A Shot in the Dark

by K. A. Stewart

  When I realized that I could see the trees around me distinctly, I knew the sun was rising. The dawn had driven them off. Is that what happened to this one? I toed at the steaming remains. Didn’t seem like a barely risen sun should cause this kind of reaction.

  Once I got my bearings, I realized that somewhere in our mad tumble off the roof, we’d crossed what little was left of Cam’s holy ground barrier. The consecration had literally eaten the creature alive. As I watched it, it dissolved into a puddle of black goo, the thicker parts taking longer to disintegrate. At least I wouldn’t have to bash its head in. The last thing to go was the skeleton, and whatever they looked like on the outside, the bones were distinctly human. The skull’s dark eye sockets watched me, grinning, until it oozed into the grass.

  Movement at the corner of my vision made me flinch, and I barely pulled my strike in time to avoid taking off my brother’s head. He raised his hand defensively until he realized I wasn’t going to remove important body parts, then mouthed something at me. It took me a moment to realize that he was shouting. All I could make out was a faint hum.

  My lipreading skills were rusty, but I think he said, “Are you all right?”

  Was I all right? I couldn’t hear jack shit, and my hands were gummy with whatever that gunk was. My left shoulder ached like a mother. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to move by morning. Yeah, on average, I was all right. I nodded, and pointed at my ears. “All broke.” I could hear my own voice rattling around inside my skull, but it was like listening through a bale of wet cotton.

  Cole popped the clip out of his gun and frowned at the remaining bullets. “We can’t last here much longer.” At least, that’s what I thought he said, through the ringing in my ears.

  I knew he was right. This was the last sunrise we’d see at this cabin, one way or another.

  14

  Will tried to look me over as I came back inside, but I brushed him off with a grumpy snarl. Wasn’t anything he could do about damaged eardrums anyway. I could only hope that it was temporary. I didn’t relish the idea of trying to fight demons without all of my senses up and functional.

  Marty took my katana away from me, cleaning the blade with loving care while I washed the goop off my hands at the kitchen sink. There was no way I could salvage my blue jeans, however. The thick black gunk had soaked through to the skin and dried to a thick black crust, and we weren’t even going to talk about the smell. Even Duke pawed at his nose when I passed by. “Hey, you tangled with a skunk once and you didn’t smell like a daisy either.” My voice sounded like the teacher out of Charlie Brown, all “wah wah wah.”

  I had to dig through the backpacks to find mine, and stripped down as quickly as I could to shuck into clean jeans. The adrenaline rush was fading, and I was quickly getting cold.

  “Somehow, I figured you for a briefs kinda guy.”

  I was unarmed, half naked, and I had already ducked to one side before I remembered that I shouldn’t have been able to hear that statement. Standing in the shadows under the eaves, Axel smirked at me. “You’re getting jumpy in your old age.”

  “I don’t think immortal supernatural creatures get to make age jokes.” I kept my voice down (at least, I thought I did), not wanting to draw anyone else upstairs. It was hard to judge, with my own skull acting as an echo chamber. I finished pulling my jeans on, buttoning them quickly. I didn’t really want to stand around talking to a demon in my underwear.

  The demon walked over to poke through my extra clothes, wrinkling his nose at my collection of snarky T-shirts. “MY INDIAN NAME IS RUNS-WITH-BEER? Really?”

  “It was a gift.” Axel’s voice—my voice—was coming through loud and clear to me, but the sounds from downstairs were still little better than a low thrum in the back of my senses. “Why can I hear you when my ears are all messed up?”

  “Can you hear yourself when you speak?”

  “A little, yeah.”

  He shrugged and stood. “There you go. It’s your voice, Jesse. I’m just . . . borrowing it.”

  That sent a small chill down my spine, which seemed a bit unfair considering how cold I already was. I’d always rather hoped that Axel’s voice was coincidence, or even my imagination. It was creepier, knowing that he’d deliberately chosen to mimic me. “Why?”

