Rohan told Drio to hang on, motioning for me to keep the demon talking. He moved next to me and I tilted the phone so he could hear both sides of the conversation.
"You had me fooled with that little act of yours," Samson said. Before I could say something glib in response he added, "I don't like being fooled, Rasha."
"Poor baby."
"I'll admit, you're far more interesting this way. I've never met a female hunter before. You should have led with that."
"But then we would have missed out on all our good times."
He laughed. "The best is yet to come."
"Quit jerking around, Adramelech," I said. "Tell me where you are and let's finish this."
"Are you that impatient to end things with Rohan? Oh wait. That was an act, too. Should have known. You're not exactly in his league." I may have caused a scorch mark on the floor with the electricity that spat from my eyes, but I didn't respond to his taunt.
Rohan snatched the phone from me and hung up, resuming his call with Drio. "Come get us. We'll be out front." He tossed me my phone and walked off.
I jogged after him, holding my questions until we'd gotten outside. The front of the hotel was busy, all tourists and luggage. No one paid any attention to us. Still, we stood off to the side of all the activity, speaking quietly.
"Samson killed the two Rasha who abducted him after his radio interview," he told me. I had no doubt Rohan would make him pay for that.
I clutched his arm. "Mirek?"
"No. Two of the guys from the bar. I'd only met them a couple of times. Still." He touched his glamoured Rasha ring, an expression of grim determination on his face.
There was nothing more to add. Two Rasha were dead. More death was a certainty.
Drio picked us up. He looked up at the hotel with curiosity. "What brought you here?"
"Later," Rohan said. Drio didn't press him.
We drove out of town once more. Given the importance of the job ahead, of keeping my shit together, now was not the time to brood over what we'd learned back in Gelman's room. I failed. Spectacularly. I leaned forward to see if Rohan was doing any better up in the passenger seat. His jaw as he stared straight ahead could have been carved from granite.
Once again, we turned onto the dirt road leading to the farmhouse. The fact we came in mid-afternoon this time, when it was still light, wasn't a plus. It was desolate out here. Even the sunlight seemed stark. Trees ran along both sides of the road, their naked branches stretching out like witch's fingers, casting twisted shadows inside the car.
The light did nothing to enhance the deserted two-story farmhouse either. The stone work on the first floor was black with dirt and age, while the horizontal wood siding that had been added up top was leached of all color. The rotting roof looked ready to cave in at any second. Only one window on the upper floor still had a pane of glass; the others had been blown out through time or Rasha encounters.
I got out of the car, sidestepping a pile of loose rock by my foot. If there were neighbors, they were far away and on the other side of the woods that bordered the property on three sides. "Why would Samson give us the home court advantage?" I asked.
"He said he wanted to kill us where we'd killed the gemini." Drio stuffed the car keys in his pocket. "I'm sure he does, since the other Rasha warded up the farmhouse, imprisoning him."
Ah. He needed our blood to break the ward and get free. "He couldn't compel them into breaking the ward?"
"No," Rohan said, as we tromped over the weed-choked front lawn. "The ritual affected that ability."
"Then why not use the Rasha blood to break free once he'd killed them?"
Drio's mouth flattened into a hard line. He pointed out into the field between the house and the woods. About thirty feet away lay two blackened lumps that I'd mistaken for burned hay bales. My hand flew to my mouth.
The stairs leading up to the front door were warped, twisting away from the house as if trying to escape. Smart stairs. A moldy sofa in a hideous brown velvet stood in the otherwise empty living room. Someone should have burned it and put it out of its misery.
A creepy whistled tune came from everywhere at once, as if broadcast on a state-of-the-art speaker system. There was a sick clutch in my stomach as I recognized the tune. "I've Got No Strings On Me" from Disney's Pinocchio.
Drio flicked his eyes to the living room door. Rohan nodded. A flash of iron caught the weak sunlight as Drio flicked the ritual blade from some kind of wrist sheath. Then he zipped off. With his speed, he'd be able to search the house for Samson in seconds.