired mage to finish prattling on about his findings. Adrenaline from the battle to come raged through their blood, needing action.
Needing release. The scene could be dissected after the demon was dispatched.

“Do you have what you need?” Stefan asked with iron in his voice. He didn’t need to follow the question with a command to move. Toa was already taking himself to the rear of the warring party.

“Do you plan to link?” Toa asked with a rigid back and somewhat raised chin. “Or are you planning to do this all on your own?”

Stefan jerked his head to his Watch. Understanding the silent command, they spread out in a circle surrounding the demon, swords flashing to life.

“This demon is nothing. It’s sport.” Stefan ripped his sword out of the holster, the blade blaring burnished gold with a white frost. “It’s practice for my Watch.”

Stefan could barely hear Toa sniff. “Well, I’ll just wait near the cars then.
Since you claim to have this covered.”

The white mage wasn’t used to being a spare tire. Stefan smirked. It was good for him.

Stefan called the elements, filling himself with more air and fire than the other two. He let his magical feelers pick at that spell surrounding the demon, getting an idea of it. Finding the weak points. And then noticing a big, magical “pull here” tab to unravel the whole thing. Organized, logical and effective—if the person responsible turned out to be anyone besides Andris, Stefan would be shocked.

Stefan had spent a few hours interrogating Trek after they’d captured him, who was holed up in the basement of the mansion waiting to go to the council and get his punishment. The caped buffoon had a lot of interesting information to divulge, like their extensive gathering of humans to make
Dulcha
and for draining blood for power. And Andris’ teaching, alluding to him being the mastermind behind all their dealings thus far—something Stefan had always suspected. Most importantly, their collecting of ancient human texts about calling demons and ruling the world.

The latter made Stefan chuckle.
Andris had been telling tall tales to the naïve and greedy white mage—to manipulate him, no doubt. Ruling the world only existed in storybooks, and only lasted for a short time before the “good guys” rolled through and tore the mantle from the villain. Trek was an idiot, but an idiot with golden information.

“Prepare
yourselves,” Stefan commanded in a low tone.

Through the link he could feel Sasha, the hum of her daily activities creating nothing more than small mood fluctuations.
Safe.

He bent his knees and breathed through his mouth.
Here we go.

A magical tug had the containment spell dropping away, the confinement suddenly thrown wide. The demon within stood still for one moment of uncertainty, noticing the disappearance of the cage. The next second, it was action.

With a scream like a dying cat, the creature tore out of the circle, heading right. Silvia whipped across the cement as clawed feet scraped. It dove for a pocket of air between Jameson and Sid, not aiming to fight or kill, just to escape. Strange.

Jameson’s pale gold sword whipped up, slashing across its middle. The creature bellowed, sliding away and running the opposite direction. Flesh flapped,
its back flayed away from the rest of its body. A pungent smell of rot wafted by Stefan’s nose as it passed, screeching.

Tace
met it this time, his sword slashing a thigh. The bright red blade seared a stringy leg, making the thing stumble and change direction, this time right for Stefan.

Memories flashed.
The knock at the door, slow and solemn. The empty dining room table, dinner getting cold. A tear, unabashed, falling out of Jestin’s eyes as he told Stefan the news. Nightmares. Decades and decades of nightmares; going up against a demon like this and failing. Claws ripping into his father. Teeth cutting out his mother’s throat. A baby dying. Stefan curled in a ball while the beast ravaged his family.

As the memories crowded his brain, sweat covered his body. He squeezed the hilt of his blade. Images of blood clouded his vision.
Spilled blood. Flying blood. Blood splashed across the cold dirt.

Pressure condensed his chest. A dull roar rang in his ears.

Screaming. His parents screaming.

“No!”

Almost unable to feel it, he slashed. A claw came sailing passed his head. He ducked with plenty of time, faster than this worthless creation of death. He struck downward with his sword, slicing off an arm. His other hand brought up his knife even as his eyes stung. The memories, so fresh, suffocated him.

“Die!” he heard himself say, his dagger piercing the face. He let go of it and stepped back, quick sword work slashing and hacking, cutting chunks out of masticated flesh. Parts
dropped away. The thing screeched and howled. Still he worked, vision gone red. Pulsing pressure in his ears. His mother screamed in his dreams.