Demon's Fury: Part 1 of the Final Asylum Tales (The Asylum Tales series) (7 page)

Common sense said this was a mistake and I was having trouble remembering why I was doing this, but the die was cast and it was time to get this show on the road.

Chapter 6

W
ith ease, I quickly descended the creaking stairs and hit the compacted dirt floor. I blindly grabbed the beaded pull chain overhead and gave it a hard yank as I walked into the center of the room. Grimy yellow light washed over the low-ceilinged room with exposed concrete walls. Deep shadows instantly retreated to peek out from around the three large cabinets that lined three of the walls. The fourth, far wall was empty except for a large symbol I’d spray-painted there. The air in the basement was thick with the scent of dirt, burned ozone, and some other, subtler scent that I had come to associate with the scent of my own magical signature.

Standing in the center of the room, I threw my arms out and then swiftly brought them in again before thrusting them out toward the dark symbol. A rush of magical energy stirred in the room, surging toward the wall, while a separate energy shifted, seeming to make the black paint undulate as if something large were crawling beneath it. Over the years, I’d spent hours staring at the symbol trying to decipher the meaning. Encased all in a large, unbroken circle, there were several other symbols running through it. At times, I thought it looked like a name and that frightened me more than anything else.

The defensive spell I had placed over the basement was a dangerous thing. It attacked with lethal force anyone who entered the basement that wasn’t me. It was also a fickle thing, not liking to be turned off as I learned when I let my friend Sofie descend into my private domain. While it hadn’t attacked her, the spell hadn’t gone into magical sleep mode, which was more than a little unnerving.

It was never a good thing when a spell stopped obeying you. In fact, spells weren’t supposed to have a mind of their own, but something was different about this one. I’d used this protective spell for several years and I was beginning to wonder if storing all these magical items near the spell was starting to have a negative impact. It was time to consult Gideon for a new protective spell.

When the last of the magical energies in the room finally settled down, I breathed a small sigh of relief. At least the spell wasn’t going to kill us when Serah came down into the basement. I was just hoping the woman wouldn’t try to kill me. Walking back over to stand at the bottom of the stairs, I called up to her.

Her footsteps creaked across the wood floor until she appeared at the top of the stairs with a questioning look on her face. “That didn’t take long. Finished hiding your stash from the big bad TAPSS investigator?”

“Get your ass down here,” I muttered.

As she slowly descended the stairs, I walked over to the high table that was pushed against one of the walls. Its surface was cluttered with random bits of junk that I had collected for use in random spells and potions. A series of crystals hung from ribbons and leather strings along the wall just above the table, while a stack of hardbound journals was piled in the corner. It was a mess, but it was my mess and I knew where everything was. Grabbing my wand out of the carved wooden box, I quickly shoved it up my sleeve. My hope was to ease Serah into this to keep her panic down to a minimum, and wands were panic-inducing things. I scooped up a battered box of wooden kitchen matches and a baby-food jar filled with sea salt, and then paused as my brain ran in circles, trying to figure out anything else that might help give this spell some kick.

“Gage?” Serah’s tremulous voice rose up in the silent air. For the first time all evening, she sounded unsure and more than a little afraid. While the room housed cabinets that looked like they contained your typical potion ingredients, the padlocks on the front of each made you second-guess it. The black symbol dominating the far wall also didn’t help. Even if you didn’t understand magic, the thing held a sinister air as if it was a gateway to something evil. It didn’t take an expert in magic to know that she was treading on dangerous ground.

I smiled broadly at her when I turned around to find her standing on the dirt floor near the foot of the stairs. “Almost ready,” I said, trying to sound reassuring as I shoved the jar of salt into my pocket.

“What is all this?”

“You remember Rule Number Three?” I asked as I stepped over to the cabinet nearest her. Turning my body so that I blocked her view of what I was doing, I picked up the padlock and ran my thumb across the back while pushing a tiny burst of magic through the mechanism. A chunk echoed through the room as the lock popped open.

“Something about letting you explain,” she said, still sounding as if she was about to bolt for the door.

