Angels of Vengeance

by David Thompson

  Then something appeared that turned him from a fat, lazy tomcat into an arched back, screeching banshee. His tail bottle-brushed and poked stiffly out.

  The noise made Dan leap up, confused. He stumbled out into the hallway, pulling a robe around himself. He snapped on the light and saw that Dude about to lose his shit. The cat crouched on the floor, gazing with fear at the ceiling above the hallway closet. Dan started forward, then froze in his tracks.

  A shadow hovered by the closet, floating near the ceiling. Two red eyes appeared. Dan's mouth dropped open.

  "What the hell is wrong with Dude?" Megaera appeared behind him. She wore one of Dan's dress shirts, and was buttoning it as she observed the apparition on the ceiling. She gently pushed past Dan, and said, "What in the wide world of fuck do we have here?"

  The darkness shifted and moved to the floor, solidifying into Sorath. He let loose a loud roar, his breath making Megaera's hair fly back. Dude ducked and ran through Dan's legs for the living room, his paws scrabbling for purchase on the wooden floor.

  Megaera's wings materialized, quaking in anger. Dan was knocked back and his eyes were darting between the demon and the wings. Sorath roared again, his breath blowing so hard that Dan had to turn his head.

  Then the demon was gone.

  Meg folded her wings away as she spun and marched to the bedroom. Dan followed and stood watching as Meg tossed him his shirt and dug around for her dress.

  "What the hell was that!" Dan almost shouted as he regained his voice.

  "Not what, a who, sweetie," She answered as she tied her dress at the side, smoothed it across her thighs, then sat on the bed and began to tie her sandals. "The demon Sorath, to be exact."

  "THAT was a demon?" Dan pointed at the door. "Hey. Your mother said --"

  "She said what?" Megaera asked as she looked at Dan. "Never mind, I plan to ask her."

  "What was it doing here?"

  "I plan to find out about that as well." Megaera stopped on her way out of the door. She smiled and gave him a small kiss.

  "What were those –" Dan touched her back.

  "Those? Get used to them." She smiled and disappeared.

  Dan was alone in the bedroom. Quickly, he snapped on the light, then dressed, and began looking for Dude.

  He found him on the dining-table, nibbling on leftover Ibis. He picked up the wine bottle, smelled it, then stuffed the cork back into it. He rummaged around in the kitchen closet until he found a small paper bag and he put the bottle into the bag. Out of habit, he filled out an evidence tag and tied it to the bottle, then folded the bag closed. He took out several saved takeout containers and went back to the dining room table and began scooping leftovers into the white Styrofoam squares.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Furies House

  Megaera stormed into the living room where Alecto and Tisiphone sat cleaning weapons. Their breastplates were stacked atop a rug on the floor. Swords, spears, and other various lethal examples of late Bronze Age metallurgy rested against the couch and coffee table. It was a collection that would cause an archeologist to break out in a sweat.

  Megaera halted in front of her sisters. Her hands were on her hips and her eyes flashing in anger.

  "What the fuck happened?" Megaera demanded. "I was just paid a visit by Sorath!"

  "Yes, we know, he's escaped his cell in Tartarus. He was possessing a target and I had no idea because some people around here keep things a secret," Tisiphone said, looking back towards the kitchen. Megaera followed her gaze and saw Gaia fussing over Brianna.

  "What's she still doing here?" Megaera asked. "Hasn't her killer been taken care of? So, why's she still bloody hanging around?"

  "You need to ask mother about that as well," Alecto said, closing one eye, and squinting down the length of a bronze short sword. It passed inspection. It went into one pile and Alecto picked up another weapon, a double-bladed throwing axe.

  Megaera turned and went over to the weapons wall. Her double-concave bow was still there but it needed a new string. She inspected the bow: The bow was still looking good, she wasn't so sure about the wooden areas and the sinew that bound the parts together was holding up nicely. She placed it on the floor, against the wall. Next up was the quiver. She carefully lifted it and inspected the old arrows. Serviceable, but she should consider making a few more, as soon as she found a source of black flint.

