by Ryan Attard
I grinned. “And you wonder why no one wants to hook up with you.”
He made a cat-like noise. “I hope your dick falls off in front of Akasha.”
“I love you too, man.”
I didn’t get to meet Abi’s contact — probably by her design — but we did get one of the helpers to guide us through the maze that was the Comic Con venue.
Finally, we emerged into a sea of people, booths, and giant overhanging posters.
“Wow,” I muttered.
“Cool, isn’t it?” Abi asked.
“Sure that’s… one of the words I would use,” I said. “I don’t do well with crowds.”
“You’re in the wrong spot then,” she quipped.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around. A security guard, tall, skinny, sinewy with muscle and white tallow-like skin stood in front of me. His face was devoid of any expression and the cap he wore cast a shadow over his eyes that made him appear gloomy.
“Erik. Ashendale.” He spoke the words like it was his first time making sounds.
He handed me an envelope.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He stood there, looking me dead in the eyes, hand holding the envelop out to me. I took the envelope and pulled out a map of the floor area. An X marked a northwestern section.
“What’s this supposed to-” I looked up but the guard was no longer there. “Well, okay then.”
“Looks like it’s one of the admin buildings,” Abi said, examining the map.
“There are offices here?” I asked.
She nodded. “This entire building was loaned to the organizers by Ryleh Corp. Been on the roster for a year now.”
I raised my eyebrows. A year? That’s how long that asshole has been planning this?
“What are you thinking?” Amaymon asked.
“I’m thinking that maybe Greede didn’t just hire this space just to get under my skin,” I said. “If he’s been plotting this out for a year, then he’s got other things in mind.”
“But then why would he invite you?” Abi asked.
“Cos he doesn’t give a shit about his plans,” I replied. “He’s insane. He’d rather have some fun along the way, rather than succeed in whatever scheme he’s plotting. Plus he would have thought of a way to fuck us over anyway and still get what he wants.”
“So what’s the plan?” Amaymon asked.
I inhaled deeply and slowly released my breath. I had to be calm about this, be tactical.
“The plan doesn’t change,” I said. “Abi, take a look around. Work your mojo and see if you can locate any traps. The more we know what to expect the better.”
“Got it,” she said.
“Don’t get too close though,” I warned. “First sign of trouble, you run, not fight, got it?”
She nodded.
“Meanwhile, Amaymon and I got up in front, direct route,” I said. “Greede is expecting me to be emotional. Let’s give him that.”
Amaymon and I weaved through crowds and stalls, showing our passes whenever needed. At one point, we had to duck and hide when some famous guy passed by and a mass of fans followed in their wake.
Finally, we made towards the quieter side of the building. Fewer stalls, less costumed attendees. Instead, I found myself staring at a group of well dressed men and several scantily-clad women.
“The hell is this?” I heard myself murmur.
Amaymon suddenly grabbed my hand. Before I could ask what the heck was wrong with him, he pointed towards one of the women.
She was fully dressed, unlike most of the others, and seemed to be the one in charge. Auburn hair going on red, flowed down her shoulders. Piercing dark green eyes and creamy white skin that was porcelain delicate and absolutely flawless. Her business blouse revealed the perfect amount of cleavage.
Several onlookers mustered up the courage to ask her for an autograph or a selfie, each of them giggling in the aftermath.
“Do you know who that is?” Amaymon asked. He was almost bouncing on his feet.
“Some famous person?” I replied, hazarding a guess.
Amaymon looked at me like I had personally offended him. “Can you be any more lame?” he said. “That’s Layla Starr, the pornstar.”
“Oh,” I said. Now the giggles and the attire made sense.
“She’s like the number one…” Amaymon paused. “You know what? If you’re not a fan of hers than you don’t deserve to know what she does best. Suffice it to say, no hands are involved.”
“Thanks for keeping a tight lid on that secret,” I said.
“They have Layla Starr,” Amaymon crowed. “Finally! This nerd-fest just became the real deal.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m gonna go bang Layla Starr.”
“Dude, you got shut down by someone wearing a Pikachu costume,” I pointed out. “How the hell are you gonna get a pornstar?”
Amaymon shrugged. “She’s retired. Maybe that will help.”
“Good luck. I’m gonna go find the guy trying to kill us all,” I said.
“This is the spot, dumbass,” he said. “Look.”
Sure enough, the X on the map corresponded perfectly with the booth heralded by the former pornstar and her entourage of fuck-bunnies. Sighing, I followed Amaymon to meet Layla.
She saw us approaching and stiffened. Her eyes darted from me to Amaymon and then back to me.
“Mister Ashendale?”
Just the sound of her voice was enough to almost knock me out. There was proper power there. Her voice was like a wave, washing away any semblance of thought from my head. The longer I maintained eye contact with her, the more lost I felt.
I remembered the last time I was hit by this kind of magic, almost three years ago, when Abi tried to use her mojo on me.
Amaymon stepped in between us, cutting off her influence. He laughed.
“Oh man,” he said gleefully. “I should have known.” He glanced back at me — I had managed to straighten up and restart my brain. “She’s a succubus.”
