He pulled into his spot in the parking lot, beside two black Ford Explorers bearing the HPD shield on their doors. Another vehicle, a large black SUV with Louisiana plates, sat in the visitor’s section and I stared at it uneasily. I hadn’t paid attention to the plate number before but I was convinced this was the same SUV that passed us as we left Mrs. Kendricks’ house yesterday morning.
Dad didn’t give it a second glance as he got out and headed for the entrance. I followed him at a slower pace, looking around for the SUV’s driver. He can’t be the hunter, I told myself. There’s no reason for him to come to the police. They can’t help him catch demons. It has to be a coincidence.
“Peter?” Dad held one of the glass doors open, waiting for me impatiently, and I hurried up, preceding him inside.
The lobby was just a rectangle of linoleum and plaster walls, lined with uncomfortable chairs and a gallery of official notices. Mrs. Burns sat at her desk in the corner like a sentry guard in a turret. She was a pleasant-looking woman in her fifties, but absolutely no one got past her without permission.
There was only one other occupant in the room, seated directly across from her. He looked to be a couple of years younger than Dad, with dark wavy hair that was getting a bit long and hard-edged features in need of a shave. Despite the heat outside, he wore a black windbreaker over a white t-shirt and black slacks. His brown eyes locked with mine for a moment and I felt a shiver crawl down my back. He felt dangerous, with a capital D, although I couldn’t quite explain why.
Dad only gave him the barest glance as he crossed over to Mrs. Burns’ desk. “Good morning, Rachel,” he said. “We’re here to finish up Peter’s forms.”
Mrs. Burns nodded and extracted a folder from a drawer in her desk. She handed it directly to me and I looked at it in dismay. It was at least an inch thick.
“Read everything, initial all the circles, and sign all the highlighted lines,” she instructed me. “Ask if there’s anything you don’t understand.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a sigh. “Do you have a pen I can borrow?” She let her breath out in a way that hinted at her disappointment that I was so ill-prepared, but she plucked a pen from the collection in her happy-face mug and held it out to me. “Thanks.”
“We can do this in my office,” Dad said. “Can you buzz us in, Rachel?”
She nodded and touched something under the edge of her desk. The door on the back wall clacked and buzzed until Dad pulled it open, revealing the corridor beyond.
“Excuse me.” The visitor was on his feet now, striding towards us. “Are you Chief Collins?”
“Sir,” Mrs. Burns told him sharply. “I’ve already told you the Chief is off Mondays. Sergeant Finney will be here shortly.” Bill Finney was Dad’s second-in-command.
The man ignored her. “Sir, it’s very important that I speak with you.”
Dad made an unobtrusive gesture to Mrs. Burns, who sat back in her chair, although she kept her hand under her desk. “What’s this about, Mr. –?”
“Special Agent Prescott,” he said. All of us tensed when he reached inside his jacket but all he pulled out was a small black leather case. He flipped it open to reveal a gold badge. “FBI.”
“I see,” Dad said with a frown. “How can the HPD help the FBI today?”
Agent Prescott glanced at me and then at Mrs. Burns. As he turned his head, I was surprised to see three horizontal scars across his temple and hairline, as if he’d been attacked by some wild animal a long time ago. “Can we speak in private, sir?”
Dad nodded. “All right. Come on back to my office. Peter, wait out here, okay?”
“Okay,” I told him. I was dying to know what Agent Prescott was doing in Hellburn but I was also relieved, frankly. The FBI had nothing to do with demon hunting.
The two of them went inside and I sat in one of the visitor chairs, flipping open the file folder and perusing the first page. It was a long document crammed with legalese and I sagged in dismay as I skimmed the first paragraph. I was tempted just to initial and sign in all the designated places without going through the whole thing but Mrs. Burns was watching me. I shook my head and starting reading.
