Demon 04 - Deja Demon

by Julie Kenner

  “Bastard,” David spat, even as Allie climbed to her feet and ran forward, catching both of us in her arms.

  “What the hell do the two of you think you were doing?” I asked. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?”

  “We figured out where Shelton would be,” Allie said, her voice small.

  “Did you?” I asked, my voice cutting close to sarcastic. “Come on.” I started heading toward the rental, the two of them following close behind.

  “We didn’t get here in time to save the lady,” Allie said. “But Daddy took out the demon. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “It counts for a lot,” I said. “Too bad all those bonus points get erased by the fact that you weren’t supposed to be out here in the first place.”

  I closed my mouth, grinding my teeth together. “You know what? Just get in the car.” Allie’s issue was sneaking out. David’s was much larger, at least from my perspective. Best not to combine the two.

  “But—”

  “In.”

  She hung her head and climbed inside without further argument. I doubted I’d have as easy a time of it with David.

  “I didn’t—” he began, but once again, I cut him off.

  “You know what? I don’t even want to hear it.” I shook my head, anger heating to the boiling point. “I trusted you,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “I trusted you because I always have. Because I know you. Because I know you would never—ever—put our daughter in danger. At least that’s what I thought. I guess I was wrong.” I drew in a breath and looked him in the eye. “So don’t ask me again, okay? Don’t ask me if I trust you. Because the answer has changed. From now on, the answer is no.”

  He closed his eyes, flinching as if I’d slapped him. I guess in a way I had.

  I turned and headed for the driver’s side of the car.

  “Kate, please . . .”

  But I kept on walking, not turning around. I couldn’t. Stop now and I’d either cry or kick, and neither option was a good one. Better I get some distance. For that matter, I wondered if love had been clouding my judgment all along. He is Eric Crowe, the old woman had said. And the blackness clings to him like night.

  Was that what I was seeing? The blackness of which the old woman spoke?

  I thought of Dukkar’s face, so horribly pummeled, not to mention the other little hints of temper I’d seen. And, of course, the lying. Taking risks with Allie’s life.

  Did it all add up to something dark? Something dangerous?

  Even more, I realized, this wasn’t the first time he’d encouraged Allie to keep secrets from me. I should have seen it before, but now it made sense. Her exhaustion Monday morning. Allie and Eric’s covert whispers at the carnival on Sunday. Not to mention Allie’s knowledge about the demise of my scuzzy demon attacker.

  They’d gone out patrolling that night, keeping their actions a secret from me.

  Was he damaged? And if so, was I the one who’d damaged him?

  I slid into the van and clenched the steering wheel tight with both hands. Beside me, Allie sat buckled in, her body scooted as far away from me as possible. Smart kid.

  “The demon wasn’t working for Abaddon,” she said, breaking the silence as I pulled back onto the highway.

  That caught my attention. “What are you talking about?”

  “Daddy said something when they were fighting about how when he got back to the ether he should tell Abaddon nice try, but better luck next time.”

  I stifled a smile. That was a very Eric thing to say. “And?”

  “The demon sneered, all hoity-toity-like. And then he said that he was not subservient to Abaddon. At least not until he became The One. What do you think it means?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “But it definitely sounds like Abaddon’s trying for another invincibility gig. Maybe this demon’s going to be loyal only when he has to be.”

  “Maybe,” Allie said dubiously.

  “I do know one thing for certain, though.”

  “You do?”

  “You’re grounded,” I said. “This time for real.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I figured that one out all on my own.”

  Wednesday morning, I dropped Timmy at Fran’s for a play date with Elena, but instead of heading home, my car steered itself automatically toward Laura’s.

  I shifted into park in front of her house, debating. It was early, but I knew she wouldn’t mind. Laura wasn’t simply an early riser, she was an early baker, and odds were good that my arrival would be greeted with a smile and a gigantic blueberry muffin. Frankly, I could use both.

  Decided, I got out and marched to the front door. Still locked, and although I had a key, I rang the doorbell. She’d had a date last night, after all. Probably best not to barge in.

  “Hey,” she said, pulling the door open and frowning at me. “Why didn’t you let yourself in?”

  “Date night,” I said, leaning around her to seek out signs of male life. “Wishful thinking?”

  “I don’t know about him,” she said, “but I’m wishing.” She cocked her head toward the kitchen. “Come on in. I’m making muffins.”

  My mood ratcheted up a notch toward sunny. “Blue-berry? ”

  She scrunched up her face. “Lemon poppyseed,” she said. “Sorry! If I’d known you were coming . . .”

  “It’s okay,” I said, helping myself to a cup of coffee and mourning the loss of my blueberry fix. “You’re not my personal baker.”

  “No, but—” She stopped. “Kate, what is it? What happened? This isn’t about lemon poppyseed muffins.”

  I sniffed, then realized that my cheeks were wet. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m a little overwhelmed these days.”

  She pulled off the oven mitts and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at me. “I guess you would be,” she said gently. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Yeah,” I said, realizing that was why my car had driven itself over here. “I guess I do.”

