by Lexi George
She patted her back pocket. “Yep, left my cape in my other jeans.”
“I’m glad you’ve decided to cooperate.” Evan slunk down the steps with loose-limbed grace. “Let’s have a drink together, to celebrate.”
Shit, shit, shit. She did not want to play auld lang syne with Evan, especially with that poison Skinner had concocted. Nothing to do but be cool and fake it.
“Why not?” she said, tossing him a bright smile.
She sailed past the two loutish guards and sauntered over to the drink table. Evan followed.
Elgdrek was speaking to the kith in his slithery voice.
“—no longer have to be ashamed of what you are,” he said. “Join us and be rulers of this world. Oppose us and be destroyed. . .”
“Resistance is futile.” Beck turned her back on the drunken revelry, sickened by how easily swayed the kith were. Crowd mentality, she thought. “Guess this is where we get assimilated into the hive. Happy day.”
She grabbed two glasses, poured two fingers of moonshine into one, added ice, orange juice and peach schnapps, topped it off with an orange slice, and handed the drink to Evan.
“It won’t be like that,” he said, taking a sip. “The kith will be running things.”
“You mean, like you’re running things now?” She cocked her brows. “No thanks. I saw what they did to you.”
He stared at the tattoos on his hands. “It’s not so bad, so long as you keep them happy.”
“And if you don’t, look out,” Beck said. “They can do whatever they want to with you, ’cause you’re their slave.”
“I’m not their slave.” His eyes flared with heat. “I’m their partner. When things go down, I’ll be at the top of the heap. Play your cards right and you could wind up at the top of the heap, too.”
At the top of a heap of bodies, maybe. Given their way, the demons would turn Earth into their own personal theme park.
“You give Charlie this same speech?” she said. “’Cause it sounds familiar.”
“Skinner’s a tool. He’s greedy and conniving, but not very bright. I need someone smart, like you.” He frowned at her empty glass. “You’re not drinking.”
Damn. She’d hoped he wouldn’t notice.
She splashed a little moonshine into her glass for show, but he put his hand on the bottle and tipped it. Glug glug, the liquor poured into the tumbler. Crap; so much for keeping her wits about her.
“What about Peterson?” she asked, dumping some OJ on top of the booze. “Why’s he in this? It’s not like he needs the money.”
Evan shrugged. “He wants to get rid of his wife. She’s a raving bitch. The poor bastard can’t take a leak without her giving him hell.”
Beck stirred her drink to buy time. “How do you get rid of a ghost?”
Evan waved his hand in the direction of the truck. The demons had finished their “we are the world” speech and were knocking back a tray of drinks while the kith danced around in celebration of the new order.
“He’s made a deal with Hagilth and Elgdrek,” he said. “He gives them what they want, and they take care of Meredith.”
That made Beck’s antennas go up. “What’s Peterson got that would interest a couple of demons?”
Evan shook his head. “Not going there with you. Not yet.”
“What’s the matter, bro? Don’t you trust me?”
“I don’t trust anybody.”
Beck’s brain whirled. Trey wanted to get rid of Meredith badly enough to make a deal with the demons, but what did he have to offer the demons in return? Did he know something about this secret weapon the djegrali wanted? A streak of excitement shot through her. She was onto something. She could feel it.
She couldn’t wait to see the look on Conall’s gorgeous face when she told him.
Evan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “God, smell that fresh air. I can breathe again.”
So, he did notice the smell. She’d feel sorry for him, except for the whole pimping-humans-out-to-demons thing.
He opened his eyes and leveled a pointed look at her glass. “You still aren’t drinking. I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”
Busted.
Beck lifted her glass. “Here’s to you and here’s to me, but if we ever disagree to hell with you and here’s to me.”
She took a slug of the drink, shuddering as the fiery liquid scorched its way down her throat and hit her stomach. What had she eaten today? Let’s see . . . nothing.
Great.
She tugged at the neck of her turtleneck and peered down her shirt.
“What are you doing?” Evan asked.
“Looking for the hair on my chest. That shit is strong.”
“You get used to it.” His brooding gaze moved to the cavorting demons. “You can get used to anything.”
