Demonized (12 page)

I wish
. If I could solve my problems by knocking back antipsychotics, I’d be …well, just like my dad, I guess. “I’m not mentally ill,” I assured her. “This is real demonic possession. You know, head-spinning, bed-levitating, and all that shit. Not that any of that has happened yet, but I’m expecting it any day.”

“
Don’t tell her anything,”
the Voice spat at me. “
She can’t be trusted.”

Not like you then, I thought sourly. I watched Tamsin, trying to figure out her reaction. She nodded as I spoke, like she soaked it all up, looking more like a therapist than a witch. Her face was still blank, but I saw a quality to the emptiness, as dumb as that sounds. Like she focused really hard on not giving anything away.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened? How you ended up here?” she suggested.

I did, all the while fighting to block out the Voice, who screamed at me to shut up and tell her nothing. It worried me how adamant the demon was. I knew there was something fishy about Tamsin–that much was obvious. I was pretty sure she was a genuine witch with actual powers of some kind, not one of the sparkly unicorn types. Maybe the Voice was only so freaked out because she did have actual powers–she might be a real threat to the demon. I hoped so, anyway.

As I talked, I noticed Tamsin’s blank mask slipping. That keen interest was back, coupled with something I could only call calculating. Now that had me paying a bit more attention to the Voice.

“What you’re describing doesn’t sound like possession, exactly,” she told me, jotting notes down on the pad in front of her. “It sounds more like a bond–symbiosis. After all, if you’re correct in saying the demon was largely drawn out of you, then what’s left isn’t so much the demon itself as demonic essence.”

“I don’t see much difference, personally,” I told her. “Either way, I’ve got a shitty little demon inside me that I want to get rid of. The technical terms don’t matter.”

“Not to you, maybe.” Tamsin set her pen down and laced her fingers together, regarding me with that calculating look, not bothering to hide it anymore. “But there’s a very big difference between having an actual demonic entity inside you and just having a psychic remnant of one, and it affects how we deal with this.”

I guessed I’d have to take her word for that. “How do we deal with this?”

“Well, we can’t do anything here,” she replied. “You’ll need to come to my working space so I can conduct a proper assessment and see how deeply infused the demonic entity is. I suspect I’ll end up referring you to a specialist, but I should be able to help you deal with some of the…side-effects you’ve described.”

“What, like a charm or a potion or something?” I asked. I had only the vaguest, Disney-esque idea of what witches did. I kind of hoped it involved some naked dancing, but judging by Tamsin’s serious expression, I wouldn’t be that lucky.

“I won’t know what will work best until we’ve done the consultation.” Once again that calculating look passed over her face. She was sizing me up for something. I shifted uneasily in my seat.

“How soon can we do that?” I asked.

“Now, if you like. My workspace isn’t far away. I can drive us straight over.”

No!”
The Voice shrieked so loud my ears rang. I flinched and watched pure greed flash over Tamsin’s face. She obviously didn’t realize how transparent she was, or she thought I was too distracted to notice, maybe. Even if I hadn’t noticed, the Voice was doing the psychic equivalent of setting off fireworks in my head, making Tamsin’s hungry expression impossible to ignore.

“
Bad intentions. You can’t trust a witch, especially not this one. She stinks of black magic.”

Does she now
? Like the dark, bitter magic the Voice told me surrounded Rhian, I wondered. I leaned back in my seat, contemplating the witch in front of me. Of course the Voice would tell me not to trust her. She threatened it.

On the other hand, Tamsin and Rhian had an indisputable link between them.
That means I have an obligation to investigate, right? Private dicking
.

She waited for an answer from me, tapping her claw-like nails impatiently on the desktop. She wanted me to come with her. That alone made me suspicious. Women usually wanted me to go away from them.

“Do you want to do this or not?” she asked.

“
Kill her,”
the Voice snapped. “
Kill her before she destroys you.”

She cocked her eyebrow at me, letting me know the Voice had stolen my vocal chords. “I’m definitely going to be referring you to a specialist,” she said, rising from her chair.

I rose too, figuring I may as well go with her. Maybe she’d turn out to be perfectly innocent, unaware of the dead hooker the cops had pulled from her bath tub. “What kind of specialist?” I asked, letting her guide me out of the office. “You mean like a wizard, or what?”

