Inner Demon (4 page)

“And you're planning to change that.”

If you let me. . .

“I've got a few hours to do some reading,” I said, walking over to the table in the center of the room, where I had left the two books the demon had pulled aside for me. The first one looked ancient and I suspected that Simon had “borrowed” it out of the Dresden library and never gotten around to returning it. The book on demons was more disturbing because it looked as if most of the handwriting was Simon's, though the first few chapters were in a different script. Simon's mentor?

Picking up the general magic book, I carried it over to the large, overstuffed chair in front of the fire and tossed it on the seat while I pulled off my coat. When I turned back, the demon book was in the chair.

“I don't think starting with demons is the best idea when I'm weak in too many other areas,” I grumbled as I turned back to the table to pick up the other book.

But I can help you in those areas until you grow strong.

“Or I can just grow dependent upon you and never learn those things for myself,” I snapped irritably.

That works too.

The demon's amusement never wavered.

Grabbing the book I wanted, I dropped the demon book on the floor beside me and flopped down in the chair, putting my feet up on the footstool. I flipped open the old tome and started skimming over the topics laid out before me. A lot of the information was familiar, though it gave some background that I had been sorely lacking. Yet it wasn't long before I was craving a notepad and pen so I could make some notes.

The thought had barely occurred to me when a hardbound journal appeared at my elbow along with a black pen. I stared at it for a moment, surprised that it looked identical to the ones I had been using for years to make notes regarding spells and potions I uncovered since leaving the Towers. When I picked it up, I got a whiff of a familiar scent, marigolds and blood.

“Did you get this from my basement at the parlor?” I demanded, sitting up with a jerk.

Of course. You needed to make some notes.

“You can bring things from one place to another?”

As long as they're connected.

As the words crossed my mind, there was a soft shifting of the stones in the center of the room that contained the demon's symbol. Simon's rooms were connected with the parlor because I had drawn the same symbol that Simon used.

“Did he know I used the same symbol?” I asked softly, suddenly wondering if he could have used the same connection to walk right into my parlor during the past several years.

No.

“Can you bring through larger items?”

Size has no bearing.

“What about a person? What if Bronx or Trixie walked into the basement? Could you bring them here?”

It would not be . . . healthy for living creatures.

I could feel the demon's amusement at the thought and a chill pricked along my flesh.

“It would kill them,” I said, crossing off the idea as a potential way of getting my friends immediately out of danger should the need arise.

No.

“But . . . ?” I prompted when the demon chose not to elaborate.

Their minds would break under the burden of the journey.

Before I could question the demon about what it meant, the book at my feet opened with a snap and the pages flew until it found the proper entry. With a grunt, I picked up the book and placed it on top of the one I had been reading. A quick glance revealed that the original writer of the book had done quite a bit of research on the region where demons resided, or rather where their corporeal form resided.

It wasn't a pretty place by the sound of it, making the Chris­tian version of Hell look like a summer retreat for girl scouts. Not a place I wanted to visit. Luckily, Lilith had something entirely different planned for me, though I doubted it was much more pleasant.

A groan slipped from my lips as I sat back in the chair again, when I realized that I'd turned the page twice since picking up the book. I wasn't supposed to be reading this one, but my mind immediately starting soaking up the information, as if it had been starved for too many years. And maybe it had been. It had been a decade since I'd been permitted to study any kind of magic, leaving me eager to study anything I could get my hands on.

“Look . . .” I started and then stopped when I realized that I had been about to use the demon's name, but didn't know it. Hell, I didn't even know if demons had names. Did they need them?

Zyrus.

I flinched at the hissed sound. It was like someone had stabbed a red hot knitting needle through my frontal lobe.

Say it.

“Why?”

Say it.

“Why? Will it give you some kind of power over me?”

The demon chuckled.
No.

“Will it give me power over you?”

You mean more than you already have? No.

I hadn't thought so. There was no power in the name. If you wanted power over someone, you needed a bit of their blood. Or better yet, a chunk of their soul.

“Then why do you want me to say it? I didn't think that demons had names.”