“Yeah,” Beck said. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter Eighteen
The alcohol rushed into Beck’s bloodstream and sent her flying. Blood like pure spring water; that’s what Toby always said about her. She’d never been much of a drinker. She liked to keep a clear head. Stuff happened when a demonoid lost control. Things got broken. People got hurt. Norms saw things they weren’t supposed to see. Questions got asked with no easy answers.
The kith-a-poo joy juice hit her brain and the world burst with color, layer upon layer that pulsed and flowed into one another in dizzying patterns. She’d always had excellent sight, even for a demonoid, but not like this. Her vision was magnified. Tiny insects crawled along a branch on a tree more than a hundred yards away. A mockingbird perched in an oak on the far side of the clearing. She saw every detail, the intricate swirl of feathers, the dark line around the umber eyes, as clearly as if the bird sat on her finger.
“Wow.” She felt her mouth stretch in a goofy grin. Charlie was a lecherous old coot, but his moonshine was kickass. “This is soooo cool.”
“What?” Evan said.
Her grin widened—she couldn’t help it, her lips moved of their own accord. Much more and the dang things would slide right off her face. “I can see everything.”
Evan shot her a sullen look from beneath his dark swoop of hair. “You’re looped, and on one lousy drink.”
“What can I say? I’m a cheap drunk. You?”
He snorted. “I grew up in flop houses. The closest thing I ever got to a juice box was a margarita or a screwdriver.”
“That sucks.”
She meant it. Daddy had ignored her, but Evan’s childhood had been something out of a horror novel, only the nightmare never ended, because the demons still owned him. She studied the markings on his hands. There had to be some way to help him. Thanks to Charlie’s special mash, she could clearly see the spell—more of a curse, really—tiny squiggles etched into Evan’s skin.
Ilgrith unduth, the curse read. It meant “bound unto death.”
Holy shit, she could read the language of the demons. The knowledge shocked her. And she could see the end of the spell line. It was right there, in the web between two of Evan’s fingers. If she tugged on it, would it unravel?
She reached out to touch it and jerked her hand back in surprise as the kith let out a collective roar.
“What now?” Evan muttered, turning to look.
The demons were still lording it over the kith from the back of the truck.
Charlie Skinner stood near the tailgate holding a young woman by the arm. She wasn’t much to look at; too pale and thin. Her head was bowed, her gaze downcast. She wore a bandanna over her hair. The ends sticking out of the kerchief were frizzy and dry as autumn wheat. Her clothes were mismatched and ill-fitting, like she’d picked them out of a rag bag without looking. She wore cheap flip-flops, one pink and the other blue. Her slim, bony feet looked cold.
Elgdrek held up his arms and the kith fell silent. “Our friend Charlie has offered his youngest daughter as tribute to prove his loyalty to us and the Plan.”
“That’s right, she’s all yours,” Charl
ie said, his words mushy with drink. “ ’Bout time she made herself useful. Ain’t never been nothing but a dud. Not a drop of talent in ’er.”
“Such a treasure,” Elgdrek said dryly. “How generous of you to share it with us.” He raised his voice, regarding the assembled kith from the back of the truck. “What say you, brothers and sisters? Shall we spill the blood of this wretched female to seal our covenant?”
The kith murmured in anticipation. The Big Ugly that Beck had sensed when she and Toby arrived stirred and lifted its head. Beck went cold and some of her buzz faded. Sacrifice; he was talking about making the girl a sacrifice.
“I told them no killing, but they never listen,” Evan said, stepping closer to the truck. “It’s always the same, and I’m the one left to clean up the mess.”
He had his back to her. Reaching over, Beck hefted the peach schnapps bottle; too big and heavy. She pried the metal spout loose and looked around for a container, something smaller and less conspicuous. There, on a table near the grill, a half-empty container of Hot Dang habanera pepper sauce. It would be easier to handle and the pour spout should fit.
Keeping one eye on Evan, she scooted to the other table and snatched up the bottle of hot sauce. With trembling hands, she unscrewed the metal cap and stuck it in the front pocket of her jeans. She pried the stopper out and slid the metal spout into place. It fit.
