Abominations (Demonkin Book 3)

by Sean Hayden

  "You misunderstand me, young one. This was not a suggestion. You and your partner are hereby ordered by me, with all the authority of the Deputy Director of the FBI, to return to your office for debriefing and regrouping. You are to retreat. For now," he added. "That is an order."

  I wanted to slap him. But, I also wanted to hug him. He took the decision from me and alleviated the guilt.

  "Yes, sir," I said and nodded.

  "Good. Get back to Chicago. Come up with a plan. Then come back and kill that thing."

  "Are you going back with us?"

  "No. I need to return to DC. Let me know when you plan on returning and I will join you."

  "Thanks, Daren."

  "Thank you for listening to me."

  "Did I have a choice?"

  "Not even a small one," he said and winked at me.

  The taxi let me off at the entrance to the Dungeon. I paid my fare and watched him drive away, dreading what would happen next. I prayed that they already knew. Marcel wasn't the Master of Chicago, and I had a feeling he might have taken the information as to who was to his grave. He never even told me, nor introduced me to the replacement after I killed the old one.

  Since he had no vampires mystically tied to him, chances are I would be walking into the bar and have to deliver the news of his death to everyone. I wasn't looking forward to this at all.

  Of course, there was a line to get into the place. I walked around everyone outside the velvet rope and strode up to the door. I didn’t recognize the vamp working the gate, but he recognized me. He opened one of the brass double doors behind him and let me through.

  "Thanks," I whispered to him as I passed.

  He just nodded and went back to staring menacingly at the crowd gathered before him.

  Thankfully, Mel was working the bar. I figured she would be, since she hadn't been at the house. I stopped a good way from her and waited until she saw me. Her face burst into a smile and then she started looking behind me for the one man who would never be walking through that door again. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. I couldn't do anything about the one in my chest.

  I shook my head at her slowly and watched her fall to her knees. I couldn't see her behind the bar, but I could feel her wracking sobs.

  "Hey, Ash," Jimmy said from behind me. "Where's the boss?"

  "Find someone to cover the bar for the rest of the night. You and Melanie, come to Marcel's office."

  "Okay," he said and went off to do just that. I went to Marc's office and opened the door, slipping inside.

  His empty mahogany desk glistened brightly in the overhead light, the dark stain and polish almost sparkling. A tear rolled down my cheek. I sat on the couch to break the news. There's no way I could sit at his desk. It would break me more.

  The door opened, and Jimmy and Mel trod dismally into the room. They knew.

  "What happened," Mel asked softly.

  "So many things I don't know where to start. The gist of it is Quentin sold Marcel and I out, and pledged allegiance to the guy I was giving Los Angeles to, and they contacted The Council and one of them killed Marcel. He was supposed to take me to Rome, but he's going back in a box."

  They both nodded.

  "Where's that little fuck, Quentin?"

  Jimmy sounded very angry. Jimmy was a little scary when he was angry. Kind of Danny Trejo-ish. Just younger and thinner, but every ounce as imposing.

  "I literally ripped his fucking head off."

  They both nodded solemnly.

  "I think Marcel might have known that this would happen. Probably not so soon, but he's been doing weird stuff. The weirdest was he gave us a list of instructions to follow if anything should ever happen to him," Mel said and nodded at Jimmy. He walked to the back of the office. "He left a letter for you."

  Jimmy flipped open the picture on the wall that had been apparently hanging there on hinges, revealing a very modern looking safe. He punched in a code and pulled the handle embedded in the door. It thunked open and the door swung wide.

  From my vantage point, I could see a mountain of cash and a few other things, but Jimmy knew exactly what he was looking for and pulled out a large manila envelope, walked back and handed it to me. I took it with shaking hands.

  "I can't read this. Not right now."

  "He insisted," Mel said.

  My eyes started watering, tinging everything red. "I really can't. I just can't."

  "Want me to read it to you?"

  I nodded.

