Movement behind the driver’s side window caught his attention. He smirked at the old-fashioned stakeout and adjusted his vision to hone in on the man’s features. Phoenix Birmingham. Known widely in the demonic community as a very skilled Sherlock for having not only the talent to kill supernatural creatures, but the balls to scout them out of hiding. The rest of the Birminghams were just as bad.
Beliel shouldn’t have been disappointed to find Phoenix as incognito as a cheap whore on the Vegas strip, but he was. He should have been amused, since he expected this particular Sherlock to have better hunting dexterity than other lesser-known trappers, but he wasn’t.
Goddamn pestilence! Every last one of them was a demonic disease. He’d rid the world of the entire species as soon as he sat on the World Throne. He’d deal with this one soon enough, and make it oh-so-much more painful for breathing the same air as Madison and Amos. Right now, Beliel came for the woman and child. And the mortal wasn’t a threat. A nuisance, yes, but he posed no risk. Not tonight. He snorted. Not ever to someone of his ilk.
He strode boldly to the front door. Power twinkled from his palm like a firework sparkler, and the deadbolt grated open. Humans and their pathetic security measures; they needed protective charms to guard against demons, not simple locks. Soon Madison and Amos wouldn’t need protection. Then humanity’s blood would run like rivers, turning the soil red, and from it, his kingdom would flourish.
The door opened without a sound, and he easily maneuvered up the stairs in the dark to the bedroom. Amos lay curled on his side next to Madison on the bed. Lightening flickered through the window long enough for him to see she wore yellow panties and a pale green sleeveless tank top. She lay on top of the covers, hair haloing her head like a gold coronet, one arm thrown over her head, the other resting on her stomach. His appreciative gaze caressed her long legs with demonic electrical energy.
Soon he’d part her shapely thighs and fuck her, remind her again she was his, forever his. Only his. And he’d make sure she understood calling in Phoenix Birmingham bordered on treachery.
Approaching the bed with silent tread, Beliel stared at the two subjects. They meant everything to him, both equally important to his ultimate purpose. Kneeling beside Amos, he twirled his finger and deepened Madison’s sleep. “Amos.” Blue eyes fluttered open, instantly awake at his call. “Hungry?”
Amos nodded his head, scrunched the covers down, and scooted up into a sitting position. Holding his hands up, Beliel waggled the fingers on his right hand and his nails lengthened into sharp, dark red claws. He pressed the tip of a nail against his left wrist, and black blood bloomed, as thick and gooey as tar. With rounded eyes, Amos stared at the substance. His breathing grew reedy and awkward, much too fast, like a sprinter at the end of an arduous marathon. Like a torpedo, Amos launched across the bed, wrapped tiny fingers around Beliel’s wrist and smashed his mouth to the wound.
Beliel smiled and petted Amos’s head as the child slurped the dark hemoglobin.
***
Madison jerked awake, unsure what had disturbed her peaceful dreams. A rarity for nightmares not to plague her, she tried going straight back to sleep, but something dragged her from the edge once again.
Lightening crackled outside the window and a long, weary sigh whistled through her lips. The thunderstorm probably woke her. The weatherman had forecast a balmy, unusually warm spring evening, not rain.
She blinked, peering around her midnight darkened bedroom, the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof. Eh…the weatherman just got it wrong. Again. Nothing new in the macabre southern weather.
Madison rubbed her itchy nose and stretched. Halfway through the stretch, her breath froze in her lungs as a black shape shifted and loomed over her. White holes resided where eyes, nose, and mouth should be located. She opened her mouth to scream; nothing but gurgling noises erupted.
The apparition smiled, exposing white teeth. No, they were better described as pointy fangs.
Nightmare, nightmare, nightmare! Only in her nightmares were screams suppressed.
Wake up, wake up, wake up!
Nothing changed.
She pinched her thigh and winced. Not a nightmare.
