It Happened One Doomsday (11 page)

As quietly as she could, Dru eased the dented door closed and leaned all of her weight against it, hoping the damage couldn't be easily seen from the street.

Pulses of blue and red lights splashed across the front of the building, reflecting around her where they leaked in through unseen windows.

Across the dark garage, a cascade of metal crashed to the floor. “Sorry,” Rane said. “My bad.”

An idling car engine crept up, accompanied by the squawking of radio voices and the crunch of tires on loose gravel.

After an agonizing minute, Dru whispered, “Why aren't they leaving?”

“Probably running the plates on Nate's car,” Rane answered from the darkness, not bothering to lower her voice. “Why, he got any outstanding warrants?”

“Funny.” Dru waited, sweating, as the police cruiser idled out front. She had the irresistible urge to swallow, but her throat was bone-dry. When had she become the kind of person who hid from the police?

She thought about walking out into the flashing lights, hands up, trying to explain.
You see, my customer turned into a demon. Then my friend punched him out. So it's all under control now, Officer, thank you.

No.

She wondered if Nate would bail her out of jail.

Probably not.

After an eternity of pounding heartbeats, the lights and sounds faded away, leaving the three of them alone in the darkness. The demon's breathing echoed like a snoring horse.

Dru silently counted to ten, then flipped the switch. She blinked in the sudden glare.

The garage was easily big enough for three cars, but it held only one: the long, angular form of Greyson's black muscle car. It crouched behind Rane's back, its hood open just an inch, as if waiting to devour her.

Rane, still in stone form, had dropped the demon at her feet. Beside her, a tool tray was overturned, the source of the crash. A dozen shiny wrenches lay scattered across the concrete floor, and the corner of the metal tray was squashed flat under her stone heel.

The walls of the garage were lined with upright red tool cabinets. The swollen tanks of a welding rig sat in the corner, topped by a well-used tinted visor. Spare parts hung from the walls, surrounded by chrome hubcaps and old license plates in faded colors.

Rane glanced over her shoulder at the car. “Damn.” She stalked around the car as if it would bite her. “This thing got a Hemi?”

“Something about that car gives me the creeps.” Dru started to turn away, then gave it a puzzled look. Something didn't add up. “Wait, how did his car get back here?”

Rane cocked her head to the side, like a puppy.

“I mean, I assume he drove to the restaurant,” Dru said. “So . . . wouldn't it still be there, in the parking lot?”

“Maybe he took a cab.” Rane shrugged. “It's not like the car drove
itself
home.”

“Strange.” Dru shook her head. “Anyway, let's get Greyson restrained before he wakes up.”

Rane gave her a stone grin that was half amusement, half disbelief. “Restrained?”

“If we can.” Dru went through the tool cabinets, gingerly at first, then with more urgency, looking for rope, cable, duct tape, anything. “Unless you want to fight him again when he wakes up.”

“Wasn't much of a fight,” Rane muttered. But she started looking, too.

In a bottom drawer, Dru found a pile of thick metal chain. Long stretches of it were caked with oily grime and occasional patches of bright orange spray paint. But it felt solid enough to hold down an elephant. She grabbed a heavy handful and dragged it out across the floor. “What do you think? Chain him up?”

Rane found one end, then looked from Greyson to Dru and back. “Kinky,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Dru sighed. “Whatever.”

Near one of the walls of the garage, a pair of foot-wide metal I-beams supported the high roof. It didn't take long to prop Greyson up against the base of one of the beams and wrap chains around his arms and chest.

Rane jammed a long metal bolt through the ends of the chain and bent it into a pretzel shape. “That should hold him. For a while, anyway.” With a grinding sound, she turned human again.

“Great.” Dru looked down at her dress. It was completely ruined. Wrinkled, dirty, and torn at the hem. Now it had a black greasy smudge on the side, too. “Fantastic.”

Rane wiped ineffectively at the smudge with a red shop rag. “
Way
better than the night I had planned. What's next?”

