Читать книгу Demon Wolf - Bonnie Vanak - Страница 13

Chapter 6

Keira’s gaze widened. “I never cleansed the basement with white light.”

“I have to get down there.” Dale ran into his study and removed his SIG Sauer 9 mm from the safe. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he grabbed a flashlight and then bolted for the stairs. Keira raced behind him, two large white crystals clutched in her shaking hands.

More terrified screams. Sully was a stalwart SEAL. He’d faced down terrorists and fire demons. What the hell was down there? Dale toggled the light switch, but nothing happened. The basement remained dark.

Dark as the night the demons had tied him down and giggled, and then the hot, razorlike claws had gouged his torso...

Loaded pistol in one hand, flashlight in the other, he climbed down the first step.

Another haunting scream cut through the air. Fear slicked his throat. Immobilized by it, he could not move.

And then he heard Keira’s ragged breathing behind him. With every ounce of his strength, he started down the stairs, pointing his flashlight at the steep steps. One of his men needed him.

Soothing white light suddenly cut through the darkness from behind him. He stopped and turned.

White light pulsed from the crystals Keira held. She bit her lip and handed him a crystal. “Take this. It will amplify your powers.”

Another bloodcurdling cry cut through the air. Dale tucked the crystal into his pocket. He believed in his powers as a Mage and the gun’s bullets, not magick stones.

Sweat beaded his forehead as he advanced toward the bunk beds.

The stench of sulfur and rotting flesh assaulted his nostrils. Dale gagged and forced himself to push on.

He swept the flashlights beam over the room. The lamp he’d left burning so Sully wouldn’t be alone in the dark lay shattered on the floor. Dale ran to the wall. While in the hospital, he’d hired an electrician to install floodlights on a separate circuit breaker, in case of emergencies.

So the basement would always have plenty of light.... He flipped the switch, turning on the lights, revealing a nightmare.

Dale dropped his flashlight and stared.

Still lying on the bunk bed, Sully thrashed wildly, fighting with a gray, scaly thing atop him, yellowed fangs sinking into the ensign’s neck. Blood slicked his gray T-shirt.

“Get it off me!” Sully screamed.

The ensign’s cry was a sharp slap to his terrified mind. Dale pointed his gun, feeling helpless all over again. His SEAL was being shredded by a demon and he could only stand there with a gun in hand, looking for the best shot.

“No!” Keira cried out. “I’ll place the crystal on the demon’s back and that will break its hold. Then you grab it and throw it to the floor.”

Grab it. He pocketed the pistol, stretched out his hands and reached for his powers of telekinesis. Nothing. Drier than the Sahara, damn it.

As Keira advanced toward the demon, memories flashed. Fangs sinking into his side, the burning agony searing his flesh, his voice hoarse from screaming...

“Curt, please!”

The ensign’s voice snapped him from immobility. He ran forward as Keira touched the demon’s thick, sinewy tail with the crystal. The demon pulled his fangs from Sully and released a high-pitched screech like glass grinding in a blender.

Dale seized the demon, ignoring the stinging lash of its razor-thin tail whipping against his arms, and threw it on the ground. He withdrew his SIG and fired.

The bullets vaporized in midair. Damn! He spotted the poker by the fireplace and grabbed it.

The demon turned and hissed. Sully’s blood covered its mouth, making it a red oval. Dale brought the poker down, slamming it on the triangular head.

Another banshee shriek. Dale hit it again. And again. Grayish blood splattered his bare legs, but he barely noticed. Hands wet with sweat, he kept a death grip on the weapon. The poker descended over and over. Had to kill it, make sure it would never hurt again.

“Dale! It’s dead.”

Keira’s soft voice sliced through his frenzy. Dale stared at the floor. Quarter-size dents gouged the carpet. The demon had vanished, leaving behind a pile of gray goo. The poker clattered to the floor and he wiped his hands on his once-clean polo shirt, turning to Sully.

Keira had taken strips of the white sheet and was pressing them against the ragged gash on the ensign’s throat. She also held the crystal against his neck, the stone’s white glow fading.

Sully gripped the makeshift bandage, his gaze wide. “Thanks, Curt. Thought that thing was going to rip my throat out. What the hell was it? One minute I was passed out, the next this foul breath was in my face, and something burning my skin in the dark.”

“It’s an espy,” Keira said. “Minor demon that sucks on its victim’s blood. Prefers dark, damp places to hide and lie and wait like a spider. Goes after those who are helpless, likes to take from drunks.” She gave Sully an apologetic glance. “Favorite prey.”

