Donal wondered if he’d lost his mind. The offer had been crystal clear. If he’d only said My room, he’d have been sleeping the sleep of the sexually exhausted instead of staring at his ceiling after sharing a meal with a hot guy in an uncharacteristic and very awkward silence. Masturbation had proven to be singularly dissatisfying. Only when he’d let himself relive those kisses on the stairs had he been able to climax.
Now he was wide awake again. Maybe he should go down the hall to the spare bedroom to check on his guest. No. That would be a bad idea. If Marc wasn’t asleep the line might get crossed. Donal couldn’t afford intimacy with a man who wasn’t fully human.
He laughed bitterly. Maybe if he’d drawn that line with fuckhead Ted he wouldn’t have wasted six months of his life. Not that Ted was half-Demonae, no, he was more like half-toad.
Ted had seemed to be such a package deal. A fellow kayaker had introduced them on one of the “Flipover Floats” on the San Antonio River. One thing had led to another so that they were living together at the end of the first month. Since Donal owned his own home it had seemed natural for Ted to move in. Then Ted had lost his job. Donal’s fist clenched in the sheets. And Ted hadn’t made an effort to find another job either.
How stereotypical that their first fight had been over money. Ted screaming that Donal didn’t understand how hard it was to find a job doing what he loved. Donal insisting that if Austin was the fucking live music capital of the world, surely a decent bassist could find a job. That had really set Ted off. The word decent. Apparently in some circles, decent equaled barely okay. Ted had stormed out that night only to return in time for breakfast. Donal still remembered the make-up sex.
But even the sex had gone downhill without any true emotion. Ted went out more than he stayed home. Said he was looking for work, but Donal heard from others that Ted was looking for work by dancing at Oil Can Harry’s but put more effort into making out with strangers. That had killed Donal’s sexual interest. When he was with someone, flirting with others was cool but he drew the line at swapping spit or any other bodily fluids.
He yanked himself out of that reverie because his lecherous mind wanted to go back to the more recent spit-swapping, tongue-wrapping, cock-throbbing incident earlier. Glancing at the clock, he groaned. He flipped the pillow to get the cool side. Sleep. Maybe if he focused he could find it.
When sleep did come it brought unsettling dreams. He saw Marc tied to a wall. A shadowy figure clawed at his back with ebony talons. A pronged penis probed the man’s ass. Donal attacked the Demonae but couldn’t break the boundary between his world and theirs. Then Marc was facing outward. His face shifted into that of one of Donal’s former coven members, Lee. Donal cried out as he saw his friend’s eyes bulge then sag closed. As the dream Lee died of a Demonae-induced heart attack again, Donal jerked awake.
“You okay?”
The shadows in his room made the figure in the doorway seem like the Demonae in his dreams. It took Donal a moment to slow his racing heart as he realized it was his houseguest. “Yeah, I’m good. Bad dream. Reliving an old moment.”
Marcus moved a step into the room. As Donal’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he thought he read concern on his face. The man’s voice was warm when he asked, “You wanna talk about it?”
Yes. Yes he did, but Donal couldn’t. Not until he knew more about this seeming possession. No way was Donal telling Marcus about the deaths of his coven—his family. Three of them dead from one circle—all because a Demonae had crossed over. He still couldn’t figure out how the fucking bastard had gotten in. The circle had been cast correctly. The only thing different had been the new guy. He’d seemed weird to Donal, but Stephie had vouched for him. Now she wasn’t talking to Donal along with the other five living members of what had been his magical family.
“No. Go back to sleep. Just a bad dream, really.” Donal glanced at the clock. “Jesus, I’m sorry. It’s only two a.m. Let’s see if we can’t get another four or so hours, okay?” He left off the part where he asked Marc to climb into bed with him.
Marcus shrugged then left. Even if Donal wanted to, sharing coven secrets with the uninitiated was bad. Oathbreaking bad and he didn’t feel like being warlocked. He mentally catalogued the remaining members to see who might help him. Hitting dead ends with all five, he realized who he had to go see.
“Shit.” Donal closed his eyes. That meeting was going to suck—with teeth. But if it meant he could get some answers he’d have to go to his Coven’s Elder. He’d been in that Coven when Lee and Stephie had been elevated to Third. Everyone knew they would eventually leave to form their own Coven, so it had been a no-brainer to go with them.
