Spellbound (16 page)

“Demon,” I said.

“You think?” Adam said, wheezing.

“Do you know who he is?” I asked the demon. “Who his father is?”

“I have no love for Asmondai,” the demon said. “Nor does my master. In fact, should my hand slip . . .” She moved the needle against Adam's neck. “My master would reward me most handsomely. When mortals interfere with demons, accidents do happen.”

“Only it wouldn't be an accident,” I said, gaze glued to that syringe. “I'd know it wasn't. I'd make sure Asmondai knew, too.”

A desperate, empty threat and I expected the demon to laugh. But her smile froze.

“Do you know who I am?” I said, pulling myself up straight. “Sav—”

“Savannah Levine. Daughter of Eve.”

“And granddaughter of lord demon Balaam.”

It should have meant nothing. Demons took little interest in their children, none in their grandchildren. But she let out a low hiss, drew back the syringe, and looked away. No, didn't just look away. Dropped her gaze from mine.

When she spoke, her voice was almost a whine. “He was warned. This necromancer, he was warned. Speak of what he knew and his wife would not wake.” She snarled at Maura Schmidt's body. “You were warned.”

“I'm sorry,” Schmidt whispered, words tumbling out. “A mistake. A moment of weakness. I'll tell them—”

“No more.” The demon released her grip on Adam and advanced on Schmidt. “Speak another word and she dies. If not by my hand, then by another. We warned you.”

“Yes, yes. I'll—”

“Not another word!” the demon boomed.

Adam leapt forward and knocked her legs out from under her. As she crashed to the floor, I rushed in. Adam pinned her easily. Too easily. When I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, her eyes were closed, face slack. The demon had fled.

We tried to coax Schmidt back, but not for long. He was gone and there was an unconscious nurse on the floor, with third-degree burns on her arm. We got out of there as fast as we could.

 

 

We'd checked out of the hotel before we left, so I wasn't surprised when we got into the car and Adam said, “See how fast you can get us a flight to Miami. If we have time to grab lunch, we passed a place on the way over. Otherwise, we'll eat at the airport.”

I didn't answer. Didn't take out my phone either.

“Savannah . . .”

“Shouldn't we investigate this?”

“Investigate what? Schmidt didn't give us anything . . . except confirmation that you've got something much worse than a witch-hunter on your tail. Which is all the more reason to get you to Miami.”

“Right.”

I still didn't take out my phone. His gaze shunted my way and his hands gripped the steering wheel. The faint smell of scorched vinyl wafted up.

“We had a deal,” he said, his voice low. “Just one more lead, and we'd be in Miami by sundown.”

“It's not sundown yet.”

I meant it as a joke, but he braked so fast I slammed against the seat belt. The car behind us blasted its horn. Adam ignored it, pulling onto the shoulder, then opening the driver's door.

“Take the car,” he said. “I'll meet you in Miami, whenever you ever get there.”

“Don't.” I leaned over and caught the back of his shirt. “I'm sorry. You're right. We're going to Miami. I'll get tickets.”

He hesitated. I'd pushed too hard. Back off now or he'd leave, and that was worse than anything I'd face in Miami.

I looked up the flight information while he stood outside the car. “We can get a connecting flight in just over an hour or a direct one in almost three. They get in at the same time.”

He hesitated a moment longer, then climbed back in. I expected him to say “The connecting one” just so he could get my ass on a plane faster, but he said, “Direct. We'll grab lunch first.”

I was in the midst of reserving our tickets when my phone rang. The ring tone was “People Are Strange,” meaning it was someone not in my address book. I checked the number.

“It's Roni,” I said. “Should I ignore it?”

Adam took a deep breath, then exhaled. “No.”

I answered.

“Savannah? Oh, my God, I didn't think you were going to pick up.” Roni sounded out of breath. “I'm in trouble and I need your help. They're after me.”

