by AJ Myers
I turned without another word and made my way carefully down the stairs. I was off balance with the heavy bags dragging me forward, but I made it to the bottom without falling and breaking my neck and gave myself a mental pat on the back. My mother was standing right where I had left her. I gave her a cold look before heading for the front door.
“Camille! Say something, for God’s sake!” I glanced over my shoulder with my hand on the doorknob to see my father glaring at my mother from the bottom of the stairs.
“No, Andrew,” she said, a sneer making her way less beautiful than she normally appeared. “She wants to go and I’m frankly happy to be rid of her.”
With that, she turned and walked back into the living room and I walked out the door, entering the unknown with a sick, heavy feeling in my stomach that made me want to puke.
I made it three blocks before the enormity of what I had done hit me and my legs gave out. I was eighteen, still in school, with no job, no car, and nowhere to go. I briefly considered finding a payphone and calling Kim to come get me, but the mental picture I had of her face when I told her I had left home and wasn’t going back was just too much for me to take. And calling Grams was definitely out. I didn’t even want to imagine what her reaction would be if I told her what had happened. Somehow, I didn’t think it would be pretty.
I could call Nathan… No, that wouldn’t get me anywhere. Well, I take that back. It would get me somewhere, all right—like a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific with no life boat and no form of communication, maybe—but not anywhere I wanted to be. .
That left me all alone, with no one to turn to for help and no idea what to do next.
Making a Deal with the Devil
I wandered for another hour or so and finally ended up in an all-night coffee shop—that thankfully had a few ancient computers set up for public use. The tables were warped and stained by countless spills, the red vinyl booth seats were all in varying states of shabby, and the entire place smelled of a mixture of coffee and grease. Still, it was warm and well-lit, which was more than I could say for the street beyond.
I slid into a seat at one of the computers and a tired-looking waitress came over to take my order, her glazed-over expression making me think she’d been working nights about ten years too long. I ordered a cup of coffee and paid for an hour of computer time.
As soon as she disappeared, I logged into my online bank account and then stared in resignation at the ‘Down for Maintenance’ message that appeared on the screen before me. I should have been expecting that. If anything in my life ever went right, I’d probably die from the shock alone.
Logging out with tears in my eyes, I got up and stumbled to a booth in the corner and sank onto the cracked leather seat. Dropping my face into my hands, I tried to figure out how my life had become a never-ending series of tragedies.
Five days before, I had been a normal high school student—well almost normal. My biggest problems had been a few ghosts that popped up every once in a while to complicate my life, an ex-boyfriend who wouldn’t go away, and figuring out what I was going to wear to Oakhurst Academy’s joke of a Homecoming dance. Now, I was a freaky, tree-exploding disaster, the ex-boyfriend was a demon, I was crushing on a vampire, and I was homeless.
If things could get any worse, I couldn’t see how. The next level of bad, in my opinion, was a natural disaster of mythical proportions…maybe a pole shift that turned Missouri into the new Antarctica. Yeah, that would be right on the level of suck required to make things any worse.
I lifted my head when the waitress brought my coffee and attempted to give her a weak smile in thanks—which she ignored like the zombie I was starting to think she might be. I looked down at the cup she had put before me and immediately wrinkled my nose at the awful, tarlike substance. Instead of drinking the sludge, I pushed it away and reached up to wrap my fingers around the cross that had somehow become my anchor. Sliding it back and forth along the leather cord, I tried to figure out what to do next.
All I needed was a plan. So, I was homeless? It really didn’t change anything in the big scheme of things. I still had a psychotic demon to take out. What I needed was a place to hide while I plotted my next move in the never ending game of cat and mouse Jack and I were playing.
I was just about ready to give in and call Kim when I suddenly felt a sick, lurching sensation in the pit of my stomach, that sense that someone was watching me making my skin crawl again. My head snapped up as my whole body went tense, looking for the cause of the creepy feeling starting to make me wish I could crawl in a hole and hide. Without being too obvious, I turned my head from side to side, scanning the nearly empty coffee shop.
