Date: 2014-09-21T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Vampires; Fantasy
Description: In the seventh book of Amazon bestselling author John Conroe's Demon Accords series, the action jumps up a notch. Chris Gordon has never had an easy relationship with the White House. Now, after rescuing his goddaughter from a secret base in New Hampshire, it’s reached a new low. You drop one little asteroid onto the continental United States and the entire government goes crazy. On top of that Halloween is fast approaching and demons are popping through into our world every which way. Forced into the world of high level politics, Chris and Tanya and their merry crew will have to stay two step

Forced Ascent

A Novel of the Demon Accords

By

John Conroe

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2014 John Conroe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The Demon Accords:

God Touched

Demon Driven

Brutal Asset

Duel Nature

Fallen Stars

Executable

Forced Ascent

Cover art by Ryan Bibby.

Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Epilogue

- Author’s Note

Chapter 1

The hotel had seen better days—Hell, better decades.  It was one of those generic franchises, forgettable in every way.  This one had started its life as a sterling example of modern hospitality and gradually tarnished, day-by-day, till it had reached its current state of benign neglect.

It was located smack dab in the middle of a really nasty section of Albany.  That’s Albany, New York, not the warmer, more Georgian location.

The lobby was worn and shabby, even though it was basically clean.  The décor was stuck in the seventies and despite the signs proclaiming it to be smoke free, it still stunk of years of free-burning cigarettes.

A sign on a pedestal welcomed Pee Wee cheerleading teams to a regional competition, giving me the answer to the burning question of why so many screaming pre-pubescent girls were running helter skelter through the halls and lobby.

When I turned to the desk to ask directions, I found both registration clerks and their customers watching me with slightly widened eyes.

My first thought was that I had jelly on my face from the half dozen donuts I’d decimated in the car before coming in. After a moment I realized that wasn’t it.

That’s been one of the hardest changes to digest—the attention I get.  For most of my life, I’ve flown under the radar, drawing little to no attention from my fellow man and woman.  But ever since I came to sudden, abrupt awareness in a Carolina forest, staring at a mansion and two giant wolves, that comforting anonymity has been gone, along with two or so years of memories. Now I attract glances and stares simply by entering a room or walking on a street.

But let’s be real.  That’s the very least of the changes I’ve woken to.  My physical abilities, my supernatural abilities, the psychotic combat persona that takes over during violent conflict and fights like a nuclear Bruce Lee, and my involvement smack dab in the center of supernatural politics all overshadow this attention thing.  Not to mention that fact that I have a girlfriend.  If you can call the future queen of the vampire world, who is the only vampire born to the species, just a girlfriend.  Oh, and she’s a self-fallen angel—like me.  Yeah, another little bombshell to fall on my head.  I was an angel till I volunteered to give it up and fall to Earth and become a human.  Hence my odd ability to banish demonkind.  My God-given talent.  At least, that’s one mystery cleared up, although I’ve got to be the least angelic angel going and I can’t for the life of me remember any angelic memories.  But the hardest change, the one that bothers me the most, is the fear.  So many of the beings I find myself surrounded with fear me.  Vampires, werewolves, humans who know what I can do, all of them smell of fear to one degree or another.  There are really only a handful of friends who aren’t afraid of me.

But anyway, all four of these women at the check-in desk were just staring at me, their own business apparently forgotten.

“Ah, hi.  Can anyone tell me which room was reserved for Congressman McFeeney?  I’m supposed to meet him there.”

Of the two behind the counter, one was older, maybe middle-aged.  She looked tired, of Slavic descent, and the least impressed.  Her coworker was a fresh-faced, early twenty-something, with beautiful mocha-colored skin and brown eyes that were currently ready to pop out of her skull.

The two customers were both mom types, my conclusion based on the small child each had clinging to their purses and pant legs.  One had heavily constructed blonde hair that weighed maybe as much as the toddler at her feet.  The other was a tall black woman wearing an expensive gray pantsuit and flashy red shoes and clutched a designer purse that could double as a carry-on bag.

The Slavic lady pointed down one hallway to the left.  “Heese in the Lock Georgia room.”

The accent confirmed my guess as to her ethnic background but left me wondering what she’d actually just said.

My confusion must have been apparent because her pretty co-worker gulped once and translated.  “The congressman and the others are in the Lake George room, just down that hall and to the right.”

“Thank you,” I said, heading toward the hall and simultaneously dodging three laughing girls.

Some older buildings look better the further you go inside them, possibly because the main entrances get the most wear and tear.  This wasn’t one of them.  If anything, it looked worse.  Stains on the industrial red and black patterned carpet, dim florescent lights, and little black streaks around the edges of the doors, about ten inches off the floor.  Those had me puzzled until a uniformed maid came down the hall negligently pushing a cart that had black rubber bumpers on its edges about ten inches up.

I found the Lake George room right off the bat.  The black-suited guard with the white curly cord leading up to his ear was a dead giveaway.  So was my attorney, who was leaning against a wall, waiting for me.  He straightened up, tugging his two-thousand-dollar Italian suit into perfect alignment with his athletic build.  Six-two and a solid two-twenty at a guess, Darion Cornell looked about thirty and could have just as easily been an NFL wide receiver as an extremely well-dressed and very expensive attorney.  This was only my second time meeting him, the first being last evening when Lydia and Tanya had set this whole thing up.

“You ready?” he asked me, looking me up and down, nodding slightly.  I too was wearing a nice suit, although not quite as expensive as his.  Tanya, once she had acquiesced to the meeting, had decided I needed to look utterly respectable but not ostentatious.  “Who’s in there?” I asked, ignoring the Secret Service guy by the door who definitely was not ignoring me and was having a conversation with his shirt sleeve.

“Congressman McFeeney, Senator Gleeson, General Creek, Director Stewart, and a representative of the President,” he said.  “And three more of him,” he added, swinging his head toward the bodyguard at the door.

“So who’s the leader of this little lynch mob?” I asked.

“Well, Stewart is likely on your side; the rest, not so much.  The congressman and the senator each chair their respective Appropriations Committees, which control the budgets of just about all the alphabet soup intelligence agencies.  They also both sit on the Intelligence Oversight Committee. That’s why they insisted on being here. McFeeney is a young Republican powerhouse, an up and comer, maybe even a presidential candidate someday.  Gleeson is an old-school Democrat, likes to crow the civil rights stuff and work the minority votes.  Underneath it, he’s an elitist bastard.  Watch them both.  But the most dangerous person in there is Alexis Bishop.  Deputy Chief of Staff for the White House.  The President’s Fixer.”

“Fixer?”

“She fixes problems.  Makes troublesome people and embarrassing issues go away.”

“Which am I?  Troublesome or embarrassing?” I asked.

“You’re a nightmare of Biblical proportions,” he said, looking down at his hands as he tugged each shirtsleeve into position.  I froze up at his words, then realized it was just an offhand comment.  Maybe.

He looked back up and then stepped back a smidge. “Hey, you are.  Just being real with ya and all.  The parts of the government that know about you—and those are growing by the day—have all classified you as the most dangerous man on the planet.  And they don’t control you.  That’s what this is about.  They know that somehow, you bombarded a hardened facility with an asteroid and blasted it to dust.  They don’t know how and have no idea how to rein you in under their control.  So when we go in, let me do the talking.  If they ask you a direct question and I don’t jump in right away, then feel free to answer, but don’t answer more than you have to.  Tell the truth, as much as you’re willing.  Don’t lie—these people can smell lies instantly.  If I ask you a question, answer it fully, as I’m likely trying to make a point.  Got it?”

I nodded, thinking that Tanya would do much better in my place.  Not that she didn’t want to be here—hell, it had been a knockdown, drag-out fight, the worst I could remember having with her.  She insisted on being by my side, and I insisted that having us both in the same room was too great a temptation for the government not to try something ultra-stupid.  She finally settled for picking this out-of-the-way dump, telling them at the last minute, and staying very close by.

The guard opened the door, looking slightly offended when five yelling mini-cheerleaders ran by, and we filed into the meeting room.  It was part of a larger room but had one of those folding dividers that cut the main room down in size.  It was just as shabby as the rest of the place.  A pair of long folding tables had been set up with tablecloths.  One long side was open and empty, just two chairs, each place set with a pad of paper and a pen.  Across the table sat a thirty-something brunette in a red power suit; a middle-aged, ginger haired man in a nice black suit; and a silver-haired gent in a gray pinstripe with suspenders.  At the left-hand end of the table, Nathan Stewart, Director of Oracle, sat looking relaxed and comfortable, white mustache twitching, while across the table at the right end sat a salt-and-pepper-haired bundle of tension with a hard face wearing a banker’s gray suit like a uniform.  Another Secret Service-type guy stood behind the three politicians, and one stood behind the salt-and-pepper guy who had to be General Creek.  Tanya and Lydia had filled me in on him.  Apparently I had worked with him but he didn’t like me much—at all.  The third and final guard was standing against the wall to the door’s left, leaving him behind Darion and me.

We moved to the table and took our seats.  Director Stewart stood and shook my hand and introduced himself to Darion.  The others remained seated and just studied us.  Well, studied me.

I folded my hands in front of me and looked up, matching each of their gazes for a moment.  The woman, Alexis, didn’t look away, and something about the set of her head and shoulders along with the up twitch at the corner of her mouth told me that she was enjoying this. Her gaze seemed mildly fascinated. Both politicians held my stare for a moment before their eyes slid away, both of them choosing to look at Darion.  General Creek watched me like I was a rabid dog.

“Nice place you picked, Darion,” the senator remarked with a look around the room.

Darion smiled widely and opened his arms to include the whole room.  “It’s perfect.  Out of the way and easy to keep clean of any unwanted additions to our little gathering.  But now that we’re all here, perhaps you could tell us what you wanted to discuss?”

“Well, your client holds the distinction of being the first person to aerially bomb the United States,” Gleeson replied.

“Ah, sorry, Senator but that distinction belongs the Japanese in 1942.  A sub launched a two-person float plane that dropped two incendiary bombs on the Oregon forest.  It isn’t widely known.  Also, there isn’t any evidence that my client bombed anything,” Darion replied.

The senator frowned and looked ready to continue, but Alexis Bishop spoke before he could, and she spoke directly to me.

“Mr. Gordon, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Really?  An honor?  I’m fairly certain not everyone here would call it that,” I answered.

“Well, I’ve heard a great deal about you.  From Director Stewart, General Creek… the President.  You left quite an impression on him.”

I felt myself frowning.  I didn’t remember meeting the President, but Tanya and Lydia had filled me in on my most of my adventures, including my Skype call with the Prez.

“I have to say you’re not what I expected,” she continued.

“You thought I’d be taller?”

She shook her head.  “Meaner looking.”

“Oh.  ‘Cause I kick dogs and smack babies?”

She smiled and almost chuckled, but she caught it and instead, her smile became something a little hard, a little fierce.

“Oh, you are dangerous.  You mask it with charm.”

“You have a different definition of charm than most people I know.  They usually classify me as a wiseass.”

General Creek snorted and I inclined my head in his direction while continuing to meet Alexis’s gaze.  She smiled again, then let it slide off her face, becoming serious.

“Here’s the thing.  You, Chris, somehow attacked a military structure on continental United States soil and completely destroyed it.  That’s never been done before.  It immediately classifies you as a terrorist,” she said.

“Military structure?” Darion asked.  “Is the United States government claiming the old missile silo as government property?  Because our title search shows it being sold to a private civilian, then to a real estate holding company.  Are you saying that the AIR group is truly a division of the federal government?”

“AIR?  Agents in Rebus?  That old fairy tale,” Senator Gleeson scoffed.

“Really?  So the reams of information, computer files, prototype armored combat suits, gauss rifles, and advanced robotic drones were all made up?  The ones that DARPA scooped up and stole away with?”

Alexis held up one hand, taking back control of the conversation.  “All of that is classified and outside the purview of this conversation.”

Darion snorted this time.  “Alexis, you disappoint me.  I anticipated the whole terrorist label thing, but ‘classified’?  Come on.  The only reason any of you know enough about it to classify it is because my client has pretty much single-handedly rolled up a cancerous, corrupt organization that had completely penetrated the entire federal government.  You should be giving him a medal… another medal, really.  Let’s see: Chris Gordon has liberated a terrorist-held school in New York City, eliminated a supernatural gang of shape shifters that General Creek and his men were unable to handle, completely stopped all production of the Hance drug, and sealed off dozens of dimensional ruptures in the fabric of our universe that may, in fact, actually lead straight to Hell.  Then when a rogue, out-of-control element kidnaps his goddaughter, he cleans them out, too.  You should be backing truckloads of medals up to his door.”

“So you admit that your client assaulted the silo with an airborne kinetic energy weapon?” Alexis pounced.

This time, Darion held up his hand.  “You’ve yet to answer any of my questions.  Are you, in fact, claiming the missile base and AIR as federal government entities?  Because that’s the only way your terrorist claim works.”

McFeeney sat forward and jumped in.  “Let’s say we are, for argument’s sake.  Let me quote you the FBI’s definition of terrorism:

“Domestic terrorism" means activities with the following three characteristics:

One, involve acts dangerous to human life that violate federal or state law;

Two, appear intended (i) to intimidate or coerce a civilian population; (ii) to influence the policy of a government by intimidation or coercion; or (iii) to affect the conduct of a government by mass destruction, assassination. or kidnapping; and

Three, occur primarily within the territorial jurisdiction of the U.S.”

He finished and held both arms open, palms up, with a there you have it look.

“Yeah, great definition.  But it pretty much classifies everything that you folks do as terrorism.  Intimidate or coercion? Sounds like standard politics to me.  Congratulations, you all are terrorists, too,” Darion said.

“Your sarcasm has no place here, young man,” Gleeson said, leaning forward.

“Look, the point is that we all know you can classify anyone at any time as a terrorist by that definition. The real question is what’s your angle?  What do you want?” Darion asked.

“What we have is a national threat to security wielding unknown abilities or technology, operating at random inside the borders of the United States with no checks or balances.  Mr. Gordon here has served his country well over the last few years, but there is nothing preventing him from going off the deep end and assaulting that very same country.  How do you think the people sworn to protect this nation from any and all threats feel about a rogue operator who can do the things he can do?  It’s frankly worse than allowing test tubes of Ebola to be carted about at random by any federal employee that wants one,” Alexis said.

“Again… what is it you want?”

“We want controls in place to ensure Mr. Gordon’s compliance,” she said.

“And those are?” Darion asked while my stomach got tight and twisted.

“We want young Miss Velasquez in Federal custody.  We want a… monitor implanted in Mr. Gordon’s body to track and isolate him.  We want him shadowed by government agents at all times.”  She sat back, watching us for reaction.  I had plenty but I somehow managed to control my initial reaction—or more importantly, Grim’s response.  The images in my mind were bloody. Very, very bloody.

“No, no, and no,” Darion responded.  “Why would Mr. Gordon acquiesce to these ridiculous demands?”

“Because failure to comply will constitute a declaration of intent to commit further acts of terrorism and war against the United States,” McFeeney interjected.  He paused for dramatic effect, which was ruined when footsteps thundered down the hallway outside accompanied by howls of pre-teen laughter.

“And once you’ve decided you’re at war with my client, how do you see that playing out?” Darion asked, smiling at the sounds of the kids.

“The only way it can, Darion.  With the death of Mr. Gordon and all he holds dear.  Nobody can hold out against the full weight and power of the United States Government,” Gleeson said, his eyes on mine.

“Really? I’ll tell you what I think,” Darion began, but the door to the room suddenly opened and the guard posted outside stepped in. Everyone but me jumped a little at the sudden interruption. The Secret Service guy took one step forward and one to the side, holding the door open for the service cart that came bumping through behind him.  It was pushed by an older hotel staff person and was loaded with pitchers of water and glasses.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the water you requested is here, Senator,” the guard said, not acting apologetic at all.

Chapter 2

Everyone looked at the old lady while she clumsily moved the pitchers and glasses to the table—except me.  I kept my eyes off her, even as I could feel her moving around the room, her presence bright in my mind.  She shuffled and kept her head down, finally completing her task and then awkwardly dragging the cart out of the room.

The senator poured himself a glass of water then settled back into his chair, finally looking at Darion expectantly.

“Go on, Darion, tell us what you think,” he said.

“I think, Senator, that we’ve been down this path once before and it broke down to something like mutually assured destruction.”

“But that confrontation included an extremely supernatural powerful entity and the full resources of the worldwide Coven.  The entity has completely disappeared and the vampire has been severed from the larger organization.  You’re on your own,” Alexis said, looking me dead in the eye.

Darion turned my way.  “Chris, that true?”

“That statement isn’t exactly true.  I can call any of the Elders of the Coven from my cell and they’ll take my call,” I said, although I wasn’t actually certain of that.  “In vampire politics, the term sever usually applies to limbs and necks, not relationships.  Let’s just say we’ve been granted breathing room for our smaller part of the overall Coven.  But let’s assume that any of you have a clue how the Darkkin mind works and let’s say it’s just me, Tanya, and some others.  I think, in all honesty, if you force us into a corner, it’ll be a nightmare none of you will survive.  Just my opinion.  What do you think, General?”

Creek’s mouth was compressed in a thin, angry line, but he didn’t answer right away.  He just stared at me, the wheels of thought almost visibly turning in his head.

“I think I’m having déjà vu. As I’ve advised the President, I do not favor the military option. It’s not viable,” he finally said.

“That’s not your call, General.  Your only job here is to tell us what it would take to finish off Gordon here,” Gleeson said, voice sharp.

“In that case, Senator, in my estimation, as a professional soldier who has closely observed Gordon in action and studied each of AIR’s failed attempts to capture him, we would be fighting a guerilla war on US soil against an opponent who has enormous advantages in urban warfare.  I’ve seen Gordon decimate the werewolf equivalent of a company of infantry by himself—in a ridiculously short period of time.  From what I understand, his girlfriend’s abilities are comparable and he has an unclassified were of unknown capability.  From the data collected by Oracle, the three of them assaulted a hardened military facility and cleaned out its entire complement of heavily armed, highly experienced enhanced soldiers in less than fifteen minutes. Add to that an organization of an unknown number of vampires who have infiltrated our society, alliances with several Packs of weres, and God knows what else.  And that was before he somehow dropped a multi-ton nickel-iron asteroid with pinpoint accuracy, yielding the equivalent energy of a tactical nuke.  In short, it would be, as he indicated, a nightmare.”

Gleeson was almost purple and the closest Secret Service-type guy looked worried, like he might have to dial 911 and perform CPR.  McFeeney jumped in before the senator could unlock his clenched jaw.

“How would you go about it, General?”

Creek didn’t speak for a second, looking pretty angry himself.  “You really want me to detail our potential responses to the opponent we would be using them against?  Have you any concept of operational security Congressman?”

“Of course General.  Just the broad strokes.  Outline the kind of resources Mr. Gordon would be facing.”

General Creek’s jaw clenched and unclenched a few times as his eyes moved between McFeeney and myself.

“We’ve been running scenarios from the moment we first became aware of the threat Gordon represents.  We’ve constantly updated the models with new data with every incident to come to our attention. We’ve identified numerous geographic and urban design chokepoints in every major city in the United States to use as killzones. Then we use a Monte Carlo approach, like the Wall Street guys use, to run our scenarios one thousand times each and collate the outcomes.  Here’s what we think:

“Aircraft and remotely piloted drones are pretty much a no go—Gordon can crash them at will and there’s evidence he can direct the crash to some degree, turning our airpower against us. However, the presence of a small amount of depleted uranium may mitigate his abilities to some degree.  Each drone, aircraft, and ground element would carry a small object of DU.  We would still have to commit overwhelming numbers to compensate for his abilities.  If he and his vampire were in York City, I would use the 10th Mountain Division out of Fort Drum—they’re light infantry.  The 174th Attack wing at Hancock in Syracuse for their Reaper drones and the Pennsylvania Air National Guard’s A-10 Squadron from Fort Indianhead Gap.”

“All of them?” McFeeney asked.

“Yes. We’ve designated other combined force packages for every geographic location.”

“And what success rate did your models return?” McFeeney asked.

“About thirty-three percent, with a troop casualty rate of eighty-seven percent.  Of course, that was before the asteroid.  Now we’re updating the models to assume we have no satellites, and that any armor or concentrations of soldiers are under threat of directed kinetic energy assault from above.”

“What about civilian collateral damage?” McFeeney asked.

“Those numbers were pretty bleak. Although, endangered civilians actually benefit the scenario – tend to draw him out. He has that whole hero complex thing going on.”

Bishop looked a little uneasy and McFeeney was downright upset.

“Well for God’s sake, just flush him into the countryside.  Things will be wide open and you wouldn’t have so many civilians around,” Gleeson said after glancing at his fellow political allies.

“That approach yielded the lowest civilian death rate, but the success rate dropped to about twelve percent and we would lose almost all of our soldiers.  Again, that was prior to the new data.”

Gleeson had gone pale while McFeeney looked shocked but thoughtful.  The congressman turned to Nathan Stewart.

“Director, what could your group add?” he asked, flicking a glance my way and then back to Stewart.

The Colonel Sanders mustache twitched a few times as Stewart considered his words.  “We’ve done quite a bit of work with Chris and Tanya and the rest of their crew lately.  You know we’ve been trying to contain this little problem with dimensional portals—the ones that lead straight to Hell?  Not that open Hell gates are a threat to national security or anything. Chris and company have been by far our most effective resource against them.  They are a diverse group, closely knit and well-coordinated.  I’m not a military man, although I’ve known many over the years and worked closely with more than my share.  I think the general’s assessment is pretty good but his numbers might be a bit optimistic. Now, among my own group, we certainly have some talented people, but I’ll be the first to admit that they aren’t in the same class.”

“You’re not being helpful here, Nathan,” Gleeson said.

“Look, I’ve been doing this for over fifty years, this supernatural stuff.  I’ve studied everything I could find, traveled the world collecting artifacts, people, and information.  I can tell you unequivocally that my friend Chris and his group are pretty much unprecedented.  Now, the general here is trained to see threats around every corner.  I’m conditioned to see opportunities and allies.  So far, Chris has done nothing but help this country.  Destroying his natural-born allegiance to the United States would not only be a disaster, it would rob of us of his abilities.  You are all concentrating on the fact that he pulled down an asteroid –” Stewart said, but was suddenly interrupted by Darion.

“Allegedly.”

“Darion, I was there.  He yanked it down.  But my point is if he can pull them down, he can push them away.  Or if you want, let’s talk missile defense.  What about it, Chris? Could you stop an ICBM?  Could you deflect an earth-killer asteroid?”

I glanced at Darion, who looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding assent.  I silently consulted my dark half, Grim, and then considered the amount of help I’d had from my brothers of the Host.

“I’m not sure.  I had… help, of sorts, with that little ten tonner.  A really big one?  I suppose if I had plenty of lead time to influence it, then maybe.  Last minute, doubtful.  Missiles?  Again, I’d need some warning, but I think so.”

“See, that’s the thing we should be working on, the useful, productive stuff.  Not threatening him.  So far, it’s been my observation that threats against him or his people are spectacularly counterproductive.”

Alexis turned to the two professional politicians.  “You two through?”  Both reluctantly nodded.

“To answer your question, Darion, we are not claiming the base or AIR as government entities.  Rogue operation operating outside government control.  Which is what we’re talking about here.  Mr. Gordon and his group represent an uncontrolled, serious threat.”

“Whoa Alexis, let’s talk about that point.  The government, or at least part of it, has been aware of the supernatural community for some time.  You’ve created organizations to monitor them and yet you’ve made no attempt to imprison or control them.  Yet Chris here represents, all by himself, more of a risk than all of them? Not buying it, Alexis,” Darion said.  “I believe that you’re actually thinking more like Director Stewart.  That he’s an asset… a weapon, to be deployed against whoever you decide to.  That’s what this is really about.  So you propose holding his goddaughter, a natural-born US citizen, hostage?  Why not just tear up the Constitution and declare a new monarchy?  Oh wait, whoever had a Chris Gordon in their arsenal could just about do that, now couldn’t they?”

A flicker of a frown flashed over Alexis’s features before she smoothed it away.  She opened her mouth to speak, but it was my turn to interrupt.

“You can’t take Toni hostage.  I’ve prevented it.”

Now a full-fledged frown appeared on her face and on the faces of the two politicians.  Creek just continued to glare, and Stewart looked curious.

“Prevented how, Chris?” Darion asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Toni is now protected.  Anyone attempting to attack or kidnap her will die almost instantly.  Attacking her parents will have a similar result.”

“Explain.  We know where the girl is and we know about the security around her.  Believe me when I tell you we can take her at any time that we choose,” Creek said.

“No General, you can’t.  If you check with your watchers, you’ll find her private security shadow has been drastically reduced.  The ones left are all humans we hired, and their job is mainly to warn off anyone stupid enough to attack.  If the assault looks determined, their orders are to get out of the way and seek cover. They are forbidden to be armed.  Pulling a firearm near Toni is a really, really bad idea. Full disclosure: Anyone attempting to take custody, hold hostage, or harm her in any way will die.  I failed to protect her before when AIR took her. I won’t ever fail at that again.  Consider this your warning.”

Nobody spoke for several moments.  Gleeson started to speak, but Alexis raised one hand toward him without taking her eyes off of me.

“You’re threatening us?”

“Semantics.  I have given you warning.  The security personnel around her are for the public’s protection, not hers.  Hers is pretty much absolute and before you ask, the answer is no, I’m not going to tell you what her protection is.  My advice is to sit back and watch.  Someone’s bound to do something stupid and you can observe the results.”

“Well that was ominous,” Alexis said. “I’d normally say it was dramatic theater, but I’m told that you usually understate things.  But I’ve never been part of the physical threat side of things.  I come at things a little differently.  So in the near future, here’s what you can expect.  We’ll freeze your assets and those of every vampire or were you have around you.  The media will receive anonymous tips about you—with sordid details about you and the monsters you consort with.  We’ve kept it secret till now—now we let the whole cat out of the bag.  Overnight, you’ll be famous, well infamous really because the details won’t be pretty. The entire country, hell the world, will revile you. Fear you. Toni’s family will be revealed, as will your grandfather.  Any publicity-shy supernatural around you will be in sudden danger of being revealed.  Multiple lawsuits against the Demidova Empire will appear, as well against your grandfather and yourself. EPA claims for the radioactive depleted uranium dust falling out from the asteroid strike. The Velasquez family will be unemployed, their professional lives ruined.  Your goddaughter will grow up in the shadow of your disgrace.  How will she view you then, I wonder.  The Coven and Packs will cut you free, leaving you without resources and hated by the public.  Some idiot will attack you and likely get destroyed or at least seriously hurt.  It’ll be on Youtube three minutes after that, showing the world what a monster you really are.”

She finished and took a sip of water, coolly watching me for a reaction.

I’m not sure how I looked because inside, I was struggling with Grim while working through the implications of her little speech.  We had discussed all the military and law enforcement angles, but not this.  I ransacked my brain for a solution, for a hole in her attack, but nothing appeared.

Behind me, the door opened and I felt the maid come back in without turning to look.  Alexis raised her head and spoke.  “We don’t want to be disturbed at the moment.”

“Ah, then you shouldn’t threaten my Chosen, my goddaughter, or my family,” the maid said in an arctic voice.  Wind whipped across my face as she circled the room too fast for the humans to follow, the three remaining guards slumping to the ground as she passed them.  They looked dead, but their continued heartbeats told me she had just knocked them out.  Next was the rustle when she pulled off her gray wig and then the sound of the Velcro ripping told me the uniform was being dispensed with.  The faces around the table reflected shock and surprise and fear.

“Hi, I’m Tatiana Demidova and since you’ve just threatened to destroy my family, I felt I ought to join the discussion.”  She moved up behind me and put both hands on my shoulders.  Normally I would offer her my chair, but I could tell through our link that standing was a strategically dominant position and I was pretty sure she was ready to dominate the bejebbers out of them.

“So I listened in on your plot.  It’s nasty and psychologically devastating. I’m impressed.  You would make a good vampire, Ms. Bishop.  But I’ll come back to that point in a moment.  Did you know, General Creek, that we have copies of every bit of footage your people have ever recorded of my Christian in action?” She wasn’t lying.  I had watched all of that footage in an attempt to get some of my memories back.  She continued, “I have some really gifted hackers on staff, like Chet, who you already know, and a new young friend who can do things with computers that seem like magic.” Nathan Stewart stiffened a bit at that one, no doubt guessing who she was talking about.  “We could show the whole Loki Spawn campaign as seen through the eyes of the military as they sat helpless while my Chosen protected the country.  Talk about Youtube, whew, that stuff would go super viral.  And Nathan, I’m afraid we have footage of all the portal-closing demon fighting stuff as well, not to mention some choice shots from that school in Brooklyn where my Chris killed the terrorists.  Media? We can either give them the footage or flat out force it through the system. Hey, what would your Command and Control systems be like if we knock out all your satellites and leave our own?  Food for thought, huh General?  Miss Bishop, you make him infamous and I’ll make him famous.  How fast would NBC, CBS, or ABC, not to mention Fox, jump at a chance to interview a Demidova?” She bent down and placed her face alongside mine, still looking at Alexis.  “Wouldn’t we make a cute celebrity couple?  And let’s talk about assets—good luck finding any.  My people have been hiding their money for thousands of years; I’ve got tricks you’ve never heard of.  Then, at the height of the whole thing, we’ll pull a Snowden.  We’ll leave the country and seek asylum from Russia or China, both of which will fight tooth and claw to have us. As a matter of fact, the ambassadors of both countries are currently seeking a meeting like this but without any threats. The public will hate your President and Congress for forcing such a national loss.  And please don’t quote me any crap about preventing us from leaving.  We can penetrate the borders of this country or any other at will.  And finally, Ms. Bishop, when your boss’s ratings are at their lowest and his respect and admiration for you have turned to hate, maybe at that point we’ll see just how good a vampire you’d really make.”

I could hear all their heartbeats and outside of a Zumba class, I don’t recall ever hearing any beat quite as fast.

The tension was almost touchable, stretched taut like a bowstring.  After what seemed to be minutes, but was really just a few really painful seconds, Nathan Stewart looked across the table at General Creek and said, “As I said—she would be here.”

Creek looked pained as he looked from Stewart to Tanya at my side, but after a moment he reached into his hip pocket—slowly, with his other palm up toward my vampire—and pulled out his wallet.  He slipped out a crisp twenty and handed it to Senator Gleeson, with a brusque wave to indicate that Gleeson should pass it down.  The bill traveled down the table to McFeeney and next to Alexis Bishop, who blinked rapidly several times before putting a semblance of her former poker face in place.  She handed the twenty spot to Nathan Stewart, who added it to a fat roll of bills from his pocket.  Even as it left her hand, Alexis was turning her attention to me, the wheels almost visibly moving behind her mask.

“Do you agree with her?” she asked me.

I paused for a moment, thinking about the whole situation, studying my hands that were flat on the table.  As I started to answer her question, I picked up one of the plain water glasses in front of me.

“Ms. Bishop, what none of you seem to grasp is that this whole thing we’re doing right here doesn’t matter,” I said, waving a hand at them and the unconscious bodyguards and the whole room.  “I’ve been fighting demons since I was prepubescent.  That’s demons as in the denizens of Hell.  All this political crap is meaningless unless it results in giving them a free hand. Then it will mean the end of everything and everyone.”  She started to speak, but I held up my right hand.  “I’m not done.  What you all need to understand is that there is a treaty of sorts between Heaven and Hell—an Accord.  Demons have always been allowed on this plane as long as their visitation was non-corporeal.  Just their spirit or elemental essence or what have you.  If invited into a person, they could take over the body.  Likewise, they could inhabit a location or place.  Humans could fight back with religion and faith or they could fall and fail.  It’s always been our choice.  Free will.  On the other side of the Accord, God would select a representative warrior—a policeman of sorts.” I ran one finger around the circumference of the glass, down near the thick bottom.  The half-inch-thick base fell off the glass.  “That warrior would have the ability to exorcise any demon on this plane.  In case you folks have missed it, the current holder of that title is I.  It’s a tough job—the average lifespan of my predecessors was pretty short, I’ve been told.  Maybe fifteen or twenty years from the time they first manifested their abilities, tops.  It’s been a losing battle.  Till me.”  Using the same finger, I cut the base into a sort of rectangular shape.  “But now we have this whole manmade wear and tear on the barriers of space and time thing. The Large Hadron Collider. Our never-ending search for information and power has finally impacted the fence that keeps the demons of Hell at bay.  Now they can come through in physical form—complete in their unholy glory.” The little block of glass was now roughly humanoid shaped.  I set it down and picked up the open-ended cylinder that had been a glass. “And guess what?  Halloween is approaching.  A friend recently pointed out that the barriers naturally thin at that time of year.  How do you think that’s gonna go?” I traced an arched triangle into the glass—sort of a dolphin fin shape.  It fell out of the cylinder.  “My business is about to see its busy season—possibly the first and last at the same time.”  Turning the glass, I cut the same shape out of the other side.  Holding the first one up to the little glass man, I focused my aura on a spot on his back, pressing the triangle against it. The glass flowed together.

“So to answer your question, I’m okay with it.  I’d prefer to go about my business without civilians knowing any different.  I’d prefer you to leave my friends and family alone.  If you choose to take this route, be aware it will flow both ways.  None of you will survive unscathed.  If it gets too crazy, we’ll leave.  My charge is really the whole planet, not just the United States.  At some point, I need to travel anyway.  Tanya is right: China and Russia will absorb us without a second’s thought.  Did you know that I have a grandmother of sorts in China?  Me either. She’s one of the vampire Elders and she wields enormous influence over there.  The politicians in that country understand what they’re dealing with and wisely leave her alone.  Similar to Russia, where Tanya’s family is from.  So foreign travel might be nice. We’ll let you deal with demons on your own.”  The other triangle got the same treatment, the glass melding together.

“I see,” she said.  “And what about the last part?  The threat of turning me into a vampire?  You would let her do that?”

“Let her? Have you met her?  I didn’t let her join this meeting—look how well that worked out.  But it’s a good warning for you.  Vampires and weres don’t play by our rules.  They have their own and they follow them strictly to keep the general population unknowing.  If the federal government chooses to reveal them, then all bets are off.  Be prepared for civil unrest on a scale never seen in this country, ever.  And then be prepared for the retaliation.  You called them monsters for a reason.  Who knows, maybe you’ll end up one and if you do, you’ll work for us.”

“Okay, well on that happy note, I’d say it’s time to wrap this up,” Darion said, looking at his watch.  “We’re not accomplishing much more today, so let’s all leave while the floor is still clean of blood, shall we?”

I stood up, turning to leave.  Alexis spoke behind me.  “Mr. Gordon, this doesn’t end anything.  The government simply cannot leave you free and unchecked.  There will be actions taken.”

“Ms. Bishop, before you go back to the evil plots blackboard, do me a favor.  Borrow some footage from Nathan here—study that other threat we’ve been talking about.” Director Stewart didn’t look up; he was still studying the glass figure I had in my hand.  I looked back at Bishop.  “Then picture your friends and family right in the middle of one of those portal openings.  See how you feel about me then,” I said, setting the little winged glass man down on the table in front of her.

Finishing my turn, I took Tanya’s elbow and we walked out of the room, stepping into a hall of screaming mini-cheerleaders.  We turned the corner and moved to the stairwell.  Once through the door, we headed down into the basement.  I stepped off the stairs and stumbled, a wave of dizziness mixed with doubled vision slamming through me.  The God Tear necklace on my chest suddenly burned hot—for just a second, before it all passed.  The disorientation left and my vision cleared as the silver-wrapped jewel around my neck cooled to normal temperature.

“What happened?” Tanya asked.

“Somebody just tried to kill Toni,” I said, meeting bright blue eyes.

Chapter 3

The crappy old hotel was a good choice for a whole bunch of reasons—it was out of the way, set in a well-populated neighborhood, and out of the Big Apple.  It also had an old utility access tunnel that traveled under the asphalt parking lot to a buried concrete storm sewer collection tank.  It was one of those big, prefabricated things that you see work crews lowering into the ground as your car crawls by at the direction of a bored signal guy.  Its most important feature was the steel grate cover at its top.

The access tunnel was small enough that we had to crawl on all fours.  Tanya was just ahead of me, the tunnel dark, but my thermal vision gave me an interesting view of her from behind.

“Stop staring at my ass and tell me again that Toni and Gina are okay,” she said without looking around.  Damn mental link.  It’s one thing to wake up and find you have a super-hot girlfriend; it’s another thing altogether that she can just about read your mind.

Toni is my goddaughter, another shocking development that I had awoken to.  Gina was her mother, an otherwise super-perceptive, intelligent woman who had come to the insane conclusion that I might make good godfather material.  Go figure.

“They’re both fine.  They were having lunch in a café when a van pulled up and three men with guns got out.  That’s about all I saw as the God Tear around her neck activated and the men all sorta exploded.”

“Exploded?” she asked, her tone professionally curious.

“Yeah, well I think they all got shoved back toward the van but the shove was so hard and fast that their bodies just came apart.  Gina covered Toni’s eyes and she didn’t see any of it.”

“Good. It’s still too early for her to see too much of that.  Any idea who was behind it?”

“I didn’t get much other than what I told you.  We’ll have to call them,” I replied, thinking about her phrase too early.

We climbed out of the tunnel and stood up in a concrete box.  A couple inches of stagnant water sloshed around our feet as I climbed the inset concrete steps and popped the metal grate cover open.  I looked back down at Tanya before sticking my head out.  She was smirking and staring at my butt.  I sighed.

“Turnaround is fair play, no?” she asked, letting her Russian accent roll through.

A vehicle was parked above us with an open trap door in its undercarriage, which let us climb up inside the back of what seemed to be a uniform delivery van.  We came up right between stacks of clean, folded uniforms and several bags of dirty ones.  The driver and passenger’s seats were empty.  That changed a moment later when the sliding driver’s door popped open and a stocky, muscular man with a crew cut entered the vehicle.  He had a bag of dirty uniforms in one hand, which he threw to me or maybe at me, and a bag of bagels in the other.  He was whistling the theme song to a famous Disney movie about dwarves and a princess and work.

With a wink at my vampire, he swung into the driver’s seat and started the van, wheeling out of the parking lot with blatant disregard for the other drivers—in other words, just like every other delivery vehicle on the road.  A string of black SUVs zoomed past us, careening into the parking lot.

I started to speak but he held up one hand for silence, a tattooed Semper Fi visible on one beefy forearm.  He used the same hand to turn on the stereo.  The music that issued from the speakers had a hissing quality woven around and within the notes.  White noise.

“Okay, now we should be good as long as we don’t shout,” the human head of daytime security said.  “Is everything alright, your majesty?” he asked with a glance in the rearview mirror at Tanya.

“I think we’re good, Mr. Deckert,” she said with a small smile.  Deckert was retired Marine Force Recon and had worked for the Demidovas for a half dozen years or so. He had always been a loyal, tough-as-nails employee, but Tanya had cured his daughter of cancer with her blood and now he cheerfully worshipped the ground under her and the air around her.  I think he liked me too, but ours was a different relationship.

“Gordon,” he greeted me, tone even.

“Deckert,”I replied in my best imitation of his voice.

“How’s General Creek?”

“Kind of a bitter asshole,” I replied.

“That’s his nominal condition,” Deckert said.  He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a cell phone.  After swiping his thumb over the biometric app, he handed it to Tanya.  “This started buzzing with texts a few moments ago.  I think they’re for you and Gordon.”

“Yeah, there’s one from Gina—she says everyone’s okay and they’re being driven home by the security team,” Tanya said, still reading.

“What about the cops?” I asked.

“Gina says federal agents appeared almost instantly.  The security guys told them they were taking their clients to safety and it would probably a bad idea to interfere.  The feds told Gina they would be in touch.  There’s also a text from a Stevens—that’s our Stevens, right?” she asked Deckert.  He just nodded, eyes still focused on driving.

“Stevens says it looks to him like a professional contract hit squad.  A driver and three heavy hitters with automatic weapons.  All four DRT.  DRT?”

“Dead Right There,” he translated.  “You should probably hold off on replying until we get somewhere secure.  This whole place is lousy with feds. FBI, NSA, lots of alphabets. Too dangerous.”

At the word dangerous, my dark half surged forward and expanded my senses, filling my brain with a 3-D worldview that covered everything around and above us. Somehow I was seeing without my eyes.

“There are seven very small quad-copter drones in the air around us.  Most are converging on the hotel.  One is following us,” I heard myself say in a deep voice.

Deckert never flinched.  “Can it meet with a freak accident?  One that doesn’t arouse too much attention?”

None of me answered right away; instead, my attention zoomed in on the lightweight quad drone thirty feet above us.  We drove past a mom and pop corner convenience store and the drone started to rise above the large sign sticking out from the front of the building.  I felt Grim do something with my/our aura and a gust of air pushed down on the little copter, shoving it into the sign.  One of the four rotors shattered on the metal frame and the drone started to spin and tilt.

“Done,” my Grim voice answered.

Deckert glanced in his side mirror and I looked over my shoulder out the back windows.  The little quad clattered to the road and an Escalade behind us crushed it under one big tire.

“That’ll do, pig, that’ll do,” Deckert said, looking forward and whistling his off to work song.

Five minutes later, he pulled into a warehouse garage whose name matched the one on the delivery van.

The business was legit and was, in fact, the very service that usually provided the hotel with its uniforms.  Deckert pulled into an open vehicle slot and jumped out of the van.  A few seconds later, he opened the rear doors for us to disembark.  I reached into my pocket as I stepped out, pulling the folded note that Nathan Stewart had slipped into my hand when we shook at the meeting.

“What is it?” Tanya asked.

“It looks like latitude and longitude,” I said.

“For what?” Deckert asked, pulling out his smart phone.  Several armed security staff appeared around us.

“Nathan has a precog on staff. Ariel, I think her name is,” I replied.

“What’s a precog?” Deckert asked, now looking at the coordinates and typing them into an app on his phone.

“How do you know her name?” Tanya asked in a very even tone that set my alarm bells ringing.

“Nathan told me about her when we were in Vermont.  She’s young and needs training so that new program centered around Declan and Caeco would be a good fit for her,” I said, then answered the next question before it could be asked.  “I think she’s about sixteen or so.  Precog is short for Precognitive.  A psychic that gets glimpses of future events.  This girl has been successful at predicting where and when new demon gates are going to pop up.”

“So she thinks there will be a gate in Central Park?” Deckert asked, holding up his phone, which showed a map with a dot centered in New York City. “Or is it a trap to get you and our young queen into a tactically compromised position?”

“When is it supposed to happen?” Tanya asked, leaning over my shoulder to look at the note.  There was nothing else but the coordinates.  She reached over and took the note gently, turning it over.  On the other side was a faintly penciled date.

“That’s today,” I said, imagining demons running amok through picnics and Frisbee games.

“Mr. Deckert?” Tanya asked.

“On it, your majesty,” he said, turning and speaking rapidly to the security team that was hovering nearby.

Chapter 4

An hour and forty minutes later, we were approaching the Downtown Heliport near Wall Street in Manhattan.  Deckert had scrapped the elaborate transport plan to slip us downstate in a specially equipped container truck, instead hiring a transport helicopter out of Albany airport.  The Bell 206 B III could carry a total of four passengers, so Tanya, myself, and Deckert, along with one of his guys, all piled into the sleek helicopter.  Four plush leather seats were laid out with two facing backward and two facing forward.  I put Tanya directly behind the pilot facing rearward, as I thought he’d be too distracted to fly properly if she faced forward.  As it was, the copilot kept trying to sneak glimpses of her over his shoulder for the entire trip.  He was mostly unsuccessful, as we spent much of the time huddled over tablets, trying to get any information on sudden attacks or violence in Central Park.  It was only mid-day, so Tanya spent some of the flight with her eyes shut, head tucked against my shoulder.

“These put the spot somewhere near the North Meadow area of the park,” Deckert noted.  I had a sudden déjà vu moment, although with me, it’s never déjà vu but actual memories or ghosts of memories flickering up.  This one was a quick glimpse of me in a vast green park, rain pouring down, amid a veritable army of cops and first responders.

“What?  You looked like you remembered something?” Deckert asked.

Tanya moved against my shoulder, speaking without ever looking up or even opening her eyes.  “Christian helped investigate a Hancer attack in the North Meadow with the Special Situations Squad.”

“There’s nothing on the news channels,” the extra security guy added.  His name was Doug Munn and he’d been a sniper in the 75th Ranger Regiment, with an impressive list of combat deployments to his credit.

I felt a buzzing, even through the headsets we were all wearing and the noise of the engine and rotors. Deckert reached into his shirt pocket and pulled his phone.  After glancing at the screen, he pulled off one side of his earphones and shoved the phone up tight to the same ear to listen.  After a moment, he spoke to us.

“Benson says there is a large cop presence in the Park, near the Loch path, just past the ball fields.”

“He’s there now?” I asked, feeling another memory just under the surface when he mentioned Loch.

“Yeah, heard it on the scanner and swung by to check it out, but he can’t get close.  Lots of CSI types and quite a bit of higher brass.  They’re keeping everyone, especially reporters, far away.”

I pulled one of my earpieces away, able to hear Benson’s voice over the sound of the helicopter.

“I think I see the Commissioner,” he said.  An electronic whoop-whoop sounded—like a police car might make.  “Gotta go.  Call ya right back.”

Deckert bemusedly looked at the phone, then up at Doug and me.  The phone buzzed suddenly and he answered it, putting it on speaker.

“I’m back,” Benson’s voice announced without preamble.

“Ask him if he still sees the commish,” I said.

Deckert relayed the question.  “Oh yeah, he’s here alright,” was the reply.

“Where?” I spoke loud enough for Benson to hear me.

“Two feet in front of me and man, does he look pissed!”

The sounds of cursing came through, along with what sounded like the phone being dragged through a field.  A different voice spoke next, one that I knew.

“Gordon, you there?” Police Commissioner Rielly barked.

“Yes Commissioner,” I answered, giving Deckert, Doug and a now-alert Tanya a shrug.

“Where have you been the last twenty-four hours?”

I raised my eyebrows at Tanya and she nodded.  “Albany, Commissioner, why?”

“You got witnesses?”

“Ten or twelve,” I answered.

He sighed.  “Where are you now?”

It seemed counterproductive to be telling an authority figure our location when I was trying to stay out of sight, but the NYPD is a different beast altogether and despite not liking the man, I had come to at least respect him.  Tanya gave another nod, agreeing with my thinking.

“In a helicopter, headed to the city,” I answered.

“Tell the pilot to bring you here… to the North Meadow in Central Park,” he said.

I leaned up and relayed the request to the pilot, but he just shook his head.

“We can’t land there!  City would have our asses,” he yelled to me.

“Put him on,” Rielly directed.  I handed the phone up and the pilot, who looked annoyed, grudgingly accepted it.  The co-pilot took the bird’s controls and the pilot concentrated on the phone.  Then he sat straight up, eyes straight ahead, nodding.  “Yes sir! Got it!” he said, handing the phone back to me with an angry jab.

Flying straight past the Downtown Heliport, the pilot flew further up Manhattan and five minutes later, we were setting down in Central Park in a makeshift landing zone marked out with road flares.  We jumped out of the chopper, Tanya speaking to the pilot a moment, and we all ran bent over till we cleared the rotor wash.  Benson stood like a wall, surrounded by police types including The Man himself, Commissioner Rielly.

“Commissioner, what’s going on?” I asked as we approached.  His suspicious cop eyes looked us all over, me particularly, for a second.  Then his harsh demeanor shifted to something slightly softer, say from diamond to granite.

“We got six dead bodies and if you don’t have an airtight alibi then I’ll throw the whole damned department at you till I get you dead or locked up,” he said.

“We’ve been in a meeting with Senator Gleeson, Congressman McFeeney, and the White House Deputy Chief of Staff, plus our attorney and four Secret Service men,” Tanya answered him.

He looked at her a moment, then ran one hand through his short, military-style hair.  “Actually, I’m glad to hear that, although it terrifies me at the same time.  I suppose you didn’t have anything to do with the three Asian guys with auto weapons who got whacked outside the same deli your friend Gina Velasquez and her daughter were in?”

“Asian guys?  Gina?  Are they alright?” I asked.  He just nodded, still watching my reactions, then turned and waved for us to follow him, marching swiftly over the green grass of the softball fields till he got to the bare dirt of the infield.  The majority of the police activity was here.  As we approached, the wall of cops parted and we could see behind them.

Six forms, more or less, were splayed on the ground, the brown dirt stained bright red all around them.  In the center of the arc of bodies, a small round circle was spray-painted onto the dirt.  The circle was filled with the galactic black of night, like a puddle of ink, one that pressed on my aura with the weight of the damned.

“All Hell broke loose here early this morning,” the commissioner said, waving us forward.

Chapter 5

The bodies, or what was left of them, were in a loose arc around the edges of the circle.  They were all dressed in robes over street clothes with the exception of one woman who was naked, her dead eyes staring up at the sky.  She seemed intact, the sharp angle of her head and neck indicating the likely cause of death.  The others—well, the others were a mess.

Two bodies had massive holes in their chests, open cavities empty of their hearts.  They looked shocked.  To the right of them was a body that seemed normal till you got to the head, which was grossly misshapen.  Elongated, smashed in, and curved to the left side, as if it folded around a blunt object that hit it with unimaginable force.  The next one had no head and no arms.  A glance around found the missing body parts on the other side of the circle, thrown casually on the ground.  The final body was a bloody mess, the entire chest and torso crushed in.

“They look like the terrorist bodies in that school.  That’s why I was worried it was you.  Who else could do this?”

“Lots of supernaturals could accomplish this, Commissioner,” Tanya said, looking it over with a professional eye.  I suddenly worried about all the blood and gore on the scene.  She hadn’t eaten in a while.

Picking up on my thought, she turned to me with a grimace.  “Like if you walked into a trashed deli with rotted meat on the floor.  Not appetizing at all,” she said.  The commissioner looked puzzled at her comment but I saw Deckert’s sudden realization of the meaning flash across his face.  “Plus the whole sulfur and brimstone stench,” she added as an afterthought.

I was wrestling with making a smartass comment or not when the vision hit.

I glanced around at the cops and CSI types, but they were all using tablets of one flavor or another.

“Hey Doug, you got any writing gear in that go bag of yours?” I asked the ex-sniper.  He nodded and reached into the black gear bag slung on his side.

“Wow!  A sketch pad and colored pencils,” I said.  “Hey Deckert, can we keep him?”

Deckert just shook his head.  “Nope, he’s mine.  But if you’re good, I’ll grant visitation rights.”

Kneeling down, I used my folded knee for a desk, flipping to a clean page and choosing the black pencil to start.  My right hand started to move on its own, sketching nine boxes, comic-strip style.  The first box started to fill in with six figures in robes around a glowing blue circle.  Part of me wondered at the automatic use of the blue pencil.  The view was from slightly above and a little behind.

The second box showed a naked female figure inside the circle, as well as the awestruck faces of three of the robe-wearing people.  Two men and a woman.  The men looked amazed and delighted, the woman surprised and scared.  The view was from behind the female in the circle; the only details were of a nicely toned, youthful female physique.

The third square showed one of the men, a bearded individual, leaning forward toward the female in the circle, his eyes reflecting lust and desire that was just beginning to change to surprise, as his foot could be seen slipping.

In the fourth, the bearded male was in the arms of the circle dweller, his eyes reflecting pain and shock as she crushed his upper body with her embrace, blood erupting from his mouth.

I could feel Tanya, Deckert, and Doug looking over my shoulder as the sixth box revealed the naked female backhanding the other male, his head deforming around her fist while her other hand choked out the female robe wearer.

The view changed to the other side of the circle for the seventh block picture showing the naked female with both arms elbow-deep in the chests of two men, her bloody hands protruding out of their backs and clutching their torn hearts.

In the eighth, she had her head back, her jaws unhinged like a python’s, inhumanly sharp teeth lining her mouth as one of the bloody hearts fell toward her maw.  The remaining male was turning to flee.

“That explains where the hearts went,” Commissioner Rielly’s voice said from behind me.  My audience had grown.

The ninth and last box showed the final robed male having his arms yanked out of their sockets from behind and for the first time, we got a good look at the naked demon woman’s profile.

“Brianna Duclair,” Tanya whispered.

“I thought Duclair was killed in New Hampshire?” Rielly asked.

“So did we.  She got yanked into an open Hellhole like this one.  Looks like she came back… or something wearing her skin came back,” I answered.

“Holy shit.  What do we do?” he asked.

“Circulate her photo with strict on pain of death instructions not to go near her.  As you can see, she will eat your men,” Tanya answered.

“So what do we do when we find her?” he asked.

“You get us, Commissioner... Chris and me.  We will take care of her, or whatever she’s become,” my vampire replied.

“What about this circle?”

“If we can get a screen around it, I’ll close it right now.  Too many media and cameras out there watching,” I said, pointing back to the police lines a hundred yards away.  A bearded man with a telephoto-lens-equipped camera was just taking a picture of us as I spoke. Grim instantly sent a burst of aura at his camera.

The bearded guy yanked the camera from in front of his face and looked to be swearing as he studied its controls.  A young woman next to him conferred with him about the camera before looking back up and meeting my gaze.

“We’ve got portable screens,” Rielly said, snapping me back to the situation at hand.

Closing the portal wasn’t difficult, just draining, and it had already been a busy day.  Nothing tried to come out and the small, two-foot diameter and perfect circular shape made the closure straightforward.  I just had to expend a lot of aura to do it.

When I had finished, I was tired and extremely hungry.  Tanya was drooping with exhaustion in the glare of the mid-October sun.  It was still early afternoon, and she had in effect pulled an all-dayer.

A car waited for us, on the other side of the police tape, one of Deckert’s guys driving it.

“Take her back to rest. I need a restaurant like right now.  You can send someone else to pick me up,” I told Mr. Deckert.  He didn’t look happy and he started to argue.

“He wants to think about Brianna’s return.  He thinks better when he’s eating,” Tanya suddenly said.

Still unhappy, Deckert also understood my metabolism waited for no one.  The fact that I was shaking with hunger might have helped convince him.

They dropped me at West 77th Street and I found a burger place near the Museum of Natural History.  I ordered three double stack cheeseburgers with cheese fries and a chocolate shake.

The first bite was awesome.  The second was interrupted by someone sliding into my booth across from me.  Twenty-something, brown hair, brown eyes, light brown skin: It was the girl who had been standing next to the photographer.  Her eyes were fixed on me and she smelled of fear.  It took a second, one I used to swallow my bite of burger, but then I understood.  She was afraid of me.

Chapter 6

Actually, she was terrified of me, which made her sitting down one of the bravest things I had ever seen.

“Mmister Gordon?” she stuttered.  She grimaced even as she stumbled over my name, dissatisfaction with her own performance easy to read on her features.  Her eyes narrowed, an angry look replacing the hesitant look.  Oh goody.  An angry person at my table.

I took another bite and looked around.  Sitting at the counter was the bearded photographer, and he was trying to covertly aim a cell phone our way.  Grim blasted the cell phone before I could swallow.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, noting that she was attractive and maybe three or four years older than I.

“I’d be a pretty poor journalist if I couldn’t get that much,” she said, a little snippy, but still struggling with her fear of me.

Taking another bite, I considered.  Grim had pretty much swept the room with our expanded senses as soon as she sat down.  Nothing and nobody was paying attention other than the cursing photographer who was now trying to fix his cell phone.

“What do you want?” I asked, finishing the burger with a final bite.

“I would like to interview you,” she said, watching as I picked up burger number two.  I could just about see the moment she realized how much food was piled in front of me.  Curiosity replaced some of the fear.

“About what?  I’m a pretty boring guy,” I said, pausing in my burger frenzy to take a big slurp of shake.  I drank straight from the glass, the straw too slow for my hunger.

Her eyes bugged a bit, then her mouth twitched a little, almost like she was going to smile.  She pointed at her own upper lip.  “You’ve got a little… yeah, right there,” she said as I wiped away the shake mustache.

“Really, Mr. Gordon, you’re the least boring guy in the city.  At least, the police think so.  They’ve brought you in on at least five occasions in the last two months.  Everything from a supposed gas leak in an apartment building to today’s homicide scene in the Park.  And the commissioner seems to hang on your every word.  What was that you drew today that had all their attention?  And what did you do behind that screen?”

“I’m sorry?  Who are you?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry.  Brystol… Brystol Chatterjee,” she said. After a moment, she stuck her hand out for a shake.  It trembled ever so slightly.

I shook it, feeling a frown on my face.  “And you’re a reporter, Brystol?  For who?”

“I’m freelance.  I sell to many of the city’s daily papers and some Internet sites,” she said, pulling her hand back with a jerk. “I have a blog site, too. It’s called the Cryptic News site.”

“And your boyfriend at the counter?  Who does he work for?”

“Barry?  Oh, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my photographer,” she said, following my glance toward the counter where Barry was doing everything but banging his phone on the counter.

“So what stories are you working on that involve me?” I asked, switching to some cheese fries.

“Several.  But the immediate one is about demons… and gateways to Hell,” she said, eyes watching my face intently.

“Demons?” I asked.  “What are you talking about?”

She smiled a sly little smile.  She didn’t smell as afraid, and I could almost see her mind shifting to tackle the conversation.

“Mr. Gordon,” she started, but I held up a hand.

“Chris.  My grandfather is Mr. Gordon. I’m just Chris,” I said, succeeding at surprising her.

“Ookay.  Chris, did you know that homicides are up almost forty-three percent this year?  That most of the murders in the city are unrelated to drugs or normal crime?  Random murders involving friends and family members without much in the way of motive.  Then there are those five cases that I mentioned.  Like the apartment buildings where violence broke out on a mass scale among the residents.  Churches are having a sudden unexplained upswing in attendance, and the clergy are getting ridiculous amounts of calls and questions about the Devil and his demons.  And it’s happening all across the country; in fact, across the world.”

“Nope,” I answered, slurping more shake.  “Didn’t know that.”

Well, I knew some of it, but the part about church attendance climbing was news to me.  Maybe some deep instinct was driving humans to seek the protection of the church.

“I don’t believe you, Mr… er… Chris,” she said.  “I think the authorities call you in to fight the demons and close the gates to Hell.”

Okay, there it was.  She just dropped it out like I was politician with my hand in the public cookie jar or cheating on my wife with taxpayer-funded prostitutes.

“So let me get this straight.  You’re investigating a statistical upswing in demonic activity, and you have me pegged as some kind of spiritual consultant for the City? Who tracks demon statistics anyway? What papers are buying these kind of stories?  Oh, wait, I get it.  Listen, did you write that article about Bigfoot fathering children all across the Bronx?  That was a beauty,” I said.

She frowned, now smelling of anger, and leaned forward.  “I don’t write that crap.  My stories have substance.  You’re just deflecting.  I nailed it and you’re trying to make me out to be crazy.”

Damn.  She was rapidly becoming a major pain in my ass. One I was having trouble removing.

I frowned and waved my hand a little threateningly in her direction.  The fact that I was holding a cheese fry might have diminished my fearsome demeanor.

“Then if you think I’m some kind of demon hunter, why are you so afraid of me?  Why were you shaking when you sat down?”

