Page 82 of Devil in the Details

Hank’s voice boomed through the emptying room like a cannon. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, you stupid boy?”

“Stopped you,” Caleb said simply. He looked completely calm despite the chaos erupting around them, arms now at his sides, his face blank, almost neutral. “Game over.”

Hank’s hands rose, and dark energy gathered around both men, surrounding them like black smoke, billowing and pulsing. Delia swallowed and took a step forward, even though she had no idea what she could do to prevent him from lashing out at the man who’d just destroyed all his careful plans. Would holy water even work against something like him?

But before Bowers could strike, Ty Carter appeared behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Enough,” he said quietly. “It is done.”

The man’s face went slack, his eyes rolling back in his head as he collapsed to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Whatever power he’d been channeling dissipated harmlessly into the air.

It was over.

Delia rushed forward as Caleb sagged against the poker table, clearly drained from the supernatural exertion. “Are you okay?”

He managed a weak smile. “I think I prefer regular poker tournaments. Less drama.”

“The authorities will be here soon,” Ty said, still standing over Hank’s unconscious form. “You should go. I’ll make sure this is handled…appropriately.”

Delia didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant. A different kind of mind control, something to make the police believe that what had happened here was perfectly ordinary and nothing that merited any further investigation?

Luckily, it didn’t appear to be her problem.

She offered an arm to Caleb, supporting him as they made their way through the now-empty tournament area. He moved slowly, feet dragging like he’d just run a marathon.

In a way, she supposed he had.

“You know,” she said when they reached the exit, “I think you might want to try a different hobby.”

Caleb’s laugh was tired but genuine. “I think you might be right.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Obviously, there wasn’t any talk about going out to eat afterward. No, Delia drove Caleb straight home, and he was gladder than ever that she’d offered to be the chauffeur today.

Right now, he was feeling like a wrung-out washcloth and didn’t know whether he could have even mustered the mental and motor capacity to pilot his Mercedes back to the house.

All this time, he’d only played with his demonic talents…teleporting here, influencing a throw of the dice there…sending his consciousness into the body of a dead woman so he could be safely transported away from the Victorian mansion where a madwoman had opened a hellmouth to summon Belial, her erstwhile lover.

But today Caleb had been forced to reach down into the core of his being, to awaken powers he hadn’t even realized he possessed to defeat the demon who’d taken control of a poker champion’s body — and to make sure the circuit Hank Bowers and his minions had tried to create was broken forever.

In a word, he was fucking tired.

Because of the way the demons had rushed the tournament, doing their best to make sure the ritual happened on their own time, it was barely six o’clock when Delia pulled into Caleb’s driveway. Normally, he would never have eaten this early, but now he knew his body was ravenous, needing fuel to replace all the energy he’d used to stop the creatures’ unholy plans.

“Pizza,” he said briefly as Delia guided him up the front steps and into the house.

A smile hovered around the edges of her mouth, but he could still see the worry in her clear gray-blue eyes. “I can manage that.”

Her arm remained steady beneath his until he sort of collapsed on the sofa. While it felt good to sit down, Caleb wished he could have kept holding on to her. Nothing romantic in that touch, sure, but it had still been good to have her so near, so strong.

So reassuringly human.

She got out her phone. “Vito’s?” she asked, naming the restaurant they usually ordered from when they were at his house.

“Perfect.”

A brief detour into the kitchen to get him a glass of water — he would have preferred something a little stronger, but knew he needed to hydrate before he put any alcohol in his system — and then she made the call, placing an order for an extra-large pepperoni with extra cheese.

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