by N. P. Martin
“I know, Zee. We’ll talk about it when I’m in the bath.”
Five minutes later, I was lying in a hot bath, a glass of Scotch in my hand as Zee gently wiped the blood from my face with a sponge and then inspected the various bruises on me. The biggest bruise was on my chest where Barry had stuck his elbow in me. The right side of my ribs was ripening nicely too, as was my right ear from the palm strike. My crotch throbbed also, along with my entire face. “You need icepacks,” Zee said.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, feeling a little better thanks to the hot water I was soaking in. “It’s mostly just bruising. My rib feels cracked, though.”
Zee sighed in annoyance. “You can’t let those motherfuckers get away with this. Let me kill them all. Please.”
“No, Zee, we’re not killing anyone. You know that’s not how I do things.”
“So, what, you’re going to just write a story about them?” She snorted as she shook her head. “What good will that do?”
I took a large swallow of the Scotch as Zee rubbed my back with the sponge. “I’m not just going to write a story, although that will happen. I need to prove Phillips is guilty first, which means finding the evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“The videos of the murders, and whatever else Phillips has.”
“And how are you going to get this evidence?”
“That’s were you come in, Zee,” I said. “You’re going to befriend Phillips. He seems to have a thing for porn stars, so you’re going to become one and then use your wiles to get him to tell you where he keeps all his files.”
“And then once he does, I can kill him.”
“No, Zee. I told you, nobody is killing anybody. We get the cops involved and let them take Phillips down—by the book. I want that bastard to rot in jail.”
“And you think that will happen?” Zee said. “I know guys like that. They have so much money they can buy their way out of anything. Trust me, this guy Phillips will not go to jail, or if he does, it won’t be for long. That’s why we should just kill him. He doesn’t get away with anything then.”
“Well, he kinda does if he’s dead, Zee. He should be punished, not killed.”
“And what if you do all this and he goes free anyway? What then? And what if he decides to have you killed for setting him up?”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
“It’s stupid. You should just let me kill him.”
I sighed at Zee’s overzealousness. “Would you just listen to me? No killing. We do this my way.”
“Okay, baby,” Zee said as she continued to rub my back. “But if your way doesn’t work out, then I’m doing it my way, starting with ripping his eyeballs out and then pissing in the sockets. Deal?”
Lying back in the bath, I looked up at her and nodded. “Okay.”
Zee smiled. “Good. Now tell me what you need me to do, baby.”
“First things first,” I said after sipping my drink. “We need to find Rick Marino before he kills any more innocent women. Phillips has a lot of supernaturals on his payroll, but Marino is the only one we know right now.”
“What about the rest?”
I shrugged, a movement which caused me pain. “I’m only interested in Marino. We can’t catch them all. Once Phillips goes down, the rest of the supernaturals will go away too.”
“You mean, they’ll continue killing people, just not on camera for Phillips.”
“Yeah,” I said. “There’s nothing we can do about that. That’s just the world we live in.”
“So why bother even going after the incubus if it makes no difference?”
“Because I saw Angela Smith’s body, that’s why. I saw what he did to her.”
“So it’s personal for you, is that it?”
“You choose your battles, Zee. I’m choosing this one.”
“Even after knowing you for so long,” Zee said as she gently sponged my face, “I still don’t understand why you bother, Damion. You can’t change things, no matter how hard you try.”
“You sound like my father,” I said, pushing the sponge away from my face.
“Do I? I don’t mean to. I’ve just been around a lot longer than you have, baby, and what I know is, the more things change, the more they stay the same.”
“So you think I should just quit what I’m doing and do something else instead?”
“You could write novels or something,” she said. “Do something that makes you happy.”
“Happiness is an illusion, Zee.”
“Is it? I wouldn’t know. I just do what I do and have fun doing it. Is that what happiness is?”
“Maybe.”
“You need to have more fun then.”
Fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun. Probably before Ava disappeared. Certainly not after. How could I?
“I’ll have fun taking Phillips down,” I said.
“I don’t see how if you aren’t going to kill him.”
“Because you don’t have to kill people to have fun, Zee.”
“I beg to differ. I have the most fun when I know I have someone under my sway, knowing their death will be inevitable.”
I went silent as I drank my whiskey, deciding to steer the subject away from death and killing. “I met with my father earlier.”
“How did that go?” Zee had never met my father. I never saw any point in introducing them. My father knew about Zee, and naturally disapproved of my being with her, but that wasn’t the real reason I hadn’t introduced them. I was just afraid that my father would say the wrong thing to me and Zee would kill him.
“Okay, I guess. Better than usual. He gave me a lead on Ava.”
“What lead?”
“A picture of a tattoo.”
“Can I see it?”
“Knock yourself out. It’s in my coat pocket.”
Zee left and returned a moment later with the piece of paper and sat on the toilet staring at it. “I’ve never seen this symbol before.”
“I don’t think many have.”
“Who does it belong to?”
“A man who was present at the scene before a number of people went missing, including my sister.”
“So you think this man is the one who took them?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to find him first.”
