Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (12 page)

“Eddie’s a Hunter, too,” I said. “And considering the way David just popped up out of the blue, who knows? Maybe San Diablo is flooded with rogue Hunters that I don’t know anything about.” uddenly I was feeling a bit less special. If San Diablo was well-protected, maybe my return to the workforce wasn’t necessary after all. I could quit, return to my old way of life, and just be Kate Connor, toddler-wrangling soccer mom.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that possibility.

I dropped Laura back
at her house, then called Fran to check on Timmy. After she informed me that both he and Elena were napping on Fran’s living room floor, I decided to head for Cutter’s studio. Brian, the demon, and Laura’s arm had foiled my plan to get in a workout. But there were a few things I wanted to talk with him about, and I figured now was a good time to do it. After all, I knew better than to interrupt Timmy’s nap. Trust me, a demon has no fury like a little boy deprived of sleep.

Cutter’s place—the Victor Leung Martial Arts Academy— is in a strip shopping center right at the entrance to our subdivision. I’d originally picked the place because of its proximity to my house and the 7-Eleven next door, which meant I could work out and stock up on milk all in the same trip.

The name had been a draw, too, but I’d quickly learned that Victor didn’t exist. Sean Tyler, aka Cutter, had made it up, rightly figuring that it would more effectively draw in the customers.

In fact, Cutter shouldn’t have had to resort to such blatant advertising ploys. He’s one of the best martial arts experts I’ve ever met, and his resume is as long as my arm. He’s a black belt several times over and he put his skills to practical use in the military.

His best qualification, though? He’s patient. He’s known since the first day I laid him out that I had a secret or two— call it stereotyping if you want to, but there aren’t that many near-forty moms who could take down a former Special Ops commando—and yet he’s never pushed me to reveal anything about my past. The strong, silent type—that’s Cutter. And although I’ve known him for less than a year, I already knew I could trust him with my life. I could probably trust him with my secret, too. But I wasn’t quite ready to go there yet.

He was finishing up a kickboxing class as I came in, and nodded for me to wait for him. Usually I work out a minimum of three times each week, but over the holidays, I’d cut back, and I have to admit it was nice to see him again.

I sat in one of the chairs along the side of the dojo and watched the class work. Most of them were women, and most I recognized—moms who lived in the neighborhood, taking advantage of the time when their kids were in school to get a good workout.

For the most part, their form was decent. But this was all about toning and building self-confidence. Maybe the guttural yell would scare off an attacker, but maybe it wouldn’t. And I’d hate to think what would happen if a demon passed one of these women in a dark alley and decided to cause a little mischief. One dead housewife might make a nice home for a waiting demon, after all.

I shivered a little, not liking the direction of my thoughts. There was a reason I’d agreed to come out of retirement, and those women were part of it. Even if San Diablo overflowed with rogue Demon Hunters turned high school chemistry teachers, I knew I’d stay on. My work might be secret, but it was important. And even though they didn’t know it, those women were depending on me.

I spent the next five minutes watching Cutter finish the class. As they kicked and shifted and bounced, I watched and coached and silently urged them to chamber a little bit tighter, keep their arms a little bit stiffer, plant their feet a little bit harder.

Finally, Cutter dismissed the class and headed in my direction. “What do you think?”

“They look good,“ I said.

“Not as good as you,“ he said with a grin.

“If they did, you’d be out of work.”

“True enough.“ He headed toward his desk and I followed. “Just give me a few minutes and we can work out.”

“Not today.“ I wasn’t dressed for a workout, but it wasn’t unusual for Cutter to assume that’s why I was there. I’d long ago convinced him that I had no intention of wearing a gi to work out. Why should I? I’d never once met a demon who would let me run home and change.

“No?“ he said, stopping short of his desk, so that he was right in front of me, with no barrier between us. ”In that case, to what do I owe the pleasure? Or is this the day I finally learn your secrets, Kate Connor, woman of mystery?”

