“Oh, I know you can’t speak yet. Denny said we needed to keep you quiet, lest you yell out at a stoplight and Johnny Q. Do-gooder hears you and calls the cops. But don’t you worry, Greggy. We’ll catch up when we get back to New York.” Mason tsked, then chuckled. “I can’t believe you hid so close, so…out in the open.” He sucked his teeth and chuckled again. “But I can’t argue with your success.”

  Greg’s gaze danced from spot to spot in the rear of the van, looking for a weapon or a tool that would help him escape. The short-handled sledgehammer Mason had used to smash out the window of his car rested on the floor between the two front seats. Every now and again, the man Mason called Denny dropped his hand to it and stroked the metal head of the sledge with his index and middle finger. So far, Mason hadn’t seemed to notice.

  The van lurched, and the woman’s corpse fell against him once more. Greg squeezed his eyes shut but refused to make a sound—he didn’t want to give the assholes up front the satisfaction.

  Denny laughed. “She’s hugging him again.”

  Mason glanced at the rearview mirror which he’d adjusted so he could see the bunk. “Making friends back there, Greggy?” Denny cackled again and stomped his foot. “If you get horny, have at her. Denny and I have already had a turn, and we don’t mind sharing.”

  Bile burned in Greg’s throat, and he shook his head. Denny had turned to watch him, and his cackle filled the van again, drawing an irritated glance from Mason. Greg stared at Denny, trying to keep the revulsion off his face.

  “She’s not his type, Harper. I bet he bats for the other team.”

  “Greggy? No, I don’t buy it.” Mason’s gaze found him in the rearview mirror. “You’re not light in the loafers are you, Greggy?” Mason’s laughter joined Denny’s, and Greg turned his head away.

  He hadn’t been following the mental exercise plan Benny had devised for him. Who had time for exercises when running a business? More to the point, he’d been neglecting his gift, but he had to try.

  Greg squeezed his eyes shut tight. One hand couldn’t get more than four inches from the headboard of the bed, but he reached toward the cab of the van with the other. He blocked the sound of their voices, ignoring the road noise, the corpse pressed to his back, concentrating with all his energy on setting Denny ablaze.

  If he succeeded, Mason might crash the truck, but Greg would rather die in a wreck than at the hands of Mason Harper.

  Or the demons.

  5

  “I’ve completed the task, Mistress.”

  “Ah!” Brigitta beamed at the other demon. “All of it?”

  “The child and the mother.”

  “That’s wonderful, Sally!”

  The heavy-set woman raised her chin. “Sally no longer, Mistress.”

  Brigitta cast a glance at her, her eyes narrowed a little. “Is it so?”

  “Please call me by my name, Mistress.”

  “Your…” Brigitta pursed her lips. “Your true name?”

  “Yes, Mistress. I’ve hidden too long behind this visage of weakness.”

  Brigitta squinted at her. “Do you wish to return to my mother then?”

  The image of the heavy-set woman known in Oneka Falls as Sally McBride first wavered, then faded. A creature emerged from the darkness in her place, a creature with the body of a woman from the waist up and the long, thick tail of a snake from the belly button downward. Her black-scaled tail coiled beneath her, and her torso swayed atop it, arms crossed under her breasts.

  Brigitta drew a deep breath. “This will cause much concern in the ranks of demons in Oneka Falls, Lamia.”

  Lamia, the jinn who had hidden behind the mask that had been Sally McBride, uncrossed her arms and flashed a warm smile. “Let them thrash, Mistress. But to answer your earlier question, no, I do not wish to return to your mother. I serve you now, Naa‍—‍”

  “No!” whispered Brigitta. “Not even in private.”

  Lamia bowed her head. “As you wish…Brigitta.”

  “What do I tell them? How do I explain…” She swept her open hand at Lamia’s length.

  “Shall I adopt another visage, Mistress?”

  Lamia’s tone was bland, innocuous, but Brigitta understood the question was not an idle one. It’s a test, she thought. She covered her eyes with her hands, massaging her forehead with her fingertips. “Why did those damn hunters have to kill my father? Everything was‍—‍”

  “A deception,” said Lamia. “Everything was a lie. Herlequin orchestrated the drama, but it was a lie, nonetheless.”

