Demon Song Read Online Free PDF

she’d been able to call a bitten priest while he was on holy ground. That takes some oomph. Killing her had turned the metal of the knife itself black. No amount of scrubbing or grinding could turn it silver again. I’d tried.
    The knife’s mate was still gleaming and bright. Not long ago, I’d been forced to gift it to the queen of the sirens—and it had hurt me terribly to do it. She’d given the blade back after she’d had to use it to kill a member of her own family. Emotional pain seemed to follow the knives, but they worked and that was the important thing.
    I shook my head. I needed to focus and get moving. The shoulder holster was next, for something with a higher caliber than my regular Colt. I wanted stopping power for any demon I might run into in the prison, so I moved up to a .44 Magnum. Then I reached for a black vest, which was a magically resistant Kevlar creation of Isaac Levy, my tailor and weapons specialist. It had multiple pockets and loops for weapons. I grabbed a stack of magical spells encased in ceramic disks, things that even non-magic humans can effectively use.
    I checked each spell, making sure the raised codes on the edges hadn’t worn down. There’s seldom time during battle to read labels, so the disks are distinguished by size and shape and by the symbols carved along the edges. I pocketed disks that could cause short-term blackouts and others that were “boomers” that emitted powerful sound and light.
    I was still hoping that another mage I knew, John Creede, could put a full body-binding spell into a disk. There were a lot of occasions to use that one in my business.
    The black hinged case housing my newest gadget caught my eye. It was a perimeter detector that could sense the demonic. After my first one disappeared on the job where I’d been effectively killed, I’d bought a new one—the deluxe model, with a blessed silver cross. Just like the warrior priests use. I tucked it into another pocket.
    There was a knock on my office door. While it was after hours and the front doors were locked, our building houses several businesses that operate 24-7. Like Bubba, the bail bondsman down the hall from me, for example. The attorneys don’t work nights, and since nobody else was in the building when I arrived I called out, “Come on in, Bubba!”
    “Close,” said a familiar voice as the door opened. “Bubba let me in.” Speak of the devil. John Creede poked his head in the room. He looked good. I hadn’t seen him for almost a month, since his partner in the security firm of Miller & Creede had tried to kill us. Miller had been killed in the attack and Creede had gone back to the business to try to salvage what he could of the multinational corporation he and Miller had spent a decade building. “Got a minute?”
    “Just that.” I shut the safe door as he walked in. The bolts snapped closed with an audible thunk and the light on the door turned red to show it was locked. “I have to get to a job.”
    “Perfect timing then.” He was dressed in gray suit pants and a white shirt with the collar open to reveal curling hair the same sandy color as the waves tight against his head. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, as though he’d just come from a long boardroom session. In other words, yummy. He looked tan and trim and less stressed than the last time we’d seen each other. I was glad. As he walked closer I could feel the tingle of magic that always accompanied him. He didn’t seem to be generating it on purpose, but it made my whole body react. Add to that the fact that his cologne made my knees weak and I couldn’t help but stare at him, a deer caught in the headlights.
    He smiled at my reaction to him. I shook my head and let out a deep breath to clear the cobwebs. “Do you have this effect on all the girls?”
    “Most,” he admitted with a tip of his head. “But it’s stronger with you. Maybe that says something.” Maybe. But that didn’t mean it would