Demon Lost Read online

  Demon Lost

  By

  Nikki Sex

  Copyright 2017 by Nikki Sex

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To Gail Higgins who read and re-read this manuscript. Thank you for your daily enthusiasm and support.

  Also, all my love to Mike—my witty, entertaining grammarian, Larry, Trish, and Sophie—you guys helped make this a better story.

  Table of Contents

  PART ONE—The Warning

  Prologue

  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 17.

  Chapter 18.

  Chapter 19.

  Chapter 20.

  Chapter 21.

  Chapter 22.

  Chapter 23.

  Chapter 24.

  Chapter 25.

  Chapter 26.

  Chapter 27.

  Chapter 28.

  Chapter 29.

  Chapter 30.

  Chapter 31.

  Chapter 32.

  Chapter 33.

  Chapter 34.

  Chapter 35.

  Chapter 36.

  Chapter 37.

  Chapter 38.

  Chapter 39.

  Chapter 40.

  Chapter 41.

  Chapter 42.

  Chapter 43.

  Chapter 44.

  Chapter 45.

  Chapter 46.

  Chapter 47.

  Chapter 48.

  Chapter 49.

  Chapter 50.

  Chapter 51.

  Chapter 52.

  Chapter 53.

  Chapter 54.

  Chapter 55.

  Chapter 56.

  Chapter 57.

  Chapter 58.

  Chapter 59.

  Chapter 60.

  Chapter 61.

  Chapter 62.

  Chapter 63.

  Chapter 64.

  Chapter 65.

  Chapter 66.

  Chapter 67.

  Chapter 68.

  Chapter 70.

  Chapter 71.

  Chapter 72.

  Chapter 73.

  Chapter 74.

  Chapter 75.

  Chapter 76.

  Chapter 77.

  Chapter 78.

  PART TWO—The Beast Lord

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  PART THREE—Janice St. John

  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.

  PART ONE—The Warning

  Prologue

  My colleagues, Danvers and Abruzzo, have gone out, so I’m by myself in our office at MacLeod International. I’m not alone, though. I have my dog with me.

  Toby is my Welsh springer spaniel and trusty best friend. With big paws and large, expressive eyes, he weighs over fifty pounds. His ears and face are deep reddish brown, except for a thick white stripe down his nose. A blanket of red runs down his back.

  If I were a witch, Toby would be considered my familiar. Smart as can be, more human than many humans, I’ve nicknamed my beloved canine companion “Wonder Dog.”

  I’m rapidly typing a summary of my last job when unexpectedly, a pale splash of crimson falls onto the “shift” key, attracting my attention.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Frowning, I peer up to see the ghost of a man floating near the ceiling, smiling benignly down at me. Transparent reddish blood drips from his shoulder where, apparently, someone hacked his arm from his torso.

  I’m guessing that’s what killed him.

  I recognize this ghost, the handsome charmer. How could I forget?

  Prince Ali is one of Leonidas Sparagis’s many ghosts whom I attempted to help cross over. Instead, he chose to remain on this earthly plane.

  Why stay here? I asked him. I can still hear Ali’s heavily accented reply, “I wish to remain with you. How else will I discover what happens next?”

  Despite the vast number of ghosts haunting my demon hunter, I’m beginning to know all his restless spirits. Happily, most remain inconspicuous, shy, and silent. There are a handful of psychic apparitions, however, who retain an echo of their former power.

  One of them is Prince Ali Ben Abad, a Spanish Moor who lived eight-hundred years after Christ was born. London was no more than a mud-hut village in the eighth century, while Moorish Spain had public baths, libraries, and cobblestone streets.

  Dressed in a white tunic, and possessing an enticing physique, Prince Ali wears a curved blade called a scimitar, and has an abiding interest in astronomy, poetry, and swordplay.

  Ali is the color of rich, dark chocolate. Except for the bleeding gore from his missing limb, he’s the ultimate male eye-candy.

  When I magically enthralled Leonidas Sparagis, my demon-seeking assassin, there were two unintended consequences. In binding my vampire to my will, I seem to have inadvertently compelled his army of ghosts, too.

  While some—with my assistance—have willingly left this realm, many of these spirits simply don’t want to go.

  Like Leonidas, they love me with unconditional fervor. They long to help me, to be with me, to stare adoringly at me all day. They leave if I tell them to—but not for long.

  As though I’m a mermaid washed ashore, I captivate them. Go figure.

  My vampire is unable to cross into the Magic Lands. To my relief, neither can his army of ghosts.

  I say “my vampire” because I own his ass—heart and soul. With a stronger commitment than marriage, I’ve placed a magical collar of compulsion on Leonidas. Unless I release him, he’ll be forced to love and obey me until the unlikely event when one of us drops dead.

  Do I ever plan to remove my Jugulo’s collar? Hell, no! As a demon hunter, he’d just come after my demon and me again.

  The other unintended consequence was, I accidentally placed the same spell on the love of my life. I never meant to compel him.