  “I like your voice. It has a rather mellow timbre to it. Makes me all warm and fuzzy.” He grinned and his eyes flared red for the space of a breath. Man, I hate it when he does that.

  “You lied to me,” I pointed out.

  He gave me a look of shocked indignation. “I never!”

  “You said they didn’t have voices.”

  “I said they didn’t have voices of their own.” He continued to pick through my shirts, either nodding his approval or frowning in distaste at my collection. “Word choice, Jesse. Learn to listen.”

  “Is there something you wanted?” I grabbed a T-shirt out of his hand and yanked it on over my head, then added two more on top of it. Warmth was at a premium, and layers would act as armor. Sort of.

  “Have you figured it out yet?”

  “Figured what out?”

  “What they are. His little pets.” There was a gleam in his eye, not the usual demon red, but a more mundane “I’m dying to show what a know-it-all I am” kinda shine.

  I’d had a lot of time to think about that, so yeah, I had my suspicions. They ranged everywhere from aliens to sock puppets, but deep down I knew, and it gave me the heebie-jeebies. “They’re . . . human, somehow. Or were.”

  “Yes! I knew you’d get it.” He beamed like a proud papa. It was . . . disturbing to say the least.

  “But what has he done to them? Why are they like that?” He was so anxious to spill his secrets that he forgot to negotiate a price for the answers, and I found that interesting. I’d never seen a demon pass up a chance for a deal. I didn’t think they could. Stuff was going on with Axel, and it remained to be seen if it was going to work for or against me.

  The demon motioned me to step closer as if we were coconspirators. I don’t think he noticed when I stayed where I was. “Have you ever seen someone bargain away their soul, Jesse? Not like what you do, but the others. The weak ones who get pulled in by temptation.”

  I shook my head and bit my tongue. I wasn’t going to distract him by arguing about how he viewed his victims.

  “Do you know what they never ever bargain for? I mean, maybe one in a thousand does. One in ten thousand.” Again, I shook my head. “They never say when we can take their soul. They just assume we’ll wait ’til they’re dead, and lay claim.”

  He was waiting for me to say something. “So . . .?”

  “So . . . What happens if the soul is claimed from a living body? Just yanked right out. Whoosh.” He mimed the movement with his hands.

  I frowned, the idea creeping me out on several levels. “You can’t live without a soul, so . . . So, what? They’re like . . . zombies?” I hate zombies. Hate hate hate them. Every inch of skin on my back tried to crawl off and go hide. I mean sure, I’d suspected that’s what they were, but confirming it . . . That was worse somehow.

  “Close enough. You humans have called them many things over the centuries. Zombies, vampires . . . Not the angsty, poetry-spouting vampires, but the original nasty ones. In Hindu, they’re called a vetala.” He frowned thoughtfully. “The lore surrounding that one isn’t quite right, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect you apes to get everything correct.

  “In place of the soul, he puts a bit of himself, enough to give them a kind of intelligence. But the body rots, mostly because he forgets to take care of them. They eat, when he remembers to tell them to, but it’s never enough to sustain them. Especially as many as he’s created now. He’s stretched so thin.”

  “Well, he’s quite a few less now.” I had the proof caked all over what used to be a perfectly good pair of jeans. “So what’s up with the voices? I didn’t think they could talk, but last night they were calling, and that one just
now . . . it screamed. If they have no souls, how is that possible?” I had to get as much out of him as I could, before he clammed up again.

  The demon leaned against the wall, lounging in his own superiority. “Think of them like . . . echo chambers. They’re empty. All that space craves filling. They ape back things they’ve heard, memories of conversations that rattle around in all that empty until it rattles its way out the open mouth. With their master directing them, they’ll take on voices of people you know, care about, if they’ve been near them. Psychological warfare.” He chuckled. “Face it, you people really are so suggestible. You simply hear what you want to hear. Not every tempting siren is a blonde with double-Ds.”

  “And the screaming?”

  “There are . . . some kinds of agony that even being soulless can’t silence.”

