Hunted tgl-3 (2 page)

Perfect improv. We were laughing by the time she finished.

“I don’t care whether Lee brings it up or not as long as another name disappears off our list,” Sykes said. “It’s been a long, boring summer.”

Bran chuckled. “I agree.”

“No way.” Sykes moved closer to Bran and dropped an arm around his shoulders. “Finally, we agreed on something.”

“Let’s also agree to keep personal space.” Bran pushed Sykes’ arm from his shoulder.

“Why?” Sykes pretended to sniff his armpit. “I showered before we left.”

Bran just shook his head. Sykes’ antics used to bother him, but not anymore.

“You have issues, Llyr.” Sykes jabbed a finger in his direction and smirked as we exited the alley.

The alley opened onto the Union Square, an oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle that was New York. Lovers strolled hand-in-hand near the green center of the Square, and late-night bingers nibbled on snacks from a nearby coffee shop.

A chilling scream came from the back of the building. The people on the Square didn’t appear to have heard it. I scanned psi energies.

“It’s a human,” I said, already turning.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Kim grabbed my arm.

“He’s terrified and in pain, Kim.” I tried to free my arm, but her grip tightened.

“I’m sure he is a hobo. It’s not our job to heal and help every suffering human that crosses our path. Where
are you
going?” Kim asked when Izzy took off.

“Going to see if we need to call an ambulance, Ms. Anti-hero,” Izzy retorted.

Like me, Izzy could never walk away from a suffering human being. She was the healer of our group, a rare ability which was handy when our wounds were too serious to self-heal. Healing humans was easy for her, but she needed me to make them forget the incident.

I wrestled my arm free from Kim and followed. Curses came from behind us, but I knew the others would come. The guys might complain, but they always came through. Kim was the typical anti-hero, a Guardian who couldn’t stand people depending on her.

“It’s David Lee,” Izzy called out from beside a blue dumpster. “He’s strung out on something.”

I ran to join them. David Lee was on the ground, arms punching an invisible enemy, legs kicking and spittle shooting from his mouth to his beard.

“Go away…leave me alone…leave…me…alone…” he screamed.

Calm down
, I tried to use my power of persuasion, but he only kicked harder. He was going to hurt himself. I lifted my hand above him.
Freeze
.

He froze with his arms and legs curled up like a child throwing a tantrum. The others joined us and we studied the frozen rock star in silence. Up close he looked smaller and older. His sleeveless jacket, as well as the jewelry on his wrist, neck, and pants, were all studded. What I’d believed was a long-sleeved shirt was actually tattoos.

“Unfreeze him,” Bran said then squatted beside David Lee, who’d gone back to battling his imaginary foe. “Hey, Lee!” Bran reached for his arms. “Snap out of it, man.” He pinned David Lee’s arms while Sykes grabbed his legs.

Lee bucked and twisted until he realized he couldn’t escape. He went still, opened his eyes and studied us with unfocused eyes.

“Where…where’s the thing that attacked me?” His eyes darted around.

“What thing?” Bran asked, letting Lee’s arm go while Sykes released his legs.

David Lee shook his head and winced. “I don’t know. There was a bright light and thick smoke, then terrible sounds and pain inside my head. I was in hell, man. There was fire everywhere, people crying and begging for mercy.” He looked up and shuddered. “It came from up there.”

Maybe he’d imagined a meteor. August was meteor month, and New York was one place you’d expect a spectacular display. We followed his glance and reached for our weapons. Instead of streaming lights shooting across the sky, a large, fluffy cloud blocked our view, lightning churning in its core as though struggling to burst through.

“What in Tartarus is that?” Sykes mumbled.

“It looks like a volcanic plume,” I said.

“There are no active volcanoes within a thousand miles from here,” Izzy said. “It looks like a Lazarus demon, but I’ve thoroughly studied demonic books and there’s nothing about Lazari using their abilities while in smoke form.”

“Okay, so it’s another new fiend,” Sykes murmured. “Big deal. Let’s nuke it.”

