Amos twisted in her arms to look at the Mimicker. She tried to turn his head away, but the boy refused to be deterred.
“Go away. Now.” He rubbed at a sleepy eye with a curled up fist.
The Mimicker screamed as a hole seamed open beneath his feet, a wave of black rippling outward and swallowing him whole.
“Christ!” Nix jumped back away from the edge of the sudden, gaping fissure. “Christ!” he screeched when the void grew bigger before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
He’d never seen that happen before. Unsure what exactly had happened, he couldn’t guess what type of creature could produce such power without any effort. The hardwood remained unmarred by the hole to Hell. Nix forced his eyes off the floor and stared at the five-year-old boy in her arms, an uncomfortable suspicion turning him wary. Didn’t he say “Go now,” and the dark hole suddenly loomed? Nix wasn’t sure what to think. Or if he wanted to think for that matter.
The door burst open and Gage pounced into the room a few seconds too late to help.
The child popped his thumb in his mouth, sucking loudly, reminding him of Linus in a Charlie Brown cartoon. His pale lashes fell drowsily over light blue eyes, rimmed in a deep shade of sapphire. Victims often recounted demons coming to them as humans with milky white skin, pale hair, and blue eyes. All features of the boy—and his mother—but they’d already ruled out him being a demon.
So what type of creature did that make him? Because he wasn’t wholly human either, couldn’t be, and send the Mimicker down the creepy-brick-hole.
Nix and James traded speaking glances, while Gage wore an expression detailing the level of his confusion. Obviously the mother in Madison could read their silent speak. “Amos did not do that, so don’t even think about blaming him.” Conviction darkened her sexy Southern twang.
Nix rubbed his bottom lip and considered her. “You can’t discount the Mimicker left when he told him to.”
Had he thought her pretty with her pale features and blue eyes? He’d been dead wrong. She fairly sparkled when angered. Her gaze spitting mad, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. He couldn’t help but wonder how much of her body would flush when aroused with desire. He shook his head. Those were not thoughts he should be considering. Most especially not at a time like this.
“You can go—” She seemed to check herself, glanced at her son’s blond head and quashed the remainder of her sentence, but Nix got the idea of what he could go do, and figured the word rhymed with ‘duck’ and the sentence ended with yourself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d inspired such sentiments from the fairer sex. He wasn’t there to be her best friend. He’d like to be her lover, the man-whore inside him pointed out. He hit the imaginary mute button. His mission was to figure out what stalked this family and how he could resolve the supernatural forces harassing them, not fantasize about all the things he wanted to do to the mother.
Always the mediator, his uncle attempted to mollify her. “We’re all a bit shaken. Never seen holes to Hell open up before.” He shook his head, rubbed his nape, and looked more rattled than a bag of popcorn. “Pointing fingers isn’t going to help.” He glared at Nix, but he offered no apology to his uncle’s silent reprimand. “We got work to do. I’ll call Georgie. She needs to know things are worse than originally thought.”
The comment turned Madison a nice hue of white, totally uncomplimentary to her features. “Worse?” Tears brimmed, threatening to fall from her red eyes.
God, the glitter of those unshed tears magnified her sky-blue irises—truly one of her best features. She blinked and the action proved too much for the moisture to remain unsettled; the tears fell on her cheeks. The undesirable urge to comfort her rose in him, but he consoled as well as Mother Theresa kicked ass.
Gage’s girlfriend, Zoe, saved the awkward moment, bursting in the kitchen door, the hilt of her knife clutched in her palm, murderous intent blazing in her brown eyes. Ah…Zoe Hart. A woman neither as sweet nor as frilly as her name sounded. Zo, as he fondly called her, was Gage’s bristly, ex-military, black belt in judo and three other forms of martial arts, girlfriend. She could kick butt while smiling and not break a hard sweat, much less a labored pant. Nix adored her like a sister and argued with her like one, too. A damn embarrassing shame she could kick his ass, which was completely unfair as far as sibling rivalry went.