  Brigitta sighed. “A comfortable lie, though. One in which we were able to act as we wished. Free of the bonds of caste and the expectations that go with it.”

  Lamia shrugged, yet the tip of her tail lashed back and forth. “We still are. We always have been.”

  Brigitta flapped her hand in the air. “Have we? Why did you maintain the fiction for such a time? I can’t believe you never tired of these gloating fools.”

  “I…” Lamia’s forehead puckered. “Had Chaz not been here, I’m not sure how long I would have hidden here. Apsu has often chided me about it.”

  Brigitta nodded. “And me. I honored my father by pretending to be one of his kind.”

  “How can it be, Mistress?”

  “You know better than anyone how‍—‍”

  “Not that. How can it be you do not know the truth?”

  Something oily and cold twisted over in Brigitta’s guts. “Don’t be a fool!” she snapped.

  Lamia reached out and touched Brigitta’s cheek with a tenderness her mother had never shown her. “Does this self-deception serve a purpose, Mistress?”

  Brigitta turned away. “I have no idea what you mean.” Behind her, Lamia sighed.

  6

  When he had burned the demon at the hospital, Greg had experienced an ethereal flow between him and the corpse just before the fire erupted. He felt nothing now, no ghostly surge, no flames, no intense wash of heat.

  “What are you doing, Greggy?” asked Mason.

  Greg released his pent-up breath and dropped his hand. “Nothing. Don’t call me ‘Greggy.’”

  “Aw, why not? It’s such a cute little moniker.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you doing any of this, Mason?”

  Harper’s gaze tracked to the rearview mirror, and even his reflected aspect felt cold and dead on Greg’s face. “You know, Greggy, this existence isn’t what most people think. Humanity isn’t a homogenous sea of souls. There are sides, and in life, you either choose your side or someone chooses for you.”

  “What?” Greg swallowed, then gulped again. His throat was dry, and summoning spit took real effort. “Sides? There are no‍—‍”

  “There are,” said Denny. “Only idiots buy that all for one and one for all bullshit. That shit’s old and tired, man.”

  “And, Greggy, it’s even more pronounced, once you know the truth. You learned that truth that summer back in 1986.”

  Greg closed his eyes. “How did you…”

  “I’ve been a part of it all along, Greggy. Since before you even met her, I have served her and her kind.”

  “But why? Why serve monsters intent on eating your own kind?”

  Mason chuckled. “That’s where you are wrong, Greggy. I have far more in common with my friends than I do with humanity. I’ve never suffered the weight of judgmental gazes on my back when I’m around demons. I can be myself, my whole self, and no one thinks less of me. No one says I should be in the nuthatch with your dad.” Mason glanced at the side mirror and grunted. “How is the old man, anyway?”

  “Did you ever stop to think that they accept you because they can feed off your victims’ emotions?”

  “You don’t get it,” said Denny.

  “Do you see this, Den?” asked Mason in a low voice.

  “The truck?”

  “Yeah,” said Mason. “Watch it for a minute.”

  “Why? It’s just a guy driving his route.”

  “No. Watch, okay?”

  Dennis looked at Mason with a flat expression for a moment before swinging his attention back to the side-view mirror. “This is… Oh. Yeah, I see it.”

  “Right?”

  “The tricks the woman can do?”

  “That’s my thinking.”

  Denny peered at the passenger side mirror and made a peculiar sound—half-grunt, half-chuckle. “Let them come.” He turned toward Mason. “Find a gloomy road or a dark parking lot and pull over.”

  “No, I don’t think so. They may be armed.”

  Denny laughed. “So? Red taught me a few tricks, and I’m sure he taught you some, too.”

  Mason hitched one shoulder. “We’ll allow Greggy to decide.” Once more, his gaze found Greg in the review. “What do you say, Greg? Should we stop and swat your pesky friends now, or should we lead them into a nest of waiting demons?”

  7

  “Back off, Mike!” snapped Scott. “You might as well have a bright-red flag on the hood.”

