Demon 04 - Deja Demon Read Online Free PDF Page A

personal.

    Not being a fool, the demon had turned and was now racing toward our back gate, weaving to avoid the plastic Tonka trucks and toddler garden tools that littered our yard. Not being hindered by such obstacles—I’m a pro at navigating around piles of LEGOs and miscellaneous Thomas the Tank pieces while carrying a hot roast and ordering children to wash up for dinner—I easily caught up to the beast.

    I tackled him, knocking him off balance as he stumbled over the dinosaur sandbox that I’d left open. He landed with a thud, and I was right there on top of him in an instant, the plastic pressed against his eye. The slightest bit of upward movement, and this would be all over.

    “Who sent you?” Sammy Watson was newly made; if he was going out of his way to attack me, it was on the orders of a demon higher up the food chain. “And what is the Sword of Heaven?” I demanded, having called upon my limited Latin resources to translate the blade’s name.

    “He comes again to face you,” Watson replied, his voice almost singsong. “His wrath will multiply.”

    “Who?” I pressed. “Who is coming?”

    The demon sneered. “He who seeks revenge. Who was thrust into cardinal fire. He will find his vengeance. And when vengeance combines with revenge, you and yours will die and hell on earth shall reign.”

    As that sounded like a less-than-ideal outcome, I pressed for more specifics.

    His mouth split into a charming smile, complete with perfect teeth and twinkling eyes. Honestly, he must have made a killing as a bartender. “Secret,” he said. “Can’t share a secret.”

    “I’ve made demons tougher than you give up a few secrets, ” I said. “That’s the beautiful thing about you bastards invading a human body. You get to experience all those lovely side benefits. Like excruciating pain.”

    “Do you wish for me to scream, Hunter?” he said, his words bold even though his eyes suggested that he was less than thrilled about my plan to torture the truth out of him. “Perhaps you desire your family to witness my demise.”

    “Perhaps I desire you to shut up until I’m ready for you to talk,” I countered. I took my left hand off his throat barely long enough to snatch the ball out of the dinosaur and shove it into his mouth. My plan was to bind his hands and feet, then drag him behind the storage shed so that we were out of view of the bedroom window and the back patio. Once hidden, there were all sorts of ways I could make the demon talk, most involving a blade and holy water. And I did intend to get him talking. Clearly new trouble was brewing in San Diablo—and I needed all the information I could extract.

    Carefully, I eased my weight off him, keeping my makeshift dagger at his eye. With my free hand, I grabbed one of his wrists and pulled it toward his back.

    “Stand,” I ordered, even as I eased to one side so that I could grab the knife that had fallen near him. I slid the eight-inch blade into the waistband of my jeans, then pushed him upright and edged behind him as he gained height. “Other hand,” I said, “or this is over before it begins.”

    I held my breath, not knowing what he would do. If his orders were to kill me, he’d comply, waiting for the opportunity to try again. Otherwise, he might very well ignore my demands, knowing full well I’d shove my spike through his eye, releasing him back to the ether.

    He eased his other hand around to his back, and I exhaled in victory. My original assessment was right—this was an assassination attempt, and he was going to cling to this form until I killed him, or until he killed me first.

    “Walk,” I said. I was close behind him, my left hand pressing against his crossed wrists, just below his shoulder blades. Since my right hand still held the stake against his eye, our progress was slow. But he moved, and I was willing to take this one step at a time.

    After four small steps, he stopped. “Move,” I insisted, but