A Demon’s Book Of Shadows (Witches & Demons #1)

6. Amon

6

Amon

The window of All Hallows Eve was wide open. Simply put, this was when a demon’s shadow got to show its true colors. Even the most practiced demon needed to warm up, especially if he was as rusty as I was. My blood needed time to flow—my blood was the ink that my shadow magic was composed of.

My boots hit damp pavement as I coalesced near the back of a grungy brick building. The sun was already climbing. I sent a tendril of vapor into the lock, convincing the door to open. The scent of metal and ink entered my nose. I rented out a space with other tattoo artists. Both were gone for the weekend, and I’d canceled all of my appointments for Halloween. Over the past week, I’d doodled so many flaming skulls, witches, and other hideous ideas that I needed to give myself a break.

“Where the hell have you been?” a voice snapped from the dark.

I jumped. Zed’s gravely sound was so similar to my father’s.

I flipped on the light. He stood by the counter where I kept all of my tattoo pens and ink supplies. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“My plans with Anne’s pussy didn’t work out.” He tugged up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “What’s the damage? ”

The tattoo looked more like a war wound. “You don’t have to pay me for this.”

“Yeah I do. This touch-up job is going to cost you some serious blood.”

My boot caught the uneven lip of one of the checkerboard tiles as I walked toward my inks. My hand bumped the container, making the ink bottles quiver.

“You look awful,” Zed said.

“I had another run in with that stupid familiar.”

“The bookworm? Seriously?”

“He called me an energy vampire.”

Zed ground his teeth as he flopped down into the chair. “Those stupid little bugs are the vampires. They think they rule everything above ground.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Still, it’s better that you ran into him instead of Dad,” Zed said, his tone darkening. “Good thing our old man is overseas right now.”

Dad hadn’t spoken to me in a few weeks, and I was fine with that. I had completely turned off my phone, hoping to get the point across that I, too, was ignoring his calls and text messages.

“We need to set the little bugs straight. You, Krim, and I need to come together and whip this town back into shape. I can smell earth magic like a fart on the wind, and I'm fucking tired of it.”

“I’ve been looking for Dad’s grimoire ever since the last Earth Uprising, and that was three hundred years ago.”

“Wasn’t it that witch you let into the archives the one who went and lost it? ”

“No. Dad sealed her spirit away in the grimoire after she died, remember?”

Zed shrugged. “It happened so long ago, I don’t remember much. All I remember is how she was harassing you.”

I bit my tongue. After Melrose died, Dad sealed her spirit inside the grimoire. It wasn’t long after that that I had gone and lost it. “It’s been gone for so long, I don’t know if I will have any luck at recovering it.”

My nostrils flared as the scent of ancient shadow magic mixed with a certain sassy librarian. I couldn’t seem to get Lucy’s scent out of my nose. Her magic, while suppressed, was still powerful enough to conceal the location of the book.

The aroma was something comforting and distant. It was electricity burning through oxygen as the first bolts of lightning jolted across the prairie during an afternoon thunderstorm. I saw this wide open place whenever I inhaled Lucy’s aroma. Her magic was concealing something more than my parents' grimoire.

The shadow archives housed grimoires full of knowledge about shadow magic. Everything from learning how to coalesce, to move through walls, to shapeshift, was inscribed in the ancient texts.

I sat down in the rolling chair next to my brother, eyeing the inks at my disposal. “What color are we going with?”

“Something that will last better than the red you gave me.”

I grabbed a handful of tattoo pens and a few jars of ink. The magic I wielded would handle the coloring.

Looking at his arm, I knew it would be a project. I honestly couldn't tell if I could patch it up. Zed’s job was by far the dirtiest of all three of us brothers. It was also the most physical. He also played in a heavy metal band, and volunteered at the local animal shelter on his days off.

Three hundred years ago, Zed was haunting cathedrals, which he helped to build the stone foundations for. He’d worked the graveyard shift for as long as I could remember, doing everything from filling potholes to working construction, or literally digging graves.

Zed leaned back into the chair, his joints cracking. “I’ve dealt with so many dead bodies over the years, it’s time I jump into a different profession.”

“Krim is also trying to change his professions. He's mentioned that teaching is getting boring, and he doesn’t want to manage the bar any longer.”

“Maybe both of you could work at the tattoo parlor,” Zed suggested.

