Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei (24 page)

             
Perhaps it was surprise, but I relaxed my hold on Mercy a touch too soon.

Mercy growled and swung a fist through the doorframe. I dodged flying plaster and shattered wood, but I couldn’t dodge the vampire flying at me, fangs bared. She hit me in the stomach and we went down with her on top and me not entirely convinced I would be able to breathe without pain ever again.

“Mercy!” I shouted, equating volume with fear.

It wasn’t the first time Mercy had attacked me, but it was the first time since we’d become so tightly bound together through the link. Even as I tried to fight her off, I could feel
the irrational, animalistic need to hurt, to consume, to win, funnel down the link and into me. As in the elevator, it called to the darkness inside, a challenge that had to be answered.

Her fangs slashed at my neck and I blocked her with a backhand fuelled by berserker rage. She put a hard knee into my groin and my world turned red.

Roaring, I got my hands around her neck and squeezed. The vampire snarled and clawed at my face, willing to forgo air in favour of causing as much damage as she could. Things got very blurry then. We fought and rolled and kicked and all the while I could feel myself slipping further away, surrendering to the black nothingness of the frenzy, understanding that giving in was the only way I could win against a vampire.

No.

I wouldn’t do this. Not with Mercy, not because of some demon. I’d battled too hard and too long for control. This wouldn’t be how I lost it.

As I hauled myself back from the pit, I lost whatever edge I might have had against Mercy. My realisation was tempered by her base instinct to kill and I couldn’t keep my head clear enough in order to channel my emotions into her. She wasn’t listening on the private link. She was gone so far her eyes were like two silver orbs—utterly alien, no spark of humanity in them at all.

All my hard work, all the time spent trying to find Susan under the layers of Mercy, gone. Wiped away by a couple of seconds next to a demon.

“No!”

And I hit Mercy as hard as I could. Not physically. Psychically. Fear added strength to the blow. Not fear for myself this time, but for Mercy. Fear that she was too dangerous, too wild for me to control. Fear that she might break free once and for all and become nothing more than what she should have been—a violent, indiscriminate killing machine warranting nothing more than death. I was so scared of that prospect it broke Mercy’s hold on me and blew her across the room. Her little body smashed through a wall and tumbled into a heap on the bare dirt of the front yard.

The remains of the darkness swirled through my veins, not exhausted, not even mildly satisfied. It was close to breaking free, it could taste the wild beyond its cage and it wanted out. Now.

But I wasn’t that selfish. If I wouldn’t let Mercy out to play, I couldn’t give in to my inner demon. As I had with Courey, I forced it down, squashed into a ball and hid it away.

Muscles zinging with the echo of the need to hurt something, I clambered to my feet, all the aches and pains of the fight easing past the retreating berserker rage to announce themselves. My face stung where Mercy’s nails had gouged my skin, my knuckles were raw and bruised, my neck ached from straining away from her fangs and my balls were a huge basket of misery I’d rather not contemplate.

I staggered to the wall Mercy had blasted through and peered at her.

She hadn’t moved, sprawled in a broken mess on the dirt. What little damage I’d managed to inflict on her was already closing up, so at least she was still alive. But the sheer stillness of her scared me.

Had I saved her from one of my disabilities only to kill her with another?

Hesitantly, I reached down the link. It seemed I had to go further than usual, but eventually, I touched her. Or at least, felt the blank wall of Mercy during the daytime, when her vampire mind retreated from the sunlight as her body could not, going so far back into itself it may as well have not been there at all.

Somewhat relieved, I gathered up my stakeout gear and packed it into the car. It was pretty clear Chris and Rufus were safe for now. I was the main target of the demon and her summoner, and after what had just happened, I wanted nothing more than to go home and not deal with any of it ever again.

Mercy, limp and completely unresponsive, was light enough for me to pick up and tuck into the passenger seat of the car and belt in. The Moto
Guzzi, however...

