Invincible (26 page)

“We can’t.”

He gaped at Mark. “What do you mean we can’t? We’ve proved—”

“Nothing.” Madaug handed him other articles. “During the gangster era, when the media was exploding and national coverage began to boom along with newsreel footage that was shown in movie theaters across the country, Devus wised up and stopped having his picture made. He also learned to kill off an existing coach and then step in just long enough to win the championship and supposedly die with his team. No doubt to avoid any long-term relationships or questions.”

“Or media coverage,” Mark added.

Maybe, but Nick kept coming back to one thing. “Then how do you know it’s him?”

Madaug gave him a
duh
stare. “Really? You asked me that? What are the odds that every single year across the country, one team and one team only has a coach who dies under bizarre circumstances right as they’re heading to the play-offs? Then the school or rec center is desperate for an experienced replacement. Out of the blue, here comes Mr. Middle Age with roughly the same description. He stays for four weeks … just long enough for the championship games, and takes his team to victory. And while drunk on their laurels, wham!” He slapped his hands together. “They all die. You really think that’s just a coincidence?”

Well … no. “Not when you put it that way. But a cop will never believe this.”

“You think?” Mark sighed. “No one would believe us. They’d all think we were high on something. So the question is, how do we stop him from killing again without going to the authorities?”

“Turn my zombies loose on him?”

Mark cut a murderous glower at Madaug. “I know you didn’t go there, given what almost happened to your family.”

“It was a joke, Mark. Believe me, I’m done trying to manipulate human brain patterns.”

Ignoring them, Nick’s thoughts raced as pieces slowly fell into place.

You can use personal items as a binding spell. Think of it like a heat-seeking missile. If you want something to happen to someone in particular, you take an item from them and you can use that as a focal point. It’s the same principle that the pendulum works under.

Grim’s words haunted him. Now he understood his list. The coach needed those specific items from all the football players.

But then what did he do with them after the game was over and the owners were killed? Since his home and office were so bare and he constantly moved, keeping them didn’t seem feasible. Maybe he threw them out afterwards?

Didn’t matter.

The most important thing was to break the cycle, especially since Nick was on the team and didn’t want to die.

I thought you didn’t want to live.

Well, that was true, but it didn’t mean he wanted to die. He only wanted his life to calm down a little and go back to normal. Not flying off the tracks at warp speed toward Insanityville.

Madaug’s phone rang. He picked it up and cringed. “Dang it. It’s my little brother.”

“Is that so bad?” Mark asked.

“Uh, yeah. Ian’s voice is so high-pitched on the phone that I swear if we bottled it and put it in a grenade, we could make a fortune as arms dealers. It’d clear more rooms and cause more pain than a hydrogen bomb. I’m living for the day when that kid hits puberty and his voice drops down to a human level.”

Nick was about to tell him he was overreacting when Madaug answered it and he heard for himself the truth of the matter.

Oh yeah.
That
could break glass. A screech demon had nothing on this kid. And it wasn’t even in
his
ear. He was standing several feet away.

Even Mark was cringing.

“All right. All right,” Madaug said to his younger brother. “Stop whining, you little brat. I’ll be home later and fix it. I will, but if you don’t stop nagging me about it, I’m going to erase Eric’s hard drive and tell Dad you did it.” Madaug hung up as Ian whined a very shrill no on the other end. He glared at Nick. “You’re so lucky you’re an only child.”

“Not really. If I tell someone to stop touching me or blame something I broke on a sibling, it’s a one-way ticket to a straitjacket.”

“You know my twisted brother actually owns one of those? Eric spray-painted it black and hung it on his wall. Again, I say you are so lucky you’re an only child. Oh, to have the blessed quiet and not to be forced to endure endless hours of blaring Bauhaus out of Eric’s dark hole, and ‘Baby Rock’ sung by Ian the Pirate, who walks around the house with a parakeet on his shoulder that he shoves in my face every night and tells me to pet or he’ll make it peck out my eyes while I sleep.”

Nick didn’t mean to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. And to think, his biggest complaint was his mom drying her bras on a string over the bathtub. He was sure he’d be in therapy for years dealing with that one.

Mark clapped his hands together to get their attention. “All right, guys. Focus. We have to come up with some way to stop Devus for good. Let’s get our heads in the game and stop this psycho.”

*   *   *

Walter Devus stood in front of his mirror, staring at a face that hadn’t changed in more decades than he could count.

What’d happened?

But then he knew. Greed. Vanity. Pride. Take your pick. They’d combined into a toxic mixture that had led him into making the worst mistake of his life.

And for what?

Andy Warhol’s fifteen minutes of fame?

Only it wasn’t supposed to be that short. It was supposed to have lasted a lifetime.

Be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.

Especially when dealing with things that were best left alone. If only he could go back in time, he’d have grabbed himself and stopped him.

But it was too late for that. The die was cast. The roll made. He would spend eternity in servitude, gathering souls for his master. Unknown. Uncelebrated. Obscure. The very things he’d wanted so desperately to avoid.

Funny how your fears always manifested and took over your life.

He’d been hopeless of ever discovering a way out of his slavery.

Until he came here. New Orleans. Land of Dark Magick and the birthplace of paranormal. He could feel the undercurrent of it that ran through the city like a living, breathing thing.

And here in its heart was the darkest of all.

The Malachai. If he could find the young one in time, his master would release him.

He would be free.

Walter savored that word. To be human once more. To be able to stay in one place and grow roots. Something that had been anathema to him as a young man.

Now it was paradise.

