Page 61 of Burn for the Devil
“Does Matthew know?” I asked Ilya, watching the scowl cross Devane’s face. Alastair had enlightened me to the fact the archangel had kidnapped her in the past in a bid for Kiara’s diary.
“Probably. But what do we care? You already scared him off Samantha, in your typical fashion. Alastair’s got Devane. Stefan’s practically a ghost these days and I don’t have anything to worry about.” Ilya stood up and moved toward the sideboard to fix himself a drink.
Remembering the notebook Devane brought, I held it up. “There’s this. You may be interested. And you may want to change your beverage of choice to something even stronger.” I slapped it against the palm of my hand. “And...you need to find yourself a Thorne woman. We briefly touched on it at the fundraiser but now it’s imperative.”
Ilya swallowed his whiskey in a single gulp as he approached my desk. He opened the notebook full of swirling, glittering black ink, reading for a moment before quickly lifting his gaze to mine. “Oh fuck.” He gripped the edge of my desk, cracking the wood.
33
Ramone
Swords didn’t have much of a place in modern society, seeing as they are slightly intimidating to the average citizen. This was, of course, inconvenient considering they are beautiful, deadly, and encouraged creativity.
My favorite blade rested on the seat beside me while I had Adam drive me to an abandoned house. I knew of the building due to Kiara and her ultimately foolish acceptance of a dare, and I gleaned more information from a tense phone call with Stefan’s girlfriend. He wasn’t fond of me speaking with her but when I reasonably explained the situation, he bent to my will.
No one seemed to know what happened to the bottle of blood wine Kiara drank from in that house. Supposedly, it’d been left there. Kiara and I went to retrieve it once to no avail. It was dangerously irresponsible of me at the time, but I hadn’t been certain how many bottles were in existence then, and still no one had a solid answer to that question. We had to accept that the four known were all there was until it was proven otherwise. The bottles used to call to each other, but with the decay of magic that thread was gone.
Adam pulled the vehicle to the side of the road, tires crunching over dried weeds and loose gravel. I strapped the sword to my back and checked my other weapons—a couple daggers and a handgun and let myself out of the car before Adam reached the door.
The woods were thick with low brush and pricker plants and had no discernible path other than what may have been deer trails. I had a general idea of the direction I should go; thanks to the information I’d collected. When I’d walked several yards into the covering of trees, I paused, listening for sounds and testing the atmosphere. There, barely noticeable, was the lightest tendril of magic drifting from the north and I followed it. Although my wards had been weak lately, I’d still covered myself, hiding my scent and my energy in an effort to remain undetected.
Rustling from above drew my attention. A trio of crows had landed in the branches, screeching and cawing before I held my arm out. One I instantly recognized from the Second Realm landed on my forearm, stunning me and sending a fissure of pleasure through my soul. He was a beautiful corvid. Placing a finger on the top of its head, I told the bird to check the path before me and report back. The crow flapped its wings, chattering its compliance with my request, before it flew away to do my bidding. The other two birds hopped from branch to branch, accompanying me as I stalked forward.
I’d never experienced or heard of familiars leaving the Fourth or Second Realm and entering the Third. There may have been a nefarious reason for their presence, or perhaps the veil that separated the worlds was thin or torn. I didn’t know and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t detect any aberrations. Their presence was an advantage I would utilize and enjoy while I could.
The crow hadn’t come back by the time I reached the clearing. The abandoned house stood in the center, paintpeeling, and wood worn. A wrap-around porch with broken railings and precarious-looking steps sat in the center, leading to a partially open front door.
I set my boot on the first wooden step, feeling the stair bending under my weight while I listened. The forest was soundless, other than the wind rubbing tree branches together. Dried rose petals lifted on the breeze, whirling and gathering in the corner by the front entrance. I pushed the door open slowly.
The creaking sound broke the silence, and I went inside. The interior was much the same as the exterior, with extensive disrepair but covered with dust and dirt. Battered furniture was strewn about haphazardly. Dried flower petals crackled under the weight of my shoe while I took everything in. The taste of magic and sorcery were on my tongue, and I scanned the inside for the source.
Knickknacks and other small objects were spread around, some on a mantle and many on whatever tables were still standing. There didn’t appear to be anything of interest, so I moved on into the kitchen.
A long table, covered with garbage, was in the middle of the room. Food wrappers and red plastic cups littered the surface of what would otherwise have fit into a scene straight out of a history book. A massive fireplace lined the wall opposite, its interior covered with soot, and a small cabinet stood nearby. I made my way to the wooden stand, kneeling so I could peer inside after I opened the doors.
I began removing the contents, lining them along the floor when the faintest hint of gardenias wafted around me. The next bottle I pulled out was the blood wine, complete with leftover magic from Kiara.
It threw me for a moment, sending me back to the evening I was outdoors with the wolves I used to keep nearby when an image of her had flickered in the distance. She’d left me,she’d proven her disloyalty and was supposedly gone—until she wasn’t. Ilya had bragged about his so-called “full circle” moment with the woman and here I was, possibly doing something similar.
I just hoped the consequences weren’t as dire and that Alastair and Devane had found a solution as they’d claimed.As they hoped. It was nothing more than blind faith, truly.
Not much made me nervous. This, however, had my guard up to levels my body rarely saw. Uncapping the bottle, I raised it and examined it, checking for any unknown magic when the floor creaked behind me. I whirled around the same moment I pulled my sword.
“Ammar.” I held the tip of the blade to his throat. “Why are you here?” In defiance, he left his arms down and moved to walk around me. I left the blade at his throat, watching it split his skin just enough for tiny red beads to bloom.
Undeterred, he spoke. “I could ask you that same question. Why is it that no one will answer my questions?”
Ammar was dressed in black jeans and a button-up shirt, apparently trying to acclimate to the Third Realm. His motivations remained a mystery. I’d prioritize uncovering them as soon as I was able. “This is my territory, my world. Direct your questions to me.”
“From what I have heard, you’re being slowly dethroned. Who’s your successor?”
He’d just shown his hand. “You should know better than to listen to idle gossip. I’m busy, make an appointment and we can discuss your place—if any.”
Ammar lifted his hand and my beloved sword disintegrated, forming a long row of gray dust on the floor. I pinned him to the wall before he had the chance to do any more damage, lamenting the lack of my full range of magic. I hadn’t been feeding nearly as much as I should have and whatever was happening to magicin general had left me in a compromised state. The last time I’d indulged, it had been John, who was likely the blandest soul I’d ever consumed. It was insulting that Samantha would cheat on me with such mediocrity, but I’d deal with her indiscretion later.
None of these issues would be problems for much longer if I had anything to say about it.
Keeping Ammar tightly against the wall, I lifted the wine and began pouring it into my mouth. The right thing to do would’ve been to wait, to wait until the others could partake as well. I may have been compromised in multiple ways, but I was still going to follow my instincts. There was still the bottle from the Fourth to be drank. Perhaps more, I had no way to be certain.