Demon 04 - Deja Demon

by Julie Kenner

  “David stays,” I countered. “And I’m not taking this knife off his neck until I like what I hear.” I shot a sideways glance to David, who nodded, but his stormy eyes never left the woman’s face.

  Something was going on under the surface, and I didn’t know what. All I knew was that these freaks were my only lead on what the demons had planned, and there was no way I was backing off from my advantage.

  “What method?” I asked again.

  “We wait for the one,” she said. “We wait. We watch. We see.”

  “The one?”

  She inclined her head. “One who needs our assistance. Dukkar provided such aid at Emeralds, did he not?”

  “He did,” I admitted, though grudgingly. “But he was only there in the first place because you people have been following me around. Watching me.”

  “We watch you still,” she said. “And we see much.”

  “What?” I demanded, surly because we were getting nowhere. “What do you see?”

  “You,” she said. “You are unsure. Remorseful. It clings to you, a sour stench infiltrating your very essence. Trust your instincts, Kate. You know that you are right.”

  “All I know is that you’re not telling me a damn thing,” I said. “What do you know about the Sword of Caelum?”

  “I know only what I have heard and seen.”

  “From me,” I said.

  “From the one you killed,” she said. “Thoughts linger. They cling. And it is the way of my kind to read the essence left behind.”

  “English, please.”

  “She’s saying she’s psychic,” David said. And what I thought was interesting was that he didn’t say she was full of crap.

  “Enough,” I said, as irritated by the direction of my thoughts as I was with this crazy woman. “What are you talking about? Who did I kill?”

  “The demon, of course. The one called Watson.”

  And that was when the light dawned. “You took the body,” I said, even as Timmy started to hum his dead-demon “Jingle Bells” tune.

  “It was necessary in order to gain the insight. They come, and the window to stop them closes with each passing moment. ”

  I made a face. “Woulda been nice if you could’ve taken the hacked-up zombie, too.”

  “The zombie was useless. There is no essence. No spirit force to linger and read.”

  “All right,” I said. “You’ve caught my attention. What did Watson have to tell you?”

  “Vengeance,” she said. “Revenge. Both against you and yours.”

  “Bzzzt!” I said, impersonating a game show buzzer and making my son laugh. “Thanks for playing, but that’s old news. Watson told me as much himself. Why don’t you try telling me who is coming.”

  “He who destroys,” she said. “He who decimates. Once defeated, but not suppressed.”

  “You’re not exactly batting a thousand today. Also old news,” I said. We’d figured out that Abaddon the Destroyer was coming days ago.

  “He comes,” she said, swaying on her feet, her voice taking on an ominous singsong tone. “He comes with his brethren to strike us down. To prevail over what has been written and turn prophecy into folly.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her to cut the bullshit, but then David’s hand closed on my shoulder. “No,” he whispered. “Look at her face.”

  I looked, and saw that he was right. As nutty as our gypsy lady might be, she also seemed to have fallen into a full-blown trance.

  “In the shadow of the Lord,” she continued, as the man to whose throat I held a knife crossed himself. “As day falls into night. The desecration of the hallowed eve when the sanctified blood has flowed. On that eve shall it flow first. And one shall augment the other and the prophecy shall be no more.” Her eyes popped open, bloodshot and swollen. She opened her mouth as if to speak, said nothing, then collapsed in a heap on the ground.

  “What the—?”

  “She recalled the demon’s essence,” my captive said. “It is exhausting to be defiled in such manner, the edges of her mind touching something even as minuscule as the remnants of thought. She will rest now.”

  “But what about the sword?” I asked, keeping the knife point on his neck. “She has the amulet.”

  His mouth curved into an ironic smile. “The design of the necklace is quite common. An ancestral symbol, yes. But also a decorative item.” He waved a hand to encompass the Bedouin-style tent, like something out of Lawrence of Arabia. “It is all trappings, yes? Designed to entice those who seek into the tent.”

  “Seek what?”

