Demons and DNA (Amplifier 1) Read online

  She laughed harshly, the sound carrying magic that scraped over my forearms like steel nails against the bones.

  I shook my hands, easily breaking whatever magic she was casting, whether it was intentional or not.

  Surprise flitted across her face. “You’re right,” she said. “I was just testing the waters. I would pay well, of course. And I’m sure you would enjoy yourself. The sorcerer is skilled. Skills I can personally attest to, if you haven’t experienced them yourself.”

  She paused as if waiting for a reaction.

  I dropped my gaze to my mug of tea. I’d already known she and Aiden had been having sex, but I wasn’t certain why she felt that fact should hold any power over me. So I decided to play along.

  She clicked her tongue. “Oh, dear. Perhaps I should give you some time to think about everything. Shall we meet back here? Tomorrow, same time?”

  I nodded. If it came down to it, I’d be gone with Christopher and Paisley before sunset. And with Aiden, if he wanted to join us.

  I suspected the witch’s summoning powers would be most potent at night, though I’d once encountered a witch who could pilot a greater demon in the full sun. But Silver Pine was dead. I had fed her a death curse of her own construction, then brought an entire compound down on her head.

  Magenta rose, gathering her magic around her like a dark cloak. Wielding so much darkness carried a toll. She wouldn’t be able to pay it for much longer, not without drawing the attention of the Convocation. And I really didn’t want the witches’ attention drawn to Lake Cowichan. I didn’t want to answer the battery of questions they’d rain down on me.

  No, as I’d resolved earlier, it was better to take Magenta out now myself. I slid out of the booth, tracking the witch as she sauntered out of the diner. I would follow her, but only after allowing her the impression that she was walking away.

  Melissa waved a brown paper bag at me, and I paused as she stepped around the counter with a spray bottle and cloth in her other hand, ready to clear and wipe down our vacated table. I knew without checking that the bag contained pastries for Christopher, so it would have been rude not to accept it. Though I had a black witch to kill before I could deliver it to him.

  And in that moment, I understood something. A realization anchored by the sight of the brown paper bag.

  I wasn’t leaving.

  This was my home. The witch was the interloper, not me. And unless they got in my way, I’d leave Calhoun and Jackson alive, because I was certain, given a choice, that they’d do the same for me.

  I accepted the bag from Melissa with a smile, tracking the witch as she crossed out of the diner and sauntered over to speak to Calhoun. He tilted his head, listening to her but watching me through the window.

  Melissa bussed the plate, utensils, and mugs from the table, then started wiping it down. There was a couple waiting at the door, and all the other booths were full with locals lunching. I hadn’t noticed. That was unlike me.

  “It’s an experiment,” Melissa said, nodding toward the bag I was holding. “Strawberry and rhubarb filling. Just let me know if he likes them, dear.”

  Outside, the witch stepped off the curb, crossing toward the Corvette. Calhoun glanced at me through the window, lifting his hand up to his ear as if to indicate he’d like to call me.

  Another conversation with the sorcerer wouldn’t hurt, though he wouldn’t be able to conduct it by phone. Not with me, at least.

  I nodded, agreeing to the concept if not the actual method of communication.

  “Oh,” Melissa said. “How adorable! Did your friend drop this?”

  She stepped over, passing me a fabric doll she’d picked up from the seat Magenta had just vacated, then waving the new customers toward the booth.

  I took the doll, my gaze still riveted to the witch through the window. She was climbing into the Corvette —

  Something sharp underneath the doll’s hair pricked the tip of my ring finger, drawing blood. I gasped, gazing down confused at the stuffed toy in my hand.

  I didn’t pull away.

  I should have dropped the doll.

  I needed to drop the doll.

  But I was mesmerized by its red yarn hair, its pale fabric skin, its shimmering green eyes.

