by Deanna Chase
“Edward Lohmann? Retired Hunter? Living in San Diablo? Yeah,” I said snippily. “I’m referring to him.”
“Go home, Kate,” he said, which really wasn’t the response I was looking for. “I assure you I withheld no useful information from you.”
“Larson—”
He held up a hand and I shut up, but continued to glare at him, feeling a bit like a petulant child. “I’ll tell you everything I know about Eddie Lohmann tomorrow. Right now, it’s late. I have a trial commencing at nine, and I’d like to conduct a bit of research before I turn in. Besides, you have a family to attend to in the morning. I presume you’d like to sleep.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. He was right, but I wasn’t going to say it out loud.
“Trust me, Kate,” he said. “Edward Lohmann is at least forty years your senior, feeble, and of no use to anyone, much less himself. I’m happy to give you the details tomorrow, but right now I think we should leave.”
I nodded, albeit somewhat grudgingly.
“Good. And I suppose I don’t need to say that you shouldn’t have come tonight. That your skills are not up to snuff and that you could have come to harm.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t need to say that.”
Despite the shadows, I’m pretty sure I saw him smile.
I cocked my head toward the demon carcass. “What shall we do with that?”
He waved a hand. “I’ll take care of it. Go. Go home, Kate.”
I swallowed, wanting to argue, but somehow not finding the words. I left him to deal with the body and headed back through the dark to the van. I drove home on autopilot, not even thinking about where I was going, and when I pulled into my garage twenty minutes later, his words still echoed in my head.
He was right, of course. My skills sucked (although I think I’ve been doing pretty darn well). But I’d had no other choice. Knowing the dog was out there, I couldn’t have not come.
I parked the van and reached over to grab my purse, pausing in mid-reach as I realized I’d forgotten to pick up milk to replace the gallon I’d dumped down the drain. Damn. I was just about to start the van up again and head down to the 7-Eleven when there was a tap at the passenger window. I actually yelped, wondering what I was going to tell Stuart.
Turns out it wasn’t a problem. Laura, not Stuart, was standing next to the van. I turned automatically to look behind me, and for the first time noticed her car parked across the street. How long had she been waiting there?
I clicked the lock and waited for her to climb in, concerned by the expression on her face. Not anger or fear. Betrayal, maybe? “Laura? What is it?”
She lifted her eyes to meet mine, and my heart skipped a beat.
“That boy,” she whispered, and I realized she’d been following me. “Oh, God, Kate. Judge Larson killed that boy.”
***
As soon as I had Laura seated on the sofa in Stuart’s study, I poured us each a glass of red wine, then shut the door, taking one last listen to the house before I did so. All quiet. Good.
I turned back to her and passed her the glass. She downed half of it then closed her eyes. For a moment I thought she’d fallen asleep on me (it was almost two), but then she lifted her head and drew in a breath. “What’s going on, Kate?”
“It’s kind of complicated.” I squinted at her. “Why were you there?”
“Kate! I saw a boy murdered. What in hell is going on?”
“Right,” I said. “You’re right” I ran my fingers through my hair, not sure where to begin. “Why don’t you tell me what you saw?”
She shook her head just slightly. “Oh, no. I want the whole story. I can’t just sit back and—”
“You’ll get it,” I said. “I promise.” I meant it, too. Now that my initial shock had worn off, I realized I wanted to tell her. More than that, I think I needed to tell her. I needed a confidante, a friend. Larson couldn’t really fill that role, and for a lot of reasons, I couldn’t turn to Stuart. I didn’t want him to look at me and see a woman who wrestled demons; I just wanted him to see his wife.
Laura didn’t look convinced. I took a seat next to her and held her hand. “I promise,” I repeated, in the same calm and reassuring voice I’d used when I’d had the sex talk with Allie. “I just need to know where to begin. Why were you even there?”
“I followed you,” she said after a brief hesitation.
“I guessed as much,” I said. “But why?”
