Demon Hunting In a Dive Bar (20 page)

T
he demon streaked out of the trees, black and formless as the darkness at the bottom of a well. Beck had never seen anything move so fast. There was no time to react, no time to move. It was simply
there
. Beck felt its pulsing rage. It wanted blood and death.

A claw flashed out of the darkness, and the troll Evan rode bellowed in pain. A red line formed across the troll’s distended belly and widened, like a gaping, grotesquely lipsticked mouth. Ragluk’s innards spilled out of the wound and onto the leaves with a wet, sickening plop. The troll stared at the steaming gray mass at his feet, an expression of dull incomprehension on his blunt, ugly face.

The troll toppled over and Evan jumped free. His right leg crumpled under him as he fell. Evan grunted in pain and dropped the bottle. It rolled away. Hot sauce slopped against the glass, engulfing the wraith inside. Evan screamed in pain as he and Haggy began to burn.

With a roar, Algg dropped Toby and attacked the morkyn. The troll was strong, but his movements were slow and ponderous. He swung a ham-size fist. The shadow darted out of the way. Again, the troll attacked, and the dark blur danced aside. The demon was toying with the troll, pitiless and relentless, a killing machine.

Beck looked around. Evan had vanished. The hot sauce bottle lay abandoned under a bush. Snatching it up, she shoved it back in her pocket and ran over to Toby.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, tugging him to his feet.

“Becky, wait—”

“Not now, Toby.”

She pulled, half carried Toby up the hill, terror giving her strength. Something, morbid curiosity, maybe, made her look back, like Lot’s wife.

The little glen was coated in sheets of ice. The demon circled Algg once, twice, three times. Blood spurted. The troll bawled like a wounded calf and crashed to his misshapen knees. The claw flashed again and the troll’s head hit the leaves with a muffled
thunk.

The demon turned in their direction. Cold and hate and power poured from the black cloud in sickening waves. It had taken out the two trolls in a matter of seconds, and they were next.

Beck threw Toby over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry and ran like hell. She forgot about being tired and injured. It didn’t matter that her heart chugged like a diesel engine from terror and exertion, or that her legs burned from the strain of running with Toby’s extra weight. She kept going.

Which way was the road? Her feet sank in the thick carpet of leaves, slowing her down. Her muscles screamed. Tomorrow, she would be sore.

If there was a tomorrow; the back of her neck prickled and her nerves shrieked in warning. The demon had followed. The temperature plummeted, and the air crackled with the energy and fury of a building ice storm. Trees groaned and shattered around them, sundered by the morkyn’s arctic passage.

Don’t think about it. Don’t look back. Move your ass, Damian, or you and Toby are done for
.

Twilight was fading. Sweat stung her eyes, making it hard to see. She tripped over a log and fell. Toby rolled free, clutching his wounded leg with a muffled curse.

A blast of cold swept over them, riming the ground with frost.

“Run, Toby,” Beck said. “Get away.
Run
.”

Darkness enveloped her and Beck screamed as she was lifted in an icy, iron grasp.

“Calm yourself,” a dispassionate voice said. “You are safe.”

The mantle of gloom dissolved and she was in Conall’s arms.

Relief surged through Beck and, on its heels, disbelief. “Conall?” She stared up at him in shock. “I thought you were a demon.”

“I tried to tell you.” Toby sat up with a groan. “But you wouldn’t listen. I recognized his scent.”

“Why didn’t you
say
something?” Beck said, struggling in Conall’s grasp. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I was occupied.” Conall set her down and stepped back. His cold gaze moved to the scratches on her cheek. “You are hurt.”

“It’s nothing. Toby’s been shot.”

Conall picked Toby up and threw him over his shoulder. “A female demonoid named Cassandra brought me here in her truck,” he said with glacial calm. “She is waiting for us some distance down the road.”

“Cassie?” Beck said. “How do you know Cass—”

Conall grabbed her arm and pulled her close. The world shifted and blurred and they were standing in the road by a long-bed Chevy Silverado.

Beck stepped away from him, irritated by his caveman manner and Ice Man attitude.

