The demonologist dropped back into his seat with a groan as the woman’s cold eyes turned to their group.
Wayne realized what was bothering him as she glided towards him. Where a normal person had blue veins running up and down their arms, this woman had black veins. She had no subtle rise and fall of her chest in a telltale sign of breathing.
He had to stop himself from shuddering again when she stopped a few paces from the bar.
“You are the one who requested Our presence.” Her voice carried throughout the room, further commanding the attention of everyone.
Not quite everyone. Half of the couple stared intently at the woman. The other half was trying to kill her partner with a glare.
“Ylva,” the demonologist said before Wayne could formulate a response, “does Eva know you’re here?”
There was a brief flash of anger in her otherwise dull eyes as she turned her head towards him. “Eva is not Our minder. We deign to respect her domain of Our own volition.”
“So you choose to disrespect it when it suits you?”
Her hand snapped around the demonologist’s neck. Black fingernails dug into his skin. Rasping chokes escaped his throat as curls of decaying skin spread out from the contact.
Before Wayne could decide if intervening would lead to anything but his own death, the black skin retreated to Ylva’s fingertips leaving a faint trail of gray. She released him with a light thrust.
“Do not malign Our honor, Devon Foster. We were under a,” her blue lips curled into a small smile as she glanced at Wayne, “deadline. Reparations will be sought.”
Devon coughed twice, rubbing his neck where her fingers had touched it.
“Wow, Wayne. These are the people you were waiting for?”
Wayne turned to find Tom standing in the hallway. Even as he addressed Wayne, Tom’s neck craned to stare at the woman.
“That room ready?”
“Yeah, just follow me.”
Tom backed down the corridor, keeping his eyes on Ylva as she followed after him.
A hand clasped down on Wayne’s shoulder before he could follow.
“Best to just go with it for now. Watch your words; it is an uncontracted demon. We’re not in its domain, so it can’t twist your meaning to suit its needs, but I’ve seen people bind themselves unintentionally too many times. Don’t offer anything. Accept information from questions freely, but retract questions if it asks for anything in return.”
Wayne gave a quick glance at the demonologist. His face was deadly serious. “Right,” Wayne said.
He’d know more. Wayne hadn’t even recognized Arachne as a demon on Halloween night. In his defense, he had other concerns that night.
Namely, to avoid being eaten by his own students.
Tom led them to the second door down the hallway and showed them in. Several couches had been set out around a small table. On one wall hung a large television that was playing a video of a fireplace.
Ylva sank into one of the couches, slouching with her legs spread and her head caught on her knuckles. Devon took the furthest seat from her possible.
Wayne sighed as he sat between the two.
“Can I get any of you drinks? We’re having a special on all of our sake tonight.”
“I don’t drink,” came Devon’s response.
Wayne had to quirk an eyebrow at that. He certainly looked like the kind of man who drank. When he could scrounge up the money for it, anyway.
Tom just shrugged and looked over to Ylva.
“We will accept your tribute.”
Tom’s kind smile became slightly strained as the woman failed to elaborate. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “I think I can come up with a good drink for you. Wayne?”
“Just another water for me, Tom.”
“Excellent,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “I will be back shortly.”
“You don’t drink?” Wayne said as soon as the door shut.
“I worry what I might do with inhibitions lowered. Or what I might agree to should I not be thinking straight,” he added with a glare towards Ylva.
The woman did not seem to notice or care. She hadn’t moved since her tribute line. At all. Not even a blink of her eye.
Wayne wasn’t sure he had seen her blink since she first walked in.
The demonologist shifted in his seat. Eventually he tore his gaze from Ylva and focused on Wayne. “I expect you are wanting to know more about Eva’s dabbling in diablery?”
“In part,” Wayne said. More so after finding out about Ylva. He hadn’t expected Spencer to have more demons around, though he was unsure what Devon meant by uncontracted.
His studies into demons were lacking. Far lower than any other type of magic. Mostly because Wayne didn’t consider diablery to be magic. He had likened it to knocking on a mage’s door and asking them to do everything in his place.
If Zoe couldn’t handle Spencer on her own, Wayne might have to shift his studies. That would be troublesome. He had his own students to look after.
“But,” Wayne continued, “I’m more concerned about her haemomancy.”
“Haemomancy? You’re more concerned about a little blood than things like,” he gave a brief nod of his head towards Ylva. “That’s just–”
There was a brief knock at the door before Tom walked in with a small serving tray in hand.
He set a glass down in front of Wayne. “Your water. And for you,” he set down a tall glass of murky green liquid in front of Ylva, “Death in the Afternoon. It was the first drink I thought of. I do hope it is to your tastes.”
Ylva reached down and took hold of the glass. She took a small sip after bringing it to her nose.
“We find it acceptable.” The glass frosted over in her hand as she took another drink. “Yes. Acceptable.”
“Excellent.” Tom gave another exaggerated bow. “I’ll leave you to your business then. If anyone needs anything, just holler.”
A small bit of tension drained out of Devon’s shoulders as the door shut behind the bartender. “When he knocks, he should wait for a response before walking in.”
“Even if he overhears, he won’t say anything. Tom is one of the few people I trust. Despite his lack of magical ability, he saved my life on two separate occasions. He’s kept more dangerous secrets for me than a schoolgirl’s dalliance in alternate magics.”
“Great for you,” Devon said with barely concealed disbelief. “He never saved my life and has no reason to keep my secrets.”
Before the man could say anything he’d regret, Wayne switched topics. “Where is Spencer getting her bloodstones?”
“I think she got some from the necromancers who kidnapped her. If she’s made more since, she hasn’t told me. It isn’t something I care to keep tabs on.”
“The necromancers gave her bloodstones? Aren’t they at least somewhat valuable?”
“I think you misunderstand.”
“Misunders–” Wayne blinked. “Oh. I see. How many did she get and what quality?”
Devon merely shrugged.
“We had an opportunity to examine Eva’s bloodstones up close recently. There were no flaws in any of the three We saw.” Ylva paused to take a drink of her drink. “Extensive knowledge of blood magics is outside Our expertise. Are you unable to ask Eva?”
Wayne took a moment to ensure his answer did not violate Devon’s earlier warning. “I am not unable to ask her. It is a question of wanting to.” Especially with her pet spider around.
“We fail to understand. Ask her if you wish to know or accept your own ignorance.”
“I doubt you’d have to worry about her taking offense, if that is what you’re worried about.”
“No. I’m far more concerned about the answer. What it will mean if I don’t like it.”
Devon leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Wayne. “And just what will it mean?”
“We can’t have a murderer hanging around Brakket. The school has enough problems as it is. If her being a blood mage ever came into light, I doubt we could sweep it under the carpet. Even demons would be easier to explain away so long as they weren’t killing anyone.”