Necessary Evil

by Donald Hanley

  Necessary Evil

  by

  Donald Hanley

  Copyright © Donald Hanley 2019

  All rights reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art by Donald Hanley

  The Random Encounters Series

  Personal Demons

  Soul Mates

  Necessary Evil

  Other Books by Donald Hanley

  The Simulated Crime Series

  Simulated Murder

  Simulated Assault

  Simulated Conspiracy

  Simulated Assassination

  Simulated Blackmail

  Simulated Abduction

  Simulated Sabotage

  The Order of the Shamrock Series

  Lucky

  Faithful

  Hopeful

  Beloved

  The Knights of Excalibur Series

  Gawain

  1

  In pretty much every action/adventure movie ever made, the good guy overcomes overwhelming odds to defeat the bad guy, rescue the girl, and ride off into the sunset to a stirring orchestral score. I got killed within the first two minutes, the girl rescued me, and there was no music whatsoever. We did manage to defeat the bad guy, though, so there’s that.

  What we didn’t do was finish off the evil mastermind behind all this. Daraxandriel’s twin sister Lilixandriel is still out there somewhere, busily recruiting demons to kill me (again) and take the Philosopher’s Stone from my mutilated corpse. I, on the other hand, have no magical powers whatsoever, so I have to hope that the motley group of women I’ve accumulated over the last few weeks – a succubus, a witch, and a ghost, plus my sister Susie – can somehow keep me alive until we figure out a way to eliminate Lilixandriel’s threat once and for all.

  I’m not holding my breath on this one, frankly. We barely managed to take down Bellaxragor Stormreaper and that was mostly blind luck. The next demon Lilixandriel sends our way could easily be a hundred times worse. If we can’t find a way to harness the power of the Philosopher’s Stone soon, there’ll be two ghosts haunting the Collins household instead of one.

  Bellaxragor’s attack turned the alley behind the library into a lunar landscape, filled with cracked slabs of concrete and gaping holes brimming with oily water. The Mustang wasn’t built for off-road adventuring but I managed to maneuver it around the debris and into the parking lot with only one teeth-gritting scrape of the undercarriage.

  I stopped before I reached the exit, though, gawking through the windshield at the devastation around us. Police cars and fire trucks were visible all around Henry Milton Memorial Park, their red and blue lights flashing in syncopation with the traffic signals. At least two light poles were down blocking the street and water still poured into the storm drains. A lot of people were milling around on the sidewalks, huddled into nervous-looking groups or inspecting storefront windows, and a pair of officers was using crime scene tape to block off the area in front of one of the office buildings. The bright blue, cloudless sky just made the spectacle seem even more surreal.

  “What happened?” I breathed.

  “It was a freak tornado,” Susie insisted beside me. “Get your story straight.”

  “Bellaxragor is not called Stormreaper for naught, Peter Simon Collins,” Daraxandriel intoned direly, cramped into the far corner of the back seat with her horns scraping the roof. “Had he prevailed against us, the winds would have scoured the land bare.”

  “Well, he’s dead now so that’s not going to be a problem.” Melissa sat right behind me so I couldn’t see her face but she sounded a bit odd, sort of a combination of angry and unhappy and scared all tied up into a knot of anxiety.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted tersely. “I’m just a bit cold. Can you turn up the heat?” She rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her blouse, still as soggy as the rest of us. The car seats were leather but all that water dripping off of us couldn’t be doing them any good.

  I cranked up the temperature and pointed the vents to the back but I doubted it would help much. Melissa’s arm intersected Olivia’s incorporeal body and I knew from experience how chilly that could be. I couldn’t see Olivia in the mirror but she looked miserable when I twisted around to check on her. The back seat of a Mustang wasn’t designed to hold three people, even if one of them was a ghost.

  “Maybe I should sit in the trunk,” she said, trying to hug herself down to the smallest space possible.

  “Just sit tight,” I told her, wincing at my inadvertent pun. I started to turn left on Milton but Melissa reached around the seat to pull on my arm.

  “Go right, Peter,” she ordered.

  “What for? Home is this way.”

  “My car’s still at the office. I’d rather not leave it there if they’re going to close off the streets to fix this mess. And I guess I should let Mr. Franklin know where I am,” she added reluctantly.

  “Can’t you just call him?”

  “I left my phone on my desk. And my purse. And my jacket.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “God, what a day this turned out to be.”

  I couldn’t argue with that sentiment. “All right, but let’s make it quick. Dad’s probably out there somewhere and I’d rather not have to explain what we’re doing here.”

  “Just tell him it was a freak tornado,” Susie told me. I ignored her and turned right.

  Milton Street was still in one piece but there was quite a bit of random debris scattered over it that turned the road into an obstacle course. I slalomed my way down the block towards a Hellburn Power and Light truck sitting crossways on the street.

  “Over there,” Melissa said, pointing past my shoulder. Her baby blue ’58 Ford Thunderbird convertible sat by the curb on the other side of the street and I made a U-turn to pull up behind it.

