Nightwalker

by Rhonda L. Print

  Energy washed over me and I could tell that most people in the casino were happy and having a good time. I held on to those positive feelings while I worked to thrust out the negative. This was part of the control I’d learned to use, though it weakened me the way you might feel after a rush of adrenaline wears off. The longer I controlled it, the more fatigued I got.

  The doors opened automatically as I approached them and the chimes of the slot machines flowed out. A security guard dressed in the standard uniform of black pants and white shirt greeted me as I walked through. I hadn’t been in many casinos. I often avoided highly populated places. However, Dark Night seemed pretty typical of the others I’d been to. Tourists wearing gaudy tropical-themed shirts were scattered about the open room. I never understood the Hawaiian shirts in the desert thing. Sure there were palm trees here, but none of them were indigenous to the area. If anyone had walked five hundred feet into the Sonoran Desert, tropical would not be the word to come to mind.

  A man dressed in black from head to toe stood in the foyer, a silver security badge pinned to his chest. His gun was slightly visible from the open lapel of his jacket. I could feel his suspicion flow toward me in uncomfortable waves. He made direct eye contact with me; then spoke something into the radio he held in his left hand, most likely keeping his right hand free to access his own gun. I expected something had tipped him off to the fact that I was armed. He crossed the floor toward me.

  “Leah Wolfe?” His voice was a deep rumble, almost a growl.

  “Who’s asking?” I countered, instantly on alert.

  “My name is Bear. Mr. Nightwalker requested that I escort you to his office upon your arrival.”

  I felt a different kind of energy from Bear. I shook it off. I didn’t want to know what was up his ass. I had enough to deal with already. What the hell kind of name was “Bear” anyway? Were his parents really that cruel or was it a nickname. I wanted to ask but the look on his face and his demeanor screamed badass and I didn’t think he’d answer anyway. He was built like a weightlifter. Tall, more muscles straining against his shirt than seemed attractive. His face had the features of a Native American with the exception of his skin tone, his complexion was pale and his dark hair was cut military short. Three scars crossed diagonally from his forehead across his left eye and ended at his nose, emphasizing his tough-guy persona. He gave me one short nod; then continued walking. I fell into step beside him.

  “The club is holding a benefit for the children’s hospital. It is a goth theme and Mr. Nightwalker was unexpectedly detained. The hospital administrator needed assistance with his costume; he is…” he paused, “unaccustomed to gothic wear. Ian regrets that he was unable to greet you himself.”

  Okay so now I had a whole new list of questions to ask Mr. Nightwalker. I’d assumed we were meeting here because it was neutral territory, a public place. It had never occurred to me that he worked here and in a large enough capacity to have private security detail stand around waiting for me to come in.

  In a gentlemanly gesture, Bear held his arm out to me as guidance.

  I gave him my left arm. It wouldn’t do to have my right arm restrained and unable to reach my gun. I could reach it with my left hand. I’d even practiced firing left-handed, yet I was unwilling to test out that skill. I practiced for emergency purposes only. He escorted me through the casino. The restaurants, bars and even the bathrooms were located in the back. A planned design that led everyone past the slot machines and gaming tables to access any other amenities, enticing customers to spend a little money on their way to the buffet. It was an effective design. After all, the owners didn’t build the elegant and elaborate casinos for losing their money.

  The peal of bells ringing from the slot machines, the murmur of voices placing bets at the gaming tables and rumble of laughter from some of the luckier gamblers was overwhelmed by the pulse of energy sweeping into me. The atmosphere was charged with a mostly positive quality, elevating my heartbeat and creating a pins-and-needles effect prickling along every inch of my skin. Negative energy takes a harsher toll on my body. I took a few deep, even breaths and shifted my focus to the room itself. It was dimly lit with no windows to the outside. It’s always better if the gamblers don’t know what time of day it is. There’s an inborn instinct to sleep at night, the dark signifies a time for rest. If you can’t see the dark, you can’t judge time and you’re more likely to stay longer and therefore, spend more money.