“Look here, buddy,” she said. “I don’t know who planted the bug up your butt, but I don’t appreciate being manhandled.”

“Now is not the time for discourse,” Conall said. His black eyes were cold and hard as flint. “We will discuss this later.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Perhaps not, but I have a great deal to say to you.”

The driver’s side door opened and Cassie Fergusson climbed out.

“I see you found her.” Cassie’s gaze moved to the man on Conall’s shoulder. “That a sack of flour you carrying, or Toby?”

“Har de har har,” Toby said as Conall shrugged him to the ground. He balanced on his good leg. “Earl Skinner shot me. Next time I see that little weasel I’m gonna tie his dick in a knot.”

“That must’ve been some party.” Cassie jerked her thumb toward the eight-foot cargo hold. “I got four naked guys and an injured bear in the back. There’s a girl with them.”

Hank and Verbena. Beck hurried to the back of the truck, glad for the excuse to get away from Mr. Freeze.

Verbena sat cross-legged on the truck bed beside the wounded bear. Hank’s eyes were open and he was panting. The fur on his left shoulder was bloody.

The members of Beelzebubba huddled together under two blankets, looking cold and miserable.

“What happened?” Beck asked. She climbed over the tailgate with some difficulty due to her petrified arm.

Sam, the drummer in the band, spoke up. “Two men were in the woods with guns. They shot Hank.”

“Would’ve kilt him, too,” Verbena said, “ ’cepting these here coyote fellers runned ’em off.”

“Kith or norms?” Beck asked.

“Kith,” Sam said. He stroked the soul patch under his bottom lip. “They were hepped up on something. Kept shifting back and forth like they couldn’t control it. Whatever they were on made them crazy.” He shook his head. “Hank wasn’t the only one they shot. Them idiots was shooting at anything that moved. I’m pretty sure they killed Lloyd Hagenbarth’s boy, Phil.”

Phil Hagenbarth was dead? He was twenty-two, and a nice young man. He drove a beer truck with his dad. Beck felt sick. How many kith had been hurt and killed because of Charlie’s poison?

“What are you guys doing out here, anyway?” she asked. “It’s a long way from the bar. You coming from the Peterson party?”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t know anything about a party. Hank likes to run these woods. We were having a good time when all of a sudden he growled and took off. He came back a little while later, and that’s when them idiots shot him.” Sam’s eyes glowed hot in the gloom. “Me and the boys went after the bastards. I hamstrung one of them.” His mouth curved in a vicious smile. “He’ll walk with a limp from now on.”

“They got away?” Beck asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “They jumped in a car and took off. We shifted and got Hank out of there.” He gazed at the bear with a troubled expression. “What we going to do about him? We can’t take him to a hospital, He’s too weak to shift.”

“We’ll think of something,” Beck said. She sat down near the tailgate to give the bear and the band members plenty of room. “Thanks for helping Hank.”

“My ass is cold,” Bill the sound guy complained, shifting with an audible pop.

Harry and Joe shifted too. Three tawny gray coyotes aimed identical laughing grins at Beck.

“Sorry,” Sam said. Hair sprouted on his face, and his nose and jaw lengthened. “Can’t help it. It’s a pack thing.”

Beck picked up one of the discarded blankets. She felt not the slightest urge to shift. She was too tuckered out. On the plus side, coyotes took up less room in the back of the truck.

“Coyotes.” Toby shook his head in disgust. “I think I’ll ride in the back with you so I can keep my leg straight.”

He lowered the tailgate and eased in butt first, favoring his injured leg.

“Here.” Beck tossed him the other blanket. “The temperature’s dropping.”

Conall appeared without warning. He held out his hand to Beck. “Come. You will sit inside with me where it is warm.”

It was an order.

He could go suck an egg. She didn’t sign up for his army.

“No, thanks,” she said, trying without much success to match his frigid tone. “I’m staying here.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. It was the first reaction of any sort she’d seen from him since he’d shown up in his Grim Reaper guise.

“If it pleases you,” he said.

