Deal with the Devil

by Kevin Lee Swaim

  “That’s it, then? You’re going to kill me?”

  “Yes,” Spurlock said. “I am.”

  “Why?”

  Spurlock ignored me. “You’ve got your man under control?”

  “He ain’t gonna be a problem,” Lottie said. “I promise.”

  “He better not cause any trouble,” Spurlock said. “Everything has to go just right tonight.”

  “What’s going on with you two?” Desmond asked. He tried pulling free of Lottie, but she held him firmly in place. “What have you done, Lottie?”

  “I ain’t done nothing,” Lottie said. “I wanted you back, but you weren’t coming back as long as you had that club.”

  “Oh, Lottie,” Desmond said. “What did you agree to?”

  “Yes, Lottie,” I said, pointing at Spurlock. “What did you agree to do for this monster?”

  Before Lottie could speak, Spurlock growled, “I’m no monster.”

  “That’s not how it looks to me,” I said. “You have Callie, don’t you?”

  Spurlock brushed her hair back over her ears. “I don’t have her. Joe does.”

  “You work with Garski?” My brain spun furiously, trying to put it all together. “You’ve been working with Garski this whole time?”

  “That’s the last thing you’re going to ask?” Spurlock asked. “Sure, I’ll play along. Yes, we have been working together. Yes, he has your friend. Does that make you feel better? This isn’t personal, human. I don’t have anything against you. It’s always been about Callie Calahane. You’re just a loose end I have to tie up.”

  Her hands began to rise, and I shouted, “Wait! Why Callie? What about the Ancients?”

  Spurlock froze. “Do you remember Indianapolis?”

  I nodded. “The mansion.”

  Spurlock nodded. “I should thank you, I guess. When Jack cut us down like we were nothing, I ran. I kept moving until I made it here to Chicago. If not for Jack, I never would have found Joe. Thank you, Sam Harlan. You made all this possible.”

  “What possible?” I asked. “What are you doing with Callie?”

  “That’s enough,” Spurlock said. “I’m going to kill you now. Just hold still, and I’ll make it quick. There’s no reason for you to suffer any more than you already have.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Time slowed as everything happened at once. Desmond yanked Lottie off her feet and used her momentum to hurl her at Cornelius. As he attacked, Minerva shrieked and threw herself at them like a madwoman.

  Spurlock snarled. Her hands grabbed my throat, and as her fingers tightened, I snapped my wrist down. The snap on the leather harness on my forearm popped open, and the gift from Mary Kate Glick, a collapsible police baton made entirely of silver, fell down the sleeve of my shirt and landed in my palm.

  I smashed the baton into Spurlock’s face. The silver in the baton hissed on impact, and there was a crunch as Spurlock’s fangs went flying through the air like two shiny white missiles.

  Across the room, Cornelius and Minerva were beating Desmond’s head with their fists while Lottie yelled, “Don’t hurt him!”

  Spurlock howled in agony, but her fist came rocketing into my gut. I went hurtling back, choking on my own bile.

  I smacked into the wall hard enough that I cracked Lottie’s big-screen television into dozens of jagged pieces. Spurlock came at me so fast she was merely a blur. I gasped for air and choked on bile, but I snapped my wrist again, extending the baton to its full length. As Spurlock cocked her arm back to deliver a killing blow, I smashed the ball end of the baton against her face.

  This time, the silver ignited the skin on her cheek. She screamed so loud that my ears rang, and she fell back, scrambling against the rugs on the floor and beating at her face in a desperate attempt to put out the flames.

  “Sam!” Desmond gurgled.

  Cornelius had his arm wrapped around Desmond’s neck in a choke hold, and they were both bent over as Cornelius tried to wrestle Desmond to the ground.

  Do vampires even need oxygen?

  It was an absurd thought. But, based upon Desmond’s bulging eyes and frantically waving arms, vampires clearly needed oxygen.

