Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Read online

  I wanted her to say it was okay, and that she loved me. At the same time, I also knew that was a fantasy. Allie was deep in puberty, and that translated to hormonal hell. I wasn’t going to be getting hugs and kisses out of this deal. I’d be lucky to avoid the cold shoulder and months of locked-in-her-room, plugged-into-her-iPod sulking.

  Finally, she turned back to me, her expression determined. ”I want to help.”

  So much for my fantasies of household peace.

  “No,“ I said, bracing for a bout of teenage fury.

  “Mother! I can totally help. I want to help.”

  “Fine,“ I said. “You can help. You can go by the cathedral every day and fill bottles with holy water for me and David. You can read the newspaper and listen to gossip and if you hear anything suspicious, you can let me know. You can even help me keep the weapons clean and oiled. But you’re not going out on the street with me. You’re not patrolling.”

  “Why not?“ she demanded.

  “Because I say so.”

  “That is so unfair!”

  “Yes, it is. It’s incredibly unfair that I would want to keep you safe.”

  She lifted her chin. “I can fight. I can take care of myself.“

  I nodded slowly. “Right,“ I said. Because you’ve been working out. You’ve been practicing. Eating right. Getting in shape.”

  “Yeah,“ she said, but her head tilted sideways, the way it always does when she hasn’t quite figured out which direction I’m coming from.

  “Keeping a few secrets from your mom, kiddo?”

  She pressed her lips together, opened her mouth, then closed it again and looked at her shoes. Didn’t matter. I knew what she was thinking: I had secrets. She did, too.

  I gave her credit though, for not throwing that back in my face.

  “What did you tell Cutter about why you wanted to work out more?“ I asked gently.

  “It’s no big, Mom. I’m just trying to, you know, punch it up a bit.”

  I waited an appropriate beat, and then, “Allie, sweetheart. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

  I could tell from her eyes that she knew she’d been busted. Self-defense was the last thing on my daughter’s mind.

  Again, to her credit, she didn’t deny the accusation. ”Then let me help,“ she pleaded. Cutter says I’m good.”

  “You’re not good enough.”

  “I could be.”

  “You’re fourteen.”

  “So were you,“ she shot back.

  “And now I’m almost forty, and I’m your mom, and I say no.”

  “You’re being completely unreasonable!”

  “You’re right. I’m a horrible, horrible person.”

  “I hate you!“ she screamed, the words ripping through me like a hot wire. “You totally lied to me and now you’re not even trying to make it better.”

  Tears streamed down her face and she wiped them away angrily, then stomped toward the door.

  “Allie!“ I called, but it was too late. The door was open and she was in the hallway. I was right behind her, but she was already gone. “Allie! Come back here right now.”

  “I’ll get a ride from one of the girls,“ she shouted back, not even turning around. And then she disappeared around a corner, and I leaned against the door frame, banging the back of my head against the hard metal.

  In the hall, David and Timmy were still playing with the pencil. David sent me a questioning look, but I waved it away, really not in the mood to rehash the scene.

  Timmy didn’t catch onto the nuance of my expression. He looked up at me, the pencil clutched tight in both hands.

  “Allie mad, Mommy?”

  “Yeah, baby,“ I said. “Allie’s mad.”

  Dinner that night crackled. And not because I’d burned the food. No, this time all the heat was coming from my daughter, who had reluctantly emerged from her bedroom, tromped down the stairs, and plunked herself in her seat at the table.

  “Al, can you pass me the butter?“ Stuart asked.

  “Sure,“ she said, her voice bland.

  “And the rolls this way, please,“ I said.

  Allie ignored me.

  “Allie,“ I said sharply. “The rolls.”

  She kept her mouth closed, but ran her tongue over her teeth. Then she handed the basket to Eddie. “Could you pass that to my mother, please?”

  Eddie snorted, then looked at me. “Hoo-boy. You’re in the doghouse, eh?”

  I scowled at him, but took the rolls.

  Stuart looked from me to Allie to Eddie. “What?“ he asked.

  “It’s nothing,“ I said.

