Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei (13 page)

“Do you understand the meaning of that word, son?”

What is it with me and older gentlemen with that world weary been-there-heard-it-all-don’t-mess-with-me attitude?

“Certainly do, sir.”

We stopped outside of a door crisscrossed with crime scene tape. Courey flipped out a blade and sliced through it.

“Then you’ll understand how you didn’t actually answer my question,” he said, opening the door.

“Certainly do, sir. Mind if Mercy and I head in alone first? Wouldn’t want you and Erin interrupting the esoteric flow of the room.”

This time
Courey glanced at Erin for confirmation. She nodded and so he waved us in.

Mercy and I entered the lab.

Of all my truncated, properly professional working career most of it had been within one laboratory or another. They’d all been pathology labs and compared to research or development labs, they’re a different kettle of test tubes altogether. Whatever I’d been expecting of this lab, what I found was bank after bank of computers, a couple of server towers and in the far corner, a series of small laser mountings in sealed, plastic containers. There were no lasers in the housings, though. Perhaps the work hadn’t progressed to practical applications before Gerry Davis was murdered.

“Getting anything?” I asked Mercy.

She prowled close to my back, her usual position in unknown situations. “Feel something,” she said and moved past me.

It was my turn to follow her and she took me to the opposite corner to the lasers, close to the entrance. As I got closer, I could start to feel it and right in the corner, it swamped me.

Dark and bleak and roiling with fear. It clawed at my heart, desperate to be felt and understood and raged against. This was wrong, so wrong. Why was he doing this? It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him.

The image flashed before my eyes. Chris Davis’ sad, round face. He reached for me, curled his fingers around my neck. I pleaded with him, why, why, why? No. Stop, please. I love you. Why?

There was no expression on his face, no hatred, no fear. Nothing to tell me why he was doing this.

His hands closed, tighter, harder, stronger than I’d ever felt from him before. This was not the slightly clumsy lover who tended to fumble in the dark but with tender intentions. Nor were these the hands of an awarded marksman who’d never fired his gun in anything other than calm deliberation.

My throat constricted, cutting off air. Darkness swirled at the edges of my sight.

He was doing it. He was trying to kill me.

But he wasn’t my husband.

Matt collapsed to the floor, choking. Erin shook off Courey’s restraining hand and ran into the lab. In the corner, Mercy moved faster than Erin could see and pulled Matt backwards, tossing him into the clear space between two benches. He hit the ground with a heavy thud and coughed.

“Matt?” Erin skidded to a stop and knelt by him.

Whatever seizure had held him was gone now. He lay on his back, dragging in great gulps of air. His hands pressed to his throat and his eyelids fluttered.

Mercy crouched by his other side. She took his hands away from his throat and for a moment, Erin could see red finger marks on his tanned skin. The vampire held his straining hands in one of her own and passed the other over his eyes. He calmed immediately.

“What happened?” Erin asked Mercy.

Eyes flashing silver, the vampire glared at the corner. “The death lingers. It caught him.”

“What’s going on here?” Courey demanded.

Mercy looked up at him, and thankfully her eyes were normal brown.

“Matt’s psychic,” Erin explained. “He felt the murder. I take it that corner was where she was found?”

He nodded. “Psychic? Why couldn’t he just say that up front?”

“He likes his mysteries.”

“And you like destroying them,” Matt muttered.

Erin sighed. “You all right?”

He struggled to sit up. Mercy put one hand under his shoulder and lifted him easily.

“What a head rush.” Matt shook his head as if trying to dislodge water from his ears. “Rather ride the rollercoaster though.”

“Mercy said you got caught in the death,” Erin said, highly aware of
Courey leaning over her.

“Yeah. Big psychic scar in that corner. Very violent death.” He glanced at
Courey. “She was strangled.”

Erin shivered, recalling the impression of fingers on his neck.

“In that corner,” the detective confirmed. “We hadn’t released that detail.”

“The man who killed her looked like Chris Davis,” Matt continued, tone absent as he looked back at the corner in question. “But it wasn’t him. She knew it wasn’t him.”

“How did she know?” Courey asked. If he doubted Matt’s experience it didn’t show in his voice.

“The hands. They weren’t his hands. The face was his, the general body shape was his, but the hands weren’t. Whoever it was made an imperfect copy.”

“They wore a false face, you mean,” Courey said.

“There was no mask, Detective.”

Erin glanced between Matt and Mercy. The vampire stood and popped the bones in her neck.

“What do you mean?” Erin asked, dreading the answer.

