Nix shifted and stretched his legs beneath the table. “Demons manifest it.” The horror written on her face forced Nix to ask, “You really want us to continue?”
She squeezed her son a little tighter. “Definitely.” Conviction strengthened her tone.
Nix respected her tenacity. Fear clouded her eyes, still she soldiered onward, determined to face the problem head-on. Who said soldiers couldn’t come in pretty packages? Certainly not him.
“Can you think of anyone unfamiliar hanging around right before this started?” James asked.
“Or someone you know acting strange?” Nix added.
She thought the question over before shaking her head. Demons could possess a person and impersonate them with such accuracy one might never know another individual hosted a spawn of Hell. Typically the person knew the baneful creature stalking them. Why did a spawn of Satan want a child?
“Can you think of anything happening out of the ordinary right before he went wonky?” He’d said something wrong because she frowned at him. He couldn’t win with her.
“No,” she said quickly. “He was fine one day and then twisting the cat’s neck the next day.”
“He’s five,” Nix said with some disbelief.
“Yeah, the cat fought back and scratched him bad enough to warrant my one and only trip to the ER. If it escaped your notice earlier, he’s stronger than me when he’s raging. When he’s like this….” She rubbed his back again, “He’s my baby, except he’s become mute, been diagnosed with selective mutism.”
Unsure of the exact meaning of the term, Nix could tell by her frown she held no appreciation for the diagnosis.
She licked her lips and continued. “Next, he gutted the dog. Carving her up would’ve been too simple; instead he played in her blood and intestines.”
The horrific picture she painted sounded just like something a demon child would start doing before gravitating to bigger prey, like humans. He had a hard time merging the child she described with the one curled up asleep in her arms.
“And Dixie was a Great Dane, so no small feat to constrain her.” Madison expelled a long breath. “Before he sliced her up, he would ride her around the backyard like a horse. They were friends, playmates. He’s ripped legs and wings off flies, burned ants with the sun and a magnifying glass, and threw darts with deadly accuracy at squirrels and birds, but Amos loved Dixie.”
Nix chewed on his bottom lip over the ant massacre—sounded kind of brilliant for a five-year-old in his opinion. All of her story sounded fantastical. Killing a Great Dane should be difficult for a grown man, and impossible for someone of Amos’s size. Something paranormal must be involved. It was the only logical conclusion. But what?
“Then the sleepwalking started and the brutalization of the neighborhood pets. Anything he could—can—catch, he tortures before he kills it. My backyard is a pet cemetery. I don’t need anyone telling me he’s too young to break the neck of one wee cat.” She arched an eyebrow. “Need I mention the rages like you saw upstairs? Or remind you he came at you fearless? He gashed me in the leg a month ago with no remorse whatsoever. No ER that time, I stitched myself.”
“Fewer questions,” James said with a nod, and Nix agreed, thinking she’d made the right choice not visiting the hospital. He and his family avoided them too, unless no other choice presented itself. Medical professionals asked too many questions. And their job wasn’t exactly IRS legit since they never saved lives for monetary purposes. James worked construction and other side jobs six months out of the year to keep him, his cousin, Gage, and Gage’s girlfriend, Zoe, afloat. Aunt Georgie peddled her psychic abilities to anyone willing to pay her exorbitant fees. The rest of the year, James utilized the cash he saved to join Nix, Gage, and Zoe hunting supernatural monsters. His employer believed he used his time away to travel the world. It wasn’t an inaccurate view of James’s time off. There were just other more dangerous factors that went along with the travel.
The Sherlock Foundation helped them when funds grew too low and offered bonuses to any agent who killed a demon. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the founder of the community, not only believed in the occult, he’d dedicated many hours to saving those wrongly convicted of crimes. Sherlock legend claimed he was the first of the group to actually hunt supernatural creatures.
“Do I need to go on?” She glanced from the older to the younger Birmingham.
Nix shook his head. “Nah. You painted a pretty graphic picture.”
“It is graphic, Mr. Birmingham.”
“Nix,” he corrected.
She ignored the correction. “I’m afraid to let him near other children for fear of what he’ll do. Heck, he scares me.”
Heck? Nix didn’t know anyone used the word anymore, but it sounded cute coming from her despite the gravity of the situation.
“I don’t let him out of my sight. I barely sleep, just sit and watch him most nights. I don’t think Hell could be worse at this point.”
“How bad is the cut on your thigh?” Nix asked, seriously needing to lighten the mood. He bit the inside of his mouth trying to keep his expression as sober as possible. “I have some skill with wounds, so I’d be happy to check it out for you.”
“Not bad. I’d have to remove my pants to show it to you.”
“Not a problem for me.” He grinned wickedly.
“Ha, ha.” She rolled her eyes. “All the comedians out of work and you want to be one.”
Nix winked at her. “I will grow on you.”
“Don’t count on it.”
He saw the smile she couldn’t quite stop from tilting the corners of her mouth.
He peeked at his uncle, silent and rubbing his forehead, a habit when his thoughts grew complicated and dire.
“We’ll do all we can to help you both,” Nix said, lame as it went in reassuring her.