The pages in the book started flipping again to stop on another section that Simon had written about demon names. There wasn't much there, but there was no mention of any danger inherent in speaking a demon's name. A few other demon names were listed there, but I found it interesting that the demon that guarded Simon's rooms wasn't listed.

“You didn't tell him?”

No. Say it.

I could feel that its amusement was fading and it was growing more irritated, but I wasn't going to be cowed by this creature. It had said that it needed me, that it was the pawn that I had claimed in this game. I wasn't going to follow its directions without a damn good reason.

“Why didn't you tell him?”

Say it first.

I frowned, not liking the fact that it was trying to bargain now. Looking down at the book in my lap, there was no warning about saying the demon's name and I was confident there was no power in a name. Could there be any real harm?

“Zyrus,” I said between clenched teeth.

Zyrus,
the demon repeated, correcting my pronunciation while sending a fresh stab of pain through my head.

“Zyrus.” I winced as I hissed the name. With his voice in my head, the “U” became more of a soft “I,” sounding like “ZEAR-­ris.”

Zyrus.

But something frightening happened this time when it said the name. The pain was gone. I could still sense the demon's emotions, like its pleasure and amusement at my saying its name, but the nausea that always accompanied it was gone. I was also starting to get thin snatches of the creature's thoughts.

“What the fuck?” I demanded, lurching to my feet while dumping the books in my lap onto the footstool.

I could feel the demon organizing thoughts to formulate a response. It was all murky and gray, but I could actually feel it more clearly now as if we were connected. Yet before Zyrus could explain, a heavy pounding echoed through Simon's old rooms as someone demanded entrance.

“I know you're in there, traitor!” the warlock shouted as he pounded on the door.

Excitement built in Zyrus as it moved from hovering close to me to the door. It was hoping the warlock would force his way inside the rooms. This creature was not on my list of ­people it could not kill. The thoughts were coming more clearly now as the demon was focused on the intruder. It had been far too long since it had killed something. It had been feeling frustrated since it had failed to kill the magical intruder in the basement at the parlor and was eager to rip into the flesh of something.

“Wait!” I said in a low voice, trying to tighten the leash on the demon without needing to actually lock it away within the symbol. Putting the demon away meant that I would be on my own against the warlock if he did come into the rooms.

The demon pulled back slightly and was far from pleased about it.

He means to do you harm.

“I don't doubt it.”

Let me protect you, Master.

Even with our new connection, my skin still crawled at that hissed word. There was a layer of malevolence to the word I hadn't sensed before. Zyrus wasn't pleased with its newest yoke, but was willing to accept it if it got it closer to its goal.

“The council has tasked me with dismantling the defensive spells on Simon's rooms,” I shouted back at the warlock while trying to push down the demon's thoughts and desires.

“You gave up your right to have access to his books and notes, traitor! Come out of there!”

“I'm not finished with defenses in here. I'm having some trouble unraveling them all,” I lied.

“Let me see what kind of mess you've made,” the warlock grumbled as if he were dealing with a particularly slow child. I knew he didn't give a damn about me and cared only about getting access to Simon's work.

There was a rattle of the doorknob and for a breath, time stood still. I hung on the edge of the abyss with Zyrus floating just over my shoulder. This warlock was invading these rooms and meant me harm. He was eager to get his hands on Simon's research, though I wasn't exactly sure what interested him. It irked him that I might be touching it, a traitor to the Towers and my mentor.

I exhaled. My heart beat once. Twice. “Be quick,” I whispered.

The door started to swing open and total darkness consumed the rooms again. I sat down in my chair as the door slammed shut. The warlock muttered something in surprise and then there were only his screams.

I felt myself being torn into two pieces. A part of me was sick at the sounds of ripping flesh and organs, accompanied by the high-­pitched screams of terror and pain that finally gave way to low moans that followed the warlock into his death.

The other part of me was swept up in the demon's glee. There was such joy in its triumph, in the shredding of the warlock who had meant to cause me pain and possibly even death.
Traitor.
The warlock called me a traitor, and I knew he had no intention of sharing Simon's research with his brothers and sisters of the Ivory Towers. He had killed countless ­people in his years as a warlock and Zyrus had put an end to it at last. The world was better off with this monster gone. With the help of Zyrus, I had made the world a little bit safer.

