Hollywood Demon (The Collegium Book 6) (10 page)

Jeremy strode into the kitchen. “Do you know what Clancy’s done?” he demanded of Doris.

Escaped a demon. Rescued me from one.
At a frown from Doris Mark clamped his mouth shut. He’d told her the story of Clancy and his morning, and now he was on the phone, on hold to the Collegium. A soft tinkle of music confirmed that the call hadn’t disconnected although he’d been waiting twenty three minutes since the receptionist had forwarded his call to the department of demonology and Mark had made it clear that either he spoke with the head of the department or he’d make a devil of a fuss. He mightn’t have enough magic to start a storm, but he had the money to raise hell.

Belatedly, Jeremy realized Doris wasn’t alone. He nodded jerky acknowledgement at Mark. Framed by a fashionable beard, Jeremy’s mouth was thin-lipped and angry.

So was Doris. Then she sighed. “Yes. I know what Clancy did. And why.” There was a warning in the last two words.

A warning Jeremy ignored. “Where is she?”

“In the chamber,” Mark said. He hadn’t expected Jeremy to jolt to a halt, his furious pacing frozen. Mark glanced at Doris, uncertain if what he’d thought an innocuous answer was a dangerous one.

She was studying her grandson.

Mark felt a wave of love for her. She, as much as the old cottage above its earth power chamber, gave him a sense of security. His parents and grandparents loved him, but they’d always been intent on their own movie-related projects. They’d loved him, but he’d had to fit himself to their Hollywood schedules. Doris had always adjusted her plans to accommodate children’s needs. She understood people and she never expected them to be more than they could be.

On the other hand, she didn’t tolerate them being less.

“Why is Clancy in the chamber?” Jeremy walked slowly and stiffly across the kitchen toward the open door to the laundry room. The relaxed t-shirt and jeans he wore seemed a lie when he was radiating tension. Not just anger any more, but—

“Hello?” The brisk female voice came from his phone.

“Hi.” Mark stood and moved toward the back door. He’d take his conversation outside and let the Ramirez family resolve their problems in private. Still, he overheard Doris’s quiet comment.

“I love you, Jeremy. So I’m saying this out of love. Open your eyes. Clancy won’t refuse the truth forever.”

Involuntarily, Mark turned and looked at her, then at Jeremy.

Clancy’s brother was pale and taut enough he looked like he’d shatter. He slammed his hand against the kitchen wall. The wall was built of stone. It didn’t move. Jeremy stalked out, back through the house and the front door slammed.

“One minute,” Mark said to the phone. “Doris, does Clancy need help settling the geo-power she used? This is Jeremy’s territory.” And he’d just walked away.

“Clancy’s fine.” Doris braced her hands on the table, stood and walked to the stove.

Mark took himself and his phone conversation outside. “Sorry about that,” he apologized.

“I think it’s us who should apologize. How long were you on hold? Never mind. I’m Gilda Ursu, the chief demonologist. I hear you have a demon in Hollywood?”

“Yes,” Mark said bluntly. “And I think I’ve made the situation worse. I hired an independent demonologist to banish this particular demon. She attempted it this morning—”

“Who? Not the demon, the demonologist.”

“Rivera Dryden.”

There was click of keys audible through the phone. “Natural talent, undisciplined. Can handle minor demons.”

“This one said he was a demon lord. Faust.”

“They’re all liars,” Gilda said. “But I take it this one refused to be banished?”

Mark stared at the sunlight glinting off the swimming pool. It was a beautiful winter’s day, the kind Californians liked to brag about. He wouldn’t mind a swim. It would clear his head. “Before it could be banished, Rivera had to summon it.” He paused, and the chief demonologist waited out his silence. “She lost control of Faust immediately. He controlled her without leaving the circle. When he threatened a friend of mine, a geomage, I entered the circle of summoning to distract the demon.”

Gilda muttered something uncomplimentary about his recklessness.

He bit back his own anger. None of this would have happened if the Collegium had only listened to his suspicions. “My friend then blasted the circle with geo-power. Faust departed. We survived. The demon said a few things while he was in the circle.”

“We’ll get to that,” Gilda interrupted. “The message I received was that this demon has taunted you for several years.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s escalated recently.”

He inhaled deeply. “Yes.”

“I’m coming out there.”

He blinked at the phone. “To Los Angeles?” He’d wanted action. He hadn’t expected a visit from the Collegium’s chief demonologist.

“I’ll travel by portal. I’ll be with you in an hour. What’s your address?”