Sergeant Finney appeared a couple of minutes later, looking around the lobby with a frown. He was the veteran on the force, a small, wrinkled, balding ex-Marine who usually smelled like cigars despite the No Smoking signs posted throughout the station. He was marking time until retirement, so he ran the department’s small jail and handled the patrol assignments for the rest of the officers.
“Peter,” he nodded curtly.
“Sergeant,” I replied. He had no patience for empty pleasantries.
“So where’s this FBI guy you wanted me to see?” he asked Mrs. Burns.
“The Chief came in with Peter,” she told him, nodding in my direction. “They’re in his office.”
Sergeant Finney grunted and turned back to the door, waiting for Mrs. Burns to buzz it open. “Monday, right, Peter?” He was also in charge of the newly-created intern program.
“Yes, Sergeant.” Dad was the only person in the building anyone called sir.
“0800 hours sharp,” he warned me.
“Yes, Sergeant.” He nodded and vanished into the bowels of the station as I returned to my mountain of paperwork.
I checked my watch when I got about halfway through, wondering what was taking Dad and Agent Prescott so long. It had to be something big but I couldn’t imagine what. Nothing ever happened in Hellburn. By the time I scrawled my signature across the final sheet of paper, I was starting to feel anxious.
I returned the folder to Mrs. Burns and she went through the entire thing page by page, pointing out the two places I neglected to initial. I corrected my oversights and she carefully placed everything back in her drawer.
“How big are you, Peter?” she asked, eyeing me.
“Five-ten.” And a half, but adding that would make me sound insecure.
Mrs. Burns wasn’t the type to roll her eyes but her steady gaze had the same effect. “No, your shirt and pant sizes. I need to order your uniform.”
“I get a uniform?” I was surprised. Sergeant Finney hadn’t mentioned that.
“No firearm, so don’t get your hopes up. Well?” I gave her the appropriate statistics and she jotted them down on her notepad. “Hat size?” HPD officers wore Stetsons, like Dad did.
I didn’t actually know the answer to that and Mrs. Burns didn’t have a cloth tape. She did, however, have a length of string and a ruler, so we were able to work it out. She stepped back from me and looked me over again, frowning down at my feet.
“You’ll need to get your own shoes. Black,” she stated, “no running shoes. Sturdy walking shoes are best, something comfortable. You’ll be on your feet a lot.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She snorted and returned to her seat. “I’ll call you when your uniform is in, probably Friday. Wear it when you come in next Monday.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stop that, you’re making me feel old. Call me Rachel.”
“Ah, okay, uh, Rachel.” That didn’t feel right at all. She was at least fifteen years older than Mom.
“I’ll be adding your phone to the department dispatch system,” she went on. “Just ignore any HPD texts you see before Monday and absolutely do not share them with anyone else.” She gave me a stern look that promised severe repercussions.
“No, ma’am. I mean Rachel.”
She shook her head. “All right, take a seat until your father’s done. Coffee’s over there if you want some.” A small table in the corner held an urn and a stack of Styrofoam cups.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
I resumed my seat and leaned back against the wall, staring at the inner door and willing it to open and let Dad out. It ignored me completely so I closed my eyes and tried to come up with an idea for a date that Dara might enjoy.
She likes going out to eat, I mused, but we mostly go to places with frenc
h fries. I wonder if she’d like something like Goodwin’s. That would put a dent in my bank account but it might be worth it to get her away from Lilith for a while. And then what? A romantic stroll around the square? A tour of Hellburn’s historic buildings? #6 on Justin’s list? No, we’d get arrested if we tried that.
The inner door clacked and Dad pushed it open, holding it for Agent Prescott. They stood there for a moment, talking quietly between themselves, and then they shook hands.
“Six o’clock, then,” Dad said.
Prescott nodded. “She’ll be there?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“All right. Thanks for your help, Chief.” He nodded to Mrs. Burns, frowned at me, and then strode out the door.
“So what happens at six, Dad?” I asked him.
He gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, a sure sign he was uneasy about something. “Agent Prescott is in town on a case. He’s on his own so I invited him over for dinner tonight.”
