The Demon Creed (A Demon Outlaws Novel) (Entangled Edge)

by Paula Altenburg

  Creed wondered if Stone had survived the grenade explosion and fall into the sinkhole. It was safest to assume that he had. The boy was well protected by his abilities. He was also going to be more cautious now when using them.

  “They won’t be armed,” Creed said. “They have no need for mortal weapons. The woman and the oldest boy are the ones we want to be rid of. Target them first. The rest are children.”

  “They’re spawn. Whether they’re children doesn’t matter,” the sheriff said.

  Creed knew the man’s attitude was shared by the majority of people, and that most of them were afraid, and rightly so. There was no point in debating it with him, although he would not stand by and permit the innocent to be harmed. “That would be for the Godseekers to decide.”

  “The Godseekers don’t determine the law here.”

  “I don’t know about you,” Hunter said to the sheriff, his mild tone laced with warning, “but I wouldn’t want to be offending one of their assassins. It’s hard to argue the finer points of the law if you’re dead.”

  The sheriff took a closer look at Creed and went a shade paler. Until that moment, he had taken his affability at face value and barely noticed him.

  Hunter turned back to Creed. “Why don’t you challenge them and see if you can draw them out?”

  Creed had no desire to shift form in front of the people of Cottonwood Fall unless forced to do so, and he would not be able to hide the action. Not even he could accomplish such an enormous act of compulsion on so many onlookers. It was only thanks to Nieve’s intervention that he had not revealed his ability in Cottonwood Fall already. Now everyone thought she was half demon. That was going to make it difficult for her to make a new start here.

  And the Demon Slayer was a champion to mortal men. If Hunter fought against half demons and won, hope for the world’s future could continue to grow. Stone, and others like him, would learn to think twice before terrorizing those they perceived as weaker.

  “This is your home,” Creed said. “You’re the Demon Slayer. How much trouble can a few children be?”

  Hunter’s expression flattened in a way that did not express gratitude for Creed’s show of confidence in him, making Creed grin in response.

  Creed examined the temple. “Is there a back door?”

  “Yes,” the sheriff answered.

  “Then why don’t you approach from the front, and I’ll take the back and make sure no one escapes?” he suggested to Hunter. That might give him some protection from discovery if he should be forced to shift. He spoke to the sheriff again. “Watch out for the oldest boy. He shifts body parts in response to danger, so no matter what, don’t shoot at him. A bullet will hit demon’s bone plating and deflect off him, and might strike an innocent.”

  The sheriff’s gray-stubbled face darkened. “He can shift?”

  “From what I’ve seen, half demon talents aren’t necessarily the same as those of their fathers. They’re hybrid. They can be a combination of two or more, or they may be born with none at all and it can skip a generation or two.”

  “We can’t fight that,” the sheriff said. His shoulders slumped. “We can’t even identify them, as we once thought we could. People are right, then. We’re best off to kill any we suspect could be spawn at birth, not just the ones who look demon.”

  Hunter’s neck had gone a dull red. “We may as well begin killing babies that are likely to grow up to be criminals, too. And any that appear imperfect, or deformed.”

  “Right now, the only ones we have to worry about are in that temple,” Creed interrupted. He hoped the sheriff had simply forgotten that Hunter had a child possessing an unusual heritage of its own on the way, and was not sending a subtle message, because if that was his intention, he should be wary of its reception. “And we aren’t interested in the children just yet, only the woman and the oldest boy.” He thought a moment. “I need some boards and a hammer and nails.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The sheriff loped down the street to the general store, hugging the shadows, to get the objects Creed requested.

  Creed watched him reverse the butt of his pistol and rap it against the store’s front window. Shattered glass tinkled to the floor and the boardwalk.

  The sheriff stepped over the window’s ledge to be swallowed by the gloomy interior. He emerged a few moments later and returned to where Creed and Hunter waited, and passed over several thick wooden four by fours, a clawed hammer and a small tin bucket of nails.

