“Wait,” Thelma said as she ducked back into the VW and reached into the tiny back seat. She came up with a backpack that she slung over her shoulder. I recognized the old face of Supergirl on the front. Thelma had to yell to be heard over the pounding storm. “Jake gave me some supplies in case anything happened. I don’t know what half this crap does, but it’s always good to be prepared. Even if the backpack still smells like demon heart.” She tried to sound cheerful.
I couldn’t smile, but I stopped and studied her. Rain slicked her dark skin, and she brushed a dripping, soaked bang out of her eyes. Her pantsuit was completely ruined and must’ve weighed a ton with all the extra water.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“One of these days your luck is going to run out, Nicky-boy,” she said with a tight smile. “That’s where I come in. Think of me as your guardian angel.”
“More like a guardian wet cat,” I said, my own smile creeping up from that cold knot in my stomach.
“You should talk,” she said with a playful swat. Then the smile slipped as her eyes went to the fire behind us. “Let’s go.”
I clenched my teeth against the pain. I didn’t make it two steps before Thelma took my arm and helped me limp forward.
The flames engulfed the homeless shelter, but nothing else. A crowd of the shell-shocked homeless milled about from a safe distance, each one trying to look away from the tragedy enfolding before them. Yet, like mine, their gazes returned to the flames, the light reflected in their haunted eyes.
“Anyone call the fire department?” I yelled to the nearest man. He simply nodded his gray head, his gaze never leaving the flames.
They were on their way then, although they wouldn’t be much help. Not with these flames. I steered Thelma toward an empty awning, where we huddled from the cold. The roar was like an angry god growling for food.
“How come the flames don’t go out?” Thelma asked. She shivered.
“Demon fire,” I responded. The wind had died at least, which meant our awning covered a somewhat dry island in the storm. I tried to think and plan, but my brain refused to tear itself away from the flames. It was my fault. I had told her to stay in the shelter. What arrogance to think I knew the rules.
I was a child who sees a chess board for the first time and decides to pick up a book and play. Staring at the flames, I realized I knew some of the basic strategies, but it was still checkmate.
“Maybe they got out,” Thelma whispered again.
I instinctively put my arm around her, and she leaned into me. We stood under the awning and tried to share what little warmth we had.
I don’t know how long we stood there, staring at the flames, both our minds numb. Eventually a vibration stirred me from my lethargy. It took me a full minute to realize that something was vibrating against my sore ribs. Buzz, pain, buzz, pain.
I pushed myself away from Thelma, and she looked at me with an eyebrow raised. I took my phone out of my pocket. One missed call.
Then it vibrated again.
“Yeah?” was my reply. My voice cracked a bit, and I had to shout over the roar of the flames.
“Mr. St. James? This is Adam.”
I sucked air in through clenched teeth and went straight to the point. “Is Beth OK?”
He said something, but it came through garbled. I closed my eyes and covered the ear opposite the phone.
“Adam?”
More silence, and then, “…fine,” he said. “She’s here with Amanda.”
The breath I held came out in a rush. Thelma mouthed a question, but I just grinned like a stupid puppy. “Where is here?”
Tension rippled out of Thelma. It amazed me. She didn’t know Beth or little Amanda. But she knew me, and that was enough for her to worry about them. She leaned against the wall and stared out into the rain, a soft smile on her lips.
“We’re down the street about a block from the fire.” More silence. “…saw you run out of the rain.”
“Are you safe?”
I couldn’t hear the reply, but I did hear, “…Hoffman Art Gallery. Get here as fast as you can…” Then silence. I looked at the phone, but it had disconnected.
“Let’s go,” I told Thelma. She nodded and we rushed out into the pouring rain.
“What if it’s a trap?” she yelled as we ran down the street.
“Then it is,” I yelled back.
The screech of fire engines broke through the pounding rain. I wasn’t sure what they’d be able to do against demon fire, but I silently wished them luck. Beth and Amanda might’ve gotten out, but the shelter was full. I didn’t want to think about the bodies they’d find.
