Damoren (32 page)

“Car,” Malcolm said, lowering his head so the hat shielded his face.

Matt turned away and made as if scratching his temple as a faded red coupe came into view.
It cruised past them, spinning leaves in its wake. He glanced back as it rounded a bend, then disappeared behind the trees.

A
half-mile later they came to a junction in the barbed wire fence paralleling the road. Straight-trunked trees followed its path, cutting along the back of the property. Smaller trees with tiny round leaves dotted the slope, hiding the castle from view. Malcolm checked that the road was clear and pulled two of the rusty barbed wire strands apart to create a long gap. Matt squeezed through, then took the gritty wires and held them for Malcolm to follow.

They hurried along the fence line until the road was out of view,
and then made their way up the rocky hill toward the castle.

Sweat ran down the back of Matt
’s neck, his shirt clinging against his back. The foliage opened up about sixty feet behind a rain-silvered wooden shed. The castle’s stone walls loomed another hundred feet beyond it. Matt checked the compass but the bottle was unchanged. He and Malcolm hurried up through the open span, keeping low and using the shed as cover.

Malcolm reached the tiny building first.
Holding up a hand for Matt to stop, he pressed his ear to the planked wall. He shook his head and motioned Matt to follow.

Crouched, Matt clutched the heavy satchel and ran up the grassy slope to the shed.
He pressed his back to the wall and checked the compass again. Still pink.

Cautiously, Matt straightened up and peeked through a dusty window.
Various tools and boxes lined the shed’s cluttered walls. A rust-colored tractor, at least fifty years old, sat in the middle facing the wide door.

Malcolm peered around the corner toward the villa.
“Check this out,” he whispered.

Matt scooted behind to see.
A huge stone barn or carriage house stood off to one side of the castle. A man with a brown cap leaned against one side of the closed green doors, sheltered in a wedge of shade from the sun. A blued rifle hung from the crook of his arm. Further past the barn, two rows of cars sat parked in a small paved lot, circled by slender cypress.

“
Interesting,” Matt said.

“
You recognize any of those cars from the mine?” Malcolm asked.

“
No, never got a good look at them. I thought they flew down, anyway.”

“
Someone would have needed to drive their guns down. Also, the demons that can’t or won’t change to human form. Unless they had a marked body down here waiting for them, they’d have to be driven.”

Matt nodded.
“True. So what’s in the barn?”

Malcolm didn
’t answer right away. Eventually he said, “Something they either don’t want or can’t put inside the castle.”

“
Tour bus? Bet it’s big enough to hold one in there.”

“
Just what I was thinking.” Malcolm withdrew his head to the safety behind the shed.

“
So what now?” Matt asked, creeping back from the edge.

“
You got a hit on that compass yet?”

“
No.”

“
Then we move closer until we do. We need to be sure this isn’t some mafia gang bootlegging olive oil or something.”

Matt let out a long sigh.
It was like dealing with Clay, cautions to the point of obsessive. Matt couldn’t argue because all the circumstantial evidence in the world still wasn’t proof. He hadn’t realized just how many of Clay’s infuriating habits he’d forgotten over the years.
They’d have gotten along well,
he thought.
If they didn’t kill each other.

Malcolm peeked around the edge again, then moved to the other side of the shed to look from there.
“Getting closer to the castle won’t work. Guard will see us, but I think we can move closer to the barn.”

“
That’s where the guard is,” Matt said flatly. He crawled up and peered around to where Malcolm was looking.

“
Yeah, but if we follow that line of hedge we can move around to the back side.” Malcolm set his case in the grass and eased the brass latches open. Hounacier, sheathed in its wooden scabbard, lie inside, strapped down with black Velcro. Malcolm’s sawed-off rested beside it, as well as a dozen shells, color-coded to denote their contents.

Matt eyed the low strip of shrubs.
It wasn’t much cover and bushes didn’t offer any protection from bullets if the guard spotted them. “Let me do it.”

“
What?”

“
I’ll do it,” Matt said. “Two of us only doubles our chances of being seen.”

“
Then I’ll do it,” Malcolm whispered. “I’m the senior knight.”

“
I’m not Valducan,” Matt said and dashed into a crouched run before Malcolm could continue the argument. Almost crawling, he dove behind the strip of dense green hedge. The bushes were too thick to see through. He looked back to where Malcolm waited behind the shed, his lips pressed into an unhappy line.

Malcolm peeked around to see the barn
and signaled Matt it was safe.

Careful not to crunch any leaves or lift his back too high, Matt followed the line thirty or so feet until it ended at a stone-paved gap.
The hedgerow continued ten feet across on the other side.

Slowly, Matt peeked around the corner.
The guard still leaned against the wall, not fifty feet away, the glazed look of boredom on his face.

Matt wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow, took a long breath,
then scuttled across to the bushes on the other side. His foot caught a hook-shaped twig, rustling the bush.
Fuck!

Pressing himself down, he turned back to Malcolm.
The knight checked, then shook his hand side to side, telling him to wait. Matt rolled his head, hoping to see under the hedge, but couldn’t.

Footsteps approached slowly.

Matt slid his hand into the bag, finding the Ingram’s cold metal handle. He’d have to be fast.

The footsteps stopped, maybe twenty feet away.

Matt tightened his jaw.
Why did he stop? Can he see me? Is my foot visible?
He suppressed the instinct to draw the gun up. He imagined rifle rounds blasting through the shrubs any moment.

A grunt, then the footsteps moved away.