  “Yeah, right,“ Allie said. “If it were so much nothing, then—”

  “Allie.”

  She sank down in her seat and took a bite from her roll.

  “Is anyone going to tell me what the trouble is?“ Stuart asked.

  “No,“ Allie and I said in unison, causing Eddie to snort and choke on his iced tea.

  Stuart looked at me, but I pretended not to notice, instead patting Eddie gently on the back.

  “Allie’s mad, Daddy!” Timmy said, apparently wanting to join in the fun.

  I held my breath, wondering how much of the earlier conversation my little human sponge had heard.

  “I got that, Sport,” Stuart said. “How about you? Are you mad?”

  “Nuh-uh. Want a joke?”

  “Sure,“ Stuart said.

  “Knock, knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Banana!”

  “Banana who?“ Stuart asked.

  “Banana poop!“ he exclaimed, then cackled as if that was the cleverest joke ever. To him, it probably was, and I decided to forgo the usual lecture on appropriate dinner-table conversation. Because as much as I prayed that we’d pass swiftly through the toddler potty fascination phase, I also had Timmy to thank for very definitively changing the direction of the conversation.

  Stuart apparently decided that it was best not to get in the middle of an estrogen-drenched argument. “Here’s one for you, Tim. What’s a ghost’s favorite berry?”

  “I dunno.”

  “A boo berry.”

  Timmy, as expected, laughed and laughed. Then he shoved his fist into the air. “Me! Me!”

  “Go on, kid. It’s your turn.”

  “What’s a ghost’s favorite dinner?”

  “I don’t know,“ Stuart said.

  “Peanut butter!“ Timmy announced, so tickled with his own brilliance that he almost fell off his booster seat.

  Which pretty much set the tone for the rest of dinner. The men telling each other bad jokes with no punch lines, and the women not talking to each other at all.

  Welcome to suburbia.

  After dinner, Allie cleared her plate without being asked. ”I’m going over to Mindy’s to do homework,“ she told Stuart, who looked at me for confirmation.

  I nodded, he relayed it, and Allie ran upstairs to get her backpack.

  “What’s this all about?“ Stuart asked me.

  “You really don’t want to know,“ I said.

  “Mmm.“ He watched me with curious eyes, then traced a finger along the scrape on my face. The one I’d already forgotten. ”And this?”

  “Long story,“ I said, feeling suddenly lost and alone. I shook my head, trying to get my emotions back on track. ”It’s nothing. Really.”

  He caressed my face, then gently cradled my chin. “Kate, sweetheart, have you thought that maybe I do want to know?”

  I forced a laugh. “Stuart, don’t be silly. There’s nothing to tell. It’s just a scratch.”

  His forehead creased. “And this spat with Allie? Is that a scratch, too?”

  “She’s fine. Everything is fine.“ I turned away from him, deliberately cutting off the conversation. I could feel his eyes on me, then heard him exhale loudly before getting up to make himself a scotch and soda. I turned, saw the hurt in his eyes, and cursed myself for keeping secrets.

  “Well, w
e’ve got dinner out tomorrow,“ he said, referring to the celebratory dinner we’d planned for the night before he officially announced his candidacy. “Tell me everything will be back to normal by Wednesday,“ he added.

  “Totally.”

  “And by everything, I mean Allie, too.”

  “Right,“ I said. “I got that. No worries. Teenage angst. It’ll blow over by the morning.”

  Not an entirely accurate statement, but since my nose didn’t start growing, I figured I was safe. For now. How much longer I could keep spinning a web of lies, though, that I didn’t know.

  I spent the next half hour or so puttering around the kitchen, cleaning up, avoiding Eddie’s amused glances, and trying to ward off another spate of completely un-funny jokes from my son.

  What I didn’t intend to do was run after Allie and make her talk to me. She needed time to calm down. Needed space from her mom. For that matter, it would probably be best if she just spent the night with Mindy and calmed down.

  Theoretically best, that is. But I couldn’t quite get my head around that.

  The fact is, this was the first real knock-down, drag-out fight I’d had with Allie. And I really didn’t like the feeling it left in the pit of my stomach.

