Spell of the Ball (8 Magical Halloween Reads) Read online

  She peered at the black line intersected with four slanted lines. Graddie didn’t have any tattoos. How the hell had one gotten on his neck? “I don’t know.”

  Roc pressed his fingertips against Graddie’s carotid artery. “He’s alive.”

  Relief cascaded through Angel. Graddie had been her sidekick and best friend since the third grade, and she didn’t think she could survive without him.

  “Well, he’s not just passed out,” she said. “Something’s wrong.”

  “I agree. We need to call a healer.” Roc retrieved his cell phone, but Angel put her hand on his wrist.

  “We’ll call Mrs. P. I trust her. She’ll know what to do.”

  Two seconds after Angel’s call, Mrs. Pottersworth, the healer her Mom and Dad trusted implicitly as did Angel, arrived in a puff of red smoke. She was plump, gray-haired, and favored thick sweaters and long skirts. She looked like someone’s Scottish grandmother. Added benefit: Mrs. P who knew everything about everything, mostly because she’d been around for several centuries.

  She was also a dragon.

  “Demon poison,” she said after examining Graddie. “I haven’t seen that symbol in a while.” Her sharp gaze sliced Angel. “The sign of four demons.”

  “The prophecy,” said Roc. “That’s not good.”

  Angel didn’t care about signs or prophecies. “Can you help Graddie?”

  “Of course I can, dear.” She picked up the six foot, 240-pound man as if he weighed no more than a bag of feathers. “I’ll take him to the compound and get him fixed up right as rain.”

  Mrs. P carried Graddie into the office.

  “I’ll meet you there,” said Angel.

  “You have something to do first,” she said mysteriously. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

  Poof! Red smoke rolled through the office. When it disappeared, Mrs. P and Graddie were gone. Angel gathered up the keys to her motorcycle and started shutting down the office equipment. She usually heeded Mrs. P’s advice—or warnings, whatever the case may be. But she was going to the compound.

  Roc watched her, saying nothing. Good thing. She would not respond well to any of his crap. In fact, she was itching to kick someone’s ass. Where was a demon when you needed one?

  The door to the office slammed open. Angel looked up and saw her mother’s friend Deb striding toward her. Deb’s black, wavy hair had a few gray strands, and there were crinkles around her smile, but time had barely marked the woman. She dressed in a flowery blouse, blue jeans, and brown boots.

  “I’m not sure how much time we have,” said Deb, who wasn’t one to stand on ceremony. “We need to get the cemetery.”

  “Sorry, Deb. I don’t have time to hang out in the graveyard tonight.” Angel looked at Roc and explained, “She’s a necromancer. And she’s teaching me.”

  “This isn’t training,” said Deb. “I have a ghost named Tim who says his fiancé’s in trouble. We have to find a black-marble crypt in a cemetery.”

  “That narrows it down,” said Roc dryly. “Did your ghost say why we have to find it?”

  “He says a demon is controlling his fiancé, and that her life’s in danger. The demon is leading her to the crypt tonight.”

  Angel shook her head. “On any other night, I’d be there. But Graddie’s sick, and I gotta get to him.”

  Deb held up a hand, frowning. “Tim keeps saying ‘see no evil.’”

  Angel’s heart nearly stopped beating. “What?”

  “His fiancé, Emily, picked up some kind of monkey statue that housed a demon. She accidentally released him …and now she’s bespelled by him.”

  “Shit!” Angel strode toward the door, her mind racing. A demon stuck inside a monkey statue. Well, wasn’t that a coincidence? No doubt Drak had been alerted as well. She needed to get there first and get the gift. Mrs. P would take good care of Graddie, and if anyone knew how important the work was, it was her partner. He’d forgive Angel for not staying by his side.

  Angel locked the door and spun around. “Let’s go!”

  Deb’s VW van was parked at the curb. Perfect. She got in, adrenaline spiking in her belly. Fear beat a mantra in her mind: Hurry, hurry, hurry. She needed Deb to talk to Tim. Only the ghost could get them to the location.

  Deb rounded the car, slid into the driver side, and turned on the van. The engine sputtered to life.

