Seduced by Crimson (37 page)

Oh, shit
was right. Xiao Fei was completely exposed, standing at the curb of the street. Patrick was only marginally better protected in the storefront, but that was of little help against the eight demons slowly straightening from behind parked cars.

He reacted as fast as he could, which unfortunately was pathetically slow. He sprang from the door and tackled Xiao Fei. She had already been diving, so their combined momentum threw them into the shadow of a large tree—no real ground cover here—but then he was able to roll them under the carriage of a big truck. They dropped off the sidewalk with a tooth-jarring thud, but at least they were better protected.

It had been the right move. A big flash of searing heat burned the ground where Xiao Fei had been standing. A boom echoed through the air and ground, leaving a crater the size of a basketball in the concrete. Damn, that had been close.

Xiao Fei was squirming beneath him, so Patrick shifted. The truck wasn't going to give them much cover, especially if the bastards had more weapons like those big fireball things. Their only hope was to shoot the demons before the truck blew up above them.

Too bad he didn't have a gun—and how big of an idiot did he feel for that particular oversight? He'd been so worried about Xiao Fei's running off by herself, he'd failed to check the basics. Fortunately, he wasn't completely defenseless. He'd been trying to conserve his strength, but now wasn't the time for prudence. Concentrating hard on the first demon to appear, he prepared to twist the creature's energy so badly that its body would shut down and it would die. But Xiao Fei blew a big hole in the demon's skull first.

Patrick jerked his head sideways to watch her sight another with a big pistol. "Where'd you get a gun?" he asked.

She squeezed the trigger as another demon appeared. It dropped. "Peter had a whole stash of them. Didn't you see?"

Nope. But then he often had tunnel vision when he was with her. He decided to focus on the approaching demons. "I've got the fat one on the right," he muttered.

"How?" He could hear her surprise.

He didn't answer; he just focused. He took hold of the demon's energy and corrupted it. The act made him sick to his stomach. He'd done it only once before, and the effect had been gruesome—to Jason, and to Patrick's own soul. He felt twisted and evil whenever he worked this magic, but it was "us or them" time. He chose "us." Especially since he didn't view these particular demons as innocent victims. They were invading Crimson City, not the other way around.

So he concentrated—hard. The amulet flared against his chest, and he gasped at the burning flash of pain, but at least the power worked. He caught the demon's energy and twisted. It wasn't as quick a death as a bullet between the eyes, but it was more dramatic. The demon in question fell to its knees and began convulsing. Another mental twist by Patrick, and half the creature's chest imploded. The remaining demons stared at their companion, mouths hanging open in shock. Apparently they'd seen gunfire before and were completely un-fazed by it. But to see one of their own start foaming at the mouth… The monsters became completely unglued.

A horrendous bellow split the air, making Xiao Fei jerk next to Patrick. It was the demons' battle cry—eerie and unnerving—as they rushed the truck. Xiao Fei fired with deafening frequency, but there were just too many of them. Patrick dropped another two, settling for immobilization over murder. He twisted the energy around their knees and legs, making the demons fall on their faces. But though the creatures howled with rage, they kept coming, even if they had to dig their claws in the dirt and crawl.

Thankfully the demons didn't seem to have more of those fireball things. They had knives, swords, and claws, though. Five bad guys still coming. Wait, that didn't compute. Damn, were more showing up? He and Xiao Fei were doomed.

"I'm running out of bullets," she said.

"I'm getting tired" he replied. It was a lie. He'd been cross-eyed tired before they began. "Any suggestions?"

"Run?"

He'd already come to that conclusion, too. But to where? And for how long? He didn't want to rely on the hope that they could outrun these monsters. "Peter's car is around the corner. I brought it. Go first; I'll cover you."

"Bull, druid boy, you've got to concentrate. All I've got to do is aim. You go!"

He didn't have time to argue. He rolled out from under the truck while she squeezed off a few more rounds. Then, when one of the demons started kicking at the truck—okay, some of these guys weren't so bright—Patrick reached underneath and hauled Xiao Fei out by her feet.