Pleased her? Nothing about the past few hours had
pleased
her, especially his frostbitten attitude. It might be a cold ride in the back of the truck, but it was better than freezing her butt off around the Arctic Alpha Male.

Conall climbed in the cab of the truck and closed the door without another word. He didn’t even slam it. Oh, no, not Mr. Control. You’d get more of a reaction out of a fire plug.

Fine by me, Beck thought as Cassie eased the truck onto the road.
Let him ride up front with Cassie. See if I care.

The truck rolled through the tunnel of trees, kicking up a cloud of clay dust. The dry smell of dirt mingled with pine in the night air. The temperature had dropped with nightfall. Beck was cold and miserable, but she’d never admit it.

Images of the past few hours kept cycling through her head like scenes from a horror movie. So much bloodshed and mayhem. So much ugliness. She couldn’t shake a heavy feeling of gloom.

She’d feel better once she got home and had a bath and a cup of tea, and a little kitty cat therapy. Mr. Cat was an excellent listener. She had lots to tell him.

She wiggled, trying to get comfortable. She was exhausted and sore, and the scratches on her face hurt. What if the damage to her arm was permanent? She was worried about the teenagers she’d left behind, and about Hank and Toby. She needed to figure out what to do with Verbena, and she was uneasy about Evan’s sudden disappearance. Her bad mood had
nothing
to do with Conall.

Toby lifted his nose to the wind, like a dog hanging its head out a car window.

After a moment, he lowered his head and gave Beck a searching look. “Your arm hurt?”

“No, I can’t feel it.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Beck wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m not crying. I
never
cry.”

“It’s for the best, Becky.” His tone was gentle. “It wouldn’t work. You’re too different. A cat don’t mate with a dog, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Beck said. “I’m not stupid enough to fall for a demon hunter. That would be crazy. I might as well take a nap on the railroad tracks, like Claude Dolan.”

“Glad you’re being sensible. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

She’d known all along there couldn’t be anything between her and Conall. That was a no-brainer.

She heard a low rumbling sound and looked back. The dirt road collapsed in on itself, and Evan rose out of the ground like an angry Poseidon bursting forth from an earthen sea, dirt flowing around him.

“Cookie,” he shouted. He raised his arms; the earth crested and fell around him in giant waves. “This isn’t over.”

Evan brought his arms down, and a deep crack opened in the dirt road and raced toward them. A hailstorm of rocks pinged against the tailgate.

Toby pounded his fist against the side of the truck. “Put the pedal to the metal, Cassie,” he shouted. “We got trouble.”

Beck saw Cassie glance in the rearview mirror. The truck accelerated and they sped away.

Beck brushed the dirt off her jacket with her good hand. “That was close.”

“Too close.” Toby tucked the blanket around his legs. “You’re going to have to do something about that brother of yours.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Reckon that depends,” Toby said. “He’s running with them demons, ain’t he?”

“Yes.”

“You thinking of joining him?”

“Tobias Littleton. You know better.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I went MIA on you, and I needed to know.” Toby tugged on his braid. “If you’re going against them demons and your brother, you’re gonna need help. I’ll say one thing for our new bartender, he’s a handy feller in a fight.”

Handy was an understatement. Conall was death walking. He’d kill Evan.

“I’ll handle Evan,” she said. “I’ll talk to him. Try and convince him to leave.”

Toby snorted. “Not likely. Not as long as you got something he wants.”

He was right. Evan wasn’t going anywhere without Haggy.

“He’s not going to change, baby girl,” Toby said. “He is what he is, and there’s no turning back.”

“You talking about Conall or Evan?”

Toby closed his eyes. “Yep.”

A
fter what seemed like a small forever, they left the woods and turned onto the paved, two-lane county road. They were a few miles outside Hannah when the blue lights came on.

Toby squinted at the Jeep Cherokee behind them. “Sheriff,” he said with a grunt. “There ain’t no end to this frigging day.”

Beck’s sentiments, exactly.