Dale wiped his hands on his shirt again, wondering how she knew so much about this demon.

Sully shook his head. “Screaming like a baby. Feel stupid.”

He dropped to the bunk bed and clapped a hand on the SEAL’s shoulder. “You had a demon gnawing on you like a dinner bone. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Dale had screamed plenty in the dark, dank basement when the demons came after him.... He focused on Keira, who was staring at the mess on the carpet.

When her wide-eyed gaze met his, he gave a rueful smile. “Don’t worry. Not going to ask you to clean that. I’ll cut out the section and replace it. I doubt my carpet cleaner can remove demon blood.”

Sully removed the stained makeshift bandage. The jagged gashes on his neck had knit together. “Amazing,” Dale murmured. “The crystal heals.”

“White-light therapy.”

He still didn’t embrace all this crazy stuff about crystals and energy, but the evidence was daunting.

Dozens of questions raced through his mind, but he tucked them away for later. “Can you walk?” he asked his friend.

Sully snorted. “No demon’s gonna best me. I’m not a girl to be carried out of here on a stretcher from a puny demon attack.” Then he colored deeply. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to imply...”

“Imply what, Sullivan?”

At his rough tone, Sully paled and looked at the floor. Silence descended, broken only by the tapping of Dale’s foot on the floor. “Get upstairs, Sullivan.”

The young SEAL sat up straight. “Yes, sir.”

Once they were all back up in the kitchen, Dale went to phone for a cab, but Sully stopped him. “I’m sober now, sir. Nothing like a demon attack to chase away a good drunk. I’ll see you tomorrow on base, sir.”

Sir, not Curt. The formality had returned. All because Dale had once more lost his temper. Guilt pinched him, but he brushed it away.

He had demons to deal with.

Sully vanished in an eye blink. Dale pulled out a chair in the kitchen, gestured for Keira to sit by him. Interrogation time. But he had to be subtle. He shoved aside the niggling feeling of guilt. Had he his powers of telekinesis, he could have beaten the demon more easily.

“Tell me about this demon. How could it have gotten into my basement?”

“Demons are attracted to emotional darkness. It’s my fault. I neglected to cleanse the basement today. It must have been lying in wait and when Sully slept, got hungry.” Her lovely mouth wobbled. “I’m so sorry. I’ll clean the basement now.”

Dale gently clasped her wrist. “You weren’t at fault. It’s my house and I’m responsible for what happens here.”

She looked up, her expression troubled. “I don’t know if a regular cleansing with white light and crystals can help. Because there’s bigger demons to worry about. And when they get here, all you can do is run screaming because they’ll do worse than suck a little of your blood. They’ll steal your soul and seal you screaming in hell. And no one can free you.”

He gazed into her eyes, deeply concerned. What the hell had Keira Solomon run into?

“My team, the Phoenix Force, can handle demons. For now, why don’t you get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”

“I have to cleanse the basement or more will arrive.” Her eyes grew huge. “Maybe they’re already down there.”

Dale didn’t want to return to that basement, but no way in hell was he going there alone. He followed her to her room, helping to unpack the bags of crystals and then carry them to the basement. He watched as she set several in each corner of the room and more on the steps, murmuring chants the whole time.

“If any are hiding, for now this should hold them at bay and prevent them from coming upstairs.”

When they returned to the kitchen, she headed for the sink, but he stopped her.

“The dishes...”

“Told you. I have a dishwasher for that. I’ll finish cleaning up. You get some rest.”

And then, because he could not resist touching his lips to her soft skin, Dale brushed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. He watched as she headed toward her room, her hips gently swaying in a seductive dance. For the second time that night, he found himself wondering about Cassandra Sullivan’s warning.

* * *

Her room felt icy cold. Keira lay beneath the blankets and shivered.

Although it was summer in Virginia, she could not escape the chill of knowing a demon had invaded the sanctuary of Dale’s home.

After Dale had finally trudged upstairs, his heavy tread indicating his exhaustion, she’d gone down into the basement and cleaned up the mess. It had taken all her courage and strength.

She knew, more than Dale did, exactly how vulnerable this house was to dark forces.

Demons could still break through the frail barrier of white light and creep in through cracks between the windowsills, wiggle their way into the basement.

She’d dozed off for a couple of hours. Now, the blue lights of the small clock radio glowed three o’clock, the hour of demons.