When the room was finally silent, I relaxed in my chair, waving my hand toward the fireplace so that flames jumped to life again. Zyrus circled back to me, practically purring in its contentment, as if it expected me to give it a little pat on the head as a reward.

“Clean up the mess, please,” I said, trying to suppress my own conflicted feelings.

As you wish.

Zyrus rushed off toward the mutilated remains of the corpse while I picked up the book on demons I had been reading. I had only a ­couple more hours to get some research done and then I had to return to Asylum. There were ­people in Low Town who needed tattoos and potions.

I also needed to get away from Zyrus for a few hours so I could think clearly. The demon offered a tempting solution to my problem. Could I use it to pick off the warlocks and witches of the Towers one by one until the world was finally safe? Was it wrong to use a demon to save the world? I wasn't sure anymore.

For now, I had access to Simon's books and I knew I was safe while I did my research on magic. There had to be a way to take down the Towers. There had to be a way for me to keep Trixie and our baby safe.

 

Chapter 4

I
returned to the back room of Asylum just after one thirty. There was too much on my mind after Zyrus had killed the warlock for me to continue reading. Too much in my life was changing and slipping away from me no matter how hard I worked to hold it all together. Zyrus had presented me with an option that I still wasn't sure I should jump on, yet it was almost guaranteed to be the one thing that fixed everything. Wasn't that what I wanted? Wasn't I willing to sacrifice myself in order to keep Trixie and the baby safe?

As soon as I arrived, I realized that I wasn't alone in the parlor. The energy zipped to my fingers without a thought, an aggressive spell at the ready on the tip of my tongue when the person called out.

“Gage? Is that you?” Trixie asked from the main tattooing room. Her heels clicked across the linoleum floor as she approached the back room.

With a heavy sigh of relief, I released the magic and walked down the hall to meet her, a smile growing on my face.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, pressing a quick kiss to her pursed lips. She wasn't happy. Had she not seen the flowers that I sent?

“You mentioned yesterday that you wanted to do inventory, so I came in early to help. Where were you?”

“Shit!” I slapped the heel of my hand against my forehead. “I am an idiot. I'm sorry. Yesterday was so insane. I completely forgot.”

“I noticed,” she murmured as she returned to the main tattooing room and sat on her little stool. “Where were you?” she repeated, giving me a very pointed stare. “I checked the basement.”

My heart leapt into my throat and I couldn't breathe. “I said never to go into the basement without me!”

“I didn't go down. I opened the door and saw that the light was out. I called down there. I figured unless you were lying dead down there, you weren't in the basement. Where were you?” Her voice was growing sharper with each word.

I forced a casual shrug. “Nowhere important. I was doing a little research on the many problems that are in my lap at the moment.”

“Am I one of those problems?”

My eyes narrowed on Trixie and I felt my teeth clenching. My dear girlfriend wasn't usually so combative, but there was no question that the woman was looking for a fight. Something had upset her and now I wondered if it was something I had specifically done or if I was just getting the brunt of her anger because I was convenient. Or maybe it was hormones? Pregnant women were emotional. Did that apply to elves as well?

“Trixie, I don't see our situation as a problem,” I said calmly, hoping to diffuse her anger before we were embroiled in a fight.

The lovely elf just shook her head and sighed. “You went back to the Towers, didn't you?”

Confusion furrowed my brow and I forced myself to sit down in the chair across from her. “You know I did. I told you about that already.”

“No, I mean that's where you were just a minute ago. You went to one of those damn Towers to do your research.”

Blood froze in my veins at her words. How could she possibly know about that? I hadn't told her about going back to Simon's rooms or the fact that I had done any research at the Towers in relation to any of my current problems. “How did you know?”

When Trixie lifted her green eyes to me, there was a world of disappointment resting in those sad emerald orbs. “Gideon told me.”

“What? When did you see him?” I demanded, jumping to my feet.

“He was here a little while ago. He's worried about you.”

“Bullshit,” I muttered, shoving one hand through my hair so that it was now standing on end. I started to pace, but there wasn't a lot of room for moving around because of the various chairs and little tables filled with tattooing supplies.

