heart went a mile a minute and my throat felt like it wanted to close up. I wanted to cry with relief because I made it back home.
I couldn’t go to the police. What would I say? Oh, by the way, there are demons in Clarion, have been all along . I’m pretty sure they’re involved in Lawrence’s disappearance. And, oh yeah, they’re nasty, evil sonsofbitches .
I hauled myself upright and went through the house with my canister of metal filings, sprinkling a smidgen on every window ledge and on the floor at the base of front and back doors. Then I put some in the cold, empty fireplaces in the living room and my bedroom.
I let the kitchen blinds down, something I did not as a habit bother with. I was majorly freaked.
No way could I avoid telling Jack and Mel what happened, so I spent the next happy fifteen minutes doing so. Then I stripped in the bathroom and looked myself over.
My hip and leg looked like someone used a cheese grater on them, and ugly bruises marked me like decaying blossom. What felt like punctures on my calf were little more than indentations, but who knew what lurked under a demon’s fingernails, so I liberally doused them with antiseptic. My wrist hurt like hell, so I taped it with a stretchy surgical bandage.
I got in bed. I didn’t think I would sleep. I was right
I staggered downstairs to the kitchen, my eyes puffy from lack of sleep.
“ And don’t you look bright and chipper,” Jack drawled.
I snarled at him, and fumbled in the cabinet for coffee. I managed to knock three packets on the counter and one on the floor, where it spilled open. What a waste of Columbian.
“ And her coordination is … well, she doesn’t have any,” Mel said.
Sometimes I hate my roommates.
I saw Jack go to the backdoor out the corner of my eye. He stood looking through the side window, hands clasped behind his back. He swayed back and forth on his heels. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,” he chirped.
“ Shut it, Jackson.”
Mel joined him so they stood shoulder to shoulder. “A demon in Lindy’s apartment? Why was he there?”
Yes. Why? I stepped over the spilled coffee to dump some of the good stuff in the coffeemaker. I’d need a full pot to get me up and moving.
But move where ? Where to start? My mind buzzed with questions for which I had no answer. Why was the black-haired demon in Lindy’s apartment? Why attack me? How did Caesar know my name? Was Caesar the yellow-haired man who touched Lindy as she struggled in her bathtub? I hung over the coffeemaker, one hand braced on the counter as I rubbed at my forehead with the other. What had I got myself into?
My head hurt.
I collapsed in a chair and held my face in my cupped hands. I had to tell Lindy something pretty soon and it would cause her more grief than she deserved. As if she hadn’t already been through enough.
The phone rang. I leaned back far enough to see Caller ID, then swung out of the chair to grab the phone. “Mike?”
“ Tiff? We got a situation in Salt Lake. I want you down there.”
Just like that, I was wide awake. “What going on?”
“ Someone went berserk in the 45 th Street Mall. Gunned down fifteen people, four of them dead.”
“ So - I’m filling in the blanks here, Mike - you have it under control or you wouldn’t call a civilian to the scene, so why do you need me?” I frowned at the phone. “Can any of the wounded identify the shooter?”
“ Several escapees confirmed the shooter wore a mask,” Mike replied. “He could still be inside. The mall was open twenty minutes, so only a couple hundred people in there, half of them mall employees. Nearly everyone managed to get out while he was still on a rampage. He was still shooting when SWAT secured the perimeter. The shooting stopped when we went in. We found people hiding all over the place. We brought out the casualties, but now we got sixteen people in the food court and he could be one of them. He only had to take off his
I couldn’t go to the police. What would I say? Oh, by the way, there are demons in Clarion, have been all along . I’m pretty sure they’re involved in Lawrence’s disappearance. And, oh yeah, they’re nasty, evil sonsofbitches .
I hauled myself upright and went through the house with my canister of metal filings, sprinkling a smidgen on every window ledge and on the floor at the base of front and back doors. Then I put some in the cold, empty fireplaces in the living room and my bedroom.
I let the kitchen blinds down, something I did not as a habit bother with. I was majorly freaked.
No way could I avoid telling Jack and Mel what happened, so I spent the next happy fifteen minutes doing so. Then I stripped in the bathroom and looked myself over.
My hip and leg looked like someone used a cheese grater on them, and ugly bruises marked me like decaying blossom. What felt like punctures on my calf were little more than indentations, but who knew what lurked under a demon’s fingernails, so I liberally doused them with antiseptic. My wrist hurt like hell, so I taped it with a stretchy surgical bandage.
I got in bed. I didn’t think I would sleep. I was right
I staggered downstairs to the kitchen, my eyes puffy from lack of sleep.
“ And don’t you look bright and chipper,” Jack drawled.
I snarled at him, and fumbled in the cabinet for coffee. I managed to knock three packets on the counter and one on the floor, where it spilled open. What a waste of Columbian.
“ And her coordination is … well, she doesn’t have any,” Mel said.
Sometimes I hate my roommates.
I saw Jack go to the backdoor out the corner of my eye. He stood looking through the side window, hands clasped behind his back. He swayed back and forth on his heels. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,” he chirped.
“ Shut it, Jackson.”
Mel joined him so they stood shoulder to shoulder. “A demon in Lindy’s apartment? Why was he there?”
Yes. Why? I stepped over the spilled coffee to dump some of the good stuff in the coffeemaker. I’d need a full pot to get me up and moving.
But move where ? Where to start? My mind buzzed with questions for which I had no answer. Why was the black-haired demon in Lindy’s apartment? Why attack me? How did Caesar know my name? Was Caesar the yellow-haired man who touched Lindy as she struggled in her bathtub? I hung over the coffeemaker, one hand braced on the counter as I rubbed at my forehead with the other. What had I got myself into?
My head hurt.
I collapsed in a chair and held my face in my cupped hands. I had to tell Lindy something pretty soon and it would cause her more grief than she deserved. As if she hadn’t already been through enough.
The phone rang. I leaned back far enough to see Caller ID, then swung out of the chair to grab the phone. “Mike?”
“ Tiff? We got a situation in Salt Lake. I want you down there.”
Just like that, I was wide awake. “What going on?”
“ Someone went berserk in the 45 th Street Mall. Gunned down fifteen people, four of them dead.”
“ So - I’m filling in the blanks here, Mike - you have it under control or you wouldn’t call a civilian to the scene, so why do you need me?” I frowned at the phone. “Can any of the wounded identify the shooter?”
“ Several escapees confirmed the shooter wore a mask,” Mike replied. “He could still be inside. The mall was open twenty minutes, so only a couple hundred people in there, half of them mall employees. Nearly everyone managed to get out while he was still on a rampage. He was still shooting when SWAT secured the perimeter. The shooting stopped when we went in. We found people hiding all over the place. We brought out the casualties, but now we got sixteen people in the food court and he could be one of them. He only had to take off his
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