We couldn’t talk anymore. Between the pounding rain, the flames, and the piercing sirens, I don’t think we could’ve heard each other if we had been face to face with two bullhorns. So I grabbed her hand and we continued on. Pain flared every time I put a foot down, but as I moved I noticed it was fading. That was a good sign.
Ironically, we came across the art gallery we had passed minutes before. Hoffman’s Art Gallery was part of a building that housed a nail boutique and a pizza parlor, and it stood across from the giant indoor mall like a defiant protestor standing up to the regime of department stores and pre-packaged coffee shops.
Long glass windows stretched up ten feet, giving a clear view of the darkened room beyond. Deeper shadows hid shapes that could have been low walls lined with paintings. I tried the front door, but it was locked.
“Come on, Adam,” I whispered as I glanced around. I was naked in the rain, standing in an empty street. The storm had chased the pedestrians away. Even the bus stop on the corner sat dejected and alone.
A lemon-colored minivan drove by, and I caught sight of it in my peripheral vision. I turned my head to follow it.
I’m glad I did. As I turned, I caught a blur out of the corner of my eye. Instincts kicked in, and I grabbed Thelma and pushed her off her feet. She screamed and went down in the rain, and a frenzied shape arched past where she had stood.
It then slammed into me. My ribs screamed, and I think I echoed it, but honestly I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a moment as the beast slammed me into the front window. Gossamer spiderwebs made a roadmap of my head in the glass.
The moment lay suspended in the rain. Hot breath like rotting mold steamed against my cheek. Empty eye sockets leveled with mine. Fingers like steel rods closed the air from my throat.
I reacted again, pulling on all the strength my screaming muscles could give. Acid burned the back of my throat. Shooting both hands up, palms flat, I slammed them against the thing’s head. The demon’s skull gave a wet pop, and he screamed loud enough to rattle the window behind me.
I dropped to the ground as the thing stumbled back, his hands clawing his head like a dog trying to rid itself of fleas. I spat a wad of blood into the rain.
Shabriri stopped his frantic clawing and stood hunched, like a praying mantis eating its dinner. Then he unfurled and straightened his neck as bones popped back into place.
I knew I had to stand my ground. If I ran the demon would claw his way into the gallery and kill Beth and the child. For better or worse, I was the last guardian at the gate.
The world focused down to the two of us. The pain in my ribs drifted away. Time slowed down, and every movement of the demon became engraved on the razor’s edge of my mind.
Damn, I was going to pay for this later.
“Let’s see what a captain of Hell can do,” I whispered.
The demon actually grinned at that, and he popped the spur out of his palm. Dark fluids ran down the blade as the demon rushed forward.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The demon came in low, all brute force and rage. There was no real skill, but the demon didn’t need it. His savagery was enough to drive me back. I barely managed to dodge the spur as Shabriri tried to gut me.
A punch to the demon’s face brought a hiss but nothing else. He swiped again and I had to jump back.
I actually heard the spur cut the air.
But I had to keep him occupied. “Get inside!” I yelled to Thelma. She still lay dazed in the torrential rain. I sent a swift kick out, making the demon hop back a good five feet. I then turned and ran to the bus stop.
I’m sure Mr. Tensi, my old judo master, would’ve loved what I did next. He was the one who taught me that anything could be a weapon if wielded right. I slipped in the rain as I came to the bus stop¸ but I managed to regain my balance and grab the thick metal trash can that stood to the side.
Just in time, too. I spun and held up the can as the demon swung his spur in an overhead chop down toward my head. The thick metal bent inward and folded in half but remained intact. Rotting hamburgers and old coffee cups rained down around us. I reversed the can, swinging it around, down, and then up. Metal screamed as the can folded under the demon’s chin, flinging him backward.
