Last Breath (22 page)

“Damn. That’s a nasty burn scar, Ainsworth. And this connects to the birthmark on the victim how?”

“It means…” I took a deep breath, nervous about admitting this to anyone. “It means that Bethany wasn’t marked by a demon. This scar on my waist? I’m marked by a demon. And that last victim over there was, too.”

He stood upright, and I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. “So what’s the mark over the heart chakra then?”

“I think Bethany was marked by an angel—the very same angel who killed Ronald Stull and the two junkies.” I told Tremelay about what I’d found at Bliss’s house, what I’d read in her journal grimoire.

“So this Araziel marked her, but not to kill her. He marked her so he could ease her transition at the time of death?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

“Damn. That’s just… sad. He never got to collect her soul.”

I nodded again. “And I think he’s upset about that. Not in a demon kind of way upset, but in a things-didn’t-go-according-to-God’s-plan kind of upset.”

The detective pursed his lips, glancing over toward the line of bodies. “So the guy over there with the demon mark…?”

“I think, and I’m reaching a bit here, but I think whatever demon had his claws in that dead guy is mighty angry.”

“Someone stole his soul,” the detective commented.

I nodded. “Whatever demon marked that man didn’t get the opportunity to take his soul. He’ll want revenge. And the angel that marked Bliss, I mean Bethany? He’s going to want justice. And justice for an angel doesn’t involve a trial by their peers and fair sentencing.”

Tremelay nodded, but I got the feeling he wasn’t really listening. Before I realized what he was doing, the detective reached out a hand and put it against my waist. “And you? How long do you have before a demon comes to collect on this?”

I looked down, feeling the warmth of his hand against me even through the cotton of my shirt.

“I’ve got no idea. But trust me, once this is over I’m doing everything I can to get this mark off of my skin and off of my soul.”

I
DROVE HOME
alone, the sun setting in my rear view mirror as the skyline of Baltimore rose before me. Athena had headed home right after our banishing to her husband and to dreams of a baby girl. Tremelay was heading back to check progress on our hit list as well as the search of Ronald Stull’s apartment.

I had never felt so lonely or afraid.

I was demon marked. People had been murdered in a horrific manner. A woman, a dying woman who only wanted to feel a sense of connection in her last moments, had spent those very moments in terror and despair. I felt like I was spinning my wheels. We had a list of names, but unless Tremelay could find concrete proof he’d have no way to prosecute the mages. It’s not like I had the skills to help him with any of that either. The only thing left for me to do was figure out how to rein in Araziel before the angel killed anyone else, although there hadn’t been any further victims since the junkies at Old Town Mall. If they’d died Friday, that meant the angel hadn’t killed in three days. Perhaps he’d returned through the veil, satisfied that justice was served.

As convenient as that would be, part of me wished he’d remain and take out the rest of the murderers. I had no faith that Tremelay could make any charges stick, and it made me ill to think the mages might get away with murder.

“It would be easier if Araziel just killed them all,” I muttered to myself as I pulled in my parking area. Easier. An eye for an eye, with no way for them to wiggle out of punishment.

My demon-mark ached and I rubbed it, reminded that there was yet another thing I needed to do. Even if Araziel had returned to his heavenly home, my work would not be done until I was free from that smoke demon.

I locked my car and sensed the prickle of magic as soon as the alarm chirped. Without thinking, I swung my sword, still in its scabbard, and felt the blade impact someone behind me who went down with a hard “oof”.

I spun around, my heart lurching as I saw a tiny elderly woman sprawled across the dirty asphalt, clutching her shoulder. Oh my God. Did I… did I just hit a little old lady with my sword? Thankfully it had been in its scabbard or I would have quite possibly taken her arm off. As it was I probably broke her shoulder.

Slinging the offending weapon over my shoulder I bent down. “Are you okay? I didn’t know you were behind me. I heard… felt…”

I couldn’t tell her I’d felt a magical spell about to go off and swung blindly out of instinct. After all I’d been through the last three days, I was a bit jumpy, but that wasn’t an excuse for nearly skewering this woman. Although this
was
Baltimore, and creeping up on people tended to have consequences.

