“He killed Tracy.”

Steve blinked. A crease appeared between his eyes. “No, Tracy was just on the phone.” He shook his head, meeting her gaze.

Jennifer sobbed and nodded. “He threw her off the balcony. I saw it Steve. I saw her die. Oh god, Steve, Tracy’s dead.”

Steve stepped back, shaking his head. “Uh-uh.”

“They’re going to kill us too.”

A slap wouldn’t have been as effective as those six words, and Steve’s jaw tightened. This time he shook his head violently. “No they aren’t.” He crossed the space between them and sat on the side of the altar next to her, placing his hand on her abdomen. “I won’t let that happen. I promise.” He touched her face and kissed her gently. “I promise no one will hurt you again.”

“Don’t make me promises you know you can’t keep.”

* * * *

Despair took hold of him, the drugs magnifying the emotion, and he closed his eyes, hanging his head.

Can I keep her safe?

In this condition?

Are you kidding me?

The trembling started in his hands and worked its way through his body. The truth was too much for him to bear and he turned away from her, clinging to the cold stone, silent tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Don’t do this, Steve, please don’t do this,” Jennifer whispered, gaining his attention. “I need you.”

Steve turned toward her his eyes, staring at the bruise at the base surrounding her eye and his shaking fingers touched the bruises Bill had left earlier in the day. Beyond despair, his eyes met hers.

I should have followed my gut. I shouldn’t have left you this morning. I should have taken you into custody to keep you safe.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice shook. “Jenny, I am so, so sorry.” He leaned forward, gently kissing each bruise, dropping hot tears on her skin.

“Please.” Jennifer’s voice trembled. “I need to know…,” she trailed off and swallowed. “I need to know you love me. I need to know you will no matter what happens tonight.” The film of tears shone brightly in her eyes before the liquid spilled over, lining her cheeks and pooling in her ears.

“Ah, baby, I’ll love you until I take my last breath,” Steve said and kissed her with all the tenderness he could muster. He pulled away, her soulful eyes begged for a way out, and he sighed, resting his hands on her waist. The rightness of her burned under his skin and he silently vowed to get her out of this alive. Somehow. Someway.

“You still think a monster is at the heart of this?” he asked. He no longer believed in demons from hell—only demons pretending to be human beings.

“Yes,” she answered and rolled, showing him her back.

His gaze landed on the scalded skin in the form of handprints and he recoiled.

“I had another nightmare this morning and when I woke, the closet was open and these were on my shoulders.” She settled on her back on the stone again.

The lore leapt to the forefront of his mind and he slumped on the stone next to her, picking up her wrist and inspecting the shackle. The key hole drifted and he cursed under his breath. “I could try to shoot the chains,” he said and met her gaze. “But if I missed…”

“You only have five bullets,” she whispered. “And in your condition, even if we were lucky enough to get me out of these with four shots, one bullet isn’t enough to stop them.”

He stood and paced until he stumbled. Working the lore, looking for weak points and ways out of this morbid ritual they were hell bent on performing.

If the demon truly existed, there was only one thing that could damn him back to hell.

Spilling Abinaqui blood on sacred ground.

He glanced at Jennifer. “I know how to stop the demon.”

Her eyes widened. “How?”

“Did you know that I’ve got Indian blood in my lineage?”

Her eyebrows shot into confused arches and he glanced at the door. “And heaven help anyone who touches you.”

The last of the daylight faded, leaving them entombed in the dark.

Chapter 38

Bill waltzed into the fraternity, whistling until he saw the police officers standing in the living room interviewing the members. He put on his game face. “What’s up?”

“Are you William Tyler?” one of the officers asked.

Bill’s heart stopped and fear crept in, pulsing black sludge through his veins. “Yes, what can I do for you?” he asked without showing a trace of what he felt.

“I’m Officer Sherwood and this is Officer Gant. Do you know a Tracy Sheehan?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend,” he said, widening his eyes in fake concern. “Is she all right?”

“Do you know a Steven Williams or Jennifer Curtis?” Sherwood asked.

Nodding, he asked, “Is everything all right?” He allowed his voice to rise, infusing it with a thin layer of panic, just the right amount to fool the officers into thinking he was worried about his girlfriend.

The officers traded a glance and Gant gave a small nod. “We’re investigating the suspicious death of Miss Sheehan,” he said. “Can you tell me where you were over the last hour?”

Blinking, he forced his eyes to tear up. “Dead? What do you mean dead? She was fine when I dropped her off...” He sat down slowly in the chair. “Tracy?” He tilted his head, scrunching his eyebrows together. “Are you telling me Tracy’s dead?” His voice cracked when he said her name and he almost smiled at the performance, instead he shot his glance between the two officers, blinking and slowly transforming his features into what he hoped looked like devastation.

Sherwood and Gant exchanged another glance and nodded. “Yes. Can you tell me where you were over the last hour?”

Bill stared at them, his mouth agape and his gaze still bouncing between the two cops. “We grabbed dinner at Joe’s and then I dropped her off around six. I stopped at the store on the way home.” He began to shake. “What happened to my girlfriend?” he asked in a voice loud enough to carry through the living room.

“What did you get at the store?” Sherwood asked, taking notes.

“Camping stuff. We’re going camping tonight.” He circled his finger as he spoke.

“Do you mind if we take a look?”

“I don’t mind, but what happened to Tracy?” He stood and blocked the officer’s path.

“Son, I suggest you step aside,” Sherwood said, looking at him intently.

“Not until you tell me what happened to Tracy,” Bill said, blinking back fake tears.

“She fell from her balcony,” the officer said. “Now, if you don’t mind…” He waved toward the door.

Bill sat down hard, looking up at the officer with wide eyes and an open mouth. He let the tears begin to stream down his face. “She fell?”

Gant crouched down in front of Bill. “Do you know the whereabouts of either Steven Williams or Jennifer Curtis?”

He shook his head. “No. Steve was here earlier and he said Jen had blown off a lunch date. He went running a little while after that. I just assumed he went to the apartment to look for Jen and found her, because he isn’t back yet.” He looked from Gant to Sherwood. “Why?” he asked, wiping the tears off his cheek.

“A male called nine-one-one from Tracy’s cell phone,” Sherwood offered. “Can you show us the camping gear you bought?”

Bill stood and walked out to his car. The passenger seat was full of hot dog buns, marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate bars, and skewers. The cooler was full of beer, limes, and hot dogs. There was also a giant box of condoms on the floor.

The officer raised his eyebrows and pointed at the box. “You need that on a camping trip?”

The tears started again. He looked between the box and the officer. “Tracy,” he whispered and tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come.

“But that many?” Sherwood probed.

Bill showed the first signs of anger. “I didn’t want to be running to the store every five minutes,” he snapped. “Are you done with me?” He grabbed the bag holding the condoms and started back inside without waiting for a response.