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

by Robert J. Crane

  He focused on the moments of the accident, the catastrophe he’d caused. He could feel their souls floating by him—Sarah Glass, Jack Benitez. Could touch them again, feel their agonies. It was bliss. He could feel something about to happen here, too. He was warming up to it, could feel his skin starting to heat up again. He exhaled, his breaths coming in light gasps. It was enjoyable, in its way.

  His hands were on her hips, on her ass, pulling tighter to her, then away as he prepared for another thrust. He had a good grip and the pre-show was about to begin …

  He felt her jerk, saw her back tense in the moonlight that peeked between the red curtains. She made a noise but it was muffled by the gag. He could hear it in his head, though.

  A scream. Of pain.

  He gripped her tighter and clutched her close, felt himself grow stiffer within her. She was clawing at the bed, trying to reach the headboard. Trying to get away.

  Silly bitch. No chance. Not against a demon.

  She clawed at the sheets and he could hear her nails rip into the fabric. He held on, tighter, his fingers breaking the skin as he kept thrusting.

  He grunted, as loud as he reasonably could. Moaned, louder still, to cover her noises. He could feel the desperation as she clawed to get away from him. Felt it. Fed on it.

  The thrill overcame him and he finished, could feel the pulse of it, the discharge. He spurted for the first time in a live human being, and he could hear her scream in his head, even though it was muffled by the gag.

  “Yeah, baby,” he moaned as she struggled against his grip. His fingers tore into the flesh of her hips. He could feel the blood running down them. She didn’t seem to notice. She had other problems.

  The first sizzling noise presented itself to his ears. He could hear his ejaculate burning through her, out her belly. She went limp in his grasp, unconscious from the pain. He could feel himself still climaxing, the power of it stronger somehow, by the proximity and the act.

  His breathing grew heavier and his discharge continued. He could feel it tunneling deeper into her now as she sagged limp in his arms. It had ruptured her intestines, her stomach. She was out from the pain, but he could still feel the agony tracing its way through her in her dreams.

  He lay her gently upon the bed, facedown. He could hear the sizzle as his jizz burned its way through the mattress. And he did not care.

  “There, there,” he said and he stroked her ass. He stayed in her, though he could barely feel anything at all now. Everything close to his member inside had been burned away, seared into ash.

  Gideon slumped on top of her, felt her clammy skin against his own warm flesh. He was still coming, her pain a fresh, delicious sweet for him to savor. Being in contact with her skin was like nothing he’d even felt. He didn’t even have to touch himself to keep going. His ejaculations continued unabated, just by being this close to the source of the agony.

  He felt his fiery emission creeping deeper and deeper within her, felt her nerves reacting even within her unconscious form. She was so close to death, so close … and he was so close to her, he could feel it, taste it, touch it … it was right there …

  When he felt her die, shuddering one last time beneath his fat belly, he came again, this time so hard he could hear it burning all the way up through her sternum and her neck.

  When it was over, Gideon rolled over onto his back and fell into deepest sleep. The sleep of the utterly untroubled.

  14.

  “Beg pardon?” Erin asked. She was standing there, outside Arch’s place, and the redhead was staring at her with those dead, dark eyes. Her hair looked like it was on fire in the light. Crazy shit. Some damned nice product at work there. “What the fuck did you say?”

  “I am here to speak to you,” the redhead said. The chill didn’t seem to be affecting her, because she was wearing a tank top. A little too revealing for Erin’s taste. It wasn’t like she hadn’t worn less, of course, but usually only at a beach or a swimming pool. Or in bed.

  “About what?” Erin said, her hand resting comfortably on the grip of her pistol. She hadn’t wrapped her hand around the Glock yet, but her palm was resting on the butt of the gun. It wouldn’t take long for her to pull if something went awry.

  Erin felt her face pinch as she frowned. Why was she even thinking about drawing a gun? It wasn’t like this woman had done anything to her. She pulled her hand away.

  “About the future,” the redhead said.

