Hunted tgl-3 (8 page)

“No, this is where Mrs. Watts is hiding. She was reluctant to cancel her contract when we visited her a week ago in Myrtle Beach. That was the night we first encountered one of the Tribe demons. We couldn’t see her again after that because of the lockdown. Mrs. D’s team found out she’d moved and just located her this morning.”

“She’s definitely slumming,” Izzy said, nodding at the holographic-like image.

“She didn’t want to be found.” Bran’s gaze swept everyone. “I know you guys would rather skip going after her and the other Runners and just start searching for the Summoners, but Mrs. D expects a report.”

“And the Watts will be off our list,” Sykes added with a knowing smirk.

“True,” Bran said with a slight smile. “But I also want to see if seeing Mrs. Watts triggers Lil’s memory. Any question?”

I couldn’t wait to leave. Being cooped up in the room with the others was slowly driving me crazy. What part of “don’t feel sorry for me” didn’t they get?

W
e appeared behind a walled fence. A barking dog alerted an elderly couple walking down the narrow street of our presence, and they eyed us suspiciously. Six teens in trench coats in the middle of summer in L.A. were bound to draw attention.

Ignore us
, I projected into their thoughts.

They continued with their walk, but when I turned around, the others were watching me like they expected me to do something crazy.

“Will you guys think of something else? The Summoners, demons, Mrs. Watts, anything,” I said through clenched teeth. “Just stop stressing about me. Look at them,” I pointed at the couple. “I just told them to ignore us and their heads didn’t explode.”

Bran’s energy brushed against mine and I exhaled. No matter how much I loved that he could excite or calm me down with a touch, he really shouldn’t allow his energy near mine until my powers were stable.

Squinting against the sun, I started up the slabs leading to the front entrance of Mrs. Watts’ home. The clairvoyant image had been kind. Plywood—or possibly cardboard—covered some of the windows, as though she was in the process of boarding up her house for a hurricane or tornado. A lone hose snaked past untrimmed rose bushes and shrubberies, crossed the dry grass and ended in a plastic pool filled with dirty water and dead bugs. A van, its windows shattered, stood in the driveway.

My senses picked up a familiar energy. The more I tried to identify it, the more elusive it became and the harder my head pounded. As we got closer, I realized that most of the windows had no covering. Our boots crunched on shards of glass littering the porch.

“What’s with the glass?” Kim murmured.

“It’s from the windows.” Remy pointed at the jagged edges of broken glass bordering the windows. He picked up a large piece, turned it over in his hand, then glanced through one of the windows. “Every glass surface in the room is shattered, even the TV screen. It’s like a gas explosion or something.”

“Yet there’s no evidence of fire,” Sykes said.

“No, this is the work of a demon.” Bran stepped forward and pressed the doorbell. “Strong wind can shatter glass, right?” He glanced at Kim.

“And everything in its path,” Kim said. “This is something else.”

“Sound is more selective,” Izzy said. “But sound demons don’t exist.”

“I don’t know about that. I knew several Banshees on Coronis Isle,” Bran added, ringing the doorbell again. “They were funny.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha funny or hey-you-are-about-to-die funny?”

The energy was stronger now, but not enough to get a reading. Even our amulets didn’t glow in response to it. It bugged me that I couldn’t identify it. Running footsteps resounded in the air and drew closer. Bolts clicked then the door was flung open.

A petite freckled-faced woman squinted at us. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair sticking every which way, and her pajamas, a wrinkled one-piece, had wet blotches. There was no sudden rush of memories as I stared at her.

“Finally,” she said with relief and indicated we follow her.

No one moved.

Why is she being so nice? Izzy
telepathed.

Yeah, Runners usually slam the door in our faces
, Kim added.

“Mrs. Watts, we are here to—” Bran said.

“I know,” she said, interrupting him then gestured that we follow her. “This way. Mind the glass. It is everywhere and on everything. Vandals broke in last night and destroyed everything.” The living room wooden floor had an area rug littered with toys and more shards of glass. “The children are in the bedroom,” she added.

Bran gripped my arm. “Do you remember her?”

I shook my head.

He muttered a curse, then looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s find out why a demon was here, then get out of here. The perfect time to pay demons’ dens a visit is during lunch, when their guard is down. Come on.” He led the way inside the house.

“What’s that smell?” Kim asked.

