Demon Driven

by John Conroe

  “Correction, that's a portable neutrino detector that was built for under $500 bucks,” Chet said.

  “It's a trash can. A pimped-out trash can, but still a trash can.”

  The device had started life as a galvanized steel waste can with a fitted lid, the kind that had been kicked around and thrown by garbage men for decades. A soup can sized metal tube entered the thirty-inch high pail about mid-way up one side, a thick bundle of wires running from it to a computer on a nearby desk.

  “It was designed to test an idea for creating a city wide detector here in New York using rooftop water reservoirs,” Chet said.

  My expression must have said it all because he launched into further explanation without me saying a word.

  “There are thousands of water tanks on the top of New York's buildings. It has been a long standing way to deal with poor water pressure from city mains. Pump the water to the roof, let gravity provide pressure for the buildings inhabitants,” he said. “Four or five years ago, a group of university physicists came up with the idea to harness theses rooftop pools of water to capture and detect neutrinos.”

  “Water captures neutrinos? I thought they went through entire planets?” I asked.

  “Well, the water doesn't so much capture them as slow them down and cause a bit of detectable radiation to be emitted.”

  “So this R2D2 wanna be is filled with water?” I asked, pointing at the shiny can.

  “Yup, and special photo voltaic sensors inside will pick up charged particles that pass through.”

  “And you get a read-out or graph or something on the PC over there, right?” I asked.

  “Right in one,” he agreed.

  We started slow with me concentrating on moving my aura or chi or whatever it is from my right hand to my left with the garbage can in between them. The monitor immediately showed Chet

  figures that had my geeky friend more excited than a lunch date with William Shatner and Leonard Nemoy.

  Next he had me stand back and give it simple aural blast from my right hand, maybe as strong as I would use to snap a Wyrm from a victims back. The numbers on the monitor jumped exponentially.

  “Now give it a little harder pulse,” he directed.

  So I did. The numbers jumped for a moment then went to zero across the board.

  “Uh oh! Try again,” Chet said, looking worried.

  This time nothing happened at all. The lanky technician sighed.

  “That's what I was afraid of. I think it's fried.”

  “Chet, I didn't use much juice at all. How can it be fried?” I asked, worried that I had broken yet another of his technological toys.

  “But even your little pulses were almost off the charts,” he said, examining the log of the previous successful attempts. “I have been thinking of what your doctor friend suggested and this proves it. You are somehow generating mad crazy amounts of charged particles of all types!”

  He was smiling despite the evident demise of his detector.

  The lab door lock snicked, the door opened and a thin grad student type came in, raising his eyebrows when he saw us.

  “Yo Aikens! How're your Buckys hanging?” he greeted Chet. He had East Indian features and a pure New Yorker accent.

  “Hey Jacob! They're low and blacker than soot! You?”

  “Concurrent,” Jacob replied, moving off to another section of the lab.

  “Er, what was that all about?” I asked.

  “Physics humor. Buckys are buckyballs...you know fullerenes?”

  I just looked at him.

  “Buckyballs are spherical clusters of carbon atoms, also known as Carbon 60 or fullerenes. They've been found in soot, and so well, it's a physicist thing,” he finished. “Anyway, let me just save this data to my thumbdrive, delete it and we're done for the day.”

  “What about the trash can?” I asked.

  He held his finger to his lips. “We'll just let the others think they did it.”

  Finished with his work, we were headed toward the door, when Jacob's head popped up from the rear of the lab.

  “Hey Chet, can I use Trashy later?”

  “Yeah, but don't break it. It's been acting sketchy today.”

  He winked at me and we left the lab.

  “Trashy?”

  “What do you expect? It's a trash can!” he said.

  We headed our own ways outside the lab, Chet back to his computers at Police Plaza; me back to my place to get my gear ready for the next morning. Despite my general dislike of Briana Duclair, I was genuinely interested in seeing how her team operated in the field.

  My trip home took me, naturally enough, through a corner deli for a meatball parm sub and then an order of perogies from a Polish place near my building.

