Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (11 page)

Edmonds fell silent. Kandy pulled out her phone and started texting. Drake was attempting to sound out words with a German accent.

“You don’t believe in demons,” I said, figuring out that his resistance wasn’t just the inherent reluctance of a sorcerer to share information with a witch.

“They’re a construct. A way of justifying the great evil man is capable of.”

I nodded. I wondered if Edmonds — a sorcerer that Blackwell had identified as powerful enough to draw Sienna’s attention — would be capable of raising a demon, or if his disbelief of this aspect of magic would cause such a spell to misfire. Magic was all about intention.
 

Edmonds rotated the book back toward me and pointed at the second picture in the entry. This was a depiction of the three demons raised that the evening in 1888. Squat, scaled beasts with flat faces and broad shoulders, they were somewhat reminiscent of the guardian lions that were a constant motif in dragon decor, but without the manes. The professor tapped the page. “You’ve seen such as these?”

“No.”

“But you’ve seen something you call a demon. Manifested by Blackwell?”

Now that was a loaded question. I wasn’t sure how the sorcerers governed themselves, or what their version of the witches Convocation was. I also wasn’t sure if Blackwell was a member of this governing body, or if raising demons was a no-no for sorcerers. I imagined it probably was, just like blood magic was for witches.

Now … did I want to get Blackwell in hot water? Hell, yes. But could I afford to get the asshole in deep shit before I managed to neutralize Sienna? No. And yes, I was now thinking of ‘murdering my sister’ as ‘neutralizing’ in my head.

I looked at Edmonds, who’d already indicated he wasn’t the London liaison for visiting Adept. I opened my dowser senses and tasted his magic more thoroughly. He shared the base earthy sorcerer quality that Blackwell had, but it was more like wild mushroom risotto with mild sausage than deep cabernet. Blackwell could kick his ass.
 

I smiled, and started to speak, just as something slammed into and took the hinges off the door behind me. The door canted sideways and crashed onto the sofa.

I swiveled, my knife instantly in my hand, to see a six-foot-four-inch light-blond werewolf blocking the door with his arms askew. Kandy, who’d been thrown forward at his dramatic entrance, held up one hand toward me and one hand toward the werewolf at the door. She had placed herself between the newcomer and Drake, who — miraculously — was just peering around her legs rather than tackling the intruder.

The male wolf lifted his chin and scented the air. The green of his magic rolled across his eyes.

“Control yourself,” Kandy snapped.

Some of the alertness eased from the blond wolf’s stance.

“May I help you?” Edmonds asked. He’d jumped to his feet, and was now casually twirling his wand between his fingers.

I slipped my knife back into its invisible sheath and hoped no one had noticed me pull it out. I was really glad I hadn’t accidentally stabbed the werewolf. I was jumpy.

The newcomer looked startled, as if he hadn’t seen anyone but Kandy in the room. Then he flushed. “Excuse me,” he said. His accent was full of rounded, musical vowels. Nordic, I guessed, which explained the height and the hair color — neither were typically British as far as I’d seen. “I … I  —”

“It’s me,” Kandy said. She didn’t sound too pleased. “I’m … I must be … ovulating.” She spat out the final word like it was the bane of her existence.

The Nordic wolf flushed even deeper red and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Oh,” I said, because something had to be said and I had no idea what to say.

“I’ll … I’ll fix the door,” the blond werewolf stuttered. “Of course. I’m so sorry —”

“Maintenance will fix the door,” Edmonds said. He returned to his seat and his perusing the of book.

“I’m Drake,” the fledgling guardian said, as if nothing odd was in the process of occurring.

“I’m Jorgen. Nice to meet you,” the Nordic werewolf said. Then he looked hopefully at Kandy.

“I’m not going to breed with you,” she said, then rounded on me. “Some warning would have been nice.”

“I was confined in a small room with you. And he moves quickly.”

Jorgen smiled broadly. “I do. Fastest in the pack.”

“No one cares,” Kandy said.

“You are American,” he said. He was completely unruffled by her aggression.

“I’m not interested,” she answered.

His smile widened. I could feel his magic gathering around him.

“She really isn’t,” I said, to be supportive. “You’re not her type —”

“How would you know?” Kandy snarled.

