Witch Blood (6 page)

There were many dimensions that existed alongside Earth, accessed only when an area of the matter that created reality was sped up to the vibrational rate needed to create a breach. When the Duskoff cast a demon circle and sacrificed four witches, one for each of the elements, they used the witches' raped magick to change the frequency of matter to open such a door.

The magick of the warlocks who cast the circle resonated with a specific demon somewhere past the doorway, one that was as malicious and self-serving as the warlocks themselves. Plus, the more powerful the witches sacrificed, the more powerful and evil the demon.

The spell cast by the warlocks dragged the creature through the doorway against its will, essentially kidnapping and enslaving it for a negotiated period of time.

The demons, however, didn't like this place and certainly didn't want to reside here when they had a better-suited environment back home. Historically, they'd come, wreak havoc, shed blood, and go home. The doorways worked that way—demons could return to their dimension once they'd come through, but demons could not, at will, enter this dimension unless a doorway was deliberately created on this side.

The demon they now searched for had been raised in the demon circle that had killed Thomas's Aunt Eva, a powerful air witch who had also been Mira's mother. This demon had elected to reside in this dimension for over twenty-five years.

“I am happy to tell you why it stayed.” Stefan gave a short, harsh laugh. “No, I am
proud
to tell you, because this demon is the worst of the worst. The Duskoff raised a magnificent, powerful creature.” He raised his gaze and smiled. “It is a credit to our ability.”

“What do you mean?” asked Micah.

“We pulled through not just a demon, but a monster. A demon so terrible, who had committed so many atrocious acts in his own dimension, that they shut the door on him.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying this demon couldn't go home even if he wanted to?”

Stefan leaned forward, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “They don't want him back. This is his prison, his punishment.”

O
N THAT COMMENT, THE WHOLE CELL DESCENDED INTO
silence for several moments.

Thomas drew a breath. If they hadn't known the demon was bad to the bone already, now they sure did.

“I don't understand why trapping the demon here would be considered a punishment,” said Isabelle, finally. “Why wouldn't he want to stay here? Wouldn't this be a big playground for him?”

Micah turned to her. “We suspect the beings we refer to as ‘demons' live in a world not much different from ours. They have a culture, a society, laws, everything we have. They mate, they have little baby demons they raise to become big, bad demons. It's their
home
. Here they're just aliens, without freedom, family or friends. Think about it. Would you want to spend your life completely alone in a foreign world? This demon is essentially in exile.”

Isabelle hugged herself. “It's just strange to think of them that way, as anything more than primitive monsters.”

Micah pushed a hand through his hair. “We believe their society is fairly complex, but we don't know for certain since no human or witch has ever been through a doorway that we know of.”

“But we know they have prisons, just like we do,” said Stefan tonelessly. “In this case, the Duskoff pulled an inmate from one of them. It freed him. I'm sure he has been contenting himself here well enough.”

Contenting himself. Yes, killing people.

“How long has the Duskoff known the demon still resided on this side of the doorway?” asked Thomas. His voice sounded wooden to his own ears because he suspected the Duskoff could've stopped the demon long before now…if they'd bothered to try.

Stefan looked up, focused his gaze on Thomas's face and laughed bitterly. “Since it stole our library.”

“Explain.”

“We had a collection of books—ancient texts on demons the Duskoff has possessed since the Middle Ages. The demon divined the location of the books and came one night. He broke through our magical defenses and stole them all.”

“How long ago?”
His voice sounded like the lash of a whip in the small room. His fingernails dug into his palms as he fought to restrain himself.

Micah had found at least thirty-five murders of non-magickals the demon may have committed, aside from the two witches, in the time since the Duskoff had brought him into this world.

Stefan blinked, and then gave a slow, self-satisfied smile. “Twenty years ago.”

“You bastard!” yelled Isabelle right before she rushed him.

Thomas was tempted to let her go, but he stopped her for her own safety. Stefan had at least a hundred and ten pounds on her, all muscle. She got in one nice punch that whipped Stefan's face to the side before Thomas was able to grab her around the waist and wrench her backward. He swung her around easily as she threw punches in the air, yelling about the murders that could've been prevented if they'd known.

But, of course, Stefan didn't care about that.

