Julie Kenner California Demon

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"Fine," I said. I'd wanted to practice with staffs anyway, right?
I moved to the middle of the mat. "Bring it on."
David looked me up and down. "You're not going to change?"
"I'll ditch my purse," I said. "But I can fight in jeans. And I don't think anyone who attacks me on a dark
street is going to let me run home and change into my Gi."
A shadow crossed his face, and he nodded. "True enough."
I gave him a quick nod, then went to drop my purse off. I watched their reflection in the wall of mirrors,
and when David turned away to talk with Cutter, I slipped my bottle of holy water out and tucked it into
my pocket. Then I pulled my hair back and clipped it up with my favorite barrette. The kind with the
long, sharp metal back piece.
As soon I knew for certain that David was a demon, I was taking him out while his flesh still burned and
sizzled. Cutter would see, of course, but there wasn't much I could do about that. David had gotten too
close to my little girl for me to let him off the hook. He wasn't walking out of this building alive. And if that
meant that today was the day that I finally revealed all to my sensei, then so be it.
And, honestly, part of me was looking forward to making that revelation.
I stood up, rolling my shoulders and neck, then crossed the mat to where David stood, his cane tucked
under his arm.
"I promise to be gentle," he said, with the tiniest of grins.
"I don't," I countered.
And then, before Cutter even signaled for us to start, David lashed out, leading with the cane, and
knocked my knees right out from under me. So much for gentle.
Cutter yelled a protest, but I rolled to my side and snapped to my feet, keeping my eyes on David while I
gestured to Cutter that it was okay. We sparred lightly for a while, simple jabs and thrusts designed to
test each other's reflexes.
Despite myself, I felt a growing respect for the man, even if he was a demon. He knew what he was
doing. His moves were practiced and clean, and his reflexes were every bit as good as I wanted mine to
be. The limp didn't slow him down at all, and the cane that might otherwise be a liability had been turned
to an asset.
If the man hadn't been a demon, I really might like him.
No, the trouble was I did like him. And I hated what I'd learned.
He sensed that my mind was wandering and kicked into high gear, using the cane to jab and thrust in a
pattern that had my feet dancing defensively even as I looked for a way to take the offense.
I found it in the pattern of his thrusts and instead of leaping to the left to avoid a jab, I slid right and
caught the cane against my arm, then drew my other hand over to close around the shaft. I whipped it up
and out, effectively disarming him. And surprising him, too. That much I could tell from the expression on
his face.
"Not bad," he said. "But now that the fun part's over, let's see about getting down to business."
I tensed, my body at the ready, and he held his hand out in a come-on gesture made famous by Laurence
Fishburne in the Matrix movies. Then he tapped his nose and pointed a finger at me. I tensed. I'd seen
only one person ever make that motion. Just one in all the years I'd been fighting.
Eric.
My breath hitched in my throat, I wavered, and David Long laid me flat. He'd been waiting for the
weakness, had known it would come. And for that, right then, I hated him.
He was on me, holding me down, his hands on my wrists and his knee pressed against my waist. "Do you
concede?"
The room turned red with my fury, and my fist tightened around the cane I still held in my hand.
Concede? Concede? To some goddamn demon who'd stolen my husband's move? Used it against me to
throw me off? Played me for a fool?
No, I didn't think I was conceding, and in an entirely illegal move, I slammed my head up, cracking my
forehead against his. Pain shot through me, the red haze over the world shifting to a blurry gray that I had
to fight against.
I was motivated, though, and as David reeled back in surprise, I fought through the pain and brought my
knee up against my chest, then shot my heel out and into his pelvis.
Behind us, I could hear Cutter shouting my name. I was even vaguely aware that he was running toward
me. I didn't care. As Cutter's fingers grazed my shoulders, I leaped forward, knocking David backwards
until I was straddling him, the cane tight against his throat, restricting his airway. He struggled, his skin
taking on a bluish pallor, as Cutter yelled and pulled, trying to get me to let go.
I did, but only with one hand. And with my free hand I reached into my back pocket for the bottle of
holy water. I stuck it in my mouth and screwed the lid off with my teeth.
David watched me, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
"Goddamn it, Kate!" Cutter howled. He'd given up on trying to move me, and now he dove to the mat
and wrestled the cane out of my hand.
I didn't even try to fight him, because I had the bottle open now. And I dumped the contents on David's
face, then held his arms down, anticipating the fresh wave of strength that would come with the pain.
Nothing happened.
I waited, tense, my hands tight around his triceps.
Still nothing. Or, rather, nothing except David sputtering and coughing.
I couldn't quite believe it. And yet, oddly, it wasn't embarrassment but relief that washed through me.
David Long wasn't a demon. I could like him without feeling like an idiot. More important, I didn't have
to kill him.
Cutter crouched beside us, the cane tight in his hands. "Dammit, Kate," he whispered. "You have got to
learn to chill out."
He stood up, then held out a hand for me. I took it sheepishly, managing to fire off "sorry," toward David,
who rolled over onto his side and continued coughing as soon as I was off of him.
I waited for him to catch his breath, then offered my own hand. He looked at me dubiously, then took it,
and I tugged him to his feet.
"Um, sorry about that."
"I don't suppose you're going to explain?"
"That's just Kate's way of getting to know you," Cutter said wryly. "Good luck getting her to say anything
more."
I just smiled and tried to look mysterious. "Forgive me?"
"If I say yes, are you going to douse me again?"
"I think you've been doused enough." At least, I hoped he had. I had to reluctantly admit that I'd been
duped by the holy water test before. Still, I wanted to believe the results. David Long just didn't seem
demonic. Strange, maybe. And even a bit mysterious. But demonic? I didn't think so.
Especially considering how baffled he looked, I figured I could cut David some slack. I'd trust him. For
now. But I'd also keep an eye on him.
I spent the drive from Cutter's place to Timmy's day care thinking about demons and David and how I
still had more questions than answers. David might not be a demon, but something was definitely up with
that man. And I still had no clue who the Tartarus demons were talking to. Or, more important, why.
All in all, I didn't like the score, and I had a feeling time was running out.
I forgot all about that, though, when I saw Timmy. He looked up, beamed, then raced into my arms. I
swung him around, generating peals of laughter from my little man.
"What did you do in school today?" I asked him as I strapped him into his car seat.
Silence.
I gave him Boo Bear and tried again. "Nothing, Momma," he said, then shoved his thumb into his mouth.
I shut his door and moved around to the driver's side. Once we were back on the road, I tried again. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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