by Julie Kenner
“Wait a little longer,” he said. “I’m still amusing myself watching you squirm.”
“Eddie!” I whipped around, glaring at him. “It’s the surf exhibition! The exhibition that Allie’s desperate to go to tomorrow! Now do you want to be serious? Or shall we just leave it to chance that our girl’s going to be okay?”
His shoulders rose and fell, his eyes darkening. He took a sip of coffee, then put the cup down hard on the table. Then he looked at me, every trace of humor gone. “Tell me everything,” he said.
And I did.
Half An hour later, I’d run him through all that had happened.
From learning that David was a rogue, to hunting with him last night, to finally reaching our theory that everything centered on the exhibition.
“It’s a good theory,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Keep Allie away, that’s for sure. And in the meantime, hopefully figure out what Cool is up to and stop it. But you and Ben haven’t figured anything out yet, and we’re running out of time.”
“You’re going to have to tie that girl down to make her stay home,” Eddie said. “Either that, or tell her the truth.”
My stomach twisted. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that.” I wasn’t big on the truth plan. Not yet. But I might not have a choice. If it came down to a choice between letting my daughter walk into danger or revealing my secrets to convince her to stay home . . . well, put that way, it was a no-brainer. Just not a no-brainer I particularly wanted to confront.
“And David’s the one who told you about Jason, right?”
“You mean about Jason recruiting Cool for the exhibition? Yeah.” I peered at him. “Why?”
“Just wondering if you should trust David. If you’re being smart about this.”
“What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “You’re the one who said he brings back memories of Eric. Maybe he’s playing off that.”
I swallowed, fighting the bile rising in the throat. But Eddie was right. David had known Eric. And because of that, I wanted to be around him even as much as I wanted to run home and cry.
Still, I couldn’t discount what Eddie was saying, even if I did think he was dead wrong. “I didn’t trust him at first,” I said. “Remember? I’m the one who tossed holy water on his face.”
“And that convinced you?” Eddie’s eyes burned into mine. Years ago, nothing would have convinced me more.
“Not just the holy water,” I said. “The cathedral, too. We were inside, in the sanctuary, for almost an hour. He carried on a conversation. He spoke clearly. He was focused. He couldn’t be a demon.”
“He looked a little green around the gills to me.”
“I’ve already thought of all this, Eddie. I even asked him. He told me he was fighting a cold.”
“And you believe him.”
“Yes! If he were a demon, we’d know. No demon could survive that long beside an altar, and especially not the St. Mary’s altar.”
“So maybe he’s not a demon,” Eddie said.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all along?”
“Maybe he’s something else.”
That threw me. “Something else? Like what?”
“Don’t know. But if a demon can slide into a body, then why not a soul? I’ve heard rumors, you know. Whispers of alimentatores seduced by the possibility. Grabbing on to immortality by sliding their soul into a dying human.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” I asked, my voice little more than a whisper.
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just talking. But if someone were to dabble in the dark arts—and if that someone played dangerous games with their own soul—well, he’d be changed, right? Not a demon, but not human anymore, either. So is he good? Or is he bad?” Eddie peered at me, his eyes dark and narrow. “Has malevolence touched him like a disease?”
“You’re saying that Eric might have . . .”
“Hid out in David’s body?” His bony shoulders rose and fell. “Eh. It’s possible.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Eric would never—”
“Are you sure, Kate?” he asked gently. “Do you really know what Eric was or wasn’t capable of?”
But I couldn’t answer that. I’d lost all my words, and I could only sit there lost and hopeless, my head filled with memories of the man I’d thought I’d known and the letters that proved I hadn’t.
Could David really be Eric? And if he was—if Eric had slid into David’s body—then what did that mean? Was he still my Eric? Or was he something else entirely?
Seventeen
lt WAS almost A relief when the phone rang. I’d sent Eddie off on the pretense that I wanted to be alone, and now I needed to either let it ring or answer it. Since I was craving distractions, I answered, actually praying for a telemarketer.
I wasn’t prepared to hear David Long’s voice on the other end of the receiver. “Can you come to the school?” he asked, his voice low. “Creasley’s here. But he’s on his way out. I was in the office and overheard some of the staff talking about him. I’ve got students for the next two periods, but if you come right now, you can follow him from the parking lot. Maybe he’ll even lead you to Cool before you nail him.”
“On my way,” I said, relieved I wouldn’t have to see David. And a little too excited about the possibility of sending a demon packing back to Hell. What can I say? I was a little stressed out, and I was definitely in the mood to kick some demon butt.
“Good. Meet me at Cutter’s at five. You can fill me in on how you nailed the SOB. Then we can get in some sparring.”
I paused, wanting to protest, but the words never came. And as I stayed silent, he begged off, saying he had students waiting. I found myself listening to the dial tone.
It took only a few seconds to pull myself out of my funk, though. I had a date with a demon, after all. I grabbed my keys and purse and then made a quick run through the house to check the locks. I pushed through the curtains that covered the back door, saw the face just inches from the glass, and screamed.
