Eleven

While Stuart got sucked into a mini press conference, I called David to bring him up to speed on the demon's demands. After that, Stuart and I headed home, and I spent much of the drive assuring him that by the time the election rolled around no one would even remember the incident.

"You were sticking up for me," I said. "Chivalry. Machismo. Grand romantic gestures. All that stuff wins votes, right?"

He stopped at a red light before turning in to our neighborhood. "Do you really think I care about that, Kate?"

I stiffened, startled. "Well, yes. Considering all the time you've put into this campaign, I assumed you cared a lot."

He reached over and took my hand. "I care about you more," he said, squeezing my fingers and sending all sorts of little trills shooting through my body. "Anybody treats my wife that way, they get pummeled. That's just the way the world works. And if that means I don't win the election, then so be it."

"Yeah?" I smiled, both surprised and pleased. Maybe now was the time to ask about Eddie.

"Yeah," he said, and then stroked my cheek. "So who was that guy?"

My warm fuzzy feelings disappeared like so much smoke. "I wish I knew."

He looked at me sideways. "He certainly seemed to know you."

"And he certainly seemed interested in picking a fight with you," I said, my snappy tone probably originating with my guilt at getting Stuart involved in a brawl. "Honestly, Stuart, if you're not going to believe my answer why even bother asking the question?"

He didn't answer that, instead concentrating on navigating the short distance to our house. As soon as we reached our driveway, he hit the button for the garage door opener and the mechanism began its slow and steady grind.

We stayed silent in the car, the air thick between us, with me cursing demons, my husband, myself, and the damn garage door that had been on its last legs for months, but which Stuart never got around to repairing.

Finally, as the door clicked open into place, Stuart pulled into the garage, and then turned to me. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's been a long day."

"I know," I said. It had been a long one for me, too.

As soon as we were inside, Stuart made himself a drink and headed upstairs to watch the news in bed. The romantic interlude that had begun in the car had faded in the wake of my denials about knowing the demon. Which, of course, made me feel even guiltier, and did nothing for my mood. Nothing good, anyway.

I puttered around until the house was quiet, and then I crept into the attic and retrieved my stiletto and crossbow. By now, my mood had shifted to determined. This demon had messed with my husband and my daughter, and he was going down.

The hard part was getting out of the garage—I'm going to break down and fix the damn automatic door by myself— but once I was in the driveway, I breathed a sigh of relief. That is, until I almost ran over David, who'd rushed behind me and held up a hand, signaling me to stop.

I muttered a curse, then rolled down the passenger-side window.

"Go home," I said.

"I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are. They seem to want you as much as they want this damned stone. There's no way I'm going to let you walk into a trap."

"Then I'm not letting go of your van."

I weighed my options, decided that I really couldn't bring myself to run over his foot, and unlocked the door.

To his credit, he didn't comment on my change of heart, but opened the door and climbed inside.

"It's too risky," I reiterated, keeping my foot firmly on the brake even as he settled into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt.

"Just drive," he said. "This isn't an argument you're going to win."

"David." Honestly, the man was exasperating.

"They want me. We don't know why. We can guess why they want this stone, this vessel—because Andrameiech is trapped in it. But the rest is a mystery. And unless I go with you, there's no chance they're going to tell us."

"But if you do go, there's a good chance you'll get yourself killed," I said.

"Kate, think. You don't have the stone. I'm your only bargaining chip. If you go there without something they want, you know damn well that they'll follow through on their threats."

"Allie," I said, my voice barely a sigh. I'd recruited Eddie to sleep in the hall outside her door. If Stuart woke up, that would require some explaining, but I'd rather dump a fabrication on my husband than keep my daughter unprotected.

And just in case Eddie wasn't up to the task, I'd called the police and told them about the encounter at the Blue Note. An assault on my husband and a threat to my daughter. That was serious business, and the officer I spoke to assured me they were on the case.

I didn't like getting the police involved in supernatural problems, but if that's what it took to keep Allie safe, then that's what I had to do.

"I'm not doing this for you," David said, following my line of thought, "And I'm not on some idiotic heroic crusade. But the sooner we end this, the sooner she'll be safe."

