Demon Ex Machina: Tales of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (4 page)

“Thanks,” she said, then cocked her head as if saying,
And your kid?

I sighed and rubbed my fingertips to my forehead. “I get the problem, but the truth is that she’s applying herself like never before. Granted, her focus is on demons and theology and mysterious events in ancient history, but the kid’s organized and focused and she’s doing damn good work. She just needs to direct some of that energy to what the state of California wants her to learn. Manage that, and she’ll be golden. At the very least, she’ll survive finals.” That was my hope, actually: that I could get her focused and applied these last few weeks. Nail her final exams and she’d start sophomore year with a clean slate.

“Maybe David can pull some strings and get her credit for independent study,” Laura said. I’m pretty sure she was joking, but the idea wasn’t half bad. After all, what good was it for Allie’s dead father to have returned to life in the body of one of her teachers if she couldn’t even land a decent grade out of the deal?

I frowned and rubbed my temples before taking another sip of Baileys. Only a few months ago, the mention of David or Eric would have put a warm, fuzzy, slightly guilty feeling in my stomach. Now all it did was scare me.

“Have you figured anything out?” Laura asked, eyeing me with concern. Because she knew as well as I did that the conversation had taken a massive left turn. We’d abandoned the comparatively tame
dead-first-husband-in-living-chemistry-teacher
topic to Serious Stuff. The big-time. The absolute worst of the worst.

“Nothing,” I confessed, desperately wishing I had a more satisfactory answer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. There are just some things you have to be in the right frame of mind to talk about, and the fact that a demon is growing inside your first husband pretty much tops that list.

Apparently that little hitchhiker had been inside my beloved for a long, long time. Dormant for a while, and more recently peeking out from its slumber to make a few bids for control of the body it was time-sharing with Eric. Not that I’d known any of that during our years as hunting and marital partners. And to be honest, I was still coming to grips with this new take on my reality.

Three weeks had passed since I’d learned about the demon inside Eric. Three weeks since we’d defeated Goramesh and Abaddon. Three weeks since Father Ben had died.

The pain still clung to me. The impotence I’d felt in not being able to save him. And now that horrible sense of helplessness was magnified tenfold in the face of Eric’s distress. Not only because I didn’t have answers, but because Eric had made it clear he didn’t want me looking for them.

Not that his wishes had stopped me. I’d been on the phone daily with Father Corletti, but though he’d offered comfort, we’d found no practical solutions. How the demon came to be in Eric, he said, was a story for Eric alone to tell. He shared with me only what he knew and thought was relevant to our search for answers: that the demon had lain inside Eric since birth. That it had been bound within, but was now peeking out, seeking to merge with Eric. Seeking to become one.

Clinging to hope, Father and I had been in full research mode, plowing through ancient texts in the hopes of finding similar accounts. But to say the situation was rare would be an understatement, and we’d found no precedent, no clues, no secret incantations for either forcing the demon out of Eric or locking him up inside, dormant once again.

My frustration was rising along with my fear. If we didn’t figure something out before the demon fully broke free, Eric would be gone, only a demon would be left. And I was a Demon Hunter.

“What does Eric say?” Laura asked. “What’s he doing?”

“He tells me he’s doing fine. After all, he’s known about the demon for years and years,” I said, a little more icily than I intended. “Sorry. I get pissy.”

Laura’s smile was pure maternal, and I have to admit I appreciated it. “You’re entitled.”

I frowned because she was right. I
was
entitled. Eric had known about the demon throughout most of his life and all of our marriage. And yet he’d never told me. He’d taken the burden on himself, certain he could figure out a way to solve the problem and free himself. The veil of secrecy had been blown three weeks ago, however, when the culmination of a prophecy had proven that there was a demon inside Eric. I knew the truth now, and while I was angry and frustrated that he’d never told me, I was also terrified for the man I loved.

“Can you, um, tell?” Laura asked, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I mean, can you see . . .
it
?”

“Not really,” I said. “His temper is edgier, but it would be, you know?”

“Stress,” Laura said, knowingly.