  I sighed and tossed a dishrag into the sink. “Dammit,“ I muttered.

  Stuart had long since retreated to his study, but Eddie was at the table, working a crossword puzzle. “Go on,“ he said. “You know you want to.”

  “That obvious?”

  “Like a goddamn bonfire.”

  I stood undecided in the kitchen for a few more minutes, trying to decide how much stock I would lose with my daughter if I headed over there and made her talk this out. Lots, I figured, but I didn’t much care. Who was it who said you should never go to bed mad? Whoever it was, they probably had a teenager.

  Our backyard butts up to Laura’s, our yards separated only by our two fences and a narrow utility easement. I slipped on a pair of Keds, grabbed a light jacket and one of the ice picks—just in case—and took off across the yard.

  I tapped on Laura’s kitchen door, then let myself in. ”Laura?”

  “In here,“ came the reply from the living room. I found her on the couch, surrounded by boxes of photographs and photo albums.

  “Revisionist history,“ she said, in response to my querying look. “I can’t burn the bastard’s picture since Mindy still has some allegiance to the scum-sucking pig. But at the same time, I don’t want his pictures in our living room.”

  “So, you’re ... what?”

  “Reframing the photos for around the house, making her an album for her room, and then tossing the rest of the damn things into a box in the storage shed.“ She aimed a sweet smile at me, then held up her cast. “And when this is better, I may even ceremoniously cut him out of a few of our wedding photos.”

  I’m not entirely sure her enthusiasm for erasing Paul was healthy, but considering I wasn’t exactly the picture of perfect family life at the moment, I was hardly in a position to comment.

  “Did you talk to Allie?“ I asked, taking a seat on the couch next to her.

  “Allie didn’t appear to be in a talking mood,“ Laura said. She aimed a curious glance my direction. “What happened? Another fight about eyeliner? Did you ban her from cheerleading?“

  “Worse,“ I said. “I banned her from demon-hunting.”

  “Whoa.“ She put down the picture she was holding. “Tell me.”

  So I did. The whole bloody, gut-wrenching thing.

  “Oh, sweetie,“ she said, leaning over to give me a quick hug. “She’s a teenager. She doesn’t really hate you. And this is going to blow over.”

  “But?”

  “But I did warn you.”

  “Yeah,“ I said, “you did.“ I pushed up off the couch and started toward the stairs. “Is she in Mindy’s room?”

  Laura shook her head and gestured toward her back door. ”They went across the street to the park. I told them to be back by eight.”

  Our neighborhood has several small parks scattered throughout, and one large community center with a rec room and a pool in the middle of the subdivision. Laura’s house is right across the street from one of the nicer playscapes, and lately the girls have been going over there in the evening to sit on the swings and ponder the great mysteries of life. Either that or talk about boys.

  Laura suddenly gave me a sharp look. “Oh, God. Was that okay? Should I have kept them here?”

  “Of course not. There’s no reason to think the girls are in danger. And it’s not like they haven’t been to the park a million times before.“ All of which was true, but I still couldn’t help the quick twinge of fear in my chest. I took a breath, suppressing it as paranoia. Even for a Demon Hunter, there’s a fine line between being protective and being ridiculous, and I couldn’t keep Allie in my sight every second of every day. And the park really was safe, brightly lit as it was, and surrounded on three sides by charming houses that vaguely resembled Laura’s home.

  I snagged two Snickers from Laura’s stash, then headed across the street, my peace offering in my jacket pocket. Sure enough, I found the girls on the swings, their backs to me, their heads close together.

  I tromped across the gravel, and Mindy twisted around, saw me, then whispered something to Allie. My daughter, I noticed, didn’t bother to turn around.

  I jerked my thumb back toward Laura’s house. “Why don’t you give me and Allie a few minutes?”

  “Sure, Mrs. Connor,“ Mindy said. And then she was up and out of there, clearly wanting to get far away before the blood started to fly.

  I took her seat on the swing next to Allie, then offered my kid a Snickers. She took it with a mumbled, “Thanks,“ and we sat there quietly for a few moments, using our toes to push ourselves back and forth in the swings.