I settled for wheeling it into the garage of the house next door. The smashed front wall of this house would draw far too much attention in the daylight and finding a motorbike in the garage would be a big freaking clue as to who had caused it.

Ready to go, I sat in the car beside my unconscious vampire and considered my next move. It was pretty easy to decide. A hot shower, antibiotic cream on the cuts and a good sleep.

Then what?

Turning the key, listening to the smooth purr of the engine with less than my usual amounts of appreciation, I knew that whatever my next step would be, I had to do it alone. Mercy was too much of a liability with the demon lurking about.

Erin flicked through the TV channels until she found the morning news, and while the sports presenter rattled off the footy scores, she lifted the cover on her breakfast. Two bits of toast, one burnt, one barely browned, scrambled eggs with watery edges and three very thin slices of tomato. None of it looked appetising so Erin pushed the tray aside. The nurses would bug her about it, but that was a problem fifteen minutes away.

Settling back against the pillows, she breathed shallowly so as not to strain her ribs. There was a dull ache in her arm, but the ribs were the worst. Bandages bound her chest just beneath her breasts and took away some of the incidental discomfort, but something as innocent as a yawn could send piercing pain through her torso.

Damn Hawkins. It was his fault. He was the one who attracted these strange and dangerous things into her life. In the months since they’d had their first, disastrous meeting, there had been nothing unusual in her life. All mundane, boring cases about cheating spouses, background checks and dubious accountants skimming the top off their employer’s profits. Home life had been normal. Caring for William, watching while he moved through the troughs and peaks of his illness and agonising over each set back—secretly and horribly wondering when it would all end.

If it hadn’t been for Hawkins, that would still be her life.

But, a traitorous little voice murmured in the back of her head, wasn’t he also right? The dark, violent things he exposed were always there. He didn’t make them, he just shone the torch on them. Even if Ivan had come to her directly regarding Geraldine Davis, that wouldn’t change the fact a demon had been involved. It would have just meant the truth behind the murder would have remained undiscovered. Would it have put her in hospital, though? Again?

Who knew? How could she even begin to guess what might have been?

So much easier to dwell on what was. Namely, Hawkins and his pesky ability to bypass all the social niceties and dig into the guts of a matter.

What made him think she owed him anything? It was her life, her problems. He wasn’t a part of it.

But maybe… just perhaps… if she gave him what he wanted, he would leave her alone.

“
Mornin’, darl.” A nurse came in, a cordless phone in hand and a twinkle in her eyes. “You have a phone call from a mystery man.”

Erin scowled. Speaking of the devil? She held a hand out for the phone.

“You haven’t touched your breakfast.” The nurse held the phone hostage.

“I will, after I talk to this guy.”

Lips pursed in disbelief, the nurse handed over the phone. “Just see you do.”

Erin waited until the nurse had left, then snapped into the phone, “What now?”

There was a short silence. “Sorry?”

Bugger. Not Hawkins.

“Hey, babe,” she said, forcing more joy into her voice. “Thought you were someone else.”

William chuckled. “At least you weren’t happy to hear from this other man.”

“Don’t get to thinking I’m very happy to hear from you, either. What are you doing calling me? You should be resting.”

“And you shouldn’t be in hospital.” His tone hardened. “That’s my shtick.”

“Drama hog. I can have a car accident whenever I want.”

Her attempt at levity didn’t work.

“And not tell me about it? I had to find out from Ivan.”

Erin grimaced. “He’s been to see you again?”

“No. He confessed yesterday morning. I thought I’d give you some time to tell me yourself.”

“Remind me to dock his pay,” she muttered.

“Erin.” The annoyance faded, replaced by same weary exasperation.

“William,” she countered.

“Don’t do this to me again.” He tried to sound angry and stern, but his intention was well masked under a thick layer of tiredness. It strained his voice and stole the hard edge.