  Creed balanced the boards under one arm, and carrying the hammer and nails in his hands, walked around to the rear of the temple. He did not try to hide what he was doing, but strode boldly to the back door.

  As he began to hammer the boards in place, the demolition inside ceased with an ominous abruptness.

  Seconds later, a heavy foot struck the inside of the door with such force that Creed’s fingers stung from the vibration. He shook his hand, cursing under his breath. If Stone wished, he could put a foot right through it. Creed was counting on him wanting to make the biggest spectacle possible, because that was the obvious intention behind what he was doing.

  He wondered as to the reason. Or why Willow had not simply set the building on fire, which was her usual method of destruction.

  The kicking on the door stopped. Creed dropped the hammer and the remaining nails and ran around to the front of the temple.

  Stone stood on the main steps, the bleached wood risers cracked and sagging beneath his weight. He faced Hunter and the sheriff, but turned as Creed approached. Behind Stone, partially hidden in the shadows, was the young girl with long, honey-brown hair who had lured Nieve into danger. Bright-eyed with interest, the complete lack of concern on her face warned Creed that all was not right with her, and made him cautious.

  There was no sign of Willow anywhere.

  Creed joined Hunter and the sheriff, who waited across the street from the temple.

  “Are you ready for a second round?” Stone called to him.

  The boy was cocky in his confidence. So certain of a win. But the first time he had fought Creed, Creed had not wanted to hurt him. Back then, he’d wanted to give him a chance.

  Now Creed knew that the boy would never be trustworthy. He enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering. Creed wondered if Stone had ever been salvageable, or if he’d been mostly demon in temperament from birth. They would never know for certain, and that was a pity.

  But Stone was only one of the children present, and Creed did not know what the others were capable of, either through their talents or their natures. He wished to observe them before taking action.

  “The second round belongs to the Demon Slayer,” Creed replied.

  Hunter had refused any weapons.

  “Those are of little use when fighting a demon, and unnecessary if fighting a child,” he said to the sheriff when the man tried to press a pistol into his hand. He tapped the amulet at his throat. “Let’s see how much demon the boy has in him.”

  He entered the deserted street like a gunslinger, his hands low and relaxed, his lean frame moving with the ease of a man untroubled by fear despite the fact he was unarmed.

  Creed watched as Stone sized him up, then dismissed him as a mere mortal, and knew that the boy did not know how to read an opponent. While at first glance Hunter might not seem like much of a threat to someone like Stone, who gloried in his demon abilities, there were telltale signs about Hunter that spoke of experience and should make Stone wary of him.

  Neither had Stone understood the mercy Creed had extended during their altercation by not killing him. Because Stone possessed no compassion he did not expect any. He saw it as a sign of weakness in an opponent, nothing more.

  Creed knew Stone would not receive any mercy from the Demon Slayer. And while he accepted that not all half demons could be spared, or taught something they did not possess because it was never a part of their nature, it saddened him nevertheless. He did not want to accept that people this young could
never be redeemed. They were mortal, at least in part, and that was what needed to be nurtured.

  Behind Stone, seven more young people lurked in the temple. Several were girls, one of whom was pregnant. Creed accepted the inevitable. In spite of the fact they were little more than children, he could not prevent bloodshed. Soon, shots would be fired by any one of the men he sensed lurking behind the shuttered windows of surrounding homes and businesses. All that stayed them right now was the sheriff’s inaction. One signal from him, however, and pandemonium would result. Lives, mortal and half demon alike, would be lost.

  These people knew nothing of what they faced. Even the Slayer did not. What worried Creed far more than that was the fact that Willow had not yet made an appearance. Where was she?

  Stone swaggered down the low steps, the thud of his boots loud in the heavy silence.

  And then Creed heard the single report of a rifle. The shot came from tall, partially opened shutters in the second floor of the general store. The opening was, in actual fact, a doorway through which heavy and awkward goods were lifted by elevator into the building’s storage area.

