Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Read Online Free PDF Page B

(okay, that’s not entirely true), but it was its words that had really thrown me— You may as well die, Hunter. You surely will when my master’s army rises to claim victory in his name.
    I rubbed my bare arms, fighting goose bumps. Something was happening here, something I didn’t want to be a part of. But want to or not, I had a feeling I was already in it up to my eyeballs.
    “Katie?” Stuart’s voice drifted in from the living room. “Do you need help, sweetheart?” Elizabeth Needham, another assistant county attorney in Stuart’s division, had arrived a few minutes ago, and now she and Clark and Stuart were doing the war-stories thing. Stuart’s offer was genuine, I’m sure. But I could tell from his tone that he was also voicing a request that I get my butt in there and join them.
    “I’ve got it, hon,” I said. “I’ll be right there. I just want to call Allie and say good night.”
    Stuart didn’t answer, so I couldn’t tell if he thought that was odd or not. It was. Allie stayed with Mindy and Mindy stayed with us on such a regular basis that Laura and I were basically surrogate parents for the other’s kid. I knew Laura would call if anything was out of the ordinary.
    Reason, however, was not part of the equation. I wanted to talk to my daughter, and I wanted to do it right then.
    I dialed and waited. One ring. Two rings. Three, and then the familiar click of Laura’s answering machine. I waited through the message, tapping my fingers on the counter as Laura spelled out her family’s vital statistics—name, phone number, can’t get to the phone right now, yada yada—and then finally I heard the high-pitched little beep. “Laura? You there? Give Cary Grant a rest and pick up. I want to tell Allie something.”
    I waited, still tapping on the countertop. “Laura?” I stopped tapping, noticing that I’d now chipped the manicure that had managed to survive a demon attack.
    Still no answer, and I could feel that cold rush of panic growing in my chest. Surely demons hadn’t gone after my daughter. . . .
    “Come on, girl,” I said to the machine, fighting to keep the panic out of my voice. “I need—”
    I shut my mouth and my eyes, exhaling deeply as I realized what a fool I was being. Not demons. Ice cream . Makeup might keep Mindy occupied for hours, but my daughter was a different breed. Forty-five minutes, tops.
    “Never mind,” I told the still-open line. “Just have Allie call me when you guys get back.”
    I checked the clock. Seven-ten. If they went to the mall, they wouldn’t be back until at least eight. I could keep my paranoia in check for fifty minutes.
    Stuart stepped into the kitchen just as I was hanging up the phone. “Anything wrong?”
    He said it in a tone that suggested he almost hoped there’d been some horrific tragedy—because that would explain why his hostess wife was camped out in the kitchen ignoring her guests.
    “I’m sorry.” I slammed the phone down. “Just mommy paranoia.”
    “But everything’s all right?”
    “Fine,” I said brightly. He was angling for an explanation and I didn’t have one to give. The oven timer dinged and I lunged for a hot pad. Saved by baked Brie.
    I’d just slid the Brie onto a plate and passed it off to Stuart when the doorbell rang again.
    “Well,” I said. “We’d better go see to our guests.”
    I led the way out of the kitchen, my baffled husband following. In the living room, Stuart slid the plate onto the coffee table next to the fruit as I breezed past on my way to the front door, an efficient hostess smile plastered to my face.
    I opened the door to reveal one of the most distinguished men I’d ever seen. Despite his years—I guessed he was at least sixty—he had the bearing of a self-confident forty-year-old. His salt-and-pepper hair gave him an air of distinction, and I was absolutely certain that this was a man who never second-guessed his decisions.
    “Judge Larson,” Stuart said from behind