by Declan Finn
“You know, the British have always been such pricks,” said Rory, now perched on the loft staircase like a vulture.
“Day,” Father Rodgers continued, still speaking as though he was shooting for the back row of the Church, “as Marco noted, has extraordinary healing abilities, almost like he’s never been hit.”
“So we blow him up!” Rory said with enthusiasm. “Let’s see him heal with his body parts all over the place.”
Marco looked at his watch. “As of 23 hours ago, somebody decided to blow up New York City, again, so the military would shoot to kill anyone seen on a military base raiding supplies. Besides, an artillery shell would go right through this guy.”
“Oh?” Tiffany said, “and how do you know? When was the last time you blew up some ... thing?”
He smiled at her. “About the last time a neuron flared between your ears.”
“See!” she boasted. “I knew he’s never done something like this.”
Marco slapped his forehead and sighed. “Sarcasm just ricochets right off some people.” He shook his head. “I was also on a phone call before all this hit the fan. A vampire who saw Day in World War One swears he got hit with a mortar, and a flamethrower may have even been involved.”
Merle sighed, raised his hand, and said, “While the suggestions and the commentary are all very nice, can we ask a very simple question? What is he?”
Father Rodgers started, as though it was already self-evident. “A demon, of course.”
Blink. That sounded strange, even to Merle. “Shouldn’t demons be a little more, you know, more in appearance and power? From the way you guys have described him, he isn’t… much. Aside from some strength and healing issues, there isn’t a hell of a lot from him.”
Marco raised a hand and a finger, as though politely interjecting. “Add one more ability. He turned to Rory before Rory made his appearance known. He can sense creatures around him. At least creatures that aren’t human. I’m not sure if his range is limited, or his ability to track humans is limited to tracking rage.” He looked to Rodgers. “Please continue. I’m sure you can elucidate better on the rest of it.”
Rodgers sighed, slid a cigar out from his jacket, and spent a moment lighting up. “Demons can only operate within the medium they choose. Considering the power level you’ve mentioned, I can’t imagine that he needs much more than his increased strength and healing, unless he goes up against something of equal power.” The priest paused a moment. “As far as demons go, in general, if you want to be impressed, make a deal with him, or tell him your full name. Then don’t be surprised if you wind up exploding from the inside out.”
Merle smiled slightly. “So it would be a good idea not to get into a long conversation with him,” he noted. “That should be easy enough; I work for the government, and we don’t make deals with terrorists.”
“That was before Obama, wasn’t it?” Marco muttered.
Tara and Yana glared at him. “What? I believe in killing terrorists, not GITMO catch-and-release.” Marco frowned thoughtfully. Being a Physician Assistant, he asked, “What’s this guy’s biology?”
There was a slight pause. Marco and Merle exchanged a glance. Merle knew where he was going, but couldn’t see how that could help.
“From what we can tell,” Rodgers said slowly, “he’s quite human except for a few changes. The healing, advanced strength. As I said, he’s probably possessed someone from long, long ago.”
Rory, leaning against a bookcase now, said, “How much strength? He tossed me around like a rag doll, but a strong vampire can do that, can’t they?”
Rodgers waved the hand with the cigar, drawing a line of smoke in the air. “Oh, the usual vague terms about strength enough to level armies, that sort of thing. However, no one’s ever dissected HIM, so we don’t know what he looks like inside.”
“I can show you your own insides, if you like.”
The room turned. There was Mister Day, all bright and shiny and looking as though he hadn’t been in a scuffle. With him came the scent of death, gently wafting through the store.
“How are you all doing?” Day said smoothly. “Is everyone good? I’d hate for you to be put out when I kill you all.”
Everyone took a look at each other. Day hadn’t been slowed down by bombs or bullets or swords or fire. So, they were running out of options.
Day stepped forward. “I think—”
Day cut himself off, and looked to his right. “What the–?”