It stabbed Erin in the heart to hear it, to be reminded so keenly of what he’d been through. She’d gone home from a long week chasing leads in Sydney with a sniffle, completely unthinking of what she did. All she’d wanted was to go home and sit with William and moan about her job, complain about other people and let him reason her back to civility. She’d wanted to sit in her own tub full of steaming, bubbly water, to drag herself out and fall into her own bed and sleep until she’d caught up on every wink she’d missed. Instead, she’d come home only to argue with him about the time she’d spent away, to find him pushing himself by doing the gardening and cleaning the house. They’d argued and then they’d made up, sitting on the couch, kissing and touching as they hadn’t in a long, long time. William’s immune system, compromised by chemo and the underlying cancer, couldn’t fend off the weak little bug she passed to him.

And at the same time, she got angry with him. She hurt, too. Did no one understand that?

She couldn’t stop the thoughts. They were there intermingled with all the grief and anguish she felt for her husband, twined as intimately as lovers, one undistinguishable from the other. To feel sympathy for William, to understand his pain, she had to resent it as well.

Sickened by herself, Erin asked, “Do what?”

“Block me out. I don’t see you for two days, don’t hear from you. I had to find out from Ivan you’d been in an accident. And you’re not even on a case this time.”

“This time?” she repeated numbly.

“You don’t even realise you’ve done it. You didn’t last time. Or at least you felt you had your excuses.”

“I still don’t understand. What other time?”

“Six months ago. That deal with the case that saw you shot at, attacked by a mad dog and then disappearing mysteriously from the hospital. You refused to talk to me then as well.”

“My cases are confidential.”

“Doesn’t stop you usually. You don’t name names, sure, but you always come home and talk about the frustrating ones.”

Erin scowled. “Not always, apparently.”

“Yes, not always.” The underlying annoyance vanished, leaving nothing but the weariness. “What’s going on, Erin? Ivan said something about you helping another investigator. Don’t tell me everything, but please, just tell me something.”

Damn Ivan.

As if reading her mind, William said, “And don’t blame Ivan. He didn’t want to tell me anything either. I had to make some serious threats to get even that much out of him.”

He was right. She had intentionally blocked him out of this mess. Hawkins was right, try as hard as she might, she knew she wouldn’t be able to shield Ivan from the supernatural world. But she could keep William out of it. He’d been horrified enough when she’d been dealing with drug dealers, wife bashers and child abusers. The last thing he needed was the added worry of things like vampires and demons.

She’d never told William about Matt, not even the barest bones of his case. Back then, her only desire had been to forget him, to forget the dark, dangerous circles he moved in. How could she tell her husband anything now without it sounding like she’d been hiding something?

“William,” she began.

“No. Look, let’s not do this over the phone.” He sighed. “I have to go anyway. Nurse Ratchet is heading this way. If I don’t pretend I’m resting she’ll insist on something to help me sleep.”

Horribly, Erin felt relieved. “Okay. Please, do rest.”

William snorted. “I’ll cancel the bungee jumping trip, then. Come see me as soon as they let you, okay?”

“I will,” she promised. “Love you.”

“Me too.” And he was gone.

Erin stared at the phone for a long time. She didn’t know what she was supposed to be feeling. Everything he’d said—accused her of—was true, and more besides. Why did keeping Matt Hawkins a secret feel like a betrayal?

“Excuse me.”

A woman stood in the door to her room. She wore a long, straight, dark grey skirt and white silk blouse, her frame tall and slender. Her hair was perfectly black and perfectly straight, falling almost to her waist. Erin didn’t know her.

“Erin
McRea?” she asked, taking a small step in.

“Yes. How can I help you?”

The woman smiled and came to the bedside, sinking into the chair and crossing her long legs gracefully. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I waited until you’d finished your phone call.”

Erin wondered how much this woman had overheard. “I’m hardly rushed off my feet,” she muttered, thinking of William’s dry comment about bungee jumping.

A manicured hand was presented to her for shaking. “I’m Lila Reyes, a friend of Matthew Hawkins.”

Erin eyed the proffered hand. “He’s not mentioned you to me, though that’s hardly surprising. He’s never been very forthcoming about a lot of things.”

