Mist, Murder & Magic Read online

  This time, Tahlia felt a gnawing of dread in her stomach. This was different. If the angels really were gone, then Cambions had no defense against the demons. Tahlia ran back to her van, closing the sliding door on all the evidence she had collected so far. Her heart racing so hard she could feel it in her ears, Tahlia’s mind was spiraling as she drove—beyond the speed limit—back to Warlock House in Mill Valley. It took her half the time to drive back as it did to drive out. She swerved up the driveway of her House, left the van—against all protocol—parked haphazardly outside and ran past the Sensus sentries, into the foyer. She barely noticed how busy the Warlock House seemed to be as she squeezed through tightly packed bodies to get upstairs.

  Tahlia ran up the stairs and found a council meeting in attendance—without her. Perfect, Tahlia thought. They all need to hear this. Tahlia didn’t knock or politely announce herself, instead she barged in, panting and out of breath. ‘I need to speak with you.’ She turned to look down the length of the long black marble table, veined through with the warlock colours: blue, green, shining black and white. ‘With all of you. Now. It’s life and death.’

  An older warlock, a Ventus, stood abruptly. ‘Tahlia, I understand that you’re on the council, but we are in the middle of a conversation. Please wait outside.’ Due to Tahlia’s younger age, Melvin often tried to schedule council meetings without her. Biased old prick. Technically he wasn’t even an official member anymore.

  His daughter, Julie Ventus, looked down at the blood splashed on her neck and shook her head. ‘No, I think we should listen.’ Julie was a more serious and level-headed person than her father, thank the stars. Technically, she had replaced him on the council, but he had been on the board for a long time and his voice still had weight.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tahlia said, speaking fast. ‘I was just down at Camden Haven’s Captor’s Point, cataloguing evidence, when a demon showed up. He could have killed me, but he was looking for the angels. He was interrogating me about the spell the promised witch used to send them away. My nephew, Tommy, was present at that battle, so I told him everything Tommy told me. The demon was there to make sure the angels were gone. He told me, “I want to be the greatest threat this planet has ever seen. It’s my turn to burn the world down. If the angels are really gone, then there is absolutely nothing and no one to stop me.”’ Still panting, Tahlia finally took a deep breath. She waited for panic.

  Every one of the three council members seated at the table chuckled ridiculously. Even Julie concealed a smile. ‘Oh, Tahlia, never you mind about that. They’re demons, what harm could they do? If we lived with angels for so very long, how bad could demons be? Tahlia, didn’t you notice all of our guests downstairs? They are here to celebrate. The Faerie and Warlock Houses have united to throw a spectacular party. The angels are gone. It’s time to relax.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Tahlia demanded. ‘A demon just promised he wanted to burn the world down and you don’t even care? You don’t care that he did this?’ She tilted her chin up for them to properly see the blood and scratches on her chin.

  Julie’s smile did not fade. ‘A little cut. I’m sure he was just posturing. Tahlia, you need a break. We all do. As of this moment, you’re officially off duty. Go put on a nice dress and have some fun!’

  Perhaps the rest of her council would not take this threat seriously, but Tahlia certainly intended to. It was her responsibility—it was theirs, too—but she would not let this happen. She had a family to protect, her sister and her nephew. Tommy. After everything, Tahlia wouldn’t let a demon kill him.

  For this moment, though, there was nothing she could do about that. But she could at least keep working. She unloaded the van, after re-parking it, and took her findings up to a secure evidence room on the first floor. The corridors were quiet. Everyone was downstairs, having a good old, ignorant time. Tahlia filed away her notes and set each Cambion Mark carefully on a shelf. It felt wrong to have them there, on any kind of display. But it was different, she told herself. She wasn’t hanging them on the walls in golden frames. This was evidence.

  After a while, she finally sighed and decided to go and wash up. She wasn’t about to let this go, but she would be expected to make an appearance at this ridiculous event. She wondered if it would be better to shake each person and force the truth down upon them, or if a smarter approach would be best. Tahlia suspected that the rest of the council would have to be convinced of the demonic threat.

