Demigod Down

by Kim Schubert

  I smiled, trying to sound as unthreatening as possible, “I’m Olivia. I wanted to ask you a few questions about the talking snake you reported.”

  Giving me the once over, she demanded, “You from the papers?”

  “No,” I answered, unsure where this line of questioning was going.

  She huffed, “What do you want with it?”

  “If it is killing people, than I plan to end it,” I answered easily.

  She laughed out right, moving back to let me in, “I gotta hear how you plan on doing that.”

  Waddling away, I followed her neon yellow tank top and tie dyed cloth shorts through stacks and stacks of magazines and newspapers. Looking around, I couldn’t see a window, but only a small path that twisted through the front room until we made to it the immaculately cleaned kitchen. Not a speck of dust existed here as it did in the front room.

  I took in the pristine 1960’s pearl white table with a shrug before sliding into a seat, equally impressed, and slightly unnerved, by the equally white cabinets and tile. The effect was an overwhelming white out and I blinked to adjust my eyes I watched Rosalyn putter around the kitchen, pulling down delicate tea cups.

  “So?” Rosalyn asked filling a kettle with water before placing it on the stove.

  I raised an eyebrow, uncertain what she was asking.

  With a huff, she asked, “So how do you plan on killing a giant talking snake directly from the pages of the Bible?”

  I shrugged, “I feel pretty confident in beheading.”

  Rosalyn raised a cranberry-colored eyebrow at me. “You do understand the significance of the snake?”

  “I do not.” I answered, very uncomfortable with the way this conversation was headed.

  “Do you not read your bible, young lady?” Rosalind asked hauntingly.

  “I do not.” I answered, careful to keep my voice neutral.

  Rosalyn took the tea kettle off the stove when it began to screech, pouring us both a cup. Her eyes hardly left me and I began tapping my fingers with irritation.

  “Let it seep.” Rosalyn commanded me, setting the cup in front of me.

  Removing my hands from the cup, I went back to tapping.

  “The book of Genesis details how the talking snake convinced Eve to taste the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil,” Rosalyn stated, watching me closely.

  “And that is a bad thing?” I guessed by her tone.

  She snorted. “Anything deemed by our Lord and savior as ‘off limits’ is most certainly a bad thing,” Rosalyn informed me.

  I shifted in the firm seat, losing my patience quickly. I didn’t need a summary of the bible, I just wanted to kill the damn thing if it was killing innocents. Hell, at this point I just wanted to kill something.

  “To punish Adam and Eve God cast them out of the Garden,” Roslyn continued as I watched her, cursing the waste of my time.

  “You saw this Biblical snake at the park a few miles away?” I asked, trying to get this conversation back on track.

  “I did,” she said, nodding deeply, “It spoke to me of the glory that existed with him in the world beyond, all the amazing, wondrous dreams of a better life could be achieved if I just followed him.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, curious.

  “I condemned him in the name of the Lord, back to the Devil from whence he came,” she told me proudly. “But others have not been as fortunate.” She shook her head sadly. “They have been tempted away from the path of the Lord and onto Satan’s path of wickedness.”

  “How do you know the snake killed someone?” I asked.

  Lumbering up from her seat, she went into the front room. I listened as she rustled around, shifting massive amounts of paper and groaning.

  “Well, are you coming in here or what?” she bellowed at me. I should have seen that one coming - dirty and pristine don’t mix.

  Standing up, I followed her out as she handed me a dusty stack of newspapers. “Four missing persons in the last six weeks, no body, no trace evidence, and they all were walking home past the park at dark,” Rosalyn stated, because everything bad sneaks out at dark. At least it did in her eyes.

  Rosalyn became distracted with the rest of her mess as I flipped through the articles. She was correct that each missing person did, according to the most direct route, pass right by the park. I wondered where they were coming from. The article listed Detective O’Conner as the officer in charge.