There was no emergency lane, so Cassie pulled onto the grass on the side of the road and rolled down her window. The coyotes and Toby exchanged a silent look of communication. The coyotes jumped out of the truck and vanished into the darkness, as silent as ghosts.

A tall, lean man wearing a sheriff ’s badge exited the Jeep and approached the driver’s side window.

“Evening, ma’am,” he said to Cassie. “You’ve got a broken tail-light.”

“Really?” Cassie said. “I must have hit something on the road.”

More like the road hit them, Beck thought, remembering the shower of earth and rocks from Evan’s little temper tantrum.

The sheriff scribbled something down and handed Cassie a piece of paper.

“I’m issuing you a warning,” he said. “But you need to get that tail-light fixed.”

“Sure thing, Sheriff.”

He walked back and shined his flashlight in the bed of the truck. Toby stiffened and his nostrils flared. Something about the sheriff had sure gotten his attention.

The flashing lights on top of the patrol car cast the officer’s face in relief. He was a handsome man, with a strong jaw and a firm-lipped mouth. Stubborn, more like it.

His eyes were shaded beneath the brim of his hat, but Beck got the impression he didn’t miss much.

The beam of light came to rest on the bear’s furry body. Hank lifted his head and growled.

“Shh,” Verbena said, stroking him. “It’s all right.”

To Beck’s amazement, Hank quieted back down. Verbena had a way with animals, or at least a way with one bear of a cook.

“It’s against the law in Alabama to trap a black bear,” the sheriff said.

“We didn’t trap him,” Beck said. “Some idiot shot him.”

Beck winced as the sheriff moved the beam of light to her face. She could swear the sheriff’s nose twitched.

“You a vet?” he asked.

“No, but—”

“My brother is learned in the care and healing of wild creatures,” Conall said. “We are taking the animal to him.”

Beck blinked in surprise. Conall had done the demon hunter thing, exiting the truck and moving to her side, swift and silent.

“That right?” the sheriff drawled. He pulled the pad back out of his pocket. “What’s your name?”

Most cops would have been startled, to say the least, by Conall’s
now you see me–now you don’t
routine, but the sheriff didn’t seem the least bit rattled.

“I am Dalvahni.”

“Dalvahni?” The sheriff looked up. “Any relation to an Ansgar Dalvahni?”

Conall inclined his head. “He is my brother. You know him?”

“We’ve met.” The notepad went back in the sheriff’s pocket. “You folks been anywhere near the Peterson hunting preserve tonight?”

Cassie stuck her head out the window. “We were on Peterson land, but we had an invitation. Is there a problem?”

“One of my deputies got a call that a truck had run into a ditch near Musso,” he said. “When he got there, he found two teenagers in the vehicle. They were pie faced and ranting about monsters at some fancy lodge. The description of the place sounded like the Petersons’ hunting place.”

Beck did a mental fist pump. The kids were safe; one less thing to worry about.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

She felt the sheriff’s gaze on her and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. There was an air of intensity about this man that made her uneasy.

“On their way to the hospital in Paulsberg to be treated for alcohol poisoning,” he said. “I’d sure like to know who got a couple of underage kids that liquored up. Don’t suppose you know anything about it?”

“Nope,” Beck lied. “Can’t help you.”

The sheriff’s nose twitched again. “I see.” He turned to go and looked back. “You can tell those coyotes to quit skulking around and get back in the truck. I’m leaving now.”

He climbed back in the Jeep and drove off. Verbena got up without a word and lowered the tailgate. The coyotes slunk out of the darkness and sprang back into the truck. Verbena closed the tailgate and climbed back in.

“If you’re afraid of wolves, stay out of the woods,” Toby said as the truck bounced back onto the road.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Beck asked.

“It means that sheriff ain’t no dummy.”

No, he wasn’t. He’d known about the coyotes, and she had a hunch he knew she hadn’t told him the truth.

It was almost like the sheriff could smell a lie.

 

They made it back to the bar without further incident. The parking lot was empty except for a black and red truck with
BEELZEBUBBA
emblazoned down the sides, but the place was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“What’s with all the lights?” Beck said. “It’s Sunday. The bar’s closed.”

