by L. A. Kelley
“She never killed anyone,” argued Rosalie, when a certain person with a reality TV show came up. “She does all kinds of charity work. You always see her name listed at some event or another.”
“She only attends functions arranged by her publicist with extensive media coverage so her name will appear in the news. She has no concern for the individuals the charities su fd owied bpport. She will not volunteer to assist an organization unless she benefits in some way. Her primary concern for any action is to feed her ego.”
Rosalie then moved on to people she knew from her past. Most of them landed on the Nice List, even the hated Mrs. Dunkel. The Book was fairly lenient with judgment. Assigning excessive homework didn’t count as naughty. Neither did occasionally losing your temper or little white lies. They were all part of the normal existence of both human and Integral. You had to earn a consistent record of naughtiness to piss off The Book.
Stephanie made the list, of course. So did Randall Penrose. Mittens was right, he cheated on his wife, although not with Stephanie. She merely used the time, dates, and places supplied by The Book to blackmail him for the promotion.
The Book offered lots of dirt on Randall. He lied about his golf scores to win bets, underpaid his taxes, had no interest whatsoever in his employees, and pilfered from the company. Other than those two people, the only other acquaintance Rosalie uncovered on the Naughty List was a retired minister who lived down the street from her childhood home. Apparently, he was close-minded, overbearing, and believed everyone who didn’t follow his narrow-minded philosophy was destined to go straight to hell. He even cut ties when his gay son came out of the closet.
“The Right Reverent Alden Sikes,” intoned The Book. “Naughty List.”
Yup, a superior attitude got you sent to the wrong side of The Book every time. Not that there weren’t more serious offenses. Al Capone made the Naughty List. So did Osama bin Laden, Idi Amin, and John Wilkes Booth. Although the rules of judgment were a little murky, everyone on the Naughty List to Rosalie’s mind was imbued with underlying arrogance, unwillingness to compromise, coupled with an egocentric outlook and complete disregard for others’ feelings. Nothing like the disposition of a pompous ass to send you down the wrong path in life.
Rosalie stretched out her legs and gave herself a little shake to get the blood circulating. The Book kept her entertained for quite a while, but since leaving Atlanta she stifled a cascading series of yawns. Although the leather seat was comfortable, after eight hours on the road her butt dragged.
Despite hitting a storm front, she made respectable time and had nearly reached the South Carolina border. Rosalie glanced out the window. The gray skies and driving rain kept her nerves on edge. Unconsciously, Rosalie’s thoughts drifted back to David. She purposely avoided thinking of him until now. Did he sense The Book was free? A little voice in the back of her head piped up. That’s not the real question, is it? David will certainly be overjoyed to have The Book returned, but will he also be happy to see you again?
Rosalie shifted in her seat as prickles of doubt entered her mind. She almost pepper sprayed him—on several occasions. Even though alone in the car, her face reddened in embarrassment. Do guys forgive pepper spray? Her ex-boyfriend certainly wouldn’t.
“What am I doing?” she moaned. “I could express ship The Book to Billy. Why am I driving halfway across the country for someone I barely know?”
You know why, the little voice responded.
Rosalie sighed. This was the craziest thing she’d ever done. When Austin left she was hurt and angry, but the feelings dissipated as she threw herself into work and shoved him from her life. Whining gets you nowhere. When you meet disappointment, suck it up and move on. Sane well-adjusted women always do.
What if you never saw David again? How easy would he kasydriftbe to forget? Pain wrenched her heart.
The little voice was right. David’s kindness touched her from the beginning. He sent notes and candy to a girl not expecting a single thing in return, only because she looked sad. No one had ever done as much—not Austin, for damn sure. He’d have eaten the candy and left the wrapper on the counter for her to pick up.
David also wanted to make amends for a mistake. He lost The Book, but didn’t dodge responsibility. He refused to lie his way out of trouble. Rosalie admired those qualities. Mostly, however, when she thought of the E.L.F she saw the way he looked at her that last time, and heard the way he said her name. She yearned to hear him say it again. Unconsciously, her fingers brushed against her lips, in remembrance of the fleeting kiss.
