Kiss of the Demon Girl

by Eddie R. Hicks

  I recognized one of the men in the pictures, although the quality wasn’t great, but it was him. Older man probably mid-fifties, balding head with a Starbucks coffee cup in his hands. “That’s him, that’s Doctor Schubert.”

  Gabe nodded. “I got these off the security cameras from the hospital.”

  I browsed through the rest of the pictures within the envelope, various shots of Schubert were taken as he entered, exited, and strode through the hospital at different times and on various days. I looked closely at the date and time that was written at the bottom of all the pictures. “The time stamps match up with the date of my surgery.”

  And you know what else it matched up with? The day Lexi was admitted to the hospital to receive treatment for her blood disorder. But I’ll omit that part since Gabe wasn’t ready to know that Lexi had been possessed yet.

  “This was the best I could do,” Gabe said as he pulled the car into the traffic. “I had to pull a lot of strings just to get this far. Someone high up doesn’t want me or anyone else poking around. Plus, our good doctor here doesn’t turn up in any other facial scans.”

  “Meaning?”

  “No IDs, passports, no social media activity, and he doesn’t get around much in this city.”

  “Or knows all of the blind spots.” Like the one we were driving away from. “I’ll poke around then. You just do your thing and make your bosses happy. When I find something, I’ll give you a call.”

  Gabe smirked. “That’s a bold move, is there a reason you’re so gung ho about this?”

  And that’s when I decided to come clean about everything to him, well almost everything. All the supernatural stuff was left out along with any mention of dead bodies and the fact that I hired a fixer to help me with stuff, he was still a cop after all, one that was going to rely on me to help with field stuff while he tried to get his hands untied.

  “So, does this make me an unofficial member of the NYPD?”

  Gabe laughed. “Don’t do anything stupid without talking with me first.”

  That was a no as far as I was concerned. I was okay with that, I wasn’t much for following rules and regulations anyhow. Perhaps that’s why he needed me.

  Gabe was kind enough to drop me off a few blocks away from where Ryan lived, believing I was staying with friends there. I marched back into Ryan’s place after he sped off back to the precinct to do whatever the hell detectives do during a situation like this. Ryan was still out for the day, giving me the whole place to myself.

  I took control of his computer desk and spread the documents Gabe gave me across its surface, acting like I was a law enforcement specialist. I lost track of the number of hours that went by as I gazed at the photos and conducted various internet searches about the hospital, Lexi’s medical condition, and news reports that happened before, during, and after my release.

  During my fourth hour of searching I came across… well an eye opener of sorts. A recent news report mentioned the tragic tale of one Hank Vincent, one of the people killed at Madison Square Gardens during the quake. Though I knew damn well how he really died. Curiosity lead me to click the link and read the report. I saw a photo of Mr. Vincent, who I knew as the second incarnation of Lucifer.

  The report went on to talk about how Mr. Vincent, months earlier, survived a horrific car accident and was admitted into the same hospital I was, where he underwent surgery, recovered, and was paid a visit by Lexi herself, (then suddenly got a job working on stage with her.) How much you want to bet that Dr. Schubert worked on him too?

  I ran additional searches about the remaining ‘victims’ from that night, news reports, social media, people on their friends lists, the works. Turns out the security guard had spent time in the hospital sometime this year. I turned the desk lamp on as the sun faded away behind orange skies and gave the photos of Schubert another stare. I noticed something, something both Gabe and I overlooked.

  Schubert had a cup of Starbucks coffee in his hands in almost every photo. What’s the big deal? Schubert’s face didn’t show up in other cameras throughout the city, New York alone had over four thousand cameras throughout, constantly recording everyone’s movement. Don’t ask me how I know that, bad enough Homeland Security was probably monitoring my recent internet searches.

  Four thousand plus cameras, and he managed to keep his face out of most of them, meaning whatever time he spent outside of his car was limited to areas with either no surveillance, or not functioning ones… like the Starbucks cafe Gabe and I went to. It wasn’t far from the hospital, literally blocks away. The key to confronting Schubert while keeping away from monitored areas was that Starbucks location.

