Sin City Daemon

by Rick Newberry

  I stand up ready to tell her off.

  “Down, Fido.” Charlie Nguyen furrows her brow at me. “I’m on your side now, remember? The humans are truly ruining this world, but maybe, just maybe, there’s a better way to stop the disease than killing the patient.”

  Dixie sends me back to the couch with a nod of her head. I don’t want to sit down, but I can’t help it, it’s as if I were nudged by an invisible hand. Apparently, Dixie has been practicing her powers over the past two years. She scowls at the Daemon. “Listen Nguyen, just because Major Ransom wants you here, doesn’t mean I do or Aunt Rose for that matter.”

  “Ha. Why don’t you ask your aunt Rose about The Pit? I doubt if she’s ever told you bedtime stories of that little amusement park.”

  “Enough,” Colonel Dayton says. “This bickering has got to stop. We were all brought together in this house for a reason.” His gaze turns to Dixie. “Is there any way you can simply ask Jean what her plan is? What she wants of us—especially her?”

  “I can try, but it usually works the other way round. I generally have to wait for Major Ransom to contact me.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  All eyes turn to Charlie Nguyen. Dixie plops down in a leather armchair as if punched in the stomach.

  “Major Ransom is a strong one,” Charlie Nguyen says with a smirk, “for a human that is. She’s a determined soul. Her voice is clear and on point. I can talk to her whenever I want.”

  I swallow hard. Suddenly, it hits me: if Charlie Nguyen has been in contact with Major Ransom, then my presence here did not come from Dixie; that also means I have to re-evaluate my opinions of what the humans call the other side.

  Dixie shakes her head. “Major Ransom instructed me to have Colonel Dayton pick you up. I don’t understand the roundabout way of getting us all together.”

  “No?” Charlie Nguyen says with a sneer. “Isn’t it obvious? Are you not cautious in your movements? I know I am. The evil Daemons are always watching. Your major Ransom is a smart one. She told you to come here, asked me to wait at the Trop, made arrangements for the colonel to pick me up and, voila, we all meet here. Don’t you see? She did her best to mask our travels from them.”

  Dixie nods.

  “There’s just one thing she did not confide in me,” Charlie Nguyen says.

  “Oh?” Dixie asks, “And what’s that?”

  Charlie Nguyen stares at me and lowers her head. “Why the dog?”

  ****

  I can’t stand the constant squabbling and raised voices, and so I get up. If Dixie’s going to nudge me back in my seat again, she better use a damn strong push. “I agree with Charlie Nguyen.” That shuts everybody up. “Would somebody please tell me what I’m doing here—what we’re all doing here?”

  “They didn’t even explain to you what’s going on? How rude.” Charlie Nguyen sneers. “Your doggie pals are being put down…one by one, and your human pals didn’t even tell you about it? Quite rude, indeed.”

  Her words take a few seconds to sink in. What does she mean by my doggie pals? “You mean the survivors at Claremont?” The silence in the room is my answer. “Somebody’s killing them? Who?”

  Charlie Nguyen huffs. “They probably wouldn’t tell you even if they—”

  “We don’t know,” Colonel Dayton says, stepping over Charlie Nguyen’s words. “At first, we thought it random. You know, hunters out and about looking for coyotes, or kids shooting target practice; something of that sort.”

  “They’re being shot? Deliberately?”

  Charlie Nguyen smiles. “One by one.”

  “Shut up,” Cutty chimes in. He turns to Dixie. “Look, I thought Major Ransom was trying to help us. Why’d she want Miss Freak-show here involved? I’m pretty good at reading people, and I don’t like her, not one bit.”

  “Listen to me, ginger-boy.” Charlie Nguyen points a finger at Cutty. “If I wanted to, I could—”

  “You could what?” Dixie says.

  Charlie Nguyen scowls, lowers her finger, and says nothing.

