Diana Rowland - Fury of the Demon

Paul’s face brightened instantly. “Awesome! What’s the plan?”

“Let’s start with a simple text that says ‘Hey’ and see what we get back,” I suggested.

Paul tapped at his tablet. “There, sent.” About twenty seconds later, he grinned. “He texted back ‘You OK? Bryce?’”

I smiled. It was a good start. “Um, tell him you’re both okay, and you miss him.”

He did so. It felt like ages for the response to come in, though it was probably more like thirty seconds.

Really miss you two. Hard without you.

I pumped my fist into the air. “Perfect! We know he’s freaking out a bit without you and Bryce there. Now tell him you’d like to meet with him, only him, to see him again. Oh, and don’t let on that we’re going to keep him.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I was going to finish it off with, ‘Hey, Sonny. We’re totally not going to kidnap you, okay? TTFN!’”

I maintained a serious expression. “Wow, then it’s a good thing I warned you!” I snorted, grinned. “Smart ass.”

Paul laughed and sent , Bryce needs to talk to you, and we both want to see you. We want to meet.

Another eternity of waiting, this one far longer than thirty seconds. Or even a few minutes. Bryce began to look a little antsy, and I struggled not to fidget. Paul finally looked up at Bryce, his face worried and sad.

“Give him a little more time,” Bryce told Paul. “This is a big deal.” Through the tension in his voice I heard the acknowledgement of the other possibility—that Sonny was informing Farouche.

The instant the words left his mouth the tablet pinged, and Paul lit up again. “Where? When?”

I heaved a big sigh of relief. It didn’t mean he hadn’t warned Farouche, but at least he was still communicating. “Bryce, they probably track the cars, right?” At his nod, I continued, “Where’s someplace he usually goes that wouldn’t raise suspicions?”

“The Beaulac Nature Center,” he said without hesitation. “He goes there to chill and spend time alone.”

It took several more texts to sort the details out since we had to consider what time would be best for Sonny and to arouse the least suspicion on his end. Moreover, we needed time to prepare.

At long last the plans were set—a nice casual meeting between good friends at the remote Nature Center at four p.m. Nice and friendly. No pressure. Only one slightly dastardly plan to kidnap him.

“Let’s hope he comes through for us,” I said and glanced at my watch. Two hours until the meeting.

Time to start moving our pieces into place.

Once again our trek through the back woods and over the fence went without a hitch, though this time instead of a rental SUV, the fed boys waited for us in their Impalas. Eilahn muttered something in demon that included kiraknikahl as she passed Ryan’s car on her way to Zack’s, but at least she didn’t snarl. That was progress.

Zack greeted me with a brilliant smile that felt just as much Zakaar’s. “Well, sheriff,” he said in an accent worthy of an old Western movie, “I reckon we better git the posse saddled up and hit the trail.”

I grinned. “At least you made me the sheriff.”

He winked, then slid behind the wheel of his car. “I considered you for the saloon girl part, but you can be a bit bristly at times.”

“Bristly?” I laughed. “Is that what you call it?”

“When I’m being polite,” he replied, and with that we loaded up the two cars and made our way to the rendezvous with Sonny.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, as we pulled into the Nature Center’s empty parking lot. The air held the heavy feel of impending rain, lending an ominous atmosphere to our surroundings as we exited the cars and did a careful look-around. Even on the best of days the Beaulac Nature Center—also known as the Crappy Trail Through Mosquito-Infested Swamp and Woods—wasn’t a big draw, but the hot, muggy afternoon coupled with the promise of a thunderstorm added an extra layer of deterrent.

Worked for me. The last thing we wanted was bystanders, though I hoped the rain would hold off until we were finished here.

Eilahn slipped into the woods and was out of view within seconds. Mzatal stood motionless, assessing, then gave me a nod. “No other humans or demons are near,” he assured me.

“Awesome.” I turned and gave Zack and Ryan a thumbs-up.

“Text when you’re done,” Ryan called through the open window, then he and Zack drove off.

I swept my gaze over the Plexiglas-covered map of the trails and the weathered shack that made up the Center. The last time I’d been here was to work the murder scene of one of Tracy Gordon’s victims, sacrificed as a crude means for him to locate a valve in the area. And only a few days later Mzatal and Idris finally managed to summon me to the demon realm.

I’ve changed a teensy bit since then.

I checked my watch. “Forty-five minutes ’til showtime,” I said.

Bryce shook his head. “Sonny’ll be here early. Best to get in position.” He didn’t wait for me to give assent or comment and headed down the trail in long strides.

Paul chuckled under his breath. “He’ll never admit it,” he murmured to me as we followed Bryce, “but he actually really enjoys the planning and tactics side of things.” He smiled at the older man’s back. “I think it’s like a puzzle for him. It tweaks that logic center in his brain.”

“And I’m damn glad to let him plan his little heart out,” I replied with a smile.

About a hundred yards in, the trail opened into a clearing with a few decrepit tables and moss-covered concrete barbeque pits. Beyond, the trail continued to an equally poorly kept deck over the swamp.

Bryce and Paul settled at a table they proclaimed to be Sonny’s favorite, while Mzatal strode directly to the valve near the edge of the clearing and crouched, frowning. I moved to stand behind him as he worked his hands in slow, precise arcs over the valve. Othersight revealed an odd fraying of the twisted potency strands that formed the perimeter of the valve, like braids of rope that had been overstressed.

I set my hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

Mzatal’s frown deepened as he continued to work, and I noted the frays smoothing. “Tampering,” he said. “The primary node has been touched from the demon realm side.”

“Touched?” My eyes narrowed. “You mean something’s been pushed through it?”

“Nothing has come through this one recently,” he told me. “I feel Rhyzkahl’s resonance, and there is a distortion I do not understand. You see the damage. There has been stress on the structure.” He passed his hands over the valve once more then stood and took my hand. “The man approaches.” He paused, his eyes distant. “He is alone.”

Mzatal and I quickly moved into the underbrush to crouch not far off the trail. Though Mzatal’s initial proposal had been to simply net Sonny in potency at the first sign of resistance, I’d managed to argue the lord down to a somewhat less traumatic option, in which we would simply block Sonny’s retreat, leaving potency-netting as an absolute last resort.

Within minutes, I heard the whisper of shoes on damp pine needles, and I peered between the leaves toward the sound. A Hispanic-featured man about five-foot-ten of medium build made his way down the path toward us. I recognized him as one of Farouche’s gunmen, though instead of a suit he had on jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. If I hadn’t known what to look for, I’d have missed the slight bulge of his shirt where an inside-the-waistband holster held his gun.

His face broke into a cautious smile as he came within sight of Bryce and Paul, but as he came abreast of us he faltered and stopped. His eyes flicked left and right in wary alarm, and he slipped his hand under his shirt to rest on his gun.