“I have to find a way to cure him. Without screwing it up again.” Dru sighed with frustration. “Somewhere in here, there's a cursed artifact of some kind. We need to find it and break the connection.”

“What does it look like, this artifact? Is it glowy or something?”

“That's the problem. It could be anything.” Dru thought about the burning glyphs on the demon's hands. “My guess is it'll be marked with a symbol. Like the scales of justice.”

“Okay. Find something with scales on it.
Sounds
simple. Don't you have a crystal that allows you to see enchantments? TV crystal or something?”

“TV rock. Ulexite. Yes, but it's back at the shop.”

Rane folded her arms. “Hold up. If the evil hoodoo charm is in here with us, making this place ground zero for demon weirdness, doesn't that mean this is
exactly
the wrong place to chain him up?”

The two of them regarded the unconscious demon. His head hung down, thick curved horns hiding his face.

“You want to move him?” Dru said.

“Nope.”

“Me either.” Dru took a deep breath. “Look, I hate to split up, but I need you here to keep an eye on him.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the shop to get more crystals. And check my books. I'll be back here in maybe an hour, tops.”

For a brief instant, Rane looked deeply worried. Then it was gone, and Rane waved it off. “It's fine. You go. I'll keep an eye on him.”

Dru thought about it. Maybe splitting up was a really bad idea after all. “I don't know what else to do. Is there anyone else we can call in on this? Salem, maybe?” She hated to bring up Rane's ex-boyfriend, but the situation was desperate.

Rane's face darkened. “No.”

“Maybe I should call Opal, have her come over with some crystals and books.”

Rane put her hands on Dru's shoulders. “You call in Opal, she'll get hurt, maybe worse. Regular people can't handle these kinds of problems.”

“Opal's not exactly regular.”

“But she doesn't have powers like we do. This thing is between you and me. So go back to the shop, get your own gear, and hurry back.” As if sensing her reluctance to leave, Rane swept her into another bone-crushing hug. Then she took a deep sniff of Dru's hair and let her go.

“Um,” Dru said. She wanted to say,
Did you just sniff my hair?
But she already had too much weirdness on her plate to deal with any more.

She backed away, grabbed her purse, and headed out. Just as she stepped outside, Rane called to her again.

“D.”

That one syllable was loaded with emotion. Rane stood alone in the center of the garage, hugging herself. She set her lips in a thin line. “If he wakes up, gets violent? This could get freakishly ugly, fast.”

“Uglier than now?”

“You haven't had to put down a demon before.” Rane hesitated. “I have.”

Put down a demon.
The words echoed in Dru's mind, chilling her.

The haunted look in Rane's eyes made it absolutely clear what she meant. If Dru couldn't find a way to cure Greyson, he might never leave this garage alive.

13

SHADES OF GREYSON

Dru stood in the doorway, torn. She needed to leave, but she also needed to be here. In case Greyson broke loose and everything went to hell.

Leaving was too risky, she decided. Greyson's life was at stake. And possibly Rane's, if she couldn't handle him.

Feeling like she couldn't win, Dru came back inside and inspected Greyson's chains again. She figured they'd hold if the demon woke up. But she'd been wrong before. “Okay, change of plans. Whatever the cursed artifact is that's doing this, we need to find it. Fast. Let's tear this place apart.”

Rane cracked her knuckles. “All
right
.”

Dru put a cautioning hand on her arm. “I don't mean that literally.”

“Hey, you want to save his soul? You work your way. I'll work mine.” Rane pulled a box of rusty parts off a shelf and dumped it out on the floor with a deafening crash.

Dru scanned the garage. There was just so much stuff here, she wasn't sure where to begin. Then she remembered the glowing glyphs.

“Hey, you saw the scales symbol he had on his hands? I know I've seen that before. I need my books.” Dru whipped out her phone and set down her purse. “I'm calling Opal. Executive decision.”

Rane snorted. “Whatever. It's your party. You can invite your employee if you want.”

“Opal's not just an employee,” Dru said. “She's a good friend.”

Rane waved her off and started rifling through toolboxes.

