Daemon

by Doug Dandridge

  “Doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” said Jude, looking up to the sky and the Daemon tower, its bright blue light shining into the night. “The tower light looks a lot brighter,” he said, ducking his head and getting into the car.

  “It’s an evil light,” said Montoya, putting his open hand to his heart in the gesture of his church. He whispered some words that must have been a prayer.

  “If you hate it so much why do you stay here?” asked Jude, looking over at his partner. “There are still some other places to go. The countryside. At least what’s left of it.”

  “Someone must stay here and watch you heathens,” said the Sergeant, a wide smile on his face that disappeared in a moment. “But I really worry about you Lieutenant. I worry about what that sorcery is doing to you.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “What do you plan to do tonight?” asked the Sergeant as he maneuvered the car out onto the street and increased the steam feed.

  “Drink,” said Jude in a low voice. “Forget about what I had to do.”

  “You know your wife wouldn’t have approved.”

  “She’s dead,” said Jude in a flat voice. “She can’t approve of anything, ever again.”

  “You know what I mean,” said the Sergeant, looking at Jude, then back to the road, beeping the horn at a pedestrian. “You’re killing yourself with that shit you drink. Why not come home with me tonight. Let Sonia put a good meal in you. You know she would love to see you.”

  “I don’t want to talk religion tonight,” said Jude, looking out at the passing storefronts and apartment buildings, all lit up as bright as day.

  “I know you don’t want to hear about the Good God,” said Montoya, turning the corner. “But the Good God is interested in you.”

  Jude grunted and said not a word. The men drove on in silence until they reached Jude’s apartment building. He got out of the car and looked in at this partner.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow,” he said, patting the side of the car. “Bright and early.”

  “Think on what I said, Lieutenant,” said the small man, a bit of his Latino accent creeping into his speech. “I only want the best for you.”

  “Sure,” said Jude, turning away and walking toward his apartment steps. What was best for me died a year ago, trying to give birth to our child, who also died. Damn the Good God and all his lies. Damn him.

  Chapter Two

  Riding the elevated train from work, Sondra Mangonel didn't know that this was her last night on Earth. It had been a shitty day, and she did not feel good about her actions. She had a feeling that those actions would be the cause something bad. Karma. But she didn't expect that Karma would result in her death this very night, and the destruction of her immortal soul.

  She hated working the late shift. That thought kept going through her mind while she left the train and walked down the steps to the street below. Her shoes clip clopped on the concrete of the steps, echoing from the near buildings. Her eyes scanned the street and her feet left the last step. No shadows in sight, always a good thing in this day and age. The area was well lit, befitting of the neighborhood of a high level technician of the Daemon Corporation. There were lights everywhere, globes on poles, strips on the sides of buildings, bulbs under the elevated track that shuddered as the train left the station. And there was plenty of energy piped in from the main power conduits, no shortages in this area of the city.

  Yes, shadows were not a concern in her neighborhood, nor on the route from the company. She was even under the comforting glow of the light of the central dome of the Daemon Corp building, almost a mile in the sky, shining down on the city. But Shadows were not the only thing to threaten one on the city streets. Sondra was well aware of this as she walked with quick steps toward the building she called home, and the precious progeny that waited under the care of the house soul.

  Maybe I'll be able to get a steamer soon, she thought, glancing toward an alley where the forms of the homeless huddled. Then I can drive all the way to my front door, and not have to endure this nightly walk. Cars were expensive, but she was paid well, so one should be within her reach, soon. That was an advantage of working into the night. The differential was a nice chunk of cash in her pocket every week. And it wasn't like she was working the overnight. But it sure would be nice to be there for the children every evening.

  There were a number of forms moving ahead, in the block before her building. People. Dirty, hungry, poor. The homeless people clustered around the lights, old newspapers blowing around them in the hot wind that always seemed to come off the dead lands. The sounds of feet scuffing off the sidewalks came from behind, like she was being followed. Just all the little sights and sounds that kept her nerves on edge.

  At least I don’t have to be out when the sanitation workers are on the streets, she thought with a sigh. Those people really creeped her out, with their staring, lifeless eyes and shuffling steps. She knew they needed workers to keep the streets clean, and the undead didn’t have to concern themselves with the Shadows. No self-respecting night creature would ever bother with a zombie. But the look and smell of the things made her cringe, and gave her negative thoughts about her own line of work.

  “Spare a dollar, lady,” said a filthy, scraggly man, coming from under the lights of an alley. “I sure could use something to eat. My kids sure could use something to eat.”

  The man gestured toward a thin woman who sat under the light, a trio of children looking up at Sandra, fatigue warring with hunger in their wide eyes. Sandra felt her heart, which she tried to keep hard as glass, shatter into sharp, painful shards in her chest.

  I can't show money to these people, she thought, wondering not for the first time how the streets always seemed to have so many destitute people on them. They'll all be on me, and I'll be lucky if one doesn't pull a knife. She tapped the pocket of her coat, making sure that the small revolver she carried outside the house was still there.

