Digging further into the knapsack, he brought out a chain and pendant, upon which was engraved the Seventh Seal of Solomon. Though not technically Hoodoo, the Seal offered substantial protection against demons. McCoy had worn the amulet during an encounter with a third level demon, the most powerful he had ever faced, and it had been a tremendous asset.
The entity he was after, though a major demon, was surely not a fiend of the third level. They were rare. The only demons seen with less frequency were those of the second hierarchy, which were the Powers and Fates, and those of the first hierarchy, which were the Princes, or archdaemons. You might see an archdaemon every hundred years or so, and that was a good thing for pretty much everyone who happened to be living on the planet.
Having given himself as much protection as possible, McCoy picked up the knapsack and continued toward the bottom. Though the lavender was intended to repel demons, it seemed to have the opposite effect on mosquitoes and other flying insects. They constantly buzzed around his face, causing him to swat at them as he walked. He made a mental note to bring insect repellant the next time he went demon hunting in the middle of summer.
He reached the bottom of the ravine and took a good look around. A small stream ran under the trestle, the water gurgling as it rushed along. Along the stream’s banks, cattails and reeds grew in abundance, concealing areas of marsh which looked to be a breeding ground for mosquitoes. McCoy would have to be careful crossing to the other side; one misstep and he would sink up to his knee in muck.
It was immediately obvious that there would be no way to draw a protective circle on the ground. Having anticipated this, McCoy withdrew a piece of chalk from his knapsack. If he couldn’t place himself inside a circle, he would use a demon trap, instead. If all went according to plan, the entity would be bound inside the trap, unable to strike out at him.
Inching carefully so as to avoid hidden pools and soft ground, he made his way across the brook to the area directly underneath the bridge. The timbers which formed the supports would be adequate for drawing the wards and symbols used to fashion the trap. The trick was to make sure all of the angles were right; if the wards didn’t line up correctly, the demon would be able to weasel through and escape.
Taking care to keep his ears open and his eyes peeled, McCoy walked up to the first timber and began to draw.
***
Rena’s bonds were starting to loosen—she could feel it. Knowing that she was actually making progress bolstered her confidence, and she began to redouble her efforts. Instinctively, she knew that she was running out of time. The monster would be back soon, and if it saw that she was on the verge of escaping—well, it probably wouldn’t end well for her.
As she worked her bindings, she began to form a plan of action. She was in a small cave, but it was shallow enough that enough light streamed into the entrance to allow her to see. She was pretty sure she was somewhere under the old trestle, because a train had passed several hours ago and the noise had been deafening.
If she were right about her whereabouts, she would have two options upon freeing herself. She could either run blindly through the woods and hope to come upon the trail she’d been climbing when the creature had ambushed her, or she could climb the steep incline up to the tracks and follow them out. Taking the tracks seemed safer than running through the woods, where the monster might pop out from behind a tree at any time. But it would take her longer to get up to the tracks, and if the monster came back before she could reach the top, it would see her and know exactly where she was.
Rena finally decided that if she could break free before dusk, she would chance the woods. If, however, darkness had fallen before she could free herself, she would attempt to make the tracks.
She wished desperately that Pru were there with her. Pru would know what to do; Pru always knew what to do. And she wouldn’t be scared of the monster, either. Well, not as scared as Rena was, at least.
Sweating profusely, Rena kept tugging and pulling at her makeshift binds, and wishing for her friend.
Chapter Eighteen
Pru was halfway down the side of the mountain when she became sure that she was being followed. She stopped and tried her senses, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. With the demon being able to mask its presence from her, however, she hardly felt comforted.
She supposed it was possible that McCoy was coming in behind her. She had assumed that he was already somewhere ahead of her, but she really didn’t know that for certain. It might also be Rena, lost and confused, searching for the way out of the woods.
She almost called out, but stopped herself. If it wasn’t McCoy or Rena, she would be announcing her location. Alone and isolated, she wouldn’t be much of a match for the demon. She needed to use her head while it was still attached to her neck and working.
Pru darted to her right and hid behind a large, gnarled oak. If someone or something were following her, she wouldn’t have to wait for very long. If it were McCoy or Rena, then great. She would be elated. But if not, she might be able to keep her presence hidden until the danger had passed.
Hugging the bark of the tree, Pru kept her breathing shallow and silent. By the time a minute had passed with no hint of anyone approaching, she’d begun to doubt herself. Perhaps she was simply being paranoid. Given the situation, who could blame her? It was smart to be cautious, but she didn’t have the time to waste on false alarms.
She’d almost decided to leave her concealment when she heard a twig snap no more than twenty feet back up the embankment. Pru stiffened. Whoever or whatever was following her was as stealthy as a cat; she’d heard nothing until they were almost on top of her. Pru had been in the woods with McCoy; he wasn’t a lummox, but he wasn’t this quiet. But Rena, terrified and lost, might be trying to make as little noise as possible. Especially if she’d seen the demon.
Pru waited, barely daring to breathe. Aside from the single snapping twig, she’d heard nothing else. It was like listening for a ghost, except a ghost would have been better because she would at least be able to sense it. She hugged the tree for what seemed like an eternity as she waited for her pursuer to walk by. Around her, birds sang, insects buzzed, and squirrels hurried through the treetops.