“He is and so am I. What are you doing there?

“Research.”

“The only kind of research you could be doing at the Towers is magic. What are you doing with magic, Gage? You're not supposed to be using it.”

“Things have changed. I told you that. The Towers have backed off from that edict,” I said with an absent wave of my hand.

“Not so much that using magic just willy-­nilly is safe,” she snapped. “You created those flowers with magic and sent them to my apartment with magic.”

“You could tell?”

“I'm a Summer Court elf, Gage! I could smell it. Those flowers aren't real.”

“Of course they're real.”

“No, they're not. They were created by magic, not nature. I can smell and feel the difference. Those flowers have no soul. They never lived. They were never connected to the earth and they never spent a single day in the sun.”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to give you something nice. Prove that magic could be used for something positive and pretty,” I shouted. My volume was rising with hers and it was becoming harder to get a hold on my emotions so that I could keep this conversation from exploding.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but hate the fact that you're using magic more.” Brushing some hair from her face, Trixie pushed to her feet so that she could more easily look me in the eye. “When you were hiding from the Towers and the world, you were careful about your magic use. You made sure that no one saw you, no one knew. You found other ways to get the things you needed. Now, it seems like magic is your first choice for everything.”

“Only because it's the more efficient way of getting things done.” I paused and took a deep breath, reminding myself that she was just worried about me. I should feel pleased by her concern. “Look, I'm using magic because it's the only way to accomplish what I need. The Towers aren't hunting me any longer, so there's no danger.”

“But don't you see? Using magic is a danger in itself. You're becoming dependent upon it. Nothing good ever came of using magic that frequently. It warps things. Twists it.”

“That's not true.”

“The Towers,” she said quickly before I could continue.

“I'm not the Towers! I'm not one of them! I'm not a killer!” But as the word left my throat, I felt myself pale and my heart stutter to a halt in my chest. I wasn't a killer, right? That was the line I had always drawn in the sand that separated me from the assholes in the Ivory Towers. Yet, I had let Zyrus kill that warlock. I had let goblins die in that fire when I could have stopped it. I had clung to that rationale for years; used it as a reason for leaving the Towers. But it wasn't true. Not anymore.

“I know you're not a killer, Gage,” Trixie said gently, pulling my horrified gaze back to her face. “But I'm afraid of things going too far and you not being able to stop yourself. You're using things that are bad.”

“What are you talking about?” I whispered.

“There's something . . . some magic that you're using now that is . . .” she paused, wrinkling her nose as she tried to find the right word. “It's like . . . it's tainting you. You smell different and you feel different when I'm near you. It's not good and you need to stop whatever it is. It's gotten worse from last night to this afternoon.”

Zyrus
. She could feel my association with the demon, though she didn't know exactly what it was.

“I've got everything under control. Nothing has changed,” I said firmly, though I don't know if I was trying to reassure her or me.

“No, you don't. You're using magic—­”

“Of course I'm using magic. I'm a warlock. You knew that before we started dating. You knew who I was before our first kiss. Do you regret it now?”

“I knew
what
you were before we started dating,” she corrected, evading my question. She stood, her hands balled into fists at her sides as she stared at me. “But I don't know
who
you are anymore.”

“I'm Gage Powell, father of the baby you carry and the man who has been tasked with making you and this city safe so that you won't run! I'm doing this all for you!”

The air crackled with magical energy that I was barely holding in check. Whenever my emotions slipped past my control, magic followed eagerly behind it so that I ended up destroying light bulbs and glass containers without even trying. A part of me wanted to hear something explode or shatter. I wanted to see something eaten away by snapping flames. But the tears Trixie was struggling to hold back were enough to keep me from letting loose completely.

“I never asked you to change,” Trixie said, her voice wavering with each word as it pushed aside the thickening silence. “I love you as you are and would never change you.”

Her words were a balm on an old, ragged wound that refused to close. The electric charge of energy drifted away and I took a deep breath, reining in my temper. Something in me still longed to cut the magic loose, but I could feel the urge coming from outside of me more than in my own soul. Zyrus was restless in the basement as it undoubtedly sensed the anger and frustration growing within me. But I wasn't going to give in to the demon. I was in control, not the demon. It called me master and I would be the master in this situation.

