CHAPTER SIX
“Stephen’s going to kill
you. And me.” Ginger sighed and took the final turn to Sam’s
apartment a little too fast.
Sam gritted her teeth
and clung to the door handle, but didn’t say a word. Even when she
hadn’t been drinking, Ginger wouldn’t have been her first choice of
someone to ask for a ride—she interpreted traffic laws way too
liberally—but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d needed
out of the Demon’s Breath.
Knowing Stephen and
Jace were snuggled up at the bar talking about her like some
annoying problem to be solved had been driving her crazy. Contrary
to what Jace believed, she wasn’t out of her mind. Yet. Given a few
more minutes in the bounty hunter’s company, however …
She’d been able to
feel his eyes on her, burning across her skin, making her ache and
itch and miss every single shot she lined up. She’d been playing
her own slightly assisted version of pool for years and was pretty
good at it. But tonight, every ball had gone wild. She couldn’t
concentrate; all she had been able to think about was a certain
man’s lips and what a damned shame it was that she’d never kiss
them again.
“No, probably just
me,” Ginger said. “He’ll let you live.”
“Of course he’ll let
me live.” Sam breathed a little sigh of relief as Ginger pulled to
the side of the road and shifted the car into park. She’d survived
another ride with a DDD—designated drunk driver. This was one of
the reasons she’d stopped hanging out at the bar. It wasn’t easy to
get a safe ride home. Which Stephen just loved, of course. It was
the perfect excuse to bustle her up to her old room for another
night under his thumb. “If he didn’t let me live, he wouldn’t have
anyone to boss around.”
“Yeah, right.” Ginger
snorted. “He doesn’t boss you around.”
“You’ve had too much
to drink. Your perception is impaired.”
“Probably, but not
about that.” Ginger laughed. “He doesn’t boss you around. I mean,
he tries, but you don’t let him call the shots. I’ve always admired
that about you, Sam. You’re tough, girl.”
Sam heard Ginger
rummaging through her bag and then a click as she opened her
compact. Ginger was always checking and double-checking her
appearance. Stephen said it was because she wore red lipstick that
smeared a lot. Sam suspected it was insecurity. Ginger did let
herself get bossed around. A lot.
There had been a time
when she’d suspected Ginger had been with Jace. At least for a
couple of nights. A few years ago she had left the bar every time
Jace came in, as if it hurt to be in the same room with him. The
memory suddenly made Sam feel awkward, despite the fact that she’d
considered the slightly older woman a friend for
years.
“Thanks. I try.” Sam
hit the release button on her seat belt and reached around to grab
her cane from the backseat. It didn’t have the handy collapsible
feature a lot of the newer models had. She hadn’t been able to
figure out how to rig her knife into those, and she figured, where
she lived, she needed a knife a lot more than the convenience of a
cane that didn’t take up space.
Speaking of where she
lived …
“How’s the street
look?” Sam asked before opening the door. “Anyone hanging out near
the door?”
“Nope, it’s clear. It
looks like there are still some kids playing at the end of the
block, so you should be good.” Ginger snapped her compact closed
and threw her purse into the backseat. “Everyone’s been staying out
later this week. The weather has been so nice. So much
warmer.”
“Yeah, it has,” Sam
agreed, though, to be honest, she hadn’t noticed the warming
temperatures. She’d felt cold all week, the chilling images from
her dreams following her into the waking world and numbing her to
the warmth of the sun.
God, she didn’t want
to think about those dreams. The vision foretelling the Choes’
murder was still too fresh. She needed time to let those sights—the
first she’d seen in years—fade before she tried to sort out what
had happened. Though she couldn’t wait too long. Ezra hadn’t been
easy to get ahold of even when they were dating. Now that she was
no longer the flavor of the month, it would probably be even harder
to get the professor on the phone.
But he was the only
person she could think of who might believe she’d really seen a
possible version of the future through someone else’s eyes. Even
after fantastic creatures surged out of the ground and took up
residence in major cities after the earthquakes, people were still
reluctant to believe in the strange and unusual. Confessing you saw
ghosts or believed in faeries or had dreams of shadow fingers that
predicted misfortune was just as likely to get you labeled “crazy”
as it had been fifty years ago.
But Ezra was
different. He’d been intrigued by Sam’s dreams and even helped her
write them down when she woke up screaming. His willingness to give
paranormal phenomena the benefit of the doubt was one of the
reasons she’d stayed with him for as long as she had. That and the
sex.
