Demon Ex Machina: Tales of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (16 page)

“You were supposed to be some sort of Super-Hunter,” I said. “Stronger, faster, able to anticipate their every move.” I frowned, realizing that some of what his parents had planned had actually come through; Eric had always had an uncanny knack for anticipating a demon’s next move. We used to joke that it was our secret weapon. Apparently, we’d been right.

“It wouldn’t have worked, of course,” he said, “and your parents stopped it before the ritual was complete. But the demon was still inside me, and
Forza
needed to make sure it wasn’t going to come out. There were rituals. Binding rituals. And they trapped it inside. Bound it tight. Suspended animation, just like in the movies.”

“How did they know what to do? Did your mom tell them?”

“Wilson knew,” he said, his eyes dark. “He’d worked with my parents, but pulled out at the end, tried to convince them they shouldn’t go through with what they planned before I was born. And then when I came along, he said I seemed like such a normal baby that he assumed they’d taken his word. Decided they couldn’t do it. He was wrong. And before my mom died, she told him everything.”

I cringed, both from what his parents had done to him as from the hand that Wilson had played in it. I’d trusted Wilson. Believed in him. And I’d never once had even an inkling of a clue that he knew secrets about Eric. Or about me, for that matter.

“And my parents?”

“
Forza
tried to identify them, never managed. But they did track them to a shabby hotel, and apparently they found something that suggested they were traveling with a child.”

“But they didn’t find me?”

“You were found exactly where they told you. Wandering the streets of Rome.”

“And Father Corletti? How much of this did he know?”

“None, Kate, I swear. All he knew was that a child was found, an orphan. And he took you in. He didn’t even learn the truth about me until after the mission in the catacombs. After I used the Cardinal Fire.” He met my eyes, his sad. “That’s when I learned, too. Because the demon was trying to get out, and
Forza
had to shove it back in. Bind it tight again.”

“But they did bind it,” I said.

He nodded. “We’ve been over this ground. The demon’s stronger now.”

“Maybe,” I muttered, my thoughts in turmoil. I stood and began pacing. “You were so young, and you carried so much. You should have told me, Eric,” I said. “Everything we were to each other—everything we are. You should have told me. You shouldn’t have gone through it alone.”

“I didn’t want to, Katie,” he said, his voice raw. “I loved you, and I was so afraid I would lose you.” He moved closer, only inches from me, and I took a step backward until my rear pressed against the kitchen countertop of Lisa and John-John’s tidy little house. “I was afraid,” he repeated. “Afraid you wouldn’t want me.”

The breath hitched in my throat. “Never,” I whispered. “How could you think that?”

“Kate,” he said, and before I could think, his arm hooked around me and pulled me close.

“Eric, no—”

But he kissed me, hard and deep and long, and with such pure need that I thought I would drown in the desperation of that moment. My hands knotted automatically in his shirt, and I opened myself to him, all while my head was screaming for me to stop.

I didn’t. I took comfort in the kiss. Comfort in the familiarity, and comfort that this wasn’t a demon in my arms.

It was my husband.

Except it wasn’t.

My senses rushed back to me, and suddenly mortified by what I was doing, I moved my hands to his shoulders and pushed back. He murmured a protest and pulled me closer, a move that I countered with flat hands against his chest and a forceful shove. “No, Eric. We can’t.”

His eyes, soft and warm, flashed with fury, and I watched, strangely fascinated, as he reined it in.

“We need to go,” I said, moving sideways along the counter away from him. “Let’s finish the patrol.” I needed to get outside and get some air. Mostly, I needed out and away, and I went, not caring if he was following.

I was a block down the alley when he fell into step beside me.

“We were married, Kate. You don’t have to be ashamed.”

“I’m married now. Yes, I do.”

I heard him sigh and expected an argument, but none came. Instead, we walked in silence, moving through the streets and weaving down alleys.

