Night Magic: A Wing Slayer Novel Read online

  “Do you serve a demon, little witch?”

  “I’d die first.”

  He flinched at the cold statement. Keeping her wrists locked in one hand, he reached back and slid his silver knife free of the holster. Don’t cut her, don’t cut her. He repeated the mantra as he brought up the knife and laid the flat of the silver blade against her bare shoulder.

  Her body jerked at the kiss of cold silver against her skin. But she didn’t scream in pain.

  Lifting the blade, he looked at the spot. Her skin stayed clear. Relief poured through him like water. If she had been a demon witch, the silver would have burned her. But the real shocker was that he didn’t want her to be a demon witch. What was going on? He forced his hand to slide the knife back into the holster. “Don’t summon your magic.” He slowly let go of her hands, shoved off her, and pushed back to his knees.

  She sat up, scooting back on her butt, and rose. “It didn’t work anyway. You don’t stink of sulfur like a possessed human would, and if you were possessed, my magic would have banished the demon. You’re too fast and strong to be a mortal. What the hell are you, and why are you here?”

  By Jennifer Lyon

  BLOOD MAGIC

  SOUL MAGIC

  NIGHT MAGIC

  Night Magic is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  2011 Ballantine Books Mass Market Original

  Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Apodaca

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  eISBN: 978-0-345-52007-4

  Cover design and illustration by Jae Song

  www.ballantinebooks.com

  v3.1

  In memory of my father.

  You taught me passion and imagination by sharing your love of flying through your funny, tragic, and beautiful stories of being a fighter pilot.

  You taught me love with your devotion to Mom.

  You taught me how to work hard by example.

  We lost you much too soon, but I look up and imagine you soaring across the endless blue skies, whole and free.

  Love you and keep flying, Dad!

  I’ll see you when I get my wings …

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I could not have written this book without my truly amazing editor, Shauna Summers. It was during the revision process that Phoenix and Ailish took shape, and the story that emerged surprised even me. It wouldn’t have happened without you, Shauna!

  I’d also like to thank Jessica Sebor, another fabulous editor at Random House, for her hard work on the book. Nothing gets by you, Jessie, and the book is stronger for your diligence!

  My agent, Karen Solem, read the original idea and was very enthusiastic. That initial excitement kept me going through the long days of writing and nights of worrying. Thank you, Karen!

  To my friends who never let me give up, I couldn’t have done it without you. I want to say a special thanks to Marianne Donley—though she now lives across the country from me, she did emergency email plotting during revisions that helped me take this book to the next level. And so many more friends who were there every single time I needed them for plotting, encouragement, butt-kicking, laughter, and commiseration: Maureen Child, Kate Carlisle, Laura Wright, Michele Cwiertny, Silver (Penny) James and so many more! I wish I could name you all!

  To my family: My husband who is the hero of my world, my three sons who are the center of my world, and my sister who shared her passion for reading with me and got me hooked at an early age. You all put up with my strange deadline behavior and continue to love me anyway. I love you all!

  And to all my friends who hang out at jenniferlyonbooks.com—you all rock! A tip of the Appletini to you! You all know the question: Is Phoenix Wing Slayer worthy?

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  The Birth of a Siren

  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

  Epilogue

  The Birth of a Siren

  TWENTY-THREE YEARS,

  ELEVEN MONTHS, AND TWO WEEKS AGO

  The phoenix soared across the sky, his blue-and-purple wings sweeping up and down. He was waiting.

  Then he heard it, the siren’s cry that signaled the first breath of life in the newborn. It was a sound of such aching beauty, it drenched his eyes with tears and reverberated down his feathers, muscles, and bones until it filled his soul.

  It was too much. Each time, it was always too much.

  He erupted into flames, the heat bursting from his very cells in an agonizing explosion. The fire snapped and roared, eating his feathers, melting his muscles, and pulverizing his bones in endless torture.

  Ending only when he was reduced to ash, burned and gone.

  Until he was called by the siren to rise from the flames once more.

  DAYS REMAINING ON HANDFAST CONTRACT: FOURTEEN

  Ailish Donovan was home for the family reunion from hell.

  She stood at the French doors of the small house she’d rented as the sun sank into the horizon. It had been nearly eight years since she’d seen a sunset or anything else. As a witch she was connected to the earth elements that fed her powers, so she could feel the day slipping away and the long fingers of darkness spreading across Glassbreakers, California. The darkness fed her mood, her tightly controlled anger, her determination.

  With her right hand, she touched the binding around her left wrist. It was about an inch wide with a rounded shape that felt like a snug plastic bracelet, but it was indestructible. Once it had been plain rope that had been twisted by dark magic into a handfast binding. Nothing broke through it, no magic, no knife, no bolt cutters, not even fire. She’d tried every possible way, but nothing worked.

