Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex: Demonized #1)(15)

Facing me, Amalia brushed her hair off one shoulder. “Summoning is the family business. We’ve been summoners for generations.”

“But that … that can’t be. My parents would have …”

Stay away from magic and it’ll stay away from you. That was the lesson my parents had taught me. Pursue a career in the human world, not the mythic one. Study mythic history if you want, but don’t get involved in magic. And ignore the mysterious, ancient grimoire your mother diligently protects.

What had my parents been hiding from me?





I sat on the kitchen stool Amalia had vacated, my elbows propped on the counter and chin on my palms. A plate sat in front of me, and on it was a perfect slice of fluffy white cake, frosted with whipped cream and topped with artfully arranged strawberry slices, a sprinkle of plump blueberries, and a drizzle of dark chocolate ganache.

Angel food cake. The most perfectly ironic bribe for a demon.

A memory, laced with terror, rose in my mind: the winged, horned monster with dark reddish skin crouched in the underground circle, radiating its desire to kill. I imagined the husky laugh of the library demon coming from its thin lips.

I’d talked to a monster like that winged creature. I’d given it cookies. I’d told it I loved baking with my family.

Picking up the fork beside my elbow, I poised it over the whipped-cream-and-ganache topping. I should eat this beautiful piece of cake. Scarf it right down, then head up to my room and plot my next move in the battle against Uncle Jack. I had nothing to gain from interacting with the demon.

But I was going to the library anyway, because reading The Summoner’s Handbook was no longer a passing curiosity. With one conversation, Amalia had rocked the foundation of my world.

Summoning is the family business.

The fork wobbled and I set it down. Chewing my lip fretfully, I opened the breadbox and loaded a napkin with the cookies I’d baked early this morning, then picked up the plate of angel food cake. Lost in new worries that had joined the ever-present ache of my parents’ loss, I headed into the basement.

The library lights were dimmed, the obsidian dome almost invisible. I nudged the slider up with my elbow and a soft glow pushed the shadows away. Cautiously, I approached the circle and knelt on the floor, then skooched close enough to slide the napkin of cookies over the silver inlay.

“That’s for answering my question last time,” I said.

Quiet was the only response, then …

“Keeping your word, payilas,” the demon whispered, its voice only feet away.

I couldn’t look at the darkness. Was there a monster concealed inside it—a seven-or eight-foot beast with giant horns, wings, and a tail made for crushing enemies? The crimson eyes I’d glimpsed—did they too burn with murderous hatred and insatiable bloodlust? Uncle Jack and Claude thought this demon could be the most powerful of all; maybe it was even more terrifying, if that was even possible.

And yet … no matter what version of that winged demon I imagined, it didn’t match the soft, husky voice that slid from the darkness of this circle.

I peered down at the plate. A strawberry was slowly slipping off the cake. “I made this for you. In exchange for your name. But … but I want to ask for something else instead.”

The demon waited. A patient hunter.

“I want to … would you … can I see what you look like?”

“No.”

“Oh.” I deflated, but I wasn’t sure if it was from relief or disappointment. “Okay.”

I set the plate down and slid the cake, resting on a napkin, onto the floor. Wary as always of getting too close to the protective barrier, I prodded a corner of the napkin into the darkness. It was probably better I didn’t see the demon. Did I really want to add more fuel to my nightmares?

Sitting back on my heels, I squinted toward the coffee table where the Demonica book waited. Demon summoning. My family’s legacy. An ancient grimoire. Secrets. So many secrets. Had my parents been summoners like Uncle Jack or had they eschewed magic as they’d taught me to do? What had they been hiding from me? Could Amalia be wrong?

If demon summoning did run in the family, and the ancient grimoire had been passed from summoner to summoner for generations, Uncle Jack would never, ever let me have it. I had to get it first.

“Payilas.”

I glanced at the dark dome. Both napkins sat untouched on the silver inlay.

“What do you want?” the demon asked.

The grimoire. The truth. My parents alive again. “I want to see your face.”

“Ch. Stubborn payilas.”

I assumed that was a refusal. I was already turning away when the darkness inside the circle swirled—then disappeared.

He sat at the edge of the circle, with one arm propped behind him, a knee raised, and his forearm resting on it. At my shocked gasp, he canted his head, the motion cocky and challenging, and his crimson eyes locked on mine. A faint magma glow emanated from his stare.

He was definitely a demon, but he was so different from the one under the greenhouse that they could’ve been different species. He had no wings, for starters. In fact, he looked … he looked …

He looked almost human.

His smooth skin was the color of toffee with a reddish undertone. Black hair, short in the back but longer in the front, was rumpled above his dark eyebrows and wild as though a brush had never touched it. The sharp line of his jaw smoothed to softer cheekbones, and his ears had pointed tips. Like the other demon, four dark horns poked out of his hair, two rising above each temple, but they were minuscule—only a couple of inches long.