Finally, after too long a pause, Doug said, “Dean, take her back.”
The skinhead choked. “Me? Why me? I haven’t finished my beer.”
Doug swung toward him and bared his teeth. His amulet dangled free, its dark green-jeweled eyes seemed to glow for a moment. “Because I told you to.”
“Jesus Christ,” muttered Dean. He slowly grabbed for his keys from his back pocket, which were hanging from a long, braided thong of leather that looked like a sawed-off bullwhip.
I backed toward the door, never lowering the crossbow. “Uh…thanks for the beer.”
“Don’t mention it,” Charise bit out. She eyed my crossbow with an envious glare.
“We’re just going to let her go?” said Bob.
Doug stepped aside for Dean. “Yeah. For now. Take her back to her car.”
“Why don’t we ask her—”
“Willis,” he growled. “Learn when to shut the fuck up.”
I moved past the jukebox, pleased, until Doug jerked forward, making me startle against the doorjamb. “Just the one warning, Kylie Strange.” His brown eyes bored into mine. “Keep to your side of the hill. It’ll be safer that way. There isn’t enough room from more than one practitioner around here.”
I nodded. “Okaaay.” I slid through the doorway, backing toward the bikes in the parking lot, waiting for a reluctant Dean Fitch to join me.
• • •
The ride back was just as cold. And the engine even louder, if that were possible, and full of vibrations that tingled my legs unpleasantly. I got a good look at that tattoo on the side of his shiny head: an upside-down pentagram. Just like the one on the backs of their matching leather jackets.
He pulled up behind my car and skidded to a stop, throwing up a spray of gravel right against my Jeep’s paint job. He grinned when I gave him a sour look. I hopped off.
I was just able to bite out, “What was all that about?” before he turned away from me, and with a roar of the throttle, he sped back up the road toward Hansen Mills.
I stood for a long time just staring up the road until I shook myself loose. I had dodged a bullet, that was for sure. I was lucky to have escaped unscathed.
But when I thought about my exchange with Doug, my stomach did a butterfly jamboree. He had said he was sent by a “friend” to get the crossbow. And he had an amulet, too. That meant only one thing in my mind. Doug’s posse had a demon helper as well. And that could not be good.
I looked down at the crossbow, which had disarmed itself again. “Nice crossbow,” I cooed, petting it. “Thanks for getting me out of a jam.”
Now what?
I opened the car door, set the crossbow reverently on the passenger’s seat, and sat for a long moment. My legs had suddenly turned to jelly and I was hyperventilating. I leaned forward and rested my forehead on the steering wheel, getting my breathing under control before I looked up.
The crossroad was still deserted. I zoomed down the highway back to my shop, parked a little lopsidedly, and hurried back inside, locking the door behind me. I tossed the crossbow to a chair and whipped off my coat, hurling it at the hall tree. I glared at the Booke. “This is all your fault!”
I stomped over to the desk where it sat, threw it open, and grabbed a pen. On the first blank page I started to write through the sudden tears in my eyes:
This insane Booke has come into my life and given me a huge headache.
The blue ink stayed visible for only a moment before it disappeared, sinking into the parchment as if it never was.
Oh, no you don’t! I penned.
It disappeared smoothly.
I threw the pen down. “Dammit!”
I screamed when hands warmed my shoulders.
“There is no use,” Erasmus said softly, holding me in place. “It will only take in the words it needs to see.”
“I was almost eaten by a vortex,” I said shakily.
“I shouldn’t be surprised.” He released me and stepped away.
“And attacked by a biker gang.”
“That…I did not know about.”
“You know, it would really help if you warned me about this stuff before I get sucked into some vortex.”
“I wouldn’t have allowed that.”
“Nice to know. But you weren’t exactly there. That crossbow, however, did seem to come to the rescue.”
“Yes, it’s good at that.”
“And there’s something else. Those bikers. One of them had an amulet just like yours.”