  Pulling out my phone, I took a picture of the article and the list of missing names before returning my attention back to Roslyn. She was busy muttering to herself, sorting and organizing. I took a few steps closer to the door, calling out, “Thank you for your help,” before I turned and booked it.

  Humans, they are so damn strange.

  …

  The police station was twenty minutes from the park. I made it in ten. It was a squat gray building, with little character, and an aura that rank of beaten down depression. Steeling myself and my emotions, I exited the SUV under the light rain, making my way quickly to the uninviting steel and glass building.

  Puling open the door, I was greeted by an open office style building with a receptionist sitting behind an ugly gray counter.

  “Can I help you?” she asked from her looming pile of paper work.

  “Is Detective O’Conner here?” I asked leaning against the drab desk.

  Without raising her auburn head, she dialed on speaker phone. “O’Conner you got another prostitute here to see you,” before going back to her work.

  I looked down at myself. Alright my white tank might be a little low cut, but my leather pants, matching jacket, and boots, certainly were not. However, I was getting what I wanted.

  O’Conner turned a corner. I saw a mop of strawberry blonde hair, disheveled and weary. He stopped dead in his tracks, as his eyes roved over me. Pulling the tooth pick out of his mouth, he smiled taking years off his age, a grin filled with mischief, “If you are a prostitute I’m willing to bet you make more than me.”

  I laughed, the natural assumption, as Hash had foolishly made, was that since we were exceptionally talented in the bedroom, we wouldn’t mind charging for it. But sleeping with another willingly was an open door into our emotions and there wasn’t enough money in the world for me to make that commitment to a stranger.

  “I’m Olivia, here about the giant talking snake.” I stated, expecting a disbelieving response.

  Instead, O’Conner rubbed his neck internally debating as his intelligent eyes took in my outfit again. With a sigh, he responded, “I could use the help, follow me.” He led the way back to his desk.

  Tucked into a dimly lit corner of the precinct, O’Conner sat heavily at his desk as I took the chair at the end of his desk, putting the desk on my right as he began typing onto the computer.

  He paused a moment re-organizing the files on his desk before he looked back at me focused on the case at hand. “What do you know so far?”

  “Not much,” I answered leaning back in the chair, lacing my hands against my stomach, “a giant talking snake is rumored to be eating people.”

  O’Conner shook his head, flipping open a file. “I swear I thought this image was doctored,” he muttered before pushing it over to me.

  Tilting my head, I looked into the brilliant yellow eyes of the snake reflecting the cameras flash as it stood at least six feet tall. The cream underbelly was smooth against the dark green scales. The tail pooled behind it and from the mouth hung large fangs as a forked tongue darted out.

  “Was the photo doctored at all?” I asked, looking back up at him.

  “Nothing our tech team could find,” he answered, leaning back in his chair.

  “Who took the photo?” I asked, leafing through the file.

  “Roslyn Antigua,” he answered.

  I nodded, “I talked to her earlier.”

  “She tell you her theory about Satan sending the snake to collect the wicked?” he shook his head, chuckling.

/>   “No, but I did get a lesson on the Bible and the evil snake,” tapping my fingers against the glossy photo.

  “Fanatics.” He muttered, looking down at his vibrating phone, before turning his attention back to me. “So you want to tag along on the stake out tonight?” he asked, grinning. “Or should I call it a snake out?”

  I couldn’t help the laugh. “I am so in.”

  “Wonderful, I’ve never had such an intriguing stake out partner before.” O’Conner stated, standing up before sliding his jacket off the back of his chair and onto his shoulders.

  I raised an eyebrow, watching him as I stood, “Don’t you want to know who I am with?”

  “Naw, what will we have to talk about tonight?” he said, striding away before turning back to yell, “Ten p.m. back here.”

  I nodded, watching him walk away. Interesting.

  Heading back out I made sure to blow a kiss to the receptionist, charging it with desire before heading back to my car. I had time to kill before the stake out, I should try and get some sleep, right after I looked up the evil Biblical snake.

