Fury From Hell

by Rochelle Campbell

  Clift let out a strangled scream when he saw the amorphous blob emerge from Yearwood’s chest. Clift’s rapidly blinking eyes barely processed the shock he felt as the Fury dove into his chest and began to feed. Clift slid to the floor his eyes filled with betrayal as he stared at the man whom he had called friend.

  Yearwood looked back at Clift with horror in his eyes. Without the Fury inhabiting him, the realization of all he had done hit home. The magnitude of his self-centeredness was too much for him. Yearwood’s eyes rolled so only the whites showed and he succumbed to unconsciousness before he even hit the floor.

  Abatu did not want the older cop’s extremities to be damaged in any way so the demon made sure to wriggle deep inside Clift’s chest and latch onto a large artery. The Fury fed off it slurping and sucking in as much blood as possible before the older cop died from a work-related ‘natural’ heart attack.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 7:35 P.M.

  Jennifer walked up and down the halls stopping here and there. Resting her forehead against the cool tiled wall she closed her eyes to forget the fear and sadness roiling through her. Her life was a mess of the greatest proportions. The only thing she was glad about were her friendships with Betty, Lady Ariella and now Chad. Those relationships were the only thing grounding her. Everything else in her life was off-kilter. She wasn’t sure where up or down was nor did she particularly care at the moment. If she only had to deal with mundane crises she would have been fine but to throw the ultimate monkey wrench of existentialism into this mix? Jennifer sucked her teeth and refused to think about demons, witches, Hell or any other esoteric entity. They all seemed to have found her simultaneously. Wishing for the safe anonymity of the pain and trauma-filled existence of the last decade seemed like a luxury. Groaning in frustration Jennifer shook her head to clear it knowing that would be ineffective. She did it, anyway.

  Finally beginning to pay attention to her surroundings Jennifer had no idea what floor she was on or how she maneuvered her way to where she found herself. What was clear was that it was time…time to face reality. Very soon she no longer would be a cop. She had already been stripped of her gun and was sure her badge was next. Steeling herself for it, Jennifer pushed off the wall she had stopped to lean against and began heading for the nearest stairwell. Just as she opened the door she heard a thud coming from an office down the hall.

  Quirking her head to the side, she listened and heard a second thud within moments of hearing the first. She let the door go and headed towards the office where the sounds had emanated from wishing she had at least one of her guns. She looked around and saw a fire extinguisher on the wall and got it down smiling grimly as she hefted it gauging its weight and swingability.

  She got to the door and with a start realized it was Clift’s office. She squared her shoulders and turned the knob with one hand keeping a firm hold on the extinguisher. The door swung open to reveal the most bizarre scene — Clift was slumped on the ground with his eyes wide, staring sightlessly at the corner leg of his desk. Then, just a few feet away the top of Yearwood’s tawny head was visible on the floor behind Clift’s desk.

  Comprehension took several long moments to hit but when it did it was too late.

  The Fury barreled out of Clift’s body and was racing towards her.

  With a garbled scream Jennifer dropped the extinguisher turned and fled down the hall trying to get away from the demon that had made her life an actual living hell.

  Jennifer burst through the exit door into the stairwell hitting the stairs at a dead run. Speeding down the first flight she turned the corner and slammed into two rookie female cops. The three of them toppled down the short flight of stairs. Jennifer landed face down on top of one of them but was up and through the door before they even realized who had run into them. Jennifer heard a scream and dared not look back, terrified Abatu had entered one of them.

  Racing towards the bullpen fervently hoping Feinster was there and screaming her name for good measure Betty streaked out and met Jennifer in the hall where, thankfully, no cops loitered.

  “What in the bloody hell!”

  “No time! Abatu! Clift dead and dunno ‘bout Yearwood. Its skipped bodies again! It can be in anybody now,” she hissed as her eyes darted all about while dragging Feinster towards the nearest exit. They both heard a door open and they turned in unison.

  “Detective Holden?”

