Red Demon (33 page)

Nikos decided the best thing, really, was to just change the subject. “Tell me more about Mason. You said he seemed settled, but . . . did he talk about Juliana anymore?”

Emma joined them at the table, setting down two more plates. “He really was okay about it all,” she said right as Jamie came into the kitchen.

“Hey, you guys seen Mason?” Jamie asked, then, seeing the sandwich spread, laughed. “Oh, fine dining tonight, is it? Regular filet mignon special.”

Nik looked up, gesturing with his knife. “Hey. I happen to like peanut butter sandwiches. Way better than blood soup, let me tell you.”

“We should’ve gone to the Crab Shack, too,” Emma said with a sigh, going to work on her own sandwich.

“That’s where Ari and Juliana are,” River explained to the group of them. “They were heading out to Tybee, and Mason suggested it.”

Jamie stopped in the middle of the kitchen, his expression deadly serious. “Wait; are you saying you told Mason where Ari and Juliana were going to be?”

“Well, not exactly. Mason suggested that restaurant, though. Why?” Emma repeated, confusion in her eyes. “He was fine about everything.”

Jamie sighed, shoulders slumping. “No. My brother ain’t fine, not even close. That’s why I came over here just now. ’Cause he isn’t answering his cell. This morning I got the total impression he’d never even gone to bed. Just sat there, studying the lore, trying to find some way to explain his theory about Juliana being a Djinn. But it’s more than that. Some of our weapons were gone. . . . He obviously took ’em, but normally we have a checkout procedure for all the Shades. He bypassed that altogether.”

Nikos’s heart began hammering. “What kinds of weapons? His usual or something more . . . intense?” he asked, keeping his voice as calm and unrevealing as possible. Because he knew Jamie was dead right about Mace’s mental state; that was why he himself had worried about the man all day, after seeing firsthand how unhinged he’d been last night.

“His Desert Eagle . . . his Glock. But, like I said, we have a policy among us, just to make sure we know where the weapons are at all times. He didn’t follow that . . . like maybe he hoped I wouldn’t notice? Only, I was specifically watching his ass, so yeah, I know he’s armed to the teeth.”

Emma reached for Jamie’s hand, squeezing it. “Jamie, I promise you, Mason seemed all right. He didn’t say a word about Juliana or any of that.” Emma looked toward River with a searching expression. “Didn’t you think he seemed fine?”

River thought a moment. “I didn’t really talk to him. I was on the phone with Ari most of that time, but yeah, I think he seemed like himself.”

Jamie sank into the other open chair, raking both hands across his short hair. “That, my friends, is for one very good reason. My brother is a consummate actor. He’s had to be, after everything in Iraq . . . with his PTSD and the pain he’s been lugging around. He’s learned exactly what to tell us. How to behave to convince us all that he’s A-flipping-OK.” Suddenly Jamie looked at Nik—really looked at him. “Well, most of us, that is. Because I’m guessing that
one
of us,” he continued, his eyes laser locked with Nik’s, “has known the truth all along. That my brother’s in a shitload of pain.” Jamie kept on looking at Nikos, his eyes practically begging for help, or insight, and softly added, “Nik, please help my brother.”

“I . . . I’m not sure I can,” he replied just as quietly, remembering how firmly Mason had shut him out. “I doubt he wants to hear from me right now.”

“No, you’re wrong, Nik,” Jamie insisted, clasping Nikos’s shoulder. “He’s in trouble, and he needs you. Please . . . go after him. Before he hurts Ari or Juliana . . . or, most of all, himself.”

 

Juliana now faced a most difficult quandary. It seemed that Layla should not, at all costs, learn about Ari’s power. Had the demon heard everything Juliana herself just had? Was she biding her time, waiting until the end of the nine days—almost eight, really—when she would have permanent, full control over Juliana’s body, and she could fulfill her terrible plan?