She laughed, sounding smoky and seductive. “I mean a demonologist. There aren’t many around nowadays, but I know one or two.”

“
There aren’t many around because people who mess with demons end up dead,”
the Voice informed me with a chuckle. “
If she knows demonologists, they’re fakes.”

“
They’re not fakes,” Tamsin told me. “You know, your voice gets quite attractively husky when the demon uses it.”

I couldn’t think of an appropriate response to that, so I stayed quiet while we made our way downstairs. Outside, Mutt had his nose pressed against the car window, and his tail wagged manically when he saw me. I glanced at Tamsin, loitering by a battered black car. “I’ll follow you,” I told her. “Can’t leave the little guy out in this heat.”

She nodded and sauntered to her car. We set off at a crawl, apparently witches like to stay well under the speed limit for some arcane reason. As I followed, I debated my next move. Sure, Tamsin Searle/Salome Giovanni might be innocent. She might have nothing to do with Rhian’s death, or any of the other girls the cops had found. There was always that chance.

I wasn’t taking it though. Rhian died in her apartment and I had evidence that they knew each other. Tamsin had been out of contact since Rhian was found. That made her the prime suspect, and Anna would want in. I slid my phone from my pocket and called her.

Chapter Ten

“Are you driving and using your phone at the same time?” Anna demanded when I told her what I was doing.

“Yeah, but we’re going about five miles an hour, so it probably doesn’t count.”

“Where are you going, exactly? And why? How did you find Searle in the first place?”

I thought about that last one before answering. I didn’t need Anna knowing about my little problem. I went for a half-truth, since Anna would find out about Tamsin’s secret identity anyway. “She’s a practicing witch. I tracked her down through one of the girls at Hush and had to trump up some reason to get an appointment with her.”

“Really?” Anna sounded amused. “What did you tell her?”

“I’ve been suffering from insomnia.” That was true. “So, are you going to come check her out?”

“Do you have an address?”

I acknowledged that I hadn’t. Caught between the Voice and the witch and whatever ulterior motives they both had, I hadn’t asked Tamsin where her working space was. I felt pretty certain it wouldn’t be her apartment. “We’re heading down Port Road…just turned onto Russell Street.”

“Right. Not entirely helpful.”

“Well, see if she has another address under the name Salome Giovanni,” I said irritably, swerving the car to avoid hitting an idiot on a bike. Mutt yelped and stuck his tongue in my ear to scold me. “You’re the detective. Detect!”

“You’re also a detective, Banning,” Anna reminded me. “Keep me updated, okay? Text me once you know where you are and we’ll take it from there.”

I hung up and concentrated on driving again. Tension sliced down my spine, and the Voice pricked at the inside of my head, telling me to turn back, stay away. It was similar to the way it had acted before the exorcism, but there were no threats now. No promises to make my life a living hell if I didn’t do what the Voice said. This was more like…bargaining.

“
It’s not too late to turn back–let the witch go. She’s full of malice.”

“
Did she kill Rhian and the others?” I wondered aloud, wiping sweat from my forehead. “Why would she? What’s the motive there?”

“
Who cares about those pathetic whores? She’ll kill you. Carve your heart out and eat it, if you give her a chance.”

Well, that was nothing the Voice hadn’t threatened me with itself. I recalled how desperate and agitated it had been before we met Walker Moss. This was the same–the cacadaemon, or its essence or whatever was inside me, felt scared. Out of its depth, and that scared me.

The fact that I was using the demon to assess dangerous situations? That scared me as well.

Tamsin slowed down, which was an impressive feat in itself, given how slow we drove to start with. She pulled in, in front of a small, red brick bungalow. It was nice–the whole street was nice. Russell Street was on one of the new estates that had sprung up at the edge of the town as it expanded. On the other side of the road from us, I saw a beauty salon, a used book store, and a wedding dress boutique. Not a witchy neighborhood. Normal.

I didn’t like it. I’d be far more comfortable if she’d taken me to some fog-wreathed graveyard or whatever. At least then I’d know I was in the shit. In this nice, normal neighborhood, who knew?

