by Laken Cane
If.
If I got the demon out of him.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
The boy opened his mouth, but it was the demon who spoke. “My blade,” he said, and his voice sounded like he’d forced the boy to swallow broken glass after he’d taken over his body. “My blade is what I want.”
He didn’t realize I’d lost the blade in the woods of Shadowfield. And he believed he’d trick me into coming here, then use the boy to kill me. He’d take the blade and…
“The blade is the key to your world, isn’t it?” I asked, finally understanding. He could never go home again, not without the blade. Had I known he was powerful enough to possess humans after I’d “killed” him, I never would have taken his blade or his body. I’d have been happy to send the son of a bitch back to hell.
But now…
I had to get him out of that little boy before it was too late for the kid. With any luck, he wouldn’t remember a thing that had happened since the demon had arrived.
He was smart, this demon. He knew I wouldn’t want to hurt the boy. I couldn’t drive the demon blade—even if I’d had it—into little Brian’s chest to expel the demon.
I needed room to fight him, so I turned abruptly and leaped down the stairs, taking them four at a time. I dragged the protection jar from its padded pocket as I ran, then reached for my miniature spirit snare with my free hand. When he discovered I was missing the blade, who knew what he might do. In a fit of rage, he’d likely make the kid kill himself. I had to work fast.
Not to try to kill him, though. I couldn’t do that.
I had to trap him.
The second I felt him at my back, reaching with little boy hands that would be extraordinarily strong, I turned, slammed the spirit snare against his mouth, then did something that I had no idea I was going to do but knew absolutely that I had to.
I grabbed my blade, sliced it across the back of my snare-holding hand, then smeared my fingers through the blood. My palm was wet with crimson blood in a millisecond, and I slammed that bloody hand against the boy’s chest, right over his heart.
It wasn’t enough. As the boy—with the demon’s strength—flung me up against the wall, grunting and wheezing as he grabbed and ripped at my clothes and belts attempting to find the special blade, I cut into his chest. If this worked, a small scar was much better than the alternative.
My blood mixed with his, sinking into the wound.
Brian opened his mouth wide, threw his head back, and screamed. His body stiffened and then began jerking as though he were in the middle of an intense seizure, and Patricia burst through the front door and rammed me, believing I was hurting the kid.
I lost my already tenuous hold on the trap I’d shoved over the boy’s mouth, but my blood continued to affect the demon inside him. He was forced out—but instead of becoming ensnared in the trap held over the boy’s mouth, the demon escaped. He was just…gone.
But I knew he’d go somewhere to lick his metaphysical wounds, and he would be back. He was fading, though, I could feel his lessening strength. But he would not fade quickly enough to keep him from possessing and killing again.
Brian huddled on the floor, dazed, his eyes unfocused as his grandmother frantically wiped the blood from his chest. “You’ve stabbed him,” she cried. “You’ve killed him!”
She was hysterical, overwhelmed, and not inclined to listen to me. Finally, I forced her away from the bewildered kid and when she fought me, I backhanded her. That seemed to jar some of the hysteria out of her brain and finally, she shut her mouth and focused on me.
“You killed him,” she whispered.
“Brian is okay,” I told her. “I don’t think he’s going to remember what happened. I had to make a small wound on his chest to get my blood inside him to force the demon out. I would have trapped the demon if you hadn’t attacked me. Now he’s gone, and I’ll hear about him attacking some other family in a few days, I’ve no doubt.”
She widened her eyes. “He’ll come back?”
“Not here,” I told her. “He’ll have no reason to come here.”
“Oh God, if he does, I—”
“Patricia, where are your husband and daughter? Did he kill them?” I didn’t believe for a second they’d gone calmly onto work, unaware of the killer inside the boy.
“Let me go to Brian,” she said, pushing ineffectually against my restraining hands. The boy had begun to whimper, and she was once again focused on him.
I shook her. “Where are they?”
“In the basement,” she murmured, refusing to look at me. “I had to, you know. He would have killed them.”
I didn’t ask her how she’d manipulated a grown man and woman into her basement. I left her there with her grandson and went to find them. I found the basement, finally. The back door opened onto a covered porch, of sorts, and the basement door was in the floor. She’d hung the key to the padlock on the wall, thank goodness. I lifted the door and peered down into the darkness of what appeared to be more of a musty old cellar than a basement. Mr. Simon was standing on the old stairs, staring up at me, his face pale, his eyes red. “What the fuck,” he said, “is going on?”
I moved back so he and his daughter could climb up. “I’ll let your wife explain,” I told him. “But you need to believe her when she does.”
The daughter held his arm. “Brian?”
“He’s fine. They’re both fine.”
“You can’t tell me,” Mr. Simon said, “that there was a ghost in this house. She’s lost her damn mind. This can’t be about ghosts and haunted houses.” He was so very angry. Patricia was going to have her hands full.
“It’s not about ghosts and haunted houses,” I told him, as I strode back into the kitchen. “It’s about demons and possession. But don’t worry,” I said, as Brian’s mother gasped, “the demon is gone.”
