Fire Within

chapter Fourteen

“You’re kidding.” Damn, that was a scary thought. Ari had never heard of a creature her fire couldn’t defeat. “Well, we can’t go running through the streets with torches, and we can’t let him escape. He’d just come back or kill again somewhere else. We need to destroy him.”

“Without a doubt, but I do not want to locate him until we have a plan. I think you should delay further scrying.”

Ari nodded absently. This situation was way beyond her knowledge. Great-Gran or Moriana would have known what to do. Moriana had barely exerted herself in getting rid of the demons in St. Louis, but Ari had also killed one of them with a dagger. This creature in Riverdale had to be a higher-level demon, more dangerous. Still, Moriana must have heard of image changers. She was a lot older, like decades, and more experienced. Surely, she’d have some ideas. Absorbed in thought, Ari was startled by her phone ringing.

“I didn’t have time to wait for your call, my dear,” a familiar voice said when Ari answered. “I must go out. Some dwarves are running amuck.”

Ari experienced a pleasant rush of warmth. “Moriana, this psychic stuff of yours is handy. But really spooky,” she added.

Moriana’s deep chuckle resounded over the phone. “How are you, witchling? Other than worrying over this demon?”

“How did you…never mind. I’m fine, but I need your help. This isn’t an ordinary full blood. We think it’s something called an image changer. Have you—”

“Oh, my! That does put a different light on matters. I knew there was something odd about your situation. Odd, indeed,” Moriana said in her breezy manner. “It makes your problem ever so much more interesting.”

Leave it to Moriana to be intrigued by some uber-dangerous creature. Nothing fazed her, and from Ari’s apprentice years, she knew Moriana was thrilled by a good challenge. Of course, Moriana wasn’t the one in Riverdale with the creature on the loose.

“He’s killing non-offending vampires, and we need to locate him before he kills again. I tried scrying. He was there for a moment, then blipped away,” Ari explained.

“Yes. Recognized your probe.”

Unable to sit any longer, Ari paced the apartment as Moriana continued to talk.

“They are pesky creatures, and it will be more wary now. To locate it by scrying, you’ll need a stronger connection. Something that has belonged to the creature. Its essence never changes and will cling to a possession. Once located, defeating this demon will be another challenge.” Moriana’s voice was speculative, as if she were thinking aloud. “I’ve never fought an image changer, but it can be done. Not with your witch fire. Not even aided by the fire spirits. You’ll need spells and potions and a good plan. If you were experienced in the dark arts, I would favor a vanquishing spell, but that route is not possible without training.

“Hmm.” Moriana reached a decision. “The demon must vanquish itself. Force the hellborn creature or trick it, but keep in mind, in spite of its superior powers, the image changer is basically just another demon. You will need the help of a friend, Ari, but you can do this. You always were a clever witchling. Good luck.” The line went dead.

Ari stared at the phone a long moment, willing herself not to scream in frustration. Typical Moriana. No wasted words, no pat solutions, and never hanging around longer than absolutely necessary.

“You heard?” She glanced at Andreas. “Guess you were right about the witch fire. How the hell do I get him to vanquish himself?” She took a couple more strides across the room. “When we defeated the four demons in St. Louis, Moriana dispersed two of them with some kind of spell. Before she made them go poof, she stopped them with an energy barrier. Wish I knew how to do that.”

“Would she not tell you?”

“She could tell me the words, but I don’t have her skill level. Not yet. And maybe never. Witch powers grow with use, and most of my childhood was spent on Guardian skills—the martial arts, the weaponry. I spent four years with Moriana, but our witch skills are also tied to our heritage. Without the Book of Shadows, my witchcraft will always be less than it could be.”

“I have heard of the books that belong to witch families but have never seen one. Tell me about yours. Why is it missing?”

“I’d be surprised if you had seen one. Witch families don’t share their books any better than vampires share their secrets.”

Andreas gave her the vampire one-shoulder shrug that was the equivalent of an eye roll. “In the old country, witches and vampires did not mingle or share anything except animosity.”

