The Demon Hunter (14 page)

They found her at the far end of an aisle, bent over and reaching into one of the shelves. As she pulled a small black bottle from the shelf and stood, Oliver saw a strange ruffling on the back of her lab coat, like a ridge of bumps on her spine, which made her coat catch. Oliver wondered once again, what she really was inside.

“Your brother will be in quite a state when he is freed,” said Désirée, handing Oliver the bottle. “Give him this tincture. It will help him recover. And it's free of charge.”

“Thanks,” said Oliver. He hesitated before leaving.

“Ahh, Oliver, always a lingering question in you, isn't there?” Oliver frowned. “Well,” Désirée continued, “you're lucky I'm so patient. Ask away.”

Oliver hadn't really realized that he had a question, but now he knew he did. “Why did you want me to hear my prophecy? I mean, why did you want me to speak to Selene?”

“Well, just as I thought you deserved to know your origins, I also thought you had a right to know the true scope of your destiny,” Désirée said kindly. “As I said before, you probably should have been told long before now. It's been such a shame, Oliver, how you've been kept in the dark.”

Oliver almost laughed. Hadn't Désirée done her fair share of keeping him in the dark?

“Perhaps,” she purred in answer to his thought, “but I have also championed your full awareness of your destiny and its meaning.”

Oliver realized that she had a point. Who had really helped more than Désirée? Without her, where would he be? “But, like, if you can read my thoughts, then you know how all this is making me feel.”

Désirée smiled. “Go on.”

“Well—” Oliver figured there was no use lying to her. “It's all making me
not
want to fulfill the prophecy. Is that what you want?”

“Ahh,” said Désirée. “See, that question is irrelevant, Oliver. I'm not concerned with what you want to do. I'm only concerned with what you
will
do.”

Oliver groaned wearily. “You make it sound like you already know.”

“I know a little,” said Désirée coyly, “but mostly I am as intrigued as anyone. Now, go. You don't have much time to save your brother.”

“Right.” Oliver and Emalie started out.

“Until next time,” said Désirée brightly.

Chapter 10

The Abandoned Lighthouse

“I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE
gonna get to use swords,” said Emalie as they rode atop a bus. The sky had cleared, a cold wind whisking the clouds away. There was no moon, and instead a rare view of the stars.

Oliver glanced at Emalie. She was squinting into the wind with a slight smile. “It's going to be dangerous,” he replied cautiously.

“Come on,” she said, punching his shoulder lightly. “We can handle it.”

Something about this bothered Oliver. Should Emalie have been so
excited
? She'd always been daring—that was
one
word for bringing a camera into the Underground on her very first trip—but it seemed to be going further now. Trying to fool Désirée? Oliver felt a little lame for not being as enthusiastic as Emalie, but it just didn't seem right. A couple of hours ago she'd been totally down in the dumps, then giggling on the floor. It was like the stronger she got, the more up-and-down she became as well.

“You're still worrying about Dean, aren't you?” Emalie asked.

“Even if the necklace works, we don't know for how long. And Lythia is strong.”

“Well,” said Emalie, “there he is. Let's go ask him.” She pointed toward the sidewalk.

Sure enough, Dean was walking by with another figure.

Their bus passed him in a moment. Emalie winked out of sight.
Come on already!
She thought to him as she leaped off the bus.

Oliver jumped to his feet and followed.

Emalie popped back into sight on the sidewalk. “No problem,” she said with a satisfied grin.

They hurried down the street, but then Oliver held out a hand to slow them down.

“Who's he with?” Emalie asked.

“Not sure. It's another zombie,” said Oliver. “I can tell by the smell.” At first, Oliver had thought it might be Autumn, but it wasn't.

“Well, let's go get him,” said Emalie.

“Wait.” Oliver held her back. “Let's see what they're up to for a minute first.”

They stayed far back as Dean and his mystery companion walked. At one point the wind shifted. Oliver nodded to Emalie, then leaped up to a nearby roof, so that Dean wouldn't catch their scent. Emalie blinked out of sight and joined him.

“It's almost like he's going to your house,” Emalie commented after another mile.

