“Tie him up and question him. Or hold him at gunpoint,” I said.
She patted her jeans. “Damn, I seem to be all out of guns and handcuffs.”
I pulled a handful of cable ties from my purse. John had shown them to me a few years back and the nylon strips had proven useful for a lot of things. I held them out to her and she smirked.
“I like the way you think,” she said.
She snagged them from my hand and turned back to the cowering man. The biker struggled to stand as she moved her boot. She kicked him in the face. His head slammed against the tree and fell forward. He winced with a groan. She made quick work of him, putting him in a sitting position with his arms tied between his legs. He blinked up at her, the side of his face already puffing up.
“You can scream and yell, but with the carnival, no one will hear you,” she told him.
He glared up at her. “Fuck off, you crazy bitch.”
“You have no idea. Now, answer my question.”
“What question?”
She bent down and grabbed one of his fingers. She jerked it back. The snap echoed through the woods, followed by his cry of pain. Adrian sighed and walked away.
“I will check to see if he has any friends nearby,” he said.
“Where is your boss?” she repeated.
“Around. Fuck, I don’t know.”
This would take forever. Time for me to step in. “Why were you at the fair?”
“Do you crazy bitches tie people up often? You can’t get a real fuck?”
Crack. Scream. Crack. Scream.
“Answer the damn question,” Marge said.
“Looking for Ose,” he said.
He leaned against the tree and panted. The color drained from his face. I swallowed and turned my head away. It was only a few broken fingers. He’d be fine with a bit of tape if things ended here. We still had more questions to ask. I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to kill the bitter taste that had risen.
“Why are you looking for him?” I asked.
His mouth clamped close, and he stared at the ground.
Marge raised her foot up and brought it down on his ankle. The boy managed to choke back his yell this time. I turned my head and shifted from one foot to another. The boy had willingly sided with demons. He served them for power and deserved no sympathy from me. He would get none from the demons when he filled his purpose. They would do much worse.
“Ow, ow, Okay,” Pock-face said. “He stole something from us. Some sort of dog, I think.”
I raised a brow. So the hellhound actually belonged to one of the Thrones. How Ose managed to tempt it away was beyond me.
So, where are you meeting up?” she asked.
Pock-face’s brows knitted together and his eyes narrowed as he stared at a tree behind us. He feared the demon in Tattoo more than our capacity to cause pain. Marge chuckled a dark, gravelly kind of laugh. The fact he didn’t talk seemed to please her. I crossed my arms and rubbed my biceps. Marge took out a switchblade knife and flipped it open with a look of anticipation on her face.
“Tell me,” she said.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was as if the blade was traveling across my flesh like others did centuries ago. The boy’s screams intermingled with my own. I hadn’t resisted the clergy when they’d taken me from my home after my family’s death. They’d dumped me in a cell with nothing but a blanket. For days I’d lain there in a daze, wishing for death.
The inquisitor came not long after with his questions and devices. He restrained me in a special chair. It reeked of old blood and other body fluids from previous occupants. He hadn’t liked my response when he asked who I served. Every time I responded with the name of God, the restraints tightened and the blades on the armrests dug deeper. That had just been the beginning. I could still feel the cuts in my arms, the tightening on my wrists, and the burning of my flesh.
“Stop,” I said.
I stumbled forward and pushed Marge away from her victim. She glared and shoved back.
“What the hell?” she said.
“This is not working.” I straightened and put as much calm into my voice as I could muster.
“It’s working great. He’ll keep talking.”
“We can find out what he knows in different ways,” I said.
“And what do you suggest?” Adrian asked from behind me.
I spun around and bit my lip. When had he returned? Hell, he didn’t know about Esais’s abilities yet. Both he and Marge stared at me, waiting for my answer.
“What we were doing before was working,” I said.
“Seems like a waste of time,” Marge said. “Besides, this is fun.”
“Why bother with a human lackey when we can question a demon?” I kept my gaze on Adrian. Surely, he would see the best option.
“This seer isn’t the demon I want.” Marge’s skin around her eyes tightened.
“He’s not your demon either. Just a human.” I raised my voice to meet hers, moving until we were inches apart.
“He’s sided with him. Just as bad.”
“He still has a chance to change that.”
Pock-face groaned and stared up at me with one good eye. Blood ran over the other from a cut on his forehead.
“I’ll take the demons over you any day,” he said.
I sighed. He’d made his choice. Marge moved forward and slammed her knee into his face. His nose crunched beneath the force, and he slumped, unconscious. She kicked him in the gut several more times.
“At least give him a swift death.” I moved forward and pulled out my knife.
“He could be useful. If he’s still alive.” Adrian pushed both of us aside. He knelt beside Pock-face and put three fingers on his throat. He stood and dusted himself off. “Let’s head back. I don’t want to be caught at the scene of an assault.”
“We’re just going to let him go?” Marge asked.
“For now. Besides, we have to get our fortunes read.”
“How is he going to be useful?”
“Wait and see,” he said.