Another minute passed. Unable to take it anymore, Pru began to slide cautiously around the trunk of the tree. With each small step, she expected her pursuer to come into view, but instead was greeted by empty forest. Finally, she was looking back up the way she’d come. There was no one in sight.
Pru frowned. It must have been nothing more than some small animal. She was alone and spooked. Not to mention, she’d been traumatized by the sight of the deputy’s body back on the trail. Maybe the heebie-jeebies were causing her to hear things that weren’t there. She turned to continue back down toward the bottom of the ravine.
And ran smack-dab into Wolf Donovan.
Wolf saw that Pru was about to scream, and quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. There was no telling where the demon might be, and he wasn’t keen on giving away their location. Now that he’d found Pru, his priority was to keep the girl safe and get her the hell out of there.
Pru, misunderstanding his intentions, reared back to deliver one of her patented debilitating kicks. It had worked on McCoy, but Wolf was younger and more nimble. He dodged the kick, but Pru was able to back out of his grasp. She stood looking at him, her expression torn between fear and pure fury.
“Pru, please,” Wolf whispered. “I’m here to help you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re bloody right you won’t,” Pru spat. “Where’s McCoy? What have you done with him?”
“I haven’t seen McCoy.” Wolf looked around nervously, fearful of drawing the demon’s attention. “Please, keep your voice down. We need to get out of here. Right now.”
“Like I’m going to believe you. Who are you, really? And how did you know my name last night. I didn’t tell you, and no one else said it.”
“Your name?” Wolf asked
, obviously confused.
“You called me Prucilla. Nobody calls me that, except my mom when she’s mad at me. You hadn’t heard anyone call me by name, but you knew it. So, who are you?”
Wolf thought back, and understanding dawned on his face as he realized the mistake he’d made.
“My name’s really Wolf Donovan,” he said. “And I promise, I mean you no harm. But you must listen to me, Pru. There’s something out here, something more dangerous than you can imagine. And I’m not sure I can keep you safe. Not out here, anyway.”
“Who says I need you to protect me?” Pru asked defiantly. “I can take care of myself, Mr. Donovan. And why are you out here, anyway? How did you know you’d find me here?”
“It’s a long story, and one I’d love to tell you. But not here, not now. We have to get going.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Pru said. “And I’m not leaving without McCoy and Rena.”
“Rena,” Wolf asked, suddenly interested. “Is she a friend of yours?”
“She’s my best friend,” Pru replied suspiciously. “What do you know about Rena? Have you seen her?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Wolf sighed. The way he saw it, he had two options. He could either give Pru the abridged version of the truth, or he could pick her up and drag her out of the woods, kicking and screaming. He decided on the former.
“Okay. Like I said, my name’s really Wolf. I have a special—talent, or gift. Maybe even a curse. Call it whatever you like. But I have these visions. Visions of people who are in trouble, like you. I try to help these people. I try to make sure they don’t get hurt. And for the past week or so, my visions have been about you.”
“What kind of visions?” Pru asked, now grudgingly interested. “Like, dreams?”
“They start off as dreams, and then I can see them when I’m awake. The more urgent the situation, the more danger the person I need to help is in, the stronger they get. The last one I had—maybe an hour ago—almost caused me to black out.”
“So that means I’m in deep shit,” Pru reasoned.
“Something like that. Do you have any idea what it is that’s coming for you?”
“Of course I do,” Pru said smugly. “It’s a demon, and I’ve seen them before. But McCoy’s going to take care of it. He’s done stuff like this before. He’s a handler.”
“So I’ve gathered,” Wolf said, failing to look as impressed as Pru had hoped. “You said you’ve seen them, too?”
“Yep. I’m a handler, too. Or I will be, when I get a little older.”
“Amazing,” Wolf said, seemingly to himself. He looked at Pru. “But I don’t think you realize what you’re up against. Neither you nor McCoy.”
“Yes, we do. Demon, remember?”
“Pru, believe me when I say that this is no ordinary demon, if there is such a thing. The demon that’s after you is more powerful than anything you’ve ever seen before, and hopefully ever will see.”
“So you know demons?” Pru asked skeptically.
“Enough to know when I’m out of my league.”
“I’m sure McCoy can handle it. He’s kind of an expert at this sort of thing.” Pru said, wishing that she actually felt as confident as she was letting on.
“I’m not saying he can’t. But I don’t think he knows what he’s walking into. It’s like going deep sea fishing with a bamboo pole.”
“Just what kind of demon do you think it is?” Pru asked, curious.
“An archdaemon, Pru. A Prince of Hell. Its name is Asmodeous.”
Pru ‘s eyes widened. “What? How do you know that?”
“I told you,” Wolf explained patiently, “I have visions. I see people and things, and sometimes I get a name. That’s how I knew your name. But I got Prucilla, not the shortened version.”
“We knew it was a major demon,” Pru said worriedly. “They’re the only ones who can hide from us. But we never imagined it would be an archdaemon.” She gave Wolf a panicked look. “We have to warn McCoy.”
