by T. F. Walsh
In orientation, Argos explained the name came from a Greek myth of a giant with a hundred eyes—Argos Panoptes. He was slain, but the goddess Hera rewarded his services by placing his hundred eyes on the tail of peacocks. It was a nice story but also a reminder that the company was always watching you.
Tasha placed her palm against the panel near the entry. A click sounded, and she pushed the door open, holding it for Cary. She stepped into the reception area, chairs lining the U-shaped room, magazines perfectly positioned on side tables, and motivational posters adorning the walls.
She lifted the hair off her nape, letting the coolness reach her back. If only the air conditioning in her SUV worked. The car reminded her of Blinkie, and she pictured her car with the tires chewed to pieces. She never should have left him alone.
“Hey, girls.” Tom, the reception guy, waved.
“Hi.” Cary slipped past his desk toward the door behind him and entered. Tasha was on her heels.
An ache started up through her temples, courtesy of the protection runes painted on every wall. Whenever possible, she avoided coming here. The air was stuffy, and the runes hurt, and to be honest, Cary just didn't like being around this many people at once.
The place resembled a call center with cubicles lining the walls and huge tinted windows on either side of the room. The hum of voices and typing filled the air. This was the hub of Argos and fed hunters with locations on demon hits 24/7, whenever one popped up. Though outside business hours, trackers worked from home.
Paranormal trackers investigated every potential lead that might lead to a possessed. The team received clues from hunters on the street as well as calls from ghost investigation teams around the country, when one of those groups found out their “poltergeist” was really a demon. Occasionally, even a priest called with a lead.
“Cary?” a man’s voice called from across the room. “Didn’t realize you were coming in today.”
She turned around and saw Brent as he stepped out of a meeting room. Argos’ CEO was dressed in tailored slacks and a white shirt, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. No business jacket for him today.
“Got a minute?” He waved her over and went back into the meeting room.
Tasha patted her arm. “Better go see what he wants. He’s been in a funny mood today. Come see me before you leave.”
“For sure.” She offered Tasha a smile, but it felt forced as she wondered why Brent needed to talk to her. Had she forgotten to claim a demon stone, or had someone complained about her work? Maybe it had to do with the demon from Ann Arbor, and damn if she didn’t have a slew of her own questions about that. She’d grill the trackers on that, right after chatting with Brent.
On the bright side, now she could ask him for her time off.
By the time she entered the room with no windows, sweat clung to her lower back.
“Close the door.” Brent sat at a round table, so Cary sat down across from him. His hands rested on the arms of his chair, his eyes looking her over. “I wasn’t expecting you today, but we have some things to discuss.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
With some people, their eyes revealed so much about them. But Brent had an empty echo in his deep-set eyes, the color of cold ashes, never letting on whether he was pissed or about to hug you. A scar ran from the corner of Brent’s mouth and pulled tightly across his left cheek, making him look like a villain, instead of a man who built up a company focused on saving lives and protecting innocents from demons.
During her first week at Argos, Cary had gotten stuck in the elevator with him for fifteen minutes. As they sat there, his happy-go-lucky smirk and positive attitude disappeared. Several phone calls later, two staff members were fired, the whole office was in a panic, and half the fire-brigade from Detroit was attempting to get them out. In the middle of that, Brent accepted an urgent phone call about someone owing him money and got into a huge argument. Threats and yelling boomed in the confined space of the elevator. Cary spent most of the time staring at her fingernails. After they got out, Brent had made her sign a non-disclosure statement that she would never tell anyone what she’d heard.
Yep, she understood his underlying threat loud and clear. Cross me and I’ll rip you to shreds. Being in confined quarters with him again brought back the unnerving feeling she was about to be reprimanded.
“I’d been meaning to call you in for a quick chat,” he said, “but I’ve been caught up in executive meetings. I’m now questioning why I appointed all these suits.” He laughed wryly and lay his hands across his lap.
“Have I done something wrong?”
The bridge of his nose creased, and he sighed so softly she would have missed it if she wasn’t staring at him. “My daughter was the victim of a possession many years ago, when she was thirteen.”
“I'm sorry, I didn’t know. Is she all right now?” Damn, she hadn't even known he was married.
Brent stared into space, his attention elsewhere. Cary was shocked he’d called her in to chat about his daughter, so she waited until he was ready. When he finally spoke again, his voice crackled. “I cleansed her, but something changed inside her. She’s terrified of the night, can’t function in large groups, and has been possessed two more times since. I think her young age left her open, unable to protect herself. I blame myself because I should have done more.”
“Multiple possessions aren’t unheard of,” Cary said. “They're rare, and all the cases I've read involved kids.” She paused, trying to figure out what to say, or not say. Once someone was invaded by a demonic force, a slither of that beast remained dormant inside them. Unfortunately, kids allowed themselves to be open compared to cynical and disbelieving adults, making them more susceptible to spiritual attacks. Brent didn't need to be reminded of that, though. “It’s not your fault,” Cary said instead, “and—”
“There is so much more to learn about demons,” Brent interrupted, “and not everything is black and white. Which is why I’ve been exploring the idea of finding another avenue for demons to come into our world. To reduce the possessions.”
Cary tensed. “Another avenue? Sure, a possession affects everyone differently, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.” She thought about the guy who’d begged the demon