Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom

by Julie Kenner

  Not good. Not good at all.

  “But . . .” I tried again. “But how can you be so sure? Larson never mentioned any Lazarus Bones. And neither did Father Corletti. And I sure as hell have never heard of them.”

  “No reason you would’ve,” Eddie said. Something shifted in his features, a sadness that washed through him and added another ten years to his face. “I’m the only one alive who knows.”

  Laura leaned in. “How can that be?”

  Eddie looked over at the girls (I admit, I’d pretty much forgotten about Stan). “The boy’s still a no-show,” he said. “Looks like I’ve got time to fill you in.

  “Back in the fifties,” Eddie began, “Forza sent me to help pack up relics in a cathedral in New Mexico before the government started atomic testing. Just in case. Typical duty.” He nodded at me. “You know.”

  “Sure.” Hunters often do that kind of work. Because demons like to get their hands on relics to use in twisted demonic ceremonies, the Church will send a Hunter whenever a collection is being moved off site.

  “I was working out of a cathedral in Mexico when I got assigned to that job. The rest of the team came to Mexico for briefing. Me, a priest, an art historian, and an archivist. We left Mexico for the States, and we were at the New Mexico site for over a month. First week we struck pay dirt. Hidden behind a loose stone in the cathedral sacristy we found a wooden crate and a papyrus note. Took forever for Zachary to translate it, but he did.”

  “The Lazarus Bones,” I said.

  He nodded. “Actual bones of Lazarus. I did my research later, found out how Lazarus was buried at Larnaca, then moved to Constantinople. After that, folks lost track. Somehow, the bones made it to the New World.”

  Laura’s eyes were wide. “What happened?”

  “Betrayal,” Eddie said. He closed his eyes and I saw his chest rise and fall as he composed himself. “I still don’t know who or why. All I know is we were attacked. The papyrus was destroyed. Our historian and archivist were killed. Damn bloody battle. Damn bloody demons—”

  “But you and the priest? You survived.”

  “And we had the crate.” He shook his head, as if warding off memories. “We were injured, close to dying, but I knew where we had to go. Far away, and someplace secure. Someplace they couldn’t get in.”

  “San Diablo,” I said. “The sainted mortar.”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t make it, though. Father Michael took it the rest of the way.”

  “Brother Michael,” I whispered. “He revealed San Diablo, but he died rather than tell them exactly where the urn is.”

  “So where is it?” Laura asked, voicing the question of the hour. “Let’s just go get it and get Larson and get it out of this town.”

  “I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I never saw or spoke to Michael again. He made it here. But that’s all I know.”

  I frowned, wanting to argue with him, to tell him he had to know because I had no clues.

  “Leave it be, Kate. It’s not meant to be disturbed. And you have other responsibilities.” As he spoke, he nodded toward the far side of the food court, and I realized that the elusive Stan had finally joined Allie and Mindy.

  I twisted around, wanting to get a good look at this mysterious hunk. And when I did, my breath caught in my throat and fear licked over me like a flame.

  There, at the table with my daughter and her best friend, sat my Richie Cunningham demon. Todd Stanton Greer, recently deceased, and looking none the worse for wear.

  Seventeen

  Shit, shit, SHIT!

  I leaped to my feet, ready to pummel the fiend, then immediately sat down again. It was a long way across the food court, and if Greer saw me coming, he might just kill my daughter. I needed a better plan, and I needed one that didn’t involve Greer recognizing me.

  Shit.

  I shifted my chair, putting my back toward the demon. My insides were trembling, and I’m sure I was sweating.

  “Kate?” Laura looked at me, concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “That’s him. That’s the demon who attacked me by my trash cans,” I said, my voice a low whisper.

  Laura took another look, and I sneaked a peek, too—just as Stan sprayed a burst of Binaca into his mouth. “Holy shit,” Laura said.

  “No kidding.”

  “Holey sheet!” Timmy banged a little fist down onto the table. “You got holey sheets, Momma?”

