Page 146 of The Lure

#2 Demon– high Lure resistance but not complete, we suspect. Only one subject survived. Tests are to continue.

I am a demon?

“This is impossible. Ridiculous.” Shaking her head, she rose from the chair, noting that Rutger also was stunned and had not managed to assemble any words as yet.

Demons, gargoyles? Dwarfs? Fae? Her gaze swung to Vargr, and he shrugged, waiting with his hands clasped and his wings relaxed at his back. As if today was nothing different, as if Willow wasn’t gone, after having uncovered this most bizarre research.

“We need Willow to explain.” She clutched at the desk. They didn’t have her. Maybe this was some imaginings of hers, written down as a story, but movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see Maura in the study doorway.

“It all fits. You may not believe this, Cyn, any of you, but I do.” Maura stiffened, pushed back her shoulders. The wrinkles on her face drove home her age. Her hands were shaking where she’d clasped them at her waist. “I owe it to Willow to try to be what she was, because you need one of what she was…” Her mouth pinched in.

“A fae,” Cyn breathed. She brought her hand to her gun, drew it from the holster, hearing the slick sounds of metal sliding on leather.

She knew what to name it now. Not Ghoul Killer or whatever. Her gun was a she.

“I name you Willow.” Then she kissed the steel and gold, and shoved the gun back into the holster.

She took a few long, slow breaths while staring at the rug and holding back the sting in her eyes, then she looked to Vargr.

“So. You’re gargoyle, and so is Rutger.”

“Absolutely crazy,” her second beaster said, the one with the giant blue horns that dripped magic motes or some such shit, but he sought out her hand and gripped it.

“I’m that and I’m what you are too Cyn, if you believe the document.” He pushed off the wall to stand upright, feet steady and shoulder width apart.

Clearly, he did believe. “You’re badass like me. You’re a bit of me, a bit of gargoyle. And I am demon. Fuck, thisiscrazy.” She held up her free hand, turned it over, spotted the tiny trail of red scales. Finally that made sense. Her mind did another backflip. “Unless this Doctor Nietz was on crack when he wrote this?”

And Willow was gone. Up there.

She lifted her head. Right now she might be dangled over a mouth filled with triangular teeth, while her flesh was stripped from her in pieces.

Red hot anger surged forth and she growled.You’re going to be so dead, Mister Ghoul Lord.

“Fuck this day,” she muttered, cursing the ceiling at the least. Cursing the aliens who’d dared invade Earth and the smarter one who’d decided to take away the one person who had a fucking clue.

“Ahhh, Cyn. Cyn?” She looked to Rutger and he raised his hand, the one that held hers, though now he only touched hers at the wrist. “Flames?”

“Damnation.” Her hand was burning, with little fires licking over it. “Is this… is this fucking normal?”