She turned away, as if suddenly fascinated by the collection of windup toys Stuart kept on the end table. “I don’t know, exactly. You’ve been acting off, I guess. That fighting thing with the judge. And thinking more and more about Eric. And …” She trailed off with a shrug. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” I thought it probably mattered a lot, but I didn’t interrupt. “But then I was coming over here earlier, and I saw you backing out—”
“Wait.” I held up a hand, interrupting. “You were coming here? In the middle of the night? Why?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I was on my way to 7-Eleven to get some ice cream.” She avoided my eyes, and her cheeks seemed to flame even more. “I decided to swing by and see if your light was on, and right as I pulled up, you pulled out. I thought you might be going to the 7-Eleven yourself, so I followed, and then when you kept going, so did I. Mindy and Paul were already asleep, so I figured why not.”
I stifled a wince. If I hadn’t been so lost in thoughts about Eddie Lohmann, I surely would have noticed I had a tail. As it was, Laura’s were probably the footsteps I’d heard—then forgotten about the second I heard the screams.
“Okay,” I said. “I understand how you got to the alley, but I still don’t understand why you followed in the first place.”
She answered, but her voice was so low I couldn’t hear her.
“Come on, Laura. You know you can tell me anything. Just spit it out.”
“I-thought-you-were-having-an-affair,” she said, so fast her words almost sounded foreign.
“An affair?” I turned the word over in my head. “What is it with you? That’s the second time you’ve said that, and no. What started this?”
She picked at a threadbare spot on her jeans. “Late nights out of the house. Change in behavior. You know.”
“You saw me doing the fighting thing once. I left the house late at night once.” My voice was getting shrill, but I couldn’t seem to bring it down a notch. “That’s hardly a pattern. Why did ‘affair’ suddenly pop into your brain? It’s not as if—”
And that’s when I realized. I sat back. “Oh, no, don’t tell me. Is Paul… ?” I trailed off. I couldn’t bear to ask the question.
“I think so,” she whispered. She drew in a breath, then rubbed the back of her hand under her eyes. After a second she flashed me a shaky smile. “Of course, I haven’t managed to catch the bastard yet. He’s too clever a businessman for that. But a woman knows these things.”
“You could be wrong,” I said. “You were wrong about me.”
“Yes, but I’m not sleeping with you.” She laughed then, the sound harsh. “Of course, I’m not sleeping with Paul, either. And as for you, you might not be having an affair, but you are up to something. What?”
“Laura, come on.” I shifted on the couch, crossing one leg under me so that I was facing her straight on. “I said I’d tell you, and I will. But if you need to talk …”
“No.” She shook her head as if she needed to reinforce the idea. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve already talked about it to myself ad nauseum. All I want now is something that will take my mind off of it. Honestly, I think the story behind a federal judge murdering a boy in an alley will do the trick. Add in the fact that my best friend was right there wrestling some freak-of-nature dog, and I’m perfectly willing to believe I won’t give a shit about Paul or his little whore for at least twelve more hours.”
“Actually,” I said, “the judge didn’t murder a boy. It’s something completely different. In fact, I t
hink my story may well earn you a full twenty-four hours of non-Paul thoughts. Maybe even more.”
“At last,” she said, “some good news. Bring it on.” And for the first time that night, Laura actually smiled.
***
By the time I finished telling her my story, Laura was no longer smiling. In fact, she looked a little shell-shocked. Also, though, she looked intrigued. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I shook my head. “Sorry.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, then let it out slowly.
“Laura?”
“I’m okay. I just …” She shook her head. “So that shimmer I saw above the boy? That was the demon leaving?”
I nodded.
“Wow.” She licked her lips. “When that dog—that thing—died…I guess I knew then that something pretty freaky was going on.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d lived with this knowledge almost my whole life, and I’d never told anyone before. To me, this was just the status quo, and while I tried to see this new reality through Laura’s eyes, I was pretty sure I was failing miserably.
She pulled her feet up onto the couch and hugged her knees. “So Judge Larson is a Demon Hunter, too?”
