Page 47 of The Demon’s Due (Bedeviled #5)

The second we got back to HQ, I hit Michael’s office to drop off the bottle and the drive with Natán’s final message, but she wasn’t there. I left them with Louis, who told me she was already at the laundromat, setting up equipment.

Gemma texted to say they were outside waiting to head out.

I’d expected others to join us, but not the three-quarters of the Vancouver chapter who were present.

The heightened anticipation reminded me of the time I’d done the Polar Bear swim, with everyone chanting and pumping themselves up for the icy plunge to come.

We piled into the buses, where the excited murmurs back at HQ dissolved into a heavy silence, thick with unspoken thoughts.

I stepped off the bus and stared up at the Vancouver sky churning with unnatural clouds, their edges burnished by the winter sun.

Sachie appeared at my shoulder, nodding at the perimeter that had been set up at the edges of the laundromat property. “Impressive turnout.”

Thousands of onlookers were gathered behind the barriers. Some waved banners with stylized flames, their faces painted in a rainbow of red, orange, white, yellow, and blue.

Others…weren’t so friendly.

“Kill the unholy spawn!”

“Magicians belong in Hell!”

I unclenched my jaw.

Any half shedim in the crowed weren’t outing themselves, not that I blamed them. I pressed the heel of my hand against the sting in my chest. I’d promised them a warm welcome.

A commotion drew my attention. Darsh and Silas had arrived.

They looked like corpses caught mid-crumble, their skin shrunken and papery, stretched too thin over jutting bones. Their hair was brittle and their eyes were clouded. Even their clothes sagged on their gaunt frames, as if mourning the men they used to be.

Ezra stood behind them, his fingers twitching, but he gave them space.

Claws burst out on my left hand. Steady, Fleischer . I shoved them back to fingers.

“You couldn’t stay somewhere warm and comfortable, enjoying about a million boosted blood packs, could you? You had to be on the front lines.” A muscle ticked in Sachie’s jaw. “Did you at least bring folding chairs for your deteriorating asses?”

“I was going to wish you good luck,” Darsh whispered, “but insulting my ass is a step too far. Good day, madam!” He jerkily turned around, but Sach hauled him into a hug.

I crashed it, pulling Silas and Ezra into the tight huddle.

“All units, check in,” Joe called to us over the comms.

“That’s our cue,” I said, reluctantly disengaging.

Darsh’s eyes flashed with his former fiery spirit. “Go be brilliant.”

Ezra followed me.

“Is this where you tell me how much you love me?” I said.

“Why, do you intend to die?” He smacked me on the butt. “Save the world, Fleischer, and you’ll get your ‘I love you.’”

I wrinkled my nose. “Can I get that chocolate mousse from the Hell’s buffet that everyone raved about?”

He gasped, one hand pressed to his chest.

“Hey, it was pretty mediocre the last time and I want the full experience.” I rose up on tiptoe, kissed him hard, and strode off.

Michael fell into step beside me, dressed in uncharacteristic black jeans under a black coat. She glanced back at Silas and Darsh.

“Please don’t say anything,” I said. “I’ll start crying, and I really don’t want to do that because I think my fan club is watching.”

“Silly girl,” she said fondly. “I wanted to tell you how incredibly proud of you I am.”

“My backburn idea was pretty inspired but don’t jinx us. Hold off till we win.”

“Not that. Any regrets about coming out?”

“Ah. None. Has the Authority…?”

She shook her head. “Natán… Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “There’s a bottle of Glenfarclas on your desk.”

My mother closed her eyes briefly, a flicker of pain tightening her features before she forced it away. When she opened them again, her expression was composed, but the lingering tension in her jaw betrayed the effort it took to mask her sorrow.

One by one, teams reported ready status: New York, London, Seoul, Singapore, and dozens of other locations.

My fellow task force operatives had worked through the past day and half adjusting factors from our failed first attempt, but I still wasn’t sure if we’d gotten everything right. The calculations were theoretical at best, apocalyptic at worst. But we were out of options.

Out of time.

Ha-joon’s voice crackled through. “Air pressure readings are optimal. We won’t get better conditions than this. Monserrat, do you agree?”

“Yes,” she said.

I walked over to the multiple monitors displaying the rift sites, making tiny calibrations of where dead center was. “Rift teams are in position and good to go. Secondary locations?”

“Also a go.” Damali, an operative in Tanzania, had been coordinating the task force members stationed where there were no rifts yet were crucial to propagating our magic wildfire globally.

