Fall in Love

by Anthology

  I grinned and took a sip of my water, thinking that maybe this was going to be easier than I imagined. And, actually, it was. I circumvented Brian’s questions about why I didn’t call him back about the movie, and dodged Aaron’s general queries about my friendship with Gracie by turning the interrogation back on him. I was nursing my beer and trying to look interested while he talked about inventory at the auto parts store where he worked when I saw a flash of someone familiar near the entrance of the restaurant.

  “Alice?”

  “Nothing,” I said, but not fast enough. Gracie turned in the direction I was looking. And when I heard her intake of breath, I knew she’d seen Deacon, too.

  “Do not go over there,” she said as I scooted toward the edge of my seat.

  “I have to.” I thought of how I’d seen him in the pub, and how he’d disappeared. And now here he was again. Watching me. Following me. And I intended to put a stop to that.

  I stood up and smiled at the guys. “I just have to go clear something up with someone I know,” I said, then turned away before they could ask questions or protest.

  By the time I got to the front of the restaurant Deacon was gone again.

  “No, no, no,” I muttered. “Not happening.” I checked the bar area and didn’t see him there, either. At least not until I noticed the double doors that led to an outdoor seating area. I headed that direction and pushed through the doors, then found myself standing amid candle-topped tables. Despite the October chill, the air was warm, courtesy of carefully placed propane heaters.

  I glanced around and found Deacon standing at the outdoor bar, a bottle of beer in his hand. He watched, expressionless, as I approached.

  “You keep disappearing on me,” I said, my tone accusing.

  “And yet here I am. Perhaps your perception of reality is faulty.”

  “Why are you following me?” I demanded. Behind the bar, the waiter cocked his head, then glanced at Deacon, eyes going narrow.

  “This guy giving you trouble?”

  “I can take care of myself,” I said with a hard look at the bartender that had him backing off. Probably not the most polite way to handle the situation, but I could feel the slow boil inside me. A warm and soupy swamp of emotion just itching for a fight.

  “You felled him with a mere glance,” Deacon said, his eyes on my face. “You’ve been practicing your power stare in the mirror, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve been practicing a lot more than that,” I said. “And answer my question. Why are you following me?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve already answered that, or did you forget the promise I made?”

  I hadn’t. How could I? For that matter, how could I forget anything about this man? Every touch, every scent, every slight change in his expression was burned into my memory. And along with all of that, his promise to find out what had happened to me.

  That wasn’t a promise I could let him keep.

  “It’s dangerous for a man to have obsessions,” I said. “Maybe this is one you should give up.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. He took a step toward me. I held my ground, determined not to let him rattle me. “Not all obsessions are bad,” he said. “Sometimes, they can be fascinating.” He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my cheek as he did so. The touch, so simple, so casual, and yet it set off a chain reaction inside me that had my entire body warm and primed and ready.

  “But sometimes,” he added, “they can be dangerous.” Before I could think, much less react, his mouth closed over mine. I heard myself gasp, and then felt my thighs warm and my nipples peak as I stayed with him, letting myself fall down, down, down into the kiss with him. A heated kiss, so hot he might have been pulling me down to hell with him. And so decadent and deep that right at that moment I would have willingly gone there with him.

  The thought brought me back to myself, and I remembered who and what I was. Not to mention who he was. Or, rather, what he was.

  My hand went automatically to my thigh, but the knife wasn’t in its sheath. I’d been in waitress mode last, and I’d shoved my blade inside a pocket when Gracie had come along.

  “You wouldn’t kill me,” he said. “Not here. Not now.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Two reasons,” he said, leaning casually against the bar. “First, you don’t stand a chance against me, Alice. Trust me on that.” I remembered what Clarence had said, and decided not to argue. There was a time for false bravado, and this was not it.

  “And second?” I asked.

  “Because you liked the way I kissed you,” he said. His words flowed over me like warm whiskey, making me lightheaded. “You liked it, and you want more.”