She looked at the cheese fry, an incredulous look crossing her face, before frowning.  Then she pulled back a bit from her aggressive lean.  She remembered something, getting that funny look of recall that we all have when we’re pulling memories.

“I wrote a story last month about a kidnapping in Owl Head Park in Brooklyn.  A military team took a little girl and died doing it.  They were all highly trained killers, some equipped with tech straight out of the movies… armored suits and stuff.  They were destroyed to the last man.  There was like almost twenty of them and they almost failed because of just one unarmed man and his… wolf.  You’re that man.”

Shit.  She had just stepped up to a searing pain in my posterior.

“Miss Chatterjee, I think we’re done here.  You’ve got some interesting angles for stories that inquiring minds might believe if they were high and hallucinating.  For some reason, you’ve chosen to involve me in your make-believe world.  But anyone can make up stories.  It’s the proof that’s hard to come by.  I’m just an ex-cop who consults with my old employer from time to time.”

She raised both eyebrows.  “You were a cop for all of maybe nine months.  Most of that was probationary training.  I don’t know a single law enforcement agency that considers that to be such a vast wealth of experience that the police commissioner would seek you out.  And as far as proof, I don’t really need any for myself.  You see, Chris, I was there that day in the park.  I was thirty feet away when those agents killed that little girl’s bodyguards and I was right there at ground zero when you and whatever that beast is wiped those kidnappers out.  I still have the clothes that I wore that day.  You must know that blood doesn’t come out of clothes all that well.  I don’t know what you are, but I’d be the biggest idiot in the world not to be afraid of you,” she said, sitting back and crossing her hands in front of her on the table top.  Her body language had gone from aggressive to resigned.  She looked up at me, afraid, but steady.

I’m kinda slow on the uptake sometimes.  Lydia says I have the emotional intelligence of a cockroach.  I think she’s being a little hurtful, but I do admit I’m not all that much of a Sherlock for figuring out human emotions.  It finally came to me.

“You think I’m going to hurt you?  To… to kill you?” I asked suddenly, my forward motion making her jump a little.  Grim noted that the bearded guy had his hand in the pocket of his field jacket and was twitching as he watched us like he was a primed grenade.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I asked, starting to get angry myself.  “Why the hell would you think that? And why would you come here and brace me down with that load of crap, thinking I was going to… well, thinking what you were thinking?  Are you insane?”

“I saw you kill those people.  Why wouldn’t you kill me?  But Barry is recording this so the world will know what you are,” she hissed.

I studied her for a moment, taking another bit of my last burger.  Hell if I was gonna waste it.

“And just what am I, Miss Chatterjee?” I asked.

“I think you are a demon yourself… or at least part demon,” she said, defiant.

I was too shocked to speak, but lucky for me, female laughter approached us from behind my shoulder.  We both turned to look.  So did most of the restaurant.  A stunning blonde headed our way, weaving gracefully between tables.  Tall, curvy, and beautiful, she was dressed in black leggings with a blue blouse and a brown leather designer jacket.  Blue high heels that matched her blouse carried her effortlessly past the diners.  Her green eyes were focused on us, and she was laughing in delight.  Arriving at our booth, she shoved my shoulder lightly, making me scoot over.  She slid in next to me and immediately stole one of my cheese fries.

“Hey!” I said, frowning at the blatant theft of food.

Ignoring me, she smiled brilliantly at Brystol and held one tanned hand out across the table.

“Hi, I’m Stacia and you are one seriously funny girl,” she said, still amused.

Brystol looked flummoxed, both anger and fear thrown out the window by Stacia’s entrance.

“This is Brystol Chatterjee, Stacia.  She’s a reporter and I’m her story,” I said.

“Yeah, I heard what you said about Chris and almost peed myself.  Really, I can’t wait to tell the others,” she said.  “Lydia will literally fall down.”

Somehow, the wolf girl who was my friend had arrived at a cordial relationship of sorts with Lydia, Tanya’s right hand and sister in all but genetics.  I still hadn’t figured that one out.  They weren’t friends, but they coexisted and worked together.  Sort of an armed standoff with an intelligence sharing arrangement—like Russia and the US cooperating on terrorists.

“It’s not funny.  You don’t know what he is,” Brystol said.

“Sweetheart, I know all about who he is.  It’s you that has stumbled on a teeny-tiny piece of information and suddenly think you have all the answers,” Stacia said with a smile.  It wasn’t as friendly a smile as her other ones had been.  A hint of wolf showed through.

“If you’re gonna ram around town and spout off about this all this supernatural stuff, don’t you think you should get your facts right?  You’re just fishing right now, but tell me, do you really think a demon would let you live?  Or did you feel deep down it was worth the risk to brace Chris here because he wouldn’t actually hurt you?”

“No! That’s why I brought backup,” Brystol said, turning and pointing at Barry, who had his phone apart and wasn’t really paying too much attention.  He looked up at us and jumped slightly when he realized we were all looking his way.

“Solid choice,” Stacia said.  “You’re either suicidal or, like I said, not really believing what you’re saying.”

“He has a gun,” Brystol said.

“And do you even know if guns work on demons?  Is it loaded with special ammo like say, silver for, you know, weres and vamps, or iron for Fae?” Stacia asked.

A shadow of dismay crossed Brystol’s face before being shoved aside by anger.  “Well then, what is he?  If he’s not a demon, then just what is he?”

“No.  You don’t get to slam your way in here and demand answers.  Throwing crap around.  We don’t know you, and we don’t owe you.  Trying to bull your way into this world will get you killed straight up.  You and your backup.”

Brystol sat back, momentarily nonplussed by the conversation.  Then she shifted forward and looked me in the eye.  “That your answer?  To let your girlfriend fight your battles?”

“Battle?  Girlfriend?  Do I look like the kind of girl that would be with him?  Look at him.  Okay, ignore the perfect body and the razor cheekbones and the eyes that don’t exist anywhere else on earth.  Look past all that.  Do I look like I would be with a guy who you claim hunts demons for a living and closes Hellgates? Who tracks down and rescues little girls from evil assassins against all odds?”

For a moment, I thought Brystol might answer her—say something like you look like you only date rich playboys.  That would have been suicidal.  Stacia might have been forcing Brystol to reassess me, but that didn’t mean she would take many, if any, personal insults from the reporter.  She was constantly being stereotyped by her looks, and it was a sore subject.  And werewolves with sore spots are best left alone.

Maybe her tuned journalistic instincts warned her to back off, maybe she wasn’t really all that hell-bent on suicide after all, because she didn’t say a word for a moment.  She did what Stacia said and looked me over with her eyes while I could almost see her brain reanalyzing what she knew.  She sat back and thought about it.  Then she turned her attention to Stacia and I could see more thinking going on under that attractive face.  If she was good, really good, she would see past the actress looks and swimsuit model body, past the fashion and the polish.

“You have remarkable hearing, Stacia.  You heard a ridiculous amount of our conversation from across a crowded, noisy restaurant.  That doesn’t seem… natural,” she said.

Stacia shrugged.  “Good genes.  Now listen, Brystol, do you have a card?  Some way of reaching you?  Because if you’re going to race around half-cocked, spouting off stuff about the supernatural world, you aren’t gonna live real long.  To live, you’re gonna need some guidance.  We might be able to help with that.”

That surprised Brystol and after a moment, she pulled a card from her coat pocket and handed it to Stacia.

“Okay then, we may be in touch.  But right now, we gotta leave,” Stacia said, pulling on my arm as she slid out of the booth.  I followed, dropping three twenties on the table to cover the bill.

Outside, I immediately spotted our ride—a big black SUV.  The three-hundred-pound black and tan wolf sitting outside the open rear passenger door was a clue. A small crowd was watching him watch for us and most of the passersby were studying him as well.  But nobody approached him; they just watched, fascinated.  It helped that the driver, who was one of our regular security guys, was leaning up against the vehicle only three feet from the massive wolf, casually texting on his phone.

When we got fifteen feet away, ‘Sos stood up on all four feet, which caused a minor commotion in his crowd of observers, most of whom turned to look where he was looking. At us. The collective noise alerted the driver, who also looked up at us.

“Hey Stevens, lining up a hot date?” I asked as we closed the distance.

“Not my fault I’m in high demand with the ladies.  Well, actually it is,” he chuckled.  “Right, Hot Stuff?” he directed at Stacia.

She sighed.  “I see you’re itching for a rematch.  Happy to oblige Stevens,” she said, sliding past all of us and into the backseat. Stacia had joined sparring practice and the ex-military guys had gone from laughing lust to humble awe.

I squatted down and ruffled Awasos’s thick neck fur.  “Hey buddy, I missed you,” I greeted him.  He’d had to stay behind for the morning’s meeting, and neither of us liked it.  I still didn’t remember his birth, or my rescue or raising him, but he fit my life so closely that I couldn’t imagine him not being in it.

“Hey mister, is that a real wolf?” a voice asked.

A boy of about ten or eleven, standing with his family, had blurted the words out, much to the chagrin of his parents.  His older brother and younger sister just looked fascinated as they waited for my response.

“Yes he is.  His name is Awasos and you can pet him if you like,” I said, keeping my arm around ‘Sos’s massive neck.  Mom and Dad started to protest, but all three kids had jumped forward before their parents could stop them.

“He will be absolutely fine with them,” I assured the parents.  The kids had frozen now that they were up close and personal with him so I grabbed the middle son’s hand and put it on ‘Sos’s neck, letting him feel the thick, soft fur.  ‘Sos turned his neck like the kid had found some magic itch spot or something, and that broke the spell.  The other two crowded close, petting the beast that weighed more than all three of them together.

“He’s breathtaking,” the mom said, eyes wide.

“Now you’ve done it.  You’ve complemented him,” I said as ‘Sos moved forward like a furry boulder to shove his head against the mom’s leg.  She laughed and started to pet him as well.  I looked up at the crowd, who were all suddenly talking and exclaiming, and spotted Brystol and Barry, standing just outside the restaurant.  Both were staring wide eyed at us and this time it was Brystol who was snapping a picture with her phone. Seeing how ten other people were doing the same, it didn’t seem right to close down her phone.  But it was time to go.

“I’m sorry, but we have to leave,” I told the family and at my words, Awasos turned and flowed up into the back of the SUV like water running uphill. The heavy duty suspension jiggled under his mass.

I slid into the backseat next to Stacia and gave the group a little wave as Stevens pulled us out into the New York traffic.

“That will be all over Youtube, Facebook, and Twitter in the next two minutes,” Stacia said.

“Not to mention Instagram and Vine,” Stevens said from up front.

“That’s so not gonna help you hide from the government,” Stacia said.

“As demonstrated by the three cars that just pulled out behind us,” Stevens said. “You’ve got your work cut out if you expect to elude the combined intelligence services while still shutting down demon shit.”

“And a demonic Brianna DuClair and whatever help she brought back from Hell, as well as Girl Reporter back there,” I said, sinking into my leather seat and into my thoughts.  “Hey who stuck you with picking me up? Deckert?” I asked Stacia.

“No, Tanya,” she said, looking out the window and leaving me wondering if that little piece of info was, in fact, the first sign of the Apocalypse.

Chapter 7

When we got back to our current home, I headed straight for my quarters.  Home these days was no longer the swanky hotel I had come back from the South to, but instead it was a lower level of a factory that was owned by a textile company that was a subsidiary of a holding company that was owned fifty-eight percent by an industrial conglomerate and forty-two percent by a retail sales chain that specialized in discount clothing.  Both of those were owned in the majority by an offshore company whose shareholders were Tanya, her mother, Lydia, and fourteen trusts that all listed some combination of the three as beneficiaries and trustees.  Tanya had started the process while we lived in the hotel.  She had multiple factories with excess space, along with empty rooms in apartment buildings and office buildings, all renovated to provide a dizzying array of hideouts for us all over New York City, parts of New Jersey, and even Philadelphia and Boston.  Some, like this unused lower level, were very large, easily able to house a whole bunch of us.  Some were much smaller, just sized for a core group.  The properties were owned by a maze of corporations, holding companies, foreign entities, and off-shore shell corps.  It was a tangled web that was constantly being shifted by involving Coven members and corporations from around the world.  The plan was to shift residence at random intervals, which would be decided by Tanya and her vampire chief of security, Arkady.

I entered our four-room suite to find Tanya already sleeping on the king-sized bed, looking tiny by comparison.  It was now almost three in the afternoon, but a couple hours of naptime would go a long way.  Stripping to boxer-briefs, I slipped in beside her, curling my larger frame around her.  Once again, I was at odds with the federal government.  Add to that the new threat of DuClair and a fast-approaching Halloween, an attempt on Toni, and the media.  About the only thing left that hadn’t blown up was the damned witch’s grimoire, which was safely tucked away.

Six and a half hours later, I woke when Tanya moved to slide out of bed.  The sun was long down and I could feel through our bond that she felt like she’d overslept.  I clutched one slim wrist as she slid across the sheets, both my eyes still shut. She stopped moving and I opened one eye, staring up at her perfect features.

“I did not mean to wake you, zayka,” she said, tugging gently on the captive arm.

“You don’t have to go yet,” I protested.

Immediately she moved closer, lying down against my chest, snuggling closer.

“Perhaps not yet,” she agreed.

I tucked my head into her raven black hair, breathing lilac and jasmine with every intake of air.

“You are feeling a little overwhelmed?” she said after a moment, no doubt reading me through our two-way connection.

I snorted.  “Let’s see, hunted by entire federal government of the most powerful nation on earth while trying to close an endless supply of open Hell holes and hunt down an escapee from Hell who is probably some greater demon, not to mention keeping assholes from attacking Toni and avoid reporters.”

“Reporters?  What reporters?” she asked, sitting up and crossing her legs.

“Well, just one, but where there’s one, there’s more,” I said.  Absolute silence greeted me so I pulled back and opened my eyes, meeting two very blue ones that were impatiently waiting for an answer.  So I told her about Brystol Chatterjee and her pal, Barry.  She made me recount every word of the conversation, both mine and Stacia’s.

“Hmm, clever girl,” she said when I was done.

“Who? Brystol?”

“No, Stacia,” she said.

“That sounded suspiciously like a complement,” I said.

“I don’t like your wolf girl, but I never said she lacked intelligence,” she said.

“So what do you mean… clever?”

“She forced this Brystol girl to reevaluate you—to look at you from a whole new angle.  If you can’t deflect or destroy the story, reframe it,” she said.

“Why did you send her to get me?”

“Because you don’t always stay in one spot when you get hungry.  I wanted you picked up quick and nobody can find you faster than she can, except me,” Tanya said.

“But like I said, you don’t like her,” I pushed.

“But you, my zayka, do,” she said, pinning me with her eyes.  I didn’t respond, too busy trying to process her meaning.

“I’m not saying anything improper, Chris.  You like her.  It’s as simple as that,” she said.  I must have frowned fiercely because she smiled a little.

“What?  You already told me she was your friend.  Generally we’re only friends with people we like, which is pretty much the definition.  So when I send someone to track you down and bring you home, why not one of your friends, especially one who has an uncanny ability to find you?”

“But you know she more than likes me.  And I’m pretty certain you’re not okay with that.”

“Listen, Christian Anthony Gordon, if I know anything in this life, it’s that you are mine.  Maybe I was uncertain before, but when you died in that silo and came back to me, I knew what we both used to be, what we have always been, and that we will always be two parts of one whole.  I know that so deep in my core that it is unshakeable.  My concerns for your feelings toward me have been dissolved.  So if she has strong feelings for you, I find I can’t hate her for that, especially when I know who you belong with.  But I also understand that I have never been human.  Every other vampire and bitten werewolf started life as a human.  But not me and oddly enough, maybe not the born weres.  You were human as well.  So there is a part of you that I cannot relate to, but your blonde friend can.  You need that.  If she’s the one who can provide it, so be it.  The fact that she is intelligent and capable and willing to protect you when I can’t are just bonus features,” she said.

Plus she looks like a supermodel, I thought, but I kept it to myself.

“Of course, I’m not thrilled that she looks like she does. I would prefer it if she were a hunchback hag, but we can’t have everything, now can we?” asked the girl who could just about buy everything.  “And oddly enough, I believe she has honor.  She demonstrated that when you were in North Carolina. She does not throw herself at you. And as I said, I know you will not stray from me.  So why not send your friend to you when I can’t go myself?”

“What if she did start to throw herself at me?”

“Then I would likely rip her arms off and feed them to her,” she said with a smile that said she wasn’t joking.

Grim suddenly surged into control and my feet hit the floor, my hand grabbing the semi-automatic shotgun that hung on brackets from my side of the bed, while Tanya was suddenly holding a rubber-coated silver spike and standing facing the door.  We both went from relaxed to battle ready in a millisecond, alerted by the sounds of someone outside our door.

The bedroom door crashed open and Lydia stood framed in the opening.  “Quit the kinky stuff and come with me!  Someone broke into the bank vault and stole the book bucket.”

Four minutes later, we were mostly dressed and standing in the computer center, leaning over Chet Aikens’ shoulder as he replayed footage he’d already hacked.

“The Metrobanc branch on Broadway closed at seven p.m.  By eight, all the staff had left for the day.  By eight thirty-two, the lobby motion detectors had gone off, but none of the door alarms ever went off.  When police got there with the bank’s security officer, the vault was open,” Chet said.

“Where are you getting all this?” I asked him.  I didn’t doubt the authenticity of his information, but I was curious.

“I still have backdoors into the NYPD system so I can follow the reports as they’re entered.  This footage was copied from the bank’s security system and a detective entered it into his laptop,” he said.  “Also, I have a number of insiders who sent me text updates when I asked them.”  He pointed at a monitor that showed a live feed from outside the bank. A uniformed cop standing guard outside the front door was alternating with texting on his phone and watching the entrance.  “That’s Joe Laportia.  I set up his wife’s business computer.  I saw him on this feed and texted him.  He told me that it looked like the vault was opened from the inside by someone who knew enough to disengage the time locks.  That particular door has an emergency release in case any staff or hostages are ever locked in the vault.  Anyway, he said it looked like only five or six of the big safety deposit boxes were smashed open.  That would include the one you guys keep the book in.”

“So it seems as if someone somehow hid in the vault when it was closed, waited, then broke open the safe deposit  boxes till they found ours and then opened the vault and left?  What about camera footage?” Tanya asked.

“It all goes fuzzy at about that time.  See,” he said, pulling up multiple frames from the interior cameras.  One by one, each camera went to a fuzzy, static-filled screen for a few seconds before going back to normal.  He started with one that showed the closed bank vault door, then fuzz,  and next, the massive door standing open.

“Witches could do that, ya think?” Lydia asked.

“Declan could do it blindfolded,” I said, still studying the pictures.  I could see glances being exchanged out of my peripheral vision, so I answered before they could ask.  “No, I don’t think he would.  He literally hates the idea of anything that would make him bad,” I answered.

Lydia snorted.  I turned and faced her.  “We’re a lot alike, he and I.  We understand each other.  He didn’t do this,” I told her.  “If he did, he wouldn’t have to hide in the vault.  He’d just waltz in and open the vault, time locks or no time locks.”

“He’s really that strong?”  Lydia asked.

“Stronger.  But Chris is right.  That boy wouldn’t do it.  He has a bit of hero worship going on and he would never disappoint his hero,” Tanya said, nudging my shoulder.

“You think?” I asked.  Lydia snorted again. “Yeah T, I find that one really unbelievable,” she said.

“Hey, I’m not a bad role model,” I said.

“Let’s see.  You hang around vampires and weres, hunt demons, and piss off the feds.  I’m sure every mom in the country wants their boy to be like you,” she answered.

“It’s the trashy mini-vamps that taint my reputation,” I said.  She blurred across the room and got up in my face.

“Trashy?” she asked in a dangerous tone.

“That Goth getup you wear at Plasma is exhibit number one,” I answered.

“That’s a costume, you idiot,” she said, backing up a little.  If I didn’t know better, I might think I’d struck a nerve.  The thought of continuing to press on that nerve held both appeal and warning bells.  I was leaning toward the appeal part when Tanya intervened, possibly saving me from myself.

“You two knock it off.  This is serious,” my vampire said.

“Could be any of dozens of witches.  City is crawling with them,” Arkady said, towering behind Tanya.  Trenton, one of Arkady’s top guys stood slightly to one side, listening and watching but as usual staying quiet.

“More than usual?” I asked.

“Much.  From every state, from all over world,” he said, his Russian accent thick and oddly familiar.  Every time I hear him speak, it almost triggers a memory or two—almost.

“So that’s kinda bad,” I mused.

“What is worse is that the location where we kept the book pail was known only to our inner group here.  It was very carefully placed in that vault by trusted staff.  For a witch to find out about it, they had to be told,” Tanya said.

“Couldn’t they have sensed the book somehow?” Chet asked.  Tanya, Lydia, Arkady, and I all shared a quick glance.

“No Chet, they wouldn’t have been able to pick up the magical scent or witchy radio waves or whatever,” I told him.

“I’ll get Nika on it,” Lydia said, leaving the room.

Chet looked horrified.  “You think someone betrayed you and so you’re going to have her check everyone to see who might have done it?  Let her rip through all our minds till she maybe finds one person.  What if you’re wrong, what if the witches sniffed out the book?  Then you’ll have basically mind fucked us for nothing,” he said.

“Chester,” Tanya began, leaning right in his face to capture his full attention. “Christian is not wrong.  The witches could not have sensed the book in that pail.  They either followed our people or one of our people gave up the information.  Nika will find them, and she won’t be rooting around in everyone’s secrets to do it.  Have a little faith in us, please,” she said, her voice gentle.

I watched his response carefully.  Chet was one of my friends from before—before the assassin’s bullet removed two years of my life.  I have little to no memories of him.  Most of the others, I have at least a flash or two. Some, like Tanya, Stacia, Lydia, Arkady, and Nika, much more.

But with Chet, almost nothing.  It may be that he had never really been around me when my alter ego, Grim, was out to play, create mayhem, and generally cause insurance companies to go bankrupt.  The bulk of my most vivid memories seem to come from my dark persona.

Whatever the reason, it’s been a struggle to for him to reconnect with me.  He always seems uncomfortable around me and my personal belief is that he is bothered at a very deep level by my memory loss.  Chet is basically a big brain on feet.  His strengths are all cerebral, so looking at me, with my sniper-induced memory lobotomy, plays into his own worst fears—loss of mental ability.

He was frozen in the chair, trapped by my vampire’s eyes, although she wasn’t being at all hard on him.  He looked guilty as hell, but I didn’t read it as anything to do with the grimoire.  No, with the uncomfortable glance my way, it seemed like it had more to do with his personal demons.

Lydia popped back into Chet’s computer room.  “Alrighty, let’s go gather with everyone in the dining room,” she said, waving us to follow her.  Trenton gave me a nod as I filed past him and I realized he’d been watching Chet’s reaction as well.  Trent is quiet but deep.

If you entered the factory on the first floor, it would look just as you might expect.  Machinery, manufacturing areas, material storage, industrial, commercial, blah blah.  Same with the second floor, except you’d see some offices as well.  The elevator only shows floors one and two.  If you had the right thumbprint to put on a small sensor panel, you’d find there is a basement floor.  That one would look more like a hotel or private club.  Not swanky, but nice décor and decent furniture. You’d find a bunch of private rooms and a big dining room with about ten eight-person tables and a buffet line that served both food and warmed blood.  That room was where we headed, finding much of the staff already there and the rest arriving in dribs and drabs.  When we broke off from the Coven, about eighty vampires and human staff went with us, more than we expected.  Most of those had their own living arrangements but the core staff that devoted themselves to Tanya numbered about thirty-two.

The dining room could hold almost two and a half times that many people, so it didn’t look that crowded as the last of the staff arrived.  The final person through the doors was Nika.  At almost a hundred and ten years of vampire age, Nika looks to be in her mid-twenties.  Born in an era when women always wore dresses, Nika seems to celebrate the options she has in today’s world.  Calf-high boots of brown leather over gray leggings and a soft knit sweater dress in deep maroon.  She closed the doors behind her and waited on Lydia, who hopped up on one of the dinner tables in one lithe movement.

“Listen up.  The witch’s grimoire that we’ve been hiding has come under attack.  A few hours ago, someone broke into the bank vault and stole the book bucket,” she said.  Nika began working her way through the room, moving unhurriedly as if to cross the room to where Tanya and I stood with Chet.  Arkady was near the buffet line, closest to the middle of the room.

The staff buzzed slightly at her news, much quieter than a roomful of just humans would have.  The mix was about three-quarters vampire and one-quarter human.

“The only way they could have known about the bank vault was if someone told them,” Lydia said.

Nika tells me that reading minds is kinda hard work.  What she gets are the surface thoughts, the ones most active at the time she is reading a person.  Deeper, buried thoughts are much harder to grasp and in a room full of people, almost impossible. Humans, vampires, and weres are alike in that our uppermost thoughts are usually inane.  What we had for lunch (or who we had for lunch), who we’d like to sleep with, what we’d rather be doing than whatever we are currently doing, and so on.  Men in particular are difficult, as we tend to think much simpler thoughts and if the mind reader in question is a very attractive blonde, then the man she is trying to read is probably thinking about how much he’d like to get her into bed and what his odds are.

But if someone leads the conversation and directs the topic, it’s very difficult for most people to avoid thinking about that topic and what they know about it.  Call it the power of suggestion.  Right now, every being in the room was thinking about the Book of Darkest Sorrow.  Everyone was thinking about Lydia implying that someone had told.

“Lydia, what if a witch sensed the book?” a female vampire asked.

“They couldn’t, Clare, because the book wasn’t in the bucket,” Lydia replied.  “We didn’t trust it to a vault.  Chris and Tanya hid it somewhere else, a location that only they know,” she said.  Most of the people looked our way, except Nika who looked at a vampire standing against the wall farthest from the buffet line and farthest from Arkady.  That vampire, whose name I couldn’t recall but who worked in finance, was staring at us, face blank till he turned and saw Nika watching him.  Frozen for moment, he suddenly bolted—right into Trenton’s grasp.  They struggled for a moment, but Arkady was there in a flash and the finance vampire was taken away.

The group had frozen during the drama. Now they started to move and talk.  It was Tanya’s turn to hop a table.  She Lightened herself so much that the table barely wobbled.

“Thank you everyone.  We weren’t sure if it was someone here, but now we know.  The Book of Darkest Sorrow is safe and we’ll get to the bottom of Bruce’s actions,” she said with a wave toward the door where Arkady and company had slipped out.

“Have you checked on the book?” asked another vampire, a tall male with dark hair and long, thin features.

Tanya turned and looked my way, but I didn’t need to move, nod, or bat an eye to answer her question.  “No.  But rest assured it is deeply hidden.  If we check it now, we might only lead a Circle of witches to its hiding place.”

“But then you don’t know for certain that it’s untouched?” he continued.

I spoke up.  “If it were taken from its current spot, I would feel it,” I said.

“But you don’t know for certain,” the tall vamp pressed.

“Nick, my Chosen has said he would feel it.  Do you doubt him—his abilities?” Tanya asked, voice colder.

The vamp, Nick, shook his head quickly.  “No, Young Queen, I just like certainty,” he said.

“That’s because you are an auditor, Nick.  That’s how you roll,” Tanya said, getting a nervous laugh from the group.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see why Bruce would betray us.”

Chapter 8

A woman—that was the answer.  Bruce, from finance, had given up his own for a woman.  A witch, to be exact.  Once I looked at him with my sight, I could see the black tendrils of the spell she had used to ensnare him.  Like strong, black thread that wrapped around his head and torso.  It didn’t lead anywhere but likely made him desperate to please her.  Aura works well for ripping through witches’ magic. So I almost tore it away from him, but Lydia stopped me.  Taking us aside, she spoke to Tanya, Nika, Arkady, and I.  “If we break it, the witch will know, right?” she asked.

“I guess,” I answered, shrugging.

“So let’s leave him in place, use him to feed information to this Circle.”

“What are you thinking, Lyd?” Tanya asked.

“Let him overhear that the book was already taken by another Circle.  Set them against each other,” she said.

“That will stir up trouble,” I said.

“That’s the point,” Lydia said.

“I like the idea, Lyd, but not the target.  I’m thinking if that Bishop woman follows through on her threats, that maybe we can send some fun and games her way,” Tanya said.

“Oh.  You have been paying attention to your grandmother, haven’t you?” I said, thinking that was a much better idea.

“How did he find out where the bucket was being kept?” I asked.  It hadn’t been common knowledge, just mostly the security people and the inner circle.

“He paid the bills,” Nika said.  “When the safe deposit box was first rented this past summer, he was the one who paid the bill.  When the witch came looking for information, he remembered the odd rental of an extra-large safe deposit box.”

“Has he compromised our finances?” Tanya asked.

“I don’t know, but I’ll try to find out,” Nika said, heading back over to the bound and gagged vampire.

“She deserves a spa day,” I said.  “Digging through peoples’ heads has gotta suck.”

Lydia and Tanya both looked at me, surprised.  “What?  You don’t think she should get a spa day?” I asked.

“No we agree, we’re just shocked you’d think of it,” Lydia said.  Nika turned from where she was sitting across from Bruce and mouthed thank you at me before going back to filtering his brain.

I was about to reply to Lydia when Chet popped into the security room.  “Hey, the cops are looking for you,” he said to me.

“Like what?  An APB?” I asked.

“No, like a phone call from that lieutenant that always gets sent for you,” he replied.

“He called here?  Just picked up the phone and dialed our secret hideout?” I asked.

“No, he called the Murray Hotel, knowing you used to be there.  The manager passed the word to his boss, who left an email on the corporate website that copies emails to Tanya.  I just spotted it.  He wants you to call him.  Something about a new problem over in Jersey.”

“Is there a secure phone I can call him on?” I asked.  He gave me an oh please look.  “Sorry, stupid question.  Show me the way,” I said.

A half hour and one phone call later found Tanya, Arkady, Lydia, Stacia, Awasos, and me traveling on I-95 South through New Jersey.  Trenton, one of Arkady’s most trusted guys, was driving the big GMC Denali SUV for the two-hour journey to our destination: the Jersey Pine Barrens.

Lieutenant Larry Dalton, who seemed to have become our liaison with the commissioner’s office, had told me that the New Jersey State Police Major who commanded the Special Operations Division had reached him through channels.  It seemed the major had a problem spot in the middle of the vast New Jersey Pine Barrens—the kind of problem that leads straight to Hell.

It took a full two hours to reach the Pine Barrens, time we used to talk about Toni and her attackers.

“Was Chinese Nationals.  Armed with automatic weapons and carrying both tasers and tranquilizers.  Other than that, we don’t know much,” Arkady said.

“Chinese?  Do they represent Chinese witches or the Triads or the Chinese government?” I wondered out loud.

“Could be any of those,” Lydia answered.  “Chet and Deckert are looking into it.  If there is any intel chatter, Chet will have a good chance of picking it up.  The important thing is that Gina and Toni are all right.  Which means you need to keep your distance from them right now.  Your necklace thingy did its job, but you’ve got too many people looking for you.  You’ll just bring extra trouble their way.”

I had wanted to go right to them the moment the attack occurred, but everyone kept talking me out of it.  The dopplegheist necklace that Declan and his aunt had made for me from the God Tear had been very effective.  It drew from me to provide protection to Toni and her family when I couldn’t be there and used a copy of Grim to do so. It seemed to be effective… very effective.

We threw around some ideas and Tanya agreed to contact Elder Tzao to see if she could shed light on Toni’s attackers and then we all sat back, quiet within our own thoughts.

“We’re here,” Trenton said, pointing at the State Police car parked across the access road to Wharton State Forest that we were supposed to take.  Four media vans were also parked, various station call letters block printed on their paneled sides.  The reporters all looked at us as we rolled up to the cops on duty.

Trenton powered down the window and a trooper shined his light into the interior.

“This road is closed,” he said.

“We’re expected by a Major John Leland from your Special Operations Division,” Trenton said.

The trooper looked us over, suspicion plainly written on his face, but radioed our arrival on his shoulder-mounted handset.  “Send them through,” was the comeback response.

He shrugged and waved us in.

More vehicles appeared, mostly State Police, but also several NJ Ranger SUVs.  The cars got thicker till we approached a tight knot of flashing lights and people with high-powered flashlights.  Another trooper stopped us, then waved us toward the big group.  Trenton stopped the Denali and we started to get out just as a group of uniforms approached.  The guy in front wore a gold oak cluster on his lapel and looked like he was ready to tear someone a new one.  Six two and muscular, he was maybe in his forties although there wasn’t a trace of gray in his black hair. He was surrounded by high ranking officers and a six-pack of armed SWAT guys.

His tight expression flashed through disgust as he looked us over, not happy with what he was seeing.

“You’re the experts?  You’re the demonologist team?” he said, disbelieving.

“Yeah, that’s us,” I said.  I stopped short of introducing myself, put off by his attitude.

“This isn’t a fucking reality show.  We got dead bodies in there.  Larry Dalton swore you could help us with this.  I’m gonna fucking kill that guy,” he said, an aside to one of the men with him.  A K-9 officer and his dog approached and the dog suddenly pulled his handler our way.

“Major Leland, Dalton asked us to come help you.  Said Commission Rielly would consider it a favor.  See, this is what we do.  That’s why we just drove two hours to get here.  But if you don’t want us here for whatever reason, if you feel whatever problem you have doesn’t require help, then we’ll leave.  We can be home by a little past midnight if we leave now and we’ll just let the commissioner know his favors aren’t needed,” I said.

Leland looked at me, anger on his features.  “Oh no.  If Dalton swears by you, then by God, we’re gonna take a looksee at my little problem,” he said, getting up in my face.  The tension was totally ruined by the big German shepherd shoving his head under my hand and whining.

“Jesus, Walinski.  How much did we spend training you and that mutt?” Leland swore.

“Sorry Major. He never does that; he doesn’t like anyone.  But he’s been acting weird, won’t follow the tracks.  Same with Siskin’s dog.”

“Smart dog,” I said.  “Let’s see your tracks, the bodies, and whatever else you have for us to look at.”

“Who said anything about bodies?” Leland asked, eyes narrowed.

“The coroner’s vehicle kinda gives it away,” Tanya said from my side.  Actually it was the smell of massive amounts of blood, but I couldn’t really say that, now could I?

“Alright… Gordon, is it?  Bring your circus and let’s take a look,” Leland said.  Just then, Trenton opened the back of the SUV and Awasos jumped down.

The German shepherd dropped straight to the ground, whining and completely submissive.

“Jesus, is that a wolf?” the K-9 trooper asked, backing up.  In fact, everybody backed up and more than a few reached for their guns.

“Yeah, mostly.  Didn’t Larry Dalton tell you we have a wolf on our team?” I asked.

Major Leland was studying ‘Sos, who was sniffing the air and ground.  He turned to me, his eyes still on ‘Sos.  “Yeah, but he never said you were bringing one the size of a Clydesdale.  What’s up with this circus act, Gordon?  You look like the cast of a show my kids would watch on the CW channel.”

“Why don’t you show us your problem and we’ll show you what we’re about?” I replied.

He grunted, shook his head, and waved us after him.  “Come on.  Let’s get this over with.  I gotta brief the governor soon.”

He led us through the sandy forest of small pines, first him, then us, then his cohort of SWAT buddies.

We reached an opening maybe fifty yards in diameter, the ground mostly more sand and pine needles.  Except for the big circle of black nothingness in the middle—and the two torn bodies in hunters’ camouflage, compound bows lying beside them.

Tracks littered the ground, some booted and human, but a number looked like gargantuan turkey tracks.  The soft sand didn’t allow much detail to show, but there were definitely three toes to a track, each tipped with what appeared to be a healthy-sized claw.

Some of those tracks led away from the bodies, which looked to have been run through a farm thresher.

‘Sos sniffed a three-toed track and growled, his hackles rising.

The circle was almost five feet in diameter and looked geometrically perfect.  It was outlined in florescent yellow, an empty spray-paint can tossed to one side.  Little numbered exhibit cards were placed next to the can as well as next to a short wooden stake and a coil of cheap twine.

“Mike DiNapoli and Vincent DiNapoli—cousins.  They bow hunt every year, this time, this area.  Mike’s son Anthony came off of watch at dusk and came looking for these two.  Found them four hours later like this,” Leland said.

Stacia wondered closer to the circle, stepping carefully to avoid tracks.  Two SWAT guys followed, keeping a close eye on her.

“How old is the kid?” she asked, looking at more tracks.

“Eighteen,” Leland replied.

She looked up at me.  “Smaller tracks, about a woman’s size eight.”

The circle of black on the ground burbled and a feathered demon the size of a small man shot, screeching, straight out of its center.  Bipedal, two short stumpy wings ending in claws, two big, muscled legs ending in bigger claws.

It arced up out of the hole and landed square on one of the two SWAT guys ogling Stacia.  Driving the man to the ground, huge sharp talons flexing into his body.  His buddy stumbled back , falling by Stacia, who reached out, snatched his Benelli shotgun, and fired three fast shots into the demon’s horned head, effectively decapitating it.

A second screech sounded as another demon launched itself through the air.  A black and tan missile intercepted it with unstoppable force, the combined bodies landing twenty feet from Stacia.  Awasos stood with all four feet braced and shook his head violently, rendering the demon broken but still twitching.

Turning to Leland, I said, “That’s what we’re about.”

Chapter 9

“You’ll want to get photos fast; the bodies sorta melt here—in our world,” I said.

Leland and the other cops just looked at me, all stunned by what had just happened.  Stacia moved to the cop whose shotgun she’d appropriated and snagged three shells from the loops on his combat vest.  Then she calmly reloaded the Benelli while nodding her head at the trooper on the ground.  The standing cop gaped at her, then looked at his buddy, who was sitting up, looking at his own body.  “Good armor,” Stacia noted to the guy on the ground who had huge gashes in his body armor but only a little bleeding from a wound on his right arm.

Leland jumped into motion, yelling orders for EMTs, photographers, and forensic people all at once.  I walked with him over to the demons.  The one that Stacia had shot was starting to bubble and steam even as a couple of CSI photographers snapped shots.  The one ‘Sos was holding down continued to thrash about a bit.

“When demons come to this realm, world, dimension, or what have you, they traditionally do it in spirit.  The whole Linda Blair-Amityville type of thing.  They’re super dangerous, but mostly because they use people against people.  When they pass through an open gate into this world, they come in their own bodies.  With their own abilities.  Even more dangerous. These things here look like horned velociraptors from Jurassic Park—sorta.”

“Why do they melt, and why hasn’t that one melted yet?” he asked.

“Not sure.  Doubtless something either related to quantum physics or religion or both.  This one will go as soon as I take its head off,” I said, snapping open a Kershaw folding knife and slicing through the last threads that held the broken head on, while ‘Sos used one big paw to hold the body in place.  I could have used my aura to mono-blade it, but the major didn’t need another example of our weirdness.

“They’re very, very tough,” I said, loud enough to include all the troopers who were clustering around us.  “Body shots don’t do much.  You need to remove the head.  Stacia has developed a technique with buckshot that seems to work well, as she just demonstrated.  The rest of our crew stick with blades.”  The body had stopped moving as soon as the sharp steel cut the tough tendons.  Now it too started to fizz and burble.

Awasos moved away and began wiping his muzzle on the ground.  I turned, and Arkady threw me a water bottle to help ‘Sos wash out his mouth.  “Sos here usually ends up with a foul taste in his mouth.  Never stops him from ripping into them, though. An open portal is a doorway.  You need to have guards posted while they’re open,” I said, pointing to Stacia, who had taken up watch on the Hellhole, borrowed Benelli in her arms.

“How do we close them?” Leland asked.

“You don’t.  I do.  Or a circle of powerful witches can do it,” I said, moving to the circle and sitting down cross-legged next to it.  The twine and stick circle compass was nearby and it reminded me of my friend Declan.

“Major, someone with knowledge made this circle.  If your technicians find any clear shoe prints, you might want to touch base with Larry Dalton about their Central Park case.”

“You think it’s the same perp?”

“I have a bad feeling,” I said, touching the circle’s edge and pushing aura into it. Tanya moved up to stand watch behind me, the slight rasp of metal on polymer telling me she had drawn her short swords from their hidden back sheaths.

It took forty minutes, give or take, to close the circle, and I was exhausted by the end.  The perfect geometric shape seemed to make it harder to close and several more things tried to come out of the hole, but they retreated when Stacia and a half-dozen SWAT types blasted the shit out of them. Police videographers filmed the whole event and I didn’t protest or nuke their cameras.  Shit was getting real and people were going to have to know how to deal with it.  Talk to people about demons and they got real polite and made themselves scarce fast.  Show them police videos and they might—might just pay some attention.  Plus, I had a feeling that the Bishop woman was going to start some life-altering crap with me soon.

“The smaller human shoe prints head south, and what looks like three sets of three-toed tracks chase after them,” an officer reported to Leland.

“Probably accompanied, not chased.  I think the caster of this circle called some reinforcements,” I said.

“What do you know?” Leland asked.

“Know?  Not much.  Suspect?  Well, I suspect that a greater demon crossed over in Central Park.  I think it inhabits the form of an ex-government agent named Brianna DuClair. Those shoe prints look like a match for the ones in Central Park. I think it-she, whatever, opened this portal to call some helpers.  If the tracks lead out of the Barrens and stop at a road, then I would suspect she loaded them into a van or truck or something,” I said.

“Explain,” he said.

I thought about that for a second or two, glancing at Tanya to catch her nod.  Taking a deep breath, I turned back to him and explained.  I told him about AIR and their kidnapping of Toni.  I explained how DuClair had gone from DHS to AIR and then straight to Hell.  And I described the murder scene around the Hellhole in Central Park.  What I didn’t tell him was that Tanya and I had angelic backgrounds or that my crew was composed of four vampires, a werewolf, a were bear-wolf, and my own hybrid self.

“That sounds like only part of what must be a helluva story.  What is she here for?” he asked when I finished.

“Specifically?  I don’t know.  In general?  Mayhem and bloodshed.”

“Well, I hope she gets the hell out of my state in a hurry.  No offense,” he said.

“None taken.  But if you can look into any stolen vans or trucks, strange murders or disappearances, or odd sightings, that would be helpful.  I have a feeling we’re gonna meet back up with DuClair and her friends in the near future,” I replied.

“Better you than me.  Somehow, despite the model looks, your people seem well prepared to handle this shit,” he remarked.

“Major Leland, some of us were born for it.”

With the circle closed, we left the forensics people to collect their data and moved back to the vehicles.  A black military-style Humvee had been added to the mix of cop cars, SWAT trucks, and coroner vans.  Four men in black suits got out as soon as they saw us, looking every inch like federal intelligence agents.

“Chris Gordon—Agent Gulden, NSA.  Come with us,” the lead agent said. Thirties, completely bald, six-one, one hundred eighty or so, dark eyes, serious demeanor.  The other three were younger, two white, one black, all fit and serious.

“No,” I replied.

“That wasn’t a request,” Gulden stated, pinning me with his agent-man stare.

Behind us, I could just about feel the New Jersey troopers absorbing the confrontation.

“Well, just to be clear, Agent… my no was a general purpose refusal of requests, commands, orders, or directions.”

“Mr. Gordon, I’ve been authorized to use whatever means necessary to bring you in.”

“Have you been authorized to start a war, Agent Gulden?”

He stared at me for a moment, then made a twitching motion with his left hand where it rested against his leg.  The gunshot wasn’t, therefore, much of a surprise.

Grim turned my body and caught the projectile out of the air at the same time that Arkady disappeared in a rush of wind.  It was a shotgun-fired Taser round.  Electricity coursed through my body, but it felt like a static shock.  My young friend Declan is rather obsessed with Tasers.  He sorta feeds off them, being a powerful Earth and Fire warlock.  He explained to me once that Tasers don’t kick off much real voltage; instead, they tend to use a pulsed power technology that is highly disruptive to the human nervous system.  My nervous system isn’t apparently all that human anymore.  I held the dart up between thumb and index finger to Gulden.

“Did they tell you anything at all about us? Or just send you out naked?” I asked.

Arkady was coming back from the woods to my right, another dark-suited man struggling in vain against the hand at the back of his neck that held him dangling above the ground.  A pump shotgun was in Arkady’s left hand.

Gulden and his three backups all reached for sidearms at the same time.  We took them from them… mostly gently.  Trenton, Tanya, Lydia, and myself.  Trenton collected all four Sig .40s and began to strip out the magazines and chambered rounds.  Arkady tossed the shotgun to Stacia and then casually tossed the sniper to the ground by Gulden’s feet.

Behind me, Major Leland cleared his throat.  I turned.

“Sorry, Major.  The federal government and I have been discussing our relationship.  Apparently, Agent Gulden and his men were sent as a sort of message.”

“Actually, dear one, they were sent as sacrifices,” Tanya said.  “Totally unprepared to enforce the orders they were given, eh Agent Gulden?  You were told to bring in Chris Gordon by force if necessary?”

“That’s insulting.  There’s only five of them,” Trenton said.  “They would need like five hundred.”

“Gordon, you and your party just resisted federal agents and then assaulted them,” Leland noted.  “I’m very grateful that you’ve solved our hellish problem here, but I can’t stand by and let you harm federal agents.”

“Major, we understand your predicament.  But perhaps you could give us a moment to enlighten you a bit further.  My Chris here is not inclined to harm law enforcement or US soldiers following orders.  I’m a bit more medieval than that.  It’s my nature.  See, I and my three companions here are what you would call vampires,” she said, opening her mouth and displaying her fangs for all to see.  Everyone froze, even the major.

“I drink blood to live, either the bagged blood bank kind or directly from my mate here,” she said, running a hand over my arm and shoulder as she walked around behind me. I’m not gonna lie: her touch sent shivers down my back—good shivers.

Everyone was watching her, eyes wide in either disbelief or well, more disbelief.  Many of the troopers had their hands on their weapons, but no one had drawn them yet.  Which was odd.  Men and women trained for violence should have been reacting to the instinctive threat she represented.  But they weren’t, which made me wonder a bit at the timbre of her voice.  I usually found her voice fascinating at some level or another.  The beautiful tones were one of the few things I remembered from my life before the sniper shot me in the head.  Looking around now, it seemed she was using that voice to kind of mesmerize her audience.

“Ah, honey, should you be telling this… out loud… to everybody?” I asked.  She put one finger over her lips, shushing me.

“I won’t tell you that my people aren’t dangerous because that would be a blatant lie.  We are very, very dangerous.  But we exist in sync with the human world and our society has strict rules that we enforce on our people with ruthless discipline. My Christian here is not a vampire.  He is unique in all the world… a gift from God.  You’ve seen him close the portal, Major.  Fighting Hell and its minions are his reason for existence.  He is, very literally, their complete opposite. Derive whatever meaning you want from that.”

She continued moving the whole time, now over by the big black Hummer.  She studied the vehicle, hands on hips, expression critical.

“Chris, do we have any airborne watchers?” she asked me, suddenly. “I hear a buzzing.”

Startled at the thought, I let Grim take over, expanding my senses.  A small object hovered a hundred feet up and fifty feet to our right.  My left hand Called it, Pulling the object with a combination of vampire power and aura.  It shot to my hand, despite all five rotors tilted away from me, spinning at full power.  Black, to match the night, and about a foot in diameter, it was super quiet even up close.  The big Zeiss lens swiveled back and forth to look between Tanya and myself.

“Oh good, a direct link to your bosses,” she said to Agent Gulden, moving over and snapping off all five rotor heads.  She placed the immobile drone on top of the nearest trooper car, leaving it sitting where it could watch her show.

Walking back to the Hummer, she held out one hand to Arkady as she passed him.  He pulled one of his swords, a much larger version of her blades.  It was the same silvery color as the bracelets on her forearms, which meant it was three feet of tungsten carbide alloy.

“So where was I?  Oh yeah.  See Major Leland, the powers that be cannot abide that my Chosen walks the planet uncontrolled by their twisted wishes.  We’ve already had several discussions about that.  So they’re moving forward with their own plans.  Agent Gulden and his men aren’t a large enough force to capture even a young vampire, let alone any of us, and certainly not Chris.  But if they were to, say, piss him off, maybe he would lose control and hurt or even perhaps kill one or more of them.  Maybe you and your troopers would feel compelled to join in and produce a proper little atrocity.  Filmed in detail by the little flyer so that they could convince any reluctant parties that he had to be controlled or killed.  But instead, we will just share some information with you and your people.  And I think, in the interest of your own survival, you all should be sharing any videos or pictures you take with your widest social media networks.  Because they won’t hesitate to murder all of you and blame it on us.  That’s why I’m telling you this, which breaks the most important rules of my kind.  I think perhaps it’s time that humans learned just what lurks in the dark.”

She was back at the Hummer’s side, only now she drew the sword up over her left shoulder, turning her body so that her right side was closest to the vehicle.  Her arm blurred and a shower of sparks shot up from the lower frame where her sword strike hit.  She swung underhand, cutting deep into the lower edge of the vehicle as if she were chopping a downed tree instead of hardened steel.  She twisted and pulled till the heavy sword came free and did it again… and again. Studying the damage and giving herself a little nod, she switched targets, striking overhand on the corner of the roof, exactly between the two doors and directly above the cuts in the frame.  The cabin of the Humvee was much less sturdy than the heavy frame and her blade sank to the height of the door handles.  Satisfied, she moved around to the other side, struck the frame twice and the cabin once.  Then she tossed the sword my way without looking to see me catch it and leapt straight up in the air… twenty-five or so feet in the air.  Coming down in a rapid streak, she slammed into the roof of the Hummer directly in line with her cuts.  The impact was loud—mother of all drums kinda loud.

It broke—in half, the frame splitting at the cuts, the roof crumpling, front and back lifting as the middle hit the ground. She jumped lightly down and surveyed her handiwork before strolling to the front and grabbing the heavy-duty brush bar.  A slight squat and a press and she had the front end lifted over her own head, two tons of vehicle weight further folding it at its middle.  The axle must have been a tough mother as her fold wasn’t perfect, but twisted slightly to one side.  She shoved and the front wheels were now over the back, the cabin mostly compacted.

“Close enough.  Questions?”

It was dead silent in the clearing.  Then a woman, one of the CSI types, raised her hand, tentatively.

“Yes?”

“Ah, what did the car do?” the woman asked, honestly puzzled.

I laughed and Tanya smiled.  The woman, now realizing her question might be funny, smiled tentatively.

“The car carried these brave agents to what was supposed to be their doom.  These Hummers are also tough, so it gave its life to help convince you of the truth of my words.  Any idiot can wear false fangs, but most would have difficulty compacting a heavy vehicle.”

“Ah, Miss… err… I never got your name,” Leland said.

“Tatiana Demidova, Major,” she answered.

“Ah, Tatiana, what did you mean about them killing us?”

My Grim side perked up.  Something was heading our way—fast.  My mental image came back up and expanded.  A flying object was rocketing our way from the east.  It was maybe five miles away and coming really fast, like five hundred miles an hour fast.

>Kirby<  I called, eyes locked in the direction of the object.  I’ve been told that my God’s Hawk friend had taken down aircraft before, in my earlier life.  He did it again, appearing in open air a half mile from our position, directly in the path of the missile, which flew through his smoky form.  The hyper whine of the engine cut off instantly and the missile plunged directly toward the earth, tearing through small pines, flipping end over end before smashing to a smoking stop a scant hundred yards from the crowd of cops, EMTs, and technicians.

It was scarred and charred, but the underlying color was white and the fins were orange.  It looked like a torpedo.

“That, Major. That’s pretty much what I meant,” Tanya said even as I flashed across the distance to the missile and hit it with the biggest burst of aura I could manage.

Chapter 10

Whatever spell Tanya’s voice had cast was gone, the cops and techs all reacting at once—loudly.  It was a mixture of shock, anger, and fear.  Being as most were cops, it didn’t take long for the predominate emotion to be anger.

Leland was good, though, quickly grabbing back command and directing the response.  A few people had been hit by flying pine splinters and he got the EMTs working on them.  Then he approached me and the missile, a handful of his people in tow.  The NSA agents were with them.

“You did something to it?  To crash it? Right?  Don’t tell me I’m crazy.  I’m hoping you know how to disarm it?” Leland asked me.

I shrugged.  “I’m pretty good at crashing things.  But disarming it?  Well, let’s say I did the best I could,” I said.

“Your best is usually very, very good,” Arkady said from behind and to the Major’s right, making him and the troopers closest to him jump.  As close to seven feet tall as he is to six, Arkady is pretty scary without even considering the vampire part.  “Is US Tomahawk cruise missile, no?” he added.

One of the agents with Gulden was nodding.  “Navy TLAM-D sub munitions variant,” he said.  “I worked on them in the Navy.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  A goddamned Navy Tomahawk was just launched against us?” Leland asked, equal parts outraged and shocked.  “Just what the fuck did you do?” he asked me.

“I told them no,” I said.  Arkady snorted and the men all looked his way. “My Queen’s Chosen destroyed a secret underground fortress and now politicians are scared,” he said.  With his thick Russian accent, he sounded like Boris from the old Rocky and Bullwinkle shows… a giant, vampiric Boris.  His words, size, and pointy teeth all reminded them that he was, perhaps, a real vampire.

“Where’d it come from?” Gulden asked.

“Probably an attack sub off the Jersey coast,” the ex-Navy agent replied.  Funny he should say that.  Grim was probing the area around and above us.  The origin of the missile was far to the East, and I got an image of a deadly black torpedo shape slicing through the waves.  I felt my dark half’s attention switch to the satellite sitting overhead and suddenly a dormant part of my brain opened up and started running math… fancy math… the kind of math that had obliterated a portion of New Hampshire forest not so long ago.

I almost stopped it.  Just shut down the equations.  But a second set of equations showed me the most probable results.  Very little of the small satellite would actually make it to earth intact.  The probability of actually hitting the submarine was ridiculously low and the sub was submerged.  It would be more of a message, and it would remove a watching asset from sitting overhead.

My reserves were already low, used up by closing the portal and splashing the Tomahawk with aura to negate the explosives.  So it took a while and it was more of a gentle nudge out of orbit and some interference with the spacecraft’s maneuvering rockets to effect my goal.  Each time I would move the spy sat, the ground controllers would fire off its rockets.  So Grim just spun it around and let the rockets provide the push.  When the sat’s operators caught on, Grim shut down all the rockets.  Finally it was on course and gravity took over.  I sat back.  Thirty-five minutes had gone by.  A tall figure stood behind me, arms crossed.

“Where is Tanya?” I asked, noting her absence.

“She went to get the reporters.  She said that this needs to be broadcast,” Arkady said.  “You send message?”

I looked up at the night sky and he looked, too.  A thin streak of moving light flashed across the sky heading east, a robust shooting star that burned bright before disappearing from view.  I don’t think any of the cops saw it, too focused on the ground.

“Yeah, I sent a message.”

Leland was talking rapidly on his cell phone, pausing and saying “Yes sir,” a lot.

“Where do you two think you’re going?” he threw at Arkady and me as we headed for the SUV.

“We’re leaving, Major,” I said.

“You’re gonna leave me with this mess?”

“We’re leaving you alive and well. If we hang out, they may launch another one.”

Everyone around him stopped what they were doing as my words hit them.  Then the Major nodded once, sharply.  “Right, good point.  Don’t let the door hit ya in the ass,” he said, pulling out a smart phone and raising it to his ear.

Stacia was at the SUV, sitting on the open tailgate while the two SWAT guys she had both saved and embarrassed were talking her up.

Awasos lounged on the ground, head on his paws, watching the busy crime and now crash scene.

“So as long as I’m clear on this… you’re not one of them?  With the fangs and all?” one of the troopers asked.  He was big and blond, maybe a few years older than me.  His friend was probably thirty, with reddish hair and freckles.

“I’m not what I appear to be, but I can’t tell you any more.  I don’t have permission,” Stacia said patiently.

“How come the bossy, black-haired one could talk about it then?” the blond asked.

“Because she is the boss—at least of them.  I’m not,” Stacia said.

“Well you can boss me if you like,” the redhead threw in.

“Me too,” the blond added.

Catching sight of Arkady and me, she stood up and dusted off her clothes.  She hadn’t appeared dirty but her actions brought the attention of both cops, Arkady, and myself to her lithe form.

“Sorry boys, looks like we’re leaving.  No time to play,” she said with a smile at them and a glance at me.  Both cops spun around and stepped back at the sight of me or more likely, the giant vampire at my back.

“She can’t give you her number, fellas, but you can give her yours,” I said with a smile as I waved Awasos into the back of the Denali.

“They already did,” Stacia said to me as she slid into the backseat. Arkady moved to the driver’s door and I closed the tailgate before climbing into the front passenger seat.

We found Tanya and Lydia talking to the reporters out by the access road entrance, the troopers on duty still blocking the road. Trenton was standing guard behind his young queen.

From what I could understand of the half dozen simultaneous conversations, at least two of the cameramen standing on top of their new vans had caught some of the missile crash.

“The major is all right with them heading back to the site,” I told the cop on gate duty.  He looked dubious but called on his radio for an update and then raised both eyebrows when the answer agreed with my statement. The press, sensing something was up, watched our exchange, various cameras trying to record it through the tinted glass of the Denali.  When the gatekeeper trooper told those nearest him that they could proceed up the road to the crash scene, there was a mad scramble for vehicles and gear.  Arkady pulled our car onto the road, moving slowly to avoid crushing any frantic journalists.  Almost clear of the confusion and chaos, we were just starting to accelerate when I glanced at the side of the road at the very last reporter crew there.  A familiar face turned my way, her head doing a fast double take as she recognized me.  Brystol hit her photographer’s shoulder but he took too long to turn his attention where she wanted it.  We pulled away into the dark, her pale face receding into the distance in the passenger side mirror.

“I need direction, my Queen,” Arkady said, looking at Tanya in the rearview mirror.  I turned and looked back, meeting her eyes when she glanced my way.  She nodded, unbuckling her seat belt and stripping off her leather jacket.  Opening the soft brown garment across her lap, her fingers moved across the fabric to the intersection of the nylon lining with the leather edge at the bottom back.  A tiny, hidden zipper opened a pocket about four inches long.  She reached in and pulled out a flat wooden box about six inches long and three inches wide with a mere half inch of depth.  The wood was a checkered pattern of light and dark squares, polished by wear and time to a smooth sheen. It looked old. Slim white fingers tipped with blue polished nails manipulated the box with nimble skill, pushing on this dark spot, pressing on this light square.  I realized it must be one of those puzzle boxes, the kind with no apparent method of opening.  Sure enough, the final press of those adroit digits caused a slight click, and a tiny section at one end popped open.  She pulled it like a little sliding drawer and it came smoothly open, a folded rectangle of expensive parchment tucked inside.

The folded notes turned out to be several pages of old letterhead, each packed with tightly handwritten lines of numbers and letters.  I could see the papers clearly, even in the dark of the car, courtesy of my enhanced eyesight, yet they were gibberish.

“Code?” I asked.  Tanya looked up at me and nodded before going back to scanning the pages rapidly, but it was Lydia who explained.

“It is called an absconditum by Darkkin. Latin for hidden thing.  It can mean many things, but mostly it is a list of assets that are deeply hidden within society.  Absconditum are bought, sold, and traded among Darkkin.  This one is a coded list of safe houses and the trust funds that support them.”

“Wait, what?  Houses and trusts?” I asked.

