“I’m coming with you,” Gabrielle announced.
Mick turned swiftly to her, his head tilted in that unnerving way of his. I knew that my boyfriend at this moment was almost all dragon—the fact that he was still human shaped meant he was using a lot of strength to keep himself calm.
“All right,” Mick said quietly. “But you ride with me.”
Chapter Four
It was not difficult to guess where the bikers were headed. Monica and John had wanted us to go to Flat Mesa with them, and I assumed they’d suggested the same to the demon guys.
Gabrielle obediently rode with Mick while I came behind on the Softail Mick had bought me this summer. I’d have preferred to wrap myself around Mick’s warmth, but that would leave Gabrielle to ride my motorcycle, which was not a good idea. She didn’t yet understand the concept of respecting other people’s things, plus she might simply turn around and ride off wherever she wanted. Tomorrow, I’d talk about sending her back to Many Farms and my grandmother’s supervision.
Meanwhile … demons. Would three demons ready to devour their victims go unnoticed in the one motel in Flat Mesa?
Mick knew how to follow people without being noticed, even on a noisy motorcycle. He stayed far enough back so no one would think he had any interest in them, and I kept my bike behind Mick’s, head down into the now chill wind.
The miles between the Crossroads and Flat Mesa went by quickly. Mick took his Harley around the back of the two-story motel, parking in the shadows. I pulled up beside him and killed my engine as Gabrielle slid down from the seat.
Sure enough, Monica was leading the demons up the stairs to a corner room of the motel. I saw no sign of John.
Not good. As soon as Monica’s door closed, Mick left the shadows and swarmed up the stairs, Gabrielle right behind him. I followed as fast as I could. Running in my heavy boots wasn’t easy, and Mick could move.
He’d already shouldered his way into the room before I was halfway down the metal-railed balcony. Night wind nipped at me, the air suddenly cold.
Gabrielle, light on her feet, charged inside after Mick. I heard no sound from the room. No screams, no shouting, not even maniacal laughter from my sister. Nothing. My blood chilled, and I quickened my pace.
Someone came up behind me. John. The kerchief still covered his hair, the wind stirring it. His tatts gleamed on his arms under the yellow glow of the balcony’s one light.
John halted in surprise when I turned to him. “Janet? You guys decided to come after all?”
“Those men you hooked up with,” I said quickly. “They’re dangerous.”
John’s hard biker face took on a look of bewilderment. “What do you mean, dangerous? And Monica’s in there with them?”
He tried to charge past me, but I stuck out my arms and got in his way. “Mick’s dealing with it.”
Supposedly. I still heard nothing. Dread touched me with icy fingers.
John’s expression turned scared, desperate. “Move—I need to help her.”
“No,” I said firmly. “Stay here. Let me check it out first.”
“You? Seriously?”
John looked me up and down. I knew he saw a young Diné woman on the short side with a slim face, dark eyes, and flyaway hair. I probably looked like I couldn’t bring down a flea. However, whether he believed it or not, I was the most dangerous thing in Flat Mesa tonight. Well, perhaps Gabrielle was, and she looked even more harmless than me.
John shoved past me, not roughly, but powerfully enough that I couldn’t stop him physically. He ran inside, and I sprinted after him.
The hotel room was full of fire. Not natural fire—this was the hellfire of demons mixed with the cleaner fire of a dragon. I ducked a stream of flame coming for me and tackled John before another could scorch him.
The silence outside had been an illusion. Screams, shouts, and unearthly screeches filled the space. Someone, maybe Mick, had put a spell on the room so no one outside would know that hell had opened up inside.
Monica was facedown on one of the beds, unmoving. I couldn’t tell if she were dead, unconscious, or just lying low. I climbed carefully off John, but he stayed on the floor—smart man.
That left three demons, Mick, Gabrielle, and me.
Gabrielle was yelling. “Get out of the way, Mick! Let me take them!”
Mick completely ignored her. He was fighting like a soldier, striking, feinting, trying to drive the demons into a knot so he could finish them off.
The three demons still looked like human bikers, but they no longer hid their smoke-and-flame auras, which bulged their skin and cracked it in weird ways. They didn’t have horns and tails—most demons didn’t—but their eyes were glaring white, and they could throw fire as potent as Mick’s.