Personal Demons: A Riverton Demons Novel

by Katherine Kim

  Personal Demons

  by Katherine Kim

  Copyright Katherine U Kim

  Personal Demons © 2017 Katherine Kim. All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at katherineukim@gmail.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by rebecacovers

  Copyright © 2017 Katherine Kim

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1978176422

  ISBN 13: 978-1978176423

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “I know, Mom. I promise I’ll be careful. I don’t trust him either,” Laura rubbed her free hand over her forehead, trying to stave off the headache that was threatening to add another layer to her bad day. “I don’t know. All his email said is that he wants to meet up and talk about Owen. How that asshole even knew his name is beyond me, he was long gone by then.”

  The hand holding the phone to her ear trembled slightly at the thought. Kevin had been an asshole, but she’d been too young and too dazzled to notice it at the beginning. She looked over to the young boy playing under the tree a few feet away and smiled. At least some good had come out of the whole mess. Owen glanced up and grinned at her before returning his attention to his small truck, a smear of dust covering his cheek. Laura took a deep breath to steady herself and forced herself to pay attention to her mother’s advice.

  “You’re right Mom. I will take someone with me to the meeting, that’s a great idea. Not Owen, though, no. Could you take him for the day? Great. Great, thanks. Ok, I’ll talk to you later, love you, Mom!” Laura sighed as she dropped the phone into her purse. Her stomach had been twisting into knots since she’d gotten the email this morning. Why the hell would Kevin look her up now, after all this time? It wasn’t like he’d wasted any time leaving in the first place.

  It was a gorgeous Saturday morning. The kind of perfect spring day that made her forget the exhaustingly humid summer heat that was just around the corner and the damp cold greyness of winter, always seeming to be about to snow but never quite living up to the promise. Today, though? Today it was perfect: warm and just a little bit of a breeze to keep the air fresh, the leaves on the trees still bright green in their newness. The river flowed along cheerfully behind her sparkling in the sun like glitter in a preschool carpet, she thought to herself, grinning.

  It seemed that the whole town had the same idea and the River Trail that stretched along the loops of the river, from the old port on the other side of town all the way up to the state park entrance a few miles north, was humming with people out to enjoy the weather. There were other families out with their kids, shouting and laughing as they headed towards the large field with the fountain that was just around the next bend of the path. There were couples having a morning out together smiling at one another in that smug, lovesick way that new couples get. There were dogs and strollers and older folks getting some exercise and fresh air. Being surrounded by laughing, smiling people helped her put the whole mess into perspective. The bustling, happy scene wasn’t too crowded while still full of people, and it reaffirmed to Laura that most of humanity wasn’t scum. It was a good day to be outside with Owen, no matter that it had started with that unsettling email from her ex.

  Laura looked across the busy River Trail to her son— her son, not Kevin’s, that asshole! Owen’s sandy blonde hair was just like her own had been at his age, and his cheeky grin always made her smile. Whatever it was that bastard wanted, she’d just shut him down. That’s all there was to it. Why she’d even agreed to meet him at all was beyond her. She waited till a family walking their extremely excited golden retriever passed her on the path that separated her from where Owen played in the dirt before trying to attract his attention.

  “Come on, baby. Time to go!” she called, gathering her things together in the giant backpack she called a purse.

  “But I’m building a skyscraper!” Owen protested. She couldn’t help but smile back at his scrunched-up face.

  “Well, skyscrapers take days and days to build, sweetie, but the farmer’s market is only open till 2, so if you want your treat we’d better go. You don’t want them to sell out of honey sticks before we even get there, do you?” Owen jumped up eagerly.

  “Trucks, Owen!” Laura reminded him and he obediently flopped back to the ground to pick up his toys. There was some shouting down the path now. Something was apparently going on past the trees at the soccer field, but she couldn’t see. Something in the tone of the shouts made her nervous— they didn’t sound anything like what she was used to hearing in a park. It sounded more like there was a fight going on. She started to turn back to her son who was grabbing the last truck and getting to his feet to dash towards her when she saw the man come pelting around the trees that hid the large grassy picnic area. He was swinging his arm wildly at everyone in front of him, something glinting in his hand. An older, Asian man was chasing him with a look of determined fury on his face. Everything slowed.

  Laura dropped her bag distantly aware of her things spilling out across the ground when it hit, and bolted towards where Owen was starting to cross the path. Even as she left her seat she knew she wasn’t fast enough. The soft dirt and round pebbles of the path slicked the ground under her sneakers, refusing to give her the traction she needed to move faster. The madman with the knife was flying with momentum and not even her panic could overcome that. People were shouting, running. Someone’s dog was barking, then all the dogs in the park joined in. Her vision narrowed and she could only see two things: the path of the knife and the look of confused fear on her son’s face.

