by Julie Kenner
“Yes,“ I said, easing closer to the demon. “Of course he can. One dance with the gentleman can’t hurt.”
I was taking a risk, but not much of one. I couldn’t believe that the demon had come to kill me. That would draw too much attention. Instead, he’d come to deliver a message. Or a warning. And I wanted to know exactly what the creature had to say.
And if I was wrong? Well, my purse was on my shoulder, my knife and my holy water within reach.
As Stuart stepped back to the table, his expression more than a little befuddled, I moved in closer to the beast. ”How’s the eye?“ I asked sweetly.
“Do not think you are so clever, Hunter. This is one battle you will not win.”
He grinned, showing off brown teeth that hadn’t been brushed in weeks. This was no newly made demon; he’d been living among humans for a while now. And considering the cut of his suit and the odor of Listerine that covered his wretched breath, I had to believe he’d been doing it successfully, too.
Something important had pulled him out of hiding. And twenty points to me if I guessed right.
“Andramelech sent you,“ I said, even as the demon led me across the dance floor in perfect time to the music. As if I hadn’t already believed my dancing skills were pathetic, now I’d been shown up by the scourge of Hell. Wasn’t that just peachy?
“Fool,“ he said. “Andramelech speaks to no one. His followers speak for him.”
“Then speak,“ I said, silently congratulating myself. He’d just confirmed that wherever Andramelech was imprisoned, he was incommunicado. His minions were operating on their own. What exactly they were doing—and what they needed—that remained a mystery.
“What do you want?“ I asked, going straight for the point. “And let’s forget the riddles.”
“There is no riddle,“ he said. “There is only our demand.”
“You want the stone,“ I said. “Yeah, I got that. Why don’t you tell me what stone?”
“Don’t play games with me, Hunter. Do you think I’m newly made? Free Andramelech from the stone that binds him, for if you do not, you will surely suffer his wrath. Release him, and release the old one who would walk with him.”
“How?“ I asked, desperate for any tidbit of information. ”How in the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“Bring the vessel,“ the demon said. “Tonight. To the field behind Coastal Mists.”
I shook my head, even more baffled than before.
“The vessel? You mean the stone? Where Andramelech is trapped?”
“Bring it,“ he hissed, “or your daughter will never be safe.”
My skin prickled as if I’d just been dropped in a freezing ocean. “You stay away from my daughter,“ I said, my voice low and dangerous. But I was scared, and I think he could hear the fear underneath.
“Bring the stone,“ he said. “Bring the vessel. Tonight. You and the one you call David.”
“What do you want with David?“ I demanded.
”Tonight,“ he said. “Tonight, and all will be well.”
“I don’t know what stone you’re talking about,“ I said, my voice filled with frustration. “At least give me a damn clue!”
From the edge of the dance floor, Stuart watched us, his forehead creased with concern. I realized I was scowling, and plastered on a smile. “How the hell can I bring you something if I don’t even know what you want?“ I asked, my face almost cracking under the strain of my happy expression.
“Do not toy with me, Hunter. If you do, you will not live long enough to regret it.”
“Dammit,“ I said, not even bothering with the smile anymore. “I already told you I don’t know what the—”
Smack.
The words died on my lips as the demon’s hand cracked against my cheek. I’d expected an attack in a dark alley—not a crowded dance floor. And it took me a split second longer to react—probably a good thing in retrospect, as my instinct was to rip out my hair clip and slam it through his eye.
Instead, I caught myself in time, my hand stilling just as my hair fell, and my foot catching him just under the kneecap with a nice solid kick.
He fell to the ground, his face a mixture of pain and fury. Around us, everyone on the floor stopped. Even the band went silent, the notes from the various instruments fading out, leaving only the sound of ice tinkling in glasses and the electric hum of neon to fill the intimate dance hall.
Stuart was already at my side, and he looked me over before rounding on the demon, still on his ass on the floor.
”What the hell were you doing?“ he demanded. “Why the hell did you slap my wife?“
The demon’s eyes turned to slits, his pupils turning red as he fought to keep his true form confined within the human shell. I hoped Stuart was angry enough that he wouldn’t notice. And I also hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to take the demon on. Considering the demon looked like an old man, I guess I hoped he was chivalrous enough not to assault an octogenarian.
“Your wife?“ he spat, climbing to his feet with far more grace than your average eighty-year-old. “You mean your whore.”
“Now wait just a—”
“Do you have any idea what she is? What she does?”
I’d never seen Stuart turn that shade of red before, and I closed my hand tight around his upper arm. “Just let it go,“ I said.
“The hell I will.”
“Stuart. Please.”
“Maybe we should take this outside,“ he said to the demon, ignoring me.
“The only one I’ll take outside is her,“ the demon said, his hate-filled eyes looking right at me. He licked his lips. ”Oh, yes,“ he moaned, his voice low and guttural. “I’d love to take her outside.”
Honestly, the feeling was mutual, and it was everything I could do not to reach into my purse and pull out my knife.