  I closed my eyes and lay my head back on the couch. I heard her rip open the seal on the envelope and pull out a letter.

  "My dearest, Ash," she began and sat down beside me. "It would seem that I have finally met the end I have been craving for so long. Do not mourn, for I am happy. It is where I belong. My only regret is not having more time to teach you all that you need to know.

  "With that said, I know that you will not listen and mourn my passing. I have left instructions with those closest to you and some you have not met yet. Melaniel will be contacting my lawyer, who will be contacting you shortly thereafter. It concerns my last will and testament.

  "I left no offspring to this world. As such, I would be honored if you thought of me as your family. To you, I leave everything but The Dungeon. I shall leave that to Melaniel. She has worked hard for me over the years and it is much more suited to her tastes than yours.

  "The rest of the bars, businesses, etc. are yours, as well as a few estates and accounts. I give you this in the hopes that you will not have to continue working for the government. Do not trust them. That is the greatest piece of advice I can give you. Live independently and under the radar of vampire politics. Be free like I strived so hard to do. I realize the irony of writing this, as it will most likely be the reason for my demise. Try harder than I did, cher.

  "I wish only the best for you and know that I will miss our little chats. You are truly the most remarkable child I could have ever hoped to have. Always carry with you, my love. Marcel."

  The tears flowed freely, not just upon my face, but from all three of us. Mel handed an envelope to Jimmy and slipped another one in the pocket of her jeans. I guessed he had written them personal notes as well.

  Mel got up and walked over to the small bar that Marcel had in his office for entertaining guests. She poured a tumbler full of scotch, tossed in an ice cube, and drank it in three gulps after hoisting her glass into the air and giving a silent toast. She made her way steadily back to the couch and plopped back down ungraciously, leaning over and putting her head in my lap. I began absentmindedly stroking her hair while I contemplated everything Marcel had said.

  I didn't need to work to live anymore. I could really do anything I wanted. I could run a bar, open a book store, or even just lounge around in my pajamas for the next century or so. That didn't sound half bad. But, guilt would never let me do any of that. I wasn't an FBI agent for kicks. They needed me. I trusted the people I worked with and loved my partner. The only one I didn't trust was Sanders. But, until he tried to screw me, I'd play along. Plus, there was a demon I needed to kill. I couldn't do that as a civilian. I'd get arrested.

  As if she were reading my mind, Mel chimed in, "You're not gonna listen to him, are you?"

  "Who?" I feigned innocence.

  "Marc. You're not going to quit your job are you."

  "Do you think I should?" I quit stroking her hair, put my hand on her shoulder, and turned her until I could see her face.

  "I'm on the fence. I think you need to do it, but I don't want you to do it. Your job is dangerous, but who else is gonna stop the bad guys."

  I gave a little laugh. If she only knew how dangerous it was. She'd be shitting elven kittens. "I can't quit. Not yet. Maybe one day in the future, but as for right now, there's a demon in California I need to send back to hell."

  "What?"

  "You heard me. A demon."

  "There's no such thing…"

  "Beg to differ. I fought one
a few months ago."

  Jimmy slid a chair over in front of the couch. Apparently, it was story time. Neither of them knew much about me. I guess it was time to fill them in.

  "I'm not a vampire."

  "I kind of figured that," Jimmy said. "You are, but you're not. Your eyes and everything else about you are different. Even Marcel was a little different. A lot of vampires are sexy, but it oozed off that man like a cloud. And I don't think it's because he was French."

  I nodded thoughtfully. I know vampire powers had different ranges. I figured that's why I was such an oddity many years ago. But it made sense. Marcel was a little different, too. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but he was mesmerizing and not just to look at. I shrugged and carried on.

  "Well, the truth is I was born this way," I said stressing the word. Mel sat up to give me her undivided attention. "My mother was human. My father…" I trailed off. "Let's just say he's the reason that we've been having such a demon problem. Apparently, he is one and not just your average dick. He's like a prince or something in hell."

