One Handsome Devil (31 page)

"You'll speak when spoken too, woman,” the Reverend Bob blustered. The twitch of one eye could have been a wink.

"That's the way to treat them,” Derrick said.

"Oh, Derrick?” Reverend Bob's voice was insistent.

Derrick loosened his grip, but only slightly, and turned to deal with the interruption. “Yeah, boss?"

Jack's wing blurred. It seemed to brush against the side of Derrick's neck and the man plunged against the wall and collapsed to the floor. “We need some help over here,” he announced in Bob's voice.

"Come on,” he told Katra.

"What about the real Bob?"

"I'd like to try that on him but he's too well protected.” He urged her toward the knot of angry-looking men guarding the door.

"The police have cleaned up the fake accident we used to block the freeway,” he told them, still using Bob's voice. “Let's head out of here."

"Who the heck are you?” one of them demanded.

"That's Reverend Bob, you idiot,” another answered.

"No it isn't. It's the demon. Over here, they're getting away."

Jack's fist blurred into one face, propelling his victim into the man who had seen through his costume. His wings buzzed, hiding himself and Katra behind a protective shield. Two men threw themselves at the shield and rebounded, then a third simply put out a hand and Jack fell back with a suppressed gasp of agony.

"If you guys spent more time reading the Bible than those Nazi tracts, you'd know how to handle a demon.” Reverend Bob held Maura behind him. She was still clutching her can of hair spray but looked uncertain about which side to attack.

"I don't want to hurt you, Katra,” Reverend Bob said. “But you've been making a terrible mistake. That man you're with is a demon. When I found Derrick, I saw the demon's mark on him. With what you said, I put two and two together.” He paused, then pitched his voice higher to carry over the crowd. “Do you have any idea what would happen if he escaped from Sara's wards?

"He isn't warded. Sara set him free."

Reverend Bob shuddered. “Impossible. Dallas would be in flames."

"But it isn't, is it. Maybe you're wrong about this whole thing. Did that ever occur to you?"

His brown eyes looked sad. “I wish that could be, but it can't. Evil doesn't change.” He looked around. “Get Derrick over here to control his woman."

"What?” Then she remembered Derrick's words. Bob had promised her to Derrick.

"Spare the rod, spoil the child. That's what the Bible says. Women too, of course."

"You idiot. That was John Skelton, not the Bible."

Reverend Bob showed a momentary confusion, then his face cleared. “The devil can quote scripture. That was in the Bible too."

Derrick was rubbing his head and wobbling, but he responded to his master's call. “Yeah, boss."

"Try not to let her get away this time."

"I was too easy on her. Trust me, it won't happen again."

"See it doesn't. I've got a demon to take care of.” Reverend Bob straightened his clerical collar, grasped his leather-bound Bible, and stared at Jack. “I conjure you to be gone in the name of—"

Jack vanished.

"Where'd he go, boss?” Wayne was back on his feet. She'd have to hit him harder next time she got the chance. Assuming she did get the chance.

Reverend Bob narrowed his eyes. “He's right here. Come on, Maura."

Maura followed him docilely.

"How about we go out to your car and get you a hummer,” Katra suggested to Derrick. “We can join back up with the rest of them in a bit.” The idea gagged her but she couldn't do anything as long as she was surrounded.

"You trying something funny?"

"That's the bitch that kicked me in the nuts,” Wayne told him. He lit a cigarette, ignoring the No Smoking signs posted everywhere around the terminal.

"She's a bitch all right.” Derrick considered. “Want to hold her while I slap her?"

"Oh, yeah."

There was only a fraction of a second when Derrick loosened his grasp before Wayne tightened down but Katra used it. She wrenched an arm free, grabbed Maura's hair spray, and blasted Wayne in the face.

The hair spray flamed as it touched the glowing cigarette and Wayne dropped her other arm.

Katra ran for the door, now almost deserted. She kept a steady jet of flaming hair spray in front of her.

The instant she broke through the door, she was swept into the air.

