Page 4 of Burn of Obsidian

Lucifer’s red eyes glowed at the mention of the ceremony that turned a druid into a Daemon. “The soul untethers before the magic can take hold, resulting in death.”

“Exactly,” Jax said, stretching his chi out to feel along the remnants of the Skull’s aura. “Gideon pumps his soldiers full of his personal magic, but as they’re not druids, they can’t ascend into Daemons. They only become Lessers.”

“And Lessers’ souls rot from the black magic,” Kace added with a grunt. “But this particular Skull doesn’t stink of the same decay.”

“That’s because his soul isn’t disconnected. It’s bound.” Jax nodded, which was about as much excitement as he could portray. “Luce is right, it’s his chi that’s been detached so the magic couldn’t corrupt his soul as fast as usual.”

Kace turned towards the Skull. “What does this mean?”

“It means Gideon’s figured out how to create a sustainable army,” Lucifer said. “Using the magic cup.”

Jax yanked on the chain, watching the Skull fall to the concrete with a satisfying crack. “It means if we don’t figure out how to destroy the king of Daemons soon, we’re all fucked.”

Chapter 2

Thea

Thea gripped the solid marble tight enough it dug into her palm. The phallic statue was slightly longer than her forearm and was just as ugly as any penis she’d had the dishonour of witnessing. It even had veins, as well as a well-endowed woman the size of a pixie licking up the shaft. Honestly, she had no idea why Mr Finnick wanted it. No way could it be called a piece of art.

“We agreed thirteen thousand,” she said, her smile fake enough her cheeks ached.

What was with arseholes always trying to shortchange her recently?

“I’ll give you two,” Mr Finnick said with a sickening grin. His teeth were slightly yellowed, and he had a vague stench of burnt toast and cigarettes. “No one will pay you more for it.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

His smile fell, and Thea took a step back. Her internal alarm was screaming at her to run, but she really needed the money. Stealing statues, penis shaped or not, wasn’t something she usually agreed to. But watches and jewellery just weren’t cutting it recently, not compared to the private jobs.

“Do you know who I had to get this from?” If she’d known she’d have to steal the bloody thing from one of the Irish, she’d have turned the job down. “I’ll agree to eight thousand. It took me a week to find, and I was almost bitten by the dog.”

Mr Finnick looked down at the marble dick in her hand before meeting her eyes. “You’ll agree to two hundred, or I’ll just take it from you and you’ll receive nothing.”

“Hundred?!”

Fucking arsehole!

Thea took another step back, her ribs aching with how fast her heart raced. Mr Finnick mirrored her movement, closing the distance. No way would she hand over the marble penis now. It was the principle of it.

With a smile as sweet as pie, she winked at him, and then concentrated her chi and pictured home. Except nothing happened. She should have gone poof, her molecules forced through space until she appeared where she’d pictured by magic. Instead, she still faced Mr Finnick, with his creepy smile and strange odour.

Shit.

“So, what will it be?” he asked, his hand disappearing beneath his long trench coat, only to come out holding a knife.

Double shit.

“I’ll accept the two hundred.” She tried to calm her pulse, knowing if she couldn’t concentrate and settle her chi’s vibrations then she couldn’t drift. But in her defence, it was pretty hard to concentrate while being threatened.

“Nah, I think we’ll go with option three. I’ll just take it, and you’ll thank me for not cutting up your pretty face.” He lifted the knife, the edge visibly sharp.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Thea steadied her stance, completely prepared to bash his head in with the penis.

Why did she agree to meet a shady guy in a dark alley in the middle of the night?

Oh, that’s right.

She was a desperate idiot.

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