Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (22 page)

I tilted my head. ”Stranger?”

He shrugged. ”I’m sorry. I was on edge afterward. You said you didn’t know him, and I should have believed you.”

I nodded, my chest tight, as Eddie silently watched me. ”Thanks,“ I said, fighting the word out past the guilt. ”Apology accepted.”

“So today’s the big day, eh?“ Eddie said, as Stuart reached past me to pour a cup of coffee.

“It is,“ Stuart said.

“Do you need me there today?“ I wasn’t entirely sure what the announcing process was, but I remembered that Stuart had mentioned a press conference.

“It’ll just be a two-minute deal, but I’d love to have my wife next to me on the podium.”

“I’ll be there,“ I promised, scribbling a note as to time and place.

And then he headed out, leaving me at home with Eddie and my guilt.

Or rather, with Eddie and my kids and my guilt.

I’ll say one thing for parenthood: Once the kids are awake, there’s very little time to wallow in your own guilt-filled cesspool.

The next hour was a flurry of blessedly mindless activity as I got Timmy dressed and fed, helped Allie find a purple T-shirt that had mysteriously disappeared, and then got Timmy dressed again after an accident involving a glass of milk and a strawberry Pop-Tart.

I had one moment of panic when Allie declined my offer to stay home for the day. I didn’t tell her about the dancing demon’s threat, because even though she now knew about the demons, I didn’t want her seeing danger around every corner. I wanted her safe and careful, not terrified.

And, of course, the fact that David had killed that particular demon made me feel a bit safer about the prospect. Even so, just to be sure, I sucked in a breath, steadied my nerves, and dialed David’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Kate, I—”

“I need you to watch Allie,“ I said from my hideaway in the upstairs bathroom. ”Make sure she’s safe at school today. Hang around cheerleader practice after if you have to.”

“Of course,“ he said. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you,“ I whispered, realizing suddenly how nice it was to share responsibility. “Thank you.”

“Katie, about last night. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. It’s okay. It was a mist—“ I cut myself off and started again. “It wasn’t something we should have done. Stress and fear and too much adrenaline. You know as well as I do that’s a bad combination.”

“Very bad,“ he said. “So we’re okay?“ ”Absolutely,“ I said with more certainty than I felt. “Totally okay.”

”This is so not okay,“
I said to Eddie and Laura after I got back from taking the kids to school. “Hellhounds and demon birds.“ I shuddered. “I almost got killed.“

“And he called it a vessel this time,“ Laura said. “Instead of just the stone. Do you think that’s important?”

“I don’t know. I’m guessing Andramelech is trapped in the stone, and so they call it the vessel because it holds the demon. But maybe there’s some other significance?”

I looked at Eddie, who lifted his hands. “Not my area,“ he said. “Only vessel I got my hands on holds whiskey.”

I caught Laura’s eye and grimaced. I could tell she was trying hard not to laugh.

“So we’ve got the threat, the vessel thing, and the mention of Nadia,“ Laura said. “Anything else significant?”

I thought about the kiss, and firmly shook my head.

“Like hell,“ Eddie said. “David survived. I’d say that’s damn significant.”

“Yeah, well, I feel the same way about me surviving,“ I said.

“You didn’t see how he got away. Said yourself you were hanging from a cliff. Said the demon was on top of him and the hound about to rip his throat out. So why didn’t they, Kate? Why didn’t they?”

“Because David fought,“ I said. “Just like any Hunter. He fought, and he won.”

Eddie snorted. “Once, sure. But three times? The beach, his apartment, and now this? Sounds to me like the man’s charmed, eh? Either that, or these attacks are all a ruse to make us trust the boy.”

“Eddie, would you drop it already?“ I said. “I do trust him. And if surviving a demon attack is your indication that a Hunter’s gone bad, then I must be a minion of Hell, too.”

My logic was perfectly fine, but Eddie snorted anyway. ”He saved me,“ I said. “There’s nothing nefarious going on,“ I insisted. “Not with David, anyway.”

“You ain’t thinking with your brain,“ he said, his gaze dropping to right about my crotch.

“Eddie!”

He snorted. “Just calling it like I see it. And if you were using your head, you’d see what’s going on, too.”

