CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
News of the fire at Demonhunter Keen’s childhood home spread through Havenside as rapidly as the flames which had devoured the old clapboard house on Sycamore Street.
The wreckage was too hot to comb through after the flames were doused, but the conclusion that both mother and son were lost was easily reached.
Speculation on the cause of the tragedy ran the usual route: a terrible accident, a stove left unattended, a lamp kicked over in the night.
Or had it been an accident? Maybe that half-demon partner of his had snapped and set the fire? For fun or malice, who knew? It wouldn’t have been the first fire she’d started…
But there would be no chance to question the dead man’s partner.
Witnesses observed the half-demon inspector – her usual blasphemous get-up covered by a heavy cloak against the cold – getting on the afternoon train out of Havenside, carrying her ever-present cane and a heavy leather satchel with an official seal, no doubt containing the report from her successfully solved case.
No one cared enough to follow up on the sighting, glad to see the demon spawn’s backside.
Every soul in Havenside breathed a sigh of relief knowing she was gone from their good town.
If she had started the fire that killed Oleander Keen, well, then let New Savage City deal with her.
It took Keen going undercover to hear all the rumors.
He’d refused to let his mother go to the train station alone, so he’d tailed her while dressed as a laborer, face dirty with coal dust, knit cap pulled over his distinctive ears and his broad shoulders hunched inside a ratty jacket.
None of the other travelers on the platform – most dressed in fine traveling clothes with valets tending to their luggage – looked twice at him, or lowered their voices while they spread gossip, or hid their curious glances at the tall, cloaked figure in harem pants striding to the first-class car.
He learned everything they’d needed to know in a matter of moments.
“She’s safely on her way to your captain,” Keen reported to his partner once he’d returned to his mother’s friend Vera’s house, now serving as their temporary base of operations.
It was remarkably similar to the house they’d just watched burn to the ground but for the furniture, wall coverings and other personal touches, and the constant stream of cats slipping in and out of a small flap cut into the kitchen door.
Hero didn’t mind them; cats had a good instinct for supernatural threats and these were particularly calm and relaxed.
The house was truly safe – for now, at least – but they wouldn’t be staying for long.
Keen, on the other hand, looked at the cats askance, keeping a good distance from them while he nursed a swollen nose and red eyes.
“If we’re lucky, Culpepper will send the calvary, but we can’t count on it,” Hero said, stroking a friendly tuxedo lying belly-up on the kitchen table.
“He’s a stickler for procedure. By the time he collects the necessary paperwork, it might be too late.
With the two of us out of the picture, I imagine our enemies will be confident enough to make their move and complete the ritual. ”
Keen shooed a hissing gray tabby from a kitchen chair before taking a seat across from her. “With you out of the picture,” he clarified bitterly.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Demonhunter. They did burn down your house.”
That drew a rueful snort from him, followed by a spectacular sneeze.
“What are we waiting for?” he asked, wiping at his nose with his handkerchief and eyeballing the tuxedo as Hero gave the cat’s belly another vigorous rub, releasing great puffs of fur.
He frowned, staring as the bits of fluff danced in the sunlight streaming through the window above the porcelain sink.
Suddenly, his face contorted and he looked like a true demon with the dirt on his cheeks and the fire in his eyes. “They burned my fucking house down!”
Hero understood his rage. A similar anger burned in her belly. She liked Ruth Keen.
“Use it as motivation,” she told him, giving her new best friend a boop on his pink nose. His purrs became deafening, and he peered at her with clear green eyes, pupils mere slits in the bright light. Caught by their beauty, she couldn’t look away…
Suddenly, every cat in the house began to yowl but for the beast beneath her hand.
His black-and-white fur took on a strange sheen, an inner light which captivated Hero.
The other cats fled, bolting for the little door-within-a-door in a panic, knocking objects off shelves, tipping over a plant stand and sending a vase of wilted flowers crashing to the floor.
Keen cursed and leapt to his feet, his chair skidding back.
“What the devil? ” he cried, his saber appearing in his hand.
Hero blinked. She hadn’t even realized Keen was carrying his weapon; he was still in his laborer’s clothing.
The saber wouldn’t do him any good, anyway, not against this particular “devil” uncurling on the tabletop.
