Secrets of the Demon

The mayor sat frozen, staring at Crawford’s phone, then he swallowed harshly. He looked as if he was about to speak, but I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

“Mayor Fussell, it’s been a pleasure talking to you,” I said with too-loud cheerfulness. “I’ll be sure to take everything you said into consideration.” I caught Crawford’s eye and jerked my head toward the door. He turned and headed out, with me right behind him.

Somehow I managed to not turn and flip the mayor off on my way out.

I turned my own recorder off in the elevator, then let out a shaking breath. “Holy shit, am I ever glad you’re my sergeant.”

He let out a dry laugh as we reached the ground floor and stepped out. “Glad to know I’m appreciated.” Then he shook his head. “Though, I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect it to go that far. I’m glad we decided to use both phones. Between the two we should have enough recorded to cover our asses.”

I fell silent as we crossed the street and headed to the station. “Do you intend to press charges of public intimidation on him?” I asked after a moment. Threatening a police officer’s job was a criminal offense in Louisiana, whether you had the power and influence to do anything about it or not.

“No. Not at this time, at least,” he replied. “But you should do what you feel is right for you.”

I shook my head. “He’s an asshole, but he’s under pressure from Moran or someone else. I have the recording, which will keep him from coming up with some bullshit to fire us over.” I flicked a glance at Crawford. “But did you notice that he never asked who had been murdered?”

He blinked, then gave me an approving smile. “You’re right, he didn’t. Good catch.”

“He’s getting pressure, which means I’m doing something right.” Sure wished I knew what it was.

We reached the front door of the station, but Crawford paused before opening it, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Kara, I gotta ask. Is there a single official in this city who you haven’t killed, arrested, or pissed off?”

I burst out laughing. “Give me time. I’ll get to them all, I’m sure!”

Chapter 17

I stayed at the station only long enough to grab the printouts from my earlier Google searches, then took off. I still had an hour before I was supposed to meet Ryan at Adam Taylor’s studio, but I needed to get away from people for a little while. Even though the situation with the mayor had been salvaged without the loss of my job, the whole fact that the incident had occurred in the first place still roiled my gut. I’d met the mayor a few times before, and even though he was known to be a hard-ass and a bit of a jerk, I figured he had to be getting some serious pressure to resort to outright threats. So what was Ben Moran’s deal? What was his stake in all of this? Maybe I was being overly cynical, but I had a difficult time believing he was driven purely by concern for his niece’s welfare.

I drove without any solid idea of where I wanted to go, though after a few minutes I found myself heading for the east end of the lake and Leland Park. The park occupied nearly a mile of the lakefront—a sprawling combination of sports fields, basketball and tennis courts, playgrounds, and picnic areas. It was late enough that school had been out for a couple of hours, and the ball fields were busy with youth football teams engaged in practice scrimmages. I parked near the boat launch and then got out of my car and sat on the hood, letting the warmth of the engine make up for the faint touch of chill in the air. This was the time of year that tricked people into moving to this area. In fall and spring the weather could almost rival southern California’s. The winters were mild, with natives complaining any time the temps dipped below thirty, and I could count on one hand the times I’d seen snow here.

Today was one of those days, I decided as I leaned back on my elbows and listened to the distant shrieks of the kids in the playground. For most of the year the weather here was ideal. It was the summers that were nothing short of brutal. But if I moved north, then I’d have to endure winters, I reasoned with myself. Not that I could see myself ever moving.

The sound of a whistle pulled my attention to the football fields. The kids practicing on the field closest to me couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, wearing huge pads that seemed to swallow them. Parents were scattered along the bleachers. A few were actively watching and cheering, but most seemed to be occupied with books or intent on their cell phones.

Will that ever be me? I frowned at the unexpected thought. I’d certainly wondered before about my chances of finding someone to settle down and have children with. And I’d always dismissed the idea as impractical and most likely impossible. How could I marry someone unless they knew about the demon summoning?

Except that now I had a number of friends who knew ... and were still my friends. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that I could meet someone worth settling down with who could handle it. And I was still young. I wasn’t even thirty yet. Heck, I knew women who’d had their first kid when they were in their forties.

“Kara? What are you doing here?” A voice jerked me out of my reverie.

