Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls)

by Killian McRae

  As the angel dissolved into mist, leaving Jerry alone, the question that Ramiel had posed repeated itself in Jerry’s mind: He wanted Riona, in every possible way the word want could be interpreted. Well practiced in the art of seduction, and being that her grief made her so vulnerable, why wasn’t she in his bed already?

  Because she didn’t love him, she loved Marc.

  And because he couldn’t take the pain of losing her again when Marc returned.

  Chapter 11

  “At what point in the manual does it say, ‘Thou shalt dress as hicks and go forth in to the multitude’?”

  Of the three of them, Dee had been the most upset by the emergence of flannel into their so-called “safe house.” It wasn’t as though their work didn’t lead them to occasional occurrences of espionage that came with a wardrobe. Secretly, in the back of Dee’s underwear drawer, a leather and chainmail thong and matching collar he’d had to endure about ten years before was tucked discretely behind a stack of standard issue boxer briefs. Blue jeans didn’t exactly shock his fashion sense, but the new pair of leather cowboy boots Ramiel had pulled out of his magical bag would put his footsies through a treatment so severe, celebrities could have had a telethon to raise awareness.

  Streaming Youtube clips off of Riona’s phone on the finer points of rodeo lingo filled their time in the car down to Worchester. The crash course resulted in nothing more than letting them know how ignorant they really were.

  “Who in the hell knew there were even rodeos in New England?” Riona took in a wide sweep of the DCU Center’s interior. “Aren’t we more about wasting money on bad construction projects and attempting to locate the perfect bagel than maneuvering an overly glorified camel around barrels?”

  Her vantage point in the doorway leading to the stands provided a fairly decent view of the dirt-floored game ring. Two years ago, the National Associate of Statistics Professionals rented out this same space for their annual conference. She was curious which of the two events would prove to generate more bullshit.

  Jerry’s concerns proved more pragmatic. “There must be three thousand people here. Finding a demon amongst this crowd is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

  “Should we try that haystack, then?” Dee pointed to the ring below, where in the corner several workers forked into a heathery pile before tossing it over a fence behind which two horses stood serenely.

  “Agreed, this won’t be easy.” After being chewed out more thoroughly than a cheap piece of teriyaki jerky, Riona had no desire to cause a scene in a crowd like this and piss off the Council of Seven again so soon. This mission must be addressed with the utmost level of professional conduct. “I think we should split up.”

  Dee nodded. “I’ll take the concession areas.”

  Jerry pointed outward. “I’ll survey the stands.”

  “And I guess I’ll try to get back into the riders’ and animal area,” Riona wrapped up.

  “Won’t you need a pass or something?” Jerry asked incredulously. “Maybe I should come with you. I’m a pretty smooth talker, you know.”

  “I do know, but no need.” Looking down, she noted how well her curves filled out the flannel. “I’ve been led to believe by every horse-and-bull movie I’ve ever seen that cowboys like loose women. If they ask for a pass, I’ll just lean in with shock and awe.” With a waver in her voice, she took turns tipping her shoulders forward, letting each of the girls present arms and demonstrate a willingness to serve.

  Jerry almost choked on his tongue. “Why would you rely on such cheap tactics?”

  She huffed a laugh. “Well, that’s simple. Because it works. Shall we meet out by the main entrance in, what, twenty minutes?”

  Adjusting to the smell proved surprisingly easy. She’d expected to be choked by the stink of manure, cows, horses, and sweaty men, but all that lingered in the air was a light yet pungent odor and the taste of dust. All in all, it was comparable to the odiferous characteristics of one of the locker rooms at Dee’s gym.

  And, yeah, getting in to the restricted area? Easy breezy. The sixty-plus and skinny-as-skim-milk security guard in a ten gallon hat turned to Smuckers at the sight of her. Riona wouldn’t deny for a moment that she thought herself one sexy little minx, when she packaged herself correctly. That is, if she had been looking to hook up, her figure was as good a marquee as any for landing an interested party. But even she was often astounded at how men had a tendency to just melt at the first opportunity when she turned up the heat. Really, she wasn’t that attractive. Not stop traffic with a swish of your hair attractive at any rate.

