Those Who Fight Monsters: Tales of Occult Detectives

The Demon You Know… A Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Story by Julie Kenner

Kate

My name is Kate Connor, and I’m a suburban mom with a husband, a teenager, and a toddler. I’m also a demon hunter. And no, I don’t mean that metaphorically. I really do hunt demons from Hell, although I thankfully don’t have to go to Hell to do that. Instead, the demons come to me, and more often than I’d like, actually.

Demons, you might know, walk among us all the time. The air is, literally, filled with demonic essence living in the ether, a little fact that, frankly, can creep you out if you think about it too long. What’s even creepier is that a demon’s essence can also inhabit the body of a human. Sometimes the demon possesses the human, in which case you have a whole spinning-head, Linda Blair thing going on. That’s not my area; for that, you call a priest.

More often (because what demon wants to walk around looking like the thing in The Exorcist?), a demon will move into a body at the moment of death, just as the human’s soul is leaving. You’ve heard of those situations where someone is thought to be dead — a fall, a drowning — but then the victim is “miraculously” brought back to life. Most of the time, that’s no miracle. It’s a demon. And one who brings with it strength beyond which the human had in life, and a body that’s pretty dang hard to kill. You want to off a demon, you have to stab it in the eye. Not as easy as it sounds, trust me on that, but pretty much any jab that punctures the sclera and reaches the vitreous humor will do. I’ve used knives, ice picks, barrettes and even Happy Meal toys.

Manage to inflict that injury, and the demonic essence is sucked right back out into the ether.

Of course, demons can’t pop into any old body. The souls of the faithful fight, and the window of opportunity passes pretty quickly. So it’s not as if the world is overrun with demons walking around in human shells. But there are enough to keep me busy, and my fellow demon hunters, too. I work for Forza Scura, a super-secret arm of the Vatican, although I have to confess I haven’t kept the secret quite as hush-hush as I should. My husband knows. My fourteen-year-old daughter Allie knows. My best friend Laura knows.

And it’s quite possible my toddler knows, too, but he isn’t saying.

Not that I’m completely incapable of keeping a secret. I haven’t told the postman or the guy who runs the 7-11 on the corner. And although I know my martial arts instructor is curious about why a thirty-something mother of two can best him on the mat, so far I haven’t succumbed to a whim and told him. Why? Because I am, more or less, capable of controlling my whims. Because I don’t fly off the handle and do stupid things simply because my friends (or husband, or kids) want me to.

Responsibility.

Now there’s a buzzword. And ‘prudence’. And ‘common sense.’

All qualities that a demon hunter needs to possess. Especially prudence. And clear, level-headed thinking. The ability to act fast in a crisis and not jump into a situation without first doing at least a basic assessment. All those are tools in a Hunter’s toolbox, and as much as certain fourteen-year-olds might wish it were so, that particular skill set isn’t acquired overnight. Which is why my particular fourteen-year-old, despite making serious strides on the knife-throwing and ass-kicking side of the equation, isn’t yet going on regular patrols with her designated trainer. Namely, me.

A fact that has definitely raised the Teenage Sulk and Whine Meter in our house to Def Con One. And which, in a lovely bit of circular logic, completely justifies my refusal. Because if she was being clear-headed and prudent, she’d know that I was right — and there would be no whining, no angst, no moping about. Of course, when I tried that bit of logic on her, I was immediately assaulted with her standard reply of Mother, in a tone meant to express all sorts of unpleasant things, none of which it’s prudent to say outright to your mom.

So maybe she’s learned a little prudence after all…

I hoped so. Because right then she was in a situation that required the utmost common sense and prudence. And, possibly, a few ass-kicking skills, too.

Right then, my daughter Allie was on a date, or what I considered a date, although Allie swore it was nothing more than a group of friends going to the movies.

The entire lot had piled into my minivan earlier, and I’d driven them to the mall, the plan being to meet some other friends for dinner and a movie before the girls headed off to a sleepover, where another mom would get to deal with a gaggle of hormonally charged girls. The boys, presumably, would go home frustrated.

