Sure enough, a burnished silver BMW motorbike maneuvered into a parking spot on the east side of the soccer field, the helmeted rider draped shoulder to toe in black leather.
Drusus.
Lachlan slid out of his car and hit the speed dial on his phone. As he exited, he spotted two familiar faces, one on each side of the grassy field—lads from the fairgrounds, undoubtedly demons. “I’m at the school,” he said when Brian answered. “Get your arse over here.”
“Hold on,” the other Gatherer said, huffing. “Carlos hasn’t answered his phone or his door all day, so I’m about to break into his apartment.”
“Forget Carlos. Drusus is here—with friends.”
“Shit.” A heavy whomp and the sound of wood splintering punctuated his words. “Gimme one minute, okay? I’ve got a cab waiting downstairs. I’m coming. Just don’t do anything stupid until I get there.”
Lachlan folded the phone and tucked it into his pocket, his eyes locked on Drusus as the demon flicked out the kickstand, dismounted, and removed his helmet. Stupid no doubt included coming within thirty feet of the lethal bastard and his mates, but a desperate need to take a physical stand between the demon and Emily got the better of him.
Drusus pivoted as Lachlan neared.
“Ah, there you are. I assumed you’d be somewhere about.”
“Shove off. Emily’s no’ going anywhere with you.”
The demon smiled and fluffed his short curls with a gloved hand. “I think we’ve already proven that you can’t stop me from taking her, if that’s what I want.”
Scores of cars and minivans surrounded them, each filled with waiting parents, and though Lachlan didn’t spare them a glance, he used them to his advantage. “You won’t slay me in front of human witnesses.”
“And you won’t draw your sword. Stalemate.”
“Walk away. You gain nothing by killing her.”
The demon placed his helmet on the seat of the bike. “Oh, but I do. Her death will garner me the esteem of my liege Lord, and his rewards are well worth any effort, believe me.”
“You care nothing about pleasing Satan, you piece of filth. You want the Linen. So why no’ negotiate for it?”
“Of course I care. My allegiance to Satan is unassailable. Hell can be an unending misery or it can be an exquisite, sinful pleasure. It all depends on how well I please the boss.”
Lachlan stepped closer, coming toe to toe with the demon and taking a raw, primitive pleasure in the fact that he stood some four inches taller. “Just answer the bloody question.”
“It’s simple.” Drusus crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his bike. Other than that, he did not acknowledge Lachlan’s intimidation effort. “Bartering is not my style. I want it all. You and Em and the Linen.”
“I’m no’ going to let that happen.”
Drusus snorted. “You won’t have a choice.”
The school bell broke the stillness of midafternoon in suburbia, ringing shrilly.
Lachlan paused. In roughly three minutes, the students would collect their belongings and file out. After that, the situation would get harder to control. “If I give the Linen to you freely, will you walk away from Emily?”
“I’m afraid not, baro. She’s got the lead role in my grand finale, and I’ve got a killer ending lined up. You won’t want to miss it.” A smile spread across the demon’s face. “In fact, I’ve saved you a seat at the show. Right next to me, so I can absorb the full impact of your pain.”
“I told you, Emily is just a job.”
The demon’s smile broadened to a smirk.
At that moment, Lachlan’s cell phone warbled. He would have ignored it, but the ring tone told him it was Brian. “What?”
“He knows,” the other Gatherer said quietly.
“Knows what?”
“About our little matchmaking project.”
Lachlan’s gaze flickered to the lure demon’s blandly smiling face, then across the field to the two demon henchmen. Already anticipating what he was about to hear, he clenched his fingers around the phone. “Carlos?”
“Yup. Deep-fried, poor bastard. Sometime last night. And my money’s on your demon pal as the guy with the torch.”
Christ. “Where are you?”
“Paying off a cabbie a hundred yards south of you. But heads up, Emily’s about to crash your party.”
Lachlan whipped around.
15
Em dragged her feet all day.
