Demon Wolf. Bonnie Vanak
not very forgiving, are you?”
“No.”
“I’d hate to be on your bad side.”
“You would.” His expression darkened. “Good thing you’re not a demon.”
Keira swallowed hard. “Yeah. Sounds like you’ve run up against them. It’s the source of your dark energy.”
“I’m only interested in one.” A hard smile touched his mouth, making him look dangerous. “No matter how long I must wait. I will find her and make her pay for what she did to me.”
The coffee soured in her stomach as she remembered how skillfully he’d wielded the pistol. Keira didn’t relish him discovering her true identity. Holding back her nausea, she pointed to the mess on the floor. “If you’ll show me where I’m sleeping and then where your cleaning supplies are, I’ll get started on my first assignment.”
He gently clasped her injured hand. “After I clean your wounds. Those are some nasty cuts.”
“I can do it.”
“I told you, I always take care of my own.”
She was almost afraid to ask. “And those you consider your enemies? You take care of them, as well?”
Dale gave a slow smile. “The same way I did to the imp.”
Keira didn’t look at the splattered remains on the floor as they left his study.
* * *
After Dale left, Keira brought the saddlebags containing her possessions inside and set them on the floor. Then she sat on the bed of her new room, stroking the ecru duvet.
A real bed, with feather pillows instead of a thin blanket on the cold concrete floor. A brass reading lamp with a comfortable chair by a window that overlooked the wide backyard instead of a windowless basement. Her own bathroom, not a foul bucket in the corner.
Freedom, for the first time in years, not fearing that at any moment the demons would yank her back to captivity and imprison her once more.
Oh, how she longed to sit in the chair, crack open one of the books on his shelves and read. But she had a job to do.
Keira unpacked her kit and set about cleansing the house the way a regular housekeeper would not.
First, his office. Two wide computer screens took up most of a desk. Papers that had been neatly stacked and organized were scattered about the surface.
A map of the world was mounted to one wall, with several colored pushpins inserted into various countries.
She cleansed the remains of the dead imp and burned them in the stone hearth fireplace. Blood called to blood, and even imp blood attracted dark forces.
Keira then took a small box, opened it and arranged the crystals around Dale’s office in a pattern. Then she closed her eyes and began the sacred chant. The crystals began to vibrate and hum, the music of elemental energy creating a harmonic vibration.
White light suffused the room, ribbons of light beaming out from each of the four crystals. Soothing and melodious, the light singing its own song of purity, drawing out the negative forces.
A dark cloud arose from the corner near Dale’s computer. Ribbons of white light attacked the cloud, overcoming it, and the darkness evaporated. Keira watched, her chest tight. She lowered her hands. Why could she cleanse rooms and people and not herself?
Because of the demon blood inside me, she reminded herself. Until the Centurions were permanently vanquished to the netherworld, part of her would always remain in darkness. Lately it got more difficult to regain her inner light. Each time the demons returned her to captivity, her inner light shrank. Eventually it would go out all together, leaving her in the abyss.
Each time the Centurions allowed her freedom, Keira used the time to refresh herself with positive energy, using elements from the earth and her crystals. White light held the demons’ darkness at bay for a little while, until the Centurions forced her wolf to torture a new victim.
Refreshed, she set about cleansing the other rooms, until reaching Dale’s bedroom.
Keira hesitated at the door. She drew in a deep breath and stepped into the room, feeling the despondency and grief. The master bedroom had an attached bath. Large, with a glassed-in shower and a Roman tub big enough to fit four, it was sleek tile and slick chrome.
The darkness of horrible pain slammed into her temples.
Holding a hand to her head, she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. Lined in a neat row were several prescription-pill bottles. All of them recently issued, most for pain, some for sleeping.
The bottles held a layer of dust.
Dale Curtis had not touched a single pill. Instead, he’d suffered.
Keira cleansed both rooms, feeling the light chase away the thick layers of suffering. With a much lighter spirit, she started on her housekeeping duties.
She worked steadily, leaving the basement for last. It still needed cleansing with her crystals, as well. Dread curled in her stomach as she finally gathered her courage and climbed down the stairs, clutching her most powerful crystal. Sweat dripped down her temples and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, the dust rag gripped in her fist.
You can do this, you can do this....
The basement ran the length of the house and was enormous, divided into two sections. The smaller section was unfinished, with a utility room, wood workbench and neatly arranged tools, the furnace and storage cubicles.
This section was separated by a wall with a solid door. She opened the door and went into the larger section. It was a comfortable living room covered with beige carpeting, a small, tiled kitchen with shining stainless-steel appliances, a dining table and chairs and a sectional sofa set before a flat-screen television mounted above a fireplace. Next to the stairs were eight bunk beds. She opened a door and found a bathroom with a tiled shower.
A shiver snaked down her spine as she gazed around the room. Another door was near the bunk beds. She opened it and found a small, windowless room with a narrow bed. No light switch. Nothing to chase away the darkness...
A sly, rollicking laugh echoed in her mind. You will never escape us....
Whimpering, Keira slammed the door and leaned against it, the crystal in her left fist squeezed tight. She raced up the stairs.
Maybe she’d tackle that room tomorrow.
* * *
Dale arrived home after seven. When he walked into the kitchen, Keira noticed the shadows beneath his gray eyes were pronounced and dark.
He flipped the light switch, flooding the room with overhead lighting. The man was thin and haggard, and looking worse each day. If he didn’t regain strength soon, he’d lose the fight to darkness. Keira glanced up from the pot of stew she stirred on the stove. He brightened as he sniffed the air.
“Smells great, but you don’t have to cook. I usually grab a sandwich at the commissary.”
“I like cooking and making new dishes.”
And you need more than sandwiches to get your health back.
He eyed the dining-room table, set with the china she’d found in the elegant cabinet. “I just eat in the kitchen.”
“This is nicer, though, don’t you think?” He had such nice things. Keira wanted to relish and experience every good thing she could while she was free.
He sighed deeply, as if something hurt him. “It’s been a long time since I sat down at a dining-room table.”
Dale looked down at his uniform. “You went to a lot of trouble. Mind if I change first?”
“The stew will keep warm. Unless you decide on a hot bubble bath.”
“I