His hands squeezed my shoulders just a little too tightly. “Listen very carefully. What color were the eyes?”
I swallowed. “G-green.”
He released me at once. “Beelze’s tail,” he muttered.
“They’ve got a demon helping them, haven’t they?”
Erasmus wouldn’t look at me, but he nodded curtly.
“And…you know who it is.”
He nodded again. And then he turned. “It doesn’t matter. You still have a job to do.”
“But what about this other demon? Doesn’t that complicate things? What’s going on?”
“Nothing to concern yourself over. I’ll see to it that you do not get abducted again.”
“But those bikers were there, where Karl—” Forget the succubus. I was beginning to think that those bikers killed Karl in some sort of ritual. With a little demon help.
My adrenaline was seeping away. It had kept me going the whole time but now it was leaving me and I felt weak-kneed. I dropped into the chair and put my head in my hands. Anything could have happened to me. Anything! That vortex, those bikers. I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears.
I hugged myself and wiped at my face. I hadn’t even done this when I finally broke up with my ass-hat of a boyfriend. I sobbed uncontrollably, just letting it all out.
“Beelze’s tail,” Erasmus muttered. “Don’t do that.”
I think I tried to tell him that it was my party and I’d cry if I wanted to, but it just came out as more sobs.
He shuffled uncertainly before me. “Why are you crying? Damn mortal women and their tears! It’s useless, I tell you. Stop it at once.”
I took a deep breath and wiped my face sloppily with my hand. “You’re so comforting.” Jumping up, I searched for a tissue from the kitchen. There were none to be had so I grabbed a paper towel from the roll and wiped my face and blew my nose. Erasmus followed me. “Okay. I’m better now. Your pep talk did me wonders,” I added sourly.
I walked back into the desk alcove and stood over the Booke. The parchment under my fingertips felt dry and brittle and I turned pages, just to look at them, all those blank pages. “Do you know what that evil hole, that vortex was? Is?”
“It is…disconcerting.”
“Yeah. An understatement.”
“You’re not hurt?”
It was only then I noticed his hand encircling my wrist. Its warm presence soothed but at the same time spiked something that had lain dormant within me.
His face had lost its sneer, its predatory sharpness. It smoothed to something like concern and that unsettled me. It seemed so human. The notion unfurled a knot of anger in my gut. How dare he look human when he wasn’t? What did his concern even mean?
I slipped my hand free of him and leaned back against the desk, crossing my arms. “Those biker guys. They wanted the crossbow. They know what it is. They were told.”
Erasmus grew thoughtful. “Yes. Who are they exactly?”
I shrugged. “Just some biker guys with an upside-down pentagram as a logo. Along with a goat guy.”
“‘Goat guy’?”
“You know. A guy with a goat head and bat wings.”
Erasmus cursed under his breath.
“What? What is it?”
“It is nothing. Merely a complication.”
“A complication that doesn’t sound good for me. One of them wanted me to join them, and the others thought it wasn’t a good idea. They seemed scared of me.”
> “I don’t blame them.”
I gave him a withering look. Then I thought about Karl again. “Are we sure it was a succubus that killed Karl? Could it have been a demon?”
He rolled the thought over in his mind. “It could have been. But we know the book was opened and we know that two men died in the same way. It is likely that the culprit is our creature.”
“It’s likely, but not certain.”
“Nothing is certain.”
My gaze was dragged back toward the Booke again. What was it about this thing? All sorts of nastiness seemed to stem from it. No wonder Howland walled it up. She thought she was doing the future a solid. Until I stumbled along.
It made me think of the terrified look on her face as she ran for the edge of the cliff. “So. Care to tell me what happened to the last volunteer?”
“Howland?” He moved into the kitchen area, turned toward the old maple table, and pulled out a chair. He sat, and his long pale fingers drew patterns on the wood. For all I knew, he was cursing the place. “She got careless. Got herself caught by the authorities. She thought the book was best walled up and hidden. That’s not how it works.”
