The Demon You Know

by Christine Warren

  She had hidden herself in the narrow space between two cars, and even from a distance, her small stature forced Rule to scan his gaze down toward her toes in order to determine whether or not she was anything more than a child. The curves visible beneath her faded sweatshirt and grungy jeans made that call for him. Still, she shouldn’t have stood out.

  Her hiding place pretty much sucked, but she looked like the type who didn’t need to hide, since she already blended into the scenery. She had ash-brown hair and medium-fair skin and an average body that never should have held Rule’s attention, but for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

  He had lived close to a thousand years and seen the sort of women who made the battle over Helen of Troy look like a schoolyard scuffle not worth the effort. He’d seen female shifters with the sort of feline grace that made being in heat a permanent state for any male, and witches who could steal a man’s breath without ever casting a spell.

  He couldn’t even see this human woman’s face, but he suspected if he had, it would have been as ordinary as the rest of her. The most interesting thing about her seemed to be the fact that she had gotten caught up in the middle of a riot in a city going mad. But when Rule looked at her, the itch on his neck intensified and crawled down his spine like an army of stinging insects.

  Something about this situation was very not right.

  A shift of muscle and menace yanked his attention back to the Other and his thuggish enemies. Rule’s stride lengthened. His fingers itched with the need to reach for a weapon, but the sight of a six-foot, four-inch man striding down a Manhattan street in the middle of a riot brandishing the four-foot-long broadsword that the army of Watchers favored would probably have drawn the kind of attention he just didn’t need. He wanted to get to the tense little group at the end of the next block without drawing any more of the riot along with him.

  Unfortunately, the riot managed to get there before him. When the first blow struck, Rule bit out a curse and broke into a run. He knew that no matter how slowly a battle might seem to move when you were in the middle of one, in reality they tended to end in a matter of seconds. Not enough time to cover the distance still remaining between him and the fighting.

  Between the parked cars at the side of the road, Rule saw another flash of mouse brown, and he watched in horror as the woman rose to a crouching position as if she were insane enough to contemplate making a break for it. Which would be a really stupid thing to do.

  Teeth grinding in frustration, he watched as the whole situation exploded in front of him, less than fifty yards away. The sound of a Lupine howling in the background just lent that special touch of black humor to the whole thing, as if someone had scripted it as part of a B-rated horror movie with barely a fraction of the class of an old Hammer flick. Didn’t the werewolves and the . . . whatever kind of Other the kid was know better than to take an evening stroll in the middle of a crowd that would just as soon burn them at the stake as grant them the “equal rights” they were so determined to win for themselves?

  Just as Rule had predicted, the fight between the Other and the thugs was quick and brutal. Aside from the whole three-on-one thing was the fact that the Other apparently had about as much combat training as your average Franciscan nun and even less idea of how to defend himself. He hit the ground in about two and a half seconds, but not before he hit the human woman and knocked her hard to the pavement.

  That couldn’t be good. Too many damned things could go wrong when a demon-touched Other came into close physical contact with an innocent human, most of which didn’t even bear thinking about.

  “Not good” took a sharp turn south when another howl went echoing past Rule’s ear in a blur of speed and musky earth. Lupines. Two of them, headed straight for the scene of Rule’s best lead in a week. He did not need for werewolves in battle mode to get to it first.

  Tucking his head down, he flattened his mouth into a line of annoyance and began to push his way determinedly through the dense crowd. If he wasn’t cursed with atrocious luck, maybe he could reach them before anything else went wrong.

  The blow to the head didn’t knock Abby unconscious; it just made her wish it had. She felt as if someone had cracked her skull open like a coconut and was now making a Thai stir-fry with the contents. She could almost swear she saw a ring of little songbirds chirping in a circle around her head. Or the remnants of it.

  Cautiously, she lifted a hand to her hair, expecting to find it wet and matted with blood, but the only debris seemed to be sand and road grit. How she could have a head-on collision with the asphalt and not wind up bleeding baffled her, but she felt too much relief to quibble. Maybe her big brother was right about her hard head. Either that or God had been paying extra careful attention to her prayers tonight. Already the shock and pain of the initial blow seemed to be fading.

  With a groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position and tried to shift her weight off the collection of pebbles currently digging into her hip. Panic raced through her.

  “My legs! I can’t move my legs!”

  “I think that’s probably because there’s a body draped over them.”

  Abby choked off another scream and blinked up at an unfamiliar figure with curly brown hair and a dry smile. She’d never seen the woman before in her life, but she had the kind of face that always seemed familiar. She didn’t look threatening, so Abby dropped her gaze back to the unconscious Other and felt herself go pale. “Body? Is he dead?”

  A second woman, this one shorter and fairer, with a tousled shag haircut and a set of EMT overalls, crouched down beside Abby’s knee and laid two fingers against the young man’s neck. “Nope. Just unconscious.”

  Abby resumed breathing on an exhalation of relief. “Fabulous. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’d really like to get him off of me. Now. I’m feeling a little less than safe not being able to run for my life at the moment.”