  The schedule flashing on the LED screen over the performance floor announced that the night’s rodeo would be played out in two parts: bucking broncos at the head, horsemanship in the rear. She suppressed a chuckle when she thought of that part as the ass-end of the program. The steady hum of the crowd burbled into a roar as the lineup of bulls and riders flowed from the speakers against a backdrop of hardcore, electric guitar-infused country twang.

  As she began to slow her mind and center herself in the moment, letting the auras of the people around her take shape in her eyes, she realized how peculiar the world was. Prior to today, Riona knew only that there was such a thing as rodeos, but it had as much relevance to her life as the price of kimchee in Korea. There were thousands of people in the arena, a whole culture with its factions, fanatics, and freaks, deeply entrenched in a world heretofore unknown to her.

  If she hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn she’d walked in to the stables at Churchill Downs rather than the back of the Worchester Convention Center. Only here, instead of the stall’s walls being built of wood and nail, temporary plywood and steel erections delineated the spaces. Workers bustled up and down the aisles, carrying hay, hauling saddles, or chewing the fat. Everyone eyeballed her with some combination of suspicion, confusion, and/or humor. Clearly the newish quality of her flannels wasn’t fooling anyone into thinking she really belonged here.

  Finally, one cowboy—complete with leather chaps, a checkered, long-sleeved shirt, and a dangerously sexy grin—stepped away from his station to accost her.

  “Ma’am, you sure you supposed to be back here?”

  “Um … No?” Schooling her features to tone down her traditional sarcasm, she tried to come off as civil and well-intentioned. And maybe, just a tad flirty. “I’m looking for someone. I’m not sure where he’ll be.”

  “Well, I know most of the people back here. Maybe I can help you. Who you looking for?”

  “I’m not sure, I don’t know his name or what he looks like. I just know I’ll know him when I see him.”

  His teeth were so amazingly white. What did he do, gargle with bleach? “Do you know which event he rides in? He a rider at all? ”

  “Not sure on that one, either.” She did her best to come off coquettish, because she definitely had this Rough Rider blushing now.

  He nodded, cupping his chin with his hand. “I see. You’re looking for someone, but you don’t know what he looks like, and you don’t know what his name is. Isn’t that just … so odd.”

  Tex put two fingers in his pie hole and let out the shrillest whistle she’d ever heard not produced by a dolphin in a waterpark.

  “Security!”

  Riona turned in a panic and saw two uniformed men at the end of the corridor, leaning out from the wall and trying to eyeball her position.

  “This young lady here needs help finding her way out.”

  “What the fuck?” Screw being nice. “Listen, Rhinestone Crow-boy, I’m not doing anything to you. What the hell?”

  “Ma’am, after what happened in Tulsa, we don’t take kindly to your type. Y’all come back here looking to save a horse so you can sell your story to the broadsheets and have a little memento that gets you a check every month. I’m tired of you bronco-loving betties making a floozy of yourself like this. Get on out to the stands and watch it from there, if you want, but nonna us gonna be your
meal ticket tonight.”

  By this time, both the security guards and the attention of everyone in the corridor had found her. Thing 1 and Thing 2 both hooked an arm around Riona’s as she continued to argue.

  “Meal ticket? Save a horse? What the Jim Dandy fuck are you talking about?”

  Security guard left chuckled. “Ya know the song: save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

  To which security guard right added, “But this one wouldn’t be too bad a filly, no? You sure you want us to throw her out, Luke? Looks like she’s got you redder than a Cheeto in a chip bag.”

  “Sure do. Best get her out before she bats those pretty little eye lashes of hers again or frightens Arrow here too much.”

  He pulled on the reins of a horse that heretofore had been concealed within the walls of its stall. The dark black beast huffed when its onyx eyes caught sight of her. Riona stilled, enraptured by the animal’s beauty. Even without moving, its grace and majesty awed her.

  “Yup, she’s a beaut’, isn’t she?” the security guard on her right. “All balls though. Bucks harder than a Texas whore if anyone but Luke or her owner tries to ride her. She’s hell on hooves, tell you that.”