Several long seconds passed before Matt turned back to Malcolm.

Crouched, holding his sawed-off and machete, Malcolm peeked around the corner again.
He bobbed a finger, signaling Matt to go on. Letting out the breath, Matt licked his lips then continued down the hedgerow.

He reached the end and looked around the edge.
The gray stone barn loomed just a few yards away. He was far enough around the side that the sentry couldn’t see him. The compass was still pink. Feeling brave, he leaned out further, searching the grounds for other people. Seeing none, he emerged from the hedge and hurried to the barn.

He crouched beside the wall, behind a rose bush the size of a recliner.
From his angle he could still see Malcolm watching him. Matt checked the compass again.

A red bead pressed against the bottle
’s wall, pointed toward the building beside him. An exalted surge washed over him.
Bingo.

Matt lifted the bottle for Malcolm to see, then gave a thumbs up.
Malcolm returned the signal.

Now that they had their confirmation it was time to get the hell out of there.
Matt eyed the hedgerow, readying to make the dash, then hesitated. What was inside the barn? What were they protecting? He’s assumed the tour bus but didn’t know that for certain.

“
It’s got to be important for them to be guarding it,
” he imagined Clay saying. “
Knowing what it is gives you the advantage.
”

Cursing the old man
’s training, Matt eyed the giant building. No windows on this side. Careful to remain quiet, Matt made his way around to the back of the barn. A pair of giant green doors, identical to the front, faced out the rear. A thick steel chain looped through the iron ring handles, secured with a sturdy-looking padlock.

A large window stood open above the doors, too high to reach.
Matt crept closer to the doors. The tight-fitted planks were devoid of any knot holes, and he didn’t dare try pulling them open enough to see through. Searching the doors for any kind of spyhole, he eventually found a slender gap on the far end, just above where the lower hinge met the wall. Matt lowered to his stomach and peered through the crevice.

A huge shape filled the room, blocky and long.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimness more detail melted out from the shadows. He made out chrome-capped wheels, the cocked open windows, then eventually ‘Tuscia Tours’ written in orange and gold on the sides.
I knew it.

Movement caught his eye and Matt looked closer at the windows.
Several forms moved on the other side of the dark glass. The hostages were still alive and here. He didn’t see the demon, but a werewolf or aswang in human form would blend in. Perfect plant with the hostages. Matt watched the silhouette of what appeared to be a man fanning himself with his hat. Malcolm might consider these people expendable for the greater good, but Matt didn’t. And now that he knew where they were, a plan began forming in his mind. Yes, knowing this did give him an advantage, but first he needed to get out of here.

Matt rose to his feet and quietly hurrie
d back to the hedges to escape.

#

“There had to be sixteen, seventeen cars in that lot,” Matt said, pulling the barbed wire fence open for Malcolm to slip through. “No telling how many people we’re looking at, but I’d guess thirty, maybe forty. If only half are demons that’s still more than we can possibly handle.”

“
You’re forgetting the element of surprise,” Malcolm said. “Every time we’ve encountered this group they’ve had the home court. They’re not expecting us this time.” He started down the road back to the village.

“
Maybe if we had ten people,” Matt said hurrying to catch up. “Unless you’ve got a missile hidden up your sleeve I don’t see how we can do it.”

Malcolm drew a breath, long and slow.
“The hard part will be getting us all up there unnoticed. We can take the same path we just did. If there are any guards we can take them out quietly, especially if we can get Luiza down-light of them to cut their shadows. Once the grounds are clear, we cut tires. Prevent any of them an easy get away. One swing of Luc’s mace will bring down any locked door. Once the doors are gone, we lay covering fire, take out Anya’s cultists while holy weapons take out the demons. Allan moves fast enough with Ibenus that he can take point. If they have candles like they did in Spain, that’ll give Luiza plenty of shadows to chop through. And don’t think I’ve forgotten how well you shoot Dämoren. Between the five of us we can do it.”

Matt played the scenario is his head.
Malcolm had a point. It wouldn’t be a random clusterfuck like Limoges, but a well-planned blitz. Maybe if they could get some lights from one side, headlights, maybe an airborne flare, Luiza’s sword could decimate them without even putting her in harm’s way. Malcolm’s weird hand tattoo could hold back attackers long enough to—”Candles?” Matt blurted. “You want to attack during the ceremony?”

“
Of course,” Malcolm said. “There’s no way to guarantee the weapons are even there but they will be then. Also it’s the only way to be sure Anya and her cronies are all present. We’ll wipe them out once and for all.”

“
I just said there’s probably forty people there now. Tomorrow night there could be twice that. We need more people.”

Malcolm shook his head.
“It can’t be helped.”

Matt wiped the gritty sweat from his face and neck.
Sixty, maybe eighty people. The rest of the team wouldn’t agree to it. How could they? It was suicide. In the end, their enemies would tear them apart and destroy their weapons. “There is another way,” he said finally.

“
I’m not seeing one.”

“
We need to cripple their plan first. Go for their balls before their throat.”

Malcolm snorted.
“I’m listening.”

“
I came across a demon summoning once a few years back,” Matt said. “They kidnapped this girl, possessed her with a demon.”

“
Okay?”

“
Well what we saw in Spain was different. They possessed Selene, but the others, they were used, too. Remember their legs? Completely stripped of skin. There was blood everywhere but inside that ring. It was like the oni used every bit of that in its creation. Like one body wasn’t enough. “

Malcolm brow creased, but he said nothing.