  Corridors were formed by rows of slot machines and tables offering various card games. The walls were painted a shimmery grey over natural concrete blocks, giving a castle-like quality to the room. The theme was somewhat gothic. Names like Blood Feast, Witch’s Wheel and Royal Blood adorned the slot machines. Deep tolling bells sang as the Luck of the Dead slots paid out to a heavily pierced man. His face was painted nearly white, black make-up encircled his eyes. Skull earrings were pierced through his eyebrows, ears and nose. Two silver spikes stuck out of his bottom lip accentuated by his black lipstick. His dyed hair was cropped short apart from the fringe of black that hung over his eyes. He looked like a human pin cushion. The woman with him was screeching excitedly. The girlish sound in sharp contrast to the matching make-up and piercings of her companion. They were both dressed in what looked like pleather, vinyl clothing made to simulate leather. It looked damned uncomfortable and I didn’t even want to think about the sweat factor. Yuck!

  We continued past the high-roller poker room where the cocktail-waitress costumes got smaller and I’m sure the tips got bigger. They were dressed in short black skirts and low-cut white shirts completed by low-heeled boots.

  We moved through a separate entrance flanked by large granite-like pillars with a blood red neon sign above them announcing the entrance to Kiss of Death—the nightclub contained within the casino. A bouncer dressed in the same clothing of my escort gave us one curt nod and opened one of the double doors leading into the club. The insulation must have been great because as soon as the door opened, the beating bass of drums and screaming guitar flooded me. The energy deteriorated and the pins-and-needles effect accelerated to a feeling I could only describe as red-hot acupuncture needles penetrating my skin. It took my breath away. I struggled to slow my breathing as Bear tightened his grip on my arm.

  “You all right?” Bear yelled to be heard above the music.

  I gathered my control, nodded; then scanned the room. If anyone had noticed, it didn’t show. No one in the room so much as spared us a glance. I took a hesitant step forward, pulling a little on Bear. I had better control than this, albeit the abruptness of the change of energy flow caught me off guard. A weird mix of hatred, anger and pleasure rushed about the room. Let’s hear it for youth!

  The club was wall-to-wall people all dressed in elaborate black-and-white costumes. Every face was pale with either stark black or blood red lips. The cocktail waitresses were dressed in black leather skirts and white bra-like tops that glittered in the small amount of light in the room. They wore black thigh-high boots and garters with fishnet stockings. They weaved in and out of the crowd effortlessly. The bar was half rounded and framed the overflowing dance floor. A small stage set well above and behind the bar had a sign above it announcing “The Bytches of Eastwick” as the musical performers.

  Bear led me behind the bar and motioned me through a door. The door was painted the same black as the surrounding walls. I would never have known it was there if it hadn’t been pointed out to me. I wondered how many other hidden places there were. I let go of his arm and looked a question at Bear.

  “The business offices are in back, Ms. Wolfe. Would you prefer to wait at the bar? I can ask Mr. Nightwalker to join you there.”

  I could think of a million reasons why I was a dumbass to walk down a dark hallway at the back of a casino with a badass I’d never met before. I only had two really good ones to go with him.

  One, my curiosity was in overdrive. I wanted the answers Mr. Nightwalker could give me. Two, I
knew the negative energy would subside once I put some distance between the club and me. Oh yeah, there was a third. I had a fully loaded Glock 17 in my shoulder holster. My gun gives me built-in confidence and I wanted complete access to it before I walked down that corridor, so I let go of Bear’s arm and motioned for him to go in first. He shrugged then walked down the hallway a few paces in front of me. The music was now muffled behind us. The negative energy didn’t subside. It escalated. The air felt angry to a level I had never known before, as if it was getting too heavy to breathe.

  Chapter Seven

  A tall, lanky figure appeared between Bear and me. I watched as the black mist took the form of a man holding a large sword, as if smoke had come to life and taken shape.

