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Fortunately most calls only required an intro. This is Chris Walters from KZET--delete. Marcia Lu from World Weekly News--delete. Jessie Lake from Channel 7--delete. Of the first twelve calls, seven were media, including three from the same radio station, probably trying to land an impromptu interview on their show.
Of the nonmedia calls, one was an ex-boyfriend and one was a friend I hadn't seen since she moved to Maine in the seventh grade. Both were calling to see how I was doing. That was nice. Really nice. Better than the other two. The first began (extreme profanity omitted) "You're a lying, murdering bleep. Just wait, you bleeping bleep. You'll get yours. Maybe the bleeping cops don't--"
My finger trembled as I hit the delete button. I cranked down the volume before going on to the next call. Savannah didn't need to hear that crap. I didn't need to hear it, either, but I told myself I'd have to get used to it, grow a thicker skin.
The next call was more of the same, so I deleted it after the first expletive. Then came a message that I listened to all the way through, one that began "Ms. Winterbourne, you don't know me, but I'm so sorry to hear what's happening to you out there," and went on to dispense more sympathy and a promise to pray for me. I needed that. I really did.
A scan through the next nine messages revealed seven media persons, one irate woman damning my soul to eternal fire, and one really sweet Wiccan from Salem offering moral support. See? Not so bad. Only 60 percent of strangers were calling for my corpse on a pyre.
I fast-forwarded through four more media calls, then heard one that jolted my spirits.
"Paige? Paige? Come on, pick up!" a familiar voice bellowed over loud rock music and high-decibel chatter. "I know you're there! It's eight o'clock at night. Where else would you be? On a date?"
A whoop of laughter, then an ear-piercing whistle to catch my attention from whatever corner of the house I might be lurking in.
"It's Adam! Pick up!" Pause. "Okay, fine, maybe you aren't there. I'm still in Maui. I called home and got your message. Dad's in a conference right now. I was just out having a drink, but you sounded pretty upset, so I'll head back to the hotel and give him the message. Aloha!"
What hotel? A name? Maybe a phone number? Typical. I fast-forwarded through the final messages, praying I hadn't missed Robert's call but, sure enough, there it was.
"Paige? It's Robert. I called home and retrieved your messages--one can never rely on Adam for coherent message-taking. As impatient as ever, it seems he only listened to your first one. I won't tell him about the one concerning Leah, or he'll be on the next plane to help out, which I'm sure is the last thing you want. I assume you're looking for the information you asked me to gather on Volo half-demons. As luck would have it, that's right here with me. You know how I pack: one carry-on of clothes and two suitcases filled with books and notes I don't need. I'm faxing the Volo notes to you right now. We leave for our flight in an hour, but if you get home before then, call me at (808) 555-3573. Otherwise, I will speak to you tomorrow."
I'd asked Robert for Volo information several months ago, in a spurt of foresight that I'd then forgotten to follow up on. I'd have to wait until tomorrow to find out Robert's thoughts on Cabals. Until then, it wouldn't hurt to know all I could about Leah.
CHAPTER 16
DEMONOLOGY 101
The fax was lying on the floor where my machine had spit it. Thank God the police hadn't stopped by for another search. Imagine what they'd have thought if they found this. "No, Detective, I'm really not a Satanist. So why am I receiving faxes on demonology? Well, uh, it's this new web-design idea I'm working on ..." From now on, I'd be a lot more careful about what I left lying around.
To make sense of what Robert told me about Volos requires some background on demons. Demonology 101, so to speak.
Demons exist, both in the physical and spiritual worlds. They are arranged into hierarchies according to their degree of power. There is probably a ruling demon, someone you really don't want to conjure up, but I'd suspect the position changes hands, much like leadership roles in our world.
Among all the various levels, from courtier to archduke, you have your good demons and your bad demons, or to use the correct terminology, eudemons and cacodemons. When I say "good" demons, or eudemons, I don't mean they run around helping people in our world. Most demons couldn't give a damn about us. By eudemons, I'm referring to those who don't actively seek to screw up the human world.
