Demon Ex Machina: Tales of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (29 page)

I frowned. “I guess we won’t know that until we’re done looking.”

She glanced up at the clock. “You staying or coming with me?” Since Laura was working that night at Cutter’s, our plan was for her to pick up Allie and Mindy and take them with her. Convenient for me since Allie could get in an extra class. As for Mindy, she could either cheer her friend on or do homework.

“I’m staying,” I said. “I’ll pick up the girls after class and take them to my house after we pick up Timmy. If you want Mindy to stay the night . . .” I added, letting my voice trail off into suggestiveness.

“We’re not that serious yet,” she said. “Honestly, I still can’t figure out why he’s interested in me at all.”

I shrugged. “Brains and good looks,” I said. “After all, you can balance his books. And you do look cute in a
gi
, even if your crescent kicks are for shit.”

Laura laughed, which was just the reaction I was going for.

“Fine. Okay. I’m off.” She nodded at the still tall but significantly less intimidating pile of books. “I’ll expect a full report in the morning.”

“If my eyes don’t fall out from the strain, you’ll have it.”

An hour later, I was beginning to think that I hadn’t been exaggerating. My eyes were dry and sandy, and no matter how many times I blinked, I couldn’t seem to clear them. My throat felt scratchy, most likely from the mustiness of the old books. And I was absolutely certain that the windowless walls of the rare books room were closing in on me.

In other words, I wanted the hell out of there.

There were, however, only three books left. At least in this batch. Betty had come bounding in twenty minutes earlier to inform me that she’d forgotten to tell me about five titles that had been shipped down to UCLA as part of an inter-library loan. She’d requested the books’ return and promised she’d call me when they were in.

Oh, yay.

In the meantime, in the spirit of thoroughness, I had to look through this last trio of tomes. I pulled the top book off and turned to the first page. When I saw that it was in Latin, I almost put it aside, but, honestly, I was too afraid of missing something important. So I flipped pages, looking for familiar Latin words or clues that Eric had found something interesting in the book. About two-thirds of the way in, I found what I was looking for—a page, completely missing. It had been ripped free, leaving a scar of jagged, yellowed paper behind. And although my Latin is for shit, I could at least catch the gist of the words on the surrounding pages. The section was talking about trapping and binding evil. And if the missing page was specific to Odayne, then I’d just found what we were looking for.

Too bad it had gone missing.

Frowning, I made a note of the book, then left the rare books room and headed for the circulation desk. “The rare books don’t circulate, right?”

“That’s right,” Betty said. “I’m sorry it’s inconvenient, but it’s the only way we can ensure the integrity of the material.”

“Right. No problem. I totally get it. But is it possible to tell me whose pulled a particular book?”

“Well, now, I don’t know.” She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, and I could just imagine her head filling with concerns about policy, privacy, and the First Amendment.

“I just don’t want to duplicate work with my team,” I said, hoping that made sense despite the fact that I’d never given her specifics as to why I wanted to look at Eric’s acquisitions, much less laid out for her the duties of my imaginary team. “If I can review the list for this book, I can rule things out quickly enough.”

Her lips pursed as she checked the computer, then relaxed as she looked back at me. “I don’t suppose I can do much damage telling you one name, now can I?”

“Just one? Since when?”

“Since Eric died, dear. These books don’t get that much use. Fine collection he pulled together, don’t get me wrong. But it doesn’t get much practical use, you see.”

“Right. So, um, who looked at the book?”

“David Long.” She peered up at me. “Do you know him, dear?”

I nodded, smiled bright, and tried not to let her see that my insides were churning. “Oh, yes. He’s on the team, all right. How long ago did he request the book?” I expected her to cite a date that corresponded more or less to Eric’s return in David’s body. After all, surely he would have come straight here and started to research the problem again.

So I wasn’t at all prepared when Betty beamed owlishly at me from behind her silver frames, then firmly announced that David had been in only three short days before.

“That recent?” I asked. “You’re sure?” I was leaning against the counter, trying unsuccessfully to lean in and see her computer screen.

