Remolus’ head leapt from the spurting stump of his neck and rolled down the stairs. It rolled through the half-finished runes on the floor, smearing them into illegibility and only stopped when it hit the far wall.
Barbara again felt that disturbing shift in reality and dropped to her knees trying not to retch as it felt as if her insides were being twisted so they were outsides. She propped herself on her sword and closed her eyes, only opening them when the feeling passed. When she opened them, the room was, again, a hotel restaurant. With bodies and body parts scattered around it. The demon was still there as well, but already it had started to fall apart, turning liquid around the bones and then slumping into a putrid, stinking, mass.
She looked up at the doorway and was amazed to see Don Draxon standing in the door with one arm around Ruby and the other clutching a half empty bottle of scotch.
“Good Lord,” Draxon said, looking around at the blood-spattered room and the demon deliquescing before his eyes. “Ruby, my dear, I think we should go back to warming ourselves. This looks a bit too warm.”
But Ruby had fainted dead away.
Epilogue
It’s another fine mess you’ve left us to clean up,” Augustus Germaine said, looking out the window.
“Hmmm,” Barbara said, musingly. “The press are going to be all over it like… smell on poop.” She didn’t seem particularly worried and didn’t quit what she was doing.
“Mass murderer at science fiction convention,” Augustus said, shaking his head. “News at six.”
“And the people who saw Remolus?” Barbara asked.
“It’s amazing what people can ignore,” Augustus replied, turning away from the window. “And do you really think that the news media is going to believe a bunch of science fiction fans who say they saw a demon? Besides, there are ways to make people… forget.”
“I wish you’d do it for me, then,” Barb said, shaking her head and still not looking up.
“If I didn’t mention it, you did well,” Augustus said, sitting down across from her. “You and Janea. I had not anticipated a full manifestation.”
“Demons come, demons go,” Barbara said, still not looking up. “Do you think, with him dispelled, that any of those who died have a chance…”
“Heaven’s inscrutable about such things,” Augustus said, shrugging. “But… no. Whether their souls are in the service of Hell or not is unsure. But they are not going to be entering Heaven short of the Second Coming. Long may that day be forestalled.”
“Lord grant that in the end of all things they may find peace,” Barb replied, sighing. “I would that I’d been more able. No soul should be lost to that… thing. Can he… come back?”
“When he was banished, he lost all the power he had gained,” Augustus said, thoughtfully. “The moonstone vest was shattered, so all of that power was lost as well. Pity, I’d have liked to find out what spell they used. If it was not entirely bound by evil it might come in handy. And I’d love to know where Krake found it.”
“Apparently he was a pretty serious researcher,” Barbara said. “But I think it might have something to do with Timson.”
“Timson?” Augustus asked.
“He was the first person that Krake killed here,” Barb replied, shrugging. “Janea said that he was extremely knowledgeable. And Duncan said that he’d been collaborating with Krake on research. I think, if there’s anything to find, it’s going to be in Timson’s notes. If you can find them.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Augustus said, smiling slightly. “How much longer are you going to polish that?”
“I’m not polishing it,” Barbara said, running the silk cloth down the length of the Murasaki blade. “I’m sharpening it.”
Barb set her bag down by the door to the garage and took a deep breath. Home.
“Mom!” Brandon yelled, charging down the hallway followed by Brook.
She hugged her two younger children and looked around for Allison. She was probably pouting in her room.
After greeting the kids she walked through the kitchen and looked in the family room. Mark was installed in front of the big-screen, watching a replay series on ESPN.
“Hello, dear,” she said, smiling. “Miss me?”
“Yeah,” Mark said, not looking away from the TV. “How was your conference or whatever?”
“Enlightening,” Barb replied, her eyes dark with memories.
“Great. What’s for supper?”
BOOK THREE
BROKEN SABBATH
Chapter One
Keep your eye on the ball, Allison!” Barb screamed as her daughter swung and missed. “That was way to the outside!”
“You really get into this,” Cindy Hudson said, grinning at the overwrought mother. Her own daughter had just struck out to a mild “Better luck next time, honey.”
Cindy was as short and dark as her friend was tall and fair. They knew they made an odd couple but up until the last winter they had spent most of their free time together, their families even taking combined vacations. But since Barbara’s trip down to the bayou and her car accident, Cindy had noticed a change in her friend. Sometimes she’d shiver as if from more than cold and get a distant look that was strange and hard. Something more than a car accident had happened on that trip but Cindy had never found it in her to ask what. She was afraid her friend had been raped, but there were simply things that nice Episcopal women, close friends though they were, didn’t ask.
The two were dressed in light coats against the early spring cold and surrounded by similarly dressed parents, grandparents, friends and siblings of the players. The clothing of the group ranged from the designer labeled jackets and jeans of Barb and Cindy to oil-stained jackets labeled only with their owners’ names, but on the stands the parents were one group, united in the belief that only their girls were in the running for the Redwater County Spring Season trophy.
“Anything you do should be done to the best of your ability,” Barbara said, taking a deep breath to control her anger. “Allison knows better than that. She’s letting the pitcher spook her.”
“They’re winning,” Cindy said in exasperation.
“Only because Charlotte’s kept the Panthers from hitting,” Barb said, taking a breath again. “Don’t tense up, Allison! Just watch the ball and do the job!”
The blond teenager didn’t appear to notice her mother screaming at her from the stands. She waggled the softball bat then settled into position. The pitches were full-up and the pitcher chose to send a fast ball straight in over the base. Allison swung and… missed.
“Strike three!”
“Just what was that all about?” Coach Sherman shouted as the girls gathered in the dugout. “If Charlotte hadn’t struck out most of their batters, we’d have been looking at the tail end of the season! If you girls can’t do better than that I’ll get a team of FIFTH graders and win! There’s an additional practice scheduled for Saturday…”
“But, coach…” Sandy Adams started to protest.
“I don’t want to hear about it!” the coach shouted. “I don’t want to hear about dates or dances or any of the rest. Eight PM at the West Park field. Tell your parents we’ll be playing late and I don’t want them there. This is about playing ball, not making faces for your moms and dads! We are going to take the tournament this season or there will be Hell to pay! Do you girls understand me?”