  Roc stood on the sidewalk, leaning on his staff. As Angel rolled down the window, he muttered a few spell words and the crystal blazed. Then, the staff disappeared. Show-off. Why hadn’t he pulled that little trick before now?

  “What’s going on?” asked Roc.

  “Get in,” she said. She debated the merits of inviting him along to her demon ass-kicking party, but what the hell. She’d probably need his help, especially since she was Graddie-less. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  ***

  Emily didn’t drive anymore, especially since the accident. She didn’t even own a vehicle. However, her lover didn’t seem to mind that they had to take the bus.

  Her clouded mind kept her from asking questions, but every so often, she’d surface from the fog and wonder what was happening. Then Shadow Man would smile at her, look deeply into her eyes, and she’d fall into fog once more.

  The nearest stop to the cemetery was six blocks away. With her lover holding her hand, they got off the bus. Cold rain drizzled. The chilly drops pelted her face and dribbled down her neck. The man snapped opened an umbrella and held it over their heads. The thoughtful gesture belied his true nature. She knew he was not kind. She knew, too, that he wasn’t really a man.

  “Ready to go, darling?”

  She nodded numbly, and they walked down the sidewalk. The glare from the streetlights highlighted the graffiti-filled walls, the trash-strewn gutter, and the barred windows of the closed businesses. Most were pawnshops interspersed with a beauty shop, a gun store, and a Mexican restaurant with filmy windows.

  The man wore Tim’s clothes, and Emily felt a burble of guilt. She shouldn’t have kept any of his clothes. It wasn’t as though he would ever be able to wear them again. Seeing Tim’s button-down shirt and crisp khakis on Shadow Man made her angry, but the emotion was a dull throb.

  Everything was so wrong. She couldn’t figure out how to change what was happening.

  “Not far now,” he said, his smile flashing.

  Emily trudged beside him, unable to protest.

  The purple monkey sat in her purse.

  Waiting.

  Chapter 5

  “Someone left you a monkey statue and a poem in an anonymous package,” said Roc. “And now you have to collect four gifts from cursed demons. Why?”

  “Duh. To save the world.” Angel felt horribly anxious. She scanned the streets as Deb followed the directions from the ghost only she could see. Rain pinged against the van. It wasn’t a hard rain, at least not yet. If the weatherman was right, this was gonna turn into a major storm. The defroster kept the front windshield cleared, but the other windows were filmed over.

  For a moment, Angel longed to call her parents and chuck the whole problem into their laps. But they hadn’t raised her to run away or to give in to fear. She knew Drak was after the same gifts, and she’d be damned if he would snake ‘em from her.

  Roc seemed follow her line of thought. “Drak will get the gifts either way in his mind, especially since he wants to mate with you.”

  Angel shuddered. “Ew. He may be a seething mass of evil, but he’s not stupid. He probably realizes that I’ll kill him first.”

  “Kill him?” asked Roc.

  The eagerness in his voice had her turning in her seat to look at him. He lounged in the back seat. His eyes gave nothing away, but she sensed he was very interested in the idea.

  “Figure of speech,” she said, turning back around in her seat. “You know that no one can kill immortal creatures …not even demons. “ Or so it was once thought. Twenty-five years ago, her mother had figured out how to kill demons, but she hadn
’t passed along the secret, not even to Angel. Apparently the cost had been high. Almost too high. So Angel did as her family had always done: To capture a demon, you put him into a prism. Her parents made them for her. Prisms were light, easy to use, and unbreakable.

  “We’re here,” said Deb.

  Deb pulled into a parking lot. The rain had eased up, but Angel knew it was a mere lull. The storm was coming. She could feel it. She only hoped they found the demon before the weather went crazy.

  The somber building built of white brick sported a sign: Garden Hill Cemetery. The narrow road that led into the cemetery was several feet to the left of the mortuary. The rusted metal chain pulled across and attached to stakes on either side was not exactly high security. A sign near the gate announced visiting hours were between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m.

  Deb parked the van and shut it off. With the headlights off, the darkness surrounded them. Angel understood the dark. She thrived in it. Still, she couldn’t stop the shiver as she remembered being trapped in the alley, and how the terrible miasma had turned her into a quivering mess. She hadn’t quite dealt with what happened. She especially didn’t want to think about how Roc had saved her.

