That Old Black Magic

EIGHT



Eden panicked, scrambling off the bed so fast and hard that she bruised her knees. “Darrak! No . . . no! Please!”

He was gone; only black smoke remained for a long, horrible drawn-out moment.

And then his body returned. Darrak lay on his back on the carpet, next to an old copy of Glamour magazine.

“Oh, my God!” She grabbed hold of his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! I’m so sorry! Darrak . . . are—are you okay?”

He blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them and meeting her gaze. “How do I look?”

“You . . .” Eden gulped and scanned his body—currently in all its naked glory. “You look fine. Great. Normal. How do you feel?”

He forced himself into a sitting position. “That was extremely unpleasant.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Hot tears streaked down her face. “And I don’t think it even worked. I had to stop before I could really try to do anything else. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

He touched her face to push the tears away. “I’m fine now. But you’re right, the curse is still with me. I feel it. Nothing’s changed.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She’d tried, but she knew it hadn’t done a bit of good. The bright light had blocked what she’d tried to get at—that dark, nasty sludge that she was certain represented the curse on a metaphysical level. As soon as she’d tried to separate the light from the dark she’d sensed Darrak’s distress. It had come across to her loud and clear.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “We tried. It was enough to know it’s not nearly as simple to remove as the spell.”

Darrak was still bound to Eden, as much as he’d ever been.

But she wasn’t disappointed she’d failed. She was filled with relief that he was okay. For a horrible moment there, she thought she’d lost him completely.

Looked like Maksim’s advice had been too good to be true after all.

“So . . . it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Darrak said cautiously.

She leaned back against the side of her bed. “Looks that way.”

“We can go see Maksim again if you like. Get some more advice from the Wiz.”

“Maybe another day. But today we have other plans if you’re up to it.”

“I’m up. Or I will be momentarily.”

She finally let go of him. The near-romance of earlier had momentarily passed. Nothing like wrenching pain and a near death experience to help spoil the mood.

For now, anyway.

“What was the guy’s name again?” Darrak asked.

“Good question. Lucas gave me a card that has info on it, but since the guy is magically cloaked from him the card was blank. I’ll check it in a minute.”

When he didn’t reply, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was pushing himself up to a standing position, and in three seconds flat had conjured clothing to cover his body. He gave her a quizzical look.

“What?” she asked.

“You don’t like calling him by his real name, do you?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Makes you feel like he’s not as dangerous, maybe?”

“What’s the difference?”

Darrak shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Call him Gertrude if you like.”

“He might not answer to that.”

“Where’s the famous summoning crystal?”

“Why?”

“Maybe I should hang on to it for you so there are no more unplanned trips.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Her eyes narrowed at his pinched look. “Lucas isn’t interested in me. I mean, come on. I’m a nobody in the grand scheme of things.”

“Right. Nobody. You really think that, don’t you? Just Caroline Riley’s daughter, the slightly psychic loner who doesn’t let anyone get close to her.”

Eden cringed. “I wasn’t asking for a psychological evaluation. Besides, today’s not about me. Or you. We gave it a shot just now, and it didn’t work. Now we need to find this blank card guy, and then we have to focus on Andy. Our problems will wait for another day.”

Darrak nodded. “You’re right. You’re always right.”

He left for the kitchen. He didn’t sound completely sincere, and Eden tried not to think about that.

They had to get along. Fighting or major disagreements wouldn’t serve them at all. Besides, she’d just proven to herself that the two of them were stuck together. And she had no idea how long she had to find another solution for them.





The moment Eden pulled the previously blank card out of her coat pocket, she realized it wasn’t blank anymore. After all, Lucas wasn’t near it anymore.

BRENDANFRANKS

55 BL _ _ RST _ _ E _ W _ _ _

She could read the name, but whatever it said beneath it wasn’t very helpful. Letters were missing, smeared or blurry, or just totally unreadable.

Well, the name was a good start.