  I managed a small shake of my head. “You’re wrong.”

  His smile was slow and full of promise, and he stared at me for a moment, then another, until I began to get antsy under his gaze. His eyes dipped down. My breasts, my crotch. Then lifted back to meet my eyes. “No,” he said. “I’m not.”

  And then he slapped a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar and edged past me, quickly closing the distance between us and the door. He pulled it open and disappeared. And all that time I tried to find a snappy comeback, but never quite managed. Quite possibly because everything he’d said was true. A fact that left me itchy and needy and more than a little confused.

  There was no doubt he’d won that round. Demon hunter reduced to sensual mush is not the way to fight the forces of evil.

  Deacon pushed my buttons, and I needed to learn to steady myself around him. I had a job to do, after all. And to do it, I needed a clear head.

  Because splashing water on my face might help, I headed back inside. Despite telling myself I didn’t care where Deacon was, I skimmed the room looking for him, a knot of disappointment settling in my stomach when I didn’t find him. Good. Because I was going to calm down and go hang with my friends. No Deacon was a good, good thing.

  I intended to swing by the table and tell Gracie I’d only be another minute, but she and Aaron were in deep conversation, and Brian was no longer at the booth. Not being inclined to stifle Gracie’s brewing vibe, I skipped the table and headed straight to the ladies’ room.

  The restrooms were tucked in the back next to a fire exit, and apparently the owners of the restaurant hadn’t planned for the popularity of the place, as the line was eight women deep. Not being desperate, I decided to forgo the wait and step outside. Despite a red sign warning that Alarm Will Sound If Opened, someone had propped open the door, and no alarm was blaring.

  I squeezed through the opening and found myself in an alley. I didn’t know if it was Alice’s vibe or the Hi, I’m an assassin label now plastered to my forehead, but I seemed to be spending a lot of time in alleys lately. Tomorrow, I thought, I’d make it a point to go someplace green.

  I drew in a breath, almost wishing I smoked. At least it would be a way to pass the time while I gave Gracie a few more minutes with her male specimen.

  Behind me, I heard the door slam shut. I turned, hoping it hadn’t locked, as I really didn’t want to circle the block. Inconvenience, however, was the least of my worries. Not that I realized that immediately. Instead, I stood stupidly, my supposedly hyperalert senses utterly failing to warn me about the wiry creature that launched itself at me from behind one of the trash cans.

  It was small and round and apparently springy; its head landed in my gut, knocking me down and forcing me to exhale with a whoof.

  “And now,” it croaked, “I think it’s time for you to die.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  From my prone position, I scrambled to get my knife from the interior pocket of my coat—only to have the beast knock it out of my hand. I twisted to the side, watching it slide under a nearby pile of delivery crates, my fingers stretched out to retrieve it.

  That was the wrong move. While I was reaching, the little beast leaned over and bit me, sinking its teeth deep into my wris
t. I howled, jerking my arm up and slamming it down so hard that it crunched against the pavement with a bone-sickening splat. The teeth stayed in my arm, with the demon body firmly attached as well.

  While the demon gnawed and chewed and growled and shook on my arm like a dog with a bone, I slammed my arm over and over on the pavement, trying to smash its ugly little head in. Demon heads are remarkably resilient, however, and I wasn’t having much luck. Not having any other weapon, I smashed my arm—and its body—against the wall, then thrust my leg out, my heel smacking against the beast’s neck.

  Its mouth opened, leaving bloody toothprints on my wrist.

  I jerked my arm away before it could bite down again, then pulled my leg back, too. With no support, the thing tumbled to the pavement, gasping for air through its smashed windpipe. Its tongue, black and oily, protruded as it growled and hissed and locked its clawed hands around my ankles.

  I fell backward, trying to kick myself free, but couldn’t manage it. The pressure of those hands tightened, cutting off my circulation. Any second now and that intense demonic grip would break bone.

