Dark Demon Rising: Whisperings Paranormal Mystery book seven (19 page)

Still
holding Maggie, Royal and Chris stopped and looked back. Nothing came after us,
no red eyes followed.

A
small market flashed a blue, white and red neon sign and bright white light
came through the windows and open door. Two big neon signs on a hotel helped
illuminate the street. The other brick buildings with their many small
balconies might be apartments. Undeniably tall, they rose eight, nine, ten
floors.

“What
the. . . ?” Maggie dragged her feet and looked backward over her shoulder at
the market.

 A
small man, maybe four feet high. He wore an apron and busily pushed a broom,
the handle rising above his head. Perfectly proportioned, he looked nothing
like the little people I’ve seen in Clarion and other cities.

“A
short man. So what?” I said.

“No,
not him. Behind the counter.”

“I
don’t—” I began, peering in the store. Then I saw . . . something. A thick body
clad in gaudy blue and red floral material, so tall I couldn’t see the
shoulders and head, one ham-sized hand polishing the counter with a cloth.

Royal
stopped outside a building and gazed at a door at the top of concrete steps. “This
is it.”

Up
the steps, through the door to a small hall with a staircase rising before us.
Mailboxes and intercoms studded one wall, Royal faced the other and the only
door. Wider and taller than standard, it looked as if made of silvery textured
metal.

Royal
pressed the intercom button for the door.

“Yes?”
a feminine voice asked a few seconds later.

Royal
cleared his throat before saying, “Am I speaking to Angelina? Felipe Noyola
gave us your address.”

The
door opened with a hiss, as if controlled by hydraulics.

A
woman stood before us. No, she posed, one hand on a hip and the other on the edge
of the doorjamb level with her head. With smooth, unblemished porcelain skin, shining
copper hair tumbling in curls and waves over her shoulders and down her back,
and big sea-blue, almond-shaped eyes, she was voluptuous in a green shin-length
strapless dress which clung to an hourglass figure. One leg angled in and
lifted slightly so only her toes touched the carpeted floor. Pearly gray-green
toenails shimmered on her bare feet.

She
was . . . lush. Yes, lush. Although pale, her skin glowed, not the glow I see
on demons but the bloom of health and vitality.

“I
wonder why did he did that?” she asked.

She
spoke unhurriedly and her voice stroked me, a velvety hand. Surely I should not
experience such sensuality from another person in my current form.

Chris
angled forward and all but salivated. Maggie’s eyes turned big and moist. And
Royal . . . a tiny smile softened the hard set of his mouth.

“I
am Angelina. Do come in.” She stepped aside.

We
found ourselves in an elegant reception room with deep-piled carpet in muted
tones. A full-length mirror framed in pale marble hung beside a closed door on
our right. A single marble pedestal table supported a huge iridescent abalone
shell. Angelina led us through an archway. “We’ll be more comfortable in the
lounge.”

Maggie
audibly sniffed as we passed the closed door. “How odd.”

“What?”

“Salt
water, like the ocean, yet there’s a hint of anemone and ginger.”

Angelina
waited in front of a long sofa when we followed Chris into a small lounge
decorated in pastel blues and pale aqua-greens, delicate rose and vibrant
coral, with furniture upholstered in tufted rose silk and fern in terracotta
pots on the smooth tiled floor. A flounced satin shade covered the one window,
floor lamps cast pearly light. It was calming.

“May
I offer you refreshments?”

“Thank
you, but there is no need,” said Royal.

“I
insist.” She swayed to a door in the back wall. “In some cultures, refusing to
share refreshments with your host is considered an insult.”

Before
anyone could reply, she added, “Tea? Excellent! Do sit. I won’t be a moment.”

All
three exchanged looks. Maggie twitched one shoulder and sat on an armchair.
Royal perched on the edge of the sofa. Chris took another armchair. Their
relaxed posture made suspicion prickle inside me. Too relaxed for people in an
unstable situation.

Angelina
returned quickly and gracefully lowered to the sofa. “The kettle’s on, it won’t
be long.” Again, more than merely sit, she languidly arranged herself.

Her
gaze skipped from Chris to Royal. “My, are all your people as handsome?”

“Stop.
Your wiles will not work on me,” Royal said, but with a lilt in his voice.