I turned to see my aunt standing beside my car, her head cocked in question. “Just chillin’,” I said, strangely pleased to see her. “I had a crazy day at work and wanted to take in some fresh air. What are you doing here?” To my surprise she was dressed almost normally, in jeans, cowboy boots, and a T-shirt advertising something called Fruity Oaty Bars.

“Carl’s nephew plays youth football.” She gestured toward a field past the one I’d been watching where preteen kids were running drills. “Carl takes him to practice so that the boy’s dad doesn’t have to leave work early.”

“Carl has relatives?” I blurted without thinking. Then I winced. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

But Tessa let out a peal of laughter. “No, I totally understand. Actually, the nephew isn’t really his nephew, at least not biologically. Carl grew up in foster homes, and this is the kid of one of his foster brothers.”

My curiosity surged, but before I could say anything Tessa shook her head. “I don’t know much more about him, sweets. He doesn’t like to talk about his childhood.” Her expression dimmed. “I get the impression it wasn’t pleasant.”

I forced back my questions and merely nodded. I’d only spent a couple of months in a foster home after my dad had died and before Tessa had been able to return from Japan. That had been more than enough.

Tessa hitched herself up onto the hood beside me. I shifted to make room. “The last time I was out here was for a crime scene,” I said.

“Was that one of the Symbol Man victims?”

I nodded. “That baseball field way over there.” I pointed in the general direction. It was empty of players right now. Wrong season for it, I guessed. “It’s kinda neat coming out here when it’s busy, though. Holy crap, but there’re a lot of kids in this city!”

Tessa chuckled. “Scary, isn’t it!”

I smiled. “I don’t deal with kids very often. I think sometimes I forget they exist.” I paused. “Y’know I was just thinking about kids. I mean, me having them someday.”

She gave me a look filled with shock and horror. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!” I said quickly. “Holy shit, no. I was just thinking about ... someday.”

She relaxed, and I suddenly realized that the intensity of her reaction was most likely due to her fear that I could be pregnant with Rhyzkahl’s baby. Holy Yikes. Would that even be possible? “Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “I’m still on the Pill.” Even though my social life had always been heartily pathetic, I was prepared and cautious when it came to any thoughts of children. I’d been on the Pill since I was sixteen, at my aunt’s encouragement. Okay, insistence was probably the better word, though considering the hash I’d made of my teen years I couldn’t fault her for it. And even though it had been many years before I’d had my first sexual experience, I still appreciated the frank—and sometimes brutal—talking-to she’d given me about sex and the consequences of unplanned pregnancy.

Tessa patted my hand. “Good to know, sweets. Pregnancy is hard enough with a partner at your side, but going through it on your own is a tough haul that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” She straightened and pushed off the hood of the car. “Looks like the practice is finishing up. I’d better go find Carl.” And with that she trotted off without another word.

I stared after her, her last words tumbling around in my head like rocks in a dryer. If I hadn’t know better, I’d have sworn that Tessa was speaking from personal experience.

Chapter 18

Leaving the park, I allowed my thoughts to explore the implications of what Tessa had said. I’m leaping to insane conclusions, I told myself. But ... were they really all that insane? Tessa had left Beaulac when she was nineteen and had only returned when she’d been asked to become my guardian. That was eleven years. It was more than plausible that Tessa might have had a child during that time.

And in all the time since then, she’s never spoken of it. Which either meant there was no baby and I was letting my imagination run wild, or that it was obviously a painful and/or touchy subject, and if she’d wanted me to know about it, she would have told me.

And, if nothing else, Tessa had managed to completely take my mind off of my other stress for a while.

My phone dinged with a text message as I drove, and at the next red light I clicked it to see a text from Roger telling me that the Lake Pearl Bank would have everything ready for me in the morning.

Nice to see at least one thing going right.

Then I gave myself a mental smack. Watch it, Kara. You’re going to jinx yourself again.

Sound System Studio was situated near the middle of town, in the “gray” area between the well-maintained downtown and the shoddier older sections that had been allowed to fall into disrepair. The studio was housed in a two-story windowless metal building—the kind of prefab construction that can go up in a few weeks and was usually picked as an “after” shot during storm season when a tornado turned it into a freeform sculpture of twisted aluminum. A bright blue sign hung over the door with the name of the studio painted across it in a swirling font, though I noticed that there were a number of pitted marks in the sign, as if someone had been throwing rocks at it. Not too surprising considering the neighborhood. Probably a good thing there were no windows. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">