The sound had barely left my throat when my brain caught up with the situation. Laura. Her skin red and splotchy, tears cutting a path through her powder, and dark smears of mascara under her eyes.
I yanked the door open. “Laura! Dear God, what is it?”
“Paul,” she wailed. “The bastard filed for divorce.”
She fell against me, and I hugged her close, my own sobs joining with hers. I thought about Creasley, the demon who’d been on my afternoon agenda. Killing him was my responsibility; I was the Demon Hunter in these parts, after all.
Didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned, my appointment with Creasley had just been bumped. He’d been preempted by a demon of the human variety. A lying, cheating, bastard of a husband.
For now, at least, Creasley lived. Because I had other responsibilities in San Diablo, too. And one of them was to be there when my best friend needed me.
l yanked Open the glass doors to Cutter’s dojo at ten minutes to five, and found myself staring at my daughter, her leg out thrust, as David Long went sprawling.
Her head snapped up at the sound of the bell over the door, and a wide grin spread across her face. In an instant, she went from Martial-Arts Queen to Homecoming Queen as she bounded across the mat toward me, squealing about how she’d totally nailed him.
“Did you see? Wasn’t it ferociously cool? I’ve been working with Cutter for weeks and weeks, but I didn’t think I had it down, but I did. I so busted him!”
I looked over to the busted “him,” who’d rolled over and was now sitting up, watching my daughter with amusement and affection.
My stomach twisted a little and I couldn’t help but wonder—was he watching his daughter, too?
Allie took my hands, still bouncing. “Tell her, Cutter! Tell her how fabulous I did.”
“It’s true,” Cutter said from behind
his desk. “The kid’s doing great. She kicked David’s sorry ass.”
“Thanks a lot,” David said, climbing to his feet.
I saw that his cane was a few yards away, and I wondered if he’d fought with it or set it aside while doing battle with Allie.
He snatched up the cane and looked at me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I said. “Just a little light-headed.” I pulled Allie into a hug. “You are amazing.”
“I know,” she said, then bounced happily around the room until she reached Cutter. He pulled her aside and sat her on a bench. I watched as he analyzed each of her moves, his hands moving in elegant illustration.
This wasn’t her usual class day, and I realized that she must have called Cutter and made a special appointment. I wondered how often she’d done that, and made a note to ask Cutter. If what little I’d seen was any indication, not only was she practicing frequently, but her practices were paying off. My little girl, it seemed, was learning to kick a little butt.
“I didn’t realize she’d be here,” David said. I’d moved to his side, and he spoke softly, his words meant for me only. “Actually, I didn’t realize Cutter would be here.”
“How were you planning on getting in?”
“Key,” he said. “I’ve been practicing here after hours. Cutter’s a good guy. I trust him.”
I cocked my head. “Exactly how much do you trust him?”
“Not that much,” he said, understanding my meaning. “So what happened with Creasley?”
I glanced over, but Allie and Cutter were still deep in conversation. “I didn’t go,” I said. I gave him the short version of Laura’s dilemma. “I needed to stay with her.”
“You stayed with Laura instead of nailing a demon?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice tight. “I just told you.” I tensed, ready to lash out if he said anything critical. I almost hoped he did. However unreasonable, I wanted a fight with this man, whoever he was.
He didn’t look critical, however. Instead, he looked amused, and his eyes were dancing as he jerked his head sideways, signaling for us to walk to the far side of the room.
I fell in step beside him, both grateful for the silence and strangely put off. It hung between us, as thick as fog, and I fought the urge to blabber on about the latest PTA drama, just to break the silence.
We stood looking out the window at the people going into and out of the 7-Eleven and the traffic along Rialto. After a few more minutes of silence, David broke it for me. “You have a good heart, Katie-kins.”
“What did you just call me?” I asked, my voice remarkably stable.
“I called you Kate. That’s your name, right?”
“No,” I said. “You called me Katie-kins.”
Eric used to call me that. I hated it, but he’d say it anyway, just to get a rise. It had started when we’d first met, me thirteen and him a year older. He told me later that it had been love at first sight for him, too, but I never really believed him. How could I when he’d spent so much of his time tormenting me?
David glanced up and to the left as if trying to remember. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Why?” I managed to force the question out even though my mouth and throat had gone completely dry.
“Why?” he repeated.
I wanted to confront him. To insist he tell me the truth. But maybe I didn’t really want to know, because “Eric used to call me that,” was the best I could manage.
“He did?” David said, his eyes strangely soft. “I don’t know, Kate,” he said. “It just sort of rolls off the tongue. Hell, maybe Eric told me he called you that. I just don’t remember.”
I blinked at him, then swallowed. “Right,” I said. “That makes sense.”
I clenched my fists, wondering what I’d expected. For him to reveal all? To say that, yes, he was Eric. That he was sorry for leaving me, that he was sorry for the secrets.
That he loved me.
And then . . .
