Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei

by L. J. Hayward

  “Gone,” she hissed.

  “What’s gone?” Matt asked.

  Silver, glittering eyes regarded them. “Demon.”

  Erin swallowed hard and she found her hand drifting of its own accord to the gun she wore in a shoulder holster. Her gaze swept between Matt and Mercy and the rest of the room, dreading the appearance of a demon and what it might do to Matt’s control.

  “Big or small?” Matt asked, his tone as tight as Erin’s stomach felt.

  “Big. Same as last night.”

  “Same type? Or the exact same demon?”

  “Exact same demon.” Mercy stood and the prowling predator mien dropped from her like a discarded cloak. She shrugged casually. “Maybe.”

  Matt growled deep in his throat. “What do you mean, maybe?”

  “The scent is old,” Mercy snapped, her fangs flashing momentarily. “Stale. It’s probably the same one, but maybe not.”

  Relieved that the demon wasn’t nearby, Erin touched Matt’s arm before he could snarl back at Mercy. “Settle down.”

  Walking away, Matt rolled his shoulders and visibly relaxed.

  “Are you done now?” Erin asked them both.

  “Yeah,” Matt said. “I think we’ve got all we can from this place.”

  “What else did you discover?” Courey asked as they left the lab.

  “Do you really want to know?” Erin asked before Matt could.

  Courey chewed over that for a moment. “I assume that means it’s nothing I can take to my captain.”

  “That’s the gist of it,” Matt muttered.

  The security guard walked them out to the gate and locked it behind them. Matt and Mercy went to their bike and set about putting on helmets. Courey touched Erin’s arm and drew her toward his car.

  “Are you sure about this guy?” he asked gruffly.

  “You know I was investigating Hawkins earlier in the year. I know all about him.”

  “Fine. But do you know him?”

  Erin looked past Courey, into the dark night. “I trust him to save my life.”

  “I trust a lifesaver to keep me from drowning but I wouldn’t trust him with my beer. The girl?”

  “Psychic as well.”

  He sighed. “I’ll trust you for now, McRea. You’re a stubborn bitch and I think he’d have a tough time if he tried anything on you.”

  “You bet. Thanks for tonight, Courey. Ivan and Brad really appreciate it.”

  Courey nodded and got into his car. Erin went to her own car. Matt and Mercy were on the bike, waiting for her.

  “Is Chris staying with Ivan and Brad?” Matt asked.

  “No. He’s at home with Rufus.”

  “I really think we should get them somewhere else. A hotel, under a fake name if possible. Not Ivan’s. The demon knows his place.”

  “If it’s even the same demon. Can you be sure the two attacks are related?”

  Matt quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you saying I’m not universally loved?”

  She shrugged, as if it could go either way.

  “There is a possibility, I guess,” he admitted. “But still, I think it’s safe to assume it’s all connected. Merce’s uncertainty about the similarities might be because of time or the fact the demon looked different. And having two demons in town at the same time for unrelated issues is even a bit far for my credulity to stretch.”

  “Which means the attack last night was directed at you taking the Davis case and not something personal.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said, and he didn’t sound too happy about it. “Guess this is my sort of case, after all.”

  A sinking feeling crept into Erin’s bones. Matt had been right. His world was her world. Demons had crawled into her life without his help. As Jacob had said, as scary as Matt and Mercy could be, at least they were there to stand between the baddies and the ignorant masses.

  Not that Erin was willing to rely on him for everything. She thought about the bottle of Holy water and crucifix in her car, both staples since her encounter with armies of vampires, and felt a bit safer.

  “Now we’ve just got to work out what Geraldine Davis did to make a demon kill her,” Matt said.

  Erin didn’t miss the ‘we’. “Did your demonologist shed any light on the subject? How to deal with these things? Where they come from?” Did God really exist?

  “Apparently demonology isn’t a straightforward matter. At least it’s not for demonologists who don’t believe in their chosen field.”

