Damon was only a few yards from Zoe’s house when the first demon attacked him, swooping down from the roof’s gutter. Damon swiveled with vamp super speed and noted the look of hatred in the being’s bulging red eyes before he buried his demon dagger in his assailant’s throat. Quickly yanking the dagger out, he watched as the demon dissolved in a fiery cloud of sulfuric smoke.
The light color of the scales and the lack of horns on his attacker indicated the demon had been a recent inductee into hell and not a long-term member.
Damon made it to the street before another demon flew out from beneath a parked car and latched his claws into Damon’s leg. Slime slithered from the demon’s putrid mouth as he tried to take a chomp out of Damon. This demon was still light in color but had horns, although they were nothing to brag about. Damon told him so before thrusting his dagger into his assailant’s throat.
He barely had time to remove his dagger from that demon before another attacked. Blood streamed down Damon’s leg as he fought this much stronger demon. One swipe of the demon’s arm and Damon was sent flying onto the hood of a black Mercedes.
“That’s going to leave a dent,” Damon noted.
“Death to the Demon Hunter,” the hatemonger proclaimed.
Damon leapt off the hood before the demon could pin him down.
Smacking his lips, the demon ran his claws through the pool of vampire blood that Damon had left behind on the car. The beast’s eyes glowed red with rage as blood dripped from his claws back onto the car. He rushed Damon a millisecond later.
Damon was ready for him. He threw his dagger with expert precision. The demon was dead before he reached Damon.
Removing his weapon, Damon turned to find an older woman sitting across the street on the bench at the bus stop on the corner. He could tell by her scent that she was human. He could tell by the look on her face that she was utterly horrified. He rushed to her side to compel her.
Looking deep into her terrified eyes, Damon said, “Forget what you just saw.”
She nodded her blind compliance.
While she did so, he instantly returned his dagger to its sheath. Demons had no blood in their bodies, but vampires did. Again using vamp speed, he yanked off his shirt and wiped his blood from the hood of the Mercedes. As he’d predicted, his landing on the hood had left a dent. Nothing he could do about that.
He was really pissed now. Yes, vampires were fast healers, but that didn’t mean that wounds and broken bones didn’t hurt at first. He cracked his left arm back into place.
Turning his head, he checked on the woman on the bench. The bus stopped and she meekly climbed aboard and took a seat.
Okay, so the human was taken care of, but the demons were another matter. And all because of the damn witches.
Damon watched the torn flesh in his leg quickly heal as he walked into the bar and grill and headed straight for the secret panel housing the voice-activated security system.
“To the Vamp Cave,” he said. A hidden door opened, allowing him to enter the underground room filled with the latest cutting-edge computer equipment and flat screens displaying camera footage from numerous sites. This was Vamptown’s communications and security center.
“I was attacked by three demons just between Zoe’s house and here. I had to compel the lady at the CTA bus stop to forget what she just saw,” Damon said.
“I know.” Nick gave him a look of approval. “I saw. You kicked some demon ass.”
“That may be, but I couldn’t find the spell book that unleashed the demons,” Damon said before tossing his bloody shirt into the trash and tugging on a plain black T-shirt from the stash he kept in his desk drawer. Turning to Neville, he said, “Have you isolated the demons yet? How many are we talking about?”
“Four got out before we locked down the tunnels, lowering lead walls between sections.”
“I killed three,” Damon noted. “So that leaves one still on the loose. What about in the tunnels?”
“There are three down there at the moment,” Neville replied. “That number has remained stable.”
“Do we have any visuals on them?” Damon said.
Neville shook his head. “They destroyed the surveillance camera.”
“Just like the witches did,” Damon said.
Nick pointed to the screens. “They didn’t destroy them. Irma temporarily incapacitated the cameras. I should have told her about the surveillance at our meeting. The cameras there are working again now.”
Which meant that Zoe’s grandmother must finally have remembered how to undo the spell she’d put on the cameras. At least that was one thing accomplished.
Damon returned his focus to the blank screen, which would have displayed a portion of the tunnel. “If we have no visuals, how do we know the number of demons in the tunnels has remained stable?”
“Heat sensors,” Neville said. “State of the art. Installed just a few months ago.”
At that point Pat Heller, the oldest resident of Vamptown given his claim that he’d been turned four hundred years ago, joined them. Pat was also a body artist and owner of Pat’s Tats next door to the bar. With his gray hair held back in a ponytail, the vamp was commonly mistaken for George Carlin before he passed away. Or so Pat claimed, being pleased with the comparison as Carlin was Pat’s favorite comedian. Since vampires remained the same as when they were turned, Pat’s hair remained long and prematurely gray as it had been when he’d been bitten back in the 1600s.
Personally, Damon got more of a hippie vibe from Pat than a comedian vibe although the vamp did have his funny moments.
Looking around, Pat shook his head. “I leave for one weekend for the Vamps in Vegas conference and I come back to mayhem. I have to say I wasn’t that surprised to hear we’ve got demons now. I was wondering when that would happen.”
“What do you mean?” Damon demanded.
“You’re a Demon Hunter. Why would you come to Vamptown to be our head of security? We haven’t had any demons in these parts for decades,” Pat said. “Half a century or more.”
Damon resented his insinuation. “So you think I’m responsible for the demons showing up here?”
“Not responsible. No,” Pat said, before adding, “But you are part of the puzzle somehow.”
“What puzzle?” Damon said.
Pat shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But it involves you and the witches.”
“I only met them today.”
“I realize that,” Pat said. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t some kind of cosmic connection between you and Zoe.”
“The only connection is that her grandmother released demons and I need to destroy them,” Damon said.
“These aren’t run-of-the-mill demons,” Neville said, inserting himself into the conversation before nervously pushing up his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. Bits of duct tape held the earpiece together.
“How would you know?” Damon demanded. “As Pat said, Vamptown hasn’t seen demons in half a century or more. You were turned forty years ago.”
“I wasn’t speaking from personal experience,” Neville said, “but from their energy level and heat levels. They won’t be easy to defeat.”
“Demons never are,” Damon said. “But that hasn’t stopped me before. It won’t stop me now. I need to get my hands on that book that released them.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Pat asked.
“By sticking to the witches like white on rice,” Damon said.
Pat’s partner, Bruce, entered the Vamp Cave, holding a tray with two dainty teacups filled with blood. There was nothing dainty about Bruce. The vamp was built like a brick outhouse. Nevertheless he was a self-proclaimed fashionista. Pat had once described him to Damon as part Hulk and part Armani.
“Tea time,” he cheerfully announced. Bruce’s occupation before being turned was that of a clown, which made him happy all the time. Or maybe he’d been born that way. Damon wasn’t sure. He only knew that he’d never met anyone as upbeat as Bruce. It wasn’t a character trait Damon was fond of in the least. Not that Damon had anything against Bruce. He just wished the vamp wasn’t such a ray of sunshine.