  “Something like that, kid,” I said, then to Laura and Eddie, “I need to get him away from her. But I can’t let him see me. Dammit, dammit, dammit.”

  “Dammit,” Timmy mimicked, but this time I barely even noticed.

  “Should I go?” Laura said. “Maybe tell her there’s a fifteen-minute-only sale at the Gap? That Tim’s sick and we have to go home? What? What should I do?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I glanced at Eddie, but he’d been completely silent during the whole exchange. For all I knew, he’d drifted back into his own little world. I stifled a sigh and focused on Laura again. “What’s he doing now?”

  She shifted slightly, peering over my shoulder for a better view. “Still talking to Allie,” she said. “But Mindy’s on her way over here.”

  That did it. I plunked Timmy onto the ground and started to rise to my feet. No way was my little girl spending any time alone with that thing.

  A gentle tug at my arm stopped me.

  Eddie.

  “Wait,” he said, and then fell silent again.

  “Wait? Wait for what?” I started to rise again, getting to my feet at the same time Mindy arrived.

  “I think he really likes her,” she said happily. “Isn’t he a cutie?”

  I withheld comment.

  “Why aren’t you over there, too?” Laura asked.

  Mindy shrugged. “You know. I was getting a vibe. And three’s a crowd.”

  My blood was boiling and I was sure I must be turning beet red. A vibe? What kind of vibe?

  Mindy continued to chatter on. “So, like, can I wait for you guys in the bookstore?”

  Laura caught my eye and I nodded. “Sure,” she said.

  “Watch Timmy,” I said as soon as Mindy was out of earshot.

  I turned on my heel and found myself face-to-face with Eddie. “I’m going to get her,” I said, even though he’d obviously already clued in to that fact.

  He jabbed his cane down on my foot, hard enough to bruise. “Think, girl.”

  “Ow.” I stifled the urge to kick back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Handling this.” He nodded toward the table. “Now sit down. And when the girl comes, get her out of here fast.”

  “What are you going to—”

  “Sit.”

  I sat. And although I needed to keep my face hidden from the demon, I had to see what was going on. I put my purse on the table, shifted my chair around, then propped my chin in my palms, so that my fingers covered most of my face.

  Across the table Timmy mimicked me, but I was essentially oblivious. Right now Timmy had Laura to watch him, but my little girl only had one partly senile old man to protect her from the bad guys.

  I started to rise, but this time it was Laura who pushed me back down. “If the demon starts to walk away with Allie, then go. Otherwise, let the old man do his thing.”

  She was right. I knew she was right. (They both were.) And so I gave in to that helpless feeling, watching as someone else held my baby’s fate in his hands.

  “What’s he doing?” I asked. Eddie had completely passed their table, heading instead for a cookie stand. He talked to the vendor, gave him some money, and received two cups of soda in return.

  I gaped at him, my blood pressure rising. What the hell was he doing?

  Eddie hooked his cane over his arm and shuffled toward Allie’s table. She looked up at him with a smile. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it was obvious from her hand gestures that she was introducing Eddie as her great-grandfather.
<
br />   How nice. How charming. Now hurry up and deal with the demon!

  Apparently, Eddie wasn’t receiving my mental commands. He stood there a bit longer, slightly swaying, then held up the sodas as if showing them off. Then he put one in front the demon, and one in front of Allie, patted Allie on the shoulder, then turned back to demon boy. From his stance and expression, I was pretty sure he was making “nice to meet you” small talk.

  And then Eddie took a step backward, left the kids’ table, and started walking toward me.

  I got to my feet.

  Laura grabbed my arm and tugged me back down. “Wait,” she said. “Just wait.”

  I gritted my teeth and stifled the urge to slug her.

  So far, though, the kids were staying put, so at least I could keep an eye on Allie.

  Eddie returned then, and I glared up at him. “Well? What was that all about?”