“The truth is, he’s not letting me see a lot. He tells me he’s in control and he’s been doing research. He says he’s got a plan and there’s no way he’s letting the demon get the better of him.”

“Do you believe him?”

I hesitated. “I want to. Father says that Eric’s been looking for a solution for months. Scouring old records and jumping through all sorts of hoops. He even thinks that Eric might have found the answer.”

“But?”

“But Eric hasn’t officially told
Forza
. Hasn’t even unofficially told Father Corletti. And even though we’re still patrolling together, he’s dodging my questions and shutting me out. Shutting us all out. Me. Father.
Forza
.”

She took my hand in sympathy. “It’s harder on him than it is on you,” she said. “He’s all alone. And he’s going through a lot.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And he needs help. It’s not like he’s got a sinus infection. This isn’t going away simply because he hides in the dark and wishes it gone.”

She squeezed my fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate that he’s not coming to me,” I said, my voice thin as we got down to the heart of the matter.

“He probably hates it, too,” she said. “But I can see why he’s not. You’ve got Stuart, after all.”

I nodded, knowing it was true. Knowing that I was selfish for wanting Eric to still depend on me even after Stuart and I had repaired the rifts in our marriage. I loved him, though, and the thought that he was going through this alone broke my heart.

“Have you told Stuart?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I told him last week.” I’d hated doing it. Stuart’s acceptance of my world was still understandably fragile. But he’d sworn an oath to take me “for better or for worse,” and he’d come back to me promising to honor that oath.

Since a demon-possessed ex-husband definitely counted as a tick-mark in the “for worse” column, I had to force Stuart to put his money where his mouth was.

“Exactly,” Laura said, when I explained all of that. “Full disclosure. My little girl’s growing up.”

“It wasn’t easy,” I admitted. “He left because he was scared of the danger inherent in my job. Now the danger’s gotten personal.”

“It was always personal, Kate.”

Score one for Laura.

“Are you scared?”

“Of Eric?” The idea of being scared of Eric seemed hugely disloyal. “Let’s just say I’m worried.”

“What about Allie? Is she worried, too?”

“Absolutely not. The demon may be coming,” I said, “but it isn’t here. Not yet. Eric’s still patrolling. He’s killing demons side by side with me. He’s still Eric,” I said, filling my voice with certainty. “And she hasn’t got a clue.”

“You sure about that?”

I hesitated, my chest tight merely from the suggestion. I didn’t want to believe, but more than that, I
didn’t
believe. “She never heard the description of who could wield the sword,” I said, referring to the vaguely worded prophecy that, ultimately, had proven the existence of Eric’s demonic hitchhiker.

“She might have read it. Overheard you talking. Figured it out somehow.”

“She would have told me,” I said, then frowned as Laura stared me down. I knew what she was thinking without her having to say a word. Allie was fourteen years old. And although I might have an exceptionally close relationship with my adolescent Hunter-in-training, I was an idiot if I thought she confided all to me. I caved. “Or maybe you’re right. I’ll pay attention. See if I can figure out if she knows without actually telling her.”

“Secrets within secrets,” Laura said.

“Welcome to my world,” I deadpanned. “Completely screwed up, but always interesting.”

“Would it help if I told you I was pretty sure my husband actually is a demon?”

I almost cracked a smile but managed to bite it back.

“Didn’t think so,” she said.

“I can kill him for you,” I said. “If he’s demonic, it’s totally within my province.”

“Tempting,” she admitted. “But probably not the best idea.” She got up and started moving around the kitchen, wiping the squeaky-clean counter down with a damp rag and otherwise telegraphing the fact that she didn’t know what to say or how to make me feel better. And the hell of it was, I couldn’t help her out. I didn’t know what I needed, either, except to have Eric back to normal. And I didn’t have a clue how to get there. To be brutally honest, after everything that had happened, I wasn’t even sure what normal was anymore.

“They didn’t stay too long at the mansion,” Laura said, peering through her kitchen curtains.

