“What makes you think you could?”
“Don’t push me.”
For a moment, I thought Rick was going to try, right then and there. A demonstration, because however brash Cormac acted, Rick could get around that stake and overcome him. But I kept myself between them. I even caught Rick’s gaze. Looked him in his blue eyes. He could have used his hypnotic power, commanded me to step aside, brought me under his control. But he didn’t. Please, I tried to tell him, even though he wasn’t telepathic. I was pretty sure he wasn’t telepathic.
Rick turned and stalked off. In three strides, he’d vanished into the church’s shadow. If I ran after him, he’d be gone. Again, he was gone.
“A little uptight, isn’t he?” Cormac said. Humor covering nerves. He was still holding the stake in a white-knuckled grip.
“Lay off him.” My lip curled in a snarl.
He glanced at Hardin, back at me. Frowned. “You want to know where that demon came from, I’ve got some research to do.” He stalked away, to the street and his Jeep.
“Cormac—”
He ignored me, just like I expected him to.
Where did that leave me? I looked around. The place didn’t look any different than it had a week ago. The confrontation hadn’t left any evidence behind. Not so much as a streak of soot on the concrete. Even the air smelled normal, full of people and cars, brick and asphalt, with a hint of distant mountains. A fire engine siren echoed somewhere.
Columban’s markings, the ones that drew out the boundary of his protective circle, were gone.
“Are you okay?” Hardin asked. She’d put her gun away and stood, arms crossed.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I will be.”
“Can I take you out for a cup of coffee?”
That sounded like a marvelous idea to me.
We ended up at a twenty-four-hour diner a few blocks away, on Colfax. The waitstaff recognized Hardin and sat us in a booth in back, in relative quiet and privacy.
I called Ben.
“Hey,” he said. “I was just going to call you. Shaun and I tracked Darren. He’s out of here. Loaded up his car and drove. I don’t think we have to worry.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice flat. “Good.”
“Kitty—what’s wrong?”
My breath shuddered out of me. I didn’t know where to start. “We had a bit of a showdown at the church. It … didn’t go well.”
“Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll come get you—”
“I’m fine, I’m with Detective Hardin.”
“You’re not under arrest, are you?” He didn’t sound like he’d be surprised if I were, which made me smile.
“No. We’re having coffee and talking. I’ll come home straight after, probably in an hour or so.”
“You’re sure?”
“It makes me really happy that you’d rush over here to get me, you know that?” Even after a thirty-second conversation with him, I felt better.
“Good, I guess. But I don’t think I’ll be happy until you get home. So hurry.”
“I will.” I clicked off the phone.
The coffee arrived, and Hardin looked at me. “I don’t want to hold you up too long, but I really need to know what happened, and what I’m supposed to tell my Interpol guy about Columban.”