He said the last in such a deep, melodramatic voice, that I had to laugh. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m out of luck again. Tossed aside. Kicked to the curb. No, no. Don’t try to make me feel better. I know I’m just a black belt to you.”

“But a charming black belt.”

He grinned. “Well, yeah. That part goes without saying.”

“Actually, you’re not too far off the mark. I’m not here to reveal all, but I was hoping to get a little help from you.”

He immediately turned serious—another reason I liked Cutter so much. “Whatever you need.”

I hesitated a little bit. Other than Allie and Laura, I hadn’t shared the details of the Eric mystery with anybody. But the truth was, I wanted help. More, I needed it.

And, yes, I trusted Cutter. So maybe this was my way of testing him. Get his help with a smaller secret, and work my way up to the bigger one.

“Do you remember that time you bumped into me in the bank?”

“You’d found a safe-deposit box key and you were trying to figure out which bank to go to.”

“Right,“ I said. “And I did.”

He waited patiently, and for that I gave him even more credit.

“I found the box, and it had a single slip of paper in it. A note from my first husband.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t good news?”

“He was murdered, Sean.”

Pity and sadness filled his face. “Oh, Kate,“ he said, and the pain in his voice so reflected my own deep hurt that I couldn’t hold the tears back. They flowed down my cheeks, my shoulders shaking with the effort to pull them back in, to make it so that this had never happened.

Cutter said nothing, just pulled me close so that my face was pressed against his shoulder and let me cry it out.

I let him hold me as I tried to control my breathing, my body trembling with the effort of fighting to regain control. After a moment, I finally had it together enough to pull back and wipe my eyes and nose with the tissue he silently handed me.

“I’m sorry,“ I said.

“Don’t be.“ Then he grinned and wiped at his now-damp shoulder. “Although I will say that you do always seem to be dousing me with water.”

I rolled my eyes at his feeble attempt at humor. During our first meeting, I’d splashed him with holy water. Just to be on the safe side.

“Feel better?”

“Yes,“ I admitted. “And no.“ The no was for the embarrassment factor. And I was tempted to go out on the mat with him, just to prove that I could beat him up despite crying on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,“ he said, apparently understanding. “If your husband was murdered, I think you have cause to be a little shook up. Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.“ I explained that the note led to another one, and between the two, insinuated that Eric had gotten in over his head with something, but I didn’t know what. That much, of course, was true. I conveniently neglected to mention that I knew the general subject of Eric’s involvement—demons.

“Eric’s note said I should go talk to an old friend in Los Angeles,“ I continued. “But he’d passed away not long before I got there.”

“So you’re at a dead end.”

“Literally.”

He hooked a leg over his desk. “Fair enough, but what can I do?”

“Think like a guy,“ I said. “What would you do?”

“You mean if I’d gotten involved in something that might get me killed? But I didn’t want my wife to know about it?”

I scowled, but he’d pretty much nailed it. “Didn’t want your wife to know about it unless something went wrong.”

“I’d tell a confidante,“ he said. “Although it sounds like Eric did that. The dead guy in L.A., right?”

“You’re not helping me here, Cutter.”

“I’m just getting warmed up,“ he said. “If it were me, I’d have a backup plan. In case my confidante died. After all, if it’s the kind of thing that can kill me ...”

He had a point. “And?“ I prompted.

“Hide in plain sight,“ he said. “Who paid the bills?”

“I did.”

“Did he have a desk? A pile where he kept scraps of paper? A box of stuff that was sent home from his old job after he died?”

“I’ve been through all of that,“ I said. “I looked at every single thing after he died.”

“But you weren’t looking for clues then.”

“No,“ I said, agreeing with him. “I wasn’t. I just wanted to keep as much of him around me as possible.”

“Do you still have the stuff?”

I nodded. I hadn’t been able to bear to part with it. “It’s in the storage shed. A pile of banker’s boxes.”

“I’d take another look,“ he said. “This time, you might see something you missed.”

