The Demon Road Trilogy: The Complete Collection: Demon Road; Desolation; American Monsters

“Exactly!” said Glen. “She’s got nothing to be ashamed of! Look at her! She’s beautiful! She’s magnificent!”

“Yeah, Milo, I’m magnificent.” She walked by Glen, heading to the door. “It’s like breaking in a new pair of shoes, you know? You’ve got to give it the time it needs.”

“Um …” said Glen. “I am really sorry about this.”

She turned. Glen stood perfectly still, Ralphie behind him, holding that big hunting knife to his throat. Ralphie was sweating badly.

“Easy now,” said Milo.

Ralphie started moving Glen around them, heading to the door.

“There was nothing personal here,” Milo continued. “You get that, right? Your brother came at us. I had to put him down. There was no malice to it.”

Amber resisted the urge to run at Ralphie and tear his face off. She was chock-full of malice.

“Gun down,” Ralphie said, his voice sounding strangled. Inky tendrils of tattoo were writhing on his skin.

“Can’t do it,” said Milo.

Ralphie stopped with his back to the door, and spat out a mouthful of black phlegm. “I’ll kill him.”

“Then I’ll shoot you.”

Ralphie blinked quickly, and black liquid began streaming from the corners of his eyes. He said something unintelligible, then tried again. “Keys.”

Milo hesitated, then took out his car keys. He tossed them and, when Ralphie reached out to catch, Glen slipped from his grasp. In an instant, Milo’s gun was in his hand, but Glen came stumbling towards him and Ralphie ran out of the house.

“You didn’t shoot me!” Glen cried, amazed. “We really are friends!”

Milo ignored him and walked for the door. Outside, the Charger roared to life.

Amber ran, beating Milo outside as Ralphie steered the Charger up the dusty hill. Milo strolled out after her, looking entirely too calm. He put his gun back in its holster, and started walking up the hill as the clouds of dust settled.

“You don’t seem too upset,” she said, walking beside him as Glen followed along behind, checking himself for injuries.

“Why should I be upset?” Milo asked.

She glared. “He’s got your car.”

“No,” said Milo. “My car has him.”

They walked up the slope. Glancing at her shadow on the ground and noting how cool her horns looked, Amber matched his pace, slow and leisurely, all the way up the hill – even though her entire body wanted to sprint and run and leap and fight. She wanted to tear faces off and bite through throats and pull out hearts. She wanted to rip and tear and decapitate and disembowel. She wanted violence. She wanted to kill.

They got to the top of the hill. The Charger was just ahead of them, one wheel up on a gentle mound of dirt, its engine still running.

As they neared, the door sprang open and grey smoke billowed into the open air. Ralphie threw himself out, coughing violently. He hit the ground and started dragging himself along by his elbows.

“She’s got a tricky tailpipe,” said Milo. “If you’re not careful, it’ll back up on you.”

Once he was far enough away from the car that had almost killed him, Ralphie got to his hands and knees, still coughing, black spittle dripping from swollen lips. He spat. There was at least one tooth in all that dark phlegm. He got the coughing under control and, breathing loudly, he stood, swaying. He took the hunting knife from his belt. He looked sick.

“You want,” said Milo, “I can shoot you now, put you out of your misery.”

Ralphie gargled out a laugh, then pointed the knife at Amber. Grunts were all he could utter. She knew what he wanted, and she obliged. He wanted his chance to take out a demon before he went. There was something admirable in that, she supposed. She walked forward, and heard Milo sigh.

“Uh,” said Glen, “should we be letting her do that?”

“She’s not a kid,” Milo answered. “She’s dumb, but she’s not a kid. She can do whatever the hell she wants.”

Ralphie grinned at her. His lips were so swollen they looked like they might burst.

Even though he was dribbling blackness, Ralphie held that knife like he knew what he was doing. Excitement fluttered in Amber’s belly. She didn’t know how to fight, but she was being given a chance to prove herself by a man who was going to die, anyway. She had nothing to lose.

He darted at her and she jumped back. He came at her again and she slipped sideways. He was unsteady on his feet and he nearly toppled, but after coughing up a lungful of black ink he turned to continue.

She moved in close and he swiped. The blade skittered across the scales that were suddenly covering her forearm, and she hit him. It was a bad punch, but her fist sank into his soft side, and it hurt him nonetheless. Blackness began to seep into his T-shirt where she had broken the skin. He was rotting from the inside out.

He lunged but she moved and he missed. He stumbled and fell to his knees. Coughed. Spat. Got back up. Lunged at her again. Repeated the process.

He was done. Disappointingly, it was over before it had even begun.

He struggled to his feet and Amber ran forward and jumped. Powerful muscles launched her into the air faster than she’d expected, propelling her across the space between them just as Ralphie was turning to her. Her knee struck his chest and they went down, Amber on top. The knife clattered against a stone somewhere.

Beneath her, Ralphie’s eyes were wide and blinking. He was trying to suck in air through his open mouth. Amber was kneeling on him. No, not on him. In him. She stood, removing her knee from the hole in his chest. Trails of blood and ink and rotten insides stretched between them like lines of spittle. She could feel it soaking through her jeans.

She reverted to normal without meaning to, and the cold realisation of what she had done washed over her. Milo and Glen were at her side now. The blackness was rising through Ralphie’s skin, leaking from his pores. It weakened his flesh, turned it mushy. His arms and legs lost their form, like the bones themselves had dissolved. His ruined ribcage fell in on itself. A stench rose. Human waste and rotting meat. Then his face caved in. In another few moments, all that was left of Ralphie McGarry were his soaking, black-drenched clothes.

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THEY GOT BACK TO The Dark Stair a little before noon. The place was empty apart from Abigail, who sat on the bar with her legs swinging. Amber hadn’t said anything on the ride over. She’d changed her jeans, though.

“It’s done,” said Milo.

“Never doubted you for a moment,” said Abigail. “Did you encounter any difficulties?”

Milo took a moment. “You tipped them off.”

Abigail’s big eyes widened. “Me?”

“You led us right into an ambush.”

She giggled. “You got me! You see right through me! I just thought, hey, wouldn’t it be funny if Ralphie and Ossie got the drop on Milo Sebastian and his pals?”

“I don’t remember giving you my name.”

“I don’t remember needing it.” Abigail smiled. “I’m a huge fan of your work. I hope this doesn’t mean we’re not friends, though. I think we could all be great friends. Don’t you?”

Milo didn’t say anything. He just turned, walked for the stairs. Glen hesitated, then bowed to Abigail and followed.