  Mike grunted but didn’t lift his foot. “If they see us, they will pull off to stop us.”

  “Or they’ll kill Greg outright and be done with it,” said Scott.

  “We don’t want to follow them, Scott. We need to intercept them.”

  “Yeah? And when they pull over and come at us? Do you think they’ll leave Greg alive in the back of the van while that happens?”

  Mike lifted his foot and allowed the van to pull away. “Okay,” he said.

  “We need a plan.”

  “They’ve seen us,” said Benny.

  “Shit!” muttered Scott.

  8

  “See there, Denny? They’re falling back.”

  “Yeah. But now what?” Denny’s hand strayed to the floor between the bucket seats and found the short-handled sledgehammer. He grasped the haft and lifted the hammer to his lap.

  “Now, we wait and see.”

  Dennis scoffed and ground his teeth. “I thought you were a man of action, Harper.”

  “Oh, I am. I most certainly am. Cratchkin.”

  Greg watched the interplay between the two men with a practiced eye. While running a company, he’d learned how to smooth over rough spots between his employees. He imagined the reverse of that worked just as well.

  “Why do they call you Abaddon?” he asked.

  Harper’s gaze flicked to the rearview and then back to the side mirror. “You know why.”

  “Yeah,” said Greg. “But what I meant is why Abaddon?”

  “Don’t you read your bible, Greggy?”

  Denny scoffed.

  With a glare at the passenger seat, Harper said, “Abaddon is the Angel of Death, Greg. Says so in Revelations.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense, what with you being a serial killer and all.”

  Mason peered at him in the rearview, a smirk decorating his face. “Are you trying to piss me off, Greggy? Don’t bother. No one has riled me up for…I don’t know, two decades or so.”

  “No offense,” said Greg. He turned his gaze on Denny. “What do they call you?”

  Denny grunted and licked his lips.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy. The press has a name for you, too. Right?”

  The man gazed down at the hammer in his lap.

  “He doesn’t have a nickname, Greggy. Nobody knows about him.”

  “What? That can’t be right. Do you just help Mason out, then?”

  Denny stared at Mason, a sneer distorting his face.

  “No, no. It’s true,” said Mason.

  “That’s right,” grated Denny. “No one knows about the things I do, because I never leave anything behind to hint at a crime. Red taught me‍—‍”

  “Oh, not that again,” murmured Harper.

  Denny grimaced, and cords stood out of his neck. “Red taught me to create a plausible story for the cops to believe.” He grinned with half his mouth. “That’s not quite true. I always thought that way, but Red refined my way of thinking. Perfected it.” He tilted his head toward Mason. “Now, I can do whatever I want, and there’s never a hint of trouble. I haven’t been kicked out of my own house.”

  Mason threw a hateful glance at him.

  “What’s more,” said Denny. “No one survives an encounter with me. No one ever ran to the cops because I made sure they could never run again.”

  Mason clicked his tongue. “Yeah, yeah. But everyone knows my name.”

  Denny narrowed his eyes and glared at Mason as the trees blurred by.

  “Still, you have got to have a nickname. Maybe they don’t know who it is, but they’d have a name for your…exploits.”

  Denny turned a flat glare on Greg. “It’s time for you to shut up, Greggy.”

  “No offense!”

  Cratchkin tilted his head and caressed the hammer in his lap. “You don’t want me to come back there.”

  “No, no,” said Greg. “I’m curious, is all. I don’t mean anything by it.”

  The man leaned toward him, draping one arm over the seat. “Shut up.”

  “Better do it, Greggy. I won’t save you if you provoke him, even though both of us will be in trouble if we don’t bring you in alive.” On the console between the two front seats, a cell phone jittered and buzzed. “Could you grab that for me, Denny?”

  With a low growl, Cratchkin scooped up the cell phone and peered at it. After a moment, he swiped it with his thumb and lifted it to his ear. “Yes?” He cocked his head to the side and glanced at Mason. “I’m sitting right next to him, Delo.”

