Hell to Pay (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 4) Page 12

  This time it was Tess who saved us from the awkward silence. “So what are these demons and daemons doing here? Why have they taken over the warehouse?”

  Isaac went back to cleaning up the kitchen, and Max leaned forward to answer. “I believe that a small portal has opened, and it’s allowing a pocket realm to form. The daemons are minions. They’re doing the bidding of a stronger, more powerful demon. As he becomes stronger, the pocket will grow bigger, allowing more of his servants to enter this realm.”

  “So this is DiCastro’s fault? He actually opened a portal to hell?” DiCastro had wanted to become the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Obviously that hadn’t worked out so well for him, seeing as how he was dead and I was still alive, but there had been a whole lot of chanting and magic going on when things went sideways on him.

  “Hell, Gehenna, Duat, the Netherworld—they’re all names for the same thing—what we more commonly think of as the Otherworld. What I think happened was DiCastro managed to start the ritual, but it was never finished or reversed. Instead, a tiny hole in the fabric of our realm was left open. Enough that something, or someone in this case, could slip through.”

  “But why? Why come here? Why not just stay in their own realm?”

  “Why did white man come to the new world?” Max looked around the room at us, reminding me of a teacher waiting for someone to raise their hand.

  “To explore,” I said.

  “To conquer,” Nash replied at almost the same time.

  Max nodded. “Yes, to both of you.”

  “But if there’s a hole from our realm into theirs, why aren’t they just all pouring through it and overrunning us?”

  “That’s a good question, Tess,” Max replied with a nod of appreciation. Tess fussed with her napkin, her face turning a shade darker.

  “But what’s the answer?” I asked.

  “I suspect that the portal is probably too small and too unstable for many of them to cross over at any given time. Also, because they have no souls, the daemons can’t fully enter our realm. They’re restricted to the small pocket of their realm that now exists in ours.”

  “So they can’t leave the warehouse?” Nash asked. It would make his life easier if the SRU only had to worry about the warehouse and not the entire city being overrun.

  “For now. But as we heard from Tomas, the realm is growing outward. I think they’re luring people to the warehouse and using the power they steal from them to stabilize and grow the portal. There’s also the risk of possession. By possessing a body that already has a soul, they could leave the pocket realm and enter ours.”

  “So how do we stop them? How do we close the portal?” Nash’s body tensed, waiting for the answer.

  “Unfortunately,” Max said with a frown, “that I don’t know.” He looked at me. “It might help if we knew which demon has taken up residence.”

  “What makes you think there’s just one?”

  “Oh, I know there’s just one,” he answered confidently. “Demons are territorial and adversarial. In the Otherworld they amass huge armies of daemons in order to display their strength. There’s a very strict hierarchy in hell. It has changed very little over time, with the strongest demons having held their positions of power for eons. That’s why I suspect this is one of the lesser-known demons making a play for power.”

  “How do you know all this stuff? I mean, I know you’re the Hammer and all, but…” Tess shrugged.

  “Well, I do hold doctorates in religious studies and botany, but—”

  “You’re a summoner!” I slid off Nash’s lap so I could sit up.

  “A what?” Tess looked puzzled.

  “Max can summon demons,” I replied. “It’s a very rare shamanic gift.” It was impressive. It also went a long way in explaining how Max, newly arrived to the Coven, could become the Hammer at such a young age.

  “So can’t you just summon this demon and tell him to take a hike?” Tess asked, matter-of-factly.

  “It doesn’t work that way. It takes an extremely powerful practitioner to call forth a demon. Summoning a daemon is more common. Either way, you need to know the creature’s name.” Max appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I may have a way to find out more about our demon though. I’ll have to do some research.”

  “Well, I doubt if his real name is Seth,” I said, trying to crack a joke, but not really feeling it.

  “What?” Tess looked at me, her face puzzled at first, and then the light began to dawn. “That was real? I thought it was a dream.”

