by Mila Young
And it killed him that he’d opened up to Cyra because he didn’t do pity now or ever. Problem was they were stuck together, all four of them, until they thought of a way out of the house. She’d broken through his defenses and refused to leave his mind. He figured if he told her, she’d back away. But seeing the disbelief twisting her gorgeous face had killed him.
The floorboards creaked behind him and he twisted around to find Cyra standing in the doorway, holding a bottle of whiskey by the neck in one hand and four stacked glasses in the other. Silence hung between them, and her red-rimmed eyes were another knife to the heart.
“Wanna join us in the living room? We have to come up with an action plan.” Her words were soft and calm, the opposite of how he felt.
He met her gaze, barren of judgement or feeling sorry for him. And he appreciated that more than anything. With a nod, he trailed after her, but in the hallway, he grabbed her arm.
“Listen, Cyra, about—”
“I know you had to do it. You had no other choice, and that’s a fucked-up burden you’ve had to carry alone. We all have skeletons in our past, but you can’t hold on to that shit forever.” She paused for a long moment, and he was lost for words. Yeah, everything she’d said was spot-on, and he’d accepted long ago that he would live with what had happened on his conscience until his last breath, but it didn’t change the fact that getting close to anyone put them in danger. That was why he had to keep his distance from Cyra. Something he should have done from the get-go.
“After my parents died,” she continued, “I tried to burn down our house with Chase and me both in it. Sure, I was only five years old, but in my mind, if we died, it meant we could be with our parents again.” Her eyes widened. “Crap, don’t tell Chase I told you that. He made me swear.” She lowered her shoulders. “Yep, a killer in the making here.” She turned and headed into the living room.
Her admission surprised him. It shouldn’t have, but Chase had only painted her as this innocent girl who needed protection. The more Gunn got to know her, the more he admired her spunk and strength. And for her to share such a secret consoled him for the time being. And it wasn’t that “suffering loves company” bullshit, but the fact that she’d revealed something to him no one would openly admit.
He joined her and the old couple as she poured everyone a glass of whiskey and handed him one. “To us getting out of here,” she said and gulped down her drink.
Henry and Nora clinked each other’s glasses and took small sips.
Gunn didn’t need to be told twice and slugged back his drink, a malty taste dancing across his tongue and gliding down his throat. No burning. This was the expensive, top shelf stuff.
When Cyra offered him another, he accepted. With his empty glass on the table, he perched on the edge, facing Henry and Nora, who sat close to one another on the big sofa, while Cyra lounged on the single one with her legs crossed.
“Okay, let’s share everything we know about our situation,” he began—because getting down to business he could do. “We know there’s a demon in the house and—”
“And it’s somehow linked to the attic,” Cyra said. “That’s where I encountered it and it seemed strongest.”
Nora cleared her throat as she pushed forward in her seat. “Was that what dashed across the hall before the mistletoe ensnared our house?”
“I think so,” Cyra responded. “And I saw it through a window earlier when I was outside, but it was all static-like, as if it were struggling to hold form.”
Gunn stiffened and straightened his back. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I didn’t think much about it, at first, because it acted like a phantom, but then so much happened afterward.”
“Oh, yes,” Nora said. “The one I saw did the same. It kept flickering.”
“Good,” Gunn said. “So, it’s trying to take form around the house, but it has only managed to completely do this in the attic. Which means there’s something up there it’s connected with. And considering it has shown form without sucking anyone’s energy, I’m thinking it’s using the electricity in the house. I can’t work out any other way of how it’s showing itself.”
Cyra nodded.
Henry ran a hand across his mouth before saying, “Last thing we purchased was the fridge, but that was six months ago, and the strange noises started a few weeks ago.”
“Have you put anything in the attic lately, moved furniture—or an object?” Gunn asked. “Did anyone come and stay over, like grandkids while you were away perhaps? They could have played with a Ouija board.”
Nora shook her head. “Our grandkids are only five and eight. We haven’t been on a holiday for too long.” She glared over at Henry, who didn’t seem to notice.
“Our priority is working out how to stop it,” Gunn said.
Cyra leaned forward, her elbows pressed against her thighs. “Yep, take out the danger first, then I’ll figure the rest out.” She nodded to herself in a way that told him she had no idea how to stop the enchantment. “But,” she blurted, “one thing we know is that if you see any mistletoe vines, stay away from them, as it makes everyone uncontrollably horny.” When she swung over to stare at Henry and Nora, her earlier smile turned upside down and her cheeks reddened. That had him smirking. She carried an innocence about her that drove him crazy.
“What about using another of your incantations on the vines?” Gunn suggested to cut through the awkward silence.
Cyra shook her head. “Can’t modify one spell with another. It’ll muck everything up worse than it already is. Like turning the demon into Swamp Thing on steroids.”
“All right then.” Gunn was on his feet. “We do this the old-fashioned way and set up a trap.”
“You can do that?” Henry asked, his thick white eyebrows pulled together.
“Why are you doubting him?” Nora asked. It was clear these two hadn’t patched things up. “You always do that to me, too.”
Henry huffed. “Well, before today, I didn’t believe in demons. Now they’re saying one’s in our attic.”
