Page 61 of Demon
“Indie. Demon. I need a word,” he grunted from the doorway, beckoning towards the upstairs.
“Nice one, Demon,” Indie grumbled as he moved past me. “Fucking Tomahawk’s been on the blower to him already. Good fucking job.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Ciara
Ste was at the door of the pub when we pulled up, propped up against the doorway as if his legs wouldn’t support his frame. He was leaner than when I had last seen him fighting for every breath. If anything, he looked worse. His face was gaunt, shadows under his eyes and his grey hair was even greyer. He looked tired.
“Indie. Demon. I need a word.”
His voice was strained, speaking an effort. And he looked old, as if he had aged ten years in just a few weeks.
Indie and Demon followed, scowling at each other as they trudged along behind him like two kids being led to the headmaster’s office. I joined the others inside, perching on the edge of a seat at an empty booth. Outside, the darkness swarmed the building, a muggy summer’s night closing in around us, charging the air with apprehension.
“Don’t worry, Ciara,” Suzy’s voice broke the silence. “They’re probably just getting a telling off. Tomahawk will have been straight on the phone complaining Demon had tried to kill him.”
“He hardly did a thing to him.”
“Yeah. We know that. But the Vandal’s Pres is itching to get revenge on the beatings he’s dished out to the clubs over the years.”
“I thought they all got on now?”
“They do. Mostly. But it’s a fine line between friendship and rivalry. Particularly given the history between the Kings and the Vandals.”
“What history is that?”
“Ste’s brother ran off with their VP’s sister.”
“That guy called Flat-Pack?”
Suzy giggled.
“Yeah. That’s him. Don’t call him that to his face, though. It’s just what we call him.”
“I thought that was his rider name?” I asked, confused.
“No. He just uses his proper name. Gunnar. He’s Swedish. And as frustrating as putting up flat-packed furniture. You know, like the type from Ikea.”
I snorted loudly. The giggle catching by surprise.
“Yeah. I know. Tickles me every time I hear it. But it pisses him right off, and he’s got a temper.”
“I still don’t get what he’s so pissed off with?”
“Rumour has it Si didn’t treat his sister well. Knocked her about a bit.”
And that wiped the humour straight away. Demon might not be directly related, but something about his uncle treating a woman that way… I chewed on my lip, pushing back memories of my childhood wriggling their way to the surface.
“Hey,” Suzie said lightly, touching my arm. “Demon and Indie. They’re not like that. Ste neither. It was just Si. He was a bad one. You get them in all families, y’know.”
I nodded. Agreeing. Knowing she was right but unable to chase the unease collecting in the pit of my stomach. What did I know of families, anyway? Mine was royally screwed up. Fuck, I didn’t even know where any of them were. If they were safe, or happy, or miserable. And I’d never taken the time to find out. I’d just run. Just looked out for myself. Because I was the only one I could depend on. That’s why.
“Remember. I told you about him this morning?” She continued, glancing around the room, and then, when she was happy no one was paying us any attention, leant in even closer. “Rumour has it, it was his own son who offed him.”
I stared at her for a moment, studying the seriousness on her face. Shit! That was seriously fucked up.
The door to the far side of the bar opened and Demon bristled out alone. His face was dark, his lips pushed firmly together, tense. TheDogon the Tynedescended into a loaded silence. All conversations stopped. No one whispered or grunted. I glanced around nervously, watching the same tension matched on everyone’s face. They had all seen this Demon before. I had merely glimpsed it. Seen a fraction of what his temper really was. And now I was frightened. And Suzy’s words echoed in the back of my skull. A warning.
