Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic by Meghan Ciana Doidge Page A

antiquated belief — when it suited me.
    I pulled the leather-bound book of demon history out of my satchel.
    Edmonds’ eyes lit up as I placed the book before him on the desk. “Not the original, I’m afraid,” I said.
    “Ah, that is a shame.”
    I opened the book to the entry that chronicled the demon rising in London in 1888. “Professor, have you been visited by a witch — she might call herself Valencia — in the last three months?”
    Edmonds stilled. The hand not toying with the wand was already halfway across the desk. He wanted to touch the book. He probably also wanted to know what this visit was all about, but he didn’t want to give up any information if he could get around it. As I was quickly figuring out, and as Gran had always cautioned me, this was typical sorcerer behavior.
    “This witch is interested in demon history?” he asked.
    I smiled. Edmonds wanted more information before giving any himself, but I wasn’t in the mood for Adept games. The only times I really liked to play were on the dance floor, in my bakery, and in bed. Unfortunately for me, none of those locations were likely to be anywhere in my immediate future.
    I leaned forward. My necklace dangled slightly away from my chest in this position, and it immediately caught Edmonds’ attention. “I’m not here to trade information or bargain for power,” I said, keeping my tone even and polite. “I would prefer to be in my bakery making cupcakes in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Instead, I’m in England hunting my sister, who is killing Adept to drain and harness their powers. She has kidnapped, and most likely killed, a young girl. A necromancer who was under my protection. It is my understanding that she has this original book and this knife …” — I tapped the sketch of the weapon in the book — “… in her possession. Now you know everything I know. Have you seen or spoken to my sister?”
    “No,” Edmonds answered in a rush of air. “I apologize. I just … you …” He glanced at Drake, who was now sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor and rapidly flipping the pages of a book on his lap. “You startled me and …”
    “Let’s move past that.”
    Edmonds nodded. I pushed the book toward him. He touched its edges carefully, then rotated it so the text was right side up for him.
    “You think because she has the knife and the book that she is interested in this demon summoning?” The sorcerer reached for his glasses and started to read the pages I’d indicated.
    “It’s the only clue right now,” I answered. “I could be wrong. I often am.”
    “As we all are.”
    “Why can’t I read this?” Drake asked, slapping the book he’d been glaring at closed with a boom.
    “It’s in German,” Edmonds answered, unruffled by the outburst.
    “I should be able to read German,” Drake declared.
    “Obviously not,” Kandy said with a smirk.
    Drake narrowed his eyes at the green-haired werewolf. Then, apparently up for the challenge, he reopened the book.
    Edmonds flipped a page of the demon history to confirm he’d finished the entry, then flipped back to read it a second time. “I’ve heard of this story,” he said. “Supposedly the unfortunate murdered woman was one of Jack the Ripper’s victims.”
    “Supposedly?”
    “Most sorcerers aren’t so careless with a victim’s remains. My understanding is that the Ripper murder of November 9th was particularly brutal. The crime … unnecessarily violent.”  
    “To raise three demons?”
    “To supposedly raise three …” — he referenced the book — “… of the lesser fallen. The author of this history uses Christian classification.”
    “Because he believed that demons were born from fallen angels.”
    “Or are the fallen angels themselves.”
    “That belief doesn’t negate the possibility that three demons rose from a sacrifice performed with that knife. A knife now in the possession of my sister.”
    “Witches do not