Nothing jumped out at us. Probably good, considering my mood. I hated myself for my weakness with him, but even when I tried to shove that aside, I was left staring at the bombshell that was my parents. For so long, they’d been ghosts to me. Eric’s news drove home that they’d been real people. People with names and purposes and a little girl who I could only hope they had loved.

I was sniffling when Eric stopped.

“What?” I asked, my voice low. “Do you see something?”

“Look,” he said.

I followed the direction of his gaze and gasped.
Our house.
We’d circled through the neighborhood and ended up at our house.

“It’s for sale,” he said, nodding at the realtor’s sign. “Think anyone’s living in it?”

“Let’s look,” I said, though I knew we shouldn’t. We crept closer and peered in the windows. Empty. No furniture. No people. Barely even any dust left behind.

Eric grinned, so quick and playful it tweaked my heart. “Let’s go in.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Probably,” he said, then moved swiftly to the back of the house. He used his elbow to break a pane of glass, then reached in and flipped the lock, all while I stood there, mortified, not quite able to believe we were really doing this. “I want to see it again,” he said. “I need to.”

He stepped inside, and since I wasn’t going to hang out on the back porch by myself, I stepped in after him.

The place was as I remembered it. The big kitchen with the glass-front cabinets. The huge pantry that we’d rarely filled, being young enough to eat out more than we ate in. The black-and-white tile floor that had at first seemed so silly, but had soon grown on me.

I crossed through to the living room, and there my breath hitched. Eric was sitting on the window seat, grinning like a little kid. “Wanna look?”

“There’s nothing there,” I said, unable to keep the laugh out of my voice.

“You never know. The elves might have come while we were gone.”

I shook my head, but moved closer. “Fine. Let’s look.”

He hopped off the seat and lifted the wood to reveal a compartment probably designed for linens. We’d lived in the house for two months before we even knew the compartment was there, so good was the craftsmanship. Once we’d found it, we’d acted like giddy children and left presents for each other at disgustingly sappy intervals. “Nothing,” he said, peering inside. “Damn.”

I smiled despite the fact that we’d found no hidden treasure, because it reminded me of all the silly secret games we’d played. Eric had always loved to share secrets—it had even become a special game with Allie—and it hurt to think now about the huge secret those smaller ones were shielding.

“Kate?” He was looking at me, watching my face, and I shook my head, forcing my expression back to normal.

“Did you try the loose board?” I asked. One of the floorboards inside the compartment had come loose, and one Christmas I’d hidden his present inside.

He reached in and tugged the board out, then looked in the small space. “Nope. Nothing.”

“Bummer,” I said, then sat back on the seat next to him once he closed up the compartment.

There may have been no presents, but the adventure had cleared my mood, and now that we were inside, I knew that I’d needed this little excursion as much as Eric had. We’d been a family in this house, and although I once again had a family I loved, it was nice to remember where it had started. After growing up with dorms and living in ratty hotels or even on the street when we hunted, this little house had seemed like a gift of normalcy. Hard to believe I’d gone from being a street urchin in Rome to a suburban mom. But I had.

How, I wondered, had I gotten to Rome in the first place?

“My parents,” I said, the topic bubbling back to the surface. “Someone saw them. Someone knows them. Someone at
Forza
touched their things. A hotel owner spoke with them.” I looked at him, saw the sadness on his face, and knew that despite everything happening to him, his heart was breaking for me a little, too. “Do you think it’s in the archives? Their stuff, I mean. Do you think
Forza
kept it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t. Why don’t you tell Father what you’ve learned? It’ll help you to know.” What he didn’t say was why it would help. If I was losing Eric, it would be nice to gain some history. To have some other piece of my life returned when one was amputated.

I managed a quick smile, though I didn’t really feel like smiling. “I’ll do that,” I said, although I wasn’t certain I ever would. A part of me was curious, yes. But another part felt kicked in the gut. I’d never been one to fantasize about my parents, but what little imagining I’d done had cast them as loving people who’d wandered astray during their tourist days in Rome and gotten mugged. Probably injured while trying to save me, and then there I was, alone and lost.

