Demon Master (Demonsense series Book 2) (46 page)

They got to a place right up against the front of the mall. At some point, some of the store windows had been smashed in, and their feet crunched on broken glass. Bree could see two mannequins on their sides, clothes half stripped off, looking like a couple of assault victims. She glimpsed people inside the store, bent on looting. Well, she had more important things to focus on.
 

She called Gelsenim again, and felt her spine straighten as he entered her. A sense of strength and well being returned, although it was obvious that her base energy was much diminished. She quickly calculated that she’d do better to try for five or so demons at a time rather than ten.
 

Kevin stood close to her, eyes scanning the edge of the crowd, which was about fifteen feet away. She sent out her Demonsense, located four possessed, and quickly, efficiently, cast them out.
That was a lot easier,
she commented.

Those were less powerful demons,
Gelsenim replied.
 

Maybe it’s worth the time for me to try to figure out how big they are before deciding how many at a time to do.

Keep in mind, my host, that some of my kind have learned to hide their true level. I think it is better to do smaller numbers at a time than to do what we did before. I also don’t think your body can take too much more of this activity.
 

Lord, how many more can there be? We already cast out fourteen.

I perceive many more, but do not know the exact number.
 

Bree’s confidence deflated. Gelsenim was right. There was a limit to how much more she could do. She growled in annoyance as she saw another Keeper she knew, a big beefy guy named Caleb Lane. She instructed Gelsenim to leave her, and he obeyed. She did collapsed that time. Kevin leaned over and got a shoulder under one of her arms and hauled her to her feet. Lane didn’t see them, and Bree heaved a tired sigh of relief. Then she thought she saw a glimpse of Franchesca and wanted to kick herself for forgetting to tell first Javier, then Lane about her.

“I know, I saw her too,” Kevin grated out. He supported her in moving to their left, along the wall of the mall, skirting the crowd away from Franchesca. Bree tried to pull in her energy, make herself small. It wasn’t that hard to do, she was pretty depleted. She hadn’t brought a purse, and it occurred to her belatedly she should have stuck a power bar or something in her pocket for an energy boost.
 

The crowd was smaller now. People must have been running away at least since the demons appeared, not to mention the gunfire scaring people off.
 

Finally, she saw an organized line of police advancing. They were clearly trying to encircle the crowd, and she saw the haze of tear gas being deployed. It seemed likely that the supernatural appearance of the demons, and the panic it caused in the crowd had interrupted police response. And she was sure that with all the controversy around reports of police brutality, they’d been instructed to take great care not to hurt anyone.
 

She saw people on the ground, some moving in obvious agony from injuries, and some looking like half charred corpses, probably casualties from the demon contact.
Don't think about it, don't think about it!
she told herself. She cast out her Demonsense yet again, wearily, hoping many of the possessed had fled. She so wanted to be done with all this. She was jumpy about Franchesca, jumpy about the Keepers, and afraid of getting shot. Her supply of courage was running low.
 

She sensed at least five more demons inside hosts that she could pinpoint with some accuracy. She scanned for Keepers, then called Gelsenim again. Kevin was able to keep firm hold of her, propping her up with the help of the building at their backs.
Okay, Gelsenim, let’s do this again, she instructed.

Your energy is low now, my host. It becomes dangerous. We should not do all that you’ve targeted.

Fine, how many can we do?

Two to start, I would say.

Together, they focused and methodically, they cast out two, then four, then one final demon. Bree was barely able to keep to her feet, even with Kevin’s support and Gelsenim’s power inside of her.
That is all you can do, Bree,
Gelsenim’s voice chided sternly inside of her.
 

Bree felt a kind of gratitude at his confirmation that she’d done all she could. She could feel how low both her base and will energy were, and she knew Gelsenim was right. It was dangerous to do more. In fact, she was loath to have him leave her at this juncture because she wasn’t sure she could walk without his supplemental energy. Another glimpse of Javier, bending over one of the injured, made up her mind for her.
Again, my deepest thanks, Gelsenim. I will call you soon to allow you to feed for longer, but it’s not safe for me for you to stay now.

