Blood of the Demon

by Diana Rowland

  I sucked in another breath and pushed myself down to try the passenger-side door, but even through the murky water I could see the dark shapes of the tree branches that kept both doors from opening more than a few inches.

  I kicked back up to my pocket of air. My rising panic screamed at me to shoot the back windshield out, but a last remaining sliver of calm asserted itself. The car was upside down, my head was barely above water, and if I shot my gun—a Glock, which probably would shoot once—I’d most likely kill myself from the shock wave in the water, especially since I was carrying hollow points. But I still had other options. I yanked my gun out of my holster and took a deep breath, ducking under and bracing myself with my feet against the seats. I grabbed the gun around the butt and the barrel with both hands, then drove the end of the barrel into the rear windshield as hard as I could.

  I felt the windshield give way on the third try, relief flooding me as the tempered shards of glass billowed away. I pushed up to the sliver of remaining air pocket, then took a last heaving breath and ducked under the water.

  I tried to keep my eyes open, but it was pointless. I couldn’t even see my hands through all of the silt in the water. I felt my way to the window and tried to worm my way out, but all I could feel was mud. My lungs began to burn from holding my breath, and I scrabbled frantically at the mud, trying to dig a way through. Horror flared through me again. This was the riverbed. There was no getting out that way.

  My lungs screamed for breath, and I pushed up again to find the air pocket. Only about an inch of air remained, and I pressed my face against the carpet and sucked in one more breath. The front windshield. Stay calm. You can get out that way. I reached for my gun again, fingers fumbling on the empty holster as dread filled me. Fucking shit! I’d dropped it? Or maybe it hadn’t been fully in the holster?

  The pocket of air was gone now. Red haze began to creep in on the edges of my vision. I’m going to die, I realized with a sick jolt. I’d faced certain death once before, but this time I didn’t feel any calm acceptance. This time I felt terror and anger and everything else. I wanted to scream in rage, but I wasn’t ready to give up that lungful of air just yet. The red burned across my vision, and then, without realizing it, I shifted into othersight.

  I hung motionless in the water, shocked to my bones at the stunning wash of potency that swirled around me and the car. For a blinding instant I thought that the entire incident with the car going into the river had been an arcane attack, then I realized what I was seeing.

  It was the river. The power of the raw element—a potency that I had never used before, never even been able to see before. I was accustomed to using the potency that formed the fabric of the planes, a power that felt sweet and hot and elegant. But this … this potency was raw and profound, and I could see how someone could be swept away in it.

  I steeled myself and pulled at that potency.

  It resisted me at first. It knew that I had no experience in drawing that sort of power—didn’t deserve to hold it, to shape it. But I didn’t want to shape it. I wasn’t looking for anything elegant or pretty, not now when I had only seconds left. I pulled harder, and then it felt as if a dam burst. It came crashing in on me and I opened myself to it, feeling it rage into my control, beyond my control. I gathered it clumsily, as much as I could bear. The river shrieked through me, churning and foaming as I pulled.

  And then I pushed. As hard as I could. Pushed the power away from me in a wave. I felt and heard metal and wood and plastic twisting and tearing. I could feel myself screaming, using that last breath, forcing it all out as the power surged around me, swirling into a vortex.

  And then I could push no more. I had no more air, no more power. I floated in the water, completely spent and out of air, the ruins of the car swirling around me.

  And then the river pushed. I felt it crush into me, forcing me up and up. I suddenly burst above the surface, as if the river had birthed me. I took a dragging gasp of air, catching a small wave and inhaling water as well. I coughed, struggling to tread water with limbs that had no strength. I could see the bridge and the bank, but I couldn’t get my body to respond. Too far. I don’t have anything left to make it to the bank. The current grabbed at me, pulling me toward the center. My arms felt like lead weights, dragging me back under. Shit, so close.

  The water closed over my head again, but before I could sink any farther, I felt a hard yank at my hair. My head broke the surface and I let out a choked gasp of pain.

