A nightmare creature loomed above me. One of Robert’s graffiti creations was peeling itself away from its canvas, haunting art turning into a nightmarish reality. The painting—a devilish creature defined by jagged line work—gained form and substance, a two-dimensional image come to life.
To the left, a second painted creature followed. The image in question—a grotesquely elongated, spiked shadow—joined the first and closed in. Both the shadow and devil turned to me in unison. Reality rippled and shimmered around them, Ceeleste’s magic struggling to maintain their consistency. I had faced demons and living nightmares but never anything like golems made from spray paint.
The first creature had caught me off guard, but I wouldn’t let that happen again.
I whipped out Hellseeker and fired. The bullets hit the two graffiti monsters, and the magical creations reared up with bestial moans. They were no match for my blessed weapon and dissolved on impact in a cloud of paint, splashing back toward the murals from which they’d come. Their monstrous bellows gave way to a silence broken by my own heavy breathing.
I searched the exhibition space and realized Celeste was gone.
The spell had never posed a real threat; it was meant to distract me long enough to give her a chance to escape. I spun toward the exit and was about to run after my charming former client when a roiling cloud of fog cut me off. Spreading mist blanketed the space within seconds. As the fog engulfed the sculptures and graffiti murals, I feared the entity or entities traveling inside the mist would crib a page from Celeste’s magical playbook and imbue Robert’s art with an unnatural life.
I killed the thought. This wasn’t the time to let my imagination run wild.
Something shifted in the mist.
A silhouette grew visible in the swirling clouds of unnatural condensation. The stench of sulphur assaulted my senses as the mist fully encircled me. Without warning, Robert’s body lurched from the gray cloud, his steps halting and jerky. The demon had possessed the dead man, using Robert Horne’s corpse as his ride.
Before I could give him a taste of Hellseeker, the undead monster was upon me. The reanimated corpse brusquely knocked my blessed pistol from my hand. The gun clattered across the floor.
I was battling an actual zombie demon, and my scar still hadn’t given so much as a twinge. What was going on here?
The answer would have to wait. Steel fingers closed around my throat and lifted me with inhuman strength into the air. My feet dangled inches above the floor. The possessed corpse let out a roar of triumph. Robert’s slack, empty features hovered right above mine. The zombie-demon’s foul stench made my stomach lurch. A forked tongue danced between bluish lips, offering a glimpse at the demonic creature hiding inside the dead body.
The white eyes roamed over my face, taking in every detail. The beast reminded me of a dog sniffing its trapped prey, a final ritual soon to be followed by the killing blow
“You’re not the soul promised to my master,” the hellhound whispered. “Where is the one we seek? Answer me, mortal.
I wanted to tell the thing to go to Hell, but in this case it would be redundant. Instead I asked the question that had perplexed me since first meeting Celeste.
“Who is your master, hellspawn?”
The zombie’s lips twitched and a terrible grin split his face.
“You’re not the soul promised to my master, but he’s met you before.”
“What?” I blinked at it, perplexed. Generally speaking, when I faced a demon, one of us didn’t walk away.
“Don’t you already know?”
The voice had changed. The new one made the first one sound almost childlike in comparison, its confident intelligence and sense of absolute power undeniable. There was something familiar about it. I was gripped with a sudden horrific suspicion.
“We met a long time ago, Raven. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? I sure haven’t forgotten you. Or your parents.” The creature let out a peal of laughter and a cold shiver of dread crawled up my spine. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.
My eyes flitted to the walking corpse’s shadow. The silhouette painted across the floor wasn’t human but belonged to a nightmare creature straight out of the deepest pits of Hell. Massive batlike wings extended from a broad back, framing an elongated, horned head. Whirling tentacles undulated from the thickly muscled torso and lashed the air.
I knew that form. It belonged to the creature that still haunted my nightmares.
I finally understood why my scar hadn’t been able to detect the demon’s approach. The demon hunting Celeste was the same monster whose mark I bore on my chest. After sixteen years, I was finally facing the demon who’d slaughtered my parents.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IOWA, 16 YEARS EARLIER