I drew a breath and counted to ten. I didn't like it, but I had no better plan. Worse, I had the sinking feeling that time was running out.

"All right," I said. "But if you die on me, David Long ..."

"Cross my heart," he said. He reached toward me, then gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I let out a shaky breath, my emotions a confused swirl. David was a friend, nothing more. And yet right then, I knew that if I lost him, a piece of me would die, too.

We finished the drive to Coastal Mists in silence, and I killed the headlights as I maneuvered the driveway, then parked near the main door.

This late, the nursing home was dark, but we weren't going inside. Instead, the demon had told us to come to the open area on the far side of the building, an area off limits to residents since there was no barrier between the landscaped field and the cliff onto which it opened. Anyone who tumbled off that cliff would dtop fifty feet to be battered on the sharp rocks below. Survival really wasn't an issue.

So instead of providing a nice place for the residents to walk and picnic, this section of the Coastal Mists property was limited to merely providing a view from the media room. Now, I went to that window and peered inside. I didn't mind battling demons, but I'd rather do if without an audience cheering us on.

As I'd hoped, the media room was empty, the residents long ago tucked into their rooms. The whole place seemed to be sleeping, and I saw neither residents nor staff. For that matter, I saw no demons. Either in the building or on the grounds.

Except for the fact that the demons had invited us here, their absence was a good sign. Once upon a time, Coastal Mists had essentially been a demon-manufacturing plant, the human staff more than willing to help the demons find a fresh body or two.

Fortunately that was no longer the case, but death still came regularly to Coastal Mists, and that meant demons would always have at least a minimal toehold. I made it my business to come here regularly, just to keep the vermin population under control.

Normally, then, I'd be thrilled to come here and discover a dearth of demons. Today, though, I wanted one or two. I wanted to kick ass. And I wanted answers.

David walked the length of the grounds, turned, and came back to me. "Nothing," he said. "I don't see a thing."

"It's been hours since the Blue Note incident," I said. "Maybe they decided we weren't coming?"

"Or maybe this was a different kind of trap," David said.

I met his eyes, seeing my own fear reflected there. "Allie."

That was all it took, and we both sprinted for the car. We hadn't made it ten feet, though, when a scream pierced the air. An inhuman wail. I turned in the direction of the sound and was immediately knocked to the ground by a huge black crow.

"David!" I cried, as the crow pecked at my face. I thrust my arm up, trying to block its assault. There wasn't a damn thing I could do offensively. With the powerful beating of its wings and the violent jabbing with its beak, it was all I could do to defend myself and keep my eyes from being pecked out.

"Hold on!" From somewhere behind the howl of wind from the demon-bird's wings, I heard David's voice, followed by a huge grunt and then a gut-wrenching squawl as the bird was ripped away from me, his claws grasping my hair so that it felt like huge chunks were being ripped out of my head.

I fell back, smashing against the hard ground, my vision filled with the image of a bloody blackbird, wings spread, a knife slammed from the back straight through its heart. In an instant, it burst into a swirl of yellow and red fire that spun faster and faster until, Like a cyclone, the bird's remains were sucked inside the vortex and nothing was left but the stars shining in the sky, and David, standing there with his knife still clenched in his hand.

He sheathed the knife and reached down, pulling me to my feet. "A familiar," he said, referring to the hell-birthed creatures that often assist demons as they torment humans on earth.

I nodded, then turned and looked over the rest of the area and the sky as well, searching for the crow's companions, be they birds, hellhounds, or demons of the two-legged variety. I'd encountered hellhounds once during my time in San Diablo, and I'd rather take on a walking, talking demon any day of the week.

Tonight, I saw nothing, though the encounter had put me on edge. I turned to David. "Was that a warning?"

"No," David said, his eyes suddenly going wide. "I think that was the first act."

I whipped around and saw what he was looking at: my friendly neighborhood dancing demon astride a giant mastiff. A hellhound, complete with fangs, bloodred eyes, and quite the nasty temperament. A second beast thundered beside the first, this one without a rider but just as determined.

Not actually canines, hellhounds are demon manifestations, pulled from the depths of Hell to do a demon's bidding.