  The brunette just smiled. “I can’t say I blame you. If I were in your shoes, I’d be beating a path out of this mess, too.” She extended her hand expectantly. “My name is Samantha.”

  There was no way Abby could ignore that gesture without looking like a jerk, especially since no one else appeared to be going out of their way to help her out here, so she shook the woman’s hand reluctantly. It felt calm and friendly and very warm.

  “Abby.”

  “And I’m Carly,” the blonde said. “I’m a paramedic. Before you go anywhere, you should let me give you a quick once-over. That was a pretty serious knock upside the head you just took.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Unconsciously, Abby brought a hand back to her head and felt around for the crater she was pretty sure she ought to have there. She shook her head, amazed to find it wasn’t even pounding. “But I don’t think it was as bad as it looked. Honestly, I feel fine.”

  She wondered if she looked as surprised about that as she sounded.

  Carly brushed Abby’s hand away and probed carefully at the back of her skull. Then Carly frowned and probed a little less carefully. “I can’t find a lump,” she muttered to herself.

  “That’s what I mean. I’m fine. It was just one of those banana peel things—looks like a body cast waiting to happen, but everybody gets up and walks away afterward.”

  “Yeah, except those only happen in the movies,” Carly said.

  Samantha stepped closer to the other two women and leaned down toward them. If Abby had been forced to describe Samantha’s expression, she would almost have called it wary, as opposed to worried.

  “What do you mean?” the brunette asked. “There has to be a lump.”

  While Abby appreciated the concern these two strangers were showing for her well-being, enough was enough. She’d had a long, lousy day, complete with conning, desertion, and bodily injury, and now she wanted to go home, slip into a bubble bath, and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

  “No, really,” she told the women firmly. “I’m telling you, I’m fine. Not lumpy at all
. Promise.”

  “No lumps, no cracks, no divots. But she smells pretty human.” Carly held up an index finger and positioned it about a foot in front of Abby’s nose. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”

  Jerking back, Abby frowned at her. “What do you mean, I ‘smell’ human? And I told you, there’s nothing wrong with me—”

  “Just making sure. Now follow my finger.”

  Abby recognized that tone of voice as the same one her brother used when he meant “shut up and do it anyway because I’m bigger and meaner and I won’t go away until I win.” Sighing, she completed the unnecessary task with obvious reluctance. “See? Nothing to worry about. Everything is completely normal. I’m fine. So now I think it’s time for me to go home.”

  Past time, if you asked her.

  Without waiting for permission or another examination, Abby leaned forward to push the unconscious body off her legs. The last thing she needed was for them to fall asleep and foil her plans for escape.

  The Other was a skinny kid, but he had towered over her five-foot, two-inch frame, so she braced both hands against his torso and heaved with all her might. If she shifted him even a few inches, she should be able to drag her legs out from underneath him and free herself. Instead, the Other spun away from her shove as if he’d been shot from a cannon.

  All three women watched, their gazes fixed on the figure’s revolutions until he thudded to a stop against the tires of the SUV across the street.

  For several seconds, no one said a word. Then Samantha turned toward Carly and frowned. “I thought you said she was human.”

  The paramedic shrugged. “She is. Smell her yourself.”

  Shocked and speechless though she might be from watching herself toss another person around like a Frisbee, Abby still couldn’t completely ignore it when the brunette stepped close beside her, leaned over, and inhaled deeply. Scrambling to her feet, she crossed her arms protectively in front of her and felt a niggling of unease. “What the heck are you doing?”

  Samantha ignored her, her brow furrowing as she took another whiff. “I don’t know,” she said, looking at Carly. “It’s almost human, but there’s something . . .” Another inhalation. “. . . something . . . odd.”

  “What do you mean, ‘odd’?” Abby demanded, then gasped and took another step back. Fear clenched in her gut like a fist. She tried to brush it away, since no one had threatened her in any way, but her instincts ignored her. “What do you mean, ‘human’?!”

  “What kind of odd?” Carly demanded as if Abby hadn’t spoken.

  “Didn’t you smell it?” Samantha was still talking to Carly, but her gaze was fixed firmly on Abby. Samantha seemed to be cataloging every feature, every detail, and frankly, it was making Abby nervous.

  Carly shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. “No, but my allergies have been acting up lately. I can barely smell dinner.”

  “It’s like . . . charcoal. Like something burnt.”

  Abby stepped nervously aside, not thrilled about the positioning of two strange women penning her in while they discussed the way she smelled. She also wasn’t thrilled by the messages her newly-back-in-gear brain was translating from her instincts. She looked from Samantha to Carly and back again and swallowed hard. “Are you two . . . Others?”

  “Lupines,” Samantha said, softly, as if she were breaking some bad news. “Werewolves. We’re both members of the Silverback Clan. That’s the pack you might have heard about in the news recently. Our alpha was in on the negotiations before the Unveiling.”

  Was that whooshing sound Abby suddenly heard the sea, or was all of the blood really rushing out of her head?

  She was talking to a couple of werewolves.

  The knowledge threatened to stagger her. Her instincts shouted at her to

  run!

  hide!

