Bitter Magic - Chapter 2

​BITTER MAGIC
Demon Trappers Series Book 9

TWO

​The solemn tranquility of the monastery had given way to the majesty of the deep forest. Or so Simon Adler told himself. No matter where he was, he truly needed this sabbatical, a respite from exorcising Hellspawn even if it meant communing with trees, wildlife, and the occasional hiker.
​
Simon had spent five days in prayer at the monastery, examining his life, and his soul. The monks had understood that need for silence, so he’d been left alone unless he wished to speak with someone. Though some might think such contemplation was easy, it was anything but.

First, he’d had to shut off his chattering brain. It kept bringing up memories, some good, some unbelievably bad. Once he’d calmed it down, he’d assessed his life and relationships, his personal biases, and his job. Not all the revelations he’d received were bad. Some had been genuinely surprising.

He had to admit that he’d made progress since his near-death experience the year before, but he had a long way to go. That was what being human was all about. He was less judgmental, which was good. He also knew that he had blind spots, and those troubled him.

In his personal life, Simon realized how much he’d been avoiding conflict with certain members of his family. Part of that hesitancy was to maintain family harmony, but often it was just chickening out because he didn’t want to face the pushback. That wasn’t fair to him or the other members of his family.

The Old Simon had often wondered if a monastic life was his calling, but the New Simon recognized that wasn’t his thing. Celibacy was a choice, and it wasn’t going to be his. He’d learned that in Ireland during last year’s sabbatical. Now he exorcised demons and was good at it. All things in balance, as they say.

This week he was hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains in the northern part of the state, checking out various trails, building up his stamina while chilling out. He liked hiking, but it seemed odd to be trudging along without a bunch of siblings under foot. And all the noise that went with that Herd of Adlers, as his dad called them. Like most Dad jokes, it was lame, but Simon still smiled every time he thought of it.

The Adler clan totaled eight children, neatly divided between males and females. The last time he’d been hiking in this area it’d been with the whole family, ten of them total, plus two energetic Golden Retrievers. That meant two minivans crammed with food and gear. He’d been sixteen at that point, his eldest sister, Deanna, twenty-three, and the youngest, Misha, was still a baby. Now Dee was twenty-eight and Misha was six. Time really did fly.

This trip it was just him, and for the first time in Simon’s life he missed being with people. He missed Katia and Riley. He could just imagine what they’d be like on this hike. He suspected Katia would love being out here in the wilderness. Riley, not so much. She was a city girl.

But he needed time away, which was why he was doing his best to not check his emails and texts until the end of each day. It would be so easy to get sucked back into their lives and miss the whole point of why he was not exorcising demons at the moment.

Rest, relax, reconnect. That had been his mantra since his superior at the Vatican told him he needed a sabbatical. Father Rosetti was right: Lay exorcists burned out all too quickly, and even Simon saw the warning signs in his own life.

He hiked along savoring the fresh air and the lack of fiends trying to kill him. The kinds of things other people took for granted. But not for a lay exorcist. Which is why he’d also been attending classes at a nearby dojo, honing his skills in combat. Again, all things in balance.

Ahead of him, poised in a tree, was a colorful bird. His sister Amy would know exactly what kind it was, but he wasn’t into that kind of thing. Since it was so pretty, Simon pulled out his phone and took a picture. He’d send it to Katia tonight. That’s what he’d done for the last few days, along with a lot of pictures of squirrels, just to mess with her head.

She’d always send back an amusing comment, and they made him feel good. He truly missed her, though he’d yet to tell her that. They’d become friends far quicker than either of them had expected, but being sent to Hell’s living room together would do that. Katia could have easily sold him out to Lucifer to save her brother’s life, but she hadn’t. It was that courage, that inner fire, which had made her special in his eyes. Maybe someday he’d tell her that.

A sound on the trail behind him made him turn. Then he blinked. The figure approaching him wasn’t a hiker, or a birdwatcher. This one had white wings. They weren’t out in full display, but he could see their tips just behind her shoulders. Brilliant blue eyes, somber expression. That narrowed down what this might be.

“Divine,” Simon said. Whether it was a Fallen or one of Heaven’s crew he wasn’t sure yet.

