Shannon arched an eyebrow at him. “Risky,” she said.
“Yes, but as I said, these humans seem more capable than most. I didn't want to risk an outright lie.” Hartman tilted his head to the side. “Besides, I didn't tell them we were fleeing our own gods—I said we were slaves of these ‘older ones,’ though.”
Shannon nodded. “And how we arrived? What lie did you tell them?”
Hartman smiled, and it was a ghastly sight. “There again, I mixed truth and lie in equal measure. I told them of the Passage, but I also told them that each time they ‘kill’ one of us, each time they force one of us back into the other realm—that it weakens the barrier between our two domains. I told them that this practice of killing demons would eventually lead to their own doom, as it would allow the ‘older ones’ to make the trip once the barrier weakened enough.” He grinned, showing his fangs. “To further confuse them, I laughed as if it were all a lie.”
Shannon forced a bell-like laugh from her lips. “Superb. That should leave them confused and too scared to kill more of us.”
“Thank you, mistress,” said Hartman. “I thought it would suit.”
Shannon nodded once more and casually extended her hand to push open the door to her cell. She stepped into the central part of the basement, tossing a look at Hartman over her shoulder as she did so. “Thank you,” she said.
“Mistress! Open my cell, and together, we can break these humans to bits. We can storm the first floor and take them by surprise.”
Shannon laughed, and this time, it was her genuine laugh, not a put-on sham. She allowed the visage she had adopted to dissolve and showed Hartman her true form. “I don't think so, bucky. I think we'll keep you where you are for now,” she said with a laugh.
Hartman growled deep in his throat and thrashed against the chains which bound him.
“Come on down, boys!” called Shannon. “It worked.”
Benny led the others down the stairs, a broad grin on his face and mirth dancing in his eyes. “I knew you could do it, Shan! I knew you could fool him.”
In his cell, Hartman stole a glance at Benny before growling again and rattling his chains as he tried to break their stainless-steel grip.
“Is it as we thought?” asked Toby.
“Yes,” said Shannon. “What he told you was a mixture of lies and half-truths, but the essential points were true.”
“Who are they fleeing?”
“He said they were the gods of his kind.” Shannon turned to stare at Hartman as he struggled. “He said the thing about the Passage was true, but the part about weakening the barrier between the realms every time we killed one of them was false.”
“Traitor!” snapped Hartman.
Shannon laughed. “As you see me now, demon, is how I truly am. The demon skin you saw before was the disguise.”
“Impossible!” screamed Hartman. “Humans cannot present visages! And even if they could, it wouldn't fool a demon.”
Benny giggled, and Shannon laughed outright. “It's worked on three of you, now,” said Shannon. “I'm willing to bet it will work on all of you.”
“Not the more powerful amongst us,” said Hartman with a sneer.
“It worked on Chaz Welsh, and it worked on Brigitta herself,” said Shannon.
Hartman shook his head and turned his back to them. The clanking and clanging of the chains continued.
“And you, Benny? Get anything from him?” asked Mike.
“I can read him,” said Benny. “But it is difficult, and not everything is clear. The part about the gods is especially fuzzy. He’s terrified of them, though.”
“Do you think you could read a demon from a distance greater than what we have here today?”
“Like reading someone in Oneka Falls? I don't know.” Benny lifted his shoulders and let them drop, walked to Shannon’s side, and put his arm around her shoulders. He gave her a little hug and smiled. “I’ll give it a try when we’re home.”
“What do we do with him?” asked Scott from his place on the stairs.
“The same thing we do with any demon,” said Toby in a cold voice. “We drain his blood and put his body in the digester.”
Scott nodded and descended the steps. He continued walking until he stood in front of Hartman's cage. “Hartman, I have another question for you.”
Hartman didn't move, didn't turn, didn't answer.
“Tell me about the one called LaBouche.”
Toby nodded. “And tell me why your kind is developing a resistance to the M99.”
