Dead Set Page 19

  Minor Demons do not suffer boredom.

  I let go of Lucina’s hand, along with the scorched remains of a blackened Walking Liberty, then spun around to find out what I’d missed.

  Cathy!

  I was suddenly very happy I hadn’t been watching—Morgan had my daughter bound by the Rubick’s Cube. It was one of her specialties from college. That infernal cube would split apart her victim’s body and shift it into impossible positions. My stomach rolled at the sight of Cathy as a cubist’s painting. Her eyes which were now somewhere near her knees, told me all I needed to know—my daughter was in pain.

  Morgan stood behind her, smiling. That same smile might have won over an innocent young Magician away at college all those years ago, but it didn’t do a damn thing now. The slender and well-endowed Morgan didn’t look much older than the last time seen her. She’d moved on from the brightly colored locks of her college days, but hadn’t shed the signature corset, and was still making sure the casual observer got more than an eyeful. She’d kept her hair dark and straight, without a hint of gray. Her eyes still twinkled, but now they did it with a vengeance I’d never noticed before.

  Behind her, Tristan held one of the scariest-looking skulls I’d ever seen. Wrapped in complex sigils, it was sure to be Morgan’s link to the Old Dead. Even though the power rolling off of it was immense, it was contained by my ex-lover’s complex designs.

  As much as I hated to agree with her, destroying the skull would be bad—very, very bad.

  Even with all that was going on, I was surprised to find the Half-Succubus and I weren’t the center of attention anymore—not even close, really. That title was currently held by my apprentice.

  Adam had the Imp perched on his shoulder, finger-guns blazing, and drawing more than a few incredulous looks.

  Any sane Magician in the room would have held their breath or made a run for the hills at the thought of banting about an unbound Imp, but none of that appeared to have formed as fruits on my apprentice’s decision tree—he’d gone full Minor Demon and wasn’t backing down.

  “Now that we have your attention. Put Gene’s daughter back together and let them both go, or…”

  Nice work, Tonto!

  Morgan kept a hand on Cathy and pressed the Rubick’s Cube against my daughter’s skin. “Or else what? Do you know what this is?”

  He doesn’t.

  “I’ve got a bigger question for you,” Adam said, zipping up his hoodie. “Are you willing to try it with a loaded Imp pointed at your head?”

  The Minor Demon flicked his tail, and I swear I heard that gun duel whistle from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

  “Don’t be crazy, Morgan,” I said, taking a step toward my daughter. “Let Cathy go and no one gets Imp’d today.”

  The hesitation in my ex’s eyes was palpable. No Magician liked being cornered, but a power-hungry monster like Morgan really didn’t like it.

  “How do I know once I let her go you won’t come after me—”

  “Stay back!” Adam yelled, but it was too late. Lucina’s fingers closed over my shoulder. Waves of pain and exhaustion rolled down my back, seizing the muscles and twisting me like a contortionist.

  “I’ve got him, Mom!” the Half-Succubus shouted, her hand drawing life from my body like a vacuum hose.

  “Lucina, stop—”

  Her daughter might not have understood the perilous implications of trying to drain my life energy in the presence of an Imp, but Morgan did.

  The Minor Demon snapped its tail like a whip and Lucina screamed. Her hand disappeared from my shoulder, and I turned back to find her writhing in pain on the ground. The arm that had been draining my essence was now blackened and withered like an old prune.

  “What have you done to me!” the Half-Succubus screamed, clutching the now-useless appendage to her ample chest.

  The Imp showed off his impressive array of razor-sharp teeth and giggled. “You should see the look on your face! Hurts to go from suck to blow, eh?”

  The little pink Demon was right—he’d just pumped me full of Half-Succubus energy. It swirled around in my chest like a double-shot of espresso, and one look at Morgan told me she knew it too.

  “Kids, right?” My ex said, backing up.

  “You can keep your demon-child, Morgan. Just give me back my daughter!”