  “I gotcha!” I heard a voice shout. “God damn it, I gotcha!” The grip on my hair quickly shifted to my arm and collar, and I was dragged over the hard metal edge of a boat, scraping my ribs and belly. I landed in a tumbled and ungainly heap against a tangle of fishing poles and empty beer cans, as I struggled for a full breath. “You all right?” the voice asked. “Was there anyone else in the car?”

  I held up my hand, still coughing, trying to nod and shake my head all at the same time. I finally took an uneven breath. “No … no one else,” I managed to choke out. “Just me.” My eyes felt clogged with silt, and when I could finally breathe without agony, I focused on wiping them enough to look up at my savior.

  Good ole boy was the first thing that popped to mind. He looked like he was in his sixties, dressed in stained jeans and a frayed white T-shirt. He had the deep leathery tan of someone who spent his days out in the sun and a wiry build with just a bit of flab around the midsection. He crouched next to me in the boat. “Y’sure no one else was in the car with you?” he asked again.

  “Quite sure,” I rasped. “I was by myself.”

  He relaxed visibly. “That’s good. I saw the whole damn thing, saw the car go off the bridge. I was at the bend up there,” he said, waving a hand in the general direction of upriver. “Got over here as fast as I could, but that car went under fast.” He shook his head. “Good thing the river decided to spit you out,” he said, giving me a grin.

  I smiled weakly. That’s about what it felt like.

  He looked up toward the bridge, shading his eyes with a hand. “I heard a bang, then saw that truck just plow right into you. Next thing I knew, you was toppling right on over.” He scowled, then pulled a cell phone out of a plastic bag in his tackle box. He glanced down at me. “You a cop?”

  I nodded, feeling the effort of even that much movement. “Detective. Beaulac PD.”

  “Hunh. Make all sorts of enemies as a cop. I was a deputy with St. Tammany for more than thirty years. Retired now. Get to fish all I want.” His eyes swept over the river, and I could see what I knew was plain old naked love. He dialed 911 and gave the dispatcher a brief rundown of the incident. He glanced down at me. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

  “Kara Gillian.”

  He relayed my name and told the dispatcher that he’d meet them at the landing by the bridge. A few minutes later, I felt the boat crunch up against sand, and he leaped deftly out and pulled it farther up. I stood as soon as I was marginally stable, though my legs were still insanely wobbly. But he grabbed my hand in his thick, calloused one and practically lifted me to the bank. I gave him a smile of thanks and then staggered two steps to a spot on the bank that was reasonably rock-free and sank to sit. Holy crap, I’m not dead. I looked back at the bridge, wanting to laugh and shiver at the same time. Did someone want me dead, or was that an accident? I hugged my arms around myself, then shifted into othersight and looked at where my car had gone in the water. The truck had hit me twice. Tough to believe that was an accident.

  I could see none of the incredible potency of the river that had surrounded me before. Was it because I didn’t need it anymore? No way to know, but I knew the river was just a river now. I wonder if they’ll be able to get my car out. And what they’ll think of the damage to it. I’d barely been able to make a blue glow in my hand back at my aunt’s house, but just a few minutes ago I’d harnessed and controlled enough potency to rip a car into pieces.

  And even that might not have been enough if the
old fisherman hadn’t been nearby.

  I turned back to him. “Thank you,” I said. “I don’t even know your name.”

  He smiled, a nice, friendly, open smile. “Raimer. Hilery Raimer.”

  “I’ll remember that name.”

  He nodded and looked back at the river. “Y’wanna hear somethin’ strange? You’re gonna think I’m crazy.…”

  “I’m the last person to call anyone crazy,” I said with a weak grin.

  He gave a small snort of laughter. “Funniest thing … ’bout five minutes before your car went into the river, I was anchored around the curve. Never woulda seen your car go in, and even if I’d heard it, I never woulda got here in time.” He shook his head. “But I coulda sworn I heard a lady yelling at me.” He glanced at me, uncertainty flickering across his face.

  “Go on,” I urged.

