I knew the answer to this question. “Hell wants a fully formed soul. A soul with dreams, hopes, aspirations.”
Demons feed off anger, fear and despair. What disappointment could be greater than having a life cut down in its prime?
Tears welled up in Celeste’s eyes and I found myself reaching out and squeezing her hand. She tried to wipe the tears away and ended up smudging her makeup.
The cruelty of the situation was overwhelming. Losing my parents had been terrible, but at least I knew they died protecting me. In Celeste’s case, the people who were supposed to keep her safe were the ones who’d sold her out. That was a rough place to come back from.
“How much longer do I have?” Celeste asked, her voice drained of emotion. I wasn’t an expert when it came to the rules that governed Faustian pacts, but if Celeste’s dreams and visions were any indicator, her time would soon be up.
“It depends on the ritual, but generally Hell collects souls on a milestone birthday. Eighteen is a popular one.”
Celeste’s face turned a ghastly white. “My twenty-first birthday is tomorrow.”
My fingers tightened around the arms of my chair. This meant we had less than twenty-four hours to undo what had been done to this young woman. Finding a way to break such an infernal pact would have been difficult enough, but doing it in less than a day was, well, impossible.
“It’s too late, isn’t it?” Celeste said, reading my expression.
I thought about giving her false hope, but Celeste deserved to know what she was up against.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and this time I meant it from the depths of my own weary soul.
I was still trying to figure out our next move when outside forces made the choice for me. I hadn’t paid much attention to the homeless man enthusiastically rummaging through a large, full trashcan facing the coffee shop’s window. Such a sight is, sadly, increasingly common in the city.
I started paying attention when the man suddenly turned toward us, an eerie scarecrow outlined by the mist that was rapidly gathering on the street. Scavenger hunt suddenly forgotten, the homeless man’s posture changed. His body grew rigid while his eyes narrowed into menacing slits.
Celeste must’ve picked up on my interest, and she followed my gaze. That’s when the homeless man’s grimy fingers gripped the trashcan and lifted it into the air with nearly superhuman strength. For a beat he just stood there, the thing raised high above his head like some stinking trophy. He grinned—a nightmarish sight with his mouth of yellowed teeth—and heaved the can toward us. A second later, the storefront window of Aroma Mocha shattered into a thousand pieces.
CHAPTER SIX
I REACTED WITH the speed of someone used to sudden, violent attacks. One moment I was sipping my Americano and the next I was pulling my new client from the path of the oncoming trashcan. One arm raised, I relied on my coat to shield us from the hail of glass as we both slammed to the floor. The metal canister had to weigh at least sixty pounds and our table splintered under the teeth-chattering impact. Can, table, glassware and trash hit the ground a split second later, causing a colossal din.
A quick survey of the shop revealed a crowd of stunned onlookers. Baristas stood frozen in place, lattes and cappuccinos momentarily forgotten.
I stumbled to my feet, pulling Celeste along with me, just as the homeless man stomped through the shattered display window, murder in his eyes. Our assailant projected an air of deranged menace. He moved with a speed and strength that belied his emaciated frame. He was not, in fact, a man at all anymore, but a puppet under the control of evil.
Most demons navigate our world inside human hosts. Physical manifestation is possible but far more rare because it requires a great expenditure of energy. This ruled out using Hellseeker against our attacker. The hapless man before me was as much of a victim as Celeste. Demons exploited the weak-minded and mentally deranged, taking advantage of lost individuals easily swayed and seduced by their terrible lies and empty promises.
The homeless man’s eyes burned with demonic fury as he launched himself at me. I darted aside and he sailed past me, missing by inches. He crumpled against the counter, knocking over an expensive-looking espresso machine. Damn it all. No matter how things ended here today, I was going to have to find a new coffee shop. I really liked this place, too.