B’s mom moves closer. “He’s not responsible for the deeds of his ancestors. Just like you aren’t accountable for that of yours.” I like that woman already. “Besides, he’d die for his child.”
I would? His angelic face flashes across my mind. Yeah, I would.
Raphael nods. “I know you can feel it, too, brother.”
Constantin shoots me a killer look. “You hurt that boy or Amanda again,” he says, breathing in my face. “And I will personally end your pathetic existence. Did I make myself clear?” Even if his fists weren’t balled, I could tell he’s not fucking around.
I study him long and hard. Anyone who’s ready to protect Manda has my gratitude. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.” Truth be told, should I hurt her again, I’ll swallow my own bullet.
“Great.” B smiles approvingly. “Now that that’s settled, can we focus on saving them?”
“Finally,” Demon-Boy murmurs.
Constantin’s unforgiving murderous gaze darts to the demon. “What’s this scum doing here?”
Demon-Boy aka G shifts his weight from one foot to the other, growing increasingly twitchy. “I…I…”
Constantin is in his face. “You were about to move your bony ass out of here?” He laughs. “Good choice.”
The demon’s shoulders tense. “I-I’ll get some soda,” he stammers.
“Damn,” I say, stunned by how quickly he’s out of the room. “He—”
“Knows what’s good for him,” Constantin says.
B throws her arm around me. “Did I ever tell you about my big brother’s special gift?”
“As in seeing the future or compelling poor mothers?”
Raphael’s lips curl into a half-smile. “More like being able to cast lower demons back to hell.”
My eyes widen. “You can send these bitches back to hell? Just like that?”
Constantin’s chest swells. “Unlike you, I truly am awesome.” He ain’t got no issue with confidence, that’s for sure. But having the ability to send demons back to the pit is pretty fucking amazing. Kinda makes him my new hero.
Mrs. Lacroix moves to the table, swinging her hips like a stripper with the grace of a ballerina. Man, hate to say it but she’s the reason the expression MILF exists. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Her voice is soft and sweet. Yet I wouldn’t want to cross her.
We gather around the table. B and I take turns filling them in on what went down before all hell broke loose.
Raphael folds his hands on the table. “Let me get this straight. You, a hunter, sold your soul to make sure Manda wouldn’t become the queen of darkness. She, in return, sold hers to save you from hell. Now she’s corrupted by the First Grimoire and helping the First Knight raise hell?”
Smooth summary. “Pretty much.”
“Whoa.” Constantin stares a hole in my head. “Rewind. You, Alexander ‘fucktard’ Remington, sold your soul for one of us? For Amanda?” He shakes his head as if he’s trying to wake from a dream. “I…you…why?”
B smacks him.
“Hey, what was that for?”
Mrs. Lacroix is the one who answers. “Because you had to ask.” She flashes me a brilliant smile. “It’s obvious how much he loves Amanda.”
It is?
Constantin’s face turns to stone. “Enough to get her into this damn mess in the first place, I assume.”
Ouch.
B is about to smack him again, but I catch her hand. “He’s right.” They all gawk at me. I don’t care. They need to hear the truth as much as I need to get it out. “Everything I did since the second I learned Manda’s secret was despicable. I treated her like shit. Over and over.” I draw a deep breath, gathering as much courage as I can. “I was a coward. But I never wanted to see her hurt.” I look at them. “You have to believe me.”
“We do,” Mrs. Lacroix assures me, taming her long curls with one hand. “We do believe you, Alex.”
Raphael and B nod.
And Constantin? He shrugs, unimpressed.
“This is worse than we thought,” Raphael murmurs.
“Yes.” Mrs. Lacroix straightens her silk blouse. “But we all sensed the shift in balance.”
Raphael sighs. “We need some assistance.”
Mrs. Lacroix grins. “It’s why I have Louisa and the others on stand-by.” She draws a deep breath. “As soon as night falls, they’ll initiate the ritual.”
“What ritual?” Jesse asks, coming out of the bathroom.
Both Lacroix brothers shoot daggers at my little brother. Hey, I don’t blame them. I’d do the same if B was my sister. “Jesse Remington?” Raphael breaks the silence.