“Simon Michael David Adler,” the figure replied.

It appeared as a short female with bright blue eyes, mahogany skin and long, pale blonde hair. She wore a green gown, the color of new grass, which was knotted at the waist with a piece of worn rope. Perched on a shoulder was a small tawny owl who studied him soberly. He’d thought he’d caught a glimpse of her before, though he hadn’t been sure until now.

“You followed me from the monastery.”

She nodded in reply. The owl swiveled its head around to check behind them. A chirp came, then it turned back toward Simon. Owls always fascinated him, this one especially.

“You train in war while seeking peace,” the newcomer said.

That was one way to say what he was doing at the dojo, along with all the prayer and exercise.

“I am doing that, yes.”

The raptor ruffled its feathers.

“Trust your instincts, Simon Michael David Adler. Matters are in flux so you must be on your guard. There is danger for you and the ones you care about. Do not assume your eyes are lying to you.”

Before he could reply the pair vanished, leaving behind only the trees and the hiking trail. The angel was one of Heaven’s crew as there was no bait offered to try to secure his soul.

“Thank you, Divine. May you and your companion be safe in the Light.”

In the distance he heard the hoot of an owl, causing him to smile.

Instincts. Be on my guard.

Simon gave a sigh and continued his hike. He’d always trusted his instincts, but now he would be doubly vigilant because the Divine’s warning wasn’t just for him, but also for those back home.
​

※※※

Riley had been to the Summoners’ Society so often that it didn’t really register any longer. Not so with Katia, who stared at the building as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. And when Riley removed the long dark-blue robe from its vinyl case in the car’s trunk, and pulled it on, her journeyman’s eyebrows rose.

“At the Trappers Guild, I’m Master Blackthorne. Here, I’m Summoner Blackthorne.” She pointed at her robe. “You always dress for the part you’re playing, wherever you are.”

“That sorta makes sense. What are these people like?”

“They’re like trappers. Some are nice, some are not. You’re here with me so if someone hassles you, I will get in their face, depending on the color of their robe. If the robe is darker than mine, Mort will step in. You’re good, no matter what.”

The trapper gave a quick nod, then went back to eying the building. That intensity was one of the things that Katia was known for. She rarely missed the minute details, which is why she was so good with the Trappers Guild paperwork. It might also explain why she was more tuned into the supernatural than most.

“Any more trouble from your former master?” Riley asked.

A sigh returned. “Master Kelly kept sending me nasty texts. I blocked him so he switched to emails. I blocked him again.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. I’ve heard, unofficially, that the National Guild has done a full audit of the Lawrence Guild’s finances.”

“They found something, right?”

“They’ll have the results in a couple of days. My guess is that Master Kelly is going to have a lot more to worry about than you.”

Katia’s face lit up. “That totally works. I wonder how many other trappers he screwed over. Besides me, that is.”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Riley turned her attention to what awaited them inside. “Let’s get this done. I have apprentices to train, and you need to get some sleep.” She hadn’t missed the dark circles under the journeyman’s eyes, or the frequent yawning.

“Yes, please.” Followed by another lengthy yawn.

The three-story gray stone building that was home to the Summoners’ Society appeared to be in excellent condition. “How old is this place?” Katia asked.

“Civil War era,” Riley replied as she pushed open one of the front doors.

The interior was just as old as the exterior, but still nice. They were met with a spotless granite floor, soft paint colors, the whole works. Somebody had spent some money on this place.

“Pretty fancy, huh?” her master said. “It managed to survive General Sherman’s occupation. I’m glad it did because it’s rather grand. Oh, and we’ll be met by a butler. Summoners are a bit old-fashioned.”

Further away, sitting at a desk, was a black-suited gentleman. When he signed them in he studied Katia’s trapping license without comment. Then returned it.

“Where may I find Senior Summoner Alexander?” Riley asked.

“He’s in the boardroom, Summoner Blackthorne,” was the polite reply, though the man was still watching Katia closely.

“Thank you, Rogers.”

Katia trailed behind her master as they headed deeper into the building, the hem of Riley’s robe making swishing noises on the stone floor. After a couple long hallways, each lined with brass wall sconces, her master finally stopped at a door, made a gesture in the air, then waited.