  Tahlia took out her keys and locked the door to Evidence Room 1. Then she went back to her chambers and stepped into a hot shower. As the steam kissed the wounds on her chin with a sting, the demon’s voice echoed in her mind. You can tell your council, you can scream it from the rooftops, warn everyone you know. That could be our fatal flaw, she thought. The angels were a known enemy, Cambions knew to hide, stay out of the way and pray to the stars not to be caught. But demons had no fear of sunlight, she saw today.

  The demon had told her she could warn everyone.

  They had not listened.

  They won’t believe they’re in danger, not again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Leo

  Leo Mettalum wiped the long metal bar clean of spilled drinks, fingerprints and crumbs of food. It was calming—the metal was of his Family, it ran through his veins. He wiped it until it shined under the glowing white lights that had been hung up all over his bar for the party.

  The older bartender heaved a sigh at the growing crowd. It was always better to be busy than quiet, of course, but this time was different. Cambions had always been hunted by the ever-vicious angels, and then overnight, the promised witch had delivered them freedom and peace by sending the angels away. It was a lot to process. Leo still caught himself thinking as though the angels were still here. Don’t go out after dark, always look up into the sky to see them before they fall to you.

  Some Cambions didn’t believe the angels were gone at all. There were those who still did not leave the House at night. Just in case. Leo couldn’t blame them. After all, it had always been the way that angels roamed the earth, hunting. For generations. It was their history. And now it was not. It was almost like losing a relative you knew well, but were not fond of; you saw them all the time, their existence was so firm a place in your reality, and then they were suddenly gone, even though you’re not unhappy about it, it doesn’t seem real. There’s a hole where they used to be. And you don’t know what to do about it, or how to move on.

  In Leo’s professional capacity, behind the bar, as a whiskey-pouring misery-drowner, he noticed that more of his kind had taken to the drink—more heavily, that is—since the angels had gone. They didn’t know what to do with themselves, or where to place the fear they had been raised with, and the uncertainty of their future. It was getting out of hand. He wished the council would not encourage it. He had even heard of some warlocks taking the cadere—drugs enhanced or created by magic. It was a sad truth that Cambions were arguably known for finding their bliss in caderes or drink. They had always had a lot of fear and little control over it. Harrow Nympha’s parents were a prime example.

  Warlocks started to set up performance corners in the bar: A Mettalum was shaping and reshaping patron’s objects: a watch, flattened into a thin bar, then restored, and a necklace turned into wearable, sharp metal claws. The woman smiled, placed them on each finger and pretended to scratch her companion. In the corner directly behind the bar was a female Nympha, very hard to miss. She showed all kinds of shimmered pale-blue skin, teasing her crowd with illusions of water bubbles floating throughout the air and refilling their drinks. She even conjured single molecules of water and made them glisten on her skin. She had quite a few people in her corner, eyes wide and rapt.

  Leo’s attention fell on a group of warlocks in front of the bar playing a drinking game. Leo recognized it and rolled his eyes—it was supposed to be a popular thing in human bars too. One warlock sat on a chair by the table, his hand spread
out, fingers splayed. Another warlock held a knife, downed a shot of whiskey, then started stabbing the knife between the other’s fingers, denting the metal table. He was slow with the knife at first, then faster and faster. His aim slipped. He nicked the warlock, who flinched, but kept going and none of their friends seemed eager to stop the enthralling game. It was stupid.

  Leo peered around, wondering if there were any Sanas nearby. Of course, it was really just Amara who could heal. The other Sana’s abilities were weak by comparison—such is the roll-the-dice of Cambion powers. In the bar, there were dozens of faeries and warlocks roaming about, helping set up the grand celebration. The party of the century, some were calling it.

  The angels were gone, it seemed to say, now we’ll drown ourselves free of sorrow, for those we have lost, and we’ll forget the pain the angels caused us. The moving on part would be the hardest, Leo thought, thinking of his cousin John, who had been taken by the angels, his Marks stolen.