  …

  With a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and a six pack of beer, I sat cross-legged in the hotel bed starring dejectedly at the search results. They were numerous and boring.

  Clicking on the first one, I had to read the first paragraph three times. My mind kept wandering. Snakes were numerous in the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament, not that I had any idea what the difference was, but I was fairly confident one of those was the Bible Roslyn had been referring to.

  Snakes were an evil symbol - a symbol of chaos and fertility. According to this website, the snake once slithered upright but was condemned to slither in the dirt for seducing Adam and Eve.

  Leaning back against the headrest, I scrapped the bottom of the ice cream container before draining my last beer and placing them both on the night stand. Something was bothering me, but sleep was currently more alluring than trying to piece together the reason my internal warning system was buzzing.

  …

  The dead demigod haunted my dreams, smug and still sleazy, not to mention greasy. He laughed at me. It started as a simple chuckle, growing into a stomach-holding laugh, and finally, I jerked awake.

  “Mother fucker!” I yelled, sitting upright sucking down air.

  The fucking air demigod had called the other one the God of chaos. Could it really be that simple? Did I really just stumble by chance onto the other demigod was that after me?

  It felt too easy and easy always meant trouble.

  I groaned, looking at the clock, I hadn’t slept long, but I needed to prepare for tonight. I hadn’t cleaned my guns in a few weeks. While they were not my favorite weapons, I preferred the up close and personal contact of my knives, guns had saved my ass more than once. I would be a fool not to use every weapon in my arsenal.

  …

  O’Conner was outside of the precinct, leaned up against a nondescript blue SUV pulling another drag off his cigarette gazing up at the sky. Sliding up next to him, I asked, “The stars whispering secrets to you?”

  He snorted, blowing out gray smoke before turning to me, “I wish.”

  “You ready?” He asked giving me a once over.

  Lifting up my jacket, I showed him my dual 40’s secured in the shoulder harnesses, before turning around, giving him a look at the knives at my back.

  “Who did you say you were with again?” he asked snuffing out his cigarette under his boot, watching me warily.

  I smiled and mock bowed “Olivia, head Executioner of the Supernatural Council.”

  “So your job is to execute people?”

  “No, my job is to execute rouge supernaturals. If I kill people I tend to get into trouble,” I clarified for him my eyes dancing with mischief.

  He nodded, apparently put slightly at ease by that statement as we moved to get into his SUV.

  Closing the doors solidly, he asked, “How do you define rouge supernaturals?”

  “Usually they kill supernaturals or humans without cause, occasionally they violate the Councils more severe laws,” I answered with a shrug.

  “But the Council doesn’t use any jails?” He drove us over to the park, singling as we left the police station parking lot.

  “Nope. We fine people extraordinary amounts of money when they irritate me or undermine the natural order of things, but usually when they go off the deep end, they really go off.”

  O’Conner rolled down this window resting his arm on the frame, “That seems harsh.”

  “Yet highly effective.” We pulled up to the abandoned park and we both swept the scene in front of us before getting out of the vehicle.

  “I suppose.” Satisfied , we both got out.

  “You prepared?” I watched his shoulders tense up as we both continued to scan the area.

  “Always, just not a fan of snakes, or bugs, or creepy crawling things in general.” He shivered.

  I patted him on the back as we made our way to the same table I had sat on earlier, “Don’t worry big boy, I’ll protect you.”

  His shoulders relaxed as his mischievous smile made an appearance. “I plan to take you up on that.” We slid onto the bench, each of us facing opposite directions.

  “Think Roslyn will show up?”

  “I hope not, last thing I need is a civilian getting in the way.” He leaned back, hands braced behind him. “If this giant snake actually exists.”

  “You doubt the picture?” I scanned the shadows.

  “I doubt anything I can’t see with my own eyes,” he replied warily. “And I have seen a lot.”

  “It’s draining,” I confirmed.