Neither Lila’s smile nor hand faltered. “Oh, we only met two days ago. And with your accident and his current jobs, I can’t imagine he’s had much time to tell you about me.”

Because it seemed as if the woman wouldn’t get discouraged, Erin shook her hand, quick and perfunctory. “No, we haven’t had much time to talk.” Or much desire to after yesterday morning’s effort. Connections formed up in Erin’s head. “You’re the demon specialist.”

Content with the abrupt shake, Lila nodded. “Though I don’t know if I’ve been much help to Matt. I’m afraid our views regarding the existence of demons differ somewhat.”

Erin’s lips quirked up before she could think. “I understand your side of the argument, though.”

“Well, thank you, but I think I’m going to have to rethink my position. Matt certainly believes they exist as corporeal beings. Do you?”

The question caught her off guard. Erin was still trying to figure out what this woman was doing here.

“Is that why you’re here, Ms Reyes? To ask me if I believe in demons?”

Lila smiled ruefully—an expression that seemed almost naughty on her full lips. “Not exactly. I’ve actually come to ask a favour of you.”

Erin motioned to her bandages and drip lines. “I hope you don’t expect too much.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. It’s nothing taxing. I just have some questions.”

“About?”

“Matthew.”

She should have expected it. “I don’t know that I can tell you too much about him. We’re not close personally and I won’t reveal anything I’ve found during my investigations.”

Lila sat back, eyes wide. “Not close? I’m sorry. I thought you and he were friends. When he spoke about your accident he told me you were a friend. He was very concerned about you.”

“I’m sure he was.” It was out before Erin could stop it. She gave Lila an apologetic shrug. “Friendship is a funny thing. Different people define it in different ways. What Hawkins and I have is… difficult to define.”

“I can sympathise with that. He’s definitely different.”

“Definitely.”

Erin found herself sharing a knowing smile with the other woman. The smile faded from her face but Lila’s remained.

“What did you want to know?” Erin asked to pass over the moment.

“It’s not any precise details I’m after. I don’t think you would betray either your… relationship with Matt, or your professional integrity. What I’m after is more your impression of him. As an investigator, I’d trust your instincts.” Lila sat forward and her voice lowered to a conspiratorial level. “Matt has asked me to do something for him. To other people, it might not seem like much, but to me, doing this for him means I must trust him implicitly.” She sighed. “I’ve known him two days, and while I feel we have a deep connection, I have to admit I don’t actually know him that well.”

“So you want to know if I trust him.”

“Yes.”

Letting out a long, slow breath, conscious of her aching ribs, Erin contemplated the bandage on her right arm. Courey had asked her this two nights ago and she’d been unable to answer it. She didn’t think she’d get away with sidestepping it this time.

“Can I ask what he wants you to do?” she asked Lila.

“He wants to summon a demon.”

“Summon a demon?” What the hell did he think he was going to do with a demon? Unless it wasn’t just any demon he was after.

“You can see my dilemma,” Lila said, misinterpreting Erin’s shock. “If I tell him how to summon a demon, and if I’m right about demons being nothing more than constructs of the subconscious, then I’m helping him further his delusions and possibly harm his psyche. On the other hand, if he’s right about demons being corporeal beings and I tell him how to summon one, then I’m helping him trap a possibly innocent entity. I’d be helping him force a sentient mind into slavery. Summoning a demon is not a meeting of equals.”

Erin listened with half an ear, her mind racing through the possible reasons Hawkins would want to summon a demon. When it came down to it, there was only one, truly plausible answer. If he summoned the demon that was after him, he could command it to stop, and tell him who the original summoner was.

“I trust him,” she said when Lila finished.

Lila was quiet for a moment. Then she slowly nodded. Erin might have imagined it, but for an instant, she thought Lila was disappointed. Then Lila smiled.

“That’s good to know. I’m relieved you have a good opinion of him.” She stood and straightened out her skirt. “Thank you for your help.”