  "Your dad is Satan? Jeez, I thought my mother was," Jimmy said jokingly.

  "No. Asmodius? He told me once in a vision I had. Right before he promised to kill me."

  "What a dick," Mel said shocked. "So, you're not a vampire, you're just a half-demon?"

  I nodded. "But I'm similar enough to be classified as a vampire. They ran a whole bunch of tests at the FBI. I think maybe that's what vampires are. Even Rayna, she's the demon in California, said that Victoria was a great-great-twenty generation daughter of hers. So, maybe I am a vampire and we're all half-demons."

  "Well, all I know is that I'm yours now," Jimmy said.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I've been fired."

  "By whom?"

  "Marcel. His instructions were that if anything ever happened to him, I was to be your body guard and chauffer. It's why he had me take you home the other night."

  "To see if you liked me?"

  "To make sure you didn't hate me, probably."

  "So, you're just gonna follow me around everywhere? I don't think work will like that."

  "No. But when you're not at work or not home, I'm to drive you wherever you need to go and have your back."

  "Like a ninja limo driver with an old Chevy?"

  "Except he comes with a Limo. Marcel wouldn't have wanted you driving in my Camaro."

  "I have a limo now?"

  Jimmy and Mel nodded.

  "Great," I said and rolled my eyes, vowing never to ride in the damn thing.

  "Think of me as your assistant with super-strength, a gun, and a fancy car."

  "Great."

  "You don't sound impressed."

  "Jimmy, I don't like to stand out. If I show up everywhere I go in a limo, with a scary ass looking vampire following me around…"

  "I'm not scary looking."

  I shot Mel a glance. She was trying very hard not to laugh. "Yes, you are," she chimed in.

  He looked crestfallen. I reached over and patted his arm. "It's okay, Jimmy. Scary looking is good. I wish I was scary looking."

  He smiled a little after that.

  "So, where do we go from here? I know one thing, and that is I am going home, have a good cry and relax."

  "I'll join you," Mel answered.

  "I'll drive you," Jimmy answered faithfully.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  "Sign here, here, and here."

  I stared at the smallest, most wrinkled human I had ever seen in my entire life. I had actually been afraid to shake his hand when I entered his office. His commanding air, however, left little room for argument. Michele Lyon had been Marcel's personal attorney for the better part of a century. Files upon files lined the entire wall of the single room office without a name on the door. I questioned if Jimmy had gotten the address right, but he assured me we were at the right place.

  Mel had finished her paperwork in assuming ownership of the Dungeon. Marcel had also left her a nice sum of money as well as the contents of the safe in the office, to ensure its success during the transition. I was happy for her. She could do what she wanted to the place.

  "Are we done?" I asked when I finished signing.

  Michele just laughed. It sounded like someone rubbed dirt against sandpaper. "That was just the power of attorney. We still have a long way to go, young lady."

  So, I spent the better part of three hours signing my name to things I didn't understand. I gave Mr. Lyon access to all my financial accounts. Both of them. My checking and my savings. He informed me he would be moving monies into my account as well as gaining me access to all of Marcel's bank accounts. He would have a folio sent over in a few days. I just shrugged, not really caring about money.

  "How do you keep track of all this?" Curiosity got the better of me.

  "When you've been someone's personal attorney for sixty years, you kind of keep it in your head."

  I looked at the files on the wall.

  "That's for the things I forget," he said and winked at me, giving me a ghastly smile.

  "How do you have time for your other clients?"

  He gave me a confused look. "I don't have any. I was Marcel's personal attorney. I took no other clients…"

  "No way."

  "Truly."

  "That's pretty impressive, Mr. Lyon."

  "Please, call me Michele."

  He folded papers and stuffed the documents in different files, putting labels efficiently on the tabs of all of them and setting them aside to file. Finally, the last document was signed and dated and put away.

  "I'm a little confused."