The nervous fluttering in her stomach eased. She was armed, and the whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds. She slipped the bottle in her jacket pocket and eased back over to Evan. He was engrossed in the unfolding drama, and hadn’t noticed she was gone.
“I was thinking we’d have us a little sport,” Charlie was saying to Elgdrek. He listed on his custom-made boots, first one way and then the other, like a tree in a high wind. “Verbena can’t shift, but she can run like a deer. We turn the dogs loose on her regular, so’s to keep ’em exercised.”
Something stirred in Beck, something hot and angry. Compared to Charlie Skinner, the devil’s asshole was a bright spot in the universe. She’d never seriously considered killing anybody before, but she was thinking about it now. She was thinking about it hard.
Charlie Skinner needed killing.
“A hunt?” Hagilth clapped her hands in delight. “I adore a hunt.”
“An excellent notion,” Elgdrek said. He raised his voice. “And to make things more interesting, I will sweeten the pot.” A small cloth sack appeared in his hand. He shook several gold coins into his palm and held them up for the kith to see. “A pouch of gold to the one who brings me the bitch’s pelt. What say you?”
The kith roared in answer. Money, power and now blood: Elgdrek had them eating out of his hand.
“Remove your spell from the trees,” Elgdrek told Charlie. “Our friends are eager to begin.”
“Already done.” Charlie swatted Verbena hard on the back of the head. “Go on, gal. Git. You’s the rabbit.”
Verbena gave him a startled look and darted across the field in a blur, running right out of her flip-flops. The bandanna came undone and fluttered to the ground behind her. Her quick reflexes surprised Beck. The girl ran like a greyhound, but she didn’t stand a chance, not with a bunch of drugged-up supers on her trail.
Elgdrek kept the kith in check until Verbena was swallowed up by the trees. He raised his arm and brought it back down. “After her,” he shouted.
The kith gave chase. Some shifted and some didn’t. Charlie Skinner was knocked flat and trampled in the rush. Served him right, Beck thought with vicious satisfaction, watching him roll around on his back like an upended beetle.
Charlie’s moonshine thrummed through her veins, working its magic. She felt strong and powerful. And she was feeling a little blood lust of her own. She sprang through the air and came down on the roof of the truck with a thud.
“What are you doing?” Hagilth scowled up at her. “The bitch ran that way. Go after her. Bring me her head, if you want the gold.”
“No thanks.” Beck pulled the bottle out of her pocket. “The bitch I’m looking for is right here.”
She pounced, landing soft-footed as a cat on the bed of the truck, and rammed the tip of the pour spout into Hagilth’s chest beneath the collar bone. Hagilth’s licorice goo eyes widened in shock and turned green as the demon leaked out of the girl’s body and into the hot sauce bottle. The girl’s eyes rolled back and she slumped to the floor of the truck. The pour spout popped loose and rolled off the truck.
Beck put her thumb over the top of the bottle to keep the demon from escaping. Fumbling in her pocket, she found the bottle cap and screwed it back on.
“Release her,” Elgdrek roared.
Beck whirled around. Elgdrek’s teeny-bopper heartthrob face twisted and distorted. His jaw lengthened and sprouted a bristling set of teeth. Claws sprang from the ends of his gnarled fingers. Lord-a-mercy, he was ugly, a cross between Predator and the creature from the Black Lagoon with Bama Bangs.
And she’d lost the pour spout. Damn.
If Conall were here, he’d whip out his sword and beat some demon booty. But Conall wasn’t here. He was miles away. She’d started this fight, and she’d have to finish it, somehow.
Elgdrek leaped at her. Beck stepped to one side, narrowly avoiding having her head ripped off. He slammed into the cab of the truck with bone-crushing force, denting the metal and shattering the back windshield. He shook himself and sprang at her again, venom dripping from his slavering jaws. Beck slipped on a puddle of spilled drink and went down on one knee. Elgdrek slashed her across the face with his claws. Pain exploded in her head. She dropped the bottle and it rolled away. She scrambled after it.