Marge threw her hands in the air. She muttered and cursed the entire way back. I’d spoiled her fun, but it had turned my stomach. I was no stranger to anger, and I enjoyed seeing a demon die, but hers ran deeper and darker than mine. I’d have to make sure it wasn’t turned on me or the brothers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The carnival crowd paid no attention to us as we slipped back in through the fence. The metal of the roller coaster we stood behind rattled as the car sped its screaming passengers along the tracks.
“So, where is this fortune-teller?” Marge asked.
I nodded in the direction where the crowd thickened to a sea of bodies. Families stood in the food lines, staring up at the menus with almost glazed expressions. This would be a nightmare to get through.
“Through the food court,” I said.
“Let’s get on with it. Maybe one demon will die today,” Marge said.
“I doubt that,” Adrian said.
I sighed and pushed forward into the crowd. I didn’t want to hear more of Marge’s bitching or Adrian’s criticism. Neither of them had the experience to contend with a demon like Malantha on their own. He spent his time in prison instead of hunting. Marge’s tactic was to rush in and beat whatever opposition lay in front of her. Malantha liked games, and both could fall easily into her traps. I’d fallen for a few over the years.
“Wait up,” Marge called as I pushed farther in.
I glanced back at her. A small girl ran full tilt into her legs and stumbled back. She blinked up at Marge and gave her an angelic smile.
“Sorry,” the girl said.
“Watch where you’re going, kid,” Marge said, the scowl on her face softening.
A balding man hustled to them from one of the food lines. His beefy hand reached out and yanked the girl away from Marge. His jowls wiggled as he spun the girl to face him. The man’s face glowed red and his
eyes protruded from his face.
“I told you not to run off.” He punctuated each word with a shake.
“Sorry, Daddy.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears.
“Get off of her,” Marge shoved him in the shoulder.
“Mind your own damn business,” the man snarled.
“I’ll mind what the fuck I want to. Don’t treat your daughter like that.”
The man loomed over Marge, his face turning a deeper red, almost purple. She didn’t seem impressed with his size. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up, waiting for him to make a move. I looked to Adrian and raised an eyebrow. He waved his hand at me as if to say “all yours.” Great. Once again I would have to get between Marge and a fight.
“Why don’t you take your nosy ass on,” the man said. “What I do with my family is my right.”
“The hell it is. Maybe you should feel what it’s like to be hit.”
Marge stepped back, going into her stance. Her eyes were narrowed, the smile I’d seen earlier coming to her face. The man raised his hand in a fist. I moved up next to her. Behind the man, Nancy was approaching fast.
“Is there a problem here?” she asked.
The man turned to her, dropping his fist. His shoulders hunched, and he dug his hands into his pockets. The redness drained from his face.
“No problem, Officer,” he said.
“It looks like a problem. It looks like the two of you are disturbing these people who are trying to enjoy the carnival.”
He pointed a finger at Marge. “It’s her—”
“Lloyd, am I going to have to call Deb to pick up your daughter so I can take you to the station?”
The man grabbed his daughter’s hand and dragged her behind him towards the Ferris wheel. Marge took a step in that direction, but I grabbed her arm and shook my head. I met her glare with one of my own. Didn’t she understand we had bigger problems to worry about? She was spoiling for a fight. Charlotte came up to Nancy with Tres and Esais trailing behind her. Her lips pursed together, and her eyes narrowed.
“I thought we agreed no policing on your day off,” she said.
Nancy waved her hand at Marge and me. “I wouldn’t, but they were disturbing the peace.”
“That ass was hurting his daughter,” Marge said. “And you just let him go.”
Nancy rubbed the back of her neck. “Unfortunately, his wife won’t press charges, so there’s not much I can do. And that doesn’t excuse you from trying to start a fight.”
“Anyone here saw what he did to her. Whatever, this town is just fucked.”
She stalked off in the opposite direction of the man towards the exit of the carnival. She’d probably double back after the biker.
“Your friend’s got a real problem,” Nancy said.
“She’s not the only one,” I said. “You didn’t even bother to question that man.”
“I know him. I don’t know you.”
“And you know there are rumors,” Charlotte said. “He used to be the nicest guy, except for the last month.”
“Perhaps you should look into it Officer,” Esais said. “If the rumors are true, you will have prevented that girl from being hurt further.”
“How about you strangers stop talking about things you know nothing about,” Nancy said.
“My, you seem to be a bigger attraction than anything I have to offer here. Perhaps I should hire you,” a woman’s voice rang from behind us.
The owner of the voice stood with her arms crossed. Her hair flowed down her back in waves with golden rings braided into it. Multi-colored scarves made up her skirt, and she wore an off-the-shoulder blouse. Malantha looked every bit the part of a fake gypsy fortune-teller.
Her demon form was altogether different. Black smoke swirled inside a crystal ball. In the center, a pair of eyes with crimson irises gazed out at me. My chest tightened as they stared into my soul.
My hand twitched, but I kept it at my side. I’d left my sundang back at the house anyway. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled at me before moving her gaze over the others. She paused on each of the brothers and flashed me a look with a raised eyebrow. Esais stiffened beside me.
“And you are?” I asked.
