The Demon Abraxas (22 page)

She paused. If they did have a relatively powerful demon with them, they wouldn’t need her consent to abduct her. He could just knock her out or try to possess her and trigger the leash, which would have the same effect. After all, the leash wasn’t for her protection—it was to protect the other witches from her. Technically a clever demon could possess her and get her to use the Voice on herself to make her tell them everything she knew about the Hecatines. The leash made that impossible.

“Dr. Young,” she corrected him and followed him around the corner to a building of loft apartments. They took the elevator up to a studio where three men in dark masks waited. The effect was ominous, no matter how Sabel tried to minimize it by telling herself they looked ridiculous with the dark hoods coming down to the collars of their suits. The hoods had one very practical purpose—even if she was accepted into the group, Sabel would not know the identities of the other members, aside from Leonard.

She didn’t care about most of them because they’d be the ones mentioned in the clippings Helen had. She only wanted the identity of the one man she was certain Helen hadn’t collected information on—the one she called Jacob in the emails Ana found. As Helen’s lover, the leader of the group had an extra level of immunity because she wouldn’t want him caught. That was the man Sabel needed to find here and identify tonight. Until they knew his name, it was too soon to move against this group.

She was also betting that his house was the place they’d taken Ana and that his hidden basement was the location where the police would find traces of Helen and be able to connect all of these men to her death in a way that would stick legally. Sabel had no other recourse. Maybe the Sangkesh of the city had stronger magic to deal with demons, but witches didn’t interfere in that way. The only way to protect Ana was to find rock solid evidence to send all of these men to jail.

“Welcome,” one of the hooded men said. His voice was deep and sandpaper rough. Likely he was tightening his vocal cords to disguise his normal speaking voice. “I’m Jacob and these are Night and Crow.”

“Sabel,” she said simply. “But you know that.” She didn’t like that they could see her face and knew her full name, but when the police got involved none of that would matter.

He gestured to a folded robe on a chair. “Did you want to change or did you plan ahead and wear no metal?”

She walked over to the room and put her purse on the chair on top of the robe. “Outside of the keys in my purse, the only metal is my gold jewelry and I’ve magicked it myself.”

“Good, we’ll see how well your magic holds.” Real approval sounded in his voice. Apparently not all of his recruits knew that demons could often draw themselves into metal, including belt buckles and keys. Her pants were a woven Eileen Fisher with an elastic waistband, the buttons on the jacket were bone, and she’d worn a sports bra to avoid even the tiny metal hooks. If a demon tried to touch the white gold of her necklace, it would be in for a harsh surprise.

In the back half of the studio there was a thick cloth rolled out on the floor that had been painted with an array of symbols. At its center was a circle and there were five smaller circles around it.

“We’re going to test your resolve and ability,” Jacob said. “Normally there’s a period of study of a year or more, but with your background we’re going to assume you’ve done that work and let you demonstrate what you know.”

The men each took a circle so Sabel stood in the empty one. Jacob sat and the other men followed, so she settled down into a cross-legged sit in her circle.

“We’ll begin with meditation and then with your assistance you’ll call a lesser demon and ask it for information.”

Sabel tried to calm down enough to meditate, but her heart and mind raced. What if they called a demon and it triggered the leash? Could she pretend it was a medical condition or would they taste the magic on her and know her for a witch?

After a long silence, Jacob started chanting quietly and the other two men joined in. Sabel couldn’t quite make out the words. It wasn’t one of the languages she knew. She had read about rituals like this but certainly never attended one. The Hecatines never used demons directly, but she knew from their history that if they saw demon affairs pushing events in the direction they wanted, they would use that facilitation.

For the Hecatines there was a rigorously choreographed dance between ends and means. No end was ever an end in itself and no means were ever separate from their ends. They could be called highly manipulative, but they were always driving toward a life-affirming end and of all the people Sabel had ever met, the Hecatines were the clearest about tracking the big picture. She wondered what ends Josefene saw that had her grant Sabel permission to be involved at this level with demons.

