Ancient Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Huntress #1)(38)

Rain started to fall as I hurried around the side of the building. Dr. Garriso's office was on the bottom floor at the back. The boring part, he said, where the visitors didn’t want to go. When I reached his little window, I tapped on it. The golden glow of his lamps gleamed through the layer of dust on the window, and I could just make out his form rising from his desk.

I ran over to the door and hopped up and down as I waited for him. The rain was coming down harder now, and I wasn’t a fan.

“Come in, come in!” he said as he unlocked the museum’s back door.

I stepped into the narrow linoleum hallway. “Thanks. It’s really starting to come down out there.”

He peered out into the night and shook his head. “Looks like I’m not going home for a while.”

“Would you have anyway?”

He shrugged one skinny shoulder and let out a creaky laugh. Dr. Garriso was about seventy, with a tuft of white hair and sharp eyes. Though he’d told me once that he was from Missouri, he favored tweed coats that would do any old British professor proud. The aesthetic fit him.

He turned and shuffled down the hall to his office. “Come on, I just put the kettle on.”

I followed him down the silent hall and turned into his office and couldn’t help but grin as the scent of tea and books wafted over me. I loved his office. Though the hallway outside looked like any modern, boring hallway, Dr. Garriso's office was different. It was like stepping back in time—perfect for a little old man who wore tweed coats.

It was a narrow space but long enough to look large. Every wall was covered with bookshelves that were stuffed to the brim with old leather tomes. The lights were old Tiffany lamps with yellow bulbs—none of those modern white ones for Dr. Garriso. I was pretty sure he’d use candles if they’d let him.

I took a seat in one of the two wingback chairs at the far end of the office. I sank into it like it was a cloud. They were right under the window, though they looked like they should be in front of a fireplace. His desk was at the other end. In the middle, near the door, was the table with the tea supplies.

“What brings you to my office?” Dr. Garriso asked as he poured water from an electric kettle into a chipped coffee mug. He dumped in five sugar cubes and fixed a plain one for himself, then joined me.

“Thanks,” I said as I took the coffee mug he held out. I sipped, then cursed.

“You know you should wait,” he said as he lowered himself slowly into his chair.

“I know. But you make the best tea.”

“Hummingbird food,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, so I like sugar.” But I grinned. I liked being around Dr. Garriso. It didn’t take a shrink to figure out that since I couldn’t remember my parents, I was probably looking for some kind authority figure as a standin.

But whatever. Psychoanalyzing myself wasn’t going to do me any good. I’d just enjoy Dr. Garriso's company and hopefully get my answers.

“I have a question about some demons that I’ve been encountering.”

“What kind?”

“I call them shadow demons because they’re gray and throw smoke when they fight. They’ve also got big arms and narrow horns that run back along their heads. I’ve been seeing them all over the place lately. One of them knew something they shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t how?”

“It’s kinda a secret.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what it is?”

“‘Friad I can’t.” Truth was, I honestly didn’t think Dr. Garriso would turn me in to the Order of the Magica. But I couldn’t risk it.

“That’s all right.” Dr. Garriso tapped his chin and scrunched his brow. “Interesting. I think I might know just the kind of demon you’re talking about.”

He set his tea down and stood, then walked slowly along the bookshelves, examining the titles.

“That’s it!” he muttered as he pulled down a big leather-bound one and brought it back. He sat and flipped through it, his brow creased.

“Ah! That’s it,” he said a few minutes later, his finger pressed to a page. He passed it to me. An illustration of one of the gray bastards stared back.

“You found them!” I said, then glanced at the heading. “Eshkanawinawel?”

“Some of them have rather long names,” he said as he reached for the book. I handed it over and he skimmed it. “Their language is a complex one. I believe Eshkanawinawel means Smoke Thrower.”

“I think I’ll keep calling them shadow demons.”

“Fair enough.” Dr. Garriso skimmed the book again. “Ah, yes,” he muttered. “As I thought. They look very similar to Karst Demons, Grayskin Demons, and Fallow Demons. It is the smoke throwing that is one of their primary distinguishing factors.”

I felt a little better about not freaking out earlier about these demons. They hadn’t thrown smoke at the monks’ island, after all, so they could have been any number of demons.

“What else does it say?” I asked.

“Well, like most demons, they frequently act on behalf of whoever will get them out of their hells. Mercenaries. They’re very low-level demons—not very intelligent, but very loyal. They often work in large numbers for whoever frees them and gives them reason to fight.”