  I wish I could figure out how to remove the compulsion on Stafford, while maintaining it on my assassin.

  Frustrated, I sigh heavily.

  Toby, ever sensitive to my moods, places one feathered paw on my thigh in sympathy—then affectionately pushes his nose into my hand. Grinning, I fondle his velvet ears and stroke his head. When he’s sure I’m OK, he circles three times, drops down to lie at my feet.

  Assisting thousands of ghosts to cross over is a problem for another day, as is the matter o
f figuring out how to uncollar Stafford.

  Meanwhile, this drip-drip-dripping of Ali’s blood on my keyboard is exasperating. I could send the prince back to haunt my vampire, but it wouldn’t help. Another of my Jugulo’s murdered entourage would soon take his place.

  Unless I’m lucky, up to ten more might stop by—which is why I haven’t banished him so far.

  “Hey, Prince Ali,” I mentally send as I peer up at him. “How about you sit on the seat across from me?”

  “It would be my greatest pleasure.”

  Cultured and well-educated, he gracefully floats down, languidly taking the chair in a relaxed and princely manner. He’ll stare at me while I work, but I’ve learned to ignore the intense gaze of adoring ghosts.

  “With joyful heart and cheerful brow, I once hailed the morn,” Ali says in a low, rhythmic voice. “How do I greet the morning now? A prisoner to your beauty—abandoned and forlorn.”

  I glare at him. “Zip it, buddy, or I’ll send you back to the Jugulo.”

  I’m not flattered. If he wrote that poem, most likely he penned it for one of the many women he hoped to add to his harem.

  And he probably used it on all of them, I think uncharitably.

  My inner demon quivers within me in what I’ve come to realize as his form of laughter.

  The phone on my desk rings, interrupting my next snarky comment. I pick it up. “Janice St. John here.”

  “Hi, Jan,” Molly, our receptionist, says. “Your ten o’clock has arrived. Kevin Webb, Traci Webb, and Sophia Lam.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll meet them at the elevator. Go ahead and send them up.”

  I haven’t seen Webb since we had a one-night-stand, months ago. He could be addicted to me, but who knows? This could be the one time demonic dependence doesn’t happen, right?

  With my luck, Webb will be like my long-dead fan club—unable to leave me alone. I’ve no idea who Sophia is, but I’ll find out soon enough.

  As I hang up the phone and grab my amethyst crystal, I notice another five of my Jugulo’s ghosts have popped in to keep me company.

  Wonderful. Just great.

  I take a deep breath and do my best to ignore my groupies, my personal Walking Dead.

  “C’mon, Toby.” I slap my thigh. “You can help put my new clients at ease. Mr. MacLeod tells me this consultation is already paid in full. I hope they’re dog people, most humans are.”

  I speak aloud to my demon, “Let me know what you think of these people, OK?”

  He can’t reply, but I sense his agreement.

  The elevator doors open to show Webb with two women—no ghosts. I can’t help but grin at the sight and memory of my ex-lover, despite the awkward circumstances.

  The moment he sees me, his lips twitch into a wry smile. Webb has thick red hair and freckles, broad shoulders and a muscular chest. His eyes reflect bemusement, mischief, and pleasure—but not an ounce of surprise.

  Webb recognizes me instantly, even without my red wig.

  Kevin Webb knew me as Marilyn, I picked him up for a power feed at a local tavern. He’d been going through a rough patch, despondent after his girlfriend dumped him for his brother.

  What had the woman been thinking? After my night with Webb, clearly, her choice had nothing to do with his sexual prowess. Either that, or his brother must really be something!

  Strong sensory memories of my time with Webb roll through me—the sight of his naked body, the taste of him, his appealing male scent, his strength, and modest human power.

  Handshakes and introductions are made all around, including my ultimate icebreaker, Toby. Everyone loves my dog. He’s irresistible.

  Casually dressed and unpretentious, they’re the sort of what-you-see-is-what-you get type of customer I prefer. It turns out Sophia is Webb’s new girlfriend. I doubt Kevin Webb has spoken about me. I don’t pick up on any jealousy or negative feelings from her—thank God.

  As I grasp Webb’s hand, a sharp burst of energy zaps my fingers in a tingling bite. I break away and step back, stunned by this feel-bad, feel-good, shock of contact. I give myself an inner shake.

  What the hell was that?

  Webb’s eyes widen. Whatever it was, he felt it, too.

  “Please, follow me,” I say, ignoring the buzz of power.

  When we arrive at the Green Interview Room, a place for meeting the client of average means, I open the door and politely wave them in ahead of me.

  The room is decorated in fern and olive. Comfortable and casual, the earthy tones provide a natural feel. Two dark green couches with colorful red pillows add charm. A juniper bonsai sits in the center of a wooden coffee table.

  I find the area unpretentious and soothing.

  We settle ourselves around the low table, Sophia and Webb on one couch, Traci on another. I sit in a wingback chair, Toby on the floor beside me.

  “Would anyone like coffee or tea? It’s no problem.”