Rosalie banged her head against the back of the seat. “This is insanity,” she groaned. “You definitely need professional help.”
Because of one brief meeting with a stranger, she had lost her job, pissed off a murderous demon, and now barreled down the highway with an enchanted book headed to who-knows-where to meet an E.L.F. who may have already forgotten about her.
Rosalie sat up straight. Her lips twisted in a wry smile. She didn’t give a damn. Every action felt completely right. No matter what the outcome between the two of them, The Book belonged with David. She sensed the truth down to the very marrow of her bones. The world needed this. Rosalie flicked the windshield wiper to high and pressed her foot down on the accelerator.
****
David peered from the top of the overpass at the traffic rushing by on I-85. He shivered and pulled his jacket up tight around his neck. He was soaked to the skin and freezing. Darkness slowed his movements considerably. David’s line-of-sight was only a few hundred feet at night, even less now that driving rain enveloped him, but he made it as far as South Carolina. The pull of The Book increased in intensity. Rosalie must be getting closer.
He glanced nervously behind him. So were the hellhounds. David left the metropolitan area fast enough, but hellhounds weren’t hindered by rain or darkness. They took shifts driving and only stopped when necessary to refuel. No doubt at least one of the packs from New York dogged his footsteps.
The E.L.F. stared again at the speeding cars, hoping he guessed correctly. Rosalie could have taken any one of a dozen routes. She could be on a parallel road even now. No—he shook his head. Down there somewhere, she headed toward him.
Then what? You can’t dash-away into a car moving at seventy miles per hour.
David squared his shoulders and reached for the connection. Don’t think. Just do. Find Rosalie before the hellhounds catch up. He focused on the bottom of the exit ramp and vanished.
****
Rosalie’s head jerked up as the sports car’s wheels strayed onto the shoulder. She broke out in a cold sweat, yanked the wheel hard over, and steered the car back onto the highway. For the second time she had nearly nodded off and couldn’t delay a rest stop any longer. Sleep was a necessity.
She took the next exit, avoiding the bright lights illuminating the off-ramp businesses. Rosalie traveled a mile down the road until she spied an abandoned gas station. She pulled around back and shut off the engine. Between the building, the storm, and the overgrown woods, no one could spot her from the road. She had already been attacked by a demon and had no desire to see what kind of random human psychopaths lurked on South Carolina roadways to pick off stray motorists.
At an earlier rest stop, Rosalie noticed a duffle bag in the back. She placed it on the passenger seat and rummaged inside. All she wore was a light sweater and the weather was much colder here than Florida. Rosalie found a sweatshirt buried at the bottom. As she yanked out the clothing, a toiletries bag spilled. Rosalie tossed a can of deodorant back in the bag, tickled a hellhound worried about his pits.
The sweatshirt came down to her knees. Man, that guy was huge. She placed The Book on the floorboard and rested the duffle bag on top. Rosalie set the alarm on her cell phone for four hours then cranked back the seat and promptly fell asleep.
****
Billy stared grimly out the window at the driving rain. After looping around Atlanta the pack with their
demon passenger were back on I-85 just over the South Carolina border. Traffic slowed them down near Atlanta, but Ramesh quickly made up the time.
The weather turned sloppy. Not that driving conditions changed the hunt—a well-trained hunting pack would follow a scent through anything. What concerned Billy more was the short text he received several hours ago from his aunt.
Only two words, David free.
How the hell did his friend escape from prison? Was he after Rosalie? Why? A chill ran through Billy. They wouldn’t send one hellhound after David this time. They’d alert every pack. He’d get a death sentence when caught. Suddenly, the only sensible explanation struck. Rosalie found The Book. David escaped because he sensed the link again.