I threw my hands up in the air. Apparently there was some sort of werewolf game going on here that I didn’t understand.

“Give me your number,” Kandy said as she handed her phone to Jorgen. “Then go away.”

He — still smiling — punched his number into her phone. “Nice to meet you,” he said to the rest of us. He then backed out of the office, awkwardly pulling the broken door behind him and keeping his eyes on Kandy until the very last moment.

The green-haired werewolf glared at him with her arms crossed, then she rounded on me. “Well?” she prompted. “Demons exist. We saw one raised. A pack mate of mine was sacrificed with that knife. It looked like the devil with four horns and huge fucking feet.”

The sorcerer’s jaw dropped.

“I cut off its horn,” Drake added helpfully. He jumped up to replace the book on the shelf, then crossed to peer down at the chronicle open on the desk.

“You did not,” Kandy said.

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “I get that the demon is important and everything, but who the hell was that guy?”

“Footballer,” Edmonds answered.

“Some wolf,” Kandy said dismissively.

“He didn’t look like a football player.”

“Soccer,” Edmonds said.

“Right.”

“The demon?” Edmonds then prompted.

“Here’s the thing, professor,” I said. “We think we might only have one day, and I’d love to chat about demons and such with you …” — yeah, that was an utter lie — “… but we’re on a schedule.”

“I see. November 9th. Dates are important to your sister?”

I shrugged. “Magic is intention.”

“Not exactly,” Edmonds said. “These demons — if you believe in such things, and particularly in this story — have been summoned and vanquished. They cannot be raised again. In fact, some historians would argue that the location itself is closed. That the spot between the underworld and the mortal world was weak enough —”

“If you believe demons to be fallen angels or to rise from hell, sure,” I said.

“And what do you believe, Jade Godfrey?”

I smiled, and dodged the question. “What we’re trying to figure out is what my sister believes, and whether or not she has allies or accomplices in London. Whether she’s here at all actually, and what she’s planning to do.”

Edmonds nodded.
 

I closed the demon history book. He wasn’t the sorcerer we were looking for. “Thank you for your time.”

“Wait,” he said. “The other two names that Blackwell gave you. Perhaps I can help you locate them?”

Yeah, sure. I was starting to figure out why so many of the Adept were so cagey all the time. Edmonds could totally want to honestly help. Or he could be collecting information on fellow sorcerers who Blackwell felt were capable of raising a demon, and who therefore had the power Sienna might be seeking.

Edmonds smiled at me. I was pretty transparent. He pulled a pad of sticky notes out of his desk and jotted down two names and phone numbers.

“That isn’t a book of power,” he said as he wrote. “The book itself wouldn’t be an aid to a witch, even one who is blood crazed.”

“I know.”

“Yes, I see that you do.” He handed me the sticky note.

“Perhaps these names will be duplicates, and perhaps they will just be extra. I’ll call to let them know you spoke to me.”

“Thank you.” I stood, leaned over, wrote my cell number on a blank sticky note, then passed the pad back to him.

Kandy propped open the busted door, then she and Drake stepped into the hall. They moved together as if in some sort of collusion, which was worrisome. It was weird that I noticed, though. Branson had been berating me about ‘being aware’ for three months. I guess it was sinking in.

I stepped back toward Edmonds only to find that he’d approached without me realizing, so that I nearly bumped into him. I took a step back when he didn’t, then said quietly, “Is it common knowledge that you don’t believe in demons?”

“I would have thought so.”

“Let me just warn you, then. Sienna won’t be difficult to miss. She can’t possibly sneak up on you, but I wouldn’t stop for a chat.”

Edmonds twisted his lips in a smirk that looked ill-placed on his face.

“Please,” I practically begged, discovering that I liked this man despite the fact he was a sorcerer. “I understand that no sorcerer thinks a witch could best them. But Sienna had a rather lackluster talent that she’s somehow made formidable and deadly.”

Edmonds nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“And mention it to your … Guild?” I guessed at the name of the sorcerer’s version of the witches’ Convocation. He didn’t correct me. But then he wouldn’t just give that information away.

“If you wish.”

“I do. You know how to text, don’t you?”