“Smells like Lazari,” Izzy mumbled. “You think some did this to her home?”

“I never heard of Lazari with the ability to break glass,” Bran said. “Whatever did this might still be here. Do you sense anything, Lil?”

“Yeah. Something gooey.” I rolled my eyes when they all stopped and reached for their weapons. The way they blended in at school, I often forgot they hadn’t grown up around humans, but instead spent their first sixteen years in Xenith. They all grew up in Xenith until they got their powers at age sixteen. “The scent is not demonic, it’s puke,” I explained.

“As in partially digested food?” Kim asked, her expression dubious, one hand covering her nose, the other holding her knife.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“How do you know?” Sykes asked.

“I’ve been around sick humans.” From their expressions, they didn’t believe me. I shrugged. I had enough on my plate without trying to convince them of something so mundane. “Whatever, but you need to put those weapons away before Mrs. Watts sees them and concludes we’re here to hurt her.”

We continued along a narrow hallway, following sounds to a medium-sized room. The windows were boarded up with cardboard, so the only light came from a bedside lamp on top of a dresser. The room had two twin beds and a crib.

Two boys about six shared one bed, Mrs. Watts mopping the brow of one of them as he threw up into a bucket. An older girl about eight lay curled up in another bed. She looked so pale, her psi energy weak. The youngest child sleeping in the crib was hardly breathing.

“Mrs. Watts,” Bran called out.

She looked up from her boy and frowned.

“Why are you just standing there?” she asked, refolding the wet towel and cleaning her son’s face. “Help me. They need treatment.”

“What happened to them, Mrs. Watts?” Bran asked.

“I don’t know. They were perfectly fine when we went to sleep last night,” Mrs. Watts said in a tired voice, “but they woke me up at four in the morning crying and running high fevers. I gave them over-the-counter medication and they seemed to be doing okay several hours later. They even had some soup. Then their fevers returned and they couldn’t hold down anything. I can’t drive them to the hospital because the same people who vandalized my house also broke into my car, so I called you guys.”

Bran frowned. “The broken windows happened last night?”

“Or this morning, I don’t know. I woke up and the glass was everywhere and my children were sick.”

“We’ll take the children to the hospital. In the meantime, come with me.” Bran extended a hand toward the woman.

“I want to ride with them to the ER.”

“You will,” Izzy reassured her gently. “As soon as we figure out what’s wrong with them.”

Mrs. Watts hesitated, a haunted look entering her eyes.

Go with him
, I projected into her thoughts.
Everything will be okay
.

She allowed Bran to lead her out of the room. Sykes lifted the cell phone from the dresser and showed it to us. It looked like road kill.

“Unless the demons were here
after
her kids got sick, I doubt she used this. I’ll check the houseline.” He threw the phone to Remy and left the room.

Remy’s ability to manipulate solids came in handy at a time like this. Within seconds, the cell phone was whole again. He flipped it open and checked the calls.

“There’s no record of a call to the emergency room,” he said.

“So the demons were here
before
the kids became ill,” Kim said.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe this is the result of food poisoning.” Izzy placed a hand on one of the twins’ chest. She moved to the next child, then the older girl and finally the baby. “Forget I said that. They’re dying.”

“Of what?” Kim mumbled. She stood close to the window as she tried to breathe the fresh air from outside.

“Bone cancer,” Izzy said. “The same illness the oldest had before their mother sold her soul. Why is this happening?”

No one answered her, but my mind started racing. What were the chances of an entire family coming down with the same cancer overnight? Nil. This could be an attempt to scare Mrs. Watts against canceling her contract.

“Can you heal them, Izzy?” I asked.

“I could try.” Izzy placed a hand above the baby’s chest. Aglow started in the middle of her palms and spread until her fingers sparkled. Tiny electrical bolts shot from her hands to the baby, filling her and making her skin iridescent under the pink blanket.

A movement to my right showed Remy getting busy too. He pressed a hand on the plank covering the window. The wood shimmered and grew light and transparent as it transformed from wood to glass. He opened the glass windows to let the stale air out. He moved to the next window.

Sykes appeared in the doorway. “Her phone’s working. She made a call about an hour ago.”

“The paramedics should have been here by now,” Kim murmured in a muffled voice, hand covering both mouth and nose now. “I have to do something. I can’t breathe.” She lifted her hands, creating a soft gust. It swept the stale air out of the room and through the window. Air scented with wild roses drifted inside.