  Erin’s jaw dropped. “A demonologist who doesn’t believe in demons?”

  “It’s a purely academic pursuit for her. She’s more into the psychological and philosophical reason behind man’s need to create an evil creature to blame his mistakes on.”

  “Then she’s a psychologist not a demonologist.”

  “Not really. She could probably talk for hours about demons.” He winced. “Just not the sort of demons that are real.”

  Shaking her head, Erin muttered, “You need to find a new specialist. And soon. If many more of these things pop up, we’re going to be in serious trouble.”

  “We aren’t already?” He flashed that cheeky grin. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up in terms of a real demon resource. Get Chris and Rufus somewhere safe. Call you tomorrow.”

  She gave him an I’ll-believe-that-when-it-happens look and got into her car.

  Courey had yet to leave, so Erin gave him a pointed wave as she drove past. Matt kicked the bike into gear and took off in a spray of gravel. Only then did Courey start his car and pull out behind them. Erin headed back toward Greenslopes and home, while Matt and Mercy turned off to head north. Courey followed them. She doubted the detective actually had to go that way, but repressed a surge of indignation. She’d survived well enough before Courey had come along. Didn’t he understand that she would continue to do so?

  It was like Matt thinking he had a right to question her ability to deal with the events around Veilchen. So, she’d had a moment where she’d given into the thinking about the worst, thinking about how hard it was to struggle on. So what? Everyone had those thoughts every now and then. She’d got over it, didn’t need him—

  Something big hit the right side of the car. The airbag exploded into Erin’s chest and deflated in a second. The car slewed across two lanes of traffic and hit the railing, engine stalling as the car rocked back onto all four tyres.

  Mind reeling, eyes unfocused, ears roaring with pounding blood, Erin reached for the bottle in the cup holder. The car shuddered and intense blue light flared through the window. Shaking hands stilling on the water bottle, Erin squinted into the glare. A tall shadow stalked across the road toward her. It was bulky and misshapen, but as it reached the car, wings unfurled to either side, revealing the golden skinned demon from the night before. It regarded Erin through the crazily cracked glass, wings big enough to block out the entire world.

  There was absolutely nothing human in those eerily glowing eyes Erin could relate to. She’d looked into the eyes of rapists, killers and petty criminals and had always seen something she could understand, be it an abusive childhood, desperation so deep it didn’t allow for anything else, or even a cool, calculating understanding of how things could be manipulated and used. All of it she had been able to recognise as something all humans felt at one time or another, as emotions that could be fought against or given into. The demon’s eyes, however, were completely alien. Erin could find nothing in them she could understand, nothing to tell her just what this creature was thinking.

  As if it could hear her frantic, scared thoughts, the demon slowly and deliberately lifted a hand and curled it into a fist.

  It punched through the window.

  Erin blocked the blow with the hand holding the water bottle. At least, she tried to. The big, golden fist cracked against her arm and bones broke like chopsticks. The bottle flew out of Erin’s hand and bounced off the demon’s arm. Reflex saw the demon smack it aside so hard the plastic burst against the ste
ering wheel. Water sprayed free and where it landed on the demon’s skin, smoke bloomed.

  Screeching, the demon pulled away from the window. Blinded by pain, Erin tried to get her gun out of the holster. It was under her left arm and it was her right that was broken to the extent of white bone poking through the torn flesh. Before she could get even an awkward grip on the Glock, the demon charged back in.

  It hit and the car lurched, slamming back into the cement barrier on the side of the road. The driver’s door crumpled in against Erin, smashing into her already tortured arm. Then the car was lifted up, levered against the barrier. As it tilted toward the left, Erin looked down and realised the demon had attacked her while she was on an overpass. Below her was another road.

  The demon gave a last shove and down Erin went.

  Chapter 15

  Amaya’s summoner had been very clear.

  “Kill the Night Caller then return to your circle.”

  The barrier had dropped. She’d resisted the impulse for as long as she could. A whole three seconds later she’d been winging her way to where the summoner had told her she could find this Matt Hawkins.