I see that, my host. Please be careful, and leave quickly.

I will,
she assured the demon. As she had feared, her knees gave out when the demon left her. Kevin was almost pulled down with her as he wasn’t expecting her sudden collapse, but with an effort, he straightened them both.

“Please tell me we’re done now,” he pleaded.

“We’re done now. I can’t do any more.”

He led her the long way around the crowd, to their left, along the side of the mall, then out toward the street, probably trying to avoid the spot where they’d last seen Franchesca, but he had to turn and go the other way as it led them too close to the tear gas. Bree’s eyes started to burn as Kevin hustled them back the way they’d come. She gritted her teeth in an effort to try to keep strength in her legs. Kevin’s hand on her waist was digging in as he had to take a lot of her weight to keep her upright.
 

They had made it three quarters of the way around the crowd when Kevin’s body jerked against her. Almost simultaneously, Bree heard the pop of gunfire. Kevin staggered a few steps, then stood still for a moment, looking down and pawing at his bleeding torso. He started coughing and hunched over painfully, hand over his mouth.
   

It took a minute for Bree to take in what she was seeing.
He's been shot,
went through her mind sluggishly, but her body seemed to get it because adrenaline hit her system and lent her the strength to stand up on her own and get a supporting arm around Kevin.
 

The sound of another gunshot snapped her out of her shock. She looked around frantically for the source of the gunfire, but she couldn’t see the culprit in all the chaos. She looked back down at Kevin and saw blood seeping out past the hand he had against his chest. She made a snap decision to move him a little further to try to get out of range of the gunfire. “We’ve got to try to move!” she shouted at him over the escalated crowd noise.
 

Kevin nodded and shuffled along with her, half hunched over. She managed to get him behind the freestanding coffee shop that was on one edge of the Westlake Plaza before he sunk to the ground, back to the building. Bree tore off her coat and sweater, then the t-shirt underneath. She folded it rapidly into a pad, moved Kevin’s hand, and pressed it against his bleeding chest wound. She saw it was on the right side. He was wheezing and still coughing painfully.
 

She put Kevin’s hand against the chest pad she’d made of her shirt. “Press it tight!” she commanded, relieved he was still conscious, but knowing that could change at any moment. Bree hustled back into her sweater and coat, then tried to stand up. She immediately got dizzy and had to lean hard against the building. “I’m going to see if any medical people have arrived yet,” she told Kevin. He nodded again. Bree inched forward and poked her head around the building, looking out into the square. It appeared that at the onset of more gunfire, the police had taken more aggressive action. There was still a strong haze of tear gas, and it stung Bree’s eyes even at this remove. She saw police clubbing some of the protestors while others had protestors on the ground and were clearly arresting them. All this was on her side of the crowd.
 

On the further side there were protestors attacking a line of police officers. The crowd was definitely much smaller, but she thought it would be some time before the situation was controlled. At first, she couldn’t see any sign of an ambulance. Surely given the recent rioting, some would have been on alert and nearby. But finally her frantic search caught a glimpse of one, and as her eyes tracked nearby, she saw the white of paramedic uniforms.
 

She made her way back to Kevin. He was thankfully still applying pressure to his wound, but his face looked pale. Blood was seeping around her makeshift pad. She feared he’d go unconscious and bleed out if she left him, but she concluded she had to risk getting a paramedic to him. She felt something tickle her chin, and wiped roughly at it. Her hand came away wet, and she realized she’d been crying.
 

“Kevin, there are paramedics here. I’m going to get one. You have to stay conscious and keep pressure on your wound. Can you do that for me?” Her voice trembled, and Kevin only nodded again. She wondered if he could even speak.
 

Bree ran around the back of the coffee shop toward Third Avenue, the direction she’d seen the paramedics. She was shaky and weak.
You will not pass out,
she admonished herself fiercely as she forced herself to trot, then sprint the wide way around the crowd, trying to avoid the complication of further violence, or another confrontation with Franchesca. She would call Gelsenim again if she had to in order to stay on her feet, and damn the consequences.
 