“I let Mort know we’re here.”

A brief time later the door opened and Mort stepped out, closing it behind him. Unlike the other times she’d seen him, his face was drawn, as if whatever was happening inside that room was going badly.

“You said you have something to tell me about the reanimations last night,” he said.

“Plural?” Riley said. He nodded. “Well, we’re here because of what went down at Brentwood Cemetery. You need to hear this because it involves Alex.”

Mort frowned. “Let me guess: My nephew broke a circle and stole a corpse.”

Riley blinked at that news. “No, he tried to, though. That happen somewhere else?”

“It did. One of the grave sitters had to go to the emergency room because of it. The mayor called his lordship. You know what that means.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Katia could just guess how that conversation went.

Mort concentrated, then nodded as if he’d heard something they hadn’t. “Lord Ozymandias wants you to report what happened last night.” He was looking directly at Katia now.

“Okay, we’re on.” Riley said. “Remember, we have your back. Show respect, but don’t take any crap.”

Katia stifled a groan as Mort ushered them into the boardroom, a long and narrow space with a polished black oval table set in the middle. The walls were a muted gray and there were no colorful accents anywhere. Katia wasn’t sure if that was a power statement or a lack of decorating savvy. The room smelled of coffee and aftershave. She did a quick nose count: Seven necros, including Alex, the real one this time. He was noticeably pale and his eyes radiated fear. A faint bruise sat on his right cheek.

One necromancer immediately caught her attention, an older man with silver hair and oddly colored eyes. He wore a black robe, and the glowing green sigil in the middle of his forehead said he was someone powerful.

“Lord Ozymandias, my fellow summoners,” Riley began, confirming her guess as to his identity. “This is Journeyman Katia Breman of the Atlanta Guild. She was grave sitting last night and was attacked by a summoner. She is willing to provide information about that attack.”

“Your timing is fortuitous. Join us,” Lord Ozymandias said, gesturing.

They filed down to the end of the table, then took their seats. Katia dropped her hands in her lap, then realized her fists were still clenched. It took effort to relax them. It wasn’t her on trial here, but she knew exactly how that felt.

“I don’t see where we need to hear anything further,” a summoner said. He was younger, with light brown eyes. His robe was dark brown which meant he had significant magical ability, but not at the level of Summoner Alexander or the dude with the glowing forehead.

“I have already told you it wasn’t me last night,” Alex protested.

“Three grave sitters described you exactly. I’m sure the fourth would if she wasn’t in the hospital.”

Katia gave her master a quick glance and wasn’t surprised to see Riley’s annoyed expression.

“Your observations are duly noted, Summoner Vazio.” The most senior necromancer turned toward Katia now. “Please tell us what happened last evening, Journeyman,” his lordship commanded.

Katia cleared her throat, then told her tale. As she did, she watched the faces of the necros. Most appeared willing to listen, but two of them did not. Alex kept his attention on her, while Mort had his eyes closed as he listened intently to her report.

“The summoner who attacked the circle looked like Summoner . . . ” She’d blanked on Alex’s last name.

“Greene,” Riley whispered.

“He looked like Summoner Greene, but it wasn’t him. His voice was wrong and there was a hazy outline around him.”

“You saw a glamour?” Mort asked, his eyes open now.

“Yes.”

“I doubt that trappers are that sensitive,” Vazio said. Then he seemed to realize he’d dissed her boss. “With a few exceptions, of course.”

“Most aren’t,” Riley cut in. “Journeyman Bremen has a gift for seeing through glamours and illusions.”

“Really,” was the flat reply. He might as well of called her master a liar.

“I’m not sure if that is enough to convince me,” another remarked.

“I can see Divines, as well,” Katia admitted. “It’s just something I’m good at.”

“That’s rather hard to test, don’t you think?” Vazio replied, folding his arms on the table. He seemed to be the most insistent that Alex had been the culprit.

“Not really. I’ve seen three in Atlanta already. Master Blackthorne can confirm that.”
Riley gave a nod.

“I’m sure that might be the case, but you’re the only one who claims it wasn’t Apprentice Summoner Greene last evening. We have four corpses stolen and someone must be held accountable.”

