Demon Road

  “Ah,” said Varga. “You think you have encountered my kind before.”

  “We have.”

  “No. If you had, you would be running right now. But my business is not with you. Leave here and I will forgive the transgressions you have made against my family.”

  “Family?” said Kirsty. “Oh, you mean all those nasty little vamps we’ve been dragging out into the sun all day? That family? That’s a big family. You must get around.”

  Varga watched her without speaking as they slowly, casually, surrounded him.

  “We’ll leave,” said Betty. “We’ll walk out of here right this second, providing you tell us what we want to know. We’re looking for a girl called Amber. She would have come in a black car. Do you know her?”

  “I have seen the girl.”

  “You have? That’s wonderful. Where is she?”

  Amber prepared to run, but Varga smiled, and didn’t say anything.

  The demons raised their crosses, and Varga hissed.

  “Where is she?” asked Bill, stepping closer.

  Varga tried to back away, but the circle was too tight. His skin began to smoke. “All who have spilled the blood of my family are mine to kill,” he said, his voice pained. “The girl. Her companion. And all of you.”

  Alastair laughed. “I’d like to see you try, bloodsucker.”

  Varga said something that Amber didn’t catch and turned to him, locking eyes. Alastair swayed slightly, and his hand dipped.

  That was all Varga needed.

  He dived on Alastair impossibly, ridiculously fast, powering him backwards out of the circle. Next he tossed him as if he was a baby, hurling him with such force into Grant and Imelda that all three went down. Kirsty lunged, the crucifix held before her, and Varga turned to a man of smoke that burst apart when the cross passed through him.

  Kirsty spun, sudden fear in her eyes, black scales beginning to spread across her skin as the smoke swirled and coalesced behind her. Varga’s long-fingered hand closed round the back of her neck and he slammed her face-first into the wall.

  He turned as Bill and Betty stepped closer together, their crucifixes up.

  “You vampires and your magic tricks,” said Betty. “The smoke, the bats, the hypnosis … You’re like a bad vaudeville magician. You belong in a top hat on a crummy stage with a bored assistant, and instead here you are, bothering good, decent folk like us.”

  “Where is our daughter?” Bill asked.

  “You will die first,” said Varga. “Your mate will watch and cry for you, and only when grief has overtaken her heart will I end her life.”

  “You bore me,” said Bill.

  “And I have a name,” said Betty.

  “You are insects to me,” said Varga.

  “So rude,” said Betty, just as Amber saw something in her other hand, a water bottle, and she flicked it and the water hit Varga and sizzled like acid against his face.

  He recoiled, hissing in pain, and Bill was upon him in an instant. With black scales covering the fist that held the crucifix, Bill hit him, a right cross that sent the vampire stumbling over Glen’s sleeping form. Bill ran at him, hit him again, and now Betty was there, pressing her crucifix to the side of Varga’s head. They worked as a team, dividing the vampire’s wrath between them, denying him focus and constantly driving him back. Betty squeezed the remains of the water bottle right into his face and Varga howled, hands over his eyes, and Bill’s hands turned to talons that slashed at Varga’s neck.

  The swipe would probably have taken his head if he hadn’t turned to smoke before it landed.

  Varga solidified behind them, his skin already healed of the holy water’s effects, his eyes burning with hatred.

  He seized Bill and leaped upwards in a blur. The back of Bill’s head hit the ceiling and he plummeted to the ground while Varga stayed up there. Betty moved instantly to stand over her husband, composure gone from her face for the first time, keeping the crucifix raised, and Amber realised with a sickening certainty that her mother had never shown her that protective instinct.

  Varga scuttled across the ceiling and was lost to Amber’s sight, but she was able to track his movements by the way Betty was keeping the crucifix between them. When Betty lowered the cross, Amber knew Varga had dropped to the floor. But, when Betty lowered her cross slightly again, she had no idea what was happening until she heard the growl.

  Amber inched forward, searching for the source of the sound. Whatever the dog was and wherever it had come from, it was big, and it had shocked Betty so much she had almost taken a step backwards. But to move back was to abandon her husband, and Betty wasn’t prepared to do that.