“Okay, Brendan Franks,” she mumbled to herself. “Little do you know, but you have a conversation with Lucas coming up very soon.”

Just a conversation. He’d promised her that.

And she trusted him, right?

Yeah, right.

They left for Triple-A. If anyone could help them locate Mr. Franks, it would be Andy.

“Well, let’s have a look-see,” he murmured as he ran the name through the special government database he had access to on his office computer. Eden didn’t think the access came courtesy of the government itself, but through some talent Andy had for hacking into places he shouldn’t be. Eden didn’t ask for details. She really didn’t want to know. “All right, I’ve found one hit on that name here in the GTA.”

“But what about what it says underneath?” Darrak asked. “I’m no Magnum, P.I., but I’m thinking that’s a clue.”

“You’re right. My guess is it says 55 Bloor Street West, which is the Manulife Centre, but no Brendan Franks came up there. But maybe it’s where he works.”

Eden blinked. “You guessed that?”

“I’m killer at Hangman. You have no idea.”

“I’m impressed.” She nervously played with the silver bracelet in her pocket. It remained cold as ice, not warming to her body temperature—one of the signs of its supernatural qualities.

Lucas wanted her to put this bracelet on Brendan Franks so they could have a conversation. Sounded so easy. Too easy.

She knew that likely meant it wouldn’t be.

And Darrak was right, she did prefer to call him Lucas even knowing exactly who he really was. What did that say about her? Was she ignoring reality?

As much as humanly possible, thank you very much. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t still painfully aware of it.

“How are you feeling today, Andy?” she asked, exchanging a glance with Darrak.

“I’m just fine and dandy. Never better. Why do you ask?” At her pointed look, he held up his hand. “Don’t you start with the werewolf thing again.”

“Andy—”

“No, Eden, I’m serious. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Frustration welled within her. “Denying it isn’t going to change anything. You’re the one who’s going to change. Tonight. Don’t be a fool.”

Andy pointed at the door. “You’re fired!”

Eden almost laughed, but managed to repress it. “You’re not my boss. We’re partners.”

He slumped forward on his desk. “Why must you torment me about this? I’m not a damned werewolf.”

“So prove it,” Darrak said.

Andy tensed. “What?”

“Prove it. Tonight at dusk.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“Let us lock you up right here,” Eden said, glancing around at their one-room office. “If you don’t change into a wolf, then you’re right and I’ll eat my words and apologize profusely every day for the rest of my life. But if I’m right, then you’ll be safely contained in here and you won’t hurt anyone.”

He made a face. “Contained? I could easily bust down that door with a well-placed kick.”

Darrak shook his head. “Normally I’d agree with you, Chuck Norris, but we happen to have a spell that will, allegedly”—he glanced at Eden and she saw the doubt about Maksim in his eyes. After what happened this morning she couldn’t really blame him there—“seal this place up nice and tight. Also, no one walking by will be able to see anything hairy going on in here. Literally.”

“Here,” Andy said skeptically.

“Yup.”

He sighed, and it sounded shaky. “How long do I need to be locked up before you two realize this lycanthropy thing doesn’t apply to me?”

“An hour,” Eden said.

“An hour. That’s it?”

“Yes.” She held her breath, hoping he wasn’t going to keep arguing with them. She had enough on her plate today already without this discussion going around in endless circles.

Andy reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his silver flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink from it before putting it back. “Fine.”

Eden raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You have my permission to lock me in here at sunset tonight for exactly sixty minutes and not one second longer. That’s it. That’s all. And then we can finally move on from this ridiculous topic of conversation. Agreed?”

“I think we can agree with that,” Darrak said. “And, FYI, it’s really not all that ridiculous.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is!”

Eden sighed. “We’re not arguing with you. It’s impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” Andy countered.

“Good comeback.”

Andy grabbed the printout from his Brendan Franks search and glanced at it. “Who is this guy, anyway?”