“You mentioned that once before—that our two races were enemies. Something about a big fight for domination, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but I hardly think we have time for a history lesson, Arianna. Later perhaps, when we are not fighting a demon.” He straightened and came to stand in her path. “Can you quit pacing long enough to answer my question? Tell me about your Book of Shadows.”

Ari moved away from him, stopped next to the kitchen counter, and explained how the history of any witch clan was recorded from generation to generation through spells, potions, and magical experiences. That each clan’s powers were genetically tied to that written record.

“I know all that,” he interrupted. “I want to know what happened to the Calin Family Book of Shadows.”

Ari’s lips pressed into a straight line. She didn’t like talking about this part. “My mother was the last keeper. When my parents’ boat exploded on a Gulf of Mexico fishing trip, the Book disappeared. Maybe it was with them and perished in the fire. No one knows for sure, but it has never returned to me. I would have been the next keeper.”

“Losing both parents must have been hard.” His voice was soft. “I am sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. I was six. But the point is without the Book my magic is limited, my witchcraft abilities incomplete.”

“It is hard to think of your witch fire as limited,” Andreas said dryly.

“You’d change your mind if you ever saw Moriana in action. She can control the wind and the rain. And call upon forces you can only imagine. Her power continues to expand because she’s building on the knowledge of her ancestors.”

“I do not doubt your words. I was merely making an observation. I feel the sleeping power within you. Do not under-estimate yourself, little witch.”

“I don’t think I do, but my skill levels aren’t good enough. I rely on my Guardian training, not my witchcraft, and I don’t think that training will solve this particular problem. We need some really great magic.” Ari was discouraged and, if totally honest with herself, maybe feeling a little inadequate. Or more than a little inadequate. After all, she was a witch, from a long, proud line of witches. Why couldn’t she do the things she needed to do?

“Perhaps you have spent too much time waiting for the Book.”

Ari frowned up at him, knowing he was trying to tell her something. Was he suggesting she could be the source of this magic? How? What could she be doing differently? She sensed, more strongly than words, his belief she would find the magic they needed. How could she have less faith in herself?

Without magic they couldn't possibly defeat the demon, but where did she get it if not from the fire spirits? Without the Book, there was only one place to look for the answers. A place she’d been taught to go since a babe in her mother’s arms.

“Don't freak out,” she said. “I'm going to try something.” She closed her eyes, allowed her mind to drift, and reached deep inside herself, calling out to her inner witch source. As always, it appeared as a small white light in her mind’s eye. She drew near the center, the real world fading away. Ari grew light-headed and swayed on her feet.

“Steady.” Andreas placed light hands on her shoulders. Neither his voice nor touch interfered with the trance.

When Ari’s inner eye reached the glow deep inside, the familiar peace and serenity surrounded her. Only this time something was different. She’d come looking for answers, and her witch source embraced the asking. She stood suspended in time as images and faces swirled around here. Her parents, Great-Gran, Yana, and many she didn’t recognize, yet she knew them. The Calin witches. They were all with her, not really so far away.

She felt an increasing surge of magical energy, bursting with purpose. A knowing. Ari almost laughed. It was so simple. The incredible secret she’d thought was lost forever—her true power was the knowing, the believing in who she was.

She absorbed the energy around her and when she was overflowing with the lights from her past and her future, she brought herself back step by step. As the room reformed around her, Ari raised her lashes to stare at the vampire’s face. “I can do this,” she whispered.

“Yes.” His eyes were deep pools. “And it need not be alone.”

She stared at him a long moment, feeling an urge to know his thoughts, but so overwhelmed with her own revelations, she wasn’t ready to explore others. She stepped away, ending the intense moment.

“How long was I gone?”

“A few minutes, no more.” The look on Andreas’s face was pensive, almost as if he was impressed by what he’d witnessed.

“It seemed longer. Days, even years. A lifetime.”

“Realization can come like that.”

Ari tipped her head. Realization was an interesting way to put it, but maybe he was right. In many ways, she’d been headed toward this moment all her life. And the magic had been waiting for her to find it.