  “Quit fighting,” Lottie repeated over and over. “Everything is gonna be fine. We just got to kill the hunter.”

  Spurlock lashed out at my feet, and I took the opportunity to kick her as hard as I could in the jaw. A satisfying crunch ran up my leg as she went spinning backward. I took two running steps forward and jumped across the room, slamming the heavy ball end of the silver baton against Cornelius’s head.

  I must have underestimated my own strength, because the baton plowed through the old vampire’s head with a terrific crack.

  Cornelius didn’t even have time to look surprised. The ball entered the top of his skull and came out through the bottom of his mouth. Flames spewed from the wound, and his arms went slack, allowing Desmond to break free. As Desmond grabbed Lottie and held her aloft, Cornelius fell to the floor and burst into a ball of flame, his legs flopping against the rug.

  I didn’t have time to celebrate.

  Minerva had been hovering over Desmond, trying to figure out how to help Lottie, but when Cornelius burst into flame, Minerva wailed like a banshee and rushed me like a lightning bolt. I didn’t have time to raise the baton or even to blink.

  It was like being in a high-speed car crash. I went backward, through the open door, and into the hallway beyond.

  But I didn’t stop there.

  The wall was made of brick, but I smashed through it like it was construction paper. My head exploded in pain, and my vision went black, and then I hit another wall and blasted through it as well.

  I don’t remember coming to a stop or much of anything else for a moment. It was hard to tell over the throbbing in my head and the pain in literally every part of my body.

  I might have been knocked out for a few seconds, or it might have been a few minutes.

  How long was I out?

  I opened my eyes and saw only darkness. It felt like a thousand pounds of bricks were crushing me to the floor.

  It might be much more.

  At least I could still breathe. I was confident in that, until I tried to squirm out from under the bricks. There was a scraping and grinding and the weight suddenly doubled.

  I must be in a pocket.

  The bricks weighed even more than I thought possible, and it was enough to keep me from taking another breath.

  In fact, the harder I tried to catch my breath, the less my chest expanded. The weight was growing heavier and heavier, crushing my innards, and my lungs screamed for air.

  A normal human would have died from the impact. A normal human would have given up.

  But I’m not a normal human, and I almost died once today.

  Maybe it was the residual effect of Jordan’s blood, or maybe it was the hot wash of anger that welled up inside me, but the ringing in my ears increased and my heart beat like a jackhammer in my chest.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, I pushed myself up against the bricks. Once I had moved a few inches, the weight shifted again, and this time the full weight crashed down on me.

  I didn’t stop.

  I’m going to get out of this, or I’m going to die, and … I’m … not … going … to die.

  The fear faded until there was only white-hot anger left.

  I’m going to kill anything that gets in my way. Vampires, humans—it doesn’t matter! Men, women, or children. I’ll lay waste to the entire world if that’s what it takes, but I will save Callie. I will sell my soul to Lucifer himself, if that’s what it takes.

  The muscles in my body screamed in agony, but I kept moving. The bricks scraped and shifted above me, and the pressure eased, just a little, and then more and more until I erupted from the rubble in a spray of brick and mortar and took a deep breath that filled my lungs with cool, sweet air.

  * * *

  I c
ollapsed to the floor and gasped for air, as helpless as a newborn. As much as I wanted to continue the fight, I had exhausted all my energy breaking free of the collapsed walls.

  If they come for me, I’m dead. I can’t fight. I can’t even lift my arms.

  As the minutes ticked by, the only sound was my gasps for air. When I had finally regained enough energy to stagger to my feet, I removed the Kimber from my ankle holster and went to investigate the warehouse.

  The room where I had fought Spurlock was empty. I rubbed the dirt and grit from my eyes as I searched the room, but there were no signs of the vampires except for the greasy pile of ash where Cornelius had fallen.

  How long was I under that rubble?

  I removed my cell phone from the pocket, but the screen was a spiderweb of cracks and it wouldn’t power up.

  There’s got to be a clock around here somewhere.