  “Yup,” the other guard concurred as they paused a few feet away to both take in and appreciate survey of the horse. “Beautiful and deadly. Only horse in this show with casualty figures. Wins almost every show, though. Worth the risk.”

  “Did you say, she killed someone?” Riona’s head pitched left, reassessing the vision before her. As Luke mounted the horse in a swift, liquid maneuver, she tried to believe what she was seeing. Like stock brokers, animals, while having emotions and personalities, didn’t have souls. Hence, they shouldn’t have an aura. But this horse did, and it burst in to flames around the edges the moment the cowboy mounted her. It reminded Riona of someone cocking back the hammer of a rifle; it was like the horse was loaded and ready to serve.

  The horse was a demon? All Riona’s training and research, albeit rushed and incomplete, told her that couldn’t be so. But there was no denying what lay before her. Hellfire, hot and steady, burned around the edges of the beast. “Impossible.”

  “An accident, of course,” one of the guards confirmed. She wasn’t sure which one; her attention focused in on the dark equine. “Accidents happen, you know. But they swear that Arrow smiled when the rider fell underneath her and was trampled. Ain’t no one but Luke had the courage to ride her since.”

  Magic that knew its purpose began to tickle her finger tips, beckoning her to vanquish the unholy. Hesitation could be deadly, but Riona didn’t know if she was seeing things. Best to consult Dee and Jerry first, she thought. After all, if the horse was part of the rodeo’s lineup, she’d be seeing Arrow again soon.

  “I can’t wait to see him ride,” Riona huffed out, feeling herself smile. The effervescent sensation, one she’d been in opposition to for too long, tempted her to suppress it. She couldn’t. Something seething and joyous bubbled to the surface, as though ending this horse was more than her job, it was her purpose.

  When the silky southern lilt of the newly arrived well-clad man behind her spoke, it only spiked that sensation. “Perhaps the little lady would like to watch the show with me.”

  The security guards wilted away, leaving Riona’s hands free and her heart, pounding. Tall, built, and full of a rage only seen with the magical eye, the stranger instantly made her whole being, both soul and body, tremble.

  He offered a hand, and with others on the periphery of their position, she felt obliged to play along and shake it. His skin burned in her grip. He used their connection to draw her in, his whisper into her ear setting her whole being on high alert. There was no doubt what his presence did to her body; just the feel of his breath on her neck had her aching and wanton.

  “This here’s the last place in the world I’d expect to find the Keystone,” he laughed.

  She arched her head and returned the murmur. “I might say the same about a fallen angel.”

  Chapter 12

  Jerry caught sight of Dee waving down a beer vendor trolling the stands. The idea of a cool Pabst didn’t exactly sound bad. Sauntering over, he joined the demigod, pulling out a ten spot to hand to the vendor in exchange for some grog.

  “See anything?”

  Dee leaned back against the railing of the stands and pulled a deep chug, smacking his lips in the wake. “Nope. You?”

  “Nothing evil. Some things that are probably illegal under Commonwealth law, but nothing wadding up my panties.”

  His eyes surveyed the competition going on in the middle ring. Cowboys—and one brave cowgirl—became rag dolls when trying to endure the wrath of the beasts they were strapped to. The moment they fell to earth, the clowns rushed in to distract the bucking bull, letting the rider scurry away with the last shreds of their bravery intact.

  “Never understood the appeal myself,” Dee said, pointing to the ring. “My wife was from Texas. Grew up watching this stuff. Loved it. Me? Totally perplexed.”

  Jerry stilled, not really knowing how to answer. He’d had nothing to do with the fall of that particular pillar, so he shouldn’t feel guilt. Yet, knowing Dee’s wife had served and died, shame niggled at his insides. “You must miss her.”

  Dee coughed a laugh. “They say time heals all wounds, but they fucking lie.”

  “Now I get it.”

  The demigod lowered his bottle and half-turn his body, his face a mask of confusion.