Billy leaned back in his seat, trying to think. Rosalie found The Book. She was headed north. To New York? He glanced at the demon in the front seat. Pearce must have known she had The Book and went to Florida because he wanted it, too. Why didn’t he say so? Everyone understood the importance of returning the artifact to the repository. His eyes narrowed. So far the pack hadn’t received a general alert for the girl or Liang would have mentioned something. Why the big secret?
Billy tensed. Rosalie’s scent trail grew suddenly sharper. The girl had stopped not far ahead. Damn it, David, where are you? What happened?
“Target approaching,” Liang called out. “Hellhounds stand by for capture.”
The others stirred and unbuckled their seatbelts. Billy flexed his fingers, growing antsy. Every hellhound instinct cried out against the whole setup. The scent trail swerved off sharply to the right and Ramesh guided the SUV into the next exit lane. At the bottom of the ramp, he paused for an instant before veering east. The lights from the businesses clustered around the off-ramp faded in the distance. Ramesh slowed the SUV to a crawl. The quarry neared. Billy spotted an old abandoned gas station set back from the roadway. No doubt, Rosalie hid behind it.
Pearce directed Ramesh to pull off fifty yards past the building. He turned to Liang. “You and the pack wait here.”
She stiffened. “Protocol requires back-up.”
“Your orders are to remain.” He opened the door and slipped outside.
“What gives with him?” muttered Ramesh.
Sonia narrowed her eyes. “What say we turn him into a chew toy?”
“Keep the chatter down,” glowered Liang. “You’re not paid to like the prick.”
Billy stared out the window. His foreboding grew to levels he couldn’t ignore. “The whole thing stinks, Liang. Permission to follow?”
Liang shook her head. “Negative. We’re under orders.”< kr ong. Perm/p>
“Liang,” he appealed to her. “I picked up the scent of a gun on Pearce. Why does he need a weapon if he only wants to talk to her?” Sonia and Ramesh exchanged suspicious glances.
“I have my orders, hound. So do you. Or do I need to restrict you all to the kennel?”
Billy’s fingers clenched the door handle. No matter how much he disagreed, the hellhound had sworn to obey the pack leader. He glanced back out the window watching Pearce. The demon reached under his coat and then cloaked himself in invisibility. The pattering rain splashed against a faint human outline, barely visible in the dim light. Ghostly footprints splashed through a puddle and headed directly toward the ramshackle building.
****
Rosalie jerked awake as the alarm on her cell phone emitted a series of strident beeps. She stretched hard to work out all the kinks in her muscles. The rain continued to beat steadily against the windshield. The temptation to hunker down and wait until the storm passed appealed to her, but Rosalie quickly nixed the idea. Another long hard day of driving would bring her to New York. Once she handed over The Book, surely David’s people would let him go. Especially, after she explained Anthony was the real thief. Soon, this whole mess would be over.
The driver’s side window shattered, spraying her with glass. She saw nothing, but felt a cold cylindrical object jam against her temple followed by the soft click of a safety release. “Hello, Rosalie,” murmured Anthony’s voice out of thin air. “I missed you.”
Her mouth went dry. “How did you find me?”
“Hellhounds have only one use, but they’re damn good at it.” Anthony jabbed her hard. “Feel that? I know we have trust issues, but believe me I’m holding a gun. It’s loaded and my finger is on the trigger. Let me cut to the point. Where is The Book? You have one chance to answer, and I don’t recommend a lie.” He prodded her again. “I’m so not in the mood.”
She held a hand to her cheek and felt a sticky trail of blood from the broken glass. Stall…stall for time. “What is your problem?” she lashed out. “What’s the deal with The Book? What do you get out of all this?”
“I might ask you the same question, except I don’t care about your answer. You’ve caused nothing but trouble for me, Rosalie. Now, either hand over The Book and go on your way or die right here. Those are your only options.”
Don’t you mean hand over The Book and die anyway? Anthony already tried to kill her once. Rosalie had no faith the demon would let her walk away. “It’s on the floor.”
“Hand it over easy. Don’t even think of turning the key in the ignition.”