“I can ask around if you like. I know plenty of occultists.”
“Sure, but keep it low key. I don’t want the guy getting wind that we’re after him. Not yet.”
Zee smiled. “I can do low key.”
“I’m going to see some people tomorrow that might be able to help.”
Folding the paper up, Zee sat staring at me. “Do you think your sister is still alive?”
I didn’t even know why she was asking that. She knew I wouldn’t give up on Ava until I had concrete proof that she was dead. Maybe it was because Zee had spent a long time searching for Ava shortly after we met. She had seen how much it was affecting me, so she had used her tracking skills to search for Ava, but got nowhere. Her helping had only made me feel worse, for we had tried everything by that point. Even magic got us nowhere. It was like Ava had just vanished off the face of the earth. “You know better than to ask me that question, Zee.”
“I know,” she said. “I just want you to have closure.”
“Well, that can’t happen yet, can it?”
“What about this other girl who disappeared recently, the one your father mentioned? Perhaps we should look into that. I can do that for you, if you like.”
I nodded. “Sure, okay.”
Zee stared at me for another moment before she slid off the toilet and kneeled down by the side of the bath. Then she put her arms carefully around me and hugged me, stroking the back of my head. “My baby…” she said as I stared emptily down at the bath water.
15
The next morning I wrote up the story on Ethan Drake, first giving some background on the guy before detailing exactly what h
appened a year ago with Wendell Knightsbridge, quoting Haedemus extensively, knowing as I did so that Drake himself would probably find out about the website article at some point and tear Haedemus a new asshole. From everything I knew about the man, I guessed he liked his privacy. But that was no concern of mine. If you want privacy, don’t do things that are in the public interest, like save the world, or help get Lucifer on the Silver Throne. These are things that just can’t be ignored by a journo like myself. Besides, I didn’t paint Drake in a bad light. If anything, I made him out to be a hero, which I guess he was in a way. His methods may have been questionable, but the fact was, he got the job done when nobody else could.
As expected, the article drew a lot of attention on the website, especially the picture I took of Haedemus. Within minutes of uploading the picture, the forum went wild, with people unable to believe they were finally getting to see Drake’s famous beast in all its glory. It didn’t take long for the memes to emerge either, with one stating: ALWAYS BE YOURSELF. UNLESS YOU CAN BE A HELLICORN. THEN ALWAYS BE A HELLICORN. Another said simply: THE STUD.
I smiled at the memes, knowing Haedemus would probably revel in them. He seemed the type to want adoration, though I wasn’t sure how Drake would feel if his Hellicorn ended up as some kind of superstar. People on the forum were already demanding a live Q&A with Haedemus. I posted I would think about it.
With Zee off doing her own thing, I spent some time charging up a few sigil cards, though I was still in so much pain, I had to forego the katas and charge the cards up through mediation only. Five minutes after I was done, I got a call from Haedemus.
“I’m surprised it took you this long to phone,” I said to him as I drank a cup of coffee by the window in the living room. “I take it you saw the article?”
“Yes, I saw,” Haedemus said excitedly. “Excellent work. The photo looked great. I’ve never looked so majestic. Did you touch it up on Photoshop? Are my eyes really that intense?”
I shook my head at his vanity. “No Photoshop. What about the article? Did you even read it, or were you too busy gazing at your picture?”
“No, I read it. I skimmed over it anyway. It seemed fine.”
“What do you think Drake will make of it?”
“He’ll probably have a fit when he sees it,” Haedemus said. “He’ll probably come looking for you, in fact.”
“What?”
“Only if he sees it, though. Ethan doesn’t spend too much time online. He’s not that type of guy.”
“Lucky for me, I guess.”
“Yeah. So I see your fans or whatever want a Q&A with me. We should totally do that.”
“You think?”
“Of course! Why deprive all those people of a wonderful time, that’s what I say.”
“And you would do this in your human form—”
“Goodness no! As a Hellicorn of course! Give the people what they want, that’s what I say.”
“I’m sure you say a lot of stuff.”
“Meaning?”
“Nothing. So I take it you’re not just phoning about your legions of adoring fans? Are you still taking me to see your friends today?”
“Well, I was just calling about the article—and those memes! Did you see them? I liked the stud one the best.”
“Yeah, I saw them. Very funny.”
“Do you think they’ll go viral?”
“I guess we’ll see. So what about—”
“My god, I just realized.”
“What?”
“I could be world famous!”
Puffing my cheeks out, I shook my head. “Most people who see those memes won’t believe you’re real, Haedemus. You know that, right?”
“Oh, sure, I know that.” He paused. “Why wouldn’t they think I was real?”
“Because most people don’t believe in supernatural creatures, Haedemus,” I said. “Only believers can actually see you in real life. You’re invisible to everyone else.”
“But maybe, right, if I do the Q&A with you, it could go viral, and then people would believe because they’d see me.”
“No, they would think it was fake.”
“Jesus nelly bells, what’s wrong with people? All this crazy stuff happening around them and they still don’t believe.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to change. The website gets more believers every day, though, so maybe one day, Haedemus, you can be a real superstar.”
