I Spy a Demon

by Keta Diablo

  “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Isaiah 40:29.”

  “You believe in God, Marcel?”

  “I believe in good and evil, the weak and the strong and....”

  “And?”

  “Demons. If Hell exists, does that mean there’s a Heaven?”

  “I-I don’t know.” She felt tears pool in her eyes. “I never knew anything about demons before...before this. I ask myself every day, where is Calder? I mean, exactly where is he now? I must believe I will see him again. If not, I don’t think I can face this hard, cold place we call Earth.”

  “Believe whatever gets you through another minute, another hour, another day.”

  “Is that how you live?”

  His nod was so slight, no one else would have noticed it, but long ago, a lifetime ago it seemed, she had memorized Marcel’s every nuance, body-speak and expressions. Without them, she would never know him at all.

  Cecily didn’t know how much time passed while her eyes held his. She’d give up anything to know what he was thinking this very second, but knew she never would. “Is the pain better?”

  He nodded with the most perplexed expression on his face. “Yes. Much better.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him smile. “Good.”

  Marcel winced and glanced over his shoulder. “We best go, Cecily. If they come back, I can’t fight them right now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Marcel, wake up.” Cecily pointed to a green sign. “There’s the sign for Quincy.”

  He reached for his cell phone and punched in some numbers. “Get off on the Expressway up ahead. Follow the large, green sign for motels and restaurants. When you see the Pelican Perch Inn, pull into the parking lot. We’re not driving to Hannibal, Missouri tonight.”

  Cecily parked the van by the Office and reached for Marcel’s wallet on the dashboard. She looked around the empty parking lot and scrunched up her nose. “Doesn’t look like we’ll have much trouble booking a room.”

  How had everything in her life gone south so fast? If satanic demons, and those crazy enough to hunt them, weren’t enough, she never imagined she’d be sharing a motel room with Marcel. Yes, she’d shared his bed for two years, but that was in the past.

  Wasn’t it?

  She’d give anything to know how to quit him. God knows, she’d tried. From the moment she’d first spied him standing in the snow-covered ground of a cemetery, her little girl heart was lost. She shouldn’t be here with him, in the car, booking a room at a motel for Christ sake. One look at Marcel again and her body temperature spiked. Either that, or she’d come down with tick fever.

  His had spiked too. She caught him looking at her one too many times in the last several days, those gun-metal eyes belying his cool, calm demeanor. He wanted her, as much as she wanted him.

  In retrospect, the sore shoulder could work in her favor. He was in no shape to set upon her, like he had in the play room the first time they had sex. Now, if she could only convince her traitorous body to stay away from him...far away.

  His silky voice cut into her treacherous thoughts. “Try for a room in back.”

  “Right. I’ll try to hurry.”

  Within minutes, she returned, slid behind the wheel and drove around to the parking lot in the back of the motel. “We’re here, Room 110. Should I grab anything from the van?”

  Marcel slithered out of the passenger seat with a soft groan. “My duffle bag and cell phone, and don’t forget to lock the van.”

  After unlocking the door to the room, she held it open for Marcel, took in their surroundings and knew why she’d turned up her nose in the parking lot. Although sparse, the room was at least clean.

  When Marcel slumped to the floor, Cecily tossed the duffel bag onto one of the beds and kneeled down beside him. “You’re going to have to put my shoulder right,” he said.

  “Oh, no. I draw the line at laying-of-the-hands as you call it.”

  “It’s not that hard. I’ll coach you through it. Nothing is broken but we have to get it back in the socket.”

  She chewed on her lower lip.

  “God, you’d think you were the one injured.”

  She blew a puff of air, shifting the bangs on her forehead. “You sure I won’t make it worse?”

  “No, not if you do what I tell you. Ready?”

  She nodded.

  “Once I sit up, grab my wrist and pull my arm forward and straight. Keep it in front of you.”

  “Then what?”

  “If you do it right, that motion will guide the bone back into the socket. Go on, take my wrist.”

  The muscles in her body tensed, every single one.

  “Relax, Cecily. Now grab my wrist.”

  After wiping her hands on her jeans, she took his wrist.

  “You don’t have to jerk or yank hard, just ease it forward and keep it straight. With any luck the bone will pop back in.”

  Tonight his eyes were a deep slate gray. Maybe if she stared into those fathomless depths and didn’t think about the task before her, she could do it.

  He blessed her with a heart-stopping smile. “Do it.”

  Concentrating, she followed his instructions and with little effort, the bone slipped back into place. “I did it!”

  Eyelids at half-mast, he smiled again. “Perfect, little gazelle, perfect.”

  “Is the pain gone?”

  “Almost. Dig in my duffle bag for the first-aid kit. You’ll find a sling.”

  She came to her feet, crossed the room and rifled through his duffle bag. Underneath his computer and iPad, she found the kit. Kneeling beside him again, she constructed a sling, fashioned it around his arm and shoulder, and then sat back and admired her handiwork.

  “Maybe you missed your calling, Cecily.”

  “You seem to have forgotten that I have a little shop in Minnesota selling healing herbs and tinctures.”