  “Oh, well that’s exciting,” Erin said. The future what? “First thing’s first—what’s your name?”

  “Starling,” the redhead said.

  “Last name?” Erin asked.

  “Just Starling,” the redhead replied.

  “Is that your stage name?” Erin said with a smile. “I bet the guys at Moody’s Roadhouse just go nuts when you take your top off.” Starling just cocked her head at her, looking bemused. It probably wasn’t as cute as she’d thought it was. “What about my future or the future or … whatever? Make yourself plain, will you? And while you’re at it, explain why you’re sneaking up on Arch’s door?”

  “I told you, I am here to see you,” Starling said in that same dull voice. “And I have no idea what ‘Moody’s Roadhouse’ is, nor what sort of top I would be taking off there.”

  “I was calling you a stripper,” Erin said. The shit she was saying did not seem to be dawning on this Starling. Maybe the girl was slow. “Get on with whatever you wanted to say about the future.”

  “Your future is not what you think it is,” Starling said in a low voice, almost intoning.

  “That’s … inspirational,” Erin said. “My future is not what I think it is? Incredible. Say,” she went on, “you’re not one of those tarot card readers that hangs out back in the woods off Larren’s Pike Road, are you? Because you hill folk really ought to stick to home; this town stuff really doesn’t work out well when you—”

  “Your future lies in a different direction,” Starling said, and this time her voice seemed to come alive, stirring something in Erin. “You will protect the people.”

  “I’m a cop,” Erin said, a little short. “That’s what I do.”

  “You sit behind a desk,” Starling said, eyes looking off into the distance. “You fetch coffee and sandwiches, answer radio dispatches. But you are called to a higher purpose.”

  Can I arrest her for lurking? That was the thought on Erin’s mind after the last little gem came flying out of the redhead’s mouth.

  There was a clicking noise of a door opening and Erin turned her head to look. Arch stood framed in his doorway, gun in hand. “Erin?” His soft voice seemed to echo in the empty night. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was talking to your friend Starling here—” Erin raised her hand to indicate the redhead, but she was gone. “What the fuck?” She turned and looked around, studying the dark outline of the bushes. “She was just here.”

  “Yeah,” Arch said, and he sounded weary, “she does that.”

  ***

  Arch had heard voices outside, and lately he couldn’t be cautious enough. He had his gun in one hand, switchblade ready in the other in case it was a demon. It was kind of a relief to step out of the stuffy apartment—Alison had turned the heat up again before going to bed—and into the cool night. It wasn’t like this usually. Not even in late summer.

  When he’d seen Erin outside, it was even more of a surprise. He wouldn’t have been shocked to find Reeve. Man did his own dirty work, and Arch was surprised he hadn’t called Alison at least. He was still working on what to say to explain everything that had happened.

  “So what are you doing here?” Arch asked Erin, who was still staring off into the night, like she could catch a glimpse of Starling in the bushes and drag the red-haired girl out to prove she’d been there. Arch was sure she had been; how else would Erin have known who she even was?

  “I told you,” Erin said, and she sort of snapped, “I was talking to your friend Starling.”

&
nbsp; “Yeah,” Arch said, patient by virtue of not having the energy to get irritable, “but I presume you were at least driving by the parking lot of my apartment building before that …”

  “Oh,” Erin said, and she stopped peering at the hedgerow of bushes and trees. “Well, yeah, I was looking for you.”

  “Here I am,” Arch said. He holstered his Glock. He kept the switchblade clutched in his palm, though, the cool plastic and metal against his skin. “Found me, you have.”

  “Yeah, I—” Erin stopped, her short blond hair bobbing as she angled her head at him. “Did you just quote Yoda?”

  “Sort of. The actual quote is, ‘Found someone, you have—“Arch felt a slight tinge of embarrassment. “I like Star Wars. So what?” He’d taken some heat on the football team in high school for liking geeky things sometimes, not to mention those rolled-eye looks from Alison. Didn’t stop him from liking them, though.