Elgdrek stomped after her and jerked her upright by the arm. His claws sliced through the sleeve of her leather jacket and punctured her skin.
“Got you,” he said, his eyes red with rage.
“Got you back, asshole,” Beck said, plunging her left hand into the monster’s chest.
She wrapped her hand around the dark blob that pulsed near the boy’s heart. She expected heat, the kind that melted stone. But the demon was cold.
A spasm of agony shot up her hand and arm. She gasped and yanked her hand back, taking the demon with her. She tried to let go, she wanted to let go, but the ring had a mind of its own. A look of stunned surprise crossed Elgdrek’s hideous face and his nightmarish features blurred and disappeared. Beck stumbled back. The boy swayed in front of her, his face a ghastly white. He did the eye roll thing, same as the girl, and down he went.
Beck hardly noticed. She held a twisting, coiling thing in her grasp. The wraith tried to free itself, but the ring held on, intractable and relentless. Like Conall, she thought, gritting her teeth against the pain. Her hand was frozen, chalky white as marble, and it hurt like a son of a bitch. The petrifying cold moved up her arm, turning her flesh to stone.
The ring flared and Elgdrek dissolved into dust with a shriek of anguish.
Beck spotted the hot sauce bottle lying on its side near the back of the truck. She walked over and picked it up. There were moth-eaten holes in Haggy’s smoky form. Beck tilted the bottle and the demon skittered to the other side.
Pepper sauce; demons were allergic to pepper sauce. Beck threw back her head and laughed. Bet that was something else Conall didn’t know. She couldn’t wait to lecture Mr. Know-it-all on the djegrali. He’d probably explode.
Nearby, a man was screaming; probably one of the kith, injured in the stampede. Beck looked around and saw Evan, rolling around on the ground. His skin blistered and smoked. She blinked in confusion. What ailed him? Her gaze moved from Evan to the hot sauce bottle, and back again. Her brain made the connection, and her amusement fled. The bindings; Evan felt Hagilth’s pain as his own.
Evan struggled to his knees. “Get her,” he screamed at Charlie. “Bring her and the bottle to me.”
Time to go. Maybe she could help the Skinner girl. Cradling her useless left arm close to her breasts, Beck jumped off the back of
the truck.
Charlie was on his feet and staggering around, looking dazed. “Wha? Whudda you want me to do?”
Beck rammed him with her good shoulder as she ran past, knocking him on his can.
It felt good—maybe not as good as beating the crap out of the lowlife, but pretty damn good.
Grinning, she raced for the woods. She reached the trees and looked back.
Her elation died. Evan was astride an enormous, thick-bodied creature with leathery, mud-colored skin. The burns on his face were already healing and his skin and clothes no longer smoked. Beck checked the bottle. The demon had wedged itself in the neck of the container like a cork to avoid the scalding pepper sauce.
“Cooo-kie,” Evan said. His monstrous steed bounded across the meadow in awkward, jarring leaps. “You’re not playing nice with brother.”
The monster paused to sniff the air. Meat Hooks’ pink shirt hung in tatters around the creature’s thick neck like a frilly collar.
Beck stepped out of the trees and into view. “Sorry, bro. I never learned to play nice.”
Evan urged his hideous mount forward a few lurching steps. “Give me the bottle now, and I won’t let her hurt you.”
Yeah, right. He’d turn Haggy loose. He wouldn’t have a choice. Somehow, she didn’t think Haggy was very happy with her, not after she’d killed Elgdrek and given the bitch an acid bath.
Somewhere back there, two teens were lying on the back of the truck. If she lured Evan away from the lodge, they’d have a chance to come-to and find their way home. She had to give them that chance.
“I mean it, Cookie,” Evan said. “No more games.”
He was closer now, maybe fifty yards away. A couple of leaps, and he’d be on her. She needed time. She needed to stall him.
She knew what she had to do, though the thought made her cringe.
“You want it?” she said. She held up the bottle for him to see. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Come and get it.”
“No, Cookie, no,” Evan shouted, throwing his hands over his head.
Beck shook the bottle. Hard. Pepper sauce coated the demon wedged at the top. Haggy thrashed and flailed like a runover snake.