“I’m taking him out of here,” the daughter said, rushing from the kitchen. “You’re all fucking crazy.”
I left, drawing in deep breaths of the fresh, cold air. I don’t think I’d ever been so glad to get out of a house. The place was…stifling. If Brian’s mother had any sense, she’d do as she’d threatened and get the boy out of there.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I called the detective to let him know about my run-in with the demon, and to warn him to be prepared. The demon was getting desperate.
“Give it the knife,” he ordered, after I told him the blade was what the demon was after. “And let the bastard go back to hell.”
I hesitated. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s important that I have such a weapon to fight with. If—when—other demons come, or other spirits, this blade will hurt them. I don’t have a knife that can kill supernaturals the way this one can.”
He wasn’t buying that. “Give it back the fucking knife.”
“I can’t, Rick.”
“Why, Ms. Silver, can’t you?”
I wasn’t sure why I was so reluctant to tell him the biggest reason. “He cut me with that blade. My blood is part of it now. I cannot give this demon or any other demon an item that holds my blood. If he takes possession of that blade, he will have part of me. And God only knows what he could do to me then.”
He was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he blew out a deep breath. “Then you have to kill it.”
“I don’t think I can kill him. But I can capture him. I might have had him today but the client interfered. I have to go. Call me if there’s chatter.” I ended the call and sped all the way to Shadowfield, the urgency to find the demon blade growing larger by the mile.
If the demon got the blade before I did, he’d go back to his world—and I sincerely believed he could force me to go with him. I could exist for eternity being tortured by beings so cruel and monstrous that they were incomprehensible.
The risk was huge. I had to capture him, and I had to keep that blade out of his greedy hands. There w
ere no other choices.
He could not have my body—or my soul.
When I arrived at the gates of Shadowfield, the guard on duty left his little guardhouse and leaned down to peer into my car. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly.
“As I’m sure you already know,” I told him, no less hostile to him than he was to me, “your alpha hired me to do a job. I’m here to do the job.”
He stared at me for a few seconds. “Wait.” He went back into the guardhouse and apparently got someone on the intercom. I could see his mouth moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying. Finally, he shrugged and shook his head, then hit the button that opened the gates.
He watched me as I drove on, and I couldn’t resist giving him a cheery wave as I passed. When I parked in front of the administration center, two wolves were waiting. A male and a female, both big, burly, and unfriendly, guarding their territory from me, the outsider who couldn’t even shift.
I got out of my car, but they blocked me from walking to the center. “I am charge warrior William Page.” He puffed out his chest, full of self-importance. “What do you want here?”
“I’d like to see Lennon,” I said, my voice measured and calm.
“You can’t go in,” he said.
I sighed. “Where’s Jared?”
“Our alpha is busy.”
“Tell him I’m here, please.”
The female with him laughed. “He knows you’re here.”
William glanced at her, and I could see from the surprise in his eyes that she was lying. I slid my cell phone from my pocket and tapped his number, but it went immediately to voicemail.
“He’s occupied at the moment,” the female said, grinning, though I couldn’t see a single thing that was funny.
“Fine. Is it okay for me to park here? I’m going to the woods to do a little hunting.”
They looked at each other. “Yeah,” William said, finally. “Go hunting, human.”
“I’m no more human than you are,” I told him, then went to the back of my car to gather some supplies. I wanted to find my blade, but I might as well do some hunting while I was there. That’s what Jared was paying me for, after all. No sense slacking. “Tell Jared…” Then I shrugged. “Never mind.”
I reached for my machete, already in its sheath, the harness ready to be strapped onto my back. Once I got into the woods, I’d take the machete out and carry it. I was pretty sure the only chance I had at taking out the exsoloup would be to cut his head off. Even if that didn’t really “kill” him, if he were devoid of a head and his body was burned and buried far away from the head…well, the asshole wasn’t going to come back from that, at least not without help.
They didn’t say another word, just watched me as I buckled on my weapons and supplies. A few other wolves stopped to gawk, and a girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen was the only one to speak.
“What’s she doing?” she asked. “The alpha—”
“Shut up, pup,” the female guard snapped, and the girl slunk away. Life wasn’t always easy for young wolves in a pack.
I locked up my car and ignoring all of them, I strode away. I crossed the sidewalk and headed toward the back of the admin building, and as though they thought I might try to sneak in the back way, William and the female guard followed me all the way to the tree line. I ignored them and put my mind on the hunt ahead—and finding my blade. After I entered the woods, the two wolves disappeared. I wasn’t sure if they were going to discretely follow me to watch, or go back to report to Jared, and I didn’t really care.
I wished I had stopped to eat before coming to Shadowfield, but it was too late to worry about that now. I smiled when I thought about how Lucy would likely have a huge dinner waiting for me when I got home, and Ash would jump up and beg for belly scritches and treats.
Life was pretty damn good, really.
The joy of the hunt roared up suddenly, nearly smothering my wolf’s pain, and I loped silently through the woods, my stare scanning the ground as I neared the spot I’d lost it. It was peaceful in the cold woods, despite the fact that an exsoloup hid in the shadows, watching for wolves to kill. All wolves loved the woods and usually found it difficult to live in the city. Some did—like me—but there was always a longing to return to the woods to renew ourselves. I seemed just human enough to like the city, as well.