"I'm getting a little tired of men just grabbing me all the time,” she told Jack. Still, she nestled closer into his chest. His strong wingstrokes moved them over the DFW traffic faster than a car would have. Below, she could see a mangled mess of pickup trucks that blocked the north entrance to the airport, a mass of flashing red and blue lights illuminating the prairie surrounding the freeway.

"You were doing all right."

"Yeah, sure.” A terrible thought crossed her mind. “Where's Sara? Don't tell me they got her."

"She got out of the terminal but I think she's still in danger."

Katra was used to Jack sounding depressed. An eternity in Hell would probably do that to anyone. This tone was worse, it was defeated.

"What does that mean?"

"For one thing, they have Maura. Sara would do anything to prevent them from harming her grandmother."

"But Maura is on their side."

He shook his head, then floated lower over a yellow taxi stopped in the traffic jam. “That doesn't matter. They'll use her anyway."

Even through the taxi's metal skin, Katra could hear Sara berating the driver. “Let me out of here. I know you speak English. I've got to get the police."

"The driver is one of them,” Jack said.

"So blast him."

"I can't.” He paused, then landed, setting Katra down next to the cab. “Of course I can do
this
."

Jack slipped his hand through the atomic bonds that held the steel walls of the taxi together. Copper or bronze would have been easy but, of course, nobody thought about a demon's convenience when they designed the modern automobile. Go figure.

He grasped a flaw in the steel's structure and ripped.

"Get Sara and both of you get behind me,” he told Katra as he tore the door off its hinges and threw it onto the concrete freeway.

"Right."

He spread his wings looking for an opening in the driver's protection. Nothing.

"He caught me when I came out,” Sara shouted. She emerged from the car just as the driver pulled a heavy gun.

"And now I've caught all of you,” the driver observed. “I don't know how you got past Bob, but you've run out of runway."

"Put the weapon away.” Jack pushed his powers of compulsion into his voice.

"Sure. Once you get in the vehicle and strap in."

"The women are under my protection."

"Protected by a demon? That's a good one,” the driver sneered. “Have you possessed them, or are they just lost souls?"

"They are my friends."

"Another good one.” The driver guffawed with real appreciation. “I never heard of a demon with a sense of humor."

He managed to get control of his laughter and deliberately cocked the automatic, feeding a shell into the chamber. “As far as I know, there ain't no law against shooting a demon in Texas."

"You're making a mistake,” Jack argued.

"Am I? Oh. You mean wasting my time talking to you instead of just doing it.” As he said the work
it
he fired and kept firing.

Jack blurred time.

Even in fast time, the bullets sped toward him like torpedoes racing toward a doomed merchant ship.

Jack threw a wing in front of the first bullet. The heavy steel-coated package sent agony through his body. Like Derrick's gun which had so nearly destroyed him, this weapon had been made a part of the church. Defending himself and protecting the women wouldn't be easy.

He translated a small portion of his earth-dimension matter into pure heat energy, first melting, then vaporizing the bullet as it roared down his wing.

Then again, as the second, bullet, third bullet, fourth bullet cracked through the air.

The fourth bullet smashed through his shielding wings vaporizing only inches from his unprotected flesh.

A fifth bullet emerged from the weapon and Jack slowed time even further. His battered wings had done their job but could do no more. He tugged them behind him hoping they could provide at least a minimum of protection for the two women.

Sara, he saw, had picked up a piece of iron rebarr, probably dropped from a construction truck and was moving toward the driver with a determined look in her face.

With infinite slowness, the driver turned his automatic and pointed it toward Sara. It wasn't a fair race. The gun's sight had to travel a far shorter distance than did Sara. Jack might have been able to protect Sara, but the fifth bullet was already heading for him. With Katra directly behind him he would have to choose to save one woman and lose the other.

Jack was familiar with difficult choices, but this was one of the worst. Either way, he would lose Sara. Rather than choose between two bad options, he created a third. Taking advantage of the time blur, he stepped into the last bullet sent in his direction, simultaneously closing the gap between himself and Sara.

At the last possible moment, he turned his head and clamped his teeth down at the flying bullet. At that very instant, the driver fired again, this time at Sara.