  “Very cute,” Melissa said, brushing her shoulder against mine as she collected the dirty dishes she’d set temporarily on the counter behind me. “Those eyes almost look like real raw emeralds, but that would be awfully expensive for a fabric doll. I have my eye on a copper ring with the same kind of stone, but I can’t decide between the emerald or the ruby. Actually …” She laughed as she glanced from me to the doll in my hand. “Actually, it looks like you, Emma. Does your friend make them?”

  It was me.

  A replica of me.

  And those were real raw emeralds. Because gemstones could hold magic. Magic triggered by a drop of blood.

  My blood.

  I’d been spelled.

  I was in the process of being spelled.

  I tried to draw away. I tried to drop the doll. But its power reached through the blood it had drawn, binding the spell to me, clamping down on my mind. Dampening my thoughts.

  “Emma?”

  “Yes?”

  Melissa shook her head. “I can see your mind is elsewhere. Go, go then. Just let me know what Christopher thinks of the pastries. I used his strawberries. He’s getting such a great crop for this late in the season.” She hustled away with the dishes.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. Then I exited the diner without another word, without another thought.

  A sporty, vintage Corvette sped away down the street, followed by a silver SUV.

  I hadn’t seen the SUV before, but it must have been parked on the street behind the Corvette. A silver SUV.

  Silver.

  Silver.

  There was something … something familiar about … silver.

  I glanced down at the doll still in my hand. There was a red stain on the side of its face. I’d … bled on it? That wasn’t good. That was …

  Wait.

  I was supposed to be doing something. Something important … something urgent. I’d come to the diner with someone, hadn’t I? And he … was it a he? He shouldn’t have left me all alone. Or maybe I was supposed to be meeting someone? No. There was something urgent I needed to do. I walked down the sidewalk, knowing I was going somewhere.

  Just … where exactly was I going?

  Magic was trying to push me forward.

  Push me.

  Push me.

  Push, push, push me.

  There was something in the river, downriver, deep within the river that needed me, needed my attention.

  But it was cold, freezing my feet, ankles, and calves. And I didn’t want to move any farther, to go any farther.

  So I perched on the river-slick rock, crouched over the raging water. Waiting … waiting …

  But for what, I didn’t know.

  The sun slowly set.

  I started to shiver.

  I clutched the pretty, red-haired doll to my chest, protecting it and all the shimmering magic it held from the hungry river. The hungry, hungry river wanted to gobble me up.

  Something urged me to let it do just that. Something begged me to dive into the cool water, to let it drag me away, batter me against the jagged rocks, fill my lungs with water. Drown me. Kill me.

  I was supposed to die now.

  I didn’t really deserve to live.

  I had never deserved to live.

  But … there was something else I was supposed to be doing. Something holding me in place. I couldn’t move forward or back. I’d made it this far, to the edge of the river. And now it was getting dark … and I was cold.

  And … and …

  “Emma? Emma!” A woman was shouting from the bank of the river behind me. “Emma, what the hell are you doing?”

  I looked up. The wind grabbed my hair, whipping it around my head, half free from its ponytail. It was r
ed too. Red like the yarn hair on the doll.

  “Emma!” the woman cried again.

  I could hear her moving toward me, splashing and cursing.

  Then she was standing before me. The breeze that followed the river snatched at her dark-brown hair. Her hazel eyes were scared but determined. “Emma! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

  Emma.

  Emma.

  I was Emma.

  The river tried to gobble up the woman, tried to grab her legs, tried to sweep her away.

  I reached out — quick, quick — grabbing her back. The river didn’t get to have her. She had come for me … was looking for me.

  “Jesus Christ!” the woman cried.

  I was holding her upright with one arm. She scrambled, trying to get her footing, clinging to the rock I was perched on with her free arm.

  “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.” She straightened, feet planted firmly on either side.

  The river surged around her, but she wouldn’t get caught again.

  I let her go.

  She shook her arm as if I’d hurt her.

  “Emma. Are you okay?”