I shook my head. Krim didn’t like tattoos. In fact, he hated them. Zed was the only demon other than my father who let me experiment with my ink on him.

“We had a gig the other night that I’m still recovering from,” Zed said as his electric green eyes found me.

“Does your band have a name yet?” I asked, knowing that Zed was the only demon who played in that metalhead band of his. He was a drummer at heart and always had a thing for music. All of the other musicians were human men, and they all knew Zed was the demon powerhouse drummer who killed it almost every weekend.

“Nope. We’re called The Nameless until further notice,” Zed replied thickly .

“Better than the Raging Boners .”

Zed laughed. “Who the hell said that?”

“That was Dad’s suggestion.”

Zed shook his head. “I’m not going to let our old man ruin my musical reputation because he isn't getting any.”

“This skin is super angry. Are you sure you want me to touch it up?” I asked, taking note of how irritated his forearm looked.

“Why don’t you just turn it into one of those ugly prickly things that’s running rampant around the neighborhood? What are they called? Hoghedges?”

“Hedgehogs. . .”

“Well, they’re super fucking annoying. I’m wondering why they’re acting so aggressively toward me at the graveyard.”

I grabbed a tattoo pen and took off the cap. I closed my eyes, focusing on the vein pulsing on the back of my hand. My blood bubbled and frothed beneath my skin.

My shadows coagulated into a substance thicker than blood—shadow ink began to form. “All right, an angry hedgehog it is,” I said as I pressed the pen to my brother’s arm. The design was there, hiding beneath his skin. All I had to do was tap into my shadow magic, and the image my brother wanted would manifest itself.

His skin morphed as the ink-drop eyes and spiky body of a hedgehog formed. I chuckled as a bookworm torn in half appeared next to it. My shadows sure had a dark sense of humor.

I grabbed a towel. “Clean it. I’m not giving you a bath. ”

Zed swiped the towel, spat on it, then rubbed it against his forearm. “Now the real question is, when are you going to give one of your tattoos to little miss Lucy?”

“That’s out of the question. All I want is for her to tell me where the grimoire is. I’m not interested in marking her.”

The electric green color of my brother’s eyes darkened. “Amon. Stop hiding what you want from me. Us demons have marked our witches with our shadows since the beginning of time. Krim and I both know you’ve always had a thing for the ones who like books.”

Zed’s words made my shadows claw at my chest. Okay, I did have a kink for book-loving women. Hell, why did her bare patch of skin on Lucy’s lower back make her so visually intoxicating?

Zed propped both of his elbows onto the table. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? Afraid you might do to Lucy what you did to the witch dad locked in the grimoire?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I bit out, turning my attention back to Zed’s half-finished arm. “What other color do you want?”

Zed reached into his jacket pocket, tugging out a leather pouch. “How about this color?”

I took the pouch from him. “What is this?”

“Go on, open it.”

I untied the leather chord, and flipped it over. The scent of damp earth filled the room. My periphery went dark. All I could see was the garden.

I blinked a few times, escaping the residual vision provided by magic. Sitting on the table were a few pink items that settled in a burst of shimmering yellow powder. “Rose petals? Where did you find these?”

“I dug them up in the graveyard. I’m fairly certain they are bewitched with something. What do you think?”

I grabbed one of the petals. The texture was oddly papery. The petal evaporated, sending plumes of dust into the air. “Definitely bewitched. Do you have any ideas behind the origin of magic?”

“No idea. Who knows, maybe the petals could help you find the grimoire.”

“How would a bunch of bewitched rose petals help me?”

“Your biggest problem is the stupid grubby worm, right? He keeps scaring you away from Lucy?”

“Yeah. For such a tiny little dick, he sure has some powerful earth magic.”

“The petals will at least help keep that grubby little bookworm of hers distracted.”

“How do you know?”

“The hedgehogs were going crazy for them. I found a dozen of the prickly little creatures curled up in a ball after they’d eaten a bunch. You know what dad said about familiars—the ones who are fond of soil are always digging up trouble. It’s time for you to give that nasty little maggot a tummy ache.”

I grabbed the pouch and tucked it into my pocket. I hoped Zed’s plan would work. I was desperate at this point to find the grimoire. Giving that nasty little bookworm a pain in the gut seemed like a great way to get closer to his witch.