  Heavy boots drummed up the path and he swiped his knife in a wide, silver arc. With his other hand, he shoved her hard and she went spinning away in a swirling cloud of dust kicked up under their feet, barely missing the end of the bench. Just before she hit the ground, she saw him slash out at a wide-eyed Owen. Even as she rolled with the impact she was scrabbling to her feet and turning to reach the bloody, lifeless body of her son.

  What she saw instead was indeed somewhat bloody, but it was neither lifeless nor was it Owen. A man lay on the ground a few feet off the path with his athletic body wrapped protectively around the four-year-old, one arm cushioning the small head from hitting the ground and the other firmly wrapped around his legs. A bright red line stretched from the man’s shoulder to nearly his elbow and the sleeve of his t-shirt was sliced clean into two flags that fluttered and collected the dust that rolled in clouds across the scene. Laura scrabbled across the ground on her knees to the pair, helping the stranger to sit up while he was still carefully holding the stunned child. Once he was sitting up Laura realized that he had landed on a toy bulldozer, which must have du
g hard into his ribs, but he didn’t flinch at all.

  “Oh gods. Oh gods, are you okay?” Laura didn’t even bother to try stopping the tears that streamed down her face. At the sound of her voice, Owen snapped out of his shock and launched himself at his mother, kicking the stranger right in the stomach.

  “Owen. Baby!” Her arms wrapped around him and they both cried together for a moment. She sat there, rocking him and trying to breathe with her face buried in his small shoulder.

  “Are you both okay?” The man’s voice was rough— his only acknowledgement of the pain he must be feeling— but she could tell that he was at least trying to sound friendly. Laura nodded.

  “I can’t even thank you enough. I don’t know how you moved so fast, but I will be forever grateful. Where did you even come from?” Laura gave Owen one last squeeze and shifted him to her hip one-armed before scrambling over to grab her bag. She dug through it till she found the first aid kit and hurried back. He started speaking to Owen when she knelt by the heroic stranger’s arm.

  “You’re sure you’re okay, kiddo?” Owen scrambled to hide behind Laura, peeking from around her shoulder. The man just grinned. “That’s all right. After all that, I don’t blame you for being shy.”

  “I’m Laura Butler and this is Owen,” she introduced herself while she dabbed an antiseptic wipe over his arm.

  “Brian Sedge. Nice to meet you,” he said. He reached around behind him with his good arm and held the truck out to Owen. “I think this is yours? It’s pretty cool, but not the softest pillow I’ve ever come across.”

  “That’s not a pillow. It’s a truck,” Owen said without moving any further from behind the safety of his mother.

  “Oh, wow. Well that explains it then!” Brian smiled and started to use the toy bulldozer to move some pebbles around in the dirt, making truck noises. It only took a few moments before Owen shot over to the truck and started supervising the new building site himself. Laura watched, trying not to start sobbing again.

  She glanced around. People all down the path were reacting to the chase. The older man who had been doing the chasing was walking back up the path, looking thunderous at having lost his quarry, and talking on the phone. It sounded like he was calling for an ambulance. Laura realized that he didn’t even seem winded, which surprised her for a moment. The way he moved, though, told her that he was a Temple trained warrior of some sort, which explained a great deal. Sirens started wailing in the distance. Not trusting herself to be especially stable on her feet, she just kept cleaning Brian’s arm and watching Owen.

  “Thank you.” She swallowed, and wiped her sleeve over her face. A trio of EMTs jogged around the same curve of the path that the attacker had, and spread out to start checking with the groups of stunned onlookers. One of the them came over and took her place, peering at Brian’s arm. It was a long gash, but the knife had apparently been scalpel-sharp and the wound had eerily tidy edges, according to the paramedic looking at it. Soon it was cleaned up and bandaged neatly, no need for much treatment so long as he kept it clean. Brian also sported a large bandage over the left side of his face where he scraped across the gravel when he hit the ground hard, and a warning to be gentle with what was going to be a gloriously colorful truck-shaped bruise on his side. Brian just grinned and said he’d take a bruise over broken ribs any day. The EMT chuckled and told him to hang out till the police had his name and contact information, and moved on down the wake of the lunatic with the knife.

  “Hmm. Contact information,” Brian frowned slightly.

  “What’s wrong?” Laura asked.

  “Well, nothing really. I have a cell phone number, I suppose. Just no address to give them at the moment,” he shrugged.

  “Are you moving or something?” She looked at him, deciding that he was far too composed and tidy— dirt-stained, bloody slashed up t-shirt and bandages aside— to be entirely homeless. He wore jeans and there was a motorcycle jacket on the ground a few feet away where he had dropped it in his lunge to protect Owen, and she saw a delicate Temple charm on a chain peeking out from the collar of his shirt, a strangely feminine contrast to the athletic hero vibe he was giving off. Then again, she was pretty biased about the hero part right now.