  Amber moved slightly again, until she could see the animal. She’d been wrong. It wasn’t a dog. It was a wolf. Huge and grey, it came slowly across the floor towards Betty, growling, its hackles raised and its teeth bared.

  It barked once, sharply, and Amber flinched at the sound, and she saw her mother swallow and adjust her hold on the crucifix, and the wolf suddenly leaped. It burst into smoke before it hit the crucifix and hands reached from inside that smoke, knocking the cross from Betty’s grip. She spun but the smoke had become Varga, and he had her, and he threw her into the wall.

  She stumbled back and grew talons, but Varga moved so fast they were useless against him. He struck her with a lazy swipe across the ribs and she gasped, and he grabbed her round the throat. Betty clutched at his wrist as he tightened his hold. She sank to her knees, unable to breathe.

  If Varga killed Betty, he’d kill the others just as quick. He’d kill Milo and Glen and then he’d come after Amber. She wouldn’t have a chance of stopping him. The only chance she possibly had was to run right now, while his focus was elsewhere. Her parents would die. Milo and Glen would die, but she would get away. She’d be free.

  It all made sense. It was logical. Practical. But logic wasn’t why she crept forward, or why she picked up the hammer and stake. It wasn’t logic that was burning at the very core of her being. It was anger. It was fury.

  He was hurting her mom.

  “DO YOU FEEL THAT?” Varga asked Betty, his voice soft. “Do you feel your vertebrae beginning to snap? How does it compare, do you think, to burning in sunlight? How does it compare to the deaths you have subjected my family to? Eh?” He leaned in closer. “When I take your head, little demon, I will mount it on my wall.”

  Amber charged and Varga heard her and spun, too late to stop the stake from piercing his chest. His back hit the wall and Amber swung the hammer, but he grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the stake and it barely moved. He smiled at her, showing his teeth.

  She smiled back, showing hers.

  She slammed the hammer into his face. He hissed in pain – the impact leaving a circle on his skin that sizzled like she’d just hit it with a clothes iron – and then she hammered the stake through his ribcage.

  Varga stiffened, his eyes widening and his mouth opening. No blood, though.

  She hammered again, and his surprise was overtaken by fury. He closed both hands round the stake, but could do nothing to stop her from hammering it in deeper, and deeper, and then she hit the stake so hard the head flew off the hammer. She dropped it, pounded at the stake with her fist, and now Varga was screaming and writhing, and she hit it one more time and a torrent of dark blood gushed from the wound, hit her full in the face, and drove her backwards. It blinded her, got in her mouth, got up her nose, and it covered the floor and she slipped, fell, spitting and coughing and wiping her eyes, and there was blood all over her, drenching her, flattening her hair to her scalp.

  And then the torrent weakened, and shortened, and Amber blinked madly and looked up as the last of Varga’s blood, which had turned black and thick, like tar, dripped slowly from his wound. He was nothing but a shell now, a dried-out husk, as grey as ash. He dropped to his knees and they cracked beneath him and his whole body crumpled, his suit flattening like a sail suddenly becalmed. His skull toppled, too heavy for his
spine to support, and when it hit the ground it exploded into dust and fragments.

  “Amber.”

  The voice, the tone, made her revert instantly, and she turned to see her mother – with her mother’s face – struggling to her feet. She clutched her side like her ribs were broken. Or worse.

  “You saved me,” Betty said, her voice weak. “After everything that’s happened, you saved me.”

  Amber stood, covered in blood, and couldn’t find anything to say.

  “We made a mistake,” said Betty, leaning on the front desk for support. “We did. We have made such a huge mistake. But we’re here now.”

  “I know what you want,” Amber said.

  Betty shook her head. “Not anymore. Whatever you’ve heard, things have changed. We changed them. Give us a chance, sweetheart. Let us explain.”

  “You’ll just lie again.”

