by T. F. Walsh
She’d lay low in her family’s home and sort through Dad’s books to get a contact for Thomas. Maybe he was a hunter too, and had followed her dad into the business?
Oh, Dad, she thought suddenly. How could you be in Hell? He’d left her several months after her eighteenth birthday, and she had no way to know if, or when, he was taken. His last letter said almost nothing.
Got to leave, Legs. It’s for your protection. Remember what I taught you and stay low-key.
A few days ago, her life was as semi-normal as she could hope for, but now her hopes and dreams of ever tracking down her father were fragile. Hell wasn’t the kind of place anyone broke into and retrieved a person. She sighed and bit back the sting of tears.
“Demons are forbidden in this world, Blinkie,” she said to the hellhound. “My father and I are illegal trespassers. That's all anyone will think, right?” The dog didn't answer. “I mean, I had a human mother and was born in a hospital on earth, not in the pits of Hell, but who cares about that? Not Argos. Not Levi. So, I don’t belong anywhere. Not on earth and not in Hell… And definitely not in Heaven.” Blinkie yipped happily at that.
“Yeah, thanks for the conversation,” she said snarkily. She turned left, following a semi-truck. Blinkie stuck his head out the window, his front paws balancing on the frame. “Hey, get back in,” she ordered him, but he ignored her. If he fell, would he die or even get hurt? She doubted it, but she'd have to stop to retrieve him, and she didn't have time for that.
He snarled as he stared into the sedan coasting alongside them. Cary could see that he was watching the driver in the car, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth.
“Hey, no eating humans, understood?” If that driver was able to see Blinkie, he’d probably swerve all over the road and cause a major traffic accident. She ran a hand across his back. “Oh, you're soft! I just thought a hellhound would have barbed wire for a pelt.”
The hound glanced up at her with dark eyes.
“Look, we need to talk about why you're here. Um.” How would she pantomime her dad to a dog? “Did you belong to my dad?”
Blinkie yelped.
“I don't know if you're trying to answer me or if you have gas. Bark once for yes, and twice for no, okay?” The hound stayed silent, and went back to staring down passing drivers.
Cary placed her phone in the holder on the dashboard and dialed Tasha. “If I hadn’t gone to Tasha’s party at the club in Ann Arbor, then none of this would have happened, Blinkie,” she told him. “Let's see if she knows anything.” The phone's ring trilled through the car speakers. Blinkie broke into a howl and pulled himself back inside. Then his mouth latched around the headrest of his seat, chewing.
“Stop, or you’re out,” she warned.
He took another bite before pulling away, leaving puncture marks in the fabric.
“Where are you, girl?” Tasha’s sudden voice made Cary flinch.
“Driving home and then heading to work.”
“Good. Was hoping we could catch up.” In the background, Cary could hear the tapping of keyboards and faint voices. “Need someone to talk to urgently,” Tasha said quietly. “Maybe we can catch a quick bite over lunch?”
“Are you okay?” Cary asked.
Tasha didn’t respond at first but sniffled. “Yeah, just need to make a big decision and I need another opinion. You’re my girl.” Tasha's voice was strained, and Cary worried.
Cary glanced at the clock on her dashboard. 12:15. If she was going to take off for a few weeks and lie low, no harm in a quick bite with her bestie and find out what’s going on. “Of course, I’ll be there. We’ve had each other’s back since I started at Argos, you gave me a place to stay, and introduced me to spicy ribs.”
She’d keep most of what'd been happening to herself, because she had zero plans on getting Tasha involved in her mess. But she couldn't just back away from her friend.
“Meet me at Sparky’s?” Cary suggested. The thought of steak and homemade fries with no salt, just the way she liked, set her stomach on rumble mode.
“You read my mind.”
“I’ll be there in about thirty.”
“Perfect. Okay, see you.”
“Bye.”
Cary hung up. First stop, her place to pack a quick travel bag of belongings. She stepped on the gas.