  “I’m sorry I said I hate you,“ Allie said, and I’m pretty sure my heart swelled nine sizes. “But you’re being totally unfair.”

  “Whoever told you the world was fair?”

  She sighed, letting her head drop back as if she were contemplating the length and breadth of the universe. “Puh-lease, Mom! That’s such a lame comeback.”

  I laughed. “Maybe,“ I said. “But it’s true. The fact is, I worry about you, Al. You’re always going to be my baby, and I’m always going to want to protect you.”

  “You can’t protect me forever, Mom.”

  She jumped off the swing and started to pace in front of me, kicking gravel up with the toes of her sneakers and making a clatter that echoed through the night. Loud enough, in fact, to muffle the sound of approaching demons.

  Which explains why I didn’t hear the one who sprinted from behind a cluster of cypress trees, his knife glinting in the moonlight as he raced straight for my daughter.

  Seven

  ”Allie!“ I leaped off the swing even as the spry, elderly demon leaped toward my daughter, his wrinkled face split wide with a devilish grin. He got there a second before I did, his grimy hands going for her throat and knocking her to the ground.

  Allie screamed, and I landed a roundhouse kick right in his gut, sending him tumbling off her and into the gravel. He barely even looked at me, but lumbered back up, then tried once again to grab Allie as I pulled the pick out of my back pocket.

  As the demon scrambled again for Allie, she kicked and screamed, trying to climb to her feet and get away from his grasping hands. His back was to me, and I needed an eye, so I leaped on him piggy-back style. He howled, then slammed me backward hard against the tiny stones. He was on top of me and I could barely move. My arm, however, was free, and even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew where to aim the pick.

  With a burst of energy, I thrust it toward the demon’s face, at the same time saying a quick prayer that the weapon would hit home.

  I missed, though, and instead of gliding through his sclera and opening a portal to suck out the demon, all I did was land a nasty stab wound in the fleshy part under his eye.r />
  He howled in pain, the sound echoing through the neighborhood. I held my breath, wondering if the neighbors would come out and half hoping they would. I’d rather kill the beast, but if Neighborhood Watch wanted to arrest the cretin, I could live with that, too.

  Nothing, though, and I hardly had time to worry about it since the odious creature was scrabbling for Allie’s throat again.

  Enough.

  I launched myself at him, knocked him to the ground, then trapped his neck with my shoe. “I am not the only,“ he growled, even as I raised my pick.

  “But you’re the one who’s dead,“ I countered.

  I started to slam the pick down, but the lights on the houses on either side of the park flipped on, startling me. Damned if the demon didn’t use that to his advantage. He thrashed, getting out from under me, then disappearing into the dark night with a swiftness that was hard to reconcile with his ancient appearance.

  I took my pick and slid it back into my pocket, then dropped down beside Allie and pulled her close.

  She cried and trembled in my arms, her face pressed against my shoulder as I battled down my own anger that a demon had not only attacked my kid, but that he’d survived.

  “I’m such an idiot,“ she said. “If you hadn’t been here—”

  “No,“ I said, hugging her even tighter. “Don’t even say that.”

  “I thought I was all that, you know?“ she said, her face still pressed against my chest. “Working out with Cutter. But I’m not. I totally suck, and I—”

  “You can train,“ I whispered, tilting her chin up so that she was looking at me. “I’ll train you myself.”

  “Really?“ she asked with a sniff.

  I saw the scrape marks from the demon’s fingernails on her neck and down into her collar. I traced my finger there, my heart just about to break. “Yeah,“ I said, my fingers closing on the long chain she wore. “Really.”

  A ring hung on the end of the chain, and I tugged it out. Eric’s ring.

  Her hand closed over mine, and a small frown trembled at her mouth. “I’m sorry,“ she said. “I missed Daddy. I guess I thought of it like a good luck charm. So I went back up into the attic and got it out of your trunk. Some luck though, huh?”

  “We’re alive, baby. And it was lucky I came for you.“ I kissed her forehead. “Never discount good fortune,“ I said, dropping the ring back down into her shirt. “Even if it’s wrapped up in bad.”