  After a few minutes of futile searching, I headed to the outside door, stopping along the way to catch my breath. When I finally made it outside, the heat was so intense that it made my head throb.

  I doubled over and vomited.

  When I could finally stand again, I climbed into the Chevy and checked the time on the digital clock I kept stuck to the dash with adhesive tape.

  One thirteen in the morning? I must have been unconscious for at least thirty minutes. They could have gone anywhere!

  Dark thoughts of Callie’s fate ran through my head, every possible scenario I could imagine, and some I wished I couldn’t.

  “They might be murdering her,” I muttered to myself. “Or they could be feeding from her.”

  A darker thought came to mind.

  “They might use her to summon Haagenti.”

  If they manage to summon the demon, we’re all in trouble. Haagenti thought learning the secret of vampires was a source of power. If Haagenti is right, the entire world is in danger.

  Giggling filled the truck, and I was shocked to realize it was coming from me.

  It’s absurd. Vampires. Demons. The world at risk. What am I supposed to do? I’m just one man. Not even an important one. It should be Callie. She’s the one with faith. She matters!

  I’m just some … broken thing that hasn’t had the good sense to lay down and die.

  I must have sat there, hurting and feeling sorry for myself, for several minutes before a thought occurred to me.

  The secrets to vampires…

  “Wait a minute. Sister Beulah said Peter created vampires.”

  * * *

  In a miracle of good luck, I hit all the red lights and made it to Union Station by two a.m. I parked in the same parking deck as before and headed north across Jackson Boulevard. There were only a handful of cars on the street. I struggled up the stairs and pushed against the door, only to smack my face into the heavy glass.

  Inside, an old white-haired man in gray coveralls swept a giant polisher from side to side as he buffed the floor. He looked up and shouted something.

  “What?” I hollered.

  He pointed to a small sign that displayed the business hours. “We’re closed until the morning!”

  I beat uselessly on the door. “You can’t be closed!”

  The old man shook his head. “We’re closed!”

  I kicked at the door with my boot. “Damn it!”

  “Hey,” the old man yelled. “You better not scratch that!”

  I motioned for the old man to come closer. He shook his head, but I kept motioning until he turned off the buffer and approached the door. “What?”

  “I’m looking for a man.”

  The janitor made a disgusted face. “This ain’t that kinda place, fella.”

  “No,” I yelled. “Not like … I’m looking for a homeless guy. He comes through here all the time. He’s in his fifties, a black guy, has short dreadlocks—”

  The old man squinted at me. “You mean Smelly Pete?”

  “Sure.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “I got that. Where is he?”

  The old man shrugged. “Who knows. Try the canal bridge east of here. He hangs out there when the police roust him out.”

  I took off and headed east at a brisk walk, then a shortness of breath forced me to slow my pace before I had gone half a block. By the time I made it to the bridge, I was gasping for air and I grabbed the guardrail to steady myself.

  I was slammed through a brick wall. It’s amazing that I’m walking. Come to think of it, it’s amazing that I’m still alive.

  My mind drifted back to the attack, but I pushed the thought aside.

  I can’t afford to waste any time if I want to find Peter and get his help in rescuing Callie.

  The streetlight at the end of the bridge cast a sad pool of light. In the distance, a pair of pedestrians walked past Willis Tower, but neither of them was Peter. I glanced to the south side of the canal bridge, but it was deserted.

  He said to try here, but I don’t see Peter.

  With no other options, I headed north along the canal. I made it less than twenty feet from the corner of the bridge before I stumbled in the dark. Storm clouds had rolled in, and occasional flashes of lightning streaked across the sky, but the city had become a dark and forbidding place.

  I fumbled along, caught my toe on a raised concrete sidewalk block, and grabbed the guardrail again to keep from falling. It had gotten even hotter, and sweat poured from my body and soaked through my shirt. The smell of lake water filled my nostrils, like the stagnant ponds at Wayne Lakes west of Arcanum, all dead fish and rotten algae.