Lee and Stephie had been his closest friends. He and Lee had been lovers for a minute but realized that friendship was a better fit. Stephie was Lee’s bestie—they jokingly referred to her as the Queen of the Fruit Flies. She was always making friends with gay guys. Her gaydar was totally fucked when it came to dating.
Donal knew he was avoiding the real issue. Lloyd Johnson and his wife Dora, also known as Lord Granite Seeker and Lady Serena would have to be approached. He didn’t relish that discussion. Even though they had accepted him, initiated him to Second then lovingly released him to the new group, he still craved their respect.
Would they respect him when he told them he’d done a casting by himself? One that had resulted in a Demonae hybrid now ostensibly contained by a pair of stone-and-thread bracelets? He sighed. The clock taunted him. Might as well get a few more hours of sleep. He was going to need it.
Zepar paced his library trying to remember the name of the human he’d partnered with for his last foray into the human world. If only the Demonae Council hadn’t outlawed Demonae-human contact. Those weaklings had closed a door to one of his main sources of entertainment. He loved the energy fear gave off but the best was sheer, unadulterated terror.
He was ever thankful for having been chosen to be born an Energy Eater. His kind were harder to trap so if trapped more likely to cause havoc. It was weaklings such as the Hedonae not to mention the stupid Imps who were more easily trapped. Imps enjoyed chaos too much. They fed off the confusion and crazy that came from a human whose idiotic Demonae trapping spell actually worked.
“I need that name.” He cursed again. Raging at his secretary hadn’t helped. The servant had pissed herself in fear. Zepar refrained from killing her only because he didn’t have the time to replace a second servant. She should have known he might need that human’s name again.
Then he remembered. James LaPierre. That human had mentioned him in the first few sessions. He’d babbled about killing that other human. Zepar had laughed at his pitiful anger. LaPierre had been doing some workings that required the energy only death could bring. But LaPierre couldn’t kill anyone himself. Something about human laws. Zepar snorted. Apparently evil on both sides was having its style cramped by others.
“I think I’ll pay this LaPierre a visit.” He snarled for his mirror to be brought to him. He didn’t leave mirrors out since he didn’t want to be intruded on the way he spied on others. When the smooth reflective surface was in front of him, the Demonae cleared his thoughts. Focusing only on the dark-haired human, he went in search of him.
Marcus roamed restlessly. Donal was still asleep even though he’d made coffee as well as fried some eggs he’d found in the fridge. From dinner last night he knew the guy ate eggs and dairy since this morning he’d also found butter for his multigrain toast. His survey of the kitchen told him Donal was a health nut with a sweet tooth since he had three flavors of ice cream in the freezer along with two packages of gluten-free cookies.
Interestingly enough, there was no fake sugar. Most of the packages proudly proclaiming that they were additive free or some other health-conscious offering.
When was Donal going to wake up? Marcus glanced toward the ceiling where he knew Donal’s bedroom to be. Should he go upstairs to knock on the door? It was already nine. To an early-morning person the day was already wasting away. Shit, before being blindsided by that damn witch and captured by the Demonae, he’d always been out the door for a run before five then hard at work by six thirty.
Now he ran a hand over his newly trimmed beard, tracing his jawline. It had taken him almost an hour with the tiny pair of scissors he’d found in the bathroom. Once he’d hacked it down to a manageable length, he’d shaved to clean the edges.
His thoughts traveled back to his sister. He had to find Marielle. He’d looked for a phone but the guy had no landline. How strange to him that there was no phone in the part of the house that served as an actual home. He wondered if there might be one in the shop but didn’t want to annoy Donal in any way by breaking in to look for one. He’d tested the door earlier in his explorations.
With a muttered deprecation about health nuts who didn’t want to have sex he stomped back up the stairs to the small living room, dropping onto the couch before turning on the television. Might as well see what he’d missed in the past years. Dragging a hand through his hair, he closed his eyes in disbelief. Seven fucking years he’d been that fucking Demonae’s play toy. Seven fucking years. The time had passed in such a blur of pain and humiliation, but still, it really had felt more like a month, not years.