  A pity the summoner hadn’t thought to warn her about the vampire.

  As a whole, vampires were little trouble. Most of those roaming the night were comparatively young and weak. A minor nuisance at most. This creature though, it was different. Its sense had been of a young one, but its strength and cognition had more in common with a vampire of a century or more. Odd. And never had Amaya heard of a vampire being sired by a human. Impossible, but that was how Hawkins and the vampire had felt to her. Creator and creation.

  Confused and hurting, she’d withdrawn from the field while they recuperated. Condensing her presence into a tight, easily concealed point, she’d watched from the roof of a building as the vampire and woman had dragged the insensible Hawkins away. None of them had sensed her. The vampire had even assured the others the demon was gone.

  Following them would have been difficult. Both legs broken, wings damaged from the blow that put her into the wall. Such a powerful telekinetic. Again, a heads up would have been appreciated. Perhaps her summoner knew little more than Hawkins’ game name.

  Which would mean that despite his assurances he was an experienced demon summoner, he didn’t really know as much as he thought he did.

  Amaya had let them go. She had their sense now. With a little bit of effort, tracking them would be easy enough. And after her first encounter with the Night Caller, things had changed.

  He wasn’t what she’d expected. The vampire was definitely unusual, as was the strength of his psychic talent. He had the potential to do what no one else could.

  He could send her home. Back to those who were upset with her, those who would want to punish her for fleeing.

  And that was something she didn’t want at all.

  ‘Kill the Night Caller,’ was the summoner’s command and it was one she might actually appreciate doing now she knew he was a threat to her personally.

  She perched on the scratched and chipped cement barrier. Below her, the white car had managed to land right side up. Though from here it looked more like a squashed beetle than a car. The wheels were splayed out to either side, three of the doors had popped open under the impact. The driver’s door was caved in and it would take the jaws of life to pry it open.

  That first encounter had shown her several things. That Hawkins could hurt her, and that killing him wouldn’t be easy, especially if he had the females with him. Watching the human woman go off alone had been a temptation Amaya had given in to happily. Divide and conquer.

  Amaya looked at her wounded arm. The skin was scorched black where the water had landed, the pain a dull ache she found all too easy to ignore. Pain was a constant for most demons. You either went mad or learned to desire it—or went mad because you learned to desire it too much.

  There was pain in the car below her too. The woman was still alive. Her heart was beating frantically fast, her breathing ragged and panicked. She was hurt and confused and scared.

  The Command rejoiced and Amaya grinned. It was what the bitch deserved for shooting her. Bullet wounds took much more effort to heal than did broken bones or even burns. Working on the tissues of her body was easier than something foreign embedded deep inside them.

  All that remained was to drop down there and finish her off. She wouldn’t be able to fight back now.

  Amaya spread her wings, her weight shifting forward, ready to plunge down and kill the woman.

  No!

  She caught herself before she could fall.

  Go! screamed the Command. Finish the woman off. Get that one step closer to killing Matt Hawkins.

  Yes. Kill Hawkins, destroy the threat to her summoner’s plans and get rid of the person who could ruin her life by exorcising her back to the demon realm.

  But something held her back. Something fought the pressure of the Command.

  Guilt. It flooded through all the parts of Amaya the Command couldn’t touch. There wasn’t much left un-contaminated by the Command, but it was the part that reminded her about free will, about how she’d riled at Nick for keeping her a prisoner and that despite the pain she’d inflicted, this woman wasn’t any sort of threat to Amaya.

  The guilt twisted inside her, sickening and unsettling. It was a human emotion, one she should never suffer. At least not if she was still a true demon, and maybe she wasn’t anymore. Perhaps she never had been.

  Yet she could be summoned, bound and commanded like any other demon. She could be made to murder someone for a crime no worse than not listening to a warning. She could be made to kill a man because he might uncover something better left under a rock.