  All eyes were suddenly on me. I gave them a sheepish smile.

  “Harry,” Nash growled, his face beginning to resemble a storm cloud. “What haven’t you told us?”

  “Well, you see there was this guy dressed in a blue suit…”

  ***

  I finished telling my story about meeting the man (or whatever he was) named Seth and how Tess and I finally made our escape, and then looked around the room. Isaac had left the kitchen and pulled up a chair from the dining area to sit and listen. He traded a worried glance with Max.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Did I do something wrong? Did I miss something when I made my deal?”

  “No, no, it’s okay, Harry. You did what you had to do.”

  “But?” Nash’s voice was tense.

  “But I’m concerned about the demon knowing Harry’s true name,” Max replied with a sigh. “Names are powerful, especially when it comes to demons.”

  “What could he do with it?” I asked, biting my lip, dreading the answer.

  “I don’t know, and that’s what worries me. I’ll have to do some more—”

  “Research,” Tess interrupted. “We know, Professor, we know.” She grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “I can’t believe your sword turned into a lightsaber, Harry. I thought I was dreaming all that. Does it still do it?”

  “I don’t know!” I jumped up in surprise. “I never thought to check.” I hurried over, Tess on my heels, to where my katana was hanging on its rack on the wall, and took it down. Tess crowded in to watch as I pulled the sword clear of its sheath.

  “Ahh, nuts,” she complained when the flames were a no-show. “I totally missed it. I bet it looked epic.”

  “It was pretty cool,” I agreed with a grin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next day was Sunday, and we were all enjoying a day of rest. The coffee shop was usually pretty quiet on Sundays, so I left it under Tiffy’s care. She was a pro at handling customers now, having come out of her shell, and she never took a day off. I had offered one to her once and she had been so angry at me that I’d even suggest something so insulting she didn’t speak to me for two whole days.

  The SRU had the warehouse cordoned off and were patrolling the perimeter to make sure nothing got in or out. There hadn’t been any new HRN incidents, so Nash had the day off as well, at least until the next crisis. He was currently fast asleep in my bed where I had left him after delicious, sleepy morning sex followed by breakfast in bed—okay, so it was a bowl of cereal with banana cut up in it, I still made it, so it counts as cooking.

  After everyone cleared off the night before and Tess went back to bed, Nash and I spent the rest of the evening together watching a movie (Edge of Tomorrow, which is like a Sci-Fi version of Groundhog Day—I needed the laughs and Nash hadn’t seen it yet) and eating popcorn before tumbling into bed (two nights of sex in a row! Yippee!).

  After breakfast, I was tempted to crawl back into bed with Nash, but I had decided the night before that I needed to go to church. No, I hadn’t suddenly found religion. I was quite happy with my current belief systems as they were, but I wanted to talk to Father Mike and thank him. I’m pretty sure his blessing had saved my life, and Tess’s too. There was also still the hunch I had after speaking to Tosh at the bingo lady’s funeral that I wanted to follow up on, so rather than set the breakfast tray on the floor and snuggle with Nash, I cleaned up our dishes, headed to the shower and then got dresse
d.

  I had checked online, and Mass at St. Anthony’s didn’t start until ten thirty, and since I was ready in plenty of time, I decided to walk. Half way there, I was beginning to doubt my sanity in making that particular decision. It was frickin’ cold. Even bundled up as I was, my face was feeling wind bitten, and the woolly tights I had put on under my corduroy skirt weren’t as warm as I thought they would be. I turned my head to the side to deflect the wind from my cheeks, and that’s when I noticed I had a tail. It was the furtive movements and the way he stopped to admire a boarded-up window that gave him away. Suspicious, but thinking I could be a bit paranoid after everything that had happened, I quickened my pace and jaywalked across the street. A glance over my shoulder confirmed my fears. I was definitely being followed. And he wasn’t being all that circumspect about it.