The thick band around her upper arm felt reassuring and did not cut into her skin. The reminder of her tie to Dale Curtis would protect her against the Centurions. But what would protect Dale? Her crystals were drained and needed replenishing.

How much more evil was hiding below in the dark?

Keira threw back the covers and went to the dresser. Her meager possessions were in the top drawer, including the last crystal that held pure white light. Every time the demons allowed her freedom, she used her spare time to learn the healing arts of Luminaires, and used some of the money they gave her to lure fresh victims to purchase crystals.

She cupped it in her hands, relishing the purity and soothing peace, then placed it on the nightstand by the bed. As she started to drift back to sleep, something rattled in the kitchen.

Trembling, she gripped the bedcovers. Perspiration soaked the clean bed sheets. Calm down, demons don’t invade the kitchen late at night....

But restless men tortured by them did.

Keira threw back the sheets and shrugged into her white terry-cloth robe. She slipped out of her bedroom and stood at the kitchen door.

Wearing a robe of his own, Lt. Commander Dale Curtis stood at the opened refrigerator door, staring at the contents.

Keira cleared her throat. “See anything good?”

Fork held out like a weapon, he whirled around. Dale relaxed when he saw her. “Couldn’t sleep. Sorry I woke you.”

“I was awake, as well.” She turned on the overhead lights, dimming them.

Dale looked haggard beneath the soft illumination. She wanted to go to him, assure him all would be well and he could safely sleep again in his own house. But she knew it would be a lie.

Because nothing was safe until the Centurions were put in hell for good. The demons, once Roman soldiers in their time, were condemned to the netherworld for their cowardice, never to walk in flesh until they acquired the courage they lacked in battle.

When they’d found a way to escape hell, they found a shortcut to becoming corporeal. By torturing good, brave men, and stealing their strength, they became solid form and were able to enjoy the pleasures they had in Roman times.

They had found the bravest man of all in Dale Curtis.

He poured a glass of milk, offered her one. She shook her head. Her stomach was too queasy. Dale lifted the top of the glass cake holder and cut a slice. Her gaze wandered to the robe’s hem, stopping just above his knees, showing his strong calves.

She joined him at the table.

“Amazing. Absolutely delicious.”

He licked the tines of his fork, and a tingle shot through her body as she watched his tongue slowly stroke the utensil. Dale closed his eyes, long, black lashes lying against his stark cheeks. His face was all angles and planes, but his eyes, laser-sharp, were his most arresting feature.

Dale’s mouth, usually pinched and compressed, now relaxed. He licked his lips and she sensed he did so on purpose. Fascinated, she watched, wondering what it would feel like to have Dale Curtis’s mouth pressed over hers, his tongue tasting her with the same pleasure he now exhibited tasting her cake.

His eyes flew open and he looked at her with amusement as heat filled her cheeks.

“It’s very good cake.” He pushed away his barely touched slice.

“You’re not having more?”

“Just a taste. I have to work back slowly to getting my strength. Too many calories and I’ll go to fat.” He drained the milk.

Keira swiped a finger through the frosting and licked her finger. “Indulging yourself once in a while is permitted.”

“Not for me.”

“Why are you so rigid?”

“I’m navy. It’s part of my life. Discipline and training, that’s what makes a SEAL. And endurance and strength.”

“You’re not a SEAL or a commander here in your home. So kick off your shoes and relax. Have a slice of cake. A whole slice.” Keira sighed with renewed pleasure at the enticing taste of the chocolate. “Life is short and you never know what tomorrow brings, so enjoy every moment. That’s my philosophy.”

“And never letting down my guard is mine.” Dale reached over and stroked a corner of her lip, wiping off frosting with a finger.

He brought it to his mouth. Keira’s heart kicked hard as he licked his finger. Her body felt loose and wanting.

Dale’s gray gaze burned like fire. He looked hungry, but not for food. She drew back. She couldn’t risk liking this man. Or lowering her guard and trusting him.

“After we work together, you’ll get to relax and sleep,” she told him.

“I haven’t slept through the night in a long time.”

“When we start working on fine-tuning your inner frequencies, you’ll have to relax and let down your guard.”

Dale stiffened. “Impossible. The moment I let down my guard, look what happens. I get a damn demon in my basement attacking one of my men. I should have brought Sully up here, let him sleep in the guest room.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe. But there is plenty of evil out there in the world and I’m not allowing it to ruin the lives of innocents.”

Keira sighed. “Stop focusing on the bad guys. There will always be the bad guys out there. You have to channel positive energy to beat back the darkness inside you.”