  Magick crackled around my hands—bright rings of gold and yellow that threw sparks on the cold pool deck. Oh, I would have given anything to see myself in a mirror—you typically don’t get to run at double-power, and I knew it must have looked damn impressive, even with khakis.

  “Fine,” Morgan said, letting go of Cathy and untwisting the Rubick’s Cube. My daughter re-assembled to her beautiful young self before falling into my outstretched arms.

  “I can’t feel my feet…” she whispered, her properly configured face tired and afraid.

  “It happens, she’ll be fine,” Morgan said, setting the cube down and keeping her hands up.

  I raised a still-glowing fist toward my ex-girlfriend. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t—”

  Morgan spun around and placed a hand on the sigil-covered skull in Tristan’s hands. “I’ll give you one really good reason.”

  The arcane swirls and lines glowed under Morgan’s fingers, and the wave of energy they gave off was immense—even running hot I was no match for Old Dead, and I knew it.

  “Adam!”

  “What?”

  “Think about the car,” I said, backing up with Cathy in my arms.

  “Huh? I left it around the block.”

  “My car…”

  “Isn’t it in the shop?”

  “Gah! My wife’s car—just do it!”

  “Imp, you don’t want to screw with me on this,” I said, backing away from Morgan and the skull.

  “Then I’m gonna need a name.”

  “Good—wait, right now? I’m a little busy.”

  The Minor Demon’s tail flicked from side to side. “A name, Magician.”

  How did I get myself in this mess…

  “Stewart.”

  The Imp jumped up with excitement, then immediately frowned. “Excellent—wait, what? Stewart? What the hell kind of Demon name is that?”

  “Right… Stewart The Annoying.”

  I spun around and latched a glowing hand onto Adam. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand, Tonto!”

  “Wait, Dad—Tristan!”

  The gangly youth shot past his aunt, the Old Dead skull still solidly in his hands, and rammed into the three of us.

  Great, nothing like piling on…

  “Ianuae Magicae!” I shouted, closing my eyes and holding tight to the people I loved—and Triscuit.

  Teleportation is about the craziest thing you can try as a Magician. It’s insane when you think about it, reconstituting matter in another place—which was why I was having someone else do the thinking for me. I just hoped Adam did a decent job remembering what Porter’s car looked like.

  Magick demands sacrifice. Holy hell, this one’s gonna hurt.

  Part III

  Sacrifices Made

  41

  Spill the Beans

  Adam had my wife’s car zipping along the expressway en route to my house. I’d tried Porter’s phone multiple times, with no answer, and now that I could see clearly enough to work the tiny keyboard, I fired off a few texts as well.

  Big problem. You home? Don’t leave the house! On my way.

  I waited for a response and found my legs bouncing against the floor mats.

  Come on…

  “She answering?” Adam asked, changing lanes.

  “No.”

  My apprentice didn’t have to respond. I could tell by the look on his face he was just as concerned as I was—that may not have been his wife on the other end of the phone, but Porter had always treated him as a friend.

  Cathy stretched out in the backseat, her head tucked against Tristan’s chest.

  “You think she’ll b
e okay?” Adam asked, rubbing his beard.

  “Yeah—I hope so.”

  Morgan… alive. How did she do it? How did she survive? That doesn’t matter, what matters is she’s here, and that means no one is safe. She may not have the Old Dead skull battery, but she was still more than enough to handle without it.

  We raced along the elevated expressway, rooftops rolling past like the backs of great brown turtles. At one point a large pelican dipped down to fly in line with the car. The wide-bodied bird kept in perfect formation with our motley crew for a few miles, then headed toward the inner bay—I knew it was largely symbolic, but I still appreciated the escort.

  Adam pulled us off the expressway and into some heavy surface street traffic—through it all the Imp continued to read out loud the contents of Cathy’s English book.

  “So that’s how…”

  The Imp looked up and nodded. “It’s the bourbon of languages.”

