Page 41 of Demons Treasure Warlocks

The letters were from different time periods—from the nineteenth century up 'til even now—and each one was fascinating in how they expressed their affection for the recipient.

One set of letters truly intrigued Darius. They had a thread of almost familiar magic weaving through them. Each word seemed as though it was Darius who wrote it. It hurt so damn much, but it cleansed Darius at the same time.

“Did you know some of your letters have magic shot through them?” Darius asked, awed by the intricate beauty still when the air beside him shifted.

“I do,” Hakko murmured.

“It feels like the author went into my heart and poured everything out onto the page. It’s disconcerting.” Darius’s voice cracked, and he wished he kept quiet.

“I thought you had people?” Hakko sounded like he was talking to a spooked animal, and it rankled a little bit.

“Mentor, big brother. Isaac is my best friend but still so new. Adam and Trey are a challenge. They think I have all the answers and get fucking pissed when I don’t have what they want. I’m such a fucking fraud.” Darius traced letters on the glass and connected with the author. “I’ve racked my brain so many times. I’ve gone over everything so often, and I just don’t know where the fuck I went wrong. I’m not a saviour or hero. I’m a goddamn loser.”

Hakko remained silent and that almost did Darius in. Why the hell did he just dump every issue on someone who likely didn’t care?

“Would you like to come to my apartment later and speak with Poe? He might be able to help you through this,” Hakko offered.

“I don’t want to interrupt your evening. This is bloody stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just these letters and then what your Poe did. I don’t think it’s necessary.” Darius shook his head. Hakko had other things to worry about than Darius. He didn’t want to take him away from whatever he had going on.

“Stop by mid-evening. Bring Bale and talk to us. You need this, Darius. You’re going to crack if you don’t share.” Hakko’s invitation was kind, and Darius wanted to accept in the worst way, but what if Hakko didn’t really care and was only inviting him for form’s sake?

Darius nodded once and left the museum. The sun was high and shone down on the snow, making it sparkle. It was so positive and optimistic if snow could have feelings.

Hastur was banished for the moment. But when he came back, he’d be aiming for Darius, and there would be hell to pay. Could Darius win? Not as he was, not now. He had to do something so he had a chance at defeating the Elder Demon.

ChapterEighteen

Bale paced the back deck, his wings flexing as he watched the road for Darius’s car. When he had woken up alone in the house in the morning with two cats covering him, he panicked.

Every possible thing raced through his head as he tried to locate Darius. Why the hell would he leave without saying anything to Bale? Darius's emotions had been in such a flux that maybe he finally sought answers from an outside source.

The magic that fizzled last night felt good, and as Darius said, everything was fresher now. Maybe he went looking for where it happened. That was plausible. Not telling Bale was rude and unsafe. Darius couldn’t do that anymore.

Stars, he was getting himself all in a fluster as he paced. Darius wouldn’t do anything to get them in trouble. He had some sense to be careful. Bale had to trust that Darius was smart.

The rumbling of a motor along the gravel road had Bale’s ears perking up. It sounded like the right vehicle. He peered out the window and saw the black SUV with Darius sitting in the driver’s seat staring dead ahead. Bale took a deep calming breath and released it just as slowly.

Darius did not need to be pounced on or attacked as he first came into his home. Bale could restrain himself a tiny bit.

Putting the coffee machine on seemed like a prudent thing to do, and he followed Darius’s steps exactly as he made the drink.

The door opened, and he froze. Boots kicked off and the coat was hung up.

Pasting a smile on his face, Bale turned around and greeted Darius.

Who looked like he’d been hit by a tree.

“Darius?” All anger and recrimination left Bale’s head as he spoke to a pale and shaky Darius. “What’s going on?”

“Bale, hi. Right.” Darius scratched his forehead and stood in the door leading to the kitchen. “Is that coffee?”

“Darius?”

“I went to see Hakko. I thought it’d be easier to go alone. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, and Hakko’s safe. We all know that. But shit went down last night at their thing.” Darius drifted farther into the kitchen. He nudged Bale out of the way of the coffee machine and deftly did the main steps. Bale had only ground the beans.

“What do you mean, shit went down? Is everyone okay?” Bale asked, concerned. He discreetly looked Darius over, and other than the shell-shocked expression, he seemed hale and hearty.

“He made a visit, I guess, in a campaign-y type setting. And tried to attack Hakko’s guest.” Puzzlement coated his voice as he explained. “The guest—Poe—bit the mayor’s finger right off, and that snapped the connection between human and demon. That’s what we felt when it seemed like everything fizzed.”

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