  A curl of worry unfolded in Leo’s chest. He had been a bartender long enough to know that people drank the most, and often did very stupid things, when they were either in denial of something, or hurting. Or both. Both was worst. As he looked around the room, he saw many people with their eyes already glazed, they had been drinking for a while and the party had only just started. They were eager to drown, to bury themselves in that floating-space of inebriation where they thought they were having a good time but the reality would still be there in the morning, along with quite a headache, unless you were a Sana. Leo understood the temptation.

  Sure enough, the warlock man whose fingers had been splayed on the table, cried out, and Leo saw a spurt of black blood. Mettalum blood, Leo cringed with sympathy. He grabbed a clean rag from the bar and strode over to the group of idiots. The Mettalum was younger than he’d thought. No more than twenty, with platinum blond hair all slicked back. Leo took his hand, now missing his ring-finger, and wrapped the rag around it tightly. ‘You’re all idiots,’ Leo told them. ‘Especially you.’ He stared at the young Mettalum. ‘I don’t recognise you. What’s your name?’ He squinted at the young man, wondering if he’d seen him in the bar before, or perhaps somewhere else. He seemed almost familiar, but then it was probably just his Mettalum colouring.

  The warlock’s friends seemed to disperse, as if fleeing the scene would make them less culpable. ‘I’m Immego. I’m not really from around here. Came for the party.’ He smiled, and there was something about it that Leo did not like. Though, perhaps it was just his melancholy thoughts. ‘Well, Immego, I’m Leo. Nice to meet you, brother.’ Together, they shimmered, revealing obsidian-black Marks.

  ‘Do you know if there might be a Sana around here?’ Immego asked, almost sheepishly. Perhaps the buzz of his drinks was wearing off, and he was starting to feel the pain.

  Leo looked around and saw a glimmer of silver hair. He called Amara over, and she looked down at her new patient. ‘How did you manage that?’

  Immego grinned, and Leo got the sense that he did stupid, reckless things often. ‘I tripped.’

  Amara rolled her soft, silver eyes. ‘Hmm-hmm.’ She peeled off the rag and began to heal him, silver cracks throbbing through the warlock’s wound.

  Leo moved to return to his post behind the bar—people were already impatiently waving at him—when Immego asked, ‘Hey, Leo?’ His teeth were tightly clamped together for a moment, the pain of a healing. When Amara finished, he was better able to speak. ‘Did you hear about that Terra council member rushing back here from the Captor’s Point today? I heard she mentioned getting attacked by a demon. She brought back a bunch of Marks and stuff.’

  Leo put a hand on Amara’s shoulder, thanking her, as she drifted off back into the crowd. He frowned. ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘I was just curious. There’s been a lot going on lately, but it’s never about demons.’ Immego shrugged.

  Leo nodded. ‘I did bump into Tahlia earlier. She seemed worried, but she’s professional. She finished cataloguing the evidence that she brought back before even getting dressed up. I’m sure everything is fine.’

  ‘She was cataloguing them?’ Immego said.

  ‘Yeah. Quite a lot of them from Camden Haven.’ Leo shook his head in anger. Those angels were evil. He was ready to believe that they were gone. No Cambion should ever have their Marks removed. It was blasphemy and made his stomach twist.

  ‘Oh, no.’ Immego looked shaken too. ‘Wow, where do you put a bunch of Marks like that?’ A shudder passed over him, as though thinking of so many removed Marks made him terrified. Leo understood.

  ‘Not sure. In one of the evidence rooms upstairs, I guess. Look, I have to get back. If I see you playing that game again, I won’t be finding a Sana for you,’ Leo promised, pointing a finger.

  Immego nodded. ‘Yeah, okay.’ For just a second, Leo thought he saw a chilling smile curl Immego’s mouth as he got up to leave. But it must have just been the light.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Azazel

  Azazel licked his lips with a blackened forked tongue, running it over his mouth and his sharp teeth. This specific country appeared to be clear of angels, he thought, roaming the streets at night.

