Personal Demons: A Riverton Demons Novel Page 11

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  Hours later Brian crept out of Laura’s bedroom. She had refused to even lie down without him there, finally curling up into his side and falling into an exhausted sleep. He wished he wasn’t so restless so he could join her and get some rest himself, but his day had been far too full for him to settle down.

  Detective Macnamara had gone over the whole of the past week, all the encounters with Kevin that they’d had from the first out of the blue email, all of Brian’s movements for at least a month back, and all of his own interactions with Laura and Owen. He was particularly interested in the poisoning at Sandy Bottom, but Brian told him that any further details of that would have to come from the Temple, which did not endear him to the good detective in the slightest.

  “He feels that Owen is important to his future somehow?” the detective had pounced on that little tidbit.

  “That’s what it sounded like to me,” Brian answered over Laura’s head where it rested on his shoulder. “We have no idea how or why, though. It makes no sense. That asshole dropped Laura like a hot rock before she could even let the idea of being pregnant sink in, but he’s been harassing her for a couple of weeks now.” The detective had nodded and frowned and launched off on another series of questions. He eventually came around after some time and stopped treating Brian like an accomplice, which was scant relief in the middle of this whole thing.

  Brian kept trying to think where Kevin could have gone, if he could maybe track them down somehow. After the police had finally left them alone, he’d called Michael to ask for advice, but there had been no answer. He left a message.

  Brian sank into the sofa now that Laura was settled, a fresh cup of coffee steaming in his hands, a more than healthy slug of whiskey adding to the warmth in the cup. He’d failed, that much he could say now without question. He’d promised Laura that he’d be there, that Owen would be safe, and he’d failed them both. Hell, he’d failed himself too. Somewhere along the way in the last two days he’d started counting on his ‘demon half’ to give him the edge against Kevin, and not only had it turned into a weakness with the poison, but he’d been screwing around with his newfound abilities across town all afternoon and feeling self-satisfied instead of being here, where he should have been watching over Owen.

  Gods. How could he face Laura in the morning? Brian’s head drooped over the mug that he held between his knees. He stared at the floor, at the very spot Laura had said the whole thing happened. Kevin had come with a friend who had knocked on the door and called out to identify himself as a deliveryman. Of all the damn cliche tricks to fall for, he huffed out a joyless laugh under his breath.

  Well, it had worked, and Laura opened the door, and the pair barged in. She’d tried to fight them off, but Kevin’s friend wrenched her arms behind her back and held her there in the hallway. Brian had seen the bruises, and that made him nearly as angry as the rest. Kevin had swooped the boy up and stood there, on her carpet with Owen too shocked to struggle at first, and laughed.

  “I told you I’d get him eventually, bitch. I’m taking the kid and they’ll promote me for sure when I hand him over. Say bye bye now!” he’d declared and stormed out, wrestling the boy as Owen started to wail and lash out. Kevin’s companion smirked as he shoved her away from the door, hard enough to fall over the small hallway table and spill the things it held all over the floor. She’d cut her arm badly on a piece of broken vase and been nearly knocked unconscious when she slammed into the floor. She’d been stunned for long enough that they were gone before she could call for help.

  Brian thought back to the things he’d learned today. Alarm ward, protection ward, how to deliberately fold his power in on itself to avoid detection even by more than a simple casual glance. Apparently that last one by itself wasn’t enough now, though. Michael had learned about some sort of lenses that detected the residue of his demonic power on other people, which had put May in danger recently and led to Michael’s own poisoned stab wound. May was naturally steeped in the residue of Michael’s power, between being bonded to him through his Guardian’s Mark and the fact that they lived and worked together, and the man with the poisoned knife that had attacked them had gone after May because of that residue. Michael pointed out that Kevin must be associated with the man who’d worn those lenses, and that was why he’d wanted Brian to steer clear of the man if possible.