Eden took hold of the list of two addresses from him. “Just somebody I need to find.”

“For who? A client?”

“No.” She hesitated. “Actually, it’s for . . . Lucifer.”

Andy let the paper go so abruptly she staggered back a step. “Do I even want to know anything more about this?”

“Probably not”

“Then I won’t ask.”

“Good idea. We’ll be back later.” She looked at him sternly. “And don’t even think about leaving after work. You need to stay right here.”

He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

That was what you got when you tried to help people out these days. Shameless mocking.

So they were off on their Lucas-related assignment. Eden prayed it would go smoothly.

It was worth a shot.





Ben tried to make peace with the idea he’d be called upon to torture a woman for information later tonight. Not so strangely, that peace didn’t come.

He didn’t like to harm women. Ever. For any reason. He was old-fashioned that way.

If he stooped to the Malleus’s level to that extent, then he was no better of a monster than Darrak.

Ben wouldn’t be able to live with himself it if came to that.

There had to be another solution. And that solution was to get the shapeshifter to talk without any unpleasant means, and Oliver would be satisfied with whatever answers he was looking for. Only Ben would have to get those answers without first asking his boss for permission.

Say what you would about the Malleus and their airtight rules and employees who’d handed their very lives over to the “cause,” sometimes a little money worked as well as any magic ever could.

Especially to the guards who held the keys to the prisoner cells.

One of those greedy guards in question slipped his key into the shifter’s door.

“You have five minutes,” he gruffly informed Ben. “That’s it.”

“Do you think she’ll try to escape?”

“Not with that metal band on her wrist. It stops her from shifting, giving a hell of a shock if she even plays with it. She’s trapped here whether she likes it or not.”

“Handy.”

“Five minutes,” the guard reminded him.

It would have to be enough. This was a little talk that wasn’t sanctioned by Oliver. And he’d been avoiding Sandy ever since she delivered the tainted chicken soup yesterday.

He was on his own.

Other than a small cot and a toilet, there wasn’t much else in the ten-foot-square room but her. The woman crouched in the shadows in the corner.

Ben was met with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“What the hell do you want, Ken doll?” she snapped.

He gave her a smile that might have looked more like a grimace. “The name’s not Ken. It’s Ben.”

“Hooray for you. Leave me alone, jerk.”

“Jerk? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough. You’re one of them.” She thrust her chin toward the door. “Locked me up in here like an animal.”

“Well, you are a shifter. So you’re an animal part-time, anyway, aren’t you?”

“Bite me.”

“Not in my plans. Sorry.” He glanced at the door, then moved toward it to look out the small window. The guard had moved down the hallway. They had a bit of privacy to speak.

When he looked back at the woman, she was already in front of him, her right fist aimed toward his jaw. He deflected the punch before it landed and wrenched her arm behind her back, pushing her up against the wall like he’d done hundreds of times before with common criminals who’d tried to escape.

“Be nice,” he warned.

“Why should I?”

“I’m not the bad guy here.”

“Sure,” she growled. “I believe it.”

“Have they hurt you?”

“No. But you’re hurting me right now.”

He let go of her. She scrambled away from him, returning to the opposite corner but staying on her feet. He swept his gaze over her. She was somewhere in her twenties, about five seven, with skin the color of cocoa and eyes like bright amber. Her black hair was long and sleek and swept back over her shoulders. The silver cuff circled her left wrist. She wore a simple white T-shirt, which looked a size too small, making her breasts strain against the jersey material.

He felt something stir within him.

Great. The last goddamned thing he needed right now was to find himself attracted to a prisoner. And a bitchy, unhelpful one at that.

“How do you know Eden Riley?” he asked bluntly. The sooner he could get out of here the better.

The woman’s eyes widened as if he’d surprised her, but then they narrowed. “No idea who you’re talking about.”

“How about Eden’s new boyfriend, Darrak? The one that’s going to suck the life right out of her. Do you know him?”

