Counselor of the Damned (7 page)

Possession. Damn.

So his circle hadn’t called up a run-of-the-mill demon; they’d gotten a soul-stealer. Any demon, no matter the power level, would have been trapped by runes, unable to escape the confines of the ritual circle. The only way out was to hitch a ride in a human body. And that took a lot of power. Soul-stealers were one of the few hellspawn—besides the Demon Lords themselves—that could actually override a person’s will and take over their body.

How did we miss this? They were all checked.

“Excuse us. We will discuss your referral in my office. Melissa?”

His high-pitched laughter continued as he watched them with his black, miasma-filled eyes. Melissa’s face drained to white, her jaw slack as she stared. Tegonni, heart pounding, grabbed the young woman’s arm and pulled her to the door.

Melissa whimpered as Tegonni gripped the knob and it didn’t budge. Tegonni whipped around. “What do you want, soul-stealer?”

He tossed aside the cane and rose gracefully to his feet. “I’m the one in control, girly. Not the demon.”

“Not possible.” Tegonni forced calm and confidence into her voice. Help was coming. She just needed to stall him. “When a soul-stealer takes a human’s body, they eat the soul.”

He curled his upper lip in a sneer. “Not mine. Not no ordinary, weak, satanic circle freak. I’m a magician. And a longtime devotee of Mr. B.—that’s Demon Lord Beelzebub to you.”

Cold dread seized Tegonni’s insides.
Dear God.

Frantic knocking sounded from the other side of the door. Melissa pounded back. “Get us the hell out of here!”

Deveroe burst into gales of fresh laughter.

Tegonni’s voice shook a little as she said, “They will get in. And the demon will be exorcised.”

He shrugged. “Of course. But not before I’ve gotten what I came for.”

“Let me guess. Our souls.”

He spread his arms. “I hate to be cliché, but that is my boss’s line of business.”

“Bonus points for two, right?”

“No. For bringing him the soul of a head honcho.” He waved his long, gnarled fingers and a heavy mass invaded her solar plexus. She rose in the air, her insides burning. Melissa screamed and flailed beside her as they reached the ceiling. Tegonni struggled for breath. Panic welled up inside her and her lips trembled.
God no! I don’t want to die.

Breathe. Think
. The man-demon couldn’t just kill them if he was after their souls. Those would go to Heaven unless he somehow tricked them into giving their souls to him. They still had time.

The pounding on the door intensified.
Please let them find a way in soon
. “Don’t look into his eyes, Melissa. He can’t use mind games on us if we don’t look into the miasma.”

Tegonni clamped her eyes shut. Every soft chuckle or rustle of his clothing made her flinch. The only thing worse than being attacked by a demon was not being able to see the beast coming. Struggling not to search for the danger was like trying not to breathe underwater. Eventually, the panic won.

A meaty thud followed by strangled grunt from Melissa tipped Tegonni’s inner battle. She opened her eyes to check on her intern.

And met endless black. The demon-man was inches from her face. She screamed.

Inky blackness crawled across her visual field like smoke. Chills covered her skin, and her thumping heart skipped beats. She fought, physically and mentally, not to go under the creature’s spell. Futile. She was sinking, her body heavy. The sticky, tar-like power of the miasma pulled at her consciousness until she closed her eyes, and it sucked her into a nightmare.

* * * *

Tegonni floated in a void of white. She couldn’t recollect where she’d been before or how she’d come to be here. She felt drained, her emotions muted. She should be scared or at least anxious, but all she felt was a sad apathy.

Solid ground appeared under her bare feet. The carpet under her feet was soft and a multitude of brilliant shades of red. The colors were crisp and clear. She could distinguish every single carpet strand as if she had enhanced vision. Misty shapes began to form around her.

“Get out of the way, Dr. Ellis. You can’t stop this. Perhaps if you’d obeyed me in the first place this wouldn’t have happened.”

“What?” Tegonni turned toward Jaime’s voice. Three of the misty forms materialized: her boss flanked by two sword-wielding Lephiri. Powers, the warrior Lephiri. As she faced them, she replayed Jaime’s words. The knowledge that this was not her reality didn’t prevent her stomach from contracting with nausea as she looked behind her.

“Fernando?” His blood-covered form hung limp from silver chains bolted into the ceiling. Sword cuts crisscrossed his bare chest.