Idly flipping channels, he stopped on a show he remembered. He hadn’t seen this particular episode. It took him a bit to realize that one of the actresses was new. He wondered what had happened to the old one. As the story progressed he figured out the other character had died, that this new one was a half sister. He snorted as he watched them vanquish yet another Demonae. If only it were that easy.
“Charmed? Really? Reruns?” Donal’s voice scared the shit out of him. He jumped to his feet, whirling to face the other man. At the teasing grin, the tension dropped out of his shoulders.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on a man when he’s getting his Halliwell on!”
“Hey, you shaved! Looks great. Want some breakfast?” Donal asked over his shoulder as he headed downstairs into the kitchen. “I have to grab a bite then open the shop by ten. We have shorter hours on Sunday but not today. Saturday is usually a very busy day. Melissa will be in at noon. Her kids have swim class at Barton Springs.”
“I kind of helped myself.” Marcus followed Donal into the kitchen, pleased by the compliment he’d received even if it was really an offhand one. He watched as the guy reached into the fridge for a container that proclaimed itself to be Greek yogurt. He set it beside a glass jar that Marcus had earlier discovered held granola.
“Good, good. Look, we probably need to figure some things out. Let me get my shop opened. As soon as Melissa gets here I’ll come upstairs then we can make some plans to go find your sister.” Donal dug into the yogurt to plop some into a bowl.
Marcus grimaced. It didn’t look like the stuff he was used to. Could things have changed that much? “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“Marcus, it’s been a while already. We need to make sure those bracelets are going to contain whatever Demonae essence you’re carrying around before we leave the house. I need to talk to one of the elders. Let me do that. You don’t want to endanger your sister, do you?” Donal put the yogurt back in the fridge then set a pint of blueberries on the counter.
“Gods, no!” Marcus’ response was immediate as he flopped down on a stool to watch Donal spoon some of the granola on top of the yogurt. Donal grabbed a handful of berries, rinsing them before adding them to the mix. Marcus observed him adding honey, no, not honey. Agave? What the hell was that? He didn’t interrupt Donal who dug into the mixture, devouring it.
But he could talk while the blond witch ate. Marcus toed the stool out of his way as he stood up. “I just feel so fucking helpless. And useless. I mean, I was studying magick before coming to find my father, then meeting James seemed as if fate were at work. Who knew that bastard was setting me up? He was all sunshine and happiness. Hell, I thought he probably shit rainbows, you know? He went on and on about me being a hereditary witch, my power, blah-blah-blah. I’m such a fucking idiot.”
Marcus paced the small area as if he were a caged lion. He stopped when Donal spoke.
“You’re not an idiot. The guy told you what you wanted to hear. He fed into your fears, your hopes. He was probably just hoping to tap into whatever power you had to take it. Where did you meet him?”
With a shrug Marcus leaned against the counter. He looked at Donal for a moment as if measuring his next words.
“He was coming out of my father’s house when I first got here. I never even made it up the sidewalk.”
Donal nodded. He watched Marcus. The pain the man felt was so evident. Donal wanted to make his next words wash away that hurt but feared nothing would. He tried anyway.
“Well, there you go. Obviously he didn’t want you having access to your father for fear of losing his own place. Hmm, maybe we should try to find him. He might know why your aura shows demonic at times. What did you say his name was?”
He knew there were so many who wanted to gain power the easy way, but with a name he could shake his own network. Maybe find this person to make him face the music. Nothing could have prepared him for the name he heard.
“James. James LaPierre.”
“Ah, fuck me! Fuckity fucking fuck!”
Marcus jumped off the stool as Donal’s face paled. He very nearly dropped the bowl he’d been holding.
“What? You know him?” Marcus demanded.
“Oh hell yes. Son of a seven-headed stinking bitch! Rat-faced, slime-sucking, ass-kissing, black-souled son of a bitch!” Donal slammed the bowl into the sink, not stopping his ranting even as it shattered. Marcus watched in amazement as the guy he’d thought to be so even-tempered tossed out a few more colorful epithets before simply shouting a loud, very final “Fuck!”
“And your momma’s a slut.” At Donal’s sudden stare Marcus shrugged. “Your rant sounded kinda like one of those old ‘your momma’ jokes, sorry. Okay, so LaPierre is persona non grata? Who’d have thought it?” So not only did Donal share his warped sense of humor but also his hair-trigger temper. The guy definitely trumped him in colorful cursing.