  Deb was having a quiet conversation with Tim, so Angel studied the area. Although everything was neat—manicured lawns, swept sidewalks, garbage-free parking lot—the cemetery was obviously an older one. Good. She doubted they had cameras, but they could have guards. Maybe a service that checked the area every couple of hours. Nothing to worry about. Whatever she couldn’t talk her way out of, she could use her powers of persuasion. Angel was not without certain abilities, though she tried not to use them most the time. Her mother had taught to use her body and her mind first, and to draw on her other talents only if necessary. Power will corrupt, Angelica, you must control it …or it will control you.

  “Tim says the crypt is in the middle of the cemetery,” said Deb in a voice thrumming with urgency, “and that we need to hurry.”

  Everyone exited the van. Deb took the lead, her long legs eating up the distance. Angel followed, and Roc strode beside her, quiet. She liked that he didn’t ask a bunch of stupid questions or try to fill up the silence with babbling. He was a stealthy warrior ready for battle. Just on principle, she hated the idea of liking him. He’d saved her, and her pride had been wounded. Underneath that, was fear …fear that she had crumpled so easily when faced with that ugly dark.

  Gah! Angel didn’t want to think about it anymore. So, she cataloged her own assets. For weapons, she had daggers, two on each side of her white boots, which had slotted compartments to fit the blades. She wasn’t exactly dressed for battle. Her ass-kicking clothes, like the prisms, were made by her parents.

  Tonight, she wore white jeans and a white T-shirt. Even her leather jacket was white. Graddie was forever trying to get her to wear some color, but he always went for out-there shades that made her flinch. She missed him already, and prayed he was safe. Her drag queen partner could throw a punch like Mike Tyson and pin bad guys with a well-placed stiletto. Her heart squeezed. She wanted to see him with her own eyes—just to know he really was okay.

  “There it is,” said Roc.

  The black marble crypt was small—maybe ten feet wide and nearly as tall. They were approaching from the south side, so they couldn’t really see the front of it. The closer they got, the slower and quieter they all were. Deb stopped about twenty yards away and leaned against an ancient oak tree.

  “This is as far as I go,” she said.

  Deb was not a fighter. She could raise the dead, in any state of decomposition, without batting an eyelash. But she loathed the idea of harming others, even those who might deserve a little pain and suffering. Angel had no such qualms.

  “I know you can’t see Tim, but he said he would try to help.” She patted the tree. “I’ll wait for you.”

  Somehow, Angel knew Roc could be relied on in a tough situation. She might not admit it, but she was glad for the back-up.

  Angel and Roc hurried up the slight incline. Just as they reach the south wall, the rain returned with a vengeance. Angel was soaked in seconds, but it didn’t matter. She shut everything else out of her mind and focused on their goal. She scuttled along the wall, turned the corner, and slipped toward the doorway. Lights sputtered. She stopped at the edge of the entrance and peeked around it.

  Candles offered dim light in the dark space. She saw a tall, well-built man that she immediately pegged as demon. They could walk around as humans, but they couldn’t get rid of the sulfur stink. Her gaze shifted to the thin, trembling woman. Emily. And she didn’t look good.

  Angel scooted back and leaned toward Roc. “We’ll surprise them, but that’s our only advantage. I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to get …or how.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” he said. His confidence in her sounded sincere, and Angel felt better. She slipped out a dagger from each of her boots and hurried into the crypt with Roc right behind her.

  ***

  Emily fought the hold Shadow Man had on her. She felt stronger somehow, and she surfaced from the mind-fog and backed away, clutching her purse. That purple monkey was the key to this whole mess, and she knew that she couldn’t let him have it. Not for anything.

  “Trace the last line,” he growled. “Place the statue in the alcove. Free me!”

  “Why are you bound to it?” she whispered.

  “It does not matter. Do as I say!” He lifted his arm as though he meant to strike her. To her shock, an invisible force flung his arm away. Then he was pushed backward.

  Emily gaped as Shadow Man fought with this unseen foe. She looked at the doorway with longing and realized she could escape.