  “Please, lady,” said the man, a glimmer of hope in hopeless eyes.

  Another bundle of newspaper rolled by, the wind as always blowing hot and smelling of the desiccated death of the dead lands. She thought for a moment, her mind warring between staying safe and doing some good. I can't save the world, she thought, looking again into the eyes of the children, thinking of her own babies safe in their luxury townhouse. But I can help these. She reached into her purse and fumbled around with her wallet, pulling out a five dollar bill and handing it to the man. As much as some laborers made in a long day.

  “Thank you much, lady,” the man as he gripped the bill in a hand the color of ground in soil. “May the Good God bless you.”

  Sondra nodded and turned away, eyes darting to take in the other homeless, making sure no others got within reach without her knowing. The Good God, she thought with a grimace. I'm not sure the Good God would approve of what I did today.

  She had never really felt guilty about sacrificing criminals to power the city system. They deserved their fate, after all. Murderers, rapist, thieves, wife beaters and child molesters. They deserved the pain and terror of having their life energy ripped from their bodies. She didn’t like being the one who set in motion that energy transfer, but it was a job someone had to do, and she was well compensated for it. She didn’t like it, but she could accept it, since it put food in the bellies of her little ones. Food that their jerk of a dad didn’t provide, even though he was mandated by the courts to do so. Maybe one day she would see him sitting in the transfer chair. She would not feel bad about that one.

  “Welcome, Sondra,” said the building soul as she walked up the steps to the front door.

  The door clicked open as her hand reached for the knob, and Sondra felt the little constriction in her chest relax. She was almost home, away from those who had nothing, and would be willing to take her down for what she had.

  “Sondra,” whispered something that seemed to fly past her ear. Sondra turned, her throat constricting, her che
st freezing. She tried to pull in a breath and failed. Her next thought was to get inside the building, where she was safe and secure. At that thought she was inside and the door was closing behind her, the lock clicking into place. She took in a quick breath and patted herself on the chest. Safe, she thought as she looked around the well-appointed lobby, then back to the heavy wooden door that offered more than physical protection.

  The elevator door opened a moment after she stepped in front of it. “Home,” she said, reaching her hands under her long, dread locked hair while she thought about reaching her floor. The fatigue of the day swept through her. She couldn’t wait to get a hot shower and relax with a good stiff drink. She needed that drink, especially as she thought for a moment about the new ones they were processing. She wasn't sure if they were really people, but they had a lot of life force. Sondra felt guilty about them, but what else to do when the world was collapsing around them. Maybe one day she would be able to forgive herself for the deaths of the innocents.

  After a couple of minutes the door opened again and she was looking down her hall. She looked both ways before getting out of the elevator, knowing that the building defenses would have kept any intruder away from the residential floors. Still, she felt that caution was a survival trait, and it was better to see for oneself. She switched her vision into the other realms and only picked up the glow of the building’s energy flowing through floor, walls and ceiling.

  Sondra reached for her door knob, hearing the click of the lock as it recognized her aura. The door opened easily and she looked into the entry of her large townhouse, silent as always at this time of night. The clock over the mantel in the living room was almost at midnight when she glanced at it on her way to the hall. She looked into the bedrooms, making sure that Tamara and Matt were both sound asleep. She smiled as she looked down on her youngest, his skin the dark shade of his father’s. I hope he doesn't develop that asshole's personality, she thought, running a hand through his short, kinky hair. The child moved a bit under the covers, a small moan escaping his lips. She smiled and made sure the covers were tucked in. I'll do everything I can to make sure he grows into a well-rounded young man. And make sure he has a world to grow up into.

  After dumping her purse in the bedroom Sondra decided that maybe a drink would feel good before she hit the shower. While mixing the drink she looked into the living room from the kitchen bar, and the sight of the city from her fortieth floor window was as attractive as ever. She found herself drifting into the living room, plopping down on the couch and looking out over that cityscape. The light from the central dome of Daemon Tower washed over everything like the fairy light of lore. Most of the windows of the tall buildings were afire with light. So were the streets, driving back the shadows that threatened civilization during the night.

  Sondra took a large swig of her whiskey and admired the view, enjoying the relaxing feeling that went along with the bite of the alcohol. She was thinking about how good she had it, when so many others didn’t have the safety of a strong house soul and protective wards, like those who lived on the streets, when the clock on the mantel struck midnight with a loud bong. It counted through the twelve gongs of the traditional witching hour. On the last gong the house soul screamed out in alarm, and Sondra knew that something was very wrong.

  She felt the chill run over her as the cityscape blurred behind the blue glowing field of the building defensive system that appeared outside of the large window. It only appeared in the visual range when it activated, and something had just done that. She knew of no shadow creature that would attempt to breach that defense, which could draw on the city energy supplies if needed. The field grew brighter while she watched, indicating that it was in fact drawing on those reserves.