“Briana is in charge of the carnival,” Nancy said.
“Interesting place you have here,” I said.
Esais took a step forward to introduce himself.
“Don’t touch her,” I thought to him.
He stepped back, moving in front of Tres. “This is her?”
She looked at Esais’s protective position. “What lovely men. Are they yours?”
“Yes,” I said.
Adrian snorted behind me. Charlotte looked at Tres in confusion. He took her hand.
“Oh, but you two are together?” Malantha asked Tres and Charlotte.
“Do you ask personal questions of all your customers?” I asked.
“I am a fortune-teller. You have an interesting accent. European?”
I nodded. She knew that already. This was just another game for her.
“Where are you from?”
“I have traveled all over.”
“Have you visited Prague?”
My last stop before coming to America. I’d been searching for another hunter she’d targeted last year. I remember slipping through the broken window of the safe house. The stench of blood and decay had wafted through from the back rooms. The body of another hunter, slashed to ribbons, had been rotting in the house for days. I’d been too late again.
“It stinks there,” I said.
“I hear it’s lovely in the spring,” Malantha said.
“Plenty of danger.”
Her smile widened. “There is danger everywhere.”
Tres cleared his throat. “A fact we all know very well.”
Malantha chuckled and pulled out a deck of cards from the sash at her waist. She shuffled them with two hands as she peered at each one of us. A wave of dizziness shot through me. The yellow sickness drifted off the cards.
“I hope you enjoy yourselves. And if you ever want to run away, just let me know.” She held a card out to Charlotte. “A small fortune for you. Perhaps it’s a bit of romance.”
I reached up to knock Charlotte’s hand away, but Nancy moved faster. She snatched the card from Malantha and stared at it. It shook in her grip before she dropped it with a gasp. It fluttered to the ground landing face up. The Devil. She shook her head and walked off.
“Where are you going?” Charlotte called after her.
“Well, I suppose she didn’t like what she saw,” Malantha said to Charlotte. “I look forward to our future meeting.”
“I’m sure it will be more entertaining than this one,” I said.
She winked at me and spun on her heel, slipping through the crowd with ease. I gritted my teeth. Was I so little a threat to her she could turn her back on me?
Charlotte looked to Tres, biting her lip. “I should go after Nancy.”
“I can come with you,” he said.
“No, I need to handle this.” She kissed him on the cheek and left.
“I believe we are finished here,” Adrian said. “Unless you would like to chase her down now.”
“Too many people,” I said. “Besides, we lost the element of surprise. She knows who you are now.”
I glanced back to the ground and blinked with a chill running down my spine. Feet kicked up old wrappers and plastic cups, but the card had disappeared.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I perched on the limb of a tree and gazed over the brick wall at an asylum. The building looked like an estate built around the turn of the century. Barred windows lined the three stories. Search-lights rested on top of the roof, their beams trailing across the large yard. An iron gate blocked the gravel driveway up the hill to the parking lot. A sign reading “Hampton Mental Institution” stood in front of the gate. The yellow smoke swirled around the old building. I’d found my second tornado, though I hadn’t been t
he one to find it.
“How do you know he’s here?” Marge asked.
“I attached nanomachines to him in order to track him,” Adrian said.
“You attached what?” I asked.
“They’re machines measured in nanometers, built from molecular components. Most of the research is still in its infancy compared to what I have been able to accomplish. I have set up an interface between them and my brain.”
His explanation swirled around in my head and I tried to make sense of it. He spoke English, yet the words were foreign to me. I chewed the inside of my cheek. Marge looked as lost as I was.
“So, nanomachines are?” I asked.
He sighed. “Tiny robots.”
“I didn’t see any robots,” Marge said.
“They are microscopic.”
“So, invisible tiny robots you control with your mind?”
“In very simple terms, yes,” Adrian said.
“So, what else can these magic machines do?” I asked.
“Not magic, science.” A vein throbbed on Adrian’s temple.
It sounded like magic to me, but most science did so I would take his word for it. These tiny robots led us to the biker, so they were useful. That’s all we needed at the moment. A light flared in one of the corner widows on the first floor, one with no bars. It flickered out and a shadowy figure climbed out. It stuck close to the building until it arrived at the corner, then darted across the yard, ducking to avoid the lights when they passed.
“Unless someone lost their keys, I’d say the boy is on the move,” I said.
“Round two should be fun,” Marge said. “You’re not going to get in the way this time, are you?”
“Wait until he gets closer to the edge.”
The figure climbed the wall at the corner closest to the wood line of the forest that encroached on the northwest side of the asylum. A howl split the night. I waved to the corner not forty feet away from us. The biker spun in a circle, his head turning back and forth. The hellhound leapt from the trees and dashed towards him. Even hunched, its wolf-man form stood over eight feet of muscle and fur. Its snout peeled back into a snarl. The boy broke into a full run, but the hellhound caught him in moments.
Merda. I had my sundang, but I still didn’t have anything to deal with the werewolf part of the problem. It would heal most of the wounds before I could kill it. John had yet to come through with what I needed. We’d have to wing it.
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