I ordered a large Mountain Roast from an overly pale young woman who seemed extremely jumpy. She started when I ordered, as if I'd spoken too loud, then dropped my change, flinching when the coins pinged against the countertop. She'd had way too much Breakfast Blend.
I slugged several sips in quick succession before I turned away from the register.
Summer eyed me with interest. "Do you have asbestos mouth?"
"Excuse me?"
"Most humans would burn their mouths."
I wasn't most humans, wasn't even sure just how human I was. But I'd been able to drink really hot coffee without burning my mouth even before I'd become su-perpsychic hero girl.
I shrugged. "I'm used to it."
Summer strolled to an empty table. Her outfit seemed less conspicuous here, or maybe I was just getting used to that, too.
"Now what?" I asked. "We wait around until Jimmy shows up for the parade?"
"I don't think so." Her gaze was fixed on the wide front window that overlooked the main drag of Barnaby's Gap.
The street was deserted. I started to get uneasy. Sure, this place wasn't a tourist trap, but there should be someone moving around.
"Come on," she said.
We walked along the sidewalk, peeking into each storefront. All the places were open, the employees doing their jobs, but everyone was twitchy. When we appeared in the window, they'd start, glance up with wide eyes, then just as quickly look away. I didn't like it one bit.
Up ahead an elderly man shuffled toward us—tall and thin, with snow-white hair. He was dressed well, not a street person, though the way he hunched his shoulders and mumbled to himself reminded me of many I'd seen. As he neared, his words drifted to us on the sultry afternoon breeze.
"Red eyes,'* he intoned. "Teeth and blood. Demon in the hills. Demon in the caves."
I guess that explained the overcaffeinated conduct of the populace.
I immediately crossed in front of Summer and set my hand on the man's shoulder.
For the most part, strong emotions—fear, love, hate—transmitted, giving me a view of the situations surrounding them. Since the guy was nearly scared witless, I got smacked with so many images I staggered.
Night. Dark. Trees. Water. The acrid scent of terror, the heated brush of danger. Running. Falling. Pain. Blood. Then merciful, blessed oblivion.
Hell. There was definitely something out there.
The poor guy stared at me as if he expected me to turn into a monster. I couldn't blame him. Regular people aren't programmed to accept the arrival of a horror movie in their hometown. Usually the Nephilim didn't leave anyone alive, so we didn't have to deal with the zombielike behavior of a survivor. Which only made me wonder all the more about what kind of beastie we were dealing with.
The old man wasn't as old as I'd first believed. The way he walked, the mumbling, the white hair hinted at seven or eight decades on this earth. But his face appeared more like forty-five, and I realized that what he'd seen had aged him, perhaps overnight.
"Anything?" Summer asked.
I nodded, then jerked my head at the guy, and she flicked her fingers, shooting fairy dust from the tips.
I'd wished on several occasions that I possessed the talent to dispense magical sparkles and make people obey my every unvoiced command, but I couldn't.
As soon as the twinkling particles—invisible to anyone but us—hit the guy's face, his eyes cleared, his back straightened, and he walked off with the gait of a much younger man.
"He won't remember?" I asked.
Summer's answer was a withering stare. Of course he wouldn't remember.
"What are we dealing with?" Summer pressed.
"I don't know."
She frowned. "No whispers? Not a flash?"
"No."
"Huh," she said.
"Yeah." I thought of the amulet still sitting on the seat of the car.
Did whatever was stalking this town have an amulet of its own? Otherwise why hadn't I seen the monster in a vision, or heard Ruthie's whisper as soon as we rolled past the city limits?
Loud voices drew our attention to the other end of the street where several people carried on a heated conversation. Lots of hand gestures in the direction of the distant mountains, the pantomime of picking up a rifle, sighting and shooting. It appeared that more than one citizen had met up with the thing in the hills.
Another man, and a woman wearing a bright green, sleeveless sundress, joined the crowd. I admired the high neckline, and the interesting heart-shaped cutout that revealed her chest and just a hint of cleavage. The man continued the argument with more gesticulating and extensive miming of weaponry. The woman remained silent; she looked a little drugged.
"What do you think?" Summer asked.
"I think you'd better zap them, too." If they went into the mountains with conventional weapons, they were going to get killed.
"I don't understand this," I muttered as we headed for the crowd. "I haven't heard anything; I haven't seen anything. And if Jimmy's in town, the demon in the caves should be dead by now."
Before he'd had his mini-breakdown, Jimmy had been the best hunter in the federation. He wouldn't have needed me to tell him that something wicked had come to Barnaby's Gap.