She hoped Keen had a few potions handy, preferably some sort of powerful repellant, for this creature was a vile pest she’d love to be rid of once and for all.
The air grew thick. Keen’s movements slowed, his eyebrows comically high as his saber swung toward the apparition as unhurried as cold molasses. Hero shook herself, knocking away the spell of Sloth like the shedding of a coat.
“Hi, Pop,” Hero said to the naked demon sprawled belly-up on the kitchen table. She tossed a checkered napkin over his exposed genitals, sending a silent apology to Vera. “Who let you out of your hellhole?”
“I go where I please, sweet child of mine.” Her father gathered himself and jumped off the table, landing gracefully on his clawed feet.
The napkin fluttered gently to the floor, and he kicked it away before turning to face her with a fanged smile – disturbingly similar to her own.
She didn’t react, merely kicked back in her chair, feigning disinterest, yet her heart was racing.
What was he doing here? Why now, when she was about to face untold evil?
Did he think this might be her last day on earth? Was he slavering in anticipation?
She narrowed her eyes and brought her nerves under control. Let him think it. It made no difference to her. The bastard was just here to rattle her; she was sure of it. How was he mixed up in all of this?
Silvanus sauntered over to Keen, circling the frozen demonhunter, a long finger with an even longer nail tapping at his pointed chin. “Interesting allies, daughter. A demonhunter and an old woman.”
She bristled. He knew about Ruth Keen. Had he hurt her? “I don’t know what you mean.”
He cast her a chiding look. “You might have fooled a few blind humans, but I know you like I know myself. You cannot fool a demon with a human in disguise. Such pointless subterfuge. Take one step toward the Devourer’s lair and evil will descend upon you like a swarm of wasps.
” Now, he stabbed his long finger at her, hissing, “Sting, sting, sting, little spawn. Not all the demonhunters in the Realm will be able to save you then.” He flicked Keen’s earlobe. “Least of all this scrawny specimen.”
It was hard to jump to her partner’s defense while he stood frozen by her father’s foul magic.
Never mind that she’d been caught unawares, too; she could still move, at least. “I’m not worried,” she said blithely.
“Let them come. I’ll be ready. It won’t be the first summoning I’ve disrupted, after all.
An angry demon and its silly human worshippers are child’s play. ”
“Oh, you stupid, silly girl. You’d be correct, I suppose, if this were merely a demon Rising from Pandemonium.
Even your pet demonhunter could handle it.
But this is far beyond anything you’ve dealt with before, ignorant daughter.
” His tresses, black as tar, brushed the floor as he wandered the room.
“I’m giving you a warning. A chance. All you have to do is take it and leave.
” He frowned at her. “Why should you care what happens to Havenside?”
She shrugged. “There’s the simple matter of a few dozen children being drained of their life force to attend to, actually.
Havenside can go to Hell, for all I care, but I won’t let those kids be sacrificed to…
what did you call it? The Devourer?” She instantly regretted speaking its name, but she gave another dismissive shrug to hide the fact.
“A demon with an outsized ego, no doubt, to pick such a grandiose moniker. It’s embarrassing. ”
Her father shook his head, no longer smiling.
“Such an arrogant fool. And a sucker. Look what happened the last time you took it upon yourself to rescue human children – on the run, hiding in sewers and catacombs, ten years in a deep, cold pit – and for what? Did you get a single thank-you from any of those girls?”
“Not a one,” she admitted, grinning. “More like ear-shattering screams and witness statements against me.”
“And what do you expect this time? A death sentence, perhaps? Or decades on the run, hiding?” In a blink, he was back beside Keen, nearly engulfing him with his twisting, oozing figure. “Maybe you’ll be hunted by your little friend here? If he survives, of course.”
Reluctantly, Hero’s gaze settled on Keen. His eyes were blank, trapped in time. What was he seeing? Just her, sitting in her chair, most likely. Or nothing at all. Could he hear their conversation?
“It’s so nice of you to worry about me,” she said. “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
“I worry about losing my prize, nothing more. I have no wish to see my favorite progeny consumed by the Devourer of Souls.” He scoffed, waving a long, elegant hand tipped with black talons.