  She stepped back and looked at the old breastplate. It was tarnished and needed a lot of work. It was the only breastplate without any enameling or other coloration. She preferred the pure bronze color. How it used to shine!

  She started to reach for the breastplate when she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. The pain made her gasp and she sat down heavily on the floor.

  Alecto looked up, annoyed. "Too much intercourse, darling?"

  "It's those mortal men, insatiable appetites," Tisiphone observed.

  "I wouldn't know, I stick with our own kind," Alecto admitted as she buffed a stubborn spot on the axe. All the weapons had acquired a light patina, but it was coming off with a bit of rubbing.

  Megaera managed to stand up, breathing deeply.

  "Might be that damned bird you came home with yesterday. I told you it looked nasty, stick with duck or domestic chicken," Tisiphone said, picking up her breastplate and examining it. "But, no, you cooked it for that mortal."

  "Would you please just shut up about Dan! I need to know what happened," Megaera shot back as she went to the kitchen. The pain passed as quick as it had started.

  In the kitchen, she glared at Brianna and sat down facing Gaia.

  "Mother," she whispered. "What's with her?" She tilted the top of her head towards Brianna.

  "Hey, I'm right here. OK? If you have anything to say, say it to me!" Brianna was suddenly quite angry.

  "Alright. Go home, go into the light or where-ever the fuck your kind goes after a petition is answered." Megaera's eye were narrow slits, aimed at Brianna.

  "Stop, it, please," Gaia said. "Megaera, I only figured out what had happened this afternoon. Hermes confirms my worst fears: Sorath is out, he tricked Hades and then possessed a mortal to help him regain his strength. Hermes believes he's plotting to kick off what the humans call 'the Armageddon.'"

  "Anyone know where the bastard got to after he showed himself to me tonight?"

  "I have no idea. I would image he's back in Tartarus and raising an army."

  "How much time do we have?"

  "Not a lot, I'm certain."

  Megaera glanced at Brianna. "What's the story with her?"

  "She's not being pulled to go anywhere, so it means this is where she needs to be," Gaia said, taking a moment to sip her tea.

  "Mother just told me that I'm a demi-goddess, so I can stick around if I feel like it, and since I have nowhere else to go..."

  "How the hell are you a demi-goddess?" Megaera snapped, stared at the girl, her eyes almost glowing red.

  "No idea, but there was a goddess who gave birth to a demi-goddess who was my great, something-something grandmother." Brianna smiled smugly.

  "Then that'd mean..." Megaera thought for a moment. "That's why he saw me! He carries the blood of an immortal!"

  "Yes," Gaia confirmed.

  Megaera stood. "I'm going to tend to Sally. We'll need her at full speed when this shit goes down."

  "Oh my god! Is that your horse? The white one?" Brianna said, eyes wide.

  "She's a demonic who only chooses to look like a horse, kid," Megaera said as she left the kitchen.

  "This place is so cool!" Brianna sat back, smiling. "Do you think I could go visit my uncle? I bet he can see me if I try hard enough."

  "Not now, dear," Gaia said. "Too much is going on in his life right now to try and make contact. Later, just be patient."

  ***

  San Marin PD

  The following morning, Dan was spotted by Jones as he crossed the bullpen. He was standing by the captain's office as Dan entered the building, carrying a s
hopping bag filled with samples in evidence bags.

  "What's up, buddy?" Jones asked as he intercepted Dan.

  "Just having Dylan test some possibly tainted food samples." Dan lifted the bag.

  "Is she that bad a cook?"

  "What? Who?"

  "The new girlfriend. I know that look, buddy!" Jones grinned, showing off a row of super white teeth. "But, bad food isn't the way to a guy's heart."

  "No idea what you're talking about. Any word from that FBI profiler? His supervisor?" Dan asked.

  "No word from him, but the supervisor is waiting in Peterson's office."

  "When were you planning to tell me?"

  "As soon as I saw you, boss!" Jones said.

  "Give me a second to drop this off, then I'll be right over." Dan turned and headed towards the Tech Lab.

  In a few minutes, Dan knocked on the Chief's door and pushed it open.

