“What’s so funny?”
“You hit me with an Inquisition earlier, and now you want to know if you can ask me a question,” Logan said, his brown eyes sparkling with humor. “It’s funny.”
“This is all really new. I’m not sure of the protocol.”
“I’m not sure there is any. You’re the first to know the truth. And it’s...um, it’s nice having someone to talk to about all this,” Logan stammered, giving me a slightly shy smile before adding, “Well, someone other than Rego, who’s a barrel of fun.”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you about. Can you tell me about him? All I know is that he’s a warlock. But what exactly is a warlock? Are they human?”
Logan adjusted my backpack on his shoulders as we walked. “Warlocks are humans who reigned over the Dark World centuries ago. Think of them as the Dark World version of wizards.”
“No, thanks,” I snorted. “He seemed insulted when I mentioned the word wizard. Like he wanted to bite my head off and ask for seconds.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “He’s a little precious about how warlocks are regarded—when it’s their own damn fault that they aren’t in power anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“They thought they could rule both worlds—that non-magical humans would easily bend to their wills,” Logan revealed, shaking his head disapprovingly. “They discovered a few portals to this world and began crossing over, testing how their powers worked in this world. You’d be surprised how many myths and legends in this world are actually about warlocks.”
Logan leaned over, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as he spoke into my ear. “The Pied Piper? Totally real, and totally a warlock.”
“Get out!” I yelled, then lowered my voice. “Seriously, are you kidding me?”
“Nope.” Logan stood straight again, holding a finger to his lips.
“So, where was I? Oh, yeah—half the warlocks were in the Dark World, and the other half were running amok in this one. But they didn’t protect their stronghold on the other side all that well. They were overthrown by Regents pretty quickly, and the warlocks that survived were banished to live in this world.”
“What exactly are Regents?” I asked, confused. “Are they called that just because they’re royal?”
“Yeah, some are royal, but they’re also the most powerful race of demons.” Logan frowned, rubbing his jaw with his palm as he spoke. “Most demons derive their strength from one naturally occurring element—basically, nature, or strong emotions. You’ve got fire demons, ice demons, fear demons, lust demons, and so on. But the Regents aren’t bound by these rules. They can channel all the elements. They’re an ancient clan—descended from the ones who banished warlocks. They’re the ones who destroyed most of the portals—the ones that were easy to get to, at least. And Regents have been in power ever since, with the warlocks working on rebuilding their numbers, intent on taking back the throne someday. And someday is coming up.”
I opened my mouth to ask Logan why he decided to fight for the warlocks—after all, they didn’t come out smelling all that rosy in his little history lesson. But then Blaise’s barbaric murder of Travis flooded my memory, and I realized it wasn’t hard to pick a side. But it did make me wonder something about Logan.
I paused. “Can I ask you another question?”
Logan gave me a cautious look. “Since you’re asking again, I have a feeling this is a serious question.”
“Yep.”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Your uncle is a warlock.”
“That’s not a question,” Logan replied warily.
“I know you’re a demonslayer, but are you also a warlock? Since your uncle is one and all. Or is he a demonslayer, too?”
Logan stared at me, confused, until a playful smirk tugged at his lips.
“Do you think demonslaying is something I was born into? Like, I have some weird birthmark on my foot that marks me as the chosen scourge of demons?” He made his voice deep and dramatic, like he was narrating a movie trailer.
“Something like that,” I admitted sheepishly.
“You watch too many movies,” he teased, nudging me with his shoulder as we crossed the street.
“You have an invisible sword strapped to your back and can open doors with magic spells,” I countered, nudging him back, and he nearly stumbled into a parking meter. “What was I supposed to think?”
“Well, to answer your question, demonslaying is a profession. It’s not a kind of person. All my skills are the product of years of training. And Rego’s not actually related to me.”
I frowned. “Then why do you call him your uncle?”
He just shrugged, causing my backpack to bounce around. “We travel around a lot. It’s just easier to say he’s my uncle. I can’t exactly tell everyone, ‘Oh, that’s my dad’s childhood warlock buddy who’s been taking care of me ever since my...well, ever since I was eight.’”
“Your dad is a warlock, too?”
Logan sighed heavily, his breath coming out as white smoke in the cold air. “Yeah, he is...was.” His face twisted with sadness and anger as he spoke. “I’m half-warlock, technically. If it wasn’t for Rego, I don’t know what I’d be. Dead, probably. Can we change the subject, please?” he asked, whipping his head to face me as we walked. His eyes were again ringed with a deep sadness, and the tortured look on his face made me nod quickly in agreement.
We walked in silence for a few more chilly blocks, until Logan finally spoke.
“Your bag is vibrating. I think your phone is going off.”
“My phone?” Oh, crap. I missed my dad’s usual check-in phone call. “Oh, no. This is bad.”
“A missed call? This is bad? Yeah, this and heights make you tremble, but you want to learn how to fight demons and already took out an incendia like you were swatting a fly.” The teasing tone had returned to his voice, to my relief, and Logan turned around so I could fish my phone out of the back pocket of my bag.
“Yeah, this is bad.” I looked at my phone screen. Five missed calls, plus a very angry, very worried all-caps text.
“Your boyfriend?” Logan asked casually, and I laughed.
“Yeah, right. Bellevue Kelly’s beating them off with a stick,” I said, calling my dad and pressing the phone to my ear. “And if you listen to the gossip, I probably had a conversation with the stick.”
Logan opened his mouth to reply, but I quickly interjected, “It’s my dad. When your kid’s me, you tend to worry.”
My dad answered on the first ring.
“Dad, I’m on my way home—”
“Where have you been? You’re more than four hours late!” Oh, crap. The words poured out of my dad with such urgency that my phone actually shook from his frenetic tone.
“Dad, I’m just a few blocks away.” I sighed. “We’re walking home now.”
“Who’s this ‘we’?” Oh, crap squared. What was I going to tell my father?
“Just someone from school, Dad. Please,” I pleaded, sneaking a look at Logan, who was deliberately pretending to look in the windows of a bodega as we walked past, feigning interest in the expired boxes of crackers on display. “Can’t you just trust me?”
“How can I when I’ve never even heard of this friend before?”
“Dad, he’s real, I swear,” I hissed into the phone.
“He?” Oh, crap to infinity. Maybe I should have gone with an imaginary friend.
“Just a friend, Dad. Um, is Mom there yet?” I really, really hoped my mom was there.
“Paige, we’ll talk when you get home.” My dad unceremoniously ended the phone call.
“Well, that went really well,” I said, shoving the phone into my coat pocket.
“Your dad sounds really, um—” Logan paused, his eyes casting upward as he searched for the right word “—protective. I could overhear his side of the conversation.” He gave me an apologetic smile. Of course he heard him. The demons in the Dark World probably heard him.