made his way to his knees, then up to his feet, using the kitchen counter to brace himself against. His hand still throbbed where the goblin had wounded him, but it was no longer oozing with infectious goo or blood. It still needed tending to, though.
Arduously climbing the stairs, he went into the bathroom to retrieve his first aid kit. While he doctored himself, he thought about his next move. The Cabal had taken the key. He could form a small army to get it back by force. But he’d been through so much fighting recently.
It had only been a few months since the slaughter by demons in Sumner, Washington. It had taken him and Ivy hours to bury their friends and burn the rest of the dead. He didn’t want to go through that again. And it would be a bloodbath if he went after the Cabal, he had no doubt in his mind.
He washed the wound, poured antiseptic onto it, biting on his lip the whole time. It stung like a thousand bees. He wrapped it tight, then went back down the stairs to his ruined living room. The goblin had done a thorough job of wrecking everything he had. Which, by some standards, wasn’t much. His lifestyle didn’t really permit the luxuries of living a normal, comfortable life.
Usually on the move, Quinn had only just set up shop in this small starter home, basically for cover. It wasn’t as if he worked nine to five at an office. No, he hunted demons. That was his vocation, his life. He’d been born into it.
As far as the people he bought the home from knew, his name was Quinton Sterling, and he was a divorced small-business owner. They’d been more than happy with his story since he paid cash for the place they couldn’t afford anymore.
The money came from the other jobs he did. Jobs he wasn’t necessarily proud of. Demon hunting wasn’t exactly lucrative. He’d pulled a few cons over the years, something he’d learned from his dad. It was a dishonest way to bankroll a lifesaving job of hunting down and destroying demons. Quinn didn’t ponder the ethics of it too much.
Righting the overturned sofa, he shoved the ruined cushions back on and sat. He had to think. He had to figure out what to do.
Rubbing his good hand over his face, he sighed. Ultimately, he knew what had to be done next, but he just didn’t want to do it. It would be way too complicated and messy. Two things he hated.
If the Cabal had the key, that meant they were going after the chest that contained the book that could unleash hell on Earth. There was only one choice here and that was to find the chest first. Find it and protect it.
Sighing, he leaned his head on the back of the sofa. Maybe there was another way. There had to be. To do what he needed—to uncover where the chest was hidden—would almost be too much to bear. He wasn’t sure he could see her again.
Quinn found his cell phone on the floor. He picked it up and dialed a familiar number. He glanced at the wall clock. It was only six in the morning. It rang only four times before being answered.
“You do know what time it is?”
He smiled. “Yup, I know, Q. I need to talk.”
There came a long, drawn-out sigh. “Fine. Meet me at my office in an hour.”
Quinn stood and headed upstairs to get dressed. It was going to be one long, hellish day.
One hour later he stood in the office doorway of Quianna Lang, one of the youngest professors on staff at the San Francisco State University and resident mythologist to the university. But he knew her talents and knowledge lay in demonology. She possessed more knowledge about demons and demon lore than anyone he knew.
She barely looked up from whatever she was reading on her old mahogany desk when he entered. “Sit.”
He came all the way in and slid onto one of the leather chairs situated in front of her big wooden desk.
She finished reading, slammed the book closed and looked up at him. “Okay, so what’s going on? How much trouble are you in?”
“Why does something have to be going on?”
She smirked. “Because you’re here. The only time you demon hunters come here is when the shit has hit the fan. First Ronan and your sister, and now you. Something major is happening, I suspect.”
He sighed, then met her gaze. “The key is gone. Stolen by the Cabal.”
Quianna bolted out of her chair and came around the desk. She was a compact woman, short and petite, but she possessed more fire in her pinkie than most people did in their whole bodies. She pinned him to the seat with her intense, determined gaze.
“How?”
“Richter Collins is how. And he had a goblin with him.”
She shook her head. “I thought that once Reginald died, the Cabal would fall. I guess I was wrong.”
“I should’ve been more diligent in hiding the key. I had been planning to move it...”
“Well, what’s done is done. Now, what are we going to do about it?”
“That’s why I came. I thought if anyone would know what to do, it would be you.”
She sat on the edge of her desk. “You have to find the chest. You have to get it before they do.”
He groaned. “I was hoping there was another way.”
“There isn’t. If they have the key, they will be going for the chest. That’s just logical.”
Quinn leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He had been hoping for another answer. Another way to solve the problem.
“I take it you know where it is?” She eyed him curiously.
He shook his head. “Not where. But I know someone who knows.”
“By the look on your face, I’d say this someone is pretty bad.”
“You could say that.”
She nudged him with her foot. “Well, man up, Quinn. Whatever you have to do, you better do it. This isn’t some small problem. We’re talking end of days stuff, here. If the Cabal finds that chest and uses that book, it won’t matter who this person is, because we’ll all be dead.”
“When I find the chest and the book, what do I do with them?”
“Bring the book to me. I know a place where even demons fear to tread. I can keep it safe there.”
Quinn left Quianna’s office with a deep sinking feeling in his gut. It almost made him sick to think about what he had to do to find the chest. But the powerhouse professor had been right, he had to man up and do what needed to be done. No one else was going to do it. He had been entrusted with the key and he had lost it. It had been his responsibility. Now finding the chest was his as well. He was the only one on Earth who could do it. He just had a pit stop to make first.
The new age store located downtown looked like any other crystal and tarot shop. Mary, the proprietor, doled out spiritual wisdom and metaphysical prophecy to every patron that passed through her doors. But when Quinn walked in, she frowned deeply and shook her head.
“I