  I suppose being dumped on holy ground would qualify as that kind of agony for one of Hell’s children. Even one that started out human. “So . . . he just yanks their souls out. Leaves the body an empty shell, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he can do it to anyone, if he owns their soul.”

  “Yes.”

  “So . . . what about Zane? Could he just . . . yoink?” That was a disturbing thought. If the Yeti could just rip Zane apart like that, turn him into one of those things . . .

  “He must touch them.” He glanced down the stairs, and I got the feeling that he could see Zane right through the floorboards. “I would be very careful with your young friend, down there. I’d hate to see anything . . . tragic happen.”

  He pushed off the wall, and I thought he was going to do his little disappearing act again, but he stopped. “Have you figured out why he came after the boy, of all people?”

  Yeah, I’d had the chance to think about that too. Long hours spent not sleeping lent themselves well to in-depth pondering of all the universe’s injustice. I didn’t like my conclusions. “Because he knew I’d be here. He knew I’d find the kid, and I’d fight for him.”

  “Your fatal flaw, Jesse. That damned honor you hold around you like a warm blanket.” The demon sounded downright disappointed in me. “You would live a lot longer if you’d learn to be a bit more self-absorbed.”

  “Hold your breath ’til that happens.”

  He chuckled softly. “And do you know why he came for you? I mean, specifically why him, why you, why this?”

  “Because he hates me?”

  “That’s a given, but do you know why?” I shrugged, and Axel grinned. He was enjoying this. “Think about it, Jesse. Voices call us forth, but simple words won’t do it. What do you know that no other living champion does?”

  His name. Because I’d faced the Yeti before, I knew his name. And names have power. In all honesty, I’m not sure what kind of power. Mystical Shit 101 was full last time I tried to sign up. Whatever it was, it meant something to the demons. Somehow, me possessing that name was a threat. A big enough threat to kill for.

  I only nodded, showing him that I understood. Even thinking of it, the demon’s name swam dangerously close to the surface of my mind, fluttering like a moth with razor-blade wings, and I bit my tongue to keep it from somehow slipping out by accident. I’d have to say it, call him out when the time came. I wondered if, deep down, that made me any better than Cam and his little cadre of demon-summoning priests.

  “What use is it? What can I do to him, with his name?”

  Axel looked at his bare wrist. “My my, look at the time. I think our session is up for the day.”

  “You’re a dick, Axel.”

  “I’ve had a long time to perfect it, thank you.”

  “What about the other champions? Are they all facing ghosts from their pasts, names they know?”

  The blond demon shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t have a vested interest in the rest of your little playmates.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “You’re being awful liberal with your information.”

  “Like I said, I just want you to be you. It works in my favor at the moment.” His eyes looked past me, over my shoulder, and he grinned with demon red eyes. “Oh this is about to get interesting.”

  I turned to find Cameron at the top of the stairs, staring wide-eyed at Axel. His gaze darted from the demon to me and back, and I saw a grim resolve settle into his eyes. The smell of cloves sprang up strong—stronger than I thought him capable of really—and he opened his mouth to do . . . something.

  “No!” I jumped, clamping my hand down tight over the possibly ex-priest’s mouth. “Don’t even try it. You don’t have enough juice to bless a sneeze anyway.”

  He struggled halfheartedly (I think a true fight between us would be a lot messier), but finally settled for trying to pry my hand away from his face. I looked back at Axel. “You’ve caused enough trouble. Go on, get.”

  Cameron’s eyes got wider, and though I couldn’t hear him, I could feel the movement of his protest against my hand. “Look, he’s . . . He’s a friend.” Sort of. “He’s not the thing that’s out there.”

  “Aw, Jesse . . . I’m touched. Tears in my eyes, really.” I glared at the demon, and he just chuckled. “Wanna bet he’d wet himself it I walked over and touched him?” Axel wiggled his fingers with a leer.

  “Would you quit? This isn’t helping.”

  “Oh I’m sorry. When exactly did I offer to help?” He smirked.