I remembered the way Jeremy’s fingers had grazed Allie’s back as they’d walked toward the mall entrance, the way Allie had smiled up at him, her lips soft and shiny from liberal applications of lip gloss (probably to make up for the fact that I’d refused to allow any other make-up).

She could call it a friendly movie outing all she wanted to, but I knew it was a date. My childhood might have been atypical, what with growing up in the Forza dorms and spending my Friday nights chasing preternatural vermin through the catacombs of Rome, but I was still a girl, and I’d been around the block more than once.

There are a lot of things that make moms nervous. The first time you leave your baby with a sitter. The first day of kindergarten. And, of course, the first time your daughter battles a demon right in her own backyard.

All those pale in comparison to an unchaperoned date, even one that technically isn’t a date.

I took a sip of coffee and sighed. For the first time in ages I had the house to myself. My daughter was on a date. My husband had taken our toddler to see his parents. But I couldn’t even enjoy the solitude.

Instead, all I could think as I sat in my kitchen, trying hard not to think at all, was that I hoped those talks about prudence and responsibility had gotten through my daughter’s thick skull.

Allie

“This is stupid,” I shouted, trying to be heard over the music that filled the room and the bass beat that shook the floor. I held tight to the punch that Jeremy had brought me before sliding back into the throng of Coronado High students that filled the huge mansion’s foyer. “We’re going to get into so much trouble!”

“It’s just a party, Al,” Mindy said, leaning close so she didn’t have to yell as loud. “It’s not like we’re doing anything bad.” She said “bad” in the kind of voice that suggested backseats and kissing and the kind of stuff I’d never done before. And, honestly, didn’t want to do yet, even though I could talk a good game in the girls’ locker room. It wasn’t like I was a prude or anything, but I wasn’t sure I wanted that kind of hormonal rush yet. Besides, I didn’t have the best of luck with boys. The first time I went out with a guy, he turned out to be a demon. The second time he was only a minion, but from my perspective, that was just as bad. Maybe worse. So pardon me if in my almost fifteen years of wisdom, I’m now thinking that maybe I should have my knife-fighting skills honed before I get in the backseat with a boy.

Not that I can explain any of that to Mindy. She doesn’t know my mom’s secret. And she sure doesn’t know that I’m training to be a demon hunter, too.

I took a sip of my punch and almost spit it out. Whatever it had been spiked with tasted nasty. Not that the taste was slowing Mindy down.

“My mom would ground me for a year if she knew I was here, and you know your mom would, too.”

She lifted a shoulder. “So?”

I love Mindy, don’t get me wrong, but she’s been kind of a pain lately. Her parents are getting divorced, so Mom says I’m supposed to be patient with her. But I wasn’t entirely sure that meant that I was supposed to let her drag me to forbidden parties.

“You’re not going to have fun if you don’t relax a little,” Mindy said. “Honestly, Allie. It’s not like we’re picking up guys on the beach or hitchhiking on the Coast Highway. It’s a party. And everybody we know is here.”

I took another sip of my drink, felt my head do a spinning thing, and saw Jeremy smiling at me from across the room. I wasn’t sure I entirely agreed with Mindy’s assessment, but I had to admit that at the moment the perks were pretty good. Party. Friends. A boy who liked me. And, yeah, I know I had the whole justification thing going about so not needing a boyfriend, and so not wanting to deal with the stress of kisses and bodies and all that hormonal stuff, but at the same time, it’s not like I could just flip a switch and not be fourteen anymore. I was a hormonal mess. I knew it, because not only did my mom spend half her life saying so, but also because I got the only A on our health quiz this semester. Trust me. All fourteen year olds are hormonal messes.

Jeremy made a beeline for me, his smile just shy enough to make my stomach do flip-flops. “Did you miss me?” he said. Like Mindy, he had to lean in close, and his breath tickled my ear. I caught Mindy’s eye as Carson drew her away toward the makeshift dance floor. She wasn’t saying anything, but was making embarrassing “go for it” expressions — embarrassing enough to make me think that already she’d hit the punch bowl once too often.