The Collegium probably already had it on file, but he gave his address anyway. Gilda disconnected and he was left alone. No, not quite alone. A raven stared at him from a nearby pine tree and gave a mournful croak. It seemed as good a summary of his situation as any.

He returned to the cottage. Doris was vigorously beating something in a bowl. “The Collegium’s chief demonologist will be here in an hour.”

Doris continued beating.

“She’ll want to talk with Clancy.”

“I’m here.” A quiet voice from the doorway. Clancy was barefoot, carrying her boots.

Mark had never seen her so centered, as if she was the still center of a storm. He switched to mage sight to try and see if it was the effect of the chamber, and winced. He’d pushed his magic beyond its meagre limits to break into the circle of summoning and distract Faust from attacking Clancy. In a sense, you could say his distraction had worked. Faust had ignored Clancy to concentrate on him. Reminded of the consequences, Mark swallowed and felt the rough soreness of his throat from Faust’s stranglehold. The tea with honey that Doris had given him had helped but not healed.

“Jeremy was here.” Clancy looked at her grandma.

“I think I’ll grab a shower before Gilda Ursu arrives.” Mark reached for the handle of the back door which was behind him.

“I’m making pancakes,” Doris said. “There are strawberries in your fridge.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll bring them.” He accepted the implied invitation to lunch and got out of the cottage.

Clancy sat down at the kitchen table. By unspoken mutual agreement, she and Doris waited till Mark was gone. “He looks awful,” she said.

“Messing with a demon will do that.” The sharpness in Doris’s voice failed to hide her concern. She lifted the wooden spoon and watched the pancake batter run off it before putting the bowl aside. “You look better.”

“I am.” Better than she’d been in a long time. The energy of the chamber had a healing effect on her. Unfortunately, she didn’t think it would work that way for Mark. He’d have to recover naturally, and slowly, on his own. For the moment, she put aside thoughts of Mark and the imminent arrival of the Collegium’s chief demonologist, a woman with a fearsome reputation. “Jeremy.” She and Doris had to discuss her brother. “How angry is he? I sensed him here, but he left?”

Doris put two frypans on the stove and switched on the gas. Blue flames licked up, then settled.

“Grandma?” Clancy pushed. “You don’t have to protect me from Jeremy. I promised him I wouldn’t use my magic here, and then, today, I pulled on the geo-power in a big way. He has reason to be mad with me. If you sent him away because you thought I’d been through enough with the demon…I should call him.” Jeremy, she meant. Not the demon.

Butter sizzled as Doris melted it in the two frypans. “I didn’t send Jeremy away. I told him you were in the chamber. He could have joined you. He could have taken over from you the role of calming the forces you’d stirred up.”

Resistance stiffened Clancy’s spine, an instinctive rejection of having to cede control of the power in the chamber to her brother.
And yet, isn’t that what I promised him?
 

Doris ladled pancake batter into the two frypans. She’d made so many pancakes over the years, fluffy and perfect, that she didn’t have to concentrate. “Of course, if you weren’t willing to hand over those forces, he’d have had to take them from you.”

And there they were, at the heart of an issue she was only just unpeeling. She’d hidden from it her whole life. On one side were Jeremy, their parents, the Collegium and her own uneven, emotional control of geo-forces. On the other was Doris and her stubborn belief that Clancy’s affinity for the chamber indicated powerful geomagic. Everyone knew that Jeremy was the stronger geomage—except Doris.

“I came home determined not to use my magic,” Clancy said slowly.

“And that’s your choice.” Doris flipped the pancakes. Two minutes later they were on a plate and two new pancakes were cooking.

“Jeremy needed the geomagic more than me.”

The cuckoo clock struck the hour. One o’clock.

“Yes, he did.” Doris added two more pancakes to the stack and returned the plate to keep warm in the oven. Butter sizzled in the pans, again. “It healed him.”

“He healed himself using it,” Clancy corrected.

“Kennett guided him through the process. I remember. I’d prayed so hard that the power would wake in him at puberty.” Doris’s expression was sad.

Jeremy’s leukemia had haunted their lives.

“My power didn’t grow during my teen years. If anything, it got more erratic.”

Doris sighed. “One day, you’ll join the dots.”

“I don’t understand.” Clancy got up and set the table for her and Doris, and Mark.

Doris concentrated on her pancakes. “Jeremy had a difficult childhood. An unusual one with unusual demands and constraints. He had to be tough to survive.”

Clancy nodded and waited. Her grandma was picking her words too carefully. Worry and love vibrated in the cottage’s cozy kitchen.