  He shrugged, trying to play it off. “I dunno. I been out in the sun a long time. But I coulda sworn I heard some lady yell, ‘Hey, old man, get your bony ass to the bridge. My knees hurt!’” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not the kinda thing a guardian angel usually says, huh?”

  I echoed his chuckle even as a chill walked down my spine. My knees?

  Or my niece?

  Chapter 27

  AS SOON AS I CHECKED MYSELF OUT OF THE ER, I HAD Jill take me over to the neuro center so I could check on my aunt. The fisherman’s words seemed to echo through my head as I made a righteous scene, barging my way past the receptionist and nurses, holding my badge up and baring my teeth at anyone who even looked like they wanted to get in my way.

  But when I made it up to her room, I got the shock of a lifetime.

  “Where is she?” I whirled away from the sight of Tessa’s empty and made bed to confront the nurse assistant who had followed me into the room. Cold misery threatened to sweep over me as my mind quickly ran down the possible reasons why Tessa wasn’t in her bed.

  “I’ve been trying to tell you!” the young woman panted. “She’s been moved to another section.” She bit her lip, hesitating.

  The misery began to tighten my chest. “Where? Is she still alive?”

  The nurse assistant gave me a nod that was clearly more emphatic than necessary. “She just needed to be given better care than she could receive here.”

  I gave her a hard look. “Is she on a ventilator now?” I’d tried to mentally prepare myself for this possibility, especially with how much her body had been declining, but it was still a harsh blow when the young woman sighed and nodded.

  “Yes. It happened only a few hours ago. We tried to call you, but there was no answer.”

  “My phone got wet,” I said numbly, in drastic understatement. “I need to see her.”

  “Of course,” the woman murmured. “This way.”

  She led me to the third floor, a section of the hospital that looked like a hospital, with beeping monitors, and tubes, and a lingering absence of hope. She directed me to a room that held three other patients, each separated by a curtain.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, struggling to reconcile the knowledge that this was her body against the sight of the degrading form before me. The only part of her that was recognizable as being Tessa was the frizzy blond mop of her hair, and even that seemed to hang lank and lifeless against her skull.

  I finally took the necessary number of steps forward to put me beside the bed and made myself pick up her limp hand, shivering in reaction to the feel of emptiness. Come on, Tessa, I thought toward her desperately. I know you’re out there somewhere. You need to come back. Time to come back now.

  Eventually I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and I looked up, surprised to see Jill. Then I realized that she’d been with me the entire time, staying still and silent and giving me the time I needed.

  “Come on, Kara,” she said gently. “You need to go home. It’s been a long day. She’s going to be fine.”

  I looked up at her for several heartbeats, then nodded and slipped my hand from Tessa’s. I knew I should feel encouraged by Mr. Raimer’s comment, since hopefully that meant something was happening with Tessa, that maybe she was on her way back. But all I could feel was a desperate need to see some sort of improvement, a twitch of awareness. Anything but the fading body that surely wouldn’t last much longer.

  I walked out of the room, feeling weighed down and empty. I started down the corridor toward the elevator, then abruptly spun back and headed for the nurses’ station.

  “My aunt is not a DNR,” I said to the nurse beyond the counter, nearly snarling. “Do you understand me? She does not have a Do Not Resuscitate order on her chart. If anything happens to her, you people will fucking do everything in your fucking power to keep her alive. You got that?” I could feel Jill’s hand on my arm, but she wasn’t pulling me away—most likely just making sure that I wasn’t going to do anything more confrontational than snarl.

  The nurse didn’t seem particularly cowed by my vehemence. I could see in her eyes that she thought I was in denial and was being unrealistic, but fortunately—for her—she didn’t give voice to any of that. “Yes, ma’am” was all she said.

  I resisted the urge to repeat what I’d said, to tell her again that she needed to keep my aunt’s body alive. It wouldn’t make any difference, I realized. If my aunt’s body coded, they would most likely go through the motions but wouldn’t make any extraordinary efforts—a well-meaning but misguided attempt to spare me and my aunt a torturous wait for an inevitable end.

  I looked at Jill. “I want to go home.”

