A Darker Past (The Darker Agency #2)(67)

I pivoted and lunged forward, but I was a fraction of a second too late. She grabbed him by the throat and spun him toward the opposite cave wall, pinning him there. With his feet about a foot off the ground, he clawed and thrashed, trying to free himself from her grasp. It wouldn’t work. He might be turning into a demon, but in here he was only human. And so was I.

Good thing I came prepared.

The demon let out a scream, face contorting to reveal it’s true self. Putrid green skin and sunken, milky-white eyes. It was taller than it had appeared in its Mom-skin, standing over seven feet tall with broad shoulders and long, thick arms. It was impossible to tell its height for sure, though, because it was hunched over Lukas, foul yellow slime dripping from between its teeth. I didn’t recognize the breed, so I didn’t know exactly what would take it down, which didn’t matter much since Mom had the bag with the weapons. What I did have was my trusty fairy dust.

I yanked the vial of quartz powder from my pocket and dived forward, flicking it into her face. She released Lukas, and he fell to the ground, coughing and sputtering for air. The demon growled, and the air around it shimmered. I blinked. Just once. And suddenly it was Mom again, only this time, the normal version.

It laughed and spread its arms wide. With a little jiggle of its hips, it said, “You can’t kill this form.”

“I think you’re underestimating the fact that I’m a teenager. I know you’re not my mom. If I hurt you, she’s not going to feel a thing. At one point or another, every kid wants to punch a parent in the head. You’re doing me a solid.”

She had a fraction of a second to be surprised before I pounced. Quartz tossed in her face, I flicked my lighter and let it fall. There was a spark, and a moment of triumph rippled through me, but it was short lived. The demon yelled, definitely in pain, but not lighting up like the Fourth of July like it should have.

It stomped out the flame, skin smoking and blistered. Half of Mom’s blond hair had been singed off, along with the entire left arm of her shirt. The smell of burned hair and flesh permeated the cave, and I choked back a series of gags. It was right up there on my list of ick with the stench of burned popcorn.

Behind her, Lukas got to his feet. With a nod in my direction, he dropped to the ground and while I watched, did a fancy pivot and twist and swept the demon’s legs. It went down hard, as surprised by the attack as I was. He was on it in an instant.

Without taking his eyes from the thing, he thrust his arm in my direction. “What’s next?”

I went to hand him my Bane Talisman—a simple wooden symbol carved from the trunk of a three-hundred-year-old Brazilian Pine tree that I’d slipped around my neck before we’d left the house—but he didn’t get it.

The demon bucked beneath him, and his hand hit mine, sending the talisman flying somewhere to the left, into the darkness. Lukas toppled sideways, and the demon was on its feet in front of me. “Turn back now.”

Other than the quartz, which did as much as a tickle attack, I had no physical weapons. But that didn’t mean I was helpless. Mom told me on more than one occasion my mouth was going to get me in trouble one of these days. I was hoping today was that day. “Or what? You can’t kill me, right? I mean, that’s what you said earlier.” I spread my arms, heart hammering like a drum solo behind my ribs. “Hit me. I dare ya.”

The demon roared. Its attention was on me, which was good, because behind it, Lukas had pulled a knife from his boot.

“What? Nothing?” I taunted.

The demon’s arm twitched. Ironically, demons were known for their self-control. They didn’t go around inciting random chaos or ripping people to shreds just for the hell of it. They always had a plan. But they did have notoriously short tempers. Tempers that kind of got away from them sometimes when provoked.

“Must suck to have someone pulling your strings. Telling you who you can kill and where you can go,” I continued.

Another twitch. The illusion making it look like a charred version of Mom flickered, and a slightly extended moment of clarity made me cringe.

The thing screamed. The sound chased a chill up my spine. Not because it was intimidating, but because it was Mom’s voice the thing used. Lukas chose that moment to dive forward. He buried the blade to the hilt, the tip breaking through the front at the base of Mom’s neck. It wasn’t her, but it still turned my stomach to see it writhe in pain, choking on its own blood before falling to the floor, still and silent.

“You okay?” he asked, jerking the blade from the back of the demon’s neck. A wet suction-like sound echoed in the small space. A moment later, the illusion dropped, and it was back to the scaly green-skinned thing that it was in life.

“I’m good,” I replied. “You?”

“I am,” he said with a nod. “And us?” He was referring to the not-so-subtle hints the demon kept dropping.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t like secrets.”

“I don’t either,” he said.

“But you have them.”

He frowned. “Everyone has them, Jessie. But these are not mine to share.”

If they weren’t his, then that could only mean that Dad wasn’t telling us something. That bothered me, probably much more than it should. I thought about it for a second before reaching for his hand. “I don’t like it. I understand it. But I don’t like it.”