I felt magic gathering behind me, and began to turn an instant too late. The demon I’d sliced wasn’t dead and had apparently figured out the limits of our protective magicking. His magic was a wavering flame that struck me in the chest—the same spot in which I’d hit him. He opted for volume this time and used so much power that it pushed right past the barrier to seep through to my skin. Then it overtook that barrier, too, and weighed on my lungs like a midnight incubus. I had to concentrate in order to breathe.
His bit of magic was, unfortunately, enough to turn the tide. The knowledge of how to breach our defenses somehow spreadsilently through the room, as if carried by a wave of magic. Two cops started coughing, their breathing also impeded, and I guessed where this was headed.
I sucked in the biggest breath I could and used that air to shout, “Our shield is down! Use weapons!”
That had the cops pulling and firing Tasers at the demons closest to them. One demon hit the floor, didn’t move. Another jolted, but went in for round two. I looked back at the demon who’d magicked me; his brilliantly yellow teeth were bared in a nasty grin.
Any help you can give would be appreciated,I told monster, grateful I didn’t have to say the words aloud.
Monster’s response was shockingly physical, and my breath came easier, not at full capacity but better. I wasn’t sure how it had managed that trick—maybe using the demon’s magic against it?—but I decided to keep the improvement to myself. I was on my knees already, and I dropped my head like I was gasping for air. The demon leaned over me, spilling his sour-milk scent.
“Not so tough, are you? Can’t even do magic.” His voice was gravelly and hard and edged with glee.
“Not much,” I said honestly, and then launched my fist into his solar plexus.
He hit his knees in front of me, struggling for air. So, naturally, I punched him in the face. Cartilage crunched and he screamed as oily blood leaked from his broken nose.
“Whoops!” I said. “Guess I was feeling better than I thought.”
His eyes closed against the pain, and I grabbed one of his wrists, twisted, and put him down on the floor. “Cuffs!” I called out, and someone tossed me a pair. I ignored the burn I got from holding them—being supernatural and all—and snapped them onto his hands.
With a hand on the edge of a sofa for support, I rose. Dante wasthe only demon left standing now, and he was still surrounded by cops. I walked to the group, met Gwen’s gaze, got her nod.
“How do I wake up Lulu Bell?” I asked him.
“Who?”
“The sorcerer. The one your minion fireballed at the street fight in Hyde Park. Information, or you leave here a lot less conscious than you came in.”
His laugh was chummy. “You have the wrong idea here. We were just on a nice boat ride, and you bust in with talk about an arrest.”
“Demon ash all over your possessions,” Gwen said blandly, as if repeating this fact for the third or fourth time. “And a confession from your associate, Mr. Azod, that you instructed him to kill Felix Buckley. You also instructed him and a demon named Menzos to kill the two humans at Mr. Buckley’s warehouse and plant a bomb. Payback is a bitch.”
“I didn’t,” Dante said. “It’s a conspiracy against me.” He looked at me with bald accusation in his eyes. “She’s out to get me.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Try again.”
He looked around for support, but all his colleagues were down. He might’ve tried magic, but seemed to realize that human weapons might do significant damage to him first. So he loosened his tongue.
“The ley lines have gone crazy. And they’re making us do horrible things.”
Gwen glanced at me. “Do you think they brought this garbage from New York?”
“Maybe that’s the reason he left,” I said. “Knew the NYPD was sick of his flimsy excuses.”
“Look, I’m not saying we haven’t made some mistakes,” Dante said, “the ley lines being what they are—”
Gwen ignored him. “I think he’s the one that put down all those demons at the empty lot.”
“The upstart did that,” he insisted.
“The person with no name who you’ve never seen?” Gwen shook her head. “I’m not buying that excuse. I wonder if the Feds’ new buildings can actually suck the magic right out of demons like him. Or maybe they’ll just bind him, so he can do their bidding for a few millennia.”
“No Gold Coast condo,” I said. “No more life of luxury.”
“They were my demons!” Dante said. “Why would I kill them?”
“Who were they fighting?”