  Oh gods. Owen. He’d been living with Owen— playing and eating and hanging out with him— and even though he was only half demon, Brian knew that if anyone looked at the boy through those lenses it could be over. Even though he hadn’t accessed any of it deliberately until yesterday, the boy must be completely covered with the residue of Brian’s own power. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been using it, or even known it was there really until Michael had told him about it, that power was part of him and he’d been close to Owen, and apparently that was all it took. Now Kevin had him, and Kevin was involved somehow with the people trying to destroy all traces of demons in the Human Realm.

  Where the hell did Kevin take him? That was the first step: figure out where they’d gone. The police were out looking, they knew who had Owen, they had photos of both Owen and Kevin, and there was an army of people all over looking for both of them. Nobody knew anything about the accomplice, and Laura had given them a vague description that really could be about anyone: youngish, maybe in his twenties. Scruffy. Brown hair she thought, but it could have been dark blonde. He wore an old leather coat that smelled. She really hadn’t looked at him because she had been so focused on Kevin and Owen, but she remembered the stink, like he hadn’t bathed in a few years.

  The urge to throw his now-empty mug across the room was almost irresistible as the wave of rage hit him, but he choked it back. Destroying the apartment would do nothing but make him feel guilty at the mess and destruction. What he really wanted to destroy was Kevin, but that wasn’t an option until they could locate the kidnapping jackass. Instead he put the cup down on the coffee table with deliberate care and closed his eyes, consciously counting his breaths. Now that he’d been made aware of it, worked with it, he could feel the waves of power flicker through him like a second pulse. It was strange to think that he’d been feeling these sensations his whole life but hadn’t ever noticed it. Just like his actual pulse, he supposed, or his breath; the power was just part of him and he had to think about it to notice it.

  When he opened his eyes again, he looked over the stuff scattered on the coffee table. Detective Macnamara’s card, Laura’s keys, some paper trash that hadn’t been considered evidence once they pulled it out from under wherever it had been. The apartment had been a real mess when the police had arrived, and once they’d sifted through everything for clues, they’d let Brian start picking things up and tidying a bit. It wasn’t much, but he figured that once Laura was a bit less shocked she wouldn’t want to have to clean up after Kevin on top of everything else.

  Brian’s aimless gaze landed on a receipt in the small pile of stuff he’d picked up off the floor and he recognized the name of a diner on the highway up near Sandy Bottom. It had been so nice to just get away from the city, away from the stress for a few days. And watching Owen light up as he ran around playing in the woods near the cabin had been one of the highlights of his life from the past year. Maybe longer. He thought back, trying to remember the meal at Mack’s, and his eyes flashed back to the receipt. They hadn’t eaten at any diners. Except for the hot dogs they’d bought at a cart and the occasional ice cream cone, they’d cooked all their meals at the cabin.

  Brian reached for Macnamara’s card, punched the number into his cell phone and it was ringing before Brian realized how late it was. Oh well, a child’s life was at stake here. The cop could wake up and take a damn phone call about it. A short conversation with the half-asleep detective later and he sat back, still staring at the receipt, now residing in a plastic sandwich bag. He remembered passing the place on the road into Sandy Bottom, maybe five miles outside of t
own. A nice enough looking place; the board out front advertising their plate-sized pancakes, he recalled, and the motel attached to it had seemed tidy and respectable.

  Kevin had been in Sandy Bottom the other day, and Brian wondered why. Michael had made it sound like they thought that the guy making the poison was maybe based up there, and it seemed likely that if that guy was who Kevin wanted to impress, then that’s where Kevin would be as well. Well, the cops had the information now. The detective had assured him that the place would be canvassed in the morning, looking for Kevin particularly. The police’ll do a perfectly good job, I mean that’s what they do is find people right? Brian got up and started pacing. The clock in the kitchen said twelve forty-seven a.m.

  It had been about six hours since Owen was taken. It took maybe an hour and a half to get to Sandy Bottom from here. It seemed unlikely that whatever Kevin’s plans were, he could carry them out before tomorrow morning. So he’d have to feed Owen dinner and breakfast at the very least. And Kevin had no experience with kids— Brian was pretty damn sure of that— so dealing with the boy would definitely take up his time and energy. Brian stopped moving for a moment, his hand tightening around the keys to his bike in the pocket of the jacket he hadn’t even realized he was putting on.

