Page 51 of Wrongfully Magicked
“That makes no sense,” Soren protests, his chest puffing up. “I have more demonic blood than her. Why didn’t it trigger when I stepped close?”
I grimace, feeling the noose around my neck getting even tighter. “But I’m not the same as you, am I? I’m both demon and mage. What are the odds that there are more of us out there? What if we’re all being hunted and killed?”
As Darby consults his tablet, his scowl deepens, and his fingers practically punch through the screen. “Every one of them just came into their powers. They all died within a week of their twenty-fifth birthday.”
His hand drops to his side in defeat, his eyes shattered when he looks at me like my fate is sealed.
I plant one hand on my hip and flash him a crooked smile. “Stop acting like I’m already dead. A lot of people have tried and failed to murder me. In case you didn’t know it, I’m kind of hard to kill.”
He nods slowly, determination hardening his features. “We’ll stop them before they can get to you.”
It’s both a vow and a promise, and my heart warms at his pledge.
I almost believe him.
“We need to find out why they want your magic. What abilities do you gain on your birthday?” Porter looks at me like I would know the answer, but I can only give him a baffled shrug.
“As far as I know, there were no known demon-mage hybrids until now.” I glance at the body and swallow hard at the thought that I could be next. “What if demons began making deals with mages twenty-five years ago? Maybe they created us with a purpose. We need to discover how many deals were made, then maybe we can figure out what they want with us.”
I glance at Darby, but he’s already shaking his head. “There aren’t enough data points for me to check. There are millions of people born a year. We can cut it down by excluding beastlings, but that still leaves over half. It’s not like they put ‘demon’ on the birth certificate.”
Not willing to give up, I purse my lips, going over what little facts I do know. “What if the killers are demons coming to claim their part of the contract? They deal in dark magic and curses. If we can figure out what they want with us, then we might be able to stop them.”
“Demons have no use for mages, especially in the demonic world.” Soren immediately dismisses my suggestion. “Your magic would be virtually useless in the underworld.”
“But what does a demon want most?” Cassius asks the group at large. “The only way they can gain access to this world is through possession. Thankfully, that only allows them to have limited access to their full powers. If they push too hard, they burn through the body and kill their host.”
I’m already shaking my head at what he’s implying. “Because we’re part demon, you think they’ll be able to possess us without the limitations of a normal body?”
Cassius stares at me, not looking any happier at the prospect. “It’s a possibility we can’t dismiss.”
Porter glances at the victim still dangling from the trees, his eyes narrowing as he studies him, and everyone else follows suit.
I can’t get over the impression that we’re missing the obvious.
Without looking away from the corpse, Porter speaks over his shoulder. “Darby, compare the images from the crime scenes with images from bodies killed by possession.”
No one says a word as Darby lifts his tablet.
He swallows hard, the lines around his eyes deepening as he takes in the images, and I want to slap the device away, not wanting him exposed to so much death. Just as I take a step toward him, his head lifts, and our eyes meet.
I don’t even have to ask what he learned—it’s written on his face.
Defeat slumps his shoulders, and there is an apology in his voice. “They are almost identical.”
Loud ringing fills my ears, and I can only look at him stupidly.
Just the thought of being a meat puppet to a demon sends a shudder down my spine.
“Almostidentical.” Cassius takes a step forward, aggression thickening the air around him. His hands are clenched at his sides like he’s tempted to strangle the answers out of Darby. “What’s different?”
I take a step back, unsure that I want to know.
Unfortunately, burying my head in the sand isn’t going to help me survive.
“Possession doesn’t usually kill the host.” Darby glances at the body, then he turns to face me. “It’s only when they try to draw dark magic from the demonic realm and cast spells that the hosts die. The black magic rips them apart from the inside out.”
We all glance at the body, and I can’t keep the disbelief from my voice. “And this is different?”