“Yeah,” said Oliver, but now he saw a more likely destination ahead. Sure enough, Dean crossed the street toward the bright neon island of 24-7 and Harvey's.

“Can we go in and see the blood racks?” Emalie asked as they approached the store.

“Some other time,” Oliver replied, again noting her enthusiasm.

They kept out of line of the windows. Peering around a metal ice machine, they watched the front counter until Dean finally appeared carrying an armful of items. Tuna, baking soda, datura root …

“Those are the same things Lythia was buy—” Oliver began but stopped suddenly.

Dean's companion had joined him, and was gazing mildly out the window. Emalie's breath halted as well. He didn't see Oliver and Emalie, but they could see his face, and more important, the large wounds on his neck, now black and edged with mold after some time in the ground.

“That's the first jaguar victim,” Oliver whispered gravely.

“I felt his spirit,” said Emalie. “Dante, that was his name.”

Dean paid for the items and the two walked toward the door, chatting with one another like regular friends.

Oliver tapped Emalie on the shoulder and they vaulted up to the roof.

“So, this means …” said Emalie.

“Yeah, it's Lythia,” Oliver agreed. “She would've needed to be at the jaguar killing in order to prepare Dante for being raised. That's right, the baking soda she bought.”

“What?”

“It's used to mask the presence of certain enchanted chemicals,” said Oliver, putting the pieces together. “Bane attacks the victim, but then Lythia is the real killer. She uses her zombie serum, that syringe we saw her use on Dean, and tops it off with the baking soda to erase the presence. The vampire bite marks were probably her, too.”

“You think she has Bane?”

Oliver nodded. “Her dad is the one who got the Nagual. She's probably been in charge of controlling the jaguar and where the killings happen, working for Half-Light.”

“Then maybe Dean will lead us right to her.”

“Yeah.”

They leaped off the roof and followed Dean and Dante, heading west. After an hour, they wound up a quiet street lined with expensive homes. Beyond the last house, the street turned to dirt and entered thick trees wrapped in leafy vines. Soon they reached a rusted chain-link fence, and a gate. Dean and Dante vaulted over and headed inside.

Oliver and Emalie did the same. The road narrowed to rutted tire tracks, twisting through deep forest, rising gradually. High mounds of blackberry bushes loomed on either side of the road. The air was thick with the pungent aroma of ripe and decaying fruit.

Oliver couldn't help glancing into the growth, wary of jaguar eyes.

A rumble reached their ears and headlights flashed through the leaves. “Someone's coming,” Oliver said. The blackberries were thick with thorns on either side. Oliver looked up and spied a wide branch high above the road. “There,” he said. He shot up, grabbing the branch just as the vehicle rounded a bend. He could feel the prickle in his mind that meant Emalie was beside him.

The white news van passed below them. Oliver and Emalie had to pick up their feet to avoid the array of antennae on the top. They dropped back to the road and followed the receding red taillights.

Moments later, they emerged on a wide, clear plateau. Grass fields sloped down to a bluff, where flat concrete buildings were embedded in the earth. Beyond that was blackness, dotted with lights. A stiff breeze whipped their hair and carried the scent of salt water.

“Those look like bunkers,” said Emalie, “like the World War II ones out on the islands. But I haven't been to these before.”

To the right, a lighthouse stood on the crest of the field, its beacon off. The news truck had pulled up in front of it. Beyond it was a line of old barracks, their windows boarded up.

Oliver and Emalie stayed by the edge of the trees and approached through the tall grass. Oliver saw Karma and her cameraman standing outside the lighthouse.

“Let's start with a shot here before they arrive,” said Karma. A light atop the camera illuminated her face as she spoke into her microphone. “A week of terror in Seattle came to an end tonight, when police and animal control tracked the escaped jaguar to this abandoned military station.”

Oliver turned to Emalie and spectralized.
We have to get inside.

Emalie disappeared.
Roger.

Oliver slipped around behind Karma, giving her camera light a wide berth. They moved onto the porch of the lighthouse. The door was unlocked and squealed as Oliver pushed it open. The inside was dark. Rooms to either side were vacant. Trash and discarded pieces of lumber and furniture were scattered across the warped floors.

