The Southern Watch Series, Books 1-3: Called, Depths and Corrupted

by Robert J. Crane

  ***

  Arch saw it through the openings he’d made in Ygrusibas—Hendricks’s blade, deep inside. The smell of brimstone was everywhere, but for some reason he didn’t even have to look away from the burning flames, couldn’t feel any heat from them. If anything, they were cold to him. He reached past them, stabbing deeper with the switchblade, aiming for the blazing center of the demon, the heart. He tapped the light within, just tapped it, his arm buried way past the elbow. There was a flash, and suddenly he was tumbling down.

  ***

  The burst of heat that followed Arch’s stab to the light was incredible. Hendricks hadn’t ever done anything like this, but he had a suspicion he knew what was coming next. Even before Arch had reached his hand in—Hendricks wondering all the while how he wasn’t burning up doing it—Hendricks was already pulling his sword out, dragging himself along, coat trailing behind him as he limped over to where Arch was half hanging out of the entrails of Ygrusibas. As soon as he saw the flash, like a bomb going off, he grabbed Arch by the legs and yanked him as hard as he could.

  ***

  It was impossible. Ygrusibas could feel the heat within, the essences breaking free. There really weren’t many of them, just the little ones from Creampuff and her brethren, the one from the greater demon he’d eaten, and then his own essence. It was considerable. It was formidable. It had taken HIM to imprison Ygrusibas, to cast him down. Now he was being brought down by these mites, these fleas. And her, the one who had brought him low. Who was she? He had caught a hint, only a hint, yet that was enough to torment him as the essences broke free and exploded around him.

  The last thought Ygrusibas was left with was that she had been the one to beat him, really, not the fleas. Well, that and one last thought from somewhere deep within.

  Moo.

  ***

  Arch landed on top of Hendricks and heard the air rush out of the cowboy. They were both sprawled out, gasping, on the ground in the pasture, staring up at the moon above. It was the only light left now that the fire had dissipated. Arch was okay with that. Really okay with it.

  It only took him a moment to sit up, to look over the whole situation. Hendricks was moaning, disgruntled and probably in more than a little pain. Starling stood a little farther away, staring down at both of them, still wearing that cold expression. He tried to decide what she was going to say before she said it.

  ***

  “You are not seriously injured.”

  Hendricks would have been more enthused to hear Starling say that if he hadn’t been still feeling the residual aches from the ass-kicking of a lifetime.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” he replied, and tenderly pushed at his own abdomen. It felt a little achy but nothing screamed at him. Surprisingly. That Hollywood bastard had given him one hell of a kick to the gut. “Okay,” he said after a pause. “Help me up?”

  He felt strong hands assist him in getting to his feet. It took him a second to realize they were Starling’s, not Arch’s. He looked left to the deputy. “Pretty sure this lady just saved our lives.”

  Arch looked fairly neutral about it then turned to Starling. “Pretty sure he’s right. Thank you kindly.”

  Starling looked from one of them to the other, almost curious, as though she were observing some strange phenomenon. She started to speak then stopped.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Hendricks asked, almost smiling. Not quite, though. He was still hurting.

  “No,” Starling said.

  Hendricks looked over at Arch and smiled. “I guess she doesn’t know what to say to that.”

  Arch apparently didn’t know what to say to that, either. And when Hendricks looked back at Starling to see what she had to say, she was gone.

  ***

  “That was a hell of a thing,” Hendricks said as they limped toward the road. Arch had handed him his gun and his sword, and they were on their way out now, Hendricks moving under his own power, but slowly. Arch was a foot or so to his side, shotgun over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, I don’t reckon I’ve seen anything quite like it before,” Arch said.

  “Neither have I,” Hendricks agreed. “Five years I’ve been doing this, never squared off against a greater, let alone seen one get eaten by the cow-demon he summoned himself.” He smiled because damn if it wasn’t funny. “Seems like there’s some irony in that. What’s that old phrase? ‘Hoist on your own petard’?”

