Personal Demons

Chapter 13

"No, it's not for my home! It's for my office. I don't see why you need my home—" Megan broke off while the man on the other end of the line, obviously a native speaker of English but one who behaved as if he didn't understand a word, interrupted her with yet another request for her address.

"Give me the phone."

Megan jumped. One of the boys must have let Greyson in, she hadn't even heard him knock. If he had knocked. He might have called them on one of the sleek black cellphones they all carried. The brothers found her lack of cell intensely amusing.

She glared at him and turned her back. "Look, if you can just have someone meet me later today, I'll show them exactly where we need the soundproofing and what—no! Why aren't you listening to me?"

"Give me the phone."

Fine. If Greyson wanted to play Mr. Hero, he could. She put the receiver in his hand.

He hung it up.

"Hey! I was on hold there for—"

"I don't know why you're bothering with all of this. We can take care of it for you."

"Take care of what?" She tried not to envision the partners dancing on strings like vacant, demonically-possessed puppets.

He raised an eyebrow. "We'll have your co-workers killed, of course. What did you think I meant? The Meegra has all sorts of employees. I'll send one of our people over to do the soundproofing. I can find you a receptionist, too."

It was tempting. So tempting Megan had to bite her tongue to keep from thanking him. The problem was ... well, she wasn't exactly sure what the problem was. She just knew she didn't want Greyson and his demon family taking charge of too much of her life.

She didn't want to be in his debt.

As much as she would have loved to hand this tedious business over to someone who had the juice to fix it with a wave of his aristocratic hand, she couldn't do it. Who knew what he might expect in return?

She snatched the phone back from the cradle, turned her back on him, and started dialing the number of the next company listed in the Yellow Pages.

They seemed to at least understand what she needed and agreed to meet her at her office on Friday. With a sigh, Megan agreed. Better than nothing.

"You let us replace your windows," Greyson said when she hung up.

"That was different."

"Oh? In what way?"

"Because my windows were—oh, never mind. It just is. I had to have the windows right away. The soundproofing can wait a few days."

"Suit yourself."

"I will." She gave him a tentative smile, hoping maybe he'd decided, as she had, to let bygones be bygones.

He returned it. "I can't stay. I just wanted to stop by and see how you got on last night."

The words made her feel even worse, or at least they would have if she'd believed them. Something told her he wasn't being completely honest and it wasn't her psychic abilities because he was impossible to read.

If he wouldn't come out with it, she'd find a way to dig it out. "How did your meeting go this morning?"

"With Tera? Fine. I owe her a couple of favors, it seems, which is always a pleasure." He scowled. "She'd like to meet with you as soon as possible. I think, and she agrees, that we don't have much time. We'd both like you to have as much training as we can stuff into you."

"What do you mean, not much time? I—"

"I can't stay," he repeated. "We'll discuss it later. Tera will be by at about four, and I'll take you to dinner afterwards. Maybe we can elude Stone for a couple of hours?"

"I'm cooking, anyway. I promised the boys I would make them a steak pie."

"You haven't offered to cook for me."

"You haven't re-grouted my tub, washed my car, and shampooed my upholstery while I slept. I figured it was the least I could do."

"I cleaned up while you were at the hospital."

"True, and you did a fantastic job, but you also drank quite a bit of my Scotch."

"Now, now," he said. His voice was serious but his smile was still genuine. "Polite hostesses don't berate their guests in such a manner."

"Polite guests don't complain that they're not being given enough."

"Hmmm." He stepped closer to her, close enough that she could smell the wonderful cologne he wore. His dark eyes gave off sparks when they met her blue ones. "I won't complain, but there's certainly something else I'd like to have."

Her stomach did a flip, but she stepped back. "You're welcome to come to dinner with us if you want."

The gleam in his eyes told her he wasn't fooled. He'd seen her reaction and knew what it meant.

He let her get away with it. "Sure. Just tell me what time to be here."

"Around seven-thirty, I guess." She ignored the pang of disappointment in her chest that he hadn't pressed the issue. She didn't want to kiss him again. She didn't want things to go any further than they had. She didn't trust him, pointblank, right?

"See you then," he said, and was off to talk to the boys before she'd finished reminding herself that she wasn't interested.

Brian switched on his little tape recorder and set it between them on the park bench. She'd refused to meet him at a restaurant, finding that taking meals in public, while imagining or even seeing, if they chose to show themselves, the demons sitting on the shoulders of the other diners was no longer appealing. And who knew what the chefs’ personal demons were convincing them to do to the food? She shuddered. Bad enough thinking of Brian's demon, without worrying about everyone else's.

"I know you don't want to talk about this," Brian said, noting her distaste but mistaking the reason. "But we agreed on this the other night. You're the only one who can tell me what happened."

Megan nodded. "I know."

The strained atmosphere between them set her teeth on edge. Where was the cheerful, interesting Brian, the one with whom she'd had such fun at lunch just a few days before?