  “That’s what I thought.” Dixie turns to me. “I was going to tell you, Adam. It’s so awful.” She shuffles to the center of the room. Even though she speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, her words are directed at me. “Aunt Rose and I started locating survivors a few months ago. They seemed so lost, their spirits crushed; no direction, no hope. They didn’t know how to live in the human world, and they would have perished in the desert—many of them did. So we began finding them and re-locating them to Claremont Estates where we thought they’d be safe. The first murder took place three nights ago.”

  The colonel stood up and continued the story. “The next night, another murder. The next night, another. That’s when Major Ransom suggested we bring you in. We need to do something to stop the killings.”

  “How touching,” Charlie Nguyen said, “your pity for that pack of hounds brings a tear to my eye. It really does.”

  Colonel Dayton points a finger at Nguyen. “Your people made them what they are. In any case, they’re no longer controlled by evil Daemons. They’re lost and afraid. They need help. I wouldn’t even treat—”

  “A dog that way?” Charlie Nguyen spits out.

  Colonel Dayton aims a cold stare at Charlie Nguyen. “I was going to say: I wouldn’t even treat you that way.”

  “You can’t treat anybody that way, man.” Cutty raised his voice. “I mean, it’s not their fault they got caught up in this. They’re like refugees, and that’s who the UN is supposed to help in times like these, right? But they won’t. Look at what they did to you, Adam. The police ain’t gonna help either, and forget the military. I figure it’s up to us to take care of them, teach ’em how to get along in the human world, then let them make their own choice: self-determination, right? I always been a self-determining kind of guy myself.”

  “Good for you, Cutty,” Dixie says.

  “But the murders have thrown everything out of whack.” Colonel Dayton shakes his head. “We’ve got to find out who’s at the bottom of it, and put an end to it.”

  “Yeah, okay, we get it.” Charlie Nguyen says. “Somebody’s got it out for these wolfhounds, and Major Ransom thinks you can find out who.”

  I stare at her, realizing the you she means is me. There are secret thoughts in this room, words unspoken. Everyone stares at me now. I don’t like the feeling that everybody knows something I don’t. “How am I supposed to do that? What can I do to stop the killings?”

  A voice drifts in from the kitchen. “Hello, everybody.” Aunt Rose appears and smiles. Her smile fades. “Nguyen.”

  “Rosalyn,” Charlie Nguyen says. “I thought something terrible happened. I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”

  “I’m quite well, thank you. Your concern is touching. How is everyone else? Do we need refreshments?”

  “Aunt Rose.” Dixie crosses the room and hugs her aunt.

  Aunt Rose beams at me. “Adam Steel, as I live and breathe. How are you, my boy? Did you have any trouble in your escape? No, of course you wouldn’t, Colonel Dayton is a very capable man.”

  The colonel winks at Aunt Rose. “Thank you, mum.”

  “Well then.” Aunt Rose takes Dixie’s hand in hers and clears her throat, “what has Adam been told about his part in the plan?”

  The silence in the room crawls across my skin. Why don’t they just tell me?

  “Nothing yet,” Dixie says.

  “You guys are starting to worry me,” I say. “There’s something going on here that—”

  Aunt Rose holds up her hand for quiet. She turns to the rocking chair. “And you, Nguyen? Are you prepared?”

  Charlie Nguyen nods. “Of course. Charlie Nguyen is always prepared.”

  “In that case, I have a suggestion.” Aunt Rose steps to the front door. “Colonel, and Mr. Cutty, would you please escort this back to wherever it is she came from.”

  Charlie Nguyen jumps out of the rocking chair. “How dare you—”

&
nbsp; “Be still. I merely think Adam should hear about his part from someone he feels comfortable with.” She turns to me and smiles. “Therefore, he and Dixie will remain here, I’m sure they have much to discuss.”

  “Oh my,” Charlie Nguyen says with a grin, “so that’s what they’re calling it now.”

  Dixie sidles next to me and places a hand on the small of my back. Her touch is comforting, but does little to ease my apprehension about the plan.

  Aunt Rose opens the door. “And I will return to Claremont, where I’ve been keeping an eye on things. We’ll all meet back here tomorrow—say noonish?”

  “Cutty and I will drop by to give you a hand at Claremont,” Colonel Dayton says. “After, we drop this off.”