It hadn’t been great,
but it had been sex, which was saying something. Her brother had
always acted as if she were too good-looking to be safe out of his
sight, but sometimes it was hard to believe. If she was such a
catch, why was it so damned hard to find a steady lover? Or any
lover?
Her disability didn’t
slow her down, but it seemed to turn men off. Or at least the men
she wanted. Men like Jace.
Who are you kidding? Not men like Jace. Just Jace. You’re obsessed with the man. It’s
pathetic. if he showed up here and threw you over his shoulder
right now, you’d enjoy it. Wonder how tough Ginger would think you
were then?
“You okay?” Ginger
asked, laying a soft hand on her arm, the concern in her voice
clear.
“I’m fine.” Sam
smiled, wondering what she’d done to give away her depressing
thoughts. She had to quit thinking about Jace. He’d made it clear
that touching her was a mistake he wouldn’t be making again. “It’s
just been a weird night.”
“Tell me about it.”
Ginger’s fingers trembled slightly and, for a second, Sam thought
she could feel the other woman’s unease before she pulled her hand
away. “Everyone was in such a lousy mood. Must be something in the
air.”
“It’s always like
this in the spring,” Sam said, but she didn’t believe her own
words. Ginger seemed to buy it, however, and made a sound of
agreement. “Listen, drive safe, okay? I’ll see you
later.”
“Yeah, call me if you
want. I’ve noticed you haven’t been hanging at the bar as much, but
I’d love to see you. Maybe we could do brunch? Or go see that new
exhibit at the History Project? They’ll let you cross the ropes to
touch things over there, won’t they?”
“They will,” Sam
confirmed.
“They’re supposed to
have something cool about demonic artifacts unearthed after the
emergence. You’re into that kind of stuff, right?”
“Yep. That’s what my
parents used to do. They were archaeologists.”
“Yeah, that’s what I
thought.” Most people who hung around the bar knew Sam wanted to
learn more about demons and the cult her parents had belonged to.
Her brother might collect the memorabilia, but she was the real
enthusiast. “Know thy enemy” was her philosophy. Learning about
things like aura demons and demon-worshiping practices might seem
strange to people who knew her horrific history, but it made Sam
feel more in control. “Sounds interesting. I’ll call you on
Monday.” Sam smiled as she got out of the car and waved at the
sound of the engine roaring down the block. It was nice to know
she’d been missed.
She usually thought
of Ginger and the other girls who hung out at the Demon’s Breath as
Stephen’s friends, or even friends of Stephen’s friends, since her
brother had always been a man’s man. He didn’t have many female
friends of the romantic or platonic varieties. In fact, since his
last girlfriend had moved to Seattle to open a demon-themed bar of
her own in the only infested city on the West Coast, he hadn’t been
big on the fairer sex.
“And hasn’t been
getting any sex,” Sam mumbled beneath her breath. “Probably why
he’s been such a jerk.”
When Ginger’s car was
out of hearing range, Sam turned and made her way up the steps to
her building and fished out her key. Even south of the barricade,
most apartments had gone to fingerprint entry systems, but she
loved the fact that she still had to use something concrete to get
inside her home. There was something satisfying about the feel of a
key sliding into a lock.
Good grief. Even her most banal thoughts had a
sexual overtone.
Keys sliding into
locks might be satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as the feel
of Jace’s fingers slipping between her legs. She couldn’t even
imagine how amazing it would feel to have him inside her, to feel
his bare flesh crushed against hers as they moved. There was
nothing in her sexual history that had prepared her for what she’d
felt tonight. In those few minutes, she’d felt so alive and
complete and … connected.
How was that
possible? Sure, he’d been the star of her fantasies for longer than
she’d like to admit, but she didn’t love Jace. She didn’t even like
Jace half the time. Especially tonight. He’d made her feel like a
complete fool.
As she closed the
front door behind her and started up the stairs, Sam’s cheeks grew
hot again. How was she ever going to face him? The man who’d
apologized for touching her? The
apology was worse than if he hadn’t said anything at all. At least
if he’d used her and thrown her away without a word, she would have
felt normal. That was how Jace treated women. She’d known that
going in.
And what’s so great about normal? At least he cared enough
to apologize.
