Even if someone was testing the wards. Someone I hoped was a bunny or a chipmunk or a squirrel.
“That’s Joe Brunswick,” Clay said from beside me. “Sonofa—” he made a fist, “—biscuit.”
Three more bodies dressed in expensive suits shambled toward us, classic zombies, drawn by the first agent’s moaning. This must be the rest of his team. Or maybe Asa and I smelled like fresh meat. Fresh brains? I wasn’t clear if that part was lore. Also? I did not want to find out. Firsthand or ever.
Glass shattered in the direction of the cabin, and I crossed my fingers they didn’t reach the loft and trash Colby’s custom gear. Tiny tech carried huge price tags. As for the poor cabin, well, its repairs fell to Black Hat and the homeowner’s insurance company. Maybe the owners would believe bears were at fault?
“Can you handle these shamblers?” I watched them another second. “I’ll take the daemon with me.”
Eyebrow cocked, he quizzed me. “You mean Ace?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I was more and more convinced they were separate entities sharing one body, like shifters and their animal souls, but now wasn’t the time to have a semi-theological debate. “Let’s go, buddy.”
The daemon fell into an easy lope, aiming for the action, and I struggled to keep pace with him.
His lengthy strides would leave me in the dust before long. No doubt, that was part of his plan.
Ditch me, secure the residence, then allow me to walk in over dead intruders while he puffed his chest.
Asa did a fair job of letting me do my thing. Even though I was figuring out how much of my thing I could do in my present circumstances. Especially when my power shot through the roof when I tapped Colby through our familiar bond. If I wanted to survive this consultation gig, I had to get a handle on my base power level and my supercharged magical threshold. Otherwise, one day, I might get us all killed.
Since I couldn’t outrun him, I had to get sneaky. I let him pull ahead, let him feel good about himself, let him hear me huffing with feigned exhaustion. Then I cut hard to the right, away from the chaos that beckoned to him, a smile on my lips as he sprinted on toward the zombies. Me? I hit the front door, found it unlocked, and entered the rental with my wand at the ready.
A silver blur caught the edge of my vision, faster and sleeker than the zombies out front.
No heartbeats in the house.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t alive, and it was made better than even the zombigo to move like that.
“I hear you’re looking to borrow a book,” I called to it. “Swear not to dog-ear the pages?”
A serpentine hiss poured from the darkest corner. Not the most promising response.
“The Proctor Family Grimoire.”
Head cocked, I couldn’t decide if it had spoken or if the voice had projected from that vicinity by design. The old look at my left hand while my right punches through your chest and rips out your heart trick was a true classic. Very popular with the dark magic set.
“I’ll have to check my shelves.” I pushed to see what answers I could get. “Why do you want it?”
The sibilant warning drifted to my left, but I hadn’t seen the creature budge. Its master was throwing their voice to trick me into thinking I was surrounded by creatures.
“Give me the book, or I will kill the people in your town, one by one, until you concede victory to me.”
Not in town or in this town but inyour town.
It meant Samford.
My town.
My home.
My people.
“Threats are not the way to get what you want from me.”
A boom shook the house, and more glass exploded as the daemon fell through a skylight to the floor. He held a severed arm in one hand and a leg bone in the other. As the creature shot out to attack, the daemon used the limbs as clubs to batter it away from him.
“Rue mine” was his battle cry, which was equal parts cute and cringy.