The Demon's Apprentice (16 page)

The cold, nauseating feel of demon magick hammered my mystic senses, and I felt my spine go weak in fear. All I could think of was that Dulka had found me, and the sound of my pulse hammered in my ears as I fought to catch a breath. I wasn't ready to face him again; I hadn't even gotten a decent ward on the house yet! Some part of my brain tried to remind me I was behind a threshold, that he couldn't possibly be ready to come after me himself, but the screaming, gibbering monkey part of my brain wasn't having any of that crap. It was all for getting me out of the house even if I had to make a new exit to do it.

The knock at the door stopped my thoughts for a moment, and damn near did the same to my heart. Mom looked at the door with a curious look in her eyes. I tried not to run screaming.

“Were you expecting one of your friends, honey?” she asked me as she got to her feet. I managed a fairly calm headshake, but I kept my tongue still. If I opened my mouth, all that was likely to come out was a squeak. My body was paralyzed, and so was my voice; I couldn't decide whether to scream at her to stay away from the door, or run for the back door, but I couldn't do either one.

“It's okay,” Dee said from beside me. “You're safe at home.” Her little hands fell on my shoulder and forearm, and I tore my eyes from Mom to look at her.

“What?” I managed. My instincts got jumbled, and the part of my head that could actually think clawed its way up to the top of the swirl of thoughts and impulses that I was drowning in.

“It's what Mom always says when I have my dreams and I'm afraid,” she said softly.

“I'm not afraid,” I said reflexively.

“Liar, liar pants on fire,” she taunted. “You're shaking.” I looked down to see the book trembling in my hands. I put it down, then looked over at her.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Not anymore.” I tried to pass it off with a grin, and she stuck her tongue out at me. I stuck mine out at her, then frowned as I realized that there was no screaming or fire, like I'd expect during a demon assault. Not even a gasp or a raised voice. No, I was hearing…mom giggle.

I'd only been doing the normal teenager thing for a few days, but I knew even from my zero to seven days that moms…Did. Not. Giggle. Especially not when a demon was at the door. My head turned at the same time Dee's did. A tall man was standing next to Mom, with one hand on her shoulder, and a thick yellow envelope in the other.

“I doubt very seriously that it will come to it, Mara,” he said with a honeyed smoothness, “but I would be happy to act as defense counsel for your son if any charges are filed in this matter. Provided, of course, he is also amenable to the arrangement.” He turned dark eyes to me, and I felt a shiver go down my spine again. The narrow smile that creased his angular face made me feel like a bird under a snake's gaze. The tight weave of a black braid looped over the shoulder of his gray suit jacket. He had matching gray slacks and a black shirt with a red silk tie on, and shoes that had to be more expensive than mom's van.

“Mom, who is this guy?” I asked. Now that he was in the house, the urge to run had been replaced with the urge to throw myself between my mother and the demon dressed like a lawyer. My feet went to the floor and I slid my butt to the edge of the couch.

“This is Kyle Vortigern, honey. He's my lawyer.
Our
lawyer.” She gave him a grateful smile and came over to me. The name of Kyle Vortigern set alarm bells off in my head and sent chills down my spine.

“Of Sammael and Berith?” I asked. “Mom, they're the most expensive law firm in the city!” Vortigern's eyes narrowed a little at my use of the firm's real name, but he didn't have any other reaction I could see.

“In three states, actually,” Vortigern corrected me. “But
Samuels and Barrett
does encourage its partners to engage in the occasional pro bono case. And after hearing of your mother's plight…well, it tugged at my heart strings, you might say.”

He would have had to have a heart to have heart strings, but I let the comment slide. “So, what's the deal? Why is he here?”

“Chance, mind your manners,” Mom said. The iron in her tone stopped the next remark off my tongue. “Mr. Vortigern is here to offer his help, and you'd be wise to at least listen to him. He's the reason you're here tonight, instead of in a foster home or back at your father's.”

“Sorry,” I managed.

“Not at all, my boy,” Vortigern said with an oily smile. “A healthy dose of caution is never amiss. Perhaps you and I should talk this over in the other room.” He tilted his head toward Dee and raised his eyebrows, and I gave him a glare that should have taken years off his life.

“Sure,” I said, and hoped there was no growl in my tone.