  Michael was right. Owen was family now, and it didn’t matter how much faith Brian had in the cops. He scrawled a quick note for Laura, grabbed his helmet, and headed out.

  Chapter 15

  Brian felt the familiar calm of the road once he got onto the highway, and let it take over. It was his form of meditation, the rumble of the engine and the constant whoosh of the wind cleared his mind of all the worries and doubts he tended to brood on. He could focus on the road and let his mind do whatever it needed to subconsciously, and usually by the end of his ride he felt peaceful and clear-headed, at least for a while. His bike had often kept him from doing exactly the sort of stupid, hot-blooded things his mother had always been so worried about. This time was different, though. This time it was hopefully taking him to a fight instead of away from one.

  He made fantastic time. Apparently leaving town in the middle of the night rather than during rush hour could save a person some half an hour of driving, and Brian found himself pulling into the parking lot in front of Mack’s just after two thirty a.m. As he took off his helmet he reflected that it was the first time he’d come off the road furious, but at least this time the emotion wasn’t full of heat and urgency. This anger was cold and patient. It was a new twist on the feeling, and Brian spared a thought for how different it was. He felt far more in control than he had in the past when his fury overwhelmed him. It was probably far more effective a tool when he led his rage, instead of letting the rage lead him. He would have to remember to discuss it with Michael at their next meeting.

  The diner was closed, of course. The ancient sign said that outside of summer tourist season they closed at eleven p.m. and didn’t open again till five. There was no guarantee that anyone here would have any useful information for him anyway. Either Kevin or his buddy had eaten here days ago— there was no reason to think they’d come back since they’d taken Owen, but the slim chance was enough to make Brian impatient.

  He was tired. He had slept late, sure, but then he’d had a hell of a few days. He’d revealed his darkest secret and had Laura respond with affection and concern which left him wrung out and stunned. He’d been poisoned and hospitalized. And then, after being discharged from the hospital, he had spent two afternoons having nearly everything he had believed about demons, magic, his temper, and his abilities turned inside out and rearranged. Practicing his new skills for a few hours, then learning about Owen and taking care of Laura and the hour on the road— anyone would be exhausted.

  Brian spent a moment sorting it out in his head as he looked around the deserted diner, and realized that from his nightmare to getting on his bike for the trip back to Sandy Bottom had been almost exactly three days. Yeah, after all that it was only reasonable that he was tired. Since there was nothing to learn at the diner till it opened, maybe he’d crash at the motel for a bit. Couldn’t hurt to check out their rates anyway, and a few hours of sleep would probably do him a world of good.

  As he scuffed across the parking lot, he took a deep breath and stretched out his senses as he had learned to do. Practice was practice, after all. Mostly he sensed people, lined up in the rooms asleep he assumed. An animal of some kind wandered a bit around the back, probably raiding the garbage. Brian sighed, trying to decide if he was more disturbed by his new skill or excited by it. Well, at least he knew there was someone in the reception area before he walked in, that was something. He was stepping up onto the narrow walkway to head towards the front desk when he stopped short.

  There, in the room on the corner near the back. Three people: one was definitely a child, and a very familiar presence in his mind. He hadn’t even known that he had this ability, though Michael had mentioned that some demons had the ability to distinguish individual presences, but apparently Brian had learned to recognize Owen without even knowing he could. He filed it away as another question to ask next time he went to the Walker Hotel. Right now he had other business.

  There was a light on, but the curtains were drawn against the sun in the morning, or more likely against prying eyes. Brian closed his eyes and concentrated on the one room. One of the people inside was pacing while another stayed still, in line with the other sleepers in the other rooms. Presumably one of them was up on guard while the other slept. Owen was quiet, but Brian knew he was awake. Probably terrified, poor kid, and off in an odd place in the room. Brian took a moment to think, and to find that calm rage he’d been holding onto when he got off his bike, then knocked on the door.