  My gear was already in good shape, but I always like to go over it before a raid or field case. My handguns were already cleaned and reloaded with silver-filled hollowpoints, but I re-holstered both in my vest rig. Tactical vests are all the rage with law enforcement types for the simple reason that they keep everything handy and organized. Mine has a cross draw holster for one of my Glocks and an attached thigh holster for the other. The many pouches hold multiple pistol mags, as well as a flashlight (don't seem to need that much anymore), first aid supplies (use that more for other people now), protein bars (need more of those), zip ties, handcuffs, evidence bags, latex gloves, industrial grade handiwipes(great for getting blood off your skin) and all the other paraphernalia of modern law enforcement. A long narrow pouch under my left arm was intended for a collapsible baton, but I had re-purposed it. Snugly tucked inside were two silver spikes roughly the length of knitting needles, the butt end of each wrapped with black parachute cord to form handles.

  Tanya had presented them to me as one of my Christmas gifts. Whether it is odder that vampires celebrate Christmas or that Tanya choose to give me the silver darts that had pinned her to a cinderblock wall when we first met, I'll leave to you. To her, they were sentimental good luck symbols of our first meeting. She had carefully wrapped the ends to provide me a solid handle whenever I should use them as the weapons of self defense she intended them to be. She had had to wear latex gloves to protect her skin from the almost pure silver content of the spikes. The fact that I could handle them without gloves had been a huge surprise to the vampires. As I am riddled with the V-squared virus that makes a vampire…well, vampy, everyone felt I should have the same allergy to silver. But for whatever reason that I'm not a vampire, I’m also not sensitive to silver as weres and vamps are.

  Tanya had also given me the long silver plated bowie knife that the Hellbourne had dropped at our first meeting when I smacked it with a plastic crate. The knife was strapped to the vest's back, upside down in a very tight fitting kydex sheath that I had ordered for it. I could reach the handle with either hand should its use be necessary.

  My roll out bag got a once over to make sure it had sketch pad, pencils, extra clothes, raingear and more food. That food part isn’t just ‘cause I like to munch. My pimped out metabolism will literally consume me from the inside out if I don’t keep it fed, especially if I engage in fighting or chasing bad guys.

  My gear set, I kicked back and watched some tv and generally puttered around, waiting for darkness so I could attempt to explain my coming absence to Tanya. Her connection to me started to fade at about two miles distance. She didn’t much care for anything less than a full signal. Can you hear me now? Good.

  The only time I had left the city in the last seven months had been a Christmas visit to my Gramps back in St. Lawrence County. Tanya had done just fine with that, mostly ‘cause she had gone with me. Her and like about thirty of the Coven. Well maybe only ten, but it had still been funny to see them all bunked out in the back building at the farm. Gramps had been concerned as that building has no heat, but Darkkin aren’t much bothered by cold. It’s got to be well below zero to force them to put on a jacket and even then a windbreaker will keep them just fine.

  Just b
efore twilight I headed out the door, figuring to time her awakening to my arrival. The trees lining the streets were well on their way to being fully leaved, and all the smells of spring washed across my face as I walked. I was upbeat, pretty sure Tanya wouldn’t have too much trouble with me taking a quick helicopter ride to Vermont. My senses automatically dialed up in the warm evening gloom. I could hear conversations in every residence I passed, could smell a thousand dinners being cooked, see everything that should have been hidden in the deepening shadows. The Demidova residence was oddly muted as I closed in on the front doors. Not that it’s ever loud, but I usually hear the soft sound of classical music as I get near. Today, nothing.

  The main door unlocked itself at the application of my hand to the reader and I walked in. It was dark enough now for security to have transitioned to the ‘night’ shift, but no one was immediately apparent.

  Then I spotted him, across the foyer, his back to me, peeking into the main ballroom. It looked like Trenton, a tall, lean versatile vamp who was in Arkady’s circle of trust. He didn’t turn as I approached, absorbed in whatever he was watching. My scent must have reached him before I did, because he suddenly stiffened and spun in a blur, his expression scared, his body tense. What the hell?

