Louisiana Moon (20 page)

Her stomach knotted. Acidic bile rose into her throat as her heart pounded out a harsh thump to an eerie serenade blaring through her mind. Helpless, all she could do was stare at the thing. She wanted to look away, but was unable to draw her gaze from the being that came to collect her soul.

Death was so close to her, yet far enough away she could see it all. She waited for the thing to turn and scream as it often did, yet it stood sentient, a grotesque statue. Her heart raced faster. The adrenaline scorching her muscles forced hot tears from her terror-filled eyes until moisture soaked her cheeks and ran down her neck.

The fog migrating from behind Death crawled over the ground like a living thing, like endless tentacles intent on finding her. Nothing stood between her and Death except the swirling, writhing vapor. With an involuntary jerk, she shifted back, her terror-filled body instinctively reacting to the fog’s approach. Billowing, white fingers reached for her. If it got to her, the tendrils would suction to her skin and pull her screaming into the depths of the netherworld.

As if Death were impatient for the fog to work, he moved nearer.

The gleaming surface reflected a distorted mirror image, a nightmare visage she was loathe to see. One of his arms stretched out, impossibly long as a skeletal finger pointed, turned slowly and beckoned. Her sanity cracked as she was tugged toward the unknown.

Gasping, Kris woke and sat upright, taking in shuddering breath after shuddering breath and grasping at her chest. As in the dream, sweat formed over her body. The silk sheet beneath her was cool and wet. Why did she keep having these damn nightmares? What would happen should she ever reach the menacing figure? She shivered with the memory. Maybe she should curtail her naps for a while.

Shoving from the bed, she headed for the bathroom. After showering, she made her way to the kitchen to find Darin up and with a late lunch made, BLTs with extra mayo. “I really need to go to my office,” she said. “Will you be okay here?”

He placed his sandwich down and wiped his hands free of crumbs. “Yeah, sure. Is it safe?”

“Yes. I’ll have one of the vamps stay behind to watch the house.”

“You sure the woman won’t come?”

She wasn’t sure but she figured the vamp wouldn’t risk directly defying Ryant by attempting to take Darin from a house watched by them.

“When will you be back? Before dark? Before those demons come out?”

“I won’t be that long. I’ll be back before it gets too dark.” Tossing her napkin on the table, she smiled at him. “Thanks for the food. Don’t leave the house. See you later.”

20

In no time, she sat behind her office desk finalizing a few details for the
Knight
Lost
Loves
banquet. In two nights, the dinner would unfold. She couldn’t wait to see how much money would be donated to the Red Cross in the end.

Her cell rang. Cringing, she looked at the ID hoping it wasn’t Ryant calling about Stanley Adams. The call came from the sheriff she’d worked for to capture the fae. She sat back in relief as she answered, “Kris Knight.”

“Kris, this is Sheriff McRay. I’ve got another live one for you.” His voice sounded weary.

“Okay, give me a moment while I grab a pen and paper.” She rummaged over the desk with no luck finding a pen. Damn things must have sprouted legs and walked off. As she opened the desk drawer, a letter popped out and fluttered into her lap. She narrowed her eyes. That hadn’t been there earlier. She feared she knew who had delivered it.

Remembering she had a caller, she grabbed a pen from the back part of the drawer. “I’m ready.”

As she waited, she stared at the folded note half listening to him until he said, “The person’s name I need you to find now is Stanley Adams.”

Her heartbeat increased and her eyebrows rose. Coincidence? Seemed like Stanley had become a hot commodity. Was there a connection between Ryant and Sheriff McRay? She scribbled the name on the corner of the electric bill.

“This particular person is a special case. He’s not that bad of an offender and only has to check in every three months. His court date was yesterday. He never showed.”

Why in the hell would human laws pertain to a preternatural? “What did he do?”

“He broke into a blood bank, drank several pints of blood. He had said he didn’t want to harm anyone. Not that there is anything wrong with him not wanting to harm a person, but he still broke in and stole products. Because he’s a vamp, the human officials want to keep a closer eye on him.”

“Okay. Fax the information over, and I’ll get started. Talk to you soon.”

She had to search for the same damn person Ryant requested, and then there was the note. Kris lowered her gaze to the letter. Had Ryant really entered her office, like her home, without her permission? The idea he might have secretly visited her since they’d broken up left her stomach in turmoil.

The fax came through. She reviewed it and her gaze caught and froze on the address. It led back to the house she’d visited—the hell house. Her pulse raced. There was no way she would return alone, not with the damn witch and soul demons lurking about. Kris sighed and dialed Josh’s number.

“Hello,” he answered in a sleepy voice.

“Josh, were you sleeping?”

He laughed. “I had a long day.”

“Oh, well, I need to ask a favor.”

“Shoot.”

She waggled the pen in her hand, trying to figure out how to ask him. Might as well go for it. “I need you to go with me to a house in the swamps outside of New Orleans, a very chilling house with a cemetery as the backyard.”

“When would you need to go? I’m busy the next week and a half.”

Damn. Not the answer she desired. Darin popped into her mind. She didn’t really want to take him, not after the fae incident but she had no choice and she wasn’t about to ask Ryant. “That’s okay. I’ll find someone else to go with me. Thanks anyway.”

“Sure. Sorry I wasn’t more help.”

“It’s fine. I have some information I want to talk to you about in person when you get the chance. I can wait however long. I just need to talk to you in person.”

“Okay, call me when you want to meet.”

“Will do. Bye, Josh.”

