“Do you have a Bible in the house?” he asked.
“Yes, a Bible, and we’ve our crosses.” She pulled at the gold chain around her neck and was already on her feet, digging through the drawer of a cabinet.
“Excellent. Get them and don’t leave this room, no matter what you hear or see. Understand? If anything comes for you, use prayer to drive it away.”
He pondered giving them his lasso, but they’d struggle using the weapon. Marching out of the room, he found Cyra at the base of the staircase. She’d used salt to draw a large circle about five feet from the stairs with candles in four spots.
She stood at one end, her back to the front door, whispering something he couldn’t understand. A chill snaked around him, and goosebumps covered his flesh. She wasn’t messing around or even waiting for them to work out their plans, it seemed. He loved her determination and how nothing much scared her away.
The moment he approached her, something black zipped down the long staircase.
Huge and swift, it charged straight for them, giving him no time to open his lasso. His breath wedged in his lungs as he flung himself toward Cyra. “Watch out!”
Chapter 12
Gunn
Gunn shoved Cyra aside, sending her out of the demon’s path. But it was too late for him. Invisible claws tore into Gunn’s back, and he arched, a groan escaping his throat. Piercing white pain flashed across his vision, and panic scrambled his thoughts as he imagined the demon trying to climb into his head. It tightened his chest, robbing him of his senses. Something kicked his knees, and he fell, hitting the floor. A fire seized his flesh, reminding him of the time he’d fought the demon that had claimed Cherri-Anne. How useless he’d felt. The bastard with blades for fingers had used Gunn as a pincushion. That familiar terror squeezed his heart, but he wouldn’t let Cyra down. He’d kill any monster that dared touch her. He scrambled to his feet, curling his hands into fists and gasping for air.
In front of him lay the salt circle, broken, granules scattered across the floor. Where had the dickhead gone? He twisted toward Cyra, who climbed up from the floor near the door. There was no silvery aura to reflect she’d been possessed. His pulse thrummed with urgency to finish this now and get everyone to safety.
“Where’d it go?” She scanned the hall, her voice cracking, her eyes wild.
Alarms rang in his head, and dread locked his gut up tight. Henry and Nora! He bolted into the living room, Cyra’s footsteps close behind.
The bastard towered seven feet tall, gangly, with tentacles on either side of its body. A rancid stink assaulted Gunn’s nostrils, and he fought his gag reflex. Gunn’s insides curdled.
The couple remained on the couch, clutching the Bible between them. They stared at the black form hovering near the window.
The silhouette flickered. Yellow pupils stared at him, clawed fingers flexing, and it wore a spiky, patterned necklace. The fucker wore jewelry. He was going to kill the bastard. It would pay for everything its kind had stolen from him.
Gunn threw himself forward, lasso unclipped from his belt and extended in a second flat.
Inches before he collided with the brute, it launched at him, fists slamming into his solar plexus, shoving him backward. Gunn’s legs tangled underneath him, and he crashed onto the coffee table. The thud of his pulse screamed in his ears. But he was a fighter, a hunter. And giving in to dread wasn’t an option. So he balled up the fear and shoved it deep.
Someone yelled nearby.
With his fingers digging into the lasso hilt, he swung the weapon into the fiend’s face, except the demon backed off too fast and dissolved into a haze.
“No, you don’t.” Gunn charged, his fist hitting the speck, but he stumbled forward as his punch fell right through the apparition. He caught himself and rushed after the black wisp that zipped toward the back wall. It funneled into a tight tail and curled into an electrical outlet.
“Fuck! I knew it.” He gasped for air and spun to find Cyra against the window, holding a vase over her head. Nora and Henry peered out from behind the couch, their cheeks ashen white.
He approached them and placed his lasso across both their arms for over six seconds as they huddled together. Clean. They sat down on the couch. Cyra set her vase down before clutching at his weapon, running the cord across her forearm with shaky hands. No reaction.
“It’s definitely using electricity to travel through the house,” he said.
“And that’s why the circle didn’t work,” Cyra blurted. “It used the power grid to charge itself.”
“Also explains why it kept fading in and out, as it couldn’t hold a solid form. It must only have a small amount of time to take form.” Gunn put his lasso away, and he exhaled loudly. Finally, a real clue. He turned to Henry. “Where’s the electrical box?” Time to shut down the monster hiding from them.
“Outside, at the side of the house,” Henry replied. “Including the circuit breaker.”
Hell, there went that idea of switching off the power.
“The demon was solid when I saw it in the attic.” Cyra’s voice drew his attention to the way she gripped her hips, her lower lip caught in her teeth.
Gunn rubbed his lower back, where it felt as if someone held a flame against his skin, well aware the demon had scratched him. It had happened before and