Taken off guard, Jesse drinks in the brawny brothers. “Yeah.” Swallowing his unease, he moves closer. “And you must be”—he faces Hulk—“Constantin and”—his gaze lands on Goliath—“Raphael?” They both nod. “Nice to meet you,” he says, trying his famous Remington charm on them.
They’re immune. Most likely because they rock a penis, not a vagina. “Wish I could say the same,” Constantin grumbles.
B elbows him. Hard. “Shut up,” she hisses, blushing like a teenager. I wonder what she told her siblings about Jess. Enough to heat her face.
Constantin’s lips part, but his mother is faster. “Come sit with us,” she invites Jesse.
My little brother hesitates. Then he shakes off whatever fears he has and joins us.
“So the ritual.” I try to take the focus away from Jesse and B. This is awkward enough as it is. No need to make it worse. “You were saying?”
“Louisa and the rest of our coven will slow the First Knight down,” Constantin explains, voice sour, eyes screaming “murder.”
It’s moments like these I wish I spoke witch. “How can they slow him down?”
“If they channel enough energy, they can weaken the demon,” B explains.
Raphael cups his chin. “Yeah, but not for long. A Knight of Hell is stronger than ordinary demons. We have a five-minute window max.”
“What about Manda?” There’s gotta be something they can do to bring her old self back.
They all avert their gazes. “Amanda can’t be touched by our magic,” B’s mom finally says. “Only she can break the curse of the First Grimoire.”
“How?” I need to know.
“She has to fight the book’s influence.” B sighs. “And she can. We both know Amanda can do anything she sets her mind on. But…”
“She’ll need a little reminder of her true self,” Raphael adds. “That’s where you come into the picture. You can bring her back. If you truly love her, Alex, you’ll find a way to break through her fears.”
No pressure there. But he’s right. I got to her at the B&B. I knew it the instant her eyes turned emerald again. I can get through to her again. Only this time, there are no more secrets that can get in the way. “I’ll fix her,” I swear.
Mrs. Lacroix smiles. “We know you will.”
“Speak for yourself,” Constantin grumbles.
Ignoring his side-blow, I focus on Mrs. Lacroix. “There’s something else.”
Constantin cocks a brow. “Yeah? What’s that?”
I head to the window, searching the parking lot for Demon-Boy. He’s nowhere in sight. So I tell them what’s been keeping me up all night. “From what I’ve heard, everyone—demons and hunters alike—want Leandro gone. They think he’s an…an…”
“Abomination,” B says, realizing I can’t get the damn word out.
Chewing on my lower lip, I sigh. “Yeah, that.”
Constantin cocks a brow. “Continue.”
“I don’t trust the demons to keep him safe,” I admit.
“Understandable,” Raphael says.
“Do you know where he is?” Mrs. Lacroix inquires.
“No.” I dig my nails into my palms. “The demons do.”
Constantin is on his feet in a heartbeat. “Where is that little scum? I’m gonna beat it out of him.”
His mom seizes hold o
f his shirt, pulling his butt back down. “Not so fast.”
He casts her a surprised glance. “Why? He knows where Leandro is.”
“He also works for the Princess of Hell,” B shoots back. “Your magic won’t work on her. Besides, we need them if we want to stop the apocalypse, remember?”
Constantin isn’t the kinda guy to take no for an answer. In another life, we might have actually become friends. “Fine.” He crosses his arms above his brawny chest. “What’s the plan then?”
The door swings open. For a second, we all freeze, thinking it might be Demon-Boy. Luckily, it’s JJ and Bay. “What did we miss?” the huntress says, winking at the Lacroix brothers. One of which practically drools over her. That’d be Constantin.
Mrs. Lacroix’s smile is devilish. “Divide and conquer.”
“Come again?” Bay murmurs.
The mother of all mamba’s rises to her feet. “That’s how you beat the devil.” She untangles her curls. “Should work with demons, too.”
I was right. I do like that woman.
Chapter 37
It’s ten to seven when Constantin pulls into the overcrowded parking lot of Hellam Township’s Redrock Café. It’s a notorious biker bar, owned by some of Berith’s friends if we can believe Demon-Boy. He assured us we’d have the place to ourselves.