  It was getting a little tedious.

  He had appeared in several states in Australia now, looking for evidence of the angels, but so far he had seen no feather nor halo of them. It was as if they had simply vanished. Or decided they didn’t care about protecting humans anymore. From what he could tell, angels had taken hunting Cambions to new and greater heights in recent years: it appeared to be their favourite pastime.

  Not that Azazel blamed them. He sat back on a rocking chair, on the pleasant patio of a family. Of course, now they were dead in the kitchen, their blood pooling together on the floor. It was a cool evening, out on the patio. If angels were around, they certainly didn’t seem too concerned with Azazel’s hunting. Perhaps it was time for him to do a little transatlantic travelling. Spread his wings, so to speak.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maddie

  Maddie Morton carried a backpack with her everywhere she went. It had become a necessity to take it with her so that she could discreetly undress in the park, fold the clothes neatly into her bag and set it behind a tree so that she could shift.

  Tonight, the full moon was bright and shining. Now bare and naked in the park, the change fell upon her like a tide rising onto the shore: strong and unbidden. It engulfed her, stretching her skin, breaking her bones. Maddie’s nails popped off her fingers as she felt her hair recede into her head. Pointed ears jutted out, making her senses more acute. She sniffed the air and howled into the night to find her brothers and sisters. They had a meeting to get to.

  She slunk away, leaving her backpack behind; it was always there when she returned for it. On all fours, Maddie padded down the quiet streets of Mill Valley, keeping her senses sharp for any humans or Cambions nearby. She did not want to run into them. A human would shriek terribly, and a Cambion would probably kick at her, or snarl rudely.

  The streets were barely illuminated, the lamps spread too far—half of them were always broken. Maddie pawed open the door of a building and howled softly. Werewolves didn’t have faerie telepathy. They communicated in a much different way, but just as effective. She could sense six other wolves in the building, one of them her best friend, Luca. The building looked abandoned. Wolves often drifted from place to place, but this was a special meeting spot. Their Alpha, Abby, had told them to come here. That tonight, they had something important to do.

  Abby’s dark fur crept forward, disentangling herself from the shadows. Her eyes were dark. The rest of the wolves came out to greet Maddie, and together they moved as a pack to stand behind Abby, whose head rose above theirs, dominant. Maddie used her nose to nudge Luca. She could feel his smile. Maddie wondered what they were doing here. Patiently, the wolves waited, until Abby’s dark ears pricked and bent backward, and a growl escaped her throat, low and
threatening.

  A black mist crept into the building, then formed into the shape of a man. Maddie felt herself growl too, then the others. A demon. They had no qualm with them, never even crossed paths. But Abby had been talking about them lately. It was always the same sort of thing she would say, Their time is coming. We want to be on the right side. Warlocks and faeries will fear us.

  We’re here to make a deal with him, Maddie thought. The demon’s eyes glowed yellow.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said, addressing Abby, who changed back into her human-self—stark naked, mind you, but some wolves weren’t shy about that, certainly not Abby. Her long black hair glistened in the darkness.

  ‘And you, demon.’ Abby nodded.

  ‘I understand you would like to make an arrangement with me and my demons?’

  ‘I would. We have always been outcasts to the Cambions: diseased. They don’t associate with us. And we are not human. I believe you have great plans for this world now that the angels are gone. It makes sense, nothing stands in your way now. We would like to be on the right side of that. Your side,’ Abby said. Her back was straight, her posture confident.

  The demon considered. ‘I see. And why do I need you?’

  ‘Because you’re not sure that the angels are really gone, are you?’ Abby tilted her head, driving the doubt home. When he stayed quiet, Abby pressed. ‘We have known the back-alleys and hidey-holes of this town—and many others—for years. We would be happy to share them with you.’

  The demon smiled then. ‘Little wolf, I am a demon. I assure you, I know how to stay hidden.’