Blood Summoned

by N. P. Martin

  After a few minutes, Daisy broke away from me and sat down again, her back against the wall as she drew her knees tight against her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, doing her best to sniff back the tears. I stared at her for a moment before going to sit next to her, resting my head against the wall.

  We sat like that for a long time, sharing in our grief, made worse for me because I thought to myself that Daisy didn’t deserve this kind of emotional battering. She got enough of that from her mother. The worst thing I ever did was draw her into my orbit.

  “What happened?” she asked. “How did she die?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head.

  “It does. Tell me.”

  Sighing, I gave her a brief rundown of the events at the mountain hideout, leaving out the precise details of Scarlet’s death. Daisy didn’t need to know that Scarlet died horribly with her throat slit nearly to the bone. “I wish I could’ve saved her,” I said. “But I couldn’t.”

  Daisy lapsed into silence again for another while as she processed everything, then she said in a quiet voice, “She was going to teach me how to fight. She said she would before she left.”

  All I could do was give her a sad smile as I squeezed her knee gently. “You should steer clear of me, Daisy. Go to school, keep your head down, get good grades and then get the hell out of this city and don’t look back.”

  “You don’t want to speak to me anymore?” she asked, the devastation in her face nearly setting me off again.

  Before I could answer, the door to her apartment opened and her mother stepped out into the hallway, wearing nothing but a pink satin nightdress, holding a glass of something in her hand, probably vodka. “Daisy,” she said. “Get away from him. Now.”

  “But Momma—”

  “I said now!”

  Sighing, Daisy stood up and did as she was told, trudging over to her mother, who ushered her into the apartment, Daisy giving me a forlorn look before disappearing inside.

  Her mother then pointed a boney finger at me. “You stay the hell away from my daughter, murderer.”

  Standing up, I just stared at her and nodded. There was no point in saying anything to her. Besides, she was right. Daisy shouldn’t be hanging around with someone like me. In that sense, at least her mother was looking out for her, or perhaps she was just jealous that Daisy seemed to want to be around me at all. In any case, I walked straight past her, hearing her close the door to her apartment just as I reached mine.

  When I opened the door, I was hit with the massive stench of dank marijuana. “Jesus Christ,” I said as I walked in, the living room enveloped in a haze of thick smoke. On the couch, the Hellbastards sat in a stoned stupor. All of them, not just Reggie. They were passing a joint as thick as my index finger from one to the other as they watched some cartoon on the TV. They barely noticed me even as I stood staring down at them by the side of the couch. “Having a little downtime, boys?” I said.

  Reggie, who held the joint, jumped at the sound of my voice, and the others all turned their heads slowly to look at me, their buggy eyes half-closed, their jaws slack. In Cracka’s case, his long forked tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth like it was trying to escape. Even Scroteface was pulling strange expressions and occasionally twitching as he did his best to stare at the TV.

  “Boss is home,” Snot Skull announced to the others, but in a whisper that could barely be heard above the sound of the TV.

  Then Reggie looked up at me and slowly extended his arm to offer me the joint. “Smoke boss? It’s a heavy-duty indica. We think it might be laced with something. Not sure what. Heroin maybe. Or LSD.”

  “Both,” Scroteface whispered.

  “Jesus Christ,” I said. “You guys are getting worse. Where do you even get this shit?”

  “Stash house up the street, boss,” Reggie said.

  “That’s handy,” I said as I looked at Scroteface, who was moving his head in circles like he was watching a fly buzz round and round. “What the fuck’s up with Scroteface?”

  “I think he’s trippin’, boss,” Reggie said. “I think I am too. Did you dye your hair green?”

  “No, Reggie,” I said. “I didn’t.”

  “Then I’m trippin’,” he said, staring at the TV once more.

  In the ensuing silence, Cracka freaked everyone out by jumping to his feet like a wasp had just stung his balls, shouting, “By the power of Grayskull!” in his small voice with his tongue still hanging out. As everyone stared—the other Hellbastards wide-eyed like they didn’t know how to react—Cracka started singing the theme tune to He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, or trying to anyway. Most of it was garbled nonsense, but he hummed it with gusto, finally finishing by punching the air with his fist and shouting, “I have the powerrrrrrrrrr!”

  When he was done, he sat down again and stared at the TV like he was the only one in the room.

  Everyone, including me, continued to stare at Cracka for another minute. Then the other Hellbastards shook their heads and carried on with their smoke session as if nothing had happened. “I’m just gonna leave you guys to it,” I said, slinking off. “I gotta go to work. Just try not to go outside or anything, alright?”

  “Sure boss,” Reggie said, seemingly the least stoned among them.

  Before I turned away, Snot Skull rotated his head in my direction, his black eyes almost staring through me. “Scar-let,” he whispered, then smiled, revealing all of his needle teeth.

  Frowning, I shook my head at him before disappearing into the bedroom, wondering when the moment would come when I would finally go utterly insane.