She rolled as he pulled, leaping up the moment she cleared the vehicle. Wow. It felt like they had practiced the maneuver a million times. Too bad the demons weren't equally impressed.

He and Xiao Fei took off down the street as the demons let out another unholy roar. A throwing blade thudded into a tree just ahead of Patrick's chest. He hunched his shoulders and pushed Xiao Fei ahead of him. Let the knives hit him; she was the one who would quickly bleed to death.

"Hurry," she gasped.

He didn't waste the time to look behind them; he knew the demons were gaining from the sound of their feet thudding on the pavement. Xiao Fei twisted enough to shoot over her shoulder, but her grimace told him she'd missed.

Patrick put on another burst of speed, but he already knew it was hopeless. There was no way they could outrun trained warrior demons.

Other shots rang out. Someone else was shooting now. Great. The demons must have guns, too—except he sensed that they didn't. Patrick frowned, concentrating enough to feel the negative energy behind him. Where were the demons? Where were the people?

"Don't stop!" a woman screamed. That wasn't Xiao Fei's voice. It was someone else. Her sister?

"Sandy? Get inside!" Xiao Fei bellowed.

Patrick turned to see more than just Sandy. From windows and doorways up and down the street, people were shooting at the demons. He saw Xiao Fei's sister, a couple of security guards, plus a middle-aged guy in a sweatshirt. All four of them were taking potshots at the demons, who were getting peppered from all sides.

That was when he heard the motorcycles: a distant roar that must have been coming for a while, but was now loud enough to overpower the gunfire. Patrick spun, ready to face a new threat, but the three huge choppers that hurtled around the corner weren't ridden by demons. No, and if he wasn't mistaken, that was Hank; Hank's girlfriend, Slick; and Dread. And they all had shotguns.

Dread lived up to his name, blowing the nearest demon into shredded oblivion. Hank and Slick skidded to a stop beside Patrick. "Get on!"

Patrick didn't hesitate. He lifted Xiao Fei up and dropped her on Hank's lap, suffering only a few qualms in the process. Hank would protect her, and he'd probably cop only a couple feels.

"No! Sandy!" Xiao Fei screamed.

With one final shotgun blast from Dread, the last of the demons dropped. Just to be sure, the biker reloaded and shot a few of the ones still on the ground.

Hank bellowed at him, "Save the ammo!"

Xiao Fei was still struggling, but Sandy waved her away. "Go!" she cried. "We're safe here!"

"I'll stay!" Dread called back, maneuvering his bike about the street, checking demon bodies.

Xiao Fei looked like she wanted to argue, but Hank didn't give her the chance. With an impressive spin-skid-roar maneuver, he took off down the street. Patrick climbed up behind Slick, who followed a few seconds later.

"Where are we going?" Patrick bellowed into Slick's ear. The biker just shrugged. Her job was to follow Hank. Fortunately, Patrick soon recognized the area.

They were headed for Hank's third-favorite place in the world: a biker bar with good pool tables. His first two favorite places were strip joints, so the man had obviously decided on some decorum. And actually, Patrick grudgingly admitted, this was a good choice; their bikes fit right in with the other couple dozen parked nearby. And, if he had to guess, there were probably a few more guns inside, with the people needed to use them.

Xiao Fei would be safer in there than just about anywhere in Crimson City.

He was feeling a good deal better by the time he made it into the bar's dark interior. It was a bright afternoon in sunny Southern California, but inside it might as well have been midnight. Especially since every table was filled and, miracle of miracles, the television still worked. Thank God for satellite. Unfortunately, the news was less than happy.

L.A. was quarantined by what looked like every military force known to mankind, the National Guard being the least of it. Patrick saw uniforms from the Air Force, Army, and Navy. He also saw tanks, ballistic missiles, and guys sporting big, big, very big guns. According to one reporter, specially trained troops were moving into LA., doing sweeps and taking out pockets of demon resistance, but some of the bad guys were proving remarkably elusive.