Now a stranger sat beside her on the bench. He'd apologized—they both had—but Megan still doubted they would find themselves chatting easily again. Disappointing. It would have been nice to have a friend who knew her secret and understood.

"Look, Megan. I'm sorry about yesterday. But you have to look at my side. I'm trying to give you every benefit of the doubt because—well, because I think you're a good person."

"I appreciate that."

"But I've been wrong before. I have to be a reporter here, you know? It's my job."

"Sure."

"You still sound kind of cold."

The weakening autumn sunlight fell on his light brown hair, bleaching it the color of ripe wheat. It made him look somehow innocent, noble, like a man with a child's idealism.

She shook her head. However apologetic he might be, however honorable he might act, he was still a reporter, a man who was essentially blackmailing her into talking about the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and a man whose presence in her life she decidedly did not need. She'd spent the entire morning terrified he would start questioning Malleus, Maleficarum, and Spud—or worse, wanting to know more about Art Bellingham.

Oddly, Brian hadn't asked her about Bellingham. Why? She thought after the parking garage incident that he would, but he hadn't. He'd googled Dante, done some serious digging about him and rushed to tell her about it. Why hadn't he done the same with Art?

Did he already know the reason Art had been there?

If she asked him and he was innocent, it would call attention to the incident. Damn.

"And now you're not speaking to me at all." Brian sighed and slapped his hands down on his jean-clad thighs. "Megan, I—"

"Sorry." She smiled. It felt like her face was going to break. "I was just ... woolgathering. I can't help being a little distant, Brian. You know how I feel about all of this, you know it isn't necessarily something I want to be doing. I'm trying and I know it isn't your fault, but—"

A flash of color in the copse of trees in the center of the park caught her eye. The deep, murky red disappeared behind the trees too quickly for her to see what it was, but something about it bothered her.

Brian followed her gaze. "What?"

"I just ... thought I saw something. Probably nothing." She turned back towards him, only to turn away again when the thing moved in her peripheral vision. What the hell was it?

Brian shifted his weight, making the old wood of the bench creak and move slightly beneath them. It echoed in her nervous ears like a ship in a storm. "What's over there?"

"I don't know." She glanced over at Malleus, standing just outside listening distance. Maleficarum and Spud were "patrolling". Malleus looked unconcerned, though, so she shrugged. "I guess it isn't important."

"And this is. I need to know what happened. Just tell me the story and I can make it right."

If he was trying to seem more trustworthy, it wasn't working. Why was he so eager to hear this story? Why was it important?

She took a deep breath, looked down to make sure the tape recorder was running, and said, "I was sixteen."

He nodded.

"All the kids knew him—Harlan Trooper, I mean, that was his name." She glanced at him. "He'd worked as an ice cream man for a while, until he started really drinking, but that wasn't the only reason we knew him. He was a—nice man, Harlan. You know, some drunks get mean. Harlan didn't. He'd just apologize when he fell on you, or when he ‘borrowed’ money to buy more cheap vodka or Mad Dog, or when you caught him ripping open your garbage bags to look for food." She winced at the memory. The sad look in his eyes, the scraggly beard hiding the pale, wasted wreckage of what had once been a handsome face ... she hadn't thought this was going to be so hard, fifteen years later.

"Anyway, we all knew him. Most of the adults in town did, too. But it wasn't the kind of place where people really supported people like him trying to get help, or maybe he'd never bothered to try, I don't know. There were probably enough people who'd offer him booze just for the fun of it. My father used to get out his air pistol when he saw Harlan in our yard."

Brian made a small sound next to her. She looked at him. "I know. But my dad, well ... it isn't important, I guess. He thought Harlan was the way he was because he'd been coddled or something. I don't know. We never talked about it."

Malleus moved around behind her. She heard him talking to the others in low tones, but didn't bother to try making out the words. The story lived in her head, filling her throat with words she couldn't get out fast enough, as if by speaking them she could erase the memories from her mind for good this time. Surprise and amazement at how easily the words came made her speak even faster, afraid it would disappear.

"One night I was downtown. I'd snuck out. I couldn't sleep, I guess. I don't know. Harlan was sleeping on a bench, at least, I thought he was sleeping, but when I got closer to him I realized he looked ... wrong. Pale, and still."

She didn't want to sit on the bench anymore. Didn't want to feel the wooden slats beneath her and remember the slats stained with Harlan's blood, remember the way he sat up and opened his eyes and something that wasn't Harlan had stared out at her from them ... oh God ... what had it been?

She screwed up her eyes, trying to force the image from them. The Harlan-thing opened its mouth, revealing teeth dripping with blood, and said—

Something grabbed her, throwing her off the bench and onto the ground. She landed with a thud that nearly knocked the breath from her body. Spud was on top of her.

"What the—" she managed, but the words died when Brian started yelling. She looked away from Spud's anxious face to see Maleficarum and Malleus on the grass between the bench and the copse of trees, fighting with something that made every hair on her body stand on end.

