Page 53 of Demon Hunter

Safeguards are in place

I practically hold my breath waiting, but there’s no reply. Fuck.

“Dylan, I swear to god, tell me what’s going on right now.” Matt’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and I sigh.

Leaving the app open—just in case—I give him a quick rundown.

“So you have no idea who this person is or what they sent you?” he checks. “It could be a virus or something?”

I pull a face. “It’s not out of the question, but if they have the know-how to get past all my security with a… virus”—I manage to say that with a straight face—“they don’t need to email or message me.”

“Unless they’re taunting you,” he points out, and I nod.

“Yeah, that’s an option too. It’s also why I haven’t opened the email yet—my phone doesn’t have the juice I need to do the checks I want.” Not to mention, if the email is coded to self-delete within a certain timeframe after being opened, my phone doesn’t have the capacity to make an automatic backup. I love my smartphone, but it’s got limitations.

Matt presses his foot down on the accelerator, and the SUV picks up speed. “So we need to get to the compound for you to investigate it.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “but we also need not to die. Or be pulled over for a speeding ticket.” Even though every fiber of my being wants to know what’s in that email—so much, I gave a split second of thought to calling Marc and asking him to come and get me and my computer—I know that a few hours isn’t likely to make a huge difference. If it will, then it doesn’t matter if Matt speeds—we still won’t get there on time.

There is one thing I can do, though, and that’s send a message to my team asking them to do a security scan. If this person is good enough, it won’t pick anything up, but at least it’ssomething.We do this randomly every week or so anyway, so nobody will be suspicious that I’m asking.

Now all I can do is wait.

Chapter 23

Matt

Ianand I wait impatiently while Dylan sets up his computer and then starts… doing stuff. I thought he was going to open the email he got sent, but instead he’s staring at a screen with streams of code on it, occasionally typing faster than I can even wiggle my fingers.

This is… not good.

And not just because this email might be someone doing bad things. Our original plan for tonight was to get settled into the house, then go over to Marc’s place for dinner and a strategy meeting. I’d hoped, at some point, to be able to get Marc alone and ask if I’d accidentally become a demon when he healed me. I’m trying to be fair and reasonable and not consider the thought that he did it on purpose—he loves Ian. Ian loves me. Marc and I might not be besties, but we’ve reached a place of mutual tolerance because it makes Ian happy. I truly don’t think he’d fuck with that, not after seeing how he is with my brother-bestie.

But the thought is lingering at the back of my mind, and that kind of makes me hate myself. Paranoia’s another sign of head trauma, right? So it could still be the option two, my favorite, the one where my brain’s fucked-up but I’m not in a coma and not a demon. Dylan would stay with me through head trauma.

In the meantime, I can tell he knows something’s up, and it’s making the whole thing worse. I need to give himsomeinformation before he decides I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Iwantthat information to be that I have a traumatic brain injury and need to seek medical treatment… but I can’t know that for sure until I talk to Marc and make sure I’m not a demon.

But—and this is the scary part—what if I’m in a coma, and coma-dream Marc tells me I’m a demon? Then what do I do? I won’t really be a demon because I’m in a coma, but I’ll think I am and lose Dylan anyway. How the hell can I make myself wake up from a coma?

Orworse—what if I’m in the coma, but not because I got beat up on a job? What if I’m in the coma because Dylan and I were in some kind of accident, and the reason my brain isn’t waking up is because I know he’s dead? Is that even medically possible?

“Dude, I can hear you thinking from here,” Ian mutters. “What the fuck is going on?”

I shake my head. I can’t tell him. Not until I’ve talked to Marc and decided whether or not I’m in a coma.

Although… this could be a good coma test, right? What would coma-Ian say versus real Ian?

Fuck, I need sleep. And booze.

Luckily for me, Ian’s not even paying attention to me anymore. His gaze is on Dylan. “How long do you think this will take?” he whispers.

I shrug. “As long as it takes.” I’ve learned the hard way that it can be minutes or hours… or days. Pride fills me the way it always does when I think about how smart Dyl is.

I can’t lose him.

Beside me, Ian jolts slightly.

“You okay?”

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