  I grinned before whipping out Ryan’s phone, giving Jim a call. He never did get the memo that my old phone was no more, might not be a bad idea to give him the heads-up, and you know, let him know I’m still alive since my place of residence went boom.

  Yes, I’m very bad at letting people know I’m safe.

  Chapter Twelve

  Knock, knock, knock.

  My fist slammed against the door to Jim’s safe house. I was curious to see how Emily was holding out before I pushed forward with the next phase of my investigation. He let me in seconds later with a less than impressive look on his face. I looked down and saw why, his hand was dressed in a bandage with traces of red soaking through it.

  “Rough day at the office?” I asked him.

  “This?” Jim pointed at his wounded hand. “That’s thanks to your friend in the room.”

  He led me down the hall and stopped at the opened bathroom door. He jammed his thumb toward a pair of male bloodied corpses in the washroom. The bodies were lying on top of each other in the bathtub, my nose cringed at the odors that were starting to rise from the bodies.

  “Ah fuck.” I turned away, with my hands covering my nostrils.

  “That is a rough day at the office.”

  That’s the organized crime world for you, they weren’t going to let a freak quake hold them up from having fixers like Jim kill people they don’t want around. Jim was quick at finishing jobs however, I should know. Those two bodies should have gotten their acid bath by now. I found out exactly why they didn’t as I entered the bedroom. Emily sat on the bed, still tied up with dried blood crusting over her lips like a hungry vampire. Terrific.

  “So, remember when you gave me that stipulation that she needs to be kept alive?” Jim said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well that means I had to feed her, she was all pale and limp on the bed earlier this morning. So, there I was with a nice bowl of cornflakes and water. Pulled off the tape and bam!” He shoved his bandaged hand into my face. Yes, I get it Jim, my work fucked with your other jobs.

  I looked at the mess on the floor, dried milk stains and uneaten soggy flakes. “Cornflakes really?”

  “It was on sale, Reika! I gotta keep this place stocked with food you know.” We both stared long and hard at the mess on the floor. “It all ended up there, organic milk too. The things I do for people I tell ya, shit was expensive too.”

  “Thought you said it was on sale?”

  “The cornflakes were, but the organic milk? Way overpriced, that’s how they get you.” Jim’s uninjured hand grabbed a broom and dust pan that had been resting in the corner of the room handing them off to me. “So, if you don’t mind… it’s your turn.”

  I crossed my arms, I’m not a fucking maid. “Get fucked, Jim.”

  “You didn’t say she was going to be a handful, Reika. Seriously, I should have charged danger pay for this.”

  I took a hold of his bandaged hand instead, and carefully examined the extent of his wounds, ignoring his barks of pain while he leaped up and down. “You should get that checked out—”

  “Oh, my fucking God please, Reika!” he squealed.

  I let go of him, his squirming was starting to get on my nerves. “You a mercenary? Or a little bitch?”

  “Right now? A bitch, I can’t work under these conditions
!” His wounds weren’t that bad, though a doctor patching him up would be the smarter move for him. “I still got work to do for my client, which is now on hold thanks to her!”

  Emily looked at us the whole time, grinning at us in a self-righteous manner. I gave Jim a comforting pat on his shoulder. “Relax, I’ll handle it.”

  “You’re going to take her out back and pop her? Thank God for coming to your senses—”

  “I meant your outstanding job, you moron.” I did feel a bit guilty for his current position, Emily was an extra task I asked him to help with and now like a caged beast she bit him, putting him out of commission until he got patched up. “I take it that job has to do with those bodies in the washroom?”

  “Those bodies once worked for the Russian mob, my client wanted them… dealt with. Problem is, their car is still where they parked it, it needs to not be there by tomorrow morning.”