Although she hated to admit it, she missed Carlos. He hadn’t shown up at school this morning, and even though she shared only one class with him, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Was he sick? Or had she scared him off?
Maybe Drew was right; maybe he’d started to think bad thoughts about her, like the others. Hard to believe, though, when she remembered that wonderful bus ride—how he’d held her hand and smiled at her.
By the time the bell rang at two thirty, she had a whopping headache. And the pain in her head only intensified when she exchanged the cool dimness of the school for the sunny outdoors—Drew was waiting for her, just as he promised, but so was Father MacGregor.
“Why are you here?” she asked the priest.
“To harass me,” complained Drew, straightening. He offered her the spare helmet. “All he’s done since he got here is threaten to beat me to a pulp.”
Father MacGregor ignored Drew, keeping his gaze locked on her. “You know why I’m here, Emily. To protect you.”
“Don’t listen to him, Em. He’s a liar, remember?”
Father MacGregor didn’t protest Drew’s slam. Heck, he didn’t even blink. He stood tall and sure, his silver cross hanging around his neck like gleaming proof of his honesty.
“Did my mom send you to spy on me?” she asked.
“She didn’t need to. I know what kind of hellspawn Drusus is, and I won’t let him hurt you.”
“Hellspawn? Jeez, Em. You’re not buying this crap, are you? He swore I cut him up, but that wasn’t true, was it?”
No, the cuts had been a lie. She sighed.
“Emily, listen to me,” Father MacGregor said, his voice low and urgent. “Your friend Carlos didn’t show up at school today, did he? Want to know why? Because he’s dead. Drusus murdered him. We found the body this afternoon.”
Dizziness, dread, pain, and fear all hit Em at once. Carlos? Dead? Her throat closed, and she couldn’t draw a breath. “What?”
Pushing past Father MacGregor, Drew grasped her arm. “This is ridiculous. First I’m a mugger and now I’m a murderer. I haven’t done a damned thing wrong except love you.” He peered into her face, his own expression pale and worried. “You know me better than anyone, Em. You know I live to make you happy. Do you really think I killed this guy?”
Aching for him, she opened her mouth to reassure him.
“Did you mention Carlos to Drusus yesterday, Emily?”
Her breath snagged on the priest’s words. She had.
Drew noted her uncertainty and shook her arm slightly. “Come on, sweet, don’t be swayed by his bullshit. This is me we’re talking about. The one you trust with your deepest, darkest secrets. I’ve never once lied to you, but he has. Who are you going to believe?”
A man Em didn’t recognize jogged up the sidewalk and halted beside them. He was dressed in a fancy suit and tie, and at first she thought he was someone’s dad, but that theory went out the window when he spoke.
“Whatever this A-hole just said”—he indicated Drew with his thumb—“is a fucking lie.”
Father MacGregor winced.
Drew snatched up his helmet and jammed it on. “I’ve had enough. Em, get on the bike. Let’s go home.”
She hesitated. The important-looking guy in the suit had sided with Father MacGregor, but what did that mean? Did it mean Carlos was really dead?
No, she couldn’t accept that Carlos was dead.
Or that Drew had killed him.
“He’s just giving me a lift home,
” she said to Father MacGregor, somewhat apologetically. She tugged on her own helmet and fastened the chinstrap. “You can follow us, if you like.”
As she swung her leg over the seat of the motorbike and wrapped her arms around Drew, the man in the suit frowned and reached behind his head. But Father MacGregor grabbed his arm. “No, let them go.”
“But—”
“We can’t do anything here.”
“But—”
“Neither can he, Webster. Stand down.”
As the powerful engine of the bike surged to life and vibrated through her thighs, Em watched the two men cross to Father MacGregor’s car. Apparently, they were going to take her up on her offer and follow her home.
Was that a good thing?
With Drew’s shoulders and stomach stiffer than she’d ever felt them, she couldn’t be sure.
Lachlan tailgated Drusus all the way home.