“He didn’t care. He
just thought I was crazy. Was probably worried I’d …” Sam bit her
lip and took the stairs a little faster. Great, now she was talking
to herself. Maybe Jace was right: Maybe she should have stayed with
her brother tonight. She obviously wasn’t in top mental
condition.
Or paranormal
condition.
If she had been,
there was no way the thing could have sneaked up on her. She was
blind, but she had four other highly functioning senses that,
before now, had done a pretty good job of warning her of danger.
She’d always been able to feel when someone was close, to sense
movement around her even when it was too dark for her to see
anything in the shadows. But not tonight.
The cold energy and
horrible stench she’d come to associate with her own personal
demons, the ones that had filled her dreams for years, enveloped
her with such swiftness she could barely draw a breath deep enough
to scream. “Help, Mr. Petrovich. I—” Her call to her landlord ended
in a strangled gasp as the stench of the creature streamed into her
open mouth, cutting off her cry.
On instinct, Sam’s
free hand flew to her throat, as if she could force the demon out
with her fingers, but it only dug in deeper, shoving down into her
chest. Gagging, she fell to her hands and knees on the steps, her
cane once again falling by the wayside. Not that it mattered. The
blade at the tip wouldn’t do any good against an enemy that had no
body, no flesh to cut or blood to bleed.
But it would …
soon….
The gleeful shriek
inside her mind confirmed her worst suspicions: One of the demons
that had taken her sight was back for more. And this time, it
wanted it all: a human body to inhabit, so that it could finally be
flesh, so that it could—
Suddenly a shout
sounded from the bottom of the stairs. Sam spun, crying out, unable
to form words, but praying whoever it was would see that she needed
help.
“Samantha! Run!” It
was a woman’s voice, but not one she recognized. Still, the woman
sounded like she cared whether Sam lived or died, which was all the
encouragement she needed.
Sam tried to run, but
the demon’s writhing made her dizzy. It wanted in, wanted an
invitation, but damned if she was going to give it
one.
“Get her out of
here.” A man’s voice now, one that was strangely familiar. If he
spoke a little louder, she’d be able to place him.
“Please. You’ve got
to—”
The woman’s voice cut
off with a strangled sound as guttural singsong language filled the
air. The echo in the stairwell made it impossible to guess who was
speaking. Was it her landlord? He spoke Russian, but the words
didn’t sound like Russian. She couldn’t guess what they were, not
with the demon inside her, twisting and screaming, insisting it was
time for it to have what it was promised, what—
The cold presence
fled with the same swiftness as it had invaded, streaming out of
her nose and mouth, for a second seeming it would take her tongue
with it.
Choking on a sudden
lungful of clean air, Sam called out to the woman who had warned
her to run: “Hello? Are you okay?”
But the only sound
was a man’s harsh whisper. She shivered, the hairs on her arms
standing on end. Whoever was at the bottom of the stairs, he wasn’t
a friend.
Heart racing, Sam
groped for her cane, but it was nowhere to be found. It must have
rolled down the stairs. Wherever it was, she didn’t have time to
look for it. She had to get out of the hall, into her apartment,
where the demon hopefully couldn’t follow. It didn’t need an
invitation to roam the halls of this public building, but her home
would be a different story.
She
hoped.
“Mr. Petrovich?
Anyone? Is anyone home?” Sam called out, praying she’d scare the
man at the bottom of the stairs away. She grabbed the railing and
pulled herself to her feet. “Hello? I just need some help getting
to my door. Mr. Petrovich?”
More silence, almost
as if the entire building had been evacuated while she’d been out.
The woman and man she’d heard must have left. The old plaster walls
absorbed her cries and returned nothing, not even an echo. The only
sound was the rapid beating of her own pulse in her ears, reminding
her she was still a hunted woman. The smell had faded when it had
abandoned her body, but the aura demon was still there, lurking,
close enough to pounce again when the time was right. She could
sense it, the same way she could sense the approach of the shadow
fingers in her dreams.
“Hello? I’ve dropped
my cane. Could someone help me to my apartment?” She tried one more
time to call for help—desperate not to be alone in the ominous
silence—but didn’t wait for an answer before starting up the
steps.
She could make it on
her own without her cane, but she’d been hoping someone would hear
her and come out of their apartment. But this was New York City
ruin country. The demons might stay within the boundaries of their
habitat most of the time, but the gangs and the criminals didn’t.
