Dedication
This one is for my son, for all the help with cover art on this and other projects. Thanks for making every effort to follow my nebulous suggestions, improving on my ideas, working to a tight schedule, and taking payment in chocolate, (the good stuff, of course). You’re the best.
Chapter 1
A loud snort from across the table made Darien Green look up from his breakfast. He kicked Silas lightly on the ankle. “Something funny?”
“The opposite.” Silas slid the letter he was reading over to Darien. “Seattle’s Guild council has singularly failed to catch any of their dark sorcerers. They’ve discovered three who clearly were part of the kidnapping plot against you and Jasper. All of them are now on the loose.”
Grim leaped from the floor to the table, his twenty-pound tabby body landing with a thump that rattled their forks on their plates. “They didn’t catch any of the others who shot Pip and slaughtered that bastard Hank?” His tone was cold as ice. “Do we have to do everything ourselves?” With one curved claw he punched a hole in the corner of the letter.
Darien pulled the page off Grim’s claw. The account began by naming two men and a woman, one of the men a necromancer. Only one name rang any bells. “Looks like one is Toberman, the other editor of that journal Jasper sent his paper off to. Plus a woman sorcerer and a necromancer.”
Silas said, “The necromancer’s not anyone I’ve heard of. Hopefully that means he’s not a powerhouse.”
Darien cleared his suddenly dry throat, staring down at those three names. The words blurred as the page fluttered in his grip. Too damned many people want to catch us, use us, give us to demons. “That’s something, I guess. What about Toberman?”
From the kitchen doorway, Jasper Jones said, “What about him?” The lanky, middle-aged sorcerer came over to them, rubbing his eyes. “Did they locate him?”
“Sadly, no.” Silas took the letter back from Darien. “Seattle has discovered he was involved in the kidnapping plot, but he’s on the loose and in hiding. They promise to send us photos and information on him and his confederates.”
Jasper made a face. “That’s disappointing. About Toberman, I mean. His journal made so many valuable contributions to thaumaturgical science. This may poison the whole idea of sharing our knowledge in that way.” Darien wasn’t surprised that Jasper’s first concern was the state of magical science, and that it took a moment before he asked, “Why are they sending us pictures? Surely, the gang has no reason to come after us again? Whatever they’re planning next shouldn’t need my special talents.”
“Yeah. About that.” Darien leaned toward Silas. “Did the clowns on the west coast at least figure out what the whole plot was about?”
Silas shook his head. “Apparently, the bad guys had enough of a head start, after getting rid of Hank, to clear out their private papers before they ran.” He turned the letter over and coughed. “If it’s any satisfaction, Toberman apparently burned so many papers in his fireplace that he set his house on fire.”
“A pity he wasn’t in it,” Grim muttered.
Darien clenched his teeth against a curse of agreement. Turns out being drugged, kidnapped, trussed up, deprived of your magic, punched, chased— all of that left a guy with a bit of a hankering for revenge.
Silas said, “No doubt they were seeking demons as a route to wealth and power, even if the details are unclear. Those who turn to dark sorcery are damnably consistent. Seattle’s council is at least fairly certain they’ve found everyone involved on their end. They invoked truth spells on nearly a dozen others of Nikotorian and Zaruda’s friends and supporters, and everyone who wasn’t missing passed with flying colors.”
“I’m glad for Fisher’s sake,” Jasper said.
“Yeah, Fisher’s good people,” Darien agreed. The Seattle sorcerer who’d helped them had been genuinely shaken by finding evil among folk he knew and trusted. “I bet he’s pissed off they didn’t catch the last three.”
An approaching clatter of canine toenails out in the hall heralded Darien’s favorite person in the world. Well, maybe after Silas. He allowed himself one fond look at his lover’s frowning face, then turned to the doorway. “Pip?”
His rat terrier familiar skidded on the floor, making the turn into the kitchen, and jumbled his words together. “GrimDarienSilas! It’s glowing a lot.”
Grim jumped off the table and stalked toward the pup. “Explain yourself. Clearly.”
“The map thing. In the basement. I went down to take a look— you said we should keep an eye on it— and it’s glowy.”
Silas shoved his chair back and jumped to his feet. Darien was left flat-footed as Silas and Grim both hurried out the doorway and down the hall with Pip scampering beside them, saying, “I’ll show you.”
“Map thing?” Jasper asked.
“Silas’s demon detector, I assume.” Darien knew he should be running after them, but his feet dragged like he was stuck in molasses. “His runework down in the cellar.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Jasper turned to go, then glanced over his shoulder at Darien. “Are we going to follow them?”
Into the valley of death— He was being ridiculous, but he’d really hoped they were done with demons for a while, and could go back to Silas snacking on ghosts and Jasper crafting interesting spells. Apparently not. “Yes, of course. I’m coming.”
When they reached the bottom of the cellar stairs, Silas, Grim, and Pip were lined up on the edge of the shimmering map of chalk lines and symbols laid out on the floor. Darien could see two different locations on the map throbbing with a deep red glow, an ember sunk in darkness. “Those are demons, right?” he said, his voice echoing too loudly in that stone-walled space.
Silas glanced back at him, brows drawn down. “Yes.”
“Two of them.”
“I can count.” Silas sighed. “Sorry. On the plus side, they don’t feel all that strong.”
“On the minus side,” Grim said, “they weren’t there when I checked the map last night. And they’re in two different locations. Who’s out there calling demons like a two-for-one special? And why?”
“You don’t think that Seattle necromancer actually came after us, do you?” Darien ran a hand down his face. None of this made sense. “We’re not even done with breakfast.”
Before he could flush at that ridiculous statement, Silas barked a laugh and turned to nudge him lightly on the shoulder. “The essentials. Good man. We’ll eat and figure out what to do about this.” He pointed at the smaller spot of glowing darkness. “That’s a weaker trace, hopefully not more than a two-syllable demon. I could ask Worthington or Johanna Spry to take care of it.”
“Delegating,” Grim said, turning toward the stairs. “Will wonders never cease.”
“What?” Silas managed to sound hurt. “I know what delegating is.”
“But you never do it.” Grim bounded up the steps. “I agree with Darien, though. A nice bowl of cream and some bacon would go well, to help my thinking. Come along, necromancer, breakfast.”