“Of course, dear. Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Betty. “Of course not. Thanks so much for checking.” I started to step away, then thought of another question. “Has Mr. Long been to the rare books room often?”

“You are a hard taskmaster, aren’t you?” she asked as she tapped keys. “But it’s good to check up on your employees. Hmmm.” She peered up at me. “I hope your Mr. Long isn’t supposed to come regularly, because the last time he was here was—goodness—four years ago.”

I swallowed. David was still David four years ago.

“And when he was in the other day,” I asked, “did he request any other books?”

Her eyes scanned the monitor as her fingers clicked. Then she shook her head. “No, just this one.” She peered at my face. “You’re sure there’s not a problem?”

“Positive,” I said. But I couldn’t escape the reality that something was very, very wrong. Yes, it was possible that David was simply continuing the research he’d started as Eric. And it was possible he’d decided to do that by focusing on one random book.

More likely, though, was the scenario that played through my mind. That the page in question held my answer—and the demon inside Eric didn’t want me to have it.

The possibility turned my stomach, because if the answer lay on a page out of a rare book—a page that had been stolen—I had no way of getting that information back. It wasn’t as if I could run down to Barnes & Noble and pick myself up another copy.

“Dammit, Eric,” I muttered. “Couldn’t you have fought?” My fear, of course, was that he couldn’t. That he was through fighting, and that I’d run out of time.

“I’m sorry, dear?” Betty said.

“Nothing. I’m wondering, is there a way to find out if other copies of that book exist?”

“Well, let me see.” She began tapping at the keyboard, her rhythm more or less in tune with the rhythm of my own tapping foot. “I can only access copies that have been databased online, and—why yes. The Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas has a copy, there’s a facsimile copy in Prague, and—oh! The Vatican library has a copy as well.” She looked up at me. “With a book this old, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn those are the only copies in existence,” she said, but I was no longer listening. My mind had stopped working at the mention of the Vatican.

Right there. The information was right there at Father Corletti’s fingertips and they’d missed it. Most likely because the binding spell was unique to Odayne, and until a few days ago, no one had realized it was him we were dealing with.

“Betty, you are a saint,” I said, then leaned across the counter to give her a quick hug. “I need to run, but I’ll be back.” I was gone before she had a chance to answer, my cell phone out, and my finger already pressed over the speed-dial button for Father Corletti.

Before I pushed, the phone buzzed in my hand. Irritated, I saw that it was Allie. “Not now, honey. I’ve got to call—”

“
Mom!
Oh, God, Mommy!”

Instantly, my heart was pounding, and I was racing for my car. “Are you all right? What’s happened? Where—”

“Cutter’s,” she said. “I’m fine. We’re fine. But, oh God, Mom! Get here fast.”

I found the closed sign
on the door when I got to Cutter’s, and the door locked. I was on the verge of smashing a rock through the glass when Laura rushed forward, looking both frazzled and exhausted. “Thank God you’re here,” she said after she’d unlocked the door and ushered me in. “Cutter wanted to call the police, and he thinks I’m crazy for—”

“What happened?” I interrupted, but by that time, I didn’t need to ask. We’d passed the partition that blocked part of the view of the workout area from the front doors, and I could see for myself well enough.

What happened was that a demon had died, stabbed through the eye with a Maybelline mascara wand.

I turned and found Allie, who shrugged and looked slightly green. “Mindy was doing her makeup,” she said. “It was handy.”

“Dammit, Kate,” Cutter said. “I’m calling the cops. I should have called fifteen minutes ago. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

“No.” I’d been looking at the demon—the old man from Coastal Mists that Eric assured us he’d killed. His face was now scarred with what I realized were holy water burns. Allie had been thorough, I thought, and felt a quick stab of pride. Now I looked up at Cutter and shook my head. “You have to trust me on this, Sean, but this isn’t a matter for the police.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a body on my floor.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Under the circumstances, that’s going to be inconvenient.”