  “I’ve never been so insulted in all my life.” Charlie Nguyen marches out of the house and down the walkway to the street.

  Aunt Rose winks at me. “Yes, she has. She just doesn’t know it.”

  “I heard that, Rosalyn,” Charlie Nguyen’s voice sails back from the sidewalk, “don’t think I didn’t. Charlie Nguyen hears everything.”

  Chapter Six

  Five o’clock in the afternoon and the sun starts sliding behind the Spring Mountains, the hottest part of the day. After re-confirming our rendezvous tomorrow, the others leave the house, and Dixie and I finally find ourselves alone. The only sound is the grandfather clock tick-tocking in the entry hall, and the whoosh of air from the circulating fans. I hardly notice any of it; my full focus rests on Dixie.

  “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

  She kisses me. “I promised you there’d be time for us.”

  Her arms around me feel comfortable and warm. She presses her body into mine, her head resting on my chest. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  I put my arms around her and kiss her. If she wants to make sure how I feel about her, this is the best way I know to answer.

  She pulls away a few inches. “It’s about Marco Ramirez.”

  Now it’s my turn to back up a little. “What do you mean? I don’t follow.”

  “Something Cutty said earlier.” She turns around and steps toward the fireplace. “He said we can’t rely on the military or the police to help us. I agree, both bound by protocols and procedure. The last thing we need is their involvement, but Marco’s different. He knows the truth about The Disaster, about the wolfhounds and Daemons. I didn’t want to get him involved, but we sure could use his help.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Why don’t you just call him?”

  “I want to know if it’s all right with you.”

  “I don’t understand. Of course, it’s okay with me. I can’t wait to see him.”

  She frowns. “Are you sure?”

  I cozy up next to her and slide my arms around her waist. “As long as that call can wait until tomorrow morning.” I lean in and press my lips against hers, covering her mouth in a deep, penetrating kiss. I explore her velvety tongue and breathe in her perfume, sweat, and skin. My cheek nuzzles her brow, feeling her perspiration wet on my face.

  Her breathing is heavy, like quiet panting. “The call can wait.”

  I’m still confused about the plan, the murders at Claremont, and their reluctance to tell me what my role might be. One thing, however, isn’t confusing: my feelings for Dixie.

  Primal thoughts enter my mind, calling me, pushing me closer. I kiss her cheek and move my hands across her body. She sighs, running her tongue over my ear. The sweet scent of her sex is more than I can stand.

  I search for the zipper tab of her jeans, but her hand covers mine, stopping me in mid-zip.

  “What’s the matter?”

  The gleam in her eye tells me it’s a foolish question. “Is it okay if we continue this in my old bedroom?

  “Of course.”

  She holds out her hand. “This way, Mr. Steel, and don’t you dare forget where you left off. Promise?” All at once, she furrows her brow. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”

  The question takes me off guard. “No. Why, am I doing something wrong?”

  She answers me with a kiss. “Follow me,” she says, leading me down the hallway.

  Mating in the canine world is nothing more than a physical act, pure and simple. There’s no emotion involved, and even less thought. Pheromones are a powerful force, attracting a mate and ensuring the survival of the species. The act itself takes no more than a minute or so, if that, and when it’s over, it’s over. No “call you later,” no breakfast in bed, and definitely no commitment.

  Humans, however, put a little more stock in it than that. First of all, they call it making love. The term alone carries a certain aura about it. It’s usually planned, seldom with a random partner, and more than likely ensures some type of bond. To a certain extent, I’m familiar with the various rituals surrounding the act itself. I’ve seen enough movies to know when two people are in love.

  Here’s what I’ve learned so far: two people meet and, by their expressions, mannerisms, and speech, it’s understood they are, or will soon be, in love. Moviemakers call this moment the meet-cute. After that, there’s a period of absence or anger, whichever best moves the plot along. This period of loss has a way of making the heart grow fonder; eventually, the two people get back together and kiss (usually at the end of the film) and we fade to black.

