Kindling the Moon
Page 24

Lon stopped at a pair of pages; tucked between was a small scrap of blue paper.
“This one is Lemansus,” he said, removing the blue paper marker. “He fits all of your descriptions but two.”
I leaned closer to study the small woodcut rendering. “No horns … oh, no eyes at all—blind,” I said after a few seconds. “What else?”
“Not primordial. The text claims that the magician who first conjured him was told that this demon was born sometime in the fifth century.”
He carefully flipped to the next marker in the book. “Eligostanzia. He mostly fits the description, but there’s no mention of the rolling tongue that you’re looking for, and it’s hard to tell if those are talons or long fingers. The magician doesn’t say.”
“Hmm.”
“He’s also allegedly skilled at divinatory favors, not killing.”
“Maybe I should copy down his name, just in case. Do you have something I can write with, or—”
He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers; he’d already run off copies of the marked pages. “Let’s make two stacks: Maybe and No. You can take the Maybe stack with you.”
At that moment, it crossed my mind that I really shouldn’t have needed to come all the way out there. He could easily have met me somewhere and handed over the copies.
“I thought you’d like to see the details on the original pages yourself,” he explained, as if he’d read my thoughts.
Wait—my thoughts. A terrible realization struck me.
“Umm, Lon?”
“Yes?”
“You never told me what your knack is.”
Knack. Earthbound slang for a demonic ability. Healing, telepathy, controlling weather … Most of the Earthbounds I knew had useless knacks that weren’t even interesting enough to nab them a job in a carnival sideshow. But I had a sinking feeling that Lon’s knack wasn’t ordinary.
“I didn’t?” He looked down at the desk, avoiding my eyes.
“No.”
He shrugged. “I don’t really have one.”
“Liar.”
Seconds ticked. “I’m an empath,” he finally said, still gazing at the book in front of us.
“You sense other people’s emotions?”
“Yes.”
I instantly became anxious. I thought back to when we first met at the coffee shop, and how he must have known everything I was feeling. Crap. In my house, too. Could he tell when I was ogling him, then? What about a couple of minutes back, when I was getting all hot and bothered by our shoulders touching? Exactly how much could someone tell about you by reading your emotions?
He sighed.
“You can tell how I feel right now, huh?”
“Yes.”
I tried to relax and clear my head. “I’ve heard of empaths, but I’ve never met one. How detailed is your skill? You can’t read minds, can you?” Please say no, please say no …
“No.”
Paranoia got the better of me. “Are you just saying that because I was thinking it?”
His smile was fatigued, like he’d been forced to explain this a billion times before; he probably had. “I really can’t read your thoughts. Just emotions. Simple ones are the easiest. If there are too many at once, it gets garbled. But I can sense you’re relieved that I’m not a mind reader, and that you’re putting up a barrier to keep your emotions guarded right now.”
“Sorry.”
A long, awkward pause filled up the space between us.
“Can you block it, or do you just sense emotions from everyone you’re around?”
“No, I can tune people out. If I couldn’t, I’d never be able to leave the house.”
“I suppose that would be … overwhelming.”
“When other Earthbounds find out, they start avoiding me. Relationships are hard.” One corner of his mouth puckered as gave me glance from the side. “The only person who doesn’t mind my ability is Jupe. He’s … well, an open book, so to speak.” He closed the tome in front of us and smiled at me weakly before pulling the next one off the stack.
A low wave of pity rolled over me, and I let it, even with the knowledge that he could sense it. “Is that why your marriage broke up?”
“It didn’t help. It’s hard to stay together when you know someone’s cheating on you and doesn’t care that you know it.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I married her after she got pregnant with Jupe. I thought it was the right thing to do, thought we were in love—or at least that we might be one day—but her demonic ability …” A scowl darkened his face for a few seconds. “Turned out, staying together was bad for us and bad for Jupe. So I divorced her eight years ago and took Jupe with me. He’s a good kid.”
“It’s kinda admirable that you’re raising him by yourself.”
“I’ve had help. I employ an elderly couple who live on a small house on the property. They help take care of the house and watch out for him.”
Housekeepers. Hmph. I knew a man like him couldn’t possibly keep a house like that so clean by himself; I tried to erase that thought before he caught my smugness.
“Has Jupe’s knack surfaced yet?” Abilities usually didn’t until mid-teens, from what I’d heard.
“No, but as much as I hate my knack, I hope like hell he inherits mine and not hers.”