Half an hour later, a suppressed heat clung to Cary at the doorway of her apartment. With a full duffle bag, she stepped into a small hallway glowing in the fluorescent lights. She locked the door behind her and adjusted her lasso on her hip before covering it with her black top. Thank goodness Argos had agreed not to bless the handle of her weapon, only the loop. She had pretended an urgent job came up and needed the lasso ASAP. She’d been afraid they’d see through her bluff, but as it stood, they never did. While she didn’t use it often, she suspected she’d need the weapon now.
Her intended quick shower morphed into fifteen minutes of scrubbing her skin and hair with shampoo, body wash, soap to cleanse away the sulfuric stink. No such luck. Even Blinkie, who rubbed himself along the wall several feet away, smelled better than her.
Sudden, rapid barking had Cary cringing. It came from Mrs. Holland’s, next door. Snitz, her white fluff ball Maltese, bit anyone who tried to pet him, except Cary. Snitz was going mental, scratching at the wall. He probably smelled Blinkie, who stopped and released a deafening howl in return. Snitz whimpered, and the clacking of his nails receded behind the door.
“Shit, Blinkie. We need to get you out of here.” Cary sprinted down the staircase. The hellhound followed.
Before her shower, she had used her computer to do a quick search on the demon, Amon. According to the Internet, Amon was a Marquis in Hell and led forty infernal legions. He predicted the future. (Oh, nice.) Surely, some of the online information was fabricated, but it didn't look good. What Cary needed were old books about demons; guaranteed research, not possible fiction.
If Amon was only possibly dangerous, she was still on edge. She hurried to her SUV, scanning the area for any sign of auras, ready to jump if anyone even looked strange.
She pulled away from her parking spot and into traffic, arriving at work in the record-breaking time of seven minutes.
“Stay.” Cary pointed at Blinkie who sniffed her pointed finger and released one of his steamed exhales up her arm. “Don’t follow me.” She wiped her hand down her leather pants. Even if Levi couldn’t see the dog, didn’t mean other hunters in Argos couldn’t. Like her, they’d probably had updated eye surgery.
She thanked her lucky stars that her human side concealed her aura or Argos would have discovered her secret. They had replicated the eye pattern from a person with ability to see auras onto hunters, and the procedure wasn't optional. Even though she already had the ability, she went along with it to avoid suspicion. At first, she’d hoped the mapping of her eyes would enhance her sight for demons, but it hadn’t, and by the time the surgery (done while she was awake!) ended, she was just grateful that her demon sight wasn't lost in the process.
“I won’t be long.” A quick pat on Blinkie’s head, then she climbed out.
He wriggled out of his seat belt, shoved past her, and jumped out onto the sidewalk.
“I’m serious,” she whispered, wiggling her finger. “Stay.”
He whimpered, lowered his head, and sat. “Good boy.”
She walked quickly along the alley adjacent to Argos. When she turned to look behind her, Blinkie was lying on his stomach on top of the SUV hood, head resting on outstretched paws and stared at her. Drooling. He better not leave a dent.
At the end of the lane, Cary turned left, toward the brown, brick facade two-story building. The place didn’t blend in amongst the skyscrapers on the street, but it had been here so long, it now became a place of reference for directions in this part of the city. She hurried toward a door with a bright green sign extending over the sidewalk:
Sparky’s. Best Homemade Meals in Detroit.
A mom-
and-pop diner, passed down through the family for years, Sparky's served the kind of home food Cary had missed out on without normal parents. Her dad’s dinners had consisted of pasta, meatballs, and veggies six nights a week. On Sundays, she had fended for herself, which meant leftovers of the same.
Passing the cafe’s front window, she glanced inside. Every table was taken, but no one wore the aura of being possessed. Thank goodness. She spotted Tasha in the back corner, her friend's golden curls pulled back into a tight ponytail that cascaded past a shoulder. Cary pushed open the door, and a bell jingled overhead, doing little to quiet the humming chatter inside. The smell of steak fries filled the air. Her belly grumbled.
Tasha saw her enter and waved her over.
Cary slouched into the seat across from her friend. “How’d you score our table? The place is nuts today.” Their favorite table was in the farthest possible location from the front door, the bathroom, and the kitchen, meaning only a few people walking by. And their favorite lunch spot.