Her jaw tightened.

“I know you do,” he said. “And I have a funny feeling that you just might care what happens to Eden enough to offer up some helpful info.”

“Did you say your name was Ben?” she asked. “That wouldn’t happen to be . . . Ben Hanson, would it?”

This time he took a step back. “You know who I am?”

“I’ve heard things.”

“How about you tell me what they are?”

She gave him a thin smile. “How about you go screw yourself?”

He studied her for a moment. “Does the tough chick act usually work at making people back off?”

She snorted. “Works like a charm, actually.”

“It won’t with me. Believe it or not I’m trying to help you. These are answers we need, and if you don’t want to give them to me right now, just chatting like this, then there are going to be consequences.”

“Story of my life.”

“I can help you.” He pressed back against the cell’s cold wall.

“I’ve heard that line before, handsome. I’ve realized the hard way that the only person who’s ever going to help me out of a jam is myself.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Hard life?”

“It’s had its moments.”

“No knights in shining armor?”

“I’m not the type who believes in them.” She swept her gaze over him. “Why? You offering to suit up?”

“No. Not me.” He extended his arm to show her the brand that bound him to the Malleus body and soul. “My choices are limited when it comes to rescuing damsels in distress these days.”

“Too bad.”

“Just tell me one thing . . .”

“What?”

“Darrak . . . he’s bad news, isn’t he?”

She hesitated, but then her jaw clenched. “He’s an archdemon. That’s the worst kind of demon there is.”

“What about any changes to do with him absorbing Eden’s celestial energy? Did you ever notice any change in him because of this?”

“Not really. He puts up a good front that he’s a decent guy now, but I don’t believe it. I’ve seen too much in my life to believe he’s in this because he really loves her. Call me a cynic.”

Oliver thought she had more answers than that. He was fixated on the nephilim energy potentially changing the demon. This bit of info wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

“I need to go,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t help you. Really.”

She let out a long shuddery breath. “If you can’t rescue my sorry ass, then do me a favor and rescue Eden. Before it’s too late.”

“I’ll try my best.” He turned from her and rapped on the door to get the guard’s attention.

The door opened a moment later, and he felt the woman’s warm hand on his shoulder. He glanced back at her warily, but this time she didn’t look ready to claw his eyes out. She looked sad and vulnerable.

“That mark on your arm? It’s just a scar unless you believe differently.”

“I wish you were right.”

He left her, feeling like hell that she didn’t know enough to save her own neck and knowing he’d likely have to see her again later that night under less than pleasant circumstances. But one thing the beautiful shifter had reminded him about was his original goal.

If he could save Eden from the demon who possessed her, then everything else in his life just might start to make sense again.





Eden peered through the fence at their first stop, where Andy said they’d find the only confirmed Brendan Franks in Toronto. After this, all they had was the lead on the address at the Manulife Centre downtown.

“That can’t be him,” she said.

“I disagree,” Darrak replied. “He looks like someone Lucifer might want to have a chat with.”

Brendan appeared to be about six years old and was currently on recess at a local elementary school.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Eden, don’t be naïve. Demonic children are a dime a dozen in the Netherworld. Need I mention Children of the Corn? Damien? Justin Bieber?”

Brendan ran toward the entrance to the school when the bell rang and succeeded in tripping and falling. He sat there for a stunned moment before he started to wail. A teacher came over and helped him to his feet, patting him comfortingly on the top of his head.

“Well . . . maybe you’re right,” Darrak conceded. “Lucifer isn’t a big fan of crybabies. I know this from personal experience.”

The other location was looking more promising with every passing moment.

Eden knew she had to concentrate, but her mind kept wandering. Why did this have to happen today? Couldn’t Lucas wait till next week? Next month? Exactly what kind of conversation did he want to have, and why hadn’t he been more forthcoming with the details?