Donal stared at him for a moment then started laughing. He laughed until tears came out of his eyes then swiped both hands over his face. “Persona non grata? That son of a bitch is one of the reasons my coven splintered. He’s a conniving, power-seeking, soul-deprived evil bastard. I’m not surprised he’s the cause of you being captured by demons.”
“Demonae.”
“What?”
“They call themselves Demonae. There are different types as far as I could figure out. This one was one of the meanest. He feeds on energy. There were others, some smaller than him, some different in appearance, some who wanted to bite me but he wouldn’t let them. I never understood that. It was almost as if he didn’t trust them. But he was a mean son of a bitch. He did things…”
“Marcus.” Donal swallowed hard then touched his arm. “Marc, did he…”
It took Marcus a minute to track where the other man’s mind had gone. It was the mental connection that had flared to life between them the night before that let him know what Donal really wanted to know.
“No.” He got it out quickly. “No, he never raped me. Never had me suck him off. Don’t get me wrong, he got aroused, and that bastard was definitely hung, but he never even touched me with his cock. Almost as if I wasn’t worthy. Or it was the pain that he got off on. I don’t know.”
“Thank the gods for that.” Donal pulled him into another of those comforting hugs and Marcus let him. He liked the way Donal felt, liked the way he smelled, even the way he tasted. That energy flared between them again. It didn’t take much to shift so they were face to face.
Staring right at each other, they moved even closer then let their lips meet. As kisses went, it was gentle, mild, more comforting than lusting. It suited the moment perfectly. Only a vibration from Donal’s front pocket caused them to stop.
As it was they moved away from each other as though they’d been burned. Donal dug into this pocket to pull out a cell phone, checking the display and giving Marcus a smile before answering the call.
“Hey, thanks for calling me back so soon. I’ve got a situation here. I need your help. Well, advice, really. Can I come by sometime today? I’ll be bringing someone with me.”
Marcus watched as Donal left the room. He wasn’t sure whom Donal was talking to but it had to be the elder he’d mentioned if he wanted to take Marcus to them. Whatever. He was willing to do anything if it meant he could see Marielle soon. She had to be wondering what the hell had happened to him. How could he explain it? How could he tell her things like the Demonae existed? Would she believe him or would she try to have him committed? Marielle and Mom had never really been interested in magick.
He moved to the sink. As he cleaned up the broken bowl his thoughts went right to James LaPierre. Marcus knew he owed that particular motherfucker a debt. One he’d happily repay with his fists if he couldn’t muster enough magick to deal with him. Then again, from Donal’s reaction, he didn’t think the magickal angle was going to be a problem.
He’d been one pissed-off witch. Hadn’t he been gorgeous when his color had heightened like that? Marcus wondered if he would flush that way during sex. He let that train of thought thunder on down the tracks.
He was just wiping the counters down when Donal returned. His look was darker—somehow more determined.
“We’re leaving. I put a sign on the door. Any early birds can wait until Melissa gets here. She’ll be on her way soon. They won’t have to wait long. I hope Lloyd is right about those bracelets. “
Marcus raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “But why? Less than thirty minutes ago you said—”
“I know what I said. That was before I knew that limp-dicked motherfucker was involved.” Donal spoke through gritted teeth.
Marcus opted to not point out the incompatibility of the two terms. He didn’t think Donal was open to humor just then. “Okay then. Do you at least have a shirt, maybe some shoes I can wear? I’m not really comfortable going out barefoot in just a pair of sweats.”
As Donal stared a different look skated across his face. Still dark, this one held a promise of lust combined with need that took Marcus’ breath away. “I’ll get you a shirt and some shoes. What size shoe do you wear?”
“A fourteen.”
“Four…” Donal’s eyes went straight to his feet then up to his cock. A grin skated across his face as he left the room. “Hang tight for a second.”
He was back in just a few minutes with another of those tie-dyed t-shirts and a pair of flip-flops. “I hope these fit.”
Marcus pulled the shirt on then slipped his feet into the sandals. They were a little tight but not uncomfortably so. “Well?”