Thunder boomed as she found her voice and screamed. A cackle came from the shape. Her heart threatening to pound out of her chest, she reached for Amos and found empty sheets. Turning her back on the intruder forced a knot of queasiness to settle in her stomach, but she had to find her son and protect him!
Whirling about, she located Amos as he slipped off the edge, and with soft, childish steps, plodded around the end of the bed.
“No!” She scrambled toward him, but he ran out of her reach and stood beside the dark specter. Keeping one eye on Amos and the other on the presence, she held her arms out to him and prayed he’d follow her instructions. “Amos, come to me.”
He didn’t.
“Red rover, red rover, send Daddy right over,” Amos chanted, eyes flaming burnt orange around the edges, and in the darkness, the demon color surfaced brighter than normal. “Hellfire, hellfire, send Daddy right over.”
A warm breeze hit her skin and coupled with the chilling second stanza; together they bubbled her flesh with shivers of dread. Who knew the lines to a kid’s game could sound so gruesome?
“In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to depart!” Where’d that come from? From the recesses of her childhood apparently, proof she’d been listening with at least half an ear to her father’s preaching.
Unfortunately, the Christian command proved ineffective on this creature. He chuckled, and she got the sick impression he sent an amused wink to her son. She abhorred the idea of them sharing secret jokes. Amos smiled up at the figure that grew more distinct by the minute. His body solidified, but his face remained blurry. Something dangled about his neck, a crystal of some sort.
“Get away from my son!”
A black arm reached out and tangled powerful fingers in her hair, dragging her across the mattress. She struggled, but her efforts were useless. Strands pulled from their roots. At the edge of the bed, he yanked on her tresses and forced her to her knees before him. The position was too servile for her liking. She refused to look up at him for fear he’d perceive it as subservience.
She clawed at his arm with her nails. He backhanded her. With his hand tangled in her locks, her head remained steady, taking the full brunt of his strike. The copper taste of blood flooded her mouth, and she gagged as she swallowed the fluid.
He slapped her again. No point in that one apart from amusing himself, since she’d ceased to struggle. Once more for good measure. Her teeth shredded the inside of her cheek, until she choked on the blood in her mouth. She spewed the fluid all over them. When the coughing subsided and she could breathe without feeling like she attempted to suck liquid air into her lungs, she glared up at him, hatred boiling in her belly. Even so close, she could not discern his features, but, she could make out her blood marking his face. This was just…odd.
He stunk to high heaven. Putrid as if he’d risen from the grave, yet he seemed robust. His strength sure as heck proved his heartiness.
His tongue flicked out and licked her blood off his lips and chin. Bile rose to the back of her throat, but she forced it back.
“Mm…Mm…Good to the last drop.” Great, a supernatural creature quoting commercials. “I’ll have more of you soon,” he said. “That’s a promise, Madison.”
Over her dead body!
That’s what he means, you imbecile!
“Run, Amos, run!”
The creature smiled, displaying those eerie, razor-sharp teeth. Amos remained rooted at the creature’s side. He continued to look up at her with a soft, childish smile on his face.
Her attacker’s eyes glinted with the stark intensity of flames. Burnt orange, just like Amos’s when he lost control, only the demon’s sparkled with such vibrancy, her eye sockets ached.
Not freaking human! She’d had enough of these supernatural mons
ters coming into her home!
Madison let loose another scream. Where the heck were the Birminghams? She thought they were there to protect her. They’d traded her guest bedroom for a hotel room. Fled, more likely. She couldn’t blame them, she’d flee, too. Any sane person would.
So, not the time to be thinking of this, Madison!
The demon dragged her hard against his granite-like, immoveable chest, knocking the breath from her lungs with their sudden impact. Demon or not, buff beneath his clothing and as unforgiving as concrete, those physical assets terrified her more. She couldn’t compete with his strength.
Not even an inhalation moved his rock hard pecs. Testament that he didn’t live, or rather evidence he didn’t need air to live. If that wasn’t enough to prove he was dead, she held her breath, trying to block out his stench. The action failed miserably as his atrocious odor caused her eyes to water.
