Demonfire

Demonfire

The
DemonSlayers

KATE DOUGLAS

ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

Sunday night

He struggled out of the
darkness, confused, disoriented…recalling fire and pain and the soothing voices
of men he couldn’t see. Voices promising everlasting life, a chance to move
beyond hell, beyond all he’d ever known. He remembered his final, fateful
decision to take a chance, to search for something else.

For life beyond the hell that
was Abyss.

A search that brought him full
circle, back to a world of pain—to this world, wherever it might be. He frowned
and tried to focus. This body was unfamiliar, the skin unprotected by scales or
bone. He’d never been so helpless, so vulnerable.

His chest burned. The demon’s
fireshot, while not immediately fatal, would have deadly consequences. Hot
blood flowed sluggishly from wounds across his ribs and spread over the filthy
stone floor beneath his naked hip. The burn on his chest felt as if it were
filled with acid. Struggling for each breath, he raised his head and stared
into the glaring yellow eyes of an impossible creature holding him at bay.

Four sharp spears affixed to a
long pole were aimed directly at his chest. The thing had already stabbed him
once, and the bleeding holes in his side hurt like the blazes. With a heartfelt
groan, Dax tried to rise, but he had no strength left.

He fell back against the cold
stones, and his world faded once more to black.

“You’re effing kidding me! I
leave for one frickin’ weekend, and all hell breaks loose. You’re positive? Old
Mrs. Abernathy really thinks it ate her cat?” Eddy Marks took another sip of
her iced caffé mocha whip and stared at Ginny. “Lord, I hope my father hasn’t
heard about it. He’ll blame it on the Lemurians.”

Ginny laughed so hard she
almost snorted her latte. “Your dad’s not still hung up on that silly legend,
is he? Like there’s really an advanced society of humanoids living inside Mount
Shasta? I don’t think so.”

“Don’t try and tell Dad they
don’t exist. He’s convinced he actually saw one of their golden castles in the
moonlight. Of course, it was gone by morning.” Eddy frowned at Ginny and
changed the subject. She was admittedly touchy about her dad’s gullible nature.
“Mrs. Abernathy’s not serious, is she?”

“I dunno.” Ginny shook her
head. “She was really upset. Enough that she called nine-one-one. I was on
dispatch at Shasta Communications that shift and took the call. Shascom sent an
officer out because she was hysterical, not because they actually believed Mr.
Pollard’s ceramic garden gnome ate Twinkles.” Ginny ran her finger around the
inside of her cup, chasing the last drops of her iced latte. “I heard there was
an awful lot of blood on her back deck, along with tufts of suspiciously
Twinkles-colored hair.”

“Probably a coyote or a fox.”
Eddy finished the last of her drink and wished she’d had a shot of brandy to
add to it. It would have been the perfect finish to the first vacation she’d
had in months—two glorious days hiking and camping on Mount Shasta with only
her dog for company…and not a single killer garden gnome in sight. She grinned
at Ginny. “Killer garden gnomes aren’t usually a major threat around here.”

Ginny laughed. “Generally, no.
Lemurians either, in spite of what your dad and half the tourists think, but
for once, Eddy, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Let your imagination go a
little.”

“What? And start spouting off
about Lemurians? I don’t think so. Someone has to be the grown-up! So what else
happened while I was out communing with nature?”

“Well…it might have been the
full moon, but there was a report that the one remaining stone gargoyle
launched itself off the northwest corner of the old library building, circled
the downtown area, and flew away into the night. And…” Ginny paused
dramatically, “…another that the bronze statue of General Humphreys and his
horse trotted out of the park. I didn’t check on the gargoyle, but I went down
to see the statue. It’s not there. Looks like it walked right off the pedestal.
That thing weighs over two tons.” She set her empty cup down, folded her arms,
and, with one dark eyebrow raised, stared at Eddy.

“A big bronze statue like that
would bring in a pretty penny at the recyclers. Somebody probably hauled it off
with a truck, but it’s a great visual, isn’t it?” Eddy leaned back in her
chair. “I can just see that big horse with the general, sword held high and
covered in pigeon poop, trotting along Front Street. Maybe a little detour
through the cemetery.”

“Is it worth a story by ace
reporter Edwina Marks?”

