The airboat bumped and jolted beneath Mira as it raced through the Everglades under tio Rafael’s guidance. Rain fell in curtains from the slate-gray sky. Dense stands of cypress choked off the grassy fields that had, at first, stretched to the horizon. The waterways narrowed, forcing the boat to slow. The increasing canopy caught a portion of the rain, but heavy drops continued to pelt the boat’s passengers. Dead wood and creeper vines laced the tree roots, creating walls. Alligators floated like driftwood just beneath the agitated surface of the water. The air, still thick and warm despite the rain, gusted in Mira’s face and tangled her wet hair. She took a deep breath and pressed her palms to the vibrating metal surface on either side of her crossed legs.
Energy surged through Mira. The old man’s blood trickled over her fingers where they gripped the knife hilt. She dared not remove the blade even now, with the demon sufficiently entangled. He’d surprised her with his power. Most demons grew stronger the longer they were in the mortal realm, kind of like the buildup to one last, grand finale before they burned out their host and were pulled back to the Rift to wait for another likely target. This one must have been within a day or two of its end, and pretty damned strong to start with.
Mira lifted the lid of her laptop and pressed the power button. The ancient device hummed to life. A small icon pulsed at the bottom of the desktop, indicating she had a new email. She opened the browser and found a message from Father Bembe, a priest she’d known as a child. She’d helped him with a demon that had targeted his congregation. Her hand dropped to her thigh. One of those lines, the very first one in fact, was for a blue-eyed girl who’d killed eleven churchgoers before Mira put her down. She shuddered. That one still gave her nightmares.