  I winced, not immune to pain no matter how much strength the Lord had given me, and searched for something I could use as a weapon. I saw two things immediately: a broken beer bottle that I intended to put to good use, and three dark figures racing toward me from the street. They weren’t wearing their handy-dandy I’m an Evil Demon T-shirts; nevertheless, I could tell they were coming for me.

  I didn’t waste any time dispatching the demon that had me in a clutch. I’d seen plenty of injuries caused by broken glass, but I’d never caused one, and I was surprised at how easily the sharp glass slit the leathery skin of the creature’s throat. That wasn’t enough, though; the hand stayed tight around my ankle, and I had to forcibly pry the elongated, bony fingers up, wasting precious time.

  Finally free, I kicked the lifeless carcass out of the way and dove for my blade, determined to take the dead demon out of the game permanently.

  I didn’t make it. With my fingers only inches from the blade, one of the newly arrived demons grabbed my feet and flipped me over, its sword descending at the same time, cutting a gash through my Bloody Tongue T-shirt as well as the skin above my ribs.

  I lashed out in frustration and pain, managing to knock its blade back before the demon could try for a better shot, but I still suffered a quick kick in the chest right at my fresh wound. I sucked in air and scooted backward even as I grabbed the foot and held on tight, flipping the beast up and back as I used the creature to leverage myself up off the ground.

  I was standing now, but I can’t say I was in a significantly better position. My three attackers looked pretty damned determined, and pretty damned scary, too. Two towered above me, with hide like an armadillo’s skin, a snout where a human nose would be, and eyes as flat and dull as a shark’s. Both walked on muscular legs with cloven feet, had tails dragging the ground as if for balance, and were armed to the teeth with so much metal I would have expected to see them in a video game.

  The third appeared human in form, but I knew that meant nothing. Like the Goth girl, this demon’s blood would run black.

  The front-runner demon flashed the sword again, but I leaped over it in a perverse version of jump rope. The failure of its sword to make contact as expected knocked the demon backward. I, however, couldn’t take advantage of its misstep, because I needed to focus on the mace that Demon Boy Number Two had whipped into a frenzy and sent flailing my way, the chain stretching out behind it.

  In what was either an absolutely brilliant maneuver or a shining example of pure, blind luck, I reached up, grabbed the chain, and thrust downward, pulling Demon Boy Two to the ground with me. I grabbed the handle from its clawed hands, then thrust sideways, jabbing it in its soft underbelly even while I straightened up and whipped the mace around on its flail.

  I held my breath, then let it fly, landing a solid blow on the third demon even as it was rushing me. It collapsed to the ground, pushing over the first demon—my friend with the broadsword—as it was getting back into the game.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, then dove on it, landing a solid punch to its snout with one hand while I snagged the broadsword with the other. I whipped around, slicing Demon Boy Two down the midline as it lunged for me in a futile attempt to attack me or rescue its companion. I hesitated a second, waiting for the strength that should have fueled me, and when it didn’t come, I realized that I hadn’t killed the beast with my own blade. I didn’t own the kill, and I wouldn’t gain the strength.

  No matter. I was strong enough as it was, and I whipped around, making the full arc with the sword. I ended by stabbing down, impaling the demon at my feet with its very own sword.

  Bilious fluid from the two demons pooled around me, but I didn’t have time to enjoy the rush of victory because the third demon—the human-looking one—climbed back to its feet and got medieval on me, the mace I’d tossed now in its hand. It held the handle, eyes burning with hate as it twisted at the wrist, spinning the spiked ball faster and faster. That, however, wasn’t the scary part.

  The scary part was the five additional demons racing up the alley.

  “Bring it on,” I whispered, feeling foolishly, desperately confident.

  “Bitch,” the human-looking demon shot back, releasing the mace. It arced toward me with pinpoint precision. I dove forward and down, the ball so close I felt the spikes comb my hair. I landed in a forward roll, then jumped up, the sword still in my hand. With absolutely no wasted movement, I jammed the sword into the human-looking demon’s throat, then lifted my arm, raising it above my head.