  “It looks okay,” I said, peering at it through the windshield.

  “Let me see,” Melissa demanded, nudging my seat impatiently.

  I parked and got out, pulling my seat forward to let her out. It was still a tight squeeze and I had to use both hands to haul her out, although I nearly forgot what I was supposed to be doing when her skirt rode up high enough to reveal the tops of her stockings and the straps of her garter belt holding them in place. She shook her skirt down to its proper position without noticing my momentary distraction, though, and strode straight to her car.

  “Oh, no!” she groaned in dismay. “I was afraid of this.”

  “What?” I came up beside her and looked inside. An inch of water covered the floorboards and the seats were soaked through. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow,” she said glumly. “This is just great.”

  I refrained from pointing out that leaving a convertible out in the open with the roof down was probably a bad idea, even if the weather forecast didn’t include demonic rainstorms. “Is it still drivable?” I asked instead.

  “I hope so,” she grumbled. “I should have worn a swimsuit today.”

  “Well, it’s not like you’ll get any wetter,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. I was unsuccessful, judging from the look she gave me.

  “I need to get my keys.” Melissa looked up at the building beside us, a three-story structure of worn reddish brick that had to be at least a hundred years old. “I hope Mr. Franklin’s still here,” she said, sounding like she hoped he wasn’t.

  “Is he going to be mad at you?”

  “No. Well, yes. Maybe. I ran out without telling him why. He probably thinks I’m just some panicky teenager who can’t be trusted. I mean, look at me, I’m a mess.” She waved at herself resignedly. Her blouse and camisole weren’
t quite as transparent as before, but everything was wrinkled and spattered with mud. She looked like a castaway’s personal assistant.

  “I could vouch for you,” I volunteered.

  “That’s very sweet of you, Peter,” she said dryly, “but I don’t think he’s going to take my boyfriend’s word for anything. Besides, what are you going to say to him? Sorry, Mr. Franklin, Melissa had to obliterate a demon lord that appeared behind the library. I’m sure he’ll understand.” Melissa wasn’t generally given to sarcasm but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at it. “No,” she said with a sigh, “I’m just going to have to face this on my own.” She eyed the revolving door with a grimace.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want,” I said doubtfully.

  “No, that’s not what I want!” she told me sharply. “I’m about to get fired! A proper boyfriend would offer to come with me!”

  “Oh.” My ability to pick up on a girl’s subtle hints was notoriously abysmal but this one seemed reasonably straight-forward. “So, um, would you like me to come with you?” I asked, just to be certain.

  “Yes, Peter,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “please come with me.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the entrance but we stopped when the Mustang’s horn beeped.

  Susie rolled down her window and leaned out. “Peter,” she said, looking annoyed, “where are you going? You were just supposed to drop her off.”

  “She needs to get her keys.”

  “Well, hurry up! I want to get home.” She rolled the window back up before I could respond.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered. “All right,” I said to Melissa, “are you ready to face the music?”

  “Chopin’s Piano Concerto Number 2.”

  “Huh?”

  “The third movement is a funeral march.” I just blinked at her. “Mother made me take piano lessons when I was twelve. Come on.” She pushed me through the revolving door and followed right behind me.

  The building lobby looked nothing like its exterior. Everything was varnished oak, polished granite, and shiny brass, all gleaming in the light spilling through the front windows. Doors lined both sides of the lobby and a single elevator graced the back wall. “So where’s your office?” I asked.

  “On the second floor.” She tried the elevator button but nothing happened. “Is the power off?” she wondered doubtfully. She looked around and then headed for a nondescript door in the corner labeled Stairs. She pulled it open, revealing a gloomy stairwell lit by red emergency lighting.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” I asked hesitantly.

  “It’s for emergencies, Peter,” she reminded me. “Come on.” She started up the concrete steps ahead of me, giving me an excellent demonstration of how snugly her damp skirt hugged her bottom. I tried not to stare but I was only human.

  The second floor looked a lot like the first floor, except that the windows overlooking Milton Street weren’t as large. Melissa headed straight for the last door on the right, where an engraved plaque proclaimed the office beyond to be the property of Franklin Investments, Inc. She smoothed her hair back, straightened her blouse, and took a deep breath before quietly opening the door, peeking through the gap before stepping inside and beckoning me in.

  The reception area wasn’t much larger than my bedroom but the furnishings were significantly nicer, with an antique desk positioned in the corner by the window facing a couple of studded leather chairs. A small hallway led into darkness but I caught a glimpse of two open doors on either side and another at the far end.

  “Shh!” Melissa cautioned me softly. “Maybe I can get my stuff without Mr. Franklin knowing I’m here.” She tiptoed over to the desk and grabbed her phone from the charger stand beside her computer monitor. She checked it quickly and then opened one of the desk drawers to extract her purse.

