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“Something like that,” I said, inwardly smiling that he was taking the bait. “Look, I had major reservations about the David thing. I didn’t tell you about it the other night because guilt was eating at me big time. Then, on top of all that, they punish me for defending myself?” I shook my head, playing it up. “It got me thinking that maybe it’s time for me to strike out on my own.”
“Sabina, you shouldn’t talk like this. If the Dominae—if your grandmother—finds out you’re thinking about quitting them, they’ll freak.”
I stood and started pacing. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve gritted my teeth and taken their shit my whole life. I’m tired of being reminded how much of an embarrassment my mixed blood is to her. I’m tired of doing the Dominae’s dirty work. I’m tired of not having a life of my own.”
“Holy shit, you’re serious, aren’t you?” He lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply.
I mentally pumped my fist, amazed at how easily he was buying my story. Maybe if he hadn’t just gotten off, he’d have been harder to convince. Or maybe I was a better actress than I thought. Either way, it was working. I schooled my features into a frown and continued, “I know it won’t be easy. As it is, once they find out I’m going solo, I’ll probably have to disappear for a while.”
“Who else have you told?” he asked on an exhale. This question wasn’t asked out of concern for my welfare, instead he wanted to be sure he had the scoop.
“No one,” I said. “My suspension was for a month, but I’ll probably start looking for work before then. Word will spread pretty quickly once that happens.”
Ewan glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve got to get the bar open in half an hour. Do you want to hang out and we can come up with a plan?”
I shook my head. “I need to figure this out on my own. But I do need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“What do you know about demons?”
Ewan hadn’t been able to shed much light on my little demon issue. Of course, it’s not like I could tell him the whole story. I’d just said a friend of mine needed to get rid of a demon. He’d given me directions to the Red Moon because he’d heard the mage who owned it specialized in demon issues.
I couldn’t believe he’d bought the lie about “my friend,” let alone the one I’d fed him about wanting to break from the Dominae. I wasn’t sure if I was just a good actress or if his gullibility stemmed from his post-fellatio glow, but I wasn’t going to argue with success. He’d probably started spreading the word the minute I left. Half the vamps in California were probably talking about my little epiphany by the time I pulled up to the Red Moon.
The sign for the store hung from an archway between two buildings. The tunnel led to an ivy-draped courtyard filled with statuary, small stone benches, and a bubbling fountain. The hidden garden smelled of rosemary, sage, and other herbs I couldn’t identify. Small twinkling lights draped over more ivy, which hung over the open front door. I ducked inside, wondering what other surprises this shop offered.
Inside, pipe music drifted through the space, which smelled of incense and candle wax. In the far corner, a fire crackled in a small stone hearth. Two rocking chairs stood to either side of the fire. Every inch of the place was filled with treasures, from magical implements to candles and essential oils to books. Dried roses and herbs hung in tidy bundles from the ceiling. I should have felt claustrophobic from all the clutter, but instead I found the place charming. It was as if I’d entered the home of a hobbit instead of a place of business. I certainly didn’t feel like I was still in L.A.
I walked to the front desk and rang the little bell next to the cash register. A voice called from behind a purple curtain near the back of the store. “Be right with you!”
I leaned against the counter, wondering if I was making a mistake. Vampires and mages didn’t exactly hang out, and I wasn’t sure how helpful one would be when I told him about my current predicament.
The curtain parted, revealing a raven-haired man who appeared to be in his early forties. His welcoming smile faded when he saw me.
“Can I help you?” His brusque tone verified my suspicions.
He was closer now, so I took a deep breath. Sure enough, the telltale scent of sandalwood overpowered the mingling scents of herbs and elixirs. His eyes narrowed as he took stock of me.
“You’re a mage?” This was really just making conversation. Besides the distinctive sandalwood scent, something about the way he carried himself told me he was powerful. Maybe it was his aura or his posture. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew he wasn’t someone to mess with.
He nodded curtly. “Yes, and vampires are not welcome in this shop.” He turned to go, but stopped short. He turned his head and sniffed the air. “Wait a second. What the hell are you?”
“I’m mixed-blood,” I said.
His eyes widened. “Impossible.”
I crossed my arms. “Actually, it’s quite possible.”
He seemed to consider it and let it slide for a moment. “What do you want?”
“I have a demon issue.” Oh boy, did I. In spades.
“What sort?”
“Well,” I fidgeted with a statue of Isis. His eyes shot to my hand disapprovingly. I set it down and cleared my throat. “Someone summoned a demon to kill me. I survived and now I’m stuck with him.”
“You said you’re half-mage, right?”
I looked away. “Yeah, but I’ve never had any training.”
“Do you know who summoned the demon?”
“No.”
“Sorry, lady, you’re screwed.” He started to walk away again, but I held out a hand.
“Wait! What do you mean?”
He turned slowly, obviously annoyed. “Only the summoner or the target can return the demon.” He shrugged his bony shoulders. “Good night!” He moved to go again, as if he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me.
“Hold on.” My temples began to throb. “You’re telling me there’s no way to send this demon back to Irkalla?”
He crossed his arms. “Did I stutter?”
My heart sank. I looked around at the shelves full of dusty, leather-bound books, as if one of the spines would offer an answer.
“Look, you want my advice? Get used to having that demon around. Because without the summoner you’re up shit creek.”