Eddy glared at her. “Do not
call me Edwina.” She ran her finger through the condensation on the scarred
wooden table top before looking up at Ginny and grinning. “Maybe a column about
weird rumors and how they get started. I’ll cite you as Ground Zero, but I
doubt it’s cutting edge enough for the front page of the
Record
.”

Ginny grabbed her purse and
pulled out a lipstick. “Yeah, like that rag’s going to cover real news.”

“Hey, we do our best, and we
stay away from the tabloid stuff—you know, the garbage you like to read?”
Laughing, Eddy stood up. “Well, I’m always complaining that nothing exciting
ever happens around here. I guess flying gargoyles, runaway statues, and killer
garden gnomes are better than nothing.” She tossed some change on the table for
a tip and waved at the girl working behind the counter. “Gotta go, Gin. I need
to get home. Have to let Bumper out.”

“Bumper? Who’s that? Don’t
tell me you brought home another homeless mutt from the shelter.”

“And if I did?”

Ginny waved the lipstick at
her like a pointer. “Eddy, the last time you had to give up a fostered pup, you
bawled for a week. Why do you do this to yourself?”

She’d be lucky if she only
bawled for a week when it was time for Bumper to leave. They’d bonded almost
immediately, but she really didn’t want a dog. Not for keeps. “They were gonna
put her down if no one took her,” she mumbled.

Ginny shook her head. “Don’t
say I didn’t warn you. One of these days you’re going to take in a stray
that’ll really break your heart.”

Eddy heard Bumper when she was
still half a block from home. She’d only left the dog inside the house while
she went to town for coffee, but it appeared the walls weren’t thick enough to
mute her deep-throated growling and barking.

Thank goodness it wasn’t nine
yet. Any later and she’d probably have one of the neighbors filing a complaint.
Eddy picked up her pace and ran the last hundred yards home, digging for her
house keys as she raced up the front walk. “Bumper, you idiot. I only left you
for an hour. I hope you haven’t been going on like this the whole time I’ve
been gone.”

She got the key in the lock
and swung the front door open. Bumper didn’t even pause to greet her. Instead,
she practically knocked Eddy on her butt as she raced out the front door,
skidded through the open gate to the side yard, and disappeared around the back
of the house.

“Shit. Stupid dog.” Eddy threw
her keys in her bag, slung her purse over her shoulder, and took off after the
dog. It was almost completely dark away from the street light, and Eddy
stumbled on one of the uneven paving stones by the gate. Bumper’s deep bark
turned absolutely frantic, accompanied by the added racket from her clawing and
scratching at the wooden door to Eddy’s potting shed.

“If you’ve got a skunk
cornered in there, you stupid dog, I swear I’m taking you back to the shelter.”

Bumper stopped barking, now
that she knew she had Eddy’s attention. She whined and sniffed at the door,
still scratching at the rough wood. Eddy fumbled in her bag for her keychain
and the miniature flashlight hanging from the ring. The beam was next to
worthless, but better than nothing.

She scooted Bumper out of the
way with her leg and unlatched the door just enough to peer in through a crack.
Bumper whapped her nose against Eddy’s leg. Shoving frantically with her broad
head, she tried to force her way inside.

“Get back.” Eddy glared at the
dog. Bumper flattened her ears against her curly head and immediately backed
off, looking as pathetic as she had last week at the shelter when Eddy’d
realized she couldn’t leave a blond pit bull crossed with a standard poodle to
the whims of fate.

She aimed her tiny flashlight
through the narrow opening. Blinked. Told herself she was really glad she’d
been drinking coffee and not that brandy she’d wanted tonight, because
otherwise she wouldn’t believe what she saw.

Maybe Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t
nuts after all. Eddy grabbed a shovel leaning against the outside wall of the
shed and threw the door open wide.

The garden gnome that should
have been stationed in the rose garden out in front held a pitchfork in its
stubby little hands like a weapon, ready to stab what appeared to be a person
lying in the shadows. When the door creaked open, the gnome turned its head,
glared at Eddy through yellow eyes, bared unbelievably sharp teeth, and
screamed at her like an avenging banshee.

