34
Wesley pasted a smile on his face and approached the cruiser. The police officer, dressed in a black police uniform and Aviator sunglasses, was already heading toward them. His rain jacket was open in the front, the broad rim of his hat shielding his face from the rain.
“What’s going on here?” the policeman asked with a booming voice, one hand on his belt where his gun was holstered.
Wes spread his arms to the sides, making sure the policeman knew that he wasn’t armed. “I’m so sorry, officer, we’re already on our way. We got lost and had to ask for directions.”
The policeman looked past Wesley to where Virginia and Deirdre were standing. He tipped his chin in their direction. “Are you with those two women?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“In two cars? Whom were you asking for directions?” He glanced around, presumably to see if anybody else was in the area.
“Yes, our friend was following us, but I think we took a wrong turn. So we stopped to confer which way to go.”
“You can’t just park in the middle of the road,” the police officer chastised him. “There’s only one lane open.”
“I understand. And I’m really sorry. We’ll be on our way.”
Wesley was about to turn and walk away, when the policeman said, “I didn’t say you could leave. I’m gonna have to write you a ticket.”
At the words, the hairs on Wesley’s nape rose. He’d dealt with a lot of policemen in his life, and a little traffic holdup had never landed him a ticket. Apparently, this policeman was in a bad mood and ready to take it out on him.
Sighing, he said, “Very well.”
“Wait here,” the cop said and turned slowly to walk back to his police car.
Wes sighed and looked over his shoulder. Virginia and Deirdre were still standing next to the Toyota, waiting. He shrugged, then looked back to the cruiser. That’s when he realized it: the police officer hadn’t asked him for his license and registration. He’d been in traffic stops before, and the first thing a cop would do was ask for papers, so he could verify that he wasn’t dealing with a criminal on the run.
Wesley’s heartbeat kicked up a notch. Something was wrong. He watched the cop turn to enter the car, his profile showing now. There was nothing unusual about it—except for the fact that even in the rain and with sunset imminent, the man was wearing dark sunglasses. Who would do such a thing?
“Shit,” Wes cursed under his breath.
The cop, his body shielded by the open car door, snapped his head toward Wes and froze. At the same time a large truck appeared on the road behind the police car and pulled alongside it, coming to a stop.
Wes whirled around. “Demons!” he yelled at Virginia and Deirdre. “Get in my car!”
Without waiting for Virginia’s reaction, Wes spun back around. The cop was charging toward him, wielding a dagger, while the doors of the truck opened, and several more men jumped out. They, too, were armed with daggers and swords. But unlike the faux cop, they hadn’t bothered wearing sunglasses. As clear as day, their green eyes broadcasted what they were: demons. The demon cop had been waiting for reinforcements, stalling Wesley with irrelevant questions. Well, they were here now.
“Fuck!” Wes cursed and threw up his hands, calling his powers to him. With the sun still a few minutes from setting, he’d have to hold the demons off long enough for help from Scanguards to arrive. He knew his friends had to be close. But just how close?
With his arms raised, he began chanting in Latin, “Aqua unda liquidum…” A wall of water rose before him, cutting off the demons’ approach.
“Kill them!” the demon cop, clearly their leader, ordered. “Get me the human alive!”
Wes pushed the wall toward them, letting it crash against them and collapse. The force of the water threw several of the demons on their asses, but the rest of them approached, including the faux cop. Ferocious battle cries came from them, and fury blazed in their eyes.
Three demons rushed him, their daggers aimed at his heart. Again Wesley called on his powers, using another incantation, and created a spear of water. He launched it at one of his attackers, hitting him square in the chest with it. It tossed him backward onto the pavement. But the other two kept coming.
“Shit!”
Wes pulled out the dagger the Stealth Guardians of Baltimore had outfitted him with and squared his stance, ready to fight. The demon charging toward him was massive. Still, he had no choice. He had to make sure Virginia and Deirdre got away.
“Time to die, fucker!” he shouted, when suddenly, a dagger whizzed past him and lodged in the demon’s throat.
The demon’s eyes widened. He reached for the dagger in his throat and pulled it out. Green blood spewed from his neck like soda from a fountain. He staggered forward a couple of paces.
“Duck left, Wesley!” Virginia yelled from somewhere behind him.