Taking advantage of the Audi’s responsive engine, he wove in and out of traffic as smoothly as the bike, never once allowing a car or a traffic light to come between him and Emily. His blood pumped fiercely and every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation of a sudden and unexpected move … but nothing happened.
The drive to Emily’s apartment was short and uneventful. The demon dropped her off in the parking lot, stole a quick kiss as he accepted the spare helmet, and then roared off.
“Okay,” Brian said. “Maybe it’s just me, but I’m confused. If she’s got the mark and it’s clear she’s going to die soon, shouldn’t he have tried to nab her?”
“He’s still luring her.”
“Which means what?”
“We watch and we wait.”
“I’m tired of waiting,” the younger man said, loosening the knot of his tie with a sharp jerk. “The rotten bastard fried Carlos. Not quickly, either. From the look of things, Drusus dragged the battle out for quite a while, made him suffer. I want to carve his fucking guts out.”
Parking the Audi in his usual spot, Lachlan sighed. “As you yourself pointed out, attacking Drusus one-on-one, or even two-on-one, won’t work. It’s got to be a group effort.”
“Then let’s round up the guys, find his hideout, and hack him to pieces. Waiting around for him to complete his lure is just asinine.”
“Patience, Webster. Once I get the job assignment for Emily’s soul, I’ll know where and when her death will happen. We’ll have all the details we need to hunt him down.”
“True.” Brian sat back against the leather seat, the tension visibly flowing out of him. He pitched Lachlan a sympathetic look. “So, did you tell her?”
“No.”
The younger man nodded, understanding. After a brief pause, he asked, “What’s the plan?”
“You stay here and watch Emily’s apartment while I go inside and wait for the message.”
Brian tugged his BlackBerry free of its holster and glanced down. “No can do, pal. Just got an emergency gather. An unmarked. Poor bastard was hit by a stray bullet during a demon-inspired drive-by.”
“Fine. Call one of the others to relieve you.”
“Okay.” Brian looked exactly the way Lachlan felt—uneasy. “I’m so not liking this,” he said as they both got out of the car. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Carlos’s death is getting to you. It’s one of the reasons Drusus would have taken him out, to shake your confidence. Just stay sharp.”
Great advice, if only he could follow it himself.
As Lachlan entered the building and climbed the stairs to the third floor, he couldn’t help but imagine Carlos lying on the floor of his apartment, blackened and lifeless. The poor lad hadn’t even had a halfway-decent chance to earn his way to heaven, which meant his soul would likely go to hell.
And the burden for that lay with him.
He’d sent Carlos into harm’s way.
Lachlan checked his e-mail repeatedly throughout the evening, but the message he was expecting from Death—the one that would tell him the details of Emily’s last moments—never came.
Standing, he crossed to the fireplace and lifted the claidheamh mòr free of its mountings. He ran his fingers lightly along the flat of the blade, savoring the cool touch of the metal and the thrum of the mystical power beneath. A rigorous training set would relieve the tension of waiting. After all, it might be hours more before the message came, if it came at all. What better way to pass the time?
His gaze swung to the kitchen counter. Anselm Brucker’s worn leather Bible lay on the granite surface, right where he’d dropped it.
Reading was another option, of course.
Assuming he could find the courage.
Rachel actually thought twice about doing a bed check that evening. Em hadn’t snuck out since the night she went joyriding to the fairgrounds, and tonight they’d actually managed to have a civil conversation at the dinner table. They had talked about going to see the new Ashton Kuchter movie together. It seemed a little unfair not to trust her.
But then she remembered what Drew was. A demon wasn’t going to play nice, and that meant she couldn’t, either.
She turned the knob on Em’s door and quietly pushed it open. The room was dark, and she spent a moment drinking in the warm, subtle scent that enveloped her: Em’s scent, still vaguely childlike, reassuringly familiar, and calming.