The ground shook as the mastiffs barreled toward us. I half considered running, but honestly, where would we go? Not only were we cut off—with the demon filling the space between us and the parking lot, and a deadly dropoff behind us—but running would only postpone the inevitable confrontation.

And I wanted that confrontation. I'd been seething since the demon attacked David on the beach, but my blood had reached the boiling point when the demons had pulled my daughter into the quagmire.

Beside me, David unsheathed his saber from the cane casing that camouflaged it.

I reached over my shoulder and pulled my crossbow into attack position. One hellhound raced forward, straight for me, saliva dripping from its jowls, its eyes glassy with bloodlust.

Closer, closer. I stood stock-still, waiting, knowing I had to get the best possible shot. Tangling with these beasts was never a good idea, and the idea of going home mauled did not appeal.

Finally it sprang, using its massive haunches to push off the ground, its eyes never leaving me. As it soared toward me, I saw the other leap for David, its gut sliced open by the point of his sword.

I heard the mastiff's howl of pain, and then heard nothing else but the ravenous cry of my own attacker seeking blood.

It was right upon me and desperate, and at the last possible second, I released the spring on the bow, sending the arrow flying home. A perfect shot, and it pierced the hound's heart, causing a thick black goo to leak out, taking with it the mastiff's life.

I didn't waste any time catching my breath. A few yards away, closer to the cliff, David was still tangling with both the injured dog and my demon friend.

That the dog was no ordinary canine was obvious: It was still going strong, despite the fact that entrails were hanging from a fresh gash in its belly.

The mastiff was on top of David, pinning him down as the demon stood over him, the tip of Davids own sword pressed against his jugular.

"No," I cried, rushing forward. The demon's head jerked up, but he only smiled at me, a vile, evil expression that came very close to unnerving me. And after all I've seen in my life, it takes a lot to make me stumble.

I didn't, though. I pressed forward, determined to get to David. When I was about ten feet away, I was pulled roughly back, something tight and sharp gripping my shoulders. I couldn't turn to see it, but I could see the huge black wings beating and feel the pecking of the monster's beak, so hard as to feel like it was drilling through my skull.

I flailed, crying to release myself, but the creatures strength was amazing and it managed to pull me back, farther and farther, even though I dug my heels in and stabbed backward with my knife, trying desperately to get my footing or to cast a mortal blow.

No use. I was helpless as a rag doll.

In front of me, David was having problems of his own, but so far he hadn't succumbed. "Kate!" he yelled. "Hold on!"

At the moment, I didn't have much of a choice, and I was about to try one more blind slash backward when the bird suddenly released me. I teetered a bit, my balance precarious, and then the beast swooped over me, its massive black wings beating against my face.

I stepped backward out of instinct, and as I did I realized my mistake—and what the bird's goal had been. The ground under my feet disappeared, and I was tumbling down. I reached out, grabbing at the rough cliff face as I fell, my body battered by the jutting rocks and vegetation.

My fingers closed around a root and I held tight. I was below the field, though, and I could see nothing. Worse, I had no footing, and in the dark I could see nothing else to grab onto.

I was trapped there, and all I could do was hope that David survived . . . and that he did it soon enough to come save me.

Minutes ticked by, my arms aching from the strain of keeping my body from crashing to the rocks below. A bloodcurdling scream ripped the air. "David!" I cried.

No answer. Only deathly silence, which seemed to fill the air like cotton.

No, I prayed. Please, God, no.

A faint scratching sound from above. I stiffened, afraid it was the crow, come back to finish its work. Or the demon, come to do the same.

"Katie?"

I exhaled, relief flooding my body even as tears streamed down my face. "David. Thank God. I thought you'd . . ."

His face appeared over the edge. "I thought the same thing," he said. "Here." He took off his belt and lowered it down to me. I wrapped it around one wrist, then as he pulled me up, I used my legs against the side of the cliff, as if rap-pelling, to help the process.

I was sobbing when I reached the top and saw the dead demon carcass near a pool of black goo that had once been the hellhound. "I thought ... I thought . . ."

"It's okay," he said, and then he kissed me. Not a friendly kiss. Not a thank-goodness-you're-safe kiss. But a real, live, honest-to-goodness how-I-want-you kiss.

And so help me, I kissed him back.