Chapter 10
TEN
Large freight only.
—Women’s underwear
She lay sprawled on top of Quentin on the backseat, marveling at the way the day had gone and the number of times she’d climaxed—mostly at the number of times she’d climaxed—when something the demon said hit her.
Again, it all boiled down to control. Quentin had been livid about the fact that Rune had taken control. That she’d had him take control. He’d lost the one thing he cherished most. His independence. His autonomy.
The demon wanted to be set free from the house. It wanted the salt line broken so it could leave. But it’d first said it wanted its freedom. What if it had been talking about two separate things? Even though it had completed its tasks, it’d still been in town. Waiting. The image of the woman Amber had seen popped into her head.
“Quentin, I think I know what’s going on. Why the killings are so unusual for a demon. And so random.”
He ran a hand lazily over her back. “I’m all ears.”
“What if the demon has no free will? What if someone, or a group of someones, is controlling it? It told me it wanted its freedom and that it seeks the summoner. What if it meant freedom from the people controlling it? From the people summoning it?”
“What makes you think multiple people are controlling it?”
She rose and rested her chin on the back of her hands. “Remember how it kills at least two people everywhere it goes?”
“Hard to forget.”
“And are those people always connected somehow?”
“Yes. It’s one way I know it’s the right demon. Strange deaths of two or more connected people that are unusual and days apart.”
“I think it’s killing the person it was summoned to kill and then killing the summoner as a way to gain its freedom. It wants control over its destiny, but people keep summoning it. When I read the demon, I got a lot of anger. A ton of frustration. Like it had no control, and that pissed it off. And,” she said, stopping to chew on her lower lip a moment, “I know who it wants to kill next.”
He stilled, clearly surprised. “You saw?”
She nodded. “I did.” She looked toward the Tavern. “Sarah. I think she summoned it. It was weird. I heard clicking on a keyboard. Saw her face. It’s something online. Some kind of chat room. Or cult.”
“Same difference. The dark web has a lot of stuff like that.”
“Yes. Exactly.” Amber looked at him. “Quentin, I think Sarah wanted those three specific people dead for a reason, I just don’t know why.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Let’s ask.”
The fact that he believed her without question meant everything to her. He put his hand on the door handle, but she stopped him by reaching over and putting her hand over his.
When he questioned her with a gorgeously raised brow, she said, “In case something happens, in case this thing goes wrong, there’s something you need to know.”
He sat back, looking wary now. “Okay.”
“I… I found your birth parents.”
If she had told him that she was captaining the first manned mission to Mars, he likely would’ve been less surprised. He stilled completely. His full lips parted as he gazed at her. Then he shook his head. “That’s impossible. I’ve?—”
“You were right. You were born in DC. Your mother died when you were young. Your father raised you and…he’s like you, Quentin.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s Deaf, and he can see the departed just as clearly as you can.”
“Can?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes, can.” A knowing grin spread across her face. “He’s still in DC. He works at a cemetery digging graves and doing maintenance. I think he likes it there. I think it’s peaceful for him. I didn’t tell him I knew you. I wanted you to make that decision. But, Quentin, he’s kind of wonderful.”
“I don’t understand. What happened? How did I end up?—?”
“The first demon possession.”
“Seems to be a theme with me, doesn’t it?” True, but the first one was an entirely different breed of demon. Or maybe Rune was. Demons were not generally so family oriented. They were evil. Pure and simple.
“There aren’t many people like you, apparently. From what I can gather, the demon that possessed you and sent you after my aunt Charley did so while you were on a school trip for football. You were the quarterback, by the way.”
He shook his head, unable to remember any of his past.
“The demon took absolute control.” Which would explain Quentin’s fear of losing it. His anger at having lost it at her hands. “He had you send texts to your dad, telling him you were leaving. You’d had a fight, so it wasn’t a huge surprise, but your dad feared you getting into trouble, so he didn’t report you missing. He kept in touch. Begged you to come home. Quentin, the demon said some pretty nasty things to him. He never knew it wasn’t you. A month later, Aunt Charley found you, and the rest is history.”
He turned to look out the window.
Amber could tell how stunned he was. How hurt. She took his hand in hers. “Your real name is Quinn. Quinn Rutherford. So, you almost remembered it right. The demon didn’t erase everything.”
He rubbed his mouth, unable to believe what she was telling him. After all this time.
“Quentin, if something happens, all of your father’s information is in my desk at my office in Santa Fe.”
He snapped out of his musings. “Why? What’s going to happen?”
“No. Nothing. I mean, you know, just in case. There is a demon who is quite prepared to kill us if we get in its way. I give us a fifty-fifty chance. If we make it through this, you can give me your address, and I’ll send everything to you.”
“No.”
“No?” She frowned, the bite instantaneous. He didn’t want her having his address? Was that it?
He pulled her onto his lap, and she settled against him. “No, I’m not leaving. Do you think I’m letting you go again?”
That sting in the backs of her eyes returned. After all these years… “I just want to state for the record that if that demon kills me now, after all this time, after finally getting you back, I am going to be very angry.”
A perfectly shaped brow arched heavenward. “Amber Kowalski, angry? I didn’t realize such a thing was possible.”
“Try leaving again without saying goodbye, and you’ll find out just how angry I can get.”
He snaked a hand up her T-shirt and over her rib cage, causing an outbreak of goose bumps to spread over her skin. “Is that a promise?” he asked.
“It’s a threat.”
“Ah.”
“And not an idle one, either,” she warned. “There is nothing idle about my threats. My threats are hardworking. Not afraid to get their hands dirty.”
He laughed softly, the sound like a summer rain, and wrapped his arms around her. When he buried his face in the crook of her neck, she pulled him against her, and they held each other for a long moment, reveling in the feel, the perfect fit. The rightness. If they lived through the next few hours, she was so getting laid. Again.