Never once had I imagined they’d left me alone to go off playing superhero. It was one thing to fight, I thought. Another completely to risk making your kid an orphan.

I frowned, realizing that I did that, too. I did it every single day. Maybe my kids wouldn’t be orphaned, but—

I pushed myself to my feet, maternal instincts warring with the need to protect, to fight, to do what I was trained to do. What so few people
could
do.

What was it Allie had said when she’d first found out I was a Demon Hunter? That I was like a cop. Or a soldier.

And she’d been right.

What I did—what I was doing every single day—was right.

But if that was true, then why did it hurt so bad? Why did it feel like the parents I never knew had kicked me in the gut, said a big
screw you
, and run off to get themselves killed.

“Shit,” I held up a hand, warding off Eric’s questions and sympathy. “I think we’re done here.” I stood to go.

“Katie.” His voice was so soft. So
Eric
. And damned if the tears didn’t start flowing.

“Don’t do this,” I said as he stood, too. “I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to cry on your shoulder. I don’t want to cry at all.”

He moved a step closer, his eyes dark and full of purpose. “What’s wrong with my shoulder?”

I managed a whisper of a smile. “It’s not mine anymore.” If I was going to cry on anyone’s shoulder, it should be Stuart’s.

“You’re not your parents,” he said, moving closer and backing me against the wall.

I couldn’t help my smile. “How do you do that? How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

“You’re part of me, Katie,” he said. “You always have been.”

And because I saw him leaning closer—because I saw what he wanted and wanted it myself—I shook my head. “No.”

“We’re not connected?” he asked, his lips brushing mine. “You can’t say no any more than you can stop breathing.”

“Eric,” I repeated,
“no.”

“Hush,” he said. And then he took my mouth in his, his lips soft but firm.

I pushed him away, shaking my head, not willing to go there again. “I said no.”

“And I said yes,” he spat, then jerked me closer. I gasped, surprised by the fierceness of his touch. “Dammit, Kate, you’re mine.” And then he was on me again, his mouth crushing against mine, his teeth tugging at my lip, biting and claiming, and his hands owning me, touching me.

I tried to speak, tried to find words, but I couldn’t, and when his hand dipped under my shirt and found my breast, I gasped not in arousal but in fear.

I bit down hard on his lip, then yanked my head back when he groaned. “Let me go,” I said, my voice firm, my fear absolutely hidden.

“The hell I will,” and then his leg was behind mine, pulling me off balance, knocking me to the ground. His shirt had come untucked from his jeans, and as he twisted around, I saw a flash of red, angry scar—and it was in the shape of a serpent, fangs bared and tongue forked.

I couldn’t even gasp, couldn’t process that horrible image, because he was on top of me, his hands at the button of my jeans, and all I could think was that this was not happening.

It was
not
happening.

I kicked up, not catching him as hard as I wanted in the balls, but managing enough of a whack that he jerked up, and I got a good look at his face.

I gasped as I looked into his eyes.

I gasped, because I’d expected to see the beast, the demon.

But it wasn’t there. The man looking at me—the man attacking me—was Eric.

For the first time
in my life, I was terrified of this man, and I rolled over, clawing at the ground as I tried to scoot out from under him and climb to my feet. I caught another glimpse of his face and the shock I now saw there calmed me some. I’d fought Eric before, and although I’m strong, he’s stronger, and the one thing—the single thing—that kept me from smashing a punch into his jaw and sending him hurtling into unconsciousness was the fact that I knew that if he wanted to, he could take me down in an instant.

He’d stopped, though, and now he was backing off, his eyes dark and lost and telling.

But that didn’t mean I felt safe. On the contrary, I felt sick. Nauseated and, yes, afraid.

He moved forward, something dangerous flaring again in those beautiful eyes.

“Get back,” I hissed. “Pull back, or I swear to God I will end this now.” Despite my jumbled emotions, I pulled out the very blade that Eric had given me on our third anniversary. I watched him, forcing my hand to remain steady, as I searched his face, desperate for even a glimmer of the Eric I knew.