  Get away from the predators! Now!

  Now! Now!! Now!!!

  But Abby liked to think she didn’t let her instincts rule her.

  She was an intelligent woman not prone to snap decisions. Sure, there were certain things she’d always taken on faith—the existence of God, the possibility of miracles, how someone had figured out a way to make half-and-half fat free—but that didn’t mean she was ignorant or bigoted. She really believed it when she read that all men were created equal, and the media kept explaining that werewolves—Lupines, they called themselves—were not that different from humans in character; some were good, some were bad, and some fell in between.

  So why wouldn’t her heart stop beating at warp speed?

  These two had stopped to help her, not hurt her. They had saved her from almost certain physical assault at the hands of the thugs, so they couldn’t be evil.

  Could they?

  “Don’t worry,” Samantha said with a little laugh. Her smile stayed in place, but Abby could see a little of the warmth and vitality in it drain away. “We’re not going to bite you or anything.”

  Abby could feel herself blushing even as her instincts raised an immediate doubt. She felt like she’d just hung a No Coloreds sign around her neck. Humans only at this lunch counter. She wasn’t really like that, was she?

  “Oh, I-I never thought,” she stammered. “That is, I . . . I just . . .”

  Samantha shook her head. “It’s okay. We realize we take some getting used to for most humans, and you haven’t known about us long. But we honestly aren’t going to hurt you. We just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Abby shifted her weight and tried to smile back. “No, I’m sorry. I can only imagine what my face must have looked like. It was rude. It’s just . . . you’re the first were-Lupines I’ve met. Since the announcement, anyway. I was a little surprised.”

  “We get that a lot.” Carly shoved her hands in the pockets of her coveralls and raised an eyebrow. “So, now that you know what we are, why don’t you tell us what you are?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Abby blinked. “Say huh?”

  Samantha glared at her friend, then turned back to Abby with a reassuring smile. “Carly doesn’t mean to be rude. She’s just curious. We both thought you were human at first.”

  “I am human.”

  “Know many other human women with no muscle tone to speak of who can toss a grown man fifty feet by accident?” Carly looked torn between amusement and skepticism.

  “I work out,” Abby protested. If she called running back and forth to the deli all day for coffee for the reporters “working out.”

  If she’d thought her instincts were screaming at her two minutes ago, she didn’t want to contemplate the bullhorn they’d suddenly seemed to discover.

  “It’s okay. We understand about anonymity.” Samantha reached out and patted her hand. “There are lots of us who aren’t ready to call attention to ourselves yet. We’re not going to out you against your will.”

  Abby saw her vision distort. Or maybe that was the fabric of reality. “No, you don’t understand. I have nothing to out. I’m human. I’m straight. I’m Catholic. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Of course not,” Carly agreed cheerfully. “You’re just the human girl next door. Absolutely.”

  Abby started to nod emphatically but found herself stopping a millisecond later with Carly’s wrist clenched in her hand and her body half turned away, as if deflecting a blow.

  What the hell was happening to her?

  The Lupine grinned. “Provided the girl next door has a black belt and superhuman strength, speed, and agility.”

  “Carly, you’re scaring her.” Samantha gently tugged the two of them apart. Her eyes, golden brown and filled with concern, searched Abby’s face. “You honestly don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Abby protested. She took a step back, her head shaking almost involuntarily. “I’m human, and the only thing going on is a riot that I’d like very much to get away from now, so if you don’t mind . . .”

  Samanth
a sighed. “I bet you’re feeling like you just entered The Twilight Zone.”

  Carly shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. Rod Serling is dead. I’m afraid this is the real thing.”

  Okay. It was definitely past time for Abby to be leaving. Before the niggling sense of unease in the back of her mind became full-fledged panic.

  “Look, um, thanks for your help and everything,” she said, backing farther away, “but I’ve really got to get home. I, uh, I have to be at work. Tomorrow. Early tomorrow. In the morning. It was . . . n-nice to meet you—”

  “Wait.”

  Samantha stepped forward, and Abby felt like slime when she flinched away from the Lupine. But that didn’t stop Abby from flinching.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Samantha said, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go wandering off by yourself. Not right now. Not until we figure out what’s going on.”

  “Nothing is going on!” Hysteria edged Abby’s voice, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She was hysterical. “I’m fine. I’m normal. And I’m going home.”

  Her hip banged into one of the parked cars, but when she tried to ease to the side she found that Carly had beaten her to it. The blond Lupine had moved so fast, Abby hadn’t even seen her, but she now blocked the way between Abby and freedom.

  “I’m sorry,” Carly said, not sounding sorry at all. “We can’t let you do that.”

  Abby laughed at that, one of the unfunniest things she’d ever heard. “What do you mean? I can do anything I want. I’m an adult, this is a free country, and I don’t take orders.”

  Samantha’s smile was sympathetic. “Carly just means that we don’t think you should be alone right now. After all, it’s obvious that something . . . unusual is going on.”

  “There’s nothing unusual—”

  Carly just raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the still-unconscious Other lying on the pavement more than fifty feet away.