Stacia Kane - Demon Inside

“What’re you doing? You come away from ’ere before somebody sees you.” Malleus reached for her arm, then pulled back.

“I’m taking this car’s license plate number.”

Malleus looked puzzled.

“I think—” No. Who knew what his reaction would be if she shared her suspicions? She didn’t know if Greyson had mentioned witches in connection with the car chase or not. Better to let it go. “Just never mind. It’ll only take a second.”

Quickly she scribbled the number on the back of an old receipt and tucked it into the zippered interior pocket of her bag, then strode back up the alley with Malleus trailing behind like a bulky, disapproving shadow.

They met Tera just as she hit the parking lot, and headed off for lunch with a new secret worry buzzing in Megan’s head. If witches were involved—Vergadering witches—what did that mean?

“Did you get the address?”

“Yes. Can I take my coat off before I give it to you?”

“No. Come on, I want to go there.”

Brian followed her back out the door—trailed by Malleus and, though Brian couldn’t see him, Rocturnus. Roc tended to creep Brian out. He didn’t like the reminder of what hovered by his head.

They all piled into Megan’s car, Malleus squeezing himself into the backseat with a grumble. “Shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

Part of Megan agreed. This probably wasn’t a good idea. But she’d just left her job, the practice she’d worked so hard to build up, and if she wanted to do something dangerous she was going to fucking do it. Why not? Who cared? What difference did it make what she did?

“So what’s so important?” Brian asked as Megan pulled out onto the street.

“Never mind.” She glanced at the slip of paper he’d given her. “Just come on. I need you to try and read a car.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, Brian, I’m playing a practical joke on you. Of course I’m serious. Would we be out in the freezing cold if I wasn’t serious?”

“What do you expect me to get off a car?”

“I don’t know. Anything might help. You can read inanimate objects, right? Connect with them?”

She knew he could. He’d once used a wristwatch to communicate with Greyson.

“I can connect with my own stuff. It has to be around me for a while before I can use it.” Seeing her glare, he continued quickly, “But yes, I can read inanimate objects. Sometimes.”

“Good. So we go to this address, you read the car, and we decide where to go from there.”

“Is this illegal, Megan?”

“Is touching a car against the law?”

“No, but—”

“It’s not illegal. Why would we be doing something illegal?”

“Why did you break into a house last week?”

“I didn’t break in; the door was unlocked, and—oh, never mind. The homeowners didn’t press charges, anyway.” She glanced at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t call me. I imagine you found out about it, what, within five minutes of its happening?”

“About that. Turn here, I think.”

She did. “How’s Julie?”

Brian’s girlfriend Julie was a police officer. Megan was fairly certain she was the one who’d traced the plates, but she didn’t want to say anything outright.

Since the week Brian had been assigned to write a profile of her for a gossipy local magazine, his reputation as a journalist had grown. Not from the profile, of course. That was a cheap puff piece, forgotten by the public as soon as it became birdcage liner. But because of his help in defeating the Accuser, who’d been posing as a mild-mannered local therapist named Arthur Bellingham. Megan and Brian had decided to cover the truth by concocting what Megan thought was a rather ridiculous tale about Bellingham’s secret Satanism and his using his therapy group to conduct mysterious rituals.

The fake story had, ironically, given Brian what he’d long desired: real journalistic integrity and a reputation for finding a good story. Now he was a full-time staff reporter for the city’s biggest daily newspaper.

Too bad, in a way. If Brian hadn’t been so—well, so nosy—Megan could have told him what was going on. If he hadn’t been so straight-laced she still might have considered it, but he made no secret of his disapproval of her involvement with demons. Like Tera, he understood she had no choice when it came to the Yezer Ha-Ra. The others, though…

“She’s fine, thanks,” Brian said. “Looks like she might be in line for a promotion. Working a big investigation at the moment, so if it pans out, she’ll be in.”

“How great, tell her I hope she gets it.”

“Tell her yourself. We’re spending Christmas Eve together, you could come over too.”

“Can’t. Thanks, though.”

They chatted about Julie and her work and Brian’s next story for a few minutes while Megan navigated the cold, silent streets. Christmas lights and decorations sparkled on most houses they drove past, giving their casual conversation a festive air. Christmas always felt like secrets and excitement to Megan, even though it had been years since she’d had a holiday filled with either.

Four-twenty-seven Old Barle loomed in front of them, a large apartment building in a rundown part of town. The area was just starting to be gentrified; here and there rainbow flags flew, but for the most part it was still shabby and dark, a street full of graffiti and car parts.

Their breath puffed clouds of white into the air as they slid silently out of the car, closing the doors with careful hands.

For a minute, Megan thought the sedan wasn’t there and silently cursed herself. She hadn’t wanted to try Vergadering first, assuming they’d have guards and eyes on the street at all hours. Maybe that was a mistake.

Then she saw it, parked about half a block down in front of a boarded-up house. She grabbed Brian’s arm and pointed. He nodded. Malleus glowered.

Keeping to the shadows, they sneaked along the sidewalk, avoiding bottles and debris as they went. Brian stripped off his glove and put his hand on the car.

A minute went by. Two. Brian shook his head. “I’m getting a lot of stuff about the people who fixed it recently,” he whispered. “Tires, bodywork, radiator and engine, paint job. But nothing about anyone who drove it. Sorry.”

“I didn’t think you would.” So Greyson had been right, not that she’d doubted him. They were witches.

But as far as she knew, all witches strictly obeyed Vergadering rules. So why would two witches have been trying to kill them?

Unless another demon/witch war was about to break out, which she simply didn’t believe. Tera would have mentioned it. Wouldn’t she?

“Can we go now? You promised me hot buttered rum if I got the address for you.”

“Megan.” A little tug at her sleeve.

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess. At least I—”

“Megan.” Another tug, harder this time. She glanced down.

Rocturnus stood next to her on the street, his eyes wide with terror, his finger outstretched to point to another Yezer stumbling toward them in the middle of the road.

Even at a distance she knew something was wrong. It—the little demon—wasn’t walking right. Its limbs jerked oddly, as if it was trying to take bigger steps than its body would allow. The movements of its hands reminded her of Gerald and the terrible scuttling movements he’d made in the storeroom. Its skin rippled, the movements in the moonlight horribly like roaches crawling.

“Megan?” Brian sounded very far away. “What’s going on, Megan?”

She had to force her mouth to work. “A demon.”

“A—oh, damn it! I should have known. What are you mixing me up in this time? I should be—”

“Shut up, Brian.” Malleus kept trying to move in front of her, to usher her back to her car, but she resisted. The little demon kept moving, getting closer, its eyes glowing red, like the traffic light blinking on and off at the end of the deserted street.