Pax Demonica Read Online Free PDF Page B

looking back at me.

Chapter 4
    I stared at the television , absolutely certain that if I could get my hands on the incident report, I’d see that Mr. Pepperdine—aka Thomas Duvall—and his stinky breath had been taken out by a ballpoint pen to the eye. Or something equally pointy.
    Because there was no other way to kill a corporeal demon.
    Actually, that’s not true. Beheading also tends to remove demons from bodies, but only because the demon doesn’t want to hang around anymore. The whole point of hiding inside the human form is to blend in with the general populace. Without a head, that whole blending-in plan doesn’t work out too well, and the demon voluntarily vacates its human home. Stick a pencil through the eye, and there’s nothing voluntary about the departure. The portal opens and— poof —the demon’s sucked back to the ether, swirling all around us without form, biding its time until it can try again with another dead body.
    “Wasn’t he on our plane?” Stuart had edged closer to the television, and though he glanced at me, his attention was mostly focused on Allie. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had noticed the way she’d spent much of the flight staring at a demon in a cute guy costume.
    “Yeah,” Allie admitted. “He sat a few rows up from us.”
    “Good God,” Stuart said, leaning in to turn up the sound, which made no sense at all, as Stuart doesn’t speak a word of Italian. “We were in that concourse.” His worried glance fell on me. “You were probably in the ladies’ room when that guy was killed.”
    A few feet away, Allie gasped. “Mom, you didn’t—”
    I twisted to face her, my expression dark with warning.
    “—see anything?” she concluded lamely. “When you went to the bathroom, I mean. You were right there. Did you see something?”
    “No,” I said firmly, because Stuart obviously hadn’t gone there yet, and Mrs. Micari was still standing in the doorway. And what was she thinking, anyway? That I’d take out a demon in the middle of the airport in Rome? Italian security officers patrol the airport with machine guns, and somehow I don’t think they’d believe me if I said I was saving the world. “I didn’t see a thing.”
    A big fat lie, of course. I’d seen more than I cared to think about, actually. I’d seen Duvall catch sight of a maintenance man and then turn the other direction. And I’d seen another maintenance man guarding the door to the men’s room in order to, I now assumed, keep unsuspecting travelers away from the sight of the dead demon sprawled out on the shiny Italian tile. Were the maintenance men with Forza ? Rogue demon hunters? Unsuspecting civilians?
    I didn’t know and, frankly, I hoped I wouldn’t have to find out. After all, Forza headquarters was just a ten minute walk from here. Even if something was up—and, really, where demons are concerned, when is something not up?—that didn’t mean I’d end up knee deep in it.
    Did it?
    “Poor bastard,” Stuart said. “I hope they catch who did this.”
    “I hope they find out why,” I said.
    “Is for the police,” Mrs. Micari said. “Is no way to start a vacation. You forget about this, yes? Rest now. Nap. And when you wake I will make you lunch and you explore the city. Si?”
    “That sounds like heaven,” I said.
    “Seriously?” Allie countered. “You’re really tired?”
    “Yes,” Stuart said, and Allie rolled her eyes in apparent astonishment at how completely lame adults were when it came to traveling.
    “Relax,” I said. “Enjoy having a room all to yourself.” She snorted. “A room without adult supervision,” I corrected.
    “Elmo!” Timmy shouted. He’d picked up the remote and had started flipping channels. Sure enough, Italian Elmo was there on the screen. Timmy couldn’t understand a word, but considering he’d probably memorized every episode of Sesame Street , I don’t think it mattered.
    “Oh, great,” Allie said.
    “That’s why