The Council (Darkness #5)(44)

The speech stopped. Andris handed off the book and held out his hand. Like a surgeon, the helper plucked a marble-handled knife off of the pillow and placed it carefully in Andris’ palm. The helper then bent to the goat, holding the neck steady with eyes downward.

The goat bleated, nipping at Andris’ pants. Andris flinched as he got in position—the goat’s teeth apparently nipping more than clothes—and held the knife above the goat’s neck. Another helper shuffled quickly into the circle, an ordinary galvanized bucket held between two hands.

“You think you could’ve at least sprung for a silver bucket or something. Make this a little more festive.” Stefan’s voice fell on deaf ears. Andris was completely in the moment.

When the third helper was in position, the knife came down hard and fast. At least it was fast.

Andris started speaking again, which had started to sound more like chanting. The helper poured the blood around the floor, covering the carefully painted circle in messy splatters. After, they moved to the top of the circle so Andris could dip a paintbrush into the leftover blood, and paint signs of some sort on the hardwood, gym-type floor.

It really did look like a gym. Near the back, pushed against the ceiling, he could swear were basketball hoops. And was that a stage lurking behind the large drapes of curtain?

A bark dragged his attention back to the ceremony. The goat’s body had been carried away, and a dog was being led to the circle.

“Ah now, that just isn’t right,” Stefan said as the mostly docile animal’s collar was snapped onto the chain.

The chants began again, all the helpers now saying them. As a group, they moved to the outside of the circle, spreading out along it, speaking together. Louder and louder their voices rose, carrying across the open space. Males and females alike, those hanging around the edges, began creeping forward with their swords and knives, eyes intent on the circle.

Candles flickered harder. A soft breeze tickled Stefan’s face, and then blew. Swirls of dust got caught in the air currents, funneling toward the circle like a cyclone. Faster and faster. A soft moan rumbled the floor. The chants increased. Louder. The rumble turned into a shake, vibrating the entire facility. Stefan’s chair jumped, his weight not enough to hold him down. The dog started barking, pausing only to snap at the air with bared teeth.

The chanting competed with the barking and the rumble of the ground. A slice of light tore through the center of the circle. A translucent shape emerged, wisps mostly, the shape hard to determine. The dog snarled, biting at solidifying air, right before two impressions of hands bent down and snatched up the dog.

Stefan cringed at the sound of a spine breaking. His body flexed, his instinct saying to rip out of his bonds and kill Andris where he stood. He wouldn’t make it far, and he wouldn’t make it out of here. He could do nothing for the dog, but he knew he couldn’t let this continue. He might be sentenced to death, but if he went, he’d take Andris down with him.

The book was thrust to the side as Andris worked his magic, encasing the circle in an orange glow. The demon, a small, not completely solid form, rushed the circle, gnashing at the barrier with long, curved teeth. The orange blinked. Andris’ brows lowered.

The orange magic—Andris’ magic—was just a precaution, Stefan realized. Andris used it in case the old magic of the blood circle and chants failed. He had a pretty good handle on all this, but not a great one.

The demon scurried to the side of the circle where Andris stood. Its black eyes stared out.

“I command you to stand in the center of the circle!” Andris waited expectantly.

The demon growled, but took a step back.

“To the center!”

Another growl, and another grudging step.

“Now. I will give you your instructions.”

Stefan listened carefully, monitoring the fight of the demon for control. Monitoring the strain in Andris’ face and the sweat beading his brow. This was hard for him, maintaining ownership. Without the utmost concentration, that meager thread would break. And then the demon would get loose like all those before it.

The only comforting thing about this was that Andris was in way over his head, but wouldn’t admit it. Breaking his concentration and sabotaging this circus would be easy. Unfortunately, if he did call a stronger demon, Stefan wouldn’t be around long enough to watch what happened when it ripped control out of Andris’ grasp.

Chapter 13

“He’s alive!” I repeated as we tore up the street. “I felt him. I know I did. He is alive.”

“He’s gone now?” Tim asked from the front seat of a stolen vehicle. Well, not exactly stolen—kind of given to us with the help of Jonas and Charles’ pheromones. I did make them pick a jerk big-shot getting picked up in a limo, though, so I didn’t feel as bad about leaving him and his driver in the pick-up zone of the airport with a dazed, blinking stare.

Sorry, guy, but this is important.

“He muffled it. But that means he doesn’t want me to feel whatever he’s feeling. Which means he’s trying to die in silence like a pining bitch idiot.” I hit the seat, just for some way not to cry. Then, because my eyes still filled with tears, I punched Charles.

“After this is over, you will get paid back ten-fold, just so you know.” Charles rubbed his arm. “But I will also take this moment to compliment myself on teaching you to punch effectively.”