“You’re wrong,“ I said, but I’m afraid my words lacked the proper conviction, because my mind was already off and running elsewhere.

Eddie’s belief stemmed from his continuing conviction that Eric had used the black arts to become David. Now, I took that a step further. Because if David really was Eric—if he’d lied to me that day on the beach—then I was off the hook for kissing him.

Wasn’t I?

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, telling myself that not only was I being ridiculous, but that I had more important things to worry about at the moment. When I opened them again, I saw Laura staring at me, her head tilted curiously to one side. Because I was in that kind of a mood, I was just about to snap at her and ask what she was looking at. Fortunately for me—and our friendship—the doorbell rang. I sprinted to the front hall faster than I usually did when anticipating door-to-door solicitors, and pulled open the door.

“Cutter!“ I said. “Thank goodness.”

“I like your enthusiasm,“ he said, stepping not only inside my house, but also into my personal space.

I took a step backward. “I thought you were some obnoxious salesman.”

“I’m not obnoxious,“ he said, then grinned lasciviously. ”But are you in the market?”

I ignored him and cocked my head toward the kitchen. ”Come on in.”

“You’re not going to correct me about the obnoxious part?“ he asked.

I paused and turned, flashing him my brightest smile. ”There’s nothing to correct,“ I said.

“You’re wicked, Kate.”

“Trust me, Cutter. You don’t know wicked.”

He returned my smile, watt for watt. “Oh, but Kate, I’d like to.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sit,“ I said, indicating a chair by Laura. “Coffee?”

“Sure.“ Then, “Hey, Laura. Eddie.”

Laura greeted him back, but Eddie just made a strange noise in the back of his throat. As a rule, he likes Cutter, so I could only assume that was some sort of indicator of approval.

“Not to sound like a poor hostess,“ I said, putting a cup of coffee in front of him, “but why are you here?”

Cutter had never been to my house before, and there was something surreal about seeing him now, sitting casually at my table, his denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him and a black T-shirt doing only an adequate job of covering up the bulk of his muscular arms and chest.

“I have some news for you, so I thought I’d bring it by. You seemed anxious, so I thought you’d rather have it now than wait until our next session.“ He shrugged. “And I thought in person seemed more appropriate than by phone.”

“You have news? About Eric?“ I couldn’t believe he’d actually learned something.

He shot a quick glance at Eddie and Laura, as if questioning whether it was okay to talk in front of them.

“Go on,“ I said. “They know the story.”

“Turns out Eric had a P.O. box at one of those private mailbox places. The one on Main.”

“Oh,“ I said, a bit taken aback. Because even though I’d known that my husband had been up to something, the revelation that he’d gone out of his way to set up a mailbox away from work and home stung. “Was there anything in it?”

“Unfortunately it’s a mailbox, not a safe-deposit box. The mail that came in after he died just stayed in there until the lease on the box expired.”

“And then?”

“Then my friend didn’t know. He assumed the previous owners shipped it back to the post office. Or shredded it.”

“Your friend?“ Laura asked.

Cutter nodded, then took a sip of his coffee before answering. ”Yeah, he bought four of the PostPlace franchises about two years ago. But by the time he took over, the box was empty.“ He looked at me. “And he had no memory of Eric at all. He did pull the old records for me, though. According to the fax log, he used their location to send and receive a few faxes.”

“Did they keep incoming and outgoing fax numbers?“ I asked.

“Indeed they did,“ he said, his expression more than a little smug. “Apparently he received and sent mostly to Rome and Los Angeles. But then around December and into early January, he started communicating with someone in San Francisco.”

I pressed my lips together. Eric had been killed the second week of January.

“Any chance of getting the fax numbers?“ Eddie asked.

“Already did,“ Cutter said. “The calls to Rome go to an office in the Vatican.“ As he said that, he looked at me, and I tried hard not to react. It had never occurred to me that by asking him to help with the Eric mystery I’d be drawing him closer to my own secrets, too.

“That’s odd,“ Laura said, obviously trying to cover for me.

“Eric was an expert in rare books,“ I said, which was actually true. He’d been trained by Forza, and that training had come in handy when he’d gone to look for a civilian job. He’d even been able to put the Vatican on his resume, although the Forza connection was conspicuously absent.