She hoisted herself to her feet. Oh, goody. She wasn’t going to have to wait until tomorrow to be sore. The long ride in the cold night air had made her muscles stiff. She couldn’t wait to get home and soak in the tub.

She took a deep breath, drawing the mossy scent of the river into her lungs. It was good to be out of those woods and back on her turf.

Cassie opened her door and got out. “Someone’s playing a piano. Whoever they are, they’re good.”

Conall moved to the back of the truck in a blur of motion.

“I grew weary of the shade’s incessant whining,” he said. He crossed his arms and looked up at Beck, his expression as cold and hard as her marbleized arm. “So, I purchased a noisemaker. It would appear the instrument was delivered.”

“Where’d you find a piano on a Sunday?” Beck said. “The nearest music store’s in Mobile.”

“I struck a bargain with the priest at the shade’s former haunt.”

“You talked Father Ben into selling you the piano at the Episcopal church?”

Conall shrugged. “I made it worth his while.”

Beck felt a flutter of alarm. No telling what he paid for that piano. She’d have to reimburse him. “How much?”

“I do not recall the exact sum. Money is of no moment to the Dalvahni.”

Money is of no moment to the Dalvahni.
Well, it was damn sure “of moment” to most folks, including her. She and Toby had a business to run, and buying pianos for dispossessed ghosts wasn’t in their budget.

Conall studied the latch on the tailgate a moment and then lowered it. The coyotes leaped out and trotted over to the black and red truck. Beck caught a flash of four naked butts as they shifted and jumped in their vehicle.

Sam rolled down the passenger window and held his thumb and little finger to his ear. “Call me and let me know how Hank’s doing.”

Beck waved good-bye. “Will do.”

Toby scooted across the tailgate. Beck jumped off the truck and planted herself in front of him.

“Hold it right there, old man,” she said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“Think again. You’ve got a bullet in you. I’m taking you to Doc Dunn.”

“No, you ain’t. Take your own self to the doctor and see about that arm. I ain’t tangled with no demon.”

“What is this?” Conall said. “You fought one of the djegrali?” Ignoring her protests, he pushed up the left sleeve of her jacket. She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Rebekah, what have you done?”

She looked down. Cassie had parked under a light pole, and visibility was good. Her arm and hand were fish-belly white and hard as concrete. The fingers of her left hand were curled into a fist. Her stomach did a slow roll. She was maimed, probably for good.

She shook off the awful thought. No, she wouldn’t think about that now. She’d do a Scarlett O’Hara and worry about it later.

“I am taking you home,” Conall said in a tone without compromise.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Beck tugged her sleeve back in place. “Not until I make sure Toby and Hank are okay.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” Toby lowered his good leg to the ground and stood. “See?”

Cassie joined them at the rear of the truck. “Tell you what, Beck. I’ll drop Toby off at Doc Dunn’s house on my way home. I’ll check on Dooley and then swing back by and pick him up. I’ll call you and let you know what the doc says.”

Toby waved his arms around. “Toby’s right here. He ain’t deaf and he ain’t going to no dadflabbed doctor.”

“You’re going, Tobias Littleton, and that’s it,” Beck said. “You’ve got a bullet in your leg.”

“It’ll work its way out.”

“You could get an infection.”

“You go, then, if you’re so all fired set on going to a doctor. You need it worse than me.”

“Be sensible, Toby,” Beck said. “I can’t go to the doctor with a petrified arm. How will I explain it to Doc?”

“Tell the old coot to mind his own business.”

“Enough.” Conall picked up Toby and deposited him in the cab of the truck. “You will go to the leech and then you will let Rebekah know what he says. Understood?”

“Now see here—” Toby sputtered.

Conall put his hand on the open passenger door. A thick sheet of ice formed on the window and coated the metal frame. “Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Toby said. “No need to freeze my gonads off.”

“What about Hank?” Verbena asked as Conall closed the truck door and strode past her. “He’s hurt real bad.”

“My brother will see to the bear. He is here now.” Conall turned and stared into the inky woods surrounding the bar. “Well met, Duncan.”