  His shoulders lifted in a deep shrug. “That depends on the person. What do you seek, Kate Connor?”

  “I already told you that. I’m looking for the sword. A sword that can wipe out demons. A sword forged in ancient times by a tribe that wore that symbol.”

  “I am sorry our information disappoints,” he said, bowing his head in apology despite the blade I still held (albeit with considerable lackluster) at his throat. “But I have no more help to offer you.”

  He took a step back, and I let my knife hand drop. We were done here.

  “Go now, and you may leave this tent without incident. Stay, and I cannot guarantee that either of you will survive.”

  Big talk considering I was the one with a knife, but I wasn’t inclined to argue the point. The time for demons was over. I had a small child to comfort and a dinner to prepare.

  "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that still,” I said to David when we were back on the road. Timmy had fallen asleep in the car seat, and though I’d started the drive in silence, I couldn’t keep it up. “For that matter, I’ve never seen you that quiet.” I wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come, and my own hesitancy scared me. This was David, after all. No, this was Eric. The man with whom I’d shared all my secrets.

  Now, though, my nerves were frazzled and shot. For months, I’d feared I’d somehow tainted his soul by playing God with the Lazarus Bones. Now, it seemed, I had confirmation in the frantic ramblings of a crazy gypsy woman.

  “Not too much I could say to those people,” David said. “Silence seemed the best plan.”

  “You could have told them they were wrong,” I said, my voice low and my eyes on the road.

  “I could have,” he said. “And I’m sure they would have believed me.” He paused, waiting for me to look at him, I’m sure, but I couldn’t do it. Not when I knew he’d see doubt in my eyes.

  After a moment, he sighed. “Kate, they didn’t trust me. You needed information. I was completely out of the equation. Forcing my way into the scenario would have made things worse. Not better. At least now you know something.”

  “Do I?” I said, thinking more about the woman’s accusations than her revelation of Watson’s talkative essence. “I’m not sure that’s information I want to have.”

  I clenched my hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead, hoping my thoughts didn’t show on my face. I should have known better.

  “Katie,” he said, his voice so gentle I couldn’t help the tears that spilled from my eyes.

  “I did something, didn’t I? I did something to you when I brought you back and you’ve been afraid to tell me. Or else you don’t know. Either way, oh God, Eric. I’m so sorry.”

  I sniffled, then wiped the tears with the back of my hand.

  “Pull over, Katie. Pull the van over, okay?”

  I nodded, snuffling, then did as he said. As soon as I’d shifted into park, he moved from his seat toward me, lifting me easily and settling himself underneath me. I didn’t protest. Far from it, I welcomed his touch. I needed to feel him, to know that he felt strong and solid and good. To know that I hadn’t tainted him so badly that the sin rubbed off from the slightest contact.

  “What have I done to you?” I whispered, my face pressed against his chest. “I was so selfish, so stupid.”

  “No,” he said. “You didn’t do anything to me. Nothing, Kate. Nothing.”

&nb
sp; “Then why—”

  “How the hell do I know?” he said sharply. “Do you know that lady? Do you know Dukkar? Because I don’t, and they don’t know us, either. Yes, you used the Lazarus Bones. Yes, you were probably weak and selfish. But Kate, sweetheart, why on earth would that taint my soul?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we’re not talking about earthly things.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  I pressed my lips together, hesitating only a second, but it was enough. He noticed.

  “Yes,” I hurried to say. “Yes, of course I do.” I meant it, too. I truly did. But in that brief hesitation, I wondered if I’d lost some of his trust.

  “Then believe this,” he said. “You did nothing to me. The Lazarus Bones did nothing to me. You hold no responsibility for the fate of my soul. I swear.”

  “Eric . . .” I pushed back, my hands on his chest as I searched his eyes.

  “I’m the same man you married, Kate. I promise.”

  I let that soak in, liking the sound of it, even though I knew it wasn’t true. “You once told me you weren’t,” I reminded him.

