Sharon Ashwood - Unchained

“We met the demon’s human on the way here,” Reynard replied. “He is under a compulsion to serve his master. There is every chance the demon has been warned of our approach. It would be wisest to assess the field before deploying your troops.”

“Bannerman said the demon would be easy to find,” added Ashe.

“That can’t be good.” Holly shut the car door and looked from one face to another. “I mean, what the hell is it doing?”

Ashe grimaced. “We need to see for ourselves.”

“But how do we look without revealing our location?” Alessandro asked.

She pointed to a service door. “We can get to the back entrance to the library from here. If the thing is expecting an attack, it won’t be looking for someone skulking in the young-adult section.”

“I do not skulk,” said the vampire, giving Ashe an owlish glare.

Holly glanced at her mate and stifled a sigh. “Let’s do it.”

Ashe led the way. Reynard followed, then Holly and Caravelli. The heavy door groaned and clattered as Ashe pulled it open, the hollow vault of the parking area echoing with the noise. She took a set of narrow concrete stairs that zigzagged upward to the main level. The metal handrail was nearly devoid of paint, mere chips showing that it had once been an industrial green. Footsteps bounced and whispered in the empty space—the heavier tread of the men, Holly’s light step—until Ashe opened a second door that led into the service hallway behind the mall stores. Each plain white door had a number stenciled on it. Boxes of packing materials, dress hangers, and other junk sat here and there, waiting for pickup.

They all wrinkled their noses. Demon stink hung in the air.

Ashe turned to the right. “This way.”

They rounded a bend in the corridor and nearly ran headlong into a reed-thin young man smoking a cigarette. He ground it out hastily as they approached.

“Ashe!” he said, and it sounded angry.

Ashe stopped in her tracks. “Gary! What’s up?”

He was one of the bookstore clerks and a ringleader in the practical-joke wars, but he didn’t look like a light-hearted prankster now. He twitched nervously, his long, slender fingers working their way over his Book Box monogrammed polo shirt.

“It’s not funny.” Gary was obviously scared out of his wits, but trying to keep it together. “The cardboard guys, the Easter eggs, maybe it was a bit of a mess, but no one got hurt. This is too much.”

“What’s going on?”

“Things are going wrong all over the mall.” Gary gave another twitch. “Really strange stuff. Things flying. Wicked smells. The bookstore’s been hit with something bad. There’s stinky slime running all over the bestseller wall.”

Caravelli arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps a demon reviewer expressing his opinion?”

Gary gave him a panicked look. “Oh, God, a vampire.”

Ashe took the guy’s arm and shook him a little to drag his attention back from Alessandro. “This isn’t a joke by the library staff, Gary; it’s a real demon.”

Gary’s mouth curled in a sneer. “This not-a-joke stuff part of the joke?”

“Sadly, no,” said Alessandro, pulling out his huge sword and flashing his teeth.

“Oh, God!” Gary pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Ashe wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or faint. “A demon. A vampire. Swords. This is like a really bad role-playing game.”

He started to hyperventilate. Ashe shook him hard enough that he dropped his hands and looked at her. Panic gouged lines around his eyes and mouth.

“Get it together, bud,” Ashe said in a hard voice. “We’re the cavalry, so don’t make me put on my mean face. Show us the demon.”

“O-okay. This way.” Gary pulled open the door marked with the number eight. Ashe saw that his hands were shaking.

“Sorry about the boxes,” he said. “We were unpacking a shipment when all this started.”

It wasn’t easy to get through. Boxes were piled in towers that reminded Ashe unpleasantly of the Book Burrow. A few were open, releasing the sharp scent of newly printed pages. Compared to the rotten smell of demon slime, the ink was as good as high-end perfume.

“Hey, there’s the new Linda Howard,” Holly commented as they edged past a table littered with paperbacks and pricing guns.

“If we save the world before store closing, I’ll buy you a copy,” Alessandro said dryly.

They emerged out of the stockroom into the flickering glare of fluorescent lights, Ashe and Reynard following last. She knew the store well. Three aisles and a big discount table held most of its stock. The walls were floor-to-ceiling displays of magazines, bestsellers, and the latest fitness DVDs.

“The urn is very near,” Reynard said quietly. “I can feel it like a magnet.”

“We’re all over getting it back,” Ashe replied, bumping her shoulder against his. “Can’t have your soul end up a demon’s doorstop.”

He gave her a look that mixed exasperation with affection. Ashe looked away, a flutter of emotion beneath her breastbone. Her cheeks warmed. This so isn’t the time to flirt. It was time to hunt. They fanned out beside the back entrance of the store, getting a good look at the place.

“Holy slimefest,” said Holly.

Gary was aghast. “This is so much worse than it was a few minutes ago.”

It was no big surprise that the store was empty of staff and customers.

Blue-green slime drizzled down the walls. Perhaps the mess had started in the bestseller section, but it had spread to every shelf in the place. Magazines curled and sagged beneath the weight of the goo. Cardboard dumps once filled with featured titles had melted into glistening mounds, books sticking out like the ribs of a sinking ship. The worst was the discount table, which was completely engulfed by the ooze. Every so often it formed a bubble that burst with an evil-smelling ploop, spouting a rivulet of slime like a miniature volcano from hell.

Ashe held her hand over her nose, trying to filter the smell. “Let’s go where there’s more air. This stuff is toxic.”

They started for the main aisle of the mall, Holly dragging the stunned clerk by the hand. The floor was slippery, so what started as a quick march slowed to a careful skate. Ashe braced her hand on Reynard’s sleeve more than once, on the verge of falling into the blue-green mass.

When they reached the dimly lit aisle of the mall, Gary pulled the fan-fold door across the front of the bookstore. “It’s not like anyone’s going to go in there, but it makes me feel better,” he explained. “I think we’re shut for the day.”

Ashe turned to Reynard. “Is this payback for the fact that the Book Burrow was torched?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. That business appears to be in the same condition.”

Ashe looked where he pointed. It was a Goth-wear store. A metal- studded bustier in the display window dripped slime. She felt a pang of sorrow; she’d secretly wanted it even though it cost a mint. “Anyplace else?”

“Not that I can see,” Reynard replied.

In fact, the mall looked almost empty. She’d expected terrified mobs, hostages at slime point, demonic demands for unlimited access to the shopping channel. Instead, she could make out every note of the easy listening cover tunes echoing around the mall. Tuesdays were usually quiet, but it looked like only a handful of the curious were braving the smell to snap cell phone pictures of the trailing ooze.

“Where’s mall security?” Holly asked.

Gary shrugged. “We tried calling, but nobody answered. Maybe whatever did this took them out first.” He turned to Ashe, seeming to recover his nerve. “What can I do?”

Ashe gripped his shoulder. “Get everyone you can to leave. Try to convince the stores to close up and send the staff home. Then go yourself. This is going to get nasty.”