  They all decline, mentioning late breakfasts. I turn toward Traci. “Well, then, we might as well get started. How can I help you?”

  Traci seems around my apparent age—somewhere in her early twenties. A strawberry blonde, she has freckles, dark eyebrows, pink lips, and pale, nearly translucent skin. She relates her tale in a sequential, easy-to-follow manner.

  Traci’s a mad-keen horsewoman, studying part-time at the University of British Columbia to become a veterinarian. She met her fiancé, Roderick Orton, in class. With a mutual love of animals, more specifically horses, they were engaged within six months.

  “Roderick died nearly two years ago. He broke his neck snow skiing at Whistler.” She sighs. “It was so stupid—a freak accident, really. He was an expert skier.”

  I nod, pleased to see how easily she can discuss such a major loss in her life. It appears she’s reached acceptance concerning his death.

  “I really thought I’d gotten over it. I still think I’ve gotten over it. I went through counseling—I’ve started dating again. I’m certain Roderick wants me to be happy. So why is he suddenly here?”

  “Here?” I lean back in my chair, check every surface, every corner. He’s not in this room.

  “You’ll think I’m mad, but so many things have happened. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something—I just know it.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  She shrugs. “Stupid stuff. Things only Roderick would know or do.” Pursing her lips, she looks upward, searching her mind for examples. “OK. Once, I found a box of breadcrumbs on the counter, and the cookbook opened to lamb recipes. Roderick loved lamb cutlets. I can’t begin to tell you how many things he’s done. Let’s just say I truly believe he’s haunting me, eh?”

  “I understand.” I curb a smile at her distinctive Canadian “eh.” It’s a catchy habit. Since I arrived in Vancouver, I’ve been saying it, too.

  Traci leans toward me, earnest and eager. “It came to me suddenly that I should see you. If he’s around, you’re the one to find him. Maybe you can figure out what he wants, why he’s back.”

  “I’ll do my best. Right now, I’ll see if I can contact him. Can you give me a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  I pick up my amethyst crystal, scan the room. There’s a total of six spirits here, all connected to my vampire, all haunting me. Using whatever preternatural skills I can summon, I reach outward, extending as far as I’m able.

  “Roderick Orton, come to me,” I call mentally.

  No spirit appears. Instead, to my stunned surprise, a gateway glides open with a soft whoosh. It doesn’t happen all at once, it’s more like a sliding glass door.

  What the hell?

  Winds of magic and otherworldly power whisper over my skin, raising goosebumps. Golden light shines through the portal, along with sweet music and a comforting scent.

  Nice.

  I scan my Jugulo’s ghostly entourage. Did the doorway open because Prince Ali or some other restless spirit has decided to cross over?

  Nope. He a
nd the other five remain here with me.

  My demon vibrates from the wondrous taste of magic on our metaphysical tongues. I bask in power, expecting to see a spirit exit this world.

  Instead, a ghost erupts from out of the gateway at an explosive speed.

  Stunned, I watch the returning soul bouncing around the room, coming into contact with every wall and corner, much like a silver ball ricocheting around in a pinball machine.

  In my long life, I’ve seen thousands of ghosts cross over to another realm.

  Not once have I witnessed a ghostly traveler crossing back to this earthly plane!

  Wearing a trendy Quiksilver Brand ski jacket, the spirit of a young man pauses in front of me. His neck, slightly askew, has obviously been broken. His gaze meets my own, but his restless eyes frequently glance toward Traci.

  “Hi. I’m Roderick Orton,” the ghost sends. “You must be Janice St. John. Sorry for this. I’m in a rush.”

  “So I see,” I reply uncertainly, still reeling from the shock of seeing a ghost returning.

  “Can’t stay. Look, I adore Traci, but she isn’t why I’m here. I was asked if I would return. Volunteered, you know. Dangerous mission.”

  The acrid taste of his fear is as sharp and bright as shards of glass. Moving back and forth, searching every surface, nook, and cranny, he dashes around again in a dizzying display.

  What the hell is he looking for?

  More importantly, what’s he afraid of?

  “Anyway, tell my sweet filly I’ll never forget the look on her face when I proposed to her at the top of Grouse Mountain,” he sends, his ghostly tongue on fast-forward overdrive—like his movements.

  I frown, but say nothing.

  “It was summer, we were hiking. The city view was amazing. When she said yes, I’d never known such happiness.”

  “Er…OK.”

  Biting his lip, he runs a semi-transparent hand through his brown curls. “I’m glad she’s met another guy—I want her to be happy. You decide what to tell her. I won’t bother her anymore. We found you through Webb. Traci is Webb’s sister, so we used their connection. We had to get a message to you.”

  We? There’s a group of spirits from the other side looking for me?

  Disturbed, I frown. Now, I’m scared. “What’s the message?”

  “The world is in terrible danger! You’re the only one who can stop it…you must stop it! Someone is trapping ghosts. They’re kidnapping and imprisoning them! Be prepared! All Souls’ Day is a dangerous time… watch for ravens…”