  A hint of a smile flickered over his mouth. “The shell has changed,” he admitted. “The rest is the same.” He closed his eyes, his body tense. “If you think it’s not hard . . . knowing you’ve moved on, and I’m stuck, an outsider in my wife’s life. You think you harmed me by bringing me back? You didn’t. Not any more than you harm me each day by going about your life. Because it’s hard, Katie. It’s so God-damned hard.”

  “I know it is,” I said, barely able to find my voice. I wanted to say more, but there was nothing else to say. Our life was what it was. Words of comfort wouldn’t change anything, and words of love would only make the chasm between us harder to tolerate.

  “Drive, Kate,” David said, sliding out from under me. “That life you have needs you.”

  “David,” I said, stung by his harsh tone.

  “I’m sorry.” He strapped himself back into the passenger seat and held up his hands. “Honestly. I’m sorry. But like I said—it’s hard.”

  I bit back a retort. He already knew it was hard for me, too, and we’d been over that ground ad nauseam. The bottom line was that he was right. At the moment, a looming dinner party took precedence over any domestic problems I might be having with my first husband.

  “About that,” I said. “I kind of need a little favor.”

  “Oh?”

  “Casual dinner party. Political chitchat. Not the kind of thing you want interrupted by stray body parts.”

  “And you’re worried about body parts because?”

  “I had a visitor right after you called. And since I was in a hurry to get to you, I more or less dumped the parts in the oven.”

  His mouth twitched. “More or less?”

  “Okay. More.”

  “Frankly, this changes my whole perspective.”

  I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, suspicious. “What?”

  “Your dinner party,” he said. “I’m thinking I’d just as soon avoid a dinner where the food’s been cooked up close and personal with body parts.”

  “Hmmmph,” I retorted. “I’ll have you know that is absolutely not the case. Gelson’s is cooking, not me.”

  He laughed. “Now that is the Kate I remember. And here I thought old Stuart had domesticated you.”

  “Not a chance,” I said, fighting my own smile.

  We swung by his apartment so he could get his car, then headed in convoy formation to my house, arriving right as Eddie and Allie were coming up the sidewalk. Allie picked up her pace, then flung herself into David’s arms the moment he stepped out of the car.

  I cringed as I unstrapped Timmy from the car seat, then glanced around to see if any of our neighbors were watching— especially neighbors with high school students who knew full well that David was the chemistry teacher and not the uncle I was so tempted to fabricate.

  “Come on, guys,” I said, putting my sleepy son down on the driveway. I waved my hands to herd the crowd toward the door. “Let’s get inside and you can tell us what you learned.”

  Allie pulled away with a frown. “Nothing,” she said. “All sorts of stuff about Abaddon, but nothing we didn’t already know. He has a history of seeking an invincible form on this earth. Never achieved it—duh. Tends to forge alliances with other demons, which I guess is kinda rare.”

  “Demons aren’t exactly buddy-buddy types,” David acknowledged. “So that’s something.”

  “Except here, his allegiances are all lower demons or animated body parts. Good information,” I told Allie. “But not—”

  “The answer. Yeah. I know. It sucks.”

  Eddie snorted. “Gal seems to think she’s gonna find all the answers in one trip to the library.”

  “Doesn’t work that way, kiddo,” David said, swinging his arm around her shoulder even as he hoisted Timmy up on his hip. “Wish it did.”

  “Did you used to do lots of research?”

  “Are you kidding? Why do you think the library has all those books? Your mom liked to jump in and kick some butt. Me, I’d step back and learn all the facts first.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot,” I said, unlocking the front door and pushing it open for the troops. “You make me sound like Lara Croft or something.”

  “No way, Mom,” Allie said. “She always did tons of research first.”

  I grimaced as they passed, biting back a smile when David winked at me.

  “Oh, hell.” I stared at the foyer—a complete and total disaster after my battle with my untimely zombie friend. “No, no, no,” I said. “This isn’t good. I have people coming in exactly”—I consulted my watch—“two hours and thirteen minutes. A messy house is simply not part of my game plan.”

