Diana Rowland - Secrets of the Demon

I walked down the driveway feeling wrung out and exhausted.

“Can you tell when people are lying?” I asked Knight as I reached my car.

He paused with his hand on the door of his vehicle and shook his head. “Not really. Sometimes I can get a feel for what questions to ask, that’s all.”

Well, that explained why he’d asked about Michael.

“I do think that Lida was genuinely shocked,” he continued, then he frowned. “But ...”

“But?” I prompted after a few seconds of silence.

He shook his head. “Dunno. She’s real worried about something or someone besides herself.”

“Probably her brother,” I offered.

He paused, still frowning. “Nah ... it was there when she was talking ’bout her uncle.” He shrugged. “I dunno,” he repeated. “It’s more of a feeling than something specific. Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” I assured him. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

The smile he gave me was warm and genuine. “It was my pleasure.” He paused and looked away over the lake. The sun shimmered across the water and I could hear the faraway buzz of a motorboat. “Sometimes it’s tough to tell who the bad guys are,” he said, voice oddly rich. “Evil is often a matter of perception.”

Gooseflesh crawled over my skin as I watched him. I’d used those exact words before to describe the demonkind. He continued to gaze out over the water, but his eyes were completely unfocused. “Even the most powerful get screwed,” he continued. “The world was at stake, and he had to make a terrible choice.” Knight was only a few feet away from me but there was something about his voice that made me feel that I’d be able to hear him speaking to me even if I was on the other side of the lake.

“Sometimes the punishment fits the crime far too well,” he said, then closed his eyes. An instant later he staggered, eyes flying open as he put a hand out to steady himself against his car.

His gaze snapped up to me, horror and shame warring in his features. “Kara ... I ...” He swallowed harshly. “I’m sorry if I said anything to—”

“What punishment?” I asked, blood pounding in my ears. “What did you mean? What was the crime?”

Agony rippled across his face. “I don’t know. Kara, I don’t even know what I said, I swear. I’m sorry. Please, believe me.”

I wanted to grab him and shake the answers out of him. He had to have been talking about Ryan. What the fuck had all that meant? His words were seared into my mind. Even the most powerful get screwed. Ryan?

But Knight looked like he was a hairbreadth away from a complete freak-out. It was such a divergence from his usual calm that it pulled me out of my own shock. “It’s all right,” I made myself say. “It didn’t really mean anything. It’s all right.”

Doubt shadowed his eyes, but the horror faded from his expression. He gave an uncertain nod. “I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“You okay now?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m cool.” He opened his car door and I could see him pulling his mask on, the lazy smile slipping into place, though not fitting quite as perfectly as before. “Y’all be sure to keep me posted on the case, all right?”

I gave him the relaxed smile he needed to see. “You got it. Be careful driving back to New Orleans.”

He winked, then climbed into his car and drove off.

I waited a few seconds, then followed suit, his strange pronouncements still echoing in my head.

What the hell had all of that meant?

Rain began to fall as I drove back to the other side of the lake, but to my relief this was a normal southern rainstorm—not an unnerving thunderstorm like the other day.

The traffic was down to one lane on part of the highway due to construction, and my phone rang as I waited in a long line of cars for my turn to proceed. Ryan, I noted absently without looking at the phone. I sighed. I can’t avoid talking to him any longer and have any shred of maturity left.

“Hey, Ryan,” I answered. “Sorry I haven’t called you yet. I’ve been kinda slammed.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. “It’s cool,” he said with an odd hitch in his voice. “So the drummer’s death was a murder as well?”

“I’m positive. I don’t know when Dr. Lanza will do the autopsy to officially rule it as a homicide, but that resonance was there.”

I heard him make a frustrated noise. “Okay, so everything’s more complicated. We need to all get together and see if we can come up with anything brilliant. Have you had lunch yet?”

Yeah, a nice public place would be best. “Nope. How about East Shore Diner?”

“Works for me. Meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

East Shore Diner was a favored meal destination for law enforcement for three reasons: it was open twenty-four hours, it offered highly edible food at prices cops could afford, and it had two parking lots—one on the side where the majority of the customers parked, and a second one in the rear of the diner that couldn’t be seen from the highway. It was the parking lot in the rear that was the most appealing feature, especially for cops working the night shift. Its location offered patrol officers the chance to eat at an unhurried pace and relax a bit—radio traffic permitting—without fear that some irate citizen would call the dispatcher and complain that a police car had been parked at the restaurant for at least half an hour, and why were tax dollars being wasted in such a fashion?

The diner itself was nothing special to look at. It had originally been a bait shop, and the exterior décor had been updated not one bit since its transformation to a diner, except for the addition of a deliciously garish neon sign that proclaimed EATS! complete with the flashing arrow that pointed to the building.

Ryan was already there in the side parking lot when I pulled up, a scowl on his face and his phone to his ear. “I’m trying to get Zack to answer his fucking phone,” he explained after I got out of my car.

A sliver of worry intruded. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday evening. Have you?”

Ryan gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah, he’s fine. I know that much.” He lowered the phone and pressed the end call button. “But apparently he’s started seeing someone, and he’s being really fucking tight-lipped about it. I sent him a text, and he acknowledged it, but he won’t pick up the phone. Probably afraid I’ll hear him doing things that involve wet slapping sounds.”

I didn’t hear what he said next as I closed my eyes, beginning to laugh. I am the biggest fucking moron who has ever walked the earth. Yes, Kara, lots of cops drive dark-colored Crown Vics ...

“Kara? What’s so funny?”

You mean besides the fact that I’m an insecure idiot who needs to have a little more faith in her friends? “I think I know who he’s seeing.”

He raised an eyebrow at me in question.

“I, uh, was kinda bummed out last night and I was going to see if Jill was still awake and wanted ice cream. And, well, there was a Crown Vic in her driveway with government plates.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Ho-ly shit. Zack and ...” He began to laugh.

“Oh, god, Zack and Jill.” I joined his laughter. But, does Jill know that Zack is ... isn’t human?