Demon Born Magic (Ella Grey Series Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Demon Born Magic

  Copyright

  Books by Jayne Faith

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Demon Born Magic

  ELLA GREY BOOK THREE

  JAYNE FAITH

  Copyright

  Demon Born Magic

  Copyright © 2017 by Jayne Faith

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the authors.

  Demon born magic / a novel by Jayne Faith

  Ebook Edition ISBN: 978-0-9970260-9-2

  Edited by: Mary Novak

  Proofread by: Tia Silverthorne Bach of Indie Books Gone Wild

  Cover by: Deranged Doctor Designs

  Published in the United States of America

  Books by Jayne Faith

  Sapient Salvation Series (Dystopian Romance)

  The Selection

  The Awakening

  The Divining

  The Claiming

  Ella Grey Series (Urban Fantasy)

  Stone Cold Magic

  Dark Harvest Magic

  Demon Born Magic

  Blood Storm Magic

  Chapter 1

  IT HAD BEEN over a month since I was cut off from my magic. Every morning when I woke up, my power’s absence barged into my consciousness. It was like a boulder that came crashing through the roof and landed squarely in the middle of my existence.

  It was like my own personal circle of hell. I couldn’t work because magical aptitude was a requirement for Demon Patrol officers. According to the department, without my powers I was a hazard to myself, my partner, and the public. I couldn’t practice any of the drills my Patrol partner Damien had assigned me. And by far the worst of all, as a powerless normal I couldn’t go into the Nevada desert to bust my brother Evan out of the vampire den.

  Worrying over Evan was just about the only thing to distract me from the void of powerlessness. The memory of touching magic, but feeling only dead nothing where my magical senses and awareness used to be, was a permanent ache that had settled across my shoulders. It was funny how you took a thing for granted, even hated it a little for being so inferior, but then when it was gone all you could think of was its absence.

  I’d used up my sick days and was now whittling away at my vacation time. Once that was gone, I’d have to go on medical leave, but I was determined not to let it get to that point because I was fairly certain I would lose my marbles long before then.

  Unable to use my own necromancy while I had no magic, I’d begged Rogan to send his demon pets to Nevada to see what he could find out about the compound where Evan was being held. The former reaper had done me one better by also volunteering to go out there himself and poke around.

  Keeping to my exercise routine, I’d risen early for my morning jog, and by the time I got home, Deb was gone for the day. She’d been living with me since she decided to divorce her husband, and her job as a teacher at a school in a neighboring city meant her alarm went off early on weekdays.

  I began running through my calisthenics in the middle of my living room while my hellhound-labradoodle Loki watched from the sofa. I had one eye on my phone, hoping for news from Rogan.

  I was desperate for a glimpse of my brother, any sign he was still there. I’d been searching for so long, and my worst fear was that he would once again slip through my fingers like a wisp of smoke on the wind.

  Rogan had also promised to thoroughly scope the place out and get us some recon, and I appreciated his assumption that he and I would soon be able to go after Evan as originally planned.

  But first, I had to get my magic back.

  I was so fixated on my phone I nearly jumped out of my skin when the front door unlatched. Spinning around and lowering myself into a defensive crouch, I was greeted with Damien’s wry grin and a spark of amusement in his sky-blue eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said, nudging the door closed with his elbow. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I straightened and shook out my shoulders, trying to look casual. “I wasn’t scared. Just working on keeping my reflexes sharp.”

  He stretched out a hand to pass me one of the two Starbucks cups he held. “Dark roast with cream, no sugar?”

  I accepted the cup gratefully, my fingertips still throbbing a little with the biting chill from my run.

  “Thanks,” I said, and took a sip. “What are you doing up so early?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Thought I’d stop by and say hi before I head to work.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Since the battle against the horde of Baelmen, he’d been popping by a lot more than usual. I had a feeling it was something he and Deb had arranged. In the fight, I’d pulled too much in-between magic and nearly killed myself. After, Damien and Deb had devised a spell that saved me but cut me off from magic. The spell was contained in two charmed rings I wore, and I think Deb and Damien were worried I’d get fed up and yank them off. I appreciated the sentiment, but not the implication that I needed a babysitter.

  “So what do you have planned today?” he asked.

  I snorted a laugh, seeing straight through his attempt to make sure I wasn’t up to anything he’d disapprove of. Like, oh, I don’t know—pulling off the damn rings and hightailing it to Nevada after Rogan to get my brother.

  “Going to see Jennifer Kane this morning,” I said, opting for honesty. Deb would find out anyway, seeing as how she, Jen, and I were in the same coven and news traveled fast among the witches.