I frowned, turning away from David as I studied the floor. And then what? Could the Eric I loved ever really come back to me? And even if he could, so what? Time changes everything. I had a new life now. A new family. Even if this man was Eric, did I really want to know?
I wasn’t sure, but at the same time, I had to know. I wasn’t sure if I was obsessing on the question because of hope or fear, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I also couldn’t get it out of my mouth.
But while I might not be able to voice the question, there was one other way that I could be sure—a fight. And a real one this time, not the scrabbling to douse him with holy water we’d played at earlier.
I’d known Eric’s rhythms. Known his style, his pattern. I hadn’t been paying attention the first time I’d sparred with David. But I wouldn’t make that mistake this time. And if Eric was buried somewhere deep in David, I’d know.
What I’d do with the answer, though . . .
That, I wasn’t yet sure of.
“This IS SO cool. You guys are really going to fight?” Allie bounced in front of us, clearly thrilled at the prospect of seeing her mom and her teacher battle it out.
“Don’t you have homework?”
“Not much.”
“Allie, you should go home. You’re already in hot water for not telling me you were coming here today.” I shot a look at Cutter and put my hands on my hips for emphasis. “Considering how well you’re doing, I’m thinking that my little girl’s been keeping a few secrets about her practice schedule.”
“You’re the one who wanted me in shape!”
“And now I want you to go home.”
“You want me to walk?” She said the words with the same outraged inflection as if I’d told her to perform a belly dance.
“Yes,” I said. “I want you to—”
I cut myself off. Our house was about a mile away, and I really didn’t want her walking by herself. “Never mind,” I said. “I’ll drive you.” I shot a quick glance toward Cutter and David. “We’ll do this some other time.”
“Mom!” Allie howled, at the same time Cutter and David voiced equally powerful protests.
“It’s not like the kid hasn’t seen you fight, Kate,” Cutter said.
I wanted to put up more of a protest, but I knew I was beat. Besides, I figured too much protest would only raise Allie’s suspicions. She’d never seen her father fight; it wasn’t as if anything David did could possibly trigger a memory with her. It was my reactions I was worried about. But no matter what I learned here, I could keep my emotions and my expressions under control. After all, it wasn’t like I didn’t have practice.
“Fine,” I finally said with a toss of my hands. “You win.” I turned to David. “Looks like it’s you and me.”
This time, David sparred without the cane. We started out easy, just testing each other’s rhythms. A few jabs and parries as we scoped out reflexes and reactions, Cutter and Allie cheering us on from the sidelines.
He broke the pattern first, and we went at it with gusto until we were both out of breath, neither one at the advantage. He was good, and I had to admit we were pretty evenly matched.
He got the advantage first, catching me in the chest with a kick. I’d seen it coming at the last second, and I defended with a sidestep, then grabbed his leg and tried to knock him flat. He surprised me, though, nailing a damn tricky move by spinning around, and jerking his foot free. At the same time, his hands hit the mat, and he kicked back, catching me under the chin and knocking me down.
I sprang back up, my adrenaline now truly pumping. I’d seen that spin before, and not just in practices with Cutter. The move was difficult, and every fighter moves with certain nuances. And the man now circling me on the mat moved like my first husband.
My heart stuttered, and David picked up on my hesitation, moving in with a jab that I blocked automatically, then dropped and rolled to one side, wanting both distance and time to think. I was back on my feet before he could reach me, but in the split sec
ond I’d been down, I’d noticed the lights in the dojo. Never important before, they’d always blended into the background. Now, though . . .
Now the metal fixture fluorescent bars surrounded by the solid wire cage seemed to call to me. And as David rushed me, I did exactly the same, sprinting toward him, even while I blurted out the key words of “Hail Mary!”
He blinked, but stopped short, and I could swear I saw him nod. I kept on, expecting him to grab my waist and toss me into the air as Eric had so many times before.
It was our “Hail Mary” move, named after the football play, and something we’d concocted together. It only worked in certain fight situations, but we’d extricated ourselves from many a sticky situation by Eric tossing me up, giving me a new vantage point from above our foe.
This time, the move didn’t work nearly as well. Instead, reality smashed up against my expectations. And by “smash,” I mean literally.
I barreled straight into David, barely registering his startled expression as we tumbled to the ground. Allie and Cutter cried out and rushed toward us, and I lay there on the mat, staring up at the light fixture I’d been aiming for and wondering what had gone wrong.
Except I knew what had gone wrong: David wasn’t Eric, and some little part of me had known that all along. More, I’d been foolish to even let the thought enter my head. Eric would never have used black magic to slide his soul into another body, and I couldn’t quite believe that I’d let my imagination run off with Eddie’s wild theory.
As I lay there—Cutter, Allie, and David staring at me with baffled expressions—the reality of the situation flooded through me. This man wasn’t Eric.
I closed my eyes and breathed deep, barely hearing Allie’s worried cries of “Mom? Mom!”
I shouldn’t be sad. I didn’t want to be sad. I was happily married. An undead husband would only wreak havoc on this life I’d put together and loved so much. So, no, I really, really, really didn’t want to be sad.