“It’ll do. Lloyd’s straight.”
“What does that have to do with—” He swallowed the rest of his question then followed Donal through the house. Obviously Donal wasn’t going to wait for him to finish the sentence.
When they got to the detached garage Marcus had to stop for a minute. Who would have thought Mr. Hippie Freak Pretty Nature Boy would drive a car like this. The sleek lines of the vintage Thunderbird were sweet. He grinned when he saw the distinctive tracks in the roof.
“T-top T-bird? You gotta be kidding me.”
“No, but we aren’t taking the tops off.” Donal allowed a grin at Marcus’ expression. “Maybe on the way home. But right now we have to drive to Round Rock. That’s going to be a bitch even at this time of the day on a Saturday. At least we don’t have to fight Longhorn game-day traffic in the summer. Not to mention that the temperature is already in the triple digits.”
It took them forty minutes to negotiate the snarled traffic. Marcus took the time to go over what he knew about LaPierre. They had worked closely together for six months before he’d been thrown under the Demonae bus. He could offer up where he lived, what he liked to eat, who his favorite musicians were, but he didn’t see how any of that would help.
The house they pulled up in front of was a modest bungalow style with a concrete birdbath in the front. A Victorian witching globe gleamed under the hot Texas sun. Marcus felt the heat slap him like a bitch as they got out of the car.
Donal had stayed silent for the entire trip, not even yelling at any of the idiot drivers. Marcus had been impressed with his reticence. He would have been yelling within three blocks of leaving the house. He hated traffic, always had. That was why he’d sold his own car before ever leaving Idaho. He’d planned to purchase a motorcycle after meeting with his father but of course that had never happened.
Falling in line behind Donal, Marcus whispered, “What am I supposed to do?”
The fact that he received no answer only heightened his anxiety. He wasn’t well-versed in the magickal world but LaPierre had only spoken of one elder. James had made the elder sound as though he was the only man in the world LaPierre feared. Marcus had never heard the name of the elder but still swallowed hard as Donal rang the bell.
“Open. Come in.”
The voice boomed out as though shot from a cannon. Donal took a breath. He wanted to reassure Marcus but he couldn’t. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He didn’t know what to tell him to do. And he wasn’t going to hold his hand. Lloyd knew he was gay but Donal didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Lord and Lady were that kind of happy couple who were always trying to set their single friends up. The Lady had tried to introduce him to several “nice boys, honey” since he and Ted had broken up.
Lloyd, Lord Granite Seeker, stood in the living room. With a full beard, pot belly and a face topped with shaggy, unkempt hair, the man looked more like a poster boy for the local motorcycle club. He held out his hand. Donal hesitated. Normally he met him with a hug. Fuck. This was not going to go well.
“Sir, I…”
With a gruff laugh Lloyd yanked him forward, their hands still clasped. Caught in the other man’s viselike grip, he felt Lloyd’s arm go around him. The tension just drained out of Donal’s body.
“Shit, son. You were really scared. I had you going, didn’t I?” Laughing, the older man released Donal with a sturdy clap on the back. “So this is your problem? Louise! The boy is here with the hybrid.”
“Oh hold your horses, old man. I’m getting drinks together. And don’t whine when you get water. You already had your one cup of coffee for the day.”
Lloyd winked at Marcus. “She loves it when I bellow. Gets her hot.”
Donal coughed. Surely he didn’t think he would be offended? Marcus held out his hand to the older man.
“Marcus Greenlea, sir. I hope you can help me.”
“Well you do have an unusual energy about you, son. Let’s take this out back.” The older man didn’t shake his hand but gave him a friendly nod. Marcus self-consciously dropped his hand, rubbing his palm against his thigh.
Donal brushed Marcus’ hand. Just a brief touch but Marcus felt the reassurance Donal was sending. With a deep breath he followed Donal and the elder toward the back of the house.
“You’ve cleaned up in here.” The surprise in Donal’s voice amused Marcus. Looking around the cluttered workshop they’d come to, he wondered what not clean looked like. Dried bunches of herbs hung from the pegboard next to claw hammers and screwdrivers. It was like The Magic Handyman or some shit. The older man gave another one of his barking laughs.
