Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (20 page)

“It’s a date,“ I said, and while he went into our bedroom, I continued on to Allie’s, realizing along the way that I was smiling.

Miraculously, the smile didn’t fade when I hit her room. Because what was usually a disaster area had actually been straightened. I’m not sure if she’d simply gotten tired of living in a flurry of belongings, if
Teen Vogue
had announced that boys think a girl with a clean room is sexy, or if she was trying to prove something to me. Honestly, I didn’t care. I was just happy to be able to see the floor.

In this newly clean state, I could have left the address book anywhere and been reasonably sure she would find it. But old habits die hard, and I crossed to the princess-style desk I’d bought her when she turned eleven. It sported a small hutch with tiny drawers accented by rose-shaped pulls. Whenever I had something that I didn’t want her to miss, I put it on the ledge of the hutch, just above the right-hand drawer.

Today was no exception, but as I put the address book down, I noticed that the drawer was open—and inside, I saw Eric’s ring, a simple gold chain coiled beside it.

Slowly, I reached for the ring, then slipped it on my finger, wanting in some small way to be close to Eric for just a moment. I held my hand over my heart, lost in memories and fighting tears.

And then I drew a breath, took the ring off, and put it safely back in my daughter’s drawer.

”To us,“ Stuart said,
lifting a champagne flute and waiting for me to lift mine.

This was at least our tenth toast, and I was feeling more than a little giddy. “No, no, no,“ I said. “We’ve already toasted to us. But this is the night before your big announcement. We need to toast you.”

“All right,“ he said agreeably. “To me.”

We clinked glasses. “To my wonderful husband,“ I said. ”Who’s going to make a damn fine county attorney.”

“That’s the plan,“ he said, then reached across the table and took my hand.

I smiled at him, then looked out over the dance floor. He’d brought me to the Blue Note, a popular restaurant and club that had opened in San Diablo to much fanfare about three years ago. The club sported a big band and required its customers to dress for dinner. The food was as good as the music, and the place was always packed.

We’d been here twice before, both on special occasions, and I was enjoying being back now. I had even forgiven Stuart the usual political chitchat, him shaking hands and making small talk in the bar before the maître d’ had led us to our table. After all, we were here to celebrate politics; I could hardly ask that political banter be stricken from the agenda.

Our table was right off the dance floor in a prime location, and as we sat drinking champagne and eating our appetizers I inevitably found myself watching the dancers. Couples with a grace and style that I could never mimic. Not on a dance floor, anyway. In a fight, though...

Well, a fight was a totally different story.

Stuart, of course, didn’t know that side of me. He only knew the girl who stepped on his feet on our first date. At our wedding, though, I was the belle of the ball, and all because of Stuart. I had no idea how he’d manage in hand-to-hand combat, but on a dance floor, he’s pure magic. One of those men who can make even the most uncoordinated woman look like Ginger Rogers.

And fortunately, he was all mine.

Stuart saw me eyeing the dance floor and stood. “Shall we?”

“You’re announcing tomorrow,“ I reminded him. “Do you really want the papers reporting that your wife can’t dance?”

“The news will garner me the sympathy vote,“ he said, holding out his hand for me.

I took it and let him tug me to my feet. “Okay,“ I said. ”But just one.”

Naturally, one faded into two, and two into three. I was just about to beg off of the fourth turn around the floor when a trim octogenarian in a finely cut suit approached us.

“May I cut in?”

I froze, because I knew that face. All of it, including the nasty cut under one eye. I ought to, since last night he’d attacked my daughter.

Stuart, who knows I won’t dance with any man except him, shook his head. “I’m sorry. This is a celebra—”

“Yes,“ I said, easing closer to the demon. “Of course he can. One dance with the gentleman can’t hurt.”

I was taking a risk, but not much of one. I couldn’t believe that the demon had come to kill me. That would draw too much attention. Instead, he’d come to deliver a message. Or a warning. And I wanted to know exactly what the creature had to say.

And if I was wrong? Well, my purse was on my shoulder, my knife and my holy water within reach.

