Читать книгу Demon Wolf - Bonnie Vanak - Страница 11

Chapter 4

“I’m a Luminaire....”

“I know what you are. Who are you?”

His aura pulsed bright red, spiked with black. Sexual energy, as well as negative forces. Keira shoved lightly at his chest, breaking the physical contact.

“I’m your new housekeeper, a woman who needs a job, okay? I’ve been roving from town to town.”

“Why?”

The man was relentless. “I like helping people. I search for individuals that need enlightenment and then help them heal. Ask your neighbor if you need a reference.”

“I did. Odd how you showed up just when she needed you.” He lightly clasped her wrist. Sexual current sizzled between them.

Keira closed her eyes and breathed deeply, channeling every bit of white light she could to fight the temptation to lift her face to his and kiss him. “I heard her crying. Psychic cries, not real cries. I’m a healer and it compelled me.”

“Right.”

“There’s enough darkness and negative energy in this world. What’s wrong with trying to eradicate it and make people feel better?”

“Maybe there’s no hope for them.” He dropped her hand.

Keira watched a shadow drape across his expression, then his face smoothed out. Dale Curtis was hiding deep pain, pain she knew well, because she’d caused it.

Suddenly he went still. Keira’s heart dropped to her stomach as she caught the small, scampering sounds.

“Damn mice,” he said. “One reason why my housekeeper quit.”

“That’s not a mouse,” she said and bolted down the hallway, hooked a right and ran into a locked door. Keira jiggled the knob. “Open this,” she told him as he pulled up short behind her.

A fierce scowl tightened his face. “That’s private.”

“If you want to get rid of your pests, open it. Now.”

He looked shocked, as if no one ever talked to him that way.

Dale clicked a series of buttons on a brass plate and opened the door. She burst inside, barely noting that it was an office, with stacks of papers piled on the desk. Her sense of smell overtook everything. Those little, nasty creatures, smelling like a bad combination of bad breath and rotting cabbage...

“My report to the admiral...”

Ignoring Dale’s mutterings as he sifted through papers on his desk, she dived to the floor by the credenza. Keira groped beneath the furniture and felt slicing pain scrape her hand. She peered down. The imp had affixed razor blades to the credenza’s bottom, effectively making a protective nest for itself.

Two red, beady eyes glared at her. It started to lash out with its tiny claws and then backed away, obeying the hidden compulsion in the slave armband. Keira stretched out her fingers and summoned the power deep inside.

The creature squealed as it slid into her hand. She wriggled from under the credenza, clutching it tight.

“Jar,” she gasped.

Dale stared at the creature as it wriggled in her hand. Blood seeped down her clenched fist. “What the hell...”

“Jar, hello, could use a little help here, get a jar, something to hold it. Please hurry.”

He seized a heavy metal pencil holder from the desk, dumped out the contents.

Keira squatted down. “Be quick, they’re really, really fast... I’ll let go and you trap him. On three... One, two, three!”

As she released the creature, Dale slammed the pencil holder down. Damn, the man was fast.

He picked up a scrap of paper and tossed it down with a disgusted sound. “My report to the admiral... It’s chewed to pieces.”

“Uh, of course. They adore paper. Almost as tasty as flour.” Keira examined her injured hand with a rueful sigh. “If he’d have gotten to your computer, your hard drive would be royally screwed.”

To her surprise, he gave a small, wry smile. “Never did like anything royally screwed, especially my hard drive. I prefer the commoner’s touch.”

It took her a minute to realize the joke. And then to her enormous chagrin, she blushed. He gave his rusty, deep laugh again. And then he looked at her injured hand and stopped laughing. Dale took her hand very gently and examined it. His touch was absolutely gentle. Fishing out a clean, white square from his pocket, he wrapped it around her bleeding palm.

“Remind me to be careful dusting under there. It fastened razor blades to the credenza’s bottom to keep anyone from going after him.”

Dale focused his attention on bandaging her hand. “Even without a contract, you’d have to stay now. Can’t have you leaving here wounded.”

