Keeper Chronicles: Awakening (18 page)

“I’ve got it,” he interrupted her, practically jumping to his feet. “Yes, that must be it. I think I know what we’re dealing with.”

He stopped suddenly, his face going blank.

“Well?” Colette prompted after a minute.

“I’ve narrowed it down to two options, both male: a succubus or a siren.” Nicholas pointed and gestured like he was reading something off a bulletin board. “The two victims we know about were both female. The first, a girl in the height of puberty. The parents mentioned there was a boyfriend and the police found a set of tracks leading off into the woods. Maybe she’d been visited by that boyfriend and the sexual energy attracted our demon. It makes sense. The second was neater, the mess kept to a minimum, as though to preserve some sense of the woman’s beauty. She’d also matured like our monster. He probably seduced her, led her out back for sex, and killed her when no one was looking.”

“It’s a good theory, but two kills aren’t enough to fully actualize a First-Order.”

“You’re forgetting the Keeper.”

She thought for a moment. “Wasn’t he an old man?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t disprove my point. A demon’s first kill is one of hunger and opportunity.” He ticked something off in front of him. “Three other women have gone missing since then. Maybe other victims of our demon.”

“Is there any evidence to support your theory?” she asked.

Where other men would have taken her questions as insults, he expected them, used the questions to flesh out his thinking, making sure there was no room for errors. People tended to die when a Hunter made an error. “Simple. The other deaths don’t fit. An old man near Plymouth had a heart attack. Two more elderly died of natural causes. There’s a missing child, but that doesn’t fit and the parents were in the middle of a drawn-out custody battle, so it’s likely one or another parent did the abducting. Other than a handful of accidents—an automobile accident a few days ago, a logging incident in the woods, and a grease fire—the deaths are all ordinary. Unless there’s a demon out there feeding on accidents, this is the best, most dominant pattern.”

“That’s it?”

He stiffened. “Isn’t it enough?”

Colette thought of her sister and shook her head. “No, it’s not. Firsts can be devious, misleading.”

Taking her hands, Nicholas forced her to look at him. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened to your sister. You know that.”

Did she?

“Trust me, then,” he added. His ability to read her moods had always been annoying. “With this understanding, I can make something to track sexual energy. Look for hotspots. It’ll help narrow the search down so we can find this demon before it impregnates some innocent girl.”

“Why?” Gabe asked, startling them both. Colette hadn’t even heard the door downstairs open or his feet on the steps. He pressed on. “What happens? Shouldn’t it be impossible, anyway?”

Colette twined her fingers through Nicholas’. This wasn’t easy on him, she knew. Although he’d never talked about his wife with her, she’d heard the story from some of the others; they didn’t want her getting into things with him without knowing the truth. Nicholas had killed his own wife.

“Demon blood accelerates growth. After a few months, the hybrid is large enough to be extracted. If a demon takes a fetus of hybrid lineage and sacrifices it over a portal, the gates sealing the demon world off from this one will shatter; they’ll be free to enter our realm and slaughter at will.”

“Did someone say slaughter?” a new voice asked, a hitch of fear in the tone. Mia.

Behind her stood four women, all about the same age. They looked ridiculous with conical pointed hats trimmed in all manner of feathers, pendants, and gemstones; black dresses in various cuts, mostly slutty ones; and high-heeled boots of different lengths with fishnet stockings perfectly ripped. European witches at least had a little self-respect. “It doesn’t pertain to you,” Colette answered.

The witches, despite their slutty outfits and pretentious clothing, clung together, as if afraid a demon would jump out and bite off their heads. Although the urge to teach them a lesson almost overwhelmed her, terrified witches wouldn’t help make this spell work.

“So,” Gabe said, crossing his arms, “what are we waiting for? Every moment we’re not monitoring for demons increases the chance something nasty will sneak past our defenses. I killed everything from the storm, but that doesn’t guarantee something won’t sneak through tonight.”

“He’s right.” Nicholas gave her hand a little squeeze. “It’s time.”