  “Reeve is looking for you,” Erin said. She was at a distance, standing up the walk a ways toward the parking lot. “He’s hopping pissed that you turned off your phone.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I told him I’d seen you up on the overpass with Hendricks and Starling.”

  “He’s pretty mad, I take it?” Arch felt the burn on that one, too. Dereliction of duty, he thought it was called in the military. Something Hendricks would probably know. He felt a burning on that one, too, and wondered again what to do about the cowboy.

  “He ain’t happy,” Erin said. “We got all this shit coming down, plus Tallakeet Dam is gonna start running over tomorrow.” She shook her head, made a little angry noise. “I thought your God said he wasn’t gonna flood the earth again.”

  Arch felt that tinge of annoyance for again having to explain away something that seemed obvious to him. “Despite what Reeve may think, the Caledonia River Valley doesn’t constitute the whole earth.”

  Erin made a half-amused noise at that and coupled it with a smile. “Don’t tell him that.” Her expression darkened. “What the hell you got going on here, Arch? Hendricks and Starling, and …” She looked behind her, like she was checking to see if the parking lot was clear. “Do you believe in demons?”

  Arch felt the air turn colder. It was a not a question he was prepared for. He stalled. “Like fire and brimstone?”

  Erin laughed. “I know, right? Crazy stuff.”

  Arch didn’t smile, thinking of the cow-turned-demon that had hurled fire at him only a week ago. Perception changed fast. “Sure. Crazy.”

  She was watching him, though, and she caught it. He could tell by her expression. “Shit, you believe that stuff, don’t you?”

  What was the truth? He stuck close to it and started talking. “The Bible does say there are demons and—”

  “Yeah, the Bible also says that the world is six thousand years old, and we’ve got some pretty compelling evidence to the contrary.”

  Arch wasn’t really in the mood for a full-on, theological debate. “I’m not arguing the merits of Archbishop Ussher’s chronology of the Bible at four a.m. for a variety of reasons, the least of which being I don’t believe the Irishman was right and the greatest of which is that I’m too tired. You don’t believe in demons. Why are you asking me about them?”

  He saw her expression subtly change. He thought it turned a little … spiteful. “Hendricks has books on demons in his hotel room.”

  “He showed ’em to you?” Arch felt his head reel a little at that one. He hadn’t figured Hendricks would have been so dumb. Her mention of his name was more than a little salt in the wound, though, since Arch still had no plan for getting the cowboy back. Sitting around wasn’t helping.

  “Not exactly,” Erin said, and Arch was prepared to call her out on dodging until she said something else. “But I just confronted him about them outside his motel and—”

  “Wait, you just saw Hendricks?” Arch felt his body tense. “When?”

  “Just a little bit ago. He was just getting back to his hotel with those two guys in suits.” She blushed. “We … uh … had it out right there in front of them.”

  “Did you?” Arch murmured. He turned and fumbled for his keys, locking his door.

  “Where are you going?” Erin asked.

  “I lost track of Hendricks earlier tonight,” Arch said, already heading down the walk toward the parking lot. “Just want to … make sure he made it home okay.”

  “It’s four a.m., Arch,” Erin said as he started to pass her. She pivoted, and the look she gave him was incredulous. “If I were you, I might go make peace with Reeve for blowing off work in the midst of the single biggest crisis Calhoun County has seen.”

  “Yeah,” Arch said, “I’ll go do that, too.”

  “Seriously?” Erin said from behind him. “That’s the line you’re gonna give me? You gotta go check up on a twenty-five year-old bad boy that you barely know? Why the hell are you bullshitting me, Arch?”

  Arch thought about looking back as he answered but decided it would be counter-productive. “I’m not … doing that,” he said, neatly avoiding repeating what she’d said, “to you. I just got business to attend to.”

  “You might want to attend to your job,” Erin said. She was following him now into the parking lot, but not very fast. She wasn’t trying to catch him. It was more like she was content to argue with him at a distance. “While you’ve still got one—”

  He slammed the door and her words were lost under the roar of the Explorer’s engine. He triggered the wipers once and goosed the gas pedal, heading out of the parking lot a heck of a lot faster than he normally would have.