  Inside the medium sized office, Chief Peterson was speaking softly with a tall man dressed in tan knit shirt and blue slacks. The visitor had a gold badge hooked to his belt and a card on a lanyard with a large FBI logo. Jones was seated in a corner.

  The FBI agent stood when Dan entered.

  "Lieutenant Lanahan, this is Special Agent Henderson," Peterson made the brief introductions.

  Dan reached out and shook his hand, "Call me Dan."

  "Paul." The tanned man replied.

  Dan sized him up: Typical federal man, in shape, muscled arms, inquisitive brown eyes, short cut reddish hair, and a boyish face. Paul sat back down, and Dan chose the other chair. Jones stayed in his chair in the corner.

  "Agent Henderson was just telling me he's been trying to track down this profiler for the past month," Peterson told Dan, then he nodded at Paul to continue.

  "He was to be transferred to my field office in Sacramento, but he dropped out of sight after he left the field office in Atlanta," Paul explained as he leaned back in his chair. "Right before he left, I received his latest psych evaluation, with the recommendation that he be pulled from duty and kept for observation. He was put on administrative leave, but the transfer still went through."

  Paul reached down the pulled a file folder out of a satchel. He passed it to Dan.

  "Not good news," Paul continued. "His prior evaluation was low, and based upon it, his supervisor suggested another in six months."

  Dan skimmed the report. The page was censored so badly that he only saw a few words. He held the paper up. "Looks like a classified report."

  "I'm sorry, but for the most part, that evaluation is sensitive. Banks was always a very obsessive man, but in the last few years, he's gotten worse. A year ago, he disappeared and reappeared a week later with no memory of where he'd been. That's when he became overly obsessed with this one murder suspect we've tracking," Paul explained, taking the file folder back.

  "The same one that hit here?" Dan looked back at Jones, then to Peterson. "He hit twice."

  Paul nodded. "Your chief was bringing me up to speed on that one. He tells me that Agent Banks hasn't been seen since he dropped by here after the murder of the Oberon girl."

  "I'm not on that one," Dan said.

  "It's his niece," Peterson explained.

  "Oh, I am very sorry to hear that."

  Dan waved off the sympathy. "So, what about Banks?"

  "I traced him here. Just this past weekend, his credit card was used to pay for a room in San Luis Obispo. And now, he's simply gone. His car was found at the hotel there, but the hotel manager said he never checked out. They'd entered his room and found his luggage still there, untouched. The manager called my office. I was in a conference in DC, so I flew straight to LA and drove up. I was with a team in that hotel room, and that’s when I got your Jones' message, so I drove on down here," Paul told Dan as he replaced the file folder into his satchel. "The agent who took your call last week had no idea it was important."

  "Any clue what happened to your guy?" Jones asked.

  "No idea. He'll either show, like he did that last time in Atlanta, or we'll never know."

  "Maybe he got too close to this serial killer," Jones pointed out.

  Paul laughed. "Doubtful. He was just collecting data and putting together a profile."

  "I'll take your word for that one," Jones replied.

  "All I can ask is, if you hear from him, let me know," Paul said as he stood up. "I'll be in San Luis Obispo, trying to trace him from there. Someone might remember seeing him. He had a habit of hitting local bars when traveling."

  "Yeah," Jones said. "I saw him in a small bar here the night officer Franklin was murdered."

  "What was he doing?" Paul asked.

  "He was sitting at the back, just crowd watching," Jones replied. "Didn't seem interested in anything except his drink. I was watching a game with Duffy and Kelsey, then I had to get home. He stayed where he was, as far as I could determine."

  "I'll want to question the bartender there, and your officer Duffy." Paul was making notes. "Is this a regular hangout?'

  "Yes," Jones replied. "A lot of cops hang out there."

  "Duffy's last name is McAdams, and I'll make him available to you. Who was the bartender that night?" Chief Peterson interjected.

  "Amanda Johnson," Jones replied. "My team has already questioned her. But we should show her a photo of Banks, see if she remembers anything."

  "Sounds good." Paul stood. Dan and Jones got up.

  "I'll drive," Jones volunteered.