I dropped the ruined weapon and tried to catch my breath. I wasn’t doing too badly, I reflected in that brief respite, even as my strength failed as all my injuries decided to rear their ugly little heads. I searched for a better weapon, but realized that a public bus stop in the middle of the city was not the optimal place for a fight like this. I wished I had my old Colt .45 with me, but tonight was supposed to be a routine break-in, not a fight to the death.
A whisper of air alerted me. I ducked and spun just as the demon’s spur lashed out.
I was out of options. The next few moments became what I lovingly call the not-in-the-face game. All my energy poured into not getting hit. I had no plan, no strategy. It was just a nasty case of instinct as the demon drove me closer and closer toward the art gallery.
I didn’t even manage to land any more strikes. It was all I could do to dodge the flailing blade and the vicious blows. I knew the only reason I was alive was because the demon was all rage and no finesse. But I knew it was only a matter of time before I made a mistake.
And sure enough, I gave it to him. I ducked a swing and tried to block a punch, but my shoe, already soaked from the rain, slipped on a slick of water on the sidewalk. The punch landed on my side, and my broken ribs screamed. All my gifts vanished in an instant, leaving behind a red sheen of pain.
The demon, rain sliding down the crevices of his distorted face, grabbed the front of my shirt with his left hand and held me up like a fly stuck to a board. The bladed hand reared back and his double jaws extended in a wide grin. I clenched my teeth.
The blow never came. I blinked as Shabriri dropped me to the ground.
I couldn’t grasp the image in front of me. The demon clawed the back of his head. Smoke rose from his neck, followed by snaking tendrils from his overcoat. The beast flailed as more patches of dense, foul smoke billowed from his flesh.
Finally the demon bellowed, and the glass behind me shattered from his rage. I slammed my hands against my eardrums, but the demon’s scream cut through.
The demon then spun and sprinted across the street, where he disappeared into an alley between a liquor store and a lunch bistro. A young couple sitting at a table inside the restaurant uncovered their ears and fearfully gazed into the rain.
“Welcome to the entertainment portion of our dining experience,” I muttered. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up, but I squashed it down.
Hands grabbed me and lifted me from my stupor. “Come on!” Thelma yelled. I didn’t think or question. I stood up against the pain and she helped me toward the doorway of the gallery. My breathing came in wheezing gasps and I barely registered Adam standing on the other side of the open door. A few more steps took me inside the dimly lit main room.
“What happened?” I gasped as Adam turned and locked the front door.
Thelma looked like a drowned puppy, but she grinned like a schoolgirl and held up a child’s squirt gun, barely big enough to fit in the palm of her hand. “Holy water,” she said. “Told you I came prepared.”
I would’ve laughed if the pain didn’t rise in a scarlet wave. I gasped as the adrenaline wore off. Thelma was there, holding me up. I didn’t protest. It was all I could do to stay upright.
Adam walked up. “So what now?”
“Won’t it come back?” Thelma asked.
I took a deep breath and made a quick assessment of the cavernous main room. Adam had turned on the dimmer lights, washing the paintings and statues in a dreamy haze. Either that or it was just me about to pass out. I shook my head as Thelma and Adam asked more questions. I wasn’t paying attention.
The main desk sat against the far wall, under a giant painting of a whale. Temporary walls filled the main room, each one ten feet high. They were the kind the owner could move around to reshape the space. One glance at the walls showed me dozens of paintings next to various bronze and marble statues.
I stared at one and began to laugh. Pain stabbed me, but I couldn’t stop. The laughter came bright and pure, momentarily burning away the doubt and pain.
The painting was a character piece, showing a naked woman sprawled on the ground, looking up in awe at the robed man above her. It must have been old Renaissance, with its muted colors and shapely bodies. I wasn’t laughing at the woman or the field of daisies that spread out behind her. No, I was staring at the giant wings coming from the man’s back. He held a sword in his right hand, and a glowing halo sat perched on top of his head. The inscription at the bottom read “The Fall of Eve.”