  Jennifer watched as a dark-skinned man in a navy suit walked up to them. He had a grim look on his face. Without an introduction she knew this was the IAD man; he reeked of it however a flurry of movement caught their attention and made all three of them turn. What Jennifer saw chilled her to the core. A young female cop was tearing down the hall headed in their direction. The woman had a snarl on her face and even from this distance it was clear that her eyes had a red hue to them.

  “Sheeeit!” Feinster swore. “Freeman, you’re not going to like this one bit but Holden and I have got to go — right now. We’ll call you as soon as we can.”

  “Now hold on just one minute Detective Feinster —”

  “No! You hold on a minute,” Jennifer yelled, “Go upstairs to Detective Clift’s office and see what you see and then you’ll get a clue.”

  Shoving Feinster forward, the shocked man stared after them as they leapt through the door. Seconds later, the rookie cop shoved past Freeman and raced after the female detectives.

  Outside Feinster and Holden raced up Gold Street and headed back towards Flatbush Extension hoping beyond hope to flag down a cab. There was no time to commandeer a squad car.

  “She’s gaining on us!”

  “Then run faster Holden!” Feinster grabbed her arm and dragged her friend up and down the side streets in an attempt to lose and confuse their pursuer. When they came to Flatbush Feinster rushed headlong into the traffic, still towing Holden, heedless of the trucks, cars and bikes in the heavy two-way evening traffic.

  Somehow they got across the wide street without getting run over. Jennifer wondered how much longer their luck would hold out since being killed seemed to be the endgame of all they’d been dealing with for days on end.

  Feinster flagged down a cabbie in a nondescript black car but it whooshed past them without stopping or even slowing.

  Screaming in impotent frustration Betty stomped into the center of the southbound traffic determined to get a cab one way or another. That’s when she saw the young female cop running towards them from the other side of the huge intersection. “Damnit she’s fast!”

  “You mean Abatu’s fast.”

  “Whatever! Yo! TAXI!” Betty put her hand up with her badge gripped in it. The cars had slowed when entered the traffic lane but upon seeing an office in full uniform with their badge held aloft, even Brooklyn drivers had to respect that; all cars screeched to a halt. Feinster and Holden heard the sickening crunch of metal on metal as a few cars further back didn’t get the message quick enough. Uncaring, Feinster dragged Holden further south to escape the snowball effect of the crashes that were steadily shoving cars forward and sideways onto the sidewalk. As the lady cops stomped through the virtual parking lot of honking cars and swearing drivers Feinster spotted a white empty Flamingo car service cab. The driver turned around and began cursing at Feinster in Spanish. She cut him off.

  “Sixty-six Crystal Street and make it quick! We’re on an investigation and we need to get there pronto!”

  Shoving Holden in first, Feinster pushed her face down onto the vinyl seat held together by crisscrossed swaths of grey electrical tape. The cabbie took one look in the rearview mirror at the hard ever roaming eyes and the fast-beating pulse in Feinster’s neck and his mouth went dry. He gulped and pressed the gas pedal to the floor while blasting his horn. He ignored the red light ahead and sped through it narrowly avoiding a three car collision.

  Grunting with satisfaction, Betty watched the female cop bang ineffectually on the white cab’s trunk. The rookie stood in the middle of the
intersection staring after the retreating cab.

  Feinster turned back around and spoke to the driver. “Good man. I’ll make sure to check your record and clear anything I find. Deal?”

  The swarthy good-looking driver glanced quickly in his rearview mirror and gave Feinster a smile and a vigorous nod. His eyes darted back to the road and he took a hard left. The car swerved and regained its traction. Feinster dared a look out the windows and to her great relief saw no one following them. Breathing out a shaky breath Feinster tapped Holden’s shoulder.

  “You can sit up if you want.”

  “No, I’ll just stay here thank you.”

  With a nervous chuckle Feinster nodded and leaned back against the cracked pleather seat. “Lady Ariella had better be there or we’re screwed.”

  Jennifer looked up and held Betty’s gaze for a moment.

