“Agreed.” But even as I said it, I couldn’t get his situation out of my head. Zane was a boy who’d been entirely on his own, and that kind usually avoids groups—no frats, no community groups. But then Forza called and he jumped. Probably just the allure of the supernatural and the pride of being selected. That’s what usually brought in Forza recruits.
But at the same time, a tiny part of me wondered if he’d encountered demons before the fake mugger. Like maybe it was a demon who’d killed his mother.
That could light a fire under a hunter. And a hunter with a purpose was a very good weapon.
The beachnear the surfboard rental shop was deserted by the time we arrived. The shop itself had closed hours ago, itscheerful “Catch a Wave!” sign now dark and the racks of boards chained up for the night. Beyond it, the sand stretched toward the water, silver-gray under a half moon.
“Spread out,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Stay in your groups. Act like friends out for the night, not Hunters.”
They all nodded, then the small mob shifted, breaking into three little gangs. Marcus, Ren, and Ana headed toward the waterline, where the old man had supposedly drowned. Allie took Mindy and Eliza to check out the cafes at the far end of the popular San Diablo boardwalk. And I kept the three new kids with me, steering us toward a nearby taco stand where a few late-night customers lingered over their food.
I’d shown them all the newspaper photo before we left—Harold Messner, seventy-three, bald head, prominent nose. He’d gone swimming three days ago and drowned. Pronounced dead on the beach by the paramedics.
And then, miraculously, he’d started breathing again.
Miracle, my ass.
“There.” Zane’s voice was calm, almost conversational. He nodded toward the taco stand, where an old man sat alone at one of the plastic tables, working his way through a plate of fish tacos.
Bald. Prominent nose. Souvenir tee he’d probably stolen from a now-dead tourist.
Hello, Mr. Messner. Or whoever was currently wearing him.
“Stay here,” I told the kids. “I’m going to confirm.”
I strolled over to the taco stand like I was just another hungry tourist, ordered a Coke I didn’t want, and took a seat at the table next to my target. He glanced up briefly, then went back to his food.
I watched him pop a couple of mints from a near-empty container, and knew we had our man. Either that or I was hanging with a human who had really bad oral hygiene.
I leaned over, pretending to reach for a napkin from the dispenser on his table. “Sorry—do you mind?”
“Help yourself.” His voice was pleasant enough. Normal.
But I was close now. Close enough to catch the smell underneath the peppermint. Faint, but unmistakable—that sickly sweet reek of rot that is a telltale demon giveaway.
I grabbed my napkin and retreated to my table, pulling out my phone to text Marcus and Allie—Taco stand.
Then I sipped my Coke and waited.
The thing about newbie demons is they’re usually pretty predictable. They’ve just scored a shiny new body after who knows how long, and they want to enjoy it. Eat good food. Walk on the beach. Maybe find someone to kill or take in a movie, depending on their disposition.
This one seemed content with his tacos for now. But eventually he’d move. And when he did, we’d be ready.
It took about twenty minutes. He finished his food, tossed his trash, and headed down the wooden steps toward the beach. Not toward the lit-up section with the fire pits and the couples walking hand in hand, but toward the dark stretch near the rocks where the shadows pooled thick and black.
All the better.
I gathered my group with a look, and we followed at a distance. Up ahead, I could see Marcus and his students paralleling us along the waterline. At the same time, Allie’s group was moving in from the boardwalk side.
We all watched as Messner picked his way across the sand toward a cluster of boulders. Maybe looking for privacy. Maybe looking for prey. Either way, he’d chosen poorly.
We closed in slowly, using the rocks for cover. The moon threw enough light to see by, but the shadows were deep here. Good for hiding...but also good for hunting.
I was maybe fifteen feet away when he stopped and turned around.
“You can come out now,” he said, his voice no longer pleasant. “I know you’re there.”
So much for the element of surprise.