Layla had threatened Ari’s life and well-being, but surely the demon didn’t understand his true power. Would she present a danger to a demigod? Could he be killed, or was it a different sort of immortality, one where any injury would instantly heal and death could never make a claim? Perhaps he would not be at risk from Layla’s efforts at all.

Jules kept asking herself these questions, drumming her fingers on the table, feeling edgy and overly warm, which only reminded her of Layla’s existence inside her. She had no idea how to warn Ari, not with the threats Layla had issued—she couldn’t turn to him for assistance. She couldn’t think of a single way to confess all that she’d learned about the “angel” with whom she’d actually bargained without bringing danger upon him.

Meanwhile, Ari studied the menu, oblivious—so light-hearted since their discussion. He was wearing that dopey, sweet smile of his that she loved so much, hunching over the table as he read, and seeing him so happy made Juliana want to weep. She refused to let any harm come to him, no matter what, and would find a way to overcome the demon inside of her. Perhaps a priest could be consulted, she thought hopefully. Yes, that was what she needed to do, discreetly locate a spiritual adviser, someone who could help exorcise Layla. The problem, however, was that she had no way of operating one of the Jeeps. But then she recalled that Googling phone that Shay had shown her.

“Aristos,” she inquired casually. “What is Google . . . exactly?”

He looked at her in surprise. “You’ve been back, what, a day, and you already picked up on that?”

She smiled despite herself. “I’ve always been most modern. You know that.”

“Then Google it.” He tapped something into his phone, then handed it to her.

“Pardon?” she asked in confusion, taking his cell phone in hand. Looking down she saw the Google search feature was open.

“You can type anything—and I do mean anything—into Google, and it will tell you what it is. Including the term
Google
.”

She stared down at the phone, wondering how she might clandestinely search for a priest without Ari noticing, although he was probably too giddy to notice. He studied the menu some more, then released a slow whistle.

His smile widened impishly. “Hey, they got seventy-eight live alligators. Says so right here. They’re over in the gator lagoon.”

He handed her what appeared to be a large napkin. “Here,” he said, “you’re gonna need a bib for the crabs.”

She felt completely numb; all she could do was keep trying to smile back at him. Her stomach churned, and meanwhile Aristos seemed unaware that anything could be wrong. He didn’t know that their happiness was under threat. He’d relaxed into his seat, sipping a beer. That smile never vanished from his face, not for a single moment.

Looking at one of the servers dressed as a pirate, his face got even brighter. “Oh, and we should totally go to Pirate Fest next year.”

“Next year?” Her heart skipped several beats; she’d have sworn it.

“You’ll still be with me, right?” His sweet smile broke her heart, and she had to stare down at the menu to conceal the tears that welled in her eyes.

“I would never leave you willingly.”

“Okay, then! We could get River and Emma, and all dress up. I mean, we work our asses off all the time, right? So long as the world isn’t meeting some epic end that weekend, we gotta do it.”

“Ari, I . . .” She discreetly blotted her eyes, searching the restaurant for a private area.

“You need the ladies’?” he volunteered cheerily, then pointed the way. “Just follow the signs.”

She kept her gaze away from him, feeling the intense nausea and heat inside her body grow stronger. And praying that Ari wouldn’t glimpse the tears gleaming in her eyes . . . or notice that she had discreetly hidden his cell phone beneath the folds of her skirt ruffles.

Mason stared at the marsh, the golden blond grasses glowing with the last light of the day. The drive out to Tybee was always damned gorgeous at this time of day, and he particularly loved the sight of the returning shrimp boats, the gulls following them.

Normally, that was. Normally, he’d have driven slowly, opened the windows on the truck, and inhaled the briny smell of his native low country. Of course, normal didn’t exist for him anymore, and hadn’t in almost a year. Maybe it would soon, however, now that he was going to take down the demon who’d caused his spiraling descent into hell.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he leaned across the seat and opened the glove compartment, making sure that he’d fully secured his semiautomatic in there. The pistols were in the side compartment, but depending on what went down at the restaurant, he might need the heavy shit.