“Yeah,” I said. Now that I knew what to expect, I could shield my mind from her charms. “Kinda figured that out for myself.”
Amaymon couldn’t care less. He stepped right into Layla’s face, inches from her lips.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“My what?” I blurted out.
Amaymon cocked his head at me. “Technically, I’m one of the Dukes of Hell but I don’t like the word duke. Duke. Sounds idiotic. Duke. Blah.”
Layla traced her index finger down Amaymon’s chest. “I believe you preferred the term Lord or General,” she said seductively.
“I go through phases,” Amaymon said.
“I totally get that.”
Suddenly, the coffee wasn’t sitting so well in my stomach.
“Why were we led here?” I asked her, hoping to stall the two demons from having sex right here on the floor.
Layla looked directly at me. I could feel her mojo working, but between my shields and her holding back her powers, I was no longer under her influence.
Maybe just enough to notice how incredibly attractive she was.
Layla was about to answer, when Abi showed up.
“I did a sweep but…”
Her eyes fell on Layla and the two of them locked eyes. I could feel a violent tension building up.
“You,” Abi hissed. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m working,” Layla replied.
“Yes, I can see that,” Abi said, glaring at the women behind Layla. “Lemme guess, you sold out. You’re working for Greede now?”
“I work for the company that Mister Greede hired,” Layla explained, with more than a hint of condescension. “What are you doing here?”
Abi pointed at me and Amaymon. “I’m with them.”
Layla grinned. “Really? Two at the same time? Maybe you’re finally coming around.”
“Oh, shut up. It’s not like that.”
�
��Hey, guys,” I said, tentatively interrupting the sex demon cat fight. When they both looked at me, I added, “So you two know each other?”
Layla chuckled.
“Yes,” Abi said, before letting out an exasperated breath. “Erik, Amaymon, meet Ishtar. My biological mother.”
Chapter 9
Amaymon’s eyes widened. “No freakin’ way!”
Layla — or should I say, Ishtar — glared at Abi. “Will you keep it down?” she hissed. “My real name’s never been revealed in public.”
“Which is about the only thing she hasn’t revealed in public,” Amaymon said, winking at me.
“Shut up, Amaymon,” Abi snapped.
“That is no way to speak to a demon Lord,” Ishtar reprimanded her.
“What Lord?” Abi said. “He’s a house cat. Last week he tried to set the record for how long he can lick his own balls.”
“Twelve minutes,” Amaymon proudly announced.
“Most impressive,” Ishtar beamed. “I find that yoga helps with certain movements. Although most of the classes I offer are for vaginal tightening.”
“I’d love to watch.”
“I’d be honored to show you.”
“Oh, ew!” Abi said. “She’s my mother!”
“And I find it quite rude that you’ve never introduced her to us,” Amaymon said.
“I didn’t know her until a year ago,” Abi said. “Succubii don’t raise kids, remember? I got dumped on foster parents.”
“Oh, like you weren’t happy,” Ishtar said.
“That’s not the point,” Abi snapped.
“It’s our nature, Abi.”
“No, it’s your nature. I’m different.”
Ishtar grinned. “Think so? I’ve seen you indulging on some of my employees.” Her eyes shifted to a group of muscular men, who were in the process of stripping. “Another taste perhaps?”
“No, thank you,” Abi snapped.
Ishtar huffed. “So rude.”
Amaymon snaked his arm around her waist, giving her buttocks an obvious squeeze. “I know. Whatever are we gonna do about her?”
She licked her luscious lips. “Hopefully nothing you’re not willing to do to me, Lord Amaymon.”
He grinned. “Of course. You up for it, babe?”
“I’m a succubus, My Lord,” she said, batting her perfect eyes at him. “I’m always up for it.”
Amaymon snatched her hand and walked straight into a wall. Not in a cartoon-like fashion. I mean, the wall parted and swallowed the both of them whole, their horny giggles echoing for a second before leaving me and Abi alone in stunned silence.
“Did he just…” she began, staring at the spot where they vanished.
I looked at the ground. “Yeah.”
“With… with my mother…”
“Yep.”
“That’s… That’s-”
“Awkward?” I supplied.
“Horrific!”
“That too. That’s a good word for it.”
Abi remained quiet and for the next few seconds all I heard was the sound of her irate breathing.
“Are we gonna wait for them to-” I began.
“Hell no!” she snapped before marching straight through the booth and beyond, where there were no decorations and only empty offices.
Abi stormed aimlessly for about two minutes before I grabbed onto her forearm.
“We could be walking into a trap,” I said. There was no need to reprimand her.
Mostly cos she would have torn my head off, but also because I get it. Family sucks. My dad tried to have both me and my sister killed, it took years for me to get over my sister choosing the family business instead of me, and I did in fact threaten to castrate her not-quite-boyfriend.
Who, by the way, is the fourth most powerful Grigori member.
Point is, family sucks.
And I’m gonna have to find a way to leash Amaymon. If Abi’s estranged mother was fair game, who knows what he might think of next?
“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head.
“I get it,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. You distract him, I’ll kill him.”
“Deal.”
“Okay,” she said, looking around. “Where are we?”
“Looks like a bunch of vacant offices,” I said.