Stefan just laughed as Thomas held Isabelle tight against him, allowing her a chance to calm down. She quieted and pushed angrily against his arms. He released her and she stepped away, glaring.

“
Soyez gentile
, Isabelle! Be nice or I won't tell you where the backup library is,” Stefan said, holding a hand to his face where she'd landed her punch. His cold gaze contradicted the amused little smile he wore.

“Why would you tell us where the backup library is?” asked Micah.

Stefan lowered his hand so he could appear offended. “I am not a monster, Micah. I want the demon defeated as well.”

Micah snorted. “Yes, that's why the Duskoff did nothing and told no one when they discovered the demon had remained.”

“Get me to a computer. Allow me access to the Duskoff's system and you will have our library. We digitized before the books were stolen.” He paused and shifted his gaze to Thomas, his tongue stealing out to lick the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. “In return, I want you to kill me.”

Thomas smiled. “Please, that's too good a deal for us. What game are you playing?”

He shook his head. “You don't understand. I know the Coven wishes me to suffer; therefore they may choose to give me life imprisonment. I would rather die than be imprisoned here in Gribben until the end of my days. So, the deal is simple. I will hand over the digitized library and you will ensure that my trial is short and the sentence I am given is death.”

Thomas considered him. In Stefan's place, he might very well be asking for the same thing. “Okay, but you don't die until this is over, until the demon is caught, killed, or vanquished.”

A muscle in Stefan's jaw locked. “Fine.”

“Micah, you deal with the computer. Stefan doesn't touch it; he only tells you how to access the info.”

Stefan opened his mouth to protest and Thomas shut him down with a look.

Micah nodded. “So the bottom line is that we have a demon on the loose, one trapped here against his will. In all the history I've studied, I've never read about something like this. I'm trying to imagine this demon who has been shunned by his people, since his people can only be considered brutal in the best light.”

“So we hunt it down and kill it,” answered Isabelle. “Seems simple to me.”

Micah snorted. “Simple? Can I visit your planet sometime? Must be a nice place.”

“I know demons are hard to kill but trust me, honey, I'll kill this one or die in the attempt. What I don't understand is why he's all of a sudden killing witches after so many years. Why attract the Coven's attention
now
? It's almost like he's playing with us, baiting us.”

“Maybe he's bored,” Micah answered.

“Are you done with me?” Stefan asked with a healthy dose of bitterness. A bruise was already blooming on his face from Isabelle's punch. “I would like to be left alone so I can get a head start on serving my sentence.”

“Bored?” Isabelle chewed her bottom lip, completely ignoring Stefan. “No. That's not what I feel in my gut. There's a purpose to these killings. There's a reason why he's targeting witches right now.”

Thomas felt it was something more, too, but it was just an intuitive hit. There wasn't anything solid to pursue at this point. He looked at Stefan. “How do we track him?”

Stefan's lips peeled back from his teeth in something that wasn't quite a smile. “Track him?” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “Please. The creature is tracking
you
. He will find you long before you'll be able to find him, unless you get lucky and surprise him. Otherwise, there is no way to track a demon. Not physically. Not magickally.”

“That's very comforting,” muttered Micah.

“Actually, I feel much safer in here than out there,” continued Stefan. The words fell flat, since they were accompanied by a glum look on his face. Stefan couldn't even fake it.

“Oh, I'm sure if the demon set its sights on a nice, spicy fire witch, this prison wouldn't stop him,” answered Thomas with a smile. “I'm sure our wards and spells would have no effect on him at all if he really had his heart set on you. Demon magick isn't witch magick, after all.”

Stefan smiled back. This time he looked like he really meant it. “He won't be coming after me. Demons hunt their hunters. Did you not know? It is in their nature to do so. They stalk and toy with them. Sometimes they even develop an emotional attachment to them. It's no fun for the hunter, of course. No one wants a demon fixated on them.”

Thomas looked at Micah and made the question plain in his expression.

“Some of my research seems to point to that, yes,” answered Micah. “A demon's reaction to aggression is different than ours. They don't have fight or flight. They don't run; they turn around and stalk. This one is probably crazy from exile to boot.”

“Great.”

