Justin Gustainis - Those Who Fight Monsters Tales of Occult Detectives

Mom.

The tentacles were only a few feet away now, and I clapped my hand over my mouth, mumbled something about needing to throw up, and turned and raced out the door.

I didn’t know where I was or what I was going to do, but I knew I had to find someplace safe, then hole up and call my mom, so I pulled open the first door I found and lunged into a dingy, dust-covered bedroom filled with moldy, decaying furniture and a stench that made me want to really throw up.

I ignored it and pulled out my cell phone and my nail clippers. I jabbed the speed dial number for home, then opened the clippers and extended the metal file, giving me a weapon that extended about one and a half inches. In other words, completely freaking useless for self-defense against most creatures, but deadly to a demon if I could put that point through his eye. The trick, of course, was not getting dead first.

On the other end of the line, the phone rang.

“Come on, come on…”

One ring, then another and another until finally, “Hello?”

“Mom!”

That was all I said. Because right then Marlin burst through the door, yanked the phone out of my hand, and hurled it through the window. Glass shattered under the force, but I barely heard the noise. Instead, all I heard were my own screams.

“So you know,” Marlin said, his mouth moving, but a deeper voice coming out. “It matters not. This year’s sacrifices have been chosen. Your failure to drink fully of the elixir is of no consequence. What you have seen does not matter. The dead tell no tales, Alison, and you cannot stop us. Judemore will rise. He will feed. And he will bestow his bounty upon me for yet another year.”

He said all of that, and then he smiled. And before I even had time to think that I really didn’t like the look of that smile, he lunged.

And guess what? I was right. My nail clippers with their tiny metal file were no match against Marlin. I needed a knife. A gun. A Civil War replica sword. Something — anything — to fight with.

I had nada though, so I hauled out every martial arts trick I’d learned, and I few that I made up right there on the fly — but he was one hell of a lot tougher than me, and I wasn’t even slowing him down.

I wanted to cry with frustration. More, I wanted to cry with anger — at myself for being such a complete and total idiot. For coming here. For doing everything wrong. And for getting myself, my best friend, and a bunch of kids killed.

Because that was what was going to happen. I knew it the moment Marlin hauled me off the floor and carried me kicking and screaming and beating and fighting into the study. I knew when he tied me to a blood-soaked chair.

I knew when he didn’t pry my fingers open and take my tiny nail clippers, leaving them instead as a symbol of what I couldn’t accomplish no matter how hard I tried.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I tried to listen to what Marlin was saying, but I couldn’t hear through the rush of my fear.

Right then, I wanted my mom, and not in a way most kids want a parent when they were in trouble.

I wanted my mom to burst through those doors and kick some demon ass.

But I knew she couldn’t. I’d barely said a word. She probably didn’t even realize I was in trouble.

I’d messed up. Big time.

And I wasn’t even going to be around to get grounded for it.

Something hard and tight locked around my heart and my breath felt fluttery and hot. Fear.

I didn’t want to die.

But right then, I really didn’t think that I had a choice.

Kate

Not good , I thought as I desperately tried to call Allie back. Frantic calls from your daughter that end abruptly are never a good thing.

No answer. For that matter, no ring. The phone went straight to voice mail.

My stomach twisted with worry. I should never have let her go to the mall. What was I thinking? Malls were dangerous. Hell, the world was dangerous. Who knew that better than me?

As my mind churned, my fingers were busy looking up Parker’s phone number, then dialing, then tapping out a rhythm on the counter as I waited for a ring, then an answer.

Finally, a sleepy voice came on the line.

“Is Allie okay?” I asked without preamble.

A pause, during which every dark fear I’d ever known bubbled up inside me.

“Who?”

“Allie!” I shouted. “My daughter. She’s there with Parker and Mindy.”

“Kate?” I heard the confusion in Rhonda Downing’s voice. “What are you talking about? Parker and the girls are sleeping over at Tanya’s house.” In the silence that followed, I heard her understanding. “Aren’t they?”

“Call,” I said sharply. “Call and find out.”

I slammed the phone down, because I already knew what the answer was. The girls weren’t at Tanya’s anymore than they were at Parker’s. They’d planned and plotted to go somewhere, though, and now they were in trouble, and I didn’t have any way to find them.

Think, dammit, think.

I didn’t even know if the trouble was of the human or the demon variety. Not that it mattered. I was going to find them, I was going to save them, and then I was going to ground my daughter until college.

First, I had to find her.

How? They could be anywhere. All I knew was that she had her phone, or at least was near it. Maybe I could triangulate the phone signal? They did that in the movies, right? So maybe if I called Rome, someone at Forza could—

Mindy.

I didn’t need Forza — for that matter I wasn’t even sure if my Hollywood triangulation plan would work. But I knew that I could track Mindy.

But were they together? Dear God, please let them be together.

I raced toward the back door, then sprinted across the back yard to Laura’s house. My best friend is also Mindy’s mom, and they live in the house directly behind us, which makes it convenient for moments like these. Not that my heart could stand many moments like these.

“Does Mindy have her iPhone?” I asked after pushing my way inside, past Laura who stood blinking and sleepy in a bathrobe. The phone had been a guilt-loaded present designed to lessen the emotional trauma of the divorce. Mindy had been thrilled, and Laura had justified the purchase by pointing out the cool feature that let you go onto the Internet to find a lost phone — or, presumably, track down the missing child who was holding it. “I need to know where she is!”

Horror crossed her face and I realized belatedly that I could have approached the whole “our daughters are in danger” thing a little more gently. To Laura’s credit, however, she didn’t interrogate me until she was already at the computer.

I barely had time to tell her what happened when a map appeared on screen showing the location of the phone. “I’m off,” I said. I’d grabbed my favorite jacket on my way out the door, so I had my stiletto in the sleeve and another knife in my purse, along with a bottle of holy water. I also keep supplies under the front seat of my minivan, but I didn’t want to waste time going back to my house.

“Take my car,” Laura said, when I’d told her as much. “And bring my baby back.” She sounded brave, but I could see the worry on her face and knew it reflected my own.

“I will,” I said, and I meant it. I only hoped I could do it. More than that, I hoped that Allie was still with Mindy.

That, however, wasn’t something I could worry about. This was the only lead I had. Allie had to be there, and I raced west toward the cliffs that overlooked the coast, maneuvering my way up into one of San Diablo’s ritzier neighborhoods until I finally found the address where Mindy’s phone now was.