I glared at the Booke. “So how does it work? You say it will only take the writing it wants to see. Which is…?”
“About the creature you must capture and subdue. You subdue it, the book captures it when you write it down.”
“That’s so weird. Why does it wait for a victim like me to open again? And don’t give me that crap about ‘even inanimate objects get bored,’” I said in my best imitation of his posh accent.
The old sneer was back along with a deep sigh. “The book lies in wait. It was…created by Others long ago, those that oppose the Powers That Be. The Powers do not condone the release of the creatures into this realm, and so they must be retrieved and subdued. It was they who…attached a demon to it…”
“You?”
“Yes. The book, however, is very old and comes with its own set of rules. It’s been waiting.”
“If the Powers That Be don’t like all these creatures getting out, then why don’t they just destroy the Booke?”
He rolled his eyes and glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you have any more of that coffee?”
“Wait a second.” I leaned in. “Answer the question. Why don’t they just destroy it?”
He shrugged. “Because they clearly do not wish to.”
I just breathed. He regarded me with dark eyes. They looked like they were trying to figure me out, genuinely curious. And then they’d flick down to that amulet again with a hungry expression.
I covered it with my hand.
“So what happened to Constance Howland?”
“It all depends on whom you ask. Coffee?”
“Jeez, all right!” I stomped toward the kitchen. He remained at the table, hands still on the wood as he watched me prepare the beans, empty the grounds into the basket of a French press, and turn on the fire under the kettle.
“What about her being chased by some dark figure and jumping over the cliff?” I asked as I worked. “Or was she pushed?” He continued to draw his patterns, not looking at me. “Was it you? Were you chasing her to her doom?” I stepped away from the counter and stood over him, gripping my elbows. “Are you going to do that to me, too?”
Deliberately, he lifted his head until he was looking me in the eye. Those eyes of his. Dark and roiling with unidentifiable power and emotion. He kicked the chair back and stood. He was nearly a foot taller than me.
“That was a long time ago,” he whispered.
“That’s not answering the question.”
He spun away, black duster swirling around his legs. “There are things I must not discuss with you.”
“Like what really happened?” I shook my head and backed away. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this. I think, maybe, you should leave.”
Hurt flickered over his eyes before it disappeared quickly. “I still have much to impart to you.”
“I’ll get what I need from my Wiccans.”
He snorted. “Those? They are not mages. They can only offer minimal help and protection. And believe me, you’ll need far more than that.”
That word again, “mages.” And “practitioners.” What was the point in asking him about it? He’d only give me more circular answers. “I’ve gotten along fine so far.” I swallowed. “But I can’t trust you. You’re a demon, after all.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe so. But I need real help. And I just can’t trust you to give it.”
Anger and hurt flared in his eyes.
“You never answer my questions,” I whispered.
Shoving the chair harshly against the table, he stomped through the kitchen doorway. I followed and leaned against the jamb, watching him grab the front door handle.
“I’ve done what I could,” he ranted. “No one can say I didn’t.”
“Better check that with your Powers That Be.”
He looked momentarily horrified before he masked it again with a sneer. He yanked open the door without another word and stalked outside. The wind took him and suddenly he was gone.
“And he doesn’t even bother to shut the door,” I muttered, moving forward to do it. Until it slammed shut on its own. I sighed. “Must be the demon time of the month.”
Chapter Ten
I wondered if I should have called the sheriff about those bikers. Why were they at the museum? Clearly they were sent, but I couldn’t tell the sheriff that. But maybe they had something to do with Karl’s death. Maybe they didn’t do it themselves, but their demon buddy did it. Erasmus all but said that was likely the truth.
Good God, another Erasmus Dark! On the face of it, no harm was actually done, I guess, because my best bud Chthonic Crossbow knew what to do. But who knows what might have occurred if that weapon hadn’t kicked in with the super powers?