A bar full of hunters, demons, witches, and booze. What could possibly go wrong?
A lot, but I better not think this through. Instead, I ogle the cars. Carter’s SUV sits next to Amelia’s purple ’59 Buick LeSabre. I spot a couple of other government SUVs. The tinted windows give them away. Several other cars line the front of the bar. The brand-new Mustang belongs to Kyle Torres. He was one of the hunters at Amelia’s when the four of us—Jesse, B, Manda, and I—stayed there. “Can’t believe she called him,” I grumble.
Jesse gazes out of the window. “I don’t think Torres is our biggest problem,” he says, tilting his chin at the army green disaster—a Nissan Frontier.
“Fuck.” I have nothing against the car per se. The “Still a Virgin? I Can Help” bumper sticker on its tail, however, is as tasteless as its owner, Peter Draco. The second hunter at Amelia’s the night we stayed there. He’s a freelancer who treats women like whores, kills everything crossing his path, including witch kids—he helped Legend off the Kansas coven—and is a misogynistic bigot. We worked one case together. A wendigo hunt. The victim, a nineteen-year-old transgender student, had been attacked by one on his way home from college. Unfortunately, he’d scratched his leg on a branch during the attack. Peter spotted the wound and pulled his gun on him. If it wasn’t for Jesse and me, the kid would have swallowed Draco’s bullet. We confronted Peter. He swore the kid’s sexual orientation hadn’t influenced his decision; he’d merely thought the kid had been infected by the wendigo. None of us—not even Peter’s BFF Torres—bought his bullshit. Wanna know what’s worse? A couple of days after we saved the kid, Torres set a trap for him and killed him nevertheless.
B’s gaze darts from the car back to us. “Someone tell me why you look like Negan is waiting on us inside?”
Compared to Draco, the The Walking Dead villain is a saint. No fucking around. Draco is as rotten as freelancers get. I can’t tell her that. Not just because Constantin casts me killer looks from the driver seat. Nope. B is already worried enough. I don’t need to scare her with horror stories of the asshole Draco. So I just say, “Amelia brought backup.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing?” She most likely senses my worries.
“We’re about to find out,” Jesse replies as Constantin maneuvers his Mercedes S-Class coupe into the narrow parking slot next to Demon-Boy’s Camaro.
JJ, Bay, and the skinny demon are already waiting on us. Told you, the crazy mother drives like a lunatic.
Raphael and Mrs. Lacroix are the last ones to arrive. Like his brother, he drives a fancy German car. And not just any one either. He’s the proud owner of BMW X5M G-Power Typhoon—one of the most expensive BMWs ever built.
Guilt nags at me as I exit the Mercedes. Two voodoo priests, two mambas, and a skinny demon walk into a bar full of hunters. No, that’s not the beginning of a joke. It’s brutal reality. Our reality.
Demon-Boy grows increasingly twitchy. He scans the parking lot, probably calculating his chances of getting out of here alive. Oddly enough, I feel sorry for the poor mother. Berith and his sister are nowhere in sight. Can’t be pleasant to walk into the lion’s den without backup.
“Hey.” I nudge him. “You okay, dude?”
“Yeah,” he lies, acting all confident and shit. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I could think of a dozen reasons. A bar full of hunters hating his very existence is just one. “Are you sure the rest of your crew is coming?” They should have been here by now.
He peeks at his Mickey Mouse Swatch watch—a fashion relict of the 80s. “They’ll be here any minute.” I sure hope he’s right. For all our sakes.
Constantin enjoys Demon-Boy’s uneasiness. I can tell by the way he looks at him.
“All right, let’s do this,” I say to the odd group standing before me.
We head toward the entrance when Demon-Boy seizes hold of my jacket. “Hey.”
I glare at his hand and he immediately drops it. “Did you change your mind?” I wouldn’t blame him.
He shakes his head. “Just keep this one”—he points to Constantin—“away from me, okay?”
“He won’t send you to hell.” Yet.
“Yeah.” He plays cool. “Just don’t want the stink of voodoo-ass on me.”