  The bar was just starting to open when the police cruiser pulled into the small parking lot. The three men got out and went to the main entrance. It was locked, so Jones hammered on the door.

  "Nothing like a good cop knock to bring someone running," Jones observed.

  "Or make them run out the back," Dan pointed out.

  The door opened, and the blonde bartender, Amanda, stuck her head out.

  "You know we don't open for another fifteen, right?" She said, squinting into the sun.

  "Sorry, but we have a FBI agent here who'd like to ask you some questions about the other night, when our officer disappeared," Dan said, tilting his head towards Paul.

  Amanda sighed, and opened the door to allow the men to enter. She led them to the bar, then went behind it to begin stocking. She started placing bottles of beer into the cooler, towels over the tops of the bottles.

  "I always wondered why you did that," Jones asked.

  "I had some explode when I first started out as a bartender, I was shown this trick to keep it from happening," she told him while she loaded the cooler.

  "Never thought of that," Jones mused. Then he was all business. "Amanda, this is Paul Henderson, FBI. Remember other night? I was here with Duffy and Kelsey, there was another man sitting over by the back, at that small table?" Jones tilted his head to the back wall.

  "I need to know if you remember that man talking to anyone or what he might have been doing," Paul asked.

  "I have no idea," Amanda said, leaning on the bar. "We had a nice crowd. I barely remember serving this big guy, much less some wall flower."

  "Just to be sure, does this man look familiar," Paul showed her a file photo of Kyle Banks.

  "Damn, what pale eyes," Amanda remarked. She picked up the photo and inspected it carefully. "Other than that, he looks like a hundred different men I see on most weekends, sorry."

  Paul slipped it back into his jacket pocket and looked around. Dan suddenly yawned, wide enough to cause his jaw to crack.

  Amanda turned and came back with a cup of coffee. "Here, Lanahan, you look like you haven't slept in a week."

  "Thank you," Dan said, then sipped. He made a face.

  "Sorry, that's last night's pot, reheated. If you want, I can start another pot," Amanda offered.

  Dan shook his head, and sipped again. "Thank you, no. I guess we should be getting back."

  Paul produced a business card. "If you recall anything, or of you review the video from that night, let me know." Paul indicated a hidden camera
behind the bar.

  "I gave that disc to Jones," Amanda replied. She put the card in her back pocket.

  The three men left together. Outside, Dan yawned again. Paul watched as Jones smiled.

  "He's got himself a new girlfriend. He's the jealous kind, won't even tell me her name," Jones said, laughing.

  When they had all gotten into the car, Dan rested his head back. "Can you just take me by my house? The garage should have dropped off my car this morning."

  "What type of car do you drive, Dan?" Paul asked.

  "Dodge. A Charger."

  "Ah, ok. You see, that's why I drive foreign cars. Domestic cars are just problems waiting to happen," Paul said from the backseat.

  "What do you drive?" Jones asked.

  "A Honda."

  "Man, for a federal agent, you're not too smart. Those are made in the good old US of A." He laughed as he headed the car towards Dan's street.

  Jones stopped the car at the curb. Parked in the driveway was a black Dodge Charger. Dan got out and smiled. Finally! Dan walked to the car and ran a hand across the top.

  Jones slid his window down as Paul got into the front seat. "I'll see you back at the office," he shouted.

  Dan just nodded and started for his front door. He stopped and checked the mail box. Inside, he found his car keys. He grinned and opened his front door.

  He stepped inside and was instantly on edge.

  There was a smell in the air, lemon, or something citrus. He frowned and looked back outside. Jones and Paul had already driven away.

  He walked into the living room and was shocked to find it spotless. He quietly walked into the kitchen. The same situation: No file folders, no dishes waiting to be washed. Dan was puzzled. He'd never heard of a burglar breaking in and cleaning.

  He noticed movement in the backyard. Curious, he opened the backdoor and went out onto the small porch and looked around.

  His eyes stopped on a beautiful white horse that was grazing on the grass. The horse lifted her head and gazed at Dan. She trotted to him and began sniffing him from head to knees. She shook her head and went back to grazing.