A gold streak shot up next to Day, impacting him like a wall. The demon was blasted out of sight.
Everyone looked at the newcomer, and Marco smiled like the cavalry had arrived, mainly because he had appeared in the form of a curvy, 5’6” woman with long red-gold hair that flowed down to her shoulder blades. She was also wearing a gold cheongsam that could have come from Japantown a few blocks from here.
Merle nodded towards her. “Hi, Amanda.”
Merle’s eyes flickered from her to Marco. The last time I saw a look like he’s giving her, it was my wedding photo, while I was looking at Kristen. This boy is so in love.
* * *
Marco slid off of the counter, moved casually towards Amanda, and threw his arms around her as though was a life raft, and he had been holding his breath under water for four minutes.
God, I love this woman! Marco thought, even though he would not admit it under pain of death. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered.
She hugged him back, and answered, “You almost did.”
Marco didn’t let go and for a long moment that was awkward for everyone else, they said nothing.
“Um, guys?” Tiffany asked. “Shouldn’t we be doing something about the demon?”
They broke apart, but they didn’t go too far from each other. “I think he’s had enough for the night,” Amanda said. “The sun will come up soon. Demons I know would rather not be in daylight if they can avoid it.” She looked back to Marco. “How are you?”
Marco’s hands rested on her shoulders, still not willing to break off completely. “Jennifer Bosley called, offered to adopt me as her minion if you didn’t make it.”
Amanda grinned. “That slut,” she said in a complete deadpan. “I will have to talk with her again.”
Marco’s little smile lengthened microscopically. “Indeed.”
Their eyes met, and for a long moment, the world ceased to exist. Literally, the entire world faded away, leaving the two of them alone in their own little world.
Or to be precise, Amanda’s little world, as Marco once again slid into her mind through the prolonged eye contact of vampire to human. It was a trick he had pulled once before, to a tactical advantage. This was the first time he had ever done something like this for sociability.
Marco glanced around at the perfect blackness. “Nice digs.”
Amanda noted the sudden change. “I think making eye contact did this.”
Marco shrugged. “Oh well. Bram Stoker would have been the first one to have told me not to look a vampire in the eyes.”
Amanda poked him in the stomach. “Hey. Last time, you used it to hack into my mind.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “It worked, didn’t it?”
She rolled her eyes while shaking her head. “And you spent that time telling me you loved me, so other vampires would think we weren’t paying attention.”
Marco blinked, several times, and in rapid succession. As he spoke, every time he cut himself off, his body started, as though he had been a piece of poorly edited film. “And I—knew you’d play along while I—made that—profession.”
Amanda cocked her head. “Marco, what were you going to say?”
Marco’s brow furrowed, and his smile remained, giving him a confused look. “Why do you ask?”
“You are skipping like scratched DVD. I didn’t know anyone could hide what they were thinking when they were mind-melded.”
“Oh, darling, you have no idea.” Marco arched his brow and smirked. “Ma
ybe we should talk to everyone else before they wonder if we’re having a shared seizure?”
They both snapped back to reality, and Marco’s hands were still on Amanda’s shoulders. He squeezed her arms, then turned back to the rest of the store.
“Okay, we’ll get rid of ‘Mister Day’ next time he comes out in the open.”
Everyone looked at him strangely, proclaiming victory before a plan had even formed.
Tiffany raised a hand, and hopped up and down, disturbingly showing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Marco averted his eyes even as she asked, “And how, oh supernatural expert who’s been here for only five minutes?”
Marco’s eyes became hooded. “Because if we don’t get it done next time, we won’t get another shot, since we’ll all be dead.”
“Marco,” Father Rodgers asked before they could wander all over the place again. “Why did you want to know about his biology?”
“Nerve points,” Amanda answered for him. “There are some points on the body you hit, and parts stop working. Hands, spine, brain, et cetera. Yes, he is human. I’ve seen his physiology.”