Tanya nodded but didn’t look up and I didn’t need my bond to know she was deep in thought, decoding lines of text in her head.

“Hiding from mortals becomes a sport, an art form and a science all rolled into one when practiced for thousands of years.  Setting up caches of money, identification, weapons, and equipment is second nature to vampires.  The more complex examples include trusts, managed by stable banks or law firms, which supply a stream of income to generations of humans who hold and maintain safe house properties.  Some properties are managed by the trusts themselves, some are owned and run by human families, who receive a generous salary for living in and maintaining these properties.  Once set up, they tend to take care of themselves. Darkkin will trade these groups of hidden assets among themselves.  That list was established at the turn of the nineteenth century.  Tanya got it as a gift years ago.  She has many more tucked away as well.”

“A gift?  It has to be worth, like what?  A million?  Two million?” I asked.  “Who gives gifts like that?”

“This one is actually from the big guy next to you,” Tanya said, glancing at Arkady before looking back down at the lists. “And I think it would sell for more than five… if I was ever willing to sell it.”

I too looked at the big vampire, who was staring straight ahead as he drove.  A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.  Uncomfortable, I turned and looked ahead, seeing the forest on either side of the dark road through the Barrens.

Did I know that once?  About the lists of safe houses and caches of money?  About vampires giving my vampire multi-million dollar gifts like I gave… bracelets?

“Stop that.  You know I’ve been given things of great value.  How would it be different than if my last name was Gates, Buffett, Hilton, or Kardashian?” Tanya said.

I didn’t answer, which caused a sigh of exasperation from the back.  But the next voice that spoke wasn’t hers, or even Lydia’s.  It was Arkady who quietly started to speak.

“I was reborn to this life over four hundred and twenty or so years ago, in Russia during Time of Troubles. My sire was one of Senka’s.  Makes her my babushka as well as my queen’s. Birth father was soldier, as was I, before this life. I served my Elder as bodyguard and warrior. When word of the birth of a vampire was eminent, I offered myself to Senka.  Told her it would give honor to my life to be a guardian of such a miracle.”

“So you’ve guarded her since birth?” I asked, thinking I must already know this… knew this.

“Yes, always,” he agreed.

“But a five-million-dollar gift?”

“Bah, what is dollars?  She is most important vampire ever.  Plus, I am over four hundred years old… you never heard of compound interest?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was a frequent lesson from Gramps,” I said, thinking of someone who had money growing for four centuries.

“Actually, didn’t you take this one from the body of a vampire you killed?” Lydia asked.

I looked at Arkady with raised eyebrows and he glanced my way.  “What?  Darkkin spoke in front of vampires that Young Queen was evil and should be destroyed.  He spoke it twice.  Never a third time,” the giant said.

“Arkady, head to Philly.  Let’s ditch this car and then we’ll head into western Pennsylvania.  I think I found a farm that will be about perfect for a few days,” Tanya said.

Chapter 11

An hour and twenty-two minutes later, we pulled up to a combination garage and storage building behind a Presbyterian church in Holmes, Pennsylvania.  Trenton hopped out and punched a four-digit code that Tanya gave him into a garage door opener keypad and the door rolled open.

Inside the garage was a pair of cars: an older Honda Accord and a fairly new Subaru.  Moving quickly, Trenton and I backed the two cars out while Arkady maneuvered the Denali into the newly open garage space.  Tanya opened a portion of the wooden wall in the back of the garage, revealing a small safe that opened when she dialed the correct combination.

Inside were stacks of cash, older style bills.  She took several sheaves of bills and left one on the front seat of the Denali.

Then we all climbed into the two cars.  “Chris, please ride with Lydia and Trenton in the Subaru. Arkady, you drive the Honda.  Wolfgirl, you’re with me.”

I must have looked dubious because Tanya stopped and smiled at me.  “We—” She pointed at Stacia and herself, “—both have a connection to you.  Putting us in one car and you in the other will guarantee we never get separated and need to break cell phone silence.”

I nodded and climbed into the Subaru’s back seat, then moved aside to let Awasos climb over into the back.

We hadn’t been using any cell phones since the meeting in Albany and the supply of un-activated phones we had with us were all sealed in a metal canister to block all signals.  Her point about our connections made sense, but keeping Stacia in the same car with my very territorial vampire seemed dangerous or at least a bit tortuous for the blonde werewolf.

“A church?” I asked Lydia as we drove out of Holmes.

“Cars need maintenance, churches need money.  Churches also tend to survive for long periods of time.  As long as they aren’t dragged into anything illegal or immoral, the right church can be a big player in this business.”

“So, I’m guessing they don’t know anything about vampires?”

“They think the vehicles are being kept for a nonprofit service that helps battered women escape their husbands,” Lydia said.

“How did you convince them of that?”

“We actually have ties to such an organization.  Provides great cover for stuff like this and keeps the group funded.”

“Do most vampires give to charity?” I asked.

“You’d be surprised.  We tend to try to take care of humans,” she said.

“Tending the flock?”

“Some of that, but also remember, with the exception of your mate, we all used to be human at one time.”

Still heading west, both cars slid through a KFC drive-thru and loaded up on the Colonel’s best recipe for Awasos, Stacia, and myself.  The vampires all had bagged blood from a cooler that had come with us from the Denali.  I had another forty or fifty minutes to think about the fact that the government was willing to launch cruise missiles at me and sacrifice both local and federal law enforcement personnel in the process.  That hadn’t worked so well, and I was very interested to catch some news to see what kind of shit storm had ensued.  We cruised into a quaint little Pennsylvania town named Warnesville, passed through it, and headed down various back country roads till we arrived at a small family farm.  It looked like it had once been run as a dairy operation but had fallen idle since.  The white farmhouse needed several coats of paint, the farm garden outside the back door was overrun with weeds and dead tomato plants, and the barn looked like it was ten years from collapsing into a supply pile of designer barn wood.

A high intensity light on a telephone pole lit the yard and showed a Ford F-150 pickup and a Toyota Corolla sedan parked near the house.  Neither car had seen the inside of a dealer’s showroom in years—or the inside of a car wash, for that matter.

Arkady turned in the open area between barn and house, leaving the Accord running and pointed back out toward the road.  Trenton followed suit with the Subaru.  A light came on in the farmhouse kitchen and a moment later, a stout man with a lever action rifle stepped out the back door.  Dressed in gray sweatpants and a stained beige t-shirt with the name of a local auto shop stretched tightly across the beer belly underneath it, he was about five foot eight and maybe two hundred and thirty pounds and likely in his late thirties although his thinning hair made him look a few years older.

“Who the fuck are you?” he greeted us, then took a step back and almost raised his rifle as Arkady stood to his full height.

Tanya rose lithely from the back of the Accord and spoke to him.  “When farmers stop complaining and priests stop asking for things…”

“What?  Lady, are you mental?” he asked.

“When farmers stop complaining and priests stop asking for things…” Tanya said again, a frown on her face.

The man thumbed back the hammer on his .30-30, swearing and turning back to the house.  “Marnie, call the sheriff!” he yelled.  A woman peeked out the kitchen window, her face alarmed.  From across the yard, I could see her eyes widen as she took us in.  She disappeared in a flash of ruffled white curtain.  A moment later, she came running out the back door.  “Jimmy, wait!  Put that gun down.”

“What?  Marnie, get back here,” he yelled, but the woman was already between him and us.

“I’m sorry.  Could you repeat that?” she asked Tanya, obviously scared out of her mind, but still functioning as she stood in bare feet and a nightgown.

“When farmers stop complaining and priests stop asking for things...” Tanya said again.

“…the end of days is near,” the woman replied, almost in a whisper, hand going to mouth unconsciously.

“You are the heir to this property?” Tanya asked.  The woman, Marnie, nodded, eyes still wide.

“You understand who we are and what we need?” Tanya asked.  The woman nodded, then turned to what seemed to be her husband.  “Jimmy, this is what I told you might happen.  This is what my father talked to you about.”

Jimmy seemed a bit peeved, but he lowered the hammer on the rifle and moved up behind his wife.

“I’m sorry, Miss.  We have never been called upon, although my father was once, as a young man,” Marnie said.

“It’s understandable.  These old ways aren’t convenient,” Tanya said with a warm smile for the woman.

“Couldn’t ya just call ahead?” Jimmy asked, face scrunched up like he’d just stepped in dog crap.

“Jimmy, the whole reason for this… for us to own this and get the payments is so they can appear in the night and not use phones and things,” Marnie said.  Her tone of voice when she said they suggested she might have a pretty good idea of what she was dealing with.

“You won’t harm me or mine?” she asked Tanya.

“As guests, we hold our hosts inviolate,” my vampire replied, one hand over her heart.  It was an oddly old-fashioned gesture for a twenty five year old.

The woman nodded, arms wrapped around herself although I didn’t think it was strictly because of the slightly chilly air.  Mid-thirties, curly light brown hair, with plain features and light brown eyes, she seemed tired.  Maybe weary is a better word.  It being the middle of the night and all, a certain sleepiness was expected.  But this was the tiredness of someone who has worried for long time.  Looking over the ill-kept farm and her ill-kept husband, I thought maybe her exhaustion lay in that direction.

She led us to the barn, struggling with the big sagging door until Trenton stepped up and helped.  The fact that he effortlessly lifted the whole door by its handle enough to stop its drag on the dirt did not go unnoticed, at least by Marnie.  Jimmy was too busy studying Tanya, Stacia, and Lydia.  In fact, he was so deep in his leer that he failed to notice the huge four-footed form that came up behind him until it brushed against the rifle he held pointed at the ground.  He glanced down and jumped a foot to his left, his arm starting to bring the rifle up.  But now I was next to him.  I blocked the rise of the rifle with my left index finger. “Jimmy, is it?”

He jumped again, just a little bit, but he nodded, frowning.

“Did your wife and your father-in-law explain just what kind of people might be stopping by to use these facilities?” I asked, snagging the rifle from his grip.  Holding in the Winchester’s loading gate with one finger, I blocked the feed of shells from the magazine as I levered the chambered round out into the air with my other hand.  The ejected shell jumped in an arc past my right shoulder, but my hand snatched it from the air even as my eyes stayed focused on Jimmy.  Closing the lever action, I handed him the rifle back and proceeded to cut the .30-30 round in half with a mono-edged finger.  Pouring the powder out on the ground before handing it back to him, I smiled.  “Good stuff to keep in mind for the next couple of days, doncha think?”

He was frozen looking between the smoothly cut cartridge and myself.  I nodded at ‘Sos, who was looking back at us patiently.  “That one dislikes getting shot, and I don’t much like it when people shoot him, either.  So let’s practice good firearm safety, shall we?”

The others had entered the big barn and I headed after them, Awasos slipping through the doorway just ahead of me.  Behind me, I could hear Jimmy’s heart beating furiously, but I didn’t hear the rifle’s action.  As I went through the doorway, I finally heard him start to walk after me.

Inside, a layer of dirt and dust coated everything, including the old Camaro that took up most of the open floor space at the front of the barn.  Marnie was leading our group past the car, which, like the farm and its owners, had seen better days.  About halfway through the barn, she turned right and entered a small room that was mostly packed with furniture, old tools, and dairy equipment.  At the other end of the space was a door and when she opened it… a closet.  But she bent down and lifted a metal ring on the floor and a long rectangle came up so smoothly that it had to be counterbalanced.  The opening in the floor revealed stairs going down and after flicking a switch, she stepped down the suddenly well-lit stairway.

Below ground, we found a hallway with rooms to either side. First on the left was a bathroom with a shower.  Across the hall was a kitchenette space that had an electric burner plate and a cheap microwave, as well as a dorm-style fridge. A table and four chairs occupied the center of the room.

The next two rooms were each packed with six twin beds and bare mattresses, and each had a large square footlocker in the center, big enough to act as a table but likely to contain bedding.

The last room at the end was a mini living room.  It held a couch and two old armchairs with an oval coffee table, which was covered with magazines, most of them porn.  Two empty beer cans were lined up on the table as well, along with an ashtray that held several mostly burnt joints.  A wooden box had been set on end and a cheap little television was set on top, a white coaxial cable dangling down from above to reach the back of the TV.

Everything was neat but old, with the exception of the porn mags and the TV.  Marnie stood looking at the magazines, her face red, before scooping them up and thrusting them into her husband’s free arm.  She picked up the beer cans and the ashtray.

She pointed at a tapestry hanging on the wall farthest from the television. “The escape tunnel is behind that and has three branches.  The left-hand branch brings you up in the stone fence by the road.  Some of the stones are fakes, so you end up right in the wall.  The middle one brings you out in the little grove of trees across the pasture, and the right one opens inside the tool shed out back.”

Standing against the walls, arms at her side, she waited, face pale and heart hammering.

Tanya smiled warmly.  “Everything is as it should be.  Your duties are met.  We have our own supplies, although we might prevail upon you to buy us some food at your local markets.”

“Of course, although we don’t have much cash until the first of the month,” Marnie said, apologetic, with a quick glance at her husband.

“We do not expect you to provide the funds and will, in fact, pay you to shop.  Is that acceptable?”

“How much?  How much will you pay?” Jimmy suddenly wanted to know.  He had a greedy gleam in his eye.  Honestly, the guy was such a cliché.  The quintessential lazy, deadbeat husband, living off his wife’s trust income, letting her family farm fall into ruin and turning the one foolproof responsibility he had into a man cave.

“Our business relationship is with your wife,” Tanya said.

“Listen, this is my proper…”Jimmy started to say but suddenly found himself slammed against the hard cement block wall by Arkady’s single right hand, which had wrapped itself around Jimmy’s portly throat.  The .30-30 was gone from fat Jimmy’s hand, now in the possession of Trenton.

“You will address her with respect at all times or you will cease to exist.  You are not worth the patience she has shown you, as your mate may be. This property is owned by a trust which is also the source of your income.  We control that trust.  Keep your mind on what you have, not what you think you might be able to get.”

Speech done, Arkady simply dropped him.  He turned to Marnie.  “Keeper, I would not harm yours but I also will not tolerate threats or disrespect to my que… leader.”

Wide-eyed and white faced, Marnie simply nodded.

“Come, we must unload and store our vehicles in the barn,” Tanya said.  I was closest to the entrance, so I turned and trotted back up the stairs.  As the rest followed us out into the main barn, I moved to the beat-up red and white Camaro and grabbed the back bumper.  Picking it up, I walked the car backward about fifteen feet to make room in the front of the barn for our two cars.  My crew ignored me, each heading to get supplies or to drive the cars into the barn.  Marnie and Jimmy stood looking at me wide-eyed.

“What’s this?  A seventies Rally Sport?” I asked.

“Ah…’69… ’69 Super Sport,” Jimmy answered, still distracted by the fact that I was holding the back end of his muscle car off the ground.

“My dad had a ’70 Rally Sport,” I commented before looking up to see Stacia backing the Subaru in, followed by Lydia doing the same with the Accord.  Arkady was carrying an oversized cooler of bagged blood and Trenton had the two boxes of groceries we had stopped for before leaving Philly.

“Where’s ‘Sos?” I asked Tanya, who was now approaching Marnie and Jimmy.

“I sent him into the escape tunnels to check them out,” she replied before turning to the still-shell-shocked couple.

Heading into the back room and hidden basement, I checked first on the opened panel behind the tapestry, listening till I could hear the patter of wolven feet.  Next, I turned on Jimmy’s television, clicking through the channels until I found the news.

“-Governor  Curry will hold a press conference tomorrow at nine AM.  Meanwhile White House Spokesperson Jeff Bleeker continues to deny that anyone in the Garth Administration has any knowledge of the Tomahawk launch.  Secretary of Defense Hauser has promised a swift investigation into the events leading up to the firing of a Navy cruise missile into New Jersey.  Both the White House and Secretary Hauser maintain that the satellite crash that occurred approximately forty minutes later was merely an inopportune coincidence.  Eyewitnesses claim to have seen the Tomahawk leave the water and little more than a half hour later obtained this video of the fiery demise of what NASA is calling an obsolete communications satellite that unexpectedly lost power and crashed to earth, unbelievably striking almost the exact spot that the missile reportedly originated from.  I don’t know about you, Melissa, but I seem to recall another falling object striking the Northeast in recent memory, and this reporter wonders if any of it is a coincidence at all.  Reporting live from Stafford Township, New Jersey, I’m Chuck Upton.  Melissa, back to you.”

“That was our own Chuck Upton on location in New Jersey.  For those of you tuning in late, the Governor of New Jersey, Pete Curry, has released a statement that his preliminary findings back up the claim that a US Navy Tomahawk cruise missile has been fired at New Jersey from a submerged source.  We’ll replay the footage taken by our affiliate station WPVI reporters, who were covering an unrelated crime story in the Jersey Pine Barrens when the missile crash landed among state police investigators.  The missile failed to detonate, but markings seen in the footage seem to indicate it was a live antipersonnel variant.  Navy response teams have arrived at the scene, which, from all accounts, resulted in a very tense confrontation with the New Jersey State Police.”

I could feel the others standing behind me, watching the clips that showed a chaotic scene of reporters, cops, and one lone missile.  Then there was footage taped from a news helicopter that showed the same scene from the air, including a long line of military vehicles arriving on site.  There was also amateur video of a shooting star flashing down into a distant ocean, shakily taken from the beach with a cell phone.

The attractive anchor came back on screen, sitting across from a squared-away, serious-looking, fiftyish man in a nice gray suit.

“Joining me now is ABC National Security Consultant Keith Ortega, who served on the Bush Administration Security Council.  Welcome, Keith.”

“Thank you, Melissa, and thanks for having me here.”

“What are your impressions from both the aerial footage of the missile crash scene and this clip taken of the satellite crash zone?”

New footage popped on screen, taken from the air and showing Coast Guard and other vessels, some displaying DHS in large letters, searching an area of the ocean. Several Coast Guard and military helicopters hovered over the water, powerful search lights playing across the roiling sea.

“So far, the only official word has been that it was an old commercial satellite, yet as you can see, Melissa, the search is being run by Homeland Security.  That tells me that it was most likely a military or intelligence asset that crashed.”

“And from what eyewitnesses have asserted, the crash happened right in the same area as the missile launch was observed.  Any chance the submarine that launched the missile was impacted or damaged?”

“I would say almost certainly not, Melissa.  Most of the spacecraft would have been incinerated by the heat of reentry.  The small portion that made it to the ocean surface wouldn’t have been able to penetrate deep enough endanger a sub.  Also, Melissa, remember that subs generally don’t sit still, particularly after a launch.”

“Keith, the conspiracy theorists are out in huge waves after this one, offering everything from an attempted coup to such implausable things as demon and vampire attacks.  As outlandish as all those theories are, I have yet to hear anything plausible to explain a Navy missile strike against the Jersey Pine Barrens and an immediate crash of a spy satellite, have you?”

“The biggest question, Melissa, is who ordered that launch.  These things don’t launch themselves, and there is a tight chain of command and control.  Also, if a foreign power, say China or Russia, has developed the technology to somehow turn our own satellites into weapons while removing our area intelligence capability, then we are in dire trouble.”

“Thank you, Keith.  We’ll be hearing more from you as more information rolls in.  For now, we need to go to a station break, but stay tuned for further updates in what some are calling the Bombing of the Barrens.”

“You almost hit the sub?” Lydia asked.

“Not really.  As the guy said, subs keep moving and there’s a big difference between a flimsy satellite and a nickel iron asteroid.  More of a message, really.”

“Yeah, a really big FU,” Stacia said.

“So, are we safe here?” I asked, looking between Tanya and Arkady.

“Relatively.  We need to keep our heads down both in the digital, electronic world and in the real world.  Lots of cameras in public places and as the whole world knows, the NSA can tap any of it,” Tanya said while Arkady nodded.

“What about the rest of the crew… back at the factory?” I asked.

“I called and told them to go to ground… when I went to the media vans.  Borrowed a phone,” Tanya said.  “But let’s talk about the fact that someone launched a Tomahawk at us.”

“Well, I guess that answers the question of whether they want a war or not,” I said.

Tanya shared a glance with Arkady, reminding me that they had been riding together on the trip here and would have had lots of time to talk about it. “We’re not so sure.  I, for one, don’t know the chain of command that allows a sub captain to let a missile off its leash.  I’m pretty sure the President isn’t the only one. Think of all the practice shots that ships and subs make.”

“Particularly before a deployment,” Arkady said.  “Sub might have thought it was target practice or systems check.”

“So what do we do?” Stacia asked.

“We keep our heads down and gather intel.  But I’m serious about staying off the Web, at least with any equipment that can be traced to us and if we find another route, we stay away from any of our accounts, websites, or emails.  Just general searches like any other citizen might make.”

“We could get the papers in the morning,” Stacia suggested. “Nothing to trace there.”

“Or better yet, ask Marnie to buy papers along with the food items that you list for her,” Lydia said.

“We also sleep in watches.  Someone always awake, always on guard,” Arkady said. “Trenton and I will split the early hours watch, from two a.m. till sunrise.”

“Chris and I can split the daytime,” Stacia suggested.

The sound of running feet brought our attention to the escape tunnel just as ‘Sos came trotting out.  He stopped and shook his body, spraying a little bit of dust and dirt, leaving just a few cobwebs in his thick fur.  He gave me a soft woof as I pulled the webbing off him, his demeanor calm and self-satisfied.

“I think our escape routes are clear,” I said, actually quite certain of that answer.

“Well then, let’s get this place set up and then Lydia and I are going to see what more we can glean from the news,” Tanya said.

‘”I’ve got first watch,” Trenton said, heading back toward the entrance.

“I think I want to see these tunnels for myself. No offense,” Arkady said with a nod at Awasos, who just yawned.

“I’m gonna grab some sleep so I’m fresh for the morning watch,” I said.

“Me too,” Stacia said, then amended quickly, “but in the other bunk room.”

Everyone got busy.  Some loading perishables and blood into the fridge, others making up the beds while Trenton patrolled up in the barn.  Soon enough, I was stretched out on one of the twin beds, trying to shut down my brain.  The television played softly in the other room, Lydia and Tanya silent as they flipped from one newscast to another.  I could hear running water from Stacia’s shower and beside me, a small mountain of fur rustled as ‘Sos settled into a comfortable position.  We were hunted and hiding, camped out underground, but for the first time all day, I felt reasonably safe.  As I faded into sleep, I wondered how long that feeling would last.

Chapter 12

Tanya woke me near dawn, yawning as she simply slid into my spot, snuggling into my already warmed-up bunk.  ‘Sos looked at me with big, blinking eyes, then went back to sleep.  I kissed my vampire good day, which elicited a retching noise from the next bed over where Lydia was pretending to look disgusted, threw a pillow at the mini-vampire, and headed to the kitchenette.  I sensed Arkady and Trenton in the same bunkroom as Stacia, but whereas I could hear her heartbeat and slow breathing, I got almost no noise from the comatose warriors.  Daylight puts vampires into a state of stupor that is very difficult for them to shrug off.  Only the very old could function well during the hours that the sun was up.  Arkady, at four hundred, could stay awake, but it was more zombie than alert warrior.

I warmed up two prepackaged egg and bacon breakfast sandwiches in the microwave along with a cup of water for instant coffee. After deciding it was too early for much news, I headed up to the barn, eating my breakfast while sitting on the Camaro and listening to the countryside waking up. Prowling around the empty barn, I found a rear entrance that led to a pole barn structure that may have once housed farm equipment but now held a sloppy pile of firewood.  Several axes and a splitting maul were haphazardly strewn about the mostly un-split logs and I got the impression that Jimmy only bothered with the work when the supply on his farmhouse porch got too low.  Circling around the barn, I observed the house, noting a light on in the kitchen and hearing the sounds of waking children getting ready for school.

Forty minutes later, two teenaged children stumbled out the door and trudged to the end of the driveway.  The skinny boy must have been a junior or senior in high school, and his sister was a couple of years younger and a stocky contrast to his leaness.  Ordinary looking kids who seemed to have no idea what lurked above and below the barn they took for granted.

About five minutes later, they disappeared into a big yellow school bus and I was left with the sounds of Marnie cleaning up the kitchen and Jimmy still snoring in his bed.  When Marnie came outside to get an armload of wood to feed the woodstove, I approached her,  scuffing my feet to keep from startling her.  She still jumped.

“Ah, hi.”  Brilliant start on my part.  “I didn’t introduce myself last night.  I’m Tony,” I said, using the short version of my middle name.  We had already decided on keeping our real names on the down low.

She had sucked in a short, quick breath at the foot shuffle.  Now she just looked a little shocked.

“I have that list of items that was mentioned last night, along with some cash,” I said, handing her the list and seven hundred dollars in twenties and fifties.  She took them tentatively, still looking startled and now just a little scared.

“Okay, I’ll get out of your day now,” I said, turning to walk away.

“I’m sorry.  I just didn’t expect to see anyone out in…” she trailed off, but I realized what she meant.

“In the daylight?” I asked.  She nodded.

“A couple of us are not the same as the others.  Altogether different.  But we’ll stay out of sight mostly,” I said.  She looked at me for a moment, then her head lifted her head to see past me to the barn. A glance over my shoulder showed me what she was looking at—‘Sos sitting at the corner of the barn, watching.

“Like I said, mostly.”

“I will get these things this morning, early, before too many people are up and around,” she said.  Her meaning was pretty clear.  There was a lot of meat and other foods on the list, much more than a family of four would require.  Maybe more than a family of six.

I left Marnie and headed back to the barn and my waiting were bear-wolf.  I also found Stacia sitting on the splitting stump, watching the rising sun.  She had sweatpants and a tight blue t-shirt on. Like me, the chill air did not seem to affect her supernatural metabolism.

“Making friends with the farmer’s wife?” she asked without turning around.

“Just giving her our shopping list,” I said.

“Hmmpf.  Next you’ll be shaking hands and kissing babies,” she muttered, still watching the sun.

“I just gave her the list,” I repeated, sitting next to her on the chopping block.  “What bit you in the ass?”

She turned and grimaced.  “Sorry.  I’m not loving being here in east bejesus in a smelly barn basement with a herd of vampires.”

“Oh.  I kinda thought this might feel like home?” I asked.

“That’s the problem.  Too much like home.  I escaped that and I was able to take Mom with me.  Now I live in one of the most exciting cities on the planet.  Yet here I am.”

“Oh,” I said.  My therapist vocabulary was sadly lacking.  “I’m sorry you’re stuck here, Stacia.  You should be with the Pack, not caught up in my troubles. Hunted by the government.”

“No Chris, that’s not it.  I like being a part of your team.  I don’t care about the hunted part.  I just don’t like seeing this family stuck on this farm like this.  There’s a couple of kids here, you know.  One of them will likely have to take over the family business someday.  Can you imagine?  Stuck on a dying farm in the middle of nowhere with no future?”  She put two fingers against her temple, gun style, and dropped her thumb hammer, making a soft, little pow noise.

“Yeah, I think the wife is a little beat down by life,” I said, really thinking about her words.  If my abilities hadn’t appeared, I might have taken over my grandfather’s farm, living out a life kind of like this.

“Life and that leech of a husband,” Stacia said.  She reached down between her feet and picked up a box of Cheerios, grabbing a handful and pouring them into her mouth.

“Not much for bowls and milk, huh?”

“Wiseass!  We didn’t grab any milk,” she replied.

I reached over and got my own handful, crunching them down dry.

A whisper of a footstep brought us both around to face the corner of the barn nearest the farm house.  A couple of seconds later, Marnie came around the corner, now dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt and a canvas barn coat, hair in a bun, holding two cups of coffee.  She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the two of us sitting on the block of wood.

“Oh!  Ah, Tony, I thought you might like a cup of coffee,” she said, very uncertain of herself.

I jumped up and gratefully moved to take one of the cups.  She looked at Stacia, clearly intimidated and then back at me.  “One is black, the other is cream and sugar… I didn’t know which you might like.”

“Either,” I answered.  Stacia had a smile that was part welcoming and part knowing, like she was in on something I wasn’t.

Marnie, more uncertain than ever, looked a little helplessly at Stacia, who said, “Calories, Tony, calories.”

“Right, I’ll take the cream and sugar,” I said, smiling at Marnie, who blinked rapidly several times.

“Ah, would you like the other, miss?” Marnie asked.

“No thank you. I never really developed a taste for coffee,” Stacia said.

“Try growing up on a farm.  Sometimes it was all that kept me going,” I said.

“You grew up on a farm?” Marnie asked me.

“Yeah, a dairy farm in New York.  Lots of early mornings.”

“Oh yeah.  My father used to get my sister and me up at four-thirty every day, year round, to help.”

“Every day?” Stacia asked, eyebrows shooting straight up.

“Every day,” Marnie said.  The space next to Stacia was suddenly filled with a massive amount of black and tan wolf.  ‘Sos’s attention was completely focused on the box of Cheerios, his ears pricked forward as if a mouse might be inside it.

Without looking around at the beast sitting next to her, head as high as hers, Stacia took the box and poured it into what would have been open space except that a big toothy maw was suddenly there to claim the stream of Cheerios.  Sighing, she looked into the now-empty box and then at the giant wolf head whose jaws could stretch around her own skull.  “Pig,” she said mildly.  A big tongue licked her cheek. “There goes breakfast,” she said, crumpling the box.

“Oh!  Would you both like some breakfast?” Marnie asked.  All three of our heads turned her way and nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, we were all sitting in the farmhouse kitchen, watching as our hostess finished cooking a couple of slabs of ham, a dozen eggs, and half a loaf of bread.

She sliced off a few more pieces of meat from the ham bone and then turned to me with raised eyebrows and a meaningful glance at Awasos.  I nodded and she started to move forward with the meat, but instead looked at the bulk of fur sitting at attention in front of her. With a shrug, she gave him the meaty bone instead.  Holding it lightly in his jaws, he trotted to the kitchen door and pushed it open with his head.  Moments later, the sounds of chewing and splintering bone came from the little porch.

“Thank you so much for breakfast, Marnie,” Stacia said.

“Oh, no problem, Lisa. My mother would spin in her grave if I didn’t offer you breakfast,” Marnie answered.  I’d introduced Stacia as Lisa, the first name that popped into my head, which had caused her to give me a strange, questioning look.

“It’s nice to hear paws on the floor again.  Jimmy won’t let us get a dog.  Says they cost too much,” Marnie continued. She looked up in time catch our glance at each other.

“He was much different when we were dating in school,” she said.  “His father owned the local tractor dealership, so they had some money, at least for this town.  He was on the football team and someday he was going to take over the business.”

“What happened?” Stacia asked.

“The economy, particularly the farming economy.  His dad had overextended on business debt, thinking he would keep growing the business.  Milk prices took a downturn and nobody was buying tractors.  Lost the business.  Bankrupt.  Lucky for us, I had the trust income.  It’s kept us alive.”

“Looks like you rent some fields,” I noted.

She nodded.  “A few.  It pays for the kids’ school clothes, and we trade one field for beef for the freezer.  Jimmy works part time at a local garage.  He’s mechanical, used to help in the service department at the dealership.”  She suddenly looked embarrassed, covering it by bustling around picking up plates, turning on the little TV on the corner of the counter and then filling the plates with ham, eggs, and toast.

“ – ressmen  Britton, Sondale, and McFeeney are calling for an immediate investigation into the events of the missile launch.  It seems, Angela, that a New Jersey State Police investigator discovered his counter-terrorist radiation detection equipment had registered a strong reading from the missile, although the Navy claimed the Tomahawk was strictly a conventional weapon, one that misfired at that. The initial reading caused the head of the State Police to call in a Nuclear Emergency Support Team. Subsequently, the team found that the source of the radiation appears to be a small piece of depleted uranium, attached to the outer casing of the missile.  That produced enough of a signal to set off the sensitive equipment that modern law enforcement uses to look for terrorist dirty bombs and nuclear weapons. No explanation has been offered at this point, Angela.  Back to you.”

The early morning anchor moved on to another story, leaving Stacia and I staring at each other, chewing our first bites of breakfast.

“Honestly, our own Navy is shooting missiles and bombs at us.  What next?” Marnie commented.

I had a bigger mouthful, a side effect of having a bigger mouth, and Stacia was able to swallow her food first.  “Marnie, do you have a computer with Internet access that I can borrow for a few hours?”

“Well, yes of course, we have Internet—WiFi even.  You can borrow Taylor’s netbook.  Our other computer is Jimmy’s, and he doesn’t like anyone to use it unless he supervises.”  She picked up a small silver-sided computer from on top of a small bookcase just inside the little family room that attached to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Marnie.  Trust me, I’ll be super careful with it. I just want to check some news sites,” Stacia said with a warm smile.

“Well, that’s fine, dear,” Marnie said.  Me, I just kept eating, because for one thing, using a local computer carefully was probably fine, and for another, the food was awesome.  I said as much, about the food, between bites.

“Well, I keep some chickens and I think there’s a big difference between store bought eggs and farm fresh eggs.  And the ham came from the same farmer that supplies our beef.”

Stacia was looking over the beat-up-looking little netbook that Marnie had handed her and now she noticed the inroads I was making on the egg supply.  She hastily grabbed one more sunny side up along with another slice of toast before looking back at the power up screen on the computer.

“Goodness, you both have healthy appetites.  I thought maybe from the look of you that you might be on all kinds of diet restrictions and such.”

“No ma’am.  We both have pretty fast metabolisms, particularly Tony,” Stacia replied with a smile at Marnie and a mischievous gleam in her eye as she glanced my way.  “You should see him without his shirt on—not an ounce of fat,” she said.  Marnie glanced at my t-shirt-clad torso and looked away quickly, her cheeks getting pink.

Suddenly uncomfortable, I finished my food, took my plate up, and thanked Marnie again.  Then I excused myself, giving Stacia a frown, which bounced off her knowing smile like water on Teflon.

“Marnie, I see your wood is getting low on the porch.  I can chop some today and fill it back up,” I said.

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” she said, but her glance at the big Fisher woodstove that lived almost exactly between the kitchen and the family room told a different story.

“No problem.  Consider it repayment for an excellent breakfast.  Now I’ll just head out to the barn.  Thanks again.”

Nothing was happening outside, other than that ‘Sos had almost completely demolished the big ham bone, so I went back to the wood pile and started to pay for breakfast.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had split firewood, although I had been a bit jealous of my young friend Declan’s woodpile in northern Vermont a few weeks ago.  An ax or splitting maul, a pile of round logs, and a good chopping block were guaranteed stress relief for me.  It was also a pretty good workout, or at least it used to be.  Now it was more just Zen-like activity, as my strength and speed made short work of even the most stubborn logs.  I grabbed the maul and set a round log on the stump.  Whump. Two logs instead of one. Each half next became a quarter and just like that, my brain clicked into analysis mode.

The fact that depleted uranium showed up attached to a Navy missile meant two things.  First, that the strike was set up and directed by someone like General Creek, who had access to classified information about me, and second, that they didn’t have any idea about Kirby and his blatant disregard for radioactive metal.  Only my aura powers and my healing were affected by DU, not my vampire-given abilities or any of Kirby’s.  Since Creek had spoken about the use of DU in our Albany meeting, any of the parties there were suspect, and McFeeney was involved in the investigation.  Being part of the investigation was an excellent way to make sure nothing was really revealed.

The split wood continued to pile up while I thought dark thoughts about my government.

Chapter 13

All of the pre-cut stove-length logs had been split and stacked on the porch.  Next I tackled the five big problem logs that were lying around.  These are the big, knotty chunks of maple or oak that most woodpiles accumulate.  So fibrous and tough that the owner gives up and sets them aside to wait for the day he rents or buys a hydraulic splitter.  Jimmy didn’t seem like the rent-a-splitter type, so I went ahead and beat the big knots of old maple into manageable chunks.  That left only full-length logs that had been piled up under the pole barn roof to await a chainsaw.

At some point during my work, I noticed that Marnie had left in the Corolla, then an hour later, Jimmy took off in the truck and about forty minutes after that, Marnie came back.  Stacia, who had been sitting on an old New Holland tractor and scanning websites while making notes on a pad of paper, hopped down and got our supplies from her.  When Marnie tried to give back the excess money, Stacia made her keep it, which is exactly what I would have done.  When Stacia came back, she brought a pile of huge turkey sandwiches made from some of the groceries.

I stopped and took a big drink of water from my Lupine Industries water bottle that I kept filling at the spigot in the barn.  Stacia handed me a sandwich and took one herself, after dropping one whole into the bottomless wolf pit named Awasos, who bit twice and swallowed once.

“What have you found?” I asked around a mouthful of really fresh turkey, mayo, and lettuce.

“Where to start?  I first went on the Drudge Report to see what had popped up there.  Tons of stuff about the missile, about how ugly the confrontation got between the feds and the staties.  Eventually, the government had over five hundred armed soldiers and at least ten helicopters, some of them Marine Cobras.  Video after video of some stellar screaming matches between Leland, his boss, Colonel Betchel, and various New Jersey politicians with a Navy admiral, a Marine colonel, and some Homeland guys.

“President Garth hasn’t spoken yet, which seems odd, but the White House is supposed to trot out their pet spokesperson pretty soon.  Meanwhile, he’s getting reamed as ineffectual and weak by the conservative bloggers.”

“What about what Tanya did to the Hummer?” I asked.

“All over Youtube.  Huge number of hits; it went viral sometime last night.  The biggest one is titled Vampires are real… and hot!  Pretty good quality off one of the policemen’s cell phones.

“Bloggers are going crazy over it, trying to figure out if it was faked.  The fact that three other slightly poorer clips from other cops’ cell phones is lending credibility.  But don’t you want to hear about your pet reporter, Miss Chatterjee?”

“What article did she write?”

“She wrote about you, the missile, demons, and portals to Hell on her own blog site.  And I found the link to her site on Drudge as well.  So it’s getting lots of attention.  In fact, hers is by far the best and most complete explanation to date.”

“Can I see it?” I asked.

“I actually snuck into the house and printed it out.  Here, read this,” Stacia said, handing me several pages of paper.

Across the top was the banner Cryptic News: covering the strange, the dangerous and the latest from the fringe. A picture of Chatterjee took up the left corner, a handy headshot for any crazies or supernaturals that might want to hunt her down.  Brilliant.

The title of the article was Hammer of God.  Somehow, I just knew I wasn’t gonna like this article.

I’ve been at this business for some time now.  Five years, in fact.  Trying to shine a light on the dark shadows of society, looking in the corners and dusty places for the truth about the Other aspects of our world.  Other as in things we call supernatural, paranormal, cryptozological, or what Grandma Chatterjee calls raksas—monsters.  I’ve made some contacts and gotten closer to the dark side more times than I ever expected.  And found, like so many things in life, that there’s a rhythm to these things.  And lately, that rhythm has gone crazy.

My regular readers know what I’m referring to: the huge upswing in violent unexplainable crimes, the vast number of events worldwide that are obviously being covered up by our governments.  My theories are that our own efforts to unravel the mysteries of the universe may have instead unraveled walls and barriers that were never supposed to be breached.  The result: incursions from beyond.  Visitations from Hell.  Don’t believe me?  Do a simple Google search.  Or several.  Go ahead… I’ll wait.  Because I know what you’ll find.  Stories about mothers killing children, children killing children, fathers killing their whole families, and whole families being killed in inexplicable ways.  You’ll also find a huge upswing in gas explosions, disease outbreaks, mental illness, chemical contamination, and a whole lot of other bullshit explanations from our friendly elected officials.  My personal belief is that we’ve allowed demons into our world.  Grandma calls them danava.

I’ve been documenting these for months, but the most recent case was yesterday, deep in the Jersey Pine Barrens, the spooky forests famous for the Jersey Devil.  Another unexplained murder scene, two hunters, butchered and mauled beyond recognition.  If you cover enough of these crimes, you get a feel for how the police are handling each case.  How shaken the officers are, how likely they feel that they will catch the murderer.  So you can tell instantly when they’re in over their heads and know it.  The unmasked horror in their eyes, the nervous awareness of their surroundings, as if they too might be attacked.  Crimes so bad that they have to call in outside help.  This was the sixth time I’ve seen professional law enforcement so rattled that they brought in special consultants.  There’s a team they call, and they’re deceiving in appearance. They look like they belong on a movie set instead of actual crime scenes. They travel with an honest to God wolf and they’re some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen, but my contacts tell me they’re the real deal.

Mostly the same set of people show up, although that depends on the time of day.  Crimes like this generally happen at night, and that’s when the whole team is there.  In the two instances when it was daylight, a much smaller group was present.  You’ll see them in the attached photos, photos that are very hard to come by.  Cameras go on strike when they’re nearby.  Of almost fifty-four attempted shots, we’ve only managed to get six clear pictures and only one video shown below.

There’s one subject who is always there, maybe their leader although I’m not sure that’s right.  But he’s the key.  His name is Chris Gordon and he used be a cop.  Once he arrives, the whole scene changes.  The foreboding, the overriding feeling of impending doom and overt evil disappears.  Cops stop looking over their shoulders, technicians stop jumping, and the bosses breathe a collective sigh of relief.  It’s palpable, an actual sensation that one experiences when he goes into these Hellholes and does whatever he does.  Sometimes there’s gunfire, but no one reacts. Professional cops in the midst of an active crime scene and they don’t react to gunfire.  Explain that.  I can’t.

So yesterday was another one.  Deep in the Barrens in the dark of night.  A chill of the soul that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the gruesome scene of horror.  Having a veritable army of cops on hand was scarcely a comfort, and since when do SWAT teams show up at murder investigations anyway?  When does the head of NJSP Special Operations run a crime scene?

But along came the demon hunters, arriving in a big black SUV with tinted windows and a very pale driver.  Into the crime area they disappear and suddenly more gunfire, and while the cops keeping reporters at bay jumped a little, there was very little commotion.  Until the US Navy dropped a Tomahawk missile into the middle of the whole situation.

The press was being held back several hundred yards from the scene, but had that missile gone off, we’d all likely be dead.  Something stopped that missile and something kept it from exploding. Was God watching over us?  Sure felt that way to me and my fellow reporters.  I can’t tell you what happened, but I can damn well tell you that I don’t think there’s a chance in Hell it was a coincidence. Nor was the crash landing of a US satellite into the same part of the ocean that the missile was launched from.  I’m no expert and I have no proof, but it looks like someone took a shot and missed and someone else fired back.

I know what you’re thinking… why would the government try to kill its own citizens?  What if it was trying to kill just one?  Okay, you say, why kill the guy who keeps solving problems?  Maybe the powers that be don’t like others having power that they lack.

Several other little snippits for your consideration.  A black military Humvee showed up with black suit types.  They were still there after the missile hit.  And their Humvee… it’s the same one in the vampire Youtube video linked below.

I don’t know who Chris Gordon is, or even what he is, and he seems to keep very dangerous company (see same Youtube video), but I’m starting to think he’s on our side.  Thank God someone is. Stay tuned.

“She jumps to a whole lot of conclusions without offering any real evidence,” I commented.  “No one is going to believe this.”

Stacia shook her head, sending her platinum locks swinging.  “No. See, you’d have to go back and read her earlier posts.  They all build on one another, and the demon from an open portal to Hell thing is common.  She wrote one article about a town in upstate New York that was overrun with demon-like things till the government stepped in.  The cover story was a chemical spill.”

“Wait. Didn’t Nathan Stewart tell us about that one?  Something to do with elves?”

“And goblins, which could easily be mistaken for demons, at least from what Stewart said.  So she’s got a good instinct for which stories are real.  She covered all of the New York City portals that you’ve closed and many of the others around the country.  This is the first time she’s offered up your name and picture.  Actually all our pictures.  Combined with the rest of the missile story and the video of Tanya, and she’s got a whole slew of believers.  Just read some of the comments.”

I did, and she was right.  The conspiracy nuts were out in force, but this time they were right.

Stacia was wrinkling her nose at me.  “You’re pretty sweaty.  Those clothes are gonna stink.  Got any others with you?”

“Some tees, some underwear, and a pair of cargo shorts is all that’s in my go bag.”

“Go put the shorts on if you’re going to keep up the lumberjack impression.  I asked Marnie if I could do a load of laundry, so give me your clothes and I’ll get the others’ stuff.  They won’t even wake up,” she said.

A few minutes later, I came back to her in just shorts and work boots, handing her my sweaty clothes. She smirked as I handed her my dirty clothes, making a show of looking me up and down.

“What the hell is up with your belt?  It weighs a ton,” she said, hefting the length of leather as she pulled it from the belt loops of my jeans.

“It’s my ammo belt,” I said, pulling first a quarter then a fifty-cent piece from the specially constructed slots.

She nodded.  “Yeah, I remember what you can do with those.  The fitty centers must be for killer whales and elephants.”

I got busy cutting the logs to stove length as she left to round up the rest of the laundry.

Normally I’d use a chain saw, but Jimmy’s was nowhere to be found and I would have felt funny using it without permission anyway.  Axes are one thing, but using a man’s power tools without permission is something else entirely; at least that’s how my Gramps taught me.

So I cheated.  A little mono-edge around the edge of my hand and voila, the perfect cut without much effort.  No one was around and I made short work of the pile of logs Jimmy must have dragged in with a tractor. I heard the bus pull up out front, but I was safely hidden by the barn. With more to split, I went back at it.  A few minutes later, or so it seemed, I was suddenly aware of watchers.  Lydia and Tanya were standing motionless in the dark of the barn, watching me, and the daylight was fading. Stacia was back on the tractor seat, watching as well, the little notebook computer set on the hood of the New Holland. Wood was mounded around me in tumbled piles, all smelling like fresh cut lumber. Time flies when you’re having fun.

“Ah, hi,” I said to the two in the shadows.  Tanya smiled and Lydia shook herself a little, then grinned at me.

“Hey now, don’t stop on our account,” Lydia said, winking.  “We like to see a man working hard… it’s so uncommon these days.”

Caught off guard and mentally empty from all the splitting, I tried to find a comeback but was saved by two pair of footsteps coming around the barn.  A few seconds later, the teen children rounded the corner tentatively, coming to a complete stop when they spotted me.  The girl was carrying a laundry basket and her brother had a plastic milk jug of what looked like tea and a glass.  The girl dropped the basket, which luckily didn’t spill, her mouth forming a little O as her eyes got big.  Her brother looked shocked, then frowned, his eyes darting from me to the piles of split wood.

“Our mother sent us out with these for you and I need to get my computer back to do homework,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice that sounded peeved.

“Ah, thanks.  Lisa over on the tractor has your netbook,” I said, pointing.  It was his turn to get slack-jawed at the sight of the blonde leaning back in the driver’s seat with her legs slung over the steering wheel.

“Sure, it’s right here, but the battery died a few minutes ago,” she said with a smile, swinging her legs over and jumping down to the ground.  Stacia jumping is a beautiful thing and the boy’s mouth dropped even lower.

“Computer?  Could we maybe borrow that again later, after you’ve done your homework?” Tanya asked from where she was now—about ten feet to their left.  They both jumped and their eyes got even bigger.

“Ah, sure you can bbborrow me, I mean my computer, later, or now or whenever you like,” he stuttered, shifting his feet.

“Later is fine.  Please thank your mother for us,” I said, taking pity on the kid.  He nodded and turned to leave, pushing his sister along with him.

Lydia picked up the basket of clothes, looking suspiciously at the pile. “Hey, some of these are mine,” she said.

“We don’t have a lot of clothes and I didn’t want to waste an opportunity,” Stacia said, moving into the barn.  “But the papers are all in here and you’ll want to take a look at them.”

I grabbed the jug of tea before following the others into the dim light of the barn.

Inside, we found the newspapers Marnie had bought stacked on the hood of the Rally Sport. An old table had been dragged from one corner to hold some opened pages, articles of interest circled in pencil.

“Okay, first, here is a printout of Chris’s girl reporter’s blog.  Then there’s a couple of other interesting bits.  The Washington Post and the New York Times both have pictures taken from the Youtube video of you, Tanya, beating up that Hummer.  The video went viral and the articles both comment to the claim of vampires although no mainstream reporter has offered any opinion about the existence of real vampires.”

“Okay, T, you know that’s gonna get your grandmother’s panties in a wad.  How are we going to handle it?” Lydia asked.

“The coverage means that the Coven has joined the hunt, at least from the shadows.  The normal procedure would be to send Rovers to bring us in.  I’d rather pick the time and place myself, not them,” Tanya replied.

“Will they follow normal procedure?  I mean, they gotta know that Chris can just age the crap out of any Rover team sent, right?” Trenton asked from the back of the barn.  He and Arkady were just coming up from below.

“By now, they know about DU and its blocking effect on aura, so I don’t think that will stop them,” I said.

“So we make sure that we have the initiative in any meeting, not them.  It’s time for vampires to come out of the shadows.  If we continue to force the issue, Senka will have to bring Darkkin into the light, if only to control the fallout and the public image.  Maybe we can use Chris’s pet reporter,” Tanya said.

“She’s not my reporter, pet or otherwise,” I said.  They ignored me.

“Good idea. I have her phone number,” Stacia said.

“They are watching her for sure,” Arkady rumbled.  “Not good approach.”

“So how else do we get to her?” Lydia asked.

“She’ll be at the next portal outbreak or if Brianna-from-Hell wastes anyone, then she’ll likely show up.  We could disguise ourselves and sneak past her watchers,” I suggested.

Everyone looked at me for a moment.  “Just when I’m absolutely sure he’s just a box-headed, vamp boy-toy, he goes and says something that sounds almost useful,” Lydia said.

“Hush up you or I’ll stuff you back in your Disney collectable box and put you back on the toy store shelf,” I replied.

“Oooh, been saving that one up for a while now, huh?” she replied.

Actually, I had.  I opened my mouth to shoot back and Tanya sighed, giving us both the grow up already look.

“Disguises are a must.  Too much facial recognition software around these days and too many cameras.  Also, no phone calls for any reason.  Both the feds and the Coven have voice recognition programs scanning the NSA databanks.  We’ll just have to go with old-fashioned spy craft, huh, Arkady?”

“Dah.  Old ways are sometimes best,” he said.

“What else is did you find?” Tanya asked Stacia.

“It looks like the President will claim that the missile was a training situation gone bad.  The current spin is that the Tomahawk was a dummy but mocked up to look real and that it was knocked down by an experimental missile defense system out of Lakehurst Naval Air Station. The media seems to be buying that.  The satellite splashdown is still being labeled a coincidence, but there’s a ton of speculation.  Some of the experts that the media have brought in have indicated that they’ve heard rumors of some new anti-missile technology and that’s led to the idea that the same system may have knocked down the missile and the sat.  The government is going with a neither confirm nor deny approach, which makes everyone believe it to be true.  Russia and China are up in arms over the idea that we can take out both their missiles and comm sats.  So some people are less upset by the idea that the Navy is taking potshots because it seems like we have some sorta superweapon.”

“We do,” Tanya said, smiling my way.  I smiled back.

“That’s a great spin.  Makes it look like we’re having just a little oopsie with our uber tech but it’s all good.  Sorry cops, but it was an accident and the missile wasn’t really armed. And our anti-missile ray accidentally brushed an old sat and knocked it down as well.  Pay attention, China and Russia, because we’re light years ahead.  Brilliant.  I wonder who put that one together?” Lydia asked.

Tanya and I looked at each other.  “Bishop!” we said in unison.

“She does have a certain rep,” Lydia agreed.  “So Blondie, what else?”

“Not much, but I did find a little article, just a blurb really, deep in the Washington Post.  It seems that staffers in the White House have been coming down with a strange flu-like illness.  Almost skipped over it, but the reporter mentioned how puzzling it was, so for some reason, I looked for other mentions of it.  Found a piece on the Web which indicated the sick workers were getting better and the illness had stopped.  This photo was with the article so I printed it,” Stacia said, handing Lydia a picture.  Tanya and I stepped up close, looking over Lydia’s shoulder.

“Okay werewolf Barbie, what am I supposed to see?” Lydia asked.

Stacia stepped up close on my left side, so close her body pressed slightly against mine.  One green-painted nail tapped the lower left side of the photo of a small herd of doctors and nurses outside a hospital.  Her razor sharp digit was tapping a woman standing outside the group, who I recognized as Nathan Stewart’s assistant, Adine Benally.  Next to her was another woman who I didn’t recognize—but I did recognize that the tattoo on her arm was of a rune, a rune much like my young warlock friend Declan might draw.

“A witch?  From Oracle?” I asked.

“That was what I wondered.  Then I remembered that you mentioned that you told that accountant guy Bruce that the Book of Darkest Sorrow had been turned over to the White House.  So maybe the illness was witch-induced and it took Oracle to cure it?” Stacia said, turning slightly, which brushed her chest across my upper arm.

I swayed back, just a hair, part of me regretting the distance, the rest of me trying to desperately to think of witches and magic.  Spells, runes, the Four Elements, yeah like that. Don’t be obvious, don’t breathe in any female scents, focus, Gordon, focus.

On my right side, Tanya turned, her own body brushing me as she studied me for a second.  I just kept looking at the photo.

“So you’re saying that old blabbermouth Bruce told his witch slut and they put a hex on the West Wing?  Hmmm?  Very possible.  No other reason for Oracle to be on the scene.  Wow, lupis loser, you might just have three brain cells after all,” Lydia said to Stacia.

“Which is two more than you, tramp vamp,” Stacia replied.

“Is that it?” Tanya asked, ignoring the banter.

“That’s it,” Stacia said with a shrug.

“Nice work,” Tanya said a little grudgingly.  “What did you do all day?” she asked me.

“Ah, I split some wood.”

“I saw that.  Anything else or just the wood?” she asked.

“It was a lot of wood,” I said, maybe a little defensively.

“Actually, he made friends with the farmer’s wife,” Stacia said.

Both Lydia and Tanya raised their eyebrows at me.

“Well, I gave Marnie the shopping list, she made us breakfast, let Stacia borrow the computer and brought us back all the stuff.”

“The Keeper made you breakfast?” Arkady rumbled from behind me.

“Yeah, for Stacia and me… and ‘Sos as well.”

“Hmm, a sympathetic Keeper is useful,” the giant said.

“And I’ll just bet she’s very sympathetic to at least one of our group,” Lydia said.

“Hey, I’m just a friendly guy, that’s all,” I said.

Tanya snorted, then picked up a couple of papers, moved to some hay bales, and started to read them for herself.  Lydia did the same. Arkady and Trenton started throwing blades at a log, knives for the big man and a tomahawk for Trent.  After a moment, Stacia joined in, both vampires teaching her how to throw.  I decided it was a good time for a shower… a cold shower.

Chapter 14

When I emerged from the bathroom, clean and wearing fresh clothes, I found Tanya watching news on the little television.

“Anything new?” I asked.

She turned and smiled at me, patting the couch next to her.  Sliding in next to her, I had no sooner sat than my lap was full of curvy vampire, jasmine and lilac teasing my nose.

“Nothing, really.  Same old stuff.  But your wolf seems to be correct.  The general feeling is starting to move from questioning who launched the missile to speculation about the nature of the anti-missile system that supposedly knocked it down.  Bishop is brilliant,” she said, leaning in and nuzzling my neck.

“Are you hungry?  Want to feed?” I asked, more than a bit hopeful.  Feeding Tanya is fun… really, really fun.

She sighed, her breath tickling my neck.  “I had a couple for pints warmed up in the microwave.”

“Bah, why drink that crap when the good stuff is bubbling just under my skin?” I asked.

“Because it would not be fair to the others.  They are not allowed to hunt while we are hiding, so we must make do with our rations, so to speak.  If I get to drink from you and they don’t, it would be very, very poor leadership on my part.  And no one gets to drink from you but me.”

“So how long do we stay in hiding—here—in nowhereville?”

“I’m not sure, Chris.  I think we need to watch for some sign of a portal or Brianna, then approach in disguise.  I would like to make contact with your reporter and possibly Nathan Stewart.  I think he’s not against us or his pet witches; his precog or his other psychics would be lending a hand with the hunt.  I think we would have been found already if that was the case.  So a day or two, possibly three.  I mean, come on—how long can it be before Demonic DuClair kills some poor bastard?”

“Yeah, I see what you mean.  Any thoughts as to disguises?”

“Oh yeah, just you wait and see.”

She would tell me no more, no matter how I asked.  Tickling didn’t help either, although it was the perfect segue for her to distract me from my line of thought.

So we followed the same routine that night and the next day.  Vampires awake and watching, werewolf and strange hybrid sleeping for the nighttime hours.  At daybreak, reverse.  The second day was much more boring, as I had pretty much taken care of the firewood problem in one day. Marnie fed Stacia and I breakfast again, her loaf of a husband sleeping in while his children got off to school.

Apparently Jimmy had worked a few hours at a friend’s garage, heading to a bar afterward to spend his wages.  Arkady had reported that he arrived home late and drunk. I could tell the security chief side of him was worried that Jimmy would talk out of school when he was elbow up at the bar.  He had spent much of the evening listening to the family from his watch position, keeping tabs on their topics.

I stacked the loose wood then watched television till I thought my eyes might explode.  Blah, blah, blah. Bored out of my mind, I went looking for a distraction.  Stacia was reading through a new batch of papers and that wasn’t my cup of tea, so I explored the barn.  Lots of decaying old junk, some of which was familiar from my years on my grandfather’s farm, a lot of which was just crap.  Then out behind the woodpile I found a fire pit, complete with grate, and I set about grilling some lunch.

Part of our groceries was a whole twenty-pound turkey, but there was no way to cook it in the dungeon kitchen.  The fire pit reminded me of one of Gramp’s old tricks.  First I built a big fire and let it build up some coals.  While that was happening, I retrieved a big industrial roll of aluminum foil I found in the milk room.  A big square of that went on the ground with a foil-wrapped heavy stick poked into the ground like a spike.  The bird got lowered onto the spike, a fairly new metal trashcan that I found got washed and lowered over the bird, and then I shoveled hot coals all around the can and on top of it.  Another thought came to me and I went back inside to grab some potatoes, which I wrapped in aluminum foil and placed among the coals.  After that, there was nothing to do but sit back and wait.

Ten minutes later, I had a big wolf sitting next to me, hungrily watching the trashcan from which much hissing and dripping was happening.  Ten minutes after that, I had a blonde wolf in human form sitting on a log nearby, reading a paper while occasionally eyeing the smoking can, which smelled better than any trashcan ever had before. Two hours later, I pulled the can off the bird and revealed a golden brown beauty, which was in immediate danger from the wolves, both four- and two-legged.

Fighting them both off was more work than cooking, but ultimately I got it up on a log that was covered by another piece of aluminum foil and sliced off big chunks for the two carnivores crowding around me.

The bird and potatoes disappeared rapidly, leaving the three of us full and drowsy.  The afternoon sun was warm and we all found spots on the grass to lie back and digest.  I heard the bus deliver the kids home, heard Jimmy’s truck, and soon after, the sounds of dinner.  The sun sets early in late October and it was getting dark when I heard the sounds of a family argument.  The teen girl, whose name was Taylor, was crying, Marnie sounded upset, and Jimmy was angry.  But the deep, dangerous tones of Arkady’s accent brought me straight to my feet. He growled, the girl screamed, and Grim moved me into the house so fast that anyone standing by the door would probably have been killed.

I was just suddenly standing between the giant vampire and the family.  Jimmy, bless his lazy, good-for-nothing soul had put himself between the angry giant and his daughter, who seemed to be the cause of Arkady’s ire.

