Demonsense (Demonsense series Book 1) (18 page)

Realization dawned on Bree that he was talking about himself. “You’ve been calling demons, trying to get answers,” she accused. “My God, that is just so insanely dangerous!”

“That’s what everyone thinks,” Daniel argued urgently, leaning forward, “and I’m not saying it’s easy. But I have found a demon that's willing to talk to me. I have to wade through a lot of the usual shit demons spout, but I've gotten enough hints about their nature that I've got to continue. I’m not saying I know a way to be sure that it’s safe. But someone has to try. Someone has to take some calculated risks, or this will never end!”

“How do you know it hasn’t already damaged you?” she asked. That dark streak she'd read in his energy came instantly to mind, and it suddenly seemed a direr sign than she'd considered it previously. Maybe he was a lot closer to the edge than she'd thought.
 

Daniel hesitated, and some of the fire seemed to go out of him. “I don’t know for sure. I
can’t
know. There’s something innately corrupting to demon contact and it’s very difficult for the one affected to see it. I need monitoring, and it can’t be the Ecclesias, and it can’t be a Keeper. There's just too much weight of tradition against this kind of experimentation. I would never get a fair hearing, they’d just shut me down. I need a high power Reader, an Exorcist and someone with exceptional Demonsense. Someone not afraid to call me out if they think I’m crossing the line. I need you, Bree.”

Bree was stunned. Of all the ways she imagined this conversation going, nothing like this had remotely crossed her mind. “But, but I’m not high power,” she protested weakly.

Daniel regarded her wryly. “That’s not what I hear. And frankly, that’s not what I read. I’m not much good at reading people’s emotions or intentions, but one thing I can do is read power. Trust me, you’re high power on at least two talents, and maybe three. You're power signature is really pretty amazing.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Impatiently, she wiped them away but they kept coming. She felt something dissolving inside her, and she didn’t know what would come next. If she admitted he was right, what responsibility would that bring? More than one person had tried to tell her she was high power over the years, but she had brushed them off. She’d never wanted to be high power.
 

Yet she found she believed him, or rather, she found the sense of the truth of what he’d said resonating inside her. Maybe holding herself back in her power use these many months had set her up for this, for realizing it meant more to her than she wanted to admit. Only Seth had never really pushed her, only he had accepted her reluctance to try to develop her power further. And for the first time, she found herself seriously wondering if that had been a good thing.
 

And what of Daniel’s ideas about the need to learn more of demons? There was logic to it. That was undeniable. Yet how could she know it wasn’t demons influencing him to want to have more contact with them? What if they were toying with him, trying to take him over? She could easily believe his intentions were good; her read was clear about that. As she’d reflected last night when she couldn’t sleep, it did seem he tried only to use his dark abilities for good, and had the self-control to avoid using them in very difficult circumstances.
 

But there had been that darkness to his base energy that first day she read him. Given he had some kind of hiding spell, there could be worse yet to find if he ever let her do a deep read on him without the hiding spell in place. She sure as hell wasn't going to work with him on this if he didn't allow a deep read.
 

Still, what if he was capable of getting some answers without getting drawn in too deep by the demons he was studying? Wouldn’t his be a valuable combination of abilities? He was right, she realized, he did need monitoring. But how to monitor effectively? Her tears slowed, then dried as she considered the problem. Daniel kept silence and let her think.

“I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” she finally muttered, then straightened and faced him. “Okay, maybe, just
maybe
I can see where you’re coming from. And I think I see a little how to do it, the monitoring I mean. But there’s a lot of danger in this, and not just for you. I saw you master that demon yesterday, and maybe you’ve had success other times as well, but have you ever lost control of one?”

“I’ve had a few close calls, I admit, but apart from that first one I called, no.”

“Okay, that's marginally reassuring.” She hesitated, then mentally braced herself and continued. “I don’t know if Kevin told you, but my husband Seth was killed by a demon during an exorcism. This whole question of whether demons are getting better at hiding might be relevant. We both missed how powerful the demon was. He was primary, so I'm still not entirely sure how it happened, but the demon burned him to death. I banished it in the end, but not in time.” She felt tears trying to come back up, but this time, she forced them away. “So you can imagine that I’m not eager to go through that again.”