“It’s who you know.” Tasha wiggled her eyebrows and attempted to tuck several loose curls into her ponytail. Together with her pale pink blouse and a business jacket, Tasha could easily pass for an executive, or lawyer, or manager. No part of her resembled a witch, but then again, what did witches look like anyway?
An older man with a receding hairline and red cheeks approached the table. “Girls, it's nice to see you again,” Dominic said. “What will you have?”
“Steak and fries for me,” Cary said happily. “No salt or seasoning, please.”
“A bit heavy for lunch,” Tasha said from behind her menu.
Cary reclined in her seat. “Not when I haven’t even had breakfast today. I’m starving. Can’t you hear my stomach rumbling?”
Tasha smirked and handed both menus to Dominic. “Then, I’ll have the New York cheeseburger. Hold the fries.”
“And we’ve just baked a fresh cherry pie, if you girls are interested?” Dominic asked.
“No thanks,” Cary said. “Not a fan of cherries.”
“We’re good,” Tasha agreed.
“Won’t be long then.” He headed to the kitchen, leaving them alone.
“So, what’s going on. Are you all right?” Cary asked.
“I’ll tell you in a moment, but first what happened last night?” Tasha leaned closer. “What went down?”
“Last night was bizarre.” Cary shifted in her seat. “Four suckers.”
“Shit.” A crease appeared on the bridge of Tasha’s nose. “All hits from Argos?”
“That’s the thing—the last two weren’t.”
“Argos is bound to know something.”
“Probably, but they'll never tell.” Cary poured herself and Tasha a glass of water from the carafe on the table. “We were lucky last night didn’t end worse.”
“We?”
Cary’s looked up at Tasha, who used her interrogation glare, capable of extracting information from a rock. Cary gulped half her water down, stalling. She'd prefer not to bring up Levi to avoid the I-told-you-so story, but her giant mouth had already spilled the beans. “Yeah, Levi and I. But before you say anything—”
“I knew it.” Tasha’s voice climbed, and the couple from the next table glanced over at them. Leaning in closer, she said, “You spent the night with him, didn’t you?”
“What? Such accusations.” Cary placed a hand to her chest to feign innocence. “How do you know we didn’t just join forces, and then part ways?” Cary’s knees bounced beneath the table.
Tasha snorted. “As if.”
Cary released a long sigh, and her shoulders slouched. “Okay, fine. He’s like candy that will rot my teeth, and I still crave him all the time.”
Tasha frowned and propped her chin on her curled hand. “I don’t get you. If you like him, ask the guy on a date. Why torture yourself? Last time, you moped around after him for months.”
Cary offered her a not-going-to-happen-in-this-lifetime scowl. “Too many reasons. Don’t want to get into it.”
“Then, at least share all the juicy details. That guy is sex on a stick, and last time I saw you two together, he drooled all over you.” Her smirk had Cary laughing.
“Not true!”
“It is. Anyway, spill. I’ve got to live through someone vicariously since my sex life is in its sixth month of drought.”
Cary drank the water and lowered her voice as she shared the bathroom sex details she couldn’t wipe from her mind if she tried.
“Oh, fuck.” When the couple at the next table glared her way, Tasha slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “That’s hot, girl. Does he have a brother? I can see why you can’t give him up, though I really don’t understand why you keep pushing him away. How can you be so clueless? The guy’s so into you.”
If Tasha only knew the truth of how messed up her life was right now. Cary shrugged. “I can’t understand myself sometimes, either. Anyway,” she continued, hoping to change the conversation. “Why are you all dressed up? Your usual work clothes are cargo pants and sweatshirts. What’s going on?”
Dominic appeared with their meals just then, and set them on the table. “Enjoy, girls,” he said with a smile before heading off to help another customer.
“Thanks.” Cary dove right in.
Tasha cut her burger into quarters. “I’m thinking of resigning from Argos,” she said slowly.
A French fry caught in Cary’s throat. She coughed and quickly poured herself another glass of water, and drank it before replying. “Why?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re the best they have. Who will create their protection spells? Who will I have lunch with?”