Shannon giggled. “Maybe one of us should ask him how to close the Passage? Permanently, I mean.”
“No.” Hartman stopped struggling against the chains with his back to the room. “You'll send me back, anyway, why should I help you?”
“To avoid pain,” said Scott in a grim voice. He tapped the bars of the cage with the barrel of his pistol. “To die while unconscious.”
Hartman tilted his head back and laughed. “On the one hand you're threatening to send me back to the greatest pain I will ever experience in my life, feeding the cruel gods and goddesses of our kind—from whom I have no hope of escaping again—and on the other hand you expect your puny pistol to make me give you information.” He shook his head and rustled his wings in the tight confines of his cell. “Give me something. Give me a reason to help you.” He turned and took a step toward the bars.
Scott took two steps back and raised his pistol, pointing it at Hartman's face. “Don't try anything!”
“Give me a reason,” asked Hartman. “Give me something for my help.”
Scott glanced at Toby over his shoulder, and Toby shrugged. “Like what?” asked Scott.
“Let me go! I will leave this area. I will travel far from here. I’ll go to the other side of the planet. You will never see me again.”
Toby stepped up next to Scott, leaned close to him, and whispered something in his ear. Scott nodded. “What you're asking…it's not something we’re prepared to deal on.”
“Promise not to send me back. Keep me confined…here or elsewhere, but don't send me back.”
Scott looked at Toby, who nodded. “Deal.” He holstered his pistol and looked expectantly at Hartman. “Now, tell me everything you know about LaBouche. And remember the questions about the M99 and how to close this Passage of yours.”
4
High in the boughs of an ash tree, LaBouche sat gazing down at the front of the weak demon’s house. Scott and his little band of friends were all inside, as was the demon, no doubt. He had crouched in the suspension underneath Scott’s cruiser as they had laid their trap and waited for the demon to return.
LaBouche didn’t know the demon’s name, only that he was young and weak. He had no doubt that the M99 Toby loaded into his tranquilizer darts would have incapacitated him. He’d worried about Scott catching sight of him, so he hadn’t left his hiding place underneath the car. But he had witnessed the woman and the man from the insane asylum arrive in the red BMW.
Why would they keep him alive? Why not kill him immediately as they had Red Bortha? It made little sense…unless they were after something other than removing one more demon from the equation. Information, he thought. They need information about us.
The thought chilled LaBouche down to his tiny bird feet. He hopped out from underneath the car and took wing. He flew a tight circle around the house straining what served as his ears for any sound, any indication of what was going on inside the house.
Young demons lack fortitude, strength. No doubt they will soon stumble on a way to make him talk. But what could LaBouche do? Brigitta had trapped him in the body of a magpie.
He thought he heard a commotion in the basement and landed near one of the blacked-out windows. LaBouche hopped close to the glass and leaned forward until his stupid little beak rested against it. He could almost understand the words being said inside.
5
The five of them huddled as far from Hartman’s cell as they could ge
t. They weren’t sure how good his hearing was, but as they gathered together and whispered, Hartman’s large, pointed ears articulated toward them.
“Upstairs,” said Toby, and they all climbed up into the kitchen. Toby closed the door to the basement and motioned for everyone to follow him outside. As they came through the front doors of the home, something caught Toby’s eye. He pointed and shouted as the yellow magpie took wing.
“LaBouche!” shouted Scott. He sprinted after the banana-yellow bird, following him even as LaBouche darted into the apple grove surrounding the house.
“Scott! No!” shouted Benny.
Mike sprinted after him, yanking a pistol from the waistband of his jeans.
“Was that…” began Shannon.
“Yes, that was LaBouche. We can’t let him—”
“Toby, listen!” Benny turned back toward the house. “Something is wrong!”
Toby stood in the gravel drive, halfway between the house and the edge of the grove. “Benny…”
Gunfire erupted in the orchard and something small and yellow darted above the tops of the trees. “Scott!” yelled Mike from deep in the trees.
“Toby!” hissed Benny.