  As Creed had warned the sheriff, Stone’s rib area shifted and hardened in direct response to a threat. The bullet struck bone plating and deflected, also as predicted, to pierce the shingled siding of the temple.

  What Creed had not anticipated was the second shot that rang out. It had not been aimed at the children standing in front of the temple. He heard a woman’s screams, and turned to look in time to see a man’s limp body tumble from the second floor of the general store to the street below. With sudden dread, he figured out what had happened. The honey-haired girl, with the sweet, innocent face that had charmed Nieve, had caused the man who’d fired that first shot to turn the rifle on himself.

  And from a significant distance. Already she used more compulsion than Creed could, and she was not yet fully mature.

  “Watch out for the little girl,” he called to Hunter.

  Surprise crossed Hunter’s face first, followed by under-standing, then cold calculation when he pieced together what had just happened.

  Beside Creed, a thin patina of sweat had broken out on the sheriff’s forehead. Twin beads rolled down either temple. “Maybe you’re right and the Godseekers are the ones who should deal with these…things,” he said to Creed. “They look like children. How’s a man supposed to tell them apart from normal ones?”

  Creed, too intent on making certain Hunter would not be caught in some trap by one of Stone’s young companions, and in watching for Willow, made no reply.

  She still had not made an appearance. Uneasiness mingled with a growing certainty and shifted to outright worry. She was not here. And if she was not, then where might she be?

  He tried to shake it off. Nieve was with Airie, and despite her pregnancy, Hunter believed Airie possessed enough protection for them both.

  Hunter had not allowed the shooting to distract him, nor waited for Stone to make the first move. He didn’t aim for the boy’s face or stomach, the logical choices, but struck out at what would be a vulnerability on a true demon—the free moving joint in the soft spot beneath one arm. Creed could tell that Hunter had not put a lot of strength behind the blow, no doubt not wanting to break any bones in his hand if Stone shifted.

  Stone grunted and took a step back, signaling that Hunter’s strategy had been effective.

  Creed kept an eye on the girl in the doorway. She watch-ed the confrontation between Hunter and Stone as if not at all worried about any possible threats to her or her other companions. She was undoubtedly correct, and safe enough. None of the spectators would dare fire their weapons again, at least for a few more moments, until after they processed what had happened.

  Creed did not want her testing her talents on Hunter.

  “Pass me a rifle,” he said to the sheriff who, after only a slight hesitation, handed one over from the neat stockpile of arms.

  Keeping his movements slow and as unobtrusive as possible, not wanting to draw her attention his way, Creed took the weapon and aimed it at the girl framed in the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” the sheriff asked. His hands were shaking. He was unaware of the compulsion that this one had settled over the onlookers, and even though he had seen the evidence to the contrary, to him she seemed no more than a little girl with an innocent demeanor.

  Because of the risk that the sheriff might try to interfere, Creed did not hesitate any longer than the time it took him to make certain of his aim. He sighted down the barrel and tightened his finger on the trigger in a fast and practiced motion.

  The rifle barked.

  With her shoulder sliding the length of the wooden door frame, the girl slumped to a sitting position on the floor. She had a neat hole in her forehead and a look of amazement on her sweet, doll-like face, and Creed squeezed his eyes shut tight for a second to dispel the image. Then, without a word, he passed the rifle back to its speechless owner.

  Things happened fast after that.

  The Demon Slayer was not having the luck Creed had hoped he might. He’d been truthful when he said that he did not react to a spawn in the same way he did a full demon, and while he was the better and more experienced fighter, Stone’s continuous shifting frustrated his offensive efforts. Hunter’s face was already bloodied, and his slowed movements became increasingly defensive as Stone landed more blows than he missed.

  Creed hesitated. He weighed his options. Stone could not be freed back into the world. Whatever mortality he once might have possessed had been overtaken by demon instincts that he chose to embrace, not suppress.

