She shot us an annoyed look. “I’m tired of babying them. We would be done with this if we were honest with them.” She glanced at David Lee. “Sometimes the demons send hellhounds. You know, dogs the size of a calf that can rip you in two with one bite, fangs dripping with drool, red eyes, smelly breath…”
“Where do I sign?” David Lee asked quickly, moving away from Kim.
The process went smoothly after that. I felt bad erasing the memory of our meeting from his head because of what the demon had done to him. We escorted him to the side door of the building and handed him over to security.
“That was brutal,” Izzy said, glaring at Kim.
Kim shrugged. “But effective. Don’t say I forced him because I didn’t. I gave him his options.”
“One option,” Bran corrected her. “Do you still want that latte?”
Kim made a face. “No. That demon left a bad feeling in my stomach.”
Bran nodded, but he continued to search the sky as though he expected the demon to reappear. “Let’s go.”
We appeared inside a gated beach home in Myrtle Beach, a South Carolina coastal city. After the noise of downtown New York, it was nice to hear the calming sounds of waves washing the sands and smell the salty air. Lights blazed behind the windows, indicating the owners were home.
“What is their story?” I asked as we crossed the well-tended lawn.
“I met Mrs. Watts at a hospital two years ago. Her little girl had bone cancer and was in the last stages of the illness. Mrs. Watts wanted her daughter healed.”
“Cases like hers are so heartbreaking,” Izzy muttered. “When we started, I assumed we’d meet selfish, greedy, and fame-seeking scumbags like David Lee.”
“Most of them are,” Kim told her.
“Yeah, but sprinkled among them are the selfless husbands and wives, mothers and fathers willing to do anything for their loved ones,” Izzy added defensively.
“How old was the little girl?” I asked, interrupting what could escalate into a heated discussion.
“Six,” Bran said. “Mrs. Watts was pregnant and already had two twin boys. At first, I dealt with her. It wasn’t until after her daughter recovered that she contacted me and brought her husband. They wanted success and power, so I gave them another deal—his soul for a lucrative business as a real estate agent. Within six months, they moved from their modest home to this.” Bran stopped in front of the entrance and pressed on the doorbell. Through the window, we could see the foyer with a high ceiling, fancy chandelier, and a grand staircase.
A woman opened the door with a brilliant smile on her lips. Her eyes widened when she took another look at Bran, the smile disappearing from her face. “You? It can’t be. You…I…is it time? You said I’d have twenty years.”
“Calm down, Mrs. Watts. I’m not here for you. We just need to talk to you and your husband. May we come in?”
“No,” she said in a horrified voice then stepped forward, closed the door behind her, and pulled the sweater tightly across her chest. Swallowing, she studied us nervously. “He’s not here. We are getting a divorce.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bran said.
“There’s no need to be. He changed, became a jerk.” She glanced at us again before focusing on Bran. “If you are not after me, what do you want?” she asked rudely.
“We are here to give you a chance to cancel the contract you signed with me and get your soul back,” Bran explained, speaking slowly so there was no misunderstanding.
“What’s going to happen to my daughter if I cancel?”
“Nothing.” Bran reached inside his pocket for the scroll with names. He read her name and the contract appeared. Putting the list away, he pulled the dagger from the sheath at his waist. Mrs. Watts took a step back, her eyes wide.
“It’s okay,” Bran said reassuringly. “All we need is a drop of your blood on the contract and you can go on with your life.”
She shook her head.
Bran sighed. “Mrs. Watts—”
“I can’t. If I cancel, Michele is going to be sick again. She just celebrated her eighth birthday this evening.” She hugged herself. “I don’t want to lose her.”
I tuned out Mrs. Watts and the others when I felt a sharp tug on my psi. I looked around and found the source.
They stepped away from the doorway and looked up, everyone reaching for their weapons. Unlike in New York, the demon darted around as though eager for some action.
“Get inside the house, Mrs. Watts,” Bran ordered.
The woman had stepped from the door to see what held our attention, but from her confused expression, she couldn’t see the demon. She opened her mouth to speak, but Bran snapped, “Now!”
She scurried inside and bolted her door.
As a Cardinal Psi, I can see psi energies of anyone and anything, yet I couldn’t locate the demon’s energy. The special Xenithian jadeite core of our protective amulets didn’t glow either and my dagger wasn’t vibrating as it usually did in a demon’s presence. The jadeite emitted light that was harmful to demon, so all our weapons were forged from it. The blade of the Kris Dagger contained the purest form of the jadeite, the light from it deadly to demons. Maybe the clouds and the lightning shielded the demon’s energy from reaching us or something.
“We can’t fight him…her…whatever it is while it’s up there,” Izzy griped.
“Get down here and face us, you coward,” Sykes yelled, energy balls appearing above his palms.
“I’m going after the bastard,” Bran said, stepping away from us, two daggers in his hands, wings lifting.
“No,” we all protested.
“You can’t face an unknown demon on your own,” Remy said. “Only Lil’s lightning bolts can reach that far.”
“And if that fails…,” Bran vowed.
“Then I’ll use the Kris Dagger,” I answered firmly.
The others nodded. Bran took his time, but he finally jerked his head in approval. “Spread out and stay linked,” he instructed.
We moved apart, so if the demon attacked it wouldn’t get us all at once, but we stayed visible. I pulled out the Kris Dagger from its sheath, the ancient text racing up my arms as we linked. The jolt that shot through my body was exhilarating, the pain still there but insignificant.
The demon battled lightning with lightning, the explosions lighting up the sky like it was the Fourth of July fireworks show. I pointed my dagger upward.
Green, bright light shot from the blade and headed straight toward the cloud demon. It would have been a clear hit, but the demon did something to bend the light, changing its trajectory to outer space.
No demon had ever survived an attack by the Kris Dagger. But whatever the demon did, he or she forgot about the lightning bolts. They converged in its crackling core, causing it to expand. The resulting explosion was blinding. Then there was nothing but clear blue-black sky. No screaming. No smoking demon plunging to the ground.
“What in Tartarus was that?” Izzy asked.
“A new breed of demons,” Kim answered. “They don’t even scream anymore.”
As the others dissected what just happened and joined me, a strange feeling coiled my insides. As it spread, I realized what it was: panic. The Kris Dagger was the most powerful Nephilim weapon, and a demon had just bested it.
“You did it?” Bran said coming to stand beside me. He must have read my emotions.