She could ask a million questions, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing. She had to come through on this. Lucas hadn’t specifically threatened Darrak, but the prince simply had too much control over her demon in residence. After how close she’d come this morning to losing him, she hated that Lucas could use him as punishment if she messed up a job for him again.

“We do need to see Maksim again,” she said. “First thing tomorrow. I don’t want to put it off any longer after what happened earlier.”

“No harm done.”

“Wrong. Harm was done. Just because you’re okay now doesn’t ease my mind a fraction.”

He nodded as they returned to the Toyota. “Fine, if you absolutely insist. I’ll stifle my dislike of that guy for another day. But don’t get your hopes up. He already told you what the other option is if we can’t break the curse.” He said it lightly, but his expression was tight.

Her stomach twisted with part flu, part nerves. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

He didn’t reply.

“And we’re going to avoid it,” she insisted.

“Of course we are.”

“Nothing bad is going to happen to either of us. I promise.”

He eyed her. “You’re still after that happily ever after, are you?”

“I’ll settle for nothing less.” She did wish she could coax a bit more confidence into her voice. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“Yes, Scarlett.”

She’d felt as if she’d been close to breaking the curse this morning. So close. That she’d failed so epically was a bitter pill to swallow.

But maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe that black blob she’d seen wasn’t anything more helpful than one of Nancy’s malformed chocolate donuts.

A mere fifteen minutes later they walked into the lobby of 55 Bloor Street West, a shiny office building and shopping mall.

“Andy’s probably right,” she said. “Brendan could definitely work here.”

“Then why didn’t that come up on his search? I mean, he was able to find the location of a little kid, but not some guy with a job right in the heart of the city?”

She shook her head. “No idea.”

“So slap that bracelet on this guy’s wrist, send him directly to Hell, and we head back and deal with Andy.”

She froze, nearly going over on her high heels on the shiny floor. “Excuse me?”

Darrak looked at her. “What?”

“Did you say, send him to Hell?”

He frowned as if not understanding her confusion. “Well, yeah. What do you think that set of handcuffs there does?”

“These are handcuffs?” She yanked her hand out of her pocket where she’d been touching the cold silver of the bracelet again. “I—I didn’t really think about it.”

He grimaced. “Well, forget I said anything.”

“How am I supposed to forget about that? I’m going to send someone to . . .” She lowered her voice. “To Hell if I clamp that thing on their wrist?”

“Likely the reason this dude has the cloaking spell on him so Lucifer can’t find him and drag him there before this.”

“He told me he just wanted to talk to him.”

“Well, what else was he going to say to you?”

“Why would Lucas lie to me?” Her voice sounded strained.

Darrak raised a dark brow. “You do know we’re talking about Lucifer here, right? Not Abraham Lincoln.”

She sighed shakily. “He couldn’t possibly think that I’d be okay with this.”

“If it’s any consolation, I bet this Brendan guy is bad news. If he’s hiding from Lucifer, what else could he be?”

“How can you be so calm about this?”

“Just another day at the office, Eden. Only I haven’t actually been at my desk for over three hundred years.”

She tried to breathe normally, but it was a struggle. There was no reason, in her opinion, why Lucas would have lied about this. If he wanted to drag an evil soul to Hell, then there were other means to facilitate that that didn’t include her. He’d know by now that Eden, despite being a black witch, had issues with being evil. She didn’t want to cause anyone harm unless they really deserved it.

The longer she thought about it the more she realized it was too late to change her mind. She knew Darrak’s well-being—her own well-being—was at risk right now. Lucas might be nice and personable and easy on the eyes, but she wasn’t ready to cross him today. Not over something like this.

She sighed. “Fine. Then let’s get this over with. How are we supposed to figure out if he’s even here?”

Darrak scanned the lobby, his gaze coming to rest on the security desk near the elevators. “When you’re lost, it’s a good idea to ask for directions.”

“Most men wouldn’t admit something like that.”

He grinned at her. “I’m not most men.”

“Touché.”