“Had to. The old lady threatened to leave me.” He winked at Marcus. “This time I thought she meant it, so I bought a few of those plastic bins from the Home Depot, just shoved shit in.”
He started pulling out a few of those bins as he talked. “Now where did I put that? Lemme think.”
Donal glanced at Marcus then shrugged. Apparently this was normal behavior. This elder acted nothing like Marcus expected. He had assumed some stern man with an icy demeanor. Instead he got some weird mix of Grandpa Walton and an old crusty biker dude. Weird.
“Gotcha!” With a chuckle Lloyd yanked a slim volume out of one of the tubs. Marcus shared the pained look Donal had. No one should treat a book like that. And this tome looked ancient with yellowed, curling edges and a cracked spine.
“Yes, this book is really old. In fact this is a copy of the original, which fell apart fifty years before I ever saw it. I was in my twenties when I saw it. You do the math.” Lloyd thumbed through a few pages. Air whistled through his teeth as he sucked in a breath. Marcus started a bit when Lloyd’s first comment registered. Had the other man read his mind?
“That’s what I thought.” He closed the book with a frown. “Ain’t a good thing, boys. If you were over there, then the only way you could’ve continued to exist over there is if you had a piece of a demon’s soul.”
A chill shuddered through Marcus. “Then how do I get rid of it?”
“Rid of it?” Lloyd’s look didn’t hold any humor. “You can’t get rid of it unless you get back what’s yours. Now what’s yours is owned by some demon. So we need to figure out his name first. Then we have to do a calling. Have to set the circle up tight though. Gonna need to do a High Magick rite for this one.”
Marcus grabbed Donal’s arm. He gripped it tightly and his surge of lust gave way to overwhelming fear. Call Zepar? His voice shook. “We can’t do that.”
Lloyd pointed a finger at him. “We have to or you are gonna be half demon for the rest of your life. Now that ain’t terrible. Knew a half demon back in the day. She was a good egg except when you pissed her off. Had a helluva a temper, Katy did. But some pretty extraordinary powers too. Hmmm….you’re already a magick user since you got the Greenlea blood. Too bad about your dad. He’d be the one to ask about this. He was a helluva demonologist. “
Marcus interrupted. “What about my sister?”
“Sister? Don’t know much about her. We know she’s here. We heard that she kicked James LaPierre’s ass.” Lloyd spat. “Good on her. That boy is bad news. Donal tells me you were hooked up with him?”
At the look Lloyd shot him Marcus blurted out, “I wasn’t hooked up with him. I mean, I never had sex with him. Yes, I worked with him for six months. Then he had me do this Rite of the Blazing Star. It was during that that I got pulled over. I don’t think that was what LaPierre wanted. The look on his face was… well fear was part of it but there was something more…something like greed.”
“Blazing Star? What in the seven hells was that jackass thinking? You don’t do that rite with a newbie. Boy, you’re lucky you only lost a piece of your soul. That rite’s only use is to trade places with a demon. He was trying to swap you for a demon he could enslave. It takes blood magic, death magic. It’s seriously bad shit. That motherfucker, pardon my French, is insane.”
Donal finally spoke. “So what do we do, Lloyd?”
“I’m sorry. You’re going to have to do that again. That’s the only thing you can do now. The ritual I was thinking of won’t work. You have to do the Blazing Star to reverse the damage. Or let him be. Do you know the name of the demon?” Lloyd looked at Marcus.
Marcus swallowed. Hard. “I haven’t said his name yet. I don’t want to call him here. But yes, I know his name.”
“Well you aren’t stupid. That’s good. Don’t say his name unless you’re fully protected. It’ll be a beacon to him and he will find you. Now I think you need to go see your sister. Take this. It may help.” Lee thrust the book at Marcus.
Marcus glanced at the title—Ordains Demonae. There was nothing left to do but follow Donal to the car. They hadn’t even stayed to meet Lloyd’s wife. As they got into the car Lloyd leaned down to the passenger window.
“Take care of Donal. He’s a good man.” Then he went back into the house, leaving Marcus feeling as though they’d been given the news that he had two choices. Kill the Demonae, which meant others might die, or learn to live with it. Turning partially in the seat to face Donal, Marcus took a deep breath then let it out slowly.
“I have to talk to Mari, Donal.”