“What the hell is going on?” Tanya asked from the broken doorway, arriving just behind me.

Arkady did not take his eyes from me as he answered.  “My Queen, the Keeper’s child has betrayed us.”

“How?” I asked in Grim’s deep voice.

Eyes narrowed, Arkady considered me for a moment.  “I overheard them arguing.  She spoke to her peers about you,” he answered.

“Marnie, please explain,” Tanya ordered.

“Taylor is on the cheer squad.  The girls are… judgmental. She said something about guests to try to impress them.  It got out of hand,” Marnie said, terrified.

Tanya moved Arkady back with a touch of her hand and stepped closer to the family.  Grim was watching and feeling her emotions through our bond.

“Taylor, tell me what you said to your friends, please,” Tanya asked the girl.  Brown hair and brown eyes looked back at my vampire and suddenly, another face superimposed itself over hers.  A smaller, thinner, younger girl with dimming brown eyes and blood oozing from her neck, which was torn to shreds.  The image waivered and Taylor’s rounder face swam back into focus.

“Ttthey aaren’t my friends.  Only Lori is.  The others are all bitc… nasty.  Lori asked if she could come over and I said no, that we had guests.  Hannah Belore heard me and said our guests were probably a bunch of drunken retards.  I… I got angry and said that she didn’t know what she was talking about… that our guests were beautiful,” she said, looking down at the ground.

Tanya put her finger under the girl’s chin and lifted her head gently.  “What else, Taylor?”

“They laughed at me. I got angrier.  I told them how gorgeous you were and the other lady,” she said, suddenly noticing Stacia by the doorway.  Stacia just smiled and nodded and the girl went on.  “And I may have described him,” she said with a quick nervous glance in my direction.

“What happened next?”

“They didn’t believe me.  And then Luke came to get me.”  Luke was her brother’s name, I remembered.  He was nodding.

“They were making fun of both of us as we left.  They didn’t believe her at all,” Luke said.

“So then, no real harm done,” Tanya said.

“They should be punished my queen.  It is a breach of the Keeper agreement,” Arkady argued.

“Oh, Taylor will be punished.  Tomorrow at school is going to be hell,” Stacia said.  “The bitch girls on her squad will be merciless.”

“Lisa is right.  The ridicule of her school peers will be sufficient.  Taylor, you must not defend us to them.  If they say we are drunken autistic people, so be it.  If they say foul and nasty things about us, it does not matter… to us and ultimately… to you.  Do you understand?” Tanya said.

“Yyes ma’am,” Taylor said.

Stacia moved over next to her and pointed at me.  “Look at him.  Every time they say something horrible, you smile, nod your head, and remember the truth.  Agree with them.  Change their words in your head from ugly to whatever adjectives you prefer.  It’ll drive them nuts and remove the sting from their attack.  You know the truth.  Trust me, high school is not forever.  It’s gonna suck for the next few days, but you have to let them have their snotty comments.”

The girl nodded and Marnie was looking hopeful.

“I still say she should be punished,” Arkady rumbled.

“We don’t punish children like that, for two major reasons.  First, it’s not who we are.  Second, does he look like he’s going to allow any harm to the girl?” Tanya said, nodding at me.  “Remember the last time a child was harmed in front of him?”

Maybe that was the brown-haired girl from Grim’s memory.

“Actually, someone tried to kill some kids in South Carolina.  A were… I mean, in a warehouse.  Anyway, that didn’t go so well for the man who tried that,” Stacia said, wincing a little.

I didn’t remember that event, but I did remember being told about it after I woke up from getting shot.  A girl named Jetta and her brother, Mack.

“Okay, no more stories in school.  No friends over.  We’re a bunch of drunks, mean drunks.  You’re ashamed to even have us here.  You don’t want to talk about it.  Got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” both children chorused.

“Okay we’re done here,” Tanya said, shooing everyone out and gently pulling me by my hand behind her.

“I think Arkady is mad,” I said very softly to Tanya as we trailed the others into the darkness.

“He is very old school.  He lives and breathes our security, so he’s less inclined to let people have their mistakes if it endangers us.  Also, Grim makes him afraid and like anyone, he hates to be afraid.”

“Would he have killed the kids?” I asked, troubled by how little I knew about the people around me, how little I remembered.

“I don’t know.  In the old days, the whole family might have been killed for such a transgression.”

I shuddered, thinking of the family lying torn and bloody.  “Tanya, I can’t do stuff like that, or even allow it.”

“I know, my Chosen.  Well, do I know.  If it makes you feel better, even born as I am, I too do not believe such things are warranted.  Trust me, Christian, we will forge our path and still keep our personal honor,” she said, kissing me before pulling me deeper into the shadows of our temporary home.

Chapter 15

The next day was a repeat of the last, without the family drama.  Stacia and I stood day watch, the vamp crew slept, and the family went about its business.  We watched the news, ate steaks and cheeseburgers grilled in my newfound fire pit, and read the newspapers.  The late sports bus brought the kids home from school and as I watched them trudge down the driveway, I could hear laughter and taunts follow them from inside the big yellow vehicle.  I remembered taunts and jeers following me as I had walked in from the bus, too.  Almost daily. At night, Tanya and the others woke and we filled them in.  Later, Arkady and Trenton split the watch while Lydia and Tanya scoped out the news channels.

The day after proved to be our last.  I was just pulling the better part of three chickens from the old steel grill I had laid over the fire when I heard Stacia suck in a quick breath of air.  She was in the barn and I was out back, but it still brought my head up.  Quickly piling the chicken onto a platter, I pushed a hungry Awasos out of my way and moved in to where she was working over the borrowed netbook.  Her head turned my way instantly.

“It’s happened!”

“What did you find?” I asked.

“Just came up on the MSN news.  Three cops got mangled in Baltimore during a traffic stop.  The dash cam from the first responding cruiser shows a big gray van, which was reported stolen. Single cop. Two more Baltimore officers came to back him up and all three got slaughtered.  Mauled and mangled, one apparently stomped flat.  Baltimore PD is in an uproar.”

“Sounds like what we’ve been looking for. Let’s get the packing done so that we can leave when the others wake,” I said.

“I’ll start, but you need to read this,” she said, spinning the computer around so that I could see a blog page she had up.

The Cryptic News was the banner and the headline was Hammer of God, part 2.

It’s been a few days, dear readers, since I wrote part 1.  And what a couple of days it’s been.  The power company turned off my electricity without warning, claiming I was past due on my bill.  I wasn’t, but it took an entire morning to get that straightened out.  The IRS sent me a notice that I’m to be audited and someone hacked my website, but trusty Brian had built-in backups so that I could get up and running again.  Sense a pattern here?  I sure do, but that’s just the beginning.

My normally quiet street has been home these last few days to a black sedan filled with men wearing black suits and wearing black sunglasses.  The same sedan seems to appear wherever I happen to be in the city.

I also have other watchers.  There’s a white van driven by two Asian men who seem entirely too interested in my life, and at least two more nondescript vehicles that cling to me like glue.  I hesitate to pin an ethnicity on either of these, but both appear to be foreigners. They all seem to shop at the same sunglass store. That’s just the daytime crew. At night, it gets real interesting.

Another set of watchers comes out after dark.  They don’t use cars and I can’t pick them out the way I can the others.  They just appear out of nowhere.  Exceptionally pale, inexplicably attractive, they are silent and fast, showing up in my favorite coffee shop, local bar, and the deli I live above.  There appear to be two factions: one that seems hostile and the other protective.  Every time a hostile stranger catches me alone in the back of a store or in the ladies room of a restaurant, another one appears.  The second set seems intent on keeping the hostile ones away.  They rarely speak, just a nod to me and then a glower at whoever is acting unpleasant.

What does all this mean?  It’s obvious… I’m on the right track. I’ve found the truth of the matter and it all lies with him and his team.  Powerful forces have taken an interest in my investigation.  Our oh-so-benevolent government is undoubtedly one of the players, but unless I’m mistaken, there are several other global interests involved as well.  And then the others, the ones that remind me most of that beautiful woman in the Youtube video.  You know… the girl with the fangs, the fantastic figure, and the sword who seemingly pounds a military vehicle into scrap.  The one who is always with him.

Here’s what I think:  There are beings among us, beings of power who have always been among us.  Now that we’ve upset the balance of things, disrupted our own etheric world with our technology, these beings are stepping out, at least some of them.  Others are not so happy about that, and neither is old Uncle Sam.  The plot is afoot.  Stay tuned.

“Kinda short this time,” I noted.  “Looks like Brystol stepped in it deep.”

“What’s your take on the nighttime watchers—the two factions?” Stacia asked.

“The Coven wants to talk to her.  Non-Coven want to prevent that,” I said.

“What non-Coven?”

“Our gang.  Maybe Nika’s having her protected,” I said.

“Would Nika be in charge if Tanya, Arkady, Lydia, and you are all gone?”

“Yeah, I think.  And she knew about Brystol, so it makes sense,” I answered, grabbing up the unneeded papers to burn.  Stacia was organizing the stuff she’d found in today’s batch and I headed down below to pack our few belongings and supplies.  The blood went into the bottom of our four big coolers, the perishable food on top, with bags of ice to cool it all down.  We had few changes of clothes so I just picked up the place, swept it, and burned the sweepings.  No sense leaving hair around for any witchy types to use.

Most of the work done, I divvied up the chicken and gave Stacia her plateful.  ‘Sos was already half done with his and occasionally peeking at mine so I chowed down, checking the time while I did so.  Mid-afternoon. Our vamps were several hours from waking up. Marnie’s kids would be almost done with football and cheer practice. Thinking of the kids brought to mind the awful two days Taylor must have had and how awful high school could be in general.

A thought crossed my mind and then re-crossed it, quickly becoming a full-blown idea. I finished my chicken, cleaned my face and hands, and started toward the Accord.  It was older but sportier looking than the Subaru.

“Hold on, hot shot. I’m coming with you.  Put this on and let’s go,” Stacia said, appearing from the basement and tossing me a white t-shirt.  It was a stretchy performance tee that belonged to Trenton.

“It’s Trenton’s and it’ll be too tight,” I protested.

“Nah, just right,” she said with a grin, “if you’re doing what I think you’re doing.”

I noticed she was wearing yoga pants and a crop top shirt that showed her defined abs and highlighted her other assets.

“How do you know what I’m doing?”

“Because it’s who you are.  It’s what you are.  Come on, we’re wasting time.”

Twenty or so minutes later, we were pulling up to the high school athletic fields, being careful to avoid cameras mounted on the school buildings.  Our timing was close to perfect, as by the time we parked near the bleacher section of the football field, cheer practice was winding down and the first of the football players were emerging from the locker rooms.

We got out and approached the fence nearest the girls, quickly spotting Taylor, who was sitting off to one side, looking miserable, a single blonde girl keeping her company.  The main cluster of cheerleaders was laughing and goofing around, either ignoring Taylor or laughing in her direction.

“Hey, Taylor,” I yelled, keeping my attention on her.  Her friend heard me immediately and looked up, as did a few of the cheer girls.  I yelled her name again and this time, I was rewarded with her disbelieving gaze turning my way.

“Lisa and I came to give you and Luke a ride home, if you don’t mind skipping the bus,” I said, loud enough that the other girls could easily hear me, which wasn’t loud at all because I had all their attention.

Taylor hadn’t moved, instead frozen into a disbelieving lump, and it took her friend, who must be the faithful Lori she had mentioned two nights ago, to nudge her into motion.

“Ah, yeah sure.  Thanks, Tony,” she said. She scrambled to her feet, looking utterly klutzy doing it, but it didn’t matter, as everyone in the immediate area, including the adult coach, was looking at Stacia and me.  I spotted Luke moving along toward his sister, watching us and visibly trying to figure out what was going on.  The exact moment he recognized us was obvious by his sudden lurching stop.  Then, just as abruptly, he began to move toward us, noticeably faster than before.

“Ah, are you sure?  I’m not going to get in any trouble?” Taylor said, approaching us, Lori in tow.

“Sure, no problem.  Hey, is this Lori?  We can give her a ride home too if you want.”

“Taylor?  Is everything okay here?” the female coach asked, approaching the four of us.  Probably thirty or so, with dark hair and light hazel eyes, she was wearing khakis and a dark blue polo shirt.

“Sure Coach.  These are the friends of my mom’s who are staying with us… you know: the ones everyone was laughing at me about,” Taylor replied, watching me to be sure what she said was okay.

“Laughing?  Did you tell a joke or something?” I asked, pretending not to understand.

“Oh, you know teen girls.  Always razzing each other about something,” the coach said, looking uncomfortable.

“Well, your squad looks sharp,” I half-complimented her.

The coach was flustered, caught between her pleasure at being complimented and her vestigial sense of responsibility for her students.  She opened her mouth to speak just as I gave her a big smile, and no words came out.  Finally, she shut her mouth and glanced at Stacia, then back at me.

“Well, thanks.  Okay then, girls.  We’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with a quick glance at Lori and Taylor and a longer one at me, complete with smile.  She backed toward the other cheerleaders, who were all frozen into stillness, avidly watching us.

“Hey Luke, Tony and I were in town on errands and thought we’d give you a ride home,” Stacia said to the boy who was now only twenty feet away.

He flushed bright red and glanced quickly at the herd of cheerleaders who were fascinated by the exchange, his feet still moving him closer.

Once he got close enough, he spoke.  “What are you doing?  I thought the leader woman said no talking about you, and here you are?” he asked, his eyes darting between Stacia’s torso, my face, and his sister.

“We’re leaving.  Tonight.  I thought maybe we would give you a lift, to make up for all the hell you’ve been through these last few days,” I said, holding the door open for the two girls.  Luke’s football gear had to go into the trunk, then he climbed in back with his sister and we took off.

Five minutes into the drive back to the farm, I knew I was in trouble.  My link told me that Tanya was both worried and angry at my absence and that my reception was going to be stormy.

The rest of the ride was silent, the kids shocked quiet and me concentrating on what I was going to say.  After dropping Lori off at a small, white clapboard house on the edge of town, we headed straight to the farm.

I pulled to a stop in front of the barn, popping the trunk for Luke as I did so.  The kids headed into the house with only a few worried glances in our direction.  Me, my attention was on the thundercloud waiting for me in the barn.

“What did you do?” was my greeting.

“We’re leaving.  Brianna murdered a bunch of cops in Baltimore,” I said, not really answering the question.

“I know that… it was on the note.  What I don’t know is why you would endanger us by giving some human children a ride home?” Tanya replied.

“Because, Tanya, there is very little justice in the world,” I said, moving past her to the pile of gear and coolers we had left stacked in the shadows of the barn.  Arkady glowered at me from behind my vampire, while Lydia studied both Stacia and I with something akin to worry.  Trenton just looked puzzled.

“What?  What are you talking about?  And why did she go with you?” Tanya demanded.

“He’s talking about the hell on earth that most kids know as high school.  He’s talking about the pain of adolescent torture and having almost no control over your life,” Stacia said, grabbing a big box of dried food to carry to the car.

“So you endangered all of us to give two inconsequential kids a personal popularity boost?” Tanya asked, incredulous. “And you used your slut wolf to help you?”

“We avoided cameras, cops, and people in general, so our exposure was limited.  Inconsequential kids?  Tanya, I was an inconsequential kid.  I was mocked and ridiculed all through middle and high school.  You try to grow up as the kid with the murdered family,” I said, stuffing a duffle bag into the back of the Subaru.

Tanya grabbed my arm and spun me about.  “You’re kidding, right?  You endangered our mission to try and right some adolescent karma?  You seriously need to grow up, Chris.”

I looked down at her hand on my arm, then back up to her amazing blue eyes.  Half my heart was ripping out of my chest but my temper had the best of me.

“I grew up at twelve when I gave up band practice to hunt demons full time.  I grew up at eight when Satan’s spawn chopped my mother, father, and brother to death in front of me.  I’m sorry I’m not the leader you are—that you were literally born to be.  I’m just me.  I don’t have the resources of the world at my disposal, the education of centuries old tutors to help groom me into calculating ruthlessness.  My compass is the set of values that my parents, for the short time I knew them, and my grandfather impressed on me.  I have to do what I think is right,” I said, my voice shaking but quiet.

“Calculating ruthlessness?  I see,” she said.  “You are correct.  I have seriously misjudged you.  Lydia, ride with Chris and her.  Get them into their disguises.  Arkady, you and Trenton are with me,” she said, picking up a bag and sliding into the back of the Honda.

Awasos was already climbing into the Subaru, his tail down between his legs and as soon as I climbed into the back of the car, he snuffled my hair.  Lydia slid in beside me, a bag of makeup in her hands and a set expression on her face.  Stacia climbed into the driver’s seat while Trenton took the wheel of the Accord.  The sun dipped below the horizon just as we left the farm, darkening the sky and all our moods.

Chapter 16

Even though my birthday is Halloween, I haven’t been to a costume party since I was eight.  At least that I remember.  Apparently, I’ve been to a couple over the last few years, but not a single image remains of what must have been some fairly fantastic parties.

So I was interested in the whole makeup process even if my makeup artist was radiating disapproval strong enough to slag lead.  At first, my own temper kept me rigid, but after I calmed down, I tried to study the problem from her point of view.

“So I get it.  She’s the leader of her group, possibly the next ultimate leader of the Coven.  She’s making sacrifices to be with me.  I’m rambling around the local school meeting people and generally trumpeting to the intelligence world exactly where I am.  So she’s mad,” I finally said to the tiny vampire who was gluing something to my face.  She frowned and stopped her overly rough application of latex adhesive, studying me for a moment.

“If you understand, then why did you do it?” she asked after a beat had passed.

“Because, first of all, I took extreme precautions to avoid being captured by any and all cameras.  We drove back roads, approached the school from its least monitored direction, only parked near the football field, and I zapped the one camera that was pointed in our general direction.  I wore sunglasses to hide the purple peepers and we were in and out in less than ten minutes.”

She frowned in a puzzled sort of way.  “You thought it through.  But why take the risk at all?”

“Listen, I don’t know what growing up was like for you or if you remember it all that well, but for me it was quite literally Hell, in many senses of the word. Banishing demons, being ridiculed, exorcising the possessed, being ostracized, visiting the damned and fighting them, sitting alone at lunch.  That was my whole life, and I was pretty sure it was going to end early in a fantastic bloodbath when my luck finally ran out.  And I remember it well, better than I can remember any of this,” I said, waving a hand about.  “So when I can take a few minutes to relieve someone else’s personal Purgatory, doing so in a careful manner, then I will.”

She sat back, visibly reevaluating me.  “But you took her,” she said with a thumb jab at the driver in the front who was flicking glances at us in her rearview.

“He didn’t take me.  I went along.  Never really gave him a choice,” Stacia said.

“Why?” Lydia asked, “Why would you stir up trouble like that?”

“First, Princess Tinkerbell, I went to cover his back.  Who do you think reminded him to wear his sunglasses?  Second, I went through my own little slice of punishment in high school so I understood his motives, but in case you don’t get it, I’ll clue you in… he tries to right wrongs.  Hello, he’s a freaking Angel of God, for God’s sake. And third, I’m not here to worry about Queenie’s feelings, I’m here to help watch over him.”

“But you forget that she too is an Angel of God,” Lydia said.

“Actually, I think she’s the one that forgets that; I certainly don’t.  But ya know, Spike, I never see her do anything angelic or even all that nice.  Makes ya wonder.”

The car was quiet for a bit, Lydia deep in thought as she applied my final touches, shooting little glances at the back of Stacia’s head.  When I was done, we pulled over long enough for me to take over the driving while Stacia got her own makeover.

Pulling back into traffic, I could feel Tanya a mile or so ahead.  Our link had gone hot with anger during our fight, but now it was a cold throb in my head.

“Perhaps this is a bad idea,” I finally said.  “Perhaps I should just do this on my own.  That way, I won’t endanger her people or her.”

Both faces in my rearview snapped my way.  “Now you’re just talking stupid,” Lydia said.

“Am I?” I asked.  “Because if her mission on this world is to lead the vampire race back to God or something like that, then I’m just endangering that.”

“I hate to say it, but Lydia’s right… that’s stupid.  If her actual cause for being is to lead the vampire race back to God, who’s gonna lead her?  You are, Einstein.  That’s why you were paired.  She’s Lailah, the angel of night, sometimes referred to as the angel of conception, which sheds light on how she was born to the vampires, doesn’t it?  But every soul gets free will here on earth and free will among vampires does not usually lead to godly ways.  So you, hotshot, with your particular nature, are the one who shows her the choices she can make.”

I was stunned into silence by that little insight, and I could see Lydia leaning back and staring at Stacia with a truly shocked expression.  Stacia took the pause to check the wrinkles and lines Lydia had been applying to her perfect skin, nodding in approval at the aging of her looks.

“What do you mean?  My particular nature?” I asked.

“Oh please, Chris.  You’re totally self-sacrificing, oblivious to personal danger, and resistant to temptation, though God knows I’ve tried.  I knew what you were going to do for those kids the moment I saw the expression on your face.  You right wrongs.  You fight for the little guy.  Why do you think that Chatterjee chick calls you the Hammer of God?  It’s obvious.”

“But she was afraid of me… when we met?” I asked.

“Please.  As if.  She’s not stupid, well, that stupid anyway.  She admitted being at six different portal closings.  You don’t think she felt it like everyone does when you close portals or banish demons?  She’s your biggest fan, your own personal public relations priestess.  Right, Lydia?”

Lydia was still looking stunned.  “You are a surprise, Reynolds,” she finally admitted.  “Your stupid blonde act is terrifyingly persuasive, because I never, in a thousand years, would have thought you had enough brains to see all that.”

“Thanks, but you’ve got your work cut out if you’re ever gonna make me ugly,” she said, giving me a wink before going back to her critical self-appraisal.

“If he is fated to lead her back to God, then why do you hang around?” Lydia asked.

“I’ll refer you back to my free will comment.  Just because he’s here doesn’t mean she’ll get it right.  She’s messed up a whole bunch of times so far, at least by my count.  If she effs it up completely, which based on this evening’s demonstration could happen, I’ll be here.”

I glanced quickly at Lydia in the mirror, catching her expression flash from shock to despair to a closed-down poker face while she got busy going through her bag of tricks.  I don’t think Lydia rattles easily; in fact, this may have been the first time I’d ever seen it.

The trip to Baltimore took a little over an hour.  Approaching the crime scene while avoiding detection took longer.  All of our faces had been changed, enough to hopefully fool any recognition software.  But we tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible.  According to the details in the news, it had happened in the northeastern part of the city, in a strip mall parking lot off Belair road, which, according to the press, was a bad section of town.  By the time we got there, it was close to eight-thirty in the evening and the bodies had been discovered at three-fifteen in the morning by other police units.  Law enforcement hadn’t held a press conference yet, saying that the crime scene was still being processed.

That was an understatement.  Seventeen hours later and the place was still a zoo. It was crowded with not just local Baltimore resources but FBI crime scene units as well, and the whole area was ringed with press units and gawkers.  That was our approach—the gawker angle.  My full costume consisted of black-rimmed glasses, oily hair, a pudgy acne-covered face and an equally pudgy body dressed in grungy jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt under a faded plaid shirt.  It was a new take on the nerd-slash-geek look minus the Band-Aid-repaired glasses.  The only way to hide my build was to fatten me up, and much of Lydia’s kit had consisted of latex appliances to round out my face and hands.  Special padding in my clothing took care of the rest.  My companion was pretty much the same.  Big horn-rimmed glasses, black unwashed hair in a pair of pony tails, and jeans four sizes larger than her norm, in addition to braces and acne of her own.  Tanya was a geekette—a pear-shaped one, I noted as I followed her through the press to the police tape line.  The parking lot was at one end of a short strip mall and looked like it was either overflow parking or employee parking.  Either way, it was tucked out of the main view of the road, which explained why no one saw exactly what happened.

My pudgy girlfriend found a gap in the line of reporters that opened when one turned to ask another a question, and slid into the spot effortlessly.  The guy reporter was majorly annoyed when he turned back, but we just looked at him blankly when he protested our actions, Tanya chewing her gum in a sloppy manner and me just picking my nose.  He finally turned away in disgust and I settled in to absorb my first look at the crime zone.

It was a frigging mess.  One white and blue cop car was crushed almost flat and the other had its hood dented in a sharp V that looked like the mother of all sledgehammers had come down on it.  Little white tented evidence markers were placed all around the pavement, which was lit bright by big trailered klieg lights.  I saw a Baltimore Police crime scene van and two that had big FBI letters printed on their sides.  A veritable army of law enforcement personnel was still processing the scene all these hours later. An armored SWAT vehicle, a gift no doubt from the military, hulked beside an unmarked sedan and a black SUV.

A cluster of four agents, FBI jackets on their backs, was doing a walk-through, trying to recreate the events that had taken place.  They were having difficulty and after a moment, I knew why.  A vision started to run through my head, and within the first few scenes, it showed me Brianna jumping over one of the cars and spinning in mid-air to land behind a hapless police officer who promptly lost his head… literally.

My vision was interrupted by Grim sliding into control of my body.  His attention was focused on a small Hispanic woman in a blue dress who had moved to within a few yards of us.  She was short and rather unattractive, and something about her was driving Grim crazy.  He was also bothered by a small white Ford Transit flower delivery van parked near a standalone bank branch at the corner of the mall lot.

Whatever was bothering him about those two disparate things was tied to smell.  Whiffs of something too miniscule to identify but hinting at just enough to concern my inner monster.

The door of the Transit opened and a black-suited priest got out.  At that same moment, the Hispanic woman slid a pace closer and the wind changed, giving me/us a smell.  Moving so fast that air displacement blew the Hispanic woman’s wig off, Grim grabbed Tanya and pulled back from the line.

Under the wig was a mannish head that was starting to turn our way as petite hands reached, molasses slow, into a fold of the bright blue dress.

Of much greater concern was the priest who was moving at normal speed—normal to us—around the back of his van.  Everyone on site was moving slow except Tanya, myself, and the priest.  A memory flash blinked across my mind, the body of a priest on the floor of a bedroom, the wall behind him a swirling black doorway to Hell.

I reached the back of the group of onlookers at the same time the priest opened the back door of the little van.  Something black and red flowed out into the well-lit night at about the same moment that a black pistol was just starting to emerge from the assassin-in-drag’s pocket.

Dropping Tanya to land on her feet, Grim pulled a quarter from the belt at my waist, throwing it with a backhand snap at the Smith & Wesson M&P Compact now visible in the assassin’s hand, then turned my attention to the heavy thud of feet as a four-footed demon beast rushed at me, butting bystanders and cops out of its way. Observer-me felt sure Grim would use aura against the monstrous form that was shredding asphalt with its massive claws as it closed the distance.  He didn’t, instead pulling another quarter that he tossed into the air six feet over our head.  The flipping jump that followed put my body upside down another three feet higher than the quarter which was just reaching the top of its toss, the apogee of the arc, when the red and black body crossed underneath it.  My aura-lined hands clapped at the quarter and a streak of white plasma shot straight down at the demon below us.  The beast was faster than I had thought, the explosively formed projectile just catching its rear left foot in a non-fatal blow that still caused it to roll up like a ball and crash into a CBS affiliate news van, crumpling the side like a soda can. Reporters and onlookers dodged and screamed as best they could, all moving as if stuck in quicksand.

Tanya, who had pulled two bowie knives from back sheaths, turned to engage the priest, who had followed his beast demon into the fray.  Dodging her first attack, the thin, bony priest smiled maniacally as he casually picked up a fat male bystander—who had to go three hundred pounds—and threw him at my vampire.  I saw her dodge the portly projectile, her left hand somehow grabbing the fat man’s jacket as he went by and changing his potentially fatal flight into a swinging arc that left him rolling across the tarmac with bruises and a torn collar.  How she did that without dropping the Bowie in her hand, I don’t know.  A slim figure shot through the crowd, sliding around between—and in some cases over—bystanders like an eel in weeds.  Trenton had arrived to help his queen.

My attention refocused on the monster that was now unfolding from its roll, shaking the damaged back leg but staring with red viper eyes at me.  It was big, real big.  Like rhinoceros big, but shaped like a bull, if in fact, bulls were covered in red and black scales, had an eight-foot tail tipped with a bony knob, and weighed two tons.  Then there was its head. A forest of needle-tipped spikes grew straight from the bony face and forehead, framing the red eyes.  Two to three feet long, they guaranteed impalement to anything that came at the demon head on.

Pawing the ground with one foot, scraping up chunks of asphalt before leaping forward, straight at me.  I jumped up and to my right, but the monster had been paying attention.  It stopped abruptly, curving its body into a sharp C shape and snapping its tail in an arc.

I remember being fascinated with the squat, bony ankylosaurus dinosaurs as a kid.  You know the one, all covered in sheets of bone, with the huge knobby block of a tail. It was often depicted in models or pictures smacking T-rex with that bony bludgeon. I always wondered how hard it could hit with that tail.  I found out.

The block of bone at the end of its built-in-flail hit my shoulder and collarbone at a downward angle like a cannon shell.  I felt bone crunch as my in-flight progress to the right stopped and reversed direction abruptly.  Slamming into a parked car, I heard more than felt a couple more bones break, probably in my spine.  It takes a lot to break my bones these days. The car broke, too.

My shoulder and collarbone were almost fully healed when the demon arrived at my landing spot.  My spine wasn’t nearly as patched up as I would have liked it.  One of the handy things about Grim is that he just blocks all pain, pretty much shutting down the nerve endings almost completely.  So when he forced my body to jackknife my legs up and roll backward over the roof of the partially crushed Cadillac CTS, it didn’t hurt like it should have, even though the partially rebuilt vertebrae were all rubbing together in my back.

Spike-face hit the car right where my torso had been, his face pikes punching through the metal without any real resistance.  For just a moment, he was left wearing a steel face mask that wouldn’t come off.  In the same moment, a black-and-tan-furred car-sized bear entered the fight by landing on its back, slamming the massive demon flat on the ground.  As I rolled to my feet, I saw two blurring-fast paw strikes hit the hell beast’s neck from either side, causing some bone crunching of their own.

A glance sideways showed Tanya sparring with the priest, whose arms had somehow become praying mantis claws armored in red chitin. Her foot-long knife blades were being blocked at every strike.  Trenton moved to attack from behind but caught a backclaw strike that threw him twenty feet.  Arkady, having been regulated to staying with the cars due to his un-disguisable size, was bounding from car top to car top to get to the fight.

Spine realigned, I moved forward to help with the coup de grace on the spike bull, but I was too slow.  Bucking its body upward, it flung my thirteen-hundred-pound were bear through the air to land on the asphalt, crumpling the pavement in a twelve foot circle.  A regular bear would have been severely injured. Awasos, not so much.  He rolled upright and roared, enraged at being thrown by another opponent.

His roar captured the demon bull’s complete attention, which let me leap to its neck, my left hand holding one of the spikes jutting from its face, my right wreathed in aura.  Spearing my right hand down, I went for its brain cavity… and failed to even scratch its bony plating.  My mono edge had cut everything I’d ever tried it against, but it bounced right off the demon’s hide.

Grim accessed another memory; me standing between Lydia and a pair of glowing red eyes seven feet off the ground, a shield of aura pressing against a monstrous bearish outline and having little or no effect.

Not one to spend a whole lot of time reminiscing in the midst of combat, Grim improvised.  My body Clung to the bucking bull from Hell while my left hand pulled against the horn it was gripping.  The face spear was super hard, but not so flexible.  It snapped at the base and the bull let out a bellow of pain, increasing its bucking like a mechanical bull on a power overload.  People were still running, screaming and getting trampled. Several cops took shots at the monster despite me being on its back.  When a bullet glanced off the red and black hide and tweaked my leg, Grim called an audible and sent an aura burst out to disable the guns around us.

Hell bull used the distraction to flick his head, jarring my newly healed spine but failing to dislodge me as I jammed the three-foot length of horn right through his neck. Its bellow changed to a deeper tone, this one conveying both outrage and fear. It tried to roll over on me, but a half ton of pissed-off bear slammed into its side, keeping it upright while his diamond-hard claws tore into its flank.

Two more horns snapped under my hands, one punching through his skull and the other his shoulder, his body freezing up into a shuddering immobility while Awasos continued his gruesome disembowelment.  Bellowing one final time, the beast timbered over, crushing an unfortunate bystander.  Shaking, it finally collapsed, a greasy black torrent beginning to flow from its nostrils.  The inky ooze moved on its own until my left hand grabbed and flung the whole brimstone-smelling, garbage-can-sized mess up into the air.  Kirby came at my mental call, grabbing the massive blackness with both taloned feet, flapping giant shadow wings against the metaphysical weight of the demon.  Then he was gone.

As I turned to my vampire’s fight, I noticed that the hapless victim under the bull was the dress-wearing assassin who had kicked off the whole fight.  He was staring at me with eyes that quickly dimmed of life.

The priest was weaving a herky-jerky combat dance that looked awkward but was effectively holding the most dangerous fighter alive at bay while avoiding Arkady’s attempts to cut him in half.

I took the opportunity to snap off two more spikes, both about three feet long.  Waiting for my moment, I threw the first like a javelin, straight for the priest’s back.  The black spike of super-hard demon bone shot like a missile, only to get knocked off target by a blurring mantis claw.  The spear sliced through a police cruiser’s trunk, its point coming out the bottom and sticking into the asphalt below.  The priest demon was fast enough to simultaneously block my best throw and Tanya’s righthand Bowie swing at his feet, his thin body jumping and spinning at the same time.  He wasn’t, however, able to stop her left knife blade from slicing through his spine right at the waist.  Our link had stepped up to combat levels and the demon lord inhabiting the priest’s body wasn’t fighting two combatants, but one entity with two bodies.  Even as her foot-long blade cut deep into his lower back, my second spike was spearing through his torso with enough force to pin him to a CNN news truck.  For a moment, he looked like a bug pinned to an entomologist’s collection board, mantis arms waving all over.  But the moment was brief… a mere micro second, as Tanya and Arkady took him apart with their blades in a flashing ginsu-on-steroids blur of steel.

The essence of the demon roiled forth from the priest’s mouth, a cloud as big as the news van, bigger than any demon I had ever seen before.  I raced toward it, but the Devil hadn’t sent a lowly pawn on this mission.  The cloud shot into the body of a policeman who was standing open-mouthed, the greasy cloud pouring into his ears, nose, and mouth.  A split second was all it took for the Hell lord to take possession of the cop’s body and all his cop gear.  I threw aura at the handgun that blurred from its holster.  Calling >Kirby< mentally as I arrived, I grabbed the cop and threw his body up into the waiting claws of the Collector.  Talons of smoke clutched right through the chest then slid like vapor through the solid mass of the cop’s body, letting it fall back to earth and leaving a writhing mass of black that fought the raptor with all its might.  With a screech of anger, the God raptor flashed out of our world, taking the demon lord with it.

For a brief moment, the scene was still, the flashing lights of a half-dozen emergency vehicles the only motion.  The screaming began, as human-slow perceptions caught up to events, processing the unreal scene as best they could.  Shocked silence gave way to painful cries and angry shouts as both adrenaline and pain hit the police and reporters and the wounded of both.

Tanya moved to check on Trenton, who was still lying among a couple of bystanders who were trying to rouse him.  A man in a dark mechanic’s coverall was shaking Trenton’s shoulder when she got there and he just backed away, eyes wide, while a woman in a business suit took a step away.  Ignoring them, she turned her attention to Trenton, missing the mixed flash of fear and determination that crossed the mechanic’s face.  She also missed the hypodermic that the mechanic jabbed into her neck.

Pain flooded my link, bringing me to my knees.  She was burning up, searing from the inside out as the poison raced through her veins.  A ghost image of Tanya clutching her face in agony as silver powder burned her flashed through my mind. Mercifully, she passed out and the haze of agony diminished as she did.

The mechanic and the businesswoman grabbed my stricken vampire and hauled her limp body toward the SWAT tank, the armed response team opening the doors.

Something inside me clicked free, a release of constraint.  The part of me that observes things when Grim is out felt it… like the safety of a gun snicking off or maybe the twist of the arming keys for a nuclear launch.

They were fifty yards away but I was there in an eyeblink, reaching the armored vehicle as the mechanic slammed the heavy rear door shut. I threw him out of my way, not looking where he landed because the driver shifted into gear and the assault vehicle started to rumble forward.  An object arced out of the crowd, a high def digital video camera, professional grade, and smashed into the armored glass windshield hard enough to create a small spiderweb of cracks and cause the driver to veer into a cop car.  A glance at the crowd showed a platinum blonde figure standing fifty feet away, a camera-less cameraman at her feet, the Chatterjee girl by her side.  The camera had to weigh thirty pounds, but Stacia had thrown it like a baseball, causing enough distraction for Grim to go to work.

The word MRAP popped through my head as we/he/I surveyed the object holding my vampire hostage.  He rejected the tires as targets because the six-wheeled vehicle was likely designed to run with flat tires or without any at all.  The monster vehicle had to go over 40,000 pounds and was over ten feet tall.  Grim went through its side.  Mono-edged hands together like we were diving in a competition instead of through thick armor.  My body Posted to the ground as my hands started to peel the metal.  The driver shifted to reverse and gunned the big diesel, backing the armored car and simultaneously ripping his side armor to shreds on my two-handed can opener.  An M4 barrel poked out the tear in the armor and Grim grabbed it one handed, crushed the barrel, and pulled the gun and the officer attached to it out of the mini tank.  The gun went off, the barrel burst, and the cop flew into the crowd, while we/I/him flowed into the Mine Resistant, Ambush Protected cop car and sorted out the four officers remaining.  That took almost exactly two seconds and left them in various states of injury, but all alive.  I slung Tanya over my left shoulder and slid back out of the MRAP.

Fifteen cops and agents with guns all pointed at me pulled their triggers simultaneously.  I jumped, sent an aura burst through their weapons, and landed behind them, right in the middle of the four FBI agents who seemed in charge.  I grabbed one by the back of his neck, and despite the fact that he was six-four to my five-ten, put him down in front of me like a child.

“If you start shooting, I start killing,” my mouth said in a voice that would have scared the demon priest.

The three agents still standing looked from me to the ripped-open MRAP where the previously beat up SWAT guys and the driver were now gunshot and moaning from ricocheting friendly fire. They looked to the fifteen cops all trying to get their guns to fire a second time.  Two of the agents turned to the third, who was looking at the big guy I was holding effortlessly by the neck.

Arkady arrived in a rush of air, standing just behind me.  Grim handed Tanya to him, releasing the agent on the ground.  Still watching the lead fed, Grim plucked a folding tactical knife from the ground agent’s pocket as he stood up, sliced my left wrist, and put it to Tanya’s mouth.  Even unconscious from the silver mixture in her veins, her instincts responded, sucking down my blood in gulps.

Lydia popped up at my other side, looking first at Tanya then at the agents.

“Okay Elliot Ness, let’s chew this over.  The ones that killed the original three cops?  They would be the melting bull thing and the priest from Hell.  We took them out for you, thank you very much, and he sent them back to Hell. So what do you guys do?  You poison his girlfriend.  Dick move, J. Edgar.  Now he’s pissed, like really, really pissed.  Last time he was this mad, an entire forest in New Hampshire got blasted into ash,” she said, her words loud enough that the entire disheveled crowd of reporters, onlookers, and cops could hear her. “So far, he’s only torn up your Tonka toy, but my impression is that his patience is gone.  Every time we step in and save peoples’ asses from demons, which is what those things were by the way, you federal government types attack us, try to murder us,” she said, waving at Tanya’s gulping form.  “It’s as if you’ve declared war on us.  Is that what you want?  War with the only people that can defend this country from the beings your own scientists have opened the door for?  Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll just back away and let this play out.  So how about it, Agent? Wanna see why they codenamed him Brutal Asset?”

Pale blue eyes that couldn’t get any wider flicked from Lydia to me, sweat glistening on his forehead.  I felt Trenton and Stacia’s approach, Grim’s senses tracking all the movement in the area.  A red dot flashed across Lydia’s body and Grim responded in a new way, using a combination of vampire power and aura I had never seen before.  A hundred yards away, on the top of the bank branch, a previously hidden police sharp shooter suddenly flew off the roof, arms and legs flailing before landing on shrubbery.

The head fed came to a rapid conclusion.  “Guns down, now. We’re letting them leave,” he said loudly. For a second, there was no sound except the whir of digital cameras running, the television crews still capturing the events live.

Arkady, Trenton, and Lydia left in a rush of air, leaving me standing with Stacia just behind me. I sensed her turning and leaving at a regular pace, Awasos moving up alongside her.  Grim kept mental overwatch as I picked my way through the crowd, ignoring the fearful eyes while I first pulled the bull spike from the cop car and then the other one from the remains of the pinned priest’s body, letting the corpse collapse to the ground, grotesque mantis arms beginning to melt.  The Hell bull itself was steaming, popping, and sputtering as it melted into goo, taking its spikes with it.  The two spikes I held, however, showed no signs of evaporating and my dark half wanted them.

I took a moment to look over the field of battle, my gaze pausing for a moment on the Chatterjee girl’s face before turning and following my people into the dark.

Chapter 17

“Welcome back to our special coverage of the events in Baltimore last night.  You’ve seen the footage from our camera crew; some of you may have been watching it live last night when we interrupted normal programming to bring it to you.

“Our next guest was right in the middle of the events and she’s the first person to offer an explanation, although we’ll warn you right now that her ideas are beyond disturbing.  CBS and its affiliates, producers, and officers want to make it clear that we are in no way endorsing her theories.  Please welcome Miss Brystol Chatterjee.  Brystol, welcome.”

“Thanks Keith, Melissa.  It’s great to be here.”

“You’re a journalist, isn’t that right? With your own blog?”

“Yes Melissa, that’s correct.  It’s called the Cryptic News.  It’s what some call fringe journalism.”

“Fringe as in supernatural?”

“Yes, Keith.  I investigate anything paranormal or supernatural.  Most of it I debunk.  Some turns out to be real.”

“And your investigation brought you to Baltimore?”

“Yes.  I’ve been investigating a big increase in unexplained violent behavior in normal, noncriminal individuals that I feel is demonically influenced.  A series of crimes led me to the individuals in the footage you have, first in New York City, then New Jersey, and finally, last night in Baltimore.”

“Brystol, you say demons like it’s an accepted thing.”

“Well, Melissa, it is to me.  If you’d seen the crime scenes I have and witnessed the events in New Jersey and Baltimore firsthand, you might believe as well.”

“Let’s get back to last night.  Most of the footage is too blurred to tell what’s happening at first, but at the end, we see an individual attack a police armored vehicle, basically a mini-tank, with just his bare hands and tear it open.”

“The footage you’ve shown is blurred because the action is taking place too fast for the camera to properly record.  You have to record at ultra-high speed to make any sense of it, Keith.”

“And you’ve brought your own footage today that does just that, correct?”

“Yes, Keith.  Brian, my cameraman, was filming the background with twin-mounted cameras.  One high def and the other on standby, a high speed model.”

“He was actually filming you from across the parking lot and not the crime scene.  Why?”

“Because, Melissa, I felt strongly that the people in question would show up and I hoped to contact them again.”

“Again?  You’ve met them before?”

“Yes Keith, I met two of them, but before we talk about that, maybe we could show the footage.  No one else has seen it yet, just me and Brian.”

“Of course.  Let’s roll it.”

Brystol was sitting at a big, three-sided table with the anchors, a flatscreen set up next to her and her own set of video controls by her hands. The flatscreen showed a green-tinted camera view that had Brystol centered in the view.  A different cameraman stood near her, his own camera scanning the crowd of onlookers and reporters.  Suddenly he stiffened, visibly locking down on something.  Brian’s camera view shifted toward where the other cameraman was looking and I recognized myself in my geek disguise.  The flower van was visible behind me.  The assassin in drag suddenly turned my way and started to draw his gun, then the footage blurred.

“Okay, here comes the high speed part.  We’ve slowed it down as much as possible, and it took Brian a few moments to activate the other camera.”

The new scene didn’t have the green tint and was just a bit dark, but you could see me flipping myself over the bull monster and the flash of light from my coin, then the monster rolled.

“It’s hard to follow, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Melissa, it’s a little tough but after a couple of times through it, you begin to see what’s going on.  See, what I think is happening at first is that person in the dress, who isn’t a woman, figures out that the nerd isn’t a nerd.  That sorta kicks off all the action.”

“How did they figure it out, Brystol?”

“The camera guy next to me was running a thermal unit.  Our mystery guy runs at a much higher body temperature than the rest of us, Keith.  I think he alerted the dress guy with a micro radio.”

“How do you know that, Brystol?”

She bent down below the anchors’ desk and pulled up a battered camera.

“Remember the part where the old lady next to me knocked over the camera man and threw his camera at the armored car?  This is that camera, and it’s not a standard camera.”

“Hey Carl?  Carl? Come look at this unit. Carl’s one of our senior cameramen,” Keith said.

A balding man in khakis wearing a headset walked onto the set, a bit hesitant, but nonetheless examined the camera.

“She’s right.  It’s been dressed up to look like a commercial camera.”

“There’s an output slot right next to the handgrip.  Here’s a patch cord.  I can show you what’s on it.”

Deftly connecting the cord that Brystol helpfully provided, Carl the camera expert turned on the camera and a new scene opened on the television monitor.  Oranges and reds mixed with gray and black spread uniformly across the crowd, till one figure lit up the camera with whites and yellows.  The figure is me.

“You can see how bright he shines.  Makes disguises tough.”

“Who is he Brystol?”

“He’s a young ex-cop, Keith.  His name is Chris Gordon and I think he’s the one the government keeps trying to kill.”

“Kill?  As in assassinate?  Brystol, that’s a serious charge to make.  Do you have proof?”

“Do I have copies of signed kill orders?  No Melissa, I don’t.  I have now seen Chris on eight crime scenes like this one.  And I believe he was brought in by law enforcement.   Each time, he’s gone into scenes that have been locked down and treated like quarantine sites and when he comes out, the police flood in like he’s removed whatever contaminant was present.  Many times, gunshots are heard when he’s inside with his crew.  At the Jersey site, I spoke, off record, with several officers who witnessed all the events.  NSA agents tried to take him into custody.  They failed.  Almost immediately, a US Navy sub launched a Tomahawk missile that should have blown that part of the Pine Barrens to dust.  My eyewitnesses say that Gordon was the first to be aware of the missile and they believe he did something to crash it. Apparently so did the NSA agents, who stopped trying to apprehend him.  Now you have this footage, Melissa.”

“So you think it was a trap?”

“Traps.  One by the feds, the other by the priest thing and his pet.  Both failed.”

“But Brystol, he threatened to kill police officers and federal agents.  It’s on the tape.”

“Keith, when a country declares war, they should be prepared to lose soldiers.”

“They were cops, Brystol, not soldiers.”

“Semantics, Melissa.  They dress like soldiers, carry assault weapons, and tried to shoot him after assassins poisoned his girlfriend.   And despite all that, he still didn’t kill any cops.  Even the one that was possessed is apparently alive and in the hospital.”

“So you believe that the priest somehow possessed the police officer?”

“Don’t you, Keith?  You’ve seen the footage.  Let me roll the rest of our slowed down version and you tell me what you believe.”

The monitor played through the fight with the bull and the priest, then shifted to normal speed as Kirby pulled the demons to Hell, one at a time. The poisoning of Tanya and my altercation with the armored car rolled out, all from Brian’s vantage point.

“Can you slow down the part where he goes from back there to over by the tank thing?”

“It is slowed down, Melissa.  We can’t get it any slower.”

“That’s incredible.  One second, he’s over there and then he just appears over by the MRAP.  Like he teleported or something.  Tell me, Brystol, have you met him?”

“Yes, Keith, I have.  I sat across a table from him a week ago.”

“He seems really intense in a serial killer way.  How frightened were you?”

“At first I was pretty scared, but I think we are seeing his fighting face.  Scary as hell.  Normally, he’s surprisingly mild.  Here, this is a photo I took right after our meeting as he was leaving.”

A still photo of me and ‘Sos with the kids outside the restaurant appeared on the screen.  I was smiling, squatted down next to ‘Sos while the kids petted his thick fur.

“Whoa.”

“You’re right, Melissa. Look at the size of that wolf.”

“Wolf? Oh yeah, Keith, that’s a big wolf alright.  Brystol, I don’t think I would characterize him as normal or mild looking, but that is a whole lot of a different look.”

“Brystol, what’s up with the wolf and the bear?  Where do they come from?”

“Good question, Keith.  But I’ll point out to you that the two animals have exactly the same markings and you never see them together.”

“You’re right about the markings, but what do you mean about being together?”

“No one ever saw Clark Kent and Superman together, or Peter Parker and Spiderman.  Just pointing out that I often see the wolf, and sometimes the bear appears, then is gone and the wolf is back.  Odd, right?”

“The whole thing is beyond odd, Brystol, including your use of comic book heroes.  Tell us your real impression of what’s happening?”

“I think that demons and vampires are real.  I used to think that he was part demon, but not anymore.  I think he’s here to help us… to protect us from our own folly.  I think that particle physics experiments have opened doorways to Hell and until they’re closed, we are all in danger.

“I think that religion has fallen out of favor at a time when we need it most.  But he’s here and he can close the Hellgates and send the demons back to Hell.  I think our own politicians are afraid of him, mostly because some group took a kid who’s important to him and he punished them… with a rock from space.  I think the US government is trying to kill him, and we don’t have many chances left with him.”

“You think he’s somehow responsible for the asteroid that hit New Hampshire?”

“You heard the woman standing next to him, right, Keith?  She flat-out says it.  Then there’s the satellite that happened to fall out of space right into the same spot in the ocean where the sub launched the missile.  Too many coincidences, don’t you think?”

“How could a human make an asteroid fall from space?”

“Who, Melissa, ever said he was human?  Can a human rip open a tank with his hands?  Can a human move so fast that it takes ultra-high speed recording to see his movements? Can a human banish demons with nothing but his will?  I find that harder to believe than the fact that he somehow did them.”

“If he’s not human, what is he? Surely you aren’t going to say he’s a vampire?”

“No, that’s what his girlfriend is.  He’s something else.  I don’t know what, but I’ll tell you this… if demons and vampires are real, what else is, too?  Werewolves?  Witches?  Angels?”

“You’re suggesting he’s one of those?”

“Then you tell me, Keith.  You tell me.”

They stared at her in silence before Melissa suddenly flinched and touched her ear, turning back to the camera.

“Our guest today has been Brystol Chatterjee.  You can catch her blog at the Cryptic Review.  Thanks, Brystol.”

“Thank you, Melissa… Keith.”

“When we come back from break, we’ll check in with our very own Chuck Upton at the White House, where he’s awaiting the news conference by President Garth.”

Lydia clicked off the volume and turned back to where Tanya and I were lying on the motel bed.  The drapes were all shut tight, keeping out the slight gray of light that was an October morning in Maryland.  We had driven till we were only miles from Baltimore, finding a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere.  Trenton, in a hasty disguise, had rented two rooms with a connecting door under an unused alias and credit card.  Tanya was leaning back against me, a small trace of my blood on her lips from her third feeding.  Woozy and weak, she was nonetheless on the mend from the silver solution that had been pumped into her neck.  Arkady filled one small desk chair, his bulk threatening to crush it flat.  Stacia sat on the other queen bed, which she had shared with Lydia while we watched Brystol’s interview.  Trenton was asleep in the other room, having spent the last few hours on watch.  ‘Sos took up the space between the beds, noisily crunching the chicken bones from the four KFC buckets that Stacia, he, and I had consumed.

“That was about as good as you could hope for,” Lydia said before turning a thoughtful gaze on Stacia.

“What?  I thought she might be useful,” the wolf girl said.

“Oh, that was useful.  More than useful.  She was brilliant,” Lydia said.

“Explain, smallest one,” Arkady rumbled.

“For once, we are slightly ahead of the curve against an enemy.  The President has declared war on Chris and, by default, the rest of us.  Actually launching attacks against us.  They’ve failed and that Chatterjee girl has put us out there into the realm of public opinion in the most positive light you could… as defenders of the people.  I think we can expect an image attack in the President’s speech, one designed by Alexis Bishop to discredit and alienate Chris and the rest of us.  Chatterjee actually preempted that.”

“We need to proceed with the rest,” Tanya said, stirring sluggishly.

“I will contact Nika and tell her to let Chet off his chain.  He had a whole bunch of videos edited and cued up for release to social media before we bolted.  I’ll have him send some anonymously to Brystol and put some up directly on the web,” Lydia said, rummaging in her small travel duffle and producing a small black pouch.  Unsealing it, she pulled out a prepaid cell phone, turned it on, punched in a text, and hit send.

“Hashtag that beeoch,” she said quietly, turning off the phone and pulling its battery before resealing it into the pouch.

“Can’t the NSA track stuff like that?” Stacia asked.

“I tweeted a bland message on a fake Twitter feed that has all of five followers.  All of those followers will retweet the message, which will be picked up by about twenty followers each, all of whom will retweet to their followers.  Somewhere down the line, maybe ten passes in, it’ll be read by one of our people and get to Nika and Chet by word of mouth.  If the NSA can figure out that it was a significant message from their most wanted fugitive, backtrack to the thirty-second interval where the phone was active, then they should be here already,” Lydia said.

There was a knock on the door as she finished talking.

Chapter 18

Almost instantly, I was standing beside the bed, my vampire in my arms and checking Grim’s 3D mental radar. The others were all equally alert, looking at me expectantly.

“Two people, alone.  Neither is human, but I’m not sure what they are.  Both armed, but I think blades, not guns.  Male and female,” I reported, my voice Grim deep.

“Put me down, Christian,” Tanya said, “They aren’t NSA.”

I hesitated and she gave me a look.  I put her down, but did so in a manner that left her slightly behind me. Looking at the others, I saw that Arkady had a sword in hand, Trenton was standing by the pass-through door, a tomahawk in his right fist, and Stacia had produced a small, sawn-off double barrel shotgun from her clothes bag.  She saw my look and smiled.

“It’s all about the accessories, Chris,” she said.

Still Grim-faced, I moved forward a step, mono-edging my left hand while my right hand pulled a pair of quarters off the nightstand.  Ready, I nodded at Arkady, who strode to the door and pulled it open, the thin wood shuddering under his grip.

Two people stood in the doorway.  The man was slightly shorter than I, maybe five-nine and lean.  The female had to go six-one and was built like a professional wrestler.  He was black and she was olive toned, maybe of Mediterranean descent.

“Hey big guy, miss me?” the woman asked, eyes glued to Arkady, a slightly snarky smile on her face.  The guy ignored Arkady and instead scanned the room, taking in Trenton, Lydia, and Stacia before locking on Tanya and me.  He studied me for a brief second, then concentrated on Tanya.

“Your presence is commanded by the Elders of the Coven,” he said sternly before adding a respectful, “ma’am.”

“Iris, Kagen.  How did you find us?” Arkady asked, not budging an inch.

“Your telepath, Nika, was persuaded that it would be in your best interests to be found.  She seemed to be able to lock in on you,” Kagen said.

“Yeah, which is interesting, because none of the Elders’ telepaths could do it,” Iris said, ignoring the glare that her companion sent her way. She started to shove her way through the door but the two quarters in my hand blew through either side of the doorframe, two half-inch holes appearing instantly.

Ever so slightly startled, she glanced at the damaged doorframe and then at me with arched eyebrows.

“Hmm, interesting. Gonna kill us with cold hard cash?”

“Don’t toy with him, Iris.  He doesn’t know you, has little regard for the Elders, and will kill anything that he thinks is a threat to her.  He beat Hosakawa,” Arkady said.

“Oh, so we have ourselves a badass, do we?” she asked, still appearing to be amused.

Arkady grunted and chin-pointed out the door behind her.  When she turned, she got an eyeful of the half-ton of fur and claws standing in the parking lot by the Porsche that had to belong to them.  ‘Sos had been hanging out in the back of the Subaru, the motel rooms a bit too crowded. Now he was in bear form.

“What, exactly, does my grandmother want, Kagen?” Tanya asked.

“The Elders want an explanation regarding your exposure of Darkkin to the human media… before rendering judgment,” he answered.

“I thought so.  Tell them maybe later.  We’re a bit too busy for a face to face.  All three are here?  In Baltimore?”

Kagen’s expression was part outrage and part discomfort.  “No, they are not physically present in Baltimore.”

“So how were we to meet with them?” I asked, juggling two more quarters in my right hand.

“Probably Skype or some other teleconference, Chris.  Right, Kagen?  Because I have a hard time thinking they would dare be here in person,” Lydia said.

“We have a conference facility nearby,” Kagen admitted.

“Sooo, are you refusing a command to appear?” Iris asked, looking back at Tanya.

“I’m refusing to acknowledge they have the authority to make me appear, Rover Iris.  I thought I was fairly clear about our status with the Coven when we parted ways.  I’ll repeat myself, if only for your benefit.  We have separated from the Coven, creating our own nation of Darkkin.”

“And how’s that working out for ya?” Iris asked, eyeing the decrepit motel room.

“Actually, we were just discussing our position in the latest negotiations with the US government.  It’s better than we expected.”

“Really?  Because it looks pretty bad from outside,” Iris said, moving slowly into the room.  She pressed one hand flat on Arkady’s massive chest, giving him a wink before turning toward Lydia and Stacia.  “But I see you are keeping pets,” she added, studying Stacia.

I didn’t like her and I still didn’t know what she and her partner were.  There was enough daylight outside that it should have bothered them, but they ignored the dawn’s light while I could see it beginning to affect Lydia, Arkady, and Trenton.

“What we’re doing is fighting to close out the demon gates.  Miss Reynolds is our liaison with the New York Pack, which has assisted us in this battle.  How’s Europe, Asia, and the rest of Coven territory doing?” Tanya asked.

“That’s outside of our responsibilities, Miss Demidova,” Kagen answered, then turned suddenly when he felt ‘Sos’s form fill the doorway behind him.

“So what happens now?  We’re not complying with your demands.  Did you bring enough Rovers with you?” Tanya asked.

“There are no others within a half mile,” I said, consulting Grim.

Iris looked at me curiously, then spoke to Tanya.  “We’ve never required backup.”  Then she blurred, straight at Stacia.

Starting from only six feet away, she had a grip on the shotgun barrel before Stacia could fire, using greater leverage to twist it away.  That’s as far as she got before I had her by the throat with my right hand, both quarters pressed against her skin.  The smoke and burned flesh odor started immediately, even as I spent a moment recapturing the shotgun.  After that, I lifted her off the floor and slammed her on the bed, taking a moment to look at Kagen.

He stood stock-still, his head gripped in giant bear jaws that could crush his skull with a twitch.  The eighteen-inch blade he had produced from somewhere was locked against his side by Arkady’s huge hand on his wrist.

“These quarters are pre-1964.  Got some silver in them.  Burns a bit, don’t it?” I asked.

“Chris, please don’t kill Grandmother’s pet dhampirs,” Tanya said.

“Dhampirs? Really?  Like Wesley Snipes in Blade?” I asked.

“Pretty much.  They’re very rare, and Grandmother likes to think they’re special.”

I took Iris’s sword, the knife she had on her leg, the one at the back of her waist, and the three darts stuck in her hairdo.  Then I let her up, pulling the quarters from her seared skin.