The couple holding hands in the opposite corner was too busy looking at each other to find me interesting enough to stare at. The little old man propped up at the counter slipping whiskey into his coffee wasn’t paying me any mind, either. The waitress who had brought me my sludgy coffee was busy texting next to the register, and I could just see the cook in the back wiping down a stainless steel prep table with his earbuds firmly planted in his ears and his head bobbing to the beat.
So, who the hell was watching me?
No sooner did that thought cross my mind than a loud, echoing boom rocked the coffee shop, followed by the sound of shattering glass as the windows blew inward, raining glass down on all of us. With a terrified shriek, I threw myself sideways in the seat and covered my head to protect my face. Convinced a bomb had just gone off somewhere, I stayed there, huddled down against any falling debris, for what seemed like forever—even though I’m pretty sure it was only a few minutes. My ears strained to hear the sound of a whimper or a moan, but there was nothing but silence. I gulped when the idea that I was the only survivor began to take root. I tried to sit up, to find out if anyone else had made it, but I couldn’t do it.
The silence that had been pressing in on me like a weight was suddenly broken by the sound of menacing laughter. My eyes flew open and my terror level went through the roof. I had heard that laugh before, in the nightmares I’d had while I was at Grams’.
I jerked upright in my seat and stared in shock at the coffee shop around me. The windows were all in one piece, and there wasn’t so much as a napkin out of place. The old man at the counter had his cup halfway to his lips and was staring at me like I’d just grown another head—and given how much whiskey he’d been pouring into it, it really might have looked like I had. The couple in the corner were frowning at me and I clearly saw the ‘what’s she on?’ look they exchanged. The waitress was giving me a stern frown, the phone in her hand momentarily forgotten. Even the cook had come to the kitchen entrance to see what I was screaming about.
And sitting across from me in the booth was none other than my nemesis himself.
“Welcome home, Ember,” Jack said with a sinister smile when I threw myself back in my seat, every instinct telling me to get away from him.
I stopped a whimper before it could slip through my lips, but it was close. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead and the eyes of the people around me felt like they were boring into me. Without thinking, I reached up and wrapped my hand around my cross, trying to call up the power I had used to banish so many demons before in case Jack decided to jump across the table. I knew better than to open the portal and banish his scary ass in front of witnesses—trust me, Grams had been very sure to make a point to tell me, repeatedly, how much the mysterious Council of Elders liked public displays of power. Still, if it came down to him or me…
“You could have just said ‘hi’, you know,” I told him sarcastically, trying my best not to let him see how much the sight of him sitting there terrified me.
“What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic.” I rolled my eyes and he smiled again. “I’m pleased to see you returned alone.”
“That’s what you told me to do, isn’t it?” I asked, thinking fast. If I played it right, I might get my life back even sooner than I thought. “What’s
the use in running if you’re only going to hunt me down?”
“I always said you were as smart as you were beautiful,” he said, giving me a once-over that had me trying to cringe into the cracked vinyl behind me.
“You’re right,” I told him softly, dropping my eyes like I was defeated. “You win, Jack. I give up. But, first, I want to negotiate the terms of my surrender.”
“And what are your terms?” he asked, sounding amused.
“I want until tomorrow morning to say goodbye to my friends,” I told him, injecting a little quiver into my voice so he would think I was going to cry. “After that, I’m all yours.”
For a long moment, he just sat there and studied me. I kept my eyes down and my expression mournful, not wanting to give him a chance at figuring out what I was really up to. After practically x-raying me with his eyes for what seemed like an eternity, he folded his arms on the table and leaned toward me, the first flicker of victory lighting his face up with a cold kind of glee.
“Why are you giving in so easily?” he asked. “This is very unlike you, Ember.”
“Why delay the inevitable?” I asked in a miserable-sounding mutter. “We both know I’m no match for you. It’s better to just get it over with, don’t you think?”