  The movies I like the most are old black and white classics, filmed in the forties and fifties. Censorship was more than just customary then; it was the law. I have never seen what happens after the film fades to black, although I have a pretty good idea, but can only use my imagination (as the censors preferred).

  We get to the end of the hall and turn into her bedroom; the room she grew up in. All at once, I know why she wanted to make love here. This isn’t just a room. This room is Dixie: the dark shades on the window for privacy, soft linens on the bed for comfort, and the pictures on the wall for memories. The shaded lamp on the nightstand emits a soft, warm glow. This room is special to her. Now, it’s special to me.

  I ease her onto the bed and lie on my side next to her. My breathing is slow and heavy as my hands continue their exploration. I lightly kiss her cheek, her neck, and her shoulders, my lips leading me on to new, unexplored territory. Her hands run through my hair and over my back.

  Under my breath I mutter, “I’ve always loved you, Dixie Mulholland.”

  “I know.” She hugs me tight, her legs crossing over mine.

  More than animal desire surges through my body. I find, in her, what’s always been missing: I’m no longer acting on natural instinct, this is pure human nature.

  “Would you mind turning off the light?” she says with a smile. “Believe it or not, I’m a little bit shy.”

  I reach across to the nightstand, fumbling with the lamp. The room fades to black.

  ****

  “I’m here tonight with the Chief Executive Officer of The Sterling Gaming Group, Mr. Thomas Coleman.” Carol Melody smiled into the KLVA camera lens, a dazzling mix of excitement and wonder playing in her voice. The cameraman gave her a thumbs up. She faced Coleman, holding the microphone equal distance between them. “Mr. Coleman, we’re standing here tonight just below the enormous new marquee erected outside The Sterling International Resort. I must admit, I’ve attended many casino openings in the past two years, each one more spectacular than the last—fireworks, music, celebrities—but this is a first for me: the grand opening of a marquee. Can you tell us why this is so significant?”

  Hundreds of people circled Melody and Coleman, the color of their faces washed away to stone white in the harsh glare of camera lights. Thousands more onlookers stood on The Strip, held back by police lines.

  Thomas Coleman, gray hair, goatee, immaculate suit, shouted above the din of well-wishers. “Well, Carol, this is more than just a marquee. This is a tribute. I’m sure, by now, everyone’s heard of The Mystic. He’s performed at The Sterling International Resort for almost two years, selling out every performance.
He’s a legend, and tonight we pay tribute to that legend.”

  The camera panned up and pulled back to wide angle, taking in the full scope of the marquee: a crystal obelisk standing six-hundred feet tall. A shimmering glow visible inside the structure lit up the form in a pallet of ever-changing colors. Huge letters etched into the precious stone spelled out The Mystic in a bold gothic font.

  “They tell me this is now the tallest obelisk in the world,” Carol Melody shouted over the noise of the gathering, “surpassing the Washington Monument. The cost of this structure has been a closely guarded secret. Mr. Coleman, would you be willing to hint at what it cost to—”

  “Worth every penny,” Coleman said with a wink at the camera. “But I’ve got even bigger news than our marquee.”

  “Bigger than this?” Melody nodded at the obelisk.

  “I am thrilled to announce tonight The Mystic has been offered a long-term, exclusive contract to perform at The Sterling for the next ten years. And believe me when I tell you, Carol, the cost of this marquee is nothing compared to the cost of that contract.”

  “Wow, you heard it here first,” Carol Melody said, turning to the camera and beaming, “a ten-year contract for The Mystic; virtually unheard of in Las Vegas.”

  “Unheard of anywhere in the world,” Coleman shouted. “And, of course, The Mystic, in keeping with his principals, has announced he will donate a large portion of his salary to local charities.”

  Carol Melody flashed her trademark smile. “Wow. Unbelievable. The Mystic truly does practice what he preaches.” She turned away from Coleman and faced the camera. “Pete, I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to catch The Mystic’s performance yet, but let me tell you—”

  “I’ve seen several of his performances,” the voice of Peter Hudson, live from the KLVA news studio, boomed over hers, “and I can tell you the man is amazing.”