  ***

  When Angel and Roc entered the inner sanctum, the tall man was flush against the right wall flailing. He seemed to be pinned by the neck and his fists were wildly punching at nothing. Angel couldn’t see ghosts, but she could sense their energy. It appeared Tim was helping them out in a big way.

  Emily looked at them, her eyes wide and glazed. She huddled in the opposite corner hugging her purse, her thin body quaking as tears tracked her cheeks. Pure fear lit her gaze.

  Without consulting about who was doing what, Roc headed toward the demon. Angel hurried toward Emily. “My name’s Angel. I’m here to help you.” She gestured to the altar with its lit candles and strange alcove. “Do you have an idol to put there?”

  Emily nodded. Her fingers were embedded in the purse, and Angel wasn’t sure if she could pry it out of the woman’s hands.

  “He tricked me,” she whispered. “He’s a bad man.”

  “I know.” Angel sheathed her knives then slipped her hands under the purse and tugged it. “C’mon, honey. Let go.”

  Emily’s fingers unclenched, and Angel took the freed bag, unzipped it, and pawed through the contents. The purple monkey was crudely crafted. Angel couldn’t believe that such a thing was the vessel of the demon and its gift. Emily moaned in terror, covering her eyes with her hands. Damn, so this ugly thing was the idol. Shit. Tracking down the other three vessels would be a much harder task than she thought.

  “Noooo!” screamed the demon. Whatever had been wrestling with him must’ve stopped, because the demon dropped to its knees. Roc stood over him with his silver staff. The crystal glowed brightly, causing the demon to shield its face. “She must trace the last line. She must free me!”

  “Free a demon?” Angel laughed. “I don’t think so, buddy.”

  “He’s right,” said Roc. “You can only get his gift if you unbind him from the object.”

  How the hell had he known that? Angel examined the monkey and saw the thin white line that was drawn on its back.

  “The finder is the keystone,” said Roc. “Emily must do it.”

  “No,” said Emily. She shook her head. “I won’t.”

  Angel didn’t have time for drama. She grabbed Emily’s hand, and though Emily squawked in protest, Angel still managed to draw the woman’s fore
finger down the white line. It disappeared, and the monkey began to vibrate.

  “Put it in the alcove,” barked Roc.

  Angel obeyed only because he seemed to know what to do. They’d have a chat about his know-how after this whole thing was over. He seemed to know a lot more about the situation than he’d let on, and he was going to spill or get his but kicked when the time came.

  The moment the monkey was pushed into the hollow, two beams of purple light shot out from it. One encompassed the demon. As soon the light hit him, his human form disappeared. The demon was nearly seven feet tall, his obsidian skin scaly, and his eyes glowed red. He growled in frustration, but obviously couldn’t move.

  The second spear of light enveloped Emily. The human woman was flung against the wall, her limbs askew.

  Angel watched in horror as the life force of both was drained away. The demon screamed like a feral animal; but Emily’s open mouth offered no sound at all. She moved toward the tormented woman, not sure what she planned to do.

  Roc was suddenly beside her. He yanked her backward and clasped her hands within one of his. “I’m sorry, Angel, but this is the way it works.”

  She looked at up, so pissed off she wanted to knee him in the balls. “What the hell is going on?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The purple monkey was obviously sucking the energy out of the demon and his victim. But why? Helplessly she watched, and so did Roc. His expression was blank, his eyes has hard as stone.

  Emily died first.

  The light released her. She slumped to the ground, her skin waxy gray and her eyes unseeing. Her body was crooked at an odd angle as though she’d been doll carelessly tossed.

  The demon resisted much longer. He looked at them, his red eyes dimming. His body twitched. “Fifty years ago, a prophecy uttered by the sage Oran shook the foundations of Hell,” he said, his deep voice reverberating off the walls. “My demon brothers and I were among those who believed Orana. We stole the four gifts from Abatu, and sealed our fates. We became guardians of the objects, trapped within their vessels until our keystones released us.” Black blood dribbled from his nose and mouth. “I thought I would be free. I should’ve known that Abatu would include us in the sacrifice.”