But all that being said, he strangely missed his real life. And he definitely missed the people in it.
Even Mark’s duck-urine cologne.
Savitar waved his hand in front of Nick’s face. “Are you in a coma?”
Nick shook his head. “Just thinking.”
“You think any harder and your head might explode.”
He snorted at Savitar’s teasing and ignored it. Zarelda had told him that he still had his Malachai powers. That no one could take them from him.
So how could he activate them?
The believing part hadn’t been real conducive to getting them back. And it was so frustrating to know that he’d had those powers at one time and now …
He flinched at the live feed of a patrol car being blasted so hard by a demon that it caused the car to launch into the air, roll, and then land upside down in the middle of the street, right in front of Jax Brewery.
A red fortified pickup with black roll bars and hunting lights went streaking by the overturned patrol car as someone from inside it launched Molotov cocktails into the air, at the demons.
“Topher!” Bubba snapped. “Is that your ignorant hide I’m looking at on TV?”
“Am I on TV? Ha! Daddy, hear that! I’m famous!” All of a sudden, a man, who reminded Nick a lot of the Bubba he knew from home, stuck his head out of the truck and waved at the news helicopter that was now trailing after them.
Bubba growled in the back of his throat. “Son, stick your head back in before you lose it, and tell Big Topher to take his belt to you for being stupid.”
“Big Topher?” Nick repeated to Mark.
A pained expression lined Mark’s face. “Big Topher is Michael’s uncle. Little Topher is his cousin”—he gestured toward the television—“that special moron who’s still waving at the camera.”
Nick rubbed his head in agony of that man’s particular level of idiocy. “Do I want to know what kind of person names their child Little Topher?”
Mark laughed. “Probably not, but … Christopher was great-granddaddy. He went by Chris until he had a son who was named after him. So he was Big Chris, son was Little Chris. When Little Chris had a son, he named him after his daddy, but to keep from getting everyone confused, he called him Topher. Then Topher found someone desperate enough to marry him. My vote still says he must have hit her too hard on the head before he dragged her into his cave … but anyway, he named his son after his father and so Little Topher entered the world.”
“And was promptly dropped on his head by his mother who was horrified she had to name him that,” his mother said under her breath. “I can just imagine the day Topher the Fifth is born.”
More horrified over that than the sight of the demons, Nick shook his head. “Oh. My. God.”
Mark clapped him on the back. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Hey Mark, get Cherise into the shelter.” Bubba turned the television off.
Without asking why, Mark obeyed. At least he tried.
“What’s going on?” his mom asked Bubba, refusing to leave without an explanation.
Bubba sighed in irritation. “Baby, please. Just go. Quick.”
She reached for Nick.
Bubba held Nick by his side. “He needs to stay with me.”
Biting her lip, she hesitated. “Why?”
“Baby…”
“C’mon, Cherise.” Mark placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You know Mike isn’t going to let anything happen to him.”
“He better not.” She kissed Nick on the cheek before she followed Mark into the basement—something that was exceedingly rare in New Orleans, where the city was built below sea level and flooded often. But then Bubba had installed a sump pump system that was more than impressive. One that had a generator on it that would see them through a month or more even if all the power went out.
As soon as they were gone, Bubba motioned Nick over.
“What is it?” Nick asked in a low tone.
“We’re about to be under siege. That mass you saw following Topher is heading toward us and I didn’t want Mom to see it and panic.”
Nick looked back at Savitar. “Is there anything you can do to stop them?”
Before he could answer, a loud siren sounded through the house. Cringing, Nick held his hands over his ears to shield them from the godforsaken noise. “What is that?”
Bubba pointed to the monitor he had on the gate where the demons were wrenching it off its hinges. “Looks like they figured out you’re here.”
Nick wasn’t sure what he found more disturbing. The demons or the fact that Tabitha, Amanda, and Selena were with them.
Savitar rubbed at his chin. “To answer your earlier question, kid, all I can do is fight with you to the end.”
There was an odd note in Savitar’s tone that made Nick curious. “Why are you so willing to bleed for me?”
Savitar refused to meet his gaze. “Because what was done to your line was wrong.”
Again, that note … Savitar knew a lot more about Nick’s ancestors than he was willing to freely admit. “Were you there?”
Savitar shook his head. “Long time before I was born. But I know what it’s like to lose everything you love and not be able to stop it. To see the one thing you love most be cursed over blind stupidity and fear. And it’s an awful place to live.” He shifted his gaze to Bubba. “I’ll lead as many away as I can.”
Before Nick could say another word, Savitar was gone. He appeared a few seconds later on the monitors, out in the yard between the gate and the house. With a reckless disregard for his own life, Savitar tackled the first demon he reached and kneed him to the ground. After that, it was on in true Roman gladiatorial style.
Unable to stomach it, Nick turned away from the gore and lifted one hand up to shield his eyes from the monitors. “Nos morituri te salutamus.”
Bubba arched a brow. “Pardon?”
“We who are about to die salute you.”
Snorting, Bubba grabbed a crossbow and pushed Nick toward the stairs. “Yeah, but if you die, I won’t see my kid again. And I love my son. So you are not to do anything stupid. You hear me?”
“I hear, master. But I never obey.” Nick clapped him on the arm. “See, that’s where your kid and I differ.”
“And here’s where your ma and I differ.” Bubba lifted him up and tossed him over his shoulder.
Nick did his best to break free, but Bubba was worse than an octopus on steroids. “Hey!”
“Hay’s for horses, boy.” Bubba held fast until he had Nick locked into a small fortified room.
Anger darkened his vision. Nick pounded against the steel door. But as expected, Bubba ignored him completely. His fury mounted. He’d never particularly liked tight spaces, and this one seriously pissed him off. “Let me out!” Nick shouted.
No one responded.
Nick bared his teeth and then grinned as he remembered something his Bubba had taught him. No matter how fortified a door was, there was always one vulnerability that couldn’t be helped.…
Hinges.
They were always inside the room. Even a closet. “Lock me in … I’ll show you something, boy,” he muttered as he toed off one shoe and reached for a coat hanger. Stretching it out of shape, he bent the neck into a makeshift spike that he held underneath the top hinge. Then he used his shoe to hammer at the hanger.
At first nothing happened, but after a few minutes more, the hinge began to lift. Once it was an inch up, Nick moved to the middle hinge.
While he worked, he heard the sound of fighting outside. And it was coming closer. He had no idea who was winning. But it was going bad for someone he prayed wasn’t Bubba.