Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
NOVA
Hours pass with me at the bar, nursing a single drink. I keep expecting Izoran to burst in, looking alarmingly human, to try his hand at luring me outside a second time.
But he never comes.
I’m alone, surrounded by people I don’t know, trying to stay focused on what I’m going to do next and not on panicking. I don’t have a weapon yet, and I need one.
Downtown is familiar, even with the new businesses that have popped up. This bar is as lax as ever at checking IDs, so maybe there are other things that haven’t changed. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath of the stale air.
What else is on this block or the next? Hair salon, dollar store—maybe out of business, because I remember it always struggling—hardware store. Maybe I could try to kill a demon with scissors or an exact-o knife.
But then I remember the corner two blocks down, hosting a big brick building that’s been owned by the same family for three generations. Last I knew, their son was set to take over, so it’s got to still be there.
Elmer Outdoors.
A sporting goods shop that sells hunting gear.
They’ll have guns. Knives. Other gear that could help me hide from four demons in the woods surrounding the town.
It won’t be easy to break into. I’ve never committed a crime, and I doubt breaking and entering is as easy as they make it look on TV. Especially with the bars that I know they have on the doors and windows.
Could I use a crowbar to pry it open?
A man comes up to sit beside me, spinning his stool to face me. My heart kicks, thinking it must be one of the demons, glamoured again to hide as a human. When I meet his eyes, it’s obvious he’s not. They’re glazed over, showing the drunken daze he’s in.
“Damn, you’re pretty,” he drawls.
He leans over and places a hand on my knee, half his weight resting on me. I move it so he can’t touch, and he nearly tips forward, just barely catching himself with his other hand on the bar. This guy is sloshed.
“Why don’t you come meet me out in my truck, baby? We could have some fun.”
I grimace. I doubt whatever woman he convinces will have any fun at all. He’s probably going to pass out the minute he drags himself into the back seat.
“No, thanks.”
Digging in his pocket, he pulls out a jangling set of keys and holds them up in front of me to shake. “She’s the funmobile.”
No one was ever going to take him up on this offer. He’s mildly attractive, but not hot enough to excuse the fact that he’s calling his truck the funmobile. He’s a little desperate.
Although… desperate might be good for me.
I don’t know how to pick a lock or where to get a crowbar, but his funmobile might just be my ticket into committing a successful robbery.
What better way to get into a heavily secured gun store than to drive a truck right through their front door?
It’ll be a piece of cake to trick this guy into giving me his keys. No one will even find it suspicious for me to take them from him. The bar staff aren’t going to let him drive, anyway—I can already see one of the bartenders giving him some side-eye.
Scooting forward on my stool, I pluck the keys from his hand and give him what I hope is a seductive smile. I doubt he’ll be able to tell either way. “Where are you parked?”
He grins. “Round the corner, sugar. Big navy truck.”
“Do you have blankets in the back?”
His eyebrows draw together. “No.”
“We need blankets. Why don’t you head on home in a cab, and I’ll be waiting for you in your truck when you come back?”
There’s a flash of hesitation as his gaze darts down to his keys. I lean in some more, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the scent of beer wafting from him. “I get cold easily when I’m naked,” I whisper.
The innuendo banishes every one of his doubts. He slides off the stool, nodding his head a couple times. “Blankets, yeah. Got it. You’ll be waiting in my truck?”
“Of course. Hurry back.”
He pushes through what’s left of the crowd, the bar getting ready to close. I shove the keys into my pocket with a smirk. His truck won’t be here when he gets back—if he doesn’t pass out on his couch the second he makes it home.
It’ll only be half an hour before the music shuts off and security ushers me out to lock up for the night, so I might as well leave now. Better that than having to deal with the nameless sucker who gave me his keys.
I have a plan. A crazy one, but it’s all I’ve got.
Taking the truck and driving out of town isn’t going to work, that’s for fucking sure. I’ll lose my home field advantage, and the demons will probably pull something that makes me crash the vehicle. Then I’ll be injured and in an area I know nothing about.
No, better to get a weapon.
I just need to pray I get to the weapons before they make their move on me. They must be waiting outside, and the thought of stepping out into the pervasive darkness and leaving the comfort of the bar makes me shudder.