  “That’s right; in all the chaos of the last few days, I almost forgot. Help me to the bed so I can lie down.”

  She eased him from the floor by placing her body under his good shoulder and then led him to the bed. “Here, lie down now and let’s see if I can make it feel better.”

  He watched her with hooded eyes while she ran her hands across his upper arm and shoulder, focusing on the words that ran like a mantra in her head. “Heal, little starling, heal.”

  “You need to go back to that little shop in Minnesota, Cecily.”

  Her hands came to an abrupt stop. “Leave it to you to spoil the moment.”

  “I mean it. You can’t stay with me.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  He took her hand. “I fucked up out there today. I should have anticipated both men’s moves. Lesson number one; know what they’re going to do before they do it.”

  She snarled the words. “Oh, and I suppose that’s my fault?”

  “No, my fault because I let you distract me. Worried about what might happen to you if something went south, I didn’t follow the rules.”

  “Rules, rules. You talked to Elliott about them and now me.”

  “You’re going back.”

  She bolted from the bed, stumbling on the words. “I can help you. I have helped you. If you get hurt, I know I─”

  “What can I say to make you understand? Like I told Calder, this isn’t a game, like the one we played as children.”

  “I Spy.”

  “Yes, I Spy. Think of the worst nightmare you’ve ever had and then quadruple it. These ghouls will rip you apart without blinking, crush your skull and feed you to the crows.”

  “You’re trying to scare me.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “I have a right to stay. They killed my family, every single one, and you expect me to walk away from that?”

  “I expect you to leave it to me.”

  “I’m not scared of no Beezlebub, or a Kappa or a damned Sisimite fr
om Central America either.”

  “You’re talking crazy. Those are only words to you, words from Calder’s journal. Words on paper don’t begin to describe what─”

  “─or a Dybbuk, whatever the hell that is.”

  “A demon who enters a human body, steals his heart, his soul and everything he ever hoped to be.”

  Ice filtered through her veins but she’d be damned if she’d let him know.

  “How about Ba’al, the highest-ranked figure of the seventy-two demons in the Lesser Key of Solomon? In demon form, he can appear as a man, a cat, a toad or any combination thereof.”

  Bile rose in her throat. She was going to be sick if he didn’t stop. She clapped her hands over her ears. “La-la-la-la, I’m not listening.”

  Before she knew it, he stood in front of her, grabbed her hands and pinned one at her side. “You’re not in fucking Kansas anymore, Dorothy! This is not open to discussion. You think about everything I told you, think about how your parents died, and Calder. After two years of training, he was a good fighter, very good.”

  “Now I know you have barbed wire around your heart! Is there nothing you won’t stoop to?”

  “Not when it comes to your safety.”

  Her shoulders fell and she whispered the words. “Let me go. Besides, you need to get some rest and I want to use your computer.”

  His lips curled up at the corners. “Is that how you ask, little gazelle?”

  She lifted her head. “May I please use the computer, boss?”

  “Yes, it’s in the duffel bag. I’ll write down the login and password for you. Don’t bother trying to open my documents or files. They’re encrypted, locked.”

  “Why would I want to look at your files? Probably nothing but porn pictures anyway.”

  He gave her a deadpan look that stabbed at her guilty conscience.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “I need your toothbrush too.”

  “Not like that’s never happened before.” His tone turned somber. “We’ll finish this discussion in the morning.”

  You’re right; we will.

  * * *

  Cecily dug through Marcel’s duffle bag, found a white T-shirt, his toothbrush and paste and headed for the bathroom. She checked her image in the mirror, spending a few quick seconds examining the shiner, which was now a mottled yellow-green.

  After brushing her teeth, removing her clothes and slipping Marcel’s T-shirt over her head, she left the bathroom and returned to the bed across from Marcel.

  She picked up the scrap of paper Marcel left on the night table with the login and password and then opened his laptop to the sound of his soft snores.

  She must have looked at a hundred articles about demon hunters, all with varying opinions and descriptions.

  Demon hunters capitalize on speed, closing the distance quickly to sever enemies with one-handed weapons or crossed swords.

  Demon hunters can double jump, vault in and out of combat. She thought about the incident with Leif. Granted, her brain had entered a dysfunctional, foggy state, but she did remember Marcel appearing out of nowhere, like a sleek, silent panther.

  Highly trained, skilled demon hunters are adept at killing single targets or double targets. They are able to wield fist weapons, one-handed axes, and one-handed swords. They often wear cloth and leather armor to protect their bodies.

  They are proficient at inflicting pain and fury upon their enemies. Good Lord, hadn’t she seen it firsthand with Reggie and Ed-Dean? Marcel struck so fast, he not only disarmed them, but they never knew what hit them.

  The next passage hit her hard and hurt deep in her chest. Demon hunters are dark, shadowy warriors who are shunned by greater society. They made a pact, long ago, to fight against the forces of chaos using its own terrible powers against it. Not the little boy whose smile shone with goodness, beautiful even then. Not the pubescent young man who to her seemed the epitome of kindness and virtue? Had Gus turned him and Elliott into ruthless killers? Did her own father have a hand in that?