“Yep. Here, hold this,” I said, slapping the box of matches into her free hand before I turned my attention back to the cabinet. I squatted down where several plastic jugs were lined up along the bottom shelf with dates scrawled across them in black marker. Grabbing the fullest one, I stood and closed the cabinet doors with my foot.

“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing the jug suspiciously.

“Water.”

“Isn’t starting a fire in the basement a little dangerous, even with water on hand?”

“We’re not starting a fire,” I said as I carried the water jug over to the middle of the room and put it on the floor.

“Fine. So what do you have to explain?” Her mind didn’t sound particularly open and her tone wasn’t what I’d call inviting.

A little voice in my head screamed,
This is a mistake!
But I was already on this course and I’d made enough mistakes in the past by hiding important things from the people I was depending on to help me. It was time to be honest. Unfortunately, a TAPSS agent wasn’t the best place to start.

“I want to tell you why my file at TAPSS is locked.”

Serah immediately perked up and I had her full attention. She was going to get her hands on something that would give her a bit of clout over some of the other investigators who were giving her shit.
Fantastic.
She was going to hate that she couldn’t tell another soul.

Taking a deep breath, I just spat it out. “I’m a warlock.”

She stared at me for a second, her eyes wide, before a burst of laughter jumped from her open mouth. The tiny woman was nearly doubled over as she staggered to the side in her mirth. Well, she seemed tiny to me, but then I’m surrounded by six-foot-plus creatures all day.

Shaking her head, she straightened and looked at me. “Geez. You had me going for a minute. I thought you were going to actually tell me something,” she said around lingering chuckles.

“I’m being serious.”

“Whatever. You’re not a warlock.”

This had been a lot easier with Trixie, but then Trixie recognized when there was magic shit about that had nothing to do with potions. Serah didn’t stir, so she thought my hidden stockpile was for potions, or at worst, she thought I was running a black market for illegal goods.

“Fuck,” I mumbled. I had wanted to do this without scaring the shit out of the woman, but she refused to make it easy for me. Reaching up my left sleeve, I withdrew the wand I had hidden there while keeping my eyes on her. Serah stubbornly kept the smile on her face, but it had become a little more forced and sickly. Fear clouded her eyes and I knew I was now edging onto dangerous ground.

“Funny, Gage. Let’s quit the joking and get down to business,” she said, her gaze locked on the hawthorn wand like I was holding a poisonous snake in my hand.

“Stay calm, please.” Pointing the wand at the ground, I murmured some words for the binding spell and a red laser-like beam shot from the end of the wand, which I used to draw a large circle in the dirt. When it was complete, I waved my hand over the circle and a series of swirls and symbols were drawn around the circle as if a dozen invisible children were seated in the dirt doodling.

Serah screamed. I turned back to see her drop the blood-soaked tissue and box of matches. In one fluid motion, she reached behind her and pulled her gun. It trembled, but I had no doubt she could put a couple slugs in my chest at the blink of an eye.

“Stay back!” she shouted, still trying to sound authoritative while slowly edging toward the stairs.

Apparently she didn’t trust me enough to leave the gun upstairs. I knew I should have taken the damn thing instead of leaving it behind. Fear tightly clenched my stomach. I wasn’t worried about her shooting me. I could stop a bullet. No, terrified people waving guns around while rational thoughts flew from their brains led to disastrous things happening. I’d asked her to leave the gun behind to protect herself—not me. “Serah, you agreed to the rules. You said you’d stay calm and let me explain.” I prayed my own calm voice would help her. It didn’t.

“I’m calm.” Her voice jumped in panic and the trembling became more pronounced in her gun. “I’m in a basement with a warlock. I know your secret and now you’re going to kill me. How could I not be calm?”

I sighed and was almost overwhelmed by a wave of frustration and hatred . . . and helplessness. The Ivory Towers had fucked with people over the centuries. They destroyed families, businesses, and hope so that all that was left now was fear. “If I was going to kill you Serah, I would have done it already.” But even as the words left my lips, I knew I hadn’t said the right thing.

She snorted. “Like I’m going to believe that.”