  “Oh, really?” He cocked his head.

  “We’re going to talk strange magic,” I said. “She’s apparently got some skills with spells involving magic beyond the four elemental powers.” I couldn’t help gripping one of my rings and turning it around my finger.

  His eyes flicked down to my hands. He shook his head and drew a breath to argue.

  Before he could say anything, I quickly continued, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything rash. We’re just going to talk about it. You know, discuss theories.” I gave a little smile, hoping he’d like my use one of his favorite nerdy words.

  I could tell he wasn’t quite buying it and still wanted to protest, but he finally nodded.

  If Jen had a spell that worked, it would solve one of my problems. The other one being the reaper that had nearly gnawed through my soul. But that was the catch. Damien and Deb feared that putting me back in touch with magic would also reawaken the reaper, and then it would make short work of what was left of me. If the reaper consumed the rest of my soul, it would take over
my body and mind, and Ella Grey would cease to exist.

  “I guess I’d better get to work,” he said, rising from the sofa arm where he’d perched. “Just . . . be careful, Ella.”

  I saluted and made a little deferential inclination of my head. “Of course.”

  He left, and I stood staring at the door for a moment.

  Careful, my ass. I’d waited around long enough, and I was willing to try just about anything. Damien was incredibly skilled and knowledgeable, but in spite of his extensive studies, he’d been unable to conjure up something that would give me my magic back without killing me. It was time to figure out a solution so I could get on with my life and go after my brother.

  I chugged the rest of my coffee and went to get cleaned up so I could head out to Jennifer’s.

  Chapter 2

  I FELT A sense of kinship with Jennifer Kane because she was undead, and I’d been, well, temporarily dead. As a docile vamp, she could walk in sunlight unharmed and didn’t suffer from the raging bloodlust that made wild vampires the creatures of nightmares.

  Her front door swung wide as I went up the driveway, stepping through her wards without triggering them. She must have been watching from the window.

  “What’s up, witchy bitch!” She greeted me with a broad smile lighting up her full-cheeked, heart-shaped face.

  I cracked a grin. She was just about the only person I knew who could successfully pull off “bitch” as a term of endearment.

  My affinity for Jen probably also sprang from something else we had in common: she was a vampire who could use magic, which was a rarity, and I was a necromancer who could use magic, also an unusual combo. But that was pretty much where our commonalities ended. Beyond the basic four elements, we commanded different types of magic, and we were technically two separate species.

  Nobody would ever guess it looking around her little bachelorette house, though. With her balls of yarn piled in the knitting basket next to an easy chair, a couple of Hollywood gossip mags on the coffee table, and orchids on a stand near a sunny window, she seemed as human as anyone I knew. Probably more normal in some ways than I was, come to think of it.

  She glanced at the rings on my fingers. “How are you holding up?”

  I lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I’m still here,” I said flatly.

  Planting one fist on her hip and stroking her chin with the other hand, she scanned me up and down for a moment.

  “Yeah. Well, let’s get to work.” She flipped her fingers at me, indicating I should follow her, and turned toward a short hallway off the living room.

  One end of the hall led to her bedroom and bathroom. The other dead-ended at a room that I’d visited before. It held her altar, and it was the place where she’d used her special brand of magic to identify my reaper. At the time, I hadn’t known what had followed me back from my brush with the grave.

  I was grateful for her help, but recently the scrying mirror she’d used to discover what had attached itself to my soul had fallen into my uncle Jacob Gregori’s hands. That meant he knew exactly what I was. I’d been on edge for weeks waiting for him to make a move on that information, but so far he’d remained quiet. I hoped he was too busy fighting the murder and attempted-murder charges Supernatural Crimes was trying to pin on him for sending the Baelmen to kill Lynnette Leblanc’s coven. Regardless, I knew eventually he’d circle back to what he’d learned about me from the scrying mirror.

  “Alrighty.” Jen turned on the overhead lights, dimming them to a bit above candlelight strength, and plopped down on one of the two oversized round cushions on the floor. I took the other one.

  She reached for the tablet that rested on top of a stack of books piled next to her and powered on the device.

  “So . . .” she said, looking up at me. “Unique magic. Mine isn’t quite like yours.”

  “Well, yeah. Yours is hot pink.”

  She peered at me more intensely. “Do you know what it means? The neon pink?”

  I frowned, tilting my head. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a mix of fire and . . . something else.”

  “It’s a combination of the four elemental powers plus what the mages call ethereal magic.”

  My brows lifted. “Ethereal? But only mages can touch ethereal power.”