“You really think so?”
No, you’re a friggin’ Hellicorn, for Lucifer’s sake.
“Sure, but while you’re waiting for people to get stars in their eyes, why don’t you take me to see your friends?”
“Okay. Meet me in Bedford now then. I’ll text you the address. And don’t keep me waiting,” he added. “I have a busy day ahead replying to all those comments on your forum.”
“I’ll try not to be late then,” I said, rolling my eyes.
I met Haedemus about an hour later outside a luxury apartment building in Bedford, thinking his friends must be rich upper-class types to be living in such a grand building where I knew a few movie stars and business moguls resided. But my assumption couldn’t have been more wrong.
“What happened to your face?” he asked me.
“I had a run in with a few people in the parking garage after I spoke to you last night,” I said.
“Wanna borrow my Ray Bans to cover that bruise on your eye?”
“No thanks, I’m fine.”
“You sure? I have many pairs in the Lamborghini.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Dressed as he was the night before, Haedemus took me up to the penthouse floor. In the elevator on the way up, he asked me, “Do you like coke?”
“Coke?” I said frowning. “I take it you don’t mean the drink?”
“No, I mean cocaine.”
“I don’t do drugs.”
Anymore.
“Okay. How about death metal? Do you like death metal?”
My frown deepened. “I like metal, but not death metal. What does that have to do with anything?”
Haedemus said nothing as we exited the elevator and walked down the corridor before knocking on the penthouse door. From out in the hallway, I could hear the muffled sound of furious drum beats and razor guitar riffs. When the door finally opened, I almost recoiled at the sonic blast of death metal coming from inside. The guy who had opened the door was rakish, with long blonde hair and geeky eye glasses, reminding me immediately of Garth from Waynes World.
“Artemis,” Haedemus said cooly. “How goes it?”
“Haedemus, my man,” Artemis said as the two clasped hands. “It’s been a while, dude. Still rocking the new body, I see.”
“You know it. This is—” Haedemus went to say, but Artemis cut him off.
“Damion Deadson,” said Artemis, holding his hand out for me to shake, sniffing loudly at the same time. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, dude. Big fan of your work.”
“Thanks,” I said, shaking his sweaty hand, realizing he was coked off his head.
“Come in,” he said. “We got a party going on here.”
“Excellent,” Haedemus said as he strode past Artemis. “I can always rely on you guys. I was just thinking on the way here that I’m a little pent up today. Too much excitement. Did you see my picture on Damion’s website?”
“Sure did,” Artemis said, turning to walk back into the room, leaving me to close the door behind me and wince at the volume of the death metal coming through the speakers, feeling like I had just entered some sweaty club.
“Didn’t I look fabulous?” I barely heard Haedemus say.
“Like a fucking hella Hellicorn!” Artemis shouted over the music.
After closing the door, I paused for a moment to take in the penthouse’s interior, which shocked me even more than the ridiculously loud music. “Jesus Christ,” I breathed as I stared into the massive room. Despite the grandeur of the space, the inside of the penth
ouse reminded me of a dungeon from some tacky theme park. The walls were painted black, the large windows covered by thick, dark curtains, the only light coming from dozens of lit candles spread around the place, and the glow of the computer monitors in the center of the living room. In one corner there was a coffin with what appeared to be a life-sized vampire inside, which I assumed was fake, but something told me it might not have been. In another corner, there was a stuffed werewolf. In its clawed hands, someone had placed an electric guitar, and a studded collar around the werewolf’s thick neck. Much of the furniture in the massive penthouse was fashioned from skulls and bones, or carved from dark wood, like the two huge thrones aligned along the back wall, one of which had a Union Jack flag draped over it. One wall was also completely plastered with posters from metal and porn magazines. Everywhere I looked, empty bottles sat and ashtrays brimmed over with cigarette butts and half-smoked joints.
It’s like a teenager’s bedroom, I thought, almost in wonder.
And then there were the scantily clad women lying casually around the place, at least four of them, all beautiful, all with drinks in their hands, eyes like saucers, probably from all the coke in their system.
“I see you got entertainment in,” Haedemus shouted over the music at Artemis. “Mind if I help myself?”
“Knock yourself out, bro,” Artemis shouted back.
Still standing by the door, wondering if I should leave now while I still could, I watched Haedemus walk over to one of the women—who was obviously an escort—and unzip his pants as he stood in front of her, the girl smiling up at him as she immediately took hold of his cock and started tugging and massaging it before putting it in her mouth.
Jesus, Zee would have a field day here…
“Hey there,” a different guy said as I tore my gaze away from Haedemus. This guy was tall and thin with long dark brown hair, looking like an emaciated rock star in dark jeans and T-shirt. “You look a little…lost.” He held his hand out. “Name’s Pan Demic. You must be Damion.”
“Yeah,” I said, shaking his hand, which was just as sweaty as his friend’s hand. “How’s it going?”
“Fucking great!” Pan Demic said with a stoned smile. “Take a look around. How could I not be great in here?”