“Only with your consent, Mara,” he said with a little nod at my mom. She gave him a nod and gestured toward the kitchen. I followed him into the kitchen and slid into the seat that had become mine at meal times while Mom led Dee upstairs.

“What's your angle, Vortigern?” I growled as soon as we were alone. “S&B doesn't do anything without an agenda, and they
never
do something for free.”

“First, I will thank you never to use the firm's true name on this side of the Veil. As to my angle…to be frank, you are my angle.” He smiled at my dumbfounded frown. “Allow me a moment to explain, and I assure you, all will be made clear, my boy.”

“You got it. I'll even give you two moments, seeing as how I'm feeling generous.”

“Thank you ever so much. I'll contact the Vatican straight away to extoll your virtues and petition for sainthood.”

“Skip to the part about my mom,” I demanded. “What are you trying to get out of her?”

“Your mother? Nothing! In fact, I already have what I want, and you are the one who delivered it to me last Friday night. Your mother was simply a rather novel means to accomplish my ends, to wit, to deprive the Red Count of his apprentice, one Chance Fortunato.”

“I wasn't his apprentice.”

“Not willingly, no, but that is little more than a variation on a theme. The most important thing was, through your efforts, he had become far more powerful than certain parties were comfortable with.”

“Too powerful to move against directly,” I supplied.

“Quite so. Hence, my involvement. The Count himself was not only powerful behind the Veil, but he had also secured himself a bastion in the
cowan
world, safe from many of the machinations of his plentiful rivals. The logical solution was to cripple him by removing you from the picture.”

“News flash: I did that myself.”

“Not entirely. Who do you think arranged for you to find the Rite of Severing?” His grin soured my stomach, and I felt my freedom start to slip through my fingers. “The desired outcome was to weaken Dulka by depriving him of his slave, to wit, you,” he went on. “Certain of the more traditional partners favored a more…fatal solution. However, convincing accidents are so passé, and reliable assassins are very expensive. My more subtle solution was simply the most cost effective.”

“Either way, you won.”

“Precisely. Your freedom was an unlikely, but acceptable outcome. The odds against you were astronomical. The betting was very…spirited.” Demons would gamble on anything, but most seemed to lean toward the sure thing. Why do you think they own so much of Vegas? The house always wins. Something clicked in my head; thought processes I'd been able to avoid for the past few days woke up suddenly.

“I don't owe you squat, Vortigern. There was no deal between us.”

“Oh, too true, there is no formal debt between us, which the firm is not at all pleased with. This is not a contract, boy. It’s a matter of honor. Yours, to be precise. You owe me a favor. A big one. Some day…I’ll collect.”

“Asshole,” I growled at him. “I hope you lost a bundle betting on Dulka.”

“Oh, no, my young friend. I bet on
you
.
More than you can imagine,” he finished thoughtfully. “Now, to the matter at hand, the custody issue. I have some papers for you to sign…oh, do calm yourself. If you fear for your soul, don't. It's virtually useless to the firm, given the abuse the Red Count put it through. The firm has what it wants, as long as you remain free of your former Master. This is just part of the formalities required to keep you out of his control. It is merely an affidavit.” He slid some pages toward me.

Despite his reassurance, I made sure to read them all carefully…twice. It wasn't until I was sure I wasn't signing my soul or someone else's freedom away that I put my signature on the pages. He read it over, then tapped the pages to straighten them and tucked them into his leather briefcase.

“Hey, Vortigern,” I called. He stopped at the entrance to the living room and turned back to face me. “Thanks, man.”

His face contorted into a grimace, and he stood there for a few seconds before he shook his head, and the calm mask of the lawyer fell back into place. He called out a goodbye to my mom and strode out the front door like the house was on fire. I watched him slip into the back of the gray limo parked in front of the house, and didn't move until it turned the corner.

“He just feels wrong,” Dee said from beside me. Mom was behind her, her eyes deep and thoughtful.

“What do you expect, he's a lawyer,” I joked.

“I pray we don't need his services any more than we already do,” Mom said softly.

“I don't like him.” Dee turned and went back to her project, and I silently agreed with her as my eyes went back to the deepening gloom that was settling over the street. I was in debt to a demon, and it scared me more than I thought anything could. For a moment, I wondered who Mom was praying to, and whether they took requests.

I'm in the science lab, and it's still liberally covered in Mr. Chomsky, but his head is still alive and talking, telling his arms to get the rest of him put back together.