It was other humans who ensured people didn’t come out of their
homes when their neighbors screamed for help. They just ran inside,
locked their doors, grabbed their weapons, and prayed whoever was
out there dealing death and pain didn’t come for them
next.
The thought made her
think of the way the woman’s voice she’d heard had cut off so
abruptly. Almost as if she’d been strangled into silence. Maybe by
the man at the bottom of the stairs, the man who might be coming
for her next.
It was time to quit
playing it tough and call for real help.
Sam shivered as she
ordered her earbud to call 911, then bit her lip to hold back a sob
as the familiar busy signal sounded in her ear. The emergency
number was a joke. Perpetually understaffed and chronically
overwhelmed.
“Okay,” Sam muttered
to herself as she tapped her bud to end the call. She’d made it to
the top of the landing. She was almost there. She reached out,
feeling for the edge of the wall in front of her. The demon was
close, but it wasn’t attacking. Yet.
She had to move
quickly, but that wouldn’t be a problem. She’d walked this route
hundreds of times. She’d just feel her way along the wall to the
third door and let herself into her apartment. Once inside, she’d
be safe and she could try again to call for help.
This thing doesn’t seem to have a physical body. It’s just
a pocket of energy. What if the demon experts are wrong—what if a
door between you and it won’t make a difference? You have to call
Stephen.
No, she wasn’t going
to call Stephen. He wouldn’t believe her anyway. Even after all
they’d been through as kids, he still thought of demons as animals.
He didn’t believe in demons that could think and reason, that had
evil intentions and paranormal powers. He certainly didn’t believe
they could do magical things science couldn’t explain, or that not
all of them had a body people could see.
“Invisible.”
The thing she
hadn’t been able to see, the evil
entity that had been present when the Choes were killed in her
vision. Now there was no doubt in her mind that an aura demon—one
of her aura demons—was responsible. One of them was here with her,
but who knew how many of them were out there? She had no idea how
many her parents’ cult had summoned into the earthly plane. There
could be others out there right now, ripping Chang-su Choe’s eyes
from his head while Ellen looked on and screamed.
Her voice was shaking
as she told her bud to call the Choes. She had to warn them again,
let them know not to open their door or leave their apartment if
they hadn’t left already. She had to convince them to stay inside
even if they couldn’t see anything on the other side of their
door.
The phone was ringing
when the demon hunting her struck again, as if it knew what she
planned to do and wanted to make sure her warning didn’t get
through. This time it surged into her ears, filling her head with
the sound of ice freezing on a pond in winter, making her neck feel
as if it would snap in two.
She stumbled away
from the wall as the world tilted unsteadily on its axis. It felt
like the ground was literally rocking beneath her, but she knew it
couldn’t be. The thing inside her was simply throwing off her
balance, confusing her sense of equilibrium.
Too bad that didn’t
help her feel any steadier. Her head spun and her stomach lurched.
It was only a matter of time before she was sick or took a nasty
fall or both.
“Help! Please help!”
Sam screamed so loud her jawbones vibrated with the sound. She
vaguely heard the man she’d heard before yelling something, but he
didn’t come to help her. No one came. She was alone with the cold
air inside her, the demon presence that churned and stretched,
threatening to burst her ear-drums, to shatter her fragile flesh
and surge into her brain.
Sam cried out as she
flung her arms out to the sides and spun in a wild circle,
searching for something, anything, to hold on to. She needed to
anchor herself, to find something solid to cling to while
she—
Everything within her
sent up a wail as she stumbled too close to the top of the stairs
and the ground beneath her suddenly disappeared. Her stomach
bottomed out and adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream as she
plummeted down the way she’d come, falling through the thick,
silent air. For a second she hoped the man who’d been watching the
attack would have the decency to break her fall, but that hope
vanished as she gained momentum.
She tumbled for what
seemed like forever before her shoulder and neck finally hit the
stairs with a sharp thud. There wasn’t even time to cry out before
she hit again and then again and again. Sharp corners bruised her
spine and tormented her bones, hurts piling upon hurts until the
back of her head hit at just the wrong angle.
Agony exploded
through her skull, and for a moment, just before her mind stumbled
down a dark stairwell of its own, Sam could have sworn she saw Mrs.
Choe’s hands once more. The other woman was wearing her ring and
reaching for a brass handle, preparing to let death in through her
front door.