They would talk more, but right now, he needed to get her out of this house. He looked down at the hands clutching his arm, then backed up. “I can try.”
She let go as if she’d been burned and wiped her palms on her pants. Straightening to her full height, she looked back at the dagger and then said, “You have five minutes.”
“Then what?”
She grabbed the dagger. “Then I’m coming for you.”
“I’ll only need three.”
Amber nodded as Quentin poured a salt trail around the entire kitchen. He did the same all the way around the first floor, creating one continuous line. He didn’t know if his plan would work since the demon was upstairs and not down, but he had to try, even if it used the last of his black salt.
“He’s…intense,” he heard Kyle say to Amber. Rune could eavesdrop from several yards away. He waited to hear Amber’s reply, but she said nothing.
Served him right. He’d hurt her, and she was taking his presence better than he would’ve thought. Then again, she was the most level-headed girl he’d ever met.
“I can’t believe this,” Dora said. “Why is there a demon in my house? How did it get in?”
Amber blinked and turned to the woman, dumbfounded. “Exactly.”
Quentin wanted to tell Rune to stop spying, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Amber if he tried.
“What are you thinking, boss?” the man asked.
Boss? Amber was his boss?
“Why is there a demon here?” she asked. “Of all places. What lured him?”
Dora gasped softly. “I cheated at dominos the other night, but only because that trollop Harriet Clooney cheats every week. I just thought I’d give her a taste of her own medicine. Do you think that was it?” She pressed both hands to her chest in horror as Quentin rounded a corner in the hall.
Amber fought a grin. She lost. “No, Dora. I don’t think a demon has taken up residence in your house because you cheated at dominos. Unless, you know, the dominos were made from the bones of your enemies.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t think so.”
Amber laughed softly then sobered. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Dora.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Quentin stepped back into the kitchen, using the last of the salt in the jar. His shirt was soaked through, and he could feel blood dripping underneath it. He watched Amber watch him, her expression grim when she looked at his back.
She tore her gaze away and focused on Dora. “Can you think of any connection you might have to the other two victims? No matter how minute. How strange you might think it.”
“Victims?”
“Yes, the other two deaths.”
“Do you mean Billy Tibbets and Angela Morrisey?” She eased off the table. “But those were accidents. Wait. So was mine. Are you saying they were killed by the demon, as well?”
“No!” Amber jumped off, too. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just saying there could be a connection.”
“Ms. Kowalski,” Kyle said as Amber inched closer to the circle, “be careful.”
Dora put her hands over her mouth in horror and tried to step out of it. When she couldn’t, she turned in a panic and started beating the invisible barrier with her fist. “Let me out! I want out!”
“Dora, please.” Amber eased closer, showing her palms but not touching the woman, as though she were approaching a wounded animal. If Amber were anything like Quentin, the woman’s panic would overcome her as well if she touched her. The emotions would transfer. “You have to stay inside.”
Quentin inched closer. The situation could turn volatile in a heartbeat. The demon must’ve figured out that something was up. A blur swooped into the room and frightened the woman. She turned to Amber, her eyes wide with fear, and shoved with all of her energy.
And the elfin queen flew out of the circle and into the teeth of an ancient, angry demon.
Chapter Five
I’m not superstitious.
I’m just a little stitious.
—Meme
The force of Dora’s fear hit Amber square in the chest. The air whooshed out of her lungs. She flew back, clipped one corner of the table, and expected to land hard on the floor head-first. Instead, she tumbled into a net of thick, suffocating blackness. The world tilted and turned as if she’d been caught in a tornado. Then, she was flat on a hard surface, looking up at a ceiling with exposed rafters, fighting to fill her lungs with air.
Quentin was on top of her at once. He pulled her into his arms and covered her body with his, just as the entity attacked. Holding her with one arm, he sucked in a sharp breath and fell to the floor.
“Quentin!” Amber shouted as the darkness shot toward them again.
He reached into his pocket and, first, tossed some of the salt into the air and, second, formed a thin circle around them, pivoting on his feet while holding her in his arms. Once the circle was complete, he took out a locket of some kind and waited.
The salt in the air dissipated the demon, but not for long. It reformed its energy and scurried to a corner, hiding behind a shelving unit to lick its wounds.
“That hurt it,” Amber said, surprised, wondering if she could get black salt and brimstone on Amazon.
Quentin eased his hold, and she slid off his lap and onto the floor, careful to stay in the circle he’d made. But she felt something on her cheek. She touched it and then pulled back her hand. Blood. But not hers.
She looked at Quentin.
He was looking at her, too. He brushed the blood off her cheek with a thumb, then visibly relaxed and asked, “You okay?” He pulled her forward and patted her down, checking for injuries, but the only wounds she saw were on him.
Quentin now had a gash across his cheek—frighteningly close to his left eye—and three slashes on his neck. The skin around it was red and irritated, and blood ran from the gashes into the collar of his shirt.
“Quentin,” she said, not sure what else to say. She lifted her sweater over her head, thankful she’d thrown a tank on underneath, and pressed it to his neck.
He took the opportunity to check her out further in the tiny space.
“I’m okay. It didn’t hurt me.”
They were back in the attic and now stuck in an even more confined area, Quentin on his knees and Amber on her butt with her legs drawn up.
“We have to get out of here.” He signed it but also used his voice, the sound barely above a whisper. It was soft and deep and flowed over her like warm water. Then his gaze locked onto hers, and she wanted the water to rise and drown her.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she pressed her nails into her palms again, trying to draw blood. After a prolonged moment, she tore her gaze away and looked toward the corner the demon had scurried into. She saw nothing but shelves of merchandise and art supplies, but she’d felt it when it grabbed her. Read it. Almost lost herself inside it like she sometimes did with her clients. “It’s angry.”
Quentin followed her line of sight and nodded. “I felt that, too.”
“It’s looking for someone. Waiting for someone. Someone it is very angry with.” When Amber looked back at Quentin, he was staring at her mouth. She knew the feeling.