Cat Adams - Demon Song

“Are there release disks somewhere?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head, which made me wince. “Nope, so be careful with these. I haven’t had time to do a matching deactivation charm.”

Well. That complicated things a little. “Thanks, John. Really.” He let out that little tough-guy growl that said I wasn’t supposed to thank him. “What’s your favorite color?”

His brow furrowed as we zoomed onto the interstate. “Green. Why?”

“No reason.”

But he knew. After all, he’s a telepath, and while he didn’t say anything, I saw the flash of his teeth by the light of the instrument panel.

“Shame we don’t have the fly to give us some idea of what’s happening inside the facility.”

He twitched his thumb toward the rear seat. “It’s back there. But I haven’t had time to correct the problems you reported yet.”

I unhooked my seat belt at just the wrong time—as he cranked the wheel hard to go around a slow-moving car—and I nearly fell into his lap. I threw up a hand to stabilize on the door and wound up doing a face plant on his chest. He brushed my hair out of his eyes without a word. If it weren’t for the crisis, I’d swear he swerved intentionally.

It took a little digging among the accumulated junk in the backseat, including a number of candy bar wrappers, to find the familiar box with the fly. It was sort of nice that he wasn’t a health fanatic. It’s hard to go out to dinner with someone who’s always criticizing the menu. And that might solve the gift issue. “Got it.”

“Not a box of chocolates. Please. It would feel weird.”

I raised my brows as I latched my seat belt again. “You know, it’s considered rude to intrude in a person’s thoughts.”

He tipped his head to the side and shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not like turning off the radio, you know. I have to concentrate not to hear. When I’m stressed, it’s harder to shut off.”

It was hard to argue with that. I remembered Ivy having more problems with ghosts and zombies when she was angry or afraid. “Then could you at least not comment on what you hear?”

“I’ll try. Sometimes it just slips out.”

That was likely the best I’d get. “By the way, what did the report say didn’t work on the fly?”

He flicked his eyes my way and they were narrowed in suspicion. “You say that like you didn’t write it.”

I shook my head as I opened the box. Everything looked the same, but all of a sudden I didn’t really trust myself to use it. “I didn’t. Have you ever heard of the Company? They track down supernatural hard targets.”

“Tough to be in this business for very long without hearing about them. Are you saying they got hold of my fly?” He didn’t sound happy about that. “Shit. Well, there goes that patent.”

Ouch. I hadn’t even thought about that. “Sorry about that. There was a Company man on the job I was doing. Calls himself John Jones.”

The harsh breath that came from Creede told me he knew Jones all too well. “Oh yeah. I know Jones. What sword did he hang over your head to get you to help? There’s always at least one and usually two. I’ve been there.”

“My friend Kevin Landingham was in danger. But I have to give Jones credit. He got us out of there pretty much intact. And, he did get someone to get the bullet out of my shoulder.” I automatically touched the spot. It was still amazing to me it wasn’t hurting.

Instead of growling as I expected, Creede reached across and squeezed my hand. There was real concern in his voice. “Try not to get shot tonight. Okay? Your luck is incredible, but it won’t hold out forever.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I knew someday the other boot was going to drop, but the best I could do was not think about it. “So tell me about the report you got.”

* * *

I’ve never actually tailgated a cop car with flashing lights in a speeding Ferrari and had the cop give way. About the only time that happens is in video games. But the bright orange glow on the horizon that had been making my stomach do flip-flops for miles was finally upon us. A trip that normally takes seven-plus hours on the interstate that most locals call the 5 only took four and a quarter. Wow. It was amazing just being in that car. According to Creede, his license plate was magically flashing with a green light that was tied to the A&C designation. The odd color behind drivers apparently makes them change lanes quickly. Nobody knows why.

As he pulled up next to a Highway Patrolman who was guiding traffic to the site, Creede glanced over at me. “You’re not going to be sensible about this, are you?”

I was already unhooking my seat belt. “Pfft. What do you think?”

He rolled down the window and flashed his glowing green card when the cop turned the flashlight in our direction. “Who’s the mage in charge?” Creede said, sounding like he’d asked that question before. I just kept my mouth shut.

“Special Agent Thomas Branch, sir. Take the main staked path and turn left.” He motioned at me with the light and I stretched my upper lip down over my fang tips. “Where’s your card?”

Creede started to speak: “She’s with m—”

“Detective Heather Alexander asked me to report in.” I flashed my state license after carefully putting a finger over the word “bodyguard.” It was nearly an identical card to the ones the freelance consultants to the police used. I’d done that trick a few times, and if the patrolman had never been punked by it before this would be a valuable lesson. “Where is she?”

Creede didn’t say a word, but there was humor on his face as he struggled not to smile.

“Down the main aisle and take the second right, ma’am.” The officer moved the light away and I put the license back in my front pocket. I’d have to do that trick more than once before I reached Alex—if I could find her at all. I really did want to talk to her and find out what in the hell had gone wrong.

Because it was hell on earth. When we got out of the car, the true extent of the situation became dreadfully clear. The fervent chanting of priests in Latin couldn’t quite block out the growls and unearthly screams that made my skin want to crawl off my bones. The ground was rumbling with an eerie intensity like the beginning of an earthquake but worse. I felt my muscles seize, and though I struggled to move, I couldn’t. Creede took my arm and pulled me forward a few feet and I suddenly felt better. “Outer barrier to keep the curious away. You going to be okay? Sure you don’t want to take the car back? I won’t think any less of you.”

I opened my mouth to reply when I heard a voice to my left: “Celia? What in the name of everything holy are you doing here?”

Creede and I both turned to see Father Matteo DeLuca, Bruno’s younger brother, storming our way. “Good to see you, Father,” Creede said with an outstretched hand.

Matty shook it absently, because his whole focus was on me. “It took me five hours to remove the taint of demon from your soul, Celia Graves. And this is how you repay me? By throwing yourself right back into the path of evil?”

If he thought guilt was going to work on me … well, he’d known me long enough to know better. “If I remember right, it took four hours to clean your soul after a certain vampire bite, Father. And yet here you are.”

Creede was struggling not to smile. “As much as I’d love to see who wins this tug-of-war, I’d better report in.”

He hadn’t walked two feet before he nearly ran straight into Bruno. Oh no. I could fight vampires, I could battle demons, but I didn’t want to face both Creede and Bruno in front of a priest.

My former fiancé’s face lit up when he saw me and he broke into a run. He nearly tackled me and swept me into his arms. The scent of him, the power that flowed over my skin, felt good and right. He was as handsome as ever, and having him near me made my heart beat an extra thump. “Thank heavens you’re safe, Celie! I’ve been worried sick. You didn’t call and the house was empty.”