“Not exactly. He’s like a mentor. He does the research while I do the dirty work.” I grimaced, thinking of the bugs in the cathedral basement. So long as Larson kept his day job, my definition of “dirty work” was expanding.
Her brows lifted. “He looked pretty down and dirty in the alley.”
She had a point. “Some alimentatores have the street skills to go along with the book skills. I guess Larson’s of that ilk.”
“You guess? Haven’t you worked with him before?”
I shook my head. “I only met him after the demon came through my window.” I made an apology face. “I lied about meeting one of Eric’s friends. As far as I know, Eric never laid eyes on Larson.”
She didn’t seem too perturbed by the lie. “Okay, so the guy that Larson killed was a demon living in the body of a dead person.”
“Right.” I’d given her the brief rundown of how it works, and now she was giving it back to me just like a prize pupil.
“And you were fighting with what?”
“Mythology calls them hellhounds. Huge mastiffs that do a demon’s bidding. Nasty creatures. Smell bad, too.”
“When you stabbed it …” She trailed off with a shiver.
“Laura?”
“I’m fine.” She finished off her wine. I filled her glass back up. “It’s all a little much.”
“For me, too,” I said. “I thought the most I’d have to deal with this year was boyfriends and potty training.”
“God, I don’t know which is worse. Demons, or trying to get a toddler out of diapers without losing your sanity.” She half-laughed, but it died quickly enough. “That dog…um, where exactly did it go when it…when it …” She waved her hand. “You know. When it went away.”
I knew what she meant. The dog had disappeared in a swirl of flame. No ashes. No charred bones. Just gone. “I’m not sure. Hell, I assume. Thankfully, I have no personal knowledge.”
Her laugh sounded a little nervous. “Yeah. That’s good.”
“Laura.” I took a sip of my wine before taking a deep breath. “Are we okay? I mean, Stuart doesn’t know because…well, because it’s a rule that I’m not supposed to tell. But obviously, I’m not strictly adhering to the rules here. I just don’t want him to see me as some sort of ninja mom, you know? And I don’t want you to see me that way, either. You’re my best friend. Without you I’d have no one to talk to during the days except a two-year-old, and all my cultural references would be from Disney or Nickelodeon.”
“Nice to know where I rate,” she said, but she was smiling.
“You know what I mean.”
“We’re fine,” she said. She took my hand and squeezed. “This is going to take some getting used to, but you’re still the same Kate. Although …”
“What?” I asked, instantly alarmed.
Her smile was devious. “You’re no longer a stay-at-home mom. Kate Connor, you have a day job.” She frowned. “Or a night job. I’m not really sure about that.”
“Either,” I said. “Demons come out during the day, too. They just like the night better. Besides, I’m filling the days with research.”
“Right. To figure out what Gildamish is looking for.”
“Goramesh.”
“Yeah, him. Do you have any leads?”
“Nothing concrete. We know the other locations Goramesh ravaged looking for whatever. And we think that bones may be involved. We just don’t know exactly what ‘whatever’ is.”
“I could help.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What? How? For that matter, why?”
“I want to,” she said. “I need a day job, too. Otherwise, what else am I going to do all day except sit around thinking up creative ways to castrate Paul?”
She had a point “I don’t know what you could do,” I said. “I could use the research help, sure, but if you go with me to the archives, I’m afraid …” I shrugged, not wanting to voice my fear.
“What?”
I paused, then rushed on. “I’m afraid he’ll realize you’re helping me. And that he’ll try to hurt you.”
She nodded slowly. “I can still help,” she said. “From home, even. No one has to know I’m on the case. I can be like that ten-year-old kid who stays at the computer and sends Kim Possible on all her missions.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry about the fact that she’d just compared my life to that of a Disney Channel cartoon character. “Uh—”
“I’m serious. I can make phone calls. I can go to the library. Better yet, I can do Internet research. Find out about the cathedrals he wrecked. Maybe get a clue.”
