Keeley Thomson (Book 4): Demon Trap (7 page)

Keeley kept drawing energy into her palm and fixed more food with her left hand. There was a tiny ball of light that was forming, which she dimmed considerably by drawing in more of the power from what she was doing. Darla saw it and didn't bother to nod at all. It was clear that her new plan as far as her sister was concerned was to hold high standards and cut her very little slack. That meant praise would really have to be earned now. No more pats on the back just for finishing her supper or anything.

"I hope it isn't a big problem, but I guess I need to work on fighting more. I know that it's my favorite thing personally, being beaten up daily. Good exercise for you though, what with all the cardio you're going to get chasing me around." It sounded a bit muffled, since food was getting ready to go into her mouth as she started speaking. A girl had to have priorities after all, and right now she needed to have a consistently high energy level.

Someone was out to get her after all. Who knew when they'd attack? Or what form that would come in even.

"True enough. If you have things in hand here, I'm going to head home and do some work. Coretechs is busy this time of year. It's mainly signing papers, but has to be done."

"No problem. See you in a few days?" It sounded pretty casual, but there was a reason for that. It was the twenty-first now. Keeley still had presents to deliver and all that.

"Sure. Maybe sooner. Fram... really shouldn't be a problem. He can be a moron, but... honestly, if you can keep him in check about one percent of the time, it might actually improve his life. Besides it will give you someone to experiment with that isn't a family member or someone that will take things too seriously. Like Hally." She stared directly into Keeley's brown eyes then, and waited for her to respond.

Like that was her fault? The girl developed a crush on almost everyone after all. Of course, she was tentatively Darla's, even though she hadn't been taken as a slave or anything. That was the normal way to do things too. Still a problem though, if her sister felt threatened.

"I'll give you a hundred thousand for her." Keeley said it bluntly, as if she were actually buying the girl outright, instead of just the territorial rights to her. It wasn't the same thing at all. It did make sense though, since she already held the rest of the York family directly. She could collect the whole set that way.

Darla actually looked away.

"Fine. Transfer the funds. I suppose you'll want Eve as well?" It was said a little darkly, but Keeley actually thought about then shook her head.

"Tempting, to tell the truth, I do kind of like her. I figure that she'll opt to be a Vampire though. For now she should get a chance to deal with her childhood. I will buy the rights to kill her mother from you though."

That started a ten minute conversation about killing people, and the combined use of resources. Eve had the use of Elis, the Manthori Vampire that Keeley had taken as a slave. She was planning to kill some men, but had been dithering a little bit. They'd raped her as a child, and even the Vampire was behind the idea, since it was about the only way he could earn his way out of the doghouse that Keeley was keeping him in. Metaphorically. It wasn't going to be enough really, but if Eve forgave him for using his mind powers to rape her, then Keeley probably wouldn't kill him outright.

Not for that.

It was something to think about though. With Fram around, they could set that up in a few hours, and have the men dead before Christmas. Even tortured if it was desired. She needed to have a chat with Eve about it. It was possible the girl was having cold feet, or might just not know what all of her potential resources were really. Technically it was Darla's job, since she'd claimed her already, which was the Greater Demon version of calling dibs on an asset. That was what she'd just made an offer for with Hally really. Dibs.

The idea was funny, but she kept her attention on the tasks at hand, eating and collecting energy. There had to be a faster way to do it. She never noticed Darla drawing energy really, did she? It would take some thought.

Darla waved, then left from the living room, leaving her alone with her thoughts and a bowl of pancake batter. She used the silver ladle in the ceramic bowl then realized that the pan needed more fat in it. She wasn't the world's greatest cook yet. She was getting better, now that she had a reason to practice as often as she had been.

That meant dropping the glow of energy over her right palm, so that she could use it for the new task. It was easy enough to simply place the thing over her head, and still absorb it. That got her thinking about the amount of power coming in. Her ability to actually use the energy was what slowed her down really. If that could be improved it should be possible to set off a cascade of universal force that would top her off in a few seconds. In the mean time she needed to keep going at her slow and steady pace, that and keep herself fed.