“Not so fast,” Izzy added. “I think we should trap it and identify it first.” She pulled out six crystals from her coat pocket.

The crystals, smooth and colorless, usually released light and formed a cage around a demon. Ever since we’d defeated Coronis, demons of mixed breed kept appearing and blindsiding us. Some weren’t bad. Like the Souled Demons and Neutrals we knew and left alone because they had no interest in hurting humans or collecting souls. This one was obviously one of the bad ones since it had attacked David Lee.

Per our rules, demons didn’t attack humans. They might possess them, make them sign contracts for their souls, use them to further their diabolical plans to take over the earth, but they never ever directly attacked humans. This was a first. “Let’s finish here, then lure it away from the city,” Bran said. “There are way too many people around here. All it takes is one person seeing past the glamour without our knowledge and we’d be exposed.”

“Lure what?”

We all turned to glance at David Lee. We’d completely forgotten his presence until he spoke. He struggled to his feet with Sykes’ help.

“Thank you, man.”

“Did you get a proper look at the thing that attacked you?” Bran asked.

David Lee shook his head. “Who are you? Cops?”

“We are Guardians.” Bran nodded to indicate all of us. “We talked to you and Mr. Mancuso earlier.”

“Mancuso?”

“Your manager,” Bran reminded him.

David Lee scowled. “You must be confusing me with someone else, man. I don’t know any Mancuso.”

Bran’s eyes narrowed. “Is this is an attempt to get out of canceling your contract, Lee?”

“Is that my name? Lee?” David Lee asked.

Humans often came up with every excuse in the book to delay canceling their contracts, but no one had ever faked amnesia before.

“Your real name is David Leonard Birtwhistle, but you use David Lee,” Bran said. “You were singing at Zone here in New York City.”

Surprised flashed across Lee’s face, then he glanced down at his leather pants, studded jacket, bracelets and the many rings with skull heads on his fingers. He grinned. “I sing in a band?”

“No, dude,” Sykes said. “You
are
the band. Concerts in every continent, fans chasing you, hot babes in your bed wherever you go.” He shrugged. “I read it in
Rolling Stone
magazine. I’m not a fan, okay? That was pure research.”

“I made
Rolling Stone”
Lee mumbled.

“Just a minute here.” Bran raised his hand. “Are you saying you lost your memory after you were attacked?”

Lee frowned. “Attacked? What are you talking about?”

Bran pointed upward. “You said that thing…” His voice trailed off as though he’d just remembered David Lee couldn’t see the demon. Not that there was anything to see anymore. The demon was gone. Bran’s hand dropped to his side and he took a deep breath.

“What’s the
last thing
you remember?” Remy asked impatiently.

“Leaving the family farm in Oklahoma with my guitar and big dreams of being a star.”

“Those are lyrics from your first hit.” Sykes shrugged when we glared at him. “Hey, the dude can write amazing lyrics.”

“Are you saying you don’t remember him?” Remy snapped, pointing at Bran.

Bran reached in his inner coat pocket, pulled out the list of names and read out, “David Leonard Birtwistle.” The contract appeared. Bran snatched it up and shoved it at Lee. “You signed this contract and gave up your soul to revive your singing career after it tanked. We need you to cancel it.”

David laughed. “You’re kidding. I might not know what’s going on here, but I know I’d never sell my soul. That would be nuttier than a crapper at a peanut festival.”

“Yet you did,” Bran said through gritted teeth. As though he realized he was losing his cool, he finger-combed his hair. When he glanced at me and spoke, his voice was calm again. “Confirm it.”

I stepped forward and Lee eyed me curiously. “Who are you, sweetheart? If I’m really a rock star and not someone you’re trying to con, where are my bodyguards? Did you kidnap me? How much money—?”

“Shut up,” Kim snapped, elbowing me out of the way. “If you want to get out of canceling the contract, just say so and stop wasting our time. If that thing that attacked you screwed up your memories, she,” Kim jabbed a finger in my direction, “is the only one who can confirm it. Get it?”

David Lee blinked as though Kim had reached out and slapped him. “Okay, sweetheart. No need to get antsy.”