This is the best part of having her for cavalry, she knows what I’m thinking ahead of time… and she feels good to hug, very soft, padded in all the right places, and even smells good… and I don’t think that’s a perfume to cover up the smell of death.
Merle smiled and nodded at the two of them, looking amused. “But that only works for a few moments, and only if you can get close.”
Marco peered into Amanda’s eyes a moment more. They were so lovely dark and deep, he could just fall in again and… he broke off from that thought to scan the chemical shelf before Merle. What some of it had to do with magic supplies, he had no idea. He reached over for a jar of hydrochloric acid. “He can heal tissue, but let’s see him heal at the molecular level.”
Amanda looked at the others, then smiled lovingly at him. “Atoms of acid lack at least one electron on the uppermost level of the electron rings, an electron it should have. It burns because it steals electrons of atoms that hold matter together.”
At Tiffany’s blankest look, Yana dumbed down the explanation. “Your body is made up of sugar as the most common component. If you were to dip your hand in acid, it would caramelize.”
The overly busty bleached blonde blinked. “My hand would be a caramel candy?”
“No, it would turn to a lump of coal,” Marco said. Like your brain, you stupid, bloody, idiotic, mindless blonde!
“Oh.”
Merle shook his head, rolled his eyes, then looked to the priest. “Father Rodgers? Does anyone know what attracts him? Why did Day just move here? There has to be a reason.”
There was a hesitation from Rodgers.
Amanda cleared her throat. “Um, Merle… He follows patterns of rage, it attracts him.”
Marco looked around at the others in the room, wondering if they knew. Merle looked at Marco. He knew. Yana stared straight at Marco curiously, as though wondering what he had been doing with his time since the news had reached the city. George looked up from his magazine, and then went back to reading it—he just didn’t care, one way or another. After all, the man turns into an Irish wolfhound. Who does that?
I must have lit up like Hiroshima at midnight of a new moon in 1945. Marco turned to Amanda to thank her, and met her eyes. “Thanks.”
Rory, on the other hand, sighed, and whipped a cigarette out of his jacket, lit it casually, and said, “Do we know what the little fecker did in all these places? Or is it all just rumors?”
“They’re all just rumors to start with, son,” Rodgers drawled. “We just haven’t the evidence, unless you know someone who survived any of those places?”
Marco smiled, and waved Rory down before the vampire could complain. “At the moment, who cares? Right now, it seems like we’re going to have to hit this guy with everything we have anyway. Merle, do you want to be in on this?”
Merle said, “I’m game, but why not throw everyone at this?”
“Long story. To start with, I’m bait. From what I can gather, he wants me… I’ve met him once, and that’s usually enough for me to piss off anybody. And for the pressure points, we need his guard down. For that, you’ll need someone that isn’t intimidating. Let’s face it, compared to this creature, I am nowhere near threatening. Rory and Amanda are, well, vampires. You have your… reputation. But me, I’m no one.”
Rory looked at the New Yorker with curiosity, as though he had admitted a deep dark secret. He glanced at his watch. “Almost dawn soon. Are we really going to place our bets on a hope that he acts like a vampire and is put on hold for a day?”
Marco nodded. “Maybe. If we’re lucky. That allows us to make the time and place of our response a matter of our choosing, not his.”
Merle: “How do you intend to do that?”
Marco smiled his most annoying smile. “Trust me.”
CHAPTER 19:
BEFORE THE STORM
Merle waited for everyone to go home before he fell down onto his bed, face first.
Dammit, who knew I could once again be sucked in by vampires and monsters and whatever else this new guy is? I should’ve known. Part of the reason that I had become “the Initiative” was that I not only knew how to deal with the freaky stuff, I also attracted it. I was my own walking Hell-mouth. Joss Whedon didn’t need Sunnydale, I was available, and I could have used the money. Merle Kraft… freak-magnet. Oy.