Right as I was thinking that I needed to cut my best friend off, she stumbled over her own feet, a sure sign she was trashed. Instinctively, I took a step forward, but stopped right away, because someone caught her — and he wasn’t Carson. Instead, he was an absolutely dreamy guy who couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. The kind of guy you see in magazines advertising deodorant soap, the idea being that if you don’t stink, you can land a guy like that.

“Marlin Wheatley,” Jeremy said, leaning close.

I didn’t turn around. How could I, since that would mean I had to stop staring?

“No way is he in his twenties,” I whispered, remembering what I’d been told about our host. “He’s got to still be in high school.”

Jeremy moved slightly, and I imagined he was shrugging. “Dunno. Guess he’s just one of those guys.”

I guessed so. One of those gorgeous, model-perfect, Greek- God-on-a-mountaintop kind of guys with a fabulous mansion overlooking the ocean, who throws awesome parties with cutting-edge music and tables and tables topped with amazing food and mindblowing drinks. Yeah. One of those guys.

Now, that guy was holding Mindy tight while she regained her balance. But he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was looking right at me. There was something so familiar about his eyes. If I wanted to, I really thought I could float away in them.

Except part of me didn’t want to. Part of me thought that would be a very bad idea. There was something about him … something deep in his eyes…

“Allie!”

I started, the movement breaking eye contact. I’d been thinking something … worrying about something, and I glanced back at Mindy, but she was upright and holding hands with Carson and everything seemed hunky-dory.

I turned to Jeremy, confused.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I…”

“You got this look. All worried and … I don’t know.” His brow furrowed. “You don’t want to leave, do you?”

That knocked me back to reality. “I thought about it,” I admitted. “My mom wouldn’t exactly approve.”

As far as Mom knew, the plan had been a movie followed by a sleepover at Parker’s house. (Parker is a girl, so that’s not as risqué as it sounds.) The boys, of course, were not invited to that part of the evening.

“Forget this crap,” Carson had said once we were safe inside the mall. “Tonight’s Marlin Wheatley’s party.”

“Who?” I’d asked, and they’d all looked at me like I was from Mars. Turns out, Wheatley’s some rich twenty-something computer bazillionaire who’d moved to the area a few months ago and has been talking up this party for ages.

“Why?”

Jeremy and Parker had looked at each other and shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess he wants to make sure people come.”

“But why throw it in the first place?”

“He’s a college drop-out geek. This is probably his way of meeting girls. Who cares, anyway? It’s a party.”

I probably could have said something, but I didn’t, and after about thirty minutes, we pulled up in front of the biggest house I’d ever seen. I had no idea where we were, other than that we were on one of the cliffs overlooking the Pacific in a mega-ritzy neighborhood I’d never seen before. Walking to the front door, I could smell the ocean, and the lights of the house seemed magical against the black night sky.

At that one moment, I had absolutely no hesitation about blowing off the movie and sneaking off to a party.

Inside, when I’d smelled the alcohol in the punch and saw the guy I share a lab table with in biology barf into a potted plant, the second thoughts set in.

Still, there was nothing inherently bad about a barfing lab partner, right? Just because he drank too much didn’t mean I would. And I couldn’t deny the biggest, most glaring fact of all — I really liked the way Jeremy was looking at me. If I was a widdle girl who made a phone call to her mommy, would he ever look at me that way again?

“Earth to Allie,” he said. “Come on. Don’t do that to me. Tell me you don’t want to leave.”

“No,” I said, not realizing until that moment that I was certain. “I don’t want to leave.”

He pressed his hands over his heart and pretended to swoon. “Saved,” he said. “I was expecting a mortal blow.”

I laughed, and thought that felt pretty darn nice.