“I mean it was a shape-changer. Something that could look at a picture of Chris and then change physically to look like him.”

Courey’s
patience found its limit. He snorted and straightened. “A shape-changer?”

“Psychics you can deal with but not shape-changers?” Matt hauled himself to his feet and faced the other man. “That’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. I’m quite willing to admit that there are people who are particularly sensitive to certain things. Just as I’m willing to admit that what they feel is going to be right a certain percent of the time. But that’s people. I ain’t never seen someone ‘shape change’.”

Mercy nudged Matt with enough force to threaten to knock him over again. “Ghosts.”

“Ghosts now?” Courey threw his hands up.

“No, Detective, no ghosts. Mercy’s just reminding me about my own thoughts regarding ghosts. I guess I can understand your position on shape-changers.” Matt turned to Erin. “We might want to get Chris somewhere safe. If something out there is walking around wearing his face, he could be in trouble.”

Courey crossed his arms. “I think the police can handle protecting him.”

Erin shook her head. “Not if they’re not willing to admit the nature of the threat.”

“And you do, McRea?”

It wasn’t just
Courey waiting for a response. Matt raised his eyebrows at her as well. Whichever way she answered, she would disappoint one of these men.

Courey
she respected professionally, and he was a great source of help to her work. There was a hint of something more personal creeping into their working relationship, and friendships were rare enough in her life these days she didn’t want to ruin this one before it even had a chance.

Then there was Matt, and to be honest, Mercy. The vampire was as much a part of Matt as his arm or leg. And it was a scary package. Matt was subject to fits of untempered rage and Mercy was, well, she was a vampire. Without Matt’s control she would be nothing more than a savage, ruthless predator. Their world was populated with werewolves, demons and who knew how many other untold terrors. Erin had been pulled into this nightmare against her will. She’d almost died, twice. She’d sworn off Matt and his adrenaline fuelled life.

Yet here she was again.

“I…” She glanced at Matt. “I’m willing to listen to him.”

Courey sighed and shook his head. “Are you done in here, Hawkins?”

“Not yet. I want to check for other things.”

The detective stalked out to the corridor.

Erin looked around the lab so she wouldn’t have look at Matt. “Do you want me to leave as well?”

“No. You should be right for this. Mercy? Smell anything?”

Mercy practically crawled around the room and it seemed she caught some scent by the door. This she followed directly across the room to a computer that was still lightly dusted with fingerprint powder.
Courey watched from the doorway, arms crossed, frown etched on his brow. Matt stood back and let Mercy track. Erin stayed by him, not wanting to get in Mercy’s way.

As they knew it must, the trail led to the corner where the murder had occurred. From there, Mercy crawled across the floor to an unremarkable spot between a bench and the wall and stopped.

“Gone,” she hissed.

“What’s gone?” Matt asked.

Silver, glittering eyes regarded them. “Demon.”

Erin swallowed hard and she found her hand drifting of its own accord to the gun she wore in a shoulder holster. Her gaze swept between Matt and Mercy and the rest of the room, dreading the appearance of a demon and what it might do to Matt’s control.

“Big or small?” Matt asked, his tone as tight as Erin’s stomach felt.

“Big. Same as last night.”

“Same type? Or the exact same demon?”

“Exact same demon.” Mercy stood and the prowling predator mien dropped from her like a discarded cloak. She shrugged casually. “Maybe.”

Matt growled deep in his throat. “What do you mean, maybe?”

“The scent is old,” Mercy snapped, her fangs flashing momentarily. “Stale. It’s probably the same one, but maybe not.”

Relieved that the demon wasn’t nearby, Erin touched Matt’s arm before he could snarl back at Mercy. “Settle down.”

Walking away, Matt rolled his shoulders and visibly relaxed.

“Are you done now?” Erin asked them both.

“Yeah,” Matt said. “I think we’ve got all we can from this place.”

“What else did you discover?” Courey asked as they left the lab.

“Do you really want to know?” Erin asked before Matt could.

Courey chewed over that for a moment. “I assume that means it’s nothing I can take to my captain.”

“That’s the gist of it,” Matt muttered.

The security guard walked them out to the gate and locked it behind them. Matt and Mercy went to their bike and set about putting on helmets. Courey touched Erin’s arm and drew her toward his car.

“Are you sure about this guy?” he asked gruffly.

“You know I was investigating Hawkins earlier in the year. I know all about him.”

“Fine. But do you know him?”

Erin looked past Courey, into the dark night. “I trust him to save my life.”

“I trust a lifesaver to keep me from drowning but I wouldn’t trust him with my beer. The girl?”