A sly expression stole over Stefan's face. “First, they shoot you full of venom, rendering you paralyzed and mute, yet aware. After that, they take your magick, drinking it from the center of your body. Then, they peel your skin off and slice you open to consume the juicy parts—the liver, kidneys, and heart. Last, they crack your bones for the marrow.”

Yes, he'd seen the remains twice, up close and personal.

So had Isabelle.

Thomas glanced at her. She'd gone sheet white and stood stock straight with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

She nodded once, her body tense. “I'm fine.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot,” Stefan said in a sugary-sweet tone. “Our lovely Isabelle has already seen a demon's handiwork for herself. It was your sister, yes?”

“This demon will die,” she shot back.

“Such bravado! You're so sexy when you're being stupid. Nice sentiment,
ma cherie
, but I look forward to the news of your demise.”

“As I look forward to the news of your sentence being rendered, Stefan. Until then it heartens me to know just how much you're suffering here in Gribben.” Her lips parted in a wide, sincere smile, though her face was still pale as parchment. “In fact, that knowledge makes me happier than killing you.”

“Great,” Micah put in. “Well, that's established, then. Thomas, I can take it from here. I'll set Stefan up with a computer and obtain the texts. Why don't you get Isabelle out of here? She talks tough but looks like she's about to hurl on her pretty red boots.”

“Good idea,” Thomas answered.

Micah, as the Coven archivist and researcher, had the most business trying to get information from Stefan anyway. Micah would pass what he learned on to him.

Isabelle protested, but Thomas took her by the upper arm and led her toward the door. Her face was now a pale shade of green, but the woman didn't seem to know when to stop.

“It's been a pleasure, Stefan,” muttered Thomas as the guard opened the door for them. “As always.”

The door shut with a metallic thump behind them.

Isabelle stumbled. He caught her and guided her to a nearby wall where she splayed an open hand to brace herself.

“I'm fine,” she snarled, pressing her forehead to the wall.

“You're not fine.”

She winced and cradled the hand she'd injured when she'd punched Stefan. “It's just…I don't like remembering. Doing is fine. Hunting is great. Remembering is…not good.”

“That's natural. You're grieving, Isabelle.”

She closed her eyes and dragged in a breath.

Thomas knew that she'd found her sister since he'd been called in to the murders of both victims. The bodies had been…partially consumed.

When he'd first reached Angela Novak's kill site, it had been difficult to understand what he'd been looking at. Gradually, as his mind had fought to comprehend, the images had become clear—mangled, torn muscle, gobbets of matter no one wanted to examine closely. Blood absolutely everywhere. No longer human-looking, just so much meat and bone.

Isabelle had been there before him. She'd been the one to notify the Coven of the murder before she'd disappeared, presumably to hunt the demon.

Even worse than the scene was the knowledge both Angela Novak and Melina Andersen had been conscious until they'd succumbed to their injuries. Demons trapped their victims in a kind of venom-induced stasis. The paralyzed witch could feel, but couldn't speak, scream, or move.

While the victim lingered, the demon worked slowly, drawing out the killing. First the creature took the magick, psychically cracking the witch open like a coconut to drink the milk within. After that came the flaying of the skin and the extraction of the juiciest organs.

Knowing how that person had been treated as nothing more than a bit of livestock, a plaything, was worse than anything else.

Worse than the cleanup. Worse than the sight or the smell.

Isabelle gave a short, bitter-sounding laugh. “Grieving seems like such a light, simple word to use for what I'm feeling.”

Thomas shuddered, imagining finding his sister Serena the way Isabelle had found Angela. He placed his hand on her back to console her, but then removed it. Giving comfort didn't come easily to him. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

Turning to lean against the wall, she drew in a shaky lungful of the stale Gribben air and slowly exhaled. “I just want to…
need
to do this,” Isabelle continued. Steel backed her words.

“I know.” He took her injured hand and examined it. It was nothing that wouldn't heal. He wasn't so sure that could be said about her other wounds.

He glanced up at her and found her staring at him in deep concentration. Absurd, inappropriate sexual awareness sparked, tightening his muscles. Her cheeks had regained their healthy color and lips were full and lush. He imagined several things he'd like to do to those lips in a span of a second.