I’m a freaking witch.
And I’m ready to do whatever it takes to find the family grimoire and claim this legacy, with or without my sisters’ involvement. Because if our magic is strong enough to manage a portal to Hell and keep peace with demons, then I bet my cute little ass it’s got the power to fix the disaster I’ve made ofmylife.
“Awesome!” I tuck the cards back into their velvet box. “Before you know it, I’ll be brewing up love potions and witching my way to millions. All I need are a few quick magic lessons, and?—”
A sharp gust of wind howls through the chamber. The candles snuff out, bathing me in a darkness so complete, I feel like the floor has dropped out from under me.
“Let’s start with lesson number one, shall we?” comes a man’s deep, silken reply. The darkness parts to reveal the portal, once more flickering with that strange and silent storm, and outhe steps, a monstrous beast of shadow and smoke with glowing silver eyes, a deadly looking tail, and claws as long as knives. “Neverturn your back on the summoning portal.”
five
MERRICK
Damn it. What is she doing here at this hour?
I shift to my human form and quickly shutter the portal, hoping I didn’t frighten the girl to death—a page out of Oliver’s playbook. Personally, I prefer to lead with professionalism rather than terror. Oliver calls it the soft sell.
Well. The next timehe’sforced to abandoned his life’s work to totter off and babysit a trio of witchlings, he can wear his most fearsome, blood-drenched glamour, for all I care. Frighten the lichen right off the walls, leave the witches weeping in terror.
I adjust my spectacles just in time to see the girl charging, candlestick brandished like a sword. But the impact never comes. She falters mid-step, lowering the makeshift weapon.
Lest my ears deceive me, there’s a whisper of a bored sigh.
Bored. Of a demon. Of me!
Through a narrowed gaze, she assess me, apparently deciding—far too quickly, I might add—that I’m no threat at all.
Mental note: Comprehension level questionable. Defensive skills could use some work.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says, “but I could’ve sworn you had horns and a tail a second ago.”
Not keen on losing the upper hand, I stalk toward her and loom my most menacing loom, though I suppose the effect is somewhat dimmed by the spectacles and tweed jacket. “And you thought a mere candlestick would be of help in that scenario?”
A careless shrug. “I was aiming for the balls. When in doubt, you know?”
“I see.”
Mental note: perhaps it’smydefensive skills that need work.
“Are you… with the law firm?” she asks suspiciously, brushing back the hood of her garment. Clever green eyes flash in a face more lovely than I expected, her long hair tumbling in a cascade of pale blonde silk that puts me in mind of rolling wheat fields at sunrise. The hood has left it staticky, a halo of frizz gathering around her crown. I barely resist the urge to smooth my hand over it.
Again, leading with professionalism. A rare quality in a demon, inconvenient as it may be.
“I’m Doctor Merrick Sutherland. Your…” I clear my throat and reach for the proper term, as close to the truth as I can manage. “…liaison.”
“Liaison to what?”
“I represent the Council of Underworld Interests. Leaders of the demonic realm.” I procure a black business card containing nothing but my name and academic credentials—Warren’s idea, thought it might add some legitimacy to our otherwise illegitimate meddling. “As you and your sisters are new to the craft, I’ve been sent to facilitate your magical education and ensure a smooth—sorry. You seem a bit bewildered. I was under the impression you’d already been oriented.”
“Of course I’moriented. It’s just…” She reaches out and takes the card. “You’re a demon? From Hell? Definitely not a lawyer?”
“An archivist, actually, but that’s neither here nor there. To be frank, I find lawyers wholly unpalatable.”
“Really?” She beams at me. Unexpected, not altogether unpleasant. “I could hug you, Mr. Sutherland.”
“DoctorSutherland. And no, I strictly forbid touching of any sort. Anyway, now that we’ve established my identity?—”
“Have we? I haven’t seen any actual ID.”