She swallowed back the sudden apprehension that rose like bile. Spells like this were dangerous; if things had turned out differently, her sister would’ve been there with her. Linking their energy together and stabilized each other. No. She couldn’t think about Sylvie or she’d never be able to do this. “Listen carefully,” she ordered, glaring at the pathetic excuse for a coven. “For this to work, everything must be precise. Did you bring the ingredients I asked for?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Set them over here so I can begin.” Colette examined the sheep’s milk and springs of thyme and fertilized chicken’s egg and hemlock. Everything seemed in place. It took her ten minutes to get all the ingredients together and mixed, but when she was satisfied, she stepped back. “Okay, now I need a drop of blood from each of you. Mia, as you’re the linking agent, you’re first.”

The pigtailed girl bobbed over and held out her hand. With a swift motion, Colette pricked the girl’s finger and squeezed a drop into the bowl. The table shook as the drop landed, and a soft green light flashed.

“Cool,” Mia said, bending over to look at the mixture.

Another of the coven girls pushed forward and thrust out her hand. “Do me next.”

Once each of the coven members had added a drop of blood, Colette took the crystal bowl in her hands and hesitated. “You five are the only ones capable of breaking the spell. No matter what happens, I need you to let me go as long as possible. The Keepers will protect you if things get a little weird or another demon is drawn by the magic. Whatever happens, don’t lose that vial. It’s the only substance that can release me.”

Mia nodded and tightened her petite fist around the small, white vial of holy water each woman in the coven had laced with her blood. When the others panicked, as she was pretty sure they would, the chef was her best hope. Despite their Keeper talents, neither Nicholas nor Gabe could help her where she was going. All they could do was kill her if it failed.

With one last glance at her husband, she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and gulped down the entire foul-tasting bowl. The consistency of thick blood, the potion oozed slowly down her throat as sharp lancelets of pain pierced her a thousand times over. It worked. The potion brought her body almost to the point of death. The crystal dish slipped from her fingers to shatter against the floor, but she barely noticed. Colette collapsed to her knees as the agony of atrophying muscles and decaying flesh sapped all of her strength. Only in this weakened state could the faint, lingering energies of the demon find her flesh and attempt to wrestle control.

Like tiny motes of darkness, the demon’s lingering essence perked up at her proximity and began swirling around her. Someone spoke. Another person screamed. They were doing something around her, but Colette only had eyes for the darkness. She opened her mouth and drew the demon’s energy inside.

Hunger.

Blind, ravenous, destructive, maddening—the need to feed incinerated her.

Smothered her.

No other thought, no other feeling, no other drive existed.

Blood squirted into her mouth as she chewed into lean muscle, practically swallowing the Keeper whole. His bones crunched between her powerful jaws. She lapped up the marrow, sucking it out like a straw. Each taste urged another. And another. The stuttering pulse of his dying heart hummed in her ears.

His final breath wheezed through his lips. “Beks.”

Licking her lips, she bit into his chest and ripped his heart right out, devouring it in one succulent bite. Ecstasy. Memories rushed through her, filling her with knowledge she’d need to adapt and survive. Image after image, thought after thought, every impulse, every feeling this Keeper and those who’d come before him had. Blood transmitted history. Blood evolved connections. Blood brought power.

Convulsions wracked through her body. Her claws dug into the metal floor of the watch room, the sound screeching in her forming ears as the human blood began the transformation. Inside, the faint consciousness of the human, the lingering spark in the back of her head like a distant candle, never stopped screaming.

Colette the Keeper died.

Colette the demon was born.

More demons, drawn by the light and blood, lesser things than her and of no importance, approached. She felt them near, felt each demonic presence as if she were equipped with her own sort of radar. One scaled the cliffs. The other felt more distant. Further. Cautious.

She didn’t care about them.

The rush she received from devouring the Keeper’s heart faded, and already she needed to kill again. Awkward on her now human-shaped legs, she stumbled down the stairs. A human lived nearby. She knew that because the Keeper had known. His daughter. She’d be an easy kill, alone in the house, no training. Practically begging him to suck the life from her heart.