“I’ve had worse,” the woman grumbled, brushing away my offer of a hand and struggling to her feet. “Serves me right for sneaking up on a Templar.”

She knew I was a Templar. I thought again about the crackle of magic in the air and looked at the woman more closely. I’d judge her to be in her seventies, her silver hair in a stylish bob, deep creases around her eyes and mouth. Her pants suit was stylish, but the rabbit’s foot keychain she clutched in her hand didn’t look like she’d bought it at a curio shop.

I gripped my sword again, fully aware I couldn’t go around bashing the elderly because they had a poorly preserved good-luck charm as a keychain. Magic again sparked in the air. She eyed my sword, her mouth in a grim line. I eyed the rabbit’s foot, my expression probably just as tense.

“I won’t swing if you don’t,” she said. Sheesh, even her voice sounded grandmotherly, like she should be baking me cookies and not preparing to drop a magical anvil on my head.

“Deal.” I was outclassed anyway. Whatever spell she had in mind, it would hit me before my still-sheathed sword got near her. The rabbit’s foot went into her pants pocket and I took my hand off the sword.

“I’m Gryla,” she announced. I waited but no additional information came. They way she’d said the name, I’d been sure it was about to be followed by at least one descriptive adjective, like “the great,” “the deadly,” or at the very least “the gray.”

Instead her eyebrows went up. “Gryla? Head of Fiore Noir? The Baltimore group of mages?”

Duh. Six months in Baltimore and I’d never bothered to find out her name. Heck, I’d just discovered the
group
name and that they did death magic. I really needed to get with the program here. And hadn’t Shade mentioned her name? I’d been so intent on Ronald Stull that I’d completely forgotten.

“I’m Solaria Angelique Ainsworth, Templar. Nice to meet you.”

Nice to meet you
. No, it was not nice to meet her. She was the leader of a group of murderers. I had no actual proof that
she’d
had a hand in the sacrifices, or killed anything beyond quite possibly a rabbit, but she was their leader. At the very least she was aware and complicit in the crimes. But what to do? Could I make a citizen’s arrest? I’d need to get that rabbit’s foot away from her and I wasn’t sure how any passerby would take my assaulting an older woman.

“I need to show you something.”

That was not what I’d expected her to say. I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to manage to detain her until Tremelay could get here. And now I was dreading whatever it was she wanted to show me. Death mages—it couldn’t be anything good.

“I’ll drive.” She motioned toward a little, sporty, red Honda at the curb, careful to keep her hands away from the pocket with the keychain.

“Uh. No. I’m not getting in a car with you and driving who knows where just so you can ‘show me something.’”

Irritation creased her face. “Then you drive.”

Yeah. Sure. I’ll drive, leaving her hands free to hex me while I navigated traffic. No way. “Just tell me what it is you want me to see.”

I hoped it wasn’t any more dead bodies. I really didn’t want to see any more dead bodies. Gryla carefully slid her cell phone from a pocket and tapped, turning the screen toward me.

It
was
more dead bodies. These ones weren’t neatly laid out in a ritual space, nor were they hollowed out with their ribs pointing to the sky. These bodies were torn to bits, like they’d been stuffed through a gigantic food processor. I so didn’t need to see this.

“Okay?” It was an idiotic response, but the pictures were out of any context and my brain was still busy processing the gruesome scene.

“Demons.” She pocketed the phone.

What the heck? “I banished the demon this afternoon. When did this occur?”

“Sometime between seven and eight tonight. Seven of us were meeting to discuss an upcoming bit of spell-work. I should have been there, but was detained by a very polite detective who had some questions to ask me about my name being on a list.”

Of course. She was Fiore Noir. Her name
would
be on the list. The image of scattered body parts flashed again in my mind. “You walked in on that?”

Gryla nodded, her hand trembling slightly as she pocketed the phone. “The detective wanted to know if I knew two men from DC who had been killed while conducting an occult ritual. I’m not an idiot. I know the DC mages summon demons. If my name’s on a list, it means I was a target for assassination.”

“But I banished that demon,” I exclaimed. “There’s no way he could have come back. You all are safe from that hit.”

