Spellbound (Otherworld 12)

"Then don't come after it. Please."

"Okay. Remember how Lucas taught you to handle dogs?"

"With a knockback spell."

"If you don't have a knockback spell?"

When I didn't answer, Adam said, "Okay, rule one, and this is going to be really tough for you: Act submissive. Keep the dog in your line of vision, but don't make direct eye contact. Then put your hands in your pockets and in a firm voice, say no."

"No?"

"A little firmer."

I glowered, then did as he said. The dog seemed satisfied . . . that I'd make an easy, nonthreatening target, and staggered toward me, bloody drool trailing behind. I realized then that this pooch wasn't rabid.

"Um, Adam?"

Creeping up behind the dog, he motioned me to silence. "Those survival tips. Do they work with zombie dogs, too?"

"Zombie . . . Shit!"

The dog spun. Or it tried to, scrabbling awkwardly as it turned around to face Adam. He lifted his glowing fingertips. The dog lunged at him. I dove at it. Adam stepped to the side. The dog kept going, stumbling past him into the office.

We stood in the hall, listening to claws scraping the hardwood, then a thump. The office chair squeaked.

"Think zombie pup's hungry?" I whispered, thinking of Alston's bloodied body.

"I hadn't . . . until you mentioned it. Thanks."

I slipped past him to peek into the office. I saw the dog, lying in a heap on the floor. Then Walter Alston lifted his head.

"That's better," rumbled a voice. The corpse's head turned, eyeless sockets scanning the room. "Better being a relative term." It turned toward me. "I don't suppose you'd care to untie me?"

"Walter Alston?" Adam said, striding past me.

I followed. Even from ten feet away, we could feel heat radiating from the corpse.

"Not Walter Alston," I said. "And we are so not untying you, demon."

"A wise choice. I might crawl over and bite your ankles. In case you haven't noticed, child of Balaam, this body lacks working knees, which is why I inhabited the dog. If I wanted to hurt you, I could simply return to that form. Right now, I would prefer the power of speech."

"You're a demon," I said. "You don't need working knees to move. And you don't need me to untie you."

"Demi-demon," Adam whispered.

Right. Possessing the living is beyond the powers of most demi-demons. Some can take over corpses, though.

"I'll untie you if you give me your name and liege," Adam said.

The demi-demon cocked his head, lips pursing. It wasn't as simple a request as it seemed. His name could be used to call him again. I was surprised that he seemed to be considering it. Even more surprised when he said, "Kimerion, under Andromaulius."

Adam keyed the name into the database on his phone, then passed it over to me. When I read the entry, I was a lot less surprised.

Andromaulius was a demon duke in the court of the lord demon Asmondai. Adam's father. Either this demon couldn't refuse Adam or he feared it might insult his liege's lord.

Adam knelt beside Alston's corpse and untied his arms. The demi-demon lifted his bloodied hands and flexed them, then folded them into his lap.

"If you're here to carry through on a bargain Alston brokered, you're going to have to go straight to the source," I said. "Unless it's your part that hasn't been completed, in which case you can probably use his death as an excuse for breaking the deal."