The Devil's Dreamcatcher by Donna Hosie Read Free Book Online Page A

believe him.
    â€œI take it by your reaction that you recognize this man, Miss Pallister,” says Baumwither. His chubby, pale fingers are interlocked and resting atop his enormous chest.
    I nod, and I feel light hands on my shoulders. Elinor has also crossed the floor and is now standing directly behind me. She is so kind that I feel like I’m contaminating her just by being near her.
    â€œThis meeting is being recorded,” says Baumwither, and he points to four cameras, high up in each corner of the room. “So if you could verbalize your answers, it will save having to repeat the question now, or at a later date.”
    His ruby eyes are shining, but there’s no warmth there. Not like what I see in Septimus’s eyes, or Team DEVIL’s. Baumwither doesn’t remind me of Santa Claus anymore. Now he reminds me of a judge in a courtroom. I keep expecting him to condemn me to death, but he can’t because I’m already there.
    And it’s
his
fault, I think, flicking my eyes to the screen.
    â€œThe man is Rory Hunter. He was my stepfather,” I reply.
    â€œ
Was
your stepfather?” asks Baumwither. “According to our records, he still is. At the time of his death, on the eighteenth of June, 1967, he was still married to your mother, Olivia Alice Pallister, was he not?”
    I nod. Baumwither raises a bushy white eyebrow. “Yes,” I say aloud.
    â€œThen he remains your stepfather.”
    â€œWhy does it matter?” demands Mitchell. “You still haven’t told Medusa why she’s here.”
    â€œMiss Pallister is here,” replies Baumwither, “because Mr. Hunter is now the chief suspect in a theft that took place earlier today.”
    â€œBut I haven’t seen him since . . . since my mom . . . since he and she . . .”
    I can’t seem to get the words out, but I recall every detail of that evening with terrible vividness. I can remember the sound of the gunshot, and racing down the stairs. I can remember the blood all over my mom’s hands. There was so much blood that at first, I thought it was my mom who was shot. Then two medics were there. They just appeared out of nowhere. I ran out to the porch, and Jancye, a neighbor, came and helped me. I was covered in blood, too. It must have come from my mom’s shirt when I hugged her, because I didn’t go near Rory’s body.
    I hate blood.
    I hate
him
.
    Septimus turns to one of the HBI agents. “Would you get Miss Pallister some water, please?”
    â€œDo I look like an assistant?” replies the investigator.
    â€œIt wasn’t actually a request.” Septimus’s eyes narrow as he rises to his full height.
    The investigator mutters something under his breath but leaves the interrogation room.
    â€œHave you seen your stepfather at all in the forty years you’ve resided in Hell?” asks Baumwither.
    â€œNo.”
    For the first time, Perfidious moves. He leans forward at an unnatural angle, moving his arms in time with his long legs. It’s almost as if he is deliberately stopping himself from loping on all fours. And then we hear his voice. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. Half human, half animal. The words are elongated with a sonorous rumble that vibrates in my bones.
    â€œThe Unspeakable has been accounted for—every second, of every hour, of every day,” growls Perfidious.
    â€œUntil today,” says Baumwither tartly.
    I hear Mitchell swear under his breath; Septimus does, too.
    â€œSir Richard,” says Septimus. “I believe it would be prudent to show Perfidious a little more respect. He is, after all, the leader of the Skin-Walkers, and The Devil himself would accord Perfidious the deference his position demands.”
    â€œSeptimus,” replies Baumwither, “you may be The Devil’s number one civil servant, but I am the director of the HBI and have