“It sounded like he’s expecting someone to be there.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“But who –?”
“It’s police business, Peter.” That was his standard answer whenever we asked him about an active investigation.
“Dad, I just got carpal tunnel signing a hundred non-disclosure and information privacy forms. I’m allowed to know what’s going on now.”
He looked at me in surprise and then his mouth quirked. “Most of the time,” he agreed, “but not this time. Agent Prescott’s case is need-to-know only.”
“You’re making it sound like his case involves someone at the house.”
“Keep this to yourself, Peter,” he said sharply. “Don’t tell anyone that Agent Prescott is coming over tonight. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I gulped. That wasn’t a father-to-son request, that was a Chief of Police Jack Collins to not-even-a-rookie-yet Peter Collins order.
The black SUV drove past the entrance and we both watched it turn onto Jefferson. “So what now?” I asked when Dad didn’t seem inclined to move.
“You’re all done here?” I nodded. “All right, let’s head out. Let me just take care of one thing.”
Dad went over to Mrs. Burns’ desk and gestured for a pen and paper. He spent a minute composing a note and then handed it to her. “Send that out to the patrol officers,” he said. “High priority.”
“Yes, sir,” she acknowledged with a nod.
“Anything else I need to know about?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Mrs. Burns caught my eye and pointed at my feet. “Don’t forget about the shoes.”
“No, ma’am,” I promised. “I mean Rachel.” She shook her head dolefully and went back to her computer.
Dad stayed quiet the entire trip home, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he frowned through the windshield. He didn’t go anywhere near the highway, so either his threat to drop me off to Mom was just a joke or he’d completely forgotten about cleanup duty. I had no inclination to remind him.
His phone chimed to indicate an incoming message and he glanced at it briefly before setting it back on the console. My phone pinged a minute later but the caller ID wasn’t a normal number. I opened the message and was presented with a cryptic cipher.
Code 20: F approx 20 yo exotic w/ silver hair. LKA Lily Cantrell. DNA A&D. Rep loc CoP only.
I didn’t know what a Code 20 was but I’d picked up enough police jargon looking over Dad’s shoulder over the years to sort out the rest of it.
Female, approximately 20 years old, exotic appearance with silver hair. Last known alias Lily Cantrell. Do not approach, considered armed and dangerous. Report location to the Chief of Police only.
My heart froze in my chest. This was an APB for Lilith. Special Agent Prescott was the demon hunter and Dad just invited him over to our house for dinner tonight.
18
Contrary to popular belief, I do occasionally play games other than Legends of Lorecraft. When I need a shot of adrenaline, I’ll fire up Tach Attack and outrun police cars in my Lamborghini through crowded city streets and treacherous mountain passes. If I’m feeling particularly antisocial, I’ll jump into Phantom Fire and pick off unsuspecting soldiers and mercenaries from the shadows with a sniper rifle. I can satisfy my urge to create and destroy entire civilizations in Cradle of Fire. There’s no end to the virtual mayhem I can dole out on hapless digital characters.
The one thing all of these games have in common is that none of them require much in the way of strategic thinking or long-term planning. They’re mostly reactive play: How fast can I go around that corner without crashing? What’s the best vantage point to ambush that squad? Should I grow more food or hire more troops this year? If a game requires me to think more than three steps ahead, it’s going to end in disaster for me, which probably explains why most of my civilizations collapse within a couple of centuries.
This means that I’m absolutely terrible at games like chess, which are all about strategy. My usual approach is to capture as many pieces as I can as quickly as possible to reduce the number of moves I need to consider, although admittedly that rarely works out for me. A chess board that starts with four pieces on each side would probably be ideal: even if I don’t win, at least it would be a really short game.
I was ready to bolt out of the door as soon as the Jeep came to a halt in the garage but Dad stopped me,
“Peter,” he said, looking unusually serious, “don’t say anything to anyone about tonight.”
“But –”
“I mean it. It’s very important that no one knows Agent Prescott is coming over.”