  “That’s over with,” Betty said, with a conviction in her eyes that made Amber believe her. “It’s all over with. We’ve been doing this a long time, baby, and we’re sick of it. We want something different.”

  “How many of my brothers and sisters have you killed?”

  It was funny, but witnessing the hurt on her mother’s face was almost enough to make Amber run to her.

  “We’re bad people,” Betty said finally. “But we’re trying not to be. Please, Amber, come back to us. We can start again. As a family.”

  Betty took a step towards her and her knee buckled, but before she hit the ground Amber was there, helping her hobble back to the desk.

  “Thank you,” Betty said, gritting her teeth against the pain. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what we’ve been through. We thought we’d lost you.”

  “Can you stand?”

  Betty managed a small laugh. “Always so considerate, aren’t you? You didn’t get that from your father, let me tell you. Didn’t get it from me, either, I’m afraid.”

  Amber suddenly realised how vulnerable she was, but Betty released her hold of her as soon as she could balance on her own. Amber had gotten some of Varga’s blood on her mother’s top. It was an expensive top. Betty didn’t even seem to notice.

  “Do you know who you’ve always reminded me of?” Betty continued. “My mother. Your grandmother. I’ve never told you about her, have I?”

  “You’ve never told me anything.”

  “Well, that ends today. From this moment on, no secrets between us. Deal?”

  “Betty, you can’t just—”

  “Mom.”

  Amber frowned. “What?”

  “I think I’d like you to call me Mom from now on,” Betty said. “Do you think you could do that?”

  “I … I don’t know …”

  Betty shook her head. “I’m going too fast, aren’t I? I’m sorry, sweetheart. One step at a time, that’s how we get our family back together.”

  “Betty … Mom … I don’t know if I can believe you.”

  Betty’s eyes glistened with sudden tears. “Right,” she said. “Of course. I mean … obviously. We’ve put you through a lot and we have to … we have to earn back your trust. I get that. I do. But you have to see it from our perspective, Amber. You are our daughter and we love you above all else. Your safety and wellbeing are all we care about. You don’t have to forgive us, sweetheart, not yet, but this family is not going to be split up anymore. We love you, baby.”

  Tears sprang to Amber’s eyes and her mother pulled her in for a hug. She held her close and Amber sobbed, and when the sobbing was over Amber just closed her eyes for a few moments.

  Just a few. That’s all she needed for now.

  “Go home,” Amber said, moving back a little. She’d left a blood smear on Betty’s chin. “I’ve got something to do and, when it’s done, I’ll go home, too, and we can go back to being a family.”

  “Wherever you go, we go,” said Betty. “We are not leaving your side.”

  “I’ll only be gone a few more days. I’ve started something and I need to finish it. But I’ll see you at home, Mom. You and Dad.”

  Amber kissed her cheek, started to pull away.

  Betty held on to her wrist. “What do you have to do?”

  “Just something.”

  Betty’s grip tightened.

  “Mom, you’re hurting me.”

  “Families stay together.”

  “Mom, please let go.”

  “We’ll just ask your father, what do you say?”

  And then Milo pressed the muzzle of his gun to the side of Betty’s head and said, in a soft voice, “Let her go.”

  Betty’s eyes widened slightly. Amber said nothing. Betty released her.

  Keeping his gun aimed squarely at Betty’s head, Milo moved to stand beside Amber.

  “And just who exactly are you?” Betty inquired.

  “I think you know who I am,” said Milo. “I think you’ve already run a check on my car.”

  Betty half smiled. “Indeed we did, Mr Sebastian, but we could find precious little about you. Aren’t you a bit old to be hanging around with sixteen-year-old girls?”

  “And you’re suddenly a concerned parent? You expect us to believe that?”

  “So you’re the one poisoning our daughter against us.”

  “No, you did that when she overheard you planning to kill her.”

  Betty stood straighter. Her ribs didn’t seem to be bothering her as much anymore. “Amber, I’ve known men like him my whole life. He’s nothing but trouble. You can’t listen to a word he says. He doesn’t know the facts. He doesn’t know us.”