“Psychic as well.”

He sighed. “I’ll trust you for now,
McRea. You’re a stubborn bitch and I think he’d have a tough time if he tried anything on you.”

“You bet. Thanks for tonight,
Courey. Ivan and Brad really appreciate it.”

Courey
nodded and got into his car. Erin went to her own car. Matt and Mercy were on the bike, waiting for her.

“Is Chris staying with Ivan and Brad?” Matt asked.

“No. He’s at home with Rufus.”

“I really think we should get them somewhere else. A hotel, under a fake name if possible. Not Ivan’s. The demon knows his place.”

“If it’s even the same demon. Can you be sure the two attacks are related?”

Matt quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you saying I’m not universally loved?”

She shrugged, as if it could go either way.

“There is a possibility, I guess,” he admitted. “But still, I think it’s safe to assume it’s all connected.
Merce’s uncertainty about the similarities might be because of time or the fact the demon looked different. And having two demons in town at the same time for unrelated issues is even a bit far for my credulity to stretch.”

“Which means the attack last night was directed at you taking the Davis case and not something personal.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, and he didn’t sound too happy about it. “Guess this is my sort of case, after all.”

A sinking feeling crept into Erin’s bones. Matt had been right. His world was her world. Demons had crawled into her life without his help. As Jacob had said, as scary as Matt and Mercy could be, at least they were there to stand between the baddies and the ignorant masses.

Not that Erin was willing to rely on him for everything. She thought about the bottle of Holy water and crucifix in her car, both staples since her encounter with armies of vampires, and felt a bit safer.

“Now we’ve just got to work out what Geraldine Davis did to make a demon kill her,” Matt said.

Erin didn’t miss the ‘we’. “Did your demonologist shed any light on the subject? How to deal with these things? Where they come from?” Did God really exist?

“Apparently demonology isn’t a straightforward matter. At least it’s not for demonologists who don’t believe in their chosen field.”

Erin’s jaw dropped. “A demonologist who doesn’t believe in demons?”

“It’s a purely academic pursuit for her. She’s more into the psychological and philosophical reason behind man’s need to create an evil creature to blame his mistakes on.”

“Then she’s a psychologist not a demonologist.”

“Not really. She could probably talk for hours about demons.” He winced. “Just not the sort of demons that are real.”

Shaking her head, Erin muttered, “You need to find a new specialist. And soon. If many more of these things pop up, we’re going to be in serious trouble.”

“We aren’t already?” He flashed that cheeky grin. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up in terms of a real demon resource. Get Chris and Rufus somewhere safe. Call you tomorrow.”

She gave him an I’ll-believe-that-when-it-happens look and got into her car.

Courey
had yet to leave, so Erin gave him a pointed wave as she drove past. Matt kicked the bike into gear and took off in a spray of gravel. Only then did Courey start his car and pull out behind them. Erin headed back toward Greenslopes and home, while Matt and Mercy turned off to head north. Courey followed them. She doubted the detective actually had to go that way, but repressed a surge of indignation. She’d survived well enough before Courey had come along. Didn’t he understand that she would continue to do so?

It was like Matt thinking he had a right to question her ability to deal with the events around
Veilchen. So, she’d had a moment where she’d given into the thinking about the worst, thinking about how hard it was to struggle on. So what? Everyone had those thoughts every now and then. She’d got over it, didn’t need him—

Something big hit the right side of the car. The airbag exploded into Erin’s chest and deflated in a second. The car slewed across two lanes of traffic and hit the railing, engine stalling as the car rocked back onto all four tyres.

Mind reeling, eyes unfocused, ears roaring with pounding blood, Erin reached for the bottle in the cup holder. The car shuddered and intense blue light flared through the window. Shaking hands stilling on the water bottle, Erin squinted into the glare. A tall shadow stalked across the road toward her. It was bulky and misshapen, but as it reached the car, wings unfurled to either side, revealing the golden skinned demon from the night before. It regarded Erin through the crazily cracked glass, wings big enough to block out the entire world.

There was absolutely nothing human in those eerily glowing eyes Erin could relate to. She’d looked into the eyes of rapists, killers and petty criminals and had always seen something she could understand, be it an abusive childhood, desperation so deep it didn’t allow for anything else, or even a cool, calculating understanding of how things could be manipulated and used. All of it she had been able to recognise as something all humans felt at one time or another, as emotions that could be fought against or given into. The demon’s eyes, however, were completely alien. Erin could find nothing in them she could understand, nothing to tell her just what this creature was thinking.