Stripped Away

by Sydney Somers

  And exactly when had he turned into such a fucking coward? The first day she’d walked into the field office, all feisty and ready to play with demons? Or maybe the first time she’d casually mentioned they grab a beer after an assignment, a glimpse of something in her eyes that forced him to acknowledge there was more between them than two agents who lobbed sarcastic barbs like it was an Olympic sport. Or had it been the moment when he knew he couldn’t say no any longer?

  Quinn’s head snapped up and a moment later he felt the sharp waves of malevolent psychic energy slither through his mind.

  They had company.

  Chapter Eight

  Only two of them? Quinn was almost disappointed. Although demons weren’t known to converge in big numbers unless they were trying to trigger a gateway opening to allow a Scion to cross over, she’d been up for a little more excitement.Outside thunder boomed and lightning arced across the night sky, momentarily brightening the room. Then the wind started to howl and rain tapped at the windows—first in fat splashing drops, then an all out downpour.

  Storm demons. At least that made for a safe bet that one of them had been the hostile that had gone after Cass.

  Neither of them was particularly quiet as they broke a pane of glass in the kitchen door to get in. She didn’t move, nor did Braxton, as their prey entered the house. Making a move too early would warn the hostiles she wasn’t all tucked in bed, and that she wasn’t alone.

  One came straight down the hall, its muscular body turned away to head up the stairs. Dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, it could have been any man slipping in after a night out with the boys, determined not to wake his wife. Instead the human façade masked a deadly evil that hungered for emotion and eventual slaughter.

  “You know, it’s only polite to knock.” Quinn’s voice broke the silence. Without looking behind her, she knew the moment the second storm demon eased around from the other direction. It came through the archway connecting the small dining room with the living room.

  Braxton moved to her back, his sword glinting in another flash of lightning as he took position.

  The storm demon that could have been a model for Barbie’s Ken withdrew a sacrificial dagger. An amused grin warped his face from something glimpsed on Saturday afternoon barbeques to a twisted slash of lips that promised intense suffering.

  Adrenaline ran hot through her veins, and she grinned. “I do hope you’re at least going to try to use it.”

  “Do you always have to play with them first?” Braxton asked, then shot forward to meet the second storm demon that rushed him.

  Quinn’s hostile launched a simultaneous attack. Avoiding the first blow should have been easy. Storm demons were routinely the easiest to contain, especially inside where their ability to manipulate the weather wasn’t much help.

  She darted around behind it, not prepared for the elbow that managed to jab around to nail her in the spine. She pitched forward, whirling to meet the demon stuck to her heels.

  His eyes glowed in the dark, the feral gleam like a nightmare brought to life. She studied the human-like face, opening her senses, filtering through the details that made up the whole.

  “Something’s not right,” she said, bringing her sword up to deflect the strike of the demon’s dagger.

  “It will be soon,” it hissed.

  Quinn frowned. The tone of its voice was…off.

  It spun on its heel, digging down to catch her side. She kicked out, catching him in the groin then pivoting out of reach when it lashed out with its hand.

  She chanced a look at Braxton, cringing when he hit the wall and Cass’s mirror shattered under the impact. Not that her newest friend let her worry about Brax for long. Quinn sidestepped to avoid the hand that grappled to trip her. A glimmer of something waved across the demon’s face, its eyes turning iridescent in the dark.

  Fuck.

  “Mimic demon, Braxton.”

  She wasn’t sure he heard her as he tore after the real storm demon that bolted back towards the kitchen. Smart demon.

  She wished she could say the same for the hostile in front of her. Pushing to retain the offensive, she slashed her arm down. Her sword met only hardwood floor as the mimic demon regained its footing at the last second and dodged the blow.

  Retaliating, it quickly over-compensated, its sloppy kick missing her. Thrown off balance, the hostile slammed into the wall, crashing to the floor when she spun around to evade it.

  The mimic demon’s arm came up to defend itself as she moved in to end the game.

  Quinn frowned at the slim feminine wrist even as her training whispered in the back of her mind that the demon was playing with her. It was the familiar charm bracelet that stalled her, made her grip her sword, hesitating though she was prepared to slay it.

  Until she glimpsed its morphed face.

  Her feet locked into the floor. Her heart jammed up into her throat.

  Mom?

  Tears streamed down the face she knew by heart though it had been six years since she’d last seen it in the flesh. First the old hurt, and then brilliant pulsing anger snapped through her. Two seconds too late.

  The demon scissored its leg around, taking her to the floor. Her head struck the edge of the floor trim, and pain radiated along the back of her skull. Blinking through the gray haze that blurred her vision, she shoved away from the wall and rolled, the mimic demon’s dagger catching the back of her shirt.

  Then it was on her, her mother’s face twisted in a mask of rage.

  “Quinn!”

  It took all her concentration to keep her arms up, preventing the dagger pointed at her heart from sliding home.

  Her arms shot up, the resistance suddenly gone as the demon bolted for the door. She was on all fours and hauling herself to her feet as Braxton ran after it. She caught up to him by the time he reached the back door and followed him outside.