As Stuart stepped back to the table, his expression more than a little befuddled, I moved in closer to the beast. ”How’s the eye?“ I asked sweetly.

“Do not think you are so clever, Hunter. This is one battle you will not win.”

He grinned, showing off brown teeth that hadn’t been brushed in weeks. This was no newly made demon; he’d been living among humans for a while now. And considering the cut of his suit and the odor of Listerine that covered his wretched breath, I had to believe he’d been doing it successfully, too.

Something important had pulled him out of hiding. And twenty points to me if I guessed right.

“Andramelech sent you,“ I said, even as the demon led me across the dance floor in perfect time to the music. As if I hadn’t already believed my dancing skills were pathetic, now I’d been shown up by the scourge of Hell. Wasn’t that just peachy?

“Fool,“ he said. “Andramelech speaks to no one. His followers speak for him.”

“Then speak,“ I said, silently congratulating myself. He’d just confirmed that wherever Andramelech was imprisoned, he was incommunicado. His minions were operating on their own. What exactly they were doing—and what they needed—
that
remained a mystery.

“What do you want?“ I asked, going straight for the point. “And let’s forget the riddles.”

“There is no riddle,“ he said. “There is only our demand.”

“You want the stone,“ I said. “Yeah, I got that. Why don’t you tell me what stone?”

“Don’t play games with me, Hunter. Do you think I’m newly made? Free Andramelech from the stone that binds him, for if you do not, you will surely suffer his wrath. Release him, and release the old one who would walk with him.”

“How?“ I asked, desperate for any tidbit of information. ”How in the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Bring the vessel,“ the demon said. “Tonight. To the field behind Coastal Mists.”

I shook my head, even more baffled than before.

“The vessel? You mean the stone? Where Andramelech is trapped?”

“Bring it,“ he hissed, “or your daughter will never be safe.”

My skin prickled as if I’d just been dropped in a freezing ocean. “You stay away from my daughter,“ I said, my voice low and dangerous. But I was scared, and I think he could hear the fear underneath.

“Bring the stone,“ he said. “Bring the vessel. Tonight. You and the one you call David.”

“What do you want with David?“ I demanded.

”Tonight,“
he said. “Tonight, and all will be well.”

“I don’t know what stone you’re talking about,“ I said, my voice filled with frustration. “At least give me a damn clue!”

From the edge of the dance floor, Stuart watched us, his forehead creased with concern. I realized I was scowling, and plastered on a smile. “How the hell can I bring you something if I don’t even know what you want?“ I asked, my face almost cracking under the strain of my happy expression.

“Do not toy with me, Hunter. If you do, you will not live long enough to regret it.”

“Dammit,“ I said, not even bothering with the smile anymore. “I already told you I don’t know what the—”

Smack.

The words died on my lips as the demon’s hand cracked against my cheek. I’d expected an attack in a dark alley—not a crowded dance floor. And it took me a split second longer to react—probably a good thing in retrospect, as my instinct was to rip out my hair clip and slam it through his eye.

Instead, I caught myself in time, my hand stilling just as my hair fell, and my foot catching him just under the kneecap with a nice solid kick.

He fell to the ground, his face a mixture of pain and fury. Around us, everyone on the floor stopped. Even the band went silent, the notes from the various instruments fading out, leaving only the sound of ice tinkling in glasses and the electric hum of neon to fill the intimate dance hall.

Stuart was already at my side, and he looked me over before rounding on the demon, still on his ass on the floor.

”What the hell were you doing?“ he demanded. “Why the hell did you slap my wife?“

The demon’s eyes turned to slits, his pupils turning red as he fought to keep his true form confined within the human shell. I hoped Stuart was angry enough that he wouldn’t notice. And I also hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to take the demon on. Considering the demon looked like an old man, I guess I hoped he was chivalrous enough not to assault an octogenarian.

“Your wife?“ he spat, climbing to his feet with far more grace than your average eighty-year-old. “You mean your whore.”

“Now wait just a—”

“Do you have any idea what she is? What she does?”