  I was still several blocks from the church, and while I had my katana—not something I would normally wear to church, but I wanted to show it to Father Mike—I didn’t want to confront my stalker in the middle of the street in broad daylight. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and hustled along as fast as I could without making it look like I was fleeing something other than the cold.

  A couple minutes later, the sound of a car horn startled me, and Max’s Lexus pulled up beside me.

  “Going my way?” he quipped.

  “Max! Am I ever glad to see you. What are you doing here?” I glanced over my shoulder to see that my tail had stopped, ducking into a doorway to wait.

  “After our talk last night I decided to stop by and see if I could pick Father Mike’s brain on a few things. Hop in, I’ll give you a lift.”

  I gratefully slid into Max’s car, revelling in the fact he had heated seats. “Thanks, Max,” I said as I leaned over to watch my stalker in the side mirror. “Your timing is perfect.”

  “Is something wrong?” He looked over at me in concern.

  I sat back in the seat and attempted to fasten my seatbelt as Max pulled away from the curb. “I don’t know. See that guy back there? He’s following me.”

  Max checked his rearview mirror. “I don’t see anyone now.”

  I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’m probably overreacting. It was probably just someone who read that stupid Page Six article.”

  Max grinned. “You’re very photogenic. I particularly liked the eye roll.”

  “Oh hardy-har,” I replied, demonstrating my now-famous eye roll for him in person. I wiggled in my seat and finally gave up trying to get comfortable. It’s impossible to sit in a car properly with a sword strapped to your back, but it was only a couple of blocks to the church, and I didn’t see the point of taking it off and then having to sneak it back on without anyone noticing. The invisibility enchantment only worked when I was wearing it.

  Max watched me for a moment and then said, “Sword problems?” His eyebrows arched, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

  “Just drive, buster.”

  ***

  I think I’ve mentioned before that I like churches, especially St. Anthony’s because of its gorgeous stained-glass windows, which are the best in the city. I also like churches because of the peaceful calm you find inside. Today, however, appeared to be an exception; St. Anthony’s was anything but calm.

  The number of people attending the morning’s Mass was so great they were having a crowd-control problem getting everyone into the church. It didn’t help that the throng of people, all dressed in their Sunday best, were forced to use the single door that had been unlocked. It was like watching the chaos that ensues when eight lanes of traffic suddenly are compressed down to one.

  With a frown I studied the two sets of double doors that remained locked. A young man dressed in cleric robes was doing his best to battle through the crowd to unlock them, but he wasn’t making much headway. I shivered at a wind gust, regretting again my decision to wear a skirt. At this rate, we were never going to get into the church before I froze to death. I tossed Max a quick glance, and as if reading my mind, he nodded. I’d take that as permission—not that I needed his permission or anything, but he was the leader of the Coven, and there were certain rules about magic use in front of norms.

  Grinning, I refocused my attention on the doors. With a click that I felt more than heard (who could hear anything over that crowd?) I unlocked the doors and gave them a little telekinetic pull. As the doors swung open, the crowd fanned out, streaming through the newly opened portals.

  “Nice.” Max nodded appreciatively. “I heard you’d acquired that particular talent.” He gave me a knowing look.

  Ha! I bet he’d heard. I had recently used my telekinesis to physically eject a rude Coven Elder from my store. Of course that particular Elder was no longer in a position to complain about me or anything else for that matter. The Coven doesn’t take treason well, and Elder Marshall had sided with the Mariposa in her illfated attempt to take over the city from Salvador.

  “It comes in handy,” I replied. “Now let’s get inside before my legs freeze.”

  If the crowd outside had been my first indication that today was going to be different, the next came the minute I walked in the door and passed over the threshold. As I stepped into the narthex, I was hit by a wave of psychic energy. It was so strong all the little hairs on my arms stood up as the energy popped and fizzed like an electrical current over my skin. I stumbled, and Max grabbed my elbow.

  “Harry! Are you okay?”

  I stood for a moment, dazed, and took a deep breath, trying to centre myself. “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s just…can’t you feel that?”

