Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon Hunting Soccer Mom

Chapter Twelve

Considering how agitated I was, it's a wonder I didn’t have a car accident racing from the house to the college. Another Hunter? Why wouldn’t Larson have told me?

I couldn’t think of any answers, so the same questions just kept bouncing through my head, distracting me, and, frankly, upping my blood pressure. I dialed Larson’s cell phone number and his home number—both twice—but got no answer in either case. This time, not even voice mail. I was feeling very persona non grata and my attention span was shot. I knew I needed to focus, but I was having a hard time shifting from irritation to concentration. I had to, though. If that damn (and damned) dog slipped by me unnoticed, I might as well have just stayed home.

Come on, Kate. Quit obsessing.

Good advice. After all, there were any number of reasons Larson might not have hooked me up with this Edward person. Maybe Edward had moved on to L.A. or San Francisco or some place equally geographically undesirable. Or maybe Edward, unlike me, wasn’t about to be sucked out of retirement, and he’d told Larson to take a flying leap.

For all I knew, the elusive Edward could be dead.

I was cruising up and down the darkened streets that surrounded the small community college campus. Built in a warehouse district, the college had a particularly abandoned feel at night. I slowed down, moving my gaze purposefully from one side of the street to the other as I forced myself to think only about the surroundings and not about the Edward mystery.

I rolled down my window, listening for screams, howls, footfalls, anything. But I heard nothing. Come the weekend, I knew, I’d hear a deep bass thrum, highlighted by a cacophony of voices as students traipsed to the various empty warehouses in search of the next rave party. San Diablo may be sleepy, but it isn’t dead (the recent influx of demonic fiends notwithstanding).

Tonight, though, I didn’t even hear the scuttle of rats in the alleys. Most likely, the demon dog had moved on. A lot of time had passed since the police received the report. For all I knew, the dog could be all the way on the north side of town by now.

I was part relieved and part irritated. I’d come all this way, and I hated the thought that some kid up north might end up being a victim. But I couldn’t be two places at once and, frankly, I probably shouldn’t be here at all. I ought to be home, with my husband and kids.

And I was just about to turn the van around and go back when I heard it—a soft scrape of metal against metal. And then, farther away, a jumble of voices. Students, maybe? Working late in the labs and walking home together?

There was nothing particularly ominous about either of the sounds. Even so, the air itself seemed off. Tainted. Evil. (Okay, okay, so maybe that’s a tad melodramatic. But I did have a bad feeling.) I had no specific reason to think the demon dog was still around, but I wasn’t going to leave without warning those kids, and telling them to take the party inside.

I reached up and switched the overhead light to the Off position, then pulled the keys out of the ignition. I didn’t want the van lighting up like a birthday cake any more than I wanted its annoying bing bong to announce to the world that Kate Connor was about to go strolling down a dark alley.

I slid my purse under the seat, but only after first retrieving the little spritzer bottle I’d filled with holy water and the barbeque skewer I’d swiped from our backyard grill.

I pushed the door open and slid out of the van. I’d changed back into jeans and running shoes, and now I bounced a little in my Reeboks. If there was a demon out there, this time I was the one doing the hunting, and I hadn’t experienced the thrill of the hunt in a long, long time.