“What’s funny?” Adam asked.
“Your Beth,” I gasped as the laughter made the pain spear me again, “is bloody brilliant.”
Thelma looked around, and a huge smile spread over her face. “It’s a religious exhibit, isn’t it?”
My laughter turned into a grimace, but the smile stayed on my face. “Not as good as holy ground, but uncomfortable enough to keep the demon out. I guess the fire made Beth a believer. As to what we do,” I said as I leaned more against Thelma, “first we get me some food. Then we discuss our options.”
Adam frowned at our brevity before leading us toward a flight of stairs that disappeared onto a balcony above. “Stairs,” I whispered in disgust.
“Come on, you big wet cat,” Thelma teased as she helped me limp forward.
Even with the stairs, I couldn’t help but smile.
<><><>
The joviality didn’t last long.
I stared at the screens while I took a bite out of a soggy, half frozen hamburger. It tasted like flavored cardboard, but I needed all the protein I could get after the thumping I took.
The four monitors sat two on two, and they had the grainy black-and-white quality usually reserved for backwater gas stations and little old ladies. The one in the upper left showed the main room of the gallery, while both screens on the right showed the other two display rooms downstairs. These were quiet and dark, filled with vague religious icons.
I ignored all of these screens. Instead my full attention was on the monitor at the lower left of the grid. The rain all but obscured the security camera, but I could still make out the street outside the door.
Good old No-Eyes stood there, his blackened face turned toward the camera. He seemed to be shedding his human skin entirely, leaving strange angles and crooked limbs behind. I was actually glad I couldn’t see the details.
The demon’s left hand went up in what might have been a mocking salute. He then went back to pacing the front sidewalk.
“Is it still there?”
I glanced over at Beth when she spoke. Her skin was clammy and pale, and she kept pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose over and over again. Mud and grime covered her nice brown dress, and ash covered the bottom fringe.
I nodded. “How is Amanda?”
“Sleeping,” Beth said. “She won’t even close her eyes unless Adam or I are there. She says the bad man is coming.”
You have no idea, I thought wearily. The top story of the gallery was a home and office area. We sat in the empty security room, staring at the monitors. It was small, cramped, and full o
f storage boxes. A tiny bedroom neighbored this one, which was a good thing. It meant that I got to change out of my wet clothes, although that was a painful ordeal I didn’t want to remember.
I was about to respond to Beth when the door opened and more people crowded in. Thelma was dressed in a pair of men’s sweatpants, with a baggy sweatshirt that went down past her hands. The pants were sparrow blue with yellow racing stripes down the sides, and the shirt was the same shade of canary as the lines.
She still looked gorgeous.
The man who had obviously lent her the clothes came in next, looking stern, angry, and worried at the same time. Even without guessing I could tell he was Beth’s brother. From the dirty blond hair to the glasses perched on his nose, all the way down to his nicely ironed pants, he looked like a man who kept his whole life in a nice little box that he only opened on special occasions.
“The demon isn’t getting in yet,” I told Beth. “It doesn’t want the pain of walking in the front door.”
“Would it hurt it that much?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’re still alive, so that’s something. I’m thankful this is a serious religious show and not some post-modern-catholic-bashing statement against authority.” I went back to watching the monitor, and the movement made me wince. I shoved another bite of the hamburger into my mouth a bit too roughly. Thelma came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder.
“The phones are dead,” Beth’s brother said harshly. “I’ve tried my cell, but there’s no reception there either.”
I had noticed that as well. I wished I had called Jake before heading over. He knew more about demons than me. “Might be interference. Demons love technology, so they always find ways to mess it up. Some say they invented television.”
“That explains reality shows,” Thelma remarked. I smiled a bit.
“So what do we do?” Beth asked urgently.
“I’m not sure,” I responded as I studied the monitor. “There’s got to be some way to neutralize the damn thing, but we’re running out of options.”
Demon Dance Page 14