  She nodded and led me away.

  Chapter 28

  A POUNDING ON MY FRONT DOOR JERKED ME OUT OF the soundest sleep of my entire life. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I moaned as I yanked the pillow over my head. I needed sleep. I deserved sleep.

  The pounding came again about three seconds later, and I lifted a corner of my pillow, a bleary glance at my clock showing me that it was nine in the morning. Okay, so I’ve slept for twelve hours, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve even more sleep. Especially after the heinous day I’d endured.

  I sighed as the pounding came yet again. I knew who it was even without going to the door. There was only one person who would bother to drive out here just to yell at me. And I had no doubts that he would yell.

  I grumbled an obscenity under my breath and hauled myself out of bed, groaning as every bruise, scrape, and pulled muscle announced its presence. I plodded to the front door and pulled it open without bothering to look through the peephole.

  “Your car went off a fucking bridge and you didn’t even fucking call me?”

  I squinted at Ryan in the morning sun. A deep scowl etched his angular features, and a small vein stood out on his left temple. He didn’t look as if he was about to lose his cool. He was way beyond that. “My phone got wet,” I said. I’d thought about calling him. Briefly. But I hadn’t wanted to expend the emotional energy that calling him might take, especially since our last conversation hadn’t exactly ended on a pleasant note.

  He made a strangled noise. “Your phone …” His hand tightened on his own phone, and for a brief crazy instant I thought he was going to squeeze it into a crumpled pile of metal and plastic. Then he glared at me again. “You couldn’t find another phone to call me from? After your car went off a fucking bridge?”

  Leaving him in the doorway, I groaned and started walking to the kitchen. “What are you, my father? I was a little occupied and a lot exhausted. The only real rest I had yesterday was the ambulance ride to the hospital.”

  He shut the door and followed me. “Were you hurt? How badly? Why did you need an ambulance?”

  The level of stress in his voice surprised me and—I had to admit—sort of secretly pleased me. It was cool to know that anyone would worry about me like that—especially him, and especially after the other night.

  I glanced back at him as I pulled the carafe out of the coffeemaker. “No, I wasn’t hurt, except for a lot of bruising and a cracked rib
.” I dumped the remains of yesterday’s coffee into the sink and began to wash the carafe out. “I submitted to the ambulance only because I knew I’d be able to lie down—which I would not have been able to do in the back of a state police vehicle.” Since the accident had happened on a state highway, the state police had taken over the investigation. Unfortunately, that detail hadn’t kept everyone with the barest trace of authority in Beaulac PD from descending on the ER to question me ad nauseam about what had happened.

  “So you’re all right?”

  I gave him a nod, surprised at how tired he sounded. Maybe he’d been as upset about our fight as I had. Hearing that I’d almost died had to be pretty fucking awful, especially considering that our last words were less than pleasant. “Yeah. Car’s toast. Lost my gun. And my notebook. And my phone.” I gave a fatalistic shrug. “I’m still here, though.” I hesitated a breath. “I’m sorry. I should have let you know I was all right.”

  He jerked his head in a nod of acceptance of my apology, then frowned, eyes on me as I shuffled around to make coffee. “What happened?”

  “Still not really sure. I don’t know if it was an accident or an attack.” I got the coffee started and then leaned back against the counter, sighing. “I blew a tire and almost lost it. Then a big blue pickup rammed into me and I went over the side.”

  He sat down at the kitchen table, expression dark and troubled. “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly liking it yesterday either. And I don’t really much like it now, to be honest, since I hurt like hell.”

  Ryan glowered. “Let me guess: The doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation, and you refused.”

  I gave him my best smart-ass sweet smile. “Such a smart boy you are. You’re right. I couldn’t stand it for another minute, and I had Jill take me home. I have a cracked rib and bruised sternum, and I’m on prophylactic antibiotics since I aspirated some water as well. I came home, stayed conscious long enough to change clothes, and then fell into bed.” A shower was definitely high on my list of needs. I’d been too exhausted and depressed last night.