“It’s not much. It’ll heal.”

“I always take care of my own.” He looked slightly dangerous as he stared at the floor. The pencil holder trembled, but the creature was effectively trapped.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“Imp.” Keira wrapped her hand tighter to slow the bleeding. Blood was bad, attracted bad things, and this house already had enough darkness. She couldn’t risk drawing out more.

“A demon,” he said slowly.

“A very minor one. Imps are drawn to negativity and darkness. They feed on it.”

That and residual demon energy left on a victim, she thought.

Dale frowned. “That thing invaded my home because I’ve been in a bad mood?”

“Not exactly. You’ve been expelling dark energy. Something must have happened to you to suck out your white light.”

He shot her an incredulous look.

“Imps tend to make a person bad-tempered and irritable. They make a bad situation worse. They’re hard to kill because they’re so fast. They can outrun almost anything.”

He raised a dark brow. The commander opened a desk drawer and withdrew a pistol. Keira’s jaw dropped as he chambered a round and pointed the gun at the pencil jar and fired. Shards of plastic exploded, along with a nasty splatter of gray demon blood. The stench stung her nostrils.

“Not a 9 mm,” he said with satisfaction.

Sweat trickled down her spine. “Um, you’re not very forgiving, are you?”

“No.”

“I’d hate to be on your bad side.”

“You would.” His expression darkened. “Good thing you’re not a demon.”

Keira swallowed hard. “Yeah. Sounds like you’ve run up against them. It’s the source of your dark energy.”

“I’m only interested in one.” A hard smile touched his mouth, making him look dangerous. “No matter how long I must wait. I will find her and make her pay for what she did to me.”

The coffee soured in her stomach as she remembered how skillfully he’d wielded the pistol. Keira didn’t relish him discovering her true identity. Holding back her nausea, she pointed to the mess on the floor. “If you’ll show me where I’m sleeping and then where your cleaning supplies are, I’ll get started on my first assignment.”

He gently clasped her injured hand. “After I clean your wounds. Those are some nasty cuts.”

“I can do it.”

“I told you, I always take care of my own.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “And those you consider your enemies? You take care of them, as well?”

Dale gave a slow smile. “The same way I did to the imp.”

Keira didn’t look at the splattered remains on the floor as they left his study.

* * *

After Dale left, Keira brought the saddlebags containing her possessions inside and set them on the floor. Then she sat on the bed of her new room, stroking the ecru duvet.

A real bed, with feather pillows instead of a thin blanket on the cold concrete floor. A brass reading lamp with a comfortable chair by a window that overlooked the wide backyard instead of a windowless basement. Her own bathroom, not a foul bucket in the corner.

Freedom, for the first time in years, not fearing that at any moment the demons would yank her back to captivity and imprison her once more.

Oh, how she longed to sit in the chair, crack open one of the books on his shelves and read. But she had a job to do.

Keira unpacked her kit and set about cleansing the house the way a regular housekeeper would not.

First, his office. Two wide computer screens took up most of a desk. Papers that had been neatly stacked and organized were scattered about the surface.

A map of the world was mounted to one wall, with several colored pushpins inserted into various countries.

She cleansed the remains of the dead imp and burned them in the stone hearth fireplace. Blood called to blood, and even imp blood attracted dark forces.

Keira then took a small box, opened it and arranged the crystals around Dale’s office in a pattern. Then she closed her eyes and began the sacred chant. The crystals began to vibrate and hum, the music of elemental energy creating a harmonic vibration.

White light suffused the room, ribbons of light beaming out from each of the four crystals. Soothing and melodious, the light singing its own song of purity, drawing out the negative forces.

A dark cloud arose from the corner near Dale’s computer. Ribbons of white light attacked the cloud, overcoming it, and the darkness evaporated. Keira watched, her chest tight. She lowered her hands. Why could she cleanse rooms and people and not herself?