  Adam guided us through traffic, and I turned around to face Cathy’s current boyfriend.

  “Okay, as much as I appreciate what you did back there, I’m gonna need to know a lot more before I even begin to consider trusting you, starting with, what’s Morgan doing here?”

  Tristan was a tough read. Sure, the kid had just gone toe-to-toe with his Magickal aunt, and until just recently held an Old Dead skull in his lap practically overflowing with evil Magick, but also was just a kid, and clearly not sure what to make of his life choices so far.

  Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  I sighed. “That’s not good enough. You’ve got to give me something or we’ll let you out, and we won’t stop the car first.”

  Porter’s car chose that moment to roll to a stop at the light and Adam gave me an apologetic look.

  “Unless there’s a stop light—”

  “Or a stop sign!” my apprentice said, trying his best to come across tougher than his marshmallow exterior implied.

  “Gah—I’m trying to get some details here.”

  Adam quickly turned his attention back to the street.

  “So, where was I?”

  “You were asking me what my Aunt is here for?” Tristan said, his eyes drifting to the window.

  “Oh, right—and?”

  “She’s here because of me…”

  “What did you do?”

  Tristan brushed stray hairs out of Cathy’s face. “You know what it’s like to have something in your head?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you know what it’s like to have something in your head, all the time, always there, and always pushing on you? You question everything, every thought, every desire,” Cathy’s boyfriend said, his shoulders visibly tense.

  “I—”

  “Of course you don’t. You are Eugene Law, Aunt Morgan told me about you. You’re the real deal—the incorruptible.”

  Hardly.

  “I—”

  Tristan let out a long breath and slumped against the seat. “It started a few months ago, on a field trip to the Old Tampa Hotel.”

  The Old Dead…

  “That was the first time I heard the voice—dark and raspy, like dragging a rusty chain through my head. It told me things, terrible things.”

  “Didn’t you leave?”

  “Sure, but so did the voice. It followed me everywhere. It drew me back. It made me dig that out of the wall,” Tristan said, his eyes on the sigil-covered skull.

  “How did Morgan—”

  “I called her, okay? Look, I don’t know anything about this insanity.” Tristan waved his hand in the air. “But I know my aunt, and I know she understands this stuff. I just wanted it out of my life, don’t you understand?”

  “What happened then? Why didn’t she just take the skull and leave?”

  “Well, everything changed after she got here. First it was the skull, but then she found out about Cathy.”

  Now it was my heart’s turn to ramp up. “What do you mean?”

  “Once Aunt Morgan found out about Cathy, she got very interested in her—reading posts, checking her timeline, you get the idea.”

  Shit.

  Tristan nodded. “Yeah, from there she went to Cathy’s mom’s page and looked through all of her friends.”

  Porter’s friends—Tabby! No, she can’t work any Magick at Tabby’s, not without some power I don’t know about.

  “Gene, what do you want me to do?” Adam asked, bringing the car to a stop at the next light.

  “If Morgan’s been digging into our life, then Porter’s not safe—no matter what Magick I put over the house.”

  Adam took the next right and gunned the car’s modest engine. Even though it was less than a mile away, my house, and my love, had never felt more distant.

  42

  Real Mother

  We reached our street without incident and found the house still standing. Adam pulled into the driveway and I hit the garage button. The large aluminum door rose slowly, giving me ample time to see the legs, shorts, top, and then folded arms on the other side.

  “What the hell, Gene!” Porter shouted, stomping out to meet me. “You’ve been gone all day!”

  “Imp, get under the seat—now. Take the skull with you!” I said, still in the car and hoping Porter hadn’t seen the rubbery demon yet.

  “It’s Old Dead and it stinks.”

  “Do it!”

  The Imp dragged the skull and his tiny frame under my seat.

  Satisfied he was hidden, I threw open the passenger door and caught Porter before she could step onto the driveway. “Stop, don’t move.”

  “What?” my wife said, barely able to contain the frustration in her voice.