  Betty noticed her friend’s eyes were filled with trepidation. She patted Jennifer’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Noting Jennifer’s pinched lips that had gone whitish-grey made the rest of her brown face look strange. Betty reached out and squeezed her friend’s clammy hands and refused to let them go. In that moment, Betty decided she was not going to let the demon get back into this lost and very scared woman…at least not without a fight.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 7:44 P.M.

  Abatu gazed through Tabitha Pettijohn’s eyes. The demon watched as Feinster shoved Holden in the back of the white cab just a scant few feet away.

  The Fury blazed its rage in a loud bellow scaring the drivers on the street around the not so demure cop. The petite brunette seemed too frail for such a sound to emanate from her slender throat.

  With narrowed eyes, Abatu retreated to the background of Tabitha’s mind to regroup and think of another strategy. It seemed that getting back into the original host was going to be trickier than the Fury had envisioned. The only good news was this new female host had gotten close enough to hear the address the original host was going to — Sixty-six Crystal. Abatu wondered what witch-y obstacles it would find at that location. It was abundantly clear that the original host was being heavily guarded and protected by the dean mother witch and her second in command. The two of them had proven themselves to be quite wily. If they ever decided to switch sides Abatu could see itself working well with either one of the two witches.

  Back in control of her body and mind, Officer Pettijohn jogged through the blaring horns shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. She walked back down Flatbush making her way back to the precinct wondering what had made her leave the building in the first place.

  Abatu infused Pettijohn with confusion and disorientation to aid in the cover story it was brewing. The Fury knew enough about police procedure by now to know that the new host would be grilled by other officers including the one called Freeman. However, Pettijohn had not really done anything which is why the demon made the host return to work. Abatu knew enough about the ways of the law enforcement officers to know that leaving duty abruptly would cause too many red flags to be raised. Grinning madly, the Fury cackled softly to itself. The new host’s work shift would be over in a few hours and that would give Abatu plenty of time to think of how best to capture and repossess the original host and get back to solving the Barnes murder.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 8:03 P.M.

  Feinster took the cabbie’s info and paid him giving a generous twenty-five percent tip because he made it to the safe house in just over fifteen minutes — no small feat. Shepherding Holden out of the car, Feinster looked around carefully while keeping her charge tucked under her arm as they made their way to the outside double concrete stairs. Feinster got them into the house without incident. “My Lady! You here?”

  “In the kitchen!”

  They both moved swiftly to the back of the house and relaxed when they saw Lady Ariella bustling about in a fifties style apron with a light dusting of flour on her right cheek. She looked right at home in the unrenovated kitchen. However, the flat screen TV on the wall and the Kindle propped up on the kitchen table belied the date on the calendar. Lady Ariella’s true calling was evident as the tantalizing smell of freshly baked treats wafted in the air.

  “I figured you girls could use a nice peach cobbler and a beef casserole to settle yourselves after a trying day.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” said Feinster as she dragged a chair out and straddled it as she faced the High Priestess. Jennifer slipped into a chair next to her partner but put her head on the cool Formica table giving Feinster the go ahead to tell the tale.

  The silence alerted Lady Ariella that something was amiss. She turned and faced them abruptly. “Tell me what happened.”

  Feinster filled her in and ended with, “I really hope that the Fury can’t track us. I have no idea how it gets around and if it could have hopped into different drivers to follow us here. Do you know the extent of a fury’s capabilities?”

  The High Priestess shook her head. “I don’t know, Kamali. There is so much I don’t know about this particular species of demon. What I do know is that we probably should bet on the Fury knowing where we are now. Let’s get Jennifer to take a double strength bath and get out of here. I’ll pack food for us and meet you by my car in fifteen minutes.”

  “So soon?!” Jennifer lifted her head and wailed.

  Lady Ariella came over to the table and stroked her head and smoothed the bun that somehow was still in place at the back of Jennifer’s head. “I know it’s been a rough day but it’ll get rougher, I fear, if we stay here. While this place is well protected, I’d rather try and preserve the sanctity and anonymity of this location as much as possible. I’ll have figured out something by the time you get to the car. Get upstairs and get going with that bath.”

