Running with the Demon - Terry Brooks [150]
She nodded. “I suppose they have.”
The demon studied her. “You knew I’d come back to finish things, didn’t you? You didn’t think you could escape me?”
“Not for a moment. But I’m surprised you thought you needed help.”
He stared at her, a hint of confusion in his bland face. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“John Ross.”
The demon snorted. “Oh, Evelyn, don’t be obtuse. Ross is a creature of the Word. He’s been tracking me for some time. Without much success, I might add.”
Well, well, it seems I was wrong about Mr. Ross, she thought in surprise.
The demon was watching her closely. “Don’t get your hopes up, dear heart. John Ross is not going to change the outcome of things. I’ve already seen to that.”
“I expect you have,” she replied quietly.
He made a point of glancing around then, a slow, casual survey of the shadows. His smile was empty and cold. “Look who’s come to say good-bye to you.”
She had already seen them. Feeders by the dozens, slinking out of the darkness to gather at the edges of the light, crowding forward in anticipation, eyes unblinking and expressionless, dark bodies coiled. Some had already advanced to the far ends of the porch, their heads pressed up against the railing like grotesque children in search of a treat.
She gave him a flat, hard stare. “Perhaps they’ve come to say good-bye to you, instead.” She beckoned casually. “Step closer so I can see you better.”
The demon did so, moving just out of the shadows, his arms loose, his pale, washed-out blue eyes looking almost sleepy.
“Oh, you’ve changed considerably,” she told him. “If you think I’ve aged, you ought to take a close look at yourself. Is that the best you can do? Did you sell your soul for so little? How sad.”
There was a long silence between them. Then the demon whispered, “This is the end of the line for you, Evelyn.”
She rose to her feet and stood looking at him, feeling small and vulnerable in the presence of his strength. But she was buttressed by her anger and by her certainty that he was not half so clever as he thought. She moved slowly around to the back of her rocker and leaned on it, giving him a broad, sardonic smile.
“Why don’t you come up on the porch so we can discuss it?” she said.
He smiled in return. “What are you up to, Evelyn?” He cocked his head to one side as if reflecting on the possibilities.
She waited patiently, saying nothing, and after a moment he started toward her, accepting her challenge. The feeders trailed after him, skittish with anticipation. She had not seen so many in one place in years. Not since she had played with them at night in the park as a young girl. Not since the demon and she were lovers. The memories roiled within her, a bitter stirring of emotions that turned the night’s heat and darkness suffocating.
When he was almost to the steps, she reached behind her for the shotgun and brought it up in a single, smooth movement so that the long barrel was leveled directly at his chest. She flipped off the safety and placed her finger over the trigger. He was less than fifteen feet away, a clear target. He stopped instantly, genuine surprise showing on his face.
“You can’t hurt me with that,” he said.
“I can blow that disguise you’re hiding behind to smithereens,” she declared calmly. “And it will take you a while to put together another, won’t it? A little extra time might be all I need and more than you can afford.”
He laughed softly in response, his hands clasping before him as if in childish admiration. “Evelyn, you are astonishing! I missed it completely! How could I have been so stupid? You’ve lost your use of the magic, haven’t you? That’s why you have the shotgun! Your magic doesn’t work anymore!” He grinned, excited by his discovery. “And to think I was worried mat you might prove troublesome. Tell me. What happened? Did you use it all up? No, you wouldn’t have done that. You were saving it to use against me. Or against yourself. Remember how you threatened to do