On the floor, a disheveled Father Morgan clung to the vampire’s legs, weeping. Above his stiff white collar were pinpricks of a vampire feeding. They stood out, red against pale skin. She cringed away from the horrible tableau. Her emotions woke up from their dulled state.

“Master.” Father Morgan’s word was calm, but the intense way he stared at Fernando, as if the vampire were all that existed for him, sent chills crawling across her skin. Dear God. No.

“You fed on him. Why, Fernando?”

He lifted his head and peered at her with dull eyes. “I lost control. I tried to make do with the substitute blood, but… I deserve to die.”

Tegonni covered her mouth with both hands, holding back a sob. He’d lost control because she had pushed him to abstain from human blood. This was her fault. Father Morgan was caught in the grip of compulsion because of her. Emptiness consumed her. Could the priest come back? Could he and Fernando work past it? She had to fix this. “You can try again.”

“No more false hope, Doctor. I can’t live up to your expectations. Please step away. It’s done.”

The sentiment, echoing Jaime’s, brought the full weight of the situation crashing against her chest. They were going to kill him.

“No! He doesn’t deserve this. He’s tried to—”

“He can’t escape what he is,” Jaime said. “Even he knows that. No, it’s not fair, but you’re the only fool insisting that makes any difference.”

“His intentions do matter.”

“Your objections are noted, but he’s going to die. Do you really want to sacrifice your career…or your life…to stand on your principles?”

Tegonni stared, stunned by Jaime’s implication.
She’d actually have me killed for standing against her?
Tegonni took a hesitant step to the side, then halted.
She’s bluffing
. “This is wrong.”

“Step aside, Dr. Ellis.”

“Obey her, Doctor.”

She turned to Fernando. “But—”

“There is no other way. There never was.”

His cold, accusing stare tore at her, but she couldn’t look away. He’d given up on himself. And on her. Tears rolled down her face as she moved from between Fernando and his executioners. Pain racked her gut with every step. He didn’t deserve to die, but she was no longer sure it wasn’t the best option. What he’d done to Father Morgan. It could happen again. No one here wanted that.

Yet her instinct screamed that Fernando’s death wasn’t the right answer. It was easy and callous. She stood frozen, aching for Fernando, for Father Morgan. And horrified at what she had done to them. Her advice had led Fernando down a path that caused him to betray his spiritual mentor and lose his chance at an honorable death. Looking at the two men, both defeated and destroyed, she realized the worst part. Their free will was gone. And she was at fault.

Gloom weighed down her spirit. When a thick black pool of miasma bubbled up around her feet, she had no desire to escape. She deserved this.

The sticky, tar-like substance pulled at her pants legs as the Lephiri advanced on Fernando. One of them pulled Father Morgan away. The priest screamed and flailed, reaching for Fernando. The angelic warrior easily restrained him.

The second Lephiri stood in front of the chained vampire. Fernando closed his eyes and smiled. Bile rose in her throat at the sight of the welcoming look on his face. As the satanic miasma crawled over her waist, numbing every part of her it touched, she hoped it would consume her before she had to watch him die.
Too much of a coward to witness what I made happen.

The glowing angels raised their swords. The first inky finger of miasma slid across her cheek. She closed her eyes but couldn’t shut out Father Morgan’s shrill cries.

* * * *

The heavy sucking of the miasma evaporated. Her stomach rose up into her throat for a split second before she crashed into something soft and springy. A love seat.

Pandemonium surrounded her. Shouts and a grating cackle. She curled up like a child, making herself as small as possible while she looked around, assessing danger.

A winged Lephiri stood at Jaime’s back. Tegonni jumped and fell off the couch.
Fernando! I have to save him
. She whipped her head around, searching, but he wasn’t here. Mr. Deveroe stood in the middle of the room, smirking at Jaime and the Lephiri. Mr. Deveroe. The meeting with him and Melissa. His black, evil eyes.
That bastard!
Anger rose within Tegonni, starting to edge out her fear.

Jaime drew runes of white flame in the air. Glaring, Deveroe struggled, but failed to move from where he stood in the middle of the room, between Tegonni and safety.

The Lephiri held her sword in a single-handed grip as she crouched. She was out of Jaime’s way, but close enough to step in and help. “I stand ready to strike him down if your spell doesn’t hold him.”