"That's because they can shapeshift, you dingbats," drawled Hank over his first beer. He had his arm draped around Slick, belly on the bar, and his free hand digging through a bowl of stale peanuts. Patrick just grinned. Some sights felt right on so many levels, especially as he pulled Xiao Fei into the circle of his arms.

He finally processed what his fellow druid had said. "The demons can
what
?"

Hank nodded. "Yeah, I got a contact at B-Ops. The damn things can look like anybody else. Or some of them can."

"How do we know who they are?" Xiao Fei gasped.

"They shoot at you," Slick answered.

"And they feel different," Patrick said.

Hank rolled his eyes. "Maybe to you, o great Draig-Uisge, but for the rest of us…"

Slick slammed down her hand. "If they shoot, we shoot back. Works for the cops; works for us."

Patrick turned back to the news report. There were satellite images of the half destroyed Harbor Freeway, the blackened fields of LAX, and the explosives exchange outside of B-Ops. "I thought they didn't use guns," he said as he stared at a fuzzy image of demons clustered behind a rocket launcher.

"They learned fast. Actually, it seems they've been infiltrating the city for a while, impersonating key people and learning our weaknesses. That first attack took out the docks, the airport, the Times Building, and a bunch of cell towers. They knew what they were doing."

"So, why haven't they completely taken over?" Xiao Fei asked.

The bartender came over, plunked another beer down, and added his two cents. "Because they ain't got the smarts. Sure, they knew how to attack us at first, but now we know they're here. They ain't got the numbers, and they ain't got the smarts. When it comes right down to it, most of them attack with knives."

Nods came from all around. Also, a whole bunch of guns were abruptly revealed strapped to hips, legs, or crisscrossed over chests.

"Nice crowd you got here," Xiao Fei remarked as she looked around. She sounded admiring. "I think I'll have another drink." Since she was drinking soda, Patrick didn't even blink. He was too busy analyzing battle tactics.

Except for the fireball thing, the demons who'd attacked them relied mostly on knives and claws. They were hardy, but not steel-plated. A shotgun blast to the chest took them out as fast as anything else.

He scanned the crowd, thinking hard. Then he looked at Hank. "You trust these guys? You think they want to take out some demon ass?"

"Hell, yes," answered the bartender.

Hank was slower to nod, scanning the crowd, but in the end he agreed. "I think I can control a few of them." He glanced at the bartender. "You know who I want?"

"You got 'em. When and where?"

Hank didn't hesitate. "Sunset. Griffith Park, just off the Ferndell Trail."

"Yeah," Patrick concurred—and off went the bartender, presumably to pass the word.

"So, you're expecting trouble," Xiao Fei commented. "Getting more help. Being more cautious. That's very Asian. Glad to see I'm rubbing off on you."

"It's not Asian,'" Patrick retorted, irritation lacing his tone. "It's prudent." He frowned. "I don't know if the demons will find us, but I damn well am not going into that grove unprepared."

She shrugged. "They'll find us. They do it the same way you find me—you feel me."

He frowned again, even more frustrated. "What do you mean?"

She turned and stared at him. "What do you mean, what do I mean?" She blinked. "Are you saying you can feel the demon energy, but you can't feel mine?"

"No, of course I can feel yours!" he snapped. "It's like a damn sun. You blind me, woman—so much that I can't feel anything else!" His voice was almost a shout, loud enough that when he finished bellowing, the entire bar was silent. Someone had even muted the TV.

Patrick stared around the bar, his face starting to burn with humiliation.

"Oh, man, you got it bad, don't you?" Hank said.

Patrick swung to face his friend, finding an outlet in the leather-clad, muscle-bound tough guy. "No, I do not 'have it bad,' Hank. I do not 'have
if
at all. What the hell are you thinking? We're fighting a goddamned war here."