Kim’s eyes flashed and for one brief moment, I thought she’d slap him. “Don’t you ever call me sweetheart.”

David Lee swallowed, “Yes, ma’am.”

Times like this, I was happy Kim was on my team. She could be so scary sometimes.

“You asked who I was,” I started, and Kim rolled her eyes. She hated it when we explained who we were, but rules were rules. “I’m a Guardian. We all are. We fight demons, like the one we believe attacked you and messed with your memories. Right now, I’m going to see what you know. Okay?”

He hesitated. Despite having the abilities to teleport, use telepathy, manipulate the elements, time, and the mind, we couldn’t force humans to do anything against their will because they had something called free will—a lifetime pass to screw up as often as they liked and get away with it. And we knew how many of them did just that.

“David Lee?” I asked gently, wishing I could tell him the truth—that the soul of the guy I loved was at stake too.

He stole a quick glance at Kim, then nodded.

I was in and out of his mind in seconds. “There’s nothing there but mucking stalls and hauling horse manure. It’s like he hasn’t done or seen anything in years.”

“Can I leave now?” Lee asked.

“Sure, David Lee,” Kim said sweetly. “As soon as you cancel the contract you signed or the demon that attacked you will come back and drag you to hell.”

“Kim!” we all protested.

She shot us an annoyed look. “I’m tired of babying them. We would be done with this if we were honest with them.” She glanced at David Lee. “Sometimes the demons send hellhounds. You know, dogs the size of a calf that can rip you in two with one bite, fangs dripping with drool, red eyes, smelly breath…”

“Where do I sign?” David Lee asked quickly, moving away from Kim.

The process went smoothly after that. I felt bad erasing the memory of our meeting from his head because of what the demon had done to him. We escorted him to the side door of the building and handed him over to security.

“That was brutal,” Izzy said, glaring at Kim.

Kim shrugged. “But effective. Don’t say I forced him because I didn’t. I gave him his options.”

“One option,” Bran corrected her. “Do you still want that latte?”

Kim made a face. “No. That demon left a bad feeling in my stomach.”

Bran nodded, but he continued to search the sky as though he expected the demon to reappear. “Let’s go.”

We appeared inside a gated beach home in Myrtle Beach, a South Carolina coastal city. After the noise of downtown New York, it was nice to hear the calming sounds of waves washing the sands and smell the salty air. Lights blazed behind the windows, indicating the owners were home.

“What is their story?” I asked as we crossed the well-tended lawn.

“I met Mrs. Watts at a hospital two years ago. Her little girl had bone cancer and was in the last stages of the illness. Mrs. Watts wanted her daughter healed.”

“Cases like hers are so heartbreaking,” Izzy muttered. “When we started, I assumed we’d meet selfish, greedy, and fame-seeking scumbags like David Lee.”

“Most of them are,” Kim told her.

“Yeah, but sprinkled among them are the selfless husbands and wives, mothers and fathers willing to do anything for their loved ones,” Izzy added defensively.

“How old was the little girl?” I asked, interrupting what could escalate into a heated discussion.

“Six,” Bran said. “Mrs. Watts was pregnant and already had two twin boys. At first, I dealt with her. It wasn’t until after her daughter recovered that she contacted me and brought her husband. They wanted success and power, so I gave them another deal—his soul for a lucrative business as a real estate agent. Within six months, they moved from their modest home to this.” Bran stopped in front of the entrance and pressed on the doorbell. Through the window, we could see the foyer with a high ceiling, fancy chandelier, and a grand staircase.

A woman opened the door with a brilliant smile on her lips. Her eyes widened when she took another look at Bran, the smile disappearing from her face. “You? It can’t be. You…I…is it time? You said I’d have twenty years.”

“Calm down, Mrs. Watts. I’m not here for you. We just need to talk to you and your husband. May we come in?”

“No,” she said in a horrified voice then stepped forward, closed the door behind her, and pulled the sweater tightly across her chest. Swallowing, she studied us nervously. “He’s not here. We are getting a divorce.”