  I would have vomited if I’d had anything left in my stomach.

  “Better watch yourself,” came a voice from the darkness. “Stumbling around in the dark will be the death of you.”

  I turned and peered into the darkness at the voice. “I was looking for you.”

  “You found me, I guess.”

  Peter sat on a concrete bench not far from the canal, staring at the water. I approached him and took a seat on a nearby steel chair. “The janitor at Union Station called you Smelly Pete.”

  “I been called lots of names over the years, some of them a lot worse than that.”

  “Should I call you Pete?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “I’m in trouble.”

  Pete didn’t even bother turning to look at me. “You don’t say.”

  “My friend is missing.”

  He grunted. “That’s bad news. For you.”

  “I need your help—”

  “I know you do.”

  “You know what’s going on?”

  “Better than you,” he said. “It’s got to be tough.”

  “What?”

  “Going out there, day after day. Son, you got no idea what you got yourself into.”

  “I’m fighting against evil.”

  “Evil, you say?”

  “Listen—”

  “Nah,” Peter said. “You listen. Your problems are just that. Your problems. What you got yourself into is—”

  “I don’t have time for this!”

  He spun around. “Give me your hand.”

  “Just … please tell me what’s going on. Where is Callie? Who has her?”

  “You want answers? Give me your hand.”

  I thrust my hand out, and he grabbed it, leaned forward, and stared at me.

  In the darkness, his eyes were ghostly white, and he finally released my hand and shook his head. “All kinds of things going on in this town, Sam Harlan. Ain’t none of them good. But, I’ll be just fine.” He clucked his tongue. “You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?”

  “You’re the reason vampires exist,” I said. “I know that now.”

  “So?”

  “That makes you responsible.”

  “Are you a child?” he asked. “What do you think I owe you? Any of you? I was just fine until the rest of you came along.”

 
“Did you create vampires as some kind of … of punishment?”

  Pete sighed. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then what was it like? Why did you do such a thing?”

  “You think you gonna hold me to account, little man? I’ve walked this earth for so long you can’t even begin to comprehend. What would you know about—”

  “You created vampires because you were bored?”

  Pete shifted uncomfortably. “Do you know what vampires are, Sam Harlan? Would you like to? I’ll tell you, if you really want to know.”

  Sweat was pouring down my face, and I blinked, getting stinging drops of it in my eyes. Above us, flashes of lightning tore across the sky like they were trying to shatter the night forever. “Yes, I want to know.”

  Pete shook his head. “After all this time, why not? When God lit the divine spark, the darkness was filled with creation. Some call it the Big Bang. Call it want you want, but it was the beginning of everything. A long time after that, after the world came to be, he created me. It was good. He spoke to me then. All the time. It was just as it should have been.”

  “What’s this got to do—”

  “It was perfect. For me. I had everything. But then He created the rest of you.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Do you know how that feels? To be God’s first? Only, I guess I wasn’t enough. Was I a mistake? I’ve spoken to God, Sam Harlan. It’s … indescribable. And I still don’t know why.”

  “You were cast away?”

  “More like forgotten,” Pete said. “I watched as you humans evolved from brutish, chimp-like creatures to what you are now.”

  “Evolution is true?”

  Pete glowered at me. “The rest of you evolved from the muck. I was created from nothing!”

  “I still don’t see what this has to do with vampires.”

  “I was God’s first!” He slammed his fist against the side of the concrete bench. There was a crack, and he stood up quickly as the bench collapsed into pieces. He approached the table and took the seat next to mine.

  “He quit speaking to me. I asked Him … no, I begged Him to explain why He was ignoring me. What was so interesting about you filthy little apes? When you started to look more and more like me, I became convinced that you were His final plan all along. If that was true, then why did I even exist? You had such short, brutish lives, but I never aged. I never grew old. What could it possibly mean? Why wouldn’t He answer me!”