  “Well that’s perfect then. I need new wheels now that mine is buried under sections of what used to be my apartment.” Even if it wasn’t, the license plate would be flagged by the police by now.

  I saw Jim’s facial expression transform into a more positive one. “Well then, you do that for me… then all I’ll have to do is finish up here, feed your new pet, and check into the emergency room.”

  “How about you do the emergency room thing first.” I leaned in closer to Jim and whispered to him. “So, she hasn’t said anything weird, has she?” The duct tape was obviously not replaced since her attack this morning, giving her free rein to run her mouth off about my talents, Lexi, Lucifer, her and all the other weird shit.

  “I was in too much pain to listen honestly.”

  I’ll accept that. Hopefully it will continue to be that way until I had no further use for her, which gave me an idea. The ID she had on her had an address, probably her place of residence, might not be a bad idea to go rummaging through her place. It was nighttime too, the perfect time for me to be out in the city.

  Jim hooked me up with an old burner phone of his to use and directed me to a stash of wigs and clothing to wear before he left to check into the emergency room. I had a feeling using a disguise was going to be a common thing for me until I got this situation resolved, if I get it resolved. I made sure to stock up using a decent size backpack I found in the closet.

  Damn, this safe house really did have everything, a perfect secret base of operations for me to conduct my business, and the perfect chance to leave Ryan’s place as nothing more than a place to sleep at night. If Emily was any indication, my problems seemed to become a burden for others.

  I found the car in question, an old beat-up sports car sitting in the parking lot of a construction site. The front seats were drenched with blood, though with the black leather seats it was hard to tell, especially with the night skies up above. The windows had been left rolled down, I’m guessing Jim got them to lower it then popped them both with a silenced pistol. Don’t ask me how he pulled this off during the day without anyone noticing. Jim was something else when it came to his job.

  The bloody seats were almost dried up by the time I sat down on them and turned the car on. I went to dial Jim’s number on the new phone he gave me, only to be stopped by a password request, a password he didn’t tell me.

  Out came Ryan’s phone, hopefully for the last time, it was time he got his phone back. “I got it; by the way you didn’t tell me the password.”

  “Sorry, it’s three, nine, two, eight.” He lost his happy tone of voice I worked so hard to restore.

  “You okay?”

  “It’s just been a shitty fucking day. Some doctor charged in here and spilt his coffee all over my Armani.”

  “Who told you to wear expensive-as-fuck suits to the emergency room?”

  “I’m a professional, Reika, gotta maintain the look.”

  “You’re a pro on medical leave—” I stopped myself. Doctor plus coffee, there’s no way… “Jim what hospital did you go to?”

  “Lenox Hill.”

  “Was it Starbucks?”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “I dunno, old, bald, German accent.”

  I slapped my head with the palm of my hand, I should have shared the photos with Jim he could have followed him around and do his fixer thing. “Holy shit. Is he still there?”

  “I don’t know, this was right as I got there like an hour ago.”

  “Was the coffee hot?”

  “Blazing.”

  As I recalled the photos of Schubert were taken during the late afternoon or evening, meaning he probably works later shifts. Makes sense, fewer people to see him lurk in the halls doing his thing. I made a mental note to hang out more often at the Starbucks in question in the later hours the next day in hopes of catching him. For now, he’d better enjoy what freedoms he has left, because when I get my hands on him I will fuck him up for what he’s done.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The address on the ID Emily had, led me to a place in a secluded suburban neighborhood up in Mount Vernon. The drive up was rather pleasant which was to be expected at this time of the night, being away from the city also helped put my overly active mind at ease now that I was away from most of the surveillance and potential people looking for me.

  The damage done to the city thanks to the quake was minimal but noticeable at the same time. A convenience store had its windows cracked, the side to one apartment crumbled away, while some roads were still blocked off due to ongoing recovery efforts.

  I arrived at the address in her ID, a nice, old-fashioned house. You know, the ones with a white picket fence, front porch, well maintained garden in the backyard, probably built back in the 60s or earlier, the American dream some would call it. I parked on the side of the road and silently approached the house with my katana at my side. There wasn’t much in terms of streetlights which gave me the advantage as I neared its side window like a thief in the night.