Something moved in my peripheral vision. Instinctively, I pulled out my gun, holding it close as I opened the door from where I saw a moving shadow.
The door swung open, revealing inside a leonin beast lounging on the ground. Chiropteran wings were folded behind it and a scorpion tail casually swished to and fro.
A manticore, Greede’s guard animals.
The creature glanced at me and reared up its head. Jet black eyes met mine. I aimed my gun, finger on the trigger. The manticore made a lazy rumbling sound and lowered its head again.
“The hell?” I began.
“Erik, what the hell is that?” Abi said. In her hand she held a short stick of solid gold — Sun Wo Kung, her own personal channel.
“A manticore,” I replied. “One of Greede’s.”
“How can you tell?”
“Cos I’ve only ever seen them at his place.”
The manticore stood up and stretched like the oversized cat it was. It yawned, exposing rows of sharp teeth, before gently walking towards us. I backed up, pulling Abi along.
The manticore walked outside to the corridor and kept going, stopping only to turn and looked at us.
“Do you think…” Abi began.
“It wants us to follow it,” I said, transferring the gun to my left hand and unsheathing Djinn with my right. “It’s gonna lead us straight to Greede. Aren’t you, big kitty?”
If the manticore heard me it didn’t bother to acknowledge with a response. Or perhaps it did what all cats do and acted like an asshole. Either way, we followed it, until it led us to an atrium of sorts.
The room was white upon white and clean as a whistle. A few chairs were stacked on the side and a podium was pushed back, making the room appear to be bigger than it already was.
Standing in the middle was Alan Greede.
He stood with his back to us but the black polo shirt and navy slacks were something of a trademark by now. When he turned around, I could see his arrogant smile etched on his face along with horn rimmed spectacles in front of the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“I see you got my message,” he said.
I poured magic into the sword and gun, and just kept marching forwards.
“Uh uh,” Greede said. “None of that.”
He snapped his fingers. The room shimmered and a crystalline veil of energy covered the walls and ceiling. I was stopped in my tracks, held back by some invisible force. Immediately, I began reaching inside myself for more power, when I saw the manticore pounce on Abi, getting within striking distance for using that venomous tail.
At the same time, dozens of bodyguards emerged out of the ground. They sprouted up like weeds, taking a humanoid shape, complete with a suit and tie. Their faces were completely blank — not just the expression. They simply had no faces, just smooth skin where eyes and ears and noses and mouths should have been. Each one of these goons carried a machine-gun like the ones they use in old gang movies. A Tommy gun, I think they’re called.
“Before things get sticky,” Greede said, “allow me to show you something.”
He walked next to me and held up his hand. A projector screen glowed from his palm, like a hologram.
“Hard light technology,” he explained. “Patent pending, of course. Take a look at the screen, Mr. Ashendale.”
I forced myself to tear my eyes from him and looked at the projection. It looked like a camera feed, showing the massive lines to the Comic Con, as well as several security guards watching them. The screen flipped the image, changing from room to room, but it was the same story.
“The feed is live, I can assure you,” Greede said. “If you make any more attempts
to attack me, I will signal my men to open fire.” He leaned closer, grinning. “It’s not even noon yet and there’s more than ten thousand people downstairs. Think about that, Mr. Ashendale.”
He’d do it, I knew he would. Alan Greede did not bluff.
I stopped struggling against the spell and the force vanished. The manticore retreated, lazily padding back towards its master’s side and lounged on the ground, its deadly tail gently swaying.
The faceless goons lowered their guns and stood as still as furniture.
I sheathed my weapons, wordlessly signaling Abi to stay back and out of harm’s way.
“Good,” Greede said. “I’m glad we can avoid yet another mass shooting tragedy. Isn’t that ironic? All the spells in the world and most of our problems can be solved with simple gunpowder.”
“What do you want, Greede?” I spat.
“See, that right there,” he said. “That’s the problem with today’s youth. Always rushing to the end. Maybe all I want is to have a simple chat — catch up between old buddies.”
“Since when am I your buddy?” I asked. “But okay, I’ll bite. What do you wanna talk about, Greede? The Vensir you’re been kidnapping? The Black Ring Society you’ve sent after me? Or maybe the book you’re currently holding in your hands? The one you got by going after my sister.”
Greede glanced at the thick book in his hands. The Necronomicon was dormant but there was no denying the buzz of otherworldly power coming off of it.
“You’ll figure all of that out in due time, Mr. Ashendale,” he said. “But what I really wanna talk about is you. How are you doing these days? Still in therapy? Still trying to deny what’s inside of you?”
Anger began welling up inside again, the same rage I felt when Luke revealed he and Greede were spying on me.
I exhaled. “You need a new hobby if following me around is all you got.”
“Oh, he doesn’t see it,” Greede said. “You just don’t see the big picture. Granted, it’s a lot easier to see it when you’re the one drawing the damn portrait, but come on, boy. You must have guessed by now.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
He waved me off. “Doesn’t matter. If you don’t get it, then you don’t get it.” He shrugged. “So what was your plan here, Mr. Ashendale? Guns blazing? Swords swinging? Punches and kicks?”