Because of the demon blood inside me, she reminded herself. Until the Centurions were permanently vanquished to the netherworld, part of her would always remain in darkness. Lately it got more difficult to regain her inner light. Each time the demons returned her to captivity, her inner light shrank. Eventually it would go out all together, leaving her in the abyss.

Each time the Centurions allowed her freedom, Keira used the time to refresh herself with positive energy, using elements from the earth and her crystals. White light held the demons’ darkness at bay for a little while, until the Centurions forced her wolf to torture a new victim.

Refreshed, she set about cleansing the other rooms, until reaching Dale’s bedroom.

Keira hesitated at the door. She drew in a deep breath and stepped into the room, feeling the despondency and grief. The master bedroom had an attached bath. Large, with a glassed-in shower and a Roman tub big enough to fit four, it was sleek tile and slick chrome.

The darkness of horrible pain slammed into her temples.

Holding a hand to her head, she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. Lined in a neat row were several prescription-pill bottles. All of them recently issued, most for pain, some for sleeping.

The bottles held a layer of dust.

Dale Curtis had not touched a single pill. Instead, he’d suffered.

Keira cleansed both rooms, feeling the light chase away the thick layers of suffering. With a much lighter spirit, she started on her housekeeping duties.

She worked steadily, leaving the basement for last. It still needed cleansing with her crystals, as well. Dread curled in her stomach as she finally gathered her courage and climbed down the stairs, clutching her most powerful crystal. Sweat dripped down her temples and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, the dust rag gripped in her fist.

You can do this, you can do this....

The basement ran the length of the house and was enormous, divided into two sections. The smaller section was unfinished, with a utility room, wood workbench and neatly arranged tools, the furnace and storage cubicles.

This section was separated by a wall with a solid door. She opened the door and went into the larger section. It was a comfortable living room covered with beige carpeting, a small, tiled kitchen with shining stainless-steel appliances, a dining table and chairs and a sectional sofa set before a flat-screen television mounted above a fireplace. Next to the stairs were eight bunk beds. She opened a door and found a bathroom with a tiled shower.

A shiver snaked down her spine as she gazed around the room. Another door was near the bunk beds. She opened it and found a small, windowless room with a narrow bed. No light switch. Nothing to chase away the darkness...

A sly, rollicking laugh echoed in her mind. You will never escape us....

Whimpering, Keira slammed the door and leaned against it, the crystal in her left fist squeezed tight. She raced up the stairs.

Maybe she’d tackle that room tomorrow.

* * *

Dale arrived home after seven. When he walked into the kitchen, Keira noticed the shadows beneath his gray eyes were pronounced and dark.

He flipped the light switch, flooding the room with overhead lighting. The man was thin and haggard, and looking worse each day. If he didn’t regain strength soon, he’d lose the fight to darkness. Keira glanced up from the pot of stew she stirred on the stove. He brightened as he sniffed the air.

“Smells great, but you don’t have to cook. I usually grab a sandwich at the commissary.”

“I like cooking and making new dishes.”

And you need more than sandwiches to get your health back.

He eyed the dining-room table, set with the china she’d found in the elegant cabinet. “I just eat in the kitchen.”

“This is nicer, though, don’t you think?” He had such nice things. Keira wanted to relish and experience every good thing she could while she was free.

He sighed deeply, as if something hurt him. “It’s been a long time since I sat down at a dining-room table.”

Dale looked down at his uniform. “You went to a lot of trouble. Mind if I change first?”

“The stew will keep warm. Unless you decide on a hot bubble bath.”

“I never take bubble baths alone, only with company. Saves on water.”

He gave a real smile, showing white, even teeth. The smile lit up his face and chased away all the dark shadows.

Keira stared out the kitchen window as he went upstairs. Her pulse raced. First time alone all night with the man she’d tortured, a man of honor and integrity and tremendous power. She didn’t underestimate his rough appearance. If he wanted, Dale Curtis could turn her to ashes with one flick of his hand.

A few minutes later, Dale returned to the kitchen, clad in khaki trousers and a navy blue polo shirt. Deck shoes covered his feet. He went into the dining room and returned with a sparkling crystal wineglass.

