Along Came a Demon (6 page)

I went in her bedroom. Pretty, with a bright-yellow comforter on the queen-sized bed, and matching curtains. A yellow and cream rag-rug by the bed. A big old oak ladies wardrobe which matched the oak dressing-table, both antique pieces. Hair products and cosmetics littered the dressing-table’s French-polished top. Clothes crammed the wardrobe, with shoes sitting in a row along the floor of it. More clothes lay crumpled on an overstuffed yellow and white paisley armchair in one corner of the room.

Lawrence was taking a nap in his room
. I opened the door to the second bedroom and looked in. A blue and green plaid spread on the twin bed. Matching drapes were closed over the window. A small bedside unit with a blue-shaded lamp. A built-in closet, the doors wide open to show it was empty. Nothing else. The room looked like a seldom used guest bedroom fitted out with the bare necessities, not the den of a little boy.

I saw a
lot
of little holes in the wall, about the size a tack makes. Pictures? There were none now. Perhaps the holes were made before Lindy moved in, or maybe she had pictures up at one time and took them down. I had no cause to think a child’s drawings once covered the walls. I checked under the bed and in the bedside unit.

It was a nice apartment, and I couldn’t help but compare it to my cluttered house with its dark living room and antiquated fittings, although the apartment must cost a pretty penny to lease.

After my preliminary look through, I started in earnest. I looked in every drawer, every closet, every cupboard.

Did not find a thing.

One thing struck me as odd: no photos, not even of Lindy.

If anyone cleaned the place of all traces of Lawrence, they did a thorough job. I sat on the couch for a moment, trying to think of anyplace I could have missed.

It was dark outside and time for me to get back home. I was not going to find anything.

But as I walked through the kitchen, I noticed all the magnets on the fridge. A lot of them. Most of them were free giveaways from utility companies, plumbers, that type. Some of them were scuffed on the surface as if they had been handled a lot. But there were a whole heap of little ones, the kind from which you make poetry or witty saying.
Hugs, Heart, Children, Love, Warm, Mommy, Cuddles,
Baby,
to name a few. I moved some, putting them in a straight line across the fridge:
Children leave imprints on your heart
. I read that somewhere.

Why would a childless woman have those on her fridge?

I opened up the freezer section, then the refrigerator, but nothing inside particularly looked like kid’s food. Just your basics.

Then I saw the edge of a piece of paper under the fridge.

I bent and tried to pull it free, but it was stuck on something. Gripping the sides of the fridge, I pulled one way then the other, walking it along the kitchen floor. It was a small unit and as I said, I’m a big girl; it moved easily. I uncovered dust balls, a paperclip and
there
!

A child’s drawing done in Crayola. A tall building. A tree with a woman and a man beneath? Or a boy and a girl? Maybe a mother and her little boy? And another person near the building. And on the bottom in large, untidy scrawl:
lawrence
.

The tall figure had long yellow hair. The man who came in Lindy’s bathroom and touched her? Did he watch them while Lawrence played outside?

I folded it and put it in a pocket. As I did, I heard a noise behind me, a bare whisper. I spun to face the room.

He was almost on me, coming at incredible speed, his long hair streaming behind him, black streaked with blood-red, his long leather coat whipping back. His eyes were a bright sparkling green in a sharply chiseled face. And that’s all I had time to see before he leaped at me.

I knew what he was.

I brought my hand from my pocket and flung steel in his face.

He stopped like he’d been pole-axed, hands clawing at his face. The filings worked; they were already burrowing in his skin and I smelled charred flesh.

I didn’t wait to see any more. Leaving the lights blazing in the apartment, I was out the backdoor and hurtling down the stair. Demons heal quickly and the filings would be just a minor annoyance once he got over the shock. And demons were fast. Heart pounding, I took the steps two at a time.

I jumped the last five steps and hit the ground with an impact which sent pain shrieking up through my ankles and shins. I ignored it and charged through the passage and across the grass, reaching under my jacket to pull the Ruger. I didn’t look back; I concentrated on running.

Something dug in my calf and I pitched on my face, all the air knocked out of me. The pistol flew from my hand. He had me, he had hold of my leg. His nails punched through denim and bit in my flesh. I wanted to scream but didn’t have the breath.

I stopped trying to move and lay passively as I waited to get air back in my lungs. The grip on my right calf didn’t let up, but I felt his other hand on the inside of my thigh. It slowly slid up my leg. An odor of charred flesh and cinnamon emanated from him.

I gasped in air. Rolling, I brought my left leg up and slammed my foot in the side of his head. He barely registered the blow, his head jogging over just a little. He let go of my calf, but both his hands immediately clamped on my thighs. As I lay on my back, looking at him, he smiled, a nasty little grin which showed the pointed ends of his teeth.

His black-red hair dripped over his shoulders like molten lava and his eyes glinted emerald as he looked in mine. Oh god, he was beautiful. His fingers, hot, strong and supple, massaged the inside of my thighs. I raised my hand to touch his face. He dipped his head to let me stroke his cheek. His skin was like silk. My lips parted in invitation as I lifted my head.

I thought of Lawrence.

I let my head fall back to the damp grass and tried to appear relaxed as I smiled into his face. He smiled back, a dreamy, possessive expression. I looked at the end of his nose, not his eyes.
You don’t look in a demon’s eye
s. His hands slid up my thighs until his thumbs brushed my groin through the denim. With a little shudder, I drew a hissing breath through my teeth - it felt good, better than it should. I grit my teeth and inched my hand nearer my pocket.

His right hand moved to my waist and up to the underside of my right breast, while the thumb of the other slowly stroked me. I wanted him, badly. My hips writhed in rhythm with the movement of his fingers, the soft strokes and gentle nips. His power rolled over me, in my blood and bones, in the sweetness of a demon’s caress.