“There’s something I’ve still got to finish,” he says. “You’re not done yet,” he tells me when he notices me.

“What do you mean?” I ask his head.

“I just started on you, and now I’m all in pieces. How am I supposed to finish up with you if I’m all over the room like this? Hell of a way to run a lab, if you ask me.” His arms spread themselves wide as if they're still attached to his shoulders.

“Finish up with me?”

“Of course. I hate to leave a project unfinished. But don’t worry; you’ll get done one way or the other. I just hope you turn out well.”

“What were you going to do with me?”

“I wasn’t really sure. You have some potential, but you’re broken in a few places. I really wanted to see if I could help fix you. But, now I’ve got this to deal with, and who knows when I’ll be able to help you.” He sounds a little sad, and I find myself wanting to help somehow, wanting to put him back together. His head turns to me with a sad smile.

“You can’t fix me, Chance. All you can do is find out who broke me. Who knows, it might fix something in you, too.” A disembodied hand shoos me out of the room…

I woke up with the window getting lighter, before I could ask Mr. Chomsky who'd broken him. Of course, I knew he was right, too. I
was
broken, in a lot of ways. What normal, healthy person would dream of a room full of blood and gore, and hold a conversation with a severed head? That went straight past broken and took the express train to seriously screwed up. Especially since, as dreams went…this one was pretty tame.

Chapter 11

~ Assume nothing. ~ Wizard’s proverb.

When Mom dropped me off at school, I found Wanda and Lucas waiting under a tree to the left of the front steps, while Brad and his cronies held court by the flagpole. The jock herd gave me a group of glares, which I smiled back at, then promptly ignored, and went to join my two friends. I sat down with my back against the tree. Wanda was wearing all black today, and not going for Goth style in the slightest. Her eyes looked dark and tragic with runny mascara beneath them, but they weren’t red like she’d been crying.

Lucas wore a black armband on his left sleeve, and a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans. “You doing okay?” he asked somberly.

“Yeah,” I answered, “thanks.” It was macho boy-code for a deep, emotional outburst and gratitude for being there, minus the tears and chocolate.

“Did you really see him?” Wanda asked hesitantly. “I mean, did you really find his…body?” I just nodded. “That must have been terrible. Louise Harding said you were as pale as a sheet, and she said Stacy Pinkett, the girl that was with you, had a nervous breakdown and her parents had her admitted to the psych unit last night.” Even though she was still talking like the girl I had met in fifth period, it was a subdued version: slower, quieter and less bubbly.

“The cops are trying to say it was an animal attack,” Lucas offered softly. “Like a lion or something that some rich guy had bought and couldn’t take care of. I don’t buy it.”

“Me, either,” Wanda put in. Both of their voices took on an edge like iron, and I wondered where they were going with this. “No animal jumps through a second story window and dismembers a person like that. Not without leaving tracks or something. But the cops don’t have anything.” I fought to keep my face composed. Of course the cops didn't have squat; I had it all.

“And if it was an animal attack, it’s the second one this year, and there was another one last year, too. But they never catch anything. And all of them were just as weird.”

“So, what do you think it is?” I asked. If this was part of a pattern, I needed to hear more, even if I didn’t want them to go in the right direction.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. It’s just not a wild animal.” Lucas’ face lost the look of certainty it had before, and I let myself relax a little. A little bit of doubt was all it took to keep them on the wrong track, and hopefully keep them safe. The bell for first period rang, and we got to our feet and headed for class.

“You need something to wipe your eyes with?” I asked Wanda as we headed for the doors.

She smiled at me. “It's a look, Chance. I want to show that I'm grieving, so…” she pointed at her eyes, “the mask of tragedy. Besides…it makes it easier when I really do cry.”

I nodded and put an arm around her. It was a thing I'd seen people do when they were trying to offer comfort, and in spite of how awkward I felt, Wanda put her head on my shoulder for a second.

I looked up to see a wall of purple and gold in front of me. I was standing face to face with Brad and the varsity football team, with a reluctant-looking Alexis held against his left side. Wanda and Lucas took a step back, and a testosterone-soaked semi-circle formed around me.

“Hey, freak boy,” Duncan sneered. Up close, he looked as bad as I thought he should have the other night, minus the freaky fast healing. His right hand was purple and swollen again, and his face was bruised worse than I remembered.