  Max paused then shook his head. “No. What do you feel?”

  “Spirits. A lot of them.” I took another deep breath and steeled myself against it. “I’m okay. Let’s go.”

  As was expected after seeing the crowd outside, the church itself was packed, and most of the pews were already full. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to sit with the congregation anyway. Instead I led Max down a side aisle that ran the length of the nave to a small chapel just off the sanctuary at the front of the church. It was the spot where I usually liked to hang out unseen during services to avoid having to partake in all the religious mumbo-jumbo. I’m a witch after all, and we don’t particularly have the best history with the church, especially the Catholic Church.

  I was so intent on getting across the length of the nave and hidden away in the chapel that I didn’t pay attention to what was going on around me. When I finally reached my desired destination, I turned and looked out over the sanctuary.

  “Holy…!” I gaped in shock, covering my mouth with my hand to keep from blurting out something totally inappropriate for the venue.

  “What’s wrong?” Max scanned the church, following my gaze.

  I didn’t answer him at first. I was too transfixed by the sight before me.

  The church was packed with congregants, but that’s not what grabbed my attention. High above the faithful, in the soaring rafters of the church, a less-corporeal congregation had amassed. The air above swirled with the filmy horde of ghosts. I had never seen anything like it.

  With a gasp, I ducked back into the chapel as quickly as I could. The last thing I wanted was for all those ghosts to discover I was in their midst. Although I might not have a choice as I was pretty much a spirit magnet, and ghosts tended to be drawn to me.

  “What’s going on, Harry? Is there a ghost here?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” I gave him a halfhearted smile. “It’s like ghost central out there. I thought I could just talk to a couple, but…”

  “You might get more than you bargained for? How many are we talking about?”

  “There must be dozens—too many to count.”

  Max looked impressed and with a nod, pulled something out of his pocket.

  “What’s that?” I asked, eyeing the small bottle. The liquid inside had the consistency of oil with bits of leafy matter floating in it.

  “Just a little something I threw together this
morning—some fennel, dandelion, yarrow, lemongrass and peppermint.” He dabbed the oil on his forehead and underneath his eyes using his finger, his lips moving as he chanted silently. Next he wiped some on his ears.

  All the plants he mentioned had known properties for aiding in spiritual sight. I looked at him skeptically. “I thought all you shaman types liked to smoke your herbs.”

  Max grunted in reply and continued chanting. A few moments later, he stopped and glanced around sheepishly. “You can’t always smoke ’em,” he said with a grin.

  “So did it work?”

  “I’ll let you know in a minute.” He strode to the entrance of the chapel and peered out into the much-larger church. A moment later he let out a low whistle. “Whoa,” was all he said, but it spoke volumes. “Is it always like that?”

  “No,” I answered in surprise. Would that stuff would work on anyone? Tess would probably pay a fortune to see a ghost.

  I told Max as much, but he shook his head. “Unfortunately, it only works on those who have a gift. It enhances what is already there.” He paused briefly and then attempted to appear nonchalant as he asked, “What else does Tess like?”

  I smiled slyly and was about to reply when an uninvited guest arrived.

  “Hey, Harry! Pull my finger!”

  “Mofo? What are you doing here?”

  Max jumped back, startled, his eyes wide as he took in all that was Mofo from his candy-cane-striped shirt to his green polka-dotted pants. He turned to stare at me and mouthed, Mofo?

  Long story, I mouthed back and then turned to Mofo. “Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

  “It’s not safe, Harry.” Mofo clutched at his bow tie nervously. “Not safe at all.”

  “Not safe? For a ghost? What could possibly scare a ghost?”

  Before he could answer, a commotion filtered into the chapel as the congregation rose and began to sing. Father Mike and his fellow clerics entered the sanctuary.

  “I’ve got to go tell the others,” Mofo mumbled, distracted. “Wait until they hear my friend, the famous Harry Russo, is here.” He started to fade.