  Lady Ariella helped her up and passed her off to Betty who steadied Jennifer as she helped her up the stairs. The High Priestess clucked her tongue grabbed her cell and began phoning all the coven members. It was time to convene.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 7:47 P.M.

  Special Agent Doug Freeman of the Internal Affairs Department was steaming. When Officer Pettijohn returned to the precinct without either Feinster or Holden he was doubly infuriated.

  “Officer Pettijohn I have no idea why you were chasing them but I expect a rookie to be quicker and lighter on their feet than veteran cops. How did they manage to lose you? And secondly, why were you chasing them?”

  Pettijohn gulped before speaking shrinking in the face of his ire. “Sir, I think it was Holden — the Black one. She crashed into me and my partner in the stairwell without an apology or a never-you-mind and I was mad. Celia — uhm, my partner — Officer Celia Grant was injured. Her head has a big gash from the fall. I wanted to stop Holden and get a report written up, sir.” Pettijohn saluted Freeman and nervously stood at attention awaiting his next comment.

  “What about answering my first question?” He said mildly. He remembered being a rookie and forced himself to dial it back a few notches.

  “Sir, I can’t answer except to say that I’m new and don’t know the streets around here real well. I live in the City and this is my first month in Brooklyn. I came from Wichita, originally. Detectives Feinster and Holden have the advantage on me with the local geography and they got away, but not by much. I saw the cab they got into and I took down the license plate.”

  “Excellent. Let’s get on it right away, shall we? Let’s go to my office — Damn! No, let’s go to Detective Warren Clift’s office first.”

  Pettijohn trotted behind Freeman to keep up with his long angry strides.

  Abatu held back the address of where the two detectives went from its new host because the demon had no idea what Freeman was up to. The demon didn’t want the original host to be taken into custody or hurt in any way. It had learned its lesson well from Yearwood about aiding and abetting, very new terms for the antediluvian demon.

  Burrowing deep within Pettijohn’s
mind Abatu kept its ears attuned to everything going on. It wouldn’t be long before the new host would be off the clock. It was looking forward to heading to Crystal Street where the demon knew it would get back into the original host. Magic circles and spiritual baths be damned! Abatu was prepared to do what was necessary to repossess the original host especially with the extra energy it now had from the recent feeding. The original host and Abatu had unfinished business and time was running out. There was a timeline for the demon to find the killer. If it failed to do so within that timeframe, Kyma’s soul would be released to travel to that more lofty afterlife destination. Abatu gritted its pointy teeth. In its 712 years of service it had never missed a soul deadline and it didn’t plan on doing it now.

  ***

  Tuesday, November 13th, 8:30 P.M.

  Chad listlessly took and filled drink orders plastering a smile on his face that faltered every now and then. But, when one of Chad’s regulars sat at the bar his first genuine smile of the evening shined bright.

  “What’ll you have Officer Browbeater? The usual?” Chad asked.

  “Nah, feeling for something stronger tonight.”

  “Whoa! Stronger than two vodka shots? Must have been a rough day.”

  “Kinda. A big case some of my colleagues was working on broke today but not the way any of us figured,” he shrugged. “Has us all kinda shook, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling. How much stronger you wanna to go? Are you driving tonight?”

  “Nah! Taking a cab.”

  “Cool. Try a Jägermeister Bomb. You’ll like it.”

  “Yeah? Like the sound of that.”

  As Chad was making the drink he wondered if he could pump some information out of the cop. He set the drink down and when the burly cop went for his wallet Chad shook his head.

  “Yo! Officer Browbeater — I’ve got this one.”

  The burly officer smiled and gave Chad a mock salute. “Much obliged.” He picked up the drink with the shot glass of Red Bull suspended in the strong liquor and finished it in two gulps.

  Chad busied himself with pouring two fingers of rum in a tall highball glass before filling it with ice and Coke. He handed the Officer the new drink. “Another one on me.”