  With another bloodstained shirt tossed in the trash and a fresh one on, I left the Hellbastards to their cartoons and weed-fueled trip on the sofa and drove straight to the precinct. When I got there, the media were crowded around the front public entrance and Routman was standing on the steps looking down on them, taking the opportunity to shine in front of the cameras, doing his best to play the role of the grim, determined cop as he spoke about the murders of three prostitutes, which I knew nothing about. But apparently, someone had murdered the three women by butchering them Jack the Ripper style, making me think about what Pike had said. Maybe this killer was one of these Mytholites that he had mentioned? Not that I cared about fucking Mytholites at this point. I had enough to deal with.

  Routman assured the media that we were indeed now looking for a serial killer, which the media had already dubbed The Ripper Tripper, because apparently the bodies of the prostitutes showed inordinately high levels of LSD in their systems, a detail I was surprised but not surprised to hear discussed in front of the media. It used to be such telling details were kept in-house and away from the media, at least until the perp was caught. Now it seemed like everything was being directly uploaded to the hungry media, which in turn fed the bottomless appetites of the mass consumers who needed fresh news every day…hell, every fucking second.

  “Should we watch out for a man in a cloak wearing a top hat?” some joker asked from the media crowd, causing everyone to start laughing, including Routman, even though I knew he wouldn’t really find that remark funny in the least.

  Shaking my head, I walked around to the side entrance and entered the precinct, making my way down to the subbasement where I knew Hannah would be. When I got there, she was sitting at her desk, appearing to stare at her hand as she held it palm up in front of her face. It was only when I got closer that I noticed there was something floating near the center of her palm. A tiny flame, glowing with intense brightness as it lit up her face, which held an almost serene smile. “Hi,” she said, her smile unwavering as she looked up at me. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I had to agree. There was a purity to the little flame that I’d never seen in anything before, but also a vastness of potential just waiting within it to be tapped somehow. It calmed my anxiety just looking at it and almost made me forget that Scarlet hadn’t long died in my arms. “Yes, it is,
” I said. “What is it?”

  “The Light of God.” She continued staring at it as though she believed the Creator was within the flame. “Can you feel His presence?”

  Staring at the flame, I hardly knew what to say. “I—I’m not sure.”

  Her smile turned to one of slight sadness as she looked up at me, the flame in her palm now extinguished. Standing up—the vague image of her Visage wavering just behind her, a winged being of light—she put her arms around me and held me there as I stood stiffly for a second before finally responding by putting my arms around her shoulders and holding her too. The same sense of tranquility and peacefulness that I felt from the flame, I also felt in her now. She understood, somehow, that I didn’t want to talk about it. She understood that I needed to know she was there for me, even though I didn’t realize I needed to know that until she put her arms around me. When I closed my eyes, I reveled in the respite from the pain, knowing it probably wouldn’t last long.

  And indeed, several moments later, when she finally let me go, the pain returned soon after, seeping in again like it had just popped out for a smoke break, all like, I’m back motherfucker. Did you miss me?

  “You seem unusually…angelic,” I said to her as I sat on the edge of her desk, noticing the lack of scarring on her face now. “Any reason for that?”

  She smiled as she sat in her chair. “I was thinking about you,” she said. “Thinking about the pain you would be in; the grief you’d be feeling. I wondered how I could help you and—” She shook her head like she couldn’t explain it. “I don’t know, I just started to feel different, and then I remembered things from my time as an Elohim in the celestial Heavens. It feels now like God is flowing through me again. It might just be temporary, like before when I saved you. Even if it is, I don’t mind, for I got to make you feel better, if only a little bit.”

  As much as I appreciated what she did, it was also weird seeing her in such a spiritually aware state, especially after witnessing her as evil incarnate not two days before. It was jarring, which she seemed to sense as her smile began to fade. So I stood up and then leaned down toward her, taking her porcelain face in my hands before softly kissing her on the lips. “You’re exactly what I need right now,” I said.

  Her smile returned. “Okay, then. How about we take down some bad guys?”

  “Sure,” I said, smiling. “Why the fuck not?”

  We both stood, and then she said, “By the way, did Scarlet scream when she died?”

  I stared at her in shock. Her Visage was now demonic; dark and winged and menacing. She quickly looked away and covered her hand with her mouth, bending over slightly like she would be sick. Looming over her, her Visage turned to me as though smiling, eyes glowing faintly within it. When Hannah took her hand away from her mouth, she said, “Ethan, I’m sorry, I—”

  “Forget it.”

  “No, I—”

  “I said—” I paused for a second to set my jaw and control my anger. “I said forget it.”

  She shook her head, more at herself, and turned around so her back was to me. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  I stared at her for a moment, before saying, “I’m going to talk to the captain about getting backup to raid the boarding school. You should get ready.”

  Still shaking my head at Hannah’s unpredictable taciturn nature, I walked into the captain’s office to speak with him, unsurprised that he acted hostile from the get-go. “What is it, Drake? You run out of holy water or something?” He barely smiled as he glared at me.

  I resisted the urge to tell him to go fuck himself, as much as I wanted to. I was only there out of courtesy. Whatever I needed, all I had to do was go straight to Lewellyn. But as Edwards could make life difficult for me, and because I knew he was rallying to get rid of me altogether, I thought I should choose not to go above his head for a change. “No, sir,” I said, remaining calm. “I need a team so my unit can raid a cult hideout.”