“Get rid of your cell phone. Like I said, that's how they're tracking you. Buy a prepaid if you have to. Get on a bus going someplace where you don't know anyone. Pay for the ticket in cash. Find a cheap motel and hole up there. If you still need help next week, maybe I—”

“Next week?” Her voice crackled with panic. “She's after me now, Savannah. My cousin found me here in Riverside and I got away, but she'll find me again, no matter what I do. I know it.”

“Riverside? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was following you, but then I lost the signal this morning so I went to your hotel to wait, but you haven't come back and she's going to kill me, Savannah. She's going to kill me!”

Adam motioned that he wanted to speak to me. I told Roni to hang on, and put her on hold.

“Let's get her to a safe house,” Adam said. “Call Paige. See who's in Miami that they can spare—Aaron, Clay, Elena, Karl.”

I took her off hold. “Roni? We have a plan. A friend of ours will fly in and escort you to a safe house. All you need to do is lie low for a few hours. Ditch the phone. Take a city bus. Find a crowded place and wait.”

Silence.

“Roni?”

“N-no, please,” she said.

I sighed. “It's the best I can offer so—”

“Please, Chrissy. Whatever happened to your mom, I didn't have anything to do with it. Please, just leave me alone.”

“So you can send your black magic friends after me?” a young woman's voice said. “To kill me, too?”

A yelp. Then a young woman came on the line. “Do yourself a favor, witch, and mind your own business.”

Click
. The line went dead.

W
e went to the hotel. I didn't need to persuade Adam. We did proceed with caution, though, knowing we could be running headlong into a trap.

There was no sign of Roni. Not surprising. As crazy as her aunt had been, she hadn't attempted to kill me in the lobby.

I thought of suggesting we split up, but Adam was still touchy, so I swallowed the urge and let him take the lead. He went back into the parking garage, where I'd fought off Roni's aunt Rachel, thinking Chrissy might try the same idea her mother had planned for me—a forced jump off the roof. There was no sign of them on the empty top level, though. So we searched the rest.

That took a while, circling and circling, looking and listening for any sign of trouble. If only I had my sensing spell, things would have gone so much faster. And my light ball, for illuminating dark corners. And—Well, all my spells really.

“That's it for the garage,” Adam said when we'd finished the bottom level. “We'll try the hotel stairwell next, then the basement. Let's just hope Roni wasn't stupid enough to let her cousin lead her into a guest room or we'll never find her.”

The hotel stairwell proved empty, so we went down to the basement. That's where the gym was located, meaning that part was open to the public. Definitely not the place where you'd take a person to kill her.

There were several off-limits areas, too. We checked doors. The third one was open. We snuck through to find ourselves in the beast of the building: the mechanical room. Despite the chug and hiss of the air-conditioning units, the place was hot enough to broil a pig.

We stuck together, snaking along the aisles. When my pant-leg caught, I whirled to see a hand holding it and my fingers flew up, ready to cast. Adam knocked the hand from my leg.

“I-it's me. Roni.”

She'd wedged herself under some kind of fan unit. The floor was slick with blood.

“Shit,” Adam said. He reached for her, but I caught his arm.

“Is anyone else here?” I said.

“N-no. Chrissy left. She thought I got away.”

We helped Roni out. Knives were apparently the witch-hunters' weapon of choice when they chose something less discreet than a needle or noose. Roni had been stabbed several times. We offered to drop her off at a hospital, but she freaked out, saying her family would know if she used her health insurance. I said I'd pay. She wouldn't listen. We were her shield against her enemies, and now that she had us, she was holding on with both hands, even if it killed her.

So Adam got us a room and we snuck Roni up there. I retrieved our bags from the car. We still had bandages and a kit from fixing me up earlier. Though Roni's cuts were deep, the bleeding eventually stopped and she didn't seem to be in imminent danger of death. That was all she cared about.