I was screwed. If I didn’t warn Lilith and Daraxandriel about the hunter, they were going to walk straight into a trap. If I did and Dad found out, which would be inevitable since I was the only other person who knew about him, my police career would be over before it even started. “Yes, sir,” I said glumly.
Dad nodded and got out. I followed him into the house, trying to come up with some way to salvage the situation. “If we can’t tell Mom about this, how’s she going to know how much to make for dinner?” That was a feeble excuse. It wouldn’t faze Mom one bit to add an extra place setting at the last minute.
“We’ll tell her Melissa’s coming over,” he said. “That should cover it.”
“Melissa? Oh, right.” I’d completely forgotten about her. “Do you think that’s still a good idea? I mean, if something’s happening tonight –”
“Nothing’s happening,” he said firmly. “Agent Prescott is just pursuing a lead in his case. I’ve already told him he’s mistaken but he wants to confirm it himself. It’s a professional courtesy, that’s all.”
“All right, if you’re sure.” Prescott must have asked for Dad’s help finding Lily Cantrell, the name Olivia gave Lilixandriel. He would have had to describe her without mentioning her horns and tail, hence the exotic label and the silver hair. Dad probably told him that someone with a similar name was staying with us, except he’d only seen Lilith as a platinum blonde human. Prescott would know that demons could change their appearance, though, so he needed to see her in person to be certain.
Except that won’t do him any good, I told myself, feeling a tiny glimmer of hope. She’s human now because of that curse. Even if he had some way to detect demons, it wouldn’t work on her. But it’ll work on Dara, I remembered uneasily. As soon as Prescott laid eyes on her, he’d know what she was. I had to get her out of here before he showed up, without actually telling her why.
“Peter? Are you all right?” I blinked at Dad, who looked worried. “You just stopped.”
“Oh, sorry.” We were standing in the laundry room. I didn’t even remember walking into the house. “I was just thinking. Is there any reason for me to hang around here tonight? I mean, I don’t want to accidentally give anything away and Dara and I haven’t been out
by ourselves in a while.”
“Peter,” he said reprovingly, “Melissa’s coming over to discuss the move. You have to be here.”
“Oh, right.” At the rate things were going, the only room I’d be moving into would have bars on the front. I wondered if I could get Melissa to cancel out without asking too many questions.
“There’s no reason to do anything unusual tonight,” he told me. “We don’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily.”
“Right.” Other than me. “Well, I guess I’ll check on Dara and Lilith then,” I said casually.
“Come help me get the grill set up first,” he said, walking into the kitchen. “I thought we could give our dinner guests a taste of proper Southern barbecue.”
“Melissa lives here and he’s from New Orleans,” I argued. “They’ve probably both had it a thousand times already.”
Dad looked at me strangely. “He’s from Philadelphia. What makes you think he’s from New Orleans?”
“Oh, uh –” I just assumed he was, since that’s where Olivia died. I couldn’t imagine why anyone from Pennsylvania would even know about her, let alone travel all that way to track down the demon who claimed her soul. “I, uh, saw the Louisiana plates on his truck,” I explained hastily. “I figured he was from there.”
“Hm.” Dad looked thoughtful. “I didn’t even notice. Good catch. Maybe we’ll make you into a detective,” he smiled.
“Is the pay better?” I joked to hide the churning in my stomach.
“Not as much as you’d think. Come on.” He headed for the back door.
“I’ll be right there,” I told him. “I just need to use the bathroom.”
I waited until Dad stepped outside and then ran down the hall. I figured maybe I could tell Daraxandriel and Lilith to go for a very long walk or something. As long as they didn’t tell Dad I suggested it, I couldn’t be blamed for their absence tonight. I barged into my bedroom and then stumbled to a halt. It was empty.
“Dara?” I called doubtfully. “Lilith?” There was no answer. I hurried across the hall and found Susie’s door unlocked. “Susie, where’s –?” My voice died away. Her room was equally deserted.
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