Read Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls) for Free Online Page B

down every method of trans-stratification known to Pure Souls. That included finding out how her loser father’s dagger had managed to send Lucifer on a long vacation. Whatever mojo could vanquish a fallen angel from the Earth, even if just for a period of twenty-nine years, had to have something going for it. Possibly, it could have other uses as well.
    So, here was Riona Dade, getting her inner Velma on. At first, when Jerry had given her the address to a little shop in Salem, she’d thought he’d been pulling her leg.
    “That whole Salem Witch thing was a farce,” she’d interjected. “A terrible tragedy of mass hysteria for social and political gain. Those poor people who died were as much witches as I am a bearded lumberjack. There’s no way any tourist trap capitalizing off that is going to have anything that helps me.”
    Jerry had just clicked his tongue. “Yeah, you’re right. That historical thing had nothing to do with real magic. But the funny thing is what it became for the magical community afterwards. It’s like the witches’ Mecca now, their hill outside Jerusalem. It’s where innocents died for their … Well, of course you and I know magic isn’t a sin, but those poor Quaker Oats folks died in your name. Those pilgrims are kind of like a witch’s Jesus, and the land is sacred ground. Quite a few close-knit covens in the area now. Go, ask for Bunny.”
    “Bunny?”
    “Don’t let looks—or her name—fool you,” Jerry had warned. “She might be older than dirt, and probably stooped over like a pigeon by now, but Bunny knows her shit.”
    And so, here stood Riona Dade, outside a pillbox of a storefront in a strip mall on the edge of Salem, with an eight-inch dagger hidden in the suede bag hanging at her side.
    The Crone’s Corner was barely more than a glorified walk-in closet. As Riona stepped in through a beaded curtain and began to survey dozens of herb pouches, cheap Chinese reproductions of sacred symbols, and standard stock of Salem-themed tourist trinkets dangling in cellophane packages from nails, she started to wonder if Jerry had been playing a trick on her after all. When a door at the back of the room opened and a mocha-skinned Amazon stepped out, eying Riona with curiosity and contempt, she was certain of it.
    “Can I help you?”
    The woman’s accent intrigued her. Something close to French, but more exotic. The aroma of sage and cloves accompanied her prominent figure into the room and tickled Riona’s nose. It was a good thing they were living in the post-Massachusetts Bay Colony era; such a mode of dress would have landed someone on the galleys in Puritan times. Still, she broadcast a regal air that she wasn’t there merely for anyone’s enjoyment or discernment.
    “I’m looking for Bunny?” Riona’s voice died in midair.
    “Why is the Keystone Witch looking for Ms. Reed?”
    Riona’s spine stiffened. It suddenly dawned on her that outside the Pure Souls, she’d never crossed paths with another wiccan. She wasn’t sure if the protocol of secrecy applied, or if admitting her roll was a streng verboten . “How did you know I was the … I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Fine, we’ll pretend.” The woman took a seat on a stool placed at the end of a long counter. A cash register that dated from the Taft administration and was probably heavy enough to kill a buffalo, should the need call, occupied a good deal of real estate. “Though you needn’t worry for your safety here. We are your kindred. All of our magic is possible because of you.”
    She felt like Dorothy and Glinda had just sprung the things-I-could-have-been-told-earlier-to-save-us-all-time news that she’d had to power to go home all along. “What do you mean?”
    “I see it’s true. There were whisperings that you were not raised in our ways, that you don’t know the path of the witch, are ignorant of our … of your heritage.”
    “Well, I got that part of me from