Page 44 of Dead Beat

PART IIUsque ad Finem Temporum

16

“Tripp, wait—” Darlington warned.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing—”

Tripp hissed and lurched backward, losing his balance, tumbling down the stairs.

“Tripp!” Dawes cried.

But Tripp didn’t hit hard. He landed in a crouch, cradling his arm, lips pulled back in a snarl. His teeth looked long and jagged, too many of them crowded into his mouth.

Alex had never seen Tripp move that fast in his mortal life. But of course this wasn’t really Tripp. It was a demon who walked and talked like him. He looked like a monster because he was one. He was Reiter all over again.

Darlington’s horns emerged. Alex’s body bloomed with blue flame.

“It’s okay,” Dawes said. “He’s not going to hurt—”

Tripp lunged at her.

Alex reached for a strand of hellfire, and it snaked from her hand. It snapped close around Tripp’s neck and she yanked him backward. He bounced off the banister and fell to the floor, shrieking, trying to claw at the leash of flame controlling him. The glowing form of his salt guardian had slipped free and was turning slow circles above them, flapping its massive wings.

Turner had his gun drawn. Dawes was kneeling on the stairs, the glamour of Alban Reed gone, shaken loose by fear. Her own salt guardian, a big-eyed slow loris, was perched in front of her, its small white teeth bared.

The room was quiet except for Tripp’s low growls.

“His hand,” said Turner.

It was covered in bubbling flesh.

“They used salt,” Alex said. “In case a demon tried to get to it.”

“But he’s wearing the suit,” Dawes said, her voice trembling.”He’s used to the salt. He’s used to—”

“I think it startled him,” Darlington said and Alex could hear him trying to be fair.

“He’s a demon,” Turner replied, weapon still trained on Tripp, though none of them knew what bullets might do to a vampire. “We got too comfortable.”

Tripp was curled against the banister, clutching his arm, face pulled back in a grimace, a string of drool hanging from his contorted lips. He took deep, rasping breaths, and his whole body seemed to pulse with every inhale.

“He can’t be here anymore,” said Turner. “He can’t be anywhere anymore.”

“No,” Dawes said.

Turner shook his head in disbelief. “Look at him! He’s not your pet project. He’s a fucking meat eater and we’re the meat.”

“We’re the reason he’s like this.”

“That doesn’t change what he is,” Alex said. This was reality. Wolf and lamb. Knife and sacrifice. She didn’t intend to be on the wrong side of the equation.

Dawes used the banister to pull herself up. She pushed the hair back from her face and squared her shoulders. “Tripp,” she said sharply. “Enough.”

Tripp released a long, thin mewling noise. He stretched his jaw wide, his head lolling backward.

Dawes marched down the stairs toward him.

“Dawes, don’t!” Alex cried, already reaching for another rope of flame.