She laughed brightly, unpracticed but genuine. It was incredibly disarming until I reminded myself of what she really was. Or had been.
Her gaze settled on me as the waitress approached, and Esther said distinctly, “I would like . . . a Coca-Cola, in a glass with some ice.” I ordered iced tea, and we sat for a long moment sizing each other up. “I like the bubbles. And so sweet! I never really knew what sweet tasted like.” She really did seem rather girlish, but with a mechanical quality to her movements. It was like watching an accident victim relearning the basics of life.
“What brings you here? Is Ethan still alive?” My eyes were hard.
“Yes, he is good. We are good. I am learning so many things about this place. This time, I mean.” The waitress sat her drink down, and she took a small sip and squealed at the carbonation. It was bizarre, given her age and lethality, but I felt myself relax at the humanizing gesture, if only slightly.
“I came to warn you.” She drank again.
“Warn me? Of what? Please tell me it isn’t you.”
She ignored my open threat. “No. When I killed that daughter, I took her memory. Not all of her Arc-cane-gels”—she tripped over the word—“were killed. One of them is hunting now.” She sipped her Coke again and looked around in curiosity at the throngs on the beach. It must have seemed like another planet to her after ten thousand years on the prairie. “He thinks he is a knight, or a Pala . . . Pala—” She trailed off, frustrated by the word.
“Paladin?” I asked.
“Yes! That word! Like a knight, Ethan said, but a red one.” She was inordinately pleased with herself at remembering that fact. “I think red is bad.”
I nodded, deep in thought. Before I could speak, she stood in a blinding flash and kissed my cheek. Her lips were warm and she smelled of soap and youth. I looked up into her green eyes, and she grinned, then her gaze went stony and she said, “I will not hunt here. But someday, maybe we will see each other again.”
“I’d like that.” I saluted her with my glass, and she walked stiffly away, swinging her arms occasionally to explore her newfound motion and body. The tattoo of antlers and moon stood proudly on the creamy skin of her shoulder, and I said to no one in particular, “I’d like that very much indeed.”
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About the Author
Daniel Pierce lives in Wyoming with his wife Marissa and their two dogs. After fourteen years as an engineer, Daniel decided it was finally time to write and release his first novel.
As a lifelong fan of scifi and fantasy, he wants nothing more than to share his passion.
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Demon Master 2 (The Demon Master Series) Page 23
