"Do you have any popcorn, Professor Dudard? This just got interesting.” Damien kicks back on the slate couch and crosses a leg over his knee.
Now there’s another man with convictions. He deserves to rule Hell. I guess I finally figured out what it was he wants. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad though. I guess it doesn’t matter since I agreed to sign up for the campaign. So maybe there is fallacy in my logic about what makes a man good. Or maybe not. I might have to rethink this theory, but not right now.
"Damien, shut up.” I turn back to Scout. “Lowell, I get it. You want to protect Zeke. But you must be realistic here. This isn't some fairy tale where everyone gets to live happily ever after in the end. It's a nightmare and maybe, when you wake up on the other side of it, you can come out of the serious tailspin you've been thrown into, after a few decades of therapy. Death and delinquents. It's what we do. I can't offer you the luxury package, just an exchange. Maybe we can just get your mark off, but Zeke is still on limited time.” I step toward him again and lower my voice. “As messed up as it is, I don't like it either.” I search Lowell's face, trying to convey how Zeke meant something to me, at least for a little while. I understand his pain on some level.
He rubs the back of his head and groans. “Catriona, I promised Gigi I'd take care of him. I've done the best I can. At least, I've kept him alive, but that's as good as it gets with Zeke.”
"Yeah, he's like a cockroach. He crawls into some dark hole and doesn't emerge until the heat is off. Maybe cockroach isn't the right word? How about coward?" I spin back around ready to rip Damien a new one. He's pilfered James' bag of chips from the coffee table.
I open my mouth, but someone growls out, "Will you shut up?" Everyone starts the Ping Pong routine between Marty and Damien. So far, he and James have kept their mouths shut, but he takes a step from the kitchen into the living room and addresses Damien before I can rip into him with what I have to say.
"Alright! The old man has a pair. Tell me, Martin O'Keefe, yeah, Hell has your number too. Do you think there is a difference between cockroach and coward because it seems to me like they are one and the same.” Damien pops another chip in his mouth and the crunching sound makes me think it might as well be my last nerve.
Gruff but shaggy bear, Marty is destined for the big house with no light at the end of the tunnel? I don't know the man, but the way he has pulled the uncle routine with Lowell is protective enough, he reminds me of a faithful Saint Bernard. More bark than bite. Cap it with standing up for a lowlife like Zeke? I look at Marty in a new light.
Marty's knuckles crack and I'm not sure if it's from arthritis or a veiled threat. Either way, the tension in the room amps up to an oh crap. “The kid's been looking after Zeke for as long as I've known the boys. You can't blame him for having loyalty, no matter how low Zeke has sunk to.” Marty’s voice is low but fervent. He feels for Lowell and Zeke, like they are his own.
"True, but you know as well as anyone here there's a price to pay for the depths he's sunk to. Whether it is now or not too far down the road, Lowell needs to come to terms with the fact Zeke’s reckoning has come. He can either help us find Zeke or continue to stall and then my father sends the rest of his minions after all of us.” Damien sits back on the couch with the chip bag in his lap. He picks it up and shakes it, having eaten the last of it. He crumples it up and tosses it on the coffee table.
"I don't owe any of you, anything!" Lowell moves toward Damien, but I step between them when Lowell spouts off.
Doug and Dick are shimmering around the edges, and whether or not Lowell, Marty, and James can see the Hounds glamor is debatable. Leo and Fae step away from the walls they were respectively holding up by leaning against them. I look in the kitchen and see Tabby place a hand on Marty's shoulder, and even Tora turns to protect James, ready to jump in if necessary. I feel bad for James. His face is pale and if he's feeling anything like he did earlier when I flashed my demon goods, he's in for one Hell of a surprise if Doug and Dick pop their inner pooch.
It's trippy to watch. Their eyes are hard to look into to begin with. They are devoid of emotion like they have been trained to emulate gargoyles. But when they begin to shimmer around the edges, it's like looking at the pavement on the highway when it is super-heated. It's hazy.