And finally, I spotted my weapon. I hurried to pluck it off the ground, surprised to see it was completely clean of blood. It was like the blade had absorbed the blood, and I realized that was exactly what had happened. The blade now carried the blood of a powerful demon, a hobbled wolf, and an exsoloup.
I ran my thumb over the gleaming blade, lost for a few seconds in the beauty of it. Finally, I slid it into its sheath, put my cell phone on silent, and began the hunt for the exsoloup. With any luck, he’d sleep during the day like any vampiric creature should, and I’d sneak up on him, slice off his head, and be done with the asshole.
My mind calmed and there was nothing but the woods, then, as I followed his trail. Even though he’d flown away yesterday, his blood had splattered the ground, black and glistening, falling through barren tree limbs as he’d awkwardly flown his injured body to a place he could hide and heal.
But not for long. He would have to come out to eat, and likely, he would do that tonight unless I found him now.
I followed his trail for miles, sometimes losing it and having to backtrack before picking it up again. And finally, I found him.
From the mess on the ground, I could visualize him tumbling from the sky, unconscious perhaps. He’d landed hard, wounds breaking open and splattering fresh blood and congealed, jellied…parts. He’d finally dragged himself up the hillside to a line of caves, and inside one of those was where’d he’d settled.
I pulled my machete and held it in my right hand and my demon blade in my left. It didn’t occur to me that I should call for backup. I rarely had backup when I went after a rogue supernatural, be it a spirit, a demon, a monster, or a vampire. I just did my job, and used all my energy, frustration, and pain to fight. I was experienced, not human, and honestly, I was good at what I did.
But after I’d quietly climbed the hill and peered into the mouth of the dark cave, my fear began to overtake my hunter’s excitement. I’d never taken on anything like this exsoloup, and maybe it would kill me.
My pain and inability to shift no longer drove me. There was hope in my future. And if she lost me, my mother would be devastated. I had a lot to live for. Too much to be taking such a risk.
I stood there, undecided, angry at my own reluctance, when the creature decided for me. He gave a screech that wasn’t as powerful as the scream he’d blasted us with yesterday—he was too weak for that.
Still, it hurt my sensitive ears and made my heart stutter. Before I could back up and rush back down the hill, he dashed from the cave, hungry, hurt, and crazed. It was time to fight.
I squeezed the handles of my blades and went to meet him.
Come what may, we were going to fight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The exsoloup’s mind had gone long, long ago, and there appeared little left to make him wily or thoughtful in any way. He ran on desperation and self-preservation and was fueled by hunger, rage, and the need to be, for even a little while, his wolf.
My pity was strong, but not nearly strong enough to slow me. It was just enough to make me even more determined to kill him. Killing him would not only protect the wolves but would put him out of his misery.
When one of his claws shredded the side of my face—just missing my eye—I had the horrible thought that this was how other exsoloups were made. A scratch, a bite, at attack that didn’t quite kill the wolf but turned it.
Everything extra about me kicked into high gear and I fought like I’d never fought before, working on pure instinct. My wolf aided me, adding a dark, fearless rage that rivaled the creature’s own.
None of us were human, and we didn’t think, fight, or fea
r like a human. I became somewhat feral when I fought, but how else would I survive it? I wanted to live.
Once, when we’d tumbled and rolled down the hill, claws, teeth, and blades slashing desperately for something vital that would end the other, I flashed on a startling image and my brain filed it away for later.
The warrior wolf in charge—William—and the female guard were standing a good distance away, watching. They hadn’t shifted, as they knew better, and they made absolutely no move to help me. I was pretty sure they hoped the creature would kill me.
I’d never been in such a vicious fight. I’d never even seen such a vicious fight, and I’d spent the first fourteen years of my life in a wolf pack. The creature and I both fought with everything inside us because we knew that one of us would have to die, and neither of us wanted to be the one.
I no longer thought I’d been foolish to take on the monster alone. This was what I did—well, one of the things—because this was what my ex-alpha had turned me into when he so cruelly hobbled my wolf. That was not a natural act, and I was not a natural person.
I’d dropped my machete. We were too close for such a big blade, but that was okay. I had my demon blade and my wolf. He didn’t scream again, and I suspected he’d used up too much energy on it the first time. He was weak, injured, and starving.
And that was why I beat him.
Turned out I didn’t need the machete after all. I put all my weight behind my blade and forced it through his bony chest wall and into his heart, and at that instant, I felt something inside him pop.
An electric pain traveled through the hilt of the blade, through my fingers, and up my wrist, and though the power of it tried to throw me off him, it also held me fast. I didn’t know if it would rip off my arm or suck me into his wide-open mouth, and for an endless few seconds, I wished it would rip off my arm, because the pain was just…horrific.
I felt my wrist bones twist and stretch, felt them break and reknit, then a hot gush of something thick and sizzling burned the flesh of my fingers, hand, and forearm, and I actually saw the bone beneath the skin.