Mom might not think I was ready to make decisions in the field, but we weren’t talking demons here. This was a party. And just because she was a demon hunter didn’t mean she could go in and hijack all of my decisions from me. I was fourteen years old! I was supposed to be going to parties with friends. I’m pretty sure that’s in the rule book somewhere.

“I’m staying,” I said again, just because I liked the way it sounded. Then I smiled up at Jeremy. “In fact, I think I want more punch.”

“You’re Allie, right?”

I dropped the dipper back into the bowl, splattering the pink liquid onto my shirt, as I looked up to find Marlin smiling at me from the kitchen doorway.

“Sorry,” he said silkily. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, you…” I trailed off because, hey, he had startled me. What was the point of denying it?

He nodded toward the bowl. “You like the punch.”

“Yes,” I lied. Actually, I’d come into the kitchen hoping to find something in the refrigerator to drink instead. I’d lucked out, too. The punch was apparently a mixture of pink lemonade, Sprite, and some unidentifiable alcohol of the wow-is-that-strong variety. I didn’t like it. And so I’d filled my cup to the brim with plain old pink lemonade, and then had gone to the punch bowl to do a color comparison.

Yes, I know I should simply be able to say, “No, I don’t like the punch,” or, “Gee, the alcohol in the punch is making my head swim.” Instead, I was going to silently lie by carrying around a big cup of my own version of punch. Cowardly, maybe, but it would keep me sober. I might be defying Mom by staying at the party, but getting drunk on top of that? If she found out, I’d be grounded until my wedding night. Which I wouldn’t have, because she’d never let me near a guy again.

A slow grin spread across Marlin’s face, and those odd eyes twinkled as he peered at the clear plastic tumbler filled with pink lemonade that I now held — a tumbler that was about the size of four of the cups that were piled high in the foyer next to the punch bowl. “I think I have a bigger glass if you’d like.”

I lifted my chin and hoped I looked like a high school student defending her right to drink spiked punch. “No thanks. I’ve already had a lot. This is just about perfect.”

He moved closer, although his voice seemed to stay very far away. His hand touched my back, and I had the oddest sensation that his fingers were going right through me. I tried to stifle a shiver but didn’t quite manage.

“Problem?” he asked, his voice slick and oily, his breath so minty I had to assume he wasn’t drinking the punch.

“Cold punch,” I said. “Brain freeze.”

“Ah.” He put pressure on my back, and like a dutiful puppy, I moved forward. “I was looking for you. Mindy and Carson and Jeremy joined me in the study along with a few more of your friends. Will you join us? It’s less boisterous than the foyer and ballroom, but easier to talk.”

“Sure,” I said. In some part of my mind, I recognized that he spoke strangely, his words overly formal or something. But I couldn’t really think about it. I tried a bit, but the thoughts wouldn’t stick, and by the time we reached the study, I’d forgotten all about it.

The room was oak-paneled and fancy, like something out of an old movie, and I looked around, taking in the paintings in gilt frames, the ornate furniture on which my friends and a bunch of other kids were sitting, and the massive wooden desk.

I saw Carson and Jeremy on a sofa, just sitting and talking. Mindy was on an overstuffed loveseat nursing another cup of punch. She looked up at me, her eyes glassy and her smile crooked, and I started toward her, determined to cut her off.

I’d taken one step when it happened — the room changed. The formal-looking study disappeared in a snap and suddenly I was in a room filled with nothing but red and black. Blood, I realized, and it coated the walls, the scent of it filling my nose and making me want to gag.

Something squished under my feet, and I looked down to find myself tromping on maggots, their fat little bodies bursting beneath my shoes.

And right in front of me, the big wooden desk was now a giant stone slab, like the kind ancient tribes used to make sacrifices to the gods.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe normally, and when I opened them again — slowly and tentatively — the room was completely back in order.

What the heck?

I glanced at the lemonade in my hand. Maybe I should have cut myself off sooner.

On the couch, Mindy was peering at me, her forehead crinkled. I must have looked freaked, because she pushed herself up and started toward me. She, at least looked normal. At least that’s what I thought at first. Then I saw the weird tentacle things that were wrapped around her ankles and wrists. She, however, didn’t seem aware of them at all. And I sure as heck didn’t understand why I was seeing them.

