A Terrible Fall of Angels (Zaniel Havelock #1)(117)

Cookson laughed, but it sounded like he was having trouble clearing some of the blood out of somewhere. “I am beyond priests.” He started to get to his knees.

“Stay on your knees,” I said.

“Hands behind your head,” the uniform said.

“Or what, you’ll shoot me again?”

“You said it hurt, we could just keep shooting you until the priest arrives.”

“I also said that a priest can’t get rid of me, and that was the truth, too, Detective.”

“You’re just a demon using a human body; exorcism is designed to fix that,” I said. I was fishing, trying to figure out what was different about this demon and Mark Cookson.

“You think you’ve saved Shelby, but you haven’t. She can’t hide from me, Detective.”

“You could have had a new life in this body if you had just left Shelby alone,” I said.

“Mark wanted sex with those five women. We did try for willing and seduction, but like dear Shelby they chose force. Willing sex would have saved their lives, but if not that, then he wanted their deaths. Until we finish that part of the bargain, we are not free to have another life,” he said from his knees. He didn’t seem in a hurry to stand up; maybe he was still feeling weak from being shot twice?

“A woman doesn’t force a man to rape her,” I said. “A man refuses to take no for an answer, then forces himself on a woman, that’s the definition of rape.”

“Look at this body, we could have made passionate love to them, but they would not have us. That’s not our fault, that’s their fault.”

My finger caressed the trigger, not pulling it, but God help me, I wanted to. “A woman is allowed to say no to anyone that she doesn’t want to have sex with.”

“It doesn’t work that way in Hell,” he said.

“Enjoy it when you get back there,” I said.

“I won’t be going back.”

“Tell that to your exorcist.”

“I’d rather tell it to you, Havoc. What a lovely name, Havoc. It suits you somehow.”

“You know my name, what’s yours?”

He looked over his shoulder, smiling. “Now, Havoc, that wouldn’t be any fun. If you want to know my name, you’ll have to guess.”

“I won’t play twenty questions with you,” I said.

Cookson sniffed the air like he had earlier. “Shelby is nearby, still within my reach.”

“No, she’s not,” I said.

A shudder ran through Cookson.

“What was that?” Stevens asked.

Another shudder ran through Cookson. “There are a few downsides to this new form,” he said in a voice that almost sounded like he was in pain.

“You feel pain,” I said.

“Demons feel pain, Detective, or what would be the point of torturing us in Hell?”

“But you don’t feel the pain of the human body you possess,” I said.

“Not normally,” the demon said, and shuddered so hard that he fell forward onto all fours.

“Don’t move!” Stevens shouted.

“Sorry,” said Cookson, “a side effect.”

“Are you sick or something?” Stevens asked.

“Or something,” Cookson said, and fell to the floor writhing.

“He’s having a seizure,” Stevens said.

“You said the ambulance was on the way, right?” I said.

“Yeah, but we have to do what we can to keep him from busting his head open.” Stevens holstered his gun and started toward Cookson.

“Stevens, don’t.”

Cookson’s body shuddered and writhed on the carpet. It looked enough like someone having a grand mal seizure that even an emergency room might have been fooled, but it wasn’t right. Seizures of any kind were flagged in possible possession cases, because they’d been mistaken for demonic interference for centuries along with so many things.

“We can’t let him hurt himself like this,” Stevens said.

“He’s a demon wearing a human suit, that’s not a seizure,” I said.

“You can’t know that,” he said, and was careful to kneel without spoiling my aim.

There was fresh blood. I had a second of wondering if Stevens was right. Had Cookson melding with the demon caused seizures? Then I realized the blood was coming from Cookson’s hand—there was no reason for that to bleed.

“Stevens, get away from him!”

Stevens froze in midmotion as he reached out to try to help. I thought he was going to do what I’d told him to do and back away, and then his shoulders hunched forward, and claw tips sprouted out of the back of his body armor. I pulled the trigger, aiming at the center of Cookson’s back, but he rolled in a blur of speed so that I shot into the back of Stevens’s body armor.

“God!” I yelled it and pulled my gun to the side, aiming at the floor so I didn’t shoot Stevens again. I tried to move around so I could shoot Cookson, but he rolled and took Stevens with him, turning the other cop into a shield. The claws through his chest and out his back held him in place. A second set of claws curled around Stevens’s shoulder, pinning him in place so I had no shot. I moved to the side, trying to circle around them and shoot Cookson. There was blood on Stevens’s face, spilling out of his mouth. God help him!