Shannon stood between Toby and Benny, her gaze darting back and forth between them.
“Mike! Scott!” shouted Toby. “Something’s wrong!” Toby turned toward the house, and all hell broke loose.
7
The demon known as Bill Hartman smiled as the humans raced upstairs, trying to get out of the range of his hearing. Humans are so easy to manipulate.
As soon as he heard the front door close, he let the chains they had put so much stock in fall to the floor. The humans had thought the stainless-steel links were strong enough to hold him, and they may have been, but Hartman knew how to pick the cheap locks that held them closed with his talons.
With a snide smile, he ripped the cage door off its hinges and flung it away from him. He never expected to be caught in one of his own cells, but he also had not built them to hold a demon—only humans.
With an angry rictus settling over his features, he unfurled his wings and ascended into the kitchen without touching a single step.
8
LaBouche darted in and out of the trees, trying to keep something substantial between himself and his old partner. Scott only had a pistol, and that made it somewhat easier to avoid taking damage, but Scott was insane with hatred.
It tasted as good as a fine wine.
Even so, LaBouche couldn’t enjoy it as much as he would have liked. He cut to the left and at once dropped his right wing tip and shot around behind an apple tree. He dove toward the ground, pulling up only as rounds from Scott’s pistol threw dirt into the air beneath him.
LaBouche needed a place to hide, a place to shelter until Scott tired of looking for him, but everywhere he looked, it was the same: apple trees. He gained altitude, breaking free of the grove, accompanied by more bullets from Scott’s gun.
He knew the man was tenacious—years of partnering with him had taught LaBouche that. Scott wouldn’t let this go. As long as he can see me, he will chase me. Not for the first time since Brigitta had punished him with the form of a magpie, LaBouche wished he could generate a visage—an illusion to throw Scott off his scent.
But I can’t. Damn you, Brigitta!
He flew as fast as he could, dipping a wingtip and dropping a handful of feet, climbing fast, darting first one way, then the other, but still, Scott pursued him.
9
Hartman watched from the second-story window above the front door as the asshole who’d used the pistol on him chased a little yellow bird into the apple grove. A hateful smile settled on his features. He watched the one who had shot the tranquilizer darts at him step toward the apple grove, then stop. Scott and Toby, he thought. They will pay for what they did here today.
“Mike! Scott!” shouted Toby. “Something’s wrong!” The man turned toward the house, his gaze going to the open front door before flitting to each of the windows on the first floor. Without warning, the human’s gaze jumped to the second-floor window above the front door and locked on Hartman’s.
Time to pay the bill, Toby! thought Hartman with an evil smile. He smashed through the window and dove at Toby, talons extended, fangs bared.
10
In the grove, more shots rang out. Benny was still staring in through the open front door, and Toby’s gaze had locked on something on the second floor. A horrible crash accompanied the glass daggers and shards that fell from the sky around Shannon, catching the afternoon sun and winking it at her.
Above her, the demon shrieked, sounding every bit a pterodactyl. She threw her arms up out of instinct and looked up from behind splayed fingers. She knew he was a demon, but she couldn’t see through their facades the way Toby could, so to her, Hartman looked like something straight out of a martial arts movie made in the 1980s. He seemed to be a normal man with a medium athletic build who could levitate in midair, arms held out, toes pointed at Toby.
“Watch out, Toby!” she yelled. The glass rain continued to fall around her, the larger chunks shattering again when they hit the gravel of the driveway, flinging more sharp daggers at her legs. Toby dove toward the door of Scott’s cruiser, ignoring the glass minefield that surrounded him, and mere seconds later the demon landed where Toby had been standing, gouging furrows through the gravel and into the soil beneath. He shot a glare of pure malevolence at Shannon before he turned his attention back to Toby who jerked the handle of the cruiser’s back door again and again.
Without giving herself time to think, Shannon took two giant running steps forward and threw a kick at the demon’s midsection, but she might as well have kicked a stone pillar. Hartman cast a look of derision her way, then swatted her backhand, knocking her feet out from under her and sending her spinning into the gravel and glass.