I had to admit, it wasn’t a bad idea. But I still hated dragging her in. “I don’t know,” I hedged. “I’d hate for anything to happen.”
“So would I,” she said. “But from what you’re telling me, if this Goramesh guy has his way, my kid could be a demon-sized Happy Meal. No, thank you. I want to help, Kate. Let me help you stop him. I can do most everything from home, and there’s nothing suspicious about going to the library.”
I’ll admit I wasn’t hard to convince. I told myself it would be good for her, keeping her mind off Paul. In truth, I think I was more selfish than that. I wasn’t inclined to examine my motives, though. Not when her proposal was dead-on perfect. “You’re sure you’re up for it?”
She waved a hand. “Hell, yes. I spend hours and hours on eBay. My Internet skills are sharp.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Kidding,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ve helped Paul do research on locations and stuff. I know my way around Google and Dogpile and Vivisimo and a dozen others. Come on. At the very least I can punch in the towns and stuff where the attacks occurred. Larnaca, you said?”
I nodded. “I don’t know the town in Mexico or Tuscany, but I can find out.”
“So I can help?”
Since she’d lost me after Google, I decided she was qualified. “Okay,” I said. “I think.” I frowned. “Let me think about it overnight. It’s late and my head is mush.” But I knew the answer would be yes. I think she knew so, too.
I walked with her to the door and gave her a hug. “You’re okay?” I was talking about Paul, but the question pretty much covered all bases.
“Yeah. Thanks. It’s rough, but we’ll get through it. I mostly feel bad for Mindy. If he is screwing around…Well, I’ll worry about that when it happens. You need to get some sleep.”
She was right. I was scheduled to fight with Cutter the next morning, and I had to get Timmy over to the day care before then. He wasn’t supposed to start until Wednesday, but I was hoping that if I begged, they’d let him start tomorrow. I was optimistic. Groveling, I’ve discovered, can be a very effective tool. And I intended to do as much groveling as was necessary.
>
I opened the door for her, but she paused at the threshold. “So there are demons out there, huh?”
I stood behind her, looking out over my front yard and the oh-so-familiar street trying to see the world through her new perspective. “I’ll drive with you,” I said.
“Oh, no. It’s okay. You don’t have to do that. Really.”
There was no way I was letting her go that distance alone. Not tonight when I knew she’d see a demon around every corner.
“Actually, I really do,” I said. She turned to me, and I shrugged. “As it turns out I need to borrow some milk.”
Chapter 13
As bizarre as Monday had been, it was almost disconcerting to wake up so normally on Tuesday morning. Normal, that is, except for the fact that I’d had only three hours of sleep, and my entire body felt like it had been pounded by a football team—and not in a good way.
The alarm clock chirped promptly at six o’clock. I rolled over, muttering rude things about its parentage, and slapped the snooze button. There. Guess I told it.
Beside me, Stuart muttered something that sounded like “jump through the hobbits,” but which I mentally translated as “just a few more minutes.” I muttered an agreement, tugged the covers up under my chin, and spooned against him. Nanoseconds later the alarm chirped again. (The digital readout assured me that seven full minutes had elapsed. I was not convinced.)
I slapped the alarm senseless again, then rolled over to shake Stuart’s shoulder. “Up,” I said. “Go. Earn money.” This is my contribution to making sure the family bank account stays liquid.
He groaned again, then rolled over so that he was facing me. Slowly he opened his eyes. Even more slowly he smiled. “Hey, gorgeous.”
Since I am particularly ungorgeous in the morning, these kinds of endearments simply embarrass me. I rolled away with a mumbled “Stuart …”
He slid closer, then wrapped his arm around my hips, pulling himself closer until he was nuzzling my neck. Even half-comatose, I know better than to shun a nuzzle. “You’re perky this morning,” I said.
“Why not?’ He tugged me back around so that he was leaning over me, one finger tracing the neckline of the plain white T-shirt I’d slept in. “I survived a car crash, locked in some campaign support, and woke up next to a beautiful woman.”