Barbecued canines aside, I step in to avoid conflict if possible. “You’re right, Lowell. You don't owe us anything. But Zeke does and this is much bigger than you or me. You can either help us and in exchange, you get to live, or you can do nothing and stand by and watch as the Underworld comes for both of you. It's a crapshoot, but it's reality. I’ve been there and now I’m here. I feel--"
"You don’t know anything about how I feel.” His eyes are stony.
I say nothing. There is no arguing with those kinds of emotions. I know Fiona hasn’t ended up like Zeke so she will never be in this mess. Maybe I am undervaluing the price of what one brother might do for another.
“I’m not telling you where he is.” Lowell pleads with me after a moment and I wince. He might be standing his ground, but his tone is telling me to try and help. I wish Hell didn't owe him one because I might be inclined to toss him a bone if it were within my power. I begged and no one tossed me a bone until after I was dead. I bet it doesn’t taste as good from my side of things as it would for Lowell if I help him out right now.
"Which leaves us right back where we started.” Damien stands and walks to us with Charles on his heels.
He has a point. Even if I want to help, I already made my deal with the Devil. I stiffen and Tabby steps in front of Marty as he also makes a move, but Charles moves so fast, none of us see it until Lowell is clutching the side of his neck.
"He bit me!" Lowell staggers into the kitchen. Tora shoves James back and he stumbles into the kitchen, but she immediately dives for a dishtowel and presses it to Lowell's neck.
"Well, how else did you think we were going to get what we needed to track Zeke?" Damien looks genuinely confused and I blink a few times to douse the flames of fury in my eyes.
"Damn it, Damien!" I reach for Lowell who jerks his head away and grimaces. He pulls the towel down and looks at the bloodstain on it. I catch a glimpse of his neck and it's already starting to heal. Incubi must have other abilities than just the blood drinking.
"His twin shares his blood; therefore their souls are connected. I can track him now because we know where Lowell is, so the man in the south whom I can sense must be his brother.”
The truth about Charles and how he's useful to Damien has finally come out.
"How far?" I grit.
"A few hours.”
“Do you mind if I look, Lowell? I was a hospice nurse.” Tora moves in front of Lowell and he slowly lowers the kitchen towel.
"And what did the newbie Hellcat prospect do to become such a naughty kitty cat?" Damien's constant instigating is going to end with my boot up his ass if he doesn't cut it out, but before I can tell him off, Tora looks over her shoulder and answers him.
"I was taking care of a ninety-three-year-old woman who was only being kept alive by her family because they wanted her continued social security checks. She was miserable and in pain so when I went to the hospital to gather weekly supplies, I stole some stuff from one of the pharmacy trays and gave her the option to go out the easy way if she wanted it. I felt so bad I did it and grabbed a cheap bottle of wine after the funeral. I was so drunk, I slipped and fell in the tub when I went to take a bath and the rest is history.” She stopped talking and turned back to Lowell. “Whatever is in the incubus' venom is healing you already. You'll live.”
Well eff-me, my girl’s got some balls finally. “Alright, let's get this show on the road. Damien take your boys and pick up Zeke. Lowell and company will ride with me and we will meet you in New York in two days.” I make a start for the door, trying to get this madness out on the open road where it can ooze some of its danger of imploding vibe. There’s no use standing around here and waiting for the e
xplosion between the gangs to happen.
"What, you don't want to go find your boy toy?" I don't answer him, but grasp Lowell's arm and turn him to the door. He shakes me off and walks out of the apartment, not having a choice in the fate of his brother. We outnumber him and his friends three to one, but I feel bad for him knowing he can't do anything for Zeke. If it were Fiona-- I push thoughts of my own sister from my mind and the rest of my crew follows grimly. Marty plunks down in the sidecar and Lowell swings his leg over my bike after I get on.
James looks around and Tabby pats her seat and giggles. “You can ride with me, professor! Maybe some of your smarts will seep in while we ride.”
"Intelligence doesn't spread through osmosis, Tabby.” Fae’s annoyance with Tabby is just as apparent as ever.