“Cyra and Nora,” Gunn said, “why don’t you both go into the kitchen and have a quick look for ingredients that could be used for a trapping spell? I once saw someone contain a demon inside a circle thing.”
Cyra arched an eyebrow. “‘Circle thing’? Is that the technical word for it?”
He glanced at the couple, then back at her, hoping she understood his unspoken meaning that he needed to be alone with Henry, or did she need him to pantomime it for her?
She shot to her feet and took Nora’s hand. “I could use your help in the kitchen.” Her eyes remained on Gunn with an I’m-not-happy look. So sue him, subtlety wasn’t his forte.
Once the women had left the room, he leaned toward Henry. “So what’s going on with you and the wife? I’ve been noticing tension between you two.”
Henry clicked his tongue and took a deep breath. Yep, the situation wasn’t comfortable for Gunn either, but if they were going to work as a team, he couldn’t have them continuously sniping at each other. Plus, they seemed like a nice couple and reminded him of his foster parents. If anything he said helped them mend their differences, then it was worth trying to help.
“She’s been on my back about selling this house and moving closer to the kids in California and getting a smaller place. But I love it here. We’re next to a golf course, and my friends live on this street. It’s where I grew up.”
Gunn nodded, but, if it were him, he’d sell the shirt off his back if it meant keeping the one he loved happy. “My foster dad once told me when I didn’t agree with someone, to put myself in their shoes. So, why does Nora want to move to California?”
“To be closer to her sister. The kids and grandkids. But my brothers are here.”
“And how long have you lived here?”
His chest puffed out, as if proud of his response. “My entire life.”
“Well, then, do you think maybe Nora wants the same
, but to be near her family?”
“Yes, of course. But we’re too old to start a new life elsewhere. We have everything we need right here.”
“This is a huge house and will get harder for you to take care of.”
Cyra’s voice sounded from the hallway. They must be returning. “Only you can make this decision, Henry. But, if it were me, I’d live on the moon if it meant I didn’t lose the one I loved.” As the words left his mouth, the earlier conversation with Cyra swirled through his mind. He’d pushed her away for her own safety, her protection. What he fucking wanted didn’t matter, just what kept her out of harm’s way.
Henry sank into the couch, staring at him with a perplexed expression. Was he wondering if Nora would indeed leave him? He’d seen women dump his friends for less.
When the ladies rejoined them, Gunn got to his feet and turned, to find Cyra carrying her bag along with a sack of salt. She plonked both of them onto the table.
“So where are we setting up this trap?” she asked. “If the demon gets weak when it leaves the attic, this might actually work. Then we try to exorcise it back into Hell.”
Gunn nodded. “Agreed. The hallway in front of the stairs has a huge space we could use.”
Cyra headed out of the room with her supplies.
“What should we do?” Nora asked.
Gunn glanced over at Henry sitting next to Nora, holding her hand in his lap. He was miles away, but Nora studied and listened. Most innocents, even when confronted with evidence of the supernatural, still struggled to believe what was right in front of them. While he’d normally remove people from such conversations, in this situation, he had to keep them close if they were about to summon the demon so he could keep an eye on them. Still, unease pressed against his gut at having the married couple so close to a demon summoning after what had happened to Cherri-Anne.
“Do you have a Bible in the house?” he asked.
“Yes, a Bible, and we’ve our crosses.” She pulled at the gold chain around her neck and was already on her feet, digging through the drawer of a cabinet.
“Excellent. Get them and don’t leave this room, no matter what you hear or see. Understand? If anything comes for you, use prayer to drive it away.”
He pondered giving them his lasso, but they’d struggle using the weapon. Marching out of the room, he found Cyra at the base of the staircase. She’d used salt to draw a large circle about five feet from the stairs with candles in four spots.
She stood at one end, her back to the front door, whispering something he couldn’t understand. A chill snaked around him, and goosebumps covered his flesh. She wasn’t messing around or even waiting for them to work out their plans, it seemed. He loved her determination and how nothing much scared her away.
The moment he approached her, something black zipped down the long staircase.
Huge and swift, it charged straight for them, giving him no time to open his lasso. His breath wedged in his lungs as he flung himself toward Cyra. “Watch out!”
Chapter 12
Gunn
Gunn shoved Cyra aside, sending her out of the demon’s path. But it was too late for him. Invisible claws tore into Gunn’s back, and he arched, a groan escaping his throat. Piercing white pain flashed across his vision, and panic scrambled his thoughts as he imagined the demon trying to climb into his head. It tightened his chest, robbing him of his senses. Something kicked his knees, and he fell, hitting the floor. A fire seized his flesh, reminding him of the time he’d fought the demon that had claimed Cherri-Anne. How useless he’d felt. The bastard with blades for fingers had used Gunn as a pincushion. That familiar terror squeezed his heart, but he wouldn’t let Cyra down. He’d kill any monster that dared touch her. He scrambled to his feet, curling his hands into fists and gasping for air.
In front of him lay the salt circle, broken, granules scattered across the floor. Where had the dickhead gone? He twisted toward Cyra, who climbed up from the floor near the door. There was no silvery aura to reflect she’d been possessed. His pulse thrummed with urgency to finish this now and get everyone to safety.