Yet, the game must go on eventually. I push out through the front door and onto the sidewalk.
I take a deep breath, smelling caramel and popcorn on the wind. There are still a few costumed partiers here and there on benches and meandering down the sidewalks, but the presence of other humans won’t help me now.
With the moon high in the sky, half of it hiding behind angry clouds, it’s around the time people’s eyes start deceiving them. If a demon comes to steal me away, they won’t need to erase any memories—the alcohol and the spooky energy will make anyone watching believe it was a trick of the light.
Stepping away from the pub and the lone bouncer still standing outside, I tug my coat tighter around my shoulders and start walking.
Around the corner, he said. Navy truck. I get out the keys and press the unlock button, listening for a honk and watching for a flash of headlights.
There, parked under a tree on the edge of a small parking lot. I speed walk forward, sensing someone already watching me.
It might be Izoran, eager to get back at me for the beer I splashed in his face earlier. Or Lorcan, waiting for me to break into a run before he strikes. Maybe Brellan, silently stalking me on behalf of his king—I’m not even certain the man wants me, unlike the twins who are ridiculously obvious.
But I don’t think Damek himself is following me yet.
He’ll show up right before dawn; giving me the illusion of success only to tear it away. That’s how sadistic I imagine the demon king to be, anyway.
It’s in line with how he let me fall until the ground was half a second away, only to steal back my escape.
Whoever’s following me doesn’t grab me in the street. They let me get into the driver’s seat of the truck, frightened goosebumps raising the hair on my arms. It starts without protest, and I pull onto the road.
I’ve never driven before. Never had a car to practice with. Definitely not one where I’m sitting so far up it’s as if I’m looking down on the sedans parked along the road. I try not to hit any of them, but I’m pretty sure I knock a mirror off one.
Then, the sign I’m looking for comes into view.
It’s old and worn, sporting the Elmer Outdoors logo with a graphic of a flying goose. Their windows are dark, the metal bars outside the glass deterring would-be robbers. Except me, of course. I’m desperate enough to go for it.
Taking a deep breath, I scan the area on either side of the store. There isn’t a soul in sight. No one that I might hurt with my crazy plan.
I put my foot on the gas, gasping at the force of the truck pulling forward. My back is plastered to the seat, heart racing, and when I crest the curb I squeeze my eyes shut and pull my foot from the accelerator.
There’s a resounding crash as I hit the building, the groan of metal and creak of wood, the cacophonous shattering of glass.
Finally, silence.
I crack open my eyes.
The entire front of the shop was destroyed by the truck. I have my pick of the guns and knives—but I haven’t got much time. The silence was short-lived, and now it’s broken by the blaring of an approaching police siren.
With the shop’s alarm blasting, I jump out and pick my way through the wreckage, grabbing a warped metal bar. I see headlights coming from down the street, but I ignore them as I rush through the store.
There are countless guns hung on the walls behind a layer of glass, but I make a beeline for the standing display cases.
Most of them have more guns and ammo, but eventually I find the few holding knives.
I’ve only got a minute or two before the cops or security or someone shows up, and I need to have the weapon in my hand when they do.
I smash the display case with the metal bar, then drop it to the ground.
The first knife I pick up is long with a serrated edge. I grab a few smaller ones, all in sheaths, and shove them into the pockets of my coat.
When I turn to the door, there are flashing lights outside.
Fuck.
“There’s a back exit. You didn’t stake this place out very well, did you Fire?”
Izoran’s smooth voice breaks through my heady panic, and I find him leaning against one of the unbroken display cases. He followed me in so silently I didn’t notice—or maybe it was just impossible to hear him over the rushing in my ears.
I don’t want to listen to him—he’s probably leading me into a trap—but my only other option is heading straight toward the police. Being in police custody won’t stop the demons from catching me. All it’ll do is make me lose my weapon and my only chance of winning our game.
Shoving behind the counter, I head to the door he noted. It opens with a creak, and I sprint through a cluttered storage room and out the back door into an alleyway.
Izoran is hot on my heels and soon the police will be too, so I look both ways and then pick one at random.
Each breath creates a cloud in the air, and I don’t dare look back.
I need to keep my attention forward, the weight of my new weapons banging against my thigh with each stride while I clutch the largest blade.