Cassie made a choked sound. “Duncan?”

She scrambled back inside the truck and slammed the door. Beck caught a brief glimpse of Cassie’s blond hair through the windshield before she ducked.

Beck was still puzzling over this odd behavior when a tall, broad-shouldered man melted out of the darkness. His shoulder-length hair was somewhere between blond and brown—hard to tell the exact shade in the dim light. In spite of his size, he moved with a stealthy grace, treading over the gravel in his booted feet without a sound. A form-fitting long-sleeve shirt clung to his taut torso and arms, and tobacco-brown breeches molded to his powerful thighs. Strapped across his wide chest was a leather and metal vest. He carried a sword on one hip.

The sheer size and masculine beauty of the stranger screamed Dalvahni. So did his solemn, unyielding expression. Jeez, was the entire Dalvahni race emotionally constipated?

“You sent for me, Captain?” he asked in a colorless voice.

Yep. Roger that. A truckload of Ex-Lax wouldn’t loosen these guys up.

Conall pointed to the truck. “There is a wounded creature in yon carriage that needs your help.”

In the blink of an eye, Duncan was kneeling beside the injured bear. Hank bawled and thrashed about in alarm.

Beck felt a subtle push of power, and then Duncan spoke. His deep voice was soothing, like a warm, healing balm.

“Easy, little brother,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”

Hank grunted and went limp.

“Wow.” Verbena’s thin face split in a goofy grin. Doctor Feelgood had whammied her, too. “Everything’s all sparkly. Say something else.”

Duncan examined the bear with gentle but practiced efficiency. “The shot went through the shoulder and entered the lung. I can save him, but he has lost much blood and the wound has festered. It will take time to heal. Have you a cage or stall to keep him in whilst he heals?”

“There’s a room in the back of the bar with a bed and a small bathroom,” Beck volunteered. “He can stay there until he’s well.”

Conall put his hand on Beck’s shoulder. Cold spread from his palm and through her jacket, making her shiver. Holy smokes, he was running at subzero.

“Brother, this is Rebekah Damian,” he said. “The tavern belongs to her and her partner. Yon bear is her cook.”

“She has ensorcelled the creature to do her bidding like the Witch of Blandor?”

“Nay, the bear is a shifter,” Conall said. “He was in his animal state when shot. No human leech would treat him. That is why I summoned you.”

“Ah,” Duncan said with a knowing nod. “He is kith.”

“How do you know this?” Conall asked sharply. “I myself learned of the kith’s existence but a few months past.”

“’Tis not my first trip to this realm.” Duncan got to his feet in a fluid movement, his face without expression. “I am sure I mentioned the demonoids in my report. Perhaps you overlooked it. The djegrali were causing much mischief in Tartolla at the time, as I recall. No doubt you were absorbed with weightier matters.”

The words were accompanied by another subtle push of magic. Holy cow, Duncan was trying to whammy Conall.

Fat chance, Beck thought with a mental snort. “Conall” could be an acronym for
cynical overbearing naturally arrogant leery leader
.

Conall’s grip tightened on her shoulder, sending another chill down her spine. Duncan Dalvahni was hiding something, and Conall knew it.

“Perhaps you are right,” Conall said without inflection. He motioned and the employee door swung open. “The sleeping chamber Rebekah spoke of lies through that portal. Do you require assistance?”

“No. I will tend to the bear and report back to you.”

“My thanks, brother,” Conall said.

Duncan waved his hand, and the unconscious bear floated off the truck, across the parking lot, and through the open door.

Verbena shook herself out of her daze and climbed out of the cargo hold. “I’ll stay with Hank.” She gave Beck a shy look. “If it’s all right with you, ma’am.”

“Sure,” Beck said. “Make yourself at home. Rustle you up something to eat in the kitchen and you’ll find fresh towels in the bathroom. I keep extra clothes here. Help yourself to whatever you can find.” She sized up Verbena’s thin frame. “On second thought, they probably won’t fit. I’ll bring you something else to wear.”