“Hmm?” I said, my mind on Eric and secrets and the messiness of life in general.

“Your house,” she said. “Someone’s home.”

That
got my attention. “No way,” I said. I glanced at the clock. “It hasn’t even been an hour.”

She didn’t bother to respond, just stepped to the side, taking the curtain with her so that a triangle of window was revealed. Laura lives one street over, her house backing up to mine, with only a utility easement separating our two properties. From her kitchen window, she had a mostly unobstructed view of our back porch and living room. Our storage shed blocked her view of the kitchen, but at the moment, that didn’t matter. Because I saw it, too. The lights on downstairs. And the shadow moving within.

“You’ll watch him a little longer?” I said, nodding toward Timmy, who’d been sacked out on the couch when I’d arrived, and hadn’t moved once during our entire conversation.

“You’re going over there? Call Stuart. Hell, call the police.”

I considered that plan for about ten seconds before dismissing it. “If Stuart’s home, I’ll know soon enough. If it’s a demon, I’m more qualified than the cops.”

“And if it’s a plain, old-fashioned burglar?”

“Then the odds are good I’ll scare him off,” I said.

“And if not?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I can handle myself.”

“Jesus, Kate,” she said, but it didn’t matter, I already had her kitchen door open, and was slipping my jacket back on. The one with the stiletto conveniently hidden in the sleeve.

“Grab the holy water out of my purse and toss it here,” I said. “Keys, too.”

She frowned, but complied. “Promise me you won’t end up dead,” she said.

I stepped over the threshold and onto her back stoop. “I promise,” I said. It was an oath I’d sworn innumerable times. So far, at least, I hadn’t broken my word.

I figured that had to count for something.

 

 

The house was shadow-free
as I approached, and I began to wonder if Laura and I were simply being paranoid. Maybe a cloud had passed over the moon. Maybe headlights hitting the front of the house had transformed my wooden coatrack into a wraith.

Or maybe I was engaging in some serious wishful thinking.

Keeping my senses sharp, I moved toward my house. The lights had been on inside, but I knew that didn’t mean the outside was necessarily clear. My intruder could have a companion, and the last thing I wanted was to get jumped on the way to my own ambush. So despite my eagerness to figure out what was going on, I moved slowly and with precision. A good plan in general, actually, considering that the length and breadth of the Timmy-created path of destruction had transformed our yard into a veritable warzone, complete with tiny Timmy toy land mines.

I eased my way around a pile of plastic soldiers, gently kicked aside an inflated beach ball, and skirted the empty dinosaur sandbox.

I moved to my left, edging up against the side of our storage shed, then peered cautiously around the corner, half-expecting a demon to rush me. When none did, I let out a quick sigh and continued forward. I remembered our motion-sensing back-porch light too late, and sprang sideways as it flashed on, hoping it would flash immediately off before my uninvited guest noticed me.

Stock-still in the shadows, I watched the house, frozen for longer than was comfortable until I was certain that I’d remained unnoticed.

Then I edged around the front of the storage shed, my back only inches from the structure, staying clear of the light’s effective range until I reached the corner of the house.

We have a picture window in the breakfast area that looks out over the backyard. That window had, in fact, been my re-entree into the world of demon hunting, and I found it ironic that I was now on the outside, hands and face pressed to the glass, as I peered inside, hoping to catch sight of a demon.

And, yeah, I really did hope to see something. To my way of thinking, finding a demon in my house was a lot better than not finding a demon—and spending the rest of the night wondering what the heck Laura and I had seen.

Unfortunately, my prolonged peering revealed no movement, though I did notice that the light at the top of the stairs was on, as was the overhead light in the living room. The second one we left on almost constantly, so that was no surprise, but the light at the top of the stairs had recently shown signs of shorting out, making it necessary to jiggle the switch in order to get any light at all. Because I’m way more afraid of fires than I am of demons—and because Stuart hadn’t managed to fix one little switch despite assuring me that he had the skill to tackle an entire mansion—I’d gotten into the habit of making sure the light remained off unless someone was actually going up or down the stairs.