  I tried to form the word “Demon”. No sound came out. My throat was too tight to speak above a whisper. Demons first appear as a mist, then take their true form. Each looks as different from one another as humans. They also each have their own skills and the ability to possess other bodies.

  As it took solid form I could see that it was dark and skeletal. He—for it had the build of a large man—held a sword in his hand. It could only be Camio, high president of hell. I had the Glock in my hand without thinking about it. Bear turned, gun in hand. I was beginning to like him already. The demon Camio started fading to mist and rose above me. I fired two shots into him and heard simultaneous shots from Bear. They passed through Camio as plaster and stone from the ceiling rained down on me. The shots echoed through the stone hallway.

  In solid form demons can do damage and in Camio’s case, the sword solidified with him. An eternity of evil can make you a pretty damn good fighter, but demons can be killed in solid form. In mist, they can possess your body, drain your energy and make you weak, but they cannot kill you. They cannot be killed in mist form either. It is a double-edged sword.

  Camio levitated toward me. He pulsated through me and suddenly everything was clouded in black vapor, the intensity of the heat that radiated from Camio making my blood boil. It felt as if every vein I had was filling with boiling liquid. The air itself felt as heavy and hot as if I were standing at the gates of hell. My throat was tight and as dry as sand. It was difficult to breathe. I felt someone or something grab my arms. I looked down at them and two skeletal hands appeared, gripping my wrists. He was solidifying in me. This was so not good.

  Thoughts flooded through me that were not my own as Camio took over my body. Knowledge that was not mine but was as real as if I’d experienced it myself assaulted my brain. I shook my head to clear the demon thoughts.

  In a blur of speed Ian charged out of a nearby door and shoved me to the wall. I felt a surge of electricity in the air so potent that my hair stood on end. Ian seemed to glow in the dimming light and the power of the electrical current intensified. The lights above me flickered and then went out. I twisted out of Camio’s grip and fell out of him with my back to the wall, gun sighted at the demon before me. The charge of electricity faded and I was left lying in the corridor, gasping for air. A deep sinister laugh accompanied the misty figure of Camio. The lights came back on and Bear was still sighting his gun toward the fading demon.

  I sucked in a full breath and screamed. “That fucking hurt!” I coughed spastically, my throat still too dry and too closed off.

  “Leah!” Ian wrapped his arms around me. The effect was like a cool glass of ice water being poured through my veins. I turned in to him as the chill soothed the fire, slowly extinguishing it inside me. I saw several men standing behind him, guns drawn.

  “Don’t shoot,” I gasped in a breath, coughing again. “You can’t kill a demon in mist form.” I took another shaky breath, and holstered my own gun.

  Ian nodded at the men and they put their guns away as if they had choreographed the move.

  Ian thrust me behind him in a protective stance as Camio again started to take solid form. I felt Ian tense before he leapt at him. The lights flickered again and Camio howled in pain and anger as he returned to a black cloud of evil and headed straight for me. His body wavered between shadow and man. Whatever Ian had done to him hindered his ability to control his form.

  I dropped flat to the ground a moment before Camio whirred above me. I rolled and sprang to my feet facing him as he spun and landed a blow to the side of my head. I kicked out at him only to discover that he was no longer in front of me, or to be precise, I was no longer in front of him.

  Ian had tossed me out of the way like a doll and I landed against the thick expanse of Bear. I had a moment to gasp in a painful breath of air, then stabbed my elbow into Bear. I must have caught him in a good spot because he released me and I ran toward Ian and Camio, who now lay in solid form on the floor.

  Ian stood over his still form, legs apart and arms held at his sides as if he was ready to pounce on the demon if he moved again. Ian’s pale skin looked as if a light was shining from the inside of his body.

  I had a moment to look from Ian to Camio before the demon faded completely and disappeared.