  Impaled on the blade, the demon’s body twitched and shook. Blood dripped from the wound down my arm as life left the creature’s body. I breathed in its coppery scent, letting the lust for more fill me and make me stronger.

  With one hand on the hilt of the sword and the other on the demon’s hip, I shook the body as a warning to the other demons who’d come to give me shit.

  Then I tossed it to the ground. As I did, a gray cloud rose from it. A cloud that seemed to have eyes and teeth and a mouth that screamed in silent rage, opening onto a dark, black maw that looked like it could swallow the world. On the ground, the body twitched, and dim blue eyes stared at me. The mouth opened, a bubble of blood clinging to the lips. He uttered a single word, “Help,” and then collapsed, lifeless, on the ground.

  I shook myself, confused and overwhelmed, unsure what had just happened. All I knew was that the body was dead and the cloud was gone, and I considered all of that good. But the five demons in the alley were still there, and that was very, very bad. I widened my stance and stared down my five new foes. “Do it,” I said. “I am so in the mood for more.” I could feel the blood in my head—making me rage. Making me hungry for a fight.

  The demon in front locked eyes with me, and for a moment, I really thought we were going to rumble. Then he stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle. That was all it took. The others ripped for the street.

  I stepped over my trophy demon and started to give chase, then decided not to. I was tired. I was freaked.

  And I wasn’t keen on chasing demons down the streets of Boston.

  I shouldn’t have relaxed. I should have stayed on guard.

  Because right then—right there—the leader of the five demons thrust his arm out, revealing a crossbow that had been hidden in his jacket. I saw it a half second too late—his other hand was already there, supporting the weapon—and as I dove toward the ground, he let the arrow fly.

  It struck me in the chest, and the world turned red, my ears filled with the thrum of my own blood, my heart exploding under the point of the arrow.

  My useless limbs collapsed beneath me as I fell to the ground, my eyes wide open and staring at the demon I’d tossed down only moments before. He was already dead, that one.

  Soon, I’d be joining him.

  I struggled to breathe, but only gasped, finding not oxy
gen but bloody spittle.

  The demon’s eyes stared out as the last bit of life slipped from me, his message clear. See you in hell, he was saying. And see you soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “One, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe.”

  Blackness.

  “Dammit! I need the defibrillator. Where’s the—”

  Serpents. Twisting around me. My legs. My arms.

  “Charge!”

  Pulling me under. Ripping me up.

  “Clear!”

  Their eyes glowing red.

  Ker-thwap.

  Forked tongues darting out.

  “I got nothing. Again.”

  Tasting me.

  “Charge!”

  Wanting me.

  “Clear!”

  No!

  Ker-thwap!

  No!

  “Hold on. I think—yeah. I got a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

  No!

  “Alice. Alice, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand. Open your eyes.”

  I squeezed. Then opened my eyes to meet concerned compassion in the form of pale blue eyes. Eyes I knew. “Thom?” I whispered, the word barely coming out past the cotton in my mouth. I knew him from my EMT training ride-alongs, but Thom had known Lily, not Alice, and confusion crossed his face.

  “Oh, God, Alice!” Gracie’s voice, her whole body emphasizing her relief as she pulled my head into her lap and hugged me close. Brian and Aaron stood behind her, their expressions blank with shock. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” Tears streamed down her face, and she clung to me. I sat there, not so much in shock as baffled. Something had stabbed me in the heart, and that wasn’t the kind of thing a defibrillator fixed. So what the hell had happened?

  “Thom!” someone called. “We’re bringing in the gurney.”

  “I don’t need it.” I shifted, trying to sit up, hoping to prove my point.

  “Stay still, Alice,” Brian said urgently, but I shook my head.

  “No. Can’t. I’m okay.” I remembered nothing except the demon’s eyes and then blackness. And then the sound of the world coming back.