  The pacing stopped.

  The curtain twitched and Brian moved so that he was out of sight as the man tried to peer at the space in front of the door. The curtain swung back into place and the man inside hesitated. Brian smiled to himself, and knocked again.

  “Who is it?” the voice was unfamiliar as it hissed through the door. The accomplice then. Brian could just imagine him, leaning nervously to the door to make his inquiry. A quick check to make sure of the man’s position, and Brian shifted his weight to plant a kick to the door, splintering the frame and sending the door itself swinging hard into the man’s face. He went flying back and slammed into the motel dresser to land in a haphazard pile on the floor. Brian gave him a moment to recover, but the man was out cold. Good. Owen was curled up on the floor behind the second bed in the room, hunched as far into the corner as he could get. His whole face was red and puffy, and bruises bloomed up his arm where someone had clearly grabbed him too hard. Brian felt his power swirl through him and was almost dizzy with his rage before he took control back.

  He turned his attention to Kevin, now half sitting on the bed, blinking sleep from his eyes.

  “Good morning, Kevin,” Brian said, a cold smile on his face as he stepped into the room.

  “Who… what’s going on? Where’s Thornton?” Kevin stammered. “Wait, you’re that asshole been hanging around Laura!” Brian simply kept smiling and took another step towards the bed. Kevin snatched a long knife from the bedside stand, rolling off the bed and launching at Brian in one smooth motion. Brian jerked back, especially wary of the blade this time.

  “You and that bitch need to just give up already. The kid’s mine, and I’m taking him in. I’m gonna convince ‘em to start training kids like they do at the Temple, and they’ll probably put me in charge of the whole thing! I’m going to be in charge of it this time. I’ll be a hero, and weakass pussies like you are gonna worship the ground we walk on.” Kevin lunged again and Brian dodged further into the room.

  “You? A hero? I knew you were an asshole, but apparently you’re also completely delusional,” Brian said, dodging the blade and waiting for his chance. “I’m taking Owen home where he belongs.”

  “He belongs where I say he does! I’m his dad and what
I say is what happens, whatever that bitch thinks!” Another lunge. When he dodged this time, Brian stumbled over Thornton’s arm, and landed on the floor hard enough to start a ringing in his ears. He sensed rather than saw the next blow and swung his hand up just fast enough to catch Kevin’s wrist. “That kid is my ticket to the big time. Milquert will be grateful that I got his school started sooner than he’d thought. And you’re just gonna be a corpse,” he sneered, pressing his weight down on the handle.

  “I heard you had some kind of training, Kevin. You should be using it right now. You’d better make damn sure that I’m very dead, cause otherwise I’ll just keep hunting your ass till I can drag it to hell,” Brian snarled.

  He couldn’t let the knife touch him. For all he knew it would be coated with that same poison, and that was definitely an experience he didn’t want to repeat. If he let it even nick him… He couldn’t fail here. If Kevin won this fight, he and Owen would disappear. Brian himself would very likely be dead, Laura would be destroyed. Owen’s sweet nature would most likely be crushed out of him just from trying to survive whatever bullshit Kevin’s cult leader was spouting.

  Brian’s mind grew very still once he saw that future. His vision seemed to crystalize; Kevin’s sneer, the blade of the knife, the room all resolving into hundreds of separate points, all moving slowly as if the man was underwater. Brian rolled hard and surged to his feet, grabbing Kevin’s wrist as the man slid off to the side. Kevin gasped in shock and pain as Brian squeezed.

  The knife clattered to the floor and Brian backed the man, now pale and terrified, against the wall.

  “You— You’re a demon!” Kevin gasped. Brian smiled, knowing what the man must be seeing. Brian could only see his own hand, but it had turned dark red, as if he’d been badly sunburned, his fingers longer and thinner than they had been just a moment ago and which dug slightly into the soft flesh of Kevin’s arm.