Free The Demonists by Thomas E. Sniegoski

silence.
    “Romania?” Stephan questioned. “And what do we hope to find there?”
    “I’ve been invited to an archaeological dig,” John explained. “It appears that a vast and unexplored library has been located beneath the ruins of a monastery in Wallachia. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but this library could contain information that just might help me make Theodora well again.”
    “We can only hope,” Stephan said.
    The sound of multiple car horn beeps made them look toward the window.
    “Car service?” Stephan reminded. “Airport?”
    John looked at his watch. “Shit,” he muttered, already on the move. “Gotta go.”
    John left the library office, heading out into the foyer to the corner where he’d left his luggage.
    “Make sure to text me you get there,” Stephan said.
    “Yes, Mother,” John answered, slinging his travel bag over his shoulder. “Hold down the fort. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
    “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
    “Me, too,” John said as he slipped out the door, hurrying down the front walk toward a waiting black sedan.
    A woman was coming toward him wearing a dark suit, white blouse, and large sunglasses.
    “Good morning,” he said, dropping his bags on the ground in back of the car. “Can you pop the trunk? How’s the traffic? We should have plenty of time to get to Logan, but if it backs into the Ted Williams tunnel we’ll be screwed for sure and—”“John Fogg?” the woman said abruptly, removing her sunglasses.
    “That’s right,” John said impatiently. She still hadn’t opened the trunk.
    “Mr. Fogg, I’m Special Agent Brenna Isabel from the FBI.” She held out her hand.
    John was startled, but took her hand. “I’m sorry, Agent Isabel. I mistook you for my driver.” He shook her hand as he looked around and spotted another sedan on the other side of the driveway. A man with a face he recognized waved him over.
    “That’s quite all right,” the agent was saying. “I’ve phoned you a few times, but we haven’t been able to connect. I chanced a drive over this morning, but it looks as though I’ve caught you at a bad time.”
    “Actually, yes,” he said, releasing her hand and bending slightly to retrieve his bags. “I’ve got a flight in less than two hours, and with morning traffic and all . . .”
    “I completely understand.” She smiled, but there was no warmth in the look.
    John felt her official coldness, and was certain that Agent Isabel was a no-nonsense type. He glanced back to the waiting car and the driver impatiently tapping his watch, although he had to admit that the agent’s visit did pique his curiosity.
    “Look, would you give me a call when you return?” She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a card, handing it to him.
    He dropped his bags again and took the card from her. He quickly looked at it, then pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slid the card inside. “Certainly,” he said, picking up his luggage and starting to his ride on the other side of the driveway.
    “When will that be?”
    He stopped and looked at her.
    “Your trip? When will you be returning from your trip?”
    “I really don’t have a return time planned yet,” he said. “I’m going to be doing some pretty heavy research, but I’d like to be back as quickly as I’m able. I promise I will call you.”
    “I’d really appreciate that,” she said, and he caught wind of something very serious in her tone, something that almost made him stop and ask what was so important that an FBI agent had come looking for him.
    But time was wasting, and he didn’t want to miss his flight.
    He lugged his bags to the waiting sedan and tossed them into the open trunk, slamming it closed. The driver held the back passenger door open for him as he quickly climbed in, catching sight of Agent Isabel still standing beside her own car, watching him. He gave her a brief wave as his driver pulled away.
    She did not wave back