“What do you think?” he asked. He went for the built-in wine rack among the cabinets. “Red or white?”

She hadn’t drunk spirits in ages and placed the glasses on the table more as pretty decor. It was dangerous to imbibe around him, dangerous to lower her guard. But he was acting more animated and she didn’t want to spoil the mood. “Red, I think. You select it.”

Dale opened a bottle and poured a small amount. “I haven’t had wine since I got home from the hospital. Just beer, and I rarely finish the bottle.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She watched him sample the vintage and nod. “Excellent.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“Long enough.”

As he carried the bottle and glass into the dining room, she ladled the stew into two bowls. He turned on the crystal chandelier hanging over the table. A lump rose in Keira’s throat.

She had been forced to torture him in the dark. He never knew when she’d attack, never saw her coming, only felt the burning agony of her sharp claws.

Dale filled her glass with wine as they sat. Keira tried not to think of what she’d done to this man, but the stew tasted like cardboard as she ate.

He looked up, his brows arched. “It’s very good. I taste thyme. Did you season the stew with it?”

Keira flushed under the praise. “Thyme and other spices.”

Dale smiled, the sharp angles and plains of his face softening. “You’re a good cook. I thought New Agers ate only wheat sprouts and fruit.”

Keira thought quickly. “In all my travels, I had to adapt to various lifestyles, so I learned to enjoy their foods, as well.”

He toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “You’re a gypsy.”

“With a Harley instead of a caravan. I like to travel and see the country.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s so much to this life to see, and experience.” Keira spooned up more stew. “I want to relish every single moment I’ve been given and find the good in people, the good I know exists.”

“It doesn’t always exist. There is much evil.”

“And good.”

“That’s not my job. My job is to find the evil and eradicate it, to keep the American people safe.”

Keira’s heart pounded like an excited dog’s tail against the floor. She set down her spoon. “You’re too young to be so cynical.”

“Old enough. Seen enough.” Dale sipped his wine. “My family was insular. I chose against it.”

“Why?”

“Because they cared only about money and status. When I chose to join the navy and become a SEAL, they were not happy. But serving my country, and keeping civilians safe, meant more to me than making millions, like my father wanted me to do.”

“Who is your family?”

Dale raised a brow. “In all your travels, you’ve never heard of Curtis Mark Industries? The software empire, second only to Bill Gates and Steven Jobs? That’s my father’s company.”

“You wanted to rebel against your father so you didn’t work for him?”

“I wanted to do something with my life other than remain a part of a society that cared only for being seen and flaunting their power. There’s an evil I wanted to eliminate to keep others safe. I have much power and what good is power if you don’t use it to help others?”

Keira was touched at his dedication and selflessness. The Mage could have had a very comfortable, and very safe, lifestyle. She tilted her head, studying him. Why did she have the feeling she’d met him somewhere before, around the time the demons killed her pack?

But all those memories from Nicaragua were scrambled. The demons had seen to it by infusing her with four drops of their blood when they became temporarily corporeal.

“You sacrificed a lot to keep others safe. Your parents would be proud. I would be.”

“They didn’t understand. Neither did my wife. Ex-wife. Kathy was cut from the same bolt of social-excess cloth.” He seemed to catch himself and stared at his meal. “Damn. Sorry. Didn’t mean to go there.”

“Let me guess. She didn’t like being the wife of a military officer.”

He nodded. “We’ve been divorced a long time now. No children. Enough of me. What about you? Where’s your family?”

The familiar lump rose in her throat. Keira struggled to swallow a mouthful of stew. She set down her spoon. “They were killed in a demon invasion while we were living in another country. I was able to escape.”

His expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged to hide the tears welling in her throat. “It happened a long, long time ago. My pac—parents liked to rove around the globe, see the world and experience new cultures. Guess that’s one reason I’m a gypsy. I don’t have a real home.”

Goodness, she’d almost revealed she once had a pack.