  I was no stranger to breaking into someone’s house. I did it quite a few times when I was rolling with the Yakuza, to teach certain people a hard-earned lesson as to why they shouldn’t fuck with them. This time however, this time was different, I was alone and had absolutely no idea what to expect when I entered. I couldn’t imagine a Bakeneko like Emily living in a place like this. The more I looked at the house and the neighborhood, the more I thought it might have been a place she had robbed and kept the ID of someone that lived in it for whatever reason.

  I might be breaking into someone else’s place, walking right into a trap.

  Only one way to find out!

  I peeked through one of the side windows. Darkness, nobody was home. My hands became engulfed in glowing flames, flames which I used as a flashlight to better see what was inside. I saw a whole lot of nothing. Brianna, or Emily, or whoever it was that lived here, wasn’t one to have a nicely decorated living room. The palms of both my hands rested upon the cold smooth surface of the window as I used my talents to set the glass on fire. Only glass doesn’t catch on fire, once it goes from cold to hot in a quick succession it shatters. Thousands of smoking hot shards of glass rained down upon the windowsill, science rules.

  I carefully slipped inside using my burning fist to light a glowing flaming aura path through the pitch-black house. I moved through the halls with caution in my footsteps and my senses on high alert as they were expecting the worst. Even my beast within felt on edge. There wasn’t a whole lot inside the two-story house. Bedrooms had mattresses on the floor, and old newspapers were stapled to the wall as if they were a goddamned wall decoration. Most of the headlines featured stories about bizarre crimes, murders, and missing people reports throughout New York State. The oldest paper was about a year old, whoever lived here wasn’t a thing before that date, at least not in this house.

  I opened the closet and a clatter of medieval weapons crashed to the floor, sending me leaping backward. I don’t think I’ve ever reacted so fearfully over nothing in ages. Ryan was s
oftening me up. I gave my rattled nerves and racing heart two minutes to recover as I guided my flaming fists lower and carefully examined a fallen crossbow. There were glyphs on the side of it, glyphs my inner beast resented seeing, glyphs that gave off a faint bluish hue as my hand neared it. A nearby sword had the same glyphs etched on the center of its blade; same with a pair of daggers and a battle-axe.

  Okay… moving on.

  I chuckled as I entered the kitchen, it was almost like the one at Jim’s safe house, adorned with guns and boxes of bullets in the most unorganized manner. There was a shotgun next to the oven, just in case you needed to turn someone’s head into a canoe while you were making an omelet. Hey, one can never be too sure, right?

  There was a laptop on the table that I switched on. The glow from its screen provided enough light for me to give my burning fist a break. Besides I was going to want to have both hands free to use the keypad. Logging in was easy as there was no password, I guess the owner of it never expected anyone to make it this far in, with all the weaponry they had lying around and all.

  I checked their emails first, if TV taught me anything that’s where all the incriminating stuff would be found. There were hundreds of emails, fuck me; I didn’t have time to read through them all. I scrolled down to emails sent within the last year, they were all addressed to a woman named, surprise, surprise Brianna McKenna. My suspicions had been confirmed, Brianna didn’t move in until this time last year. Brianna had some inside help from the Irish mob in New York that allowed her to enter the country illegally from Ireland. They became increasingly concerned about the increased sightings of demonic activity in the city. Exorcists weren’t cutting it. They needed a demon hunter.

  Brianna had been quite the busy girl since her arrival according to the other emails I skimmed through briefly. The mob fed her tips, she followed up on them, and received a generous payment. An email with the subject stating ‘arsenal blessing’ caught my attention. The mob arranged for a priest to bless her newly acquired weapons and bullets. My mouth twisted as I reached for an opened box of bullets. I plucked a single round from the box and brought it to my face, turning it with my fingers until… I found it.