“I don’t, really,” I say. He frowns. That’s when I see that there’s a little bit of dirt on his face. Which probably isn’t dirt at all but demon dust. “What’s going on there today?”
If I can keep him talking, I can watch his eyes. Find out for sure if they flicker to the demonic colors. The Non starts spouting off something about a band, and the whole time he talks I don’t notice any change in his eyes. He’s not possessed.
“Sorry, I don’t know how to get there,” I say. The guy nods and wanders off to ask someone else.
I start to cross the street and a taxi driver nearly plows into me. I turn to yell at him, and I see it before the driver can recover. A flash of red in his eyes. He’s a demon.
I can’t attract attention. Think, Penelope. Make this work. I hop into the back of the death cab and everything smells like sulfur. There’s even dust on the headrest. This is totally the demon.
“Where you going?” the cabbie-demon asks. He has very gray hair, big teeth, and a mustard stain on his shirt. He looks like he’s had a few too many doughnuts. Not that I blame him; doughnuts are good.
“Columbus Circle,” I say, because it’s the first thing I think of. That’s right on the edge of Central Park. I remember that area from the one time I visited with my parents before they died. It was a circle with a big statue and the park was really gorgeous. It’s after 9:00 p.m. here, and I feel like the circle will be crazy busy. How will I find a place to kill a demon without anyone seeing me? I’m so glad that I don’t live in region one every day. This is stressful.
We’re there before I’m ready and it’s asking me for money. I reach into my purse to get it and exit the car. The cabbie-demon doesn’t leave, but he watches me. I know he wants me as much as I want him. If he’s desperate enough, I can hope that he will follow me.
I don’t look back for a few minutes because I don’t have to. I can still smell him. He totally wants this milkshake.
I rush ahead of the demon and get a stance around the corner past the statue, where there’s an open space of grass and not too many people. He’s so close to me. I extend my arrow and pull back on the bow. One more step. One more step. Something jumps me from behind and I lose my footing. The arrow flies as I face my attacker. Another demon—that Non from before. He was not a demon then. I’m sure of it. The boy knocks me to the ground and my arrows go flying in different directions. Have I mentioned that I hate this?
Nobody around us is paying us any attention. I roll onto my back, reach one of the arrows, and shoot it off at the boy from a crouch; it zings him in the arm and he screams his crackly-demon sound before he starts heaving in breaths. That’s probably not good.
The cabbie-demon has rejoined the party and now there are two of them and one of me without my salted arrows. I can see the arrows but I’ll have to do some maneuvering to get them.
I flip up to my feet and charge the demon boy. It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing I can think of doing. He’s not ready for it, and demon-boy crashes backward into a tree. I’m close enough now for another arrow, so I shoot it directly into his heart and whip around to face the cabbie before the demon-boy can burst.
The cabbie-demon is ready for me. He tries to get me, clawing at my space and throwing his round body toward me, but I’m quicker and I trip him before he can move against me. I guess he should’ve possessed a better Non, maybe someone leaner who doesn’t spend all his time driving. While he’s down, I see another arrow across the grass so I make a run for it. He uses magic to knock me down again and the arrow zooms back to his feet. It’s the last one. There were only four arrows in my holder. He knows it too, because there’s this gross little smile on his Non’s face. Creepy.
Let’s play this another way.
I put my hands up in surrender, and move toward him. The demon-cabbie looks confused, but then he grabs the arrow and snaps it in half. I lower my hands, because that was not the plan. I needed that.
The demon-cabbie springs at me, and I fling myself away. He’s quicker this time, shedding his Non form and taking on his demonic one midair, like a snake. The discarded Non hits the ground with a sickening thud.
I have to get out of this. I’m almost done.
The broken arrow is on the ground a few feet away, teasingly close. Just because it’s broken doesn’t mean it’s useless: the rules didn’t say I had to use the weapons correctly, just that I had to use them. I pick up both ends of the arrow and the demon-cabbie stares at me, claws drawn and lip snarled. I stare back at him. It’s like a Wild West showdown. Which one of us will draw first?
Me.
I sprint toward the demon, throwing the piece of the arrow that has the feathers at him. He catches it in the air, only a foot away from me, and I smile. His crimson eyes narrow, examining the arrow, and his brows furrow when he realizes it’s the side with the feathers. I collide with the demon and drive the other half of the arrow into his chest. The half with the salted iron tip. I don’t bother letting go until his demon guts are all over me.
Everything turns white again and I’m standing in the middle of the training room. My clothes are normal again, but my brain is exhausted. I have no marks. No tears in my clothes. I still feel like I really was tossed around like a bouncy ball. I can’t believe all that was fake. Magic is awesome.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Grey,” a voice calls out through a speaker as the door opens.
Chapter Nine
I can’t leave until Ric is finished since we drove together, and he hasn’t texted me yet, so I wander to the library. Hyde the cat is sitting at the librarian’s desk again. When I come in, he arches his back and his fur stands on end before he runs off down the stacks. I guess he doesn’t like me very much. I walk around Poncho Alistair’s desk and the whole thing is covered in papers. It’s a mess compared to the rest of the neatly organized space.
I run my fingers over a book that’s open and I look down at the page. There’s a disturbing drawing on the page of a horned demon on the wheel of death thing. A man is holding a knife. The demon’s feet are on fire, and this spark is in the air, shifting between the man and the demon. Under the picture, the words “Ritual Restitution.” I stifle a gasp. That’s the one I plan to do as soon as I find my demon. There’s information here, in the library about it. The Triad really did hide it away. Why is it out in the open like this? It’s the same article I found years ago that outlined the materials needed for the Restitution, but that one didn’t have the picture. Seeing it all depicted there that way—a demon on a wheel of death, fire blooming, a man with a dagger aimed at the demon’s throat—it makes it look evil. If not evil, then dangerous.
Maybe I’m okay without my own magic.
For a second, it seems like a good idea. Much less dangerous. Much less at stake for me if I fail. But it’s not what I want. I want to be whole.
Poncho calls my name and I jump at his voice, push the book away, and look up at him. He’s holding Hyde, stroking his fur. “Interesting reading?”
I raise an eyebrow at him and cross my arms. I can’t show that I care about this. “Creepy. Why are you looking up that?”
Poncho lowers Hyde to the ground. “It’s my job to know things.”
I bite my lip. I can ask him. He knows things. “Can I ask you a confidential question?”
He nods.
“What do you know about witches with no power?”
“Statics? Quite a bit.”
“Not a Static.” I pause. “A witch who can pull power from another witch? Is that something you’ve heard of before?”