Vera Wardwell was a witch and my closest neighbor. She was nosier than a bloodhound on a trail. If there was information to be had about the murders, Vera was all over it.
The sickness that rose in my throat had nothing to do with the leeches this time. “At this rate, there’ll be no more witches in Mystic Quarter at the end of the month if we don’t stop him.”
Poe cursed. “Then we better find him.”
“I just wish I didn’t have these higher demons on my ass. I could do my job and not have to look over my shoulder the entire time.” A leech gave a tug on my skin, and I winced.
“Blasted higher demons,” said the old witch, his voice rumbling behind me. “I don’t like that. I don’t like that one bit. Why do you suppose they came after you?”
“It has something to do with a demon named Vorkol.” I hated what these bastards had done to me. And now I had to suffer leeches because of them.
“Vorkol,” repeated my grandfather, his tone pensive and his feet shifting on the floor next to me. “Never heard of him.”
I shook my head. “Me neither. But if he’s out to get me, I want to know why.” I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. I was going to find out who this Vorkol was. And I knew just how to do it.
“There,” came my grandfather’s voice. “All done.”
My heart leaped as I turned my head and looked at my grandfather. “Really? The leeches are gone? And the poison? It’s over?”
The old witch gave me a shrug and spoke to the floor. “Unfortunately, I’d be lying if I said all the poison was gone from your system. The blade’s poison can never truly be removed,” he said and quickly added at the frown on my face, “but enough of the poison was removed that you’ll never even notice it’s there.”
I clamped my mouth shut. I wasn’t sure how I felt about still having that demonic poison in me. But he was right. I felt good, better than good, and had no more pain. I could live with that.
My grandfather gave me a nervous smile. “How do you feel?” His voice had held a faint ribbon of worry at the revelation of some of the poison remaining.
I pulled my shirt down, swung my legs off the counter, grabbed the still-warm grilled cheese from the stove and took a bite. “Ravenous,” I said between chews. I let out a moan. “God, that’s good.” I was surprised I was actually still hungry after the ordeal with the leeches. I looked at the jar in my grandfather’s hand, seeing the dark leeches wiggling at the bottom.
I took another bite. “You got all of them out. Right?”
My grandfather made a face as though I’d just insulted his new batch of gin and held the jar for me to see. “Of course I did. Who do you think I am?”
“Good.” I pushed the last piece of the grilled cheese in my mouth, making Poe laugh, and darted for the stairs.
“Samantha Beaumont! Wait just a minute. You haven’t told me how you feel?” called my grandfather.
“Like spelling some demon’s ass,” I called back and climbed the stairs two at a time.
Like hell I’d let myself get jumped by higher demons again. No. This time I was going to be prepared. This time I was going to fight back.
A smile reached my face.
Showtime.
12
I knelt on the floor, my heart slamming against my ribcage as I finished drawing the Goetia triangle with my chalk. I drew the unique sigil of the demon I wished to summon and wrote its true Latin name in the center. Taking a calming breath, I stood up and stepped in the Circle of Solomon.
Poe, perched on the chair next to my cauldron, tutted at the name I wrote. “He’s going to think you enjoy his company,” lamented the raven.
I let out a sigh and pocketed my chalk. “You’ve got a better idea?” I countered.
“Yeah,” said the raven. “Logan. I think we should call him.”
I frowned at the bird. “What is your obsession with the angel-born? He shouldn’t even be involved in this. But unfortunately, he is.”
“He did save your ass from jail. Give him some credit.”
Ouch. “One time,” I said. “But he can’t help me now. Besides, the higher demons were after me, not him.”
“I’m with Poe. This is perplexingly stupid, Sam,” said my grandfather, his voice scornful and winning an approving caw from Poe. With his arms crossed over his bathrobe, he leaned against his work table. “The more you summon the same demon, the less power remains in the circle that keeps him in submission until it won’t hold him anymore. You won’t even notice his knife at your throat until it’s too late.”
“He won’t do that to me.” God, I hoped I was right.
My grandfather let out a frustrated breath. “You’ve only just recovered from your ordeal with the higher demons. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “It can’t. If it hadn’t been for the rising sun, you wouldn’t have a granddaughter anymore. They’ll be back. They’re going to try again, to finish what they started. Only this time I’ll be ready for them.” I needed ammunition. I needed to know why Vorkol was after me, and how to kill these higher demons. And I was going to find out how.
“Besides, I have a job to do.” Like finding the ancient vampire who was killing off witches in New York City and killing him. “I can’t exactly pay the bills if I’m dead. Now can I? I’m running out of time.”
The whole fiasco with the dark witch court’s revelation of why they hired me in the first place had my stomach twisting. It hurt, damnit. And whatever plans I had would have to wait. Sunrise was just three hours away, too short a period of time to do much of anything if this should fail.
My life had quickly gone from bad to worse in a matter of weeks. Not only had I nearly been killed in the hands of the Greater demon Vargal, as he’d tried to raise a pagan God Nergal by sacrificing a few psychics, the dark witch court had been lying to me all these years. I felt like a fool.
My dream of a simple witch life, a few paranormal cases thrown in, with the steady dark witch court paychecks had vanished.
Everything was different now. There was no going back.
I took their silence as my cue to begin the summoning. I pulled the energy from the circle and triangle, channeling the magic.
“I conjure you, Farissael, demon of the Netherworld to be subject to the will of my soul,” I chanted, focusing on my will, the circle and triangle. Yes, I was taking a risk summoning him again—and for what I was about to ask him—but I had no other choice. “I bind you with unbreakable adamantine fetters, and I deliver you into the black chaos in perdition. I invoke you, Farissael, in the space in front of me!”
There was a pop of displaced air as the lights flickered and went out. A wind rose, lifting my hair around my face and shoulders.
When the lights flickered back on, a man stood in the triangle before me. Tall and fit, he had a pleasant face and striking dark eyes framed with thick lashes over an olive complexion.
And he wore nothing but a pair of tight red briefs.
Holy hell.
Faris the mid-demon smiled, like the devil himself had just been awarded the prize of the century. His dark eyes met mine and he said, “What’s the story, morning glory?”