“Sounds wise.” When she hung up, Silas depressed the cradle, then dialed Worthington himself. “Silas here.”
“Yes. Report. What’s the status of the demons?”
“Spry took care of hers. It appears to have been a straightforward summoning case, and she will report the details to you shortly.”
“That’s something, anyway.”
“My own was not that simple.” Silas went through his story.
When he repeated Hutchins’ description of the demon’s arrival, Worthington interrupted him to say, “That’s not possible.”
“I’d have said the same, but I’d swear she was telling the truth, and the demon itself described something similar. A hole it fell into, passing between worlds, not a summoning.”
“Demons are liars.”
“Indeed. But the details all match.”
“Perhaps we should use a truth spell on this Hutchins woman.”
Silas winced. “That’s up to the council. But I believe her, and I think we need to move on to the actual problem. Have you heard from any other parts of the country about a demon infestation?”
“I have, yes.” Worthington’s voice roughened. “We’re not the only ones, thank the gods. Well, I don’t mean that exactly, but it’s apparently nothing to do with us. Many necromancers I spoke to had encountered a demon or two in the last month. All of them felt there’d been an increase in the last six months or so. Not dramatic, but enough to make them uneasy.”
“That’s not good.”
“Indeed. And in addition to the recent deaths of necromancers at Zaruda and Nikotorian’s hands, two of our colleagues were killed by demons in the last few weeks. In New Jersey, they had to team up three of their local best to banish a six-syllable demon after it killed Jedediah Holmes.”
“Damnation.” Silas chewed on his lip, thinking. He hadn’t known Holmes personally, but the man’s reputation had been good. “What’s the plan?”
“Er. We’re collecting data now. I’ve reached out to other councils and we’re trying to document numbers and powers of the demons seen. Also characteristics of the summoners. What groups they belonged to, whether any of them knew each other, the details of their rune use. The science of summoning is quite complex, and I’ve called on some of our best minds to address this new concern. This is quite a can of worms you’ve opened, Thornwood.”
Silas didn’t bother to protest that hint of blame. At least they were working on the problem, and gathering data was always a good start, though Silas itched to be doing something more constructive. “Have you considered that the three fugitive Seattle sorcerers may be involved?”
“We’re already on the lookout for them, of course. You apparently have a talent for making bad enemies. But we can’t assume this is their doing.”
“Will you keep me informed, sir?” He held his words and tone to politeness rather than a demand. “And warn them about our unsummoned demon?”
“That part still sounds far-fetched to me, but I will pass it along. I may be traveling to Chicago to speak with the council there. I’ll let you know if I have to leave the area.” Worthington hung up with a bang that echoed in Silas’s ear before the dial tone resumed.
He set the receiver carefully in the cradle. Jasper looked up at him. “What’s the word?”
“The demon infestation isn’t just around here, it’s nationwide.”
“Then it’s not from Darien’s power. He’ll be relieved. In that sense, anyway.”
“Worthington was also thanking the gods it’s nothing to do with us locally. Almost makes me doubt that.”
Jasper’s lips twitched. “Even Worthington can be right sometimes. What’s the game plan?”
“I don’t know.” Silas was disconcerted to realize that he’d always been the one reacting, on the defensive, when it came to demons. They were summoned, then he fought to send them home. “I don’t see a good next step. Worthington and the other academics will be scouring records, now that they’re aware of the problem. I’m not likely to do better at research than they can. The map’s up and running, so we’ll keep watch for new arrivals.”
“I wrote down exactly what the demon said,” Jasper offered. “I’ll send Worthington a note confirming the details. Any little hint might turn out to be illuminating.”
Silas paced in front of the kitchen window. “I hate waiting for something to happen. I wish I knew more about world gates.” Something stirred deep in his brain, nudging at him. He gripped the counter and closed his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. His master Coldwell, as his death drew near, had passed along large amounts of information, some of it buried deep in Silas’s mind. After ten years, the details had faded into a blur, a familiar background that merged with his own experiences. Except occasionally, when that spell comes back to haunt me.
Coldwell, silent on the bed, his face slack as it never was in life, fingertips cold where his hands ringed my wrists, and yet his grip was strong as iron— Silas shook his head hard to keep from diving back into that memory. But he couldn’t shake off the tip-of-the-tongue sensation, as if he knew something important that was just out of reach. I hate that feeling.
“Maybe there’s a book here in the house that could help,” he suggested. “Norlington and my master both drummed into me that outward world-gating was something only a necromancer could perform and only on demons during a banishment. That it was always done by strict rote, weaving a demon’s hell-source and its energy into the spell. I wonder if they protested too much. I seem to recall a conversation…” The details eluded him, dancing behind a veil of years, almost audible, almost within reach. “Damnation.”
“Well, there are certainly books here.” Jasper gave him a droll look. “Finding the useful ones has never been simple. But it’s a task to fill the time.”
Grim said, “We familiars can monitor the map for new alerts, taking turns. I’ll take Kii down and show her the details of the spell.”
Silas tried to send a questing tendril of energy down toward the map and had to clutch the edge of the counter, his head reeling dizzily and his stomach growling. “After we eat,” he said. “We all need to replenish ourselves. I’ll heat some stew and bring Darien and Pip a plate afterward.”
“I’ll go hunt rats,” Kii said. “No offense, but boiled meat has nothing on a nice fresh rat.” She lifted into the air, banked around the doorway, and was gone.
Grim muttered, “She’s welcome to all the rats she can eat. I, however, expect something more refined.”
Silas smothered a grin. “Do you want stew, tuna, or bacon?” It was, after all, only smart to stay on your familiar’s good side.
***
Darien woke to a huge cramp in his belly and the most mouth-watering smell. He pushed himself up on his elbows on the— bed? Yes, our bed— and blinked his sticky eyes.
Silas settled a tray across Darien’s knees. A wonderful aroma rose from one large bowl of warm stew and a smaller one. Silas said, “Pip, I’ll put yours safely on the floor,” and reached for the bigger bowl.