He laughed. “Sitting here drinking coffee and studying the demonology book Professor Hankin recommended.”
“Find anything?”
“He gave me the heads-up on two demon possibilities, but the one that seems the best fit is aéan olc, which translates to evil bird. Apparently they’re often used as comp—or companion—demons.”
“Does it say anything else useful?”
“Well, it has black feathers, scaly legs, and long claws that gleam like black diamonds. It performs the bidding of the witch or mage who called it into being in return for the heart and soul of those it is sent to hunt. If these are not provided, it will turn on its master, consuming him or her before returning to the underworld lair.”
Is that what had happened to both Francesca and Marnie? Had they been sacrificed to theéan olcrather than whoever had called it into being? The manner of their deaths certainly seemed to fit the creature’s MO. “Does it say what kills it?”
“Hang on.” After a few seconds, he added, “It says it’s easier to remove them from the earthly plane rather than killing them, but the usual stuff—holy water and relics, blessed silver, banishment spells—all work, while salt and ash can confine it.”
All of which I didn’t have with me or couldn’t do. Great.
“They sound pretty nasty, Mom,” he added. “You sure you should be hunting them?”
“I’m not. I just wanted to know what they were.”
“Well, it might be wise to keep some holy water in your handbag, just in case. Hate to lose you and all.”
“Said with such depth of emotion,” I replied dryly.
He laughed. “You know I love you. I just don’t get all mushy about it.”
“I will expect an extra hug in compensation when I get home.”
“I’ll give you two.”
“Be still my heart.”
He laughed again and we chatted for a few more minutes until I reached the car. After warning Betty I was going offline for an hour or so, I tucked everything into the signal blocking container, placed it and the shard into my handbag, then climbed into the car and headed across town to meet René.
The dark mage’s shop was located in a semi-industrial estate where all manner of vehicles and people could move about without attracting undue attention. The mage’s place was an old redbrick storefront with a slightly larger warehouse attached to one side, and sat next door to a liquor warehouse. I parked down the street and climbed out, my gaze sweeping the area, looking for René. I didn’t spot him immediately, but a few seconds later, a ghost-gray Mercedes AMG turned into the street and pulled up just behind me.
I do approve of the car choicecame Atticus’s comment from behind me.Classy rather than flashy—unlike the lime thing you drive.
I glanced at him. He was sitting on the Toyota’s trunk, scruffy black tail swishing from side to side. I own a BMW; by nearly every definition, they are considered classy.
Not when they’re such an atrocious color.
I rolled my eyes.You are not coming into the mage store with us.
No need. I can follow events through your thoughts.
Then please refrain from saying anything. I need to concentrate.
You and I know where your thoughts will mostly be.
Atticus, shut up.
No.
I swore at him, and his laughter drifted through my mind. I did my best to ignore it and turned to watch René unfold from his vehicle. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt that emphasized his tan and his broad shoulders, and dark blue jeans that hugged not only his hips and the long powerful length of his legs, but almost lovingly emphasized the size of his cock. It was damnably impressive, even when not aroused. I cleared my throat and dragged my gaze upward again.
His smile suggested he was well aware where my gaze had temporarily lingered, but all he said was, “Did you wear that green for me? Because I do find it rather fetching.”
“Sadly for you, I did not.”