“That’s it,“ Stuart said, jerking his arm free of me and lunging forward, catching the demon right in the jaw with an amazing left hook. The demon wobbled for a second, his expression startled as cameras flashed all around us. Then the demon turned and sprinted toward the exit. Stuart started to follow, but I grabbed the hem of his jacket and tugged him back even as onlookers and media hounds surrounded him. A brawl with a local political candidate is big news in San Diablo.
As I moved away from the flashing cameras, I noticed that the demon had paused in the doorway. “He will come forth,“ the demon said, his words clearly meant for me, the only one in the room watching the demon and not my husband. ”And when he does, he will punish those who failed to help him. Nadia knew,“ he added, then turned and disappeared through the doorway, his words echoing behind him. ”Nadia learned.”
Nadia.
I latched on to the demon’s words, hoping that somehow, even inadvertently, he’d left me a clue. Because clearly Nadia had learned something important. The question was what. More important, had the knowledge gotten her killed?
Eleven
While Stuart got sucked into a mini press conference, I called David to bring him up to speed on the demon’s demands. After that, Stuart and I headed home, and I spent much of the drive assuring him that by the time the election rolled around no one would even remember the incident.
“You were sticking up for me,“ I said. “Chivalry. Machismo. Grand romantic gestures. All that stuff wins votes, right?”
He stopped at a red light before turning in to our neighborhood. ”Do you really think I care about that, Kate?”
I stiffened, startled. “Well, yes. Considering all the time you’ve put into this campaign, I assumed you cared a lot.”
He reached over and took my hand. “I care about you more,“ he said, squeezing my fingers and sending all sorts of little trills shooting through my body. “Anybody treats my wife that way, they get pummeled. That’s just the way the world works. And if that means I don’t win the election, then so be it.”
“Yeah?“ I smiled, both surprised and pleased. Maybe now was the time to ask about Eddie.<
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“Yeah,“ he said, and then stroked my cheek. “So who was that guy?”
My warm fuzzy feelings disappeared like so much smoke. ”I wish I knew.”
He looked at me sideways. “He certainly seemed to know you.”
“And he certainly seemed interested in picking a fight with you,“ I said, my snappy tone probably originating with my guilt at getting Stuart involved in a brawl. “Honestly, Stuart, if you’re not going to believe my answer why even bother asking the question?”
He didn’t answer that, instead concentrating on navigating the short distance to our house. As soon as we reached our driveway, he hit the button for the garage door opener and the mechanism began its slow and steady grind.
We stayed silent in the car, the air thick between us, with me cursing demons, my husband, myself, and the damn garage door that had been on its last legs for months, but which Stuart never got around to repairing.
Finally, as the door clicked open into place, Stuart pulled into the garage, and then turned to me. “I’m sorry,“ he said. ”It’s been a long day.”
“I know,“ I said. It had been a long one for me, too.
As soon as we were inside, Stuart made himself a drink and headed upstairs to watch the news in bed. The romantic interlude that had begun in the car had faded in the wake of my denials about knowing the demon. Which, of course, made me feel even guiltier, and did nothing for my mood. Nothing good, anyway.
I puttered around until the house was quiet, and then I crept into the attic and retrieved my stiletto and crossbow. By now, my mood had shifted to determined. This demon had messed with my husband and my daughter, and he was going down.
The hard part was getting out of the garage—I’m going to break down and fix the damn automatic door by myself— but once I was in the driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief. That is, until I almost ran over David, who’d rushed behind me and held up a hand, signaling me to stop.
I muttered a curse, then rolled down the passenger-side window.
“Go home,“ I said.
“I’m coming with you.”
“The hell you are. They seem to want you as much as they want this damned stone. There’s no way I’m going to let you walk into a trap.”
“Then I’m not letting go of your van.”
I weighed my options, decided that I really couldn’t bring myself to run over his foot, and unlocked the door.
To his credit, he didn’t comment on my change of heart, but opened the door and climbed inside.
“It’s too risky,“ I reiterated, keeping my foot firmly on the brake even as he settled into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt.
“Just drive,“ he said. “This isn’t an argument you’re going to win.”
“David.“ Honestly, the man was exasperating.
“They want me. We don’t know why. We can guess why they want this stone, this vessel—because Andramelech is trapped in it. But the rest is a mystery. And unless I go with you, there’s no chance they’re going to tell us.”
“But if you do go, there’s a good chance you’ll get yourself killed,“ I said.
“Kate, think. You don’t have the stone. I’m your only bargaining chip. If you go there without something they want, you know damn well that they’ll follow through on their threats.”
“Allie,“ I said, my voice barely a sigh. I’d recruited Eddie to sleep in the hall outside her door. If Stuart woke up, that would require some explaining, but I’d rather dump a fabrication on my husband than keep my daughter unprotected.
And just in case Eddie wasn’t up to the task, I’d called the police and told them about the encounter at the Blue Note. An assault on my husband and a threat to my daughter. That was serious business, and the officer I spoke to assured me they were on the case.
I didn’t like getting the police involved in supernatural problems, but if that’s what it took to keep Allie safe, then that’s what I had to do.
“I’m not doing this for you,“ David said, following my line of thought. “And I’m not on some idiotic heroic crusade. But the sooner we end this, the sooner she’ll be safe.”