Rosalie leaned across to the passenger’s seat and reached for the duffle bag on the floor. Her heart made jackrabbit skips. She had one chance at escape. Rosalie wiggled over hoping in the close confines of the car, she blocked Anthony’s view long enough to slip her hand into the toiletries case.
“Hurry up!” he barked impatiently.
“It’s heavy.” Pretending to struggle with the oversize volume, she kept one hand on top and the other hidden underneath.
An invisible hand yanked open the car door. “Get out.”
Rosalie grasped The Book with one arm like a shield. She planted her feet on the muddy ground and stood up. The spattering of tiny raindrops was barely enough to faintly outline a vague human shape grasping something. The ghostly figure stepped forward, right in front of her.
Now. Do it now.
Rosalie whipped her hidden arm out from behind The Book and blasted Anthony’s face with a shot of deodorant. He let out a curse and the gun went off. The bullet struck the gold clasp and ricocheted off with a shower of sparks. Rosalie stumbled back and slammed her head in to the door frame. She dropped The Book in the mud and crumpled on top. Stars danced across her field of vision.
“I’m so done with you.” The enraged demon’s voice loomed above.
Rosalie braced for another gunshot, but instead a puff of air hit her face.
David took a wild swing. She heard a thud and a grunt as he momentarily connected with Anthony’s chest. The E.L.F. immediately dropped to his knees, threw himself on top of Rosalie, and yelled, “Hang on! This’ll be rough.”
The enraged demon fired in their direction, but the bullet pinged harmlessly off the car. David, Rosalie, and The Book had already disappeared.
Chapter Ten
A car pulled up behind Billy and the other hellhounds.
“Easy,” muttered Liang. “Ramesh, give them the old ‘I took a wrong turn off the interstate’. We’ll double-back once they’re gone.”
Sonia peered out the window. “They’re not the cops. I recognize the plate. That’s Lizzie Callahan’s car.”
“Jason’s pack? What the hell are they doing here?” Liang flung open the door and jumped out.
The others followed as four hellhounds exited the vehicle behind them. A knot of tension formed in Billy’s stomach. They’re after David. He drew a subtle breath through his nose catching David’s fresh scent. The E.L.F. was practically on top of them.
“Jason, why are you here?” called out Liang. “We have the snatch. We weren’t informed of any other pack on the girl’s trail.”
Jason Nguyen looked puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re tracking David Kloss. He escaped from prison this morning.”
Liang’s expression showed h
er shock. “What? How? No one issued a general alert.”
“The Baal’s orders. HQ is on lockdown.” Jason glanced at the car. “Where is your snatch?”
“Anthony Pearce is with us. He went alone.” Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise. She snarled, “More orders from the Baal. Something stinks about all of this—”
A gunshot blasted from behind the gas station. Billy tore off, the rest of the hellhounds on his heels. Another shot fired. Without a word, they broke apart and circled, some to the woods, some to the other side of the building. The packs trapped the shooter inside the hunting circle.
Billy stole a peek around the corner and spied his car. The driver’s side door was wide open, shattered glass strewn over the muddy ground. Anthony stood next to the car with a gun in his hand.
“Pearce,” Liang commanded. “The pack has you surrounded. Put down your weapon.” Startled, the demon lowered the pistol. “Who did you fire at?”
“The girl. She was armed.”
Billy poked his nose inside the car. “I have no scent of a gun. Why fire at her? You said you only wanted to talk.”
“David Kloss appeared,” he snapped back. “He’s a fugitive. I tried to stop him.”
“You said you fired at the girl.”
“I meant, the E.L.F. He was w nf hs
“I do,” retorted Jason. “The wardens want him alive. Why was he after this girl?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “For that matter, why were you?”
Pearce glared at him. “I don’t answer to you, hound.”
Jason clenched his fist. “That’s pack leader, demon.”
While they argued, a familiar shape in the mud caught Billy’s attention. “Over here.” All the hellhounds clustered around. A clear rectangular imprint embedded in the soft clay soil—every detail perfectly visible, right down to the shape of the gold clasp with the double N on the front.