“I think I can exorcise the demon and take him alive.” Jaime held her hands up and pushed the blazing runes into Deveroe. His aura lit up around him, an egg shape blacker than coal. Where the magic symbols touched, the aura crackled with white lighting.

The runes burst through the darkness, which swirled away into nothing. The symbols glowed on Deveroe’s skin before fading. Deveroe collapsed to his knees. “Bitch! That demon was my gift from Beelzebub.”

Jaime exhaled and teetered over to him in her high red power heels. She drew another glyph on him, one Tegonni didn’t recognize but hoped was for containment. The chances of the old man having a second demon piggybacking on him were small, but her vote was for overprotection.

Jaime spoke to a security guard in the doorway. “Let Dr. Jenson in. And help me with Mr. Deveroe.” Nat rushed past the guard and knelt beside Tegonni. He looked her over as he patted her arms and legs. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Remembering the thud after Deveroe put them on the ceiling, Tegonni grabbed his arm. “Is Melissa okay? Did he put her under too?”

“We got her out. She may have a cracked rib, but didn’t go under.” He finished checking for injuries and helped her stand. “He almost got you. What did you see, hon?”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to get into it here within earshot of Jaime.

Jaime and the guard dragged the now harmless old man up onto his feet.

“Is he going to detention, Ms. Weir?” the guard asked.

“No.”

“What?” Tegonni stepped forward. “The man is a devotee of Beelzebub and a magician. He’s dangerous!”

“We’ll try rehab first.”

Tegonni, speechless at the unexpected mercy from Jaime, could only manage a grunt in protest.

Miles Deveroe leaned heavily on the guard’s arm as he chuckled. “Ah, that’s why I love you weaklings. You should kill me, missy. You’re just giving me another chance to attack. Thanks.”

“You won’t be attacking anyone with that containment spell on you. Let’s get him out of here.” Jaime followed the guard as he helped Deveroe to the door. She paused and looked back at Tegonni. “Good to have you back, Dr. Ellis. You’re unharmed?”

“Just rattled.”

“I’m surprised you let him trance you, let alone almost succeed in trapping your soul. Must have been some vision.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I was worried about Melissa and opened my eyes.” A heart-to-heart with Jaime about the demon-created reality was so not going to happen.

“It’s all right. The important thing is we stopped him.” She hesitated. “I understand if you don’t want discuss the experience with me, but you need to talk to someone. And I need a report.”

Tegonni retreated to Nat’s side.
Great. With my luck, she’ll want it by close of business today.

“Infiltration is serious, Dr. Ellis. I want all the information to find out how he succeeded.”

“He said he was in control.” She jumped on the small change in topic. “The demon didn’t consume his soul and take over. Maybe that allowed it to mask itself in his aura?”

Jaime stared coldly at the door through which the old man had been taken. “Maybe. I suppose it’s possible if the man is a magic user. We
will
find out.”

Nodding, Tegonni relaxed against Nat’s arm. She’d been worried Jaime would go easy on Deveroe with her talk of rehab, but her chilly glare was reassuring.
As long as it isn’t directed at me.

“What a waste. I hate to see a magician tricked into working for
them
. Maybe we can still bring him back to our side. We could use his talent and knowledge.”

Tegonni gaped. “Jaime, this man wasn’t tricked. He willingly—”

“He may have been lured with the usual promises—wealth, extended life—but I don’t believe anyone chooses to be evil just for the hell of it. Humans are inherently good. There’s still a chance to straighten Mr. Deveroe out.”

A short laugh burst out of Tegonni’s mouth.
Unbelievable
. Not that her boss’s sentiment wasn’t admirable. Trying to help him was the compassionate thing to do. However, considering Jaime’s callous attitude toward Fernando, this misplaced confidence in Deveroe felt like a slap in the face. “The man tried to destroy me in order to curry favor from a Demon Lord.”

Jaime frowned. “All necessary precautions will be taken. Get that miasma cleansed, then go rest.”

“I’ll handle it and take her home.” Nat rubbed her arm. “I don’t think she or Melissa should be alone right now.”

“Fine.” Jaime waved a hand. “Don’t forget about the report, Dr. Ellis. The more information I have, the more likely I am to find a way to rehabilitate him.”

She teetered out, taking no notice of the glare Tegonni directed at her back.