I laugh. “Right.” That’s the only reason he doesn’t want to be anywhere near the dude who could send him straight back to hell.
I join the rest of the gang on the porch. “They have no idea we’re coming, do they?” Raphael whispers.
“Nope,” I answer honestly.
Constantin flashes me his brilliant teeth. “All the more fun.”
“You and I,” I say, “have a very different definition of fun.”
The real-life exorcist just shrugs and moves on.
Considering the place is crawling with hunters, B’s family is pretty chill. Jesse and Demon-Boy not so much. They’re both worried. The demon for himself. Jesse for B.
Constantin halts in front of the door, shooting Bay and JJ a look. When they nod, signaling they know their parts, he pushes the double doors open.
We cross the threshold and every movement inside the bar stops. It’s so damn silent you’d hear a needle drop.
Hello, awkward!
“Interesting,” Constantin says, ogling the crowd.
Yeah, not the word I would have used to describe the bizarre scene. Scattered around the tables are Carter’s men. Like every good PAU member, they wear cheap, black suits, white shirts, and black ties. Coffee mugs sit in front of them.
Lined up at the bar is the freelance faction, easily distinguishable by their flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and all around messy looks they rock. Instead of coffee, they downed a couple of beers. It’s crazy. They’re all hunters yet they couldn’t be more different.
Scanning the murderous faces, I search for familiar ones. Amelia is at the bar. Hand on her gun, she studies B’s brothers like a damn hawk.
A chair screeches over the floor. Seconds later, Carter moves toward us. His gaze barely graces mine before he averts it. Something’s up. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, once he’s right across from me.
My stomach twists and turns.
Jesse cocks a brow. “What’s up?”
Carter looks over his shoulder, tilting his chin to the back of the bar. “I had to tell them,” he whispers. “I just had to.”
By the time, I realize who they are I want to slam my fist in his face. How could he do this to us? How could he call the one person I begged him not to?
“Alex.” B tries to loosen my grip on the collar of Carter’s shirt. I didn’t even realize I grabbed him. “Don’t make this worse than it already is,” sh
e pleads.
I’m convinced worse is not an option. Legend, the leader of the Malleus Maleficarum Order is here. Carter, my friend, the guy who knows exactly what this douche and his men are capable of, invited him to the show. There’s no way he’ll let Manda walk out of this alive. And Leandro? He’ll slaughter him like he did the kids of the Kansas coven. So yeah. It can’t possibly get worse. Except maybe when I spot Carter’s men—my colleagues—on their feet, reaching for their guns. I worked with some of those guys, would have died for them. Now, they’re ready to take me down without fair warning? So much for the hunter code.
Jesse is behind me. His uneven breath beats against the nape of my neck. “Just relax,” he whispers. “We’re on a clock, dude. Let’s not waste our time on”—he casts Carter a dark glance—“him.”
Carter looks up. “Alex, this isn’t just about you or Amanda,” he argues, sounding all PAU boss. “This is about the survival of humanity. We need all the help we can get.”
“Wanna know what I needed?” I inch closer. “For you to be my friend,” I say quietly, before bringing some space between us.
Carter exhales sharply. “I am your friend.”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “With friends like you who the fuck needs enemies, right?”
“That’s enough, Remington.” Legend approaches me. Behind him, treading on his heels is Hillbilly Mountain Man. The dude’s beard resembles the wilderness, growing in all directions aimlessly. His yellow rotten teeth probably never saw a damn toothbrush. “Daryl and I are here to help,” the Malleus leader dick assures me. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
Constantin raises his brows to his hairline. “Help, huh?”
“Yes.” Legend looks me right in the eye. “The way I see it”—he scans the crowd—“you could use a hand or two.”
“To murder innocent children?” Raphael asks, drawing to his full, scary height. “Like the ones in Kansas?”
Legend rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, showing off his tatts. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but there won’t be any innocent children left if we don’t stop Amanda Bishop and the First Knight.”
“None of this is Amanda’s fault.” God, I have no clue why I just said that. It’s not like I hoped he’d believe me. “That damn book has her under a spell or something.”
Fate Page 26
