resemble a walking skeleton, his powers useless, his body prime for takeover by other demons.
“You need more protein, real meals, not grabbing sandwiches. Now that I’m here, I’ll cook dinner for you every night.” Keira smiled, trying to lighten her mood. “I promise if I find another imp, I won’t throw him in the stew pot. Besides, those little buggers can take the heat.”
“How do you normally kill them?”
“Not with guns, though yours did the trick.”
Dale smiled, looking less severe.
“Usually it’s best to blast them with white light. They’re so small, it’s easier than trying to kill a demon with white light. With demons, you need the big guns.”
Those startlingly gray eyes met hers. Beneath the mild look was an exacting scrutiny. Uncomfortable, she realized he was sizing her up, digging beneath the surface to find out what her deal was. Not a good idea.
“How do you know so much about imps and demons?” he asked.
“I studied them.”
“Most women wouldn’t want to get near a demon, even an imp, if they lost loved ones to dark forces. Yet you knew exactly what was in my office, and where it would be hiding.”
Guilt surged through her. “I studied demons and their minions. Wanted to know what my enemies were capable of doing.”
“I do the same, only I’m trained in combat and weaponry.”
“Did you know imps love to invade kitchens, food supplies, even liquor? Once I found a dozen of them in a liquor cabinet. They’d managed to break open a bottle of brandy. Have you ever seen a drunk imp? Not a pretty sight.”
She set down her spoon. “And I’m rambling. If you want, I can eat in the kitchen, leave you in peace to digest your meal.”
“Stay,” he said quietly. “It’s nice to share a meal with someone. I get tired of eating alone.”
“Me, too.” The words slipped out before she could catch herself.
Warmth shone in his eyes. For a moment, she indulged in the fantasy that this was her real home, and she could cook here every night. A real home, with someone to belong to.
The lump returned to her throat. Keira gripped her spoon. If she allowed melancholy to consume her, she’d dim her white light. Think positive. “Tell me about the piano. Do you play?”
He nodded. “Not for a long time, though.”
“Classical or contemporary?”
“Only the classics. I once wanted to be a concert pianist, but wanted to fight our nation’s enemies more.” He gave a crooked smile. “You can’t kill the bad guys with music.”
“You’ve never heard me play.”
Dale gave his deep, husky chuckle. “And you’ve never heard me sing.”
They were deep into a discussion of classical music versus rock when a clear thud sounded downstairs.
“Something’s in the basement.” The spoon rattled against the table as she set it down.
Dale wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. He stood, his expression shuttered. “Or someone. I have quarters down there for my men when they run into trouble. But they always ring the front doorbell.”
“I don’t like your basement. It’s a bit spooky,” she admitted.
His gaze turned troubled. “I haven’t been down there...in a while.”
Keira didn’t want to go down those stairs. Not now, as shadows draped the house and the darkness pushed away the sunlight. Her pulse raced. And then she looked at Dale and thought about how he must feel about basements.
He dragged in a deep breath and went into the hallway. When he returned, he carried the same pistol he’d used to shoot the imp. Dale slid the chamber back, the racking sound echoing in the room.
“Stay here.”
Something vulnerable flashed in his gaze. Keira’s heart kicked. As much as she loathed and feared what lay below, she couldn’t let him go there alone.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Bullets won’t stop a demon.”
“My powers can.”
“You’ll need extra help. White light can aid and enhance your powers.” She fished her white quartz crystal from her jeans pocket.
Dale narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But you stay behind me at least five steps, and if I order you to run back upstairs, run.”
She followed him. He opened the door to the basement as she squeezed the crystal tight.
Keira swallowed hard, seeing the steep, gray steps swallowed by inky blackness. Anything could be down there. She’d failed to cleanse the room with white light. Her breathing ragged, she prepared to descend with him into the darkness.
Chapter 5
Dale hadn’t been in his own basement since before the incident. Cupping his gun, he crept down the stairs. Sweat trickled down his temples. This was his home, damn it, and he’d tolerate no intruders. But his pulse rate tripled and he struggled to swallow past the panic rising in his throat.
Memories assaulted him. The terrified little boy held in a demon’s cruel grip. “His life for yours,” the demon had cackled.
And then Dale had willingly become the Centurion’s captive, as they tied him down and tortured him until his voice grew hoarse from the screams....
A soft whimper sounded behind him. Keira was just as terrified. Dale straightened and motioned for her to stay back. Damn it, he was a navy SEAL, not some wimpy ass scared of entering his own damn basement.
He flipped on the light switch. Soft white light illuminated the downstairs. When he reached the bottom step he heard singing.
“I don’t think demons sing,” Keira whispered.
He lowered the gun, relief making his knees weak. “That’s no demon, but an imp from hell. What his mother calls him, anyway.”
Dale rounded the corner to the section he’d built as quarters to house his men when the Phoenix Force needed to discuss ops in private. He flipped the safety on his weapon and shoved it into the waistband of his shorts.
Grant “Sully” Sullivan lay on the carpet, singing a bawdy song. Dale inhaled and recoiled.
“Jesus, Sully, what the hell?”
The ensign struggled to sit up, and fell back, the odor of whiskey clinging to him like cheap perfume. “Sorry, Curt. I’m a little...little drunk.”
“And
