Read Online Charm City (The Demon Whisperer Book 1) by Ash Krafton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ash Krafton
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who exorcises demons. That's a new one."
"Don't trivialize it." She couldn't keep the edge out of her voice.
"There's no possible way to trivialize any of this. Are you out of your mind? You have a direct connection to hell. You can't go making enemies like this, especially not that one."
"I'm not afraid of him."
"You should be. No wonder Mack was ruffled when he saw you. You shouldn't even exist. Angel blood, and demon—it's not a matter of disagreeing on holiday plans. It's bad chemistry. Plain and simple."
"I have a purpose, Simon. I know what I have to do. I've never shied away from it. I know you find me...an abomination—"
"Now, wait." His whole demeanor changed. "I never said that."
"You don't have to. I see it in your eyes. There is so much in your eyes, Simon. Such despair, such guilt. Such condemnation for what you see as a failure in another person."
He looked away, a shadow casting down over his expression. Hurt and trying to hide it.
But not for long. He rolled his shoulders and slowly looked back at her.
"I just watched you exorcize an officer of Balazog Corinthian," he said." A demon of no small influence. And you did it without even breaking a sweat. If we're gonna work together, I think I deserve to know who I'm working with. You really need to tell me who your father is."
Not a chance, on this plane or any other. "My father is a collector. A connoisseur of the strange and wonderful and impossible and damned. And one of the things he collects is offspring. He's not really a family man. Bad relationship with his own father, I guess. Left him with screwed up family values. He chose my mother because of her exquisite genetics. They probably should have tried to get to know each other a little first before jumping into the whole parenthood thing."
"You're a divinity. I gotta be honest. I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around it, and my brain is stretchier than most. Half demon, half Enochian—"
"I am mortal." Her voice went nearly hoarse with conviction. At least in part. These days, more theory than anything else. "There is a piece of me that is mortal, a piece that is all my own. And that is why I fight to keep humanity free of divine influence. I fight because I know how precious mortality is. All these corrections—it kicks the power back to where it belongs but it's just not enough. I cannot make them unsee what they saw. I cannot make them forget what it feels like to be a divinity."
He nodded and dropped his head. "I can."
She turned. "What?"
With a sigh, he met her gaze. "I said, I can. I can make them forget. And I do. When I complete an exorcism, I cast a little follow-up disremember spell. It's easy, actually."
He shrugged. "A rapid hypnotic induction, a few words of a spell I learned in Guatemala and a pinch of mandrake root under their tongue. I mean, I've just ripped a demon out of their body, out of their psyche. They are usually quite open to suggestion after an experience like that."
"And..." She pulled at her lower lip, thinking. She never thought it possible. Memories were part of a mortal; embedded with scents and sounds and emotions. So many parts of the human brain were wired for memory storage, making it difficult to isolate any one spot. From a scientific view, erasing a memory was complicated. From an emotional standpoint, it was probably impossible. Even the things a person thought they forgot could resurface with the right trigger, conscious or unconscious. "You do that to every one you exorcise?"
He scratched his hair, ruffling it. "More or less. Some guys, they might be useful. I let them keep the experience if I think they're worth it."
"Worth what?"
"Joining the fray. I'm not the only mortal out there fighting. I don't know too much about the big wigs, now. They have their own organization and rules and credit union memberships. I'm a bottom feeder, a freelancer. I just kick a new recruit their way every now and then."
She mused, staring at the fire
"Don't trivialize it." She couldn't keep the edge out of her voice.
"There's no possible way to trivialize any of this. Are you out of your mind? You have a direct connection to hell. You can't go making enemies like this, especially not that one."
"I'm not afraid of him."
"You should be. No wonder Mack was ruffled when he saw you. You shouldn't even exist. Angel blood, and demon—it's not a matter of disagreeing on holiday plans. It's bad chemistry. Plain and simple."
"I have a purpose, Simon. I know what I have to do. I've never shied away from it. I know you find me...an abomination—"
"Now, wait." His whole demeanor changed. "I never said that."
"You don't have to. I see it in your eyes. There is so much in your eyes, Simon. Such despair, such guilt. Such condemnation for what you see as a failure in another person."
He looked away, a shadow casting down over his expression. Hurt and trying to hide it.
But not for long. He rolled his shoulders and slowly looked back at her.
"I just watched you exorcize an officer of Balazog Corinthian," he said." A demon of no small influence. And you did it without even breaking a sweat. If we're gonna work together, I think I deserve to know who I'm working with. You really need to tell me who your father is."
Not a chance, on this plane or any other. "My father is a collector. A connoisseur of the strange and wonderful and impossible and damned. And one of the things he collects is offspring. He's not really a family man. Bad relationship with his own father, I guess. Left him with screwed up family values. He chose my mother because of her exquisite genetics. They probably should have tried to get to know each other a little first before jumping into the whole parenthood thing."
"You're a divinity. I gotta be honest. I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around it, and my brain is stretchier than most. Half demon, half Enochian—"
"I am mortal." Her voice went nearly hoarse with conviction. At least in part. These days, more theory than anything else. "There is a piece of me that is mortal, a piece that is all my own. And that is why I fight to keep humanity free of divine influence. I fight because I know how precious mortality is. All these corrections—it kicks the power back to where it belongs but it's just not enough. I cannot make them unsee what they saw. I cannot make them forget what it feels like to be a divinity."
He nodded and dropped his head. "I can."
She turned. "What?"
With a sigh, he met her gaze. "I said, I can. I can make them forget. And I do. When I complete an exorcism, I cast a little follow-up disremember spell. It's easy, actually."
He shrugged. "A rapid hypnotic induction, a few words of a spell I learned in Guatemala and a pinch of mandrake root under their tongue. I mean, I've just ripped a demon out of their body, out of their psyche. They are usually quite open to suggestion after an experience like that."
"And..." She pulled at her lower lip, thinking. She never thought it possible. Memories were part of a mortal; embedded with scents and sounds and emotions. So many parts of the human brain were wired for memory storage, making it difficult to isolate any one spot. From a scientific view, erasing a memory was complicated. From an emotional standpoint, it was probably impossible. Even the things a person thought they forgot could resurface with the right trigger, conscious or unconscious. "You do that to every one you exorcise?"
He scratched his hair, ruffling it. "More or less. Some guys, they might be useful. I let them keep the experience if I think they're worth it."
"Worth what?"
"Joining the fray. I'm not the only mortal out there fighting. I don't know too much about the big wigs, now. They have their own organization and rules and credit union memberships. I'm a bottom feeder, a freelancer. I just kick a new recruit their way every now and then."
She mused, staring at the fire
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