Running on all fours, the gravel of the drive slicing her tender, young flesh, she reached the house in a blink.

“Stop.” The voice was new. “Not her.”

Demon Colette looked in the window. The girl sat near a fire, a second person sitting nearby. Neither posed a threat. “Kill?” she asked it. “Hungry.”

“No. Later.”

She dug her claws into the windowsill in annoyance but turned and left. The voice was right. The girl would be easily killed. Anytime. She would come back for her later. Take her time cracking each bone and lapping up the marrow. For now, she must hide. Sneak. Avoid getting caught.

She hurried down the gravel road, each movement making her stronger as she gathered motes of darkness along the way and drew them into herself. She devoured her own thoughts and memories as they sprung from the soil around her.

The road. People might be there. Food.

She had to kill again before the hunger ripped her into pieces.

Rain slid off her skin as she sprinted on all fours down the dark road. Asphalt. She tasted the word, a memory from the Keeper, and smiled. Yes, asphalt. Travel. Cars, trucks, semis, vans—she could find any of these. There. Down the road. The demon Colette hurried down the road, but the first car was empty. She left it alone. The second car, a Parks Services patrol car her new knowledge suggested, looked vulnerable.

It wasn’t.

When she reached for the door handle to tear it off its hinges, her hand slammed up against an invisible barrier. Like a shield. It let nothing in, but most importantly, it let nothing out. She tried again. And again. And again. Each attempt hurt more than the one before. Humans were so pathetically frail.

And delicious.

With an angry growl, she left the human be. There. A scent as unmistakable as it was inviting. Children. What they lacked in knowledge or memory gains, they more than made up for in energy output.

They rode in a maroon van which glistened as each raindrop acted like a little mirror, amplifying the color. Catching the vehicle took no time. In one smooth leap, she landed on the back of the van and dug her claws into the metal, ripping open the top the way the Keeper had seen done once in a movie.

Screaming.

Yelling.

Squelching tires burning rubber.

Fear so thick it tasted like a sweet tangerine.

She tumbled head first over the front of the van as it skid then rolled three times before coming to a halt. Move quickly, before they bleed out. The hearts had to be living, beating, when she devoured him. Dead hearts were worthless.

There. Out of the side. A small arm. Crunch through bone.

“No!” screamed a muted voice in her mind.

Colette that was.

She laughed at its horror as she sucked the marrow from the child’s bone then went for the heart, ripping it out of the little boy’s chest and devouring it as the voice kept screaming.

The family had been four strong. Four beating hearts full of memories and energy to help her transform. She got a nose. And eyes. Her claws shortened. Hair sprouted from her head.

The hunger faded to a more manageable drive. She needed to feed, wanted to feed, but didn’t have to. Not yet. Where there had been one Keeper, others would follow.

She needed to be ready.

She needed a plan.

Hide. Mangling the marks left by her claws was easy because of the accident. Torn flesh here and there, organ damage. Maybe they’d assume the hearts were still there. Wouldn’t look too closely.

Humans had accidents all the time.

Chapter Nineteen

Rebekah hated leaving Dylan behind at the Halloween party, but she’d had no choice. If he loved her like he said that morning, he’d forgive her. She had to know what was going on with Gabe and Mia, and with any luck, she’d be back before too long.

Sneaking out the front door, she hurried around the outside of the house and in through the storm cellar doors, which closed loudly enough she thought for certain the entire house had heard. Slipping into Mia’s room felt like a betrayal, but compared to whatever Gabe and the mysterious “them” were hiding, Rebekah’s violation was insignificant.

At first, the girl’s room seemed entirely normal. Well, normal for Mia, anyway, which was always a little crazy. The books on her father’s small bookshelf behind the bed had been pulled down and replaced. Rebekah read some of the titles:
The Secret Lives of Herbs
,
The Joy of Cooking
,
Basic Self-Defense Techniques, How to Make Friends and Influence People, Witchcraft for Dummies
. How was that even a book? No, she needed something useful, and it wasn’t likely to be out in the open. Maybe the desk.