“The Vatican has a massive library,“ Cutter said. “That could be what the calls were about.”

He didn’t sound convinced, though. “What doesn’t fit?“ I asked.

“Not sure,“ he admitted. “The faxes to Los Angeles were to the St. Ignatius Catholic Church.”

“Which also has an impressive collection of relics and ancient texts.”

“You seem to know a lot about that,“ Cutter said.

I smiled, then turned my back to him, ostensibly to pour myself more coffee. “Yeah, well, when you live with a guy who knows so much about ancient books, you pick up a few things here and there.”

“I’m just impressed you found all this information,“ Laura said, jumping into the conversation, probably to distract Cutter. “You’ve totally put me to shame.”

“To shame?“ Cutter said. “What are you talking about?”

Laura turned pink as she realized her mistake. “Oh. Nothing. Just that I was trying to help Kate, too. You know. Figure out what happened to Eric. That’s all.“ But from the twelve shades of red she was turning, I think Cutter knew that wasn’t really “all“ at all.

“What about San Francisco?“ I asked before he could interrogate Laura. “Did you get a number there?”

“Dead end,“ he said. “The number went to a Mail Boxes Etc. And they had no records on their end about who was sending or receiving the faxes.”

“Damn,“ I said.

“Still, it tells you something.“ He looked at me intently. ”Your husband was corresponding with someone. And from what you told me about the letter you found in the safe-deposit box, it wasn’t something he wanted to keep from you forever.”

“Yeah? Well, that plan didn’t go over too well. After five years, I’m having a hard time learning anything.”

“Still, I don’t believe he would have gone to the trouble of leaving you a note, and then left nothing concrete for you to find. If the letters and faxes were important, he probably would have saved them.”

I looked at Laura. “I haven’t finished going through the boxes in the shed yet. I don’t suppose you’re up for a little dusty investigative work?”

Laura sighed. “Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do except stick straight pins into my Paul voodoo doll.”

“Don’t look at me,“ Eddie said. “I’ve got two more apartments lined up to look at. Got a real estate agent coming by to pick me up in an hour.”

“Eddie ...”

He held up his hands. “You tell me it’s copacetic, and I’ll quit looking. Meantime ...“ He trailed off with a shrug.

I frowned, because I hadn’t had time to discuss Eddie with Stuart, for obvious reasons. And since Stuart was announcing his candidacy later this afternoon, I really didn’t think a phone call would be appreciated.

“There’s another possibility,“ Cutter said. “Other than his work papers, I mean.”

I looked at him curiously.

“I’m still trying to find out if your husband had another safe-deposit box. If he did, that might have all your answers.”

And if he didn’t, I thought, the mystery of Eric’s death would just keep getting deeper and deeper.

After Cutter and Eddie
left, Laura and I parked ourselves on the back porch and started plowing through the boxes filled with Eric’s old stuff. The day was cool, with a nice breeze blowing in off the ocean, and we worked quietly for a while, but it was a noisy kind of quiet, and after a few minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?“ I demanded.

Laura looked up at me from her bent-over position, where she was trying to tug a file folder out with her one good hand. “Excuse me?”

I leaned over and grabbed the folder for her. “Something’s on your mind,“ I said. “You might as well come out with it.”

Her lips twitched, then she cupped a hand over her mouth as if hiding a smile.

I sighed. “Okay. Now what?”

“Kate, there was nothing on my mind, I swear. But now...“ She trailed off, her eyes dancing. ”“Now, I’m definitely intrigued. So spill.”

Inside, I cringed, because I’d royally blown that one. ”There’s nothing to spill.”

“Kate, I have a teenager. Out with it.”

I closed my eyes, trying to decide what to say. I didn’t want to tell her what happened. The moment had been too surreal, too intimate. And somehow telling Laura would make it seem all the more real.

At the same time, though, Laura was the first truly close non-Hunter friend I’d ever had. We’d shared problems with our kids and with our marriages. And, yes, I wanted to know what she thought. From a psychological perspective, Laura was right; I’d practically been jumping up and down, begging her to ask me.