He approached the guard. “Hey, there. We’re looking for somebody who works in this building. Can you help us?”

“What’s the name?”

“Brendan Franks.”

“What do you want with him?”

Not a question they should answer honestly, to say the least. But Eden was at a loss of a good excuse to use.

Darrak, however, was not.

“We’re with Publishers Clearing House,” he said smoothly. “Mr. Franks has won our latest sweepstakes, and this is our initial contact visit. It’s very exciting for everyone. Do you feel the excitement, good sir?”

The guard regarded him skeptically. “For real?”

“The realest. Three million dollars. A trip around the world. Uh . . . a whole mess of balloons. There’s even a cake. And a party. It’s going to be amazing. My lovely associate and I just need to talk to Mr. Franks and have him sign some release forms and then we do the whole presentation with the big check and confetti.”

Eden didn’t think their reason behind looking for Brendan Franks needed to be this elaborate, but the guard seemed very impressed.

She was also impressed. Darrak was a fantastic and very creative liar.

She stepped back a little to give him space to keep talking with the guard, who was now checking the employee database.

The guard frowned. “Sorry, but I’m not finding that name.”

“Keep looking,” Darrak suggested. “He’s got to be in there somewhere.”

A dark-haired woman on her way toward the elevators slowed and glanced at Eden. “Is that right? Someone in this building won a major prize?”

Eden cleared her throat. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Who is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Brendan Franks. You don’t happen to know him, do you?”

The woman frowned. “I’m afraid not.”

Damn. This wasn’t going to be an easy assignment, but she already knew that.

Darrak waited, leaning against the security desk. He glanced over his shoulder at Eden and gave her a thumbs-up.

At least one of them was staying positive about this.

This was ridiculous. They had better things to do today than chase after half-baked clues for Lucas. If it took much longer, it would have to wait for another day.

Something caught Eden’s eye then. Darrak wasn’t leaning against the desk so much as he was hanging on to the side of it. His shoulders were slumped and a trickle of perspiration slid down his temple.

He wasn’t feeling well.

She’d think he might have contracted the flu, just as her symptoms were coming on slowly but surely this week, but there was just one very important thing . . .

Demons didn’t get sick.

Then what was going on? Or was it just her imagination? “Darrak—” she began. She was going to suggest they leave and try again tomorrow. Lucas would just have to understand that all good things came to those who waited—even if they were the Prince of Hell. Triple-A didn’t offer twenty-four-hour turnaround for anybody.

“You don’t mind if I wait here, do you?” the dark-haired woman interrupted her. She hadn’t budged a step from where she stood next to Eden, gazing at the security desk. “I’d hate to miss any of the excitement.”

“We’re probably going to go soon. I don’t think they can find his name on the employee list.”

“Brendan Franks,” she repeated. “You’re sure about that?”

“Do you work here?”

“Tenth floor. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

“Not at all. I’d be happy to help if I can.”

Eden wanted to leave, but she couldn’t turn down a solid lead when one presented itself to her. This woman might know where to find Brendan. And if she could get to the bottom of this minor mystery today, then it was one less thing to think about and she could focus on Andy’s werewolf dilemma tonight and seeing Maksim again tomorrow.

So much to do, so little time.

“I definitely don’t have a Brendan Franks,” the security guard told Darrak to their right. “Sorry about that.”

Damn. That wasn’t very promising.

“However . . .” the guard continued.

“What?” Darrak prompted.

“I do have a . . . uh . . . a Brenda N. Franks. Do you think that might be it?”

“Brenda?” Darrak repeated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I can see why there might have been an error made. One little dot can make a whole lot of difference, can’t it? Do you think Brenda’s the winner you’re looking for?”

Darrak turned his head in Eden’s direction just as she felt an arm clamp tightly around her.

“Middle name’s Natasha,” the woman purred into her ear. A whisper of sharp steel pressed against her throat. “Nice to meet you. Now what the hell do you want with me?”