A charge came into the air. It was the same charge she could feel during religious ceremonies, political demonstrations, championship football games, and her college days of spin-the-bottle: pure energy ready to be discharged for one use or another.

“Now,” Jacob said. “We have called power for you. Use it.”

Sabel was glad for her obsessive rereading of everything she had on the topic of demon summoning. Start in her mother tongue, she remembered that, because you didn’t want to misspeak anything during a conjuration. Conjure the spirits by their obedience to the patriarchs, she remembered. It was all so Western, old white male that she almost couldn’t bring herself to do it. Technically it was old Middle Eastern male, but it still reeked of patriarchal pomp. Only her nerves made her keep a sneer out of her voice.

“I invoke, conjure and command you, spirit, to appear and show yourself visibly to me, before this Circle, in fair and comely shape, without any deformity or tortuosity, by your name and in the name which Adam heard and spoke…” and on it went through a recitation of most of the primary stories of the Hebrew Bible, peppered with names for God.

“…and by the dreadful Judgment of God; and by the uncertain sea of glass: which is before the face of the divine Majesty, who is mighty and most powerful. And by the four beasts before the throne, having eyes before and behind, and by the fire round about the throne…

“I command that you make true and faithful answers to all my demands, and to perform all my desires so far as in office you are capable to perform therefore come you peaceably, visible and affable now without delay, to manifest what I desire speaking with a perfect and clear voice, intelligible unto my understanding.” The words rolled off her tongue easily enough, but absolutely nothing was happening. What would they do to her if she failed at this?

Say your will
, a voice quivered through the room.

Sabel was used to hearing unspoken voices, but this one chilled her. In a spoken voice, an edge of malice came across only as a sound, but she felt this creature’s hate like an oil on her skin. She couldn’t see much in the central circle except for a dark smoke form about as big as a medium-sized dog. The smoke seemed to be massing on the side of the circle nearest Jacob. That couldn’t be good.

“Here,” Sabel said. “I called you. Attend to me.”

Her heart fluttered between her ears like a trapped bird. How close could it come to her without shutting her down?

Say your will
, the voice repeated.

“What demon came through to this world eight nights ago in this city?” Jacob asked before Sabel could speak.

Not the one you called
, it said.
A prince who has forgotten his name
.

“But these are the men calling for a demon of power?” Sabel asked.

Yes, and the woman who did not live.

“Why did they call it?” she asked.

To control the minds of their enemies, for greed and gain.

“Where is that demon now?” Jacob asked.

It is where you know it to be
, the creature said. Then it turned again to Sabel
, I have answered, release me.

“Tell me the names of these men,” she said.

“No,” Jacob countered. “Our energy called you, you’ll keep our secret.”

“Tell me his name,” Sabel said, pointing across the circle at Jacob. She prayed that these men didn’t have a gun, because if they did, they would probably shoot her as soon as this was done.

Johnson
, the demon said and the name held a strange number of syllables in its accent.
Release me into your world that I may serve you
.

Before she could say the devocation, Jacob stood and cut a hole in the air with his hand. “Get out,” he commanded and Sabel watched the cloudy demon flee through that invisible opening, laughing. Great, another demon loose in the city, but she had more immediate concerns. Jacob, who she now also knew as Johnson, stalked around the circle to stop inches from Sabel.

“Why did you ask my name?” he growled.

“You know my name,” Sabel said. “I don’t like that being a one-way proposition.”

“Secrecy is important to us.”

“Names are power,” Sabel said evenly.

“Indeed.” Jacob held out his hand and Sabel stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out why the man didn’t just hit her. Then she realized she was supposed to shake hands.

“Welcome,” Jacob said, exerting an iron squeeze to Sabel’s hand. “Go home and get some sleep, we will need you again soon.”