Daniel gently put down the cat, then moved to sit next to Bree on the couch. He took her hand, holding it so hard it almost hurt, met her eyes, and said intently, almost fiercely, “The whole point of it all would be that
no one
would have to go through that, ever again.”

And there was little to argue with in
that
, Bree reflected. Daniel’s hand was hot. All her whirling thoughts came to a sudden halt as a tremor of desire moved through her. She was wide open from reading him, and she felt the moment when the same thing happened to him. The energy between them spiked, and for a minute, Bree lost track of what part of the desire she was feeling was hers and which was his. She couldn't help but wonder how much of this he was reading. Seth hadn't been a reader. In fact, she'd never dated another reader, so she'd never been in a situation like this before. There was a merging sensation that was intoxicating and a little frightening.

She gave his hand a squeeze, then let go, needing to end the contact. If she was going to do this mad thing, she was going to have to stay objective. And that meant keeping her distance, emotionally and physically. Not that she had a clue how she was going to manage that. If she was this attracted to him knowing what he was, it was likely to be an uphill battle.

Maybe he decided the same thing, because he stood up, and his tone became businesslike. “How about we talk details over breakfast. Tell me what your concerns are, ask me what you like, and maybe we can find a way to do this thing that would make sense to you.”

“I haven’t said yes,” she cautioned. She was far from certain she wanted to take this on. It would mean contact with demons, probably big ones, and she felt cold down to the bottom of her soul at that thought. Not to mention the fact that what they'd be doing was highly illegal. But what he’d said a moment ago had resonated deeply. If teaming up with him might lead to some kind of way to banish demons altogether, how could she say no?
 

“Talking may help you decide,” he pressed.

Damn the man, he was right. Bree nodded assent, and led the way back to her kitchen so they could come up with a way to do something no one in the history of the world had yet managed.
 

Chapter 9

“Master,
must we go in?” Scanlon heard Justice say in that strange, two-toned timbre his voice got when the demon talked through him. Today the demon seemed strong. Demon Masters could have that effect.

“Just one more church today, Tirakku,” Franchesca said over her shoulder, in what sounded to Scanlon like fake sympathy. He was no Reader, but after two days of trailing around after her, he was starting to get a sense of the woman. She could turn on the charm all right. She'd had every priest they talked to eating out of her hand within five minutes. She didn't give a shit about him or Justice, though she seemed fairly fond of Justice's demon.

And she was clearly in charge of their little gang of three. She hadn’t asked for advice on the plan for locating Thorvaldson's woman. She'd already had a map of the Catholic churches in the greater Seattle area printed out when he’d shown up at Carson’s office yesterday. In fact, Scanlon spent most of both days wondering what she wanted him there for. Oh, she made small talk with him, even flirted a little, but he'd finally figured out she was on autopilot. Her real attention was elsewhere. The only time Scanlon felt she actually
saw
him was when she asked about the battle with Thorvaldson. It came up during their late night break in yesterday at Thorvaldson’s house. He’d really hoped for a major find at Thorvaldson’s. If the man kept a casting book of his personal spells, they hadn’t been able to find it.
 

 
Scanlon expected, at the very least, to be involved in some aspect of how these scenes with the priest played out. Instead, he was the chauffeur and a bit player. He’d been working all day today at trying not to show how it galled him. He couldn’t afford for her to make a poor report of him to Carson.

At least he had some idea what Carson wanted him there for: To keep an eye on Franchesca Gambrini.
 

They walked up the grey concrete steps of St. Stephen’s church and in through the plain wood doors, which opened with a squeal. It looked to be one of the older churches in town, a down rent gothic cathedral wannabe. It was built of stone, with vaulted ceilings, pointed arches and stained glass, but all of it somehow too short, too dark, and overall appearing not quite clean. It was in the north end of town, right up against the city limits, where housing reverted to blue-collar neighborhoods and older apartment buildings after the more prosperous, well tended properties further south ran out. Scanlon had never seen the church before, but he was familiar with the neighborhood. There was an area of Aurora Boulevard nearby where one could easily find a hooker or score a variety of drugs.

