But Artemis’s labels don’t tell me what type of demon I have in Cillian’s shed or whether he’s dangerous. “Is there anything that categorizes demons by . . . color?”
Rhys shakes his head. He’s already pulling vampire books as well as several books whose titles begin with “necro-,” which is a prefix I normally avoid if possible. “Is ‘zompire’ a technical name? It sounds like a nickname.”
“I doubt you’ll find them in any books. Cosmina said they popped up after the link to hell dimensions was cut off.”
He sets down several of the books, his face falling. “So we’d need field reports. Which would be easy if we had more than Honora in the field. And if she ever checked in. Leo hasn’t encountered them?”
“Not that he mentioned, but feel free to ask him.” I need to redirect Rhys’s excellent brain. Zompires are something new, which isn’t good because it means no info, and we thrive on info. But the demon in the shed is more pressing than zompires in Dublin. “What about a book that organizes demons by type? A comprehensive reference. Like an encyclopedia of demons.”
He scratches his head, looking around with a dazed expression. “No. Most of the books were written about specific demons. Areas of the world. Periods of history. But . . . wow. That’s an amazing idea. If I could condense this information into an easily searchable reference guide . . .”
And I’ve lost him. I snap my fingers. “Okay. Let’s narrow it down, then. I’m interested in hybrid demons. But I’m feeling a little squeamish. So how about hybrid demons that eat things other than people. Maybe ones that eat . . . emotions?” There’s a sign as neon yellow as the demon flashing over my head saying NINA IS UP TO SOMETHING.
Fortunately, Rhys is in his element and doesn’t notice my obvious guilt. “So empath types? Actual emotions, or emotional energy? Or just energy?” He starts pulling books at what looks like random. He knows these shelves so well he can grab books without looking. “This one has a section on fear demons. Nasty little blokes. Emphasis on ‘little.’ Oh, this has a good primer on incubus- and succubus-type demons, with several in-depth studies. A history of Pylea, that’s useful. Hmm, these demons are psychic, but that might overlap with what you’re studying. Do you want demons that only eat emotions? This one lives on emotions but also has a fondness for kittens.”
“As pets?”
“As snacks.”
I grimace. If my shed demon eats kittens, I’ve definitely been too nice to him. “I guess focus mainly on emotions, but outliers are okay.”
Rhys sets down the books, along with a notebook and a pen. “As you’re studying, note the demons in alphabetical order, categorize them by type, and also include a detailed bibliography so we can reference back to it.”
“Homework?”
Rhys grins. “If you’re doing this, do it right.”
His excitement would be infectious if my research didn’t have such a pressingly real time crunch behind it. He grabs three more books—easily thousands of pages worth of information—and adds them to the pile, patting them fondly. “This should get us started.”
“Started?” I whimper.
“I’m going to make our demon reference book as my Watcher project! It’s applicable even with the death of magic, and I can update the notes to reflect the change in the world! It will also give us a good starting point for determining which demons are earthbound and which are sealed away from us. We can also add new things, like zompires.” His nose wrinkles in distaste. “I’ll come up with a suitable Latin name for them. Anyhow. The whole demonic landscape has changed, and it’s up to me to catalog it!” He hums to himself, going back to the bookshelves.
I get to work, but it doesn’t go well. It turns out there are any number of demons that consume emotion. And emotion and energy are so closely linked, oftentimes the entries don’t make any distinction. Plus, none of the frequently gruesome drawings look anything like my Coldplay demon.
I shake my head, snorting a laugh. “Oh my gods, he was all yellow.”
“Hmm?” Rhys looks up from his own book.
“Nothing.”
We’re interrupted when old Ruth Zabuto creaks in with Jade in tow. “Hello, dear ones,” Ruth says.
“Hey, Grandma.” Rhys barely looks up.
“Hey, Jade,” I say. I want to mention that I’m a Slayer, because I feel guilty for not informing her and Imogen. But I don’t know any nonawkward way to bring it up.
“Morning.” She wrinkles her nose with distaste at both the word and the concept of mornings. She looks rough, like she’s barely been sleeping. Which is odd. Jade sleeps all the time. “Shouldn’t being a Slayer get you out of research duty? If I were a Slayer, I’d never set foot in the library again.”
Of course she knows. It’s a miracle I have the secrets I do, living in Castle Gossip. Although I’m relieved I don’t have to tell her. “My mom doesn’t want me to train. So I figured I’d be a new kind of Slayer. The smart, researchy kind. A Watcher-Slayer.”
Jade looks disgusted. “What a waste.”
Ruth Zabuto’s voice is wobbly and her eyes brim with liquid. She looks worn down and pale and with even darker circles under her eyes than normal. “Jade, dear, pull all the books of magic we have extra copies of. Artemis marked their spines with chalk.” Jade sighs and shuffles up and down the rows.
“What are you doing?” I slam my book shut on a gruesomely detailed drawing of a demon eating fear by inserting its needlelike tongue into an amygdala. I’d prefer the kitten snacker to that one.
Ruth’s heavily lined face wrinkles further. “Have you heard of a thing called . . . E. Day?”