Blood of the Demon (24 page)

I yanked my gun from its holster as the thing launched itself at Ryan again. But Ryan reacted with a speed that impressed me, getting his legs up in time to catch the creature in the chest, shoving it away.

“Shoot it!” he yelled over the shrieking of the waitress. I didn’t need the encouragement. I squeezed off three quick rounds, the sound of the shots slamming through the restaurant, setting my ears ringing. The dog-thing jerked and shrieked as at least two of the shots found their mark, but a heartbeat later it was back on its feet, snarling at the two of us. Now I could get a better look at it, but it didn’t help. It was still vaguely doglike and really fucking scary-looking.

Ryan was breathing hard. “Did you hit it?”

“Yes! Shoot it some more!”

We both lifted our guns and started shooting, but this time the demon dog was ready, twisting to evade with unnatural speed that allowed only a few of the rounds to find their mark.

“Sonofabitch! Is it a demon?” Ryan demanded, as it appeared to shake off the effects of being shot as easily as shaking off a mosquito bite.

“Not one of the kinds I know,” I shouted, probably louder than necessary, but my ears were ringing from the shooting. “But it’s definitely other-planar.” I could see the telltale light instead of blood streaming from the wounds. I tried to remember how many rounds I’d fired. I didn’t have a spare magazine on me. I’d been going to lunch, damn it!

It launched itself at us again, in a blur of red eyes and white teeth. We both dove in opposite directions, as if we’d rehearsed it, but the dog-thing had apparently missed that particular rehearsal and twisted in midair to rake its claws at Ryan.

Ryan let out an explosive curse, then, in an act that was either incredibly courageous or incredibly stupid, grabbed the dog by its lower jaw and jammed his gun into the creature’s side, angling down and squeezing the trigger repeatedly until the slide of his gun locked back on his empty magazine. The dog-thing let out a howl of pain and rage, but a gut full of lead still didn’t seem to slow it down much. It snarled and twisted its head free of Ryan’s grasp, and I could see it poised to snap those deadly jaws onto something vital. I let out a yell and copied Ryan’s technique, jamming my gun against the creature and firing until the gun was empty. It had the desired result—at least partially. It screamed and lost interest in Ryan, turning that crimson gaze on me.

Okay, this is bad
, the thought flashed through my head. I was out of bullets, and even with what had to be more than a dozen rounds in it, the thing wasn’t dead. Or, rather, it wasn’t dead
enough
. White light streamed from it
in several places, but it didn’t look as if it would be discorporeating in the less than a second I probably had before the jaws clamped down on me. Given more time, I could possibly dismiss it back to whatever sphere it was from. But, then again, I didn’t think I’d be able to open a portal in the very short amount of time I had to work with.

Before I had a chance to enjoy the last split second of life as a whole person, another shot slammed through the room. The dog-thing’s head exploded in a burst of blue light, and then the body dropped heavily to the floor. I crabbed back, struggling to catch my breath as sparkles began to crawl over the body. A few seconds later the sparkles had completely consumed it, leaving behind nothing but a foul-smelling stain on the floor.

I looked up, past the arcane stain, then smiled weakly in relief.

“Good to see you, Agent Garner,” I said, voice only a little shaky. “That was some mighty fine shootin’, Tex.”

Zack grinned and gave me a mock salute as he lowered his gun. “Why, thankee, ma’am.”

I managed a wheezing chuckle, then got to my feet and looked to Ryan. “Are you all right?”

Ryan scowled and lifted his shirt, revealing a set of rippled abs that would have been incredibly nice to gaze at for a while if not for the four parallel scores across them that were just beginning to ooze blood.

“Barely got me,” he said, tugging the shirt back down. “I’ll be fine.”

I gave him a small smile of relief, then stepped over to crouch by the stain on the floor. I stayed there for a few heartbeats, absorbing the feel of the lingering residue, then straightened.

“That’s what we felt the other day by your office,” I said to both of them.

“So it’s been stalking us for a few days,” Ryan said, expression grim.

“I think so,” I said, then looked back to Zack. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because your timing was fantastic, but what are you doing here?”

A slight smile touched his lips. “I, uh, get ‘feelings’ sometimes. I’ve learned to listen to them. And I had a feeling I needed to see what Ryan was up to.”

So Zack had a touch of clairvoyance? I had a hard time being surprised, especially since I knew that he was sensitive to the arcane. “Well, I’m quite grateful to
your feelings
right now.” My gaze shifted higher. “And even more grateful that your hair is no longer orange.”

He laughed and ran a hand over his head. “Yep, surfer blond again.”

Ryan’s gaze swept the restaurant, taking in the waitress cowering under a table. “We have bigger problems right now.” He jerked his head toward the back door. “Zack, check the back. There’s a busboy out there, possibly hurt.”

Zack met his eyes, a strange expression on his face. “You’ll take care of the rest?”

Ryan’s face went stony and bleak, and he gave a stiff nod. Zack slipped out the back door.

What the hell was that about?

Ryan stepped over to the table the waitress was hiding under and crouched in front of her. He placed a hand on hers and I thought he was going to help her out from under the table, but instead she went very still and quiet when her eyes met his. I watched the bizarre tableau, perplexed, as Ryan continued to hold the woman’s hand, eyes
fixed on hers while a strange and terrible smile curved his lips.

After perhaps half a minute, he took a breath and looked away. The waitress blinked, then gave Ryan a smile as he gripped her hand more firmly and helped her out from under the table.