“Did you come for some more of what I gave you Tuesday night, Brad?” I asked casually.

He glowered at me for a moment before he pressed on. “I tried being nice to you, and you had to go and jump me. Now it’s your ass, freak. I’m gonna catch you alone in a dark alley and beat the crap out of you!” He poked his left hand at me, but pulled up short before he actually touched me.

I looked down at it, then shifted my eyes back up to his slowly and gave him a grim, I’m-going-to-eat-you smile. I leaned in close: close enough that I could smell his cologne.

“You
had
me alone in a dark alley,” I said softly enough that only he could hear me clearly, “and all your extra strength and speed wasn’t enough to take me. I know the source of your strength, Brad, and I know how to take it away from you.”

I was bluffing big time, but I knew that if it
was
just a matter of beating me up, he really
would
wait to catch me alone and off-guard to jump me. I wasn’t sure he’d stop at a beating. If he thought I could do more than beat him up, maybe he’d steer clear of me for good and all. Besides, if his injuries had reappeared, I was betting that whatever he’d used to fix them was something temporary, like a poorly done potion or charm. Those, I really
could
undo, and from a distance.

“Mess with me again, and I’ll leave you weak as a kitten.”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped back a little, almost leaving Alexis behind. She went with him, but her eyes were on me for the first few steps as she followed him.

“What did you say to him?” Lucas asked from behind me as I headed inside. I didn’t answer. I was almost late to class already. He caught up to me and leaned against the locker next to mine. “Seriously, Chance, what did you say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Come on, man. Brad Duncan has been the bane of my existence for years, and nothing I do seems to get him off my back. You’re here for three
days
and you made him run like a little girl just by whispering to him. I gotta know what you said!” He was practically hopping up and down in his eagerness, and I looked at him with a grim smile.

“It wouldn’t work for you like it did for me. It’s all about the leverage, Lucas. I’ve got plenty on him.” I closed my locker door and turned to go to history.

“Oh,” he only paused a beat before he spoke again. “Hey, see you at lunch! We’re over in the corner by the back door. Just look for all the Goths!” I smiled as I hurried to class, inordinately pleased to be invited to the Goth table.

No one talked to me all morning. Mr. Strickland took great pains to avoid looking at me, aside from an initial glare when I walked into class. There were whispers and the occasional snicker behind my back, but no one got in my way between classes, and I got chosen last for softball in PE. I didn't mind that, I hated swinging a bat at a ball, and since I was at the end of the batting lineup, I didn’t have to. I didn't even sweat, so I didn't bother with showering. By the time I got to the Goth table with something that was loosely based on food on my tray, I was feeling pretty lonely.

The double row of pale and tragically pretty faces that looked up at me when I stopped at the end of the table had the same mix of fear and apprehension I’d seen all day. I was just about to give up and go find an empty spot somewhere else when Lucas stood up at the far end of the table and waved at me, calling me over. Dead silence reigned on my left as I walked beside the table to the seat he pulled out for me. When my butt hit the plastic, a buzz of relieved whispers erupted from my left, as the whole table started talking again.

“You know, word is going around about you like wildfire,” Lucas said conspiratorially.

“Yeah, everybody knows you kicked Brad Duncan’s ass,” Wanda chimed in with a vengeful glee. “Chrissy Barlowe’s brother is on the junior varsity team, and he told her that Duncan is out until at least the end of the week. He says Coach Brenner is pissed. He wants your butt in a sling, Chance.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Now I have the head coach after my ass, too.”

“Well, he can’t make too big of a deal out of it, unless he wants to admit that you beat the crap out of his starting quarterback. Brenner’s not one to let something like that get out,” Lucas said.

“Never underestimate how bad an adult can screw up your life,” I replied.

“Spoken like a Jedi Master,” Lucas laughed.

“A what-I master?”

“A Jedi, you know, from
Star
Wars
?” Lucas asked off my blank look. I shook my head.

“Still,” Wanda said through a mouthful of something that looked like meatloaf, “you’re getting a reputation as something of a bad boy around here. Word is, two of the unattached cheerleaders are looking to score with you at least once. For that matter, one of the attached cheerleaders is gunning for you, too.”

“Well, you can spread the word early and beat the Christmas rush. I don’t dig polyester skirts and pom-poms. Besides, I thought they all hated me. Why would they want to date me all of a sudden?”