  I could see her magic. There it was, hovering just between her eyes, buried deep. I lifted my hand. I could reach for it. I could pull it forward, fill it with my own power.

  She grabbed my hand. “Do you need help?”

  I shook my head. Then I looked downriver again.

  There was somewhere I was supposed to be, supposed to go.

  “What’s that?” the woman murmured.

  She tried to take the doll from me.

  I cried out, holding it away from her.

  She pressed her hands to my face. Her skin was icy cold. “Emma!”

  She shouldn’t have been touching me. Touching me wasn’t a good idea. Because I was dangerous. I was morally compromised. I could hurt, kill her, let the river have her.

  I didn’t want to hurt her.

  Not ‘her.’ She had a name. Like I had a name.

  She was Lani Zachary.

  I was Emma Johnson.

  Lani was standing in the middle of the raging river, trying to … rescue me?

  Keeping her gaze locked to mine, Lani slowly reached down and pried my hand from the doll, one finger at a time.

  “Damn, you’re strong.” She ripped the doll from me, tugging at the magic that bound it to me. “What the hell is this?”

  I gasped, trying to grab the doll back.

  She threw it into the river.

  I cried out for its loss. I was supposed to protect it. I tried to lunge after it.

  Lani grabbed me back. “No! There’s something wrong with it. It’s wrong. It’s off, Emma.”

  She touched my face again, pulling my attention back to her.

  “You shouldn’t be touching me,” I mumbled.

  “I know, I’m sorry.” She grabbed my hand. “You’re bleeding.” She tugged my arm down, down. Down into the river. To wash the blood away from my finger.

  “Lani,” I murmured. “I’m in the river.”

  “Yes, you bloody well are. And I’m here too, freezing my ass off. We’ve been looking for you for hours.”

  “How did you know … how did you know the doll was … wrong?”

  She shrugged, avoiding my gaze. “I knew. I know.”

  Shivering, I scanned the area.

  The swiftly moving river was narrower along this stretch than it was in town, where it was closer to the lake that fed it. Large smooth rocks edged the churning water, with forest spreading beyond to either side. No buildings or homes within sight. I looked upriver, hoping to catch sight of the lake, but seeing only the water winding through thick expanses of trees. I was nowhere near town, which meant I was even farther from the property. It was dark and getting darker.

  “The sun has set.”

  “That it has. How do you feel about getting out of the river? Good idea, yes?” Lani tugged at my arm.

  I climbed off the rock, helping her more than she helped me. I’d left my shoes somewhere. My legs were numb, my mind not much better.

  “How did you know to look for me, Lani?”

  “The big guy, Daniel. Your … boyfriend? He was really clear that you weren’t related. He came back into town a couple of hours ago, said he hadn’t seen you or the people you’d been having lunch with. But Melissa said you’d left the diner. Alone. She said you’d eaten alone too. Couldn’t answer any of Daniel’s questions about the people he’d thought you were meeting. Melissa called Jenni. And Jenni called a few of us. Hannah, Daniel, and I split up, looking for you. Melissa started a phone tree.”

  I had no idea what a phone tree was. “Who’s at the house?”

  “What do you mean? Your place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Christopher, I think. Daniel said Chris would phone if you turned up there, though he was pissed he had to stay behind. Daniel took Paisley out over by Meadow Lane Farm. Though why they thought you’d go there, I don’t know.”

  “Christopher might have sent him. Peter Grant has been …” I shook my head, not wanting to explain that Grant had been contemplating running me over for a few months now. Not wanting to explain that I hadn’t done anything about it because he was a mundane.

  “Harassing you guys? For finding Hannah? Asshole. Have you told Jenni?”

  We made it to the shore. I was shivering violently now, but there wasn’t any time to worry about hypothermia. Or anything else.

  “Paisley couldn’t find me?”

  “Well, I imagine they’re still looking.” She pulled out her phone, sighing. “It’s wet and powered down. Do you think I should try starting it up? Might fry it.”