Two more pancakes went onto the stack and back into the oven. “Your parents performed miracles keeping Jeremy alive till his magic woke and he could heal himself. I don’t fault them for one minute in all that they did. But in amongst his fight to survive, they taught him that he had a right to anything he needed.”

Clancy frowned as she poured herself a coffee from the old pot. “Are you saying he was spoilt as a kid?” She recalled her loved older brother as a child, pale and listless, needing more than her. “I never noticed.”

“No, you never did.” Doris’s voice was heavy. “You never noticed. Your parents were set in their pattern. Whatever Jeremy needed, he got. Then, he healed. And the pattern changed. Jeremy no longer needed things, but he had a life and experiences to catch up on.” Clancy nodded, remembering. Doris beat the remaining batter, which didn’t need beating. She beat it hard. “So the pattern shifted to deliver not what he needed, but what he wanted.”

“I brought the strawberries.” Mark knocked and opened the back door in one movement. “Uh. Should I come back later?”

Clancy wondered what expression her face held. Shock? Anger? Confusion?

“No. Come in,” Doris said.

He entered cautiously, heading for the sink where he washed and hulled the strawberries.

Clancy realized she was staring at his butt, the phone in the pocket of his old jeans stretching the fabric. She was staring but not really appreciating the view. Embarrassing though if he turned around and caught her. She watched Doris, instead, as she set the warm plate of pancakes on the table and surrounded it with maple syrup, cream, the fresh strawberries, slices of lemon, and sugar. Sugar for shock. Comfort food. Doris topped up her mug of coffee.

“Gilda Ursu will be here in a few minutes,” Mark said. His voice held a warning.

No, not a warning. Clancy concentrated. Concern. She looked up from squeezing lemon over a pancake and saw him watching her. His blue eyes seemed darker, puzzled and unsure; worried for her. She managed a small smile. “I don’t mind talking with Gilda. I’ve not met her before.”

“I’ll bring her to the house.” His house, he meant. Not the cottage.

“You won’t need me.” Doris had two pancakes on her plate, but she was drinking coffee rather than eating.

Only Mark was doing the fluffy buttermilk pancakes justice. He looked better for his shower and clean blue t-shirt and faded jeans. “You’re welcome, Doris, if you want to sit in.”

“No. Thanks.”

Clancy forced down the last bite of her solitary pancake. “I need a shower.” She wanted to wash off the taint of demon and she needed some time alone. She also wanted to meet the Collegium’s chief demonologist wearing clothes she hadn’t chosen for their practicality for bookshelf wiping. Bad enough that Rivera had made her feel inferior. Clancy wanted to feel confident in herself—and already the Zen-like serenity of the chamber was gone.

Her legs felt heavy as she climbed the stairs.
But it’s not really my legs, is it?
It was her heart that was heavy with doubt. She recognized a feeling of resentment, too—against Doris. It was safer not to look at her relationship with her brother or the dynamics in their family. Doris had to know—

Clancy cut off that thought. But thoughts weren’t as easily shed as clothes. As she stepped under the shower, the thought circled back. If Clancy challenged her brother, their parents would side with him. What Jeremy wanted, he got. She’d always known it. She’d been part of ensuring it happened. But it wasn’t till Doris put it into those ugly words that Clancy was faced with the real question: was she willing to continue living that way?

She dressed swiftly in clothes she’d bought to wear to a job interview: a white shirt and a dark blue pencil skirt with a matching jacket. She wound her damp hair into a knot and pinned it securely before adding a minimum of make-up. She wasn’t beautiful like Rivera or thousands of women in LA, but she could look pretty and professional. She added a spritz of a natural oils perfume—rose, sandalwood and vanilla—for courage, and headed downstairs. Unaccustomed to wearing high heels, she wobbled just a little in the moderately high black pumps.

“You need some color,” Doris said. “I’ll lend you a scarf.” She was washing dishes. Mark had gone. “Gilda phoned and Mark went to let her in.”

“I don’t need a scarf. Thanks.” For the first time she could remember, Clancy felt awkward with her grandma. “Jeremy is a well-trained geomage. He can keep California safe.”

“I know.” Doris rested her wet hands on the edge of the sink. “If I didn’t think that, I’d have meddled earlier.” Regret weighted her voice. “Every family has troubles. Relationships change as we age. They have to be renegotiated. From carer to cared-for, for instance. You and your brother aren’t kids anymore.” She gripped the sink, knuckles tightening to white. “You’re changing the pattern of your life. Today, you saw how hard it will be to give up your magic. I just want you to think about your choices. Make them for you. Not for Jeremy or me. Don’t clip your own wings.” She picked up a frying pan and scrubbed it, loudly.