“Do I know how to … how old do you think I am?”

“Pretty old.”

“Ouch. I thought Canadians were infinitely polite.”

“Well, I’ve been hanging out with the wrong sort.”

Edmonds’ gaze flicked over my shoulder, undoubtedly to Drake. I could see every question written across his face. I wondered what sort of Adept the sorcerer thought Drake was. I didn’t know if sorcerers could qualify magic or just sense power. Drake was a lot of sheer power.

“Zebrafish?” the fledgling guardian asked hopefully.

I glanced at the sticky note in my hand.

“Surely you have a few minutes. It’s an impressive facility,” Edmonds coaxed.

“Thank you, professor,” I said.

“Any time, Jade Godfrey, granddaughter of Pearl, Convocation chair, and baker of cupcakes. I hope we meet again.”

I nodded and turned away down the corridor. I felt badly about not shaking his hand, but the Adept weren’t all over casual contact.

“Are we going to be accosted by any more ruggedly male werewolves?” I asked Kandy as she matched my stride.

“Very funny coming from someone screwing around with an alpha,” she said.

“Three months ago.”

Kandy snorted.

“Just heavy petting.”

“Uh huh.”

“But not again. The life debt bond thing bothers me.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“Heavy petting what?” Drake asked. “Sex, you mean?”

“I thought you wanted to see zebrafish, Drake.” I suddenly wished I had a cookie with which to distract him. I’d become way too comfortable with all the Adept in my life, so my guard was low and my tongue loose. But I really didn’t know how to be any other way.

∞

A text message from Kett informed me that I was to meet him outside the building at the southeast corner of Stamford Street and Cornwall Road. Yeah, I was in London for the first time in my life. I wasn’t sure how to get out of the building, let alone which way was southeast.

However, I did the mature thing and texted back.

On our way.

I figured I could pick up the vampire’s magic on the street … or try to access our life debt bond. Except he’d feel that on his end, and I wasn’t sure how he might respond.

Drake had surged ahead of us down the hall. He moved with a confidence a thirteen-year-old wouldn’t normally display, as if he owned everything around him even as he was experiencing it for the first time.

Kandy was texting with someone, probably updating Desmond. How had the world functioned before cellphones? Crises must have come and gone without anyone knowing.

“Is it always like that?” I asked Kandy. “With wolves? Does that ovulating thing happen often?” My head was all over the place, and not just today.

“No,” Kandy answered. “When you first join a pack, maybe. Or infringe on a new territory.”

“For you?”

“First time. Unless they’re of the same rank, most wolves see me as the alpha’s enforcer, and that’s fine with me. I don’t want to play their games anyway.”

“And … it’s not like you’re interested in that.”

“In what, mating?”

“Yeah.”

“You think I never want to have kids?”

“No … I mean, not with a guy.”

Kandy bared her teeth at me in that nonsmile of hers. The one that informed me I was about to cross some line and she’d be glad to put me back in my place.

“I thought … I mean ...” Okay, I was confused.

Kandy let me off the hook, sort of. “Just because I like human girls doesn’t mean I’d choose to mate with a female werewolf. God, no.” Kandy shuddered. “Can you imagine?”

I couldn’t, but I had an idea my reasons were different than Kandy’s. “I just meant that visceral connection. Have you … is that what it’s always like for a shapeshifter?”

Kandy stopped walking. I continued a few steps, then awkwardly turned back. The green-haired werewolf stood with her arms crossed, glowering at me from the middle of the hall.

“I told you he wouldn’t marry you,” Kandy said.

I sighed. “And I told you I wasn’t interested in marriage.”

Kandy cocked her head to one side and waited. I glanced over to Drake, who had managed to lead us back to the front entrance. He was eyeing an art installation in a way that was making me nervous.

“Fine,” I said. “I get that sex can be — should be — fun. That it doesn’t have to be about love and marriage, but … God, I feel so freaking shallow even having this conversation right now —”

“Just get it out. Then it won’t haunt you so much.”

“Won’t it?”

Kandy offered me a sad twist of a smile. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to keep all the emotions separate. Before I knew who I was — biologically I mean, because I sure as hell don’t know who I actually am yet —”