My gaze moved back to the baby Izzy was healing. Color appeared to be returning to his cheeks.

Guys, you need to come to the living room
, Bran telepathed us.

What is it?
Remy asked.

Mrs. Watts doesn’t remember us. The demons who jerked her house wiped out her memories too
.

Only one kind of demon did that. We looked at each other and hurried out of the room. Izzy stayed, her focus on the kids.

Mrs. Watts’ voice reached us before we joined her and Bran in the living room.

“Why should I?” she said, sounding frustrated. “I’m good with faces, and I’m telling you I’ve never met you before. Or them,” she waved toward us as we entered the room. “What does remembering you have to do with my children? Are you the paramedics or the police?” she studied our outfits. “Your uniform is…is…who are you?”

My headache got worse as I listened to them as they tried to convince Mrs. Watts they were the good guys. Then Izzy walked into the room with her youngest.

Mrs. Watts jumped to her feet and plucked the baby from Izzy’s arms. She touched her forehead. “Her fever broke.”

“Izzy healed her,” Bran said and indicated the couch. “Please sit down, Mrs. Watts. We need to finish our talk.”

“Are the others okay?” His gaze clung desperately to Izzy’s face.

“They will be when I’m done with them.” Izzy answered confidently. She glanced at us.
Lightning demons did this to her?

We think so
, Bran said.

Why?
She asked.

We are still trying to figure that out
, Bran said.
Why don’t you finish with the other children while we figure out how to deal with this?

“I’ll take care of the broken glass while you guys deal with her,” Remy said, drawing our attention.

From her confused expression, Mrs. Watts didn’t understand what Remy meant, until some glass bits lifted from the floor like weightless crystals, while others raced across the floor as though they’d grown legs.

Mrs. Watts screeched and moved back, her little girl clenched in her arms. The child laughed gleefully and wiggled her pudgy fingers, wanting to play with the moving things. The shards coalesced into mirrors, vases, cabinet doors and picture frames. The cracked TV screen shifted and flowed until it was whole again while the discarded toys pooled in the middle of the room.

Bran had explained that we often demonstrated our abilities to convince Damned Humans that we were the good guys, but Mrs. Watts wasn’t impressed. She was totally freaked out.

It’s okay
, I reassured her.
We’re not here to hurt you. We wouldn’t heal your child if we were bad
.

“I’ll take care of the other rooms, then your van,” Remy said.
She’s all yours, guys
, he telepathed as he left the living room.

“How did he do that?” Mrs. Watts whispered, her gaze following Remy, her arms tightening around her child.

“We already explained who we are, our abilities, and why we are here,” Kim snapped. “Make up your mind already.” She left the room to join Izzy.

“What my friend meant to say was we can’t force you to cancel your contract, Mrs. Watts,” Bran said, leaning forward and flashing his signature, charming smile. He reached inside his coat, pulled out the contract and unrolled it on the coffee table. “You get to decide whether you want to or not.”

She still hesitated. This was taking forever. How in Tartarus had we canceled hundreds of contracts when it took forever to convince one human to make up her mind?

“Mommy!”

Mrs. Watts whipped around as Kim entered the room with the twins. They let go of her hand and ran to their mother. Mrs. Watts fussed over them, touching a cheek here, a nape there, kissing their foreheads.

“Their fevers are gone.” Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face. “Thank you. Thank you for healing them.”

“My friend healed them, Mrs. Watts, not me,” Kim said.

The woman craned her neck and looked expectantly behind Kim. “Where’s my Michele?”

Kim indicated the hallway. “Izzy’s working on her.”

“Stay here,” Mrs. Watts told the twins, then jumped to her feet and ran from the room. The children followed her anyway. The two year old continued to play with her toys, oblivious to the drama.

“How bad is her daughter?” I asked.

“Bad. Izzy can’t heal her, but you know Izzy. She’ll keep trying, until she exhausts her powers.” Kim brushed something off the arm of the sofa and gingerly sat on the edge. She picked up the contract from the table. “She refused to cancel again?”

Bran nodded and scrubbed his face.

“Does it always take this long to convince them, or is her case just special because of her lost memories?” I asked, not masking my frustration.

“It takes this long,” Kim said.

“It doesn’t always,” Sykes countered. “Do you guys think the lightning cloud demons are going after our humans and reversing their deals?”