Leo adjusts in her seat as Tora shifts her weight. We're all riding double and even if I had the desire to pick up Zeke, which I don't, we wouldn't have room to carry him anyway. The ride from the Devil's Canyon back to Salt Lake City was strained enough. Testosterone met bitchiness and the girls and Damien's crew took turns instigating one another on the road. Gangs don't ride together. It just doesn't happen and in the rare instance it does, it is never a pleasant ride. I tried to steer my girls separate, but Damien was getting his digs in where he could.
The next two days with humans in tow is going to be interesting. My plan is to stop off at a couple of motels. It’s strange, even demons need to sleep. Maybe it's recharging for the ruckus we cause.
We ride through the rest of the night and all day the next day. I take solace in the changing scenery. The rich browns and tans of Utah give way to winding roads through the mountain ranges in Colorado. Blue skies meet white-capped summits and basins of crystalline water. As we crest the pass through the Rockies, we ride low gear down into the grasslands on the other side and are met on the highway with green plains as far as the eye can see through Nebraska and Iowa. We stop just outside of Illinois when Fae feels a vibration coming from her sidecar. Some of the bolts attaching it to her bike have come loose and as our crew mechanic, it takes her half an hour to fix it, but it gives Lowell, Marty, and James a chance to stretch.
Tabby gets a kick out of watching them strut around like stiff penguins as the feeling comes back into their extremities. She’s snapping pics on her phone. I wonder if Satan’s social media pages are about to get lit up. Tora is a little worse for wear herself, not being accustomed to riding so much. But I sneak a peek of she and Leo cuddling near Leo’s bike. Looks like Leo might be giving her a booty massage. Lucky bitch. Who doesn’t like having their booty rubbed by their main squeeze? I’m not sure when Leo hit her with the loving, maybe during the day when Lowell and I were with the prof, but Tora seems receptive of the attention because I politely look away when they start kissing.
Besides, the rest of us give our bodies a good workout, popping tails and talons in a full body stretch that has us all groaning in ecstasy, and then we hang out next to our bikes. I spot Lowell’s profile cast in a silhouette against the sun and make sure Sugar is secure on her kickstand. Poor girl needs a rest herself.
I walk over to where Lowell is standing off to the side of the road. “I wish it could be different Lowell.” I try to talk to him reasonably now he’s had a chance to process.
"Do you?"
His words are harsh, but they are the truth. Less than two days ago, I wouldn't have given a damn what happened to Zeke. As far as I am concerned, he was the one who murdered me by his actions, not the man who actually pulled the trigger. But hindsight is twenty-twenty. I knew rolling with Zeke was wrong.
" I care because I know how it would be if it were Fiona.”
"At least she doesn't have to witness this…" He waves at me and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.
Since when did he get off being my judge and jury? I turn and walk away. There's no point arguing with him. It's all going down whether he wants it to or not. If he wants to play the hero, fine. I didn't ask for this, but lesson learned. I'm not standing by and letting bad things happen to good people again, even if I'm one of the bad eggs like his brother.
"Fae, you get those bolts tightened down yet? God forbid we lose another one.” I eye Marty. Can the old man really be destined for the land of despair? I guess we can never see a snake no matter what camouflage its skin comes in.
"Yeah, boss. One more, geez,” she mutters.
I consider doling out the smackdown they are due for bailing on me in the Dog Pound, but instead, I walk it off. We don't have time. Two days to cross country is a long-ass haul and I have a feeling we won't be staying over for a full night when we come across the next motel. It will be doze, dash, and on the way again.
While Fae puts her tools away, I listen to her chatting softly with the professor. He didn’t have to come, but like Marty, he fell in line because he was needed and it’s what friends do. Even my girls have accepted my decision to make a stand.
I feel a stab of guilt for snapping. None of this mess is any of their problem. They're here out of loyalty to Lowell and me. It's my own doing. Fae laughs at something the professor says and I can't help but wonder in another time or place if she and the professor would have hit it off. She places a premium on intelligence and despite the age difference, he would be exactly her type.
