My walkie-talkie crackled as I walked up to the mansion’s main entrance. “Five-Nine to base. We have a problem!”
There was panic in the guard’s voice. Had one of the security guy’s stumbled upon the real Bob Cohen? I turned around and my pulse hitched. A thick fog was forming around the property, the tendrils of yellowish condensation everywhere. All too soon, the mist would engulf the estate and seep into the mansion.
The demon was approaching fast. I checked my watch. Thirty minutes until the fireworks began.
The fog wasn’t after me this time, which meant Celeste was already in the mansion. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I cursed inwardly. I’d been playing catch-up with her ever since our meeting back at the coffee shop. She was displaying a real knack for always being one step ahead of me.
With a renewed sense of urgency I strode into the Horne mansion. No one paid me any attention as I navigated the endless corridors. I was a familiar face doing my job of keeping Horne home safe from anyone foolish enough to breach its defenses.
Oh, the irony.
The closer I got to my goal, the more my blood began to boil. I was eager to confront Desmond Horne and hadn’t pondered what would happen beyond that point. To be honest, the dark emotions seething within me scared me. What would I do once I stood before the man who had destroyed my life?
I would know soon enough.
I paused when I reached an open doorway leading into what appeared to be a library. My scar had flared up. I bit my tongue, choking back the pain. The scar might fail to react to the demon that left the mark, but it easily picked up on Celeste’s black magic. Letting my growing agony guide me, I entered the library. The space reminded me a little of the vault back at the loft. I kept moving deeper into the maze of shelves. After about a hundred feet, the pain in my chest intensified so much that I had to stop.
Up ahead, two guards stood by a table stacked with ancient volumes. A man sat leafing through one of the many tomes. It was Eric Horne. For once, I’d beat Celeste to the target. Eric must’ve hit the library as soon as he arrived at his father’s estate. Judging by the occult titles of the tomes around him, he was trying to make sense of her murder spree—and he knew the killer had something to do with the supernatural. Strangely enough, neither the guard nor the youngest Horne, acknowledged my approach.
A moment later, I understood why they were ignoring me. All three of them were dead. The guards sported cyclopean third eyes where bullets had punched through their foreheads. A crimson circle soaked Eric’s Horne shirt, and his white eyes stared lifelessly into space. Closer inspection of the wound would undoubtedly show a three-pronged scar from the Soul Dagger.
What gave the scene such a grotesque quality was that Celeste had used an animation spell on these three latest victims, conjuring the illusion of life to the casual observer. My scar was reacting to the black magic electrifying the air, but if a regular guard walked past the library and happened to hazard a glance inside, nothing would seem out of order. Eric Horne simply kept flipping pages, puppeteered by Celeste’s unholy spell.
A walkie-talkie hissed, and one of the guards responded in a monotone voice. The sophistication of the spell served as a sharp reminded of what I was up against here. Celeste must’ve delved into the mysteries of the dark arts for years to pull something like this off. That easily accounted for her disregard for life. She’d murdered her three half-brothers and was clearly willing to add anyone who got in her way to her growing hitlist. Magic was great in theory, but when practiced by humans, its corrupting influence soon infected the thoughts of the practitioner.
These men would still be alive if I had acted faster, been smarter about all of this. I fought back the guilt. This wasn’t the time for doubts and self-recriminations. I had failed to save the Horne brothers but maybe I could still spare their immortal souls an eternity in Hell.
I scanned the library and wondered where were Celeste and Desmond Horne were. By now, Celeste would know the demon was closing in on the Horne estate.
After a moment’s contemplation, I realized there was only one place they could be. Celeste intended to confront the demon in the same place where her soul had been bartered twenty-one years ago. They would be below, in the unholy temple Horne had built beneath his mansion. The only real question was how I could get down there.
Struck by sudden inspiration and guided by the steady throbbing in my chest, I regarded the bookshelves in front of me. With a little luck, my scar might lead me straight to Celeste. It was about time the thing did something useful on this case.