Chapter Thirty
Hamel stood his ground while he waited for the creature to choke him to death. He should’ve been more careful. Who would save Melinda now?
The hand twisted around his throat as whatever attached to it spun in a circle around his head, twice, before coming to a stop against his back.
“What the fuck?” He hopped in a circle, trying to see what was holding on to him. Of course, he couldn’t see much.
A tiny “Help me, please” rose to his ears.
Protect.
He snapped to attention and faced the oncoming horde, pulling his gun from his waistband. He fired shots, but he either missed or the bullets had no effect. He emptied the clip with no blob going down. As the mass was about to consume him, he wrapped both hands around the sword and slashed through the front line. Each mass popped and disappeared. His back swing took out the next line. Same result for them. Bodies popped and vanished.
From there, the blobs stopped their advance and floated motionlessly.
“Human, return our . . . friend to us.” One of the blobs spoke, but he couldn’t tell which one. They had no mouths or eyes. They looked like giant raisins the size of a tire.
Taking slower breaths and calming, he felt the blob on his back shiver. In fear?
Protect.
“No,” he said. “He’s with me now. I’ll take care of him. You all be on your way.” None of them moved. Hamel raised his sword.
The voice spoke again. “Who are you, human, to defy us demons?”
Ah, so that’s who they were. Interesting. He expected horns, pointed tails, and ugly faces.
“I’m not human.” The word Sefu always used to refer to him was “transformer.” Maybe that was what he should use, too. “I am a transformer.” Hamel swore he heard gasps, and the group did float away a few feet.
A faint “Uh-oh” sounded behind him. Slowly, the blobs retreated to leave only one. Hamel imagined if it had a face, it’d be pissed-off looking.
“We will meet again, transformer.”
Good god. That was what every bad guy said in the movies. They couldn’t be original even in demon land? He let it go and watched as the demon floated away. When the group was out of sight, he said, “It’s okay, uh . . .” What did he call this thing? “You can let go of me.”
The pressure released from the base of his neck. He turned to see the demon close-up. It did look exactly like a raisin—on steroids.
“Why were they chasing you? Did you do something wrong?”
A weak “No” came from the demon. “They like to pick on me and hurt me. I am the weakest of everyone. Did you mean what you said, me being with you now? I would like if you do not kill me.”
Great. What did he tell the little guy? No, and let him get beat up again, or yes, and who knew what?
The demon asked, “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for someone brought here against her will.”
“You talk of the woman who arrived today. I can help you. I know where she is.” That came as a surprise. “Let me guide you.” What choice did he have?
“If you take me to the woman, I won’t kill you. How’s that?”
“I like very much.” The blob moved up, down, and around. If he had to guess, he’d say the thing was doing a happy dance. “This way. We go this way.”
The direction was quite different than what he’d chosen. He looked around at the rocky desert ground. This land would kill anyone lost in it. Anyone like him.
What had he gotten himself into? Following a demon? He must be losing his fucking mind.
“So. What’s your name, little guy?”
“Lamozierus.”
“Ha. Yeah, I’m not remembering that. In honor of a great movie, how about I call you Wilson.”
“Wil-son,” the demon repeated. “I like that. Easier to say. Wilson.”
Hamel squinted against the beating sun. “So, Wilson, I know nothing about this place. Tell me everything you can.”
“There is a lot to know . . . What is your name?”
Used to living under code name or altered identity, he wasn’t sure what name he should give. He’d used his real name with Melinda’s job because he was supposed to be purely background protection, not talking with possible informants and bad guys. But now he was.
“Call me Clint.” He recognized the name and jokingly mumbled, “Just Clint,” in case the demon knew Clint Eastwood, his childhood idol.
“Clint, there is much to learn if you want to understand our world,” the being said. The entity continued, “Perhaps it would be better if you asked specific questions.”
Yeah, Twenty Questions time, Hamel thought. “Why do they want my mate?”
“What is ‘mate’?” Wilson sounded confused.
He thought about that for a second. “A mate is the one person who can make you smile and laugh when you’re feeling sad. They are the first person you want to see in the morning, and the last at night. You would do anything, even give your life, to keep your mate safe and happy. They are the only person who makes your life complete.”
“That sounds like your word ‘love.’ Is that right, Clint?”
That was surprising. “You are correct, Wilson. How do you know English so well?”
“The demon king says it is important to learn and study the enemy. You cannot beat them if you do not understand them.”
Hamel stopped. “Hold on a second. You’re saying I’m your enemy?”
“Yes, that is correct,” he said assuredly.
Hamel frowned. This wasn’t going well. “Then why are you here with me? Should you run away, or at least attack me?”
The demon spun around, his eyes red dots drilled through him. Oh, shit. What did he just do?