I blinked again, and the tentacles disappeared, but the blood was back. Then the tentacles were, and I stood there hyperventilating as I realized that the long, gray squid-like arms were attached to all the kids, and that they extended back to Marlin, who’d taken a seat behind the blood-soaked sacrificial stone. I mean the desk. The slab. The desk.

I had no idea why I was seeing two versions of the same room, one very decidedly coming at me straight from the Horror Channel. But I did know with absolute certainty that Marlin was a demon. I mean, that was the only explanation, right? And his minty-fresh breath was a big, minty clue. Too minty. I should have realized; hadn’t mom trained me to notice breath? And didn’t demons have the nastiest breath imaginable? The kind of breath that they would mask with liberal doses of mouthwash and tons and tons of minty candies.

Oh, shit.

The room was changing with every glance, as if I was looking at one of those holographic bubblegum cards that change slightly depending on the angle.

“Allie?” Mindy asked. “Are you okay?”

“I … no. My head feels weird.” What was I supposed to say? Did you know there’s a squid creature attached to you, and it’s Marlin? “I think it must be the drink.”

I think it must be the drink…

That was it! I was absolutely, positively certain of it. Everyone in that room except me was drunk on punch, and none of the kids in that room saw what I was seeing — and what I was seeing was reality mixed in with a little bit of a mirage. Only it was the blood that was the reality, along with the tentacles and the maggots. And the stone table.

The oak paneled study was the fantasy — and the punch induced it. It was spiked with more than alcohol, that was for sure.

But I’d stopped drinking the punch, so I wasn’t drunk, even though Marlin had invited me in because he assumed I was. I only had a little bit of demon juice in me, and so I could see what the room really looked like … and I was scared to death.

Once more, I’d gone on a date, and been sucked into demon-ville. I mean, that’s all great and fabulous once I’m a demon hunter, but right now, I’m a high school student, and it’s not like I’ve got my knife in my itty bitty purse.

In fact, all I had in my purse that could even remotely pass for a weapon was nail clippers.

I drew in a breath for courage, and decided that one tiny pair of clippers would just have to do.

Then I saw two more tentacles sliding across the floor heading straight toward me, and I knew that nail clippers weren’t the answer. I wasn’t ready for this. How could I fight this?

Mom.

The tentacles were only a few feet away now, and I clapped my hand over my mouth, mumbled something about needing to throw up, and turned and raced out the door.

I didn’t know where I was or what I was going to do, but I knew I had to find someplace safe, then hole up and call my mom, so I pulled open the first door I found and lunged into a dingy, dust-covered bedroom filled with moldy, decaying furniture and a stench that made me want to really throw up.

I ignored it and pulled out my cell phone and my nail clippers. I jabbed the speed dial number for home, then opened the clippers and extended the metal file, giving me a weapon that extended about one and a half inches. In other words, completely freaking useless for self-defense against most creatures, but deadly to a demon if I could put that point through his eye. The trick, of course, was not getting dead first.

On the other end of the line, the phone rang.

“Come on, come on…”

One ring, then another and another until finally, “Hello?”

“Mom!”

That was all I said. Because right then Marlin burst through the door, yanked the phone out of my hand, and hurled it through the window. Glass shattered under the force, but I barely heard the noise. Instead, all I heard were my own screams.

“So you know,” Marlin said, his mouth moving, but a deeper voice coming out. “It matters not. This year’s sacrifices have been chosen. Your failure to drink fully of the elixir is of no consequence. What you have seen does not matter. The dead tell no tales, Alison, and you cannot stop us. Judemore will rise. He will feed. And he will bestow his bounty upon me for yet another year.”

He said all of that, and then he smiled. And before I even had time to think that I really didn’t like the look of that smile, he lunged.

And guess what? I was right. My nail clippers with their tiny metal file were no match against Marlin. I needed a knife. A gun. A Civil War replica sword. Something — anything — to fight with.