“Indeed,” he murmured.
I had to force myself not to pull away when he reached over and picked up my hand from where it lay on the table next to my cup. For a long, tense moment he just sat there and played with my fingers like he was distracted. Just when I thought the stinging pain of his touch would drive me mad—or that I would gag from being that close to him—he let go of my hand and sat back in his seat, his evil little smirk firmly back in place.
“Very well, Ember, I accept your terms,” he said. I had to really work to keep the smile off my face. “You may have your time to say goodbye. But.” Yeah, because I didn’t see that coming. “If you try to run, I will hunt you. And when I catch you, you will wish for death.”
“I won’t run,” I told him quietly, not having to force the tremor into my voice. Seriously, as threats go, that was pretty damn chilling. “Where should I meet you?”
“Oh, I’ll find you, have no fear,” he crooned.
And then he was gone. Just like that. One second he was sitting there grinning at me, the next it was like he’d never been there to start with. I glanced around the coffee shop, sure everyone would be staring at the empty space across from me, but the other patrons seemed a bit too engrossed in what they were doing. Even when I slid out of the booth, forcing my wobbly knees to bear my weight, nobody looked in my direction. It was almost like they’d been ordered not to look my way. And, for all I knew, they had been.
When I stepped out of the coffee shop, my feet froze beneath me and refused to move. Even as a child I had never been afraid of the dark, but suddenly there seemed to be glowing red eyes watching me from every shadow. Every sound was the sound of footsteps coming after me. Every gust of wind was the cold breath of death stalking me.
“Get a damn grip!” I told myself shakily, forcing my feet to move and carry me away from the coffee shop.
I stopped on the corner and looked around again and felt a leap of hope when I saw a bright green, glowing ATM sign at the end of the next street. There was only forty dollars left in my personal checking account, but I had overdraft protection and I was more than willing to pay the overdraft fee if it meant getting somewhere well-lit and warm—and with a lot of locks on the door. I even briefly considered doing something crazy to get Sheriff Martin to arrest me…and then decided I’d rather tangle with a demon than let Deputy Donut put me in a cell. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction even if it meant becoming demon kibble.
“Please work, please work, please work,” I chanted as I ran to the ATM and dropped my bags. I dug in my purse until I found my wallet and then held my breath as I slid my debit card in the slot. I’m pretty sure Grams heard my sigh of relief all the way in Washington when the screen lit up and a mechanical female voice asked me for my PIN. With the speed of someone who’s had a lot of practice—and who was on a terror-induced adrenaline high—my finger flew over the touch-activated screen. I held my breath again when the ‘Processing Transaction’ screen popped up, then giggled in hysterical relief when the machine popped out ten crisp twenties.
“Okay, now to find a pay phone,” I said, continuing my self-motivational pep talk as I retrieved my card from the ATM. “Call a cab, find a hotel, barricade yourself in and get ready to banish your last demon.”
In an attempt to follow my own orders, I grabbed my bags and practically sprinted away from the ATM and down the street toward the second glowing beacon of hope I’d seen that night—the neon signs shining through the windows of the local bar. I thought I might have made a major mistake, though, when I threw open the door and found myself staring through the smoke at what appeared to be a frigging army…like, literally. There were soldiers everywhere, and more than one was giving me an appreciative look.
“ID please,” a rough, gravelly voice said to my right, causing me to jump. I whirled around to find a tough-looking older man sitting on a stool that was tilted back on two legs with his hand held out.
“Oh…I’m not staying,” I told him, quickly, forcing myself to smile. “I just need to use your phone.”
“Still need the ID and the cover is twelve dollars,” he said in a surly tone of voice.
Scowling at him, I dropped my bags again and dug my wallet out of my purse again. He examined my ID for about two seconds before handing it back to me. When he kept his hand out even after I took my license back, I glared at him again and slapped one of my new twenties into his palm. In return, I got a big black X on my hand to show that I was a minor, no change, and a grim smile.