  Thanks to her mother’s betrayal and trickery, she was handfasted to the demon Asmodeus. If the handfast was completed, Ailish would become a demon witch. Asmodeus would own her soul in exchange for dark powers. No way was she giving her soul to a demon. She had no intention of spending eternity in the Underworld as a minion.

  All this added up to Ailish being one pissed-off witch. But she’d learned how to channel her anger into action, and she’d trained her body into a weapon. She was one of the top professional women kickboxers in the country. Being blind got her noticed, but her skills, speed, and power won her titles.

  And now she’d come home, back to where it all started eight years ago, to win the most crucial battle of her life—break the handfast and face down her mother. Knowing her mother, she was sure it would be a fierce battle. Maeve Donovan was the high witch of the Deus’Donovan coven. She was a determined and dangerous demon witch who had never loved Ailish, only used her to gain more power.

  Ailish might have
run away a scared little girl, but she’d come home ready to fight. That meant she’d use every advantage, including the magic in her voice. When she sang, all magic was enhanced. She didn’t know how far her power reached, but she sensed it radiated for miles. It was the same power that had led to her blindness, but this time she intended to get control of it.

  She would find the way to control her voice power. She had to.

  “Ailish, here’s the knife,” Haley Ryan said from behind her.

  She shut and locked the French doors, then turned and held out her hand. “It’s all silver?”

  “Yes,” Haley answered. “I got it from some witch hunter friends. They always carry silver knives.”

  The knife was cool in her palm, about eight inches in length. She felt the smooth hilt, then ran her fingers along the flat side of the blade. “Thanks, Haley. You’ve been a huge help. But you need to go.” Worry for her friend edged along her spine. Haley had insisted on helping Ailish get settled before flying out to Washington, D.C., where she was lobbying for more funding for her homeless shelter. But the woman was mortal and all too vulnerable; she needed to leave.

  “My car won’t be here for a half hour or so.” Haley moved into the kitchen, then came back and set two glasses on the table. “Iced tea. How long do you think it’ll be before the coven knows you’re here?”

  Ailish sat, placed the knife carefully on the table, then found her tea glass and took a sip. All she could see of Haley was a gray shadow across the table. Did she still wear her hair in a thick blond bob? When Ailish had seen her last, Haley had been slim, with an athletic build. She’d had piercing blue eyes that saw right through bullshit. Bringing her thoughts back to the question, she lifted her wrist. “Since I’m wearing the ultimate tracking device, the demon knows, and he’s told the coven. Tonight, they’ll summon Asmodeus into a mortal’s body and try to seduce me into the Claiming Rite that will finish the binding.” And turn her into a demon witch. She shivered at the thought. The handfast binding created a link between her and the demon that not only allowed him to track her, but could also ramp up her lust until just a simple touch from a man would create a painful hunger in her.

  Haley set her glass down with a determined thump. “I’m canceling this trip.”

  “Hell, no. My mother tried to kill you to get to me.” She wouldn’t let her. Ailish would use magic if necessary to force Haley to get on that plane.

  “What’s your plan, Ailish? Why come back now? What’s the knife for?” Worry and frustration underlined her short, sharp questions.

  Ailish reached out and touched the knife. “Silver conducts magic. Since my voice enhances all power when I sing, I should be able to focus enough of it into the silver knife and cut the binding.”

  Haley sucked in her breath. “Can you open your fifth chakra? You’ll need it to control that magic. If you can’t control it …”

  “I know, Haley,” she said dryly, reaching up to touch the thin, spidery scars around her eyes. Right after she ran away at sixteen, her mother had found her with Haley. Furious, Maeve Donovan had used her dark magic to strangle Haley in retaliation. Ailish had panicked and begun to sing, sending out the waves of uncontrolled enhancement. The car windshield had exploded, hitting her mother in the eyes.

  The witch-karma backlash blinded Ailish. In doing her mother an injury, she’d lost her own sight. In one life-changing moment, she had learned the brutal price of using her powers to cause harm.

  Shaking off the memory, she said, “I’m physically much stronger now.” She had to be. She couldn’t use her powers to protect herself because of witch karma, so she’d honed her body into a weapon with kickboxing. The beauty of all that training was the added strength in her mind-body connection, giving her more control of her first four chakras.

  “That’s good, but you need more than your elemental magic in your first four chakras to control the power. Have you been able to open your fifth chakra?”

  “No.” The failure tasted bitter. Without a familiar, few witches could open their fifth, sixth, or seventh chakra. A curse three decades ago had broken the witches’ bonds with their familiars.

  “Then what makes you think you’ll be able to use your voice to cut the binding?”

  “I’ve been using it. When I get stuck in the dreams”—she tried not to shudder as the memories tormented her, memories of the nights Asmodeus had used the link between them to force sex dreams on her that took her to the edge of desperation—“I can wake myself by singing. If my voice can break the demon’s hold on my dreams, then it should work when I’m awake.” It had to, it was her only hope.