The floor was littered with the usual evidence of Em’s daily existence—discarded clothing and dog-eared papers culled from her school binder. Rachel instinctively bent to pick them up, then remembered the time and glanced toward the bed.
And found it empty.
Her fingers went numb.
Even in the very faint light that spilled in from the hallway, she could see the rumpled cotton sheets, the puffy comforter tossed back … and the hole where a sleeping teen ought to be.
She spun around. The window stood open, the slatted blinds pulled into a tight bunch near the ceiling. The balcony ran under the window, but she couldn’t see the flower boxes in the dark. All she saw was the breeze toying with the edges of the curtains, gently sucking them out and blowing them in.
Numbness crept up her arms and into her chest.
Em was gone.
Out with Drew in the middle of the night.
Heart beating in erratic spurts, breaths short and tight, Rachel tore out of the room and reached the kitchen phone in record time. It was after midnight, but she didn’t care. She dialed Lachlan’s number, closed her eyes, and prayed.
He answered on the second ring. “Rachel? What’s wrong?”
“She’s gone.”
Further explanation was unnecessary. “Stay there. I’ll be right down.”
She disconnected, tried another number, and then overcome by dizziness, lowered her head to her knees, battling the black spots that crowded her vision. Fainting would be a really useless thing to do. She needed to get a grip.
“Rachel.”
His voice was so warm, so reassuring, so exactly what she needed to hear, that Rachel flung herself into his arms and let all her defenses fall away. She just wanted to lean on him, lose herself in his arms, forget the current nightmare of her life. A sob escaped her lips as she pressed her face into the warm skin at his neck—and then another sob, and another.
He held her gently, rocked her, and let her cry, and he didn’t object at all to the big damp patch she left on his shirt. When the storm finally passed and her cries had receded into hiccups, he asked quietly, “Did you try calling her cell?”
“Yes. It’s off.”
“Any clue where she might have gone?”
“No.”
He lifted his phone to his ear. After a moment, someone answered and Lachlan crisply asked, “Who’s on watch?”
There was a husky burble of voice.
“Check on him. Emily’s gone.”
Then he tucked the phone away and peered down into Rachel’s face. Whatever he saw there made him press a soft kiss to her lips. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”
>
“How?”
“Let’s start with her room.” He folded his hand around hers, a solid suggestion of support, and led her down the hall. Flicking on the light, he looked around Emily’s room. “Anything missing?”
“Missing? What do you mean?”
“Did she pack a bag, or just take the clothes she was wearing?”
Gripping the doorjamb with every last bit of her strength, Rachel forced her eyes to sweep the room. The bed still looked heartbreakingly vacant. Em’s favorite pajamas were not hanging over the footboard. Nor was her purse in its usual spot on the floor. One of the dresser drawers hung open, the contents an untidy jumble of cloth, but that was such a common sight, it was impossible to know if it was significant.
Her gaze lifted.
Coins and elastics and nail polish still littered the top of the dresser, but the pewter picture frame with the old Christmas photo had disappeared. She glanced around quickly to check if it had been moved, but no. It was gone.
“Grant,” she whispered.
“What?”
Rachel closed her eyes, reliving all the tears and anger of the split, reexperiencing every disappointment she’d seen reflected in Em’s eyes over the past four years as her father repeatedly bailed out on his visitations.
“Oh my God. Her dad. You asked me what she wants most in the world, and that’s it … her dad.”
“You think she’s gone to San Diego?”
“Yes.”
“Call him.” Lachlan thrust his phone into her hand. “Warn him that she may be coming and tell him to keep her there until we arrive.”
Rachel blinked. “What do I tell Grant about Drew?”
“Nothing.”
“But—”
His eyes softened. “There’s nothing you could say that would adequately prepare him.”
Rachel sagged against the wall, realizing it was the truth. Hello, Grant? Just calling to tell you your daughter is dropping by with her demon boyfriend. Yeah, that would go over well. She’d have to hope Drew wasn’t interested in hurting Grant. With amazingly steady hands, she dialed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
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