Opal answered on the third ring, speaking loud enough that Rane probably heard her. “You know I only work for you in the daytime, right?”

“Hi, Opal.” Dru ignored Rane's sudden smirk. “Listen, we're in big trouble here.”

“You find the demon?”

“That's the problem. If I'm going to save him, I need more crystals. Like right now. And you're my only hope.”

Opal let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Only hope, huh? I was afraid you were gonna play that card. Now I've
got
to be there for you.” With a hint of suspicion, she added, “Where is
there
, anyway?”

“Greyson's place.”

“I was afraid of that, too.”

Rane cupped her hands around her mouth. “Girls' night out at the demon house, Opal. When this is all over, we need beer. Lots. So bring it.”

“Girls' night?” Opal repeated. “You think it's safe to give that girl alcohol?”

“Absolutely not,” Dru said. “Look, we're trying to find whatever kind of cursed artifact has been afflicting Greyson. It'd be a lot easier if I had a ulexite crystal to see through. Or optical calcite.”

“And you want me to go down to the shop and bring your stuff over.” It wasn't a question.

Dru cringed, just a little. “And I need some books, too. There's a thick hardcover on demon idols by Lafayette on the back shelf. And I need the one by Tristram about banishing spirits. Plus the Stanislaus journals, the ones with the padlocks on them.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Opal muttered. “I gotta write this all down. Good thing I'm not
busy
or anything.”

Dru was thinking too fast to fully catch the sarcasm. “And the blue parts bins in the corner beneath the giant amethyst? The ones with all the slide-out trays? Bring those, too.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them. I need
everything
.” Her phone beeped. She looked at the screen.

It was Nate. Calling from home.

Her heart leaped with hope, and simultaneously a jolt of anxiety shot through her. “Gotta go. Thank you so much. Hurry. But no beer.” She switched over to Nate. “Honey, are you okay? Sorry I took your car. It was an emergency.”

“I'm fine.” There was a coldness in his voice that had never been there before. It sent a sudden icy spike of worry up her spine.

“Um, do you want your car back? I could come pick you up.” She peered over at Greyson. Still unconscious. “In a little while.”

“No,” he said. “Just pick me up at the airport when I get back from New York.”

“New York?”

“Yes, New York,” he snapped. “It's the only chance I have to salvage things with the Zubriggen twins.”

“What about the dinner?” But she already knew the answer. Dinner had been an utter fiasco. She tried to sound positive. “You prepared all of those reports, right? All the financial documents? Once they read those, they'll know your practice is a great investment.”

Nate let out a deep, soul-searching sigh. “On paper, yes. But that doesn't matter. When you're investing in a business, Dru, you're investing in the people, too. You want to put your money behind people who are stable. Growth-oriented. People who have it together.”

She hung her head. “Sorry about all of the drama tonight.”

“
Drama?
” Nate made an inarticulate choking sound. “The whole reason I had you there at the restaurant was to show the investors that you and I are a happy, stable, professional couple.”

Dru swallowed. “So, well . . . are we?”

“Are we what?”

“
Any
of those things?”

Nate paused. Then with an edge, he said, “What are you saying?”

Dru took a deep breath and watched Rane tear up the garage while Greyson, scaly-skinned and horned, slumped in his chains, unconscious. “I tried to warn you, Nate. I tried to explain exactly what was going on. Weird as it all sounds, I know, it
was
an emergency. I just needed you to
listen
to me.”

She wasn't just talking about tonight, she knew. He'd never taken her work seriously, and it kept getting tougher to put a lid on her frustration.

She paced and bumped into a shelf full of junk. A can of black spray paint fell onto her head with a painful jab. She grabbed the can and slammed it back on the shelf.

Nate stayed silent, and she could picture him trying to sort everything out. As angry as she was, her heart ached for him. Nearly getting choked to death by a demon couldn't be easy for anyone to process, especially someone who steadfastly refused to believe in the supernatural.

“Look, I really am sorry,” she said. “How's your throat?”

“Is this what you do?” He threw it out like an accusation. “Down in your little shop?”