  “I still think you’re taking too big a risk by being in Glassbreakers, where the coven is. Why now, Ailish?”

  She wished she could see Haley’s face. All those years ago, after her mother’s attack, Ailish had expected Haley to revile her, to hate her because she was the daughter of a demon witch. But Haley hadn’t. Instead, she’d thought Ailish to be some kind of hero for fighting her mom. Hero … the idea was laughable. She was handfasted to a demon! She’d lived for sixteen years with her mother and the coven without grasping what they were doing, how they were hurting people. Haley had known the terrible things demon witches did, like stealing homeless girls for sacrifices. Yet in Ailish, Haley saw something … worthy.

  It had been Haley who used her connections with homeless shelters across the state of California to get Ailish out of Glassbreakers and away from her mother.

  But Ailish had never told Haley this part. In fact, over the years, she’d kept their contact minimal so her mother wouldn’t try to use Haley to get to her. She’d waited until just before Haley had to leave to tell her. “The handfast binding contract is for eight years. It ends on my twenty-fourth birthday in two weeks.”

  Haley set her glass down sharply. “What does that mean? You’ll be free if you don’t submit to the Claiming Rite?”

  “No. Not if I still have the binding on.” She lifted her wrist.

  “But then what … Oh God, no.” Haley’s voice rose in horror. “You’ll die?”

  Maybe it was better that she couldn’t see Haley’s expression. “Yes.” Then she forced a smile she didn’t quite feel. “But at least I won’t be a demon witch. Even better, my mother and her coven will die with me.”

  * * *

  Later that night, Ailish dreamed of the only boy she’d ever loved, Kyle Whaling. They had met in high school when she’d longed to be just a normal girl. In her dream, she could see him clearly. He had sea-blue eyes in a boyish face, with high cheekbones and a full mouth. He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling. “Ailish, I knew you’d come back to me,” he said, his fingers trailing down her neck and sliding over her collarbone.

  Fire traveled through her veins, heating her skin and making her nipples swell and ache. Her womb contracted and throbbed. The painful hunger gripped her until she couldn’t lie still.

  Kyle leaned his mouth close to hers and said, “Ailish, let me touch you, kiss you, claim you. Let me in. Get up, open the door, and I’ll give you what you need.”

  Get up, open the door? She realized then that she was dreaming. Of course she was dreaming, she could only see in her dreams. She began to sing, Light of the moon, rain down your power. Bring me strength, carved in stone. As her voice rose, energy began to swirl softly in her pelvis, then rise like water flowing through her first four chakras, the pure light pushing the dream back.

  She woke to her dark and shadowy world. Her tank top and shorts were twisted around her body, the sheet beneath her was wrinkled. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, then reached over to press a button on her phone.

  A mechanical voice said, “One twenty-four A.M.”

  “Ailish, open the door, sweetheart. I’ve waited a long time to see you.” The seductive male voice floated from outside the front of the house and reached deep into her memories, the memories of a young girl desperate for love, desperate to belong. That pissed her off. S
he knew the voice was a trick.

  Oh yeah, she’d open the door, she thought as she shoved off the bed. Walking the path she’d memorized, she headed out of the bedroom of the tiny house she’d rented. She crossed the hallway into the small living room. Through practice, she knew how to memorize her surroundings. There was a TV on her right, a couch and coffee table on her left. She counted off the steps automatically, turning left at eleven. She held out her hand until her fingers brushed the door. Undoing the double locks, she inhaled and smelled the scent of sulfur.

  Fury pounded in her head. The Deus’Donovan coven had kidnapped another man, then summoned Asmodeus into him. The poor bastard’s real self was held prisoner deep in his subconscious while the demon had control of his body.

  “Ailish, hurry!” His voice was slightly tinny, as if being forced through a cylinder, yet it still had traces of that painful familiarity. “You ran away eight years ago before I could make you understand. I loved you, I still love you. How could you think I’d harm you?”

  Because she wasn’t a painfully naïve sixteen-year-old girl anymore, that’s how. She pulled open the door. With the porch light on, she could just make out the shadow of a man.

  “I came back for you. To make you mine and—”

  Careful not to pull on her powers, she used a hopping side kick and slammed her foot into the blurry shadow’s midsection. She had to stun the mortal man’s body in order to banish the demon.

  “Ooof!” He flew off the two steps, landing on his back on the grass.

  She followed, the cement cool on her bare feet. As she stepped down onto the damp grass, she summoned her power, funneling the earth’s energy up from her chakras and through her hands toward the groaning man on the grass. “Never, Asmodeus, I will never submit to you!” She had to control her fury to keep her witchcraft going.