Ruined (The Eternal Balance #1)(62)

I’d been standing by the railing on the second floor for almost two hours now. I was beginning to give up hope when the cell rang. If not for the demon, I never would have heard it above the nose in the club. I reached into my pocket and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Jax, I think I got him.”

I held my free hand up to drown out some of the noise. “Chase? What do you mean?”

“The bastard that hurt Samantha. I think it’s a demon going by the name of Hank Sutton. He’s the TA from her history class.”

“What makes you think he’s our guy?”

“He was seen with a girl who went missing a month earlier. Several people also saw him leave the party right behind Sam. He’s a regular at the Viking. He’s actually—”

“Going to be there tonight,” I said. “We know. We’re there now. Sam’s working and I’m keeping watch. Anything else?”

“I can text you a picture of the guy. That help?”

“Do it.” I hung up without another word as the music changed from techno dance to a hypnotic rhythm that had couples swarming the dance floor below. A moment later, the phone beeped. Chase’s text. On the small screen was a picture of a tall, lanky guy with wild, curly hair and an eerie grin. Fucking great. We were looking for a dorkier, demonic version of Carrot Top.

I scanned the room. Sam was on the other side flashing a flirty smile to a couple of college boys. It was still early, but the club was full of life and the bar crowded. There was no sign of Sutton. What was I supposed to do with the demon if he showed up? Wrestle him out to the car and lock him in the trunk? Someone would call the cops, and with my reputation, I wouldn’t be given a chance to explain—not that I could come up with a reasonable explanation for stuffing someone in a trunk. Not reasonable to the rest of the world, anyway.

Song after song, the dance floor hummed with electricity as bodies thrashed to the music. I watched the crowd, searching for anyone resembling Sutton, but there was no one. I pinched the bridge of my nose. There was too much crap in the air and it was giving me a headache. Perfume, alcohol, and emotion—thanks to Azirak, everything spun in a sickly swirl. Giving up on the balcony, I made my way to the stairs and across the room to the bar.

“Hey stranger. What’ll it be?” Sam said with a grin. She leaned forward, bending low enough to give me an unintentional view down her shirt. My pulse quickened and I had to force myself to stay in place instead of moving forward to meet her. “Chase called a little while ago. Says he thinks the demon’s name is Hank Sutton. Sound familiar?”

“Oh my God. Seriously? He was the TA at Huntington. Is he positive? Hank seemed so…normal.”

“He’s pretty sure. Is there anything you can tell me about him? Anything that might help pick him out in a crowd? Chase sent a picture but…” But Sam wasn’t listening anymore. She was staring over my shoulder, at the bar. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s him. Hank. He’s here.”





Chapter Twenty-Eight




Sam

Jax flew across the room before I could stop him. Hank, who was chatting up a leggy brunette in a red leather miniskirt by the door, must have caught wind of him. The demon froze midsentence, looked up, and bolted into the crowd just as Jax hit the dance floor.

“Shit,” I spat. The bottle of gin slipped from my hand and rattled to the bar. I ducked out from behind the counter and sprinted after them. By the time I reached the other side of the room, both men had been swallowed by the crowd.

I started across the dance floor, knocking into people with each step. Angry shouts and colorful words came from every direction as I plowed through the center, but as I reached the edge of the crowd, it all started to blur. Like I’d just stepped off a merry-go-round set on superspeed, colors swirled together, people on the dance floor becoming a single, shapeless blob. I reached out and caught hold of something—someone—as a vicious wave of vertigo washed through the room.

“He’ll never catch me,” the same voice I’d heard at Sadie’s cooed inside my head, followed by a dark laugh.

“No,” I whispered, continuing forward. I hadn’t had anything to drink. I hadn’t been to sleep.

“Come to me,” the demon demanded. “Walk right out the front door.”

Turn around and walk back to the bar. That’s what I needed to do. What I wanted to do. But my limbs had other ideas. The command was like an industrial-size rubber band snapping against my will. One foot in front of the other, I wove through the rest of the crowd and approached the door, every step a war between my mind and body.

The cold night air stung my skin and the sounds of the club faded as I stepped onto the sidewalk. After a few moments, the only thing that was left was the sound my shoes made as they pounded the walkway. Clop. Clop. Clop.

“Sam?”

Thank God. Jax. Jax was here. He could stop me. Footsteps sped up behind, my pace never slowing. No. Not Jax. Way too noisy.

“Sam! It’s me.”

“Chase! Hurry,” I called over my shoulder. “I can’t stop.”

He caught up and jumped into my path. I simply stepped around and kept walking. “What’s wrong? Where are you going? And where’s Jax?”

“He took off after Hank, but I think something’s wrong. He’s in my head. Forcing me to—”