  Sondra used her abilities then, shifting to her second sight, the vision she used to trace magical energies at work. She felt confident, on the surface, that the defensive shield could handle anything that was thrown at it, outside an attack by one of the adepts of the Mages’ Council. And none of them would launch an attack at a tech of Daemon Corp. She was both too inconsequential and too well protected for such an attack.

  The red energy appeared now to her second sight, an angry shade that interacted with the defensive shield, and seemed to be seeping through it. The shield strengthened again, and the red was stopped for a moment, trapped in the blue energy of the defense. Then it flared and continued to flow through it like water through a membrane. It was like nothing she had ever seen, though it reminded her of something she had seen before. She couldn’t place it, but it nagged at her mind through the almost paralyzing terror. It built up on the other side of the building screen, and then began to attack the house screen that flashed blue on the other side of the window.

  Then the window blew in, and she had thought for little else as a hot wind moved in with the shattered glass that cut her on the arms and face. The house soul continued to scream.

  “Mommy, mommy,” yelled the small voice of Matt.

  Sondra felt a new terror hit her in the solar plexus. She turned her head, feeling blood rolling down her face, to see the children huddled at the entrance to the hall. Their eyes and mouths were wide open, and she felt her fear grow, forgetting about herself and concentrating on her offspring.

  “Get back to your rooms,” she yelled in the voice that she hoped the children would obey. She wiped the blood on her face with the back of an arm, turning her head and looking back at the entity that was flowing through the shattered window. She glanced back at her children, saying a prayer to the God she was not sure she believed in, the God of her own childhood, and hoping that the blessing of the homeless man might be helpful. Hoping that the blessing might save her children, if not herself. The children continued to stare, their eyes glancing back and forth between their mother and the broken window.

  “House,” she shouted, hearing the roar of something building in the room. “Move them back to their rooms. Form a barrier.”

  The little bodies were lifted by a gentle force from the ground and moved away. Sondra knew that the house would concentrate all its energy in a barrier to protect the children. It would maybe slow down anything that came after them. Maybe long enough for help to answer the screaming alarm.

  She turned back in time to see the red energy coalesce into a demonic face, glaring at her with a hateful anger, the glowing eyes expressing no mercy. Sondra tried to call up a spell that might allow her to fight the thing. All she could think of was the small combat spell she had learned years ago to fight a rapist, if one ever attacked her. Not something she thought would work on this thing. Still she opened her mouth to shout out the words, when the hot wind slammed her into the back of the couch and over. Her head hit the floor, and she looked up in pain and confusion as the force grabbed her and jerked her into the air.

  The pain in her head was forgotten when searing agony gripped her body. Forces were pulling on different vectors, and she felt parts of her body rip and tear. She felt another agony that had nothing to do with her body, a hollow pain that started in her chest and moved outward into her limbs, and realized that her soul was being ripped from her, devoured by the demon that held her in its grip. Her scream of terror cut off as her body flew across the room in a dozen pieces and smacked from the walls with great splatters of blood. Her soul continued its silent scream while it was sucked into the creature and became part of its energy, obliterating her presence from the Universe.

  * * *

  Jamie Simmons was not sure what the morrow would bring. Right now he had to worry about making it through the night. The shadows were not the problem. The wife and children were comfortably within the light. But by being in the light they were targets for the other gatherers. Those who gathered the homeless, taking them from the streets to never return. He didn't know where they were went or what happened to them. He figured that whatever it was it wasn't good.

  “How much she give you?” asked a large man, walking up on Jamie, but kee
ping his distance.

  Jamie glared at the man, glancing back at his family, knowing he had enough to feed them for several days. He was not about to give up that largess to a bully. He looked back at the man, putting one hand in his pocket and gaining comfort from the feel of the folding knife.

  “I'm not going to take it from you,” said the large man, holding out his open hands. “I may have sunk low,” he continued, looking at the children. “I haven't sunk that low.”

  “Just remember,” said Jamie, not relaxing his guard. “I will protect my family. I didn't get them here from Chi-town just to let them starve.”

  “Chi-town,” said the big man with a raised eyebrow. “I heard it was bad.”

  “It was,” said Jamie, motioning for the man to have a seat by the wall, while he squatted down himself.

  The man made his way to the wall and slid to a seated position. He reached into his pocket, and Jamie stiffened for a moment, until the guy pulled out a silver flask. He took a swig and offered it to Jamie, who accepted it gratefully. He knocked back a swallow and coughed a moment, then passed the flask back.

  “Good stuff,” he said, wiping his mouth.

  “Dick Guffy,” said the big man, offering his hand. “I made it out just before Ohio went under.”

  “Heard that was bad too,” said Jamie, grimacing.

  “It's all bad, my man,” said Guffy, waving a hand around at the street. “I hear it can get bad here too. If they get their hands on you.”

  “One reason to keep in numbers,” said Jamie, reaching over and taking Stephanie's hand in his. He looked up at the sky for a moment, a dark dome over the brightly lit city. “Yeah,” he said, looking back at Guffy, “Chi-town was bad. Power went down completely in moments. Then the Shadows were everywhere. Big ones. Little ones. Some I couldn't damn well believe.”