  “Hollywood got hoisted, all right,” Arch said.

  The night had gotten quiet, and they walked along in silence for a spell, until Arch spoke again.

  “So, you gonna head out of town now?” Arch asked. He phrased it like a serious question, and Hendricks pretended to think it over.

  “Right now I’m gonna drag ass back to my motel room and pass out,” Hendricks said. “But no, I’m not planning to leave just yet. Unless this was the cause of the hotspot.” He chucked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate all that, the shit they’d just tromped through. “Then I suppose I’d clear out, head on to the next.”

  Arch pondered it, not saying nothing for a sec. “Is that likely?”

  This was a serious question. “Hell if I know,” Hendricks said. “I don’t know what starts ’em, I don’t know what causes ’em to die off. Hell, I don’t even know what the allure is, what makes these things such a draw for the hellfire and brimstone crowd. I just know that where one pipes up, they show up in droves.” He felt serious now, and the pain was a secondary consideration for just a minute. “Wherever they go, I’ll be there, too.” He wondered if Arch would ask and was not too disappointed when he did.

  “What’d they do to you?” Arch looked sidelong at Hendricks, and Hendricks just kept walking, trying to decide how to answer.

  “They took everything from me,” he finally said. And really, that pretty much covered it. They walked on in silence.

  13.

  Arch dropped Hendricks off at the motel sometime later, after a quiet ride back. There wasn’t much left to say, for the moment, at least. Hendricks hadn’t answered, not in any meaningful way. What was everything to one man was another man’s tackle box or hunting rifle or Harley. It made Arch curious, but not achingly so. If the cowboy didn’t want to answer, he didn’t have to, and Arch just watched him walk back up to the motel room door after they’d shaken hands without a word exchanged. They didn’t have to say anything. Not right now, anyway.

  ***

  Hendricks listened to the quiet creak of the door as he opened then shut it carefully, trying not to disturb the figure that was still lying on the bed. It didn’t work, though, and she moved as soon as the beam of light from the open door disappeared. He could see her move in the dark, sitting up by the faint light making its way in from the motel sign outside. It shone in around the edges of the curtains, casting the whole place with a shadowed look. Another room in another town. The girl in his bed was new, though.

  “Hey,” she said in a sleepy voice.

  “Hey,” he said, and glided over to the chair. He took off his hat and coat, taking care to hide the sword in the depths of the drover before he removed it. The gun went safely into the inside pocket as well, before he balled the whole mess up and let it lie on the floor. His next stop was the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Little headache,” she said, and he could see her soft features as his eyes adjusted. She looked down. “I’m still wearing my clothes and you’re just getting back here at two A.M. so I’m guessing we didn’t …” She just let it trail off, and he waited to see if she’d finish the thought.

  “No, we didn’t,” he answered after a pause. “You passed out and hit your head, and then Arch called, so I went with him to deal with some … stuff.” He realized how lame that sounded to even his ears. He didn’t really want to think too deeply about what it must sound like to her.

  “Oh.” She didn’t sound too mad, fortunately. “So we didn’t fuck?” He shook his head slowly. “Did I at least blow you?” He kep
t shaking it. She laughed, but it sounded a little hoarse, like her throat was scratchy. “God, am I a buzzkill or what? Just passed out on you after all that making out?”

  “Clearly you weren’t feeling too well,” Hendricks said, with a little remorse over lying to her like this. It was still better than telling her a demon had smacked her head against the wall and he’d had to light out to stop it from ending the world. Though, if he’d thought she would have believed it, he would have gone with that. It made him sound way cooler. “We might have overdone it a little with all those beers.”

  “Like I’m some kind of lightweight?” She was amused, but there was a challenge there. She didn’t sound sleepy anymore. Her hand snaked out and was on his side, up his shirt, and she didn’t notice him cringe in the dark as she hit a bruised spot. “Listen, cowboy, I can outdrink you anytime, and still have enough energy to ride you all night long even after you’ve passed out.”