“No promises, though, right?” Obviously, he’d failed to reassure her at all and she had seen straight through his vague promise.
Nix adored straight-forward women. “Where demons are involved, anything can happen.”
“I’ll die before I let them have him.” Her tone convinced him.
Chapter Five
Madison wondered what thoughts ran through Phoenix’s head while he stared at her. He looked at her differently than any man ever had, including Micah, her deadbeat, low-life ex-husband. A businessman in the guise of a hunky model, Micah had fulfilled every one of her teenage dreams. He knew all the right things to say at exactly the right moment. Perfection right down to his pedicured toenails. He’d doted on her, been a wonderful father. She’d worshiped him like he was a god and had been not only shocked, but devastated when he walked out on her without so much as a goodbye.
She considered James, seated with confidence, his arms resting on her kitchen table, watching her as closely as Phoenix. Did they both expect her to fall apart? They would learn it took a lot for her to break down. She’d survived when Micah left, and she would survive now. Her biggest dilemma was buying all this mumbo-jumbo. Demons? Seriously? She didn’t even believe in God. So, shouldn’t a person need to believe in supernatural entities before…before what?
Whether or not you believe in God, He believes in you, Madison. The sound of her pious father’s lecture swam in her head. A Baptist pastor, overly strict and hard on her; he’d expected more from her than she could give. Picking Micah as her mate had thrust more friction between their already strained relationship. She’d never understood his hatred of her husband, and since her father couldn’t explain his emotions with anything more solid than, a father just knows what’s best for his little girl, she’d done as she damn well pleased and married Micah despite his admonitions.
“I think I should tell you both I don’t believe in demons.”
Phoenix sent his uncle a sidelong glance.
“Or God,” she said.
Phoenix cleared his throat. “Doesn’t mean—”
“If you say it doesn’t mean God isn’t real, I’
ll strangle you.” His eyebrows rose in surprise. “For the record, I don’t believe in ghosts, psychics, or anything else supernatural.” Except she couldn’t totally discount prophets not since Amos had divined more than one future event with a hundred percent accuracy.
“I was going to say, your lack of belief in demons doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”
“Why are we here, if you don’t believe in all this?” James asked, spreading his fingers wide.
Madison rubbed Amos’s back, taking comfort in his little body seeking reassurance from her. She met James’s gaze. “Honestly, you’re my last hope. Doctors just want to drug him and lock him up in an institution.”
Phoenix shot her a weird look. “How do you know that’s not the right choice?”
“Nix,” James said, his voice rough with censure.
“It’s a valid question, James.” She stared at Phoenix. “The only way I know to answer that is mother’s intuition tells me it’s wrong.” She cleared her throat. “You’re not the first supernatural intervention I’ve tried. An exorcism failed, a witch doctor made my house stink to high heaven. I almost didn’t get the stench out. An herbalist gave us both sinus infections. None of them could provide me with guesses, much less answers, and they sure as heck didn’t help. I consulted at least a dozen psychics before I located Georgie by an accidental transposition of telephone numbers, and when she said she’d send help, I didn’t believe her. So, yeah, I imagine you can understand why I’m more than a little jaded.”
“Madison—may I call you that?” James asked.
“Of course.”
“Madison, I promise you when we leave, you’ll have answers, and hopefully a resolution.”
She nodded. What could she say to his promise? Almost all of them had promised help in the beginning, only to disappoint her in the end. Relying on her last hope…she couldn’t do it, not without losing a part of herself in the process. Besides, trust must be earned, and even then, it was only as good as the person she put her faith in.
The doorbell rang, saving her from saying something she’d regret or have to apologize for later. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
James stood. “I’ll take him if you like.”
Madison smiled. Gentlemen were rare, even in the South. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
She stood and adjusted Amos in her arms, leaving the two men in her kitchen. “Hi.” She greeted the stranger with a smile as she opened the door. “May I help you?” Brown eyes, dark hair, and so tall she felt short next to him, when she normally felt like a giant alongside other women.
“Hello.” He returned her smile. His warm expression should have warmed his eyes. It failed. “I’m Gage Birmingham.”
“Ah. You must belong with the other Birminghams.” Compared to them, he seemed less friendly, and yet she couldn’t figure out the reason for her unease.
“James and Nix? Yeah. Father and cousin,” he said.
She shifted Amos a little higher. “Come in.” She stepped back and waited for him to follow.
“He looks heavy.” He nodded at Amos. “I’ll be happy to carry him for you.”
“How sweet, but I got him.” She couldn’t explain why she felt such apprehension toward Gage Birmingham. She knew one thing with clarity. Regardless of her unfair attitude, she wouldn’t allow him to touch her child. Even if he’d come all this way to help her, she preferred to keep Amos in her protection.
Madison led Gage to the kitchen to join his family.
“I expected you sooner,” James said, rising to his feet.
“I got tied up.”
“There’s coffee if you want some. Or iced tea in the fridge. Cups are in the cabinet. Help yourself. I’m going to go put the little guy down.” She caressed Amos’s forehead with her lips. “You guys probably want to talk anyway.”
The doorbell rang again.