Clancy closed the back door gently behind her. The energy that flowed in the chamber beneath the cottage arched up like a cat to rub against her—which meant that she’d unconsciously reached for the comfort of it. She released her magic and the power settled back.

The high heels she wore clicked sharply on the path to the main house. She would tell Gilda, the chief demonologist, of her two encounters with Faust, and then, she’d change out of these interview clothes and go for a run.

She skirted the edge of the pool. Nope. Not even in sunny LA was she swimming in winter. She would run within the estate so that she wouldn’t be distracted thinking of a possible demonic attack. Even if she had to lap it a few times, the security was only sensible.

I can be sensible.
She opened the door to the casual living and eating area of the main house without knocking, just stepping in as her eyes adjusted from the sparkle of the sunlight reflecting off the swimming pool to the relative dimness inside.
Oh, hell.

Mark got up from the kitchen table and moved swiftly toward her. For a few vital seconds, his large body blocked the view of the other people at the table, shielding her. “I didn’t know they were coming,” he said urgently under his voice.

His hand at the small of her back as they walked toward the table was a barely noticed comfort. She guessed he was trying to signal support.

Jeremy’s eyes tracked the gesture.

Oh yeah. Her brother, whom she’d thought had left the estate, was at the table, and seated next to the Collegium’s chief geomage, Neville Schuster. Opposite them was Gilda Ursu, sturdy and square shouldered in a black pants suit. Mark had been sitting at the head of the table. He seated Clancy there, to his left, next to Gilda.

“Hi,” Clancy nodded at Gilda. “I’m Clancy Ramirez.” They shook hands while Clancy made an effort to ignore Jeremy and Neville—just for an instant, just while she caught her mental balance. She managed a tight, forced smile for Neville. “Hi, Neville. Jeremy.”

“They invited themselves along.” Gilda didn’t sound any happier than Clancy at the two men’s presence. But she definitely sounded more antagonistic.

Neville scowled at Gilda before transferring that scowl to Clancy. “I told you. Clancy’s been upsetting things. I’m here to hear her excuses.”

“Reasons,” Mark said. He had the least magic of anyone present, but it was his home. He wasn’t backing down. “Clancy fought a demon this morning, and that is what we’re discussing. You want to discuss geomage activities, you can do so later—and somewhere else.”

It was a firm statement. A minor smack down. Something Neville didn’t often experience. His face went red. He was an elderly man and likely had a blood pressure problem.

“Agreed,” Jeremy said. “We can talk at my place.”

Like hell.
The words popped into Clancy’s mind so fast she reeled. Would it really be so bad to have a discussion at Jeremy’s townhouse, her brother’s home? Was it Doris’s challenge unsettling her, or had this level of unease with Jeremy existed for a long time, and she’d just avoided it? Shocked, she stared at her brother.

He stared back, and one dark eyebrow lifted fractionally in challenge.

Gilda wasn’t interested in sibling issues. “Mark has recounted a tale of this demon intending to establish a demonic tourism service to Earth.”

Startled, Clancy broke off her staring match with Jeremy. “You sound as if you don’t believe him! Faust said…okay, you can’t trust a demon, but—”

“Gilda thinks you might lie for me. She’s sent a demonologist to check on Rivera and her studio, the site of the summoning,” Mark said flatly.

All of Clancy’s confused, battered emotions found a target. She rounded on Gilda. “So you didn’t come here to help. You came to shut Mark down, again. If you’d listened to him, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Gilda remained calm. “Lots of things wouldn’t have happened if things had been handled differently. I know you’re aware we had a demon infiltrate the Collegium a few months ago, and that my predecessor as chief demonologist fought on the wrong side. What I’m here to discover is if a different demon took advantage of our distraction.”

“Distraction,” Clancy huffed.

“Tell me what happened this morning,” Gilda said steadily.

Clancy unfolded her arms and did so.

Neville’s scowl deepened as she recounted blasting open the circle of summoning, but after a glance at Gilda, he refrained from interrupting. However, the moment Clancy finished, he had a comment. “That was a reckless and inappropriate use of geomagic. I realize you were scared—”

“Really?” The mockery came from Gilda. “Neville, do you ever listen to yourself? The girl was saving two lives and her own. That demon never meant to leave any of them alive. It was boasting because it expected to eat them.”