  Ian looked at me with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Then, like flipping a switch, his features became blank, no emotion at all. His skin was pale but no longer held the iridescent quality he’d had moments ago. He moved to my side, placing his arm around me.

  I welcomed the support. Every muscle ached and burned. He led me into an office past a surprised-looking Bear who was rubbing the center of his chest with the heel of his hand while he regarded me warily. I gave him a half-hearted smile. Not that I wasn’t sorry I’d elbowed him because I was. It was just that Bear was a huge man and yet there he stood rubbing at his stomach because li’l ol’ me elbowed him. Quite frankly, I was a little proud of myself.

  The office was large and one wall was lined with monitors showing various locations within the club I had just left. A large mahogany desk sat in the center of the room; two leather chairs faced it with a matching sofa to the right of the room. Bear and another man entered behind us, each taking a position flanking the door. Ian led me to the sofa; then disappeared behind a door in the far wall. I sank into the sofa, luxuriating in the softness of it. Most leather furniture was hard and unyielding but the sofa felt almost silky soft and cool, blissfully cool. Ian returned with a large glass of water. “This should help extinguish the flame.” He sat beside me.

  I gratefully took a long drink of the water. The chill of it shook my body in a long shiver. “How did you know it burns?” I wondered aloud.

  “How did you know it was a demon?” he countered.

  We looked each other in the eye in the way that showed we were measuring each other up, reading into each other and deciding what move to make next.

  A full-length mirror on the opposite wall offered me a glance at my appearance. God! I looked like shit! My red silk shirt was ruined with soot. My tank top survived intact because of the red shirt. My jeans were black so they were okay. My hair was lightly singed, not just on my head but on my arms, too. As soon as I saw my singed hair I could smell it. I ran my hands over my face and arms, dusting off the soot. I took the ponytail out of my pocket, ran my fingers through my hair and tied it back.

  Ian placed his hands on mine, stopping me from rubbing the rest of the gunk off my clothing. “You look splendid, a little soot cannot dim your beauty.” He raised his hand and cupped my face, skimming his thumb across my cheek. I leaned into his hand for the smallest of moments; then pulled away. “See?” He motioned toward our reflection in the mirror. “We look good together.”

  I turned my gaze away from the reflection of both of us and shrugged away from him. “I guess I can see how you knew it burned.” I felt a calming brush of power over me. The white noise of my life disappeared, my heartbeat calmed. I felt a compulsion to reach out to him, my hand twitched as if it would move on its own. I stared at Ian. “What are you?” I whispered.

  “You have but to believe your own suspicions to know the answer.” He dropped his hands to his sides.

  “How did you know it
was a demon?” he countered again.

  “It’s not the first demon I’ve fought. It is, however, the first one who managed to possess my body.” I was still a little breathless.

  “I cannot blame him for the want of it.” His voice deepened.

  “You don’t seem very surprised by any of this.”

  He laughed, giving me the full effect of his dimples. “I have seen many things in my … existence.” He said the last a little hesitantly.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Interesting choice of words. I, too, have seen many things in my lifetime.”

  “I do apologize that I did not greet you at the door myself. This fundraiser for the children’s hospital was supposed to be in someone else’s care for the evening. I regret they were unable to be here. I had to take over myself.”

  I’d been too distracted to notice before, but I looked now. He was not dressed in the gothic attire of the rest of the party. His long black hair hung loosely down the pale blue of his silk dress shirt. His eyes picked up on the color, making them a lighter blue than they had been the last time I’d seen him. His shirt was tucked into black jeans at his narrow waist. Again, I felt the need to touch him. He sat silently, watching me assess him with that blank look on his face.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

  “You’re not dressed for the festivities, well, except maybe for the boots.” He wore the same boots as before. Black leather that fitted over his calves to his knees.

  “Do you like them?” He had a hint of amusement in his voice. “They are my favorite.”

  A shift in the corner of my eye brought my attention back to the room.

  “Forgive me. Where are my manners?” Ian stood from the sofa and drew me with him.