  In the back yard they pivoted around, trying to figure out where the damn thing had gone. The pouring rain had dissipated to a light mist that was already letting up as the sky overhead began to clear. She could only assume that meant Braxton had taken out the real storm demon.

  She whipped around, the sound of the mimic demon’s receding footsteps lost against the roar of her heart. Fuck!

  Quinn dropped her sword, her hands going to her knees as she bent over to suck in lungfuls of crisp night air. Too close. The son of a bitch demon. Her nails curled down over her knees, sinking in her skin. Goddamned mimic demon. She shook her head to erase the image of her mother’s face hovering over hers, the dagger much too close.

  Braxton came towards her and she held her hand out, keeping him back. She needed a minute to compartmentalize what just happened. Just a damn mimic demon trying to fuck with her, and she wouldn’t let it. The nightmares were enough to deal with. She wouldn’t let him screw with her too.

  Even as she commanded herself to keep it together she could feel her insides tearing loose, the image of her mother’s face…

  He touched her shoulder and a whimper burst into her throat. She paced away from him, fighting hard to work through the emotional upheaval brought on by the confrontation. She was fine.

  She was fine.

  She turned to retrieve her sword only to discover Braxton had already picked it up. He offered it to her, and she couldn’t meet his gaze as she closed her hand over the hilt.

  Quinn knew he was waiting for her to say something. She could only turn back towards the house, squeezing his hand in passing. Right then it was the best that she could do.

  * * *

  Red eyes glowed in the dark—moving closer—the rest of the face and body obscured by shadows that reached out for her. Her back came up against the wall. She tucked herself into the corner, where her sister whimpered next to her in the dark.“Get the fuck away from me,” she screamed.

  Her foot slipped on something and she tumbled back hard, crushing the hands that had been tied behind her back. A light speared through the d
ark and she instinctively turned toward it, away from the red eyes that followed her in the darkness.

  She could hear her mother crying, begging.

  Mom?

  Two people were sprawled on the floor, shadows looming over them. Something was pitched across the ground. A sword?

  Voices. She strained to hear, wishing she was closer. Wishing she was far away from here.

  The red eyes inched closer.

  Her sister cried out, pleading. Like their mom.

  A hot tear rolled down her face, and she cringed as something touched her face. A fierce cry rang out, and the silence became deafening. She scrambled forward. Dad?

  No matter how loud she said it, the word never echoed through the silence. Through tear-filled eyes she watched as he struggled to his feet, reaching blindly for the sword. He gripped the hilt.

  Then everything went dark.

  Quinn rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. She was safe. But her parents weren’t. The pain in her heart spread until her whole chest ached with how much she missed them. Alone in the bed, she suddenly wished she hadn’t insisted on sleeping by herself in Cass’s room, hadn’t insisted on needing her space.

  She contemplated going across the hall, then rejected the idea. She didn’t need Braxton to slay her proverbial demons. She just needed to figure out where the hell the nightmares were coming from and why she was dreaming of her parents now. Or had she been all along and she just hadn’t realized it?

  She closed her eyes and turned over onto her stomach. There was a reason for it and sooner or later she’d figure out what the hell was happening to her.

  * * *

  Braxton heard her scream.He sat up in bed, taking a second to process he was alone in the guestroom and still wearing the clothes he’d fallen asleep in last night.

  Another cry of distress rattled the windows, and he jumped to his feet.

  “Quinn!” He bolted down the stairs, skidding to a stop in the kitchen doorway. His mouth fell open at the sight of her cowering on the edge of a kitchen chair with a broom in her hand. Behind her the kitchen door was wide open.

  “There is a fucking mouse in here.” She searched the floor like a hawk scanning the landscape for lunch. She stabbed the end of the broom in the direction of the pantry. “I think it went under the door.”

  Braxton surveyed the floor, leisurely sweeping his gaze back to her. “You’re not serious.”

  “It’s the size of freakin’ puppy.”

  He arched a brow. “You cut the heads off of monsters and you’re petrified of a mouse?”

  “I’ve been scared shitless of them since I was eighteen. I have no idea why and I’m not particularly thrilled to admit it, okay?” She spoke the entire confession through her teeth.

  Mulling it over, he still shook his head. “Again, demons, Quinn. Abnormally strong, like to hurt and torment their victims for fun. Ring a bell?”

  She glared at him. “Are you going to kill the damn thing or not?”

  “Um…not.” He knew he shouldn’t be amused by the fact this woman could take on twin lust demons from slasher movie hell and yet panicked at the sight of a furry little rodent.

  “Brax, please. My bladder is way too full to stay up here all day.”

  He propped a shoulder in the doorway. “Does Jordan know about this?”

  “If she did, I’d like to think she’d help a girl out and put me out of my misery.”

  “It’s poor little Fieval you want put out of his misery.”

  “Whatever works.”

  Strolling into the kitchen, he crossed to the pantry, reaching out to take the broom from her.

  She clung to it, her fingers tightening before she finally relinquished her death-grip on it.

  Braxton laughed. “Even Drew is going to get a kick out of this.”

