California Demon Read Online Free PDF Page B

more constructive. “You’re okay?” I asked. “You’re not bleeding? No broken bones? No emergency surgeries or strange men trying to lure you into cars?”
    “Mo- om! I’m fine. Aren’t you listening? I won. ”
    “The essay contest?” From the front of the bus, Carl was eyeing me curiously. I waved, signaling that all was well in my world, which I hoped wasn’t a lie.
    “Yes!” She’d spent a week of late nights at the kitchen table with my laptop, typing and editing a five-page essay on family and Christmas for a contest sponsored by the local paper. I’d proofed the final pages for her, and even managed to cry only a little bit.
    “Oh, sweetheart,” I said, downshifting even more from concerned irritation to maternal pride. “That’s wonderful!”
    “They want me to read it during the program. You’re on your way, right? You won’t be late?”
    “Of course not. I’m practically there. Five minutes. Maybe ten.”
    Beside me, Sinclair started to push up again. I aimed a bright smile at him, and pulled out the baby wipe. Then, as Allie continued to rave, I used a tiny corner to attack the chocolate on his sleeve. I wasn’t touching skin, and I hoped that if he was a demon, he’d be lured into a false sense of security. Mostly, though, I was stalling. If he was a demon, I anticipated some pretty loud histrionics once the holy water contacted his flesh. Best for all concerned if the cell-phone connection was broken when Sinclair released that first yowl.
    All in all a calm, rational, analytical approach.
    Unfortunately, it didn’t work.
    “—and they’re actually gonna publish it,” Allie was saying.
    I tried to squeeze in a “good-bye” and a “tell me all about it in a few minutes,” but I never got the chance. Sinclair leaped out of the plush seat, slamming into me with all the vim and vigor of a person possessed. I saw it coming, but not in time. I shifted to the right, but he caught me in the chest and sent me tumbling back over the armrest of the seat across the aisle. I cried out and the phone flew from my hand. I heard my daughter’s terrified, “Mom!” then silence as the phone went dead.
    Sinclair tried to sprint past, but I wasn’t about to let that happen. I kicked out, managing to trip the undead bastard and land him with a splat on the rubber runner.
    I was right behind him, leaping from my precarious position on the armrest to an equally precarious position on his back. Demon or not, this son of a bitch had just scared my kid, and for that, he really had to pay.
    I still had the baby wipe in one hand, and now I slapped it down on his bald spot. I heard (and smelled) a satisfying sizzle, and Sinclair lurched in pain, his depths-of-Hell yowl filling the bus and threatening to burst my eardrums.
    A riled demon is a strong demon, and he was on his feet in no time, with me still clinging to him like a leech. My arms were clasped tight around his neck, the still-wet baby wipe now pressed against the soft skin of his neck. The stench of burning demon flesh almost made me gag, but I kept my legs squeezed viselike around his waist.
    I’d spent the last three months working my tail off to sharpen my atrophied skills in karate, tae kwon do, and a half dozen other martial arts styles. But I wasn’t using any of those skills at the moment. Instead, I more closely resembled my son trying to avoid bedtime.
    Since he’d been sitting at the back of the bus, we were probably only three yards away from the rear seat and the door to the coach’s restroom. With me still stuck fast, he bounded in that direction, then whipped sideways, slamming my spine up against the angled protrusion where the wall of the bathroom extended slightly.
    “Die, Hunter,” he hissed as fiery pain shot through my entire body. He slammed again, then again, and again, adding a comment to me with each and every impact.
    “You cannot win.” Crash!
    “Our forces grow.” Smash!
    “The wheels are already in