  Mason squinted at Denny through slit eyelids. “What‍—‍”

  Denny chopped his free hand through the air. “The line’s shit, Delo. I can hear you, but understanding is a different thing.” After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s better. I’m answering Harper’s phone because he’s driving and we‍—‍”

  Mason sighed and waved his hand at Denny, who ignored the gesture.

  “No, listen a second. The hunters are behind us.” Denny listened for a moment. “Oh, sure.” He pulled the device away from his ear and looked at it with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “What?” asked Mason.

  “Speaker?”

  “Gimme it.” Harper snatched the phone away when Denny touched his palm with it. He took a rapid glance at it and mashed the screen with his thumb. “There.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yes, Dan. You’re on speaker.”

  “Dan?”

  “Whatever,” murmured Mason. “What do you want?”

  “Change of plans. We’ve got word the hunters are‍—‍”

  “They’re right behind us.”

  The line hummed for the time it took to take three slow breaths. “Good. That could be good.”

  “I don’t see how,” muttered Denny.

  “Ambush. You will lead them to us, but we have to switch meeting places. We’ll need privacy, but if all goes as I think it will, we can end this tonight.”

  Mason nodded. “Okay. Where do you want us?” He listened to the instructions and grunted. “Easy.”

  “I’ll expect you soon.”

  “Five or ten minutes. We’re close.”

  9

  A grim, angry smile settled on LaBouche’s features. Brigitta had thought to exclude him from her plans for the evening, and that underscored her role in the plot that had taken his child from him. If it hadn’t been for Mason’s compulsive need to gloat and show off, LaBouche wouldn’t have known about the trap Brigitta had laid for the hunters.

  Her time will come, he thought. I will return her betrayal tenfold.

  10

  Greg slit his eyelids as the din from the engine compartment changed, and the rear tires of the box van shrieked as the brakes locked. Both he and the corpse he shared the bunk with flew forward against the limits of their bounds.

  “Jesus!” shouted Denny. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Mason held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip with both hands, staring into the darkness through the windscreen. “Oh, relax, you big pansy,” he said through gritted teeth. He cranked the wheel, setting the van into a skid.

  The rear tires skipped across the macadam, and the truck leaned precariously to the side. Denny slammed one hand against the door, and the other hammered the roof. The short-handled sledge slid from his lap to clang off the door, before thumping into the passenger footwell.

  Greg grabbed the metal frame of the bunk with both hands and tried to tip it, hoping that in the confusion, he might twist things to his advantage, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Mason fought with the wheel as the vehicle left the asphalt, loose stones clattering against the rear of the van. He twisted the switch on the dash that turned off the lights.

  “You trying to kill us all?” asked Denny in a low, angry tone.

  “Relax. No time to baby you.” Harper leaned forward over the steering wheel, peering into the darkness ahead. The van jounced and bumped over a rutted track that led between the trees. “Shut up and let me concentrate.”

  In the back, Greg twisted his legs underneath him and pushed himself onto the cot in a seated position. His eyes scanned the dark cargo box, again and again, looking for anything he might use as a weapon. If he didn’t do something soon, either Mason or the demons would kill him.

  11

  “What’s he doing?” asked Toby as the van slid side-to-side ahead of them. “Watch it, Mike!”

  “Not his fault,” muttered Shannon. “I made them think we’d fallen way back.”

  The truck ahead dove off the side of the road onto a twin-rutted track that snaked off through the trees, sliding in a wide arc.

  Mike kicked the CTS-V’s brake pedal. “Hold on!” he cried. He twisted the wheel to follow the vehicle into the woods.

  “Give him space,” said Scott. “And Shan? Make them think we drove by!”

  Shannon nodded, never opening her eyes.

  “They… Someone called them… Change of plans… They…the demons know we are following and told Harper to divert to another location.” Benny’s skin wrinkled between his eyebrows. “But…”

  “But what?” asked Toby.

  “Something feels…wrong.”

  “Should we back off?” asked Mike. “Try to pick them up after the swap?”

  “No.” Benny’s tone left no room for doubt. “No, it feels off, but it’s Harper who’s being deceived. Harper and…Dennis the Menace.”

 

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