  David and Allie shared a look. “She overreacts sometimes,” my loyal daughter said.

  “I know,” he assured her.

  “Overreacts?” I repeated, indicating the mess. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a knocked-over table, Mom. I think we can handle it.”

  “Maybe,” I said grudgingly. “But the living room still needs to be vacuumed and dusted, and the dining room table needs to be set. Not to mention the food that needs to be prepared—”

  “I thought you went to Gelson’s,” David put in.

  I shot him a look through narrowed eyes. “It still needs preparation,” I said, and he held up his hands in surrender.

  “What do you say, troops?” he asked, jostling Timmy. “Shall we help Mommy not have a nervous breakdown?”

  “Yeah, yeah!” Timmy said.

  “I guess,” said Allie.

  “Hell no,” said Eddie. “I didn’t make the mess. I’m gonna go watch Cops.”

  “Gramps is like that,” Allie announced to Eric. “But I guess you already knew that if he’s your great-grandfather, right?”

  “It’s amazing what I don’t know about my own family,” David said, without missing a beat. I made a mental note to later ask him if I’d ever bothered to tell him I’d set Eddie up as his curmudgeonly great-grandpa. The lie might not hold, but now wasn’t the time to confess all.

  “Foyer,” I said, pointing to David. “See if you can get the drawer back in the table, and if you can’t, turn it so the gaping hole faces the wall and shove everything from the drawer into the hall closet.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” he said, saluting and making Allie laugh.

  “You,” I said, pointing to her. “Pledge and a dustrag.”

  She saluted as well and went to work in the living room. I gave Timmy the Swiffer mop and let him dust the hardwood floor. Miraculously, no one complained. I should invite David over to do housework more often.

  “It’s a stupid prophecy,” Allie announced, after she’d tackled most of the wooden surfaces in the living area. “If Abaddon thinks you can kill him, then all he has to do is never become corporeal.”

  I had to smile. Never in all her younger years had I anticipated a
conversation with my daughter about the corporeal or noncorporeal nature of a demon. “Of if he does,” she continues, “he should stay away from you. Like go to Alaska or something.”

  “The truth is, though, that we haven’t heard the actual prophecy,” I pointed out. “If we ever manage to track that down, maybe we’ll have a better understanding.”

  “Maybe,” she said, sounding dubious. She looked around the living room, then held up her dustrag. “So what now?”

  “Actually, it’s looking pretty good,” I admitted, amazed we’d pulled the room together so fast.

  “So we’re done?” Allie asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Why doesn’t Allie come home with me,” David said, ignoring the way I turned and gaped openmouthed at him. “That way she’ll be out of your hair for the party, but you’ll know she’s safe.”

  “Yes!” Allie screamed, jumping into one of her cheerleader routines. “I am so there!”

  She turned and raced up the stairs, her little brother following at her heels. I waited until her footsteps faded and then grabbed David’s elbow and tugged him closer. “What are you doing?” I asked. “We talked about this. Twice, in fact.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We can call her back down and tell her no.”

  I started to say that we absolutely would do that, but I couldn’t get the words out. “I can’t do that now,” I said. “The cat’s out of the bag. Tell her no now, and she’ll be morbidly depressed for the next century.”

  “I really am sorry,” he said, but his expression didn’t match the words. “I didn’t think.”

  “No,” I agreed. “You didn’t.” I drew in a breath, forcing myself to calm down. It was only fair that Eric got to spend time with Allie and vice versa. I knew it, and I wanted it. Truly.

  What I didn’t want was the situation thrust on me when I was unprepared. Too late for that now, though, and as long as I had an explanation made up by the time Stuart go home, I supposed I’d survive.

  Surviving, after all, was what I did best.

  Eighteen

  With Eddie asleep in the recliner and Timmy plugged in to Curious George, I dove into party prep mode, my intensity fueled in large part by my frustration level.