Midnight Moon (Vampire for Hire #13)(38)

Tammy wasn't sure if she was reading the devil's mind, or if the imagery was being purposely planted there. She suspected a little bit of both, as the codes and formulas were still there, but they seemed more in the background.

"So powerful," the woman said.

The tattoo had moved further down the woman's arm, just as it had when the handsome biker had been talking to her mother. Back then, her mother had watched the tattoo slowly undulate over the man's forearm. A living tattoo. It was, she was certain, the mark of the devil.

"You want to use me," said Tammy. "Or use my brother. Or use both of us. My mother, too, if you can."

The jogger stopped pacing, faced Tammy, and placed both hands on top of the chain-link fence. The tattoo had coiled tightly around her wrist. Somewhere inside the woman, through the chanting and stream of ancient words, she sensed a woman inside who had very much regretted making a deal with the devil, a woman who regretted losing all control of her body, a woman who was certain she might not live out the day, a woman who knew her own personal hell was being set up for her even now, with special tortures designed explicitly just for her.



       
         
       
        

"She chose poorly," said the devil, and Tammy heard the low growl now. It sounded nothing like how the jogger had sounded earlier. "She was nothing, just like the man before her. Lost souls, each. Adrift in this world, looking for a little excitement. I gave it to them, for a short while. But you are different, lass. We can work together. Your brother... your brother is a lost cause, I fear."

And in that moment, even through the strange verbiage, she saw what the devil saw. It was a brief glimpse of the future and it involved her brother helping those who couldn't help themselves. Her brother who would become a sort of urban legend. Whether the vision was true, she didn't know, but the devil seemed to believe it.

"Yes, lass. We can work together, me and you. I feel the darkness in you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. She was certain, no, she was positive that the devil was wrong. And yet, she felt a stirring in her. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

The woman standing at the fence smiled broadly, then raised her right hand. She snapped her fingers and something miraculous happened. The now two-headed hellhound was once again a three-headed hellhound. The severed head slowly disappeared from its resting place on the driveway, where its thick tongue had hung out. First it was there, and then, after a few seconds, it wasn't. The blood on the street disappeared too, and now the hellhound leaped to its feet, turned in a tight circle. The two original heads promptly snapped and bit and growled at the new head; soon, all three were fighting ferociously. Blood and fur flew.

"Kids," said the jogger, shaking her beautiful head. She looked from the devil dog and back to Tammy. "You think about what I said, lass, and I will be seeing you again."

She turned and jogged off, her ponytail swishing from side to side, her jogging form nearly perfect.

The three heads quit snapping at each other long enough to turn and growl at Tammy. Next to her, the fire warrior shifted, and now the dog turned and ran swiftly down the center of the street, only to disappear in the blink of an eye.





Chapter Twenty-two



I came home and the kids were being very well behaved.

As in, both were in their rooms, and both were doing their homework. No fighting, nothing broken, no blood, no TV blaring, no video games, no YouTubing, and their phones lay quietly next to them, seemingly forgotten. Both smiled at me when I checked in on them, although Tammy rolled her eyes. Gee, I wonder where she got that from?

She was about to turn the page of her textbook when she paused, looked up at me. "You know what happened."

"Of course I know."

"Who told? Wait. Your angel," she said, obviously scanning my mind. 

"Not exactly my angel, not anymore, but that's another story." Ishmael had appeared in my minivan, in the passenger seat next to me. Although he had waited for me to stop at a stoplight, his sudden appearance had elicited a scream that I wasn't very proud to admit had come from my mouth.

"It was nothing, Mom, really. We had it under control."

"You had the devil under control?" I heard the words as I spoke them and could only shake my head.

"Then you probably have some idea what happened to the dog. Anthony took care of it. I wasn't scared."

My son, the fire warrior. I took in some air and continued processing the information I had been given by Ishmael only a few miles ago. Ishmael had, of course, been by their side, invisible, ready to fight, although my son, apparently, hadn't needed much help. If anything, I sensed awe from Ishmael, although it was hard to sense anything from a being that might not have real emotions. Certainly not human emotions.