But yes, Tiffany was right. He wasn’t being paid nearly enough. But with crap like the demonic highlander-as-terrorist, enough money was no longer a viable concept. He wondered if he could be paid in sleep, nerves of steel, or sanity points.
Now there was Marco’s plan. Marco’s plan called for Merle to stay out of the fray for as long as possible, preferably so that Merle didn’t even show his face. It was psychotically brave, it was noble, it was deeply insane, and it might even work.
That didn’t mean it was any less the product of a half-baked mind that relied on lots of chutzpah and just as much applied chemistry and martial arts skill. The odds of that being able to take down a who-knows-how-old demon didn’t strike Merle as very good.
What the kid’s thinking, I don’t know. It’s borderline insane, but I at least know where he’s coming from. I wanted a force that I could leave behind in San Francisco without their being a problem, and I guess it’s time to test that thesis. If this goes bad tonight, not only would I probably die, I wouldn’t be able to do my job outside of San Francisco for months, if at all.
Merle sighed. Well, then again, what were the odds that I’d be related to a brother from Hell, literally?
Merle sighed, leaned over, tapped a cigarette against the top of his night table. He sat up and lit up. Just when I thought it was safe on the streets of San Francisco.
“Merlin, you’re in San Francisco, it was never safe, and I should know.”
Merle inhaled deeply before looking over at his brother. Dalf Kraft emerged from a shadow in the corner that Merle didn’t know had been there before.
Merle exhaled in his brother’s direction. “So, Dalf, this Day fellow a friend of yours?”
“Hardly. I do not deal with knee breakers.”
A nod. “I would suppose you’re above that… or in the ranks of hell, does that mean you’re below that?
Dalf smiled. “I told you to run and hide, little brother.”
Merle turned, holding the cigarette to the side. “This have something to do with the UN again? Like last time?”
The bastard only smiled. “Did I say that?”
Merle narrowed his eyes. “You’re playing both sides against the middle again.” This means one of two things: he’s actually a double agent and he’s on my team, or else… “These people are onto something big, aren’t they? Something big enough to kick you out of your position with whatever circle of Hell you run with.”
They stared at each other a moment. Dalf smiled slightly, leaned against a glass case, tucki
ng his wolf’s-head cane under his arm. “Whatever could you be talking about?”
“Something international… someone has something up their sleeve at the UN, don’t they, Dalf?”
Merle blinked, and Dalf was gone… But maybe I should bring a camera to tonight’s events… maybe I should sleep first…
The doorbell rang in front, and Merle sighed. Of course someone would have to do this now! What illiterate pothead can’t read the Closed sign?
Merle stood slowly, making it to the door, and then Merle saw a glimpse of honey-blonde hair… Kristen and Arthur were there, waiting.
Merle smiled. Well, maybe I can stay awake for a little bit longer.
He unlocked the door and Kristen smiled. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and when Arthur had to go to the washroom, she took the opportunity to stay behind and asked, “One thing, Merle, I may need your professional help with something.”
He raised a brow. “Yes?”
“Do you know anything about several destroyed crypts lately? From the remains, they look like they were made into homes, but the way they’ve been destroyed, it looks like someone was having fun with napalm.” Kristen shook her head and sighed. “If I didn’t know any better, Merle, someone out there has personally declared war on… someone. Maybe the homeless? As far as I can tell, it could either be a strike team, or a one-man operation. You’re the expert in weird—you know anyone like that?”
Hello, Marco. Nice that you found a hobby. “You could say that.”
* * *
Marco walked into his dorm with Amanda about three minutes before the sun came up. He sat back on his bed and sighed. “Remind me to sleep before this is over.”
Amanda sat on the foot of the bed. “You can do that now. I’ll make sure you’re not eaten by big bad demon.”
He smiled. A good point. As good as when she pointed out… “Wait a sec.” He shook his head to clear it. “You said you know Day’s anatomy. You said you saw his insides… when did you do that?”