“I’ll provide you security and safety, make you Queen of all Nations. All you need do is consent to come with me now.”
Queen of all Nations, huh? What an amazing offer. Kind of like winning the lottery without buying a ticket. She guessed it came with a high price.
A familiar cant stained his voice, yet a gruff unfamiliarity marred it at the same time. Fire eyed or not, buff or not, offering the world or not, he was in her home uninvited, and he stank to high heaven. She sucked in a breath to scream again.
He slammed his mouth over hers, slicing her upper lip against her teeth and cutting off any sound she might have executed. The hand in her hair twisted her head to the side, and he deepened his demonic kiss. His tongue swished inside and flicked across hers, her bleeding mouth making their connection wet and slippery.
Madison grunted and squirmed, slapped and punched, attempting to break free. None of her efforts worked. So, she bit down on his tongue and gagged on his thick, sludgy blood.
He jerked backward and an outraged bellow struck her face, the stench knocking the breath from her lungs. Holding her steady by her hair, his other hand wrapped around her throat and constricted. Awful strangled sounds came from her, as he squeezed tighter and tighter until she thought he’d crush her windpipe.
Amos….
Darkness edged her vision as jagged lightening haloed his silhouette. His grip intensified while thunder rattled the windows. If he murdered her, Amos would be all alone with him.
She struggled to lift her arms and rake her nails down his face, but they weighed too much to maneuver accurately. They ended up banging against her thighs like a loose window shutter in a vicious thunderstorm.
In the moments before she thought death would claim her, his face transformed with concise clarity. All thought froze; shocked beyond comprehension, she couldn’t believe her eyes. His identity couldn’t be right.
The door to her bedroom burst open the second before Madison lost consciousness.
Chapter Eleven
The thunderstorm boomed hard enough to rattle his vehicle, and because of it, Nix almost missed Madison’s scream. Scrambling from his car with pistol in hand, he slammed into her house and took the stairs two at a time to her room. Chambered inside the gun were special bullets. At the beginning of their craftsmanship, a Sherlock priest blessed the lead. Once cast, the maker etched a cross into the tip of the final product. One shot and any demonic bad boy would die screaming in a shitload of pain. Better than what they deserved, in his opinion.
Locked. The fucking bedroom door was locked! Damn it!
Taking a couple of steps back, he inhaled and kicked just to the side of the doorknob. The impact jarred up his leg, traveled into his spine and snapped his teeth together. The door held steady. Gurgling sounds penetrated the door, and he fought panic. Losing Madison wasn’t an option. Propelled by this uncomfortable thought, Nix inhaled a long breath, expelled it, repositioned himself and drew one more deep breath. On the exhale, he kicked the door with everything he possessed. The door flew inward, loudly crashing against the wall. He stumbled, caught the doorjamb, and steadied himself.
His gaze swept the room fast. Amos stood beside a dark apparition. The figure tossed Madison to the bed like garbage. She bounced when she landed and lay limp. From where he stood, with only the hall light illuminating the room, Nix couldn’t tell if she were alive or dead. He’d been right to follow his instinct in returning to Madison’s.
Nix reacted, aimed, and fired. The creature jerked when the first bullet ripped through his heart and stumbled when the second one entered his gut. A demon should’ve imploded with the rounds. Nix put a third slug into him, straight between the eyes. The shot jerked his head backward hard enough to rip a human’s head off. Unfortunately, the intruder’s remained intact.
The demon’s features crystallized and a smirk tilted the edges of his mouth before he exploded into flames. Perplexed by the intensity and sparkling whiteness of the fire consuming the entity, Nix protected his eyes with his forearm. The cackle that followed the beast’s departure made abso-fucking-lutely no sense! Demons screamed and died in a dramatic explosion. They never laughed and died in sparkling white light.
What would Georgie make of this new circumstance?
His attention jerked to Amos and the orange ring around the child’s eyes spiked and thinned, but remained. Nix ran to Madison and slid across the bed on his knees. Her eyes were closed. The too dark room kept him from seeing if her chest inflated. Lifting one of her hands, he released it, and it landed limp on her stomach. Pressing two fingers to the pulse in her neck, he detected nothing.