“Where’d it go?” She scanned the hall, her voice cracking, her eyes wild.
Alarms rang in his head, and dread locked his gut up tight. Henry and Nora! He bolted into the living room, Cyra’s footsteps close behind.
The bastard towered seven feet tall, gangly, with tentacles on either side of its body. A rancid stink assaulted Gunn’s nostrils, and he fought his gag reflex. Gunn’s insides curdled.
The couple remained on the couch, clutching the Bible between them. They stared at the black form hovering near the window.
The silhouette flickered. Yellow pupils stared at him, clawed fingers flexing, and it wore a spiky, patterned necklace. The fucker wore jewelry. He was going to kill the bastard. It would pay for everything its kind had stolen from him.
Gunn threw himself forward, lasso unclipped from his belt and extended in a second flat.
Inches before he collided with the brute, it launched at him, fists slamming into his solar plexus, shoving him backward. Gunn’s legs tangled underneath him, and he crashed onto the coffee table. The thud of his pulse screamed in his ears. But he was a fighter, a hunter. And giving in to dread wasn’t an option. So he balled up the fear and shoved it deep.
Someone yelled nearby.
With his fingers digging into the lasso hilt, he swung the weapon into the fiend’s face, except the demon backed off too fast and dissolved into a haze.
“No, you don’t.” Gunn charged, his fist hitting the speck, but he stumbled forward as his punch fell right through the apparition. He caught himself and rushed after the black wisp that zipped toward the back wall. It funneled into a tight tail and curled into an electrical outlet.
“Fuck! I knew it.” He gasped for air and spun to find Cyra against the window, holding a vase over her head. Nora and Henry peered out from behind the couch, their cheeks ashen white.
He approached them and placed his lasso across both their arms for over six seconds as they huddled together. Clean. They sat down on the couch. Cyra set her vase down before clutching at his weapon, running the cord across her forearm with shaky hands. No reaction.
“It’s definitely using electricity to travel through the house,” he said.
“And that’s why the circle didn’t work,” Cyra blurted. “It used the power grid to charge itself.”
“Also explains why it kept fading in and out, as it couldn’t hold a solid form. It must only have a small amount of time to take form.” Gunn put his lasso away, and he exhaled loudly. Finally, a real clue. He turned to Henry. “Where’s the electrical box?” Time to shut down the monster hiding from them.
“Outside, at the side of the house,” Henry replied. “Including the circuit breaker.”
Hell, there went that idea of switching off the power.
“The demon was solid when I saw it in the attic.” Cyra’s voice drew his attention to the way she gripped her hips, her lower lip caught in her teeth.
Gunn rubbed his lower back, where it felt as if someone held a flame against his skin, well aware the demon had scratched him. It had happened before and he’d survived the attack. So he focused on Henry and Nora. “What are you storing up in the attic?”
“Junk. Furniture we meant to get rid of. The kids’ text books from college.” Henry inched to the edge of the couch. “But what was that thing?”
Nora released a whimper and trembled. “The devil. It looked right through me.”
Henry wrapped an arm around his wife and brought her closer, but his attention never left Gunn. “Give it to us straight. How much time do we have before it returns?”
“I’d say not long.”
Nora curled in on herself. Scaring people wasn’t his thing, but they had to understand the truth. “Unless we stop that demon,” he said, “it will end up possessing one of us, then jump to the next person and the next, killing us.”
Henry nodded his head
as if Gunn had simply spoken about the weather, but the trepidation splashed across his face screamed that he was feeling the opposite. “What can we do to help?”
If Gunn knew, he would have done it already. “Grab a piece of paper and jot down everything you stored up on the top floor, especially electrical gadgets or appliances. Also, do you have an electrical socket there, as well? Where and how many?”
Henry was on his feet, brushing down his puffy vest with shaky hands covered in liver spots. The man resembled his foster dad, who, despite his age, had always been up for a challenge. “Only one outlet in the attic, near the back wall. We’ll get right on the list.”
Gunn patted Henry’s shoulder as he headed to the cabinet. “I’ll protect you all with my life.”
“Son, I would never ask you to give your life for mine. We do this together.” He turned to rummage through the drawers and pulled out a notebook and pen. His words rolled through Gunn’s head. It was a first to have a victim offer to fight. Most froze with horror.
The fire in the hearth tossed shadows across Cyra’s sweet face. Both turned toward the curtained window, and he asked, “What’s up?”
The floorboards creaked upstairs, followed by a loud boom. Cyra stared up at the ceiling as the chandelier shuddered, crystals swaying. “It knows we’re trapped in the house. So we need to act first.” Her arms wrapped around herself.
“It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” He had to believe that he’d get Cyra and the old couple out alive.
Cyra glanced toward Henry and back at Gunn. “Why didn’t the demon attack you when you rescued me upstairs, or throw you inside the portal as well?”
“No idea .” He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, and in all honesty, with one problem after another, it hadn’t crossed his mind. He ran his fingers across his stubbled jawline as he considered. “So why didn’t it toss me in there?”