I called Paige and told her about Roni, which meant telling her the whole sordid tale of my battle with the witch-hunters. She was furious, of course. She blasted Adam for not telling her. Lucas would be next in line. I was happy to lie and say he hadn't known, but he'd tell her anyway. So I kept my mouth shut and let her give me royal hell, knowing I deserved it.

When she was done, she told me how to take care of Roni, which started with a call to housekeeping for a mini sewing kit. Yep, I had to sew Roni up. We dosed her with booze from the bar fridge, but I don't think she was accustomed to alcohol, and it only made things worse. On seeing the needle piercing her skin, she puked, which set a cut on her torso bleeding again, and, well, it was fun.

When I called Paige back after that ordeal, she said they'd send someone to take Roni to a safe house. Roni didn't hear any of that conversation. She was passed-out drunk, which I figured was the best thing for her.

Adam and I ordered room service and ran some leads on our laptops, but the vibe wasn't the same. No tossing our findings back and forth as we searched. No teasing and joking. No fighting over the last piece of pizza. Adam just let me have it. He'd agreed to stay, but wasn't happy about it. I needed to get my ass to Miami or we were in serious trouble.

Roni roused shortly after that. I ordered some food for her, but she only picked at it. She was dozing again when Jaime called.

At the sound of voices in the background, I said, “You're with Hope?”

“And Elena. We're going for cocktails. Well, two of us are. One is on a strict diet of mock-tails. Karl's with us, too, but he's promised to follow at twenty paces and sit on the other side of the bar.”

“Uh-huh. And I didn't think he could get any more protective.”

Overhearing, Hope said, “Neither did I,” and Jaime laughed.

“He's setting new records,” Jaime said. “We wouldn't be going out at all if Hope hadn't threatened to help Elena tie him to a chair.”

I asked her about Leah's escape.

“Yes, we're sure she had help,” Jaime said. “Your mom was investigating, but your, um, magical situation has taken precedence.”

“The two might not be unconnected.” I told her what Schmidt said about Leah being released to woo me for some unknown purpose.

“Damn. Okay. I'll find a dark corner at the bar and see if I can contact your mom.”

I asked to speak to Hope and told her about Kimerion's request. I assured her that we weren't pressing her to agree. She did anyway. Which slung a fresh helping of guilt on my plate.

Hope sounded exhausted. Part of that was the pregnancy, but the visions were obviously sapping whatever strength she had left. However tough Hope tries to be, there's a fragility to her even under the best circumstances.

Like most lord demons, Lucifer doesn't sire many offspring. His come with short life spans. The chaos hunger drives them to madness or suicide.

Although Hope was only Adam's age, she was already older than any recorded Expisco. No one's ever told her that, but she suspects it. She's a chaos addict fighting a battle that keeps getting harder as her powers grow. It's a constant reminder to me of how lucky I am to be a spellcaster. The only curse of my powers is the temptation to misuse them.

But however frail Hope was, she'd never refuse any chance to help out. I suppose it helps balance the uglier parts of that chaos hunger. That didn't keep me from feeling like shit, though, and wishing I could retract the request, tell Adam I'd take my lumps with Kimerion for breaking the promise to ask her. I even tried to backtrack, and dissuade her. To no avail. If we could use Kimerion's help, she was damned well going to speak to him.

Now the problem would be telling Karl. I knew he'd tear a strip out of me. With Karl, that might be a literal strip. He's always thought I'm an irresponsible and reckless brat, and deep down, I'm not sure he's wrong. Right now, I was pretty sure he wasn't.

“I wrote that article about Jaime's show,” Hope said before passing me back to Jaime. “I'm not sure how much good it'll do now. Might actually cause us some trouble—supernaturals who know I work for the council, thinking we're trying to silence these activists. I called my editor and tried to stop it, but it went to press last night.”

When I hung up, I told Adam about the article.

“I'm going to run down to the gift shop and see if they carry
True News
,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”

“I'm good.”

“You want to come along? It's just downstairs.”

“Someone should watch her.”

“She's sleeping. We'll just—”