  “Well, sort of. I’ve been touring around the east coast on my bike and just got into Riverton early this morning. Haven’t found a motel or anything yet. Maybe the cops can suggest one?” he said. “Sounds like I might be here a bit longer than I thought.”

  “You can stay with us. At least for tonight. It’s the least I can do,” Laura said. Gods, what was she thinking, inviting a total stranger into her home like this? Especially after her history with men. But some instinct told her that it would be fine, that she could trust him. Brian had risked his own life for a stranger’s child, after all. He looked at her, curiosity on his face.

  “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know me,” he said. His hesitance was clear in his expression. He looked suddenly nervous of her. The man had risked his life to save a stranger and he was shy of her? “What about Owen’s father, he going to be okay with it?” Laura scowled. Kevin would never have risked his life to save anyone, not even his own son. The contrast just reinforced her certainty.

  “Owen doesn’t have a father. And I am definitely sure,” she said. “Right Owen?” The boy grinned up at both of them.

  “You can help me build my skyscraper!” he said. Well that settled that then.

  Chapter 2

  Owen was tucked into his bed, already asleep, as soon as they walked into the apartment. The excitement on the River Trail that morning having been followed by a long stretch of bored waiting for the police to take statements, then more excitement at the farmer’s market just before it closed, and then some normal, every-day excitement at the playground, then dinner out because there was no way Laura could manage to scrape up the energy to put together a meal that she was willing to serve another adult after the day they’d had. Laura— and Brian too, she was surprised to notice— had essentially spent the rest of the day trying to make sure that the boy was cheerful and worn out in an attempt to erase any fear that the lunatic with the knife may have caused.

  Eventually the child slumped over slowly onto Brian’s elbow while they sat on a bench at a playground, eating ice cream they’d bought from a truck on their walk back to the apartment after dinner. Laura had been appalled when she noticed Owen’s treat drooping to land in a runny lump on Brian’s jeans, but Brian just grinned and shrugged.

  “It’s not like I could really get any messier today. And my shirt is already pretty much a total loss. Really, a highlighter orange sticky mess just completes the look,” he’d pointed out, lifting the neon colored popsicle out of Owen’s relaxed fingers.

  Laura smiled at the memory, the thirty awful seconds turned magically into a really wonderful day.

  “There’s extra blankets in that cupboard if you need any. And I am super sorry if you find any tiny plastic toys in the dark. I can’t seem to keep up with them no matter how hard I try.” Laura waved her hands around the living room, feeling nervous now that they were settling in for the night. She watched him look around and tried not to wince at the mess. It was a decent apartment: not huge, but pretty good sized for two people. The door from the communal hallway opened into a short entryway which she had lined with family photos. A few honorary aunts and uncles had made their way onto the wall as well, laughing with Owen. The living room that Brian moved into, and there were toys scattered across the whole floor. More trucks and some wooden trains under a blanket. A few stuffed animals abandoned mid-game. The old, worn-in sofa had a denim slipcover because she had no illusions about Owen’s ability to not stain everything, but it was comfortable if not fashionable. The living room was flanked by their bedrooms— the building was once more likely to hold college students than families and was designed with that in mind— and the tiny, overstuffed galley kitchen rounded out the small place.

  It wasn’t a palace, but it was
home. Even if it did feel a bit shabby now, with their heroic stranger looking around. His expression was hard to read, but seemed almost wistful. Better than judgey, I guess!

  “I’ll be careful of any loose toy cars or building blocks, thanks for the warning,” Brian said. “Listen, I really appreciate this. And for letting me wash my clothes. My bike doesn’t carry too many things for me to change into. I guess I’ll need to buy a new shirt, though.” Brian fingered the sliced flaps of the sleeve on his t-shirt where they brushed over the small bandage on his arm.

  Laura nodded, unsure of what to say. It was easy to chat about meaningless things while wrangling a young child, but now that she was alone, without Owen’s antics to discuss, she felt suddenly shy. Especially since Brian had just stepped out of the shower and smelled clean and damp. He wore pajama pants and a new t-shirt, a fresh bandage covering his arm.

  “So,” she said. “What made you decide to travel like that? I mean, it’s pretty brave to just take off and wander around.” She wrapped her arms around the pillow she still held. Brian shrugged.

  “Well, my mom died a couple of years ago. She’d been sick for a while, so it was kind of a relief, you know? But still. I just couldn’t stay there after the funeral.” He shrugged again as something dark passed over his face— grief, Laura guessed— and sat on the sofa, elbows leaning gently forward on his knees. “She was my only family, so there was no reason to stay except to kick around her empty house and mope, so I put the really important stuff in a storage locker, rented the house out, and got on my bike. I didn’t think I was going to just keep going, but I guess I just never found a place that made me think of staying for more than a few weeks.”

  “Wow,” Laura said. “Well, travel is good. Do you have a route in mind or are you just going wherever the wind blows you?” He smiled at her.