  “It can be,” he agreed shrugging, “I like to surround myself with beautiful women and whisky to drown my sorrows.”

  I laughed fully. “This gig must be cramping your style,” I informed him.

  “Eh, it’s not without its perks, for example I get to speed as often as I like,” O’Conner stated, scanning the area ahead of him. “It’s going to be awhile, if at all, the bewitching hour according to Rosalyn is after midnight.”

  “Of course it is.” I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck.

  A few drunk stragglers wondered through the park at an early hour, hooting and hollering. Casting a look back, O’Conner lit another cigarette, unconcerned with their antics.

  “I should probably warn you I am terrible at stake outs.” I warned O’Conner.

  He barked a short laugh. “Not a fan of staring alert for hours on end with the possibility of seeing nothing.”

  I groaned. “So painfully accurate.”

  O’Conner was far better at staying alert than I was, tracking shadows and listening intently for usual noises. It was also possible he was scared. I was annoyed and bored. My mind kept wandering back to Franks and the disaster that was the police department of St Ann. I couldn’t kill them all I realized with a huff.

  Since the vampires and shifters had revealed their presence to the human public, the government had pressed their noses into business that did not belong to them. Thankfully, I had kept control of the enforcement, mainly due to threatening, fear, and Gram’s superb manipulation. I wasn’t a fool though, I knew eventually they would try to expand their control in order to give themselves some sense of safety.

  The simple, pure, undiluted truth was that it didn’t take a supernatural to inflict widespread pain. Humans had plenty of evidence in their history of cruelty and suffering inflicted by humans on humans. I like to think that in the Supernatural community, we were more effective at eliminating those threats.

  I would like to think that it happened less, given the extreme consequences, but it also made it harder to track.

  I was so engrossed in my own musing that I didn’t even register the slithering creature approaching from my left, the light from the street lamps reflecting off its green and blue stripped hide until it was close enough to pounce.

  O’Conner had grown eerily still and I a
ssumed that he had also noticed it.

  “She is beautiful,” he whispered and without thinking, I turned to see what he was looking at.

  Another snake was in front of him, an arm’s length away, standing just as in the picture with creamy belly scales reflecting the moonlight. The hood extended as it swayed back and forth rhythmically.

  “O’Conner it’s a-“ my words ended in a yelp as the snake I had taken my eyes off pounced on me. I slid off the table with its momentum. Landing heavily on my back, I got my hands up just in time to keep the razor sharp fangs from piercing my jugular.

  “You fuckers are heavier than you look!” I groaned, feeling the slapping of the tail against my ankle. The muscles in my arms strained with the effort of keeping its fangs off of me. As enjoyable as this workout was, I couldn’t keep this up forever. With one final shove of strength, I pushed its head to the right thankful it kept the same pressure as its fangs buried into the soft grass and dirt at my shoulder.

  Not wasting a golden opportunity, I rolled off the knife strapped at my back, my legs still pinned by the snakes lower body, pulling it from the sheath in one swift move before slicing out into the thick scaled skin. The fucker was fast and what I had hoped would be a debilitating stab to the back of the head was a small nick to the side of its neck.

  Dammit.

  Silently, it coiled, its yellow eyes not leaving my own.

  “Thought you fuckers could speak?” I rasped out, balancing on the balls of my feet.

  The snake hissed as O’Conner’s voice reached me. “I understand,” he whispered. I took a risky glance in his direction, finding the snake far too close to him for my liking.

  Dammit.

  Changing the direction of my launch, I tackled O’Conner off the table, our shoulders taking the impact as we hit the ground and I forced us to roll away not listening to his soft cries of being ripped away from his ‘one true love’ in highly accented Irish.

  Scrambling into a crouch, I stowed my blade in favor of the dual guns keeping O’Conner’s dazed form behind me as the snake that had attacked me moved onto the table while O’Conner’s ‘beauty’ stood up again, revealing its pale cream belly to the moonlight.