“The crypt?” Laura suggested. She was crouched on the ground near Mindy, who sat with her back to the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

Mindy managed a quavering smile. “I told Allie I thought all of this was cool. Now, I’m not so sure.” She looked at me with big brown eyes brimming with tears. “It was gonna kill us, Aunt Kate. It was absolutely gonna kill us, and Allie stopped it.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t called the cops,” Cutter said. “Jesus, Allie. What’s going to happen to her?”

Laura gave Mindy’s head a kiss and then moved over to Cutter, getting right in his face. “Allie’s going to be fine,” she said. “She didn’t kill anyone.”

I saw Cutter’s eyes shift to Allie, who shrugged and nodded. “He’s not a person, Cutter. I swear to God.”

“But he’s a body,” I said firmly, trying to keep my mind on the problem. Cutter we could deal with. The body, we needed to get rid of. “And the crypts are out of the question. The bishop doesn’t know about the demons, and now isn’t the time to tell him.”

“Demons.” Cutter’s single word came out on a breath, and while I heard surprise, I also thought I heard a wisp of understanding. Or, maybe I was imagining things.

“Should we take the body to Daddy?” Allie asked.

I shook my head. “Eric’s not going to be able to help us this time.” I toed the demon, reining in the desire to kick the shit out of the corpse for attacking people I loved. “He came in here? Attacked you?”

Allie nodded. “Said he was going to kill me and then all the rest of us. He meant it, too. Cutter went after him, and the demon knocked him all the way back there,” she said, pointing to the far wall. “Musta really hurt, but it gave me time to get my spritzer bottle out of my backpack, because I remembered what you said about not assuming anything.”

“Someone’s in the process of killing you, you defend yourself and worry about the demon/human thing later,” I said. “But good girl for remembering.”

“Yeah, well, I got him in the face, you know. And the water burned the shit out of him.”

“Water?” Cutter said. “That wasn’t mace? Acid?”

“Holy water,” I said, keeping my eyes on Allie. “Then what?”

“I started whaling on him while he was clawing his face, and I shouted for Mindy to toss me something pointy, and she did and, well, there you go.”

I couldn’t hold the professional veneer any longer. I pulled her close and squeezed my eyes shut, afraid that once I started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

“He’s dead, Mom,” Allie said. “It’s over, and we’re all safe.”

I nodded, snuffled, and pulled my head up. “He’s dead, all right,” I said. “And apparently for the second time.”

“What?” Laura asked, but I could tell from Allie’s expression that she already knew what I was going to say.

“This is the man from the paper. The one we were going after at Coastal Mists.”

Laura frowned. “But I thought David told you that he’d killed it.”

“David?” Cutter asked. “David Long?”

“Apparently he lied,” I said, ignoring Cutter.

“You’re right, then,” Laura said. “We can’t ask him to do something about the body. Landfill?”

I shook my head. “Too dangerous. Hang on. I’ve got an idea.” I pulled out my cell phone, preparing to call Father Corletti and beg for a disposal team. I’d been denied them in the past—with
Forza
having all sorts of economic cutback problems, there simply weren’t teams available—but in the past I’d had other options.

“Wait,” Cutter said. “Just wait a damn minute. What in the name of God is going on?”

“He’s got that right,” Allie said, then started laughing so hard that I had to write it off to post-trauma hysterics.

“Demons? Bodies? Holy water? Answers, Kate. And this time, I really want them.”

I nodded. For a long time, I’d known the day would come when I’d share the truth with Cutter. And why not? I liked him. More than that, I trusted him.

“I mean it,” he said, apparently taking my silence for hesitation. “Tell me what’s going on.” He reached out and took Laura’s hand, pulling her slightly closer to him as he spoke.

I looked at the two of them and, in spite of everything else, I smiled. “Go ahead, Laura,” I said, as I moved across the room with my phone. “Tell him everything.”

 

 

“Nobody leaves, nobody moves,
” I said, pointing to the cluster of people now in my living room. It was after six now, and I’d insisted Stuart come home with pizza, which was now getting cold on the kitchen counter as everyone waited for me to finish running through my instructions. “I’m only going to be gone an hour or so, and I want everyone inside, safe and sound, when I get back.”