  “I’ve got to go.” I stepped away.

  “Emma!”

  “I’m fine, Lani. Thank you. But I’ve got to get home.”

  “At least let me drive you!”

  “Where’s your car?”

  She pointed downriver. “About two or three kilometers? I parked in the Skutz Falls parking lot and doubled back.”

  “I’m going in the opposite direction.” For a sudden brief moment, I fought through an urge to jump back in the river — residual from the spell attached to the doll. It had been trying to get me to commit suicide, but wasn’t strong enough to compel me all the way. Very little magic could compel anyone to do anything that went completely against their natural inclinations. I might have hated myself for who I’d been, the person the Collective had made me. But I would never kill myself.

  “Don’t be insane,” Lani said. “What are you going to do? Run?”

  I did just that, scrambling up the rocky bank, darting through the undergrowth and the evergreens. I lost Lani behind me almost immediately. If we were anywhere near Skutz Falls, then Cowichan Valley Highway wasn’t as far away as I’d thought.

  I made it to the road.

  And I ran.

  Muscles warming, stretching. Feet bare. The pavement was smoother in the middle of the road. My hair and cotton dress quickly drying, I ran.

  The black witch had spelled me. Maybe the spell was meant to wear off, or maybe it just wasn’t strong enough. But regardless, she had spelled me so she could do something while I was out of the way.

  So I ran. Because it was faster than slowly following Lani to her car. I ran because Daniel was looking for me with Paisley. Which left Christopher and Aiden on their own against a witch smart enough to realize I’d accept something handed to me by a friend. A witch strong enough to bind me in the first place. A witch wily enough that she was also somehow preventing Paisley from tracking me, an ability that was embedded in the demon dog’s genetic code.

  Unless that was Daniel’s doing.

  My chest constricted. “Please don’t let it be Daniel,” I whispered. That would hurt Christopher too much, damage him irrevocably.

  Because I would have to kill Daniel. Fish. My not-a-brother. Fish, whose blood teemed with magic in the tattoo under my skin. That magic was prickling and shifting as I
raced toward the future I was certain had already unfolded. Running toward the relentless, remorseless future that had always awaited my arrival.

  I wasn’t even certain I could kill Daniel, if he’d betrayed us. Magic might not let me. The attempt might kill me as well.

  So I ran.

  Chapter 9

  The front gate was closed, as it should have been. No cars were parked in front of the house. No magic rained down on me as I leaped over the gate without pausing and raced along the gravel driveway.

  But Christopher hadn’t turned on any interior lights. Even if he was in the kitchen obsessing over a new dish for supper, I should have been able to see light spilling out from the east-facing windows. The barn and the loft suite within it were dark as well.

  I was gasping for breath, my lungs on fire from running flat out all the way from the river’s edge. I leaped up the stairs onto the front patio, wrenching open the door and throwing it back with such force that it slammed into the wall, pulled from its hinges. The front windows cracked.

  I paused on the threshold, waiting, panting, feeling for magic.

  Nothing stirred within.

  Not bothering to turn on the lights, I stepped into the darkness. The fir flooring was smooth under my road-torn feet. I was leaving bloody footprints behind, but that didn’t matter. Not yet.

  A scent hung in the air, barely there but pulling me toward the kitchen. As if Christopher had tried to light a fire with wet, sap-filled wood and it hadn’t caught.

  Aiden’s rune-carved baseball bat was lying halfway between the base of the stairs to my right and the far doorway leading into the kitchen. It was devoid of magic, drained. Again.

  Creeping forward slowly, I scooped up the bat as I stepped past it. The worn wood felt comforting in my hand. Aiden was right. Filled with magic or not, it made a damn fine weapon.

  I approached the doorway to the kitchen, pausing a half step away from where the fir-floored hall gave way to broad white porcelain tile. I scanned the room, feeling a cool resolve settle over me as I did.