Bumper’s claws scrabbled
against the stone pathway. Eddy swung the shovel. The crunch of metal
connecting with ceramic seemed unnaturally loud. The scream stopped as the
garden gnome shattered into a thousand pieces. The pitchfork clattered to the
ground, and a dark, evil-smelling mist gathered in the air above the pile of
dust. It swirled a moment and then suddenly whooshed over Eddy’s shoulder and
out the open door.

A tiny blue light pulsed and
flickered, followed the mist as far as the doorway, and then returned to hover
over the figure in the shadows. Bumper paused long enough to sniff the remnants
of the garden gnome and growl, before turning her attention to whatever lay on
the stone floor. Eddy stared at the shovel in her hands and took one deep
breath after another. This was not happening. She
had not
seen
a garden gnome in attack mode.

One with glowing yellow eyes
and razor-sharp teeth.

Impossible.

Heart pounding, arms and legs
shaking, she slowly pivoted in place and focused on whoever it was that Bumper
seemed so pleased to see.

The mutt whined, but her curly
tail was wagging a million miles a minute. She’d been right about the gnome.
Eddy figured she’d have to trust the dog’s instincts about whoever or whatever
had found such dubious sanctuary in her potting shed.

Eddy squinted and tried to
focus on the flickering light that flitted in the air over Bumper’s head, but
it was jerking around so quickly she couldn’t tell what it was. She still had
her key ring clutched in her fingers. She wasn’t quite ready to put the shovel
down, but she managed to shine the narrow beam of light toward the lump on the
floor.

Green light reflected back
from Bumper’s eyes. Eddy swung wider with the flashlight. She saw a muscular
arm, a thick shoulder, and the broad expanse of a masculine chest. Blood trickled
from four perfectly spaced pitchfork-sized holes across the man’s ribs and
pooled beneath his body. There appeared to be a deep wound on his chest, though
it wasn’t bleeding.

In fact, it looked almost as
if it had been cauterized. A burn? Eddy swept the light his full length. Her
eyes grew wider with each inch of skin she exposed. He was marked with a
colorful tattoo that ran from his thigh, across his groin to his chest, but
other than the art, he was naked. Very naked, all the way from his long, narrow
feet, up those perfectly formed, hairy legs to…Eddy quickly jerked the light
back toward his head.

When she reached his face, the
narrow beam glinted off dark eyes looking directly into hers. Beautiful,
soul-searching dark brown eyes shrouded in thick, black lashes. He was
gorgeous. Even with a smear of dirt across one cheek and several days’ growth
of dark beard, he looked as if he should be on the cover of
People
as the sexiest man alive.

Breathing hard, her body still
shaking from the adrenaline coursing through her system, Eddy dragged herself
back to the situation at hand. Whatever it was. He hadn’t said a word. She’d
thought he was unconscious. He wasn’t. He was injured…not necessarily helpless.
She squatted down beside him, and, reassured by Bumper’s acceptance and the
fact the man didn’t look strong enough to sit up, much less harm her, Eddy set
the shovel aside.

She touched his shoulder and
grimaced at the deep wound on his chest, the bloody stab wounds in his side.
Made a point not to look below his waist. “What happened? Are you okay? Well,
obviously not with all those injuries.” Rattled, she took a deep breath. “Who
are you?”

He blinked and turned his
head. She quickly tilted the light away from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I…”

He shook his head. His voice
was deep and sort of raspy. “No. It’s all right.” He glanced up at the
flickering light dancing overhead, frowned, and then nodded.

She could tell he was in pain,
but he took a deep breath and turned his focus back to Eddy.

“I am Dax. Thank you.”

“I’m Eddy. Eddy Marks.” Why
she’d felt compelled to give her full name made no sense. None of this did. She
couldn’t place his accent, and he wasn’t from around here. She would have
recognized any of the locals. She started to rise. “I’ll call nine-one-one. You’re
injured.”

His arm snaked out, and he
grabbed her forearm, trapping her with surprising strength. “No. No one. Don’t
call anyone.”

Eddy looked down at the broad
hand, the powerful fingers wrapped entirely around her arm, just below her
elbow. She should have been terrified. Should have been screaming in fear, but
something in those eyes, in the expression on his face…

Immediately, he loosened his
grasp. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, but no one must know I’m here. If you
can’t help me, please let me leave. I have so little time….” He tried to prop
himself up on one arm, but his body trembled with the effort.