Along Came a Demon by Linda Welch Page B

It would be murder.”
    “ He’s a demon!”
    “ You’re the only person who knows,” Jack said. “He’s a detective for Clarion PD; they’d throw away the key.”
    Right. My stomach churned queasily as I sank back in my chair, clutching the Ruger.
    Mel came up to me and put out her hand as if to touch my shoulder, then her hand fell to her side. “You could run away.”
    “ Temporarily,” Jack added hastily.
    “ Just until it’s safe and you could come home,” Mel said.
    I mulled it over. Could I get away? Could I go far enough, the demons couldn’t follow?
    Could I leave Lawrence to them, if he was still alive?
    I slowly shook my head as I chewed on my lower lip.
    “ As if I could leave you guys all alone,” I said, but I couldn’t raise a smile.

    I fell asleep after a couple of hours of tossing and sweating. The last time I looked at the clock, it read two in the morning. When I woke, it was four o’clock.
    As well as the noise from the old heating system, my house likes to creak and groan as it settles down for the night. I know its noises, so I knew the creak in my bedroom did not belong. Someone was in here with me.
    I slowly groped for the Ruger, fingers inching under the spare pillow, feeling for metal. I left my hand there and rolled on my back.
    I made a few muffled noises and rolled to the side of the bed farthest from the door, sliding the Ruger under the edge of the duvet, pretending I moved in my sleep. I know every inch of my bedroom and presumably the intruder did not, and unless he possessed uncanny night vision, I held the advantage. If I could get on the floor… .
    The overhead light came on, blinding me. I sat up blinking, the gun in both hands panning around the room as my senses strained. A few unlikely scenarios spun through my head: An unarmed crook? Colin sneaking in to surprise me? I couldn’t shoot randomly.
    But no, Royal leaned on the doorframe with one hand on the light switch, very natty in a short-sleeved, pale-gold shirt, black slacks and black leather loafers. I pointed the gun at him, pleased my hands barely shook.
    “ How do you know those men?” he asked.
    I was way past the talking stage. I licked my lips and concentrated on his body language. If he even thought about moving, I w ould shoot him. I steadied my aim.
    “ You’re not going to shoot me.”
    The air blurred and the gun left my hand. He sat on the side of my bed. Confused, astonished, I tried to scoot back and his hand clamped on my thigh right where it hurt. I flinched. He took his hand away as if burned.
    He lifted his hands, palm out. “I am not going to hurt you, Tiff. You have my word. But I need answers.”
    The man had a peculiar affect on me. It seemed my commonsense took a nosedive. I opened my mouth, meaning to tell him to leave and instead it blurted what it should have kept to itself. “One of them was in Coralinda Marchant’s apartment when I found Lawrence’s drawing.”
    “ What happened?”
    “ Usual stuff. Chased me, knocked me down, then his buddy tried to take me for a ride.” I shrugged. “You know, same old same old.”
    His fingers wrapped my wrist just below the bandage. “Did they hurt you?”
    I looked down. “That? My fault entirely. Silly me. I should know better than jump from a moving vehicle.”
    His eyes darkened, the pupils stood out like chips of onyx. “They will pay for that.”
    His chill, implacable tone made me shrink back.
    The ice melted from his eyes. He frowned, all concerned-looking. “I frighten you. Do you think I’m like them? Is that it?”
    “ You’re one of them,” I growled.
    His frown deepened. “Oh. I see.”
    He had an eyeful of my cleavage and I tried to pull the sheet up higher, but he was sitting on it. The extra pressure put on my various abrasions did not help.
    “ Now I’m going to tell you what you think,” he said.
    Oh, yeah? I inwardly sneered. Like I needed another know-it-all guy who thought he had me figured out.
    “