Amber Dan-Dwayne Spencer (romantic books to read .txt) 📖

The demon’s stride hastened before it clawed into the blacktop with its cricket-like back legs and leaped. Landing with its front claws, it dug into the van and carved gashes in the metal. It climbed up onto the roof.

“Take your next right,” I yelled.

Stoney made a hard right turn. The creature’s hindquarters flew to the side from the centrifugal force. Clinging to the top of the van by a single claw, its bones cracked as the thing twisted out of control. It roared a scathing cry and grabbed at the van with its other arm. A grinding sound of metal on metal, then a thud as a claw ripped through the van’s roof—missing Stoney by inches.

“Up ahead, follow the curve to the west and the cemetery is right there,” I screamed, all the while dodging more claws penetrating the metal above my head.

Stoney aimed the van between the black wrought iron columns. The low bannered arch above connected the columns and was inscribed with white metal words, Blue Eye Cemetery. When the creature hit the banner, it bounced off the van into the roadway, leaving a claw dangling like a stalactite in the VW’s roof.

The van jolted as it left the meandering gravel road cut through the cemetery. Brakes locked and out of control, it skated across the manicured turf. Wheels dug trenches as it skidded, the vehicle’s momentum hurled it past grave markers and over the memorial lawn. Ahead, a tree stood directly in the path of our non-stop trajectory. I covered my face with my arm as the unstoppable and the immovable collided.

The VW struck the huge tree and bounced upward a couple of feet. The chrome bumper took most of the impact and broke off, wrapping around the trunk like a cigar band. The sudden stop threw me out of my seat, and Jimmy tumbled over on top of me. Stunned, we lifted our heads and inventoried ourselves for injuries. Miraculously, we had survived with nothing more than a few bruises. The van wasn’t so lucky. From where I sat looking through the shattered windshield, I could tell the front wheels were off the ground. The badly dented front end had ridden up the tree trunk at least two feet.

Seconds later the pursuing police cars slid up to the cemetery’s entrance, and three officers stepped out of the cruisers. They appeared to be two older men and a rookie cop. I blinked and focused on my gift. The scene outside the cemetery gate changed—the older officers were demons. The one we threw off the van limped over to where the demonized officers conversed.

We piled out of the van, expecting them to charge at us. The blond-demon whined and reverted into the child. One of her arms dangled, broken. She lifted it toward the police officers, who nodded and put a hand up to the entrance of the cemetery. What looked like Christmas lights behind frosted glass flickered at their fingertips.

The tallest officer pointed at us and ordered his rookie partner to arrest us. The young man stepped through the entrance, gun raised.

“Down on the ground all of you.” He yelled. “What kind of stunt driving was that? And why were pieces of your van flying back at us?”

“This one is for real. I don’t think he’s a demon,” Jimmy loudly whispered.

Roger replied, “What gave it away? The fact he has us in his gunsight, or that the demons can’t step through the gate.”

“What?” I choked the word, then suddenly, I understood. The other officers weren’t entering the cemetery. They were acting like this place had the same kind of barrier around it as the carnival had.

“I told you to get down on the ground,” the rookie officer repeated. He approached, careful to keep about twelve feet between him and us.

I looked over at Flower. She nodded and got on her knees. We followed suit.

“Okay, Charlie. I’ll cover them while you put the cuffs on them.” There was no reply. He turned to see where his back-up had gone to. “Charlie, why are you just standing there?”

Roger reached over and nudged Jimmy. He glanced at Flower and she nodded back. Before the officer could turn back toward us, Jimmy was on him. First, he snatched the gun from his hand and threw it deep into the cemetery. Then he pinned the young man’s arms behind him.

“I don’t know if this is going to work the same way it did before, but here goes.” I reached up and put my hand on the cop’s head, then looked inside myself for the trigger spot. I searched until I felt the familiar pain. The Cop’s eyes glared wide open, and he stared at the entrance of the cemetery. I reached farther into his mind and suddenly, I could see through the cop’s eyes—there stood two twisted creatures in police uniforms and a cricket-like demon with long blond hair.

When I stepped back, Jimmy let go of the young officer.

“What the Hell?” the Cop exclaimed. “Somebody tell me what’s going on here before I throw the book at this big monkey for assaulting a police officer.”

“I thought you should know your friends out there are not what they seem,” I said. “They aren’t even human.”

“Damn. What are they, aliens?” He asked.

“Not aliens—demons! They’re all three demons,” Roger explained. “They can’t enter the cemetery because it’s sanctified ground. If the cemeteries weren’t sanctified, then all the dead would be subject to possession and we would have a worldwide zombie problem.”

Jimmy ordered, “Roger, shut your freaking mouth. This is bad enough, without you putting more horrific thoughts in my head.”

Roger smiled and added, “The problem is demons can’t be killed. At least not by any mortal weapon. That gun of yours is totally useless. Those things would recover and come back madder and more vicious than before.”

The young officer