  “Why you hate me so much,” Jerry said in response to the obvious but unspoken question. “I came back from the dead, and I didn’t deserve it. Clare deserved that, and a whole hell of a lot more, but was taken from you nonetheless. I wish I could explain it, Dee. It’s so un-fucking-fair, but it wasn’t my decision. I’m not sure why a fuck-up like me gets a second chance while someone like Clare never did. I don’t know why I’m here.”

  “Just as long as it ain’t for Riona, I don’t really give a flying,” Dee returned, standing up and turning towards Jerry. “She loved Marc, and just because you’re filling his shoes doesn’t mean you stand a shot of ‘filling his shoes,’ get?”

  “Yeah, get.” Jerry nodded before taking a step closer to Dee. The demigod had a good six inches over him, but size didn’t matter much when you didn’t need muscles to inflict pain. “I know I flirt and tease, but that’s just who I am. There’s still a huge old question mark on my papers under ‘purpose.’ I think it has something to do with Marc, actually.”

  “To give us the inside scoop?” All hostility in Dee’s voice was gone. He focused in on Jerry, almost pleading him to answer.

  “For better or worse, I have a good idea of what he’ll be capable of, of how a demon thinks, works, plans. After all, I was in his position for two thousand years. Every demon is different, but in so many ways, every demon is the same.”

  “You’ll keep her from getting herself damned, yes?” Dee turned back to the show, focusing on the bulls.

  “I’ll do everything within my will,” Jerry assured. He took out his phone and checked the time. “We should probably head back to the entry and find her. See if she found anything.”

  Dee extended a hand and pointed at the far end of the ring, just beyond the protective fencing of the inner show floor. “I think someone found her.”

  “Fuck in a freezer, Dee!” Jerry shot away from the stands and started working his way against the crowd. “Shit, shit, shit. Summon Ramiel. We’re going to need him pronto.”

  Dee tried to follow, but his width made maneuvering among plaid acres arduous. “Ramiel can’t get involved in demon battles. You know that.”

  “I know,” Jerry confirmed, coming to a standstill where the crowd bottlenecked by the stable entrance. “But that ain’t any demon she’s with.”

  Sulfuric fumes cut at her senses, turning the petty contents in her stomach. As the burn in her lungs intensified, a tickle in her throat brought on a round of coughing. The angel before her studied her with humor, slipp
ing his arm around her backside and leading her forward.

  “You’re afraid,” he said.

  Riona chanced to look directly in his eyes. “I am, but don’t let that fill you with false hope. I can still hit like a drunk sailor, and you look pretty fleshy right now.”

  The sentiment drew a laugh as he put his arm around her and drew her towards Arrow. “No need to fret, Riona. You’re embargoed. Neither myself nor any other demon, or even Grigori, can touch you for the moment.” He surveyed her figure from tip to toe with an approving glance. “A shame. I’m sure there’s many who would jump at the opportunity to touch you in any way.”

  “I should be flattered?” she asked. Arrow huffed out at her. The draw she felt to this horse unnerved her. Dueling temptations battled within; she both wanted to ride, and half-wished she had her father’s dagger on hand to stab the thing in the neck. “Arrow has killed, huh?”

  He nodded as he reached out and laced his fingers into the horse’s mane. “Lefty and Switch told you, I see.” The methodic strokes matched with heavy-lidded amber eyes made her insides squirm, and not in an entirely unpleasant way.

  “Yes, Arrow isn’t the most gentle of beasts. She’s made to kill. By the creator Himself, in fact. Putting her in these bucking bronco shows … Well, it hardly satisfies her lust for destruction, but every so often she gets a little out of hand and things end tragically. She’s tasted the blood of many a men through the centuries. What’s a few cowboys or rodeo clowns here and there?” He leaned towards Riona. “Would you like to ride her?”

  Yes. “No.”

  “All for the best. It’s almost her time in the ring anyhow. Do you know she’s the only filly this side of the Hell who can face down a two-ton bull and come away unscathed? Present company excepted, of course. Luke, if you don’t mind.” The angel held the reins out to the cowboy, who took it without hesitation. “Clearly there’s more to this Keystone than meets the eye. No wonder you contributed to vanquishing my brother. I can see in your eyes how much you want to mount. And I’m not just talking about the horse. Do you know why that is?”