“I'm not changing,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “I'm using more magic because I am constantly being thrown into situations that demand I use it. The ­people I am up against are using magic and I have to use it to stay alive.”

“The flowers?”

I clenched my teeth against the spike in my temper and waited a beat before speaking. “That was a mistake. I see that now. I'm sorry.” I wasn't sure I actually agreed with her on that point. But I could see that the flowers had unnerved her and I didn't want to upset her further. Unfortunately, the look in her eyes made me think that I wasn't entirely convincing.

“The magic has to stop.”

“You tasked me with ensuring your safety so that you will stay. Magic is the only way I can do that.”

“Magic only makes things worse.”

She was being stubborn and ridiculous. Yes, I understood that the Ivory Towers had hunted down and slaughtered most of her ­people. I understood that the Towers still had a deep distrust and hatred for all elves. But that did not mean that all magic was bad. Magic could be used for good and that was what I was doing now. I had protected her and Bronx and countless other lives in Low Town with my magic over the years. Yes, I was using it more frequently now but I wasn't afraid of the Towers removing my head because of a little cloaking spell or a memory charm.

I opened my mouth, not really sure what I was going to say, but I knew my tone was creeping back toward shouting. The words never had a chance to leave my tongue. A sickening wave surged through the parlor, moving from north to south, leaving me feeling like I'd been hit by a truck.

Gasping, I collapsed to the floor on my hands and knees, my heart struggling within my chest to start beating again. Dragging in a breath, I felt the air burn down my throat, like acid on my lungs. I choked, coughing and unwilling to take in a second breath, but I couldn't fight it more than a few seconds. The next was easier, though still painful.

Across the room, I could hear Trixie coughing and choking as well. I slowly turned my head to look at her and winced. It was like my brain had been reduced to sludge and was now free to slide around in my skull. Trixie stayed on her feet, but was leaning heavily on the counter behind her. Her face was pale and sweat was streaking down from her temple.

“Are you okay?” My voice was like brittle autumn leaves, cracking and breaking at the slightest touch.

She nodded, slowly easing back onto her stool. “You?”

“Getting there.” I still didn't feel up for standing, but I needed to get up and move.

“What was that?”

Fear rippled through me. There was no mistaking it. “Death Magic.”

“What? What's that?” she asked and I was surprised. The elves were a long-­lived race. I was sure that she would have heard of it. Of course, the Summer Court was the least likely to use something like that since they so highly valued life. Maybe she didn't know about it because it was something that had never touched their lives.

“A dark kind of magic.” Reaching up, I grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled myself back to my feet. I stood still, swaying a bit as the last of the dizziness and nausea started to fade. “I've been tracking this killer for the Towers the past ­couple of weeks with Gideon. It's why I've been away so much. We're trying to catch this bastard before he destroys more ­people.”

“Is this the same person who killed Kyle?”

I shook my head, a part of me wishing they were the same person just so I didn't have to find a way to catch two lunatics. “No.”

“You need to go?” Trixie said it as a question, but it didn't feel that way. We needed to talk more. To work out this issue she was having with my use of magic, but it had become obvious that we were just going around in circles. Maybe it would be best if we just walked away right now so that we could both cool off and think clearly. Truth be told, I was beginning to wonder if I could think clearly being so close to one of Zyrus's doorways. I hadn't thought the demon could influence me, but the creature's emotions were starting to tangle with mine and that couldn't be a good thing.

“I need to catch this asshole before he hurts more ­people,” I said, careful not to add that this killer was now in Low Town and things were on the cusp of getting nasty if he found the other killer stalking innocent women.

“It's okay. Go. I'll keep an eye on things here.”

I hesitated, staring down at the wide-­eyed elf who was still too pale. For a moment, I thought about loosening the bonds on Zyrus so that it could protect the first floor of the tattoo parlor and watch over Trixie, but it was far too dangerous. I couldn't trust the demon to properly guard her and I doubted the elf would welcome the protection of a demon.