  Her summoner had commanded her to kill Hawkins only. To do that, she needed to separate him from his most powerful allies. It didn’t necessarily mean they also had to die. At least the human didn’t.

  And she wasn’t dead—yet.

  Light fanned over the rise in the road the BMW had landed on. It arced up and grew until its source crested. The truck wasn’t large, a medium sized removalist van, but it was coming very fast. The smashed car sat at the bottom of the decline, invisible until the truck began its downward hurtle, a trip that would take very little time.

  There was no hesitation this time. Amaya dropped from the overpass. Her wings flared and caught the air. She aimed for the BMW, to lift it out of the way.

  Red bodies streaked up from the trees alongside the road. They swarmed in on Amaya, piled into her like tiny bulldozers. They drove her upwards, away from rescuing the woman. The imps clung to her hair, her arms and legs. They burrowed their tiny clawed hands and feet into her wings and immobilised them. Amaya screamed at them, tried to dislodge them, but they clung on and, fleshy wings buzzing like a hundred buzz-saws, they pulled her over the edge of the overpass.

  The squeal of tyres braking too hard, followed by the crash of the truck hitting the BMW, tore through Amaya. She shrieked and grabbed at the lesser demons. For each one she pried free, another would take its place. They bit and scratched and their poison crept into her body.

  Individually, imps were nothing. They were ineffectual pests, something to be stood on if seen. But in swarms, they were the equal of any of the greater demons.

  Strength fading, Amaya cursed herself for not realising this might happen. She knew the imps were here, infesting dark corners and hidden holes. Though they usually avoided the greater demons, if provoked, they attacked mercilessly.

  As the world dimmed, Amaya wondered what she’d done to annoy the little bastards. Then everything went away…

  Her wings hurting was the first indication she was alive. One felt crushed and cramped. The other was held out awkwardly and tiny, bright sparks of pain punctuated the dull ache. She forced her eyes open. It was dim, wherever she was. The floor beneath her was hard, cold and dry, but her body was cushioned on the bulk of one wing. Rolling to her back to take the weight off the limb, she saw
her other wing being held out by a horde of imps while others plucked feathers from it.

  Amaya hissed and they looked up, startled. She lunged for them weakly. The little pests scattered, though they were sure to keep hold of her feathers. Lesser demons believed if they possessed a part of a greater demon, it would protect them from that particular threat. It was a false belief Amaya would happily beat out of these blighters. As soon as the last of their poison was worked from her body and she had the strength to stand again.

  “Imps,” she muttered, falling to her back. “Summoned by amateurs and defeated by imps. Neither a feat to be proud of.”

  “Indeed not, my daughter.”

  The chilly, deep voice rolled over Amaya’s skin, leaving it prickled and her whole body trembling.

  Fear. An emotion demons knew all too well. They loved to inspire it, but hated to suffer it even more so. Being scared meant you’d been beaten and whatever had beaten you would not believe in mercy.

  Amaya twisted about and hauled herself into a sitting position. Her wings, heavy and uncooperative threatened to pull her over, but she managed to balance them out. Then she faced her father.

  “Asmodeus.” Her head bowed of its own accord. Even after all this time, her instinct to survive when in the presence of her lord was as strong as ever.

  “Amaymon,” he crooned. “It has been too long since I last saw your beauty. I have not been pleased these past years without you.”

  He sounded sincere. She snuck another glance at him from under her hanging hair.

  Asmodeus was glorious. Seven feet tall, broad shouldered and narrow hipped. His body was that of a swimmer, runner and warrior all blended into one, perfect sculpture of finely defined muscles, toned thighs and powerful arms. Dusky skin glistened with a silvery sheen, hair and wings so black there was no flaw in their colouring. They drank in the light around him, cloaking him in shadows even in the too bright atmosphere of their home realm. Like her, he only wore a kilt about his hips, his belted with braided strands of hair, Asmodeus’ trophy of choice from his conquests. Three strands of her own hair were amongst the thousands of others.