As she opened the folds to the letter, she held her breath.
Come have dinner with me. And if you have more leads I want to know about them now.
Ryant’s voice echoed in her mind.

When she snatched up the paper, she crumbled it into a ball, then stopped. Did he tell the truth and mean what he said when he fought for the vampire’s side? Did his kind not have a hand in her parents’ deaths? Kris dropped the paper in the drawer and shut it. As persistent as Ryant was, she was positive he wanted a response soon. He’d have to wait just a wee bit more.

She slid Stanley Adams’s fax out from the machine and looked at her watch. She had enough time to drive to Rita’s house before nightfall. The urge to see if she was around pulled at Kris’s nerves.

The drive to Empire, Louisiana, to Rita’s apartments took half an hour. As she pulled up at Rita’s apartment complex, Kris paused in her car. Paranoia struck one cell at a time as she thought about the damn demons. She glanced at the dash clock. Thirty-three minutes left of dusk before the day would slip away into full dark, allowing the demons, if Ryant was right, the chance to find her. She reached over to the passenger seat and snatched the lock picker case that she’d thought to grab from her office. A few times she tossed the case in her hand as she looked at Rita’s door—time to find out what went on.

After she opened the driver door, she peered around the parking lot with a careful scan. She didn’t see anything out of the norm as she made her way to the stairs. As she ascended, she glanced over the railing down at the courtyard below, at the chilling statues.

As if she were a resident, she strode to Rita’s apartment. She took one last look at her surroundings to make sure she hadn’t been spotted. In a quick move, she slipped out the kit and flipped the lid. She slid a couple of picks out and stuffed the kit into her pants’ back pocket.

As she planned her next steps, she placed the picks in the knob, jiggled a couple times and popped the lock. After tucking the picks into her front pocket, she glanced behind one last time. No one was around. Quietly, she opened the door and went inside.

She went straight to the kitchen to the answering machine. There were eleven messages. Even more than before. She scrounged for a paper and pen, and then pressed Play. Several were from Rita’s frantic mother wondering where she was. In one message, her mother said she’d visit soon if she hadn’t heard from Rita.

Kris went to the living room. A dark shadow streaked across the window. Her heart stuttered. Likely just someone passing by.
Tap, tap, tap
clicked on the glass at her backside and she froze. In slow motion, she turned to peer over her shoulder.

Her eyes widened. A shadow with a spear stood outside the window. She gasped and stepped backward. The shadow loomed larger until it filled the window. Glass shattered, cascading onto the bed and floor as the statue broke through.

She screamed and skittered sideways to avoid the shards, almost falling on her ass as her feet got away from her. With a quick tug, she found her gun and shot at the statue inhabited by a Soulscape. Even as the bullets disappeared into the cement as if they’d been swallowed by quicksand, the force of the gunshots pushed it into the far wall. The Soulscape bounced off the surface then, off balance, staggered forward. Thick cement arms swung at her, smashing into nightstands and a dresser. After firing off a few more shots, she whirled and raced from the bedroom to the kitchen.

As she made it to the sliding back door, she unlocked it, and rushed onto the balcony with shaky legs. She looked over the side at the landing below on the backside of the building. When she judged the distance, she halted for a moment. Noise from the approaching statue as it crashed and banged its way to her made the decision for her to jump. No way would she be stuck in a tiny apartment fighting.

She stuffed her gun in the holster and placed a hand on the ledge. Pushing up, she swung her legs over the side and jumped from the second story. When her feet hit the ground, the impact sent shockwaves rippling throughout her body. Her knees buckled, and she rolled over the plush grass. As she came to a stop, she raised her chin to stare at the courtyard. The two dragons and the lone soldier glared in her direction.

How would she get out of this? She’d only expected to freaking fight one. Not all four of the damned statues. And how the hell had four Soulscapes found her? She took in a frustrating breath and huffed it out.

One of the dragons charged.

She drew her weapon, squinted and focused her sight down the barrel then squeezed the trigger. Not that the bullets would work as anything more than a means to piss off the demons and keep them away from her as long as possible, which wouldn’t be all that long. Each bullet that wasn’t absorbed by their cement flesh, plowed quarter size holes through them. Still, any edge was better than nothing at all. Several rounds were squeezed off and her clip emptied.

As she backed away, she saw the stone dragons and cement warrior move around her until they stood between her and her car. The dragon charged her, spewing fire from its nostrils. Chunks of cement exploded to the ground. When it neared, Kris jumped in the air, tucking her knees tight to her body then punched forward. Her feet hit the trunk of the dragon, which propelled it backward toward the courtyard. The animal burst into pieces when it landed on the metal fence. The dark soul inside sizzled out, screeching into the night, as if it howled with frustration as it went on a search for a new stone body to inhabit.

She covered her ears to protect them from the shrieking. The others thudded toward her. She looked about. In the middle of the freshly mown grass, rods affixed with yellow caution tape fluttered in the wind. With a passing twinge of guilt over messing with the groundkeeper’s work, she yanked one metal pole out of the ground.

A low growl captured her attention. The second dragon statue charged, barreling down on her. Her heart raced, matching the thundering pads of its feet as it shook the ground. She spun to get out of its path, only to find herself in the soldier’s direct line of approach. The determined soldier gained on her, spear pointed, ready to rip into her fragile flesh.

As soon as she raised the metal rod in her hands, spear struck rod and sparks flew. Even as she blocked the strike, the spear point made it within inches of her nose. She panted, gritted her teeth and pushed back. The soldier pushed even harder. Damn it. She would not let some freaking pile of stone best her.