  I raised my eyebrows at him, then flicked my glance at the door behind him. My connection told me with certainty that my girl was on the other side of that particular door. I motioned him aside, still puzzled at his reaction. At first he didn’t move, as if reluctant to let me through. When my expression hardened, he rethought that and suddenly fled in a burst of vampire speed. What was he scared of? Me? That I could take him in a fight, even though he was one hundred and forty years old, was never in question. But I got along just fine with Trenton. My elated mood gone, I moved to the partially closed door with the tiniest bit of dread forming in my stomach.

  The door, tall and made of heavy wood, was well balanced and moved smoothly at my touch. I looked through. What I saw didn’t make sense for about two seconds. Then it hit with all the force of freight train.

  Sitting on an ornate French chair with his shirt off was the Central American emissary, Desiderio Reyes. Straddling him, wearing nothing but a sleep shirt, which his hands were roaming under, was Tatiana.

  Chapter 8

  “Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are your own fears.” - Kipling

  I knew it was her, even if she was hidden by his mouth, which seemed to be attempting to suck her lips off her face. At that moment she lifted her head and stared at me, her face blank for a moment before hissing at the interruption.

  I’m usually pretty quick on the uptake, but I couldn’t seem to make sense of what I was seeing. It didn’t help that I couldn’t breathe or that my heart had stopped in my chest. Desiderio choose that moment to look my way, a contemptuous sneer on his face. The rage exploded in a black geyser through my chest, my hate focused on his dark features like a laser beam. My right hand slammed forward on its own, a bolt of deep purple power blasting the Latin vampire right out from under Tanya and slamming him twenty feet across the room and into the wall beyond. His body embedded in the sheetrock, his eyes unfocused and non-comprehending. Tatiana was sitting on the floor where she had fallen when my bolt dumped her on her ass. She shook her head to clear it and looked my way. The rage had hardened into a cold lump of coal in my chest and the glare I gave her told her all she needed to know about where we stood.

  Not willing to physically hurt her for any reason, I turned my back on her and headed back to the entrance. Lydia and Arkady were standing in front of my exit, a nervous Trenton [at] their side.

  “Chris, wait! It’s not what you think! No matter what you saw….” Lydia managed to get out before I flicked my hand at the three of them, sliding all three away from the door without touching them. Spinning to her right, Lydia slammed her hand on the emergency lockdown button. Bank vault thick bolts of steel slammed into place around the edges of the titanium reinforced doors, sealing the exit in armor.

  Part of me seemed to be observing from a long distance away, watching as some other part of me operated my body. My right hand came up again and the deep purple, almost black aura that shot from it tore through the locking bolts like a hard wind blowing away smoke. In moments the steel had eroded to nothing. The doors are designed to open into the house. My violent exit 'redesigned' them to open out, with one of them hanging from a single hinge. I was distantly aware of Lydia and Arkady staring at me as I stalked out into the night, but the black bubble of rage was too deeply in control for me to acknowledge them.

  * * *

  I came back to myself sort of gradually, lying on my back in the damp grass looking up at the night sky where the field of stars was slowly being covered with a soft blanket of puffy gray clouds. My head was pillowed on something warm and furry. My cheeks were wet. The rhythmic sound of large amounts of air moving in steady rushes, like some kind of great forge bellows, filled my ears. Gathering my perceptions, I slowly came to the conclusion that I was in Owls Head Park, my 'head rest' the torso thick forepaw of a VW-sized spirit bear.

  It was deep night, but I could see clear as day. As I could for every night of the last seven months.

  Since I had met her. My brain refused to offer up her name, for fear the awful scene from the dining room would replay itself on the movie screen in my mind. Turning my head to look at my giant companion, I could see nothing of his form, just his lava bright eyes gleaming in the dark, about four feet off the ground. He was looking at me calmly, sending no images, just a feeling of concern. I tried to remember when he had found me and what I had done since I had left her. Just a hazy stream of Brooklyn streets, a few people out and about.