  “Is that so?” It wasn’t in his nature to be challenging with a woman, but in this case, it felt like the right thing to say.

  “You’re damned right it is.”

  She was on him after that, her mouth on his, that pressure building again under all his myriad aches and pains. She was a little rougher than he expected, struggling to get his shirt off. Hers came off fast, just a few buttons and it was over her head. He remembered where the clasp for her bra was, and it came off quickly, too.

  “I got into a car accident last week,” he said, holding her hands to keep her from twisting him out of his shirt. “Still really bruised up, so take it easy.” She didn’t acknowledge him verbally, but she nodded, and she was gentler taking his shirt off. If her eyes widened at the sight of the bandages still covering his chest, he couldn’t see it in the dark.

  He eased her pants off, her panties too, and found her almost as ready as he’d left her a few hours earlier. That was a good thing, he figured, a woman who warmed up easily. Beat the hell out of the alternative, especially for a late-night roll in the hay. His mouth ran across her nipples while his hand worked her clit. She was grasping for him as well, trying to get a hand on his cock. He kept her from it, though, long enough for him to come back up to her, to kiss her lips, and by then she was moaning for him to get on with it.

  He slipped into her with feverish desire, still sweating from the heat of the fight. He started slowly, building with intensity as the minutes rolled on. She moaned her agreement. Her hands went by turns delicately caressing his chest, then running down his shoulders, and finally grasping at his ass and pulling him in deeper. She held him there until he thrust one last time and she gasped, letting out an exhalation before she went slack.

  It took him just a little longer to reach his own climax, but when he did he slumped on her, leaving himself inside her. He buried his face in her neck, in the scent of her sweat mixed with the perfume she’d worn. She felt sticky from top to bottom, every part of him in contact with her, nothing between them at all, and Hendricks began to feel more exposed than he’d felt in a long, long time.

  ***

  Arch stayed out in the driveway of his in-laws house for about five minutes before the front porch light came on. He hadn’t wanted to wake anyone and had reconciled himself to sleeping in the car. The minute he saw the light come on, though, he was out of the cruiser and on his way up. He had a fresh magazine in the Glock and a round was chambered. He kept a hand on that, and the other deep in the pocket where the switchblade rested. He wondered when Hendricks would need it back, and how he’d ever feel safe without carrying it all the time.

  Alison was at the door, silhouetted with her blond hair all loose around her head. Arch wanted to run to her, but he calmed himself. He was a man, a man of the old school, and he didn’t go in for big displays of emotion one way or another. The fact that he knew that about himself was a measure of him in a way, but not one he liked to think about overly much. Introspection wasn’t his thing, and walking up to his in-laws porch wasn’t the place for it anyway, not with things as they were.

  “Hey,” Alison said and folded him into her arms before he had a chance to say anything.

  “Hey, babe,” he replied and hugged her back. He held her tight for a moment without speaking. “About last night—”

  “We don’t need to talk about it anymore,” she said and stepped back, but took his hand in hers.

  That one threw him back for a spell. She always wanted to talk. About everything. “Are you sure?”

  Her eyes were flat, unflinching. She may have just been tired, but it felt like they were muted somehow. “You took care of it, didn’t you?”

  It took him a moment to realize that the proverbial “it” could have been any number of things, all rolled up into one. He thought about explaining it, maybe giving her some detail or saying something reassuring. Finally, he just nodded.

  “Then come to bed,” Alison said, and he followed her inside. They shut the door, and she led him off, down the hall to her old room, and they went inside and turned off the light.

  ***

  Hendricks woke early, Erin draped across his body. He woke up kind of natural, with a hard-on still pressed into her hip where she was laying on him. He grinned even though it felt a little awkward, not really sure how to extract himself from this situation and even less sure he wanted to. Although his chest kind of hurt with her on it, it wasn’t bad enough to make him want to wake up the sleeping little angel who was stirring his chest hair with her every breath.