  He shot me a hard look, and I had a glimpse of the steel underneath the feeble exterior. “Just wait,” he said. “And watch.”

  I did, trepidation building as the kids talked and sipped their sodas. Allie was leaning forward, her body language practically screaming that she liked this guy. I fidgeted in my seat. If something didn’t happen soon, I’d be experiencing massive coronary failure (which, I supposed, would at least shift Allie’s attention away from the demon).

  Still nothing.

  And nothing.

  The two of them just kept on chatting and sipping soda. I fisted my hands at my side. What were they talking about? It’s not like they had anything in common. Stan was a vile, hell-bound demon, and my daughter was a high school freshman who went to mass semiregularly (and would, I decided, be going a lot more often).

  “That’s it,” I said. I pushed out of my seat and stood up. At the same time I saw Stan’s head snap up and his eyes fix on me. There was blood in Stan’s eyes, and he was out of his seat, too. Allie followed suit, and I could hear her “Are you okay?” even from all this distance.

  He wasn’t okay, of course. He was a demon.

  He took a step toward my daughter, and I knew Greer wouldn’t hesitate to attack in public. And he’d do it out of spite for me.

  I lunged forward.

  “Kate!” Laura cried, but I didn’t hear her. Her words were drowned out completely by the anguished, guttural howl from the demon.

  He dropped to his knees, his hands raised and his head thrown back. A rumble—like indigestion on steroids—spilled from his open mouth, and he cursed, Latin invectives spewing forth like fiery bits of vitriol.

  Beside him, Allie backed away, her hand to her mouth. He turned and looked at her, his face contorted.

  “Holy water in the pop,” Eddie said beside me. “Gets ’em every time.”

  A nice trick, but I didn’t have time to think about it. That was one pissed-off demon, and who knew what he’d do. “Allie!” I screamed. “Get over here now.”

  “Little bitch!” he howled, his words directed more to me than to Allie. “What have you done to me? What. Have. You. Done.”

  Allie didn’t wait around to hear his question, though. She was already in my arms by the time his last word was out.

  With my daughter’s head pressed against my chest, I watched with mixed fascination and horror (and, yes, a definite sense of relief and victory) as Stan stumbled to his feet. For a moment I feared he’d come after us, but he lurched toward the exit. I considered following, but I knew it wasn’t necessary. Todd Stanton Greer would be dead (again) within hours. The demon gone. And the boy finally buried.

  In my arms Allie trembled. “What a total freakazoid,” she said. “What was his damage, anyway?”

  “I don’t know, baby,” I said, stroking her hair. “But it’s over now.”

  She sighed. “He seemed so nice.”

  “Sometimes you just can’t tell about people,” I said. I took her hand as we walked away. It wasn’t a particularly good answer, but right then, it was the only one I had.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  Too much going on in my world. Too many pieces hanging loose in my life. And so I ended up tossing and turning in an empty bed. Stuart was once again working late in his study, and my paranoia had reached epidemic proportions.

  I curled up, hugging my pillow and trying not to think about what I would do if the man I’d chosen to spend the rest of my life with was consorting with demons. I couldn’t believe I’d been so wrong about the character of the man I loved, but all the evidence pointed to Stuart’s turning bad.

  I shivered, not wanting to think about that. Instead, I concentrated on other things, like trying to figure out where Brother Michael could have hidden the Lazarus Bones. I had no ideas, but that got me thinking about the bones and bodies rising from the dead and demons taking over San Diablo and the world and the whole thing going to hell (literally) in a handbasket.

  Not fun thoughts.

  But also not something I intended to let happen.

  Unfortunately, I still didn’t know where to begin.

  At some point I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, the bed shifted as Stuart sat down on his side. I rolled over, then propped myself up on one elbow. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey yourself.”

  “What have you been working on?”

  “Land deal,” he said. “The usual.”

  “Oh.” I pushed myself up and plumped my pillow against the headboard, then leaned back. “Want to talk about it?”