  “Don’t leave the house!”

  “God damn it, Gene. I’ve been cooped up in this house all day—worried sick mind you—and now you’re telling me I can’t stand in my own driveway?”

  “I sent you a bunch of texts,” I said, pulling out my phone.

  “I lost my phone at the damn restaurant, or did you forget that?”

  If lightning had come down from the heavens and split me stem to stern I would not have been more shocked than I was at that moment.

  Someone’s getting those texts, and whoever has your phone would know all about… Kris!

  I scrolled for Tabby’s number as Tristan poured Cathy out of the backseat of the car. She leaned against him for support.

  “Cathy!” my wife shouted, shooting past me and down the driveway toward our daughter. “Are you okay?”

  “Hey, Gene,” a perky and bubbling Tabby said on the other end of the phone. “What can I do for you?”

  “Tabby, is everything alright?” I held my breath.

  “Yeah, it’s fine.”

  “Oh, thank God—”

  “That sweet young woman Porter texted me about just swung by just a few minutes ago to pick up Kris. It was so nice of you guys to take on a disabled babysitter—frostbite on her arm as a kid, amazing story—anyway, I loaned her one of our old car seats, so she’s good. Nice and safe.”

  My guts collapsed, and in doing so, made sure my lungs wouldn’t pull in air. It was like being dragged under by the tide, but without an ocean wave in sight.

  “Gene?” Tabby said.

  I felt my knees hit the pavement.

  “Gene? I think we got disconnected.”

  I tried to speak, but no words came out, and if they had Tabby wouldn’t have heard them; she’d hung up.

  Porter placed an arm under Cathy and with Tristan and Adam’s help they carried our daughter into the garage.

  “What is she saying?” Porter asked over her shoulder as she opened the door and directed Tristan and my apprentice toward the couch. “Are you going to get Kris?”

  “I…”

  “Oh my God, Gene,” Porter said, seeing me on my knees, her voice breaking with panic. “What is it? What happened?”

  “Kris is gone.”

  “What do you mean he’s gone? He was at Tabby’s house. She wo
uldn’t just let him go. What—”

  “She used your phone.”

  It was Porter’s turn to come up short of breath. “Who—”

  “They used your phone to text her. They had all my messages, how could they not know? They sent Lucina there to get him and texted Tabby ahead of time like it was coming from you.”

  Every ounce of color drained out of my wife’s face. She clutched at my workbench to keep herself upright.

  “Who is Lucina?”

  “I’m going to find him and get him back,” I said, reaching for Porter.

  My wife pushed me away and steadied herself. “Who is Lucina?”

  Before I could respond, my phone started ringing, the warbling vocals of Black Magic Woman filling the hot garage. It was a number I didn’t recognize—the bright green answer button flashed.

  “Answer it!”

  “Hello?” I said, switching the phone to speaker.

  Morgan’s sultry voice oozed out from the other end. “Hey there, sexy.”

  Porter grabbed her chest, the air escaping from her lungs like a burst balloon. “Gene…”

  “It’s her.”

  My wife had done her best to hide it, but since college she’d lived in fear of that voice, and the woman attached to it. Morgan’s evil had fueled an untold number of nightmares, but all this time that had been the extent of it. The sun would rise and the darkness would vanish. My wife could go about her day safe in the knowledge she was protected, and that Morgan Crowley was no more.

  Porter’s fingers drifted to the spot where her engagement ring once sat. Morgan had returned, and there was nothing for my wife to wake up from. “How is she alive? You told me no one comes back from that. Ed said as much. Gene, how is she alive?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “And a warm hello to you, too, Porter,” Morgan spit the name out like it was spent gum. “Hold on, someone wants to say something. Go ahead…”

  “Hi, Mom!”

  My wife slammed her hand down on the workbench. A momma bear enraged, whatever fear she had of Morgan got pushed into the backseat at the sound of her son’s voice. “Give me back my son, you bitch!”