She
let her head fall back as a chuckle welled in her throat and accompanied it by
resting her arms along the low sofa-back, a posture which emphasized her
breasts by stretching the material of her dress. “So I found with Felipe. Ah, Felipe,”
she mused, “a pleasant if too brief flirtation. So refreshing, a man who willingly
entertained our little dalliance.” She shivered. “A delicious novelty.”

Dalliance?
She and Felipe had an affair?

She
smiled at Royal with pearly white teeth and winked. “You can’t blame a girl for
trying, darling.” She touched her chin with two fingers. “You do feel it, don’t
you?”

“A
little,” he agreed.

What
was going on? Royal looked more at ease than since the start of this whole
thing, but instead of making me glad, my blood boiled.

“She
has put a geas on us,” he said, I guess for my and Maggie’s benefit.

“Geas?”
Angelina dipped her head slightly on one side. “Did Felipe remember nothing?
You feel my natural magic.”

That
word again: magic.

“Let
me guess.” Chris was all hot breath and I figured his obsession had nothing to
do with any spell. Chris was just being Chris. “You are a siren, a temptress.”

She
made a face. “That sounds so banal. I am an enchantress.”

He
leaned on his knees, his damp silver-gray and black hair slipping over his
shoulders. “You have positively enchanted me.”

“Sweet
man,” she crooned.

“Your,
um, relationship with Felipe. . . .”

Her
deep sigh pushed her breasts out again. “Perhaps we can discuss it in private?”

Chris
made a sad face. “Alas, time is not on our side.”

“There
is always time to . . . cement new friendships.”

Now
just one cotton picking minute. The reason we came had nothing to do with Chris
getting into Angelina’s panties. I risked letting go of Maggie and took a
couple of steps. Finding I could move freely, I scooted to the couch and got in
Angelina’s face. “Maggie, you tell her. . . .” I couldn’t find the right words
to tell the woman what I thought of her.

Wearing
what felt like a huge, ugly scowl, I glanced back at Maggie. Gaze pasted on
Angelina, body hunched, lips parted, smitten, she wasn’t listening to me, anyway.
Angelina had fixed her attention on my sidekick.

“What
a sweet thing you are,” the witch said. “You can no more resist me than a
goblin can resist gold. Come, little one.”

To
my horror, Maggie slid off the chair and fell to her knees in front of
Angelina.

“Royal!
Chris! Do something!” I yelled.
Agh!
I needed my voice.

I
squatted beside Maggie. “Maggie, listen to me. Snap out of it!” I might as well
have kept my mouth shut. She didn’t hear me any more than the guys did. I
tangled my fingers in her aura, hoping touch would make a difference. “Maggie!”

The
woman hooked a finger under Maggie’s chin and raised it as she looked into her
besotted eyes. Then she jerked her hand away. “What is this? There are two of
them!”

Maggie
blinked, looked up and deep red suffused her face. She shuffled away and up on
the armchair. Relieved she’d regained her senses, I released her again.

Royal
came halfway off the sofa. “You see her?”

“Her?
I feel someone. But what is she, clinging to a human girl?”

“The
woman I love.” Royal surged to his feet.

Angelina
twisted to look at him. “I don’t understand.”

Royal
swallowed as he tried to find the right words.

“She
was shot in the head,” Chris said. “Her body is in our world. What you sense is
her shade. Maggie speaks for her.”

“Shade?
You mean ghost?” One of Angelina’s eyebrows spiked. “I have not experienced
this before.”

“Perhaps
because the circumstances are remarkable,” Chris offered.

“May
I speak to her?”

At
last! I’d had enough of being a one-man audience. “Tell her to keep her claws
away from Royal.”

Maggie
shut her eyes. “I’d appreciate any help you can give us.”

“What?
Maggie!”

“The
man who arranged the incident which pushed me out of my skin led us here.”

“Okay,
so maybe it was a tiny little teensy bit rude of me. But seeing her bat her
eyelashes at Royal makes me want to rip her face off.”

“He’s
with a guy who calls himself a mage and says he can reverse the process,”
Maggie continued blithely.

“Wait
till I get back in my skin, Magenta Benson.” I threw up my hands.

After
slanting a puzzled look at Maggie, Chris filled in the details. A range of
emotions traveled over Angelina’s countenance as he told her our story.

She
pressed her lips together, then said, “I am aware of Dagka Shan. But Mage
Arthemy . . . blood magic is an evil practice, more so when used to shape souls.
I have sensed a disturbance in the ether for some time now.”

“The
ether?” I asked through Maggie.