Dale ate with zest. “This is terrific. I haven’t had a hot meal in weeks. Never bother cooking. No time, too much trouble.”

She studied his lean frame. He’d lost weight since she’d last seen him. If he kept this up, Dale Curtis would resemble a walking skeleton, his powers useless, his body prime for takeover by other demons.

“You need more protein, real meals, not grabbing sandwiches. Now that I’m here, I’ll cook dinner for you every night.” Keira smiled, trying to lighten her mood. “I promise if I find another imp, I won’t throw him in the stew pot. Besides, those little buggers can take the heat.”

“How do you normally kill them?”

“Not with guns, though yours did the trick.”

Dale smiled, looking less severe.

“Usually it’s best to blast them with white light. They’re so small, it’s easier than trying to kill a demon with white light. With demons, you need the big guns.”

Those startlingly gray eyes met hers. Beneath the mild look was an exacting scrutiny. Uncomfortable, she realized he was sizing her up, digging beneath the surface to find out what her deal was. Not a good idea.

“How do you know so much about imps and demons?” he asked.

“I studied them.”

“Most women wouldn’t want to get near a demon, even an imp, if they lost loved ones to dark forces. Yet you knew exactly what was in my office, and where it would be hiding.”

Guilt surged through her. “I studied demons and their minions. Wanted to know what my enemies were capable of doing.”

“I do the same, only I’m trained in combat and weaponry.”

“Did you know imps love to invade kitchens, food supplies, even liquor? Once I found a dozen of them in a liquor cabinet. They’d managed to break open a bottle of brandy. Have you ever seen a drunk imp? Not a pretty sight.”

She set down her spoon. “And I’m rambling. If you want, I can eat in the kitchen, leave you in peace to digest your meal.”

“Stay,” he said quietly. “It’s nice to share a meal with someone. I get tired of eating alone.”

“Me, too.” The words slipped out before she could catch herself.

Warmth shone in his eyes. For a moment, she indulged in the fantasy that this was her real home, and she could cook here every night. A real home, with someone to belong to.

The lump returned to her throat. Keira gripped her spoon. If she allowed melancholy to consume her, she’d dim her white light. Think positive. “Tell me about the piano. Do you play?”

He nodded. “Not for a long time, though.”

“Classical or contemporary?”

“Only the classics. I once wanted to be a concert pianist, but wanted to fight our nation’s enemies more.” He gave a crooked smile. “You can’t kill the bad guys with music.”

“You’ve never heard me play.”

Dale gave his deep, husky chuckle. “And you’ve never heard me sing.”

They were deep into a discussion of classical music versus rock when a clear thud sounded downstairs.

“Something’s in the basement.” The spoon rattled against the table as she set it down.

Dale wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. He stood, his expression shuttered. “Or someone. I have quarters down there for my men when they run into trouble. But they always ring the front doorbell.”

“I don’t like your basement. It’s a bit spooky,” she admitted.

His gaze turned troubled. “I haven’t been down there...in a while.”

Keira didn’t want to go down those stairs. Not now, as shadows draped the house and the darkness pushed away the sunlight. Her pulse raced. And then she looked at Dale and thought about how he must feel about basements.

He dragged in a deep breath and went into the hallway. When he returned, he carried the same pistol he’d used to shoot the imp. Dale slid the chamber back, the racking sound echoing in the room.

“Stay here.”

Something vulnerable flashed in his gaze. Keira’s heart kicked. As much as she loathed and feared what lay below, she couldn’t let him go there alone.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“Bullets won’t stop a demon.”

“My powers can.”

“You’ll need extra help. White light can aid and enhance your powers.” She fished her white quartz crystal from her jeans pocket.

Dale narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But you stay behind me at least five steps, and if I order you to run back upstairs, run.”

She followed him. He opened the door to the basement as she squeezed the crystal tight.

Keira swallowed hard, seeing the steep, gray steps swallowed by inky blackness. Anything could be down there. She’d failed to cleanse the room with white light. Her breathing ragged, she prepared to descend with him into the darkness.