I had nada though, so I hauled out every martial arts trick I’d learned, and I few that I made up right there on the fly — but he was one hell of a lot tougher than me, and I wasn’t even slowing him down.

I wanted to cry with frustration. More, I wanted to cry with anger — at myself for being such a complete and total idiot. For coming here. For doing everything wrong. And for getting myself, my best friend, and a bunch of kids killed.

Because that was what was going to happen. I knew it the moment Marlin hauled me off the floor and carried me kicking and screaming and beating and fighting into the study. I knew when he tied me to a blood-soaked chair.

I knew when he didn’t pry my fingers open and take my tiny nail clippers, leaving them instead as a symbol of what I couldn’t accomplish no matter how hard I tried.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I tried to listen to what Marlin was saying, but I couldn’t hear through the rush of my fear.

Right then, I wanted my mom, and not in a way most kids want a parent when they were in trouble.

I wanted my mom to burst through those doors and kick some demon ass.

But I knew she couldn’t. I’d barely said a word. She probably didn’t even realize I was in trouble.

I’d messed up. Big time.

And I wasn’t even going to be around to get grounded for it.

Something hard and tight locked around my heart and my breath felt fluttery and hot. Fear.

I didn’t want to die.

But right then, I really didn’t think that I had a choice.

Kate

Not good, I thought as I desperately tried to call Allie back. Frantic calls from your daughter that end abruptly are never a good thing.

No answer. For that matter, no ring. The phone went straight to voice mail.

My stomach twisted with worry. I should never have let her go to the mall. What was I thinking? Malls were dangerous. Hell, the world was dangerous. Who knew that better than me?

As my mind churned, my fingers were busy looking up Parker’s phone number, then dialing, then tapping out a rhythm on the counter as I waited for a ring, then an answer.

Finally, a sleepy voice came on the line.

“Is Allie okay?” I asked without preamble.

A pause, during which every dark fear I’d ever known bubbled up inside me.

“Who?”

“Allie!” I shouted. “My daughter. She’s there with Parker and Mindy.”

“Kate?” I heard the confusion in Rhonda Downing’s voice. “What are you talking about? Parker and the girls are sleeping over at Tanya’s house.” In the silence that followed, I heard her understanding. “Aren’t they?”

“Call,” I said sharply. “Call and find out.”

I slammed the phone down, because I already knew what the answer was. The girls weren’t at Tanya’s anymore than they were at Parker’s. They’d planned and plotted to go somewhere, though, and now they were in trouble, and I didn’t have any way to find them.

Think, dammit, think.

I didn’t even know if the trouble was of the human or the demon variety. Not that it mattered. I was going to find them, I was going to save them, and then I was going to ground my daughter until college.

First, I had to find her.

How? They could be anywhere. All I knew was that she had her phone, or at least was near it. Maybe I could triangulate the phone signal? They did that in the movies, right? So maybe if I called Rome, someone at Forza could—

Mindy.

I didn’t need Forza — for that matter I wasn’t even sure if my Hollywood triangulation plan would work. But I knew that I could track Mindy.

But were they together? Dear God, please let them be together.

I raced toward the back door, then sprinted across the back yard to Laura’s house. My best friend is also Mindy’s mom, and they live in the house directly behind us, which makes it convenient for moments like these. Not that my heart could stand many moments like these.

“Does Mindy have her iPhone?” I asked after pushing my way inside, past Laura who stood blinking and sleepy in a bathrobe. The phone had been a guilt-loaded present designed to lessen the emotional trauma of the divorce. Mindy had been thrilled, and Laura had justified the purchase by pointing out the cool feature that let you go onto the Internet to find a lost phone — or, presumably, track down the missing child who was holding it. “I need to know where she is!”

Horror crossed her face and I realized belatedly that I could have approached the whole “our daughters are in danger” thing a little more gently. To Laura’s credit, however, she didn’t interrogate me until she was already at the computer.

