The Iron Hunt Read Free Page B

iron gut,
too. Give me a food stand in Mexico with local water, old meat, some
questionable cheese—and I would still walk away without a burp.
    But
this felt like the beginning of something. I rubbed my arms, my stomach. Zee
shifted, tugging on my spine, then the others joined him—all over my body—and
every inch of me suddenly burned like I had been dipped in nettle oil.
    I
swayed, leaning hard on the table. Mary flinched. I could not reassure her. I
could not think. I was too stunned. And then I could do nothing at all, because
pain exploded in my eyes, like a razor shaving tissue from my eye sockets. I bent
over, pressing my fingers hard against my face. Digging in. Breathing through
my mouth. My knees buckled.
    Then,
nothing. Pain stopped. All over my body, just like that. No warning.
    I
huddled, breathless, waiting for it to return. All I felt was an echo, burning
through my skull and skin like a ghost. My heart hammered so hard I wanted to
vomit. I was light-headed, dizzy. My upper lip tasted like blood. My nose was
bleeding.
    I
sensed movement. Looked up, vision blurred with tears, and found Mary staring,
chopsticks pointed in my direction like chocolate hallucinogenic magic wands.
Her blue eyes were sharp. My knees trembled. Blood roared in my ears.
    “Devil
always comes knocking like a bastard,” she whispered.
    I
heard footsteps, the rough click of a cane. I snatched the jar of weed from
Mary’s hand, and ignored her squeak of protest as I hurried to the sink and
dumped its contents down the trash disposal.
    I
turned on the faucet, flipped the switch—and while the disposal rattled, I
dashed water on my face. My gloves were still on. I grabbed a paper towel to
swipe the blood from my nose and crumpled it in my fist, turning to face the
swinging doors just as Rex pushed through.
    His
aura sang with a dark crown so thick and black it pulsed like a cloud of crude
oil. Amazed me, again, that anyone in this world could be misled by his kind,
that demons could take hosts and move so freely amongst their human prey and
not one person blink an eye. I could not fathom such blindness. The danger of
it.
    Or
why I let Grant continue his experiments with them.
    He
was just behind Rex. His eyes were wild, fierce, edged in shadow. Something had
happened. When he walked in, his gaze slipped immediately to the crown of my
head, searching. I knew he could tell from my aura that I was hurting. Grant
started to speak, but I heard more footsteps, and he gave me a warning look
just as two men walked in after him.
    The
detectives. I recognized them, even if I did not know their names. They were in
their thirties, with close-shaven hair and neat suits. I was familiar with
their faces because they stopped by the Coop every now and then to see Grant.
Checking up on people. Using him as a sounding board. Once a priest, always a
priest. Folks still trusted him to lend an ear.
    The
men stood a moment in silence, studying Mary and Rex. Then me. I tried to stay
calm even though I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I disliked most
police. Not on principle. Most did good work. That was the problem. I had
broken too many laws over the years to be comfortable around anyone with a
badge.
    I
hoped I looked appropriately docile. I had cleaned up that morning, and my hair
was pulled back. A bit of lipstick, some mascara. Nothing heavy. Not that I was
trying to impress. I thought they had come for Mary. I was almost certain of
it. I was scared for her. And Grant.
    But I
got a surprise.
    “Maxine
Kiss?” asked the detective on the left, a slender black man who kept his thumbs
hooked lightly over his belt. He looked too by-the-book for such a relaxed
posture, which made me think he wanted his hands near his gun and Mace. “My
name is Detective Suwanai, and this is my partner, McCowan. We have some
questions for you.”
    I
stared, still feeling ill, head hurting. This did not help. The detectives should
not have known me—or that I lived