Kill her.

The low voice rumbled through the basement, sending a chill up my spine. Serah swung her gun around, searching for the unseen assailant. She stopped trying to edge toward the stairs and was now focused on defending herself.

She’s a threat. Must kill her.

“Gage!”

“Hold still!” I snapped. My heart was thudding in my chest like a freight train, threatening to explode. I knew where the voice was coming from, but didn’t want to believe it. The once-dormant protection spell had awoken when Serah had pulled her gun and was now actively pushing against its restraints in an effort to get to her. This was an unexpected development. But then, this was the first time I had invited someone down, vouching for them, only to have them later threaten me. Apparently my protection spell was more sentient than I had thought.

Fearful that any movement toward her on my part would set her off, I had to quickly defuse the situation from where I stood. Pulling in as much energy as I could from the air around me, I first turned my attention toward strengthening the binding on the defensive spell so that it couldn’t lash out at Serah. Once I was sure that it wasn’t going to strike my guest, I extended my hand toward the small woman. Despite her tight grip, the gun jumped from her hands and landed on my open palm.

“What the hell!” she said and lurched after her gun until she saw where it landed. She froze, tears glistening in her eyes. Bitter anger rose in my chest to see such fear directed at me. Those looks followed me no matter where I went. I might not have earned them for my actions, but there was no doubt that her life had been touched by the Towers. No one escaped the Ivory Towers.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said slowly and in the most soothing voice I could muster.

“But . . . the voice . . .”

“The gun pissed off my security system.” I forced a little smile as I shoved my wand into the back pocket of my jeans with the hope that its absence would help her relax a bit. “It’s a little protective and not very discriminating.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

Holding up the gun, I took several steps backward and placed it on the table along the far wall, putting out of our reach for the time being. “We’re just going to put this here for now. So we’re both safe.”

“So . . . so . . . you’re a warlock.” She violently blinked back her tears, fighting to keep them from falling. I admired her for trying to get her emotions under control and it wasn’t an easy task. Her face was frighteningly pale and her hands were shaking, forcing her to ball them into fists at her sides so that I wouldn’t notice.

“Yes. I am a warlock.”

“Do the Towers know?”

A surprised laugh escaped me. I liked the idea that I might have slipped past the Towers’ notice all those years ago; not that it was at all possible, but it was a nice thought. “Yeah, they know. I studied in the Towers when I was a kid before escaping. I’ve been trying to lay low and avoid their notice but it doesn’t always work out too well.”

Some of the fear eased from her eyes and her body relaxed as I spoke. “Are they looking for you?”

“No,” I said quickly and then scrunched my face up as that didn’t exactly feel like the full truth. “Well, some might be, but they’re not supposed to be.” I groaned and rubbed my face. I was exhausted and the story of my escape was not a quick one. Or an easy one. “Let’s just say I got away, but not everyone is very happy about it. I’m here in Low Town pretending to be an average tattoo artist. I’m not supposed to be using magic, but I thought you could use some help to stop this sicko.”

“And you’re not going to kill me?”

Sadly, that was not the first time I’d been asked that question. “No, it’s not my thing.”

“Does your girlfriend know?”

Nor was it the first time I’d been asked that question. “Yes, Trixie knows,” I said, though there was a little bit more of an edge to my voice. I wanted to get home and snuggle in bed with my girlfriend. That was assuming that my lovely Trixie had decided to stay at my place rather than retreat to her own apartment. Fuck, this had been a long night!

“Shall we get on with trying to identify Kyle’s killer so we both can return to our respective homes before the sun rises?”

Serah jerked at my question as if suddenly remembering why she had come back to Asylum with me in the first place. She twisted around, looking for where she had dropped both the tissue and the box of matches. Scooping them up, she hesitantly joined me back at the circle I had drawn in the dirt.

“What are you going to do?” The soft waver was still in her voice, but she was fighting hard to bounce back from shock.

“It’s an identity spell. I’m afraid that the blood might be too damaged for an actual tracking spell, but we might be able to get a glimpse of what this bastard looks like.”