They spotted the priest in the side chapel, removing spent candles from a bank of red glass votive holders. He was a tall man with a broad back evident beneath his black cassock. As he turned to face them, Scanlon saw he was broad of face as well, with a mushroom of a nose under brown eyes, and a comb over across the top of his balding head.
 

The priest broke out into a genial smile. “Well hello there, I didn’t hear you come in. I must have been lost in thought. I’m Father Steuben. What can I do for you?”

Scanlon watched with amusement as Franchesca turned on the damsel in distress routine. She had dressed conservatively, in a long black skirt, blue blouse, and a black winter overcoat with a plaid wool scarf. Her hair was up in a loose bun that let some hair escape around her face to fall in wispy little curls.
 

“Oh Father,” she said a little breathlessly, “I’m so glad you’re here. I was really hoping to speak to a priest today. I’m only in town two more days, and I know my sister won’t do anything about it once I’m gone. She’s not a believer,” Franchesca confided in a half whisper.

“Slow down, dear. You’ve found me, and I’m free for the next half hour or so. We have some time to talk, or pray together, or whatever it is you need to do." He looked enquiringly at Scanlon, and then at Justice.
 

“Oh, these are my cousins, Walter and Jerry,” she replied, indicating first Justice, then Scanlon. “I’m Margaret, Margaret Nelson. I do want to talk to you about something, if I may. But really, Father, I don’t know how to start. I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said, trailing off helplessly.

“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s best just to start at the beginning,” Father Steuban responded warmly. “Why don’t we just sit down over here in one of the pews? We seldom have visitors this time of day, so we should have privacy.” He led the way, and settled his bulk down with a sigh. Franchesca sat next to him, with Scanlon next to her. Justice stood at the end of the pew, hands in pockets, looking down at his feet.

“You said start at the beginning, Father, but I don’t know where that is,” Franchesca burbled on once they were settled. She gazed shyly and earnestly up at the priest, and Scanlon was hard put to keep the smirk off his face. She’d gotten better at this all day, and this time looked to be a real award winning performance. “I just know that when I got here last Saturday, I could tell something was different about Walter. He’s my oldest sister’s boy. There are nine of us kids, and I’m second to youngest, so Walter and I are almost the same age. We grew up together, so I would know. I know he’s not my child, Maria keeps telling me that, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right before your face, isn’t that right Father? Jerry saw it too, but Maria thinks we’re crazy. And Walter here doesn’t know what to think.”

Father Steuban’s look of attentive patience was slipping toward bemusement. “Er, think about what, Margaret?”

“About demon possession,” Franchesca whispered, leaning forward and putting her hand confidingly on the priest’s arm.

The priest's expression turned serious. “Not many believe in possession anymore. Much of what used to be considered possession we now know is mental illness, or perhaps epilepsy. Most often, what’s needed is a visit to the doctor, or some counseling, or both. That’s always the best place to start. I have some excellent referrals if Walter here needs some.” He raised his eyebrows and looked over her head at Justice, who refused to meet the priest’s eyes.
 

Scanlon could see the sweat starting to break out on Justice’s forehead, just as it had in every church they entered. He’d never been with someone demon ridden in a church before. Keltoi weren't exactly real big on going to church. Somehow, Scanlon had thought it would be like in the movies, and Justice would start screaming or writhing around or something, but nothing like that had happened. Justice just acted restless, got sweaty, and seemed to avoid looking around.

“But Father,” Franchesca went on, voice quavering, “I was told you do exorcisms here. Maria’s husband’s aunt’s neighbor came here for one a while back. Some nice young woman helped her. She couldn’t remember the lady’s name, but she said she was young, had brown hair, and nice eyes, kind of medium height. She said she maybe looked Irish. Or maybe she said the young lady was wearing one of those Irish rings, you know the kind I mean? With the two hands holding a heart with a crown on top? And that you knew how to get hold of her. I didn’t really understand that part, I thought the priest did the exorcism, but of course I don’t know how it all goes. Anyway, won’t you just have a look at Walter? I’m so worried!” She looked up into Father Steuban’s eyes, wringing her hands. Scanlon thought that bit was overdone, but the priest didn’t seem to notice. Father Steuban’s expression softened, and he leaned toward Franchesca.