I drew a breath and counted to ten. I didn’t like it, but I had no better plan. Worse, I had the sinking feeling that time was running out.
“All right,“ I said. “But if you die on me, David Long...”
“Cross my heart,“ he said. He reached toward me, then gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I let out a shaky breath, my emotions a confused swirl. David was a friend, nothing more. And yet right then, I knew that if I lost him, a piece of me would die, too.
We finished the drive to Coastal Mists in silence, and I killed the headlights as I maneuvered the driveway, then parked near the main door.
This late, the nursing home was dark, but we weren’t going inside. Instead, the demon had told us to come to the open area on the far side of the building, an area off limits to residents since there was no barrier between the landscaped field and the cliff onto which it opened. Anyone who tumbled off that cliff would drop fifty feet to be battered on the sharp rocks below. Survival really wasn’t an issue.
So instead of providing a nice place for the residents to walk and picnic, this section of the Coastal Mists property was limited to merely providing a view from the media room. Now, I went to that window and peered inside. I didn’t mind battling demons, but I’d rather do it without an audience cheering us on.
As I’d hoped, the media room was empty, the residents long ago tucked into their rooms. The whole place seemed to be sleeping, and I saw neither residents nor staff. For that matter, I saw no demons. Either in the building or on the grounds.
Except for the fact that the demons had invited us here, their absence was a good sign. Once upon a time, Coastal Mists had essentially been a demon-manufacturing plant, the human staff more than willing to help the demons find a fresh body or two.
Fortunately that was no longer the case, but death still came regularly to Coastal Mists, and that meant demons would always have at least a minimal toehold. I made it my business to come here regularly, just to keep the vermin population under control.
Normally, then, I’d be thrilled to come here and discover a dearth of demons. Today, though, I wanted one or two. I wanted to kick ass. And I wanted answers.
David walked the length of the grounds, turned, and came back to me. “Nothing,“ he said. “I don’t see a thing.”
“It’s been hours since the Blue Note incident,“ I said. ”Maybe they decided we weren’t coming?”
“Or maybe this was a different kind of trap,“ David said.
I met his eyes, seeing my own fear reflected there. “Allie.”
That was all it took, and we both sprinted for the car. We hadn’t made it ten feet, though, when a scream pierced the air. An inhuman wail. I turned in the direction of the sound and was immediately knocked to the ground by a huge black crow.
“David!“ I cried, as the crow pecked at my face. I thrust my arm up, trying to block its assault. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do offensively. With the powerful beating of its wings and the violent jabbing with its beak, it was all I could do to defend myself and keep my eyes from being pecked out.
“Hold on!“ From somewhere behind the howl of wind from the demon-bird’s wings, I heard David’s voice, followed by a huge grunt and then a gut-wrenching squawl as the bird was ripped away from me, his claws grasping my hair so that it felt like huge chunks were being ripped out of my head.
I fell back, smashing against the hard ground, my vision filled with the image of a bloody blackbird, wings spread, a knife slammed from the back straight through its heart. In an instant, it burst into a swirl of yellow and red fire that spun faster and faster until, like a cyclone, the bird’s remains were sucked inside the vortex and nothing was left but the stars shining in the sky, and David, standing there with his knife still clenched in his hand.
He sheathed the knife and reached down, pulling me
to my feet. “A familiar,“ he said, referring to the hell-birthed creatures that often assist demons as they torment humans on earth.
I nodded, then turned and looked over the rest of the area and the sky as well, searching for the crow’s companions, be they birds, hellhounds, or demons of the two-legged variety. I’d encountered hellhounds once during my time in San Diablo, and I’d rather take on a walking, talking demon any day of the week.
Tonight, I saw nothing, though the encounter had put me on edge. I turned to David. “Was that a warning?”
“No,“ David said, his eyes suddenly going wide. “I think that was the first act.”
I whipped around and saw what he was looking at: my friendly neighborhood dancing demon astride a giant mastiff. A hellhound, complete with fangs, bloodred eyes, and quite the nasty temperament. A second beast thundered beside the first, this one without a rider but just as determined.
Not actually canines, hellhounds are demon manifestations, pulled from the depths of Hell to do a demon’s bidding.
The ground shook as the mastiffs barreled toward us. I half considered running, but honestly, where would we go? Not only were we cut off—with the demon filling the space between us and the parking lot, and a deadly dropoff behind us—but running would only postpone the inevitable confrontation.
And I wanted that confrontation. I’d been seething since the demon attacked David on the beach, but my blood had reached the boiling point when the demons had pulled my daughter into the quagmire.
Beside me, David unsheathed his saber from the cane casing that camouflaged it.
I reached over my shoulder and pulled my crossbow into attack position. One hellhound raced forward, straight for me, saliva dripping from its jowls, its eyes glassy with bloodlust.
Closer, closer. I stood stock-still, waiting, knowing I had to get the best possible shot. Tangling with these beasts was never a good idea, and the idea of going home mauled did not appeal.
Finally it sprang, using its massive haunches to push off the ground, its eyes never leaving me. As it soared toward me, I saw the other leap for David, its gut sliced open by the point of his sword.
