The Entity Who Came for Christmas

“I’m not picking up anything,” Simon said. “What about you?”

She was picking up plenty and it was all tied to Simon’s hand holding hers, his skin against hers, his fingers intertwined with hers. This wasn’t the first time he’d touched her since his return. He’d put his hand on the back of her neck the night before at the ice rink. And he’d done the same a few minutes ago when faced with the Gold Coast vamps.

Those gestures had been about possession. But him holding her hand now was different. It reminded her of their time in London, dodging raindrops as they’d left Vicki and Al’s place, otherwise known as the Victoria and Albert Museum, in a downpour. Sharing tea at the Ritz. Sharing his bed in his hotel room for days on end.

The attraction had been instant and irresistible. At least on her part. And as much as she’d hoped that things were different now, that powerful sexual bond between them had not dimmed at all.

Pru returned her attention to the ice sculpture. There was something about it … a mermaid, tied to the lure of the water, to dangerous sirens luring sailors to harm, to lighthouses to protect the men from crashing onto the rocks.

She looked out on the choppy waters of the lake. The city was living up to its windy title today.

Then she saw it. “There.” Pru pointed to the lighthouse sitting offshore on a breakwall. “It could be there.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The lighthouse, with its red roof and tower, was detached from the mainland, which would have made getting to it a challenge unless you were a vampire. Or a witch. Or a demon. Or a bunch of demons.

They swarmed overhead the instant Simon and Pru arrived. She felt like she’d just stepped into Hitchcock’s classic The Birds. As they swooped closer, she saw they looked more like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. Shit. That image was in her Top Five list of personal terrors. Shit, shit, shit. She quickly did a demon protection spell that Zoe had told her about, but for some reason it wasn’t working on these demons.

“They are Ancients!” Simon shouted above the piercing whirring the demons’ flight created.

“Mordred sent us to retrieve his sword Excalibur. We are his followers,” they chanted in unison.

“It’s not his. It never was!” Simon yelled at them, slashing those who came too close with his demon daggers. He had one in each hand.

As the Ancients continued to descend, one swooped lower and knocked Pru down. The impact knocked the breath out of her, leaving her unable to speak. She scrambled over the uneven ground, trying to escape.

Seeing her fall, Simon howled and went full vamp. His fangs were fully emerged and ready to rip the demon to shreds. But a slew of Ancients landed between him and Pru, flapping their razor-sharp wings and preventing him from getting to her.

They dragged their claws across his chest, ripping away his clothing and slashing his skin. Still he battled on, coming closer to the rocky edge of the breakwall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. Excalibur. There amidst the frosty rocks, embedded in the ice with the hilt of the sword sticking out.

Warding off the blows and claws, he leapt toward Excalibur. Gripping the hilt in his hands, he could feel the power generated by the legendary weapon. It traveled up his arm to his core, but as hard as Simon yanked on it, he couldn’t pull Excalibur free.

“You have to believe,” Pru called out even as she struggled with the terror consuming her at the onslaught of demons surrounding her.

“Believe, Demon Hunter,” they mocked him before tearing the Santa hat from Pru’s head. “Believe I am going to kill your witch.” One had her by the hair now as he yanked her head back. “Watch me.”

Roaring his rage, Simon abandoned Excalibur to save her. The demons immediately tossed her aside and focused on Simon. She almost fell onto the rocks and into the lake but somehow managed to prevent herself from slipping. This was not the time to wish she knew how to swim.

Her head was still ringing from making contact with the ground. She crawled toward Excalibur and tried to pull it free but couldn’t. She lacked the strength or the power or the belief or something. But she still had her boots. She kicked a demon who tried to stop her and get to the sword. He went tumbling, horned head over clawed heels, before bursting into flames. One down, forty to go. Yes, her boots were spelled to be a weapon, but her magic was no match for these Ancients’ demon power. She couldn’t kick them fast enough. There were simply too many.

“Save yourself!” Simon shouted at her. He was covered in demons, crawling all over him, slashing him with their claws and rancid teeth.

“I’m not leaving you. I love you, dammit!” She refused to let him die. She would not use her powers, severely dwindled as they were from the continued battle, to transport her away. She wasn’t able to transport Simon with her. It killed her that she couldn’t do more to help him, but, aside from her boots, nothing she did, no spell she cast, had any effect on these demons.

“How sweet,” a demon drawled as she was pinned down by a bunch of Ancients. “You love him.” He started choking her. “Too bad for you. Too bad for him.”

Tears blurred her vision as she watched Simon continue to fight on but weaken with each additional injury they inflicted upon him. Blood poured from his wounds until he was completely vanquished. The screaming demonic horde took Simon by the arms and legs and tossed him over the edge of the lake.

Nooooo! Her scream was silent as she couldn’t speak because the demon strangling her continued his pressure. Her throat was closing up and she was about to black out. Simon was gone. Her heart was broken. She wanted to destroy those who had destroyed Simon, but she was losing consciousness.

She closed her eyes and remembered Simon as she’d first met him, standing outside the hotel in London, bumping into her and smiling that endearing smile of his. Had she fallen for him then and there? Yes. He was the one. The only one for her.

Swirls of red filled her mind. Her eyes fluttered open one last time … to see Simon!

Was he real or was she imagining him? Bellowing what sounded like a battle cry, he stood with Excalibur in hand, slaying Ancients as if they were ants.

He turned into a demon-slaying machine, slicing and dicing his way through them all with ruthless precision and power. Demon body parts went flying as they disintegrated or burst into flames. She was afraid to watch yet afraid to turn away.

The battle was soon over.

Dropping to his knees, Simon cradled Pru in his left arm. He kept Excalibur in his right hand as he kept a vigilant guard for more trouble.

“How…?” she croaked, unable to say more.

“Let’s get out of here.” He helped her stand and held her close. The demons had torn his trench coat and sweater to shreds and his wounds were still healing. His clothing and hair were wet from his being thrown into the water. Yet he’d never looked better to her.

She felt the press of the flat side of the sword as he placed Excalibur behind the small of her back and tugged her close. The power of the legendary weapon dating back to Camelot enveloped her. She was rejuvenated.

Her throat healed and her strength returned.

She felt Simon tense, ready to do battle again as one remaining demon raggedly crawled up from the rocks. Putting her arm on Simon’s hand, she told him, “I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?” He remained poised with lethal intent.

She nodded, feeling the need to confront her fears. “I have to do this.” Otherwise she’d have nightmares of how she hadn’t been able to fight fiercely enough. Besides, she sensed that this final demon had little fight left in him. His movements were feeble, but that could be an act. She was afraid, yes, but had a newfound sense of power that gave her the courage to make a statement. That power had come from the legendary sword, but there was no time now to think about the magical abilities of Excalibur.