  And yes, I’m well aware of the deal I made with Pike. But fuck him, and fuck Blackstar. This was about justice, not self-interest.

  Edwards stared at me for a moment, a look of disbelief on his face. “You have some balls, Drake, coming in here and asking for my men to help you out with one of your so-called cases.”

  “So-called, sir? That girl they took out of the river a while ago was probably killed by this cult.”

  “So you say. The report says she committed suicide.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It would say that, wouldn’t it?”

  “So now you’re questioning the credibility of the forensics team and the experienced investigators who came to that conclusion?” He shook his head. “Get out, Drake. I’ve got work to do here.”

  “I came in here out of courtesy,” I said, struggling to hold down my anger. “You know I can go straight to Lewellyn. Why are you making this difficult?”

  Edwards clacked his pen down and stood, coming around his desk to face me. “Let me be clear, Drake,” he said, his eyes boring into me. “For as long as I’m in charge of this department, you will never get any help from me or anyone else here. You got that? Your fucked up little unit means nothing to me or any of my men. You’re a fucking joke, Drake. A burnout, and everyone knows it. There’s simply no place for you or your weird-ass partner in this department anymore. As far as I’m concerned, it’s time for you to go. I’ve already set the ball in motion. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Balling my fists by my sides, I wanted to hit him, and he knew it. He almost dared me to. But we both knew if I did, my tenure as a cop would be over the second my knuckles connected with his face. “Don’t think I won’t fight you on this,” I snarled.

  Snorting, he smiled with disdain. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Drake. That doesn’t mean you’ll win. Quite the opposite. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do. See yourself out.”

  Seething with anger, I stormed out of Edwards’ office and went to the men’s restroom. Inside, I lit a cigarette and paced the floor as I tried to calm down.

  What the fuck am I still doing here? I thought to myself. Why don’t I just leave the force?

  I didn’t need this shit. Didn’t need to take shit from cunts like Edwards anymore either. But as usual, I also wondered what the hell I would do if I wasn’t a cop. Go back to Blackstar? Not fucking likely. Or I could become a PI. Maybe. It’s something I’ve considered a few times. At least I’d be my own boss, then. Maybe it was an idea I’d have to give serious thought to since Edwards wasn’t backing down. And as Lewellyn’s influence and resolve only stretched so far, I had to accept the fact that my days as a cop were now numbered.

  20

  After my altercation with Edwards, I phoned Lewellyn, but I kept getting his voicemail. After three attempts to get through to him, I finally said fuck it and went to get Hannah. “Let’s go,” I told her in the subbasement.

  “Did you speak to the captain?” she asked. “Did he approve a backup team?”

  “Does it look like he did?”

  She shook her head but said nothing. Sighing, I walked out of the subbasement, and she followed behind me, the two of us not speaking until we were inside my car.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “Are you mad still?”

  “I’m not mad at you,” I said, realizing she couldn’t help who she was. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

  “I didn’t. Xaglath is still very much a part of me, and I can’t seem to get rid of her.”

  I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out the window. “We are who we are, Hannah,” I said. “The best we can do is try to control our darker urges. There’s no getting rid of them, unfortunately.”

  “I am trying.”

  Putting a hand on her leg, I said, “I know you are, though maybe this job isn’t the best environment for you, given that it brings out your demon side more often than not.”

  “What are you saying, Ethan?”

  “I’m saying maybe you should consi
der another line of work.” I turned to stare out the window at the passing traffic. “Our days at this precinct are numbered anyway.”

  “Why? What did Edwards say to you?”

  “He wants rid of me. Of us. And I don’t think there’s much we can do to stop him.”

  “What about Lewellyn? Surely he can do something.”

  “Lewellyn has made it clear there’s only so far he’s willing to go,” I said. “He’ll not stand by me if the pressure is that great, which it will be, because Edwards has significant reach within the force. Edwards will make sure Lewellyn’s career suffers if he stands in his way. And Lewellyn wants to be mayor too much to let that happen. So we’re fucked. Which is why I’m saying you might want to start looking elsewhere for another job.”

  “I wouldn’t know what else to do.”

  “I’m sure there’s a lot you can do if you put your mind to it.”

  “Really? Like what? Working in a bank? Serving burgers? Answering phones in a call center?” She laughed at the very idea of those jobs. “Not going to happen.”

  “So what are you saying?” I asked her.

  “Maybe we should work for ourselves,” she said. “Become private eyes.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. It’s an option, I guess.”

  “Seems like the only one to me.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, throwing my cigarette out the window. “Shit, maybe we could join the fucking FBI, become G-men.” I laughed at the thought.

  Hannah laughed as well, though the idea didn’t seem so bad to her. “Look,” she said. “I know you think I’m this fucked up, schizo bitch or whatever, but you know, you’re not in great mental shape either, are you?” She stared at me as I laughed, somewhat taken aback by her bluntness. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, we have each other, and we should maybe keep it that way, don’t you think? Not like we’re married or anything, but more like, you know—”