They moved ahead and found what had once been a kitchen, its floor littered with smashed dishes. At the end of the hall, a spiral staircase led up into the light tower. Oliver peered up it but heard only the rustling of pigeons.

Over here,
thought Emalie. Oliver spied an open door at the far end of the kitchen. Faint light spilled from it.

They were almost to the door when Oliver heard more engines in the distance. He turned to a window, its glass gone, and looked through a wide crack in the boards. A black limousine had emerged from the woods.

Half-Light,
Oliver thought worriedly.

They ducked through the doorway and down steep, rickety stairs to a concrete hallway. Naked bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting yellow light through grimy glass.

Voices echoed from ahead. Oliver heard the growl of the jaguar. He paused beside an open doorway, as one voice spoke loudly.

“Well now, kitty, guess who's arrived?” said Lythia. “What a treat we have for you!”

In here!
Oliver thought and ducked through the doorway into a small, bare concrete room.

They hid in the dark as Lythia strode past, her boots cracking sharply on the floor. Oliver braced for their discovery. Spectralization wouldn't be enough to hide from a vampire with a demon, unless she was preoccupied by other things. Luckily that seemed to be the case, as she hurried up the stairs, and her footsteps echoed across the kitchen.

Oliver and Emalie continued down the hall to the only lit doorway and peered inside. The room was split in half by jail bars. On one side was the jaguar, pacing back and forth, eyes glowing orange. On the other were Dean and Dante, opening the cans of tuna.

“I think the Seahawks have a shot this year,” Dante was saying casually.

“Maybe. They need a new running back,” Dean replied. Zombies were big fans of American football, and wrestling, too, so this was a completely normal conversation for them to be having. But still, it bothered Oliver. It made Dean seem so different.
Like I don't know him at all,
Oliver thought darkly.

Hey, he's still Dean,
Emalie thought at him sharply.

I know
…

What do you want to do?
Emalie asked.

Not sure yet.
Oliver reached into his pocket for the necklace.
Maybe—

“Hey, Dean.” Emalie had stepped into the room and reappeared.

The zombies turned. Dean looked at her blankly.

“It's okay, we're here to get Bane out—”

Dean made a snarling sound, dropped the can opener and tuna, and lunged. He slammed into Emalie and they crashed to the floor.

“Dean, wait!” Oliver raced into the room. The jaguar roared. Dante rushed at Oliver, who dodged out of the way and spun, grabbing the zombie and slamming him headfirst into the wall. Dante crumpled to the ground, leaving a dent in the concrete.

Dean had Emalie pinned, hands to her throat. She punched him in the shoulder, then the face, but Dean barely flinched. “Dean!” she gasped. Her face was beet red, her eyes wide with shock.

Oliver pulled out the hindrian necklace and dropped it around Dean's neck. There was a sizzling hiss. Dean shook his head. “Whu—” he recognized Emalie, his hands on her neck, and threw himself backward, sliding across the floor.

Oliver bent to help Emalie, but she slapped his hand away and pushed herself to her feet. Her face was red, hair wild, and her eyes thin and cold. She glared at Dean. “It's
me
,” she said hoarsely.

Dean was looking around like his head was on a spring. “Emalie, sorry … Oliver. Where … jaguar? Oh …” He reached down and held the necklace, then tucked it in his shirt and looked up at Oliver guiltily. “Thanks.”

Oliver nodded grimly. He wanted badly to forget the image of Dean choking Emalie but felt like he might not for a long time. “I don't know how long the necklace will work for,” he said, avoiding Dean's eyes. “So, how do we get out of here?”

“Right,” Dean said, gathering himself. “Okay, I think the passages will get us out, but … it's foggy, whenever I'm working …”

“Working?” Emalie asked.

“Sorry, I mean, you know, when my master has me doing stuff.”

“Can't you just call her Lythia?” Emalie said sourly.

“I prefer ‘Master.'”

Oliver and Emalie spun to find Lythia in the doorway.

“Yes, Master,” Dean mumbled.