“Have a good time, cutie,” he said, grinning, when I picked up my bags.
I flipped him off in reply and his laughter followed me into the crowd of khaki clad soldiers…none of whom seemed to have any manners. By the time I made it over to the bar, I’d been groped so many times I’d lost count.
“What can I get you, love?” a cheerful British voice asked as I dropped my bags next to the only empty stool at the end of the bar.
I whirled around and stared at the familiar handsome face staring back at me, his expression shocked. I let my eyes graze over every inch of his face, sure that I must be mistaken. There were no bruises, no cuts, no broken bones. There was only smooth, bronze skin where there should have been purple, swelling masses. But, how could that be? After the beating he’d taken, he should have been in ICU, not standing behind the bar in the local watering hole.
“You’re okay,” Tyler whispered, still looking like he’d seen a ghost.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I told him, just as shocked by finding him there as he seemed to be by my appearance. “Are you okay?”
“I am now,” he said, his lips turning up in a brilliant smile. “I’ve been worried sick about you, beautiful. I guess, in the end, I wasn’t much of a hero, huh?”
“You were awesome,” I told him, returning his smile. “But, how…?” I let my voice trail off and waved my hand around my face to indicate his lack of war wounds.
“Oh, that,” he said, smiling sheepishly and running his hand over the back of his neck. “Let’s just say I heal fast. It helped that your boyfriend hits like a girl. What about you? How did you get away?”
“He let me go,” I told him, shrugging. He gave me a disbelieving look and I smiled. “Okay, so I stole his car again and caught a flight home. At least I didn’t run over him this time.”
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe. The part about you not running over him again, that is,” he said, leaning on the bar and giving me another one of those bright smiles that made me feel warm and safe. It was magic, the way he could do that. And I needed that kind of magic right then. The kind that didn’t come with any strings attached—and didn’t cause anything to explode. “Well, since you’re here, can I get you somet
hing? Or did you just come in for the atmosphere?”
“A phone, the number for Mac’s taxi, and a decent hotel that won’t mind if I banish a demon on the premises,” I told him, hopping up on the stool next to me and giving the soldier on my other side a ‘Don’t even think about it’ look when he turned to look me over like I was a nice, juicy steak.
“Ah, well, the phone and the cab I can help you with,” Tyler said, placing an ice-cold soda in front of me. Little drops of condensation were already beading up on the glass, and it was only then that I realized just how thirsty I was. “The hotel, though, may be a bit of a problem. This very manly group you see here are here for intelligence training. I’m not sure there’s a room left in town.”
Intelligence training? I lifted a skeptical eyebrow at that. After having just run the gauntlet of grabby hands and less than subtle invitations, I was pretty sure they didn’t have a brain between them. In my opinion, they needed a sexual harassment class, not intelligence training.
“She can share my room,” the intoxicated soldier on the stool next to me slurred, grinning lasciviously. “I like redheads. They’re hot.”
“You’re going to see just how hot I can get if you don’t get your hand off me,” I snarled when he started sliding his hand up my thigh.
I’m not sure what he saw in my face, but he paled slightly and swallowed hard before snatching his hand back like I was going to bite it off. Taking his drink, he immediately jumped up and left. Tyler, having watched the whole thing, smiled and winked at me.
“Well done,” he said, leaning on the counter again and giving me an appraising kind of look. I was ready to give him a medal when his gaze stayed steady on my face and not my chest. “Okay, listen, I obviously have a soft spot for damsels in distress, so I’ll help you out.” Reaching beneath the counter, he grabbed a napkin and a pen and jotted down a number, an address, and a name for me. “I’ve been staying at a B&B over on Morgan Street. A few of the higher ranking officers are staying there, but it’s a big house and there might still be a room left. Give Mac that address and go around to the back door. Make sure to knock really loud. Amelia’s room is right off the kitchen, but she’s about eighty and there are times when I think she’s going deaf. Tell her I sent you. She’ll give you a room.”