Megan couldn't make out much detail, they were all moving so quickly. All she could see was the dull, mottled color of its skin, like a blood bruise covering its entire body. She caught a glimpse of long, sharp white teeth when the thing opened its mouth. Megan screamed as the deadly incisors closed on Maleficarum's arm.

The park that only minutes before had felt peaceful and safe turned into a nightmare landscape as Megan watched the two demons fighting the thing, rolling on the grass, their shouts and the high-pitched shrieking of the fiend combining with Brian's shouts of surprise and the growling that came from low in Spud's throat as he held her down, covering her body with his.

She struggled, wanting to be free, to somehow help Malleus and Maleficarum. Her muscles started to burn as she tried to push Spud off.

He didn't even look at her. His muscles were rigid, his face turned to watch his brothers.

"What is it, Spud, oh my god, what is it? Let me go, I need to help them, what is that thing?"

The thing's jaws were still clamped on Maleficarum's arm, blood pouring from the wound. Malleus kicked the monster, slamming his boot into its head so hard Megan heard the heel connect with its skull, but it did not waver, clinging even harder, shaking its head slowly like a dog prying meat from a bone.

"What the hell is going on?"

She didn't know how to answer Brian's question. All she could do was watch Maleficarum's arm flop uselessly in the air.

Malleus stopped kicking its head and started slamming his meaty fists into the thing's stomach. The thing finally let go of Maleficarum. Megan watched blood spurt into the air in an arc, red and terrible against the blue sky.

Malleus took his chance and kicked the thing in the stomach again, toppling it off his brother and onto the ground.

Before she could even start to breathe a sigh of relief, it sprang up from the grass like a jack-in-the-box and turned towards her, standing still for a moment that felt like forever and staring at her. Her insides turned to liquid.

Spud tensed even further and shifted position on top of her. He was vibrating like a high-tension wire, ready to leap to attack if the thing came close.

It was at least seven feet tall, with scaly red skin and horrible, glowing white eyes. Shaggy hair covered its head and its impossibly broad shoulders gleamed in the sunlight. Its arms hung to its knees, but there was nothing of a lumbering ape about the creature; it was wiry and cunning. Its power stretched across the grass to her as it opened its mouth and rippled its muscles, displaying long, sharp, close-set teeth stained with Maleficarum's blood.

It shrieked again, its ear-bursting howl echoing through the trees and in Megan's head. Without realizing she screamed back, terror ripping the sound from her soul.

"Megan? What's happening?" Megan looked over at Brian, still frozen on the bench. "What's happened to your friend?"

Malleus leapt at the creature a second too late. The thing started running, impossibly fast, its hair streaming out behind it.

Spud pulled her up, yanking her from the grass and lifting her in his arms.

"What is he doing? Megan, are you—"

"Brian, run!" she screamed.

The thing was close to them now. Brian stood up and stepped towards her, right into its path. He wasn't looking at it. He was focused on Megan, frightened and concerned, but in that instant she realized he didn't see it, didn't know the creature was about to slam into—

It passed through him. Megan caught only a glimpse of the two bodies entangled before she was airborne. Spud threw her. She landed with a painful thud several feet away, and turned to see Spud slamming his knee into the creature's hairless crotch.

Brian's howls of pain and terror echoed through the park as the creature's body somehow disentangled itself from his. He collapsed to his knees, falling silent in the wake of the thing just as Malleus reached the creature and leapt on it. Maleficarum had picked himself up and was half-running, half-limping towards them, his right hand clutching his injured left arm.

Malleus, Spud, and the fiend moved so quickly it was hard to see who was doing what. Since their faces and bodies were coated with Maleficarum's blood and their own, it was just as hard to tell who was who. The thing's screeching was continuous now as it fought, swiping with claws and snapping with teeth.

They tumbled over, landing on the ground not far from where Brian lay as if unconscious. The thing broke free and sat up, turning once again to Megan, its glowing eyes fastening on hers. Ice ran through her veins. It was trying to insinuate itself into her mind, trying to worm its way into her head the way a snake slithers into a bird's nest to steal its young. She tried to blink, tried to look away, but could not. Instead she felt herself taking a step backwards, moving away from the creature and into the trees behind her, her breath echoing in her ears. She did not want to walk away, did not want to be dragged from her protection, but her feet defied her will and kept moving.

The thing only held her eyes for a second or two before Maleficarum managed to grab it from behind, twisting its head to the side, trying to break its neck. Instead the thing reached behind itself, over its head, its huge hairy hands grabbing the bodyguard's arm and squeezing. Maleficarum screamed.

Whatever the creature had placed in her mind kept Megan in thrall and walking backwards, leaving the smell of the fiend and the sweat and blood of the fight and into the cool, fresh pine-scented air of the rest of the park. Inside she screamed and fought, but her body carried her further and further away with each step, until she stood in the trees around the small mechanical boat pond.

No boats whirred placidly along the smooth surface this day. No sound could be heard but the shouts of the brothers and sound of skin slapping against skin until the crunch of dead leaves made her turn to her right, the spell that had held her broken.

Still she did not move. Don Tremblay stood in front of her, holding a gun.