The bullet in his mouth hurt like a son of a bitch, ripping at the physical stuff of his earthly plane body, but his teeth held.

Carefully, Jack removed the iron bar from Sara's grip, batted the bullet targeting Sara from the air, and then knocked away the driver's gun.

He reverted to normal time and spat out the bullet he'd caught.

"What do you say we high-tail it out of here,” he suggested.

Sara pulled herself from a groggy sleep trying to figure out what had awakened her. When the clock radio alarm had gone off at an obscene hour of the morning, she'd yanked out the plug and thrown the thing against the wall, so that couldn't be the cause of the disturbance.

A knock on her apartment door sounded again.

She pulled a robe over the faded t-shirt she'd slept in and padded to the door. “Who is it?"

"Sara, it's the Reverend Bob."

Her lungs strained for air and her heart pounded. “I'm going to call 9-1-1."

"I know things got carried away last night, but we want to help you."

She hooked the door chain. In the movies, cops and criminals regularly kicked through the chains, but Bob wasn't exactly a tough guy. Not like Jack.

"Please, Sara."

"I warned you, I'm calling the police now."

"Sara, it's just me and Bob. Can't we come in and talk.” Her grandmother's voice froze her in place.

"If this is a trick, I swear I'll never forgive you, Nana."

"Go ahead and call Katra,” Bob suggested. “That way, if anything does happen to you, the police will know exactly who is to blame."

Given Bob's willingness to obstruct justice the previous evening, Sara wasn't very comforted. Still, she couldn't just leave her grandmother out on the stoop.

She retreated to her bedroom, called Katra and left a message on her machine, then secured her can of pepper spray. The baseball bat might be overkill. More to the point, Bob was likely to wrestle it from her before she could stop him. She left it under the bed.

"Is there anyone else out there with you, Nana?” she demanded.

"All those other brothers and sisters went home,” Maura told her.

If those were Maura's brothers and sisters, did that make them her aunts and uncles? The thought was too horrible to stand.

Sara's hand shook as she reached for her chain and she ruthlessly suppressed the errant motion. Even if she could persuade herself to call them, the police would laugh their heads off if she told them that her grandmother and her minister were going to assault her. She was going to have to face them sooner or later.

On the third try she got the chain unhooked, then opened the door.

Maura swarmed into her apartment. “I was so worried about you, Sara. That demon looked like he was going to swallow all of our souls."

"Demons have no power over those with faith,” Bob stated.

Sara ignored both of them and looked out into the hall to make sure no one lurked nearby. Only when she was convinced that Bob and Maura had come alone did she shut the door and turn to face them.

"Please sit down on the couch.” That would give her a moment to decide whether she had to use the pepper spray.

"I'll make some coffee,” Maura said.

"No.” She shook her head emphatically. “I didn't invite him here. I'm going to listen to what he says because you asked me, then he's going to leave."

Bob thumped down on her couch, then shifted his weight quickly. Maybe she should have warned him about the springs.

"You, too, Nana. Sit."

"But—"

"Just do it."

"We've been worried about you,” Bob announced.

"Oh, yeah. You looked worried last night when you tried to kill me."

He looked completely mystified. “Kill you? Why would we do that?"

"I suppose you're going to tell me that those signs about killing witches weren't aimed at me."

He gave a rueful smile. “A few members of the flock do get carried away but that doesn't mean they want to harm you. Our only goal is to help you."

Maura had been hovering halfway between the living room and the kitchen. Now she came and sat beside Bob. “I can't believe that you have been playing with the occult. After what happened to your parents.” The tear sliding down her cheek looked genuine. After the events of the past couple of days, though, Sara wasn't ready to trust anyone.

"My parents died in a car wreck. You should remember that."

"But what caused the car to crash? It wasn't like Peter to drive that fast. They hadn't been drinking and it was broad daylight, but the witnesses said he was going over a hundred miles an hour and his face looked like he was being chased by a monster."

"Or a demon,” Bob added.

Sara's stomach knotted. “Thousands of people die in accidents every year,” she protested. “That doesn't mean that evil spirits are running around chasing after them."