Nevermore. Maureen Child

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ you waste my time.” Santos swung his sword out in a wide arc and the little demon tried to shimmer away again. This time though, Santos was ready for it. Attaching a net of finely spun silver webbing to the edge of his sword, he’d dropped it over the demon before it could move. Once caught in a Guardian’s net, a demon was helpless and powerless to escape.

      “You should have fought me,” Santos said as he slid his sword back into its scabbard and reached down to tighten the net around his catch. “It would have been the honorable thing to do.”

      The demon squirmed and kicked and snarled, but was unable to do anything beyond hurl insults and threats at the man who had caught it.

      “I’ll only escape again,” it promised, its voice scraping the night air like broken glass. “And when I do, I’ll find you and kill you.”

      “That has been tried before.” Santos swung the demon over his shoulder and walked out of the city’s pitiful excuse for a park. Moving through the shadows, Santos headed for his car. It wouldn’t take long to drive to the closest demon dimension portal.

      There were many—each leading to any number of hells. But the energy trace surrounding every demon was a signature of sorts—preventing demons from moving from one hellish world to another. Once returned to a portal, the demon had no choice but to return to the world from which it had come.

      “If only the gods had chosen to seal the portals into this world,” Santos mused aloud, then reconsidered. If they had done that, what would a warrior have to do?

      “I will kill you, Guardian. This I swear. I will find you and tear out your liver. I will wear your eyeballs on my hat. I will—”

      “Cease, demon!” Santos bellowed. “Your threats mean nothing. But should you ever manage to escape again—when you come looking for me,” he said, “come to Spain. There we will have a fight for the ages, small one.”

      He was close.

      Erin could feel him.

      She’d spent the last hour driving up and down the streets of San Diego, letting the ivory-handled knife lead her. There’d been no more visions, but the deeply carved handle was still warm to the touch and still filled her with an urgency she was in no position to argue with.

      It was also sort of like radar. Every time she turned the wrong way, she felt a sense of loss. But if she was going in the right direction, a sense of rightness welled up inside her. As if the knife were leading her to its original owner.

      Her eyes felt gritty and every bone in her body wept with fatigue. She’d been on the move since leaving Maine the day before for New York City. She’d taken a red eye out of La Guardia, landed at LAX and rented a car. Two hours later she’d arrived in San Diego.

      The day was gorgeous. Full clouds sailing across an achingly blue sky. Erin watched late-season tourists headed for the zoo or for Sea World with more than a little envy. She wished she were on a mission of fun. She wished she could have her life back. Heck. She just wished she could lay down somewhere and fall asleep for a day or two. This staying awake for twenty-four hours was nuts.

      But she couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t relax her guard. Not until she had some answers. Not until she knew no one was going to attack her in her sleep.

      With the knife on her lap, she steered her rental car down a street that led off the Coast Highway. Heat from the knife burned her thighs right through the fabric of her jeans. She was going the right way.

      Huge old trees leaned across the street toward each other in a leafy arch that even the sun couldn’t penetrate. He was even closer now. She sensed his presence. Steering her car down the slope, she came to a small private road.

      She drove slowly along the tree-lined street, reaching for the knife and keeping it tight in her left hand. The warmth of the ivory comforted her. Odd, but true. The shadowy road wound its way down a steep hill. People were out walking their dogs, washing their cars, enjoying the afternoon.

      The houses she passed were amazing. Some were just cottages, probably had been there for fifty years. But others had blossomed and grown into mansions—of every different type. There were Tudors cuddled alongside Spanish style. There were brick homes and clapboard and even one with a conical tower that made Erin think wistfully of fairy tales.

      She followed the curve of the road, going slowly, knowing she was close. She’d been so intent on getting here, she hadn’t really planned on what she’d say to the man once she was face-to-face with the mysterious Santos. Her stomach was jittery and the palms of her hands were damp. If he couldn’t help her, she didn’t know what she would do.

      With a sudden sense of certainty, she parked her rental car across the street from the house she knew belonged to Santos. Number twelve.

      “He will help,” she told herself, taking a quick look in the rearview mirror. She pinched her pale cheeks, fluffed her shoulder-length, dark red hair, and then sighed. She’d been awake and on the run for twenty-four hours. No way was a pinch and a fluff going to make her presentable.

      “So stop stalling already.” She nodded. “Right.”

      She tossed a quick glance at her goal. The house behind number twelve sat far back from the road, protected by more trees. There were several other houses here and lots of cars parked on the street. So she should be safe enough. Even if her stalker had followed her, he couldn’t have gotten here before her.

      “Just do this, Erin. Go see the man. Tell him what’s going on. Make him help you.”

      She grabbed her purse off the passenger seat, tossed the knife inside and stepped out of the car. With her gaze fixed on the house in front of her, she shut the car door and started across the street.

      From a distance, she heard a car engine fire to life and shriek as the driver gunned it hard. Heart racing, she gulped in air, turned her head toward the sound and froze. A low-slung red car hurtled toward her. Tires squealing, engine roaring, it raced forward.

      Erin tried to move. She really did. But it was as if she were hypnotized. Not just by the car. But by the latest in a series of attacks. How many more times could she survive? How much longer could she remain alert?

      And how could she defend herself against an enemy that went unnamed?

      “Look out!” A man’s voice. Close by.

      She’d hardly registered his presence before he was charging into her. His momentum carried them both out of the path of the car as he wrapped both arms around her and pushed her to safety.

      She hit the asphalt hard.

      Her hip took most of it, but her shoulder, too, screamed with pain. The car raced by them, never slowing, never stopping.

      “Thank you.” She turned her head on the street to face her rescuer. But he was gone. Twisting painfully, she caught a glimpse of him—a tall man with blond hair—running down the street and disappearing around a bend. “What the hell is going on?”

      “That, madam,” another deep voice sounded out from above, “is what I would like to know.”

      Chapter 3

      Erin looked up.

      Way СКАЧАТЬ