She felt different, more optimistic, and she owed part of that to Andreas for encouraging her to draw from her inner strength. How had he known it was there? Was their link more than just some rare form of telepathy? Something she’d think about when there was time. For now, there was magic to do. Spells and potions to create. A demon to catch and vanquish.

“Magic won’t be enough,” Ari said, pushing away from the kitchen counter and refocusing on the problem at hand. “We have to figure out what kind of magic and have a good plan to go with it.”

“Moriana suggested vanquishing rather than death,” Andreas reminded her.

“Yes, she did. Like the demons in St. Louis. I remember now what she told us. They didn’t die, their spirits fled. I’m not sure how we do that with an image changer. He seems more slippery, but I understand the concept of vanquishing.”

“Can you elaborate?” Andreas asked. “I am afraid demonology was not part of an Italian boy’s education.” When she gave an impatient frown at the interruption, he added, “Think of it as practice for when you try to explain this to Lt. Foster.”

Ari's frown disappeared as she chuckled. That wouldn’t be an easy conversation. “No comparison, believe me. OK. Moriana used dark magic to control two of the demons and force them by irrevocable orders to return to hell. Not having her skill, the other apprentice and I killed the earthly bodies of the other two. When their bodies were near death, the demons chose to return to hell. Otherwise, they would have been trapped here as shades, ghosts. I guess that’s not a great thing to be, since Moriana said shades are almost powerless. Anyway, once a demon is vanquished, whether forced or voluntary, it cannot return to earth.”

“The final result is encouraging. How do we get there? If I understand correctly, we have to keep the demon from switching bodies and then put his body in danger of immediate death. Of course, before we can do that, we have to penetrate his disguise.”

“Yeah, that’s all,” Ari said dryly. “I’ll research the magic for vanquishing, but I’m not sure how to find him. I could try scrying again if we had one of his possessions. Something that holds his essence, sort of his spirit DNA.”

“Evidence from the crime scenes?”

“There’s nothing I could use, like a weapon or scrap of clothing.”

“An object, you mean. Maybe we could find one, if we knew who he was or where to look. A suitable item could be right in front of us.” Andreas let out an exasperated breath. “The only demon contact we can verify was his meeting with the drive-by suspects.”

“Where he gave them the money,” Ari said, snatching her phone from the table. “He had it in his possession, touched it.”

Ryan answered immediately.

“Did Philby or his partner have money on them?” she demanded.

“Nothing to speak of. A few dollars, some change. Why?”

“What happened to the twenty-five thousand dollars?”

“I don’t know. Is it important?”

“I think so. If the killer touched it, I may be able to use the money to find him. Don’t ask me how right now, but see if Philby can tell you where the money is.”

“I’m still in the building. I’ll call you back.”

The next fifteen minutes dragged like hours to Ari. She paced. Andreas sprawled on one of the dining room chairs, his gaze following her. His watchfulness made her even edgier. Before she jumped out of her skin, Ryan called.

“The money’s gone,” he reported. “He gave them a roll of bills, and they went on a shopping spree. A car, a home theatre, and several cases of beer. Guess they thought there’d be more when they finished the job, or they just couldn’t resist. Anyway, they spent it all. Good luck tracking it down at a car dealer or electronics merchant. Besides, it will have gone to the bank by now.”

“And be impossible to trace.”

They hung up. Another good idea shot down.

“There’s got to be a way,” she said, dropping the phone on the counter as she resumed her restless walking. “We can’t wait around doing nothing.”

“No, not an option,” Andreas agreed, straightening in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees. “There is another complication I had hesitated to mention earlier.”

“What now?” Ari stopped pacing. “Are we ever going to get a break?”

“Not yet. Last night a group of nest leaders petitioned Prince Daron for permission to hunt the killer. He refused, of course, but the younger hotheads are on the verge of striking out on their own.”

“By hunting, you mean hunting to kill, don’t you? And they think the person they’re looking for is human.”