“Where’s the Mimicker? “ Zo demanded, adjusting the blade in her hand as her gaze flicked over them all before coming to rest on Madison and Amos.
Narrow-eyed Madison honed in on Zo. “Who the heck are you?”
A hushed pause descended, and Nix stifled the urge to grin at Madison’s bravado. In the face of fear, she was one gutsy woman, and he admired her strength. Unfortunately, evil bastards like demons were attracted to the same trait.
Zo arched an eyebrow at the sound of hostility threaded through Madison’s voice.
Madison shot an over-exaggerated, sarcastic look in Nix’s direction. “You’re too late. Apparently it’s already been handled by a five-year-old.” She adjusted Amos. “I really wish you would all show up at once. Or at least do something!”
She abruptly turned on her heels—a military about-face to make any Marine proud—before exiting the kitchen with a small huff.
Chapter Seven
Feeling like a firing squad awaited them in her bedroom, Madison walked up the stairs slowly, as if she could prolong the inevitable outcome.
Cold.
Dear God, frigid to her very core. Her teeth chattered as pinpricks of unease scuttled across her skin. And numb, too, from all that’d happened the past few months.
Everything would be easier if she could scrunch her eyes closed and hide beneath the covers as she did as a child. Cowering worked then to stamp out the beady, glowing eyes of the monster peeking from her closet or from under her bed. Childish fears paled in comparison to her very real concerns and horrors. Hiding beneath the blankets and shivering in fright wouldn’t help her now.
Tears blurred her vision. She opened the door to her bedroom and nudged it shut with her hip. When she placed Amos on her bed, he curled onto his side, suckling his thumb. The habit returned at the same time his murderous bent emerged.
She ruffled his towhead with one hand and dashed at the scalding tears with the other. Since meeting Micah, everything had gone to shit. First, her parents died in a single-vehicle accident. There’d been some idyllic moments during her marriage to Micah before Amos, complacent years, and although she’d been a little bored, she’d been happy. Until one morning shortly after Amos turned two, when he’d kissed her good-bye, headed to work, and never returned home. The note she discovered on her pillowcase later in the evening explained that while he loved her and Amos, he couldn’t bear to ‘live here’ any longer. Whatever the hell that meant. Devastated by his betrayal, depression would have ruled her if not for the needs of her son.
The police investigated her for fraudulently reporting a missing person who never lived. Apparently, Micah existed nowhere. Not on paper and not on the World Wide Web of knowledge. The Internet forgot no one, and lost no one, not even those the government wanted forgotten. When they’d discovered an obscene amount of money in overseas accounts in her name, the IRS launched an examination for tax fraud, which coincided with the probe of money laundering.
None of the charges panned out, of course, because, shocker of all shockers, she was actually innocent. She disliked being a suspect in a criminal investigation and although the Feds formally closed their investigation, she thought they would always suspect her of something.
Financial security lent some comfort. Obscene amounts of cash proved Micah loved them in some sordid way. Pfft. But in the three years since his disappearance, she’d learned to hate him with a passion.
Things settled down. She and Amos grew comfortable with the mundane routine of daily life, until Amos went demonic and started killing animals and attacking her.
Madison walked into the bathroom. She
stared at her reflection for a long time. Her glassy eyes held the look of a wild, caged animal. Dark smudges darkened the delicate flesh beneath them. Lines furrowed her forehead as if someone set a farmer loose on her with a plow.
If her hair weren’t so blonde, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find gray in the tangled mass. Her hands shook as she lodged strands behind her ears and released a deep, concerned sigh. She struggled to keep further tears at bay as she turned on the tap. The splatter of water hit the ceramic sink, and she splashed her face. The cold water should have alleviated her raging anxiety or the fear spiking with devastation through her system. Regrettably, it failed to soothe her frazzled nerves.
A quandary of emotions and doubts filled her mind. In truth, she felt as if a wrecking ball battered the walls of her sanity. The headache rap, tap, tapping at her temples proved the wrecking ball’s persistency to take her out. Worse, she worried cracks veined through the foundation of her judgment.
