Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,58

hair.

Ferngold demanded, “Burns! What is the meaning of this?”

Silas couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “It seems our council has a demon problem.”

“That’s not helpful,” Ferngold snapped. “I want to know what’s going on. Why didn’t Worthington notice anything amiss?”

“I can answer that,” Norgaard said from somewhere behind Silas. Silas couldn’t look back, but he hoped that Locke or someone had a good hold on his ex-friend. “We went to look at Crosby’s house this afternoon. The cellar stank of brimstone, and there was a demon circle carved deep into the stone. It appeared he’d filled it with blood—”

“Not human blood, I hope,” Ferngold exclaimed.

Locke said, “Though if he did, the resonances of that might explain the power of the demon Silas says he obtained—”

“Academics later, info now,” Silas snapped. “This demon may be a weakling, but I still can’t hold it forever.”

“Who are you calling names?” Burns asked, his voice taking on the overtones of demon control. “I’ll have you yet and eat your liver for breakfast.”

Silas closed his hand partway in response and the demon hissed as the green walls touched Burns’s skin.

Norgaard said, “We went looking for his notes and books, to bring them back for examination and destruction. Burns said he’d been making a study of demon lore, and he recognized some of the texts as dangerous, so we separated those out to bring back first. Behind one of those books, there was a glass bottle of an unusual design. Burns picked it up to look at it and said there was something in it, something moving. I suggested we bring it along for examination here.”

“Quite right,” Locke said.

Inside Silas’s walls, the demon laughed silently.

“I thought so, but Burns said he was curious. He set up a containment spell and pulled the cork. I don’t know if the spell was faulty, or just not strong enough. The demon came billowing out of the bottle and right into Burns and he grabbed me. Before I could get loose and get shields up, he— it— they caught me with a puppet spell. Reeled me in, controlled my every move. Mother of God. There was nothing I could do!”

Silas gave the demon an extra squeeze, for the raw pain in Norry’s voice. Puppet spells— controlling another man’s body and voice— were among the vilest of dark arts. “Then they brought you here with them? Why would a demon walk boldly right into the Guild’s own hall?”

Norgaard said, “He wanted you. He was… almost crazed about it. He chose a lie to get Ferngold to try to truth-spell you, and used me to trap you for it. Either you’d fight back and be taken down, or you’d resist the truth spell till your mind broke. The demon was new in Burns, and hadn’t tainted him visibly yet. It thought it could stay hidden and see you gone.”

“Why not wait till another day?” Silas asked. “I trusted you in my home. A simple knife blow I didn’t see coming would’ve done it, and no one would’ve suspected you.”

“It wanted to stop you immediately, before you told the council how you contained a six-syllable demon.”

Silas snorted. “Well, now I can demonstrate my technique. Ferngold, anything else you want to ask?”

Locke said, “I’m fascinated with that bottle. I’ve never heard of such a thing. How long were you trapped in there, demon? How was that done?”

Burns laughed. “You think I’m going to tell—” Abruptly he threw a blast of power at the front of the containment.

Silas caught the hit and absorbed it, echoes of Darien’s power still buoying up his own, making it easy to hold on. “Can I send this piece of filth back where it came from?”

Locke said, “But—”

Ferngold said, “You can’t trust anything you get out of a demon. Do it, Thornwood.”

“Wait!” Burns held up his hands. “Help me! Help me get rid of it, and I’ll tell you everything. Drive it out of me, and I’ll explain all the secrets I learned from Crosby.”

“I’m sorry, Harold,” Ferngold said. “You know that’s not possible. But if you can fight it off long enough to tell us something useful, you can still go out a hero.”

Burns laughed bitterly. Silas wasn’t sure if that was the man or the demon. “I’ll fry your liver and feed it to you!” Okay, probably the demon. Although not necessarily.

He closed his hand slowly, compressing the space around the demon. After Azimothandurin, this felt like a cakewalk, although he knew he’d pay for the power use later.