Could it have been pure dumb luck that Jacob took her name question as a power-hungry stunt? But more importantly, wasn’t Johnson the name of a VP at Ana’s company? She remembered meeting a man by that name at the anniversary party and he’d been the right size to be this man Jacob. Of course there had to be thousands of men named Johnson in the city. She would tell Ana before she went back to work on Monday, but first she wanted to think everything through.

Sabel pulled into her driveway with a throbbing headache and nausea in the pit of her stomach. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep, but first she sent Ana a quick email saying she was home safe. Then she made herself write out the account of the night while eating a hastily compiled sandwich. She left it in the meditation room where Josefene could read it.

When she got into bed, she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Men didn’t usually bother her. She was used to them in university politics and global politics and she’d seen her share of violent and short-sighted women as well—but something about an organized and secret group of men coming together to amass power that allowed them to control the minds of others—that scared her down to her marrow. She grabbed the extra pillow and rolled on her side, holding it tightly to her chest. She wanted to feel Ana’s arms around her blocking out everything, but how likely was it that a woman she’d essentially thrown through a window wanted to be with her?

Ana dreamed of shimmering fabrics and the smell of night-blooming jasmine on the warm wind. She stood in the sand outside a tent, the walls puffing lightly in the air’s breath, and everything shining like cut glass, or stars inside of crystals. Then she saw a hand come up to push aside the tent flap. From the angle it should have been hers, but it was red-orange and marbled with gold and she knew she was in Abraxas’s dream, if demons dreamed, or his memory.

Inside the tent, a bed dominated, surrounded by intricately woven carpets whose threads swam with colored light. Tasseled pillows and thick blankets made a mountain of silk and linen on the bed. All those blankets looked strange in a desert tent, but she could feel the cold bite of the air—on what skin she didn’t know, since Abraxas seemed to be made of fire. A shape heaped the blankets and she approached it in Abraxas’s dreamed body.

It felt dizzyingly strange to be riding around in him: the way he flowed across the floor without seeming to walk and the glimmer of energy through his body rather than the familiar pulse of blood. Any other dream and she wouldn’t have found it unusual to inhabit another body and not be in control of her own actions, but from the days of having him in the back of her mind she now marveled at the reversal and the sensation of sitting back from the eyes and hands, simply watching. Was this how it felt for him?

His hand spread itself on the blanket and the figure beneath stirred and rolled over, pushing back the heavy cloth and brushing the dark hair out of her eyes. Lily looked like she belonged here, surrounded by rich fabrics of bright colors, the low lamplight darkening the color of her skin and the blackness of her hair and eyes. She smiled, eyes half-lidded.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

“In a sense,” Abraxas said. “We can be together here.”

“You brought me into your dream?”

“Basically,” he said. His voice sounded rich and warm, not the whisper he used through Ana, but a full man’s voice, liquid and accented. “You had some questions for me?”

“And they’re best answered in a bed?” she quipped, then paused and opened her eyes wide. “That’s why you wouldn’t tell me! Of course! You’d think I’d know better at this point. I guess I’m kind of shy around you.”

“If you don’t—” he started, then paused. “Shy?”

“I’ve been with men centuries older than me, but not millennia. You’re like a force of nature, which, I should add, is what I like about you. I should be the one asking you if you want this.” She pushed up on her elbows and the blanket slid off her bare shoulders.

“Beautiful.” Abraxas’s hand cradled her cheek and Lily’s eyes turned to look at him again.

Her arms came up around his neck, pulling him down to her mouth for a kiss that lay them both out on the bed. Ana experienced this from the back of Abraxas’s mind and alongside his sensations she felt her own longing unfold like a night-blooming flower—but it wasn’t a desire for Lily. She wanted this to be her pressing down on Sabel as they sank together into the bed.

Lily pushed the blankets to one side without breaking the kiss, and helped Abraxas to get under them with her. Ana felt hands on silky skin, the spreading pressure of breasts against a flat, muscular chest. So this is what it’s like, some part of her thought, while another wriggled in alarm to feel an erection filling out against Lily’s thigh.