My eye twitched so violently, my vision blurred. That deplorable moniker…
I took a centering breath and gestured for the officer to follow as I pulled out all the necessary documents, handed them to him, and flipped the sign to closed as I gathered my keys. Whatever they wanted to question me over was best done willingly and expediently, because one pissy officer could cost me my livelihood. Also, I wanted a contract with the station. They needed outside consultants often, and I had no problem collecting sweet contractor money. My cooperation would be a boon.
He escorted me to his car and threw my belongings in his passenger seat, not even giving me time to buckle up before zipping off toward the den of debauchery known as the local PD, where he parked and escorted me out by the elbow in a mock frog march. No pleasantries were wasted.
As he signed me in and took my signature, he roughly thrusted me into an interrogation room, ordered me to sit, and stormed off. A mirror and a window lay on opposite sides of me. The mirror was, no doubt, two-way, and a quick cast of greater sight over my eyes with a gesture of my finger let me see through it toward a stuffy gentleman in an expensive suit and an officer simpering for his acknowledgment.
Men in expensive suits bothered me. Not that I wore cheap ones, myself, but I wore bespoke by a local tailor. Affordable and made to fit me.
In the blink of an eye, the door flung open and a hotheaded woman stormed in, slamming both her palms onto the metal table before me. “Where were you last night between 11p.m. and 2 a.m.?”
By only the skin of my teeth, I managed not to jump. I took a deep breath. “I gave the officer my schedule, client list, and work log before I even got in the car. But, to answer your question, I was at home in bed. My poltergeist can vouch for me, and I do believe I have a home security camera that logged me walking by a few times.”
Beady green eyes narrowed at me through stringy blonde hair. Dark circles under her eyes told a story about her own nightlife that I didn’t care to postulate about past the stink of sex and alcohol underlying her perfume. “One moment.”
She stepped out for a few minutes and returned with my neatly accumulated data and thumbed through things. “When was the last time you saw Esmeray Faust?”
“It’s in my schedule. Three days ago, we had a meeting to go over documents for a pending lawsuit I’ve been named as a defendant in.”
She grumbled and thumbed through things.
“How did your interaction go?” She studied my notes, a perfunctory few lines about our meal, what I gave him, and a few details about him to jog my memory if we met again. “This is suspiciously thorough.”
“You’ll note I do the same for all clients, and if I have to meet people again, they’re happier if they think I recall them well.” I put on a half smile that she didn’t return. Thin fingers flicked a page back as she muttered under her breath as she read. “What’s a daeva?”
“A daeva is a person, often a demon or part demon, that is paired with or has summoned a demon’s spirit into their shadow. They’re a fusion of energy, like a spiritual homunculus.” I opened my palms and offered her a flat-lipped expression as if inviting her to ask more.
Her suspicion turned to surprise and a sigh of relief. “We thought he’d gone poltergeist…”
“Excuse me?” I sat up straight, something in my heart snapping like a string stretched too tight.
“Esmeray Faust was found outside of his apartment last night with your documents on him, magically strangled. We had to shut part of the morgue down because these shadow tentacles keep attacking anyone who gets near him.” She huffed. “So now you’re telling me I have a demon downstairs who has a living shadow sewn to his celestial asshole?”
I closed my eyes for a calming breath. “No. Can you hand me the book in that case, please?”
She handed it over, and I flipped through a few pages. I rarely dabbled in death magic. I could, but the fucking nickname stuck to me, and any spell in the realm of it made my gut wrench. A few pages in, I had some easily modifiable life force spells, some binding sigils, circles for soul alchemy. “If his shadow is still alive, there’s some hope to revive him, but it’s risky.”
Relief melted over her face as an intercom spoke up, and the man in the suit on the other side of the window came into view with the flick of a light switch. “Mage Hawthorne. Are you saying you can revive my son?”
“I’m saying it’s possible. I’m uncertain as to what his background is.”
“If you knew he was a daeva…”
“I know from personal experience, nothing more. I don’t make a habit of prying. Genes or jeans, it’s none of my business what goes on inside them.” I huffed, and the vivid red eyes of a greater demon reflected round the mirror from the male staring at me.
“He’s nefalem and inherited the being as part of his omega father’s line,” the man spoke, and I waited to hear more.
“Half succubus.” He clarified that right up for me, and I immediately understood my attraction. Half succubus, half greater demon, blursed with a daeva.
With a single step, the suited male flowed forward, sliding through the window and wall as if it were nothing but smoke. He stared down at my book, placing a pale hand over the circle drawn within, pointed black ombré nails tracing the sigils. “These are for humans.”
He turned another page, staring down. “Part celestial… Those are for shifters.”
“There’s nothing in there for a demon. I’d have to substitute the god I draw power from through a hell-borne greater demon lord or higher, beseech them with part of my magic, and I don’t know what it’ll cost as I’m rather partial to all my soul.”
“What you’re proposing is linking your magic to jump-start his soul, revive his body as a zombie, and bind it to you in contract.” He stared at a circle and drew his nail over. “If you have a familiar, you could sacrifice it to—”
“I do not have a familiar. I’m opposed to sacrifice as well.” I took a short breath. “Mr. Faust?”