  ***

  Hendricks heard the squeal of tires outside his room. He was sitting there on the bed, Lerner in the chair by the window, tapping his fingers on the table. Duncan was standing by the door, staring straight ahead. He’d been doing that for a while, trying to get a handle on something, Lerner had said. Hendricks thought it was fucking creepy, but then again, he was hanging out in his hotel room with two demons with a boner for law and order of some sort.

  Lerner looked up to Duncan, who stirred. “It’s his cop friend,” Duncan said, nodding at Hendricks.

  “Arch,” Hendricks said with a flash of annoyance. Couldn’t they use proper names for human beings? Then again, he probably wasn’t too hung up on using a demon’s proper name. But of course he’d always thought they were killing machines, from top to bottom.

  Also, his body and head still ached. Thinking wasn’t on the top of his priorities list at the moment.

  There was an insistent knocking at the door. “Open it,” Hendricks said to Duncan.

  “What’s the magic word?” Lerner said, smiling at him with that smartass grin.

  “Brimstone,” Hendricks said. The mattress was soft against his ass, calling out for him to just lie down and go to sleep. It wasn’t like they were doing anything else.

  Lerner looked at Duncan and shrugged. “Good enough for me.” Duncan opened the door.

  It was Arch, sure as shit, and he jumped a little upon seeing Duncan behind the door in his purple suit, which was obvious by the motel room’s light. Arch hesitated outside the door, and Hendricks could see his hand go to his holster.

  “It’s all right,” Hendricks called out. “They’re uh …” he looked at Lerner, “… friends. Sort of.”

  Arch stepped inside and Duncan closed the door behind him. Hendricks watched Arch size up both Duncan and Lerner. They were both tiny compared to the big cop. “So … who are your friends?”

  “Lerner and Duncan,” Hendricks said, nodding to each of them in order.

  “First names or last names?” Arch asked.

  “Assumed names,” Lerner answered, keeping Hendricks from having to awkwardly try and guess which it might be. “In our world you don’t give your name out all willy-nilly. Names have power.”

  Hendricks could see Arch just bristle, like he was a cat that had had a static-filled sheet of polyester run over him. “Demons?”

  Dunca
n stared at him. It was Lerner who answered. “Yeah. And?”

  Arch went a little bug-eyed, like he was gonna just wade into Duncan and start mopping the floor with him. “And nothing. Demons—”

  “It’s all right, Arch,” Hendricks said. Though he had to admit, he wasn’t sure it was. “Apparently there’s a little grey area here. They’re with the Office of Occultic Concordance. Law enforcement for the underworld.”

  “And still demons?” Arch asked. Hendricks could hear the urge to fight in the man’s voice.

  “You say that like it’s an inherently bad thing,” Lerner said from his spot by the table. Arch shot him a look that would have melted the pavement on an overpass. “I don’t go killing you just because you’re human, y’know.”

  “They’re after the guy,” Hendricks said, trying to insert himself back into the conversation before it got ugly. Arch had a mad-on for demons. Which Hendricks could understand, having had one for about five years himself. He paused. Still kind of did. These guys acted different, though, not like the ones that changed their faces and came at you with fangs and whatnot. He’d seen—and killed—plenty of that type. “The one that caused that massive pile-up.”

  “And what are they gonna do when they catch up with him?” Arch asked, surveying both Lerner and Duncan at once. It was interesting to watch the deputy try and keep his head constantly swiveling to keep an eye on them. “Pin a medal on him?”

  “We don’t give medals for killing humans,” Lerner said with that same grin, though it went a little smarmier. “Just like you don’t give medals for shooting fish in a barrel.”

  That one killed the conversation for a minute.

  “We’re going to send him back when we catch him,” Duncan said after a pause. It was an uncomfortable silence, Hendricks recognized, and Arch was being damned stoic. Hendricks suspected that meant he was weighing whether or not to ventilate the essence out of Duncan and Lerner.