Arkady pulled the sword from Kagen’s hand and nodded to Awasos, who opened his jaws and head-butted the male dhampir forward.

Iris sat up, rubbing her throat, her eyes flashing fire, as I went to hand the shotgun back to Stacia.  The were girl shook her head, too angry to speak, and held up both hands, which were now white furred, two times larger than normal, and equipped with three-inch, razor sharp claws.

“I’ll just go with these if the daywalker wants to continue our little girl chat,” she said, never taking her eyes off Iris.

“Hmmpf.  Dog’s got some tricks,” Iris said.

“Knock it off, Iris.  Your point is well made, Miss Demidova,” Kagen said.

“Is it?  I’m not sure.  That was hardly a demonstration, Kagen.  Barely a scuffle.  But then, Grandmother knew that when she sent you, even if you didn’t.  You see, Kagen, your survival today was more about me understanding your place in her menagerie than any supposed skills on your part,” Tanya said. “So let’s chat with the old lady.  Where’s your phone?”

He had something better… a tablet with cellular connectivity.

The two dhampirs sat on one bed, Awasos sitting in front of them, Stacia and Trenton behind them.  Trent had his tomahawk in hand and Stacia had kept her clawed hands, which Iris pretended to ignore.  Kagen looked mostly angry as he stared at ‘Sos, which curiously almost matched Stacia’s expression as she glared at the back of Iris’s head.

Lydia, Tanya, and I were on the other bed, the tablet set up in front of us.

Calling Senka was easy, as her number was the only one in the contact list.

The view of ourselves on the camera was suddenly replaced by one of Senka, a tiny shot of us now visible in the upper corner.

“Ah, Tanya.  I guessed right,” Senka said, looking triumphantly off screen at someone else. “I take it that you declined the conference facility?”

“Yes, Senka.  As I told your lackey, we’re far too busy to take time out for field trips,” Tanya replied.

Her millennium-old grandmother, who looked maybe thirty, frowned, moved her own tablet till the picture included two other female vampires, one tiny and Asian, the other a brunette European type.

“Tzao. Mausya,” Tanya said, her tone flat.

“Tatiana.  Christian,” Mausya said, ignoring Lydia completely.  Tzao said nothing.

“Why, Tatiana?  Why have you placed us in this position?” Senka asked.

“What exact position did I place you in?”

“Don’t dissemble, dear.  You’ve blatantly exposed us.”

“Did I?  Because I don’t recall biting anyone’s neck on national television.  I did display superhuman abilities, but in the age of CGI, it isn’t conclusive,” Tanya said.

“What about your most recent display?”

“You mean the one where we almost got beat by a pair of high ranking demons?”

“And where Christian tore open a military vehicle with his hands,” Senka said. “And you drank from his wrist.”

“That still doesn’t out the Coven.”

“In a week’s time, you’ve provided more evidence and fueled more speculation than the last six hundred years.  Entire factions of the Coven want you either severely punished or executed.”

Kagen, the dhampir, was staring daggers at my were bear-wolf, occasionally wiping the sides of his head where Awasos’s jaws had clutched it.  He pointed a finger at ‘Sos.  “I hunt things like you,” he said very quietly. I tried to ignore his comments and focus on the tablet.

“Half the comments on those Youtube videos are debunking it.  The rest sound like monster hunter nuts,” Tanya said. “But ultimately, Grandmother, the federal government itself will expose our existence.  So yes, we’ve thrown gas on the fire.  It was you that taught me it is better to control the release of information even when you would prefer not to.  So demons have exposed themselves, the feds have attempted to use excessive military force, and yes, we’ve demonstrated abilities that in other times were best kept secret.  This way, we can help form public opinion before our opponents do.”

“Tatiana dear, it’s running on mainstream media,” Senka said. “My White House sources tell me that the President will name you terrorists at this morning’s press conference.”

“I’ve got a ten gauge in the car with silver slugs just for you,” Kagen said quietly to Awasos.  He was starting to piss me off.

“Then it is good that multiple videos are out there showing us protecting people from demons, isn’t it?”

“About that… Christian, just what is going on with these portals?” Senka asked.

My attention was torn between Kagen, who was making pistol motions with his thumb and index finger at ‘Sos and the Elder vampire. I focused on the twelve-hundred-year-old vamp for the moment.

“Government particle physics experiments have inadvertently weakened the barriers between Earth and Hell.  Portals or doorways are being opened by any idiot with a paint can and the ability to draw a pentagram.  Several extremely powerful demons have gotten out wearing human bodies.  We’ve been hunting one of them.  She’s led us toward Washington,” I answered.

“What is she up to?”

“We don’t know.  Something that would generate the most chaos and hysteria possible,” I said.

“Like attacking Congress or the President?”

Tanya, Lydia, and I exchanged glances.  “Yeah, that would be a solid guess.”

“And if this demon is successful?  Where does that leave us?”

“Demons thrive on chaos and terror.  If they were able to graphically kill the leadership of the strongest country on Earth on, say, national television or online, it would be catastrophic.  Panic and anarchy in the streets.  A perfect breeding ground for demonic possession.  If it occurred on, say, Halloween, when the barriers between Earth and Hell are naturally weak, it could mean the end of your food supply.  Can vampires drink demon blood?” I asked.

None of the three ancient beings answered me.  Instead, Senka turned to Mausya.  The newest of the elders looked vacant for a moment while she thought about it, then turned slightly to Senka.

“Seventy-eight percent chance he’s correct.”

A wave of weakness flashed through me, the God Tear on my necklace turning first burning hot then cold as ice.  Tanya leaned sideways, moving her head out of view of the camera, then glanced at me quickly.

As fast as it happened, it was over and the weakness gone, along with the image that accompanied it.  I flicked my eyes at my vampire and she nodded, then leaned back in.  Senka and Mausya were just starting to look back at us, but Tzao had never taken her eyes from me.

I needed a distraction before my momentary lapse was general knowledge.

“A seven-hundred-grain slug will turn you inside out,” Kagen said to my were bear-wolf.

Something clicked in my brain and Kagen disappeared off the bed, straight up, a crunch, a grunt, and shower of sheetrock dust the only evidence of his new location.

Iris, Arkady, Stacia, and Trenton all looked up at the ceiling.  In the corner of the tablet screen, the tiny picture of us showed Lydia and Tanya glancing up in surprise.  I kept my eyes on the screen.

“What was that?” Senka asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, Grandmother,” Tanya said quickly.  She didn’t glance at me, but I felt exasperation through our link.  “Back to the topic at hand. Demons, Halloween, chaos.  We’re kind of busy here.”

“We will allow as the situation requires extraordinary responses, but this topic will be revisited at another time.  In the meantime, attend to these interlopers,” Senka said.

“As we were doing before this little interrogation,” Tanya said.  Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed and I waited for the explosion.  Instead, the next words and their source were a complete surprise to everyone.

“Christian,” Elder Tzao said in a surprisingly solid voice.  “You are well?”

“Yes Elder Tzao.  I am fine,” I replied.  She nodded once without looking at her fellow Elders, who were both visibly surprised.

Whatever Senka had been about to say to her granddaughter was gone; instead, her attention was now focused squarely on me.

“You do look a little peaked.  Are you sure you are healthy?” Senka asked.

“Hungry, I’m just hungry,” I answered. “And sad that we were unable to meet in person.”

Mausya blinked a couple of times, Senka’s eyes narrowed, and Tzao just nodded slightly.

“Do you have a plan, then, to deal with these demon princelings?” Senka asked after a moment.

“My plan is to get some religion.”

Another pause.  Then the blonde head on the screen tilted to the side and slightly back.

“I don’t think I like this new you, Chris. Too cheeky.”

“Well, Elder, what can I say?  I am what I am, ach ach ach.”

She frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but Tzao leaned forward and reached for the screen, which immediately went dark.

“Popeye?  You seriously channeled Popeye in front of the Elders of the Coven?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, well I pretty much missed most of the Miss Vampire Manners columns lately.  Too busy scanning the news for decapitations, mass murders, and strange sightings.  Not to mention my own storyline.”

“Excuse me,” Iris said.  “Could you maybe release Kagen from the ceiling?”

We all looked up at the dhampir pressed into the sheet rock, his body embedded a good inch.

Grim released the combination of aura and vampire techniques that had slammed him up there and the male Rover fell back onto the bed, his face, hair, and clothes covered in white dust.

He sat up and I was in his face.  “Don’t ever, ever even think about shooting Awasos.  Got it?  Because I will shove that ten gauge so far up your ass that your head will pop off and you’ll become the first dhampir bobble head.”

“The Elders will kill you for your disrespect.”

“They better bring snacks and chairs for the back of the line, ‘cause there’s lots ahead of them,” I said.

“What happened?” Tanya asked.  I knew she was referring to the God Tear and my wave of weakness.

“Toni.  Something with federal agents,” I said.

She looked thoughtful before turning to the dhampirs.  “We’re done here.  Get out.”

Without a word, the two Rovers got up and headed out the door, Kagen still covered in bits and pieces of the ceiling.  Stacia watched them from the doorway to make sure they left, but we could all hear their car start and pull away.

“Toni?” Lydia asked but stopped when I held up my hand.  Another wave of weakness rolled over me and again, the necklace heated to searing hot.  This time, it went on for several seconds rather than just a brief moment like the earlier episode.

“I saw tactical teams that time.  We have to call,” I said.  Tanya was already rooting through a bag of equipment, finally coming up with the blackout sack of phones.

“We’ll use one of Chet’s untraceable prepaids, routed through foreign servers,” she said.  Arkady looked like he might want to protest, but Lydia shook her head at him and he settled back.  Tanya took Toni’s safety as seriously as I did.

“Roy?  It’s Tanya.  Everyone all right?” she asked over the phone.  We could all hear his response.

“Secret service is here.  They wanted to take Toni into protective custody.”

“What happened Roy?”

“There were six of them.  They all got shoved out of the house.  Like an invisible bulldozer just kept pushing them right back out the door.  It’s that necklace, isn’t it?”

“Yes Roy, it’s the God Tear around her neck.  It won’t let anyone harm her or you two.  I gather you or Gina said no to the Secret Service and they didn’t like it.  Right?”

“Exactly.  Gina and I said hell no almost at the same time.  The lead agent got real serious and said it wasn’t up to us.  He took two steps forward and suddenly the whole lot of them just got pressed right across the room and out the front door.  So then, just a second ago, they came back with SWAT teams.  There was a flash of purple light and all their stuff got cut in half.”

“Cut in half, Roy?  What do you mean?”

“Like sliced right in half.  Assault rifles, body armor, and battering ram, even their SWAT van got the top sliced off it.  Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen and I’ve been seeing some shit the last few years, you know.  No one hurt, just guns cut in half, half their vests sliding down to the ground like someone ran around them with a hellacious sharp blade without cutting them.  Pistol belts, helmets, radios, and when they moved their van to bring it closer, the top half just slid back and dragged on the ground behind it.  It’s a huge mess and they’re running around like chickens.”

“Is the lead agent still around, Roy?  Can you put him on the phone?”

“Yeah, I see him.  Agent Creese.  Let me grab him.  Agent Creese!  Hey Agent, you have a call.”

“Agent Charles Creese, who am I speaking with?”

“Tatiana Demidova, Agent Creese, and I have Christian Gordon with me.”

“You need to turn yourselves in, Miss Demidova. Now, before it gets ugly.”

“You don’t call launching a Tomahawk missile at us ugly, Agent Creese?  Or sending assassins with poison?”

“Ma’am, I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I know is that you need to come in before people get hurt.”

“Nice to see you’re following your training, Agent, but I’m not on the phone to talk to you about us.  It’s you and your men I’m worried about.  See, you just got a warning, and I hope it was graphic enough for you.  All your gear ruined but no one hurt.  If you continue your current approach, you and all your men will die.  Toni and her parents are protected—from you, from assassins, and from kidnappers.  Frankly, I’m surprised you got the warning you did.  Most people with guns who go near Toni and her folks just die.  We warned your leaders, but as a leader yourself, you’re going to have to decide if losing your life and all your men’s lives is justified in this instance.  So good luck with that and I sincerely hope that you and all your people go home safely today.  Please hand the phone back to Roy.”

“He looks pissed, Tanya, and he’s looking at his service handgun, or what’s left of it.  We’ll see what he does.”

“Roy, is Toni running around there?  I think my worse half wants to talk to her,” she said, giving me a wink.

“Sure.  Hey Toni, Mr. Chris wants to say hello.”

“Hello? Mr. Chris?”  a tiny voice said.

“Hi Toni, it’s Tanya, here’s Chris,” she said, handing me the cell phone.

“Hi Toni, how’re you doing?”

“Oh, alright, I guess.  Mom and Dad seem pretty worried, but I wasn’t.”

“No, you weren’t worried or afraid?” I asked.

“No.  If it gets scary, I just close my eyes and it seems as if nothing has changed.  Then I usually see the purple man and I know he’ll take care of me.”

“You see a purple man?”

“Yeah, inside my eyelids.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s you, silly.  He looks just like you.”

Chapter 19

The Baltimore Basilica was America’s first cathedral after the constitution was signed and it’s a beast… at least as far as churches go. From outside, it looks a lot like the Capitol building with white columns and a massive sky-lit dome.  Inside is even more impressive.  Of course, it was closed when we got there just after dark.  The door was locked when Arkady tried to open it, but it clicked open when Tanya reached her fist out to knock.

My memories of Tanya have been returning more and more lately, but none of them included the wide-eyed look I saw when the door opened itself at her approach.  I would even call it fear, except the link told me it was more anxious than afraid.  The idea of being a self-fallen angel is hard for me to fathom.  It’s completely impossible for her.

I slipped by her and pulled the massive door open enough to get in and was immediately met by an Abercrombie model with curly blond hair and wicked vivid blue eyes.

My memories of my childhood are intact; the ones of the last few years are now a hodgepodge of scattered images, but I do remember Barbiel.  Maybe it was dying and re-meeting all the Brethren, I don’t know, but I can remember talking with my assigned angel.

“Malahidael, you’ve been away too long,” he scolded, clasping my arm.

“Nice to see you too, Mom,” I said.  The others were moving slowly into the church behind me.  Lydia looked a little nervous, but Arkady and Trenton looked downright spooked, at least as spooked as killer vampires can look.

“Mom?” Barbiel asked, completely missing my jibe.

I sighed and started to explain but he held up one hand as he thought it through.

“Oh.  That is a common thing for mothers to say to adult children that haven’t visited, isn’t it?  So you implied that I was being motherly even though I am clearly not and thus the irony that is humor.  Right?”

“Spot on,” I said.

He frowned in mock annoyance.  “I am so not about you anymore,” he said, brushing by me to hug Tanya.

“Let me guess.  You’ve been reading the texts of teenage girls during Mass, haven’t you?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he allowed.

“Might not be the best fit, you being an immortal angel of Heaven and they being adolescent girls.  Just saying,” I said.

“Anyway, I’m glad to see you.  We have much to talk about,” he said, leading us through the narthex and into the nave proper.  Tanya and I slid into the front most pew, with Stacia sliding into the one behind us.  After a moment, Lydia slipped in beside Stacia.  Arkady and Trent stood uncertainly in the aisle but after both Tanya and I waved them to sit, they finally settled in the pews four rows back.  Barbiel stood on the raised chancel, looking like a hip young priest about to preach.

“So, Amaymon is free on earth, wearing the body of that woman you used to dislike so,” he began without preamble.  “And he has Orias with him,” he added gravely, pausing to see how we responded.

“Okay, we don’t know what that means,” I answered after looking at my companions.  As I did, I noticed Trenton and Arkady both following movement with their eyes and heads, about where Barbiel was.

‘Hey, can you two see him?” I asked.  They nodded.  “Can everyone see him?”

Lydia and Stacia nodded as well.  I turned back to Barbiel.  “Expanding our audience, are we?”

“Michael said it was okay.  Said this group has done so much that it’s fine if I reveal myself to them,” he said.

“Sounds dirty when you say it like that,” I said.  He didn’t get it, instead just looking at me, puzzled.  “Never mind.  Who and what are Amaymon and Orias?”

“Amaymon is a Prince of Hell.  Pretty high up.  Okay, really high up.  It’s bad that he’s here inside the woman’s body.  That means he can manifest and when the barriers thin on All Hallows Eve, he can call for his legions if he opens a big enough gate.  Orias is also pretty bad news. He’s a duke of Hell and commands some legions of his own.  He’s also the one who murdered your family when you were a child.”

I froze, memories involuntarily popping up in my mind.  “What?” I growled—or maybe it was Grim who growled.

Barbiel came over and looked into my eyes for a moment before stepping back a little and nodding.

“This is how you are… when you fight?  Is this what he is like?” he asked Tanya before even letting me answer.

“We call this part of him Grim,” Tanya replied.

“Apt. Very apt.  I haven’t seen this aspect of you before, Malahidael.”

“Orias will… just before I end his time,” Grim/I said.

“Yes, well that is your job… and it is good to enjoy your job, is that not right?  But Malahidael, you should not underestimate either of these foes.  Both are fierce fighters, very powerful, especially Amaymon.  Plus, they will have minions with them and may have recruited fallen humans to assist their plans.”

“What do you know about their plans?” Tanya asked.

“Not a great deal.  Michael did intercept a legion and before he ended it, he got some—what do you call it?  Intel?” he asked.  All of us nodded in unison, then I thought about his words.

“Wait, did you say Michael ended the legion?  By himself?”

“Well yes, it was only a legion.  He could hardly share any, now could he?  This is Michael we are talking about.  Anyway, what he got was that Amaymon needs a big sacrifice to provide enough power to move his legions to earth.  The leader of the legion said something about killing everyone in a big white building to fuel the gate.”

“Big white building?  The White House?” Lydia asked.

“The Capital building is white, too,” Stacia added.  Both of them had caught Barbiel’s attention and he came right over to us, putting one hand on my shoulder to lean forward.

“We have not formally met.  I am Barbiel,” he said, reaching forward to shake each of their hands.  Then he took himself up the aisle and introduced himself to Trenton and Arkady, shaking each person’s hand very properly.  He looked pleased with himself.

“Barbiel is the Angel of October.  He is my… case officer, so to speak.  My handler,” I said to the others.

“This is all true. But all Hallows Eve is in less than a day.  You do not have a lot of time to stop Amaymon and Orias,” Barbiel said.

I frowned, thinking that my angel contact was never this businesslike, but usually had to be brought back on point.

“That’s not a lot of time to find Duclair or Amaymon or whatever I’m supposed to call him.”

“But Malahidael, we know where Amaymon is,” Barbiel said, walking to the back of the church and picking up a newspaper from a box of stuff on the floor.  He brought it back to us and held up the front page.  The paper was The Washington Post and the headline was President Declares New Terrorist Threat and the picture under it showed President Garth at his press conference, standing at a presidential podium, an arc of underlings arrayed behind him.  A poster board on an easel had large headshot photos of Tanya and me portrayed like common criminals.

Barbiel tapped one part of the newspaper photo with his finger.  We all looked closer.  There in the back, behind Garth, was a familiar feminine face.  Brianna Duclair, almost hidden behind another person but still visible enough to identify.

“Really?  She wormed her way in with the President’s advisers?” Lydia quipped.

“Brianna was a high level government agent before she fell down Alice’s hole to Hell.  And demons are enormously persuasive,” I said.

“So we have the entire American law enforcement community after us and by now, every citizen will think we’re the enemy while our enemy is safely inside the guard of the idiot we need to protect.  What’s our plan?” Tanya asked.

“Well, not every citizen thinks we’re bad,” Stacia said, looking over our shoulders at the paper.  Her tanned finger pointed at a smaller, less noticeable story, further down the page.  A picture of Brystol Chatterjee talking to reporters topped the column.  The story was a repeat of the morning television interview she had done.

“She’s gone from an obscure blog to front page news and morning news interviews.  Even the reporter writing the article is giving her fairly unbiased treatment,” Lydia said, her tone thoughtful.

“And she’s the start of our plan,” Tanya said, a gleam in her eyes.

Four hours later—or there about—found us sitting down across from Brystol herself.  A flurry of phone calls, instructions, and favors had resulted in the arrangement of a private interview in what had to be the creepiest location in the country.  The Montingham State Hospital had once treated thousands of tuberculosis patients in the fifties and sixties.  Long abandoned, it was now privately owned by a couple who conducted paid ghost tours in the decaying buildings where hundreds had died.  Brystol was friends with the couple and had set up our secret interview after some of Nika’s vampire watchers snatched her and her cameraman Brian out from under the various spooks’ and spy types’ noses.

In addition to Brian, there were three other geeks, er, I mean technical types running the sound and video equipment, all of them just about in the throes of a geekgasm from being in our presence.

“Okay, we’re almost ready.  Thanks again, this is fantastic.  The story of a lifetime,” Brystol gushed.

“Actually, Brystol, it’s the story of a thousand lifetimes,” Tanya said.  Behind us, Arkady snorted.  He was thoroughly against this line of action but bowed down to the wishes of his queen.

“Yeah, the Coven has ruthlessly suppressed any and all previous attempts at exposing its existence,” Lydia said.

“Well, we won’t be talking about the Coven tonight, will we, Brystol?” Tany asked sternly.  “Just Darkkin, demons, and my Chosen.”

Brystol nodded even as her eyes lit up at the term Chosen, her pencil making another addition to the long list of notes on her legal pad.

“Okay Brystol, we’re ready,” Brian said.

“Alright, let’s do this.  Count me down, Brian,” she said.

“Okay, cameras rolling.  Interview with Vampires begins in three, two, one,” he said, waving her to go ahead.  I hadn’t heard the title before.  Clever.

“Hello, my name is Brystol Chatterjee and if you haven’t been following the news lately, I’m a reporter who covers the fringe news.  The fringes of society, the fringes of life, the fringes of the supernatural.  Lately, I’ve been blessed to find myself near the center of the biggest story of our time, maybe the biggest of all time.

Earlier today, President Garth named a group of individuals as the most dangerous terrorists in the world.  You have likely seen the video footage and read the stories, but tonight, I’m going to introduce you to those very fugitives themselves and let you, the American people, decide for yourselves if they’re the danger we’ve been warned of or if they might just be, as I believe, our potential saviors.  Prepare yourselves as we begin our interview with vampires.

“Please meet Chris Gordon and Tatiana Demidova, the two most wanted people in existence.”

“Hi, Brystol.  Catchy title.  Aren’t you afraid of copyright infringement?” I said.

She laughed.  “No Chris, I think that will be the last thing on anyone’s mind after tonight.  But welcome and welcome to you too, Tatiana,” she said.

“Tanya.  You must call me Tanya,” my vampire said, her Russian accent slightly heavier than normal.

“Oh, right.  Thank you, Tanya,” Brystol replied, smiling.

“Brystol, you know I’m not a vampire, right?” I asked.  “You know, because of your title and all.”

“Yes, Chris, but it was too good to pass up.  Plus there are other vampires with you, correct?”

“Yes, Brystol.  Including Tanya, there are four vampires, or Darkkin as they prefer, on our team, plus Stacia and myself, as well as Awasos,” I said, pointing to the massive wolf by my side.

She looked momentarily flustered, the overeager, unsure-of-where-to-start kind of flustered.  She overcame it quickly, though.

“So if you’re not a vampire, excuse me, a Darkkin, what are you?”

“Primarily… an exorcist.”

“Blah, that’s just such a blah, boring way to describe you, Chris.  It makes you sound like an old man with a cross and a bible, and I’m sure my female viewers at least will agree you are so much more than that.”

I felt myself frowning, even as Tanya laughed quietly at me.  “But really, Brystol, at the center of it, that’s what I am.”

“An exorcist that peels open tanks with his bare hands?”

“Well okay, so I’ve got some skills, but I’m serious, Brystol. I exist to hunt demons and send them back to Hell.”

“Tell us about it,” she said. So I did.  At her coaxing and prodding, I explained my life, from losing my family to my first exorcism to meeting Tanya.  She turned to my vampire at that point.

“But you’re a vampire, Tanya, are you not?  Why would demons want you?”

We had agreed beforehand to leave out any mention of Tanya being a born vampire with the purest form of the V-squared virus in her veins.

“Tanya’s… parents… as it were, are famous and important in the Darkkin world.  Killing Tanya would have thrown the vampire society on its ear.”

“You say the word so naturally, Chris.  You realize that most people don’t believe in vampires, right?”

“That’s why I beat that poor Humvee to death with my sword.  That’s not something a human could do,” Tanya said.

“So you drink blood?” Brystol asked.

“Yes Brystol, human blood.  We don’t hunt animals like that story about the glittery vampires,” Tanya replied.

“And where do you get your human blood, Tanya?”

“We buy it, Brystol.  From blood banks and hospitals that we own.  We also pay donors in many locations around the country and around the world.  Some people sell their blood so regularly that we have to issue W-9’s,” Tanya said.

“What about live from the tap?  Hunting live humans?” Brystol pressed.

“Yup.  From willing donors.  I won’t lie to you, Brystol.  There are people who will line up to be fed from.  But then, there are also band groupies, celebrity fan clubs, and cosplay aficionados. So as long as no one is hurt, to each his own.”

“No one ever gets hurt, Tanya?”

“Of course people get hurt.  There are always those who prefer to hurt others, be they vampire or regular human.  But our society hunts those individuals down and stops them.”

“Why?  Why bother to stop your fellow Darkkin from hunting humans?” Brystol asked.

“I could tell you because it is wrong, but let’s be honest.  We need people, and if we start hunting and hurting them, people tend to get scared and fight back.  There aren’t many of us and there are lots of regular humans.  We wouldn’t last long if we were at war with the source of our sustenance, now would we?” Tanya asked in return.

“Why come out now?”

“Because the greatest threat to our existence is coming from outside this world.  Those damned Hell gates and the demons that are beginning to flow through them.  That’s why we spend our time hunting Hellbourne and closing gates,” Tanya said.

“Helbourne?” Brystol asked.

“It’s a term I coined when I was a kid,” I said.  “When a demon takes full possession they eventually force the soul out, leaving just a shell or vehicle for them to spread chaos in.  The priest’s body in the most recent videos is a Hellbourne.  The good father died fighting demons and they possessed his body.”

“Let’s talk about that night.  What happened?” Brystol asked.

“Well, Brystol, we’ve been hunting a particular Hellbourne—a High Prince of Hell who’s inhabited the body of a woman.  It came through in Central Park, at a ritual by some wannabe occultists.  They’re all dead now, thanks to her.  She or he or it also killed those hunters in the Jersey Pine Barrens.  They interrupted her while she was bringing over reinforcements.  Some of those reinforcements are the two we met in Baltimore, the ones that killed the cops.  Now she’s in Washington and our goal is to find her and stop her.”

“Who is she, Chris?  Who was this woman?”

“Brystol, she’s a former government agent named Brianna Duclair and the last place I’ve seen her is in this press conference by the President,” I said, holding up the same Washington Post and pointing to Duclair’s image on the cover.  “The President is in far greater danger from those behind him than any of us.”

Chapter 20

“What does she want with the President?” Brystol asked, horrified.  We hadn’t told her about any of this beforehand.

“Most likely to kill him and everyone around him in the most bloody, horrific manner possible on Halloween night.  Doing that will provide this demon prince with enough power to bring over his legions.”

“Legions?  Legions of demons?”

“Yes.  And by coming through a gate, they will be in their own forms.  Think about what the priest’s arms looked like and you’ll get the picture.”

“So you’re saying that the President of the United States, who has publicly launched the biggest law enforcement hunt in this nation’s history for you, is in the most danger from the very demon that your group of vampires is hunting?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“But he launched a missile at you?” she said.  I got what she was really saying.

“Yeah, well someone launched a missile at us and yes, someone set a trap to catch or kill us in Baltimore. But ultimately, we’re interested in stopping demons.  Demon princes who want world destruction top the list.”

She paused for a second.  “By announcing this, have you accomplished your goal?”

“When this airs, a very short time from now, then yes, I hope the Secret Service and Homeland Security track her down.  She/he or what have you will likely kill whoever approaches her, but at least the main plot might be set back.  What good is it being on the FBI Most Wanted List if no one will pay attention to your ranting, right?”

“Oh, I think they’ll pay attention.  Can they stop her, or will they get slaughtered?”

“It will be really difficult for us to stop her.  Regular law enforcement with standard weapons will have a much, much harder time.”

“They should try for head shots.  I use buckshot with rock salt as a buffer and steel shot,” Stacia said from behind us.

“True, Stacia’s had good luck with various shotguns, and salt disrupts many forms of energy.  Steel or iron is usually useful against Fae and, to some extent, demons,” I said.

“You can just shoot them?” Brystol asked, looking from Stacia to me.

“You can shoot them in the head… a lot.  It takes out the lesser ones and slows down the tougher ones. But, ultimately it takes Chris to banish them,” Stacia said.

“Just you, Chris?  On this whole planet, just you?”

“No, of course not.  Human exorcists have been banishing demons for as long as we’ve been on this planet.  The Vatican has the International Society of Exorcists, whose numbers have been beefed up over the last few years.  The Israelis have their own team of rabbis who specialize in exorcism.  Same with every major religion.  Witches, by the way, are really effective.  You just need a full circle of them, say ten or twelve, usually.”

“Witches, as in Wiccans or as in the Wicked Witch of the West?”

“Neither, although a Wiccan priestess and her circle could be useful.  It mainly takes faith.  You know those Co-Exist bumper stickers with all the religious symbols on them?  That’s what I’m talking about.  But to your question, I’m talking about witches who practice the Craft and who harness what we would likely call magic.”

“You know some?”

“Yeah, one of my good friends is a witch.  Great kid.  I’ve learned a lot from him.”

“So witches and vampires.  What else.  Stacia—you threw a forty-pound camera like it was a baseball the other night.  A straight pitch into the windshield of that armored car.  But you’re not a vampire and not an old lady, either?”

“You saw that, did you?  What can I say?  I’ve thrown a few softballs in my time,” Stacia said, grinning.

“Yeah, not buying it,” Brystol said.

“Well, I’m not at liberty to discuss my particular brand of differentness.  But yes, there is more out there than vampires and witches.”

“Which brings me to this furry fellow.  Your wolf is named Awasos.  I looked it up.  Abenaki for bear.  A wolf named bear.  That’s different,” Brystol commented while looking at ‘Sos.

“What do you think, fur face?  Want to show the world who you are?”

He woofed at me, excited.  “Are you sure?  Once you let this genie out of the bottle, there’s no putting it back,” I said.

He woofed again and head butted me.

“Okay.  Here goes.  Brystol, you need to move back and your camera guys will want a wide view,” I said, standing and moving to a more open space.  We were filming in the empty decaying lobby of the old hospital, the same space used by several ghost hunting shows over the past few years for their Halloween specials.

“Okay, you ready?” I asked Brystol and her crew.  She nodded, moving into the view of the shoulder-held camera that Brian was using to get us.  “All right.  First he’s a wolf—then he’s a… bear,” I said.

‘Sos blurred and filled out into his ursine form, immediately standing up on his two hind feet.  His head lifted eleven feet off the floor as his mass became four times greater.

“Oh my God,” Brystol exclaimed.  “He’s a mons…”

“NO!” Tanya, Lydia, Stacia, and I all yelled, drowning out her word.

“Don’t use the M word,”  I said.

Brian stumbled backward in fright at the giant bear and would have fallen on his ass, but Trenton was suddenly beside him, catching and bracing him back up. It was hard to tell which bothered Brian the most: the bear or the vampire.  After a second, he nodded to Trent and straightened himself to get the bear back in frame.

“It’s alright, Brian. I’ve got an eight-year-old goddaughter who rides this fellow like a horse, in either form.  He’s entirely reliable,” I said.

“You didn’t say harmless, though,” Brystol said.

“He’s either a half-ton bear or a three-hundred-pound wolf.  Why would you ever think he was harmless?” I asked her.

“That’s what people say when they want you to think their dog is safe.”

“Listen, he’ll destroy anything that threatens his friends, but he’s not a rogue killing machine.  He’s rational and reliable,” I said.

“But, Chris, what is he?”

“He’s entirely unique as far as we know.  Oh, and his mother was a Kodiak bear.  Other than that, I can’t tell you.”

“So you have a wolf-bear, four vampires, a girl that can throw harder than any major league pitcher, and yourself.  And this little team travels around the country exorcising demons?”

“That’s pretty much right,” I answered.

“Who hires you?  To banish these demons?” she asked.

“Well, mostly, it’s been the US government.”

“The same government that you say is now trying to kill you?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“Why did they hire us or why are they trying to kill us?” I asked.

“Both,” she said after considering the choices.

“Well, we cleared up a few gates for the NYPD, and then Oracle, which is a relatively unknown branch of the government, hired us to clear up a bunch more. But the Administration and I have never had a very cordial relationship.  After New Hampshire, they wanted to control me.  They wanted to use my goddaughter as a hostage.  I told them that wasn’t possible anymore.”

“Wow, you said so many interesting things just now that I hardly know where to start,” she said, drawing a deep breath.  “Okay, I’ve written about Oracle on my blog.  So we’ll circle back to them.  You mentioned that the Garth administration has known you for a while?”

“Chris has done numerous… jobs, you might call them, for the President,” Tanya said, leaning forward.  “He handled some national security threats that were too dangerous for normal resources.  But the President has always feared him.  They would like to harness him and use them as their own weapon.”

“So you’ve worked for the President, but he distrusts your power.  You mentioned New Hampshire.  The only noteworthy event there recent was the asteroid.  Is that what you’re referring to?”

I looked at Tanya and she nodded.  “Yes.  A rogue terrorist element kidnapped my goddaughter.  They wanted my attention.  They got it.”

Brystol studied me for a moment before speaking.  “You’ve been very charming and even funny so far.  But things just got real, didn’t they?”

“Harming my people makes it super real, Brystol.  Taking an eight-year-old girl from her parents to use as a bargaining chip is unconscionable.”

“I happened to be in Owls Head Park the day that happened, Chris.  It was, to this day, the single most violent scene I have ever witnessed.  You and your bear-wolf fought and killed over twenty men that day, am I right?”

“Yes.  And later that day, we killed many more.  They had Ton…. Oops, almost said her name.  They held my goddaughter in an old missile silo in New Hampshire.  We, ‘Sos, Tanya, and I, cleaned it out and brought her home, along with some other kids and hostages.”

“And what did you do after they were out, Chris?  What did you do to the base?”

“I sent a message, Brystol.  A ten ton message from above.”

“You’re claiming you have the ability to rain asteroids from above?”

I studied her for a moment, not sure how to answer.  “It sounds crazy when you say it like that, Brystol, so maybe I won’t admit anything of the sort.”

She looked disappointed.  “But what about the Tomahawk missile that should have vaporized the Pine Barrens?”

“What are you looking for, Brystol?  Can I interfere with technology?  Yes.”

“What about the satellite that crashed into the ocean at the same spot the missile was launched from?”

“Another message, Brystol.  Some people are hard of hearing,” I said.

“So you can crash missiles and rain down asteroids and satellites from above.  We’ve seen you peel open a tank with your hands.  Why shouldn’t the government and the people as a whole be afraid of you?”

“It wasn’t a tank, just an armored vehicle, but to your question, I don’t know if I have the answer.  Maybe they should, maybe that’s entirely rational.  I doubt myself much of the time, so I don’t think I can plead an iron-clad case,” I said.

Tanya interrupted.  “In all likelihood, he’s right.  He can’t plead his own case.  That’s what we’re here for.”

“That’s great, Tanya. Let’s hear from the people that know him best,” Brystol said.

“My Chosen is, if you couldn’t tell, a very humble man.  One who, as he just admitted, is filled with self-doubt.  He doubts his worth, he doubts his place in the scheme of things, and he often wonders why he must lead the life he leads.  And yet he gets up every day and continues on.  He leads us into sites of demonic possession and open gates to Hell, every damn day.  And he keeps helping even when he shouldn’t.  When his assets are frozen by the government that asked for his help, when he’s attacked not only by the demons he fights but by the people he fights for, he still keeps going.”

“Assets?  Let’s talk about that for a moment.  A source inside the federal government told me that you got paid a pretty healthy amount of money to close each gate.  Is that true?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Mostly because I insisted,” Tanya said. “He is liable to give away his services, but it seemed that the people that caused much of this problem should pay for it.”

“And they froze it?” Brystol asked.

“Well, Chris’s account, yes.  But most of the money already went to charity,” Tanya said.

I looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“You said to give most of it away, so I did.  It went to a number of animal sanctuaries and food pantries,” Tanya said, shrugging. “The rest was invested, which the feds have frozen.”

“She has a head for figures,” I explained to Brystol.

“Yes, the Demidova business empire, which turns out to be run by vampires.  How does that work, Tanya?”

“My… mother is very old and very good at business.  The rest is a matter of time… you’ve heard of compound interest?”

“So the whole immortal thing is true?  What about losing your soul and all that?” Brystol asked.

I interrupted.  “They don’t lose their souls.  Most of them think they do, but they don’t.”

“And how do you know that, Chris?”

“Because I can see souls.  It’s a necessary gift for a demon hunter.  And vampires have them.”

“So vampirism doesn’t cost you your soul?”

“Not unless you chose to lose it.  It’s the same for everyone.  We have free will.  We get to choose our actions.  Actions are, more than anything else, what matters as far as your soul is concerned.”

“Important information from a man who can see souls, exorcise demons, fight like an avenging angel, and can call down retribution from Heaven.  What else are you here to tell us?”

“I don’t think I’m here to tell anyone much of anything, Brystol.  Don’t make me out to be some kind of religious icon.  I’m not.  I’m a soldier, that’s all.”

“Don’t you have any words at all for my listeners?”

“Yeah, stay inside on Halloween and keep the kids home.  Practice whatever form of religion or spiritual exercise brings you comfort.  Ring your house with salt and iron.  If you own a gun and know how to use it, keep it loaded and close at hand.  Be ready as if a storm was coming.  You know, have water, food, blankets, lights, and first aid supplies.  And stay behind good thresholds.”

“Thresholds? As in door thresholds?”

“Yes.  The old bit about vampires not being able to enter a home unless invited?  That wasn’t vampires, it was demons.  And it’s true.  A dwelling that is truly a home, where families live and grow, have a threshold that has power.  Don’t invite in strangers unless you are certain of them,” I said.

“Line the entries with salt: doors and windows.  And get a good shotgun,” Stacia threw in.  “And don’t trust the government… they’re not here to help you.”

“Well, okay.  So a storm is coming?”

“Yeah, of sorts.  Unless we can stop it,” I said.

“And that’s if the government doesn’t stop you,” Brystol replied. “I’m struggling to see how you and your merry band are actually terrorists.”

“Well, Brystol, it turns out that if you drop an orbital object on US soil and decimate a portion of the forest, you meet the definition,” Lydia quipped.

“Ah, the Girl Friday speaks.  Lydia, tell us about your role in all this.”

“I can actually live with the Girl Friday moniker if, by Girl Friday, you mean the ass-kicking, ultra-efficient and beautiful organizer of this little charade,” Lydia replied smoothly.

“You’re the glue that holds it all together?” Brystol asked.  The rest of us were all nodding.

“She is my oldest friend, my teacher, protector, counselor, and confidant.  I would be adrift at sea without Lydia,” Tanya said, smiling at the small vampire.

“See, when you interact like this, it’s sometimes difficult to remember that you’re, in fact, vampires.  Predators of humans,” Brystol said, causing an immediate shift in mood.

“Well, that’s because we’re all people, Brystol.  And people are complex, multifaceted creatures,” I said.

“Wow, boy toy, big words,” Lydia quipped before Brystol could speak.

“I’ll explain them to you later,” I replied.

“See, that right there.  It’s more like a family interaction than two very dangerous people arguing,” Brystol said.

“We do squabble, if that is the right word.  But you’re right.  We’re dangerous… very dangerous,” I said.

“You threatened to kill police and federal agents, Chris.  Did you mean it?”

“Yes, Brystol, I did.  They poisoned my mate, then tried to shoot us.  There is a limit, and I had reached it.  I don’t want to harm soldiers and cops just doing their jobs, but when their job is to kill me or mine, the gloves come off.  I’m not a nice guy, Brystol, not really.  I’m tainted with evil and while I fight it every day, make no mistake, it’s there, like an unexploded stick of dynamite.”

“You know, when you say stuff like that, you make the President’s case for him,” she said.

“Yeah, well, he’s not entirely wrong.  I have a temper.  I have a mission—a purpose in life.  My mandate is from a higher power, and so I have to do what I have to do.  That sounds crazy… the whole mission from God defense.  So I don’t really expect anyone to buy it.  I’m not sure I would, if it were me sitting home watching this.  But at the end of the day, or in our case, the night, it doesn’t matter.  We have to fight.  Our goal is to avoid the US government while we do so, but if we’re pressed in a corner, we’ll do what we have to.”

“Any other words for the audience before we wrap this up?”

“Well, I expect the Secret Service to follow up on Brianna Duclair.  I would advise them to treat her like they would treat me.  She’s utterly dangerous and much more ruthless than I.  In fact, their best bet would be to point me in her direction and stay out of the way.”

“Once again, volunteering to step up to the breach.  There you have it.  Our interview with vampires and others.  A chance for you, the watcher, to judge for yourself, if Chris Gordon, Tanya Demidova, and their companions are this nation’s highest threat or best chance.  I’m Brystol Chatterjee and I expect you won’t be hearing from me for a while.  No doubt I’ll face some tough questioning by the Man, so good-bye for now.”

Chapter 21

Brystol’s crew was fast. We wrapped the interview up just before ten and they had it edited, auctioned, and sold before the eleven o’clock news.  ABC won the bid and played it in its entirety.  I hated it.  Can’t stand looking at myself in video.

“Do I really look like that?” I asked.

“Actually, you look worse in real life.  You’re ugly and nobody likes you,” Lydia said.

“Hurtful words.  But that’s to be expected from a small, bitter person such as yourself,” I replied.

“Shhh!  Trying to listen here,” Stacia said, the others nodding in agreement.

The clip finished and we all sat back.  We were in another cheap motel room, those being the only real option for us to watch television without being recognized or, in the girls’ case, hit on.

“Not too shabby,” Stacia said, when the program shifted back to the anchors.  For their part, the seasoned news staff seemed rather stunned by the interview.

“I don’t know, Jacob… I mean, I watched the President’s speech and all, but after that, I’m having a hard time picturing them as the Nation’s biggest threat.”

“I agree, Sonya. After all, they aren’t pitching a cause.  They’re just trying to carry on with this mission of stopping these horrific creatures.  And according to viewer emails, there are new videos popping up on the web, videos showing that group in previous engagements with these so-called demons and usually with federal agents right there watching.”

“He’s right. Chester just released a whole slew of material to the Internet,” Tanya said, looking at an Android tablet that was hooked into the motel’s Wi-Fi.  It was a new purchase and she was looking at the same stuff that literally millions of others were, so there was nothing to alert any cyber watchers out there.

We watched the anchors’ reaction for a few more minutes before Lydia turned the volume down.

“Okay, that looks successful.  If nothing else, it will leave people undecided and it should push the feds into at least talking to Brianna,” Lydia said.

“Oh, it’s better than that.  You guys don’t realize how powerful that’s gonna be.  People are going to eat it up.  The President, whose ratings and popularity are in the dumps, is much less believable than that earnest, highly attractive group of heroes we just watched on the news.  You wait and see,” Stacia said.

“She’s right.  The comments coming in are mostly supportive.  A few from the other side of the fence, but most are questioning the government’s story.  And these videos are getting huge hit numbers,” Tanya agreed, still surfing the web.

Trenton suddenly moved to the television and turned the volume back up.

“In another development, it appears Homeland Security has picked up an individual matching the picture of the woman mentioned by Chris Gordon during his interview.  According to sources actually in the hotel where she was staying, not far from the White House, heavily armed SWAT teams arrived a few minutes ago and took her into custody.  That person, a blonde woman, was understood to be a visiting federal agent.  Not much else is known at this time, Sonya.”

“Well, Jacob, if it is this the Brianna Duclair named by Chris Gordon, then you would think the authorities would at least have a discussion with her.  Most likely they will transport her to the Liberty Crossing Intelligence campus for an interview.”

“Hotel is not too far from here.  We should follow?” Arkady asked.

“We should,” I agreed.

We did, the seven of us jumping into the two cars and heading toward downtown Washington.

Trenton drove our car with Tanya, Arkady, and myself.  Lydia drove the Subaru with ‘Sos and Stacia.  Tanya still had the tablet and we were watching a streaming feed from the news channels through the cell network.  The shot was coming from a traffic helicopter that had been sent up as soon as the story broke.  The cameraman in the copter was using a night vision-equipped camera to track a squat, FBI panel van caravanning between two big, dark SUVs.

“- bringing coverage to you live as it happens.  The van is, to our best knowledge, carrying a woman who matches the description of Agent Brianna DuClair.  DuClair has been a Department of Homeland Security agent for eleven years although there is some confusion about her most recent assignments.  At one point, she was a team leader for Homeland Security’s
Directorate of Anomalous Activity.  That’s not a division I’ve ever heard of before, Sonya, have you?”

“No, Jacob, and my sources in Homeland Security either haven’t heard of it or refuse to speak about it.  Since 9/11, the intelligence community and federal law enforcement has literally exploded in size and complexity.  To my knowledge, there really isn’t anyone who has their arms completely around all the divisions, units, groups, and alphabet agencies.  The Washington Post did a story about just this—Holy Mother of God, Jacob did you see that?”

The video feed showed the panel van exploding from within, the metal walls peeling open banana-skin style in a flash of red light.  The follow-on SUV slammed into the twisted remains of the van even as a black-clad, SWAT-suited body fell back and through the SUV’s windshield.  The news copter swooped closer, shaking and shifting the video shot so hard, it was difficult to tell what was happening.  When the picture settled, it was apparent that the front SUV had stopped and armed agents were boiling out of it and shooting at someone or something still in the interior of the burst van.  That someone ignored the gunfire, too busy tearing a SWAT soldier in half.

“Trenton, you need to get us there now!” Tanya said.

“What is happening?” Arkady asked.

“It looks like Brianna, or I should say Amaymon, decided going with the nice agents wasn’t really his style.  The vehicles were taking him/her away from the White House and seeing as how midnight has come and gone and it is officially Halloween, I don’t think the demon lord was planning on spending his day in an interview room,” I said.

“It’s tearing those agents apart,” Tanya said. “How we doing, Trenton?  Do you need directions?”

“No ma’am.  The flashes of light, the explosions, and the circling helicopters up ahead are a pretty good indication of which way to go,” he said calmly.

“You’ve been around Lydia too much,” she said, still watching the tablet.

“Yeah, she’s contagious,” he agreed, slamming our Honda into a tight turn and slipping into the new traffic stream amidst blaring horns and squealing brakes.  I could hear the Subaru squealing behind as it followed our dangerous lead.

Watching the scene unfold from an overhead news camera was distinctly surreal.  My confusing, secret, creepy-as-hell hidden world was now being transmitted to virtually everyone on the planet via mainstream media.  The world would never again question the existence of the supernatural.  Clutching my two demon horn spikes in my left hand, I alternated between watching the tablet and looking up at our crazed ride through downtown Washington.

More agents had appeared around the destroyed van, but Brianna was killing them almost as fast as they arrived, moving at vampire speed and ignoring the full automatic gunfire that should have torn her to pieces.  In one fast sequence, she punched an agent’s heart out of his back, tore an arm from another, and decapitated a third with a slap, laughing as she did.

The news helicopter suddenly flared backward as two black government choppers shot past it and down toward the nightmare scene on the ground.

Sharpshooters leaned out the open sides of the Blackhawks and opened fire on the grinning blonde in the torn clothes.  They had brought bigger guns… much bigger guns.  The boom of the big Barrett M82A3 .50 caliber rifles was audible on the tablet and audible to my naked ear over the sounds of the racing engines, blaring horns, and sirens. We were getting close. The tablet video clearly showed the half-yard bloom of muzzle flash as the sharpshooters started to put rounds on target.

Brianna/ Amaymon had been pretty much shrugged off the pistol rounds and even the 5.56mm M4 rounds that the dying agents had been peppering the demon lord with, but the big .50 caliber rounds refused to be ignored.  Most .50 Browning machine gun rounds have muzzle energies of well over 13,000 foot-pounds, or six and a half tons.  Brianna was only about seventy or eighty yards from the snipers.  The rounds blew her head-over-heels like a rag doll, over and behind a parked car.  Not resting on their laurels, the snipers kept firing, shooting through the parked car until it exploded in a massive fireball that sent a mushroom cloud of smoke and flame roiling up into the sky.

The remaining ground agents moved forward in crouched, weapons-ready stances, all muzzles on the last known location of their enemy.  It looked good, I mean, even I was thinking they had put the Hell bitch down.  It all went to shit a second later.

There were three manhole covers on that hundred-yard section of road.  I know that because all three shot straight up into the air at the same time as three pairs of clawed hands reached out and dug into the asphalt.  The things that flowed up out of the sewers were long and lean, a hellish cross between wolf hounds and velociraptors.  They shot forward on four legs before standing up and bounding on two.  Six to seven feet of lethal black and red muscle, claws, and teeth.  A bald-headed man in a leather duster climbed out of the sewer behind them, strolling along with a grin.

It was one of those moments when you want to yell at the screen, to try and tell the heroes right through the monitor that doom was racing up on them from behind.  It unfolded right in front of our eyes, laid out in high resolution, graphic pixels under glass.

The rear line of federal agents was scythed down under the reaping claws and teeth of the bounding monsters, the agents in front too focused to realized their backup was now face up.

Of course, the front row guys had their own problem, one that stood up in the midst of the burning car fuel, stretching to a full nine feet in height, strips and chunks of burning human flesh falling off its reddish-hued, plated body as the demon fully manifested.

Will the real Amaymon please stand up?  Long cabled arms ending in banana-sized claws that looked like knife blades.  A sharp-snouted shark face filled to overflowing with triangular saw teeth that locked together—literal scissors from Hell. A crown of spikes grew straight up out of his head. Plates of thick chitin covered much of the demon’s vital parts like a built-in suit of red armor.  Brianna was gone; her driver had outgrown her as a vehicle.  I never even got to curse her goodbye.

The prince of Hell had morphed into his unnatural form and the Department of Homeland Security was in a lot of trouble.

Trenton took a sharp left and I happened to glance up long enough to catch sight of a street sign: Pennsylvania Avenue.  Wait, isn’t there an important address there?  Oh yeah, the President’s house.  DHS had been carting Brianna toward their headquarters northwest of the Capital and the White House.  Amaymon had just declined their hospitality, rather forcibly,  preferring, no doubt, the traditional architecture of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and the chance to slaughter the leader of the free world on his front lawn to the modern sterility of the spy headquarters.

Oh well, I didn’t vote for the guy… wait… did I?  I couldn’t recall the last election, but I doubted I voted Garth in because he was a piss poor leader and far, far too liberal for my conservative values.  Still, I should probably try and keep the leader of the most powerful nation on earth from being sacrificed to a new order of demonic overlords, if only on principal. Just because I differed in political bent didn’t mean I could just give up on my country, right?  I mean, how would it look if God’s warrior let that happen?  No, it would besmirch my image. And I’m all about image lately, right?  Hey, I used the word besmirch in a sentence.  Look at Mr. Vocabulary now.

Back on the tablet, Amaymon was tossing aside the twisted, blackened remains of the burning car, the flames not appearing to bother him at all.  Duh… Hell lord… fire, like peanut butter and jelly.  The towering figure advanced on the retreating agents, ignoring their puny assault rifles.  The big boom of a Barrett sounded and Amaymon was knocked backward a step.  He straightened and snapped his head toward the Blackhawks hovering above him.  Turning, he looked back at the road, raised his long right arm, and made a throwing gesture.  Two of the heavy flat manhole covers shot off the asphalt and disappeared from the camera view.  The suddenly crashing Blackhawk that fell past the news chopper answered the question of where at least one of the metal discs had gone.

The camera view snapped up in time to catch the other Blackhawk pulling back out of range, the Barrett sniper dangling from his safety strap, his rifle missing, leading me to appreciate just how hard the pilot had jinked his bird to dodge the other manhole cover.

The camera swung back to Amaymon, who was now staring at the news chopper as the first Blackhawk exploded further up the street in a huge fireball.  You could almost hear the camera man gulp.  Then the demon prince snarled a toothy smile and turned back to the fight.  Who knew that demon lords were camera whores too?

Moving forward in fast bounds, he was pushing the remaining agents back toward the hell beasts that were feasting on their fellow agents when the camera scene showed two new cars pull onto the scene.  The fact that they weren’t Spy vs. Spy black and that they were a sedan and small wagon was a clue.  The screeching, body-slamming stop that Trenton executed was another clue.  I looked up and met the eyes of Amaymon through the Accord’s window.  We had arrived.

Chapter 22

Grim took control even as the vehicle was still sliding to a stop, and I/we stepped out of the moving Accord and into the fight.  We were at the back of the battle, nearest the velociraptor-hound things, so I took the opportunity to stab one in its shoulder as it swung at me and put the other spike up under its chin. Both punched right through its thick skin, slick as spit on a door knob.  Sorry, about that mental image… it’s a Gramps-ism.

Twisting behind the thing, I kicked its wrong-ward bending leg out and pulled it down to where I could work on it.  Levering the spikes in opposite directions had the effect of spinning its head around, Linda Blair style.  Doing it two more times popped the head right off.

I called Kirby for a pickup as greasy crud issued forth from the neck stump.

The rest of the team piled out behind me, jumping into battle.  ‘Sos flew past me in bear form and literally flattened a demon beast into paste.  I called Kirby again and a second God Hawk appeared while the first was just leaving.  The new one latched onto the black putrescent cloud that was erupting from the mess under ‘Sos’s feet.

The bald guy with the cool leather duster smiled at me.  “Ah Malahidael, I missed you a few years back.  Didn’t miss your brother, father, or you mother.  Why, I had such fun…”

That was as far as he got because a whirlwind with swords chopped his left hand off and would have taken his head if he hadn’t stopped his stupid evil villain monologue and backpedaled furiously to get away.  Tanya has no patience for grandstanding and monologues, and if you try that crap around her, you’re just gonna end up in pieces that much quicker. Dumbass was chit-chatting when he should have been getting ready for the fight of his unholy life. This bald douche must be Orias, the guy who killed my family.  Normally, that would make me want to tear his heart out, but Tanya looked like she was enjoying destroying the thing that had murdered my family, so I left her to it.

Behind him, something else started to pull itself out of the sewer hole, something that had to force its toothy bulk through the round hole.  I whistled to Awasos and pointed at the thing.  He ran over and slapped it back down like Whack-a-Mole. It roared, sounding thoroughly pissed off, as it crashed to the bottom of the sewers.

Trenton and Arkady had swords and axes out and were fighting demon hound-raptor thingies and Stacia had her little illegal sawed-off shotgun in hand.  She’s got a bit of a thing for shotguns; in fact, it might border on a real obsession.  Gonna have to watch that, although it made it easy to pick out birthday and Christmas presents.

She fired both barrels at a demon, which knocked the monster back a bit.  When it shrugged off the salt and shot and started forward, she exploded out of her clothes.  Not the Oh-My-God-Stacia’s-naked-grab-a-chair-let’s-watch kind of explosion, but an almost instant Change to beast form.  Just shy of seven feet tall, white fur rippling with muscle, she was as eye catching in her new body as her human one, it’s just that each form invokes a different emotion.

The demon hadn’t been expecting that and it hesitated, which is generally a bad idea when fighting werewolves.  Her clawed right hand removed half its face and spun its head around.  Before it could look back, her steel trap jaws slammed together on its neck, severing its spine and almost decapitating it.

Deciding that she was handling her first fight as a full werewolf pretty well, I called Kirby for cleanup and headed forward.

The horror that was Amaymon was waiting for me, a broken, torn agent hanging forgotten from one clawed hand, huge taloned feet kneading the crumpled asphalt street.  Moving forward unhurriedly, I started to angle toward his right side, moving obliquely and picking up speed, then sharply turned and angled the other way, jinking three more times before darting low to the ground by his left leg.  Grim lunged, most of my weight on my folded right leg, left extended out behind in a manner that would make a fencer proud.  My demon dart just pierced the Hell lord’s left ankle before he moved the whole leg.  Unfortunately, he moved it forward and kicked it straight at my head.  Dropping flat, Grim let it fly overhead, taking the opportunity to stab upward at the grotesque flopping male organs left exposed above us.  A perfect strike—the mother of all nutters.

First blood was mine, but his roar of pain and outrage told me that I had really only managed to piss him off.  He clutched his very public privates in pain and Grim seized the moment, jumping forward to stab at the monster’s side.  Amaymon was faking, a fact that became clear when he unwound a lightning fast backhand that slammed me twenty feet away and through a car windshield.

If it were me, I’d a just laid there a bit and tried catching my breath around the searing pain of my body.  But Grim was running the show and hanging out helpless isn’t part of his tactical game plan.  Instantly, we/I pushed back deeper into the car, narrowly missing a swipe by the master demon’s oversized claws that would, most likely, have removed some of my body parts.  As it was, they tore through the steel frame around the windshield without slowing down.

I rolled over a couple of dead bodies, ignored the wetness of their blood on my skin and the burning pain of my healing wounds, instead focusing on kicking out the rear driver side door.  None too soon either, as massive claws punched through the driver’s and front passenger’s doors and the whole car left the ground in a smooth glide, lifted effortlessly.

My newly cleared doorway showed me a twisting roller-coaster view of the battleground below, giving me glimpses of ‘Sos fighting some kind of cross between a crocodile and a python, which would give the Syfi channel’s movie production staff fits of envy; while Tanya sparred with Orias, whose hands had been replaced by blades of demon chitin; Arkady, Trent, and Stacia fought individual demons; and Lydia… God help me, Lydia was heading toward my fight.

I love Lydia like she’s my older sister and have nothing but respect for her wit, cunning, and political skill, but she doesn’t belong on a battlefield, despite her training and her vampire abilities.  Against humans, sure, but demons?  Not so much, particularly demon princes.

Amaymon’s back was to her, so he didn’t see her pick up a government-issue assault rifle from the ground where its dead, previous user had carelessly left it.  I didn’t know what she thought the puny 5.56mm rounds were going to do, but then she removed a couple of green and gold objects from the fallen agent’s vest and slid one into the second, larger under-barrel on the M4.  Oh, a grenade launcher.  Hmm, gold head, olive drab body.  I tried to remember my M203 grenade launcher round color codes.  Grim offered up the answer: high explosive, dual purpose.  Right—could be used against ground targets or… armor.  She stopped about thirty feet away, which seemed too close.

She raised the weapon and fired, the chunking sound of the grenade launcher catching Amaymon’s attention enough for him to turn and look, still holding the car off the ground.

The round streaked right at his flank, hit, and bounced off onto the ground, rolling harmlessly around before settling down. Yup, too close to arm in flight. Something over fourteen meters seemed about right. The demon prince looked at the little vampire and snarled, bunching his arms to throw the car at her. With my demon spikes shoved through my belt, Grim swung us out the doorframe and under the car, monkey barring the rear axle, then the drive train, and finally the front axle.  My hands released the axle when my feet were pointed straight at the monster, the same part of the arc a swinging kid uses to launch him or herself off the swing and into the air. Both my hands drew a spike in preparation for landing.