She really wasn't doing that poorly, Keeley didn't think. True, it wasn't even half enough yet, but as Darla had pointed out many times, it took most Greater Demons a lot longer to get the trick down than it was for her. Decades or even centuries. Part of it was having a good teacher that let her try, no doubt. The other part though was something different. She had a talent for magic it seemed, and that helped a lot.

Possibly any kind of magic even. She hadn't tested it yet really.

After she finished making a mess of Sherry's kitchen, she carefully cleaned it, going in the specific order that her mother liked, since she had an issue with that kind of thing. Not a shouting or hitting kind of mania, but her OCD meant that she'd have to do it all over again if something wasn't right. As it was, the very fact that she'd made food would virtually assure a half hour cleaning session, even if the place sparkled. That couldn't be helped really. Not without doing something drastic, like making Sherry into her slave.

She'd been avoiding that though. It was hard on people to be that devoted to someone else. They didn't really feel that way, but it was like being totally in love with a person, and having the power on that turned up by a factor of ten or twenty. Her slaves didn't get a choice and that wasn't really fair to them.

Worse, she felt responsible for her people too. If they had a problem, it was up to her to fix it. Most Demons didn't bother with that as much, but it was important to Keeley. She could shut that off, of course, for a while, but it would come back later, when she stopped trying. Like her grief and anger over her dad's death.

That could be hidden, but it never really went away. It lived inside her mind, always. Waiting for her to let her guard down. She had a few things like that going on now. Matters that left her feeling bad, if she let them.

Sherry got up at seven and came out into the hallway with her eyes mostly closed, and hair a little flattened on one side. When she went into the bathroom, Keeley went and changed quickly, since wearing a tight skirt and hose all night didn't seem very natural really. She also changed her face back to normal, using the little mirror in her room. That way her mother wouldn't notice that she'd aged ten years over night.

A few minutes later there was a soft tap on her bedroom door, which made it seem like she was being woken up. It was an old habit, no doubt.

"Keeley? Your friend said that he'd be here at eight?"

With the new candles. It was still early, but even more so in Washington where the mall was. She walked out to find her mother had showered and put on a nice outfit that looked like it could be worked in, but seemed professional at the same time.

"Right. I'll call and make sure he remembers." It was slightly early, but not too much so. The telephone in her purse set to making music then however, which was a bit unusual, given the hour. At first she figured it would be Zack, but it wasn't.

It was Gladys, from church. The older woman that Keeley had been baking treats with. It was very abnormal for her to be calling this early on a Tuesday morning.

She answered it with a look of genuine shock.

"Hello? Gladys?"

"Keeley?" She didn't sound good at all. Very scared in fact. "Someone's trying to break into my house. I tried to call the police, but I couldn't find the number." That would have seemed strange to anyone else, but the fact was that Gladys had a habit of calling for so many little things that the police had given her a direct line to the Desk Sergeant, so that it wouldn't come across as an emergency all the time. They'd talked about it while making cookies once, a few weeks back.

The old woman swallowed loudly enough that Keeley could hear it.

"I'm sure that I'm just being a fussy old lady. I'll just wait a bit."

The problem there was that Keeley could hear the sound of a window being broken in the background. Either that meant that Gladys was daydreaming the whole thing
very
hard, or there really was someone trying to get in.

"Gladys, I'll be there in a moment, I'm almost there. I'll get the police. Right now I want you to go into your bathroom and lock the door. Hide in the bathtub. Don't come out until I tell you to." Or the police did, but that went without saying.