The paramedics she’d seen were just half a block away now. As she ran closer, she saw there were three ambulances. She couldn’t help but hope that by some miracle, Dion would be one of the paramedics. She didn’t see any sign of him, though, as her eyes scanned the people in uniforms working over the victims of violence who had made it out of the crowd. Bree saw a paramedic crouching down next to a middle-aged man, holding a compress against the side of his face. She figured it for a minor injury so didn’t feel bad about interrupting.
 

“My friend has been shot in the chest,” she announced breathlessly as she came up. The paramedic, a petite, young looking Hispanic woman with round face, thin plucked eyebrows, and black hair pulled severely back into a ponytail looked up at Bree in concern. “Where's your friend?” she asked.

“He’s back near Westlake Center, behind the coffee shop. I was able to make it from there to here safely by going around the crowd,” Bree added, imagining some rule that would prevent the paramedic from going into harm’s way.
 

“Is he conscious?” the woman asked, taking the hand of the man she was working with and moving it so he was holding his own compress in place.

“Yes, so far, but he's really bleeding.” Bree could feel the tears that had stopped on the way over start up again at that.
 

The woman nodded, bent over the man with some further instructions, then told Bree, “Let me get my kit, I’ll be right with you.”

Faster than Bree expected, she was back, med kit in hand. “Follow me,” Bree told her, and made her way back the way she came.

Things were finally winding down with regards to the riot by the time they made it back to Kevin. Bree had looked back to check on the paramedic several times as she went in some fear that the woman would balk as they got closer to the action. The woman was clearly scanning her environment carefully, but looked resolute.
 

At long last, they arrived next to Kevin, who now had blood dribbling out of his mouth. The paramedic got to work on him immediately. Bree slid down into a kneeling position to one side of Kevin, ready to do anything the woman instructed. After a cursory examination, the woman spoke into the small walkie talkie she had on her belt. Bree didn’t understand the medical speak that flew between her and the person on the other end of the line, but she gathered she’d asked for a stretcher.
 
“You are one tough cookie,” the paramedic told Kevin with a smile as she cut open his shirt, examined the wound, and put a fresh compress on it. Kevin hissed in pain, then coughed again, and more blood spurted out of his mouth. The paramedic glanced over at Bree and said, “You don’t look so hot. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Bree shook her head. “I’m fine, just a little in shock I think.”

“Can you provide pressure on this wound while I examine your friend for further injuries?”

“No problem,” Bree replied, though in fact, the idea terrified her. It wasn’t that she was squeamish about blood, it was that this was Kevin, her dear friend. She maneuvered herself until she was able to take over.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Kevin.”

“Okay, Kevin, I’m going to examine you for further injuries. I’ll do my best not to hurt you.” She started at the top and had gotten halfway down his legs when, with a large, wheezing breath, Kevin’s eyes trembled closed.
 

“Oh God,” Bree whimpered. “Don’t die, Kevin, please, please don’t die.“ She put one hand to his neck, trying to feel for his pulse, but the paramedic moved her hand away and took over more expertly. “He’s not dead, ma'am,” she announced. Just then, two more paramedics arrived with a stretcher. Bree was shooed out of the way as they got Kevin onto it. “Where are they taking him?” Bree asked.

“To Harborview,” the paramedic replied, naming a nearby hospital as she looked Bree over, clearly doubting Bree’s self report of being unharmed.
 

“I’m sorry, it’s just all hitting me,” she told the woman, not entirely lying.
 

She took Bree's arm firmly, turned her around and examined the back of her, probably checking to make sure she hadn’t taken some injury that had failed to register yet. She took another quick look at Bree’s face, then nodded and let go of her arm. “Okay, ma'am. We’ll take good care of your friend. You might want to sit down for a minute with your head between your knees until the dizziness passes. Don’t try to drive a car until you’re certain you’re not dizzy any longer and you’re not trembling. The last thing we need around here is more injuries,” she concluded grimly as she turned to go.