As he closed the compartment, his cell phone rang; he’d been ignoring the thing all damned day, especially because Jamie was hovering over his ass like a mother hen. With a downward glance, he saw that it was Nikos this time. Now, that guy had been utterly conspicuous with his lack of calls and texts, considering they usually pinged each other half a dozen times a day. But he’d seen the quiet pain in Nik’s big brown eyes last night, even though the guy had tried to look away. No wonder he’d sent Emma and River to check on him, not done the proverbial drive by himself.

Yeah, because you fucked up yet again, Captain Brilliance
, he thought, staring down at Nik’s name on the caller-ID display. What must it have taken for the reserved, quiet Spartan to call after the way things had gone between them last night?

Simple: Nikos Dounias wouldn’t call, not after that, not after the rejection Mace had seen in his eyes. He knew that because he knew Nik—really knew him—and he wouldn’t call, not without a very compelling reason.

Like he suspected that Mace was up to something and wanted to stop him; unless someone else had put him up to making the call.

Mason hit IGNORE on the phone, turned it off, and sped faster toward the Crab Shack.

A
ri watched Jules leave for the bathroom, loving the way those sexy-as-hell boots accentuated her shapely legs—as did the short skirt. He got a sudden image of taking all that ruffled fabric and peeling it away to reveal her bare bottom. Oh yeah, that would be fantastic, even right here in the restaurant; he could use his power to make them invisible. He imagined lifting her up onto the table and spreading her legs about him, and instantly the front of his jeans bulged outward.

He shifted around in the seat, grateful that it was nighttime and that the restaurant patrons were too busy with their corn on the cob to worry about the megastiff cob in his pants. He actually snorted aloud as he recalled Jules’s love of fresh corn.

And he was still laughing, leaning back in his chair for a sip of frothy draft beer, when Mason Angel slid right into Juliana’s vacant seat.

Ari grinned, greeting his friend with a rousing, “Oorah, dude! What’re you doing out here?”

Mace wiped at his sweaty brow, setting down a half-consumed cup of beer. “Aristos, look, we gotta talk,” he said, scooting much closer and seeming out of breath, like he’d sprinted all the way here, even though that couldn’t be true—not with that beer in his hand.

“You having dinner?” Ari looked all around the deck curiously. “Who else is here? Scooby members or just your lonely ole jarhead?”

Mason gave him a forbidding look. “Just me.”

Then things started to come together, and fast, as Ari recalled that Mason himself had suggested this restaurant to begin with. “You followed us out here.” It wasn’t a question.

“Had to, man,” was all Mason said in reply.

And then Ari figured out the rest of the drill. Mace had shown up for only one reason—he still believed that Jules was actually a demon. He hunted her kind by both profession and calling, and he wasn’t going to let this go.

Ari leaned forward, planting both palms on the table, and growled protectively. “You’re not going to touch her, Angel.”

Mason mirrored his gesture, stabbing a finger at Ari. “I’m here to tell you that she’s a stone-cold killer, man. Not who you think at all. She is the darkest kind of demon.”

“You’re basing that on what?” Ari hissed, subtly surveying Mason’s golf shirt and jeans, searching for a concealed weapon. He appeared unarmed, but Ari didn’t relax for a moment, because he knew Mason was trained to be dangerous in much less obvious ways.

Ari’s whole body was poised for attack, to protect the woman he loved—and at whatever cost might be required. He would hate it, but he knew he’d go so far as killing Mason, if necessary. Anything to guard Juliana against the demon hunter’s lethal aim.

“Have you looked into her eyes?” Mason asked. “I mean, really gazed into ’em?”

Ari thought of Juliana’s luminous, adoring gaze, the way she’d stared up into his eyes as they made love at the inn—and the abandon in those same blue depths as they came together midflight. There’d been nothing reflected there except her inherent goodness, the truth of who she was—and her unabashed, genuine love for Ari.