Demon Inside

It took only a moment for him to park and another few for him and Tera to get out and head for them, but even at this distance Megan saw Tera’s face set in tense, angry lines. Tera was her friend, but Tera was about as empathetic as a spider; what on earth about this funeral angered her?

Witches were almost as difficult to read as demons, but Megan didn’t need her abilities—as little used as they were these days—to feel Tera’s anger. It expressed itself in every stiff muscle in her body as she hugged Megan and nodded to everyone else. It wasn’t until Brian’s lips brushed Megan’s cheek that Tera spoke.

“Two of my witches died the other night, Greyson. What do you know about it?”

Chapter 12

Excuse me?”

“Don’t ‘excuse me’ me, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“What makes you think—”

“They were Templeton Black’s nighttime guards, Grey. Now they’re dead, and it looks like a demon killing. Their…” Tera swallowed. “Their bodies were mutilated.”

Greyson shrugged. “What a great loss to the world.”

“Wait a minute. Templeton Black’s guards? But they—”

She didn’t need Greyson’s hand to tighten painfully on hers to stop talking. The church and the funeral about to begin inside had disappeared. Instead she was back on the cold city street while Ktana Leyak reached into one man’s chest and ripped out his heart; she and Brian exchanged worried glances.

“M’lady, we oughter get inside,” Maleficarum said, shifting on his feet and nodding toward the church. The parking lot was almost empty of people now.

Tera glanced at the church, then back at all of them. “We’re not done talking about this.”

“Of course not. That would imply sensitivity to Megan’s loss,” Greyson said.

Tera ignored him. “But we should go in.”

Together they made their way up the sidewalk and through the wide, polished double doors of the church, closed to the winter air. Megan gasped.

About half the pews were full of mourners, their backs in dark clothing looking like fat crows perched on planks, but she barely saw them. Her gaze was drawn upward instead, to the railings of the choir loft, to the ornate pillars in lengthwise rows up the sides of the building.

Every one of them was covered with demons. Her demons, crouching on rails, clinging to ornate stone, with multicolored light from the stained-glass windows playing across their slick skin. They’d come to support her at her father’s funeral.

Tears stung her eyes. Feeling a little childish, she ducked her head, pressed it against Greyson’s sleeve so she wouldn’t start sobbing. Yezer didn’t feel love, as far as she knew; their anger at the recent losses of life had more to do with fear it might happen to them than any sense of sadness. So they weren’t here out of caring, but out of respect. Somehow it meant just as much. Somehow it meant more.

Unless they were just here because funerals offered excellent feeding. Which was entirely possible. She preferred to think of it as respect.

“We need to sit down,” Brian murmured beside her, and she realized people were starting to turn and look at them—exactly what she’d been warned not to allow to happen.

Safely sandwiched on the bench between the two men, she was able to look up at the little demons again, and nod slightly, hoping they could see her gratitude. She thought they could. They nodded back, almost as one, a choreographed routine nobody else could see.

“Don’t you want to sit up front?” Brian whispered. Fu

“My mother told me to be unobtrusive,” she said, not bothering to hide her bitterness. “Oh, and my demons are here.”

He visibly relaxed. “Thanks for telling me. I wondered why I felt kind of weird.”

“You didn’t think it was the blasphemy of being in a Protestant church?”

“I figured if I made it through the door without being smited, I had a chance.”

If the officiating pastor hadn’t stepped up to the podium at that moment, Megan probably would have laughed. As it was she just smiled softly and settled back in her seat, her right hand firmly in Greyson’s. Brian reached over to take her left, a gesture that touched her.

“…David was an accountant, known to most everybody. A family man, survived by his beloved wife Diane and his son David Junior, who will be taking over his firm and his place on the town council. You all know the good works that his company has done for the town—donating new benches for the park, sponsoring school fund-raisers, helping to keep our streets clean.

“David also had a daughter named Megan. I knew David as a good man, one who always wanted to help others…”

Megan knew she shouldn’t have expected anything else, but she still felt like someone had hit her in the chest. Her eyes stung. Brian’s hand convulsed on hers, but Greyson didn’t move. She glanced over at him. His face was impassive. Was he even listening?

She turned around, checking to see how clear the path to the door was. Not so clear. The church wasn’t crowded, but just inside the doors stood Orion Maldon, staring right at her. Their eyes met and he gri

She turned away quickly, to where the pastor was now giving the lectern to her brother. Great. If there was anything she didn’t need right now, it was to listen to anything Dave had to say.

“Those witches were Templeton’s guards?” she whispered to Greyson.

“Hmm? Yes. I assume they came after you on Monday while you were messing around with their car?”

“We weren’t messing around, but yes. And K—she killed them.” Megan glanced past Brian to Tera, whose eyes were focused straight ahead.

“…the best father anyone could ever ask for. Dad was always there for me…”

Greyson nodded and put his arm around her, pulling her closer so they could continue their barely audible discussion. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry about it? Tera thinks you did it.”

“Tera can think whatever she likes, but without proof it won’t do her much good. I wasn’t even in town that night, remember? Besides, I have more sense than to go after witches and she knows it.”

“Should I tell her what happened? Brian can back—”

“Good God no, are you insane? It’s none of her business. Eventually she’ll get tired of poking around and go back to whatever else it is she does all day.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Don’t you have other things to think about just now?”

“…when I was eleven, and he helped me build a soapbox derby racer for Boy Scouts…”

She tried to tune out Dave’s speech. “Like what, how everyone is embarrassed to even say my name?”

“Did you expect anything else?” Ouch. “No, I mean Maldon over there in the corner.”

She shifted in her seat, refusing to look at Maldon again but feeling his gaze on her, while her brother continued droning in the front of the church. “He came just to get at me—at us?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Then why?”

Greyson paused. “I don’t think he was lying about your father. I think they did know each other.”

“Apparently most people did, right? The town council, the accountancy firm…” Another surge of bitterness, cold and sharp in her chest.

“…when I finally got it together to go to college, and he and Mom supported me every step of the way…”

“Doesn’t that strike you as odd? They’ll barely look at you, but your father went on to become a pillar of the community, such as it is. You went to a bar last night and got threatened, but he bought benches and led parades.”