The Gravedigger's Son - Darynda Jones Page 0,14

motionless as though waiting for the demon to attack him. Yet he watched her. Gave her time to make her escape. A microsecond before the darkness raked across him, he let the salt go, flinging it into the air and at the entity.

It still sank its claws into him.

He flew back against a wall, almost knocking the house down, then ran for the stairs. He took nearly the entire floor in one jump, grabbing Amber along the way and scuttling into the kitchen. He propped her onto the table. She’d never felt so much like a ragdoll as she did today.

Then, he sank to his knees beside the table and fell under it.

“Quentin!” She scrambled off the top and crawled underneath with him. He doubled over and held his head with both arms. “Quentin, what did it do?”

He shook his head and rocked, and when she touched him, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder, he exploded. One second she was under the table with him. The next, the table crashed against the refrigerator, and she was looking up at a ceiling again, pressure on her throat.

He pinned her to the floor, his teeth clenched, his forearm pressed against her throat.

“Quentin,” she choked out, but his blue irises had turned black. No. Not just his irises. His eyes in their entirety. They’d literally turned black as she watched. Tendrils of ink sprouted from the corners and covered the white and blue. He looked…possessed.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice deeper than before. Animalistic. Preternatural. And then he stopped. Blinked. Shook his head as though trying to clear it before looking back at her. “Traveler.”

She tugged at his arm and tried to summon some of the moves she’d learned in self-defense class, but all rational thought had fled the building. So, she decided to state the obvious, her voice strained. “Quentin, I can’t breathe.”

He let her go instantly, released a growl of frustration, and turned away from her.

She rolled over and lay in a fetal position as she coughed and tried to fill her lungs. Her cheeks, hot and wet with tears, burned almost as much as her throat did. She coughed until she gagged and almost threw up on Dora’s floor. The departed woman stood over Amber, her face brimming with concern.

Kyle was still there, as well. “Ms. Kowalski,” he said, kneeling beside her, clutching his clipboard tighter to his chest. “What can I do?" He tossed a glare over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” she said through a few more coughs. She sat up. “I’m okay. Really.”

Dora held her fists over her mouth. “Mija, you’re covered in blood.”

She looked down. Blood did indeed cover her tank, but it wasn’t hers. “Quentin!” She scrambled closer to him but didn’t dare touch him. He’d changed more than she could’ve imagined.

He jerked away and kept his back to her.

“Stop being an ass. Turn toward me.”

He eased farther away when she tried to see around him. He’d been hurt. Badly.

“Either turn toward me, or I’m stepping out of the circle, getting my phone, and calling for help.” She hadn’t wanted to bring anyone else into the situation, but things had escalated far beyond her comfort level. As a former angel, her stepdad would know what to do.

Quentin’s head swiveled sharply toward her, anger evident in his moves. His every breath.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, satisfied. “And you can just shove that attitude up your ass.”

He glared at her, then looked at her throat. Guilt washed over him. She could see it in every line of his exquisite face. His eyes were blue again. A little darker than before, perhaps, but blue with a white sclera. Oh, yeah. They definitely needed to talk. But for now, the demon had clearly tried to rip him in half.

Amber leaned around him and tried to suppress a gasp. More slashes ran along his stomach and rib cage. His shirt was now more red than blue, the front soaked through, the viscous liquid seeping into his jeans. “Oh, Quentin.” She tried to raise his shirt, but he didn’t let her.

He covered his stomach with an arm and struggled to his feet.

“Wait, Quentin, wait.” She stood, as well. When he looked down at her, she put a hand on his chest. “We have to bandage this.” There was so much more blood this time. They had to get him to a hospital.

He shook his head and signed, “I’m okay. We have to get out of here.”

“I’m all for that.” The