  But in order to defeat Stone, Creed would need to shift to full demon form, something he had not yet done in front of credible witnesses. If he did this, he would be forced to head back to the Godseeker Mountains and the Temple of Immortal Right as quickly as he could in order to reach the Godseekers before word of his demon talents did, so he could attempt to explain the true threat and plead his case for continuing to represent them.

  A weight settled into his stomach. He did not want to leave Nieve so soon. He was not yet ready, even though he knew he would have to leave her behind eventually.

  Hunter went down, rolling out of harm’s way a mere hair’s breadth before Stone smashed an enormous clawed, demon fist into the dirt where his face had been.

  An immediate decision was required.

  Creed shucked off his shirt and stuffed the last grenade into a pocket so he would not lose it. He meant for Nieve to have the proceeds from its sale.

  In seconds, his demon was free.

  The sheriff, standing beside him, stumbled back with a few choice words on his lips. His gun came up, and Creed grabbed it from him with a swipe of an enormous clawed hand. Even in demon form he had areas vulnerable to gunfire, especially at close range.

  “I’m on your side,” he reminded the trembling man. The words ground from deep in his chest, unfamiliar and harsh. He tossed the gun back. “Point your weapon somewhere else.”

  Hunter was back on his feet. Around his neck, the amulet he wore on a plain gold chain had begun to glow. He did not retreat from the fight and allow Creed to take over, as Creed had anticipated, but took a hard swing at Stone’s head. When his fist connected, Stone’s temple shifted to bone.

  Rather than break Hunter’s hand, the outcome Creed expected, Stone went down on one knee, shaking his head as if Hunter had managed to hurt him.

  Hunter grinned over his shoulder at Creed. He spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground. “I may be slower against spawn, but I seem to respond to the demon in you exactly as I should.”

  Stone was angry now, and no longer looked as certain of a victory. He shouted to his companions in the temple for help.

  “Don’t stand there!” he snarled at them. “I’ll take the demon. You finish the mortal.”

  Creed hoped, for Hunter’s sake, that the children’s combined talents did not add up to more than Creed’s demon ones, or he and th
e Demon Slayer would both be in trouble. As it was, he had little experience with using his assassin training in this form. His demon liked to brawl, to tear its opponents apart, not to strategize.

  He had no more time to worry or plan. Stone came at him. He was smaller than Creed, and therefore more agile, and he too knew where to find a demon’s most vulnerable points. He’d learned from the last time they’d fought.

  Creed, however, was trained to react without too much thought. It did not take him long to find how to balance the extra body weight he carried, and to use it to his advantage. He thrust an elbow into Stone’s face and heard the crunch of bone even as it shifted to plating. Stone shook his head, flinging blood from his streaming nose as it reverted to normal. While he tried to recover his senses Creed charged in low, tackling him around the knees with both arms. As he lifted, he threw him, hard, onto his back, and followed through by dropping a knee to the boy’s exposed throat. Stone curled to his side and retched into the dirt.

  A quick glance in Hunter’s direction showed Creed he had not tried to approach the temple, but waited to see what the young half demons inside might do. They were not so quick to follow Stone’s command, which told Creed there might still be hope for at least a few of them.

  Creed caught a movement at the temple door where a small child had peered outside, no doubt to better see the action unfolding. It was misshapen and demonic in appearance, and the memory of a feral child, possibly this one, tearing a man to bits, made Creed hesitate too long in deciding whether or not the child needed his protection.

  Before he could reach any decision, the townspeople sequestered behind closed doors overcame their initial uncertainty and selected their own course of action.

  He heard the loud crack of a rifle’s report. The child bent at the waist and clutched his chest, then did a slow spin as his legs refused to continue supporting him.

  Someone screamed. The pregnant girl dashed forward from inside the temple, dropped to her knees, and scooped the dead child into her arms. Tears streamed down her face. The entire episode had distracted Creed from his downed opponent for a few crucial seconds.