Andreas nodded, and Ari stifled an urge to kick the nearest wall. Such a hunt would be bloody for both sides. If the vampires attacked the humans, they’d be hunted in return.

“Are the Pure Bloods behind this?”

“No, the leaders of that group are out of circulation, but there are many who share their sentiments.”

“What do you mean by out of circulation?” she asked, momentarily diverted.

“Nothing important.”

“Are they dead? Or going to die?”

They locked eyes.

“No.”

Maybe Rita was right when she said they’d been sent out of town. Ari was relieved. The gang members might be crude and nasty, but she couldn’t condone their murder. Whatever else happened to them was out of her hands, and they probably deserved it. Ari shrugged. Maybe she should trust Andreas’s judgment.

“Should I be worried, or can Daron control the vampires?” she asked instead.

Andreas’s expression flickered at her blunt question. “No reason for concern yet, but it may become necessary for Daron’s court to provide a greater presence on the streets. I could be pulled away at any moment. Lucien is informing the Magic Council of the unrest. I think you and Lt. Foster will hear from your employers.”

“Just what we need, something else to think about.” Sarcasm was one way of letting off steam. Ari felt a growing tension, unease, a hint of foreboding. She flexed her stiff shoulders. Too many complications, and she was running out of steam. She opened the fridge and peered inside, looking for a quick energy boost. It was pretty much empty, except for soda and apples. “Tomorrow could be a very long day,” she said over her shoulder. “At least none of your vamps will be hunting during daylight. It’ll give me time to research, maybe figure something out. How about taking a break? Do you drink soda?”

Andreas didn’t respond, and when the silence began to grow, Ari peeked around the fridge door. One of her complications was leaning casually against the kitchen wall, watching her every move. Her pulse picked up tempo. She thought about the bottle of Chianti in her cupboard and about the fierce inner dialogue she’d had the day of its purchase. An argument that seemed to be over now. She closed the fridge and rested a hip against the kitchen counter. “Why aren’t you singing at the club tonight?”

“Our business was more important.” His slow smile said he was no longer referring to murders and demons.

“Was it? Well, now that you’re here, what would you like to do? Watch a little TV? Have a drink? Or,” she returned his smile, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, “something more satisfying?”

His pupils flickered as he absorbed the open invitation.

Ari was glad she’d surprised him. “I have a bottle of Chianti.”

“Were you anticipating company?” He still didn’t move, but his magic reached out to touch hers, and Ari’s body tightened in anticipation.

“Maybe.”

“Perhaps the Chianti can wait.” Andreas straightened from the wall and glided forward, his arms slipping around her waist. She met his lips halfway. Soft and firm, gentle, demanding, insistent. Her senses flared at the touch of his hair brushing her forehead, the smell of his cologne. His hands made possessive circles on her back, pulling her in. Deepening the kiss, Andreas drew her closer until she could feel every hard line of his body. She tugged at his shirttail, slipping her fingers between the smooth silk and the hard, cool muscles of his chest.

The jarring ring of a cell phone jerked her back to earth. His phone. Ari stiffened and broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his chest. Desire still shimmered around them.

“I will ignore it,” he murmured.

It rang again, and the mood was broken. Still, she didn’t move.

“Andreas…” she said into his shirt. What the hell was she doing? Wasn’t there enough going on? Why had she started this? Oh yeah, she knew why. But more to the point, what did they do now?

On the third ring, Andreas glanced at the readout and frowned. “Marcus.” He breathed the word against her hair. “He would not call unless it was important.”

“You need to answer it,” she said, stepping back this time, reluctant yet knowing the decision for tonight had already been made.

He punched a key, listened a moment, his gaze never leaving Ari’s face. “On my way.”

Disconnecting, he reached out a hand, and his fingers touched her cheek. “Sorry.” He gave a short, rueful laugh as he turned away, tucking in his shirt. “You do not know how sorry I am, but I have to go.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she demanded, keeping pace with him as he headed toward the door. Whatever was going on, it was serious. “I’m coming with you.”

“Then, hurry. The club is on fire.”