“As I have said, repeatedly, Alex does not have that kind of magical capability. He’s barely handling illusions at this point,” Mort insisted.

“When I arrived at the cemetery this morning, I felt the residual magic from the attempt to break the circle,” Riley added. “It was immensely powerful. It’s not anyone I’ve met in this Guild.”

“Well, in some ways that’s a relief, but it will make our task harder. I will examine the magical signature and see if it is familiar.”

“It was already fading by the time we left, so you might not be able to sense it.”

“Very convenient,” Vazio replied.

Riley gave him a frown. “It wasn’t Alex. That means someone is masquerading as him and stealing the dead. Next time this thief might show up as you. Is that what you want?”

“Ah . . . ” Apparently, that hadn’t occurred to him. “No, of course not.”

Ozymandias cleared his throat. “Then we must find who this is and stop them. The last thing we need is the public thinking we’re reanimating corpses without permission.” He looked over at Riley now. “May we count on the Trappers Guild’s assistance with this?”

“Of course. The Summoners Society has watched our backs often enough so it’s only right that we help you anyway we can.”

“Thank you.” Those strange eyes moved to Alex now. “You will remain at your uncle’s home until further notice. If you must leave, you are to be accompanied by a summoner so they can testify as to your whereabouts. Do you understand?”

Alex swallowed hard, then nodded.

One of the attendees, a woman, shifted in her chair. She was older, her dark hair up in a soft bun. Katia wasn’t sure where her dark red robe stood in terms of the power in this room, but something told her this one wasn’t to be messed with.

“Lady Torin?” his lordship asked. “You wish to weigh in on this matter?”

“I do.” She looked at Alex now. “Perhaps it would be best if Summoner Greene stayed at my home. That way there will be no questions as to impartiality.”

His lordship appeared pleased at that suggestion. “I agree. That way no one may say his uncle allowed him to wander around unsupervised while we sort out this matter.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Alex said. “I can’t even get a glamour spell right at this point. Someone else is trying to frame me, and I want that bastard found.”

“Language,” Vazio cautioned.

“I’d call him worse than that,” Lady Torin replied, and Riley nodded her agreement.

“Is this somehow retribution against you, Mortimer?” one of the necros asked.

“I don’t know,” Mort admitted. “I haven’t annoyed anyone recently, but we summoners have very long memories.”

“And we hold grudges,” Ozymandias said, looking directly at Vazio at this point. He tidied up the papers in front of him. “I believe Summoner Blackthorne and Journeyman Bremen are no longer required at this meeting. The rest of us need to remain. We have much to discuss.”

As Katia walked past Alex’s chair, she heard a murmured, “Thanks.” She touched his shoulder, then followed her master out the door.

Tempting as it was to vent, Katia held her silence. There were so many dynamics bouncing around that meeting room, and not all of them related to who was ripping off corpses.

As they walked across the parking lot to Riley’s car, Katia finally allowed herself to relax.

“I know they don’t spook you, but those guys are way scary. At least to me.”

“They can be. There’s a lot of power in that room.”

“Alex didn’t do it. I know that.”

“No, he didn’t. You saw that bruise on his cheek?” Katia nodded. “He was learning how to do glamours the other day and one backfired. He’s nowhere near the level of the summoner you battled at the cemetery.” She paused and added, “That one was stronger than Mort, which is very bad news.”

Stronger than the Summoner Advocate? That was scary.

“What happens now?”

“I’ll drop you off at Simon’s so you can get some sleep.”

“Sounds good.” Food, sleep, then maybe even more sleep.

Riley’s phone rang. “Blackthorne.” Her expression went from alert to surprised. “Ah, we’re at the Summoner’s Guild. I can be there in about twenty minutes.” A pause. “Okay, thanks.”

As she removed her robe and carefully packed it away in its case, she seemed pre-occupied.

“Trouble?” Katia asked.

“Maybe. The cops found something strange downtown. They want it checked out.” Her master thought for a few seconds, then shook her head. “Probably nothing important. The police aren’t good with odd stuff, so they call us when they don’t know what to do with something.”

“It’s out of your way to take me back to Simon’s. Can you drop me near a bus stop and I’ll figure it out from there?”

“Okay, that I can do. There’s one a few blocks from here.”