  I sat down at the table, absently eating a lemon poppyseed muffin—a testament to how upset I was—and told her about Allie’s sneaking out. “To go patrolling with David.” I pressed my lips together, as if that could hold back the ill words I wanted to spew about the man I’d loved for so many years. But I was on a roll, and though I might regret them later, I couldn’t hold back. I drew in a breath and gave voice to what I’d so far only thought about. “What if the gypsy woman was right? What if Eric’s soul really is black? He flat-out lied to me. Or, at least, he lied by omission.” And my real worry— the one that truly terrified. “What if because of him, Allie gets hurt? Or killed?”

  “Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry. But I don’t think—” She cut herself off, standing up to go busy herself with loading the dishwasher. An obvious ploy to avoid looking directly at me.

  “What?” I pressed. “You don’t think what?”

  “Well, why would Eric’s soul be mucked up? The jumping-into-David thing, right?” she asked, and because I hadn’t told her about using the Lazarus Bones, I didn’t correct her.

  “But we’ve been around him for a while now, and he seems perfectly normal,” she continued. “He’s helped you hunt demons, he’s been a gentleman more or less about the fact that you’re sleeping with another man. He even told Nadia to take a hike,” she added, referring to an extremely hot, extremely aggressive Hunter who’d had designs on Eric recently. “All he wants is you. And if that means his soul is black, then you have some problems with Stuart, too.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, even if I didn’t fully agree. Laura, after all, didn’t have all the facts. “Maybe,” I said.

  “And Allie’s almost fifteen, Kate,” Laura said gently. “Part of me thinks you’re looking for the easy excuse.”

  I tilted my head, brow furrowed in question. “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s a teenager. More than that, she’s a teenager who’s just had some major life upheaval. Couple that with raging hormones and it�
�s really not a pretty picture. Trust me. I know of what I speak.”

  I looked at her, the hint of sadness under the strong lines of her face. She wasn’t at odds with Mindy, not really. But they’d lost serious ground over the last few months. I didn’t want that to happen to me and Allie, and yet I couldn’t help but fear that the train was already pulling out of the station with Eric as engineer stoking the engine.

  I brushed away a tear. “Speaking of hormonal,” I said with a wry smile. “I . . . I guess I feel like I’ve changed everyone in my life who’s close to me. Allie. You. David.”

  “How have you changed David?”

  “Oh.” I hesitated. “Change probably isn’t the right word. I only meant that he’s no longer my husband, even though in his memory he is.”

  “Fair enough,” she said, and she nodded so earnestly that I felt guilty for the lie.

  “Laura, I—” I closed my mouth, wanting to pull the words back in.

  “What?” She peered at my face. “Kate, you’re scaring me.”

  I drew in a shuddering breath, then lifted my face to meet her eyes. “He died, Laura,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “He died at the cemetery that night. And I—I brought him back.”

  “Oh.” She dropped into the seat next to me, her hands clasping her coffee mug so tight I thought it might break. “But—how?”

  “The Lazarus Bones.”

  Her eyes widened with understanding, and as they did, I poured out the story along with my fears and frustrations. “And now I don’t know. What if I did something to him? To me? What if I really did change him? What if I damaged him?”

  “Oh, Kate, I wish you’d told me. I mean, it’s not like I could have done anything, but—”

  “I know.” I exhaled, actually feeling a little better for having told her. “I wish I’d told you, too.”

  “So you think the gypsy lady is right?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “You need to talk to someone other than me, you know. If you’re worried about David’s soul—if you’re worried about your own—you need to talk to a priest.”

  I nodded, then took a long sip of coffee, knowing she was right. There was only one way I could truly find peace. As the saying goes, confession is good for the soul.

  "I’m glad you’re back,” I said, sitting across from Father Ben in his office. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be.” I was playing with the hem of my T-shirt, taking a loose thread and wrapping it around my thumb until the end turned purple.

  “Careful, Kate. People will think you have something on your mind.”

  “Huh?”

  He nodded at my lap, where I held my tortured thumb.

  “Oh. Right.” I unraveled the thread, feeling a bit like a schoolgirl sent to the principal’s office. A ridiculous feeling, especially considering I’d come here of my own free will.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to look for—”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” I said hurriedly. “Not Forza business, I mean.” I frowned. “Well, not really.” I drew in a breath. “I need to talk about something, Father. Something personal.”

  I saw the subtle shift in his face, as Father Ben moved from the role of mentor to priest. “Would you feel more comfortable moving to a confessional?”

  I shook my head. “No. But this is eating at me, and I need . . . well, I guess I need a priest.”

  “You came to the right place,” he said with an encouraging smile.

  I drew in a breath, said a silent prayer, and confessed what I’d done. “I played God,” I concluded. “I had a tiny bit of dust from the Lazarus Bones, and I wasn’t strong enough to resist. I should have—I know that—but I didn’t.” I licked my lips, ashamed. “I couldn’t.”

  “Oh, Kate. What woman couldn’t? He was the man you loved, only recently returned to you. Your actions reflect nothing more than your nature.”

  “What’s that? Vile and untrustworthy?”

  “Hardly,” he said. “Try human.”