I grabbed the phone several times before I put it back. Something about the whole situation freaked me out, and I supposed that was saying a lot these days. I looked over my shoulder at the crossbow standing up in the corner and felt again its wash of protection. I wondered why Charise couldn’t get the quarrels out. Was it only attuned to me?
And Erasmus was no better. Teasing me with little bits of information that might or might not help. It was all a game to him. He could be a murderer for all I knew. I hadn’t entirely discounted him. After all, Constance Howland didn’t come out of it so good.
But I did have to call someone. I picked up the phone. “Ay-yuh,” came that friendly and reassuring voice on the line.
“Hi, Doc. I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but there’s been a new development.” I told him about the museum, the bikers, and then the amulet. “So Biker Doug’s got one, too, and I’m pretty sure it means they have another demon in their gang…coven…whatever. And Erasmus seemed to think so, too, though he didn’t come out and say it.”
Silence.
“Doc?”
“That’s…not good news, is it?”
“No. It sure doesn’t sound like it. And here’s something you can share with Jolene. They kept saying the word ‘Shabiri.’ It might be a name, the name of this demon. It might be something else, but it did seem pretty important. Maybe she can look that up. I don’t know whether any of it has any connection with the Booke or not, but they definitely knew about the crossbow, and they wanted it. For what? What else can it be used for? I didn’t get the impression that it was to do anything good.”
He hmmed on the line for a bit. “It’s all something to think about, isn’t it? Jolene’s in school right now, but I’ll text her with this new information. I think we should definitely meet tonight.”
“I agree.” I told him the best time and felt better when I hung up, knowing the Wiccans would be on it.
Still, an uneasy feeling followed me all day. And with it, the unnerving sensation of being watched. It was that Booke. I took detours for th
e rest of the day to stalk by the Booke and glare at it. I tried once more to pen something in it, once with a Sharpie and another with a quill, but nothing stayed. Stupid picky Booke.
I chewed on my thumbnail. If Erasmus wasn’t going to help me then I had to find out what I needed to know on my own. The Wiccans could only do so much, and I hated to wait. After all, the Booke wasn’t going to write itself.
I ran upstairs to grab my laptop. Googling a bit didn’t give me what I wanted. Instead, I searched for the nearest library on my phone, called up the map, and rushed downstairs. It wouldn’t hurt to spend an hour getting a few books.
When I grabbed my coat off the hall tree, I looked back at the crossbow. Better safe than sorry. I snatched it up, and then wrapped it in an afghan from the window bench. I snuck out of my own shop, locked the door, and quickly clambered into the Jeep. Off I went, shooting glances at the map on my phone. It wasn’t far, just up the highway. At least it wasn’t near Hansen Mills. And what was so special about that? Another question for Doc. Unless Doc had already done it, I had decided I’d tell the Wiccans about the bikers and let them choose whether I called the sheriff or not.
I nearly passed it. The library sign was situated behind a large sweeping pine, but I made a U-turn and pulled into the parking lot.
It was a little stone building from an earlier century with a wide expanse of stairs in the front, and concrete lions lying at either side of the steps. The library was surrounded by maples and birches littering leaves all across the parking lot. When I walked through the door I fell instantly in love with the marble floors and high vaulted ceiling, the rococo of the pillars, and the dark stacks marching away like an army of shelves. The place smelled like books, and I smiled when I walked up to the computer to call up a few titles.
With my scrap of paper full of Dewey Decimal numbers, I strolled the stacks and found one book, then another, and finally the last on the list.
I settled into a carrel, opened the first book to the end, and ran a finger down the index. “Succubus, succubus,” I muttered. Finding it, I turned to the pages and began to read. Okay, so it looked like they preyed on men, usually in their sleep. But maybe this one—the real one—worked a little differently. It wouldn’t be after me, but then again, if it knew about me as Erasmus said, it still might try something.
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