“Evil must be punished. There’s no gray area about it. You saw the demon attacking Sully. You think that should be pardoned?” Dale threw out the rest of the cake, went to the sink and washed his plate.

“No. But if you consistently look for the bad, you’ll find only the bad. You have to look for the good in people, as well.”

He needed to heal and recover. Instead, the man held himself as rigidly as a ruler and refused to indulge in an entire slice of cake.

“Discipline and training helped me to become a SEAL and it’ll help me regain my strength.”

“I heard SEALs are the best of the best. But you can’t focus all your time on searching for evil. There is good in the world.”

Keira had to believe it, had to find the good each time the Centurions released her. The day her inner white light died, she would want to die, as well.

“That’s not my job, to look for the good—it’s to search out the evil and eliminate it so other Americans can sleep through the night.” He traced a line on the tablecloth.

Her heart ached for the man. He risked his life so others could experience peace, but he enjoyed none himself. She went to the refrigerator to get some juice and paused, remembering what she’d seen earlier. Tacked to the refrigerator door was a child’s crayon drawing of a man next to an American flag. There was also a photo of a little boy blowing out candles on a cake, flanked by an adoring couple.

A note was pinned to the refrigerator. She read it aloud.

“‘We can’t thank you enough for what you did for our son. Because of you, Josh is celebrating his seventh birthday. You are a true hero. Josh drew this picture of you and we thought you’d like to have it.’”

She turned and saw him quietly watching her.

“You keep this on your fridge. So you must believe in some good in people. Helping people isn’t wrong. Look at how you saved this little boy.”

Dale’s mouth tightened. “For every Josh I manage to save, or my team manages to save, there’s four more the monsters get to first. That’s what keeps me up at night.”

This brave man, who’d sacrificed himself to save children, had suffered greatly, still suffered. All my fault, she thought, the hollow ache in her chest intensifying.

She must make amends.

Keira went into her bedroom and cupped the small white crystal in her palms. Dale had given so much for others. This was one small act she could do for him.

When she returned, he was standing at the sink, looking out the window, into the dark. She placed the stone in his hands.

“Put this by your bedside, near your head. The crystal’s white light will chase away bad energy and help you sleep. I promise it. It’s worked for me.”

Her fingers brushed against his strong, calloused ones. Dale’s masculine scent of citrus and pine teased her nostrils.

“What about you?”

She shrugged. “Cake. And if that doesn’t work, at least I’ll enjoy the remedy.”

Dale smiled. “Thanks. Good night.”

Keira watched him walk away, the stone clutched tight in his palm.

* * *

Upstairs, Dale placed Keira’s stone on his nightstand.

He cracked open a book, but could not concentrate. There was no peace at night. He would power up the laptop and surf the internet, check emails, read reports or sometimes would read one of the well-worn books he loved.

The bottles of prescription sleep aids sat untouched in his medicine chest. He refused to take them. Sinking into a deep sleep meant risking vulnerability, slowing his reaction time if he were attacked.

Always, there was a bedside lamp burning.

Some nights, he would lie down and close his eyes and breathe deeply, and drift into a peaceful sleep. And then the nightmares would begin.

They were varied, but threaded through all was a common theme. He was strapped down with heavy chains in the dark basement, listening to the sound of his blood dripping on the floor, wanting to submit to death. And then he’d heard screams, a child’s screams. Little Josh, crying for his dad as the demons giggled and took him to the basement. Then a terrible silence. More footsteps and another child’s screams as the demons hauled them, one by one, to the basement to die. And he struggled in the grip of the chains, helpless to stop their deaths, their shrill screams punctuating the air over and over....

And Keira wanted to practice her New Age mojo on him? He was beyond magick stones and chants, especially if it meant giving up control.

Drowsiness engulfed him, but this time he did not fight it.

Dale closed his eyes and surrendered. And dreamed.

Not of dark basements and crying, terrified children, but a white room filled with white light, and an eggshell-white bed, soft as lamb’s wool.

Keira lay upon the bed, her long dark curls spread across a bank of downy pillows.

She wore a sheer white nightgown that clung to her generous curves and rode up nearly to her thigh, showing the shapely angle of her calf. Soft as the bed itself, and the pure light pulsing through the room, chasing away every single dark shadow.

No demons here.

Eyes of green sparkled with seductive promise. So sweet and pretty.

“I want you,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist.”

“Take off your gown.”

He barely recognized his rough voice, harsh with command. Dale gripped the bedpost, watching as she tugged the fabric over her head and tossed it aside.