  My jeans pocket started to buzz. I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the display. A text from Lydia. There were seven voice mails and eight text messages awaiting my attention. I turned it off and stood up to take stock. My clothes were damp from the ground and a bus-sized hole seemed to have opened up in my chest. My jaws ached like I had been clenching my teeth and the black lump of rage had taken up residence in my gut. Okwari watched me patiently from where he was curled up on the ground, still not bothering to 'say' anything. What would there be to say? What could there be to say?

  “Eh, pendejo! ¿Qué haces aquí?”

  The voice came from across the park where a group of five males had pushed out of the trees lining the field. Just enough high school Spanish remained for me to understand they were questioning my presence. The five all wore loose fitting clothes that hadn't seen a washing machine in days, each different but all having the same black, blue, white and red beads on them. They squinted at me, trying to pick out my form in the dark. I had no such problem, their every feature clear and crisp. The black lump in my gut wriggled at the tense hostility that their bodies broadcast .

  “¡Coño! No sabes nada, mojao” the leader said.

  I got none of that one so I requested a translation.

  “Huh?”

  “Listen, fucker! This is our property! Comprende? Understand?” he said, his voice thick with intent.

  The speaker was actually smaller than all the rest, the others being tall and heavy. They moved up close to me, spreading in a rough semi-circle, just right for confrontation, none of them noticing the invisible form of the giant bear. My fight brain was calculating distances and noting which ones had their hands out of sight. I noticed the rapid pulses in their throats, and while it held no attraction to me, I still felt the predator-prey thing that vampires live with constantly.

  I had nothing to say, the young men’s menace having little impact on my apathy.

  Then one of them pulled a blade to get my attention. It did. Or more accurately, it got the attention of the roiling black lump in my gut that suddenly expanded to fill my chest. Some primitive part of their brains was able to sense enough danger to alert them, but pulling more weapons was the wrong response. The absolute worst. I felt a smile grow on my face. It di
dn’t seem to make them feel safer. Again I was an observer as another part of me broke them. It really took no time at all. A wrist crushed here, knee snapped there, some broken ribs, a splintered clavicle and pretty soon the ground was littered with writhing bodies. But it was too quick to satisfy the rage. When my hand pulled itself back to take the kill shot on the leader’s skull, observer-me objected, and the death blow stopped. Instead, I let him drop among the others, his sounds of pain meshing with theirs.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” another voice yelled from the same tree line and eleven more bodies rushed into the grassy field. The lumpy black bubble was ecstatic. Eleven with weapons meant that at least a few would die, right? I mean it would, after all, be self-defense, wouldn't it? Part giddy at the prospect, part appalled at my own eagerness, I prepared to face them.

  The rushing gang members skidded to a sudden stop, their anger changing to fear as they looked behind and above me. A quick glance back and up showed Okwari's lantern eyes fifteen feet off the ground, his now-visible form blocking out the night sky behind me.

  “Madre de Dios; es brujo!” one of them yelled.

  Something about a witch?

  Their motion reversed itself and leaving their fallen fellows behind, they disappeared back into the dark, screaming like schoolgirls at a Freddy Kruger movie marathon.

  The black bubble retreated and I looked at the groaning young men on the ground, unable to summon any sympathy for them.

  “Awwww! You scared them away!”

  A low growl was Okwari’s only response.

  My giant bear disappeared into a swirl of wind, but I felt him with me the whole way back to my car. Little gusts lifted my hair and tugged my tee shirt as I walked, head down, finally letting myself think about Tanya. The memory of her on the lap of that…man? Vampire. Male. It seemed surreal, coming out of nowhere, no warning. Seven months of the only relationship I’d ever had and it was gone within twenty-four hours of Reyes’ arrival. My attack had been instant and overwhelming. I had never thrown that much force at an entity … hell, I didn’t know I could. With any luck it would knock him human for a year. The twisted black inside me wished I’d done more, the rest of me agreed. The thing with the door was new as well. In my mind’s eye, I replayed that image. It was easier to stomach than the one of Tanya and Reyes. The massive steel bolts, designed to stop an attack by weres or vamps or even a car, had blown away like dust, particle by particle. Like a sandcastle taken apart by a leaf blower. A really big leaf blower.