I barely had time to tell her what happened when a map appeared on screen showing the location of the phone. “I’m off,” I said. I’d grabbed my favorite jacket on my way out the door, so I had my stiletto in the sleeve and another knife in my purse, along with a bottle of holy water. I also keep supplies under the front seat of my minivan, but I didn’t want to waste time going back to my house.

“Take my car,” Laura said, when I’d told her as much. “And bring my baby back.” She sounded brave, but I could see the worry on her face and knew it reflected my own.

“I will,” I said, and I meant it. I only hoped I could do it. More than that, I hoped that Allie was still with Mindy.

That, however, wasn’t something I could worry about. This was the only lead I had. Allie had to be there, and I raced west toward the cliffs that overlooked the coast, maneuvering my way up into one of San Diablo’s ritzier neighborhoods until I finally found the address where Mindy’s phone now was.

Immediately, I knew I had the right place. There were cars everywhere, and teenagers littering the lawn and massive front porch. The fear that had gripped me loosened a little. Maybe this wasn’t life-or-death after all. Maybe she’d gone to a frat party. Maybe she’d dropped the phone.

Maybe I needed to get inside that house and find out for myself.

Inside, I found more kids, more eating, more music, more drinking.

But I didn’t find Allie or Mindy.

I glanced around, frantic, not sure where to even start looking. The place was huge.

As if in answer, a scream ripped through the room, cutting through even the din of the party. I couldn’t have been the only one who heard it, and yet I was the only one who reacted, and I was sprinting up the stairs, heading for the source, before the echo of the sound had died out.

What I found turned me cold.

A baby-faced man standing in the center of an oak-paneled study, arms outstretched, his body bathed in red, his skin bulging and popping as something within him rose and grew. And, yeah, I knew what that something was: a demon.

He was surrounded by about a dozen kids sitting casually around the room, not freaking out or even reacting despite the writhing, changing thing in the middle. All the kids, including Mindy, who had a goofy smile on her face. Everyone, that is, except Allie — she was tied to a chair, and my heart twisted when I saw her. I, however, forced myself to concentrate on my goal: killing the demon.

This was not your run-of-the-mill body-inhabiting demon, and yet I’d heard of this kind of thing. Young men who gave themselves body and soul to a demon in order to gain power and never-ending youth. To keep it up, though, they had to make constant sacrifices.

The human/demon hadn’t even noticed me as far as I could tell. The rising had thrust it into a trance, but I guessed that wouldn’t last long. Soon the awakening would be complete, and it would want to feed. And that, I thought, was where all the kids came in.

I needed to take advantage of the trance. I needed to kill the thing right then, and I raced forward to do just that.

“Mom!” Allie screamed. “Be careful! You can’t see it, but he’s a demon, and he’s—”

“I can see him,” I said, tackling the beast and knocking him to the floor. This was going to be too easy.

“Really?” She was so incredulous she almost sounded normal. “What about the room? The tentacles?”

“Tentacles?” I’d been poised to jab my stiletto through his eye. Now I hesitated.

“He’s holding onto the kids. All of us. Me, too,” she said, glancing down at her ankles as if in support of her statement. “There was punch, but I only drank a little, and I could see what was real and they couldn’t and—”

“I get it,” I said, though I didn’t completely. I got enough. The kids who’d drunk the punch must see the demon as I saw him, they just weren’t afraid. Because they were part of it now. Part of the ceremony, part of the world. Kill the demon, and they’d step up to fight. Either that, or they’d die, too.

To ensure the kids stayed alive (and to make sure they didn’t become demonic fighting minions), we had to cut the tentacles before we killed the beast. And since I couldn’t see them…

I jumped off the demon and raced toward Allie, who was screaming questions at me. I sliced the ropes that bound her, then handed her the larger knife. “Cut them,” I said. “Cut all the tentacles. I can’t kill him until the kids are free.”

Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question, and despite the fact that I was beyond furious with her for sneaking off to a party, right then, I was pretty damn proud.