From Riley’s tone, there was more going on downtown than just something odd, but Katia didn’t want to ask. Meeting Atlanta’s most senior corpse collectors had been scary enough.
​

※※※

​Getting back to Simon’s house took some bus time, some more bus time, and then some walking. Though she was tired, the exercise seemed to help clear her brain fog.

Hopefully, the summoners would find their thief, deal with the fool, and then Alex could go back to learning newbie spells. At least it looked like Mort trusted Lady Torin to watch over his nephew, so that was a relief.

Katia hadn’t intended on staying at Simon’s house while he was on vacation, just checking the place daily, but then her plans changed. Right before Simon headed out, Grand Master Stewart had flown off to Scotland to visit his family. Then Mrs. Ayers, his housekeeper, announced that while he was away they were having the old house painted, interior and exterior.

Mrs. Ayers had assured Katia she could stay during the renovations, but she knew the paint smell would drive her out. After a long night of trapping or exorcisms often the only time she could sleep was during the day. That wouldn’t be possible with painters tromping around on scaffolding and making lots of noise.

Simon immediately came to the rescue. He’d insisted she stay at his house, especially since she was going to be watching the place anyway. The plan worked great: She was out of the painters’ way and Simon’s elegant old Craftsman house was a great place to crash. And though she loved living at Grand Master Stewart’s home, it was nice to be on her own. The only downside was that she had to cook for herself. She missed those massive breakfasts Mrs. Ayers insisted on making for her and the grand master. The food was so good Katia was regaining some of the weight she’d lost in Lawrence, one stack of pancakes at a time.

Pausing at the end of the driveway, she retrieved Simon’s mail. Today it was a large brown envelope from the Vatican, it felt like a magazine inside, and a smaller envelope from Ireland. No doubt he’d appreciate both.

Simon’s week away had given her time to think about her future here in Atlanta. She knew she wanted to stay because Lawrence didn’t do it for her anymore. Too much family drama and too many bad memories with the Guild there. Atlanta was a fresh start and so far she hadn’t screwed that up.

It was time for her to find an apartment. She’d been held back by the lack of money, but a few days ago most of the wages that her former master had stolen had appeared in her bank account in one very satisfying chunk. The National Guild had forwarded an accounting of those funds, and promised to send further amounts, as necessary. No doubt once the audit was complete.

Karma really did exist.

But housing was expensive here, so she’d need a roommate. There’d been roomies over the years because of finances, but she preferred being on her own. That was one of the reasons she envied Simon’s living arrangements.

“Lucky guy,” she murmured as she walked up the driveway. The day was already heating up, so being inside in the air conditioning was going to feel good. In many ways the weather here was just like at home; hot, humid, and likely to stay that way. At least until fall.

Katia had just reached the front porch when her phone pinged with an incoming email. To her surprise, it was from one of the landlords she’d contacted late last week. He’d be happy to let her see his apartment, but she reread the next line, twice.

“Viewing fee?” she said, frowning. “Fifty bucks to see your place?”

The email stated the fee would be credited toward the first month’s rent if she decided to sign a lease. If not, he kept the fifty.

“No way. What a scam.”

Grumbling under her breath, she tucked her phone away, let herself in the front door and disabled the alarm. As had become habit, she took a very deep breath savoring the smell of the house. The old wood floors had a scent of their own, as well as the bouquet of flowers on the dining room table. Flowers that had been waiting for her the first day she’d moved in. Bit by bit Simon was claiming this space as his own, and that gave her more joy than she thought possible.

He deserves a home, some place that gives him peace. And so do I.

Of course, the first night she’d stayed here she’d checked out every room. She told herself it was to ensure all the windows were securely locked, but in truth she was just nosy, as her grandmother would say.

Simon’s bedroom was larger than the other two, his king bed neatly made with a duvet in light and dark gray stripes. The pillowcases were deep red, which made for a nice contrast. The room was a pale gray and a large crucifix hung on the wall opposite the bed, the last thing he’d see at night. Just what you’d expect for a man who worked for the Vatican.

His bathroom had a tub and a separate shower, all in white tile with blue accents. That was pure luxury. No doubt he needed the tub to relax after a long day of yanking Hell’s assholes out of unsuspecting people.