Heck, they were safe before. Innyhal killed Tempest and Oak, but seemed to have no inclination to follow through on the list. Actually, he didn’t seem at all interested in what was going on between the mage groups, beyond being angry about Fiore Noir taking souls. Then I remembered. Innyhal had said Mansi was pissed about the soul magic. There was a corpse in Dead Run with a demon mark on his waist. I was willing to bet that mark was Mansi’s. And if so, Araziel wasn’t the only being who had it out for the Fiore Noir mages.

“I knew we shouldn’t have done that Dupont Circle job.” Gryla’s jaw clenched. “I hate that sort of thing, but that was the price for being able to use the soul trap. It’s not like those things are easy to come by and we had no choice. I knew there would be repercussions. I told Breaker this would happen, but he assured me there would be no backlash.”

She thought Haul Du had done this, that a mage had summoned another demon to kill their group. Maybe. Given what Tempest and Oak had tried to do, I couldn’t rule it out, but there was still the matter of the demon-marked corpse and this Mansi. Either way, if this truly had been a demon slaying, my work tonight wasn’t done. Araziel hadn’t killed in days, but this was six dead just tonight. If I didn’t act fast, there would be no one left for Tremelay to arrest.

“Are you sure it was a demon, or demons, that killed the mages?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snapped. “The place reeked of sulfur. No bullets. No knife cuts. These people were ripped apart. If that didn’t convince me, the display of heads with internal organs crammed in their mouths did.”

I winced, thankful she hadn’t show me
that
picture.

“I’ll help you with the demon problem,” I told Gryla. “But I’ll need some of your mages to assist in the banishment. Think they’d be willing to do that?”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Goetica isn’t our thing. We can assist with general ritual set-up and powering the boundaries, but we don’t have the experience to deal with the demon ourselves.”

No, that would be me and Raven. But first I needed to figure out who or what I was dealing with, and for that I was going to have to do something that made my stomach turn.

As carefully as Gryla had done, I pulled my cell phone out and showed her the list. “Can you tell me which of these mages were in that room?”

She paled. “That’s the list? Stars above, that’s the entire Fiore Noir group right there.” Taking my phone, she highlighted six of the names, then hesitated and highlighted two more. “Ronald Stull is already dead, but you knew that. Bill Foley is known as Shade. He left town Sunday morning. His place is cleaned out. He’s off the grid. I’m Beverly Bright.”

I made a quick note. That left seventeen mages, including Gryla. Still plenty to prosecute if we could get to them before the demons and angel did. “We’ll do the ritual tomorrow midnight. Can you bring as many people as possible? We’ll need all the energy we can muster.”

The mage nodded. “Some might not come. They’re scared. I’d be surprised if half those people don’t run off like Shade did, especially once the word gets out what happened tonight.”

Some was better than none. I slid my phone into my pocket, thinking I needed to call Raven and hope she was free, both tonight and tomorrow night.

“One more thing,” Gryla added. “You’re missing a name on that list.”

I hadn’t forgotten. “The Stranger.”

“Breaker knew him well. He’s the one who approached us with the soul trap and offered to let us use it. Conditions were that those three Haul Du mages died in such a way that everyone thought it was an accident, and that he got to be present at the rituals where we used the soul trap.”

Sounded like someone had a big beef with Haul Du. “Do you have any way of finding out who this stranger is?”

A smile creased her face. “I’m sure Breaker wasn’t the only mage in Fiore Noir who knew him. I’ll ask around, and if no one talks, well I’ll just kill a chicken or two and all will be revealed.”

R
AVEN DROVE OVER
and we ran out to pick up Chinese before getting to work. Summoning was dangerous enough. I didn’t want to do it on an empty stomach, even if Gryla’s last words kept running through my head.

Needless to say, I made sure we didn’t order anything with chicken.

Scrying with fresh avian blood went right out of my head when I saw what was in my parking space. One of the other tenants had visitors who liked to co-opt my spot, so I’d spelled it. They were less likely to want to park in a space that looked like someone had vomited an all-you-can-eat buffet there. There wasn’t an old Mazda taking up my spot this time. There was a dead body.

The guy was on his back, spread-eagle as if he were recreating Da Vinci’s Renaissance Man. His ribs pointed to the sky and I was pretty darned sure that once I walked over and looked down, I’d see an empty chest cavity.