  He looked up at me over the pile of folders and waited for me to voice my question.

  "Are you his attorney or his accountant?"

  "A bit of both. I have my degree in business law, but I also have my CPA. That way everything is efficient and safe."

  "What if something happened to this office?"

  He pointed to the computer on his desk and the large printer behind me. "Everything will be scanned and saved on two different remote cloud servers. We have backups of our backups. When you oversee a fortune as large as yours, we do not take chances."

  I nodded my understanding even though I didn't understand half of what he just said.

  "Now, the only other question I have for you, is do you wish to retain my family's services?"

  "Family?"

  He chuckled and leaned forward on his desk. "I do not know if you noticed this, miss, but I am very old. My grandfather was Marcel's second attorney. I have been training my grandson as my replacement. His name is Jean and a very smart young man, I might add."

  "Please," I said and gave him a little bow. "I will be in your care." It sounded like a cliché line from an anime, but I really would be.

  "Very good, Ms. Thorne."

  "Ashlyn."

  He nodded and handed me two business cards. One had his contact information, and the other had his grandson's. I stuck both in my jacket pocket and stood to shake his hand. He stood a little slower and grabbed my hand in both of his, steadying himself and gazing into my eyes.

  "I am sorry for your loss. Marcel spoke often of you and I see why he chose you."

  "Chose me for what?"

  "To be his successor. Vampires have the luxury of picking their biological children. Marcel never did. But when he met you, you were already a vampire, so he could not make you of his line. Instead of bonds of blood, he gave you the bond of love. I hope you realize how special that makes you."

  I couldn't help it. I started bawling. He let go of my hand and offered me a box of tissues.

  "And now I know that you loved him just as much. Worry not for your future, Ashlyn. My grandson and I will make sure you do not have any financial worries for the rest of your very long life."

  Jimmy dropped me off in the parking garage of the Chicago Office of the FBI. I told Thompson I would meet him there for our debriefing and interviews as to what happened. Our meeting was s
cheduled for one AM and I was already ten minutes late, not expecting my jaunt at the lawyer's to take so long.

  I slipped off my shoes and used my speed to take the stairs up to the fifth floor, only slowing enough to open doors. I skidded to a stop ten feet from the meeting room, slipped my shoes back on, and straightened my hair, ignoring the looks the loitering agents were giving me for showing off my supernatural speed.

  "You're late, kid," Thompson said as I entered the room.

  "Lawyers. You can't live with them and you can't burn them at the stake anymore."

  "I know. Don't feel bad. Everybody else is late, too. How you doin' up here?" He pointed at his temple.

  I just shrugged. I'd been better, but I'd also been a lot worse. Every time I felt like I stood on the precipice of despair, I pictured Marcel…shooting me in the head and telling me to get my shit together. "I'm doing okay. Not great, but not too bad. I feel like if I did, Marcel might start haunting me."

  "He probably would. I imagine that French accent would be pretty irritating if you were trying to sleep."

  I smiled and squeezed his shoulder as I took the empty seat next to him. We waited in silence for five minutes until Reese came in and sat down at the head of the table next to us.

  "Welcome back," he said and set down a recorder and a couple of file folders on the table in front of him.

  "Thank you, sir," Thompson rumbled. I just gave him a tired smile.

  "Well, things certainly went to shit, are you both okay?" He hadn't turned on the recorder yet, so this was off the record.

  "Been worse, been better," I added, reiterating my thoughts and conversation with Thompson.

  Reese nodded. "Okay, let's begin then. Agent Thompson, let's start with you. Give me your detailed events leading up to the death of Warren Jeffries."

  And so, for the next four hours we both recanted everything, not leaving a single thing out. The only time we lied was describing what happened to Quentin. We blamed his death on the demon. I had executed him, plain and simple. For an agent of the FBI to do so would have cost me my job. I probably could have told Reese, but he was recording our statement and even just telling him off the record would put him in a precarious position. I owed him too much to do that to him.