James and Phoenix Birmingham would have her believe in demons and Mimickers and God only knew what else. How could she believe all this? How could she not? Could they really exist? Her very religious father would have said yes. He’d often preached about Lucifer’s minions being let loose on unsuspecting humans. He’d warned her soul balanced between two worlds, and if she failed to alter the course of her life, she would burn, burn, buuuurrrrrn!
She stared at herself in the mirror. Her father had been a cold-hearted bastard, and she’d never really missed her parents until now. Madison didn’t want to think about her father or his passion for preaching hellfire and brimstone. Neither did she want to think about the problems currently plaguing her life. She wished she could change the dial of her life as easily as a television station. Life would be much simpler and less complicated if she could.
“How could Amos send that thing back to Hell the way he did?” she whispered to her reflection. “How can I believe he’s capable of it?”
***
Zo let loose an ironic chuckle. “Well, I guess we’re not going to be friends anytime soon.”
“Spectacular, showy entrance, Zo,” Nix said with a wink.
“What’d I say wrong?” Zo turned a puzzled frown on Gage, who shrugged and massaged her nape. “She does know we’re here to help them, right?”
Even if he never wanted a permanent woman in his too dangerous life, Nix envied their relationship. “She knows. I think her attitude has a lot to do with fear and even more denial.”
“So, what happened to the Mimicker? Which one of you had the pleasure of killing it?”
James scratched the back of his head, his features pulling into a brooding frown. “The boy had the pleasure. Wouldn’t you agree he is the one responsible, Nix?”
Zo and Gage gaped at him, and Nix nodded his head, agreeing emphatically with his uncle.
“What? How’s that even possible?” Zo shot a speculative glance at Gage. As an answer, he shrugged. Without witnessing the incident firsthand, Nix probably wouldn’t have believed it possible either.
“Basically, he told it to go bye-bye and it went bye-bye.” Nix answered Zo’s question and watched as disbelief spread across their faces. The hole had damn near swallowed him, too.
“Now’s no time for joking, Nix.” Gage’s lips seamed into a disapproving line. He guessed that was the biggest problem with being the smartass in the group. Sometimes folks couldn’t tell when he teased and when he was serious.
“Not kidding.” Nix ran a hand down his face. “So very not. Wish I were.” He sighed and met his uncle’s worried frown. “How in the hell could the boy have the power to do that?”
James shook his head. “I don’t know, son, but it doesn’t bode well.”
If Nix didn’t know better, he’d think Amos housed a damned powerful demon. Or was one.
“Wait.” Gage placed an arm around Zo’s shoulder. “Start from the beginning and tell us exactly what happened. Spare no details.”
James spared no details, relaying everything. “We gotta find out all we can about her ex-husband.”
Even though he had witnessed it all, Nix’s head spun with questions and uncertainties by the time James finished. He rubbed the back of his neck. “She told me he walked out on her when Amos was two years old.”
“We’re missing something.” James’s eyes were dark with concern.
Saying they were missing something was a lot like saying someone was a ‘little pregnant.’ In his opinion, the situation had hit FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition—status long before they arrived. A bad feeling settled in his gut, a knot hard enough to mature into a rock. They were way out of their league. Whatever targeted the child and his mother played by a different set of rules, ones they’d never dealt with before. Demons always preyed on the weak and young, just never like this, not in his experience.
James palmed his cell phone and punched in numbers. As he put the phone to his ear and waited for it to connect with the other party, he spoke to Nix. “Since she’s already opened up to you about the ex, why don’t you go smooth talk some more information out of her?”
Nix and Gage both snorted, while Zo let loose a sarcastic chuckle. Schmoozing women into his bed could be counted as his forte, schmoozing information out of them…not so much. Gage could charm satanic pit bulls into submission; too bad he didn’t have the trait. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his short, spiky hair. “Thanks for the moral support.” Heavy sarcasm flanked his tone.
“Go get her, tiger.” Zo imitated a mock growl and burst into peals of laughter which followed him up the stairs.