  “I … I trust him,” said Amber.

  “You can’t,” said Betty. “He’s been lying to you this whole time. He’s brainwashing you, can’t you see that? He’s turning you against us.” She fixed her glare on Milo. “This is kidnapping. What you’ve done is kidnapping.”

  “Amber saved your life tonight,” said Milo. “I’d remember that, if I were you.”

  “You don’t matter,” said Betty. “You don’t matter to us. Amber, I forbid you to go anywhere with this man.”

  Milo picked Glen off the floor in a fireman’s lift, and walked towards the door. Amber hesitated, then followed.

  “Amber!” Betty said sharply, taking a few steps in pursuit. “Amber, you stay right here, young lady!”

  Amber shook her head. “I have to—”

  “You will stay with your family!”

  Amber shifted, felt the power and the strength surge through her, and she snarled. “You’re lucky I don’t rip your head off, Mom. You think I believe a word you say? Do you?”

  Betty met her glare with one of her own. “This is your one chance. The only chance you’ll get. If you walk away, we’ll come after you, and I personally will eat your heart, young lady.”

  Amber backed out of the door. “Love you, too,” she said, and ran.

  THEY DROVE FOR FIFTEEN HOURS. Every mile they clocked took a little something more from Milo. He was gaunt. He looked thinner. Amber didn’t say anything. Glen slept. There were times when his breathing got so soft she thought he’d died. She didn’t say anything about that, either. All she cared about was getting as far away from Cascade Falls as she could. They stopped four times in those fifteen hours. She’d been able to scrub her face and change her clothes, find her sunglasses and pee twice, and that was it. No time to do any more. No time to waste.

  When they got to Death Valley National Park, it was past midday and the Nevada sun was a merciless thing. The asphalt stretched further than Amber could see and straighter than she could fathom. Heat rose in thick, hazy waves that shimmered and glimmered, but in the Charger it was cool. The air-conditioner was never on, but in the Charger it was always cool.

  “How far are we from Colorado?” she asked.

  “We’re not going to Colorado,” said Milo.

  Amber frowned. “What?”

  “Your parents expect us to run straight to wherever we’re headed next, now that we know they’re right behind us. But we??
?re going to meander. They’re the ones in the hurry, not us. Let them overshoot us. We don’t have a deadline.”

  Amber said nothing to this. They drove and she sat there. Her body was still, but her mind was whirling. In her head, arguments raged. Up until now, the one little secret she’d been keeping from Milo hadn’t seemed like a big deal. It was the kind of thing she’d been planning to tell him once it was all over, the kind of thing she expected him to raise an eyebrow at, maybe shake his head in mild exasperation. But the events of the last few days had cleared her vision. She could see now that little details could have far-reaching consequences. She could see now that she didn’t have the luxury of keeping secrets.

  “What if we did have a deadline?” she asked softly.

  “Sorry?” said Milo.

  She took off her sunglasses. He kept his on. “You said my parents are in a hurry, not us. You said we don’t have a deadline. But what if we did?”

  Milo glanced at her. “Something you’re not telling me, Amber?”

  She looked away. “I … It seems silly now, but I didn’t want you to think I was stupid.”

  The Charger slowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’d just met you,” said Amber. “I didn’t know you, I didn’t know Edgar. You gave me all these instructions for what not to do when talking to the Shining Demon and I followed them, I followed them all. But then he started talking about a deadline …”

  Milo braked so suddenly she cried out and Glen slid off the back seat and into the footwell.

  When he spoke, Milo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What did you agree to?”

  She hesitated, then took off her bracelets and showed him her wrist.

  He frowned. “A number?”

  “A countdown.”

  “What the hell?” he said, voice raised. In the confines of the Charger, it sounded like a shout. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I just—”

  “Why did you keep this from me? You’ve had this since Miami and you’re only telling me about it now? Why? You didn’t want me to think you were stupid?” There was something going on behind his sunglasses, like his eyes were glowing. “Good going, Amber, because now I know you’re stupid.”