“But we’re not even sure where he is,” Wolf protested. “Pru, I can’t protect you here. Me and McCoy both—maybe. I don’t know. But a Prince of Hell doesn’t show up to kill just anyone. If it’s after you, then there must be a pretty good reason. And that makes it all the more important that you survive.”
“I won’t turn my back on my friends,” Pru said, her words dripping with rage. “I don’t know about you, but where I come from, we don’t run out on the ones we care about. Now, I’m going to find McCoy and warn him. And I’m going to find Rena. You can either go with me, or you can hop on your fancy moped and skedaddle. Either way’s fine by me.”
Wolf was momentarily taken aback by Pru’s fierce determination. He’d never before come across anyone with such a robust aversion to being rescued. But one thing was becoming painfully apparent: he was in an argument that he was not likely to win. And since he had been charged with protecting the girl, there was no other option but to go along with her.
“Okay,” he said. “You win. But I lead. You stay behind me, and if things start to go south, I want you to do what I tell you.”
“Fine,” Pru agreed. “But we need to start moving. We probably don’t have much time.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
“Talk like that isn’t going to win you any points, Buster.”
“Sorry.” Wolf turned and started down the mountain, Pru close on his heels.
Chapter Nineteen
McCoy stepped back and admired his work. It wasn’t a bad trap, if he did say so himself. Especially considering the time frame he had to work with. And the location. And the mosquitoes. In fact, taking all of that into account, it was a damned work of art.
The next trick was to summon the demon so that it materialized within the trap. To accomplish this, McCoy took a black candle from his knapsack and placed it in the center of the trap. The taper would act as a beacon, drawing the evil spirit to it when McCoy summoned the fiend. When the demon materialized, it would find itself ensnared within the confines of the trap. And it wasn’t likely to be happy about it.
Since McCoy didn’t know the demon’s name, he would have to make do with a generic summoning spell. This was only problematic when more than one demon was in the vicinity, because you never knew which one you were going to catch. It was seldom a problem, though, since demons tended to be loners and rarely acted in tandem.
McCoy lit the candle and backed out of the trap. If all went well, he might be sleeping in his own bed tonight. Assuming, of course, that he blew off the dinner with the Pridemores and Wolf Donovan. But he was curious about Donovan, so he supposed he might end up staying an extra night. Amanda would understand. She was probably so busy with work that she’d hardly noticed he was gone.
The incantation was very formal and had to be spoken in Latin. As far as McCoy was concerned, it was all hogwash invented centuries ago by people who didn’t have anything better to do than sit around and make up complicated rituals. Nonetheless, demons were finicky about being summoned, and they would refuse to appear if the words weren’t spoken exactly right. It had taken McCoy years to get the accent and intonation right.
As he cleared his throat and prepared to begin, a voice came from behind him.
“That’s a genuinely nice trap. It has only one flaw, as far as I can see.”
McCoy spun around to find himself facing an elderly gentleman wearing a pair of casual slacks and a Greek fisherman-style sweater. The man looked to be in his seventies and had a thick and unruly mop of snow-white hair. He also had jet-black eyes.
“Shit,” McCoy muttered under his breath.
“The way I see it,” the old man said, “—and, stop me if I’m wrong—the intended prey is supposed to be on the inside. Over there. But if said prey were somewhere else—say, standing about where I am—then the whole thing falls apart. It’s nothing but a bunch of meaningless symb
ols hastily drawn on a piece of timber.”
“What’s the matter?” McCoy asked. “Couldn’t wait on a formal invitation?”
“Why, McCoy, old chap. That monotonous droning bores me as much as it does you. I simply thought I’d do us both a favor and skip past that part.”
“You’re a peach,” McCoy said.
The demon man shrugged. “We all have our virtues. Though I’m afraid patience isn’t one of mine. I must say, it’s a delightful windfall that you showed up here. The dreaded and feared Finn McCoy. And I thought the little bitch would be my only prize.”
“A wee bit full of ourselves, aren’t we?” McCoy asked, slowly edging toward his knapsack. “I mean, I’m sure you have a little stroke down in the underworld, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to mask yourself from me. But I’ve taken down a few of your brothers in my time.”
The demon laughed. “I can assure you, you haven’t ‘taken down’ any brother of mine. A peon, maybe. A foot soldier here and there, perhaps. But you’ve never before seen the likes of me, McCoy. And, sad to say, you never will again.”
“Promises, promises,” McCoy said, and dove for his bag. Reaching inside, he came out with a corked bottle containing a clear liquid. Uncorking the bottle, he turned to face the demon, which was regarding him with an amused expression.
“When you get back to hell,” McCoy said, “look up that asshat that gave me the bum leg and give him a swift kick in the ass for me. Et Vade!” Begone! He tossed the contents of the bottle on the demon.
The holy water splashed onto the demon and immediately began to burn its skin. But instead of howling in pain and vanishing, as McCoy had expected and would have vastly preferred, the demon simply shook its head and rolled its eyes, mimicking the look of someone who has realized that he’s dealing with a complete idiot.
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