I thought about that, and hoped he was right.

“What about the safe-deposit box?“ he asked.

“What about it? There was only the one piece of paper in it.”

“Are you sure Eric didn’t have another one?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. The fact that he had one at all was enough of a shock.”

“You were named on it, right?”

“Right. I don’t remember signing for it, but I must have.”

“So maybe he also had one all by his little lonesome.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That Eric had a secret bank box that we both could access was one thing. That he’d had one entirely separate from me—a box that existed essentially outside our marriage, meant to hold his secrets—well, that was another thing altogether.

I thought about what Laura had said about cheating, about how she could never forgive Paul. Eric hadn’t done that, at least not that I knew. But I hated this feeling—as if I’d lost a level of intimacy with my husband.

Even more, I hated the fact that a year ago I would have vehemently defended Eric against any claim that he was cheating on me. Now, my protests would still come but without quite the same amount of vigor.

“Why don’t I poke around for you?“ Cutter said.

I realized I was looking at my hands, and now I looked up, grateful for the support. I didn’t relish the idea of traipsing around town looking for a mysterious secret box that might or might not exist. If Cutter was willing to inquire for me, I was more than happy to let him.

“Thanks,“ I said, expecting him to tease me that payment for services rendered would be the revelation of my secrets. He didn’t, though, and I appreciated that. All in all, the man was a good friend. “Thanks,“ I repeated, this time going up on my toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Oh, no you don’t,“ he said. “I can stand your tears once because your husband was killed. Tears because I did a nice thing? No way. You’ll completely burn me out on good deeds.”

I laughed, then sniffed. “No tears,“ I said. “Totally dry here.”

“Glad to hear it,“ he said. I started walking to the door, and he followed. “How’s Allie doing?”

“She’s good,“ I said. “I mean, after what happened ...”

I trailed off. Everyone in town knew what had happened at the museum. Cutter had called me the day the story hit the papers, then called Allie and sent her flowers and a stuffed bear dressed in a karate outfit.

“I was only—“ He cut himself off with a wave of his hand.

“What?“ I demanded, hearing more than just curiosity in his tone. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“Cutter ...”

He sighed. “Dammit, Kate. I’m probably breaking a confidence here.”

“She’s my daughter and she’s fourteen. Screw confidence.”

“It’s just that she was already so ramped up about learning to defend herself. Before what happened, I mean. Private lessons. Extra sessions. The works.”

“And?“ I prompted. That much, at least, was old news.

“So Christmas Eve, she calls me. Tells me that this semester she wants to step it up even more. Get in more practice, really kick it up a notch.”

I nodded, trying to look unconcerned, but with a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. “Did she say why?”

“Not specifically,“ he said.

I tried to shrug it off. “Well, it makes sense that she wants to be more prepared. After what happened, I mean.”

“True, but this seemed to be more than that.”

“What do you mean?“ I asked warily.

He shook his head. “Almost like she had an agenda. I don’t know. I’m not really sure. Honestly, that’s why I wasn’t even sure I should mention it to you.”

I sighed. It didn’t matter if Cutter was sure or not. I was.

My daughter was training to kick demon butt. And she was doing it without me.

Six

“Stone,“ David said,
leaning against his desk and tapping a finger against his lower lip. “I don’t have a clue.“

“Damn,“ I said, leaning back against a giant periodic table of elements that had been affixed to an entire wall of David’s classroom. “I’d hoped—”

“That since the demons attacked me first that maybe the mention of a stone would jog my memory? Make me suddenly recall that I’d tangled with a badass demon named Andramelech?”

“Something like that,“ I admitted sheepishly.

He laughed. “Sorry, Katie. I don’t think this one’s going to be that easy.”

“No,“ I said dryly, “I’m beginning to get that impression.“

“I don’t like that a demon came to your house,“ he said, taking a step closer to me. He looked down at Timmy, who’d made himself comfortable on the floor. “The kids.”