  I managed a halfhearted nod, fearing he was only trying to placate me. “I think I did something horrible, though. More than playing God, I mean. I think the results—” I cut myself off, hating to give voice to my fears, but knowing I had to. “I think I did something to David. Something bad.”

  His brow furrowed as he considered me. “You’re serious?”

  I nodded, tears in my eyes. “Could a demon have come in with Eric’s soul? After I used the Lazarus Bones?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that, but what has he done to make you think this?”

  I sank down in my chair, my fears seeming vague and abstract. “His temper, for one. It’s on edge. And it’s violent, too. And everything with Allie,” I added, taking a quick detour to explain everything that had happened recently. “Not only did he flat-out break a promise to me, he deliberately put her in harm’s way. He could have gotten her killed.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He’s spending a lot of time away,” I said, my voice small. “And then there’s all that stuff about the blackness within that the old lady from the carnival spouted.” I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them, wishing I’d grilled the woman more in the beginning. Now I would never have the chance.

  “That’s pretty much everything, and I know you’re going to say I’m paranoid, but Father, I really think there’s something there.”

  “I do, too,” he said, gently.

  I looked up, surprised. “You do?”

  “Guilt. Fear. A lot of emotions that make up a curtain through which you’re viewing David now.”

  I tilted my head to the side, silently looking at him.

  “I’ve met David, Kate,” Father Ben said. “Before and after you used the Lazarus Bones. He’s a good man. He comes to mass, helps out at the church.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Kate, there’s nothing you’ve told me that’s not completely understandable. David—Eric—has been through a lot. And while we all strive to be calm and rationale, we are at the same time human. And humans can only bear so much.”

  “His temper,” I said.

  Father Ben inclined his head. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think a bit of temper is unusual. In fact, it’s probably to be expected.”

  “But Allie—”

  “He’s her father, and he’s been usurped from an authoritarian role. Even more than that, he has no real idea how to parent a teenager. His only point of reference is his youth. Your youth, too. So tell me, Kate. Are the things he has done with Allie so different from his experience as a teenager?”

  “No, but—”

  “I don’t think this is a demon issue, Kate. I think it’s a marital one.”

  “Marital?”

  He lifted his hands. “Granted, not the typical marriage, but some of the underlying issues are the same. Parenting. Boundaries.” He regarded me seriously. “Perhaps I can assist not as your alimentatore, but as your priest and counselor.”

  Okay, this was really not the response I’d expected. “You’re talking marriage counseling? With David?”

  “We could even start informally today. He left only a few minutes before you arrived. If we call him, I’m sure he’d be happy to turn around and come back.”

  “He was here? Why?”

  “Research,” Father Ben said. “He’s been spending some time in the archives lately.”

  That was news to me, and despite Father’s attempts to soothe me, David’s surreptitious research and trips to Los Angeles were simply making me more nervous.

  “Should I call him back?”

  “No,” I said, standing up, and forcing myself to give due weight to Father Ben’s theory. “I’m overreacting.”

  He looked at me, as if he weren’t quite sure he believed me. I wasn’t sure I believed me, either. Part of me wanted desperately to take Father Ben’s words to heart. Another part of me feared the worst.

  “I have o
ne more idea,” he said. “May I discuss this with Father Corletti? Perhaps he can reassure you in ways that I cannot.”

  “Of course,” I said, pausing in the doorway. “I’m glad you’re here, you know. You’re a great alimentatore and a terrific priest,” I said. “Most of all, you’re a wonderful friend.”

  I could see his answering smile in his eyes. “Thank you, Kate. That means a lot.”

  “So you really don’t think my soul is in jeopardy?”

  “For using the bones to raise David?”

  I nodded, lips pressed tight together.

  “As many times as you have saved us from Satan’s work, I tend to think that God will grant you at least one free pass. Okay?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” I drew in a breath and stepped out of his office. I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but the fact that I needed God’s pass meant that I’d been right all along.

  Someone was following me.

  I’d left Father Ben’s office, then cut through the courtyard between the bishop’s hall and the cathedral. I’d been all alone. Now I heard footsteps behind me, and I whipped around, my hand in my purse, my fingers tight around the hilt of my knife.

  Behind me, Dukkar raised his hands, a huge duffel bag hanging from one shoulder, his eyes wide. “Please, I do not mean to startle you.”

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “I give you this,” he said, dropping the duffel. He unzipped it, then reached in and pulled out a mass of filthy cloth, which he proceeded to unroll in the shadow of the Virgin Mary’s statue.

  “The Sword of Caelum,” he said, his head inclined as he backed away. I looked down, then let out a little gasp of awe as I saw the beautifully forged blade and intricately jeweled hilt.

  “It’s amazing. This is really it?”

  “It is,” he said. “And it is to be wielded only by you. The Hunter whose body and soul shall nurture and give life to the generation to come. That Hunter shall wield the sword and strike down the Decimator, sending him to hell and death for all eternity. There is more,” he continued. “A mathematical component of which I do not know the details, but which our people have discerned to be this place. This town.”

  He took a step back, waving his hand to encompass the duffel and the sword. “That,” he said, “is the nature of the prophecy. That,” he said, nodding toward the sword, “is for you.”