“Here you go, ma’am,” Ryan said. “The dogs are all gone now.”

The woman let out a normal chuckle that completely unnerved me, considering what she’d just witnessed. “Oh, I knew they’d get in here someday, the way Tommy likes to feed those darn strays! Thank you for chasing them off, darlin’.”

“It was no trouble,” Ryan replied, giving her a charming smile. His eyes flicked to me and he gave a slight motion of his head toward the door. I glanced over to see Zack coming back inside.

“Ryan, the boy was bitten, but he’ll be all right.” He gave Ryan the strange look again. “You’ll see to him?”

Ryan’s face could have been carved from iron. He didn’t nod, just stepped past Zack and walked outside, returning less than a minute later supporting a limping Tommy. “Ya gotta be careful of those feral dogs, kid. You never know when one might take a snap at you.” He eased the boy down to a chair. “You gonna be all right?”

The boy bit his lip, clearly doing everything he could to be manly and not cry about the wound in his leg. It wasn’t gaping or anything, but it was
big
, and I knew that the kid was going to need some serious stitching. How anyone could think that a stray dog with a normal-size jaw had made that injury was beyond me.

But at the moment there were many things that I felt I wasn’t quite grasping.

“Ryan—” I began.

He jerked his hand up in a
keep quiet
gesture, eyes unfocused. I wanted to shriek, but I forced myself to hold it in. About a dozen heartbeats later, he blinked and looked back at Zack.

“Okay, the cook is the only other one in the place, and he wears an iPod turned up loud enough to drown out a nuclear explosion.” He scrubbed at his face, hand shaking slightly, then his eyes met mine. “Some stray dogs got in the back door and caused a big mess. That’s … that’s what they remember.”

I could only stare at him for several heartbeats. “What did you just do?” It came out much more calmly than I had expected.

An expression of true pain flickered across his face, then was gone. He gave me a smile that looked terribly sad, then gripped me by the shoulders, eyes quickly scanning me up and down. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” I said, voice strangled. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He squeezed my shoulders and then released me. “Okay, go now. Go back to work.” He turned and walked to the front door of the restaurant. I watched him through the front window as he climbed into his car and drove off, then I turned to Zack, who was carefully picking up casings.

He didn’t give me a chance to speak. “Kara, don’t. Please.” His eyes were troubled as he straightened. “There’s a lot about Ryan that’s … complicated.”

“Complicated?”
The word nearly exploded from me. “Those people just forgot about everything that happened! How often does he do this?
How
does he do this?”

“He doesn’t do it often at all.” Zack looked miserable, but I wasn’t feeling very sympathetic at the moment. “No
one else knows he can do this. Not even the FBI.” He paused. “Especially not the FBI.” He shook his head. “I know only because I’ve seen him do it before … when there was no other choice.”

I had to tighten my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “How much do you know about him?”

“Not enough. Please, Kara. If we cause a scene here, it will undo everything he did. Please. Just go back to work.”

He turned away from me and started walking toward the front door.

I did the only thing I could think to do, and let him go.

I DROVE AWAY FROM THE RESTAURANT, HANDS TIGHTENING on the steering wheel at every crackle of the radio, knowing that at any second there would be an alert tone and a dispatch reporting shots fired at the old Ice House restaurant, but the radio traffic remained stubbornly boring. A complaint about a barking dog. A report of a car break-in. Nothing about a few dozen shots fired in a public place.

A chill ran over my skin. The waitress had gone from hysterical to calm in the span of a heartbeat, seeming to forget everything that had happened. My stomach churned unpleasantly, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the poor meal or from what I’d witnessed. Was it something Ryan was conscious of or just some sort of effect that surrounded him?
And has it ever been used on me?

There was no way I was going to return to the office. If anyone asked me, I’d plead some sort of work in the field.
Boudreaux and Pellini get away with it all the time, right?
Besides, it was Friday. Most of the rank would be gone anyway.

A shiver ran through me. Boudreaux and Pellini. Ryan had done something at the funeral to make them stop being dicks. I didn’t even have to wonder about that. There was no way that their change of heart had occurred naturally.

So had he ever done something like that to me?

I drove to my aunt’s house, passing through the wards and parking in the garage. It was a tight squeeze, but I didn’t want to advertise the fact that I was skipping out on work. After I shut the engine off and punched the button on the remote to close the garage door, I stayed in the car and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel, listening to the muted creak of the cooling engine.

My mood swung wildly between confusion and terror. I wanted badly to give Ryan the benefit of the doubt, but it wasn’t easy. The incident at the restaurant suddenly threw a dozen other things into a new and disturbing light. He’d obviously done something at the funeral. And Kehlirik had called him a
kiraknikahl
. Too bad I had no fucking idea what that was, but I had to wonder if it had something to do with this ability of his to make people forget things.

And Rhyzkahl said that Ryan wasn’t completely aware of himself. If Ryan can fuck with people’s memories as he is now, what would he be capable of if he knew what he was doing?

I finally got out of the car and went into the silent house, thoughts still tumbling. I had no idea which of us the dog-thing had been after. Maybe it was connected to the consumed essences. Or perhaps it had something to
do with Rhyzkahl’s interest in me. Or maybe it was unrelated to any of that.

I took a deep breath. Enough thinking about what had happened; I had plenty else to worry about. I fingered the folded piece of paper in my pocket with my list of questions. There was still plenty more I needed to know.