  In my mind’s eye, I recalled the bursts of white light in the sky during the battle against the Baelmen, when mages had projected themselves here to help. Their pure-white magic had shot up like fireworks and then expanded into huge net-like formations to trap dozens of Baelmen with each sweep. I’d obviously been distracted at the time, but it dawned on me that it was the only time I’d seen mage power in action.

  She spread her hands. “I can’t command mage levels of it, obviously. I’m still just mid-range on the Magical Aptitude Scale. But I am able to access it. The odd thing is, I can’t pull ethereal magic alone. I can only access it along with the four elements.”

  An icy little point slid down my spine as my thoughts flicked to Damien. If he knew that a non-mage crafter could pull ethereal power, he’d be extremely interested in understanding the phenomenon. When I’d first met Damien, I’d thought his curiosity about finding ways to boost magical aptitude was mostly academic. It was certainly that for him, but I’d come to realize it drove the majority of his decisions. An interest that tipped into obsession.

  “Okay, so we can both access unusual magic,” I said. “But it’s not even the same type, so I’m not sure what one has to do with the other.”

  She leaned in and gave me a conspiratorial look. “My experience with mage power was similar to what happened to you.”

  I turned my head to the side and looked at her out of the corners of my eyes, not sure where she was headed.

  “The first time I touched it, after my transition to vampire, it flooded into me in such huge amounts it nearly killed me. I had to figure out how to slow it to a trickle. It was either that or keep myself permanently cut off from magic. Sound familiar?”

  My mouth dropped open, and I blinked a couple of times. “You figured out how to control the flow.”

  “Yep. It’s a damned complicated spell, but it worked.”

  “You know my dilemma, though, right?” I asked. I lifted my hands. “These rings are holding off the reaper, too.”

  “Yep, and that’s where I’m less certain.” She held up the tablet. “I’ve been reading up on reapers.”

  I’d been doing my own research over the past several days, too. But I wasn’t sure how much of the information I found was trustworthy. Truth and lore tended to intermingle when it came to supernatural phenomena and creatures that couldn’t be easily studied by the living. Plus, different cultures had vastly different takes on the personification of Death, which also muddied things.

  From my own experience, I knew for a fact that Death wasn’t just a single entity. There were multiple reapers. I’d begun to think of them as their own class of supernatural beings. In the Hindu tradition, there was one king of death who used several agents. Death’s minions were charged with the responsibility of carrying souls into the beyond. This rang truest to me, according to what little I knew to be fact about reapers and the in-between.

  Jennifer talked through her notes on the various regional and religious beliefs about angels of death, and they mostly matched what I’d discovered.

  I waited until she was done. “Okay, so where does all of this leave us?”

  She shook her head. “We don’t know enough. So I think we need to go to the source. What do you say about a little ritual to contact your reaper?”

  “Like we did before with the scrying mirror?”

  “This will be different. More like rituals to contact spirits of the dead. No mirrors this time. Don’t worry. I do this kind of thing a lot. Connecting the living with their dearly departed was one of the supernatural services I provided before I was infected. I used to go the whole nine yards, dressing up as a fortune teller and everything. I think I can do the sam
e kind of thing with your reaper.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and looked down at the floor between us for a moment. Something was prickling at the back of my mind. “That makes sense. But I need to ask you something. What’s your motivation for helping me with this?”

  Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

  I peered at her, trying to discern whether she was deliberately playing dumb.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate your effort here.” I gestured at the tablet. “But why are you so invested in this?”

  She let out her throaty laugh. “Suspicious much?” When my expression didn’t change, she sobered. “For one, you’re my coven sister. We treat each other like family and try to help each other however we can.”

  I gave her a brief stretch of my lips but waited for her to continue.

  “And in that spirit, Lynnette has charged me with the responsibility of trying to resolve your . . . challenges,” she said. “For obvious reasons, I was the logical choice. I would have volunteered anyway, though.”

  So this was all under Lynnette’s direction, and Jen would be reporting back to her. I wasn’t really surprised, but it didn’t mean I was entirely easy with the situation, either. At various times I’d sensed that Jen might be an ally in the coven, but I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t going to settle on that assumption without more proof.

  I gave her the most direct look I could summon. “You know Lynnette forced me into the coven, right? She used verbal magic. I literally didn’t have a choice. Did she coerce you, too?”

  “No,” Jen said quickly. She licked her lips and shifted her weight on the cushion. “Look. It’s no secret that Lynnette isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. She’s as controversial a witch as you’ll find this side of black practices. Using verbal magic on you certainly isn’t the approach I would have taken. But it demonstrates that she didn’t think she could convince you otherwise, and that’s saying something. She can be incredibly persuasive even without the verbal magic.”