Lydia was backing up and frantically reloading the launcher as the demon lord flung the car at her, not even looking to see where I was.  My feet hit his chest and my spikes sank into his shoulder and neck, slipping past his armored plates and deep into his flesh.  That got his attention rather dramatically, his roar shaking the ground almost as much as the crashing car did.

Lydia got the new round chambered and had blurred back another sixty feet before firing the M203 a second time.  The explosion and flash of light were much more in line with Grim’s expectations, and Amaymon’s roar changed tone to a new octave of pain.  I felt some pain of my own as his right-hand talons pierced my torso and ripped me away from his body.  Torn and soaring end-over-end, Grim still managed to right my body and Cling us to the front of a ten-story building.

Roaring and bleeding, Amaymon turned and started to run, straight down Pennsylvania Avenue back toward downtown, back toward the White House.  We were winning the fight but he was going to complete his mission.

Bounding from my spot, I hit the ground running; racing to catch up, speed increasing with every step and every wound that healed.  I’m fast, really fast, but so is a demon prince and this one had mile-long legs that clearly gave him an advantage.

A round object lay on the street nearby, a disc of metal almost three feet in diameter—the third sewer cap.  Grim waved my left hand at it and the manhole cover left the ground, shot down the road, and hit the fast-moving demon behind his right knee.  Three hundred pounds of cast iron moving at almost sixty miles an hour makes a hell of a calling card.  It not only took him off his feet, it almost took his leg off at the knee.  Amaymon piled up in a rolling mess of red and black, dripping inky demon blood from a score of wounds, rolling and flipping for twenty or thirty feet before slamming face first into the storefront window of a Starbucks almost on the corner of 17th and Pennsylvania Avenue.

Just ahead were the barriers that stopped all traffic from driving past the White House. At least a dozen police and federal vehicles blocked the street in front of the barriers.  Armed officers were barricaded behind their cars with rifles and shotguns pointed our way.

Amaymon was just starting to pull himself up when I arrived, my healing almost complete whereas his had only just started.  I interrupted his recuperation.

There were several heavy concrete tables out front, the kind that are a bit awkward to sit at because the designers had favored theft-hindering bulkiness over aesthetic comfort.  The one I grabbed had to be five hundred pounds of poured and hardened cement.  I hit him with it.  A bunch of times.

After a good five whacks at him, he finally dipped into his demonic reserves and shoved himself up while I was still on my backswing.  When the remains of the table came down on him this time, his arm shot up and stopped it cold before ripping it away and throwing it out into the street.  So I stepped up and hit him with aura-wrapped fists and feet.  He took a bit more damage before he knocked me aside with a big fist.  I only flew eight feet this time—I was tiring the bastard out.

Standing up, he snarled at me.  “You can’t win against me, Malahidael.  I have always been more than you and here, in these forms, without your sword, you are outmatched,” he said, stretching to his full nine feet in height.

I was certainly outmatched in size, but just then, I would rather have been a compact five-ten than an eye-catching red and black nine feet because every cop and agent behind those cars and barracades opened up on him with everything they had. Being the people who protect the President, they had a lot.

My trained ears heard the sharp bark of various handguns, the brap of MP-5 and FN-P90 submachine guns, the boom of shotguns, the sharp crack of assault rifles of various kinds, and even the heavy roar of a magnum sniper rifle.  Concrete, glass, and bits of red demon flew everywhere.  Me, I hugged the ground and watched the fireworks.

Prince Amaymon was nine feet tall and striped all over with red—only an idiot could miss him.  The people on duty to guard the President aren’t usually categorized as idiots, and they’re pretty much all dead shots.  The sheer volume of metal that impacted the demon would have outright destroyed a lesser being and I think it came real close to ending Amaymon’s time right then and there, except that he moved, maybe even fell.  The motion put most of him behind another concrete table whose mass protected him for a few moments.  Time enough, it seems, for him to heal at least some of the damage he’d taken.  He was still heavily wounded, black blood pouring out onto the sidewalk, and I could have killed him outright but for the same shit storm of metal that was peppering me with concrete and dust, mostly copper and lead, but some of which was silver and a bit seemed to be depleted uranium.  The President’s men were loaded for me.

I could see the Hell lord taking deep shuddering breaths and I reached for a quarter from my belt, thinking one good blast of molten US coin would end him, but the belt was gone, along with most of my belt loops, lost somewhere behind me further up Pennsylvania Avenue.

Before I could find anything else, Amaymon lifted his head, looked me in the eye, and bellowed out a guttural word that made my skin crawl and my stomach turn.  Four hundred or so yards back up the street, a screech answered him.  I turned and looked in time to see Orias break off his fight with Tanya and run halfway up the side of the eight-story building nearest him.  Then, standing sideways on the building, he pulled a cell phone from his duster pocket and made a call.

Immediately, the sounds of gunfire doubled, only this new volume wasn’t directed at the demon prince but rather at his human attackers.  Glancing at the White House defenders, I saw several stagger and go down as they started taking flanking fire from 17th Street both north and south of us, as well as quite a few building windows.  The new participants appeared to be just regular humans—well, as regular as demon-worshipping gun nuts can be.  They wore street clothes, everything from suits and ties to jeans and t-shirts to camo and leather, their one similarity the fanatic expressions on their faces.  The weapons they carried were a mixture of everything from hunting rifles to M1 Garands and AR-15’s.  But their shooting was accurate and the gunfire directed at the demon prince dropped off to nothing as the agents and officers turned their fire on the demon’s human followers.

I hadn’t thought about human helpers—to me, it is inconceivable that anyone would willingly worship and follow the creatures that seek to eradicate anything human.  But the Heaven/Hell business is all about swaying free will and winning souls.  There will always be those who go over to the dark side, whether, in fact, they actually serve cookies or not.

Chapter 23

Sneering at me one more time, Amaymon bolted up 17th Street, plowing past his own minions, ignoring those who were now being picked off by the Secret Service and the White House police force.

I followed him, immediately picking up some fire from the Hell’s militia members.  Shooting a moving creature is hard.  Shooting one that moves at cheetah speeds while zig-zagging left and right is even more difficult.  I made it worse by pushing a blast of aura up the street, causing their guns to fall silent as their cartridges became useless.  The police ammo was still good, though.  At least four of Hell’s lackeys died with bewildered expressions, looking at their inert rifles as police sharpshooters put them down.

Amaymon ran just one block north before turning right onto H Street and heading toward the big green space north of the White House.  Lafayette Square, I think it’s called.

He was end-running around the Secret Service, and I wasn’t having any part of it.  I swung past a street light, leaning over as I ran to rip off the oval-shaped metal access panel at its base.  About six inches long and four wide, it was too much metal for my purposes.  Still running, but slowing somewhat, I clipped it into thirds with a mono-edged hand.  Then I stopped and started some shooting of my own.

Pressing a dimple into each of the flat lopsided metal discs, I then threw one into the air and clapped my aura-lined hands at it.  A sharp report and a streak of actinic plasma shot toward the demon at explosive speed.  The irregular shape of the metal threw my aim off and my shot went far right, blowing a huge hole through the top of a big blue mailbox just to the side of the demon.  He veered left a bit and I fired off another, immediately starting to run after him, as he was getting too far ahead.  My second shot was closer but still a bit off and it took out a Ford Focus parked on the street, the gas tank exploding as super-heated molten metal blew right through it.

Amaymon stopped and tore a lamppost out of the sidewalk, swinging it as I fired off my final shot.  Somehow, he moved the ten-foot post fast enough to catch my pitch, punching the plasma ball away from him just enough that it hit a building behind and to his right.  Standing upright, he held the massive bat one handed and stared at me.  Running feet behind me made Grim back us up, even as my heads-up mental image showed two figures approaching on foot, my mental link telling me the trailing one was Tanya.

“My Lord, I am here to aid you,” Orias yelled out, still running and still talking.  Dumbass.

Baldy was headed straight for me, bladed arms raised to strike, but Grim had learned from the priest and the bull demon in Baltimore.  A vampire energy Push stopped the demon duke like an invisible wall, giving me enough time to move to him and freeze his feet to the ground with a combination of aura and Posting energies twisted together, like an invisible ship’s hawser.  He hacked one crablike arm at me and Grim caught it between the flats of both aura-lined palms—the Jackie Chan sword capture, Hell’s version. He tried to pull his stuck feet free as his other arm swung back to strike me, only it flew off completely when three feet of tungsten sword cleaved it free.  He locked eyes with me as Tanya’s second sword snipped his shiny head free from his neck, eyelids slowly blinking, skull tumbling, and then there was nothing left but to call a Kirby for cleanup in aisle H.

“Impressive teamwork, but my vassal’s sacrifice has given me time to heal and I don’t think your tricks will have quite the same result with me,” Amaymon said.

A thought came to me that wasn’t mine. Two thoughts really.

Hello, you’re monologuing just like your idiot minion.

That was the first.  The second was more of an idea. I glanced at Tanya, who was staring fixedly at the demon prince.  No, not at him, but just past him.  I saw what she was looking at, and her idea made sense.  Enormous sense, but the sheer coincidence and unlikely providence of it all made me glance Heavenward for just a moment.

“Oh, He won’t help you now, Mal.  It would be a breach of His precious Accords,” Amaymon said, not understanding my wondering look.  “He is sooo enamored of free will.”

I didn’t have to look at Tanya to know what she was thinking—more grandstanding.  So when she threw her lefthand sword at him, I was already moving, her attack plan received and acknowledged.  I ran and leaped straight at him, feet first.

The sword punched into his left foot, but he barely noticed, instead throwing the lamppost, spear-like, at my vampire before turning to meet my charge.  I trusted Tanya to dodge the projectile and slide into position on the ground at his feet.  Her left foot roundhouse kicked the back of his right knee as my feet met his outstretched hand and I bounced off.

Without Tanya’s actions, my impact, which had enough power to cave in the side of a dump truck, would have done nothing to the red and black giant.  But with one foot pinned and the other knee buckled, he went over backward, crashing into the unique property behind him and half-crushing the sign in its yard.

That’s when the vision struck along with the flare of heat from my God Tear.  Only it wasn’t a vision, more like a dream.  I went from fighting a demon prince to being in a foofy pink bedroom, lying on… no. Floating over a soft, twin-sized princess bed complete with canopy.  My attention was on the portion of the wall I could see through the bed’s draped canopy.  Painted with a mixture of Disney characters, it was mostly normal—other than the strand of black that was growing downward from the ceiling, beginning to cover Goofy and branching off to flow right through Princess Ariel’s friend Sebastian.  My form floated out to investigate, finding strands of blackness running down every wall and all across the ceiling.  Instant unreasoning rage overwhelmed me at this magical attack on my charge.  Now my ghostly purple form was touching a strand and following it backward, up the wall, through the ceiling across the night sky of New York City, riding the twisted black cable of magic like a road.  Floating across the cityscape till I was coming down through the roof of an apartment building, through the top floor, down to the second, and suddenly in a room of chanting women.  Thirteen women, all older, all focused.

As one, their closed eyes snapped open, identical looks of first disbelief, then outrage, and finally, as my purple hand clipped the closest one’s head from her shoulders, terror.  A flurry of violent images flowed like a first person shooter game gone amuck.

Suddenly I was back in the street, kneeling on one leg, weak and breathing like I was asthmatic, the Tear cooling under my shirt.

Tanya was alternating between watching me worriedly and looking back at where the demon prince was jerking and shuddering on the yellow and white building’s sign.  Mere moments had gone by.

The part of the sign that I could still see indicated it was Saint somebody’s Church, and the effect on Amaymon was graphic. Every part of the demon prince’s body had erupted with boils and his skin was bubbling as the church’s consecrated ground seared the unholy flesh within its boundaries.

He howled, bounding to his feet, then stood atop the remains of the signpost and glared at us.

“That’s it?  That’s everything you have?  I can stand this all night, this blighted ground He has favored with his Grace.  And you, Malahidael, you are spent and worthless,” he said through clenched teeth, blisters and foul steam rising all about his body.

Weakly, I pointed just behind him.  He frowned, then twisted slightly to see where I directed.

Barbiel stood between the white columns of the church’s front, but he wasn’t the Barbiel I knew so well.  Gone were the casual clothes, replaced by silver and gold armor that shown with a light so bright, it was hard to look at.  A golden helmet covered his curly hair and his blue eyes showed an emotion I had never seen on his face before: intense, deadly anger.

A four-foot blade of white flames was in his hands as he advanced on Amaymon.

For his part, the demon prince gaped a bit, looking like a horrific idiot.  Then he straightened and reached into the air in front of him to produce his own sword—this one dripping with a soul-sucking blackness and radiating a cold so intense, I could feel it from forty feet away.

“Barbiel, you are less my match than Malahidael.  This will mark your final end.”

“But you’re in my yard, bitch!” Barbiel answered, confirming my suspicions that he’d been spending way too much time reading teenagers’ cell texts.

The two came together in a blur of blades that was hard for even vampire vision to follow, the impact thunderous.  They both staggered back, a line of blackness on Barbiel’s chestplate and a glowing white rent across the inside of Amaymon’s right thigh.

Again, they came together for an explosive exchange of strikes and again, they separated.

Barbiel was unmarked, but Amaymon was limping and when he turned, I could see another white streak across his right calf.

I don’t know if they would have been evenly matched anywhere else or any other time.  Maybe Amaymon was right and he was the more powerful being.  But here, on hallowed ground, already punished by our running battle and hundreds of bullets, the prince of Hell was outmatched.  And here’s another fact you might not know… real blade fights, be they sword or knife, ax or spear, are decidedly much faster than Hollywood would have you believe.  The third exchange was the last, as Barbiel beat Amaymon’s guard down, stepped to his left toward that weakened right leg, and speared the demon through his ribs, the tip appearing out the giant’s upper left shoulder blade.  Then the Angel of October smoothly pulled the blade free and lopped off the demon’s head.

The massive oblong shape fell to the ground and exploded into embers and ash on contact.  A larger, flashier explosion followed when the now eight-foot remains timbered to the consecrated earth immediately after.

Chapter 24

“Nice sword,” I said when my angelic case officer looked over at us.  “Where can I get one?”

“You already have one, Malahidael… you just need to call it,” he said, puzzled by my ignorance.

Great, like I couldn’t have used that tidbit of knowledge many months and hundreds of demons ago.

A blast of wind buffeted me as one of the news choppers swung extra close for a better picture.  When I looked up and met the pilot’s eyes, he pulled the aircraft back despite the visible haranguing his onboard reporter was giving him.

Two more helicopters circled the scene, each with local news call signs on their sides.  The biggest paranormal fight of the century had just been broadcast live on global networks. Fantastic.

“Ah, the cat’s kind of out of the bag here,” I said to Barbiel, who approached me, sword vanishing as he walked, armor morphing back into street clothes.

“I am just a vague person-shaped blur on their equipment.  You and Lailah, however, are sure to be rendered in exquisite detail,” he replied, standing just on the edge of the church grounds.

“So what happens now?” I asked him, glancing at Tanya, who was picking up her sword.

“I do not know, Mal—can I call you Mal?  I kind of like it,” he said.

“Yeah sure, but isn’t the Big Guy gonna throw the book at us for letting this all happen in public?”

“You think He is displeased that such vivid proof of his existence has been provided without his input?  You have heard the phrase… any publicity is good publicity?”

“Is he dead?” Lydia asked, suddenly streaking onto the scene, looking around while clutching the assault rifle tightly. “Is Amaymon dead?”

I could hear Arkady, Trenton, and Stacia coming not far behind and a rhythmic thudding told me that ‘Sos was done with his battle as well and approaching.

“He is more than dead…he is destroyed,” Barbiel said, his tone somber.

“Completely destroyed?  Not just returned to Hell?” she asked, poking at the swirls of ash that had fallen back on the ruined church sign.

Before he could answer, a male voice yelled at us.  “Drop the weapon now!  Put your hands on your heads and drop the weapons!”

Lydia turned, the M4/M203 in her hand and I sensed what was about to happen before it did.  Desperately, I flashed a burst of aura toward the Secret Service team that was demanding our compliance.  I wasn’t fast enough.  The agent who had yelled now fired a stream of high velocity rounds from his FN P-90 that shut off in mid-burst as my aura blast arrived.

Turning back to Lydia, I saw her falling away, shoved by Trenton’s horizontal dive.  He had never stopped running, arriving just at the moment that the shooting started, and he was faster than the others.  A spray of red mist exploded from his back as the little rounds ripped through him, climbing up his body till the last few exited his skull.  I moved to him, meeting Tanya, who caught his falling body.  His open wounds were smoking, as if burned and I suddenly remembered the mix of silver, copper, and DU rounds that had been directed at Amaymon.

The back of his head was a series of gaping holes, but his face was oddly peaceful when she tilted it up her way, just three tiny dots to show where the bullets had entered his cheek, nose, and forehead.

Part of me felt disbelief, part felt Tanya’s enormous loss and self-blame, and part of me felt rage—plasma-hot rage.  Turning away just as Stacia and Arkady appeared on either side of my vampire, a tiny portion of my brain flashed through a series of memories that had till this point been missing: Trenton at Plasma, guarding my neighbors; Trenton at the Brooklyn Heights home, guarding Tanya; Trenton guarding us all through countless demon incursions.

The rest of my brain flashed into full combat mode as Grim took charge.  One of ours had been killed by those we were trying to protect; therefore, they had just forfeited protection and become enemy combatants.  Grim knew what to do with enemy combatants.  First, their weapons.  Unlock.

The biggest burst of aura that I could now remember left me, expanding out in an arc of exploding guns and ammo.  Weapons, hand-held, holstered, or lying forgotten on the ground, all burst apart in flames and thunder as the purple wave reached them.  Above, three newly arriving Apache gunships lost their chain guns and a good portion of their stubby wings when their loads of 30mm cannon shells and Hellfire missiles ignited from within.  Flight integrity compromised, they tilted away, airframes shuddering.

The half-globe of ordinance destruction expanded outward, passing one hundred, two hundred, and three hundred yards in every direction.  At least a hundred arriving cops and agents were suddenly batting at flames and burning bits of gunpowder as their tools of the trade turned against them.

High overhead, beyond the atmosphere, something came online, catching the attention of my inner monster.  Different from other satellites, it was powering up to do something, something that I was sure to disapprove of.  Grim pushed my right hand up in the air and made a grasping motion.  As he twisted my fist, the space-borne weapons platform moved with it, twisting its position just as it released its charge of focused light.  The infrared laser beam was fully visible to my eyes as it carved a burning black line through the green grass of Lafayette Square, hundreds of feet from our position, the line running across the ground and through a car, ending when the satellite’s onboard capacitor exhausted itself.  Before the space weapon could recharge, Grim squeezed our right hand tightly and high above, the satellite crumpled in on itself—a billion-dollar crushed beer can.

With that out of the way, Grim turned our attention to the ones that had made our vampire grieve her lost guardian.  Already wounded by their own weapons, they would fall like wheat to our scythe. Lining my hands and arms with aura, Grim prepared for the slaughter, only to stop at the warm touch of a single finger on my left bicep.

Stacia was standing next to me, back in human form, her approach ignored by my combat persona’s focus on enemies and enemies alone.  Grim retreated a little at her contact and when I turned to her, part of my normal self was able to read her expression.  Sorrow, disgust at the shooters, and fear—fear for me.  Fear that I would lose myself in the slaughter that was about to follow. She was wearing just a borrowed jacket, but it must have been Arkady’s because it was enormous and covered her almost to her knees.

Grim pulled back a bit further and I looked back to where Tanya held Trenton, her gaze locked on mine, her regret and loss so sharp it had weight.  Lydia was staring down at the handsome face of the silent bodyguard and Arkady stood with his head bowed.  Awasos sniffed Trent’s form then blurred back to wolf form, sitting and raising his head to the sky to howl for his lost companion in the way that wolves have since even before man lived in smoky caves and cowered in the dark night.

Grim checked our surroundings one more time, finding it clear of immediate danger for several hundred yards in all directions, before retreating fully.  Sirens approached but they were the ambulance and fire truck kinds, here to treat the wounded and control the damage I’d already done.

The news choppers continued to hover, but all the military ones were pulling back.  Fully myself, I went back to Tanya, whose eyes were streaked with tears.  Then I noticed Barbiel standing at the edge of the church grounds, mere yards from the others, his expression one of relief as he looked straight at me.  He gave Stacia a firm nod, then looked at Tanya, who had turned to look where I was staring.  Meeting the angel’s gaze, she came to a conclusion, one I could feel through our link.  She stood, lifting the tall, lean Guardian’s body without effort and started toward Barbiel.

He patted her shoulder as she lay Trenton on the church grounds at his feet. He leaned over and held one hand out, as if to give the dead vampire a hand up.  White light lifted from the body and touched his outstretched hand, swelling from an arm-shaped line to a body-shaped oval of pure white light.

“I will take this warrior home myself, Lailah.  He has served well, sacrificing himself for his comrade,” the Angel of October said before blurring into gold and silver light himself.  Both blobs of light ascended, slow, then fast, then gone.

Chapter 25

Alexis Bishop arrived in the back of an ambulance, jumping out with the paramedics, moving quickly out of their way as they set about tending the survivors.  Most of the wounds were flash burns, micro shrapnel, ruptured eardrums, shock, and temporary blindness.  I caused those.  There were some gunshot wounds from the Satanists—who were mostly dead, having fought to the last man.  Then there were the agents and officers who had tangled with the demons.  Only a few survived, and they had already been medevaced to hospitals.  The rest were just bodies being covered by the cleanup crew.

Looking around at the wounded officers, bodies, and debris-strewn streets, it took her a moment before she looked over our way.  It’s not like we were hidden, sitting on the masonry base of the smashed church sign.  Plus the three—no, make it now four—camera crews situated on the roofs of the nearest buildings were all broadcasting a continuous video feed of our every move, while parabolic microphones sought our words.

I think it must have been the sheer activity that was taking place and the amount of damage to the street, parked cars, and surrounding buildings that occupied her attention.

All of the flashing lights were ambulance and fire truck mounted, as no military or SWAT vehicles had approached closer than five hundred yards to the center of the destruction.  The only non-news helicopters had been the medevac units and Marine One, which had landed on the South Lawn of the White House and then left, most likely with the President aboard.  Why he hadn’t been evacuated at the start of the whole thing, I didn’t know.

Grim could sense military units on the perimeter of the five hundred yard mark, ready but unmoving.

She got closer, slowing a bit at the sight of us.  Stacia sat on the corner of the sign base, then me, then Tanya, and finally Lydia, who hadn’t spoken since Trenton had died.  Arkady stood in guard position, halfway between the body of his fallen comrade and his queen, ready to protect either or both as needed.  Awasos lay by my feet, sharing pemmican bars that Arkady had retrieved from the cars.  A mound of wrappers were piled between me and Stacia.

“I’m here to talk about next steps,” she said, only her darting eyes betraying any real sign of nervousness.

“Next steps, Alexis?” I asked, trying to keep the volcano of rage and anger inside me from erupting.  Both Tanya and Stacia touched me, almost simultaneously, which at any other time would have made me smile in disbelief.

“Yes.  We need to talk about how to handle the aftermath of all of this,” Alexis Bishop said, waving her hands around. “How do we proceed and resolve what has happened?”

Tanya jumped up, which made Alexis jerk in fear.  Reaching a hand to Lydia, my vampire looked first at me, then Stacia.  “I’m going into the church.  I think Lydia and I need to talk with Barbiel.  You,” she directed at Stacia, “stay with him, right?”

“Right,” Stacia agreed.

They left and when Arkady looked from me to them, I put him out of his indecision.  “Go with them. ‘Sos will watch over Trenton,” I said, patting the furry wolf at my feet.  I, myself, had spent some time with Barbiel after the battle and knew just how calming a talk with him could be, although my time had been more instructional in nature.

Arkady nodded, looked balefully at Alexis, then followed the other two vampires.

Alexis watched them, a trace amount of wonder showing through her poker face at the sight of three vampires entering a church.

“Maybe you would like to go with them?” she said, turning to Stacia.

“Maybe me sitting here is the only thing that will keep him from going ballistic when you push him over the edge with your words?  Maybe it would be in the best interests of this city and country if I sat my ass right here and prevented Apocalypse C?” Stacia replied.

That made the President’s Fixer pause, eyes widening slightly before she looked back at me as if trying to visually measure my fuse.  I just watched her and after trying to hold my stare for a moment, she looked back at the werewolf girl by my side.

“Yeah, maybe that would be best,” she said with a nervous nod.

“So, now that you’ve killed my friend and brother in arms, just how do we proceed?” I asked, thinking that my voice sounded reasonable.  Stacia’s immediate grasp of my forearm and Alexis’s gulp and small step back indicated not.

“I didn’t kill your friend.  The President didn’t kill your friend.  It was a mistake by a frightened agent, who as I understand it is now blind.”

I shifted slightly at the implication I should feel bad about one man’s vision problems while Trenton lay dead.  The hand on my forearm squeezed slightly.

“Lady, I understand that you’re some kind of high-powered negotiator or something, but right now, you’re doing a piss poor job with word selection,” Stacia said.

“Look, all I meant was that you’ve exacted some punishment on the killer of your friend.  Yes, he still lives, but at the end of the day, he was just a man doing his job in a situation that none of his experience or training could prepare him for.  No one ordered your friend killed.”

I pointed to the blackened furrow cut through the grass across the street in the square.

“And I suppose your little Death Star in the sky just happened to misfire, too?” I asked.

“We’re looking into that,” she said, paling noticeably.

“Wait, you don’t know who fired that thing?” Stacia asked, starting to stand up.  I grabbed her hand as it left my arm, restraining her for a change.

“You have to understand that it’s a huge government with thousands of moving parts.  There are over three thousand agencies, departments, and private companies all working on defense and homeland security.  It isn’t as clear cut as you might think.”

“You’re implying that there is another Agents-in-Rebus-like organization?  With control of space-based weapons?” I said.

“We have locked down control on all assets.  Since the Tomahawk misfired, we’ve initiated much more stringent command and control procedures.  Within the last hour, the President has ordered centralized weapons control to just himself.  He had nothing to do with those attacks on you or your people,” Alexis said. “We are actively investigating who actually ordered those attacks.”

“Either I believe you, in which case I’m left disgusted at the sheer ineffectiveness of this government, or I call you a liar and decide to go to war.”

She studied me for a moment, calculating.

“You can hear my heartbeat?  See if my skin flushes?”

“Yes, we can. Plus we can literally smell if you lie,” Stacia said.

“And?”

“You haven’t lied yet.  But then, I haven’t spoken to the President directly either, to get a read on him,” I said.

“Would you?  Talk to the President?  Could you?  Without killing anyone?” she asked.

Grim started to react but I squashed him on my own.  Instead, I got chilly inside, focused, my attention fully on her and all her reactions.

“You don’t know if he will, do you?  You’re just testing the waters, looking for a hook.  You already know the level of control I’ve kept… I’ve been… gentle.  Would I?  Yeah, sure.  I don’t think he will though… too scared.”

She nodded at the truth of my words.  “You might be surprised.  Okay, what else?  How do we get you out of here?” she asked, waving her hands around us at the destruction.

“We’ve called for a ride,” Tanya said, walking back out of the church.  Lydia must have stayed inside as well as Arkady.  “We have a helicopter waiting.”

Alexis was terrified of Tanya; her erratic heartbeat and the little gulping motion in her neck told that plain as day.  But she struggled to contain it, pulling her eyes away from Tanya to glance at me.  “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“You—or someone like you,” I answered.  She stayed looking at me but I could almost see the battle not to look back at the vampire princess gliding through the wreckage on the lawn.  She gulped again.

“Why?  Why not just leave?” she asked, her professional curiosity peeking through her fear.

“Because we need to explain some things,” Tanya said, suddenly right next to her, the wind from her sudden blur of motion pushing Alexis’s brown hair back from her face.

Alexis froze completely while Tanya started a slow stroll around the professional politician.

“First, that we’re done here—with all this,” Tanya said, leaning close to Alexis’s ear from behind.  “That we’re done offering our help,” she almost whispered.

“Halloween is just begun,” I said.  “Daylight will be here soon, but then tonight will fall and even though this demon and his helpers are gone, don’t think for a second that it’s over.  This is the day of the year that the barriers between planes of existence are thinnest.  This country is going to have some issues, come nightfall, as will the whole of the planet.  You should do some planning while the daylight lasts.”

She looked at me for a second, then twitched her eyes sideways at Tanya, who was coming around to her left side.

“It’s not over?  And you’re just leaving us?” she asked, looking around at us and the first responders some distance away.  Her head tilted up and her view took in the tops of the buildings… and the television crews on them.

“You’re leaving your people to just die?  Your country?,” she said louder.

“No, Alexis, we’re going to a funeral,” I said.

Her expression was all focused concentration and thought.  “Can’t that wait? Why can’t you postpone your arrangements till this is past?  Till the country is safe?”

“Because, as you told me the last time we met, Alexis, the leaders of this country cannot abide me roaming free, because you want to hold my eight-year-old goddaughter hostage for control of my God-given abilities, because you’ve frozen our assets, hunted us like rats, launched missiles at us, sent assassins, and now when we step out of hiding to protect you, you kill us!” I said, voice rising to match hers.

“You have been grievously wronged.  I was wrong, as were the others in that meeting.  But we… the President and myself did not order that missile launched or set that trap in Baltimore or fire the Stellar Overwatch weapon at you.  Would you let innocent people die—families hacked to death by demonic killers?”

“Actually, I don’t believe we said we were going to do nothing… I think we said we weren’t going to help you or him.  We don’t trust you, you can’t even control your own forces, and we won’t work with you.  What we will do is stop hiding.  We’ll do as much as we can on our own, but be warned: If you shoot at us, we’ll more than shoot back. If you launch missiles, I send them right back, and if another motherfucking satellite looks at me cross-eyed, I pull the whole fucking sky down on your heads.  Stay out of our way, keep your agents and assassins away, keep your fucking weapons holstered or by God, the Hell holes and demons will be the least of your problems.  And stay the fuck away from Toni!” I said, my voice rising along with my body.

Alexis was backing away, almost falling over, scared out of her mind, and I had two sets of hands on my arms.

“Arkady, call that chopper, would you?  If we stay any longer, somebody’s gonna lose his temper and bankrupt some insurance companies. Probably a few of our own,” Lydia said, coming out of the church.

“Can’t you deny claim for Acts of God… or his agents?” Stacia asked.

“Damned good point wolf girl,” Lydia agreed.  Arkady was on a cell phone, calling the helicopter.

“I suggest you tell them to let it through,” Stacia said to a visibly shaky Alexis.  She nodded and pulled her own cell phone.

“You should advise your people tonight to carry an emblem of their faith with them. Crosses, Stars of David, the Star and Crescent for Muslims, whatever they follow.  Also, electronics and electric lights are uncertain around the demonic host.  Chemical light sticks are a must have for back-up.  You might draw on the US Armed Forces Chaplain Corps.  I think they’re spread around the country at various bases.  Include a chaplain, priest, minister, rabbi or imam with each group of responders.  I don’t know what you can do about the gates,” I said to Alexis when my anger had cooled a bit.

“We have been working on some technology to try and close the gates.  Oracle’s work,” she said, cautiously.

“Nathan’s people are good.  I hope they work.”

The whopping of rotors filled the air and thirty seconds later, a sleek commercial Sikorsky S-92 floated down out of the lightening night sky.  Arkady picked up Trenton’s body and we loaded it carefully onto the chopper, then climbed in ourselves.  Looking out the specially darkened window as we took off, I locked eyes with Alexis Bishop, who looked less like the powerful agent of the President and more like a scared human.  Turning the nose of his aircraft to the west, the pilot took us away from the rising sun of the new day.

Chapter 26

We didn’t go all that far, just to Dulles International Airport.  It was too late in the game to return to New York, so in the hour we had spent waiting for Alexis to show up, Tanya had been busy marshaling our forces.  Coded texts, emails, and even direct phone calls had resulted in a call-up of our people from hiding.

A private jet was waiting at the airport and we wasted no time moving aboard it, the sky already brightening with a new day’s light.  Arkady and Lydia staggered to shrouded bunks on the specially equipped plane while Tanya and I organized the arrival of another jet from New York.  Stacia, Awasos, and I fed from the well-equipped galley while we worked and after, behind the doors of the master bedroom, I fed Tanya.  Then we slept, trusting in the human staff and Grim’s alert senses.

Four hours later, I woke to find our jet had been invaded by Mr. Deckert and a crew of his security specialists.

“Gordon,” he greeted me, glancing up from the laptop he was working on in one of the ultra-comfortable passenger seats.

“Deckert,” I replied.  “Flight down okay?”

“Hunky dory.  Pilot said he’s never been cleared to land so fast in his life.  The other Darkkin are on board the other jet, deep in sun coma.  But Que… Miss Demidova’s instructions are all being carried out or are already done.”

“Good.  Tonight’s going to be a cluster fuck.”

“Roger that.  But you should check out the news, especially before going outside,” he said, nodding up front where a flatscreen was mounted on the bulkhead.

I hadn’t paid it any attention coming into the passenger and work area of the big plane, but now I realized it was on one of the big networks and it was live footage… of two parked planes at an airport… with massive crowds on the other side of the airport fence.  The feed was coming from a stationary camera from a higher level and when I raised the shade on a window, I could see camera crews atop the airport buildings.

“What the…” I trailed off.

“Seems most of the world watched the Battle for Washington as it’s being called. Live.  We sure did,” Deckert said, waving at the other security and administrative people around us.

“Oh.  Yeah.  I was kind of busy, but I did notice the new choppers.  What’s the reaction?”

“Fear—outrage—total cessation of normal life.  That crowd out there is hoping you’ll save us all,” he said.  “The whole world’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Looking for words of wisdom from God’s Hammer,” one of the other regular guys, Benson, piped in.

“God’s Hammer?” I asked.

“That’s what that cute little Indian reporter called you.  It stuck,” Stevens said from another seat across the aisle.  “She’s gotten popular—getting a ton of airtime.  The only reporter to have interviewed you and Miss D, and all that.  Is she single?”

“Not sure, Stevens, but I’m thinking she might be more than your match,” I said, looking back out the window.  “So what’s the gist of all this coverage?”

“People are scared.  The talking heads have brought in all kinds of demonologists and religious people, churches and synagogues have been inundated with calls, and apparently jewelry stores are selling out of crosses and other religious symbols.  Oh, and all the idiots in Congress are up in closed session, trying to figure out how to save their asses and maybe a few of their constituents.  Religious leaders around the country are having a field day, giving advice.  Some okay, others just total crap,” Deckert said.

“Oh,” was all the reply I had.  In truth, I was totally shocked, although hindsight being sharp-eyed and all that, I should have expected it.  But I had spent all my energy on fighting or preparing for the next fight.  Everybody awake in the plane was staring at me.  “What?” I asked.

“What are you going to do?” Benson asked, his voice a deep rumble.

“What do you mean?  I’m gonna fight like I always do,” I said.

“No, about them—about all that outside and on the television?” Benson asked.

“Them?  That’s what the President is for, the Congressmen, you know, their leaders,” I said.

“The President isn’t super popular right now.  Plus, he’s been addressing the nation from a bunker somewhere, so people don’t have a lot of faith in him.  And as for Congress—well, nobody’s been paying them much attention.  So they’re looking to you and Miss Tanya.”

I didn’t have a clue.  But thinking about what Tanya might do some ideas popped up.

“Well, I guess the first thing to do is watch some of the coverage and get a handle on what they’re most concerned about.  After breakfast, of course.  Then go talk to them.”

“By yourself?  Should you maybe bring Tanya or Lydia with you?” Hedges asked from his seat next to Stevens.

“Those two won’t be up for hours.  These people need to get on with their lives before nightfall.  What, you think I’ll screw it up?”

“Never seen you give any speeches is all.  You mostly just beat the utter crap outta things; not much public talking, ya see,” Hedges said after a glance at the other guys.

“I’ll go with him,” Stacia said from the doorway to the sleeping area.  “Keep him on track.”

The guys all straightened up a bit, looking from her to me and nodding.  “Oh, that’ll be good,” Hedges said, looking back at her.  She was wearing a Yankees t-shirt and little sleep shorts, leaving a lot of long, tan leg on display. The boys were getting an eyeful, but they looked a little apprehensive.  I thought about that for a moment and realized that most of them had never seen her in werewolf form before and now the whole world had. They all knew she was a werewolf, but seeing a beautiful girl who you’ve been told is a werewolf is one thing. Seeing her in beast form is something entirely different.

“But let’s hear more about that breakfast you were bragging about,” she said to me.  ‘Sos sat up from the floor in wolf form and looked at me expectantly as well.

“Well, let me see what I can rustle up,” I said, stepping over to the stairs to the lower level.  Behind me, I heard,  “Hey, Stacia, after you help the boss with the news crews, what say I treat you to lunch?” Stevens asked.

“Stevens, if you don’t get your hand off my hip, I’m gonna skip breakfast and have you for lunch,” she replied.

“Ooo, promises, promises,” he laughed.  At least someone wasn’t put off by her other form.

Down below, I found the galley and rummaged around, finding premixed eggs, frozen hash browns, and microwavable bacon.  The coffee was already on.  Ten minutes later, I had a huge tray of food to carry back up to the main level.

Stacia was already seated up front, watching the news.

I handed her a heaping plate of food and put a big mixing bowl of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns on the floor for Awasos, who started hoovering the whole mix up.  Finally, I took my seat next to Stacia with my own plate.

“What’s the deal?”

“Well, the coverage of the street fight is really pretty awesome.  Some of those camera guys are gonna win awards.  The anchors are interviewing everyone and anyone with any idea of what it’s all about.  The guy on right now is a scientist trying to claim that the demons are just extraterrestrials, not really evil.  The other two guest are crucifying him, sorry, no pun intended, and the anchors are siding with them.  I think, Chris, if nothing else, we’ve managed to make religion more popular, pretty much overnight.  Now of course, there’s backlash against the standard Halloween trick-or-treating traditions.  Also, every cult on the planet has come out of the woodwork to claim it’s the Rapture or the end of times or something like that.  You really do need to address it… this morning.”

“And tell them what?”

“First, tell them it will be okay, ‘cause that’s what they want and need to hear.  Then give them your advice. ‘Cause they need that, too.”

“What advice?”

“Listen, this is your moment to tell the whole country, scratch that, the whole world everything you want them to do to make your job easier and them safer.  Just lay it out.”

On the floor, the metal mixing bowl rattled as ‘Sos licked it sparkly clean, giving me something to focus on while my thoughts raced each other around my head.  After a moment, I grabbed a pen and paper and started my list.  Stacia, nibbling a piece of bacon, looked over my shoulder and made suggestions.  Fifteen minutes later, it was mostly done.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I said.

“Well, maybe we should clean up and change clothes first?” she suggested.

Forty minutes after that, we were ready to go.  Stacia looked me up and down, nodding to herself.  I was wearing jeans, boots and, in a concession to her, a button-down checked shirt that looked a bit better than my standard t-shirt.  She too was wearing jeans, cowgirl boots, a dark clingy shirt, and some kind of complicated half shawl-half sweater thingy that looked trendy.  Around us, Benson, Stevens, and Hedges were gearing up like they were going to war.  Tactical vests, earpieces, ballistic sunglasses, and AR-15 rifles.  Their vests all had the word Security across the back and on the breast patch as well.

“Benson, you’re point; Hedges, you’ve got the tail position; Stevens on the outside edge.  Watch the airport cops and look for hostiles in the crowd.  I’ll call it from in here,” Deckert told his guys as he opened the plane door.  Giant Benson headed out first, then Stevens, then Awasos, with myself and Stacia following.  Hedges came last.

Even as we took our first steps off the plane, while the door was still closing behind us, I could hear the television anchors on the TV behind us announcing our appearance to the world while the crowd outside the fence suddenly started to shout.

The noise swelled as we drew closer to the fence. The line of airport police and TSA agents along the fence turned to watch us approach, their shifting body language as anxious as the crowd.

A tall, auburn-haired police sergeant headed to us, eyes uncertain as he recognized Stacia and myself.

“Hey Sergeant.  We thought we should say a few words, see if maybe we can’t get some of them to go home,” I said.  “I’m Chris Gordon and this is Stacia Reynolds.” I held out my hand and watched him war with himself, trying to decide whether to shake it or back away.  Finally, after an awkward few seconds, he leaned forward and grabbed my hand in a quick shake, then shook Stacia’s.

“I’m Sergeant Timmons, Metro Washington Airport Authority,” he said.  Up close, his face was covered in freckles.  “Any help getting them to leave would be appreciated.  But, they’re pretty volatile, Sir.  Be careful.”

“Can we stand on the roof of the SUV?” I asked, pointing to a K-9 unit vehicle parked conveniently near the fence.

“Yeah, ah let me get something for you to climb up with,” he said.

“Not necessary Sarge,” I said, leaping lightly to the roof of the vehicle.  A moment later, Stacia landed next to me.  The crowd went silent at our casual display of inhuman athleticism.

I got nervous, fumbling in my back pocket for my notes, staring at the sea of faces staring back.

“Ah, hi, I’m Chris Gordon,” I said a bit haltingly, finally getting my sheet of paper out.  “I, ah, brought notes.”

The crowd laughed a little, some of the tension bleeding off.

“Ah, this is my associate, Stacia Reynolds,” I said, giving her a moment to wave a cute little wave.  “We just got up, so excuse the confusion… busy night.”  More laughter.

“So, I thought we could go over some things.  Things you all can do tonight to protect yourselves and your families,” I started.

“What are you going to do?” a voice yelled out from the crowd.

“Well, we’re gonna look for the bad spots… the worst of the worst.  Then we’ll do what we do.”

“How will you know… where the worst sites are?” another voice asked.

“Well, a combination of monitoring the news, police bands, and instinct.  My instinct,” I said.  “See, I’ve been doing this my whole life and I get these… feelings?  Images?  Anyway, we’ll find the worst of the worst and we’ll shut them down.  But we can’t get to all of them, so the smaller ones, we’ll have to ignore for now.”

“What, you’re just gonna leave those behind?” a reporter who had wormed his way to the front asked, holding up a microphone.

“Have to. We’re only one team. Can’t be everywhere at once. But, remember, these things don’t usually just pop open unless one of two things has happened.  One, a previous gateway was opened sometime in the past.  That can leave enough of a trace or pattern for a new one to open when the dimensions thin.  Didn’t used to be a big problem, but the Large Hadron Collider has weakened our protections.

“The second way these things open is if someone deliberately opens them.  Drawing the forms, saying the spells, calling or inviting prime evil into our world. So, tonight, being Halloween and all that, you’ll need to do a few things.  Keep your kids at home, especially the teens, lock your doors and windows, burn sage if you have it, line the openings to your home with salt and iron.  But the biggest thing?  Don’t call the damned things here. If you’re watching this now, thinking tonight would be a great time to gather some friends and play with the occult, think again.  So far, none of the people who have accidentally or deliberately opened a Hell gate have lived.  They’re always the first to die. So don’t fiddle with spooky stuff tonight, okay? Leave the creep factor alone. No circles or pentagrams unless you’re a practitioner of witchcraft and actually know what you’re doing.  In fact, it might be a good night to go to church, at least this year,” I said.

“So trick or treating is evil?” someone asked.

“Don’t be absurd. I did it last year with my goddaughter.  This year, it’s a bad idea just because it exposes your young ones at night, possibly the worst night.  Remember, the original reason for the costumes and jack-o’-lanterns was to scare away evil spirits that crossed over on Halloween.  This has been going on a long, long time.  The LHC just gave it a huge helping hand is all.  I’m told that the government has some technology that may be able to close Hellgates.  We’ll see.”

“The same government that’s been hunting you and launching missiles at civilians?”  the reporter asked.

“Yeah, we have our issues, don’t we,” I said.  That got a laugh as well.

“What is the best church or religion?” someone called out.

“The one you’re at,” I replied.  More chuckles.  “No, really.  It doesn’t matter.  Whatever faith you practice is the right one.  Christian, Judaism, Muslim, Hinduism, Wicca, Druidism, Native spirituality… it doesn’t matter.”

“But you went to a Catholic church,” the same voice yelled.

“It was handy,” I said with a shrug, “I was raised Protestant, but I’ve been in temples and synagogues, churchs, graveyards, even burial grounds.  As long as the concepts of good are cherished over the principles of evil, and you’re comfortable with it, then it’s the right one.  God doesn’t judge religions… he judges souls.”

“What does He say?  What does God tell you?”

“Nothing.  I don’t speak to God.  I’m not his mouthpiece, I’m not any kind of preacher; I’m not here to spread His word and all that.  I’m simply a soldier, a fighter.”

“What about the rest of the world?  What will they do?” another called out.

“For tonight, they’ll have to rely on their own religious experts.  They all have them.  After tomorrow, we’ll probably look at traveling to those countries that’ll have us to settle their really big problems.  As long as they’re not shooting at us, that is,” I said.

“You mean like here, in the country of your birth?” another reporter asked.  The press was beginning to take over the front line.

“Yeah.  It’s a bitch, isn’t it?” I asked right back.  Laughter.

“You blew the fingers off my husband’s hand,” a woman a few rows back interjected into the gap in the conversation. The crowd got real quiet.

“He a cop?” I asked.

She nodded.  “City cop responding to the attacks… just doing his job.”

I didn’t know what to say.  “I’m sorry about that.  I really am.  We were just trying to do our jobs as well.  But we can’t take fire from both enemies and allies.  Can’t do it. I’m sure I hurt a lot of others, too.  The people I was trying to protect shot my associate to death.  I wasn’t going to allow any more of my people to die.”  Actually, I had been about to slaughter hundreds of innocent cops and agents when Stacia snapped me out of it.  I thought it best to leave that part unmentioned.

“He’s not perfect and he’s super protective of his own,” Stacia suddenly interjected.  “Could it have been handled differently?  Sure.  But despite being more than human in some ways, he’s still human at heart. And he has a temper.  If he’s putting his life and his people’s lives on the line for you and you shoot him or them?  Well, his temper snaps. And with the heat of battle and taking fire from supposed allies, well, shit happens.  Could it have been better?  Yeah.  Could it have been worse?  No cop died at his hands.  I really wish the reverse was true.”

“You’re a werewolf, right?” someone else asked.  I didn’t think the topic with the cop’s wife was finished.  I certainly didn’t feel like it was, but the crowd was on to a new one.  One that was way more interesting than wounded first responders.  Maybe Tanya would have some ideas for handling those I had hurt after this was over.

“Yes, I am,” Stacia said.

“Are there more of you?”

“Yes.”

“Where are they, and where are the vampires?”

“Well, my vampires are sleeping,” I said, pointing up at the sun.  “That big ball of fire makes them mostly pass out.  But if you’re asking where the weres and vampires are in general, well…  everywhere.  All around.  They always have been.”

“Who are they?  How do we know?  How do we protect ourselves?”

“They’re your neighbors, co-workers, bosses, employees, and associates.  Weres have mostly normal lives.  Doctors, nurses, teachers, cops, brokers, all the same jobs that you have.  Vampires are a bit daylight-impaired so they have slightly different lifestyles but not usually drastically so. They work night shifts and night jobs. And compared to humans, their numbers are very, very low. As for protecting yourselves, I’d say you’re in much greater danger from car accidents, slips in the tub, binge drinking, and heart attacks than being wounded or worse by a supernatural.  See, they police themselves, punishing and removing those supernaturals that prey on humans.  Protecting the secret,” I said.

“But now the secret is out.  How does that change things?” another yell.

“I don’t know.  I’m still trying to figure out the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, because demons are the real problem here, not weres and vampires.  Let me ask you a question.  Tonight, let’s say you’re at your local church for an impromptu pot luck dinner and anti-demon sing-along.” Nervous chuckles from the crowd.  “And let’s say the worst happens and someone manning the front door sees a fellow church member just outside being attacked by a demon.  Who would you want to go help them?  Your sixty-year-old church secretary or someone like Stacia here, who can fight a demon face to face and win?”

“She’s welcome to guard my body tonight or any night,” a young man yelled out.

“Sorry dude.  I’ve got his back tonight,” Stacia said, thumbing at me.  “And his back takes a whole lot of watching.  You saw the fight on television, right?  You think what he does is easy?”

“How close a call was it?  With the President and that woman who was a demon?” a woman reporter asked.

“I don’t know any of the details about where the Prez was or wasn’t during the fight, but it was our worst fight yet.  Amaymon was frankly a touch out of my league.  I had a lot of help.”

“What was that fight in the church yard?  Who actually killed the demon?” another reporter asked.

“Who do you think he was?” I asked him right back.

“An angel?” he finally, tentatively guessed.

“His name is Barbiel, and he’s the Angel of October,” I said, nodding.

“You speak with angels?”

“Just him.  He’s my… handler.”

“What’s it like?”

I laughed. “Not as grand as it sounds.  They don’t understand this,” I answered, waving my arms all around at everything.  “They don’t understand life.”

“Why can’t he come and close the gates?  Why can’t the other angels come, too?” some voice asked.

“Because there are rules and agreements.  Accords that both good and evil must follow or else face all-out war.  Angels can appear on hallowed ground, but not off it.  That’s why your churches and temples will be the safest places to be tonight.”

“There aren’t enough churches and places of worship.  What’ll we do?” someone asked, voice panicky.

“First step: don’t panic.  Second: organize.  You’ve got the entire today—daylight portion anyway—to get things figured out.  Most of you are fine in your homes, that is if they’re real homes with family and respect. By the way, you heard me mention graveyards, right?  Some are hallowed ground.  Blessed by the churches.  Despite the horror movie stereotype, they’re off limits to evil.  At least if they’ve been kept consecrated.”

“You’re suggesting that we, what?  Party in a cemetery?” the first reporter asked, eyebrows raised.

“Worse comes to worse—yeah.  Beats dying on the street.  My first choice would be all night Mass, worship service, or just your basic church sleepover.  But if you find yourself out and exposed, then a handy church cemetery will keep you safe.  Couple other things.  The demons you saw us fight last night came through in their own forms.  Usually demons come through without corporeal presence—just in spirit form.  That’s the whole possession thing.  If you encounter someone possessed, do not engage in conversation with them.  Don’t try to restrain them or exorcise them.  If you can trap them in a room or something, fine, but really, just stay away.  Demons are the supernatural world’s experts at psychological warfare.  They will know your deepest, darkest secrets and they’ll use them against you.  So don’t engage unless you have absolutely no choice.”

“Is there any hope?” a woman in the second row back asked.

“What?  Of course! We won last night.  We stopped Hell’s best-laid plan.  So tonight has the potential to be bad, but it doesn’t have to be. Listen, if we don’t muck with the supernatural tonight, then the only gates will be the old, existing trace gates.  We’ll have fewer incursions and less to clean up.  If you all are locked behind family thresholds or tucked away in churches and synagogues, then there’s no one to terrorize or try to possess.  Tomorrow the sun will rise and we’ll sweep up the trash.”

“Will Halloween always be this way?” someone called out.

“I don’t know.  Maybe some of the particle physicists can answer that.  I can’t.  It’s way above my pay grade.  So look, it’s still early morning.  We’ve got stuff to organize before tonight.  Flight paths, refueling stops, ground transportation, stuff like that.  You all have your own plans to make.  Daylight’s burning, let’s get to it.  We’ll see you all later,” I said with a final wave.

Stacia waved too.

“Will you come back?  When you leave the country?” a young man three rows back asked as we started to turn away.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know if the government will let us back in,” I answered.

“Can’t you fight them?  Slip past them?” the same man asked.

“Could… but we won’t,” I said with a shrug.  “I’m not going to fight and kill to get back into a country that doesn’t want me.  Plenty of other countries have already offered.”  At least I thought that was true.  A field of eyes watched us, and you could almost feel the fear and anxiety.  Waving again, we both hopped off the SUV and landed softly next to the police sergeant. Benson, Stevens, and Hedges all closed ranks around us.  Awasos had been lying next to Benson, who was a particular favorite of his, and now he jumped up and pointed his nose toward the planes.

“Okay, Sergeant Timmons, we’re going back on the planes and work on our logistics.  Maybe most of these people will head home now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gordon, Miss Reynolds.  That crowd was scared, but I think you calmed them down,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake, this time with appreciation.

We turned and headed back to our plane, getting aboard without incident.

Chapter 27

“Nice work. The networks are eating it up,” Deckert said as we entered the plane.  “It might actually help.  You’re about the only person that the rank and file are likely to listen to.”

I settled into a chair to watch the news while Stacia slipped into an empty seat in front of an open laptop and started to surf the net.

Despite my words, most of the logistics had either already happened or would be finalized just before dark fell.  My plan was to eat, sleep, and maybe see what the world’s reaction was.  And boy, was there reaction.

Protests over the Large Hadron Collider in Europe, protests against the Garth Administration,  crowds rushing to get religious icons and symbols, speeches by every religious leader on the planet, speeches by Congress members, state governors,  even town mayors. There were dozens of interviews with people on the street expressing outrage at the government for trying to get rid of us, although a random few agreed that we should probably be reined in.  Poll numbers that showed the President’s approval rating was down in the dirt. The mobs stayed just civil enough avoid rioting but it was a chancy thing in many places.

The media was covering all that while hosting various experts and posting website addresses that listed religious places to spend the night.  Throughout all of the coverage, there were repeated clips and glimpses of us.  Clips from the fight, clips from the footage Chet had released and coverage of my impromptu speech from minutes ago.  Most of our coverage was positive, some neutral, and some negative.  The single most played clip showed the final fight between Barbiel and Amaymon. The Angel of October came through the film as either a flare of silver and gold or a shiny, blurry figure.  Amaymon was very clear and distinct, though.

A Washington law firm was outraged that I had hurt so many cops last night and wanted to form a class action lawsuit against me and Tanya.  The two partners being interviewed even supplied a hotline for any cop hurt by exploding weapons.

Three theology experts debated whether Barbiel was really an angel or just a man wearing some high-tech costume.  It was two to one in favor of the angel angle with the interviewer obviously siding with the majority.

I saw some footage of a familiar property and immediately called my grandfather.  “Hey, you okay up there?  Holding back the hordes?” I asked when he answered.

“Hell yeah.  Listen, this ain’t all about you, boy.  Some people are interested in the wise and intelligent fellow who raised the God Hammer.  See, they can appreciate the parenting skills it takes to turn out a superhero.  Might even get a date out of it,” he replied, voice just a touch smug.

“What?  With a woman?” I asked, incredulous.

“Of course with a woman!  Producer for CNN news, here with a news crew.”

“CNN?  It’ll never work,” I said.

“Look son, I’m just looking for a date.  Not trying to co-author a book with the woman,” he said.

We spoke for a while, catching up on my adventures and him giving me some advice.

When I hung up, I called another number.  Gina answered on the second ring.

“Hey, how are you guys doing?” I asked.

“Staying in, out of sight.  We had a couple of reporters come by after they figured out who your goddaughter was, but we pretended not to be home and after a bit, they retreated.”

“You must thoroughly regret making me Toni’s godfather,” I said.

“I had an idea that there would be issues, but not to this degree.  I hate that people keep coming for her and dying, Chris, and I worry how this might all affect her as she grows up,” she said, confirming my thoughts.  “And I wouldn’t trade her safety for anything, but you’ve more than taken care of that part.  Did you know that she fell over a railing at school?  Fell ten feet, should have hit the gymnasium floor.  The gym teacher was all freaked out.  Called me to tell me she was all right, but he was acting very strange so when I pressed him, he said he saw it happen.  That it was like she hit an invisible air bag at the bottom of her fall.  He didn’t tell anyone else and I could tell he regretted telling me as soon as he’d done it.  So how can I hate that?  A ten-foot fall could have killed her or crippled her, but her guardian angel protected her, didn’t he?”

“I didn’t know that, Gina.  It was probably too small of a use of energy for me to notice.”

“Did you see the article about the thirteen women found dead in an apartment not far from here?  No, what am I saying?  You’ve been way too busy for anything like that.  My contacts in the department said they were conducting some kind of ritual and something… not someone, but something killed them all.  Would you know anything about that?”

“They were witches.  They were working some kind of spell attack.  The necklace stopped them,” I said.

“An attack on what?  Our house?”

“Toni’s room.  They most likely wanted the book.”

“Did they have to die?”

“The necklace’s response is a reflection of the severity of the attack.  The federal agents got off with damaged equipment.  The gunmen all died.  This attack was very severe, very hostile.  The result was as well.  It’s why I called.  It happened during the battle last night.”

“We were watching that.  When did it happen?  Near the end?” she asked.

“Yes, just as I kicked the demon into the church yard.”

“Roy was wondering why you looked so dazed.  What if it had happened while you were trading blows with that thing?”

“That would probably have been bad,” I admitted.

“Chris, that’s more than bad!  That’s a real problem.  What if someone figures that out?”

“Perhaps you all need to be closer?” I asked.

“Chris, we can’t follow you around as you jet all over the place.  Plus we’re moving to Burlington shortly, remember?”

“Yeah, well, the school will offer some protection.  So will some of the kids.”

“Kids? Are you joking?”

“Listen, Gina, the kid who made the necklace possible will be there and so will his friend, the supersoldier.  Those two will surprise even you.”

“Listen, we’ll talk about this later.  You’ve got to save the world tonight, so I’m sure there’s stuff for you to do.”

“Mostly I just have to eat a lot today,” I said.  She laughed.

“Well I’ve seen the speech you just made.  Not bad, Mr. Gordon, not bad.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping people will listen,” I said.

“Oh they’re listening.  I’ve had two calls from different groups—one school-related, the other from our church.  Both organizing places of safety for tonight.  I’ve also been looking online.  Your suggestions are getting worldwide coverage. You reached a lot of people.”

“It’s a little shocking isn’t it?” I said, feeling surreal.

“Not really, Chris.  Not really.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up.

One of the admin people came back on board the plane with a huge platter of subs.  ‘Sos and I demolished a third all by ourselves while I continued my news marathon.  A little after one in the afternoon, I felt my vampire wake up.  It was much too early, but I sensed she was focused and determined.  It wasn’t a surprise when she came out of the bedroom and directly to me.

“We need to take care of Trenton’s body,” she said.  “Before we begin whatever tonight is.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked, not able to pull up a single memory of how vampire funerals were held.

“We cremate our dead,” she said, smiling as she felt my confusion. “Buried vampires usually end up dug up and their bones and dried flesh used in magical rituals and spells by witches and other practitioners. So we burn the bodies, sometimes in a crematorium but depending on the individual, sometimes in an outdoor burial fire.  Trenton grew up in Pennsylvania; he still owns the family land there.  We can burn him there.”

“Can we fly up and do it at dusk?” I asked.

“Yes.  He has… had some retainers still living on the land.  I’ll call them and get them started on the bonfire construction.  We can fly into Pittsburgh; it’s pretty close to his property. A half hour either way by car in either direction and a half hour for the ceremony,” she said.

“Tanya, we don’t need to skimp on the ceremony. We shouldn’t rush it.”

“The ceremony is for us.  Trenton is gone to a much, much better place, so I’m not worried about him,” she said with absolute conviction.