His kitchen always made her sigh in envy as the former owner, one of Simon’s relatives, had spent a lot of cash installing the latest appliances. Unlike most kitchens, the counters were almost empty with only a toaster and a coffeemaker in one corner. The rest was a length of pristine multi-colored marble.

The media room at the rear of the house had a big screen television and comfy chairs, but not much else. The television was a recent addition. That room had a slider that led to a backyard with tall cedar fencing on three sides. Cedar. She knew to the penny how much that stuff cost because she was a third-generation landscaper. Simon’s uncle must have really loved this place. And now it was his.

Two lawn chairs leaned against the side of the house, and there was a brand-new grill tucked under a shiny black cover. The one thing that bugged her were the bare flower beds. Two long raised beds, one to the left, the other in front of her. Not one flower. Even in the corner where a statue of the Virgin Mary had just been added.

Maybe she could help him with that.

Katia had just made it back into the house when she heard a noise at the front door. It sounded as if someone was trying to unlock it. The noise ceased and someone swore under their breath.

Swinging open the front door revealed a young woman a few years older than her, with shoulder-length blonde hair. Her eyes were the same bright blue as Simon’s and she had the same cheekbones. It was a good bet she was in one of the family photos on the dining room wall.

“You’re not Simon,” the woman exclaimed, her surprise registering more as indignation than anything.

Katia resisted the temptation to be a smartass. “I am not. Can I help you?”

“I’m Deanna. Simon’s eldest sister.”

Katia didn’t know the personal dynamics of the Adler clan, but she’d heard Simon mutter this sister’s name a time or two. There always seemed to be an edge to it when he did.

“Hi. I’m Katia.”

That earned her a frown. “I couldn’t open the door. Is something wrong with the lock?”

“No, it worked fine for me.”

“Is Simon here?”

“No, sorry he isn’t. I’m housesitting for him.”

The lady didn’t seem to know what to do with that statement. “He’s not here? Where is he? Why didn’t he tell me he was going somewhere?”

Because he didn’t think you needed to know?

“He’s on sabbatical. He’ll be back in a few days.”

“But what if I need to talk to him?” the woman demanded.

“Your mother has his contact information,” Katia said, hoping that would defuse the situation before it got ugly.

“But why are you here?”

“Because he asked me to watch his house?” Like I already said?

“But who are you? Are you dating my brother?”

This was the Spanish Inquisition, Atlanta style.

“No, we’re not dating. I work with Simon and that’s why he asked me to housesit.”

“You can’t work with him. The Vatican doesn’t allow women to do that.”

Katia’s patience was fading, fast.

“Yes, but a demon trapper can watch your brother’s back during an exorcism, which is what I do. If there’s nothing more, I need to get back at it.” Or in this case, get some food and a long nap.

Deanna seemed utterly confused, as if this wasn’t something she’d ever encountered before. Every family had that one busybody, as her grandmother called them, someone who’d designated themselves as the center of that familial universe, and upon whom all others must depend. She guessed that was this lady’s role and probably why Simon muttered under his breath when her name was mentioned.

“Well, I’ll call him,” his sister announced. “That way he can verify you’re supposed to be here. You could be anyone, you know?”

“He probably won’t answer since he’s on sabbatical. Call your mom. She’ll straighten it out for you.”

“You better be who you say you are.”

“Luckily, I am.”

And then Katia shut the door because she’d had more than enough.

There was another swear word, followed by a “Why didn’t he tell me?” A short time later a car door slammed and the sister departed.

“Well, that was special,” she said, shaking her head.

Tempting as it was to email Simon about the visit, Katia held off. He was on vacation, one he desperately needed, and she would do everything in her power not to ruin it. Besides, she bet she’d be seeing the Annoying Sister again. People like that just didn’t know when to back off.

CHAPTER THREE

Where to Purchase
BITTER MAGIC


​Bitter Magic
Demon Trappers® Series Book 9
Copyright ©2024 Jana Oliver

Angel Wing Graphic used with permission of Macmillan Children’s Books
Cover image courtesy of JoY Author Designs
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Demon Trappers is a Registered Trademark of Jana G. Oliver