I lean back against my bike and look up at the stars. The sky is a mix of purple fading to midnight blue and I wonder how the Cosmos determines who gets the short straw in life and who gets to stop and make wishes to the Heavens that end up being granted. It sucks when you die and you still don't get answers to some of life's big questions. What's my purpose? How do I fit into it all? People don't consider what happens after the corporeal body stops working. For some of us, it's work as usual. I just can't help but feel here and now, there's something bigger I am supposed to be part of.
I sit back down in my hot seat when I hear Leo start up her bike and I watch as everyone mounts up. I pull back onto the highway once Lowell reluctantly sits back down. I feel like maybe he could loosen up a little on my ribs, but in a standard pissing contest of all time, I say nothing when the pressure starts to hurt a little. I'm not going to get any deader and he needs an outlet for his anger. How many people get the ticking clock of doom for a loved one? It's not like it will be a sweet goodbye either.
We pull into the Stayside Motel in Illinois and take turns crashing out. I don't trust Lowell won't make a run for it; so we sleep in shifts. When I make the announcement, instead of arguing with me, which has gotten him nowhere, Lowell starts to give me the silent treatment. He stares sulkily at the paisley wallpaper and doesn't engage with Leo when she sits at the 1950's orange top and metal legged diner table shoved in the corner. The bathroom is a joke. I don't bother to try the rusted knobs in the yellow stained shower. There are some places too Hellish even for a demon to be in and this is one of them. It's just as well Lowell doesn't talk to me. I've been going steady for almost two days and Leo takes the first shift of watching over him. I roll up my colors and use my jacket as a pillow. I inhale the scent of the leather and close my eyes.
I can't distinguish my nightmares from reality. Every waking day is a torture without my freedom. Slogging away for Satan, I can almost feel the shackles on my wrists and ankles, even as I'm given the liberty to ride free. This nightmare is different though. Have the Drudes caught up with us? I never thought we'd really get away with this without some sort of reprimand. I'm surprised Lucifer hasn't sent more demons before now, but as I stare down at the woman below me from the top of the ledge, I see tracks leading down to her, but a bar is banded across my chest and I can't get loose.
"Fiona!" I struggle, but the more I do, the more the box I am contained within shrinks. Her hair, the same color as mine, is splayed across the tracks. Her face is full of terror. She has similar freckles to my own, but her face is more elfish, where mine is more hardened. I’d recognize her anywhere though. Not by her physical appearance but by the energy that passes between t
wo sisters. I can feel it now. Just as I can feel the box and the smaller it gets, the more my vision narrows, so the only thing I can see is Fiona, bound and gagged at the bottom of the tracks.
“Fiona you have to get out of the way!" I try to wave to indicate she should roll to the side of the tracks because as I scream it, I start to race toward her, closer and closer. I'm going to run right over her. There's no stopping the momentum. I'm going to plow right into her as I fall off the ledge I'm on.
My heart races faster and faster as the speed of the container increases. Wait, I am the container, I think. I think I'm suffering a heart attack as my chest constricts and the bar gets tighter. I can see the green in Fiona's eyes as they widen and I make out the freckles matching my own on her nose and cheeks. Her red hair is caught in the tracks and just as the container, me, is about to slam into her, I scream again. “Fiona!"
"Trina, wake up. Catriona, you have to wake up.” Damien's dark face is above me. He looks so earnest with faint lines of worry on his forehead and around his eyes as he continues to urge me to wake up. “Trina, love, don't let him capture you in a nightmare with his Drudes. Wake up.”
Why is Damien being so nice? How did he get here? I look around and there is nothing but a void. Black mist hangs in the air like sheets drying out on a line. I put my hands in front of me, swiping at the mist like I used to when I would get lost in the laundry Mrs. Anderson used to hang out on the line. It’s similar to the mist I encountered when I died, but it is denser. The mist is incorporeal and my arms slice through it, sending tendrils of smoke and fog spiraling away from my body. There's no more container barring me and keeping me from Fiona, but she is gone now. Where did she go?
Highway to Hell Page 11