“No!” Benny shouted. More shots rang out in the apple grove, and Mike shouted something unintelligible.
Hartman turned his back on both Benny and Shannon. He spun Toby around and swept his legs out from under him at the same time. He crouched, straddling Toby’s torso and leaned down to bare his fangs in Toby’s face. The demon lifted an arm high behind him and bared his claws.
Shannon shook her head to clear the confusion from her mind. Hartman can kill Toby with one swipe of those claws across his neck. I have to do something!
Benny glanced in her direction, smiling a little with a strange, sorrowful expression in his eyes, before charging at Hartman. He lowered his shoulder right before he slammed into the demon’s side and pinned him against the cruiser’s front door. With a roar, Hartman flung Benny aside as if he represented no threat at all. With two quick steps, he stood over Toby again, raising his hand high behind him, ready to strike.
Benny’s gone! Toby’s gone! Where have your victims gone, Hartman? Shannon sent the pulse with as much mental strength as she could muster and deep in her sinuses, a warm trickle of blood began.
Hartman flinched and looked around in confusion.
That’s right, Toby’s disappeared, you rat-faced demon. Toby is gone. Gone!
Hartman spun away from the car, twisting his head back and forth, trying to find Toby. He turned, putting his back to all three of them and took two uncertain steps toward the apple grove.
There! Don’t you see Toby running toward the road? He’s right there on the drive! Shannon imagined Toby sprinting down the rutted track that cut through the apple grove. Blood made its way into her nose and slid down toward her lips.
Hartman sprinted toward the road, growling as if he were an attack-trained dog going after an invader.
“Quick!” Shannon hissed. “I don’t know how much longer I can fool him.”
Benny crawled over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Let me help.” Both he and Shannon adopted a dreamy expression.
Toby got to his knees and fumbled the back door of the cruiser open. Lying on the back seat was his tranquili
zer rifle and backpack. He jerked them out on the ground and reloaded all three magazines as fast as he could. He moved to squat near the rear tire of the cruiser, his container of spare darts in front of him. “Bring him back, Shannon. Bring him this way.”
“I don’t know…” Shannon had gone pale and rocked back and forth on her knees as if exhausted.
“Do it. Benny, get Mike and Scott back here.” When Benny didn’t react, Toby threw a glare in his direction. “Benny!”
He inched his head around and met Toby’s gaze, but it was as if he were under the influence of a powerful hallucinogen or in the middle of a dream.
“Benny!” Toby shouted.
Benny shook himself, and his eyes cleared. “What?”
“Get Mike and Scott back here!”
Benny nodded once. “Hartman’s on his way back. It took some convincing.”
“I’ll be ready. Get Shannon inside. Give me what help you can once Hartman gets in range, but make sure Mike and Scott are on their way.”
“Will do.” Benny hugged Shannon under her arms and drew her to her feet. He led her inside the house and closed the door behind them.
Toby felt the familiar rush of fear and excitement as he heard Hartman’s footsteps crunching on the gravel. He sprang up and rested the tranquilizer rifle on the trunk of the cruiser. He aimed with care, hesitating long enough for Hartman to close the distance to inside the gun’s most effective range before firing all five darts out of the magazine.
Hartman dodged to the left and right, but despite his best efforts four of the five darts lodged between his scales. He roared with anger and frustration and leaped into the air, his wings flapping furiously.
Moving by rote, by muscle memory, Toby ejected the spent magazine and slammed a full one in its place. He brought the rifle up and fired.
With each new dart that slammed into his body, Hartman shrieked with rage. He wobbled in midair, his wings becoming uncoordinated.
Toby kept firing until the second magazine was also empty. Based on the first encounter, that was more than enough M99 to put Hartman to sleep, but Toby wanted to be sure. He loaded the third and last magazine into the tranquilizer rifle.
The Hag Page 15