I’d never seen Stuart turn that shade of red before, and I closed my hand tight around his upper arm. “Just let it go,“ I said.

“The hell I will.”

“Stuart. Please.”

“Maybe we should take this outside,“ he said to the demon, ignoring me.

“The only one I’ll take outside is her,“ the demon said, his hate-filled eyes looking right at me. He licked his lips. ”Oh, yes,“ he moaned, his voice low and guttural. “I’d love to take her outside.”

Honestly, the feeling was mutual, and it was everything I could do not to reach into my purse and pull out my knife.

“That’s it,“ Stuart said, jerking his arm free of me and lunging forward, catching the demon right in the jaw with an amazing left hook. The demon wobbled for a second, his expression startled as cameras flashed all around us. Then the demon turned and sprinted toward the exit. Stuart started to follow, but I grabbed the hem of his jacket and tugged him back even as onlookers and media hounds surrounded him. A brawl with a local political candidate is big news in San Diablo.

As I moved away from the flashing cameras, I noticed that the demon had paused in the doorway. “He will come forth,“ the demon said, his words clearly meant for me, the only one in the room watching the demon and not my husband. ”And when he does, he will punish those who failed to help him. Nadia knew,“ he added, then turned and disappeared through the doorway, his words echoing behind him. ”Nadia learned.”

Nadia.

I latched on to the demon’s words, hoping that somehow, even inadvertently, he’d left me a clue. Because clearly Nadia had learned something important. The question was what. More important, had the knowledge gotten her killed?

Eleven

While Stuart got sucked
into a mini press conference, I called David to bring him up to speed on the demon’s demands. After that, Stuart and I headed home, and I spent much of the drive assuring him that by the time the election rolled around no one would even remember the incident.

“You were sticking up for me,“ I said. “Chivalry. Machismo. Grand romantic gestures. All that stuff wins votes, right?”

He stopped at a red light before turning in to our neighborhood. ”Do you really think I care about that, Kate?”

I stiffened, startled. “Well, yes. Considering all the time you’ve put into this campaign, I assumed you cared a lot.”

He reached over and took my hand. “I care about you more,“ he said, squeezing my fingers and sending all sorts of little trills shooting through my body. “Anybody treats my wife that way, they get pummeled. That’s just the way the world works. And if that means I don’t win the election, then so be it.”

“Yeah?“ I smiled, both surprised and pleased. Maybe now was the time to ask about Eddie.

“Yeah,“ he said, and then stroked my cheek. “So who was that guy?”

My warm fuzzy feelings disappeared like so much smoke. ”I wish I knew.”

He looked at me sideways. “He certainly seemed to know you.”

“And he certainly seemed interested in picking a fight with you,“ I said, my snappy tone probably originating with my guilt at getting Stuart involved in a brawl. “Honestly, Stuart, if you’re not going to believe my answer why even bother asking the question?”

He didn’t answer that, instead concentrating on navigating the short distance to our house. As soon as we reached our driveway, he hit the button for the garage door opener and the mechanism began its slow and steady grind.

We stayed silent in the car, the air thick between us, with me cursing demons, my husband, myself, and the damn garage door that had been on its last legs for months, but which Stuart never got around to repairing.

Finally, as the door clicked open into place, Stuart pulled into the garage, and then turned to me. “I’m sorry,“ he said. ”It’s been a long day.”

“I know,“ I said. It had been a long one for me, too.

As soon as we were inside, Stuart made himself a drink and headed upstairs to watch the news in bed. The romantic interlude that had begun in the car had faded in the wake of my denials about knowing the demon. Which, of course, made me feel even guiltier, and did nothing for my mood. Nothing good, anyway.

I puttered around until the house was quiet, and then I crept into the attic and retrieved my stiletto and crossbow. By now, my mood had shifted to determined. This demon had messed with my husband and my daughter, and he was going down.

The hard part was getting out of the garage—I’m going to break down and fix the damn automatic door by myself— but once I was in the driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief. That is, until I almost ran over David, who’d rushed behind me and held up a hand, signaling me to stop.