“Downside
is more than a haven, it is sentient, and this sentience is essentially the magic
which created our habitat and holds the fabric of our world together.”

“Oh.
Magic. Naturally.” I force out a cough. “Explains everything.”

Sadly,
Maggie couldn’t convey my snarkiness but I gave her points for trying.

“You
really don’t understand,” Angelina said softly. She leaned back. “You saw our
people in the streets. Yes, people, though in your Upside world they would be
called creatures, animals, monstrosities, freaks. Their forefathers came to
Downside thousands of years ago to escape the burgeoning human population.”

Creatures
of myth and fantasy driven underground by the human invasion is a favorite
theme of the fantasy genre, but to see them, real, in the flesh. . . .

She
waved as if to fend off any protest before it could leave my mouth. “There is more
evil than good in those who live here, it’s their nature, and after all Downside
was created for them. But black magic, blood magic, is perverse and dangerous.”

“Can
the mage do as he claims, replace Tiff’s soul in her body?” Royal asked.

“Undoubtedly,
but blood magic invariably involves a summoning.”

“Summoning?”
from Chris.

“Demons.
And before you scoff, they are real. Confined to the Netherworlds, they are
glad of any chance to break free.”

Her
smooth brow creased. “Downside opened the Gate for you.”

“Royal
refused to come without Maggie and the Station Master wouldn’t let him in
with
Maggie along. Royal threatened the guards with his gun. And the door opened,” I
said. “The Station Master swore he didn’t do it but we figured he didn’t want
the guards hurt.”

“I
don’t think that’s why, and the Station Master did not let you through.” Her
frown deepened. She waved her forefinger and pointed it at Royal and Chris.
“Downside opened the door. It wants you. It is not a god, it does not control
nor bless us but it will take steps to protect this world if it’s threatened. I
believe Shan and the mage have an agenda to which you’re not privy, one which imperils
Downside. It wants you here and why else than to take care of this problem?”

“How
do we deal with a strategy we know nothing of?” Royal asked.

“Go
to the root, Dagka Shan, and pluck it out.”

“Take
him from Downside? A tall order. Shan is unlike ordinary men, we cannot subdue
him.”

“Then
kill him.” Angelina lifted one shoulder.

“I
would like nothing better, but then what of Tiff?”

“Arthemy
will work for the highest bidder. Offer him more than Shan did and he’ll work
his magic on your woman. When Shan is dead and the woman returned to her body,
kill the mage.”

Beautiful,
and coldblooded. “I see a couple of problems. To kill Shan we have to get to
him and for that we need Lawrence with us. And I’m with Royal in this, we can’t
bring the kid here. Second, Shan is nearly impossible to kill.”

“Nearly?”

“He
is. . . .” Royal hesitated before sharing one of the Cousin’s secrets. “His
kind can regenerate. Given time, any wound will heal. The one way to kill him
is remove his head from his body and make sure they are never rejoined. But he
is uncannily fast, strong and vicious.”

“Hm,
let me think.” Angelina shut her eyes and sat there, tapping a perfect
fingernail on her perfect teeth. Then she smiled and opened her eyes. “Shan is
a monster. You need help from someone experienced in dealing with monsters and
I know just the two. But they, too, will demand a price.”

“I’ll
pay anything,” Royal said.

“What
do you mean by
dealing with
?” Chris asked.

“It
depends. For ghouls, death is the solution. Small irritants such as pixies can
be captured and relocated to more suitable environments. Rain and River
specialize in this line of work.”

Ghouls?
Pixies?

“And
they can kill Shan?”

“No
guarantees, yet I do believe they’re your best choice.” Angelina slunk off the
sofa and went to a small roll-top desk. She opened it and took out a paper pad
and pencil. “I’ll write their address and directions.” She began to write, then
crumpled the paper in her hand. “Better yet, I’ll get someone to drive you.”

She
tossed the paper on the desk and walked into the hall. “Micah, do be a darling
and come here,” she called. “And put some clothes on. We have guests.”

“Coming,
my love,” a voice boomed from behind the closed door.

Chris
deliberately cleared his throat. “My love?”

“Micah
and I have been friends for a very long time. We are fond of each other,
nothing more.” Angelina flapped one hand dismissively.

The
man who came through the door took my breath away. Not because he was a
handsome specimen, tall and slender with a model’s cheekbones, and he must have
stepped from a tub and dressed without drying first for his brilliantly white silk
shirt and pants clung to him damply.