His heartbeat rocketed. Coping with his failure to save her would create a host of emotional problems he wasn’t ready to deal with. And if she were dead, what would they do with Amos?
Nix jabbed his fingers through his hair and reminded himself not to jump the gun. One step at a time, take it slow, assess the entirety of the situation. First was confirming Madison’s status.
Taking a moment to collect himself, he breathed in and out, all the while commanding himself to calm down and get a fucking grip on his rampaging emotions. Once his heart rate slowed a fraction, he adjusted the position of his fingertips and waited. A slow, steady tap hit his pads.
Oh, thank you, God!
“Momma hurt?” Amos asked in a small voice, sounding like a two-year-old rather than a boy of five.
“A little, but—”
“Good.”
Nix whipped his head around, his neck cracking from the force of the movement.
The child smiled and his eyes spiked anew, closer to the shade of burnt orange. “So hungry. I drink Momma’s blood?”
Horrified by the question more than the sight of the demon flinging Madison on the bed, Nix stared mutely at the child. Drink his mother’s blood? Did he drink the blood of the animals he killed, too? As far as he knew, only two supernatural creatures drank blood. Vampires and demons. Neither were rays of sunbeams and puppy dog kisses. And they both gained power by ingesting the blood of their victims.
“No,” Nix said in the most authoritative voice he could project. Inside he quivered and prayed there’d be something in the Sherlock Handbook to guide them accurately. “You cannot ever drink Momma’s blood.”
None of this made sense. Running a hand down his face, he thought they might be in way over their heads. He made a promise to Madison not to give up and, for good or bad, he’d keep his word. It didn’t matter the little voice in his head screamed run! He couldn’t save others if he found his way to an early grave.
With the flat of his palm, he tapped her on the cheek. “Madison. Wake up, Madison.”
She groaned, and he tapped the other cheek.
“Ow!” She swatted at his hand, blinked, and blinked again. “Amos?”
“Momma!” Amos scrambled onto the bed and lay down by her side, positioning his head on her shoulder, wrapping his little arm around her waist. Even in the dark, he could tell the child’s eyes were back to normal.
Madison rubbed Amos’s back. “It’s okay, sweet boy.”
“Demon?” Her voice sounded scratchy.
He nearly said he didn’t know. He realized almost too late she referred to the presence in her room and not her son.
“Gone.” Nix brushed his knuckles across her cheek and she flinched. “Sorry.” She nodded, or at least he thought she did. In the dark room, he couldn’t be sure. “I’m going to get the lights.”
She caught his hand before he could move off the bed. “Was that a demon?”
“I—” He thought so. The creature sure smelled like a demon, and the thunderstorm vanished when he did, the full moon shining through her bedroom window proof the weather was a direct result of the presence. The way the creature reacted to the demonic bullets left him confused and unsure. “I…um…think so.”
Chapter Twelve
Madison sat on the sofa, Amos clutched in her arms. Her throat ached, her cheek burned, and the inside of her mouth felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to the delicate flesh. Fighting back tears, Phoenix blurred in her line of sight. To say she suffered from shock failed to come close to what she really felt. Nothing could explain the terror of having a demon in her bedroom. Or being choked by one of Hell’s residents. All of which waned to the horror of her son choosing a demon over his mother.
Not sure she wanted to know what happened in her bedroom after she blacked out; she only knew Phoenix hadn’t abandoned her. Like he should have.
A demon…she shuddered. All this time, her father had spoken the truth. The horror of an actual one-on-one meeting with one of Hell’s minions, proved more than she could’ve prepared for, or ever fathomed. She hadn’t possessed the good sense to be overly scared as the altercation happened. She guessed because she needed to keep a level head to get them out of the predicament. Now, she couldn’t stop thinking how close she’d come to dying. Or that Amos had identified the demon as his daddy.
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