  “Hello? Is someone out there?” The voice came from one of the other rooms and Melissa and I both froze. She ducked down behind her desk and waved frantically at me to leave but a silver-haired gentleman in a three-piece suit appeared in the hallway before I could escape. “Excuse me, young man,” he told me sternly, “I’m afraid the office is closed.”

  “Oh, ah, I, uh, was just waiting for, um –” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Melissa shaking her head quickly, which I interpreted as a plea to keep her presence a secret, but the man noticed the movement. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “Miss Andrews!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you back here.” Melissa let her breath out resignedly and stood and his brows rose even higher. “Good Lord! What happened to you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Franklin,” she said miserably. “I can explain.”

  “No, never mind that right now. Just sit down and let me find you a towel or something.” He pulled out her chair for her but she shook her head.

  “It’ll get dirty,” she protested.

  “It’s just a chair,” he said dismissively. “It can be replaced, you can’t. Now sit.” She obeyed, trying to minimize the surface area of the seat she actually touched, and Mr. Franklin hurried back down the hall.

  “He seems nice,” I observed.

  “He’s just trying to soften the blow for when he fires me,” she said gloomily. “I ran out on a client.”

  “How did you even know what was happening? You can’t see the alley from here.” The view out the window was dominated by the offices across the street.

  “I guess it must be some witchy thing,” she shrugged. “I just suddenly knew there was something big and ... and wrong over that way and I just had to go. I barely remembered to grab my wand.” She looked around with a frown. “Speaking of which, where is it?”

  “Did you leave it in my car?”

  “I suppose. Don’t let me forget it. I feel naked without it these days.” Little Peter proposed a suggestive comeback to that but I kept that to myself.

  “Here we are.” Mr. Franklin reappeared and handed Melissa a small hand towel. “It’s not much, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s fine, thank you.” She used it to dab her face and hands but she couldn’t do much about the rest of her. A small puddle of muddy water was already darkening the oriental rug beneath her seat. “So,” she said awkwardly, “do I need to sign anything?”

  “For what?”

  “For the termination.” He shook his head doubtfully and she cleared her throat. “I mean, I’m fired, right?”

  He looked genuinely surprised. “Fired? Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Well, I left in the middle of a client meeting without telling you and – and I came back looking like this,” she added, gesturing to herself. “You told me your employees are expected to act with decorum at all times, that we represent the Franklin Investments brand.”

  “Well, yes, of course,” he said, “but surely this was an emergency, Miss Andrews. A woman of your character doesn’t simply fly out the door without a good reason.”

  Melissa looked flustered. “But you don’t know what that reason is!”

  “I trust you,” he said firmly. “If you say you needed to leave all of a sudden, I believe you. You did have a good reason, correct?” She nodded hastily.

  “Yes, of course! I had to, um, I had to find Peter,” she said, looking at me for help. “Because of the, um, the, ah –”

  “The storm,” I jumped in. “I was stuck out there with my sister and a bunch of friends and we needed her help.”

  “Well, I’m glad to see it all worked out, then,” Mr. Franklin nodded. “Oh, forgive my poor manners. I’m Harold Franklin.” He held out his hand.

  “Peter Collins.” I reached out to shake his hand and then hesitated. “Um, sorry, I’m still damp.” Melissa silently handed me her towel and I tried to dry my hands.

  “That’s all right,” he assured me. “You two better go home and get yourselves cleaned up before you catch something.”

  “But what about Mr. Cleary?” Melissa protested.

  “I’ve already resched
uled his appointment,” Mr. Franklin told her. “I was waiting here hoping the power would come back on but it doesn’t seem likely.”

  “There are a bunch of poles down all along Milton,” I informed him. “It’ll probably take them a while to get everything fixed.”

  “I’m not surprised, after all that wind and rain and lightning,” he sighed. “I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never seen anything like it. Go home,” he told Melissa. “I’ll lock up and head out myself. I’ll call you later and let you know whether to come in tomorrow.”

  She rose to her feet hesitantly. “So I’m not fired?”

  “No, of course not,” he chuckled. “But next time, please let me know where you’re going so I’m not so worried about you.”

  “I will. Thank you!” For a moment, it looked as though she was going to hug him but she caught herself in time. She snatched up her purse and jacket and shoved me towards the door. “Let’s go. Bye, Mr. Franklin!”

  “Goodbye, Miss Andrews,” he replied bemusedly.

  “Thanks!” She closed the door behind us and let her breath out in a long sigh. “Oh my God.”

  “Well, that worked out better than expected,” I observed.

  “Thank God. I can’t imagine what Daddy would say if I told him I was fired from my first job after only two days.” Her shoulders slumped. “I have a pretty good idea what he’ll say about the car,” she groaned. “He’s going to kill me.”

  “Your insurance will cover it, won’t it?”

  “I don’t think there’s a provision for Acts of Demon Lords,” she retorted. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  She led me back to the stairwell and started down the steps but she stopped at the landing halfway down with an odd sort of expression on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. My voice echoed all around us. “Did you forget something?”