  “Speak less. Slay mouse more.”

  “I’m not killing it.”

  Quinn snorted. “And you think it’s just going to come along quietly do you?” She stabbed her finger at him in warning. “I swear to God, Brax, if that thing jumps up here—” She curled her toes under her feet and shuddered.

  He eyed the distance from the floor to the chair skeptically. “Do you know something about mice I don’t?”

  “Slight phobia here. I’m not exactly in to cruising the Discovery channel for documentaries on vermin.”

  Sensing that she’d snatch the fruit bowl off the table and fire it at him if she caught him smiling, he averted his face and eased the pantry door open.

  A ball of black fur ran right over his bare foot. Stifling an absurd shout that rocketed up his throat, he wrenched at the broom he’d planned to use to coerce the mouse out of hiding. Instead it became a weapon of his own demise as it caught the back of his heel when he scrambled back a step on instinct, and he toppled to the floor.

  From his sprawled spot on the floor, he watched Quinn jump down. She frowned after the escaped mouse and shut the kitchen door.

  She stood over him. “Still think Fieval deserved to live?” She offered him a hand.

  He rolled his eyes and took her help up.

  With disaster averted Quinn went back to fixing coffee. He stared at her back for a long moment, deciding how best to bring up what had happened last night. It seemed that most days lately he was intent on discussions that never quite took place.

  “There’s no need to talk about it,” she said, practically reading his mind. “It got a few hits in, that’s all.”

  Hardly, but he decided challenging her outright wouldn’t go over so well. “It had you in a pretty tight spot.” His heart tightened painfully at the memory of seeing her go down, the demon’s dagger only a few inches from embedding in her heart.

  “Happens now and again.”

  “Does it?”

  She shook her head and poured two mugs full of steaming coffee. “Don’t make more out of it than there needs to be.”

  “You hesitated.”

  Quinn set her cup down. “It took my mother’s face.”

  He’d known something significant had happened when she wanted her distance after the thing had gotten away. “That’s how a mimic demon works.”

  They possessed just enough telepathic ability to draw images from peoples’ minds, sometimes not even knowing the significance, just hoping it would mess with a person’s psyche. More often than not, once a victim’s fear was triggered, it was even easier to tap into something that could be even more terrifying.

  Like telling someone to not think of a pink elephant. Inevitably they did. Mimic demons thrived on people who opened their mind to the truly dark and evil images whenever they had the misfortune to cross paths with that particular type of hostile. It wasn’t uncommon for some mimic demon-related murders to end up painting a close family member of the victim as the main suspect simply by the visual they manifested. He couldn’t imagine being tortured by one of the damn things and all the while having it look like someone he loved. Sick bastards.

  Quinn shrugged. “It only shook me for a second.”

  “That’s all it needs.”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  He knew by the whitening of her knuckles around the handle of the mug that she wasn’t nearly as unaffected as she tried to sound. “It saw me coming and probably knew two of us had a better chance of taking it out.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “If this is about to enter team-leader territory, let’s save it for the field office, all right?”

  “Where we are doesn’t change the fact that whatever is happening with you is inevitably going to start to take a toll on your…abilities.”

  She crossed her arms. “So you think I can’t handle myself now?”

  Even if he did believe that—and he didn’t, yet—he wouldn’t have chosen now to point it out. Not when she looked like he would make a great substitute for the demon that escaped them last night. “You tell me.”

  “It’s clear you’ve already made up your mind so can we just talk abou
t something else?”

  He matched her militant stance.

  “Fine. You stay here and talk. I’m going to take a shower.”

  He caught her arm as she stormed past, unprepared for the anger that flashed in her eyes as she pulled free of his grip.

  “If you think my judgment is in question, take it up with Rae.” She almost managed to fully mask the trace of hurt that lurked beneath the lethal edge in her voice.

  “Damn it, I don’t want to pull rank on you with this.”

  Quinn smiled coldly. “Then don’t.”

  “You and I both know you’re only as good as the partner watching your back.”

  “As if I could forget with the walking rule book reminding me of how to do my job.”

  “Maybe this time someone needs to remind you.”

  She started up the stairs. “That’s right. Because I sure as hell couldn’t figure out on my own if I couldn’t handle things.”

  He stalked to the bottom of the stairs, his own frustration clawing at his ribs. “Handle them? You’re too busy trying to pretend they don’t matter.”

  “Having trouble sleeping isn’t the end of the world.”

  He didn’t even need to try glimpsing her thoughts to know she didn’t really believe that.

  “I’m going to have a shower, give Woody’s another once-over now that the pervert skipped town and then we can check in with Rae. Unless you’d rather do that without me?” She strode up the stairs without waiting to hear his response.

  * * *

  She was pretending to be asleep. Braxton was almost grateful for it, finding it easier to focus on the road stretched in front of him so he wouldn’t be as tempted to try to push his way into her thoughts.What worried him wasn’t so much what he’d find, but how much easier it was getting. He doubted she even realized how much her guard was dropping lately, how easy it must have been for that mimic demon to pull a stray thought from her mind and use it against her.