  “What are you so tickled about?” she asked him in a voice that carried not even a hint of sleepiness. When he looked down, her eyes were still pressed tightly closed, but she had a faint smile on her face. “Are you laughing about poking me awake?” The eyes came open now, and they were alight with mirth, perfectly matching the smile.

  “Nah,” Hendricks said, then jabbed her again, eliciting a giggle from her. “Just nice to have someone here besides myself to deal with it …”

  After they’d dealt with it, they showered together, with that surprising shyness that comes with a morning after. Hendricks plunged right through it, kissing her frequently, as much to remind himself of what he’d done with her, to feel the new sensations it brought with it, as to assuage the burgeoning sense of guilt he felt. Like a betrayal of things long past. She didn’t ask him about it, and he hoped it didn’t show. Still, he kissed her and held her in the shower more than he needed to. Overcompensating, maybe. He threw himself into it with as much enthusiasm as he could, pushing away that nagging sense of doubt, of being out of place and uncomfortable.

  She dressed when they’d finished, putting on her uniform again. “Where are my panties?” she asked, searching the bed sheets. He watched her from afar, brushing his teeth at the sink. “Have you seen them?”

  “Not sure,” he replied, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth. He was trying to spit quietly, unobtrusively, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. Like he hadn’t just stared at her naked body for the last several hours, in darkness and light. And he was embarrassed about brushing his teeth and spitting in front of her. She’d had his dick in her mouth less than an hour ago and his face had been buried between her legs, but he felt a blush at making a noise to get the paste out of his mouth. For chrissakes. “Want a pair of my boxers?”

  She turned and studied him in the mirror. “Guess they’ll have to do, because I have no idea where my panties went. My belt can probably keep them up, right?” She came up behind him as he wordlessly handed her a pair of plaid boxer shorts. “Say, you’re not one of those guys that keeps panties as a trophy of his conquests, are you?” He wordlessly shook his head, trying not to spit until she walked away. “Good. I dated one of those creepers once.”

  He delicately got rid of the toothpaste and took a drink from the faucet from one of the motel’s cups. “I’ll see if I can find them later, once housekeeping takes a stab at this place. They probably just got lost in the …” He took her in his arms as she began to button her uniform
top. She looked cute, bra partially exposed, wearing his boxers, tanned legs with no pants. It was an abstract sort of interest, though. He knew he didn’t have it in him to go again, not this morning. Besides, he was legitimately in pain now. “Well, you know. Anyway, I’ll look once the place gets cleaned up a bit.”

  “I guess I’ll just borrow these for a while,” Erin said with a half-smile as she pulled away from him and retrieved her pants, then started to slide them up while he watched the boxers disappear under her khaki uniform bottoms.

  “Seems only fair,” Hendricks said, deciding now was as good a time as any to drop a shoe on her. “I did borrow your car last night, after all.”

  “What?”

  ***

  Arch walked into the sheriff’s station just before seven and caught a sympathetic smile from Erin, who was already sitting at the front desk. He looked briefly but couldn’t see any sign of where she’d hit her head. Her hair looked clean, but different, like she’d braided it back for some reason. He didn’t put too much more thought into it because Nicholas Reeve popped his head out of his office just then and waved Arch back. Arch did as he was bid.

  He stepped into Reeve’s office, the dark wood paneling a leftover from the last major renovation of the sheriff’s station. Reeve had an old-fashioned gun cabinet in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with rifles. Those were pretty common in Calhoun County, though. His father in-law had one almost exactly like it for all his guns. It wasn’t exactly the last word in safety, but it was a nice feature for a lawman’s office to have. It certainly looked more presentable than modern gun safes, with their scoured metal surfaces.

  “So,” Reeve said once they were both settled. “You want me to have Erin get you some coffee?”

  “I’m fine,” Arch said, settling into the padding of the seat. He was only as loose as he was because he was tired. Otherwise he’d have been about as bristly as a cat running over a floor of electrified chicken wire.