I pulled in behind Tamsin and let Mutt leap out of the car so he could piss up a lamp post. Tamsin frowned at me. “What?” I snapped. “Better there than in the car.”

“You’re not bringing that creature into my working space,” she said.

“
Don’t go in there alone!”

I twitched at the Voice’s command, hating how much I agreed with the demon. Nothing about this felt right to me. “I thought you witches were all down with nature and that shit?” I asked Tamsin.

Her lips twitched, not quite a smile. “I’m not that kind of witch.”

“Well, he can’t stay in the car,” I said, catching Mutt by the collar. He sat by my feet, staring up at Tamsin. “There’s no shade out here and it’s way too hot for him to be locked up in there.”

She pursed her lips, nodded, and led me and Mutt into the bungalow. As tense and wired as I was, I braced myself for some weird gothic dungeon. But when we stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was the cleanliness of the place. Not just in terms of housekeeping, but everything. It looked light and airy, lots of windows and mirrors. Normal again. No candles, goats’ skulls, or bubbling cauldrons anywhere. Just once, I really wanted to meet a supernatural creature who abided by the clichés.

Mutt curled up by the front door, keeping well away from Tamsin. I didn’t know if that was significant or not; he hadn’t made much of a fuss of Anna either. A one-man dog. I felt like it was significant, like Mutt sensed something in Tamsin that he didn’t like.

“I’ve only just moved in here,” she said, ushering me to the sand-colored sofa. “It’ll take me a while to get it up to scratch for magic-working, but it’ll do for an initial consultation.”

“It’s not what I pictured,” I admitted. “I figured there’d be more pentagrams.”

She laughed breezily. “Well, this room won’t be the work space. I’m converting the basement–that’s where we’ll be heading.” That said, she drifted through to the kitchen, off the side of the lounge, all gleaming marble counter tops and pale tiles. “Make yourself at home,” she called back through to me.

I paced the lounge, taking the opportunity to text the address of the place to Anna. I wondered if Tamsin had moved her base of operations here before or after Rhian’s death. After all, just because she owned the apartment, didn’t mean she’d been using it. She could have been renting it out. Someone could have been squatting there.

A few pertinent questions from me, and Tamsin could clear that right up and get back to solving my demon problem.

I wasn’t sure how to raise the subject though. I’d found that people get pretty upset when you start slinging words like “dead hooker” and “missing kidneys” around.

Tamsin returned from the kitchen with two glasses–one obviously full of orange juice, one full of a cloudy bluish liquid that reminded me of dirty washing-up water. She handed that glass to me. I eyed it and her dubiously and she chuckled. “Drink up. It’s harmless.”

“No offense, lady, but I had a really nasty experience with home-brewed cider when I was a kid. I don’t drink anything if I don’t know what’s in it.”

“It’s to help you relax,” she said evasively. “A lot of people find it difficult to relax the first time magic is worked on them, and it makes them less receptive to my abilities.”

I took the glass and sniffed it. “What exactly are you going to be doing to me?”

“
Ripping your spine out through your stomach,”
the Voice growled at me. “
If you’re too stupid to walk away, you deserve it.”

She stepped back from me, and her frown told me I’d spoken aloud. “I certainly won’t be doing that. Look, this is a perfect example of why I need you relaxed. The more tense and nervous you are, the more likely it is the demon will take control. Drink your tincture and we’ll get started. The sooner we get started, the sooner your problem gets solved.”

I sniffed the tincture again. It smelt kinda fruity, non-threatening. Didn’t mean it was safe, and the Voice was pretty sure it wasn’t.
What does that mean though
? The Voice wanted me to rape Anna and kill myself–
what does its opinion really count for
?

Tamsin didn’t know anything about me. As far as she was concerned, I was a genuine client here for a genuine consultation, a man she’d just met. A man who knew her only as Salome Giovanni. So, even assuming she was involved in Rhian’s death, she had no reason to harm me. Who knew, she might actually be able to help me.

I knocked back the tincture. It tasted better than it looked, like blueberries. I wiped my mouth and waited for sparks to flash before my eyes, or little green men to pop out from under the sofa or something. Nothing happened though, except my tongue got sort of tingly.