Chapter Eight
Guessing Madison had vacated to the safety of her bedroom, Nix rapped on the door and waited. He wasn’t sure how to cajole more information out of her about her ex, or even what else they needed to know about the man. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and waited. Rolling on the balls of his feet, he tried to think how to broach the subject. She answered his knock too soon for him to formulate a plan. Red-eyed, Madison opened the door. She’d been crying.
“Can we talk?” He stepped backward out of the doorway.
She peeked at her son, curled up on his side asleep on her bed. Like that, he wouldn’t believe Amos capable of anything more than ordinary childhood naughtiness, even though he’d witnessed firsthand the boy’s violent tendencies, as well as the accuracy of his aim with a blade. Nix rubbed the edges of the bandage on his arm.
Leaving the door slightly ajar in case Amos awoke, Madison stepped out of her bedroom and leaned against the wall to the left of the door. Weariness forced her shoulders to droop, and Nix wished he could do more for her. They stared at one another, saying nothing. He admired her tenacity and devotion to her son. Good mothers were hard to come by, and she had him missing his as if she’d died only yesterday.
Using the wall as support, she slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. He got the impression she wanted to draw up into the tightest ball she could and hoped no one would notice her. Or at the very least, all her worries would disappear.
“I think you and your family should leave.”
The unexpected statement surprised him. The only way she could have stunned him more would have been to kiss him senseless.
“It’s obvious y’all are as baffled by my son as everyone else.” She rested her forehead against her knees and shook her head. “You can’t help us. No one can help us.”
Nix didn’t believe in admitting defeat, and she sounded too conquered for his peace of mind. Hell, they’d barely arrived and she was ready to throw in the towel and surrender? Not acceptable. Giving up meant certain death. He squatted beside her. Flaxen hair curtained her face from his view. She seemed fragile and in need of a champion. “Madison, we’re not quitting, and neither should you.”
She lifted her head and stared at him. The intensity of her glistening Caribbean blue eyes startled him, leaving him vulnerable. In the kitchen, he’d felt the same way when she stared at him,
like she could see to his soul and knew his many misdeeds. Dread possessed him as surely as a demon could. He wished to hide the depth of his offenses from her. Before he could digest his intention, he brushed her hair behind her shoulder, letting the back of his fingers wisp across her cheek. She leaned into his touch, reminding him of a starving creature. He wondered how long it’d been since she experienced affection from a man. Not a thought he needed to linger over—he pushed it from his mind.
“I’m just a man, certainly no miracle worker.” And definitely not a fucking saint, he added, enjoying the softness of her skin more than he should. “I promise we’ll figure out what’s happening, and we’ll put a stop to it.”
What a fool to make promises he in no way knew he could keep. But he swore he would help her resolve her problem or die trying. Their gazes locked, held, and every part of his body smoldered for her. Dangerous. He wasn’t used to this type of strong attraction. Nix’s idea of devotion lasted as long as their sojourn in a town. A man-whore, Zo jokingly called him. And Madison Wescott didn’t strike him as the type of woman a man made love to and later hit the road without ever thinking of again. Oh no, Nix feared she’d be the type to haunt a man. So, after experiencing Madison Wescott, how could her husband have abandoned her? Nix doubted he’d ever have an answer to such a soul-searching question.
Even if he decided to take a woman like Gage had, no man needed a southern bombshell on his hands. Zo fit the bill for what every Sherlock needed, someone that didn’t fuss over her appearance and could take care of herself. Regardless of her obvious courage and devotion to her son, the tall, curvy woman before him would cave beneath the constant battles. Or maybe he crafted excuses to keep his hands off her because he despised the idea of her risking her life, no matter how appealing the thought of loving her sounded.
Madison broke the eye contact first. Licking her lips, she closed her lids, leaned against the wall, and shook her head slightly. Nix sat opposite her and rested against the sheetrock. Propping his forearms on his bent knees, he splayed his fingers and watched the band on his middle finger glint in the minimal lighting. The etchings on his ring would protect him from demonic infestation. With the smell of sulfur in her house, she needed protection as well.
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