  The mysterious warriors develop 'spectral sight' that enables them to see demons and undead with greater clarity. Spectral Sight allows the user to see with magic vision, even looking through walls. ... Spectral sight is a demonic, magical view of the world.

  Scholars have reason to believe a secret organization of demon hunters exists that possess weapons forged from nickel and meteorite rock. The weapons have been handed down for centuries and are believed to be the one true method of decimating and destroying demons when thrust into their hearts. Little is known about this secret society, but evidence of their skill and prowess have been found not only at ancient battle sites but even in today’s modern world.

  Cecily chewed on the corner of her lower lip and wondered how any of this was possible. Oh, this was too much for her to absorb. Everything since coming home to lay her brother to rest was too much for her. While she’d known for years something was inherently wrong at the Frost house, never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she shared a world with demons and loved a man who hunted them.

  Love him?

  Yes, she loved him, had always loved Marcel. She could no longer lie to herself. She didn’t love him in the same way she loved Calder but she loved him with the same intensity and all-consuming passion.

  What a shitty bowl of crap to swallow...the whole sordid mess. It wasn’t a question of what to do about it. She knew the moment she entered the back of Marcel’s van. No retreat, no surrender had become the refrain in her head. After what those monsters did to her family, she couldn’t go on knowing they were out there.

  A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach spread to her toes when she Googled ‘Ways to dispel a demon’.

  Again, a list as long as Pinocchio’s nose appeared.

  Demons are repelled by church bells, human laughter and firecrackers. Firecrackers? The Fourth of July had passed and where in hell would she find firecrackers?

  Repeat or utter a mantra, i.e., “I adjure thee evil spirit in the name of the Lord.”

  If possible, write charms on a wall to confuse the demon or keep him at bay. Charms...like the Eye of Horus, the Ankh or the other symbols engraved on the pearl handle of Calder’s dagger? In this situation, it wouldn’t be possible for her to place charms on the wall. Sprinkle blood on the floor. Demons fear blood. Where in the hell would she get blood?

  Hold a rosary in front of you, toss holy water on the demon or call on the angels: “First angel of God, Michael, who rules heaven’s realm, and you, archangel Gabriel, I beseech you to help me.”

  Scalding sorrow clawed at her chest. Hopelessness clung to her like a black cloud. She turned the computer off, switched off the light and laid down.

  Hours would pass before sleep beckoned her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elliott’s voice echoed across the motel room. Cecily sat up in bed, stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

  Marcel turned from the window and smiled in her direction. “I’m here, Elliott. You were saying?”

  “No, you were saying Cecily is with you. Are you fucking crazy?”

  “You sound as if I invited her. She hid in my van, and I didn’t discover her until we were miles down the road.”

  “Send her home. Do you hear me, Marcel? I don’t care if you have to truss her up like a turkey and ship her by fuckin’ freight train.”

  “I’m working on it. Chill out. Now tell me about the message from N.O.M.E.D.”

  “Came across my phone minutes ago. A tracker confirmed he’s moving toward the abandoned railroad building along the tracks.”

  Cecily’s ears burned, but she kept her head down.

  Marcel clucked his tongue. “I should be getting a similar message soon then.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Elliott?”

  “Listen bro, I got this. I told N.O.M.E.D they could send you home.”


  “What! Who gave you permission to speak for me?”

  “It only takes one of us to take him out. Why risk it? I mean, think about it. Cecily won’t live through another....”

  “Fuck that, Elliott. You, of all people, should know I can’t turn away from this, not after....”

  Cecily felt Marcel’s eyes burn a hole in her scalp. She knew he stopped mid-sentence for her sake.

  “You’re a muleheaded jackass, you know that, Marcel?”

  “Must run in the family, and I got nothing more to say.”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up. I-I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “You know I love you, bro, right?”

  “Of course I know. It’s the same with me, you know that, don’t you? Elliott, are you all right? You’ve really let Calder’s death knock you on your ass. We’ve always known that it could end this way for any of us at any time.”

  “You got that right. I mean about knocking me on my ass. Well, about both, really, that it could end this way at any time.”

  “I wonder if you’re ever coming back to us, you know what I mean, Elliott?”

  A long pause stilled the line. “I don’t know, Marcel; I just wanted you to know I love you.”

  When she realized Marcel had ended the conversation, Cecily glanced up, offered him her best forged smile and yawned. “Sorry, didn’t sleep well. Sounds like Elliott’s upset.”

  “He’s talking all kinds of crazy for someone who’s been in absentia.” Marcel nodded toward the end table between the beds. “Coffee and an egg McMuffin for you on there.”

  She picked up the paper cup, removed the lid and took a sip. “This should help. After my shower, I’ll eat the eggs. Anything else new?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet, but now that Elliott has checked in, we should get on the road to St. Louis.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I want to leave this motel room,” Marcel groused. “Something wrong with that?”

  “Wow, looks like someone hasn’t had their coffee yet.”

  “Coffee won’t help.”

  “With what?”