Holding that hope close, he continued to run his experiments on the items his “boys” had gathered. While the Fringe Guard looked for the escaped demon, he was after the Malachai they didn’t know existed.

He was sure the Malachai was in his school masquerading as a student. It was a feeling he’d had from the moment he stepped inside the building.

But who?

He’d carefully searched files until he narrowed down the most likely suspects. So far, they’d all been wrong.

His timer went off, notifying him it was done.

His heart racing, he went to check on the latest batch. Biting his lip in trepidation, he pulled Stone’s class ring out of the bowl.

Still intact. Still perfect.

Stone wasn’t the Malachai. He’d been so sure of it, what with his cruelty and arrogance. But, no. He was wrong again.

Thoroughly agitated, he moved on to the next bowl. He wasn’t expecting anything at all. Yanking the string, he froze.

It didn’t come straight up.

Could it be?

Hope returned furiously as he pulled harder. He’d put in a piece of towel, but in its place …

Brimstone.

“I’ve found you now. You’re mine!” And he was about to unleash a legion of doom on the boy.

I should have recognized the name. I should have known.
How stupid was he not to see it? But then, he’d lived long enough to know how deceitful such things were.

The Malachai had been living in plain sight of everyone. Flaunting his presence with careless abandon.

But no longer.

At last, Walter Devus would be human again.

And the Malachai would be no more.

CHAPTER 17

“You want me to do what? What part of stupid crawled up your sphincter and died?”

Angry and offended, Nick folded his arms over his chest as he faced Caleb in his run-down condo. While it was just the two of them in here, he’d had enough of the demon’s attitude for one day.

What was wrong with him? Ever since Nick had been attacked in school, Caleb had been different toward him. It felt like the demon hated the very air he breathed.

Nick wasn’t the one with a problem. Caleb was.

“We need to know what we’re dealing with, Caleb. Otherwise, I wouldn’t ask you to do this.”

Caleb snarled at him. “What you’re dealing with is one seriously pissed-off demon who keeps wondering why he’s sticking his neck out for an idiot like you. I’m tired, Nick. Did you not get that from our earlier discussion?”

“I thought that was a fight we had.”

“No, this is hell,” he sneered, “and I’m trapped in it. And I’m sick of you. You hear me? Why don’t you fight your own battles? You want information, get off your lazy butt and go get it.”

Wishing he had the strength to lay into him and not get eviscerated, Nick gaped at his so-called protector, who had suddenly become a bad cross between a heckler and an abusive parent. “And you think something has crawled up
my
—”

“Get away from him, Nick.”

Nick’s eyes widened as Caleb manifested next to …

Caleb.

The two of them stood side by side in front of his makeshift bedroom. Same height. Same hair. Same eyes. Same black clothes and curled lips. The only difference was that the newcomer seemed to be in pain.

And bleeding at the corner of his mouth.

Ah yeah, this was just like that moment in
Terminator 2
when the evil chrome cyborg takes over the body of the nice security guard.

Except the real Caleb wasn’t usually all that warm and fluffy either. Something that made them even harder to tell apart.

“Which of you’s real?” Nick asked.

“The one limping, silly.” Simi flashed in beside Nick and leaned against his shoulder. “Can’t you tell the difference between the cute Malphas and the fugly fake one?”

Not really. If Caleb wasn’t limping and bleeding, he’d have no clue.

Nick frowned at her. “What’s going on?”

With her bright purple hair, which matched the color of her lipstick, pulled into pigtails, Simi let out an adorable sound that defied description. “Them nasty demons done found you. Kind of. See, there’s a big bounty on your head—” She brushed her hand over his hair to emphasize her words. “—and if some mean nasty can find you and bring you in to have your brains eaten by their overlord, they get freed. So win–win. Well, not for you ’cause it would probably hurt to have your brains eaten. Though the Simi is pretty sure they’d kill you first.” She paused to think about that with a strangely cute expression. “Then again, some don’t, ’cause they like the sound of screams on the way down. I wonder if brains scream on their own.… Hmm. The Simi sees an expulsion coming on. Not ex…”

“Periment?”

“That’s the word.” Smiling, she touched him on the tip of his nose. “Experiment. Thank you, akri-Nicky. Good of you to use your brains while you still have some. The Simi’s so proud for you.”

“You’re not helping my panic, Simi.”

“Oh.” She grinned at him. “Sorry. The Simi will be silent. Until it’s not time to be silent anymore. Silent. I likes that word. Ever notice some words are just pretty to say?” She beamed like a beautiful doll. “Silent Simi.” Her face fell as she touched her forefinger to her lower lip and pouted. “Oh, wait, no. The Simi don’t like the way that sounds at all. Blah! A silent Simi is not a good thing.”

“Sim?” Caleb grunted. “A hand, please?” Good Caleb was trapped in a headlock by the other Caleb.

Nick started forward.

Good Caleb threw his hand out and stopped him. “Don’t get hurt.”

“I feel like a yo-yo.”

“Better than what I feel like, buddy. Trust me.”

The bad Caleb withdrew from the good one the moment Simi entered the fray. He started for the door, but Simi tossed her hand out and wrapped what appeared to be a sticky rope around him. She reeled him to her like a fisherman ready for some swordfish steak.

“Oh, no,” Simi said. “We can’t have that. Where you going, Mr. Meanie-Pants? You don’t hurt people then run. That’s just rude.” She looked back at Caleb. “Can the Simi barbecue him, or is he on the ‘No Simi’ eat list?”

Caleb looked at the demon coldly. “
Bon appétit,
babe.”