A more accurate description would be chaotic and non-chaotic demons. "Chaotic" demons or cacodemons are almost excl
usively the kind who come into contact with the rest of us. A sorcerer or witch could summon a eudemon, but most of us know so little about demonology that we wouldn't know a eudemon from a cacodemon anyway. Even if one said he was a eudemon, he'd probably be lying. A wise spell-caster abjures conjuring altogether.
Move from demons to half-demons. One way cacodemons like to cause trouble in our world is by fathering babies. They're pretty darned keen on the sex part, too. To do so, they take human form, having found that any woman with less than a forty-ounce bottle of whiskey coursing through her bloodstream does not respond favorably to seduction by large, scaled, cloven-hoofed beasts.
To be honest, we don't know what a demon's true form is, and it probably bears no resemblance to the cloven-hoofed monster of myth. When they come into the physical world, they take the shape of whatever will accomplish their goal. Want to seduce a young woman? Pull out the old " drop-dead-gorgeous twenty-year-old male" disguise. My advice to young women who like to pick up guys in singles bars? Condoms prevent more than venereal disease.
Half-demons inherit the main power of their fathers. Adam's power is fire. Robert is a Tempestras, meaning he was fathered by a storm demon, and has some control over weather elements like wind and rain. The degree of power depends on the demon's ranking within the hierarchy. Take the so-called fire demons. An Igneus can induce only first-degree burns. An Aduro can induce burns plus ignite flammable objects. An Exustio, like Adam, can not only burn and ignite, but incinerate. The number of demons decreases per level. There are probably a dozen Igneus demons out there making babies. There is one Exustio, meaning Adam probably has only two or three "siblings" in the world.
On to Leah, then. She is a Volo, which is the top telekinetic demon category. Like Adam, she is a rarity, fathered by a singular high-ranking demon. The difference is that Adam, at twenty-four, only recently learned to use his full powers. As with spell-casters, the progression takes time. Although Adam started being able to inflict burns by twelve, it took another dozen years before he could incinerate. Leah, at thirty-one, has likely been in full use of her power for at least five years now, giving her plenty of practice time.
Cary's death was a good indication of what Leah can do. Yet it was the only clear example of her powers I had. Yes, we'd encountered her last year and, yes, lots of objects had gone flying through the air, but there was a problem. Not only hadn't I witnessed anything firsthand, but there'd been a sorcerer involved, meaning it was difficult to tell where his contributions to the chaos left off and Leah's began.
Robert's research indicated that a Volo could propel an object as large as a car, though precision, distance, and speed drop as weight increases. A parked car they could probably shift a few feet. They could hurl an object as small as a book across a room with enough force to decapitate a person. Nor do they need to see what they are moving. If they can picture a nearby room from memory, they can displace objects within it. Sound scary? Try being in a room with the woman, knowing she could kill you without moving a muscle.
Why hadn't Leah killed me already? I don't know. Maybe the Cabal was holding her back. Cortez said they preferred using legal methods to resolve disputes, thereby minimizing the risk of exposure. So they probably hoped to win Savannah in a court battle, though that didn't mean they wouldn't let Leah off her leash if that failed.
As disturbing as Robert's report was, it was little more than I'd already expected, based on my dealings with Leah to date. Yet he did uncover two tidbits that bolstered my optimism. Two possible methods of thwarting Leah. No, not crosses and holy water. Such things belong in fairy tales.
First, Robert's research indicated that, unlike Exustio half-demons such as Adam, Volos' powers plummeted as their tempers flared. Piss them off enough and they'd become too flustered to concentrate. Simple psychology, really.
Second, all Volos had a tell, a physical mannerism that preceded an attack. It could be as discreet as an eye blink or as obvious as a bloody nose, but they all did something before lashing out. Of course, that meant you had to provoke them a bunch of times before you'd discover their tell.