“Yes… yes, he has.  Barbiel was pretty clear on that,” I said.  “Not to say I told you so, but…”

“Christian Anthony Gordon, you have no idea how much Trenton’s death has changed things,” she said fiercely.

I could read her diamond-hard determination and that she felt her path was clear, but I couldn’t read the particulars.  “I’m assuming you mean in a larger picture, not just to us personally?”

She tilted her head to one side.  “What’s my biggest fear… what was my biggest fear?”

“Souls.  You always argue with me about vampires having souls.”

“Well, lover, you could say that the whole issue of souls is a Darkkin issue—a cultural issue across our entire society.  Last night’s events, recorded and broadcast in high-def, pretty much put paid to that question, not just for me but for my entire people.  The aftershocks of that little spiritual quake will be felt for decades.”

“How does that affect you?”

“It gives me a clearer vision of my role, one of my roles, in our society.”

“Spritual leader?” I guessed.

“Maybe partly.  Look at it this way.  Suppose you are a predatory supernatural being who lives for centuries, and you’ve always been told that you’re damned… that your soul is already lost.  What’s to keep you from saying fuck it and just embracing your natural inclinations to kill and maim?  What is left to hold you back from a descent into indulging your baser instincts?”

“Maybe your fellow Darkkin?” I suggested.

“Yes, maybe.  That’s why the Coven is so important, but some vampires just eventually go ahead and embrace the dark side.  But now, the whole world just had proof that something greater is out there.  And it happened to a vampire—to Trenton.  So how will vampires react to that?  Particularly the violent, self-indulgent ones?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Well, me either… not really.  But I think my people are going to need guidance.”

“And you’re the right person for the job,” I said.

“Christian, I’m the only person for the job.”

“What about us?” I asked.

“What about us?  Nothing has changed, nor should it.  What, you thought I would leave you and head out like a New Age Evangelist? Leaving you behind for wolf girl to comfort?  No chance of that, zayka,” she said with a snort and a smile.

“Well, good.  It’s just that you felt all fire and brimstone through the link just then, like you were riding off into the moonlight,” I said, absurdly relived.

“You still don’t get this whole Chosen thing, do you?” she asked.

“I guess not,” I answered.  The plane’s human pilot, a compact, fit-looking middle-aged woman who approached us in a respectful manner, interrupted whatever she might have said next.

“Miss Demidova?  We’re ready to take off for Pittsburgh whenever you like.  The tower has already cleared us and told us that we get priority when we’re ready… both planes.”

“That’s fine, Capitan Pullman.  Let’s get going.  That way you can be refueling before we even leave for the cremation service.  We’ll be ready for our first target of the night,” Tanya said before turning to me.  “Any inkling of where that is yet?”

“Not yet.  I’ll holler just as soon as I get an image,” I said.  The pilot was watching our exchange, fascinated.

“We have a long night ahead of us, Captain Pullman. Will you and your crew be able to handle it?” Tanya asked.

“Yes ma’am.  Each plane has two sets of pilots and copilots.  We’ll work in rotation to keep rested.  The alternate crew is sleeping right now.”

“Excellent.  Let’s get going then.”

It only took twenty-three minutes to get our planes on the runway and just minutes after that to get airborne.  A scant hour later, we were on the ground in Pittsburgh.  Seven minutes after that, the first news truck pulled up.  It wasn’t alone for long.

The sun had no sooner dropped below the horizon than we were on the road in a line of black SUVs.  We headed north following wending roads lined with trees well on their way to losing the last of the bright foliage of autumn.  Roughly a half-hour after that and we were deep in rural Pennsylvania, pulling up to a manned gate on a private drive.  The driveway brought us to a beautiful old house with an old barn.  Once, long ago, it had been a family farm, but those days were long gone, the house redone with modern techniques and high-end touches while still keeping its one-hundred-year charm.  After conferring with a human caretaker, Arkady pulled our Suburban out past the barn.  As soon as we cleared the corner of the old structure, a funeral pyre came into view, circled with burning torches.  A pole platform was suspended twelve feet above a massive unlit bonfire, the whole thing set in a flat section of dirt a hundred feet from the barn.  The cars unloaded their passengers, which included Nika, Chet, and twenty others from the core of Tanya’s group.

Arkady insisted on carrying Trenton’s body, now wrapped in white cloth, to the bier.  Only a vampire or maybe a were could have carried a full-sized body up a ladder without using his hands.  Placing the body on the wooden platform, Arkady reached into his jacket and pulled out a hand-knapped blade of stone, maybe obsidian by its black gleam in the torchlight. He laid it on Trenton’s chest, point toward his head.

“He died a warrior, protecting those in his charge.  There can be no better death for a Guardian,” Arkady rumbled before descending the ladder.

His foot had no soon left the last rung when Lydia was just suddenly there.  The breeze from her movement made the torch at the ladder’s base flicker and smoke.

She paused looking straight into the stacked pile of logs before her, then climbed the ladder with liquid grace.  She touched the white wrapped body gently, placing her left hand where his face should be, then placed a small black book on his stomach, just below the knife.

“Trenton gave his life for mine.  I will always wonder if he should have… always question if that was right.  I know why he did it.  It’s what Guardians do, and he brought great honor to his Brotherhood.  I’ve known him almost as long as he’d been Darkkin, as he has almost always served our Queen in some fashion or another.  But I saw a change in him over the last few years.  He began to question things… wonder about our place in the scheme of things.  This was a book he’d started to read… reread.  It was his Bible from his human childhood.  Something left behind here on this property where he was born.  He told me he had retrieved it during a visit a year and a half ago.  I think he should have it with him, although I doubt he has any questions left, whereever he is now.”

She bowed her head for a moment, then climbed back down.

Tanya turned to me and moved her eyes, but before I could get to the ladder, someone else was already on it.  Stacia.  She climbed the ladder with sureness and ease, reaching out and patting the top of Trent’s head.

“I’m not a part of you… not part of your extended family. Weres and vampires don’t usually mix much. But in the last six or so months, I’ve been part of the same team as Trent. At first, he was aloof and standoffish.  But then he began to accept me.  Treated me as not an outsider, but a valued comrade.  And sometimes like a little sister.  He was quiet, but very thoughtful, approaching every task, every challenge with calm and cool.  Studying everything and anything that could help him help the team. He was… exceedingly professional, and when the time came, he acted without hesitation, without fear, without a sense of self.  His gift cannot be repaid, but it can be honored and his example can be followed.  I will, from this day forward, seek to emulate his professionalism and honor.”

She pulled a necklace off, over her head, and held it up.  “I carry a platinum cross, a gift from my mother to replace my grandmother’s silver one when I was Turned.  Trenton asked me about it, interested because it didn’t burn us when I showed it to him.  I’m going to leave it with him; he’s more than earned it.”  She laid the shiny necklace on his upper chest, just above the point of the knife, then slid smoothly to the ground.  My turn.

I climbed slowly, thinking about the vampire who lay above me.

Then, lightly touching his body, I turned to the assembled vampires and humans.  Nika, in the front row, caught my eye and nodded.

“I have some memory issues,” I started.  A slight chuckle moved through the crowd, a very small counterpoint to the solemn mood.  “But I remember him.  He was there when I first met Tanya, one of many who looked at me like something tasty.”  Another laugh.  Look at me, a regular standup comedian these days.

“Trenton has been there the whole time.  And always, as the others have said, a professional Guardian, with great spirit and a deep sense of what he was all about.  I don’t always know what I’m doing–” more laughs “—but Trent did.  He may, as Lydia suggested, have wondered about the greater meaning of life and death, but he never, not ever, wavered in his conviction about his role in this life.  As Stacia said, he was and most importantly, continues to be, a role model.  Trenton, wherever you are up there, you’ve shown me what it is to be certain… to truly understand our own place in the scheme of things.  I’ll follow your lead.”

I jumped lightly to the ground and Tanya climbed the ladder and studied her bodyguard’s still form for a moment.  Turning, she gazed out at her people.

“On the day I met Christian, he told us he could see souls.  Not just human, but Darkkin souls as well.  That he could see mine.  That our souls shine bright.  I didn’t believe him.  Couldn’t believe him, despite the knowledge, through our bond, that he wasn’t lying.  He could have simply believed it and therefore been telling his own truth.  But every day I’m with him, I see proof of his words.  And today, I saw the greatest evidence I could ever witness—an angel of God, leading a Darkkin soldier up to Heaven, to a place he’d earned by sacrificing himself for another.  Our histories tell us that we’re damned—souls lost.  Trenton showed us otherwise.

“The others have pointed to Trenton as an example of a Guardian, a professional, a spiritual friend, an individual understanding his own role and place.  I, also, see him as an example.  An example of how Darkkin souls can be saved and returned to God.  An example of how we, who are saddled with the drives and desires that lead most to Hell, can earn our way to Heaven.  So I too will honor Trenton for his exemplar selflessness and leadership, showing us the way back to our Father.”

She turned and kissed him on his forehead, then stepped off the ladder, Lightening herself to float gently down to the ground.  Plucking the torch by the ladder free, she lit the fire in four places before tossing the torch into a fifth spot and stepping back near us.  The flames caught quickly among the dry tinder and kindling at the bottom, spreading next to the pitchy lengths of pine and spruce, then the denser maple and oak rounds that made up the last three layers of the wood sandwich.

With deceptive speed, the fire grew, engulfing the structure in a few tens of seconds till the inferno obscured the wrapped figure on the bier, until the platform itself was impossible to see in the yellow, orange, and red flames.

The crowd of vampires and the few humans among them were silent, the fire’s pop and crackle the only noise.  My other half, the dark one, noted a very muted hum at a great distance.  My senses reached out and found the little quad drone two hundred and sixty yards away, hovering seventy-five feet off the ground.  The media had found us.  I watched it and when it started to creep forward, Grim shoved it back.  It tried again and Grim twitched a micro burst of focused aura at it, enough to make its electronics falter briefly, a stutter in its functioning.  The operator got the message and stopped trying to get closer.  I let it stay as the fire consumed our friend, and ignored it and the other two drones that joined it as we left Trenton and returned to our cars.  It was time to take Trent’s example to heart and find our places.

We pulled away into the night, the buildings of Trent’s farm glowing in the light of his fire, inky smoke streaking up into a starlit sky.

Chapter 28

The vision hit a mile outside the airport.  My hands clutched paper and pencil, drawing the scene in crisp, clear strokes. The first target of the night became clear and it wasn’t New York or Miami, but a spot in the city we had just left—Washington, DC.  But when I showed the others the drawings and then pinpointed the spot on a table using a Google map of the city, most of them looked at me blankly.

“Looks like hotel,” Arkady commented, glancing at the drawing of what arguably looked like a hotel lobby before turning back to his driving.  In the first scene, a demon was crouched on the floor in the center of the lobby, a horrified woman standing against the wall behind it.

“Why a hotel in downtown Washington?” Lydia asked.  I shrugged.

“Because it is almost at the center of the Pentagram of Washington,” Nika said, taking possession of the tablet with the map of the city.  She fiddled with the controls and then started to draw on it with a stylus. Finished, she held up the map.  A red pentagram had been drawn on the tablet, exactly fitting the street layout.  The pentagram was upside down and its southernmost tip was the White House.  Three major traffic circles made up the west, northwest, and northeast points, the eastern one a traffic square.

“Okay, how come I never got a memo that a giant pentagram was built into the city plan of Washington?” I asked.  “It seems like it might be important.”

“How did you know that?” Tanya asked Nika, ignoring my comment.

“I’ve been studying occult history and stuff ever since you guys went full time on the demon busting tour.  There’s quite a bit of information about how the designers of the nation’s capital built all kinds of occult symbology into the street plan, buildings, and architecture.  I’m absolutely sure it’s why that demon prince wanted to make a bloodbath at the White House.  It would have fueled this huge gate, right in the heart of the nation’s capital.  Devastating.”

“How soon will it open?” Tanya asked me, even as she patted Arkady’s shoulder to go faster.  He was already a touch over the speed limit, but as soon as he went over it, a siren sounded and the gloom of the night was lit by flashing lights.

“Pull over and let’s deal with this,” I said, looking back at the cop car that was behind our line of SUVs and cars.

Arkady immediately pulled to the shoulder and like well-drilled soldiers, the follow-on cars did, too.  The cop car flashed passed all of them, pulling up alongside our vehicle and stopping right next to us.  The officer in the passenger side powered down his window at the same time Arkady lowered ours.

“You’re the demon hunter people, right?” the grizzled trooper asked.

“Yes, we are,” Arkady answered.  I was sitting directly behind Arkady and as he spoke, I lowered my window.  The cop was nodding at Arkady’s words, looking stern, but when he saw my face, he blinked a few times.

“Ah, Mr. Gordon, sir.  Can I assume from your speed that you and your people need to be somewhere fast?”

“Yes, Officer. We need to get back to the airport and then to Washington.  We’ve got a lead on a major outbreak.”

“Right, follow me then, sir.  We’ll escort you.  It’ll prevent accidents if we go first,” he said.

“Thank you, Officer,” I replied.

“Just try to keep up, Sir,” he said with a nod, putting up his window and motioning to the young cop driving to go ahead.

Our police escort quickly sped up, blasting past the speed limit and running his lights and siren at full bore.  Other cop cars joined in, blocking off side streets and holding open intersections, obviously coordinated by the veteran in the lead vehicle.  We made it to the airport in fifteen minutes and were cleared right to the planes, which were already spooling up their engines.

All of the vampires and humans in our group exited the vehicles and started toward the planes.  I veered over to the lead cop car and thanked the officer.  As I did so, a number of reporters from the media trucks jumped forward and started yelling questions.

“Did you bury your dead?”

“Where are you headed?”

“Do you know where the demons will be?”

“Can you protect the American people?”

I turned to face them, walking backward toward the planes.  “We’re headed back to Washington and yes, that’s where all Hell with try and break loose.  As for the American people, well, we’re going to do our part, but the American citizen has always been a pretty capable, independent sort.  I think Americans can do a lot to protect themselves.  That’s all I can say, fellas, gotta go,” I said, then turned and put some real speed into my motions.  Arriving at the steps to the plane, I found one of the flight crew waiting for me, as I was the last to board.  He had a pilot uniform on and he gave me a small smile and nod, even as he held his hat in place at the gust of air my arrival kicked up.  “All set, sir?  As soon as you’re on, I’ll button us up.”

I got out of his way and let him swing the big door shut as I moved to the seating area where Nika had commandeered a computer and was bringing up information on the flatscreen monitor about Washington’s occult history.  The plane started to move as she began.

“There are countless rumors and myths about Washington being designed by the Freemasons with occult symbols built in to pave the way for Satan’s control of the New World Order through the new country,” Nika began.

“Is that true?” Stacia asked with a note of disbelief.

Nika glanced at her and smiled.  “No.  It was designed by a Frenchman, Pierre Charles L'Enfant. I believe your mother met him, Tanya. But despite that, the Dupont Circle, Scott Circle, and Logan Circle all provide points of a pentagram, as does the Mount Vernon Square.  The fifth point, the southernmost, is the White House.  It’s not perfect; there aren’t connecting streets in all cases, but it’s close.”

“Close enough if enough people believe the story,” I said.

“You mean like believing in something can make it real?” Stacia asked me.

“Yes, particularly in religion.  All religion is built on belief.”

“And a lot of people are believing in the Devil now, since we sorta showed them proof on global television,” Lydia said.

“But we also proved the other side as well… God and angels,” Stacia countered.

Everyone looked at me.  I nodded.  “I don’t know this stuff real well, but I do know about the power of belief.  That’s what starts most of my cases, people believing in calling upon evil or demons to solve their problems.  The belief in God is what churches use to dispel demonic.  And we showed the world a fight between good and evil.”

“And good won,” Arkady rumbled.

“Yes, yes it did,” I answered.  “So the center of this big street pentagram, designed deliberately or not, in the city where more deals have been made with the devil than even LA, will open with a gateway.  Can we have cars lined up, and will the police let us get there?”

“The cars are already waiting and we’ll actually have a police escort,” Tanya said.

“Ah, what?” I asked.  “Police escort?”

“It’s kind of like the Pennsylvania troopers back there.  People aren’t dumb, Chris.  They know their best bet is you,” she said.

“Us.  Their best bet is us,” I said, waving at the whole group.  She smiled and nodded.  The jet was lifting off, so we all either quieted down for the ride or got busy with minor details.

The return trip was maybe even a bit faster and before ‘Sos and I could finish emptying the galley’s food supply, we were on the ground and taxiing up to our vehicles.  Sure enough, two police cars and two motorcycle units were waiting to whisk us through the streets to a hotel on 16th Street whose name I missed because I was too busy staring at the mass of official cars and SUVs around its entrance.  Wondering at our reception, I stepped out of the Toyota Tahoe pickup truck as ‘Sos jumped down from the truck’s bed.  Then I breathed a tiny breath of relief as I recognized the white-haired man moving forward to greet me, a young teen girl by his side.

“Hi, Nathan. What brings you to this part of town?” I greeted Director Stewart.  He walked briskly despite a slight limp.  His leg had been bitten by a wereverine in Alaska during the same attack that had resulted in his assistant, Adine, becoming infected as well.  Adine’s father was a tribal shaman and had used his skills to try and arrest the virus.  He had been successful with Nathan, but not his own daughter.  The result was that Adine was a wereverine, but she was stable with the help of Nathan, and he was the only individual I had ever met or heard of who was living with the LV virus inside him but had never changed or died from the bite.  I think a bond had been formed between them, and it allowed her to keep from going rogue and him from Changing.

“This young lady here.  Ariel, meet Chris Gordon.  Chris, this is Ariel, whom I might have mentioned to you a time or two,” Stewart said.  The young, brown-haired girl beside him shot him a glance before looking back at me and accepting my hand for a shake.

“Ah, Ariel, it’s nice to meet you.  This is Awasos, Tanya, Lydia, Stacia, Nika, and Arkady,” I said, listing them as they arrived behind me.  Ariel looked younger than sixteen, slender, and maybe a bit below average height.  She had enormous brown eyes that were her best feature, large pools the color of milk chocolate.  She was dressed in jeans, calf-high boots, and a leather jacket.  Eyes wide, she was visibly overawed by our group and kept looking at the ground—or maybe at all the designer shoes the women were wearing—mumbling quiet little hellos with each shake.

“So what’s happening inside?” I asked Nathan.

“There’s an open Gate in the floor of the lobby.  We’re going to close it with our new tech.  Nothing’s come through yet,” he said.

Someone screamed inside the hotel, a full auto weapon fired two short bursts then suddenly stopped, and a wereverine screeched in anger.  I was inside the door and standing in the lobby before Nathan had processed the sounds.

A six-foot-tall monster of fur and muscle wearing Adine Benally’s torn clothes flew past me and slammed into the registration desk of the hotel.  A uniformed body lay in several parts in a gigantic pool of blood, and a six-legged insectile horror was climbing toward a trio of technicians clustered around a squat high-tech-looking piece of machinery with a digital panel that showed numbers counting down.

Grim whipped a braided lash of twisted aura and vampire energy around the bug demon’s thorax and yanked it back. It had a vaguely antlike body, but the head was human-shaped and the front two legs had hands with claws instead of just claws. My aura had little chance of hurting the demon while it was wearing its own form, but the mix of vampire energies, a churning unstable blend of Cling, Push, and Pull varieties twisted, tore, and crushed its black and red flesh.  The demon screamed in anger and pain, spinning in mid-air to bring its six clawed feet around to meet me.  I wasn’t there.  The beauty of a skillfully used whip is that the wielder gets to control what goes where.  I got to step aside while the demon was still turning around, letting its sulfurous form flash by and getting a wicked left hook into the back of its neck as it went by.

The demon reached the end of my energy whip and the lash tightened against its form as I Posted in place, the two braided energies cutting deep into Hell flesh.  One of its six limbs was completely severed, falling twitching and kicking to the floor of the lobby.

I released my Post and started toward the violently screeching monster, my glance to the side finding the rest of my team lined up and watching.

Even Grim makes mistakes.  Taking my eyes off the demon was one.  Not Clinging or Posting to the floor was number two.  With a final scream, the monster shot sideways across the room faster than a middle-aged vampire and dove into the Gate.  That was okay, but the energy leash I had wrapped around it and left connected to my body wasn’t.  My feet left the ground as the whip yanked.  Spinning through the air, Grim simultaneously reached out with power, attempting to Push or Pull me away from the hole I was now over while releasing the aural energy whip.  Nothing connected.  It was like I was in a different place, that spot directly over the Hell gate, a place where the physics of this world ceased and another’s began.  The demon disappeared through the inky blackness of the gate and I hung for a brief moment above it, just a tiny millisecond.  Long enough to see Tanya’s horrified expression and see them all begin to move.  To see the red digital numbers on Stewart’s machine go from double digits to singles.

Then the hole rushed up at me and the blackness sucked me in, closing over my head and sealing off all the faces coming my way and all light disappeared as I fell into Hell.

Chapter 29

Red.  Everything was lit by reddish light.  That’s my first impression of Hell.  That and heat.

Like Arizona… in July… times ten.  I shot out of the hole upside down, my feet pointed at the churning, blood-hued sky, my hair brushing the side of the gate as I shot up.  Flipping forward was reflex, so I landed on my feet, not my head, sulfurous dust billowing up around my boots.

The once six-legged demon, now five, was screeching and scurrying at the same time, heading out of the roofless, broken-walled structure I found myself in.  I was in Hell, and Hell appeared to be modeled after Earth, just with less maintenance. Because who needs a ceiling to the second floor or a roof, or furniture, or even complete walls?  The doorway was doorless and the bug demon shot outside, moving pretty fast on five legs.  It made it out the doorframe and into what should be the street when a flash of red and black snatched it up and its awful screeching ceased at the same moment that a harsh ripping, tearing sound announced a pattering rain of black blood.

No roof—check.  Front door bad—check.  Temperature hot as Hell—check.  Time to leave—yup.  At least it was only me here, I thought.

Then a furry black and tan wolf shot out the black gate and landed on all four feet beside me.  Before I could blink, five more figures came flashing up out of the pentagonal opening at the center of the pentagram that had been burned deep into the blackened concrete of the floor.

The whole damn team had just literally followed me to Hell.  Right through the gate—the gate that was suddenly shrinking, like a puddle of oil draining away.  The grungy concrete that replaced it looked like it had been there forever.  The last drop of black sucked itself into the concrete and there was nothing left but pitted cement in the middle of a pentagram.  Oracle’s experimental gate closer had worked.  Fucking fantastic.

“Damn,” I said softly, looking at each of my companions.  They had landed combat ready, weapons in hand and looking around wildly.

“This is Hell?” Lydia asked, clearly disappointed.

“The economy must be down… no money for decorators,” Stacia answered.

“Shhhhhh,” I said.  “Big, big demon outside the door,” I whispered, pointing at the splatters of black demon blood around the doorframe.  I could feel it outside the door, waiting.

Everyone nodded, looking from me to the door.  It was quiet outside.  Till something screamed in the distance.  A building-shaking roar answered it from just outside and something thundered away with ground-shaking steps.

“You followed me?” I asked into the stretch of quiet that descended after the giant demon had left.

“Ah, yeah, no shit, Captain Obvious,” Lydia said.

Tanya just shrugged. “Of course.  Wouldn’t you have followed one of us?”

“Oh.  Yeah, I guess that’s what would of happened,” I said.

“You guess?” Lydia asked, eyebrows raising.

“He has never thought about it, but when he does, the answer is obvious, Lydia,” Nika said over her shoulder, most of her attention on watching her side of the room.

“Okay, here we are, in Hell, which is as hot as itself by the way, and our passage home is gone.  What now, fearless leaders?” Stacia asked.

“We find another gate,” I said, having had all of about seven seconds longer than the rest of them to think about it.  “It’s Halloween—Samhain—the easiest night of the year to open gates between the worlds.  This looks like a rough proxy for the hotel, exploded and bombed out, but still Hell’s version.  I think we should look outside and see if the rest of Washington is copied here,” I said.

“Because if our world is replicated here—in Retro Apocalypse décor—then another gate might present itself?” Lydia asked.

“That’s what I was thinking,” I said.

“Holy shit, it happened.  Chris thinking—the day is finally here,” Lydia quipped, her eyes darting around the room, her heart not really into the insult.

Arkady moved silently across the floor, pausing by one wall to scoop up a piece of broken mirror and then to the door.  He used the shard of reflective glass to check either side of the doorway and when he was satisfied, he poked his head out for a quick glance all around, then pulled back inside.

A moment later, he was back in front of us, reporting.

“Structures and buildings roughly anomalous with our Washington, but all ruins.  No sign of any demons,” he said.

“There are a few, scattered about,” I said.  The others all looked at me, questioning.

“What?  I can feel them,” I said.  Lydia and Tanya shared a glance.

“Where do you feel them, Chris?” Lydia asked, serious as… well, where we were.  “In your head or… elsewhere?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but sudden understanding came to me.  My blood—they were worried about my tainted blood.  I analyzed the feelings I was getting.  Normally if a demon is nearby, I feel it in my head like a pressure against my aura.  Like a camper’s tarp with a rock in the middle weighing it down.  That was definitely present now, but the knowledge of where they were was coming from elsewhere.  Like I could feel them on my skin, the way the heat of a campfire is warm on your face and arms while the back of your neck is cold from the cool night air.  The skin on my left arm, biceps area, was telling me a large demon was directly through the wall by the door but getting farther away.  The skin on the back of my right leg was feeling the heat of a minor demon in the building directly behind us, and my right shoulder could sense a small demon approaching it from another direction.

“Um, both?” I said.  The bleak look on their faces caused me to rush out an explanation of what I was feeling.

“Why is that important?” Stacia asked.

“They’re worried about my demon-tainted blood… here… in Hell,” I said.

“What?  That you’ll go over to the red side?” she asked.  I nodded.

She snorted.  “Ain’t happening,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“You can’t know that,” Lydia said.

“I can.  There’s no way I’m going to let him slide that far and I wouldn’t think you would either, unless you’re giving up,” Stacia said, directing most of her words to Tanya.  An instant growl thrummed the air as Tanya eyed the werewolf with murder in her eyes.  Stacia just stared back at her, arms still folded.

“She’s right, Tanya.  Between the two of you, each with your own bond…” Nika began but cut off when Tanya whipped around to glare at her.  “Well it’s the truth, even if it hurts,” Nika finished.  “You have your Chosen bond and she has… something else.  Some freaky thing, and not as strong, but it’s there nonetheless.  The two of you should be able to ground him.”

“Okay, I’ve got some Hell issues and you two can keep me from flipping out.  Let’s move on.  Where do we look for the next gate?” I asked, trying to ignore the glaring.

Nika jumped on my opening.  “When I was researching the occult aspects of D.C. and found out about that street pentagram, there was another manmade object that all the conspiracy types talked about as well.”

“What?  What was it?” Lydia demanded impatiently.

Nika turned and pointed at the carved pentagram on the floor.  “What is the functional part of that gate?” she asked.

“The center,” Arkady answered.

“And what do you call that shape?” she pressed.

“A pentagon.  Oh!  The Pentagon,” Lydia said, putting it all together.

“But the Pentagon wasn’t built by Freemasons,” I protested.

“Doesn’t matter.  The original site of the building had five roads bordering it, and that resulted in the design shape.  Nothing occult about it, but now enough Internet conspiracy sites have latched onto it that there is a large group of believers out there that think it is.  So it is,” Nika answered.

“How far away is it, and what direction?” I asked, looking at Nika.

“It’s south, southwest of here,” Stacia answered.  Everyone looked at her.

“Hello, eighth grade field trip, been here before,” she said, flipping a strand of blonde hair out of her face.

“That’s correct.  About three miles, I think… across the river.  At least in our version, it’s across the Potomac River,” Nika said.

“Okay, so we just gotta cover three miles in Hell, avoid any armies of demons, and then either find a gate in the Pentagon or make one.”

“Could you?  Make one?” Tanya asked.

“I never tried, but I’m thinking if I do the opposite of how I close them, it might work.  Plus, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got to try it,” I said.

“Why? Why doesn’t it matter, Chris?” Lydia asked.

“Because he’s hungry and there’s no food here,” Tanya said.  Sudden realization flooded across all their faces.  Most people can skip a meal or two, no problem.  Probably be a good thing for some folks.  But not me.  I don’t have any body fat and if I don’t keep eating, my body will eat itself.  Survival’s rule of threes says a human can live three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter, and three minutes without air.  It’s a rule of thumb for triaging survival situations.  But my rules are different.  I could hold my breath for thirty minutes and go without shelter for days, but food… food, I had to have every day. Several times a day.

“Okay, clock ticking.  Got it.  What’s the plan?” Stacia asked.

“We move out, head south by southwest.  Avoid confrontation and cross the river.  We need the very center of the Pentagon, the open courtyard in the center,” I answered.  “Piece of cake.”

Once my team had the basics of a plan, we slipped into operational mode without effort.  Awasos in wolf form took point, followed by me with Tanya on my right and Stacia on my left, Nika and Lydia behind walking next to each other, and finally, in rear guard position, Arkady.

Between my demon sense and the incredible nose of the were bear-wolf with me, we easily detected most demons hiding in the ruins.  We had to skirt around the White House area, as it held a huge number of demons who were fighting an all-out, free-for-all battle on the burnt, smoking grounds that would be where Lafayette Square would be in our world.  Amaymon’s legions must have dissolved into chaos when he bit the dust.

Our detour took us west to 19th Street, several blocks to the west of our original position.  The buildings weren’t duplicates of our world, but blocky, ruined representations of them.  The air was oven hot, the light dusk-level dim and reddish hued, the sky overhead a roiling mass of black and red clouds. Sulfur clogged our noses, but there were subtle overtones of rotting flesh and general decay.  We stuck close to the edges of the buildings, trying to keep out of sight while using every sense to make sure nothing lunged out of a building at us.  Occasionally, we’d slip inside a building to avoid a demonic presence on the street, moving into alleys behind before returning to our route of travel.  It was slow, tedious work. For the most part, we avoided trouble… for the most part.

Trouble found us on the corner of E Street NW and 19th.  It was buried in the rubble of a building which is maybe why I didn’t sense it and ‘Sos didn’t smell it.  We were already past it, ‘Sos and I, when it reared up out of the rock dust and dirt—nine feet of segmented red chiton, a hundred legs, some tipped with insect claws and some with human hands.  A giant demon centipede, complete with front stingers and a vaguely human-shaped head.  It struck at Tanya, who is easily the fastest of us.  It missed.  She didn’t, taking its left mandible with a reflexive slash of her sword.  It pulled back, maybe to try a second strike, maybe to rethink its attack, maybe to retreat.  But what it did was die.  Stacia threw a tomahawk, which looked suspiciously like Trenton’s, sinking the blade into its back.  Nika stabbed it in the side with her assegai—three times fast.  Arkady pinned its tail end to the road with his own sword, which allowed Awasos to slip forward on wolf feet, shift to bear form, and slap the shit out of it with one wicked right paw.  Its head slammed into the ground and Tanya, the original target of its attack, leaned forward and yelled at it.  Or maybe sang.  I can’t really tell what she does.  I heard a complicated set of notes and the centademon’s head exploded.  We watched its hundred legs drum out the death dance even while we listened to see if our dust-up had attracted attention.  Things seemed quiet.  Arkady dragged the body to a building and threw it through one of the many broken windows.  I watched Stacia clean the demon ichor off her tomahawk with red Helldust, studying the familiar war ax.

“He left it to me.  Arkaday said that Trenton wanted me to have it if anything happened to him.  He showed me how to throw it on that stupid farm in Pennsylvania,” she said in a rush, sensing me watching her.  When she looked up, her eyes looked just slightly shiny, maybe even wet.

“It was a good throw,” was all I said before squatting down to scrape up dust and pour it over the huge puddle of black blood.  Lydia started to help cover the noisome pool while Nika and Tanya cleaned up their blades.  We continued on.

It took us an hour to travel a quarter mile to the end of 19th Street.  Ahead was the area that was analogous with most of Washington’s most famous memorials.  But here, in Hell, their counterparts were… different.

The Washington Memorial would have been to our left.  But what towered in its place was a giant red phallus, complete in anatomical detail.  To our right, where Lincoln should have sat on his memorial, a faceless statue of a hominoid demon sat upon a basalt throne, squirming, naked bodies trapped under each claw where its hands gripped the armrests.  The bodies looked real. So did the blood dripping down the stone.

“Ah.  Been wondering when we’d see the human inhabitants of Hell,” Lydia said.

“You think those are people who’ve been condemned to Hell?” Stacia asked, curious.

“They should be here somewhere.  Those bodies look pretty alive to me,” Lydia answered.

Tanya looked at me.  “Don’t even think about it.  You can’t save souls from Hell.  That’s not your charter,” she said, reading me before I could even read myself.  She was right.  I couldn’t do anything about anyone sent here and I needed to squash my curiosity. General Creek was right, I decided—I do have a hero complex.

Straight ahead was the Reflecting Pool, only it was filled with blood-red liquid and lumps and chunks of things that had maybe once been alive.  We skirted it to the east, sliding around the base of what should have been the World War II memorial but was instead a statue of a grinning Hitler sitting on a throne of bones and skulls.

“How far to the river?” I asked.

“The Tidal Pool is just up ahead,” Stacia said, sounding a bit unsure.  We moved forward, drifting a bit west, and a wide opening appeared ahead.  As we came to it, we got our first view of the river area, but instead of a wide expanse of blue water, a burning, churning pool of molten lava bubbled in front of us, an even wider river of liquid magma flowing on the other side of it.

Chapter 30

“How the Hell are we gonna cross that?” Stacia asked as we all looked across the orange river of melted rock, shimmers of incandescent heat rising like a curtain across our path.

“Bridges,” Arkady said bluntly.  We looked at him, but he was looking west where just visible in the distance was a black line arcing over the sea of orange and red.  Almost as one, we turned and looked east, quickly finding an even larger black construct that passed over the magma.

“That big one must be the I-395 bridge analog,” Nika mused.

“And those dots moving on it are what?” Lydia asked.

Tanya lightly jumped up on Awasos’s sofa-sized back, then rode his shoulders as he stood up.  From her new observation point, she studied the big bridge in the distance.  “Looks like lines of naked people, under the whips and claws of demons, moving across the bridge.  Hundreds of them.  Two lines going in opposite directions.  Some are carrying stuff,” she reported.

“Hey, look, you’re riding bear back,” I said as her bear lift brought her back down.  She just shook her head while Lydia gave me a look of mock disgust.  Arkady held out one big hand, palm down and waggled it.  “Is almost funny,” he said.

Behind us, something howled.  Another voice joined it, and then a third.  The sound seemed familiar, if something that sounds like the Hound of the Baskervilles crossed with a pterodactyl could be familiar.  A memory was trying to surface—one of Grim’s.  Flashes of a park, a glowing spirit bear, pony-sized hounds, and a man and woman, both in leather.

“Something found the ‘pede,” I said.  We all shared a wide-eyed glance, Lydia not even bothering to say, “No shit, Sherlock,” as she normally does.

“Little bridge it is then,” Tanya said, checking all our faces for agreement.  We nodded and moved west toward what should have been the Korean War memorial.  Instead of soldiers in ponchos, there were skeletons draped in tattered cloth, some bare bone, some with patches of dried flesh and sinew.  We moved quickly through the disturbing display, picking up speed when another howl split the air behind us, but much, much closer.  We ran.

An arched bridge came into view, its long, low length spanning the red river of lava with nine or ten arches that somehow avoided melting in the fantastic heat.

“What bridge is this supposed to be?” I asked.

“The Arlington Memorial Bridge,” Stacia replied.

Lydia looked at her, right eyebrow raised.  “Eighth grade field trip?”

Stacia just nodded while we all studied the bridge.  It was actually pretty wide, maybe six lanes if it had been on Earth instead of in Hell, and constructed of heavy, black basalt blocks.  The entrance to the bridge was flanked by statues, each of them a likeness of a demon riding a human like a horse, with bridles made of barbed wire and the dew claws of the demons gouging bloody holes in the flanks of their steeds, who were crafted in such a way that you couldn’t figure out if they were male or female.  The carvings were depicted in the cruelest way possible, with blood and horrific pain reflected in every aspect of the detail.

We all paused for a second at the sight of them, but an ear-splitting howl shocked us into motion, the six of us trotting out onto the bridge.  We’d covered maybe two hundred feet with only another eighteen hundred or so to go when a giant form crawled up over the railing of the bridge and stood in the center, its red skin glowing from the heat of the magma.  We slid to a stop at the sight of the massive demon, which reached up and unslung a six-foot-long black hammer.  The demon itself had to be close to eighteen feet tall.  Arkady looked behind us and cursed in Russian under his breath.  We glanced back.

A string of five giant hounds with lava eyes and spiked collars, each the size of a Shetland pony, spread out between the two statues, a pair of humanoid figures moving up behind them, one male, one female, blocking our exit.  The man had red hair, the woman brown, and both wore red and black leather that made them look like demons.  Or maybe they were wearing demons… demon skin.

“Well, I’ll be Mary, would you look at that.  It’s that fellow we’ve been wishing to meet up with for these last few years,” the man said.

“Aye Colin, just the bucko, and he’s brought friends.  Such pretty ones at that,” the woman replied.

“Remember us, do ya, lad?” Colin called out, uncoiling a long black whip that seemed to be studded with sharp things.

My blood burned at the sight of them and Grim surged into control.  My right hand came up, thumb and forefinger an inch apart.  “A bit,” I said, my voice deeper.

Colin raised his eyebrows.  “Would ya listen to that, Mary?  It sounds like the young lad’s stones have finally dropped.”

“Oh, and such a handsome one he’s turned into.  He’ll be great fun, don’t ya think?” she asked.  “And look at his pretty girl, taking her clothes off for ya, making it easy.”

Stacia was taking off her clothes, folding her jeans and shirt in the corner of my vision.  The witch couple seemed to think it was for their benefit instead of a preparation for battle.

Behind us, the bridge rumbled and when I glanced back, the giant demon was starting our way.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we can’t stay,” I said, reaching with my right hand and grabbing a Hellhound with my mind and aura, whipping it up and over my head and right into the massive monster behind us.

The hound growled and the demon roared, Mary cursed, and Colin snapped his whip at the other hounds. Things got busy.

The remaining four hounds started forward and black tendrils of magic burst from Mary as she started chanting.  Behind us, on the bridge, the hound started to squeal, only to stop abruptly as a snapping, tearing sound announced its death.

Awasos, who had hunkered down uncertainly at the sight of the hounds, roared and rushed forward to meet them, Arkady running alongside him, while Lydia fired three fast shots from her semi-auto twelve gauge.  It was still loaded with explosive rounds and while she missed the dogs, her shots blew craters in the surface of the bridge, showering Mary and Colin with shards of black stone.  She suddenly dropped the shotgun, which was slung around her neck and grabbed her own throat. My hand-thrown quarter hit Mary in her upraised hand, the same one that was pointing at Lydia. The streak of silver took off her thumb and broke her concentration.

I pulled another quarter from my belt, threw it up, and clapped, the rushing plasma hitting a hound in the head and chest.  It faltered and tumbled, then Arkady was chopping its head off with his sword.

The first hound reached ‘Sos as he reared up and it received a crushing paw strike to the head, knocking it flat.  The hound behind it used it as a springboard and leaped between ‘Sos’s outstretched paws, knocking my bear back and down.  They kept rolling and finally came up apart, then slammed together in battle.

The flattened hound came up in time to catch a tomahawk in the face, then receive Nika’s spearhead under its left front leg.  The dog snarled and spun, flinging Nika and her assegai ten feet, but left its back open in the process.  A muscled mass of white-furred tooth and claw pounced on it and started tearing at the wound left by the spear.  Nika jumped forward and jabbed her short spear into its neck while it tried to dislodge the werewolf on its back.  Then a white paw grabbed the tactical tomahawk buried in the dog’s face, pulled it free, and split the heavy black skull with one swift, werewolf-powered blow.

Tanya took off from beside me, but in the opposite direction, running from the fight with the witches and hounds and straight at the massive demon.  I followed her, part of me thinking about my brief lesson with Barbiel after another fight with a big boss demon, wondering if now was the time to use what he’d taught me and wondering if it would even work.  The Grim part of me just focused on the immediate battle at hand.

Tanya reached the giant, ducking his hammer swipe, jumping toward the side of the bridge, bouncing off the bridge wall and landing on the monster’s neck, one hand on its neck and the other stabbing her sword.  Immediately, she screamed in pain and leaped away, holding her blackened left hand up.  I felt her pain through our bond, felt the burn on her white skin. The demon turned toward her and I unleashed three explosively formed quarters at its massive back.  The superhot molten plasma blasts hit him in a line across his back and… did almost nothing.  Hello, demon that climbed out of magma river… a little thing like plasma wasn’t going to bother him much.

It did cause him to turn back toward me, just as I was tossing two fifty cent pieces into the air.  I clapped twice and both shot out and hit my targets.  The demon smirked as the twin blasts of metal struck the basalt wall on either side of the bridge, completely missing him, but blasting big chunks of heavy stone loose.  A particularly large piece fell off the bridge toward the molten river below.  I caught it up with aura and flung it at the demon’s head while simultaneously grabbing more rock from the now numerous pieces of rubble I’d created.

He dodged the big rock, but two smaller pieces hit him in the back of his head and then the big one circled back around and hit him anyway.  Tanya threw me her sword, drawing her other one with her good hand, holding the burned hand behind her back.

Shaking off the rocky missiles, lava boy roared and charged me.  I dodged and struck his massive tree-trunk leg as he passed.  The heat from his body was immense and my tungsten sword instantly became painfully hot from its brief contact with his skin.  I wrapped aura around the handle, insulating it and followed his lumbering form, striking a second and third time before he could turn.  When he did, I slipped under his guard, striking again and again while directing small boulders to leave the ground and slam into his body.  Tanya came at him from the other side, her sword a silver blur that bit him over and over.

Yet none of it did any real damage.  His red, red skin just healed itself of all wounds, which was more than could be said for us, or at least our hands.  Tungsten carbide has the highest melting point of any alloy currently used by man, actually almost twice as high as most rock.  It also has one of the highest thermal conductivity ratings, which allowed the monstrous heat of the demon to reach our hands.  Mine was somewhat protected by the aura, but I was still burning.  Tanya had no such protection and the scrap of her sleeve that she’d wrapped around the hilt had already burned up.  Now both her hands were horribly burned and when the demon advanced on her, she chose to throw the blade like an oversized knife.  The point dug into the monster’s face, but it brushed the blade aside and raised its hammer to crush her.  I had tried roping it with aura, but there was no effect, the violet energy sliding off the thing uselessly.  I too threw my sword, the blade biting into its neck, but it never faltered.

Desperately, I began to do what Barbiel had taught me.  Or I tried.  But let’s see you find a pocket dimension for the second time in your life while standing in the middle of a battle watching your girlfriend face death.  I missed the first try—and the second—the third as well.

Tanya backed away, taking a deep breath and yelling a discordant note that rocked the demon, doing more damage than anything else we had done so far.  It shook its huge head, horns twitching from side to side, then continued on.  She did it again and again.  I had a thought, even as I failed my fourth attempt.  She picked up on my thought through the link and sang a note at the hammer haft.  It shattered, the massive hammerhead falling and smashing the demon’s own foot.  It roared in pain, then raised both massive fists over its head, crowding her against the edge of the railing.

My fifth try worked and the pocket opened, blinding white light flashing forth and stopping almost all action on the bridge, even the fights behind me.  I reached into the light and pulled forth the object inside, its handle fitting my hand like a glove.

The Sword emerged into Hell and its actinic light dimmed to merely retina-searing, its size diminishing in the oppressive atmosphere of Lucifer’s domain, shrinking from a four-foot broadsword to a two-foot gladius form that still shone too bright to look directly at.  It also sang—a pure crystal tone that changed the feel of the space around the blade from despair to hope.

The eighteen-foot monster whose skin was too hot to touch and whose body had ignored all damage actually cringed for a moment.  Tanya was forgotten as it whirled around to face the Heaven Sword.

Barbiel had taught me to find it, told me that it had always been there, waiting for the time when I was ready to wield it.  It had been my Sword before… before I fell.  The Sword and I had been formed together, created at the same time, two parts of the whole.  That’s the way it was for those who were fated to God’s armies.

He’d shown me how to find its sheath, the pocket universe or dimension where it waited for my touch.  And I had touched it exactly one time, after an hour of effort that left me weak and hungry, its feel in my hand like replacing a missing part of my body.  Like I was whole and almost like I had been before—before I had fallen from Heaven and placed myself on Earth.

The Sword continued to sing, and everything around took note.  The massive bridge guardian removed its hands from its ears and hefted a big rock, throwing it like a skipping stone.  I stepped sideways, grabbing the missile as it went thrumming by me with my mind and aura.  I used the tremendous energy of the throw, turning and whipping the rock around behind me as if it were on a purple chain.  The rock arced around and came right back at the monster, slamming it in the chest and bursting to shards.

Behind it, Tanya stood still, head tilted to one side, listening, her eyes locked on the Sword.  She opened her mouth and sang, her notes exactly matching those of the Heaven blade.  It brightened.  And grew longer—maybe five inches more.

A projectile flew past me, its screams marking it as the red-leather-clad Colin.  He slammed into the chest of the massive demon and immediately started to burn and sizzle, his scream changing from fear to pain.  The giant toll keeper brushed the seared and still screaming body from its chest, looking up in time to find me rushing past it, Sword carving through the stone-like skin of its left leg without much resistance.  It turned, awkwardly and in pain, too slow to stop me from carving the Achilles tendon on its other leg.  The Sword bit through the massive, cable-like tendon and continued through most of the giant ankle that was as big as my thigh.  The bridge guardian fell sideways, one massive arm slamming out to brace its body.  That brought its neck in range and my next swing cut through the upraised wrist that attempted to block me. It went right on through the massive neck.

A second later, the head slid free and thumped to the ground while the body remained in a side lean, black blood jetting from the stump.  I had an immediate flashback of Tanya standing, covered in blood, a huge, headless body at her feet in the same side lean, stacks of shipping containers all around us.  The massive demon fell on its back, shaking the entire bridge and snapping my memory closed.

The fight behind us looked over, an observation that the witch, Mary, had arrived at on her own.  She turned to run but Lydia leaned into her Saiga shotgun and fired one shell that blew the red witch to pieces.

“Nice shot,” Tanya said.

The Hellhounds were all dead and my team was victorious.  Beat to Hell, but victorious.

Chapter 31

I put the Sword away, finding its extra-dimensional sheath on the first try.  The song stopped and the light was gone, leaving me sweating in the horrid heat of Hell.  But my people were in rough shape.

Arkady’s left arm was shredded, the resulting of stuffing it down a Hound’s throat while eviscerating it with his blade.  Nika had a severe bite on her left calf, her jeans stained with blood.  Both of Tanya’s hands were burned and Awasos was limping on three paws.  Even Stacia, who had thrown Colin into the frying pan as it were, had a black knife sticking out of her shoulder.  The wounds were all bad, but the part that got me was that none of them were healing, or at least, not healing at normal speed.  Hell was not conducive to weres and vampires.

I ripped my wrist open and put it to Tanya’s lips.  She drank for an even six gulps then pushed my hand away, holding up her own palms to show the blackened flesh peeling off, pink skin formed underneath.

“Christian, you must feed the others,” she said.  She had, in my very limited memory, never allowed any other vampire to as much as sniff my blood.

“You sure?” I asked.

“You must if they are to survive.”

So I fed them, starting with Nika, then Arkady.  Lydia wasn’t badly wounded, just scraped and bumped, but I had her lick my wrist clean and that was enough to put a bounce back in her step and fix her little cuts.  When I motioned to Stacia, she stood stock still, still in beast form, towering over me.

“Noo waay.  Noo blood,” she growled, trying to form words around her massive teeth.  So I went to her, too fast for her to get away.  Yanking the nasty-looking, rune-covered black dagger from her shoulder, I put my barely bleeding hand over her wound, put my other hand on the back side of her shoulder, and poured aura through from one hand to the other.

It had two instant effects; first closing and healing the knife wound and the other was to Change her back to human form in a rush of popping joints and squirming flesh.  One moment she was taller and heavier than me, covered in thick, white fur; the next she was human.  Naked and human.  She looked me in the eye, panting from the sudden Change, only to get hit in the face with her own panties and bra.

“Get your damned clothes on, wolf,” Tanya said, tossing the rest of the neatly folded clothes to land in a rumpled pile.  “And you, fix your bear,” she said to me.

I did the same aura flow through ‘Sos’s wounded paw, trying to ignore the way Arkady was smiling as he watched Stacia get dressed behind me.

Standing, I reeled for a second, suddenly dizzy with hunger.  Tanya’s steel-hard fingers grabbed my arm and held me upright.

“We need to get this over with and get out of here.  Christian is starving to death,” she said to the others.

Nika immediately turned and led the way across the bridge, ‘Sos moving up to point, still in his massive bear form.  The rest of us followed, with me trying to walk like I wasn’t dizzy.  I fooled no one.  Immediately Stacia took up the space on my left side and Tanya held my hand on the right.  Lydia prowled just ahead, a fresh magazine of regular shells in place in her shotgun.  Regular in that they were just a mixture of iron buckshot and salt.  Arkady brought up the rear, his sword resting on his shoulder as he walked.

We crossed the rest of the bridge without incident, but when we got to the other side, a few demons immediately approached us.  They were too few and too small to survive first contact with my bear, who instantly smashed them down.  But their aggressiveness was a new behavior.  Most smaller demons had run at the sight of us.  It was odd.

It got immediately odder.  Just across the bridge, we arrived at the space that Arlington Cemetery would occupy on our side of the portal, all rolling green lawn and white headstones.  In Hell, it was a vast desert piled with bones.  Bones of people, bones of animals, whales, even a couple of dinosaur skeletons.  Arranged in scattered groups and clusters, the boneyard stretched into the distance, shimmering with enough heat to create little dust devils around the piles.  We stared for a moment, me trying to fathom how many actual bodies it would take to fill that much space when Nika took a sharp breath.

“We need to turn south and go,” she said.

“What is it Nika?” Lydia asked.

“Some of those little dust cyclones have eyes.  We should leave,” she said, turning left and moving out at a brisk pace.

I looked at the nearest dust devil and discovered she was right.  Two red eyes stared at me from the center of the little storm.  Several other mini-tornados came out of the forest of white bone, clustering around the first one.  That didn’t seem so good.

“Company behind,” Arkady announced in a deep, yet quiet, tone.  Demon forms were just visible at the beginning of the bridge behind us.  We all picked up speed without comment.

A glance back showed more dust devils and more figures crowding the bridge.  We started to jog, the river of lava on our left side, the Hell’s version of Arlington on our right.  Ahead, we could just make out a massive structure of black stone.

“They’re grouping up and following,” Arkady announced.  I didn’t know if he meant the dust devils or the bridge demons so I glanced back.  It was both.  Awesome.

“What’s going on?” I wondered aloud.

“When you pulled out the Sword it… sang.  So did Tanya.  I think others must have heard it as well,” Lydia said, shifting the Saiga shotgun on its strap to keep it from smacking her in the face.

“Heaven’s Swords are not welcome in Hell sorta thing?” Stacia asked, jogging effortlessly.  My stomach growled.

“Yeah, maybe a beacon of sorts,” Lydia answered.

Three demons popped up on the road directly in front of us.  Awasos batted one so hard, it arced out into the lava river and burned up on splashdown.  The other dodged Nika’s spear thrust and promptly impaled itself on Tanya’s sword.  She too flicked the body to the river where it sat on the surface, blackened, then flared up into flames.  I picked the third off with an explosively formed quarter.

“Incoming to the right,” Stacia announced, pointing.

A cluster of dust devils was spinning our way, still in the bone piles.  One veered off course and slammed into a massive pile of bone so hard, the whole thing shifted slightly.  Then it shifted again, rustled, and stood up.  It was some prehistoric version of a rhino or something.  Massive four-legged structure, huge horn, all skeleton.  Two lava-red eyes burned bright in its skull.  Great, so the mini-tornados could drive skeletons.

Another pile of bone shook itself free of the sand and padded out onto the road behind us, this one with the massive curved teeth of a saber-toothed tiger.  We moved from a jog to a flat-out run without anyone saying a word.  The rhino and the saber-toothed were now giving chase, moving slowly at first but picking up speed with each step.  Behind them, a giant two-legged bird skeleton with an axe-like beak pulled itself together and took its first tentative steps.

Ahead, the massive structure grew even larger, the black stone becoming a wall that reached high to the sky, five stories at least.  At first I thought it was solid, but as we got closer, I could make out holes, like little caves, rising in rows across its face, and there was a huge gap in the wall like the entrance to a… maze.

The bridge demons were running behind us, a growing mass of monsters that kept adding individuals—a swelling mob of Hell’s rioters.

“We need to get to the courtyard in the middle of that thing as quick as possible,” I said as we rapidly approached what could only be an entrance.

“Then we cheat,” Tanya said, pulling out slightly ahead just as we entered the maze.  She ran to the black stone wall and then up it, dodging a red pincer claw that shot out of a cave opening.  Jabbing back with her sword without pausing, she kept climbing, arriving on top in just seconds.

“Come on up. I can see the courtyard from here,” she yelled.  Her message was timely as the way ahead of us was suddenly blocked by four massive demons and a horde of smaller ones.

“Arkady take ‘Sos; Stacia, you’re with me,” I said.  Awasos changed to wolf form and Arkady scooped him up like a giant furry puppy, turning and following Nika and Lydia up the wall.  Stacia jumped on my back, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms under mine.  A roar from ahead of us was all the incentive I needed to forget about the warm form draped on mine and run up the wall, Clinging and Releasing with every step.

A clawed hand darted at us from the third cave up.  Grim grabbed it and yanked, throwing the humanoid-shaped monster into the faces of the big demons below us.  It was immediately torn apart, but one less demon wasn’t going to make a difference in the horde that was converging on our position.

We got to the top and Stacia slid off my back, the others already spreading out on the massive flat space.  Tanya was ahead, having already begun scouting the proper path to the center of the maze.

I looked over the edge.  Demons were swarming and some were starting to climb the walls of the maze.

“Come on; we’ve got to go,” Stacia said, waving me forward.  I glanced back at the demons even as I started to follow.  Then I looked at the solid basalt at my feet.

Demons, at least some of the ones here in Hell in their own forms, hadn’t been all that vulnerable to my aura.  But stone was stone.  Basalt was basalt, whether here or on earth.

I formed an aura blade, an extended mono-edge, and pushed it out further than normal, then pushed it again.  Sliding it from the edge of the stone near my feet, I cut back toward the middle of the wall we were on before turning the blade to run parallel with the wall, cutting right down the middle, but at an angle.

Up ahead, the others had reached a ninety-degree turn in the wall. It went from travelling toward the center to travelling to the west. Tanya had determined we needed to jump across the gap to the other side and keep on our mostly southern path to the courtyard in the center.

I arrived as the others were all jumping the forty-foot gap, my invisible blade ripping free from the stone as we reached the turn.

“What the Here are you doing?” Lydia asked.

I put my left foot on the outer edge of the wall and pushed down.  A twenty-foot triangular section of the top of the wall that was ten feet wide slid down the sharply angled cut I had made, gathering speed as the multi-ton mass slipped on the almost-glasslike cut the mono blade had made.  It disappeared silently off the top, leaving only half the original width we had just walked on, falling into the abyss of demons.  Screams, roars, and squishing sounds floated up around the rumble and bang of tons of falling stone.

“Oh.  Nice,” Lydia said with a nod, then turned and jumped the forty feet.  I followed, glancing below as I sailed over, noting that despite my little gift of stone, there were still hundreds of demons swarming below and starting to climb up.

My black-haired vampire noted my landing, as I was the last of our group to cross, and then took off across the next gap, continuing her straight line to the center of the maze.  We all started to follow, my wolf-bear just behind her.  A demon popped over the top and I kicked it so hard in the chest that I left a bootprint as it fell out and down.  My stomach rumbled and hunger pushed into my thoughts.  I pushed it away and followed the group.  More jumps, more landings, more demons reaching the top where we were.  Most were behind us, having to waste time climbing before they could try and follow us across the top of the maze.

I played tail-end Charlie, using combined energy and aura to knock down the leading demons in the swarm that was beginning to form up top. Our route was the fastest possible way, and the few demons ahead that managed to get in my vampire’s way were killed or knocked out of her path with extreme prejudice.  Each side of the massive pentagon was almost a thousand feet long, but from the outside edge to the courtyard was probably less than three hundred.  We covered it quickly, jumping forty-foot gaps and running over those portions that headed in toward the middle.

The courtyard came into view and then, after a final jump, we were there, standing atop the last wall with our destination below.  The problem was that the blonde mindreader vamp had been entirely correct—this was the next most likely place for the next gate—and the several hundred assembled demons below seemed to know it.  We looked down; they looked up.  Hunger made me dizzy and I wobbled a bit.

“What do we do?” the smallest vampire asked.

They turned to me.  I shrugged, my thoughts focused on the idea of food and eating.

My vampire looked at me closely.  “Chris, I know you’re very hungry, but we have to get through that small army and then somehow open a gate, probably in the center of the pentagram they’ve marked in the middle.”

I looked where she pointed.  A blood-red, five-pointed star was drawn in the exact center.  The demons were all waiting around it.  Or they had been.  Now they were watching us.

“Christian, if we can get through that, we can get home and get food,” she said, ignoring the sharp look she got from the blonde wolf girl and the littlest vampire.

“Okay,” I said, voice deeper than normal.  Then I reached and pulled the Sword, finding it the first time.  It shone bright, but not as bright as my first ever view of it, when the blonde angel had showed me how to find it.

I held it up for the demons to see.  They didn’t seem to like it.  Tough.  I jumped off the edge—time to show it to them up close and very personal.

Chapter 32

The ground and the demons rushed up to greet me, or maybe I rushed down.  Hard to tell.  So damned hungry.  The Sword sang; the demons roared, screamed, and screeched.  I started to cut.

The rest was blurry… indistinct.  Chopping, cutting, spinning, stabbing, ducking, dodging, striking, slicing.  Black blood flew, red flesh split.  Behind me, I sensed my others—mine.  They followed and fought hard, too.  There were so many that there was plenty for them although I kept the most for me.  It was glorious, but blurry.  The demon in front of me fell to the ground.  I fell to my knees. There were no more behind him, just a red shape on the ground.  But more were coming; I could hear them in the maze or on it. I could feel them in my blood. My others finished the few demons left to them. They crowded around me.  I stood, or tried.  It was harder than swinging the Sword.

“Chris, can you open the gate?” my black-haired, blue-eyed one asked.

I looked at the Sword in my hand, then looked at the five-sided center of the shape on the ground.  Stumbling forward, I fumbled the sword around, holding it point down.  My arm raised it over my head and I stabbed toward the center of the center.  My feet tripped.  Falling forward, the Sword slipping from my hand.  Another hand, slim and white, caught the Sword.  That was good.  The Sword hummed, happy with that hand.  Blue eyes looked at me with a question face.  “Sing,” I said and pointed.  “Sing and stab,” said I, holding myself up on one arm.

She nodded and sang to the Sword.  It liked it, brightening till I could hardly look at it, and singing back to her.  So bright, all of us had to look away.  Bright enough to stop the new arrivals at the entrances to the battle space.