Sherry looked at her and frowned, but didn't ask why she was running out the door. Going by car would take too long, so she stopped and headed out on the Inroads. It would take care to get to the right place, but she could manage it. In fact she stepped right out onto the woman's doorstep. The back one. Just in time to see a pair of male legs go through a window to the side. They were in black jeans, and the sneakers on the feet looked decently new and sporty. Not the kind of thing a desperate addict would be wearing.

"Right." She broke the lock on the back door with a simple twist, not even having to bother increasing her strength. There were three of them inside. All men, and none of them past their mid-twenties. The house was well cared for and clean, but not the kind of place that looked like a very wealthy person lived there. Gladys had enough, but she wasn't secretly an heiress or anything, so the people breaking in probably weren't looking for loot at all.

That didn't leave a lot for them to be after.

She didn't bother hiding her presence, just walking to the living room where one of the men stood, a black mask on his face, his posture looking completely shocked when he saw her.

"The fuck!" It had a nice, scared tone to it, so she nodded and kept walking even as he started to point the gun in his hand at her. That just got slapped aside. The contact with his hand showed her what the plan was at least.

An all day rape party, with little old Gladys as the favor. Culminating in death and a burned house. No one would check for anything, since she was old, and people like her forgot to turn off the oven or stove all the time, didn't they?

It was a decent plan really, except for the part where
she
showed up and took exception to it. Who knew, Gladys had cool friends.

Keeley didn't let herself feel anger at all and simply stepped in and placed her leg behind the larger man's. He smelled like cigarettes and coffee. The weapon hadn't fallen from his fingers, so she took it as he made a distressed sound, prying it from his gloved hand and then used the butt of it to hit him in the head several times. It made a mess, but he was still alive.

Then the other two, hearing the noise, ran in, thinking that the party was starting without them. It was, just not in the way they expected. They had guns too, so that was the first order of things. She didn't even have to use much greater than normal speed, since they were so shocked to see her. Instead she simply walked over to the first one and hit him in the temple with the gun in her own hand, then kicked the body into the third man. It took a little more of a beating than that to get the last weapon, but it worked.

Then, without waiting, she called the police. After a fashion. Actually, she called the Chief directly.

"Miss Thomson? What can I do for you today?" The words were polite and a little servile, but then, the man
knew
that she was a Greater Demon and a bit about what that meant, so it wasn't totally unexpected. Plus, she regularly brought him and his men treats. It was time to cash a bit of that goodwill in, she decided.

"Three men, mid-twenties, broke into Gladys Miller's house. They have guns.
Had
. I have them now. They were looking to rape and murder her. Burn the place down to cover their tracks. They're all alive still. Do you want the arrest? I have a feeling that they'll all give written confessions." Which would mean she needed a few minutes to work before the cops got there, but it was that or kill them. They weren't getting away with this.

"We're on our way! I'll have a car there directly. Perhaps best not to be holding a gun when they get there. Are you in any danger?"

She wasn't, but it was nice of him to think to ask.

 "Not at all. Gladys is safe too. Hiding in the bathroom."

"Good. I'm coming."

The work she needed to do would take at least a minute apiece and require her to do something she'd never tried before. It was basically a way of linking someone's mind to her own and then thinking for them. Technically it required either eye contact or touching a person, but she got through the first two before anyone showed up. That last man, who was white, and looked like a college student with his short hair and too nice clothing, started calling for a lawyer before the uniformed men were even inside the door, weapons out and pointed at the floor.

That wouldn't do at all.

One of the cops was slightly older and had a salt and pepper mustache. A guy that worked the front desk part of the time. He'd taken his family to the Cortechs' Halloween party, and liked snicker doodles. She'd made him some a few times since then, so he recognized her instantly. The other man was younger and cute, in a slightly blocky way. He looked a bit scared though, which was probably warranted, given everything. The men had guns after all.

"I demand a lawyer! This is a frame job! You don't have a warrant to be here." It was just a string of likely sounding things to say, if you watched enough television, coming from the last man, even as the police pointed their weapons and started demanding the men all lay down and roll onto their stomachs.