“Orange Flames, you’re up,” Ha-Joon ordered.

Monserrat oversaw the vigilant orchestration to keep conditions steady around the globe, lowering humidity and stabilizing the atmosphere.

The shift in the air as temperature manipulators began their work was immediate.

“B units deploy the net,” Eduardo said. He consulted with the other Yellow Flames, including Michael, adjusting the secondary channels and issuing orders to the operatives not at the rift sites. “They’re holding. We have our connection with the main pathways.”

One small hurdle down.

“Count of three,” Marilyn said over the comms. “Red Flames, add your magic gently. We don’t want to go scorched earth.”

Dozens of streams of fire shot into the Vancouver rift.

The crowd oohed, and I visualized the same scene playing out all around the world.

White Flames coaxed the combined magic to elevated levels.

I tapped my blue flame/shedim senses into the collapsed rift here.

The threads of power aligned perfectly. Every temperature gradient, every subtle shift in air pressure was exactly where we needed it, and with the addition of the White Flames’ amplifications, our magic sang. Literally sang, a pure note that made my chest vibrate.

“Keep it up, people!” Sweat beaded on Sachie’s temples. She’d been assigned to the Orange Flame unit keeping winds down.

Around us, other operatives were grinning, their faces glowing. Our magic was moving in perfect harmony, each flame supporting and amplifying the others.

That’s when the Luce struck back.

It surged forward like a tsunami, but instead of trying to perfect everything in its path, it methodically identified and targeted our weaknesses.

“It’s learning!” Sachie shouted through chattering teeth. Frost coated her skin. “Using our own powers against us!”

It wasn’t just here in Vancouver either; the monitors showed dozens of operatives succumbing to the attack. Two Yellow Flames in Palo Alto collapsed as magic backlashed through their bodies.

I dove to drag a fallen White Flame to safety.

A wave of Blue Flames, including Ha-Joon, fell clutching their heads as their sensitivity to magic was amplified to unbearable levels. Even the crowd wasn’t safe; onlookers screamed as the Luce tried to “perfect” them. Luckily, their bodies rejected the forced change, but the panic was spreading.

Some operatives were redeployed to assist Trad officers with crowd control.

I’d been plugged in when the Luce struck back but I wasn’t affected. Musingly, I flexed my fingers.

Our backburn wasn’t enough. Could I be? By actively deploying my demon magic instead of just using it to monitor the situation, could I tip things in our favor?

A bunch of Red Flames, including Marilyn, found their own fire turning inward, burning them from the inside out.

Ezra blurred forward and knocked her free, smothering her magic, but the screams over the comms from those not so lucky were seared into my soul.

“Let me add my shedim magic.” Wind whipped my hair into my face, and I had to yell to be heard on the comms.

“Do it, Aviva!” Gemma said.

Bursting into full-shedim mode, I laid my hands on the ground where the rift existed and thrust my magic into it.

The Luce immediately surged toward me, eager to correct my demonic heritage. It had warped so much that my inherent genetic makeup was now perceived as a flaw.

My scales started disintegrating; I hurriedly disengaged.

My shedim form isn’t my natural state , even though that magic is .

“Let’s try this again.” Fully human, I pressed my hands against the cool ground and slid into my synesthete vision, careful to maintain a perfect balance of my Eishei Kodesh and shedim powers.

The earth was awash in blue, testament to the hits Mother Nature had taken, but for the first time ever, I saw other colors.

Forked black veins snaked through the blue, while our backburn manifested as a fat band made of red, orange, yellow, white, and blue stripes, dancing through the veins and the blue damage, burning them up.

There was no cause for celebration yet because jagged black magic lightning bolts slammed into the colorful band in rhythmic hits, fracturing it. It was like a beautiful song on a piano being drowned out by some obnoxious kid banging on a drum.

I was powerless to stop those lightning bolts, and I couldn’t thread my combo of flame/shedim powers into the band, but I cocooned part of the Eishei Kodesh magic in a protective crimson blanket.

The next Luce strike hit my blanket and partially crumbled, but the backburn underneath that spot remained intact, allowing it to dissolve more of earth’s damage and the forked veins in that section.

“Whatever you just did,” Eduardo said next to me, “do it again. It relieved some of the pressure.”

“We didn’t feel anything different,” a Brazilian operative said.

“I need more blankets.”

Eduardo frowned at me. “Huh?”

I sprinted over to Michael, requesting one of her ear-piercing whistles. It took her three times before the crowd here stopped their jostling and cries.

They stared at me with scared eyes.