But I wasn’t some unsuspecting woman who didn’t know what had its hands on her. Fear and adrenaline can override a demon’s mojo. And I had an ally, sixteen-year-old Tiff, who swore no man would ever again use her body against her will. The world came back into focus; I smiled crazily through clenched teeth, sat up and slammed my wrist against the side of his face. He screamed as the charms on my bracelet sizzled on his skin and I tossed another handful of steel right in his gaping mouth.

I heard
him coming after me as I reached the street.

A car drove along the street, and as I jumped over the curb and on the road, it slowed and stopped. The passenger door opened. The driver twisted in his seat, looking back at me. In the car’s dome-light I saw his hand wildly beckoning.

I do not make a habit of getting in a stranger’s car, but I swear I thought it was some guy passing by who saw me pelting along and the man coming after me, and wanted to help.

I must have been out of my mind.

I dashed the few feet to the car and threw myself in the passenger seat. The car moved off before I could get the door shut, so for a few seconds I struggled to close it. The driver put his foot down, flooring it, and the car sped up. Gasping, I looked back through the rear window.

Not a thing. The demon was not coming after us.

I shuddered and turned back to the driver.

Long silken hair like a solid sheet of gold slithered over his shoulders. Gold-tinted skin. Arching golden eyebrows and arching cheekbones. Bright sapphire eyes tilted at the corners. A long narrow nose and mobile mouth. Which smiled at me.

Damn.

“
Hello, Tiff. My name is Caesar and I’m very pleased to meet you. Very pleased indeed.”

Good Lord, even his voice was beautiful.

I tried a smile, but I think it ended up a grimace. “I don’t suppose you’d stop and let me out?”

He chuckled. “After all the trouble you put my partner through? I don’t think so.” His smile became a sneer. “Get comfortable. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

“
Where are you taking me?”

“
Does it matter?” He briefly took his eyes off the road to leer at me. “We will have
such
a good time.”

That did it. No demon would put his hands on me again. I groped in my right pocket.

He kept his eyes on the road and the smile on his face. “I’ll probably crash the car if you throw that in my face.”

I threw the handful at his cat’s eyes.

Chapter
Five

I hobbled home. My hip was on fire and I probably had road burn all down my right leg. My right cheek was scraped and bruised and my wrist, where I stupidly slammed it down to try to break my fall, could be badly sprained. My calf stung where the black-haired demon stuck his nails in me.

When the car careened across the road, I got the door open and rolled out. It disappeared down the street, weaving back and forth all over the place and not decreasing speed for a moment.

Must have hurt the bastard. Good.

I wended through the trees with the Ruger in my hand. I didn’t know whether a bullet could kill a demon, but I hoped it would hurt him. Going back and rooting in the shrubbery till I found my pistol took everything I had in me. Instinct screamed at me the entire time
: get out of here!
But I couldn’t leave it for some kid to find.

I ran the last few feet to the backdoor, slammed through it and slammed it shut behind me. I threw the deadbolt then went through to the front hall and made sure the door was locked. Then back to the kitchen to sink on a chair.

“
You look like shit,” from Jack.

Like I don’t know.
I couldn’t even come up with a retort. I was tired and sore and winded. I slid the safety back on the Ruger and laid it on the table, then let my head fall on my crossed arms. In a peculiar state of combined exhaustion and exhilaration, I could have fallen asleep then and there, except my heart went a mile a minute and my throat felt like it wanted to close up. I wanted to cry with relief because I made it back home.

I couldn’t go to the police. What would I say?
Oh, by the way, there are demons in Clarion, have been all along
.
I’m pretty sure they’re involved in Lawrence’s disappearance. And, oh yeah, they’re nasty, evil sonsofbitches
.

I hauled myself upright and went through the house with my canister of metal filings, sprinkling a smidgen on every window ledge and on the floor at the base of front and back doors. Then I put some in the cold, empty fireplaces in the living room and my bedroom.

I let the kitchen blinds down, something I did not as a habit bother with. I was majorly freaked.

No way could I avoid telling Jack and Mel what happened, so I spent the next happy fifteen minutes doing so. Then I stripped in the bathroom and looked myself over.

My hip and leg looked like someone used a cheese grater on them, and ugly bruises marked me like decaying blossom. What felt like punctures on my calf were little more than indentations, but who knew what lurked under a demon’s fingernails, so I liberally doused them with antiseptic. My wrist hurt like hell, so I taped it with a stretchy surgical bandage.

I got in bed. I didn’t think I would sleep. I was right

I staggered downstairs to the kitchen, my eyes puffy from lack of sleep.

“
And don’t you look bright and chipper,” Jack drawled.

I snarled at him, and fumbled in the cabinet for coffee. I managed to knock three packets on the counter and one on the floor, where it spilled open. What a waste of Columbian.

“
And her coordination is … well, she doesn’t have any,” Mel said.

Sometimes I hate my roommates.

I saw Jack go to the backdoor out the corner of my eye. He stood looking through the side window, hands clasped behind his back. He swayed back and forth on his heels. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,” he chirped.

“
Shut it, Jackson.”

Mel joined him so they stood shoulder to shoulder. “A demon in Lindy’s apartment? Why was he there?”

Yes. Why? I stepped over the spilled coffee to dump some of the good stuff in the coffeemaker. I’d need a full pot to get me up and moving.

But move
where
? Where to start? My mind buzzed with questions for which I had no answer. Why was the black-haired demon in Lindy’s apartment? Why attack me? How did Caesar know my name? Was Caesar the yellow-haired man who touched Lindy as she struggled in her bathtub? I hung over the coffeemaker, one hand braced on the counter as I rubbed at my forehead with the other. What had I got myself into?