Quickly, she reached down and sliced through the tentacles that bound her. When she did, the demon I’d left on the floor shook with life.

Damn. I’d been afraid of that.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I said, racing back to the demon. “Hurry!”

She’d sliced through another tentacle by the time I got back to the demon. I landed a solid punch to its bulbous, writhing face. I risked a sideways look and saw a boy who’d been sitting calmly in a chair sink to the floor in a dead faint. Good. I’d rather a roomful of kids not see this.

Another set of tentacles cut, and this time the force of the break brought the demon to life. He leaped up, knocking me off him, then turning to attack Allie. I tackled him, buying her time to slice through another, as the demon twisted and kicked, and I blocked and parried.

I had my stiletto and damned if I didn’t want to use it. Fighting was easier when you were going for the kill. Trying to slow things down was hard. And painful, I thought, when he picked me up and hurled me toward the desk. I landed hard on my back, my breath going out of me, but I didn’t have time to think about the pain. Allie had reached the last kid — the last set of tentacles.

Mindy.

But the demon was on his way there, too.

No way.

I lunged, knocking him down before he could get to Mindy. I screamed for Allie to hurry, fighting to position myself as she hacked at the last two tentacles.

“Now!” she yelled, and I lashed down with my stiletto — and as I did, the demon thrust out his arm, knocking the blade from my hand and sending it skittering across the room. Shit!

I clutched his wrist, my knees clamped tight as I straddled him, but I couldn’t hold him for long. I needed a weapon, something I could slide into his eye — something sharp and pointy that could kill a demon.

“Mom!” Allie said, and as she spoke, she tossed me something small and silver. Instinctively, the demon tilted his head up and opened his eyes wide.

And that was all it took.

I snatched the clippers from the air, held them with the pointy file sticking out, and plunged the metal deep into the demon’s eye.

Immediately, I heard the hiss of the demon leaving the body. Beneath me, all that was left was a shell.

A dead body.

And there I was in a roomful of kids, all of whom would surely awake from their faints soon enough.

I sighed. A dead body wasn’t going to go over well with them.

Lamenting the fact that demons don’t disappear in a puff of ash and smoke, I grabbed the body under the arms and started dragging it. “Open it,” I said to Allie, motioning with my head to a door at the back of the room.

She ran ahead, and I shoved the body into the small, dark closet. For now, that would have to be enough, especially since there was no time to do more.

Around us, all the kids were stirring. I saw Jeremy’s eyes go wide, then saw him look around frantically, relaxing when his eyes found Allie.

“What happened?” he mumbled.

“You should go home, Jeremy,” I said. Then looked around at the entire group, “All of you.”

Faced with a disapproving adult, they all slunk out guiltily. All except Mindy, who was looking at me with no small amount of trepidation. “Hi, Aunt Kate,” she said. She cleared her throat, then turned her attention to Allie. “We’re in a lot of trouble, aren’t we?”

Allie cocked her head to the side and looked at me, her eyebrows raised in question, as if the fact that she’d done herself proud in the demonic ass-kicking department would erase all the other wrongs of the night.

I didn’t answer. After a minute, that was answer enough.

Allie sighed. But not her usual exasperated sigh. This one was a sigh of resignation and acceptance, and I knew then that although the lesson had been hard fought, she’d learned a bit more about prudence and responsibility tonight.

“We’re definitely in trouble,” her words said, and I know that’s what Mindy heard. But what I heard was, “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, kid,” I whispered. “Now let’s go home.”

Chronologically, this story falls between Deja Demon and Demon Ex Machina.

—Julie Kenner

Julie Kenner does not hunt demons, but she does spend her days wrangling two small children and an equal number of cats, not to mention a husband. She’s also the author of numerous novels, including the “Kate Connor: Demon Hunting Soccer Mom” series and the newly released “Blood Lily Chronicles.” Visit Julie online at www.juliekenner.com

Soccer mom Kate Connor spends her days driving carpool, organizing Gymboree playdates, and hunting demons. Just another day in suburbia…