  “It’s dull, Kate. And it’s late.”

  “Oh.” I pressed my lips together and tried to decide where to go from here. I ended up choosing the direct approach. I didn’t have a lot to lose, after all. “Is something on your mind?” I asked. “Something going on you’re not telling me about?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” he asked, his tone sounding genuinely perplexed. I would’ve been fooled, too, except that he adjusted the covers instead of looking at me.

  “Usually you talk about your work. Hell, usually you bore me with your work.” I didn’t say that usually I tuned him out. That was a little too much honesty. “But you’ve been days without saying a word. I’m afraid something’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “Except that I’m tired. Can we go to sleep?”

  “Sure. Of course. You can talk to me, you know.”

  “I know, Kate.” Exasperation. He flicked out the lights, and I slid down under the covers. I tensed, expecting his touch and hoping I wouldn’t flinch. But the touch never came, and after a moment I rolled on my side, facing away from him.

  “What about Clark?” I said.

  For a moment Stuart didn’t answer. “What do you mean?”

  “We haven’t talked a lot about him. What’s he up to? What’s he planning to do after you take over his seat?”

  He actually chuckled at that. “At least you said ‘when’ and not ‘if.’ ”

  “Well, you’re going to win, aren’t you?”

  “Undoubtedly,” he said, but the way he said it gave me a chill.

  “Clark?” I prompted.

  “Official retirement. His uncle died and left him a ton of money. He bought a place in Aspen. He’s pretty much set for life.”

  “Great,” I said, but I frowned into my pillow. If there really was a rich uncle, that gave Clark much less incentive to try and seek revenge on the Church for diverting his father’s dollars. Since I didn’t have any other suspects at the moment, that left my husband in the driver’s seat. Not particularly scientific, I’ll admit. My head knew that there could be dozens of demonic minions in San Diablo, each one willing to do what it took to retrieve the Lazarus Bones. My heart, however, had latched on to Stuart. And because of that, my heart was breaking.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s really on your mind?” Stuart asked.

  The question surprised me so much that I rolled over and faced him. His eyes were bright and clear, and the smile was the one I recognized so well. The man I knew and loved. Was
I wrong? Please, please, let me be wrong.

  He stroked my cheek. “Come on, Kate. Tell me.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Truth time.” Another breath, then, “I’m spending a lot more time at the church doing this archive volunteer project.” I paused, in case the mention of the church spurred true confessions on his part.

  Silence.

  I cleared my throat. “Um, anyway, it’s taking up a lot of time, so I, um, I put Timmy in a day care.” I realized I’d scooted away, and had curled up into a ball. Not too surprising, really. On this particular point I was expecting my husband’s wrath. (And, frankly, I deserved it. If Stuart ever made that kind of parenting decision without my input, he’d never hear the end of it.)

  “Day care,” he said. “Where?”

  I blinked, surprised by his calm tone. “KidSpace,” I said. “Over by the mall.”

  “You checked them out?”

  “Of course. And the teacher’s really great.”

  “And this helps you out?”

  “Sure. I mean, it’s only temporary.” I propped myself up again and studied his face. “Stuart, I’m really sorry. I know I should have run this by you, but it’s hard to get day care space, and they had the opening, and I needed the extra time, and so I just—”

  He pressed a finger to my lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

  It took me a full two seconds to process his words, and even then I didn’t believe my ears. “What?”

  “I said don’t worry about it. You’re a great mom. I trust your judgment.”

  “Oh.” I frowned, unsatisfied despite the praise. “So it’s okay?”

  “It’s fine. But it’s after one. I need to get some sleep.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before rolling back to his side of the bed. I laid there, staring at his back, his white T-shirt phosphorescing in the moonlight.

  This was bad. This was very, very bad.

  There’s no way in hell (bad choice of words) that my Stuart would step calmly out of the decision-making process where Timmy is concerned. This man sharing my bed was not the Stuart I knew.