“They don’t want to date you, dummy, they just want to screw you! You know, get a little danger between their legs.”

“Well, I don’t want to screw a cheerleader, either. Just because a girl can do sideways splits doesn’t mean she’s good in bed. Besides,” I said, thinking back to some of the things Dulka had subjected me to, “I don’t do casual sex.” That pretty much killed that line of conversation, and Lucas leaned closer.

“Dude, don’t look now, but Officer Friendly over there has been eyeballing you since you walked in,” he said quietly. I followed his glance to see Collins standing near the teacher’s table, with Strickland bending his ear.

“Kelly Logan says he’s been asking around about you all day, and Sarah said he was reading your file this morning when she got to second period! Mr. Strickland’s been bugging him all day, trying to tell him what an ‘unsavory type’ you are.” Wanda stopped as she noticed Lucas and I staring at her. “What?”

“Where do you get this stuff? You’re better than the FBI, girl! Where were you when JFK was shot? Or when Jimmy Hoffa disappeared?” Lucas asked.

“I just listen, that’s all.”

“When?” I asked, and barely blocked a chunk of meat product covered in mystery sauce. The bell for fifth period was like a kick to the stomach for me, and I saw Wanda’s face go tight, too. Before yesterday, it meant class with Mr. Chomsky. Today, it meant meeting the person who was his replacement, at least temporarily. That, more than anything, would be what killed him for me. We trudged to the classroom with heavy hearts, only to find a sign on the door saying class was moved to the botany lab downstairs. We exchanged looks, and I could see in Wanda’s eyes that she was at least as grateful as I was not to have to spend an hour in the room Mr. Chomsky had been dismembered in.

We headed downstairs to the botany lab, which was just a big greenhouse that had been built next to the school building. We stepped inside to find a wooded wonderland. Deep greens laid themselves out as a backdrop for an explosion of color in the form of flower petals in every shade under the rainbow. On either wall, tiers of plants ran up at an angle to well over the head of the tallest person in the room. A long work bench ran along the bottom of either row, with a similar setup in the middle of the room, though there, the plants were laid flat on the table four or five pots across. There were stools set up at the workbenches, and they were almost all filled. By the time Wanda and I came in, only the two closest to the front were open. Our butts had barely hit the seats when a man in dark robes strode into the room, and headed to the front of the class.

“There will be no inane flailing about with wands in this class, no arcane muttering of silly incantations,” he said with a bad English accent.

I recognized the line from one of the books Dee had given me, and I didn’t catch the laugh in time. A few snickers came from behind me, though I didn’t know if they were at my expense or at the new guy’s performance. I looked, and almost everyone was smiling, and a few people were hiding laughter.

“I’m glad to see that at least one of you reads something other than
Cosmopolitan
or
Auto Weekly
,” the new guy said with a smile and a more Midwestern accent. He shrugged his way out of the robe to reveal a dark green polo shirt and tan slacks. Brown hair hung down to his shoulders, and a neat goatee hid his chin. He scanned the room with intense hazel eyes.

“I’m Dr. Corwin, your replacement science teacher. I’ll be teaching Mr. Chomsky’s classes until the end of the semester. Sydney Chomsky was twice the teacher I could ever hope to be. That being said, don’t get the idea that I don’t know what I’m talking about. The “Doctor” in front of my name is not just for decoration. And, don’t make the mistake of thinking that because I’m new, I don’t know that you’re texting to one of your friends in another classroom, young lady. The phone, please?” He gestured to one of Alexis’ friends with one hand and stepped up to her. The girl handed the phone over with ill grace.

“Thank you. You will get this back at the end of the day.”

“Legally, you have to give that back to me before I leave your class,” the girl said in a superior tone.

“According to the school district's attorney, I don’t have to give it back at all,” Dr. Corwin said as he dropped it into his briefcase, “and until you get
your
degree in jurisprudence, I would hesitate to give out legal advice.” Wanda and I shared a laugh at her expense as he turned back to the class.

He started taking roll, and when he came to my name, he stopped. “Mr. Fortunato, sometime this semester, I would like to have you test for advanced placement classes. Mr. Chomsky had noted a certain aptitude after your first day. You would honor his memory if you made the attempt.”

I nodded, my throat suddenly too tight to speak.