“You expecting more people?” she asked, and James shook his head. “Will you hold him, Phoenix?”
“Of course,” he agreed, taking Amos into his arms like a professional father. Heck, for all she knew he had a wife and kids back home, wherever that was.
Madison shook out the ache in her arm as she weaved back toward the door. Tall for five, and heavy, too. She opened the door, her mouth dropped open, and her heart slammed into her lungs.
“You—” She frowned, rubbed her temples, and swayed as blackness threatened to invade and conquer.
He caught her arm, steadying her. “Don’t faint, although you wouldn’t be the first if you did,” he said, teasing, as a smile spread across his face. The smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and forced her to instantly like him.
“You’re already in the kitchen,” she whispered. “You don’t by any chance have a twin, do you?”
“No.”
Madison bolted toward her son.
Chapter Six
Gage Birmingham caught her before she burst into the kitchen. He pushed her against the wall with enough force she knew he was serious. He leaned forward, and she grew nervous of his intentions, but he simply placed his lips against her ear and whispered, “You likely invited a Mimicker into your home. And if you did, you can’t go in there half-cocked and panicked or we’ll lose all of them.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and she shook her head hard enough that strands of hair struck her face.
“I can take it out, but you need to follow my instructions precisely. Understand?”
Unable to force any words past the static heartbeat thrumming in her throat, she nodded.
“Good. Is this the only way into your kitchen?”
“There’s a door from the backyard.”
“Okay.” He pulled away from her and met her gaze. “You think you can go in there and pretend a salesman was at the door?”
She straightened to her full height against the wall, holding his stare. “Whatever I gotta do to save my son.” She thought her voice shook and hated how weak it made her sound.
“Madison Wescott?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so.” He smiled. “I like your spirit.”
Spirit wasn’t what gave her nerve, rather concern for her son. Without replying, she turned and walked back into the kitchen.
“Sorry about the interruption,” she said, forcing herself to sound perky as she sailed into the room. “It was just a salesman. I sent him on his way.”
***
Nix watched her, thinking something a little off. Maybe the strained singsong lilt to her voice added to her oddness. A bad feeling lanced down his spine. And he’d been putting his life in danger long enough to follow his instincts.
“You okay,” he asked as she practically snatched Amos out of his arms, hugging the boy to her tall, willowy frame. He’d never paid much attention to mothers before, thinking them off limits because they tended to be too burdened with complications. When he looked at Madison Wescott, he failed to think ‘off limits’. His lower brain desperately wanted to see her naked and find out if those legs were as long as they appeared. He had no trouble visualizing the two of them in a multitude of sexual positions either. Could he pick a more inappropriate time to notice a mother?
“Fine.” Her eyes verified the lie of that word, proving something amiss, causing the hair on his nape to stand at attention. He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but she gave him a small shake of her head.
“I’m tired. I’m going to leave you three to catch up while I nap with Amos.”
Nix watched her face the door.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Gage.”
“Likewise.” Just as she reached the door, his cousin halted her progress with, “Micah sends his love.”
“Who’s Micah?” Nix asked.
She whipped around, hugged Amos tighter and glared at Gage. His cousin schmoozed everyone with his carefree attitude. Strange how Madison resisted his boy next door routine. “My ex-husband,” she told Nix. “Gage, how do you know Micah?”
“Your ex-husband? Wait…Gage, you
don’t know—who the fuck are you?” Nix whipped out his gun and leveled it on the look-alike Gage’s forehead.
He glanced at James, who edged cautiously around the kitchen table, a knife in hand. The creature before him could be Gage’s twin, which meant they probably were dealing with a Mimicker. And this particular creature must be invited into one’s home. He’d either been in her home before as someone else or she’d likely invited him in thinking him part of the Birmingham family.
“I’m your cousin, Nix.” The mirror image of Gage flashed eyes glowing preternatural yellow. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Where’s Gage?” James asked, his voice icy.
“Tied up.” He grinned, a sick, twisted kind of smile displaying the overlong teeth of one of his kind. They were flesh-eating monsters, and those teeth weren’t for show. “For the moment.” He smacked his lips. “He’ll make a tasty snack later. Zoe should prove scrumptious, too.”
“What do you want?” Madison demanded, and Nix found himself impressed by her backbone.
“Shouldn’t you be asking about Micah, and why he sent me?” The Mimicker rubbed his hands together as if he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into the human meat surrounding him.
She arched a single eyebrow at the creature, a question narrowing the edges of her blue eyes. A long moment lapsed as she and the creature stared at one another; Nix never doubted the Mimicker remained conscious of his and James’s positions in the room.
“Okay,” she said slowly, as if she’d bite and play his game. She glanced at James, but her gaze fixated over his shoulder. Nix shot a glance in that direction and thought he saw a flash of blue material. “Why did Micah send you? More importantly, what does he want?”
“I’m here to protect you—”
Madison snorted, a delicate sound Nix deemed charming. “If he worried about our protection, the bastard wouldn’t have left us.”
“—and ready you both for his return.”
“Tell him to save the airfare and go to Hell instead because he isn’t welcome here.”
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