“This is my dilemma. I’ve been at Argos for six years, but they’re… changing.” She bit into her burger and wiped away the mayo dribbling down her chin. “There are things… Well, things I can’t talk too much about.”
“What do you mean?” Cary’s spine stiffened. “I haven't received an update from Argos on any changes.”
Tasha’s voice lowered. “It’s the kind of protection spells they’re asking me to do. They’re dark… Really dark. You know I don’t dance to that tune.”
“Why would Argos ask you to do that? They've always been good versus evil—no gray areas.” Cary reached over and took Tasha’s hand. “You know what? Fuck them. Doesn't matter why. Don’t let them push you into doing what makes you uncomfortable.”
“Thanks. It’s just a huge step. I’ve never had any other job, and the pay is excellent, so it’s scary to leave. Am I making the right decision?”
“Maybe we all need that sometimes. A fresh start.” She squeezed Tasha’s hand. “Do you have another job to go to?”
“There’s more.” Tasha formed a tight line with her lips. “My dad is being moved to a different prison.”
“Where’s he going?” Ten years ago, Tasha discovered her dad was a criminal--on television, of all places. “The Bear”, the media had called him, and the newspapers boasted about his arrest in a bank robbery bust gone sour. A guard had been killed.
“To Louisiana State Penitentiary.” Tasha glanced at her half uneaten burger and pushed the plate away, her eyes glistening. “Shit, the place is called the Alcatraz of the South, and that terrifies me. I know my dad did the wrong thing, but he’s still my father. And I don’t believe he killed that guard.”
“Of course. Honey, you know I can relate to messed up dads, but I adore how you support your father. It says a lot about you as a person.” Despite Tasha’s dad being in prison, she had a closer relationship with him than Cary had with hers. And a jaded part of her was jealous just enough to bring back the dreaded memories of how her dad walked out on her.
“I’m thinking of moving closer to him,” Tasha said. “I’m all he has left.”
The idea of Tasha leaving Detroit hurt. She was the one person Cary could always turn to when the shit hit the fan. If Tasha left, Cary would be alone for real.
Pushing away her own feelings, Cary forced a smi
le. “You’ve got to do what’s right for you. I’ll come and visit you.”
Tasha shrugged. “Maybe. I’m torn, that’s all. I don’t want to create their spells anymore.”
“I’ll back you up no matter what you decide.”
“Thanks.” Tasha wiped the back of her hand under her eyes. “Just saying it out loud kind of helps me make my decision.”
“Well, I’ve got some news, though compared to yours, it’s not really much.” Cary's spoke rapidly. “I’m taking a few weeks off from Argos and heading out of town, as of today. I’m here to request time off and to let Brent know that I won’t be hunting any demons until I get back.”
Tasha’s brows drew closer. “Where are you going? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about a holiday?”
“Nothing serious! I just need time away. I... got a lead on where my dad might be and plan to follow it.”
“Oh, Cary. That’s awesome.” Tasha beamed.
Her support made Cary feel worse. How could she keep lying to her friend? The idea of confiding in Tasha was tempting. Maybe she’d be able to help with the mark, but Cary couldn’t risk dragging Tasha into a fight against who knows how many demons. No way would she gamble their friendship to save herself.
Never in a million years.
Cary returned to her meal, dreading the idea of Tasha leaving. This could be her last meal with her best friend. Stop it. Don’t think that way. “Look, when I come back we’ll have a girl’s night in at my place, and we’ll talk about everything. I’ll order chipotle ribs from that Mexican take-out place you love. What do you say?”
Tasha smiled a little. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Anything for you.” As Cary devoured another fry, she wondered why Argos was requesting dark protection spells after years of only working in the light, but she couldn't think of a single reason.
Chapter 14
From the sidewalk, Cary glanced up at the Argos logo above the door: a fanned out peacock’s tail painted in shades of turquoise and bright blues. Eyes dotted the tip of each feather. The word “Argos” sat below the tail, along with “Nationwide Deliveries”. To the general public, this location was nothing more than a shipping company.