  Cameron said something else behind my palm, and I gave him a look. “Can I let you go without you . . . doing some hocus-pocus or whatever?” He nodded, his eyes promising to behave. I removed my hand and stepped back.

  “That’s a demon!” His voice was distant, tinny, but I could make out the words so long as I was looking at him. Cameron pointed an accusing figure at Axel, who just laughed.

  “Give the little priest a big cigar!” The smile Axel gave him was nothing short of predatory and the demon advanced on Cameron. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing. He’s going to do nothing.” Will someone please explain to me later how I wound up protecting a demon from a priest? I put a hand on each chest and pushed, noting that yet again, Axel’s touch didn’t trigger Mira’s protection spells. In fact, he felt all too human. It was . . . yes, creepy, okay? I didn’t have a better word for it. “Both of you go to your separate corners and cool off.”

  Cameron ignored my well-meant advice, of course. “What’s it doing here?”

  “It got stuck inside when that set off that rather poorly constructed consecration spell,” Axel spat. “It had no intention of hanging around this little ape colony any longer than absolutely necessary, up until that point.”

  “Axel . . .”

  “What? He can be rude but I can’t? Demon, hello . . .” Whatever tirade he was going to go off on next was interrupted by a booming voice from outside, so loud that even I could hear it.

  “ARCHITECT!”

  Axel cursed, too soft for me to even tell what language he was speaking. My stomach gave a small lurch, so I was guessing it was demonic.

  “ARCHITECT! Come out!” It had to be the Yeti because the mere sound of the voice made my skin crawl and I tasted oil at the back of my tongue.

  I looked at Axel. “Architect?”

  He ignored me. “I believe, gentlemen, that that is my cue to depart.” Axel sketched us a small two-fingered salute and headed for the stairs. Cameron scrambled to get out of his path.

  I know the guys downstairs had to be saying, “What the hell?” (again) when Axel calmly walked down the stairs and headed for the front door, Cameron and I thudding after him.

  I think we’d all forgotten about Duke. The mammoth mutt took one look at Axel and made a lunge for him, bellowing to high heaven. Without breaking stride, Axel snarled—literally snarled, with bared teeth and glowing eyes—at him, and the dog nearly did a backflip trying to come to a halt on the hardwood floor. Axel barked, “Sit!” and the big lummox cowered, making a puddle on the floor. So much for our valiant defender.

  I snapped a q
uick, “Stay inside” at the guys, trying not to sound like I was telling them to sit as well, then followed Axel out onto the front porch. Cameron trotted after us pretty quick, and everyone else pressed against the windows to watch.

  The Yeti was standing just inside the tree line, carefully out of range of the morning sun. He’d assumed his human guise again, the albino in the charcoal gray suit. Knowing what he really was, I could see both forms, flickering over each other like a bad film clip, managing to fill both the hulking space that was the Yeti and squash itself into the slender man’s form at the same time. It was going to give me a headache before too long. Dark shadows swirled around him, wisps of blight coalescing where he stood like fog seeking low ground.

  Axel leaned against the porch rail nonchalantly. “You rang?”

  “We must speak, Architect. Come here to me.” The suit-clad figure was still, but the other, superimposed over the first, swayed side to side, shifting from clawed foot to clawed foot. Almost like he was nervous.

  I strained to hear the Yeti’s words. The voice part of it was still muffled in my damaged ears, but the demon side, the sickly oil-slick side was getting through loud and clear. Ugh.

  Axel snorted. “No, you come here.” It was a moot point. Neither demon was going to cross the last strip of consecrated ground. The Yeti did inch out of cover though, fidgeting until he found a place safely shaded from the light. The furry form snarled its reluctance, almost like it was pulled forward against its will, while the man in the suit merely stood with his hands folded together in front of him.

  “We must speak,” he said again, his colorless lips barely moving at all. “Of many things.”

  “Of cabbages and kings?” Axel examined his fingernails idly, apparently finding them infinitely more interesting that the creature across the clearing.

  “Of your transgressions.” I had a feeling that not only did the Yeti not have a sense of humor, but he had never read Lewis Carroll.