She flipped it point down like I had, still singing the Sword’s song, and drove it point first into the red ground in the middle of the shape in the middle of the star in the middle of the battle space.

The ground opened and we fell through.

First down, then suddenly up.  I landed in a jumble on a cold tile floor.  The Sword was bright in her hand when she landed behind me.  The others landed around the room, some on the floor, my white-furred werewolf on the counter and the little one on a stool.  I smelled food, just behind a glass and metal door.  Then I saw it.  Bread and meat and cheese and green leafy stuff and red tomato.  I ripped it free from its package and stuffed it in my mouth.  Another caught my eye, smelling of chicken and mayonnaise.  I ate it too and grabbed another.  A bear snout pushed past me, trying for my sandwich.  Not so fast. I growled, it growled back. I held it away and pushed another sandwich into the furry, toothy mouth.  It retreated to chew.

“Chris, how do we close this?” my vampire asked.  I gulped down the third sandwich as I turned to her.  She pointed at a big hole in the tile floor, illuminated by the super bright Sword.  It was much brighter here, even without her singing.  I started toward her, veered right to plunder a huge glass jar of giant chocolate chip cookies, finally taking the Sword from her hand. It brightened a bit at my touch and I paused in my cookie chewing to study it.  Now a full four feet long, it looked different than when Barbiel had first taught me to find it.  Instead of a sturdy and plain, if painfully bright, broadsword, it now looked like a very large Japanese katana.  In Hell, it had looked like a Roman gladius.  Maybe Tanya’s touch had influenced its form; she did like katanas.

Shrugging and chewing, I followed my instincts, walking around the black portal on the floor, dragging the tip of the Sword just on the circle’s very edge.  The shining blade left a glowing line in its wake, one that brightened when I finished my walk.  The spot where I had connected the beginning with the end glowed brightest, so I shoveled the final cookie into my mouth and grabbed it with my now-free left hand.  It came away from the floor like a glowing strand of rope and the tiles underneath it were solid and normal, not black and all doorway to Hell-like.

Squatting, I lay my Sword across my legs and pulled with both hands, pooling the glowing cord in the palm of my left hand.  As quick as I could pull it, the portal disappeared and when the last strands fell into my hand, I covered it with the other palm and squeezed.  The pressure in the room changed with a pop that I felt most in between my hands and when I pulled them apart, the cord was gone.  Then I smelled potato salad. Awasos had pulled open another fridge door.  I hurried over before he could scarf it all, popping the Sword back to its alternative dimension as I went.

“There are people outside,” Arkady announced from his position by the door.  “Soldiers with guns.”

“Where are we exactly?” Tanya asked.

“The Pentagon Courtyard Café,” Stacia said, holding up a laminated menu with the title on the top.  She was naked again.

“For the love of God, can’t you keep clothes on?” Lydia asked.

“Arkady…” Tanya growled as she walked to the window to peek out.  The giant vampire grinned as he took off his shirt and threw it to the naked blonde who shrugged into it.

“Hello inside the café,” a familiar voice yelled, amplified by a loudspeaker.

“Hello yourself, Nathan,” Tanya yelled back.

“What is your condition, Ms. Demidova, and who is with you?” Nathan Stewart yelled back.  The others moved to windows and the doorway to look out.  I stayed with the tub of potato salad but ‘Sos hooked it out of my hand with a claw like a fisherman’s gaff.  I would have struggled for it but I spotted coleslaw in another tub.

“That’s a whole lot of guns out there,” Lydia noted.  “Is that a rocket launcher?”

“M136 AT-4,” Arkady said, nodding and pointing over her shoulder.  “At least two of those and two M2 heavy machine guns and that over there is mini-gun.  7.62mm.”

“We’re all here, Nathan, and we’re good—no unwanted passengers, if that’s your meaning,” Tanya yelled back.

Nika nodded at her.  “He’s still not certain because a demon inside one of us would lie about it.”

“Our instrumentation shows a gate closing.  Is that correct?” Director Stewart asked, tinny-sounding voice booming.

“Christian closed it.  How can we prove we’re safe without you doing something regrettable?  Or is that what you’ve been ordered to do?” Tanya asked.

“We have a device.  You’ll have to come out, one at a time and be tested.  If anyone so much as twitches, it will be as you say, regrettable,” he answered.

“Okay, that’ll work,” Tanya yelled back, preparing to step out.

“Nope, me first.  In case it goes tits up,” Lydia said, slipping out the door before anyone could stop her.

Now I was interested enough to move to the window, the coleslaw exchanged for a more portable metal dish of egg salad.

Harsh lights lit the exterior to full daytime brightness, making it impossible to see the soldiers with normal vision.  Thermal vision showed dozens of heavily armed soldiers manning enough barely portable heavy weapons to decimate a full unit of main battle tanks.

Stewart made Lydia walk, hands up, halfway to his position, kneel on the ground, and submit to some kind of scanning by his assistant, Adine, with a tablet-shaped device.

“She’s clear,” was the pronouncement.

Stacia went next, hands held to shoulder level.  The massive shirt came to barely mid-thigh and I think if she raised her hands any higher, her modesty would have been compromised.

She, too, was pronounced clear.

Next went Nika, then Arkady.  Tanya told Awasos to change to wolf before sending him out.  Finally, it was just her and I.

“You go next,” she said.

“Nope, you.  They’re gonna be all keyed up when I go.  I don’t want you caught in the kill zone if they get itchy,” I said, wiping my hands on about a dozen napkins. My savage food frenzy had left them a mess.

We went together, holding hands.  Everyone tensed up when they saw us, with much yelling and screaming for us drop to our knees almost as soon as we stepped outside the door of the café.  Then the stupid scanner thingy went off when Adine waved it over me.  It beeped once and Adine jumped back.

“Wait!” Tanya yelled before things could go all pear shaped.  “It’s probably his blood.  He was exposed to demon blood several years ago.”

Adine was ten feet to our side and now she studied her readout.  “It’s a very low reading, Nathan, barely registering.”

“Check him again,” he said, his eyes hard and his mustache twitching.  Beside him, I saw the teen girl, Ariel, watching with eyes wide open. She clutched something in one hand.  Despite everything around me, it caught my attention.

Adine came up and scanned us again, two soldiers coming out from behind us to help.

“Yeah, it’s a super low-level reading,” she reported.

Nathan grimaced, coming to a decision.  “Chris, we’re gonna cuff you just to be safe.”

The soldiers behind me clicked heavy cuffs around my wrists, moving my hands from the back of my neck to the small of my back.  Then something clicked around my neck and both ankles.

Tanya glanced my way and started to frown.  “Hey, what the…” was as far as she got before Adine snapped silver cuffs on her wrists.  Tanya started to stand up but Adine wrapped her legs around her from behind and took her to the ground, stabbing her in the neck with a syringe.

Grim thrust forward, twisting my body to stand, but two sharp bites, one on my neck, the other in my ass, burned through me, my muscles locking up and starting to jerk involuntarily.

I fell forward, my eyes on Nathan’s.  His looked sad, even as his mouth formed a straight line of determination.  Beside him, Ariel looked scared and upset, but still holding that black object by her leg, pointing whatever it was straight at me.

Then I locked up even more, going rigid. I hit the ground and bounced, my vision now locked on Tanya as the light around us dimmed.  Her blue, blue eyes were all I saw before the lights went out.

Chapter 33

They never fully went out—the lights, that is.  There were jumbled sounds and sensations of moving, blurs of light and periods of dark, and the whole time, I was frozen solid—muscles locked and rigid.

There followed a whole lot of shouting and commands, boots pounding, gear rattling, along with the electric whine of a motor.  The bouncing of being carried smoothed into the glide and sway of a vehicle ride.  We went down what felt like a sharp incline, and light penetrated my eyelids in a steady progression, like white lines down the middle of a road or… overhead lights flashing past.

We came to a stop and there was more yelling and bouncing, then the sounds of two electric vehicles moving away.

“Hurry, this stuff won’t last long,” one voice huffed.

“Come on, Sarge, those hypos were like bananas.  There must be enough of that stuff in this guy to kill a rhino,” another said.

“Shut the fuck up, Morgan, and keep hauling.  This ain’t no rhino we’re hauling,” the sarge voice said.

“Yeah, he’s the motherfucking God Hammer, that’s all,” a new voice added from somewhere in the vicinity of my feet. “He weighs a freaking ton.”

“You just shut it too, Corporal,” Sarge said.  “Let’s get him in here and chained before the motherfucker wakes up.  You want to be here then?”

A breathless chorus of no’s sounded.  “Alright, Morgan, you lock his legs to that chain there and corporal numbnuts here can lock up his arms.”

Feeling was coming back to my limbs and my eyelids started to twitch as I was dumped on the floor.

“Hurry, you assholes, he’s coming to,” the sarge said as the ratchet sound of locks snapping and chains rattling filled my ears.

Footsteps pounded away and then a whoosh sound accompanied a metal-on-metal clunk and click as if something heavy and metal had just closed.  Whirring noises like motor servos sounded by the upper corners of the room.

I opened my eyes.  And closed them against the harsh bright light.  Opening them again found more of the eye-searing light, but I manned up and kept them open, ignoring the tears that formed.  After a few good blinks, I got my vision back and looked around my new surroundings.

I was in a large square glass room, which seemed to be inside another, much larger space.  Huge high-powered lights shone down through the thick glass ceiling, making the vast space overhead murky and dark. The outside floor seemed to be made of an acre or so of concrete.  The whirring in the upper corners was coming from automated mini-guns mounted in each corner of my glass box, all four pointed straight at me.

The floor underneath me was rubber coated, but based on the draining feeling I was getting from it, it was probably depleted uranium.  Outside my box, Nathan Stewart was looking at me, a distinctly unhappy expression on his face.  Beside him stood General Creek, who looked unhappy as well, but his was more of an I-hate-the-asshole-in-the-box type look, mixed with I-wish-I-could-just-shoot-him.

Four lines of six soldiers each stood around the four sides of my crystal square.  Movement in the upper darkness caught my eye and I switched to infrared vision, the thermal outlines of two snipers lying prone on steel catwalks, heavy rifles pointed at me.

I checked my link.  It was still there, feeding me a steady hum of silent rage from my vampire.  She was also in a box, but I think she could see the others.  Then I felt something else, another connection, this one more feelings than anything else.  Stacia was mad too and I could sense her frustration.  Wherever they were, they seemed to be together.  It might have been a different part of this space but I couldn’t hear, see, or smell them.  Just feel the links, humming with frustration.

“I’m sorry, Chris.  I had my orders and much as I protested them, I still had to follow them,” Nathan said as he noticed me awake.  His voice came from the corner of the ceiling and the wall on my right, where compact speakers were installed.

“Yeah, Gordon, imagine that… someone who follows orders.  Strange concept, huh?” General Creek said.

I sat up, not speaking but just studying my situation.  The cuffs on my legs and arms were now locked to heavy chains sunk deep into massive bolts in the floor.  My legs were stretched out in front of me and my hands were still behind my back, leaving me just enough room to sit on my ass, but none to move around and get any kind of leverage.

“The cuffs are DU, as is the floor and the collar around your neck.  So are the bullets in the mini-guns. Your collar also contains a radio-controlled explosive that’s strong enough to actually break the armored Lexan that surrounds you, which itself is almost a foot thick.  Oh, and your collar is linked to matching collars on all your little gang of freaks, each coated in DU to keep you from messing up the mixture.  So if you so much as twitch, there’ll be seven matching explosions.  It’d be a hell of bloody mess,” Creek said, voice even and deep. “Also, there are sensors that look for particle emissions—try any of your tricks and the collars go off.”

I turned it all over in my head.  Nathan’s precognitive, Ariel, figured out where we would emerge, right smack in the middle of the most heavily guarded building on earth, the Pentagon.  The government saw the opportunity and took it.  Now we were chained and booby-trapped, locked down in the bowls of the Pentagon.

“No comments, smartass?” Creek asked.

I didn’t answer, locked deep in a wrestling match with Grim.  He wanted to go for it.  Pull the Sword from its pocket in space and time, cut my bonds and collar and take them all on.  He had it all figured, the exact angle to pull the Sword with my back-bound hands so that the lump of explosive I could feel at the back of my head would be cut as the Sword manifested. If I had been by myself, I might have let him.

But even if his speed was great enough and the Sword sharp enough to cut the explosive collar and my chains, it wouldn’t save the others. And I was terrified to lose any of them.  Not to mention that if they all died, I wouldn’t be able to stop my dark side from wreaking vengeance.  Cataclysmic, apocalyptic vengeance.  The sky’s falling kind of vengeance.

“Why not just kill me, Nathan?  Why take any risk at all?” I asked, finally breaking my silence.

His face twisted for a moment, his twitching mustache and goatee almost comical.  Almost.

“Because those were not my orders,” a new voice said as a flood of footsteps announced a small army of new arrivals.  Black suits filled my vision before spreading out enough for me to see the gray-suited speaker in the midst of a sea of Secret Service agents.  The woman by his side was familiar… too familiar.

But his face was immediately recognizable; it even predated my memory loss, having seen it enough times on TV and in the papers.  President Hogan Garth looked more impressive in person, more than his admittedly impactful media images.

He was a big man, maybe six-two or six-three, and built like an athlete, albeit an older one.  His salt-and-pepper hair was more salt than pepper, maybe an effect of two years in office.

Alexis Bishop stood at his elbow, face expressionless, studying me.  Her boss looked self-satisfied, almost smug.

“No Mr. Gordon, simply killing you doesn’t suffice.  Right, Alexis?” President Garth asked.

“Right, Mr. President,” she said, still watching me.

“Do you know why, Mr. Gordon?” he asked.

“Because your ratings are already in the dirt and the public would demand impeachment… Mr. President?” I offered, keeping it civil.  After all, he was calling me mister; the least I could do was use his title.  But I would only do the least.

He frowned, just a flash, but it was there.  “Because you are a disruptor, Mr. Gordon.  Like Google or Apple has done with the Internet and personal electronics, only you disrupt the smooth flow of society.  You’ve disrupted countless lives, caused untold nightmares for the citizens of this nation—hell, the citizens of the world.  Exposing the monsters that hunt the darkness to the light of day.  Have you any idea how many people are suddenly too terrified to leave their homes for fear of demons, werewolves, or vampires?  It’s epidemic—a society-wide psychosis that is crippling businesses, schools, and government.”

“Yeah, and it was all her idea,” I said, looking at Alexis.  She blanched, her face going white for a moment before red flushed the white away.

“It was a threat, Gordon. I didn’t actually do it,” Alexis said.  The President frowned at her and she stopped talking.

“Let’s be real, Mr. President.  I didn’t reveal anything that wasn’t already exposed by the media.  I just put names to it and offered explanations. Oh, and saved countless lives, including your own, in the process, all while you tried to kill me.”

“Let’s talk about that a bit.  It was your interview that forced Homeland Security to grab Agent Duclair and cause her to reveal her… bad side.  Then you proceeded to destroy much of downtown Washington and then attacked the sworn agents and officers of this nation,” he said.

“Do you honestly think anyone who watched the coverage live is buying any of that?” I asked.  “Or do you think that instead, they see a President who has been ineffectual at protecting the nation from the greatest threat it has ever seen.  A President who couldn’t protect himself.  And now you have me locked up down here, while Hell is free to send its legions through any and all gates.”

“Actually, what the nation is seeing this morning are teams of government agents, led by Oracle’s technicians, who are cleaning up and shutting down the few gates that did open last night, while you and your vaunted supernaturals are nowhere to be seen.  You abandoned the American people last night in their hour of need, but alas, the vision you painted never came to be.  Only a handful of gates opened last night, and just a few demons came through.  All stopped by the heroic efforts of the men and women of Homeland Security and Oracle.  You see, Gordon, nobody knows that you fell into Hell or that you somehow came back.  They just know that you left them in the lurch.  But I reassured the nation from the Oval Office that all was under control, demonstrating the leadership that they needed to see.”

“An Oval Office that was only there because we saved it, and if Hell didn’t break loose here last night, it was because we were keeping it busy,” I said, anger rising even though I knew that’s what he was trying to do.

“Well, I do thank you for stopping that demon before it could get to the White House, but I don’t think you saved me.  I was secure and protected.  And now, because of Oracle’s technology, we are demonstrating how only the government can keep the nation safe,” he said.

“In fact, you have provided a unique opportunity.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to get anything done in this government?  Those idiots in Congress oppose me at every turn.  Can’t pass a law to save my life.  But then you arrive with this massive threat—an enemy so alien that people set aside their beliefs and politics to come together and fight it.  It’s a beautiful thing, Gordon.  You and your people may have kept Hell too busy to send more forces through, but the citizens of this country, hell, the citizens of the world, listened to your little pep talk and worked together to get through the night.  And now after you’ve abandoned them, they’re turning to me… as they should.”

“Never let a crisis go to waste?” I asked. “Lucky thing you failed to kill me with that missile, then.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that.  I never attempted to kill you.  Here you are under lock and key and I haven’t ordered you executed, have I?  No.  You think running this country, this government is easy?  There are organizations and divisions that don’t answer to me.  Groups set up by law… sealed law, that run outside the Executive Office, that run outside of politics.  Their job is to protect the Republic.  And I would say that at least one of them has identified you as a threat to the country.”

“More AIR,” I said.

“Agents in Rebus was a privately funded group.  What I’m talking about are legal, black budget groups charged with using every means possible to guard the nation.”

“And so they’re likely to know about this and where we are.  You’re offering us up as either bait or a sacrifice.”

“Let’s just say that I’ve reached an agreement with them to back off for the time being. That maybe we can use you as an asset.  They’ve given me some time to figure that out.”

Alexis was pulled aside by a uniformed officer, who spoke with her quietly for a moment.  Her expression locked down, but for a moment, a glimmer of shock had flashed across it.  She turned back to her boss, pulling him down and whispering into his ear.

It gave me time to think about Garth’s words.  History belongs to the victors.  Gramps used to say that quote from time to time, usually after reading some crap in a paper or watching the news.  It was true.  Whoever controlled the media and the official recording of history would write the details that the nation would eventually come to believe.  A simple fact of human nature: we believe what people in authority tell us. Frankly, most people don’t want to look too closely for the truth.  Despite the noble origins of journalism, today’s reality is that the government controls the media and the media controls what we read, hear, and see.  With us locked away and a story being told of our abandonment, while video showed Oracle cleaning up the mess, we would be discredited and then forgotten.  Old news.

I was trussed up and rigged to explode, and all my people were as well.  Stuffed into the most secure basement on the planet.  His words had gotten to me, painting a bleak picture.  Grim surged below the surface, sensing my panic.  Options rolled across my consciousness; violent options that promised revenge but not salvation.  Despite the depleted uranium and the shackles and the explosives, I could still bring down the heavens.  Make the sky fall as it were, but it wouldn’t save my friends.  Grim offered up the concept that nobody lives forever.  Why not chose your death—go out with a bang and take your enemies with you?

I wavered for a moment, considering my dark half’s ideas… and ultimately rejected them.  It was early yet.  The kamikaze approach was not my answer—not yet.

Garth straightened up, struggling to contain a sudden anger, trying to keep his expression blank.  He turned his eyes on Nathan Stewart and General Tobias Creek.  Giving me one last dark look, he walked away, pointing his arm at the Director and the General.  “You two with me.  I need you to help me understand something,” he said, voice frigid.  The three walked away into the darkness, surrounded by bodyguards.

Alexis Bishop kept watching me for a moment.  I couldn’t read her expression.  Was there anger mixed with disbelief, with a dash of resignation?  Or was it a calculating regard, analyzing my uses?  She turned and followed the others, disappearing into the gloom, leaving me alone with my own dark thoughts and my small army of guards.

Chapter 34

I lost track of time, locked away deep below the surface.  But I kept busy.  I looked over my prison, studying it carefully for weaknesses.  There were a few.  First, they had used a lot of depleted uranium in the design.  Hell, why not?  The government had something like 750,000 metric tons of it in storage, waste from reactor operations, and it was pretty useful for weapons.

I’ve done my homework on it and found out some things about DU. Namely that it is both self-sharpening and also pyrophoric.  That means the metal fractures when it impacts a hard target in such a way that the projectile remains sharp. The fractures release dust, which self-ignites in the presence of oxygen.  Then it burns at like 10,000 degrees.  The pyro side of me was intrigued.  I mean yeah, it’s poison to me but still, that’s kinda neat.  Shoot a projectile that’s almost twice as dense as lead and it will sharpen itself as it cuts through steel armor then ignite on the other side, burning everything and anything.

At first, that seemed extra bad, to be sitting on a flammable base of dense metal that would most likely ignite when the mini-guns fired.  But after a bit of thought, I changed my mind, deciding it might be useful.

While I was thinking about that, I kept busy.  The massive bolts through the floor were hardened steel, bolted from the bottom with big nuts—insert childish joke of your choice here.  I loosened them.

Vampire energy doesn’t emit particles like my aura does.  I’m certain of that because my friend Chet has tested it three ways from Sunday.  We still don’t know what it is, but it’s not particle emissions.  So I wiggled the bolts, covering the activity by sitting up or lying down like I couldn’t get comfortable, which was true.  Nothing much happened at first, but I kept at it.  There wasn’t anything better to do besides checking my mental links to Tanya and Stacia periodically.  I alternated bolts, first the one in front by my legs, then the one in back.  Finally, I felt the big nuts under the metal floor loosen (more jokes here; knock yourself out).

Lying there, eyes closed, senses extended through the Lexan and under the floor.  Push. Pull.  When it was loose, I just Pushed.  After something that felt like four or five hours, the nuts were about to fall off, held on with just a trace of threads, and I was getting really hungry again.

I hadn’t worked out all the details yet, but felt I had a strong chance of cutting the metal collar with the Sword almost at the moment I pulled it from its pocket universe.  If I could clip it at the receiver part of the collar and avoid the DU part (self-igniting metal over explosive—not good), I’d be free to move about.  Grim was confident of that, even pointing out to me the section of the collar that was sending and receiving signals.  If I concentrated on it long enough, I could just sort of feel that he was right.  It was an odd, itchy feeling I hadn’t experienced before—but then, I’d never tried to feel or listen for radio waves before, either.

At that point, I would jump straight for the center of the glass ceiling, trusting the Sword to cut through the Lexan as I Pulled myself up using the metal girders high overhead.  That should get me out of the mini-guns’ arc of fire, maybe without getting hit at all. A few rounds through the legs wouldn’t kill me and stray rounds should ignite the flooring, which would be a big distraction for the guards and equipment.  After dealing with the guards, or even while dealing with the guards, I’d have to destroy the collar controls and rescue my people.  There were lots and lots of holes in this plan.  If one collar signal was lost, did that trigger the others?  Would burning DU trigger the sensors and explode the other collars?  Could I actually get through the ten-inch-thick Lexan fast enough to avoid the mini-guns? I didn’t even know where the others were being held.

I didn’t have answers for those questions, and so I was paralyzed by lack of information.  My guards and technicians spoke very little amongst themselves, but occasionally a tech would comment on some system check or another.  I listened hard when they did.

“Link array verified, all sensors nominal… wait… there’s some excess vibrations in both alpha and bravo containment,” one tech said, sitting a little straighter.  That didn’t sound good. The other tech got up and started toward my cell.  My pod was raised off the concrete floor on metal columns.  If he squatted even a bit, he’d see the loosened bolts.

I flopped slightly in my chains, moving my numb ass as much as I could and praying that Tanya would choose to do the same.

“Wait… it’s just their movements.  Bravo moved almost at the same time and it’s a match for the sensor output,” the first tech said.

“Couldn’t tell me that before I got up?”

“Aww, it’s good for ya.  Keep ya from getting blood clots,” the first replied.

“Just don’t talk about blood around the other pods.  Some of them are looking pretty hungry,” the second said.

That was another point to consider.  Other than a sip from my arm, none of the vampires in my group had fed in the better part of a day.  If they’re just lying around, a healthy vampire could go a couple of days without blood.  But actively fighting multiple demons and taking a cross-country tour of Hell constituted a lot of activity.  My time was running out.  Soon we’d all be too weak to get free.

“We’ve got a bluetooth alignment coming up in about fifteen seconds.  You need to get back in your seat,” the first tech said.

“There’s just no pleasing you.  Up, down, up, down. All hot and bothered about my blood clots. God, Barry, it’s like you’re my wife’s clone or something,” the second one said.  Two of the guards chuckled, very softly, but I heard it.  Those poor bastards had been standing in place for hours; they had to be cramping up.  Occasionally the sergeant in charge would detail one man from each line to do a sweep halfway around the pod, each ending up on the opposite side.  It still had to suck.

“Wi-fi signal strong, backup strong,” Barry said.

“Double signals confirmed by alpha, bravo, charlie, delta, echo, foxtrot, and… golf.”

Wi-fi?  Bluetooth?  The sons of bitches were using a freaking wi-fi network to control our collars.  After a moment, it made sense.  Radio probably didn’t work in the concrete and steel basement and with a repeater or three, they could use wi-fi for everything.  How did that affect my plans?  Could I use it or was it a deal breaker?

Footsteps sounded on the concrete, the click clack of high heels rather than boots or dress shoes.  I looked over to watch Alexis Bishop approach through the pools of light across the gloomy floor.

The men all straightened up a bit, all looking straight ahead and alert, except the sergeant.  He turned and awaited her arrival.

She gave him a brief smile along with a folded paper and then turned her attention to me.  The sergeant read the paper twice, grimaced, and then stepped to the techs’ station, handing it to Barry.  He read it three times, then turned to Alexis.  “Really? This is for real?” he asked, half-exasperated, half-anxious, his eyes darting to me.

“POTUS’s orders, gentlemen,” she said, resigned, also anxious, but maybe with a hint of relief.

“Gas ‘em,” she said and Barry pressed a button.

Valves opened in the floor all around me and four super high-pressure streams of gas blasted me in the face, the pressure so great that I didn’t have time to hold my breath.  My view of Alexis disappeared in a blast of fog and I leaned forward while scrunching my legs to pull the bolts free.  The ting of a heavy metal nut hitting the floor sounded at the same time my limbs locked up and I fell flat on my side.

“Jesus Christ, he’s almost free!” Barry’s voice reached my ears.

“Hold your position, mister,” the sergeant said firmly as my body went completely numb and my vision dark.  Then I was out—dead to the world.

Chapter 35

Massive pain—head-splitting, cell-searing pain.  Goody… I was still alive. Could I maybe go back to dead, please?  It flared sharply, my muscles and joints jumping to its beat.  Then it ebbed, falling back to just a minor red-hot ember in my brain.  I sat up, eyes closed, and felt a cool hand on my head.

“Hurts a bit, eh zayka?” Tanya asked.  My body relaxed at her voice, the pain dulling a bit further.

I blinked, finding two concerned and amused blue eyes studying me.  “Whatever that gas was, it either hit you harder or they used more of it on you, Chris, ‘cause you’re the last to wake up.”

“Where are we?” I asked, Grim giving me the answer almost as soon as I spoke.  We were in flight and the plane’s interior was familiar… one of Tanya’s.

“We were all dumped on the asphalt outside the plane.  Our own people brought us onboard.  The pilot and co-pilot were told to take off immediately, rather forcibly.  They say there are two unidentified jets following us about a mile back.  Mr. Deckert is of the opinion that they’re fighters,” Lydia said, slipping into my field of view.

Grim expanded my senses ruthlessly, ignoring my internal squeal of pain as my cloudy brain was forced into service.

“He’s right,” I said.  “Where are we headed?”

“The pilots received a flight plan for New York City.  We’re halfway there,” Lydia said.

“So what the hell happened?” I asked.

Tanya placed her hands on either side of my head and moved my head around to face the television in the bulkhead. She nodded at Nika, who pressed the mouse pad on a laptop in front of her.

A video popped up—the President.

“So it seems we find ourselves in a difficult situation.  As you’ve surmised by now, you’re free and headed to your home state.  Politics is a volatile business, Mr. Gordon. One has to roll with the tides.  Suffice it to say holding you and your people is no longer in the best interests of the country.  For now. Keep in mind that we did capture you and we did hold you, despite your attempts to get free.  Many have said it couldn’t be done, but I think we can put that myth to rest, don’t you?

“You were rescued from Hell by the brave men and women of the Department of Defense, right in the center of the Pentagon.  Oh, and you’re grateful… very, very grateful.  That’s the story that’s being carried on all national media.  I’d advise you to stick to it.  That’s free advice, Mr. Gordon, courtesy of some of those organizations I may or may not have mentioned.  Use this opportunity wisely.  This video is uncopyable and will destroy itself right about now,” President Garth said, his voice humorless.  The screen went dark and the flash drive in the laptop by Nika suddenly smoked and fizzled.  The keyboard sparked and the laptop died.

“How did they do that?” I asked, impressed with the Mission Impossible shit despite myself.

“It came with instructions to only play it for you when you were awake,” Tanya said.

“Okay, but what made them change their minds?” I asked.

“This,” Stacia said, changing the monitor to a different input channel, one that apparently carried whatever was on the tablet she was holding.

A new video popped up, this one showing Brystol Chatterjee talking to her favorite television anchors.  They might have to get her a parking spot and corporate ID.

“Brystol, you received this image how long ago?” the male anchor asked.

“Less than twenty minutes ago, Keith,” Brystol said.

I looked at the time in the lower right corner of the screen, then looked at the time on the digital wall clock on the wall next to the monitor.  It was currently a bit past four in the afternoon and this was broadcast at nine forty-five in the morning.

“You saying an anonymous source sent you these photos that purportedly show Chris Gordon, Tatiana Demidova, and their team being chained and arrested by United States soldiers?” the blonde co-anchor asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Melissa.  My source indicates that Chris and his team literally went to Hell and back for this country, somehow appearing in the center of the Pentagon courtyard and were immediately taken prisoner by our own government.  The same government that I will point out has said that Gordon and his crew abandoned us and left the cleanup to Homeland Security.”

“Well, that does look like Gordon,” Keith said hesitantly.

“Oh, it is. Look, you can tell,” Melissa said, with more certainty than her co-anchor.  He looked her way.  “Oh come on, does that look like him or not?  And tell me you don’t think that’s Tatiana Demidova’s face in the corner?” she said.

“Yeah it does.  What does this all mean, Brystol?” Keith asked.

“It means that our elected officials have taken the opportunity to imprison the one group of people that can honestly protect us,” Brystol said, then immediately held up her hand in Keith’s face.  “Oh, I know that Oracle has been successful in closing portals and eradicating some demons, but honestly, have you really looked at the footage?  It’s so heavily edited, it barely shows any detail at all.  My sources indicate that for every demon stopped by Oracle, they’ve lost almost a dozen people.  Highly trained, extraordinarily talented people, Keith.  Do you honestly think Oracle or any government group could have stopped the demon prince in DC?”

“I don’t know, Brystol, but I’ll grant you both the editing and the… difficulty of that particular situation,” he said.

“That’s because there is really only one way to counter a high powered demon,” Brystol said, laying her hands on the table in front of her and going quiet.

“Okay, I’ll bite.  What?  What is the counter to a demon?” Melissa asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?  The only counter to a demon is an angel,” Brystol said, eyes triumphant, leaning back in her chair.

“Are you saying…  What exactly are you saying, Brystol?  I think you should be very clear about this,” Keith said.

“I think it’s as plain as day… Chris Gordon… God’s Hammer… is an angel,” Brystol said.  “An actual, honest to God, angel of the Lord.”

“Well, you’ve finally said it.  You sure hinted strongly before.  What evidence, if there could be any, do you have to support this claim?” Keith asked.

“Come on, Keith.  What evidence would you accept?  Full wings and a chorus of other angels to sing for him?  Other than being born to exorcise demons with just his will, other than fighting a Demon Prince hand to hand and winning, other than apparently going to Hell and coming back?

“I’m not looking to convince you, Keith, or any other skeptic.  But someone once said, ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,’” Brystol said.

“Sherlock Holmes, Brystol. You’ve just quoted Sherlock Holmes,” Keith said, exasperated.

“Oh give it a rest, Keith,” Melissa said.  “You’ve given us food for thought, Brystol, but I think we’ve strayed from the real topic at hand.  Does the US government have Chris Gordon and his people in custody, and why?”

The clip ended and pulled back to the familiar Youtube logo.  A dozen clips just like it were lined up on the right side of the screen.

“So apparently there was a leak,” Stacia said.

“I think it was the precog—Ariel.  I think she had a camera in her hand,” I said, trying to replay the moment in my head when I was chained.

“She was the one.  Nathan Stewart was extremely unhappy about his orders to capture us, Chris,” Nika said.  “He was open like a book to me, which is unusual. He is usually pretty guarded around me.  But he has never disobeyed a sitting president’s orders and he couldn’t this time either, but he could give a young girl a camera and keep her by his side.  He was pretty sure she was completely sympathetic to our cause and when I read her, she was totally appalled that you were being chained.  I did see one memory of Brystol’s name and email address being written down in front of her.  I also got a memory of him speaking to her about the consequences if the American public became aware of your incarceration by the government.”

“So he could follow his orders and put in place a plan to get us all out.  What happened after that interview?” I asked.

“I haven’t seen all of it, just a few minutes while we waited for you to wake up, but instantly, the Twitterverse went nuts, along with Facebook.  A specific Tweet by Brystol went viral around the world in moments.  I think it broke all the records.  That girl’s career has taken a rocket launch upward.  Anyway, almost every politician and celebrity jumped on the topic with their own tweets and posts.  Demonstrations were being organized at the speed of the Internet and legal actions discussed by some pretty high-level legal players. You’ve… maybe I should say that we seem to have struck a chord with much of the country, particularly the younger crowd.

“After all that, the President stepped up to a White House podium and explained that we had all been dragged to Hell by demons and at his command agents of the US government rescued us.  That we were receiving care for a few hours, courtesy of a grateful nation.”

“That lying son of a bitch.  And he expects us to support that story?” I asked.

“And we will,” Tanya said.

“Ah, what?” I asked, baffled.

“Everything has changed, my Chosen.  In the course of the last few days, everything has been turned on its ear.  The entire world, which has long chosen to ignore the supernatural, has had to completely adjust everything it knows in mere days.  Demons are the big baddies—there’s no doubt about who the common enemy is—but now that Samhain has passed, the world will breath a sigh of relief, regroup, then look to the vampires and weres.  Humans have major problems with skin color; how do you think entire species of dangerous, predatory beings will be received?” Tanya asked.

“With blood drives and dog bones?” I responded, even as my brain was running down the train tracks she had laid.

Stacia hit me on my shoulder.  “Ass,” she said.

I’m not gonna lie.  It was a pretty good hit.  The girl had built up some power.  But I didn’t flinch and just ignored the smirk she turned my way as if she somehow knew I had felt it.

“There could easily be monster hunts if this goes bad,” Lydia said.  “Not to mention religious groups that will want to use us as a preaching point, legal groups that will want to explore our rights to own property, and regular folks who will view their neighbors with suspicion.  Burning crosses in the yard will be nothing compared to what a vigilante group of suburbanites might do if they think a werewolf family is living on the block.”

“So what can we do?” I asked, horrified at the images her words had created.

“We are at the forefront of this thing, so we can do the most.  And when I say we, I mean you most of all,” Tanya said.  I raised both eyebrows and she continued.  “First, I will be doing some major reshuffling in my holdings.  Time to rebrand much of what I hold, myself, into a new entity, the Demidova Corporation.  I can create a public front for the world to see, allowing my mother’s assets to hide in the shadows along with most of the Coven’s businesses.  That gives us a base to move from and hide behind.  Big corporations are useful that way.  Then I’ll do an IPO and take it public.  Hard to hate on a vampire if she’s building up your 401(k) like gangbusters, isn’t it?  Meanwhile, we’ll be hiring the best public relations firms we can find to present you, my love, myself, and your wolf girl to the world.  Polish us up, make someone less trashy,” she smiled a fang-filled smile at Stacia, who rolled her eyes in return.  “Meanwhile, the Coven has already done a lot of legal work on building a case for vampire legal status.  It’ll cover weres just as well.  So we’ll make a preemptive strike on that, because I would suspect that Garth will take that route next, or if not him, then someone else in the government.”

“That all sounds great except the part about presenting to the world.  What did you mean?” I asked.

“If you think Brystol’s been hitting the talk shows, you’ve seen nothing yet.  We’ll put you on every major news and daytime talk show in the nation,” she said with a smile.

“Ah, Tanya, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.  I’m not very good at the public speaking thing,” I said, more than mildly terrified.

She patted my knee and smirked.  “You, zayka, are possibly the most natural speaker I have ever seen.  In the past few days, your words, more than anyone’s, have changed the entire world.  You’re humble and sincere.  People eat that up, particularly in today’s cynical world,” she said.

“I hate to agree, but she’s right.  Maybe it’s that oh, so unsophisticated North Country bumpkin boy in you, but you do come across as entirely credible.  We’ll have you and the fur ottoman pose with kids; the moms will eat it up.  You tell them that there is no danger and it’ll go a long way,” Lydia said.

“I can’t tell them that there is no danger from vampires and weres.  I’d be lying through my teeth and doing everyone a major disservice,” I protested.

“See that right there—that’s what we’re talking about.  You tell it like it is and people believe you, plus now that Brystol has had her say, we’ve got the whole angelic thing going on,” Lydia said.  “It’s going to be a battle, Chris, so we’ve got to use everything we’ve got, which is, thankfully, quite a lot.”

“A battle for what?” I asked, already pretty much knowing the answer. “I thought we won the battle.”

“A battle to prevent interspecies warfare, Chris.  It would literally tear the world apart and kill millions.  We won a battle against demonkind.  Now we have to battle against human nature, and that one is much less cut and dried.  Your days of living under the radar were gone when Brystol outted you on her blog.  But now you have to embrace it and live it.  You have to be an ambassador between species,” Lydia said.

I stared at them in horror.  It was possibly the worst course my life could have taken.

Nika gave me a sympathetic smile and Stacia, who was born to receive attention, tried to look blasé about the whole thing, but I could feel her excitement.  Lydia was laughing at my expression and Tanya just held my hand.  ‘Sos chuffed and settled back on the carpet, his head by my feet.

The co-pilot poked his head out from the front.  “We’re landing in ten minutes.  The tower warned us that there is already a crowd forming outside the fences. Thought you should know.”

“Is good.  Finally a use for pretty boy face, eh?” Arkady said to me, smacking my shoulder as he headed to the galley for some blood.

Outside the cabin window, the rapidly setting sun was bathing the Big Apple in gold tones as the pilot circled us for our final approach.

Lydia plopped a pad and pencil down in front of me.  I looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“For your speech, hotshot.  You got like ten minutes to get something written, actually less cause we’re gonna have to clean it up and correct all the bad grammar.”

I looked the pad and tried to think up words.  Unfortunately, only one came to mind.  Shit.

Epilogue

The oily brackish water slid silently off my face mask, with not even the slightest burble to announce my presence to the three men standing in the dark on the East River dock.  None of the three were looking my way; one was staring out across the river, one watching the waterfront in one direction, the last watching the other.  Even the driver of the idling white panel van was watching some kind of device.  My approach underwater had been perfect, my emergence absolutely silent, yet all three stiffened just ever so slightly to my eye.  “Beowulf,” the one looking out across the river said, very, very softly.  “Beowulf,” the next said.  He was followed by a “Beowulf” from the last man on the dock and one from the driver who paused to scan some instrumentation.

I sighed and swam over to the metal ladder that extended into the water at the end of the dock, giving up all pretense of silent stealth.  For some reason that I don’t remember, all the security guys who work with me use the word Beowulf as an all-clear signal.  It started with Deckert and his men and spread to the vampires who guard me as well.  If things were hinky, they would have said “Grendel,” which makes sense as Grendel was a monster and if things went bad, I’d release my own inner monster.

“Everything all right, sir?” the nearest Darkkin bodyguard said as I came up the ladder, dripping East River water and shedding my gear.  “Your nighttime swim go okay?”

“Not really…” I paused, realizing I didn’t know his name.

“Travis, sir.”

“Not really so great, Travis, plus I probably caught something in that water that even the V-squared can’t kill,” I replied.

He helped me with my gear; the rebreather, mask, fins, and wetsuit, leaving me steaming in the November night air in just swim trunks.  Then he poured the better part of five gallons of fresh water over me to wash off the river water.  I toweled off and climbed into the back of the van. Travis climbed in back with me. One of the others was riding shotgun and the last one drove a motorcycle.

The motorcycle led as we headed into Manhattan.  In the back, I stripped off my suit, dried off, and pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt while thinking about both my night’s mission and the last week of activity since Washington.

A lot had happened.  First, true to her word, Tanya had begun reorganizing her business ventures, bringing them under one corporate structure.  She’d openly hired some of the largest firms on Wall Street to help orchestrate it and then granted interviews to CNBC and Bloomberg television to discuss it.  The CNBC one still stuck in my head.

Filmed in her newly appointed Manhattan office, it had been her and one of CNBC’s beautiful and razor-sharp reporters.

“We’ve been hearing the buzz on the street, Ms. Demidova, and given the recent events in Washington, I think you can understand why our viewers might be a bit more than fascinated to hear about your ventures with you being a…” Marie Barrera said, petering off.

“Vampire?  It’s okay, Marie, if I can call you that?  That’s what I am—a vampire, although my people prefer the name Darkkin.  Yes, to answer your question, I can imagine that there is a certain interest in us at this time,” Tanya answered.

“Well, the world has always been fixated on vamp… vampires or Darkkin, but now that we know you are real, it’s well… it’s blown up,” Marie answered.

“Yes, so we’ve noticed.  But back to the point of your visit: you’re interested in what kind of company Demidova Incorporated will be when I’ve finished pulling it together, right?  That’s a hard one to fully answer, as I don’t think there are any current corporations just exactly like it.  We will have a division that is focused on synthetic blood, blood cleansing techniques, blood supplies, and the like.  That one is near and dear to my heart, as you might imagine, and we have a lot of expertise in blood,” she said with a smile.

Marie laughed lightly, some of her nerves easing. “I imagine you might, at that.  Will that be aimed at supplying blood to your people?”

“Partly.  Synthetic blood will be a big seller as my people emerge into the light, if you’ll pardon the corny metaphor.  But beyond that, it offers tremendous potential for patients, human patients with blood-borne diseases.  We are working on techniques that could potentially eradicate Sickle Cell Anemia, Leukemia in all its forms, HIV, Hepatitis, and viral hemorrhagic fevers like Ebola.  I think there might be markets for that sort of thing, don’t you?”

“You really feel you have a chance at curing those illnesses?  That would be beyond huge,” Marie said.

“We’ve been focused on human blood for thousands of years, Marie.  We know all about it. But did you know a Darkkin can drink diseased blood and suffer no effects at all?  Our own body chemistry destroys them utterly and we think we can provide that to everyone.  But beyond the medical division, the Corporation will also have extensive real estate holdings, hotels and commercial properties, shipping and trucking enterprises, high tech research firms, defense industry companies, insurance and finance companies, and much more.  We have businesses in almost every country on the planet.”

“All staffed by Darkkin?”

“No Marie, staffed by people.  Human, Darkkin, and were.  Think about it.  My businesses never sleep.  During the daylight hours, humans run the show and at night, my Darkkin brothers and sisters take over the same desks.”

“Your employee expenses will be at least twice that of any other company,” Marie suggested.

“They already are and yet I’m making money.  Why?  Because I’m operating when others aren’t.  Twenty-four seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.  Now, I know there are plenty of companies that do that now with shifts, but I guarantee that no human will stay as sharp in the wee dark hours of the night like a vampire.  Even my Christian gets a bit sleepy when the night gets very old.”

“Will he be part of your company?” Marie asked.

“He is my Chosen, Marie.  He is a part of everything I do, but as far as day-to-day stuff – not so much.  He is needed for other things, more important things.”

Stacia disappeared for a few days, summoned back to Brock and Afina for explanations.  I was nervous about that, as previously the packs had dealt harshly with any were who risked exposing the species.  Yet she was calm as a cucumber, insisting on going alone, confident she would be all right.  I sat in an SUV outside Lupine Industries headquarters with Deckert and a couple of his guys, trying to follow her emotions though my weak link to her.  I could point to where she was and I knew she was physically okay, but that was the extent of my knowledge.  When it became apparent that she wasn’t in immediate danger, I left.  She came back two days later, not saying a word about her meeting but radiating resolve, guardedness, and a small but solid core of satisfaction. She was immediately approached for interviews, guest shots on television shows, and even some guest modeling.  She dove right in, handling her new fame with a surprising amount of levelheadedness.

She did have one small incident.  She had the opportunity to do a photo shoot in downtown Manhattan.  The event stopped traffic, with major paparazzi crowding around the shoot.  Partway through, an independent photographer bumped into a single mom with two kids who happened by.  The baby in her arms was fine but her toddler was knocked into the street, into the path of a bike messenger.  Stacia noticed it from thirty-five feet away, dropped her shoes, and sped over, leaping the crowd in one jump to grab the kid and step around the biker.  It was caught on at least five cameras.

She handed the kid back to the grateful mother, told the photographer to watch it, and went back to the shoot like nothing out of the ordinary.  It made prime time news on every channel.

I had my own set of appearances, handed to me by the publicity firm that Tanya had hired, specifically my new double nemeses, Kyle and Jules.  One flamboyantly gay and uber-sarcastic, the other cool, calculating, and completely without mercy.  They dealt with the constant barrage of fans, haters, religious groups, and politicians that came literally out of the woodwork.

I did every major news show but successfully avoided the late night talk circuit.  My questions were mostly the same, just worded differently.  Did I talk to God (no), did we really go to Hell (yes), was I on good terms with the President despite the lack of any photos showing us together (a teeth-gritting yes)?  And, of course, the big one—are you an angel?  My answer was more complicated for that one.  It mostly went like this:  “Well, (insert interviewer’s name here), angels aren’t allowed to manifest on earth; it would be a breach of the Accords.  That would result in war, and we wouldn’t likely survive it.  What about the angel at the church in Washington, you ask?  Well, he was on holy grounds, and he was answering the breach of Accords that Amaymon made by being on church premises.  But Barbiel wasn’t an Archangel.  You wouldn’t want to see an Archangel manifest on the planet.  They are God’s war angels and they’re weapons of mass destruction.  It would be bad, bad, bad.  Only Fallen angels could possibly be here on earth.  Am I a Fallen angel?  Next question, please.”

The media filled in the blanks for themselves, which was fine, as I wasn’t going to talk about it.

Jules came to me one day with a list of potential appearances.  “Pick one,” she said, pushing her thin glasses up her nose.  Lydia was hovering near the door but looked away when I glanced at her.

“Let’s see, guest announcer on MTV Awards show—Hell no. Guest on Saturday Night Live—no way.  Two, no three requests to go to governors’ inaugural balls in January—no, no, nyet.  Here, I’ll do this one—the Children’s Hospital,” I said.

“Ha!” Lydia said.  “Told you!  I win,” she crowed to an unflustered Jules.  For her part, my publicist from hell, who was almost the same height as Lydia, barely batted an eye.  “Fine, Chapman. As long as he keeps doing them, I’ll keep taking your suggestions and your bets.  Which one, Chris? There’s like seven or more?”

“All of them.  And I’ll bring ‘Sos with me.”

She looked at me over the rim of her glasses, pale hazel eyes and curly brown hair, super serious expression.  “That’s… actually good.  I like it.”

I expected more pushback about bringing a three-hundred-pound wolf into hospitals, but no one said a single word.  They were all too shocked when we came through the doors; myself, ‘Sos, my security contingent, Jules and Kyle, and the hospital PR person.  I don’t like pictures or events, but the kids were so sick and so brave that I felt like a chump.  So I jumped into kids’ selfies, nurse selfies, doctor selfies, and posed for the camera everywhere.  Awasos was, to no surprise, a big hit.  Kids wanted to pet him, lie down with him, even ride him.  That left my security guys forgotten, so no one noticed Deckert gleefully dripping a drop of my blood into an IV here or a carton of juice there.  Took us two days to hit all seven hospitals.

It was possible that by next week, whole floors might be cleared of horrifically sick children.  People would notice and wonder, but there wouldn’t be any evidence.

All of that was overwhelming. It was surreal stuff, but not as surreal as watching my grandfather give an interview to Sixty Minutes, one of his favorite weekly shows.

We watched it as a group in the hotel we’d taken over until our new residence in the corporate tower was ready.

My grandfather took the attractive blonde correspondent with the nice foreign accent on a tour of the farm.

“So Alex Gordon, you’re the man who raised Chris Gordon?” she asked.

“Guilty as charged, Lara,” he answered.

“What was he like, as a child?” she asked.

“He was always quiet. Even as a baby, he didn’t cry much.  His eyes were always purple, a bit darker than they are now, but very different than other kids.  And he had this thing with dogs,” Gramps said.

“Dogs?”

“To an animal, they all love him.  Used to have this cattle dog, a mix of Rottweiler and Australian Shepherd. Meanest dog I ever met.  He stayed with the cows, guarded them from the coywolves… eastern coyotes, ya know.  Anyway, he had no use for people, would barely listen to me and growled at everyone else.  Except Chris.  When his parents brought him to visit, that dog would leave the fields and hang around us, eyes on Chris the whole time.  Wouldn’t get close or anything, he’d just stay nearby and watch. It was odd.”

“So he was normal, with a few quirks, is that right?” she asked, then continued at my grandfather’s nod.  “So what happened when he was eight?”

“You know what happened, Lara.  His entire family was massacred while he lay in hiding.  Chopped to pieces by a demon in human form.  We didn’t know it at the time but it was hunting him.”

“That’s horrific,” she said.

“You have no idea.  I was a Marine Raider in Korea, you know.  Saw lots of things… did lots of things.  I never saw anything like what that monster did to my son and his family,” Gramps said, voice trembling.  “My son was a kind man, but he was tough.  He grew up here on this same farm.  Worked hard from sun up till sun down. He was strong.  The police said that it looked like his attacker had thrown him across the room like a bag of rice.  Full body imprint in the sheet rock.  He fought hard, my son.  But how does a normal man fight something like that?” Gramps asked.

‘You’re saying he was like one of the ones we saw in Washington, DC?” she asked.

“No Lara, I’m saying he was one of the ones in Washington, DC.  Did you see the bald one that my granddaughter-in-law fought?  Chris tells me that was him.  Tanya absolutely destroyed him, Lara, and I’ll tell you what. I watch those clips on Youtube over and over almost nightly.  She [bleep, bleeped] him up good.”

“You’re saying that the demon that killed your son and his family, Chris Gordon’s parents and brother, was killed in Washington by Tatiana Demidova?” she asked, incredulous.

“Exactly what I’m saying.  Chris knew him; he even announced himself.”

“Why didn’t Chris fight him?”

“Because Lara, Chris had to fight the big one, Amaymon.  He couldn’t indulge himself with revenge.  But Tanya could… and boy, did she.  Love that girl,” he said, wiping his eye.

“Love you too, old man,” Tanya said to the television from her spot snuggled next to me.

“That’s… that’s incredible.  I don’t think anyone knew that before now.  Your grandson never said anything about it, did he?”

“No Lara.  If you haven’t figured it out yet, he’s not much for talking about himself.  Never was.”

“So wait, let’s back up.  His family, your son, daughter-in-law, and oldest grandson are all murdered.  Chris comes to you.  What was he like?”

“Here, let me show you this photo.  I carry it in my wallet always, so that I’ll never forget, not for an instant.  The police took it when they got to the house. I think maybe the social services person took it.”

My grandfather holds up a small crumpled photo showing a little dark-haired boy wearing a blood-spattered t-shirt and equally bloody pajamas that may have once been covered in prints of the Transformers (the cartoon, not the movie).  He’s holding a stuffed animal—a black bear cub, not a normal teddy bear—by one paw and his odd purple eyes are vacant.  A set of uniformed legs are just visible on the side of the photo, but the camera is aiming down so the cop’s upper body isn’t in it.

I’ve never seen that photo.  Never.  It hits like a trainwreck.  The stuffed bear I had forgotten about until this moment.  It was too bloody to save and somehow, like much of that night, I had put it out of my head.  I called it Baby Bear.  Not too original but hey, I was a kid.  I felt a touch on my arm, noticing that it was rigid, my hand crushing the stuffed chair arm to scrap.  Tanya was looking at me, then back at the photo on the screen.  Everyone else in the room was looking at me too.  Nika, Lydia, Stacia, Arkady, Deckert, three of his guys, two of Arkady’s guys, Jules and Kyle.  All wide eyed.  Most with pity.  ‘Sos was against my legs and he pushed up closer, like he knew something was wrong.

I focused on my arm, willing it to relax, forcing it to relinquish the busted chair.

“This is a photo of the whole family. It rides in my wallet right next to little Chris,” Gramps said, holding a photo of my family—Mom, Dad, Marcus, and myself on Dad’s lap.

“So he was traumatized,” Lara commented.

“You could say that.  Barely spoke at first,” he said, leading her out of the barn to the woodpile.

“What did you do?”

“I put him to work.  It’s a farm; everybody works.  He became my shadow and I gave him jobs.  Feeding the cows, feeding the dogs, shoveling manure, forking hay, that sort of thing.  Then one day I went to this woodpile and started to split some wood.  I’m a farmer, Lara, and a soldier. I’m not what you would call sensitive.  I never thought about the effect the sight of the axe might have on him.”

“What happened, Alex?”

“I turned and noticed him pulled back as far as he could get from me, eyes wide.  So I stopped, realizing what I was doing.  But before I could conceive of any words or a plan to fix my terrible mistake, he pulled himself together.  He came right over and touched the axe handle.  Touched it like it might bite him, but he touched it.  Then he looked at me and said ‘I hid, Gramps.  I can’t hide anymore.’  He asked me to show him how to do it, but the axe was much too big, so I found the boy’s axe that his father used to use,” Gramps said, reaching back into the doorway of the barn and pulling a small axe down from a nail.  “This one, in fact.  And I taught him to use it… just on very small rounds of wood.  Only had to show a swing once, Lara, and he’d copy it exactly.  It was like dealing with another kid altogether, a real, real serious one.  He spent hours and hours out here.  Eventually he moved up to the big axe and the splitting maul.  He’d tackle the biggest pieces, chunking them down bit by bit.”

“When did you find out about his abilities with demons?”

“He was just twelve, I think.  Had a friend, maybe his only one.  The friend got dared to go into a local house that all the kids thought was haunted.  Chris went with him.  Turns out the house was more than haunted, it had a demon in it.  One thing led to another and Chris banished the demon, almost by instinct. Scared his friend to death.  That kid never came around again. After that, he couldn’t be stopped.  Haunted houses, possessions, whatever came along.  So I started to train him, seriously train him to handle himself, to handle weapons and combat.  He developed something of a reputation locally among the folks who pay attention to this kind of thing.  Moving to a big city after college seemed like a natural idea.  That’s where he met Tanya and well, that’s that.”

“So as a twelve-year old boy, he dealt with haunts and possessions?”

“Well, haunts were no big deal.  Spirits won’t hang around him, you know, so he could just show up at a house and basically cleanse it.  And we don’t get huge numbers of demons up here, but he got enough to learn his trade, so to speak.”

“Do you think he’s an angel, Alex?”

“That’s the first silly question you’ve asked, Lara.  Of course he’s an angel.  Isn’t it obvious?  Don’t you think he’s one?”

“I don’t know what to think, Alex.  Most people don’t know what to think,” she said.

“Chris is fond of the expression actions speak louder than words.  My thought would be for you and most people to sit back and watch his actions.  It shouldn’t take you a great deal of time to reach a conclusion.”

“Thanks for the tour, Alex.”

“My pleasure, Lara.”

I came out of my reverie to see Travis watching me from across the van.  He looked away.

“You’re new?” I asked.

“Yes sir.  Came from out West.  Colorado.”

It had only been a week, but vampires had begun to trickle into town, requesting to meet with Tanya.  They all had a common look—like they were searching for something.  As soon as they met my vampire, the look changed, from searching to having.  Whatever they were looking for, they seemed to find it in her.

“I’m guessing you were a Guardian there?”

“Yes sir.  Arkady wouldn’t have me here otherwise, sir.”

“Oh he might, if only to mess with me,” I said with a smile to show I was kidding.

“Ah, you know him better than I do sir,” he said, clearly not believing that Arkady would do any such thing.

“It’s happened before, especially if Lydia is involved.  Have you met Lydia?” I asked.

“Tiny, sassy, with the loud voice?” he asked.

“Yeah that’s her. Mouthy,” I said.

“Yes sir.  Met her first, sir.”

The van pulled into the hotel’s underground parking lot, the steel gate rolling down behind us.

I thanked the security detail and headed to the elevator.  Travis followed like a shadow.

“I can make it from here,” I pointed out.

“Yes sir.  No doubt, sir,” he said.  Then a moment later, he added, “But if I don’t step out of this elevator before you, then my job here is gone.  Arkady was very, very clear, sir… about your security.  Deadly clear, sir.”

“Oh.”  Things were a bit different.  My people did seem a bit more… intense.  Serious.  Some of their irreverence for life had slipped away.

The elevator opened and Lydia was standing in the doorway, Arkady looming behind her.

“Whew, what’s that smell?  East River Odour?  You need a shower, stinky,” she said to me, obviously not one of the less irreverent ones.

“Yeah, that’s my thought too,” I replied, smiling.

I stepped out and turned to find Tanya striding down the hall.

“Well?” she asked.

“It’s gone.  The tube, the weights, the booby trap bomb, everything, just gone.  The Book of Darkest Sorrow is somehow missing and I have no idea who took it or how they found it on the bottom of the river or what we’re going to do to get it back,” I said.

She didn’t look at all surprised.  “I felt your confusion and anxiety.  We hid it and booby-trapped it as best we could, and our best is very, very good.  So it’s gone.  We’ll deal with it. We always do, and we’ll do it the way we do best.  Chunking it down bit by bit like one of your logs and then at the end, we’ll smash the very heart of the problem and that’ll be it,” she said, pulling me into a hug.

The most powerful occult handbook on earth was missing and in unknown hands.  But I wasn’t panicky.  She was right.  We would deal—bit-by-bit, chunk by chunk.  It’s what we do.

The End.

Author’s Note:

First, I’d like to thank Marty Munson and Sara Balz for their insights and thoughts on Forced Ascent.  Ryan Bibby has performed his usual brilliant cover art wizardry.  My editor, Susan Gottlieb has once again managed to turn the runic scribbles of my tattered manuscript into something close to the English language.  My wife and daughters continue to exhibit inhuman patience while dealing with the self-induced psychosis I call writing.  I have noticed them twirling their fingers next to their heads though.  Odd.

And most of all, I need to thank you, my readers, for the fortitude to trudge through my twisted thoughts and ruminations.  Because of you the Demon Accords goes on.

Forced Ascent let me indulge my inner conspiracy theorist, just a bit, and put poor Chris far outside his comfort zone.  After all, shouldn’t politicians be lumped in with the other monsters of the night?

Next up is College Arcane, to find out just a bit more about Declan, Caeco and a cast of dozens; some familiar, some brand new.  After that, God Hammer, to continue Chris and Tanya’s story.  From there… who knows?  The Voices refuse to stay quiet and behaved...

Thanks for reading.

John Conroe