Taming the Demon
“Right up against the door set at the back corner of the kitchen, fumbling at the dead bolt lock there—and taking long enough at it to have second thoughts.
Don’t even consider it. Just do the smart thing.
But this wasn’t a case of weighing what someone else wanted against what was best for her. He hadn’t, in fact, asked her to do a thing. He’d only asked her not to call the police.
Everything else, her choice.
She recalled with fearful clarity the decisive sanity of him as he’d stalked out of the darkness to take on two armed men with a pocket knife. Sword. No, pocket knife.
What he’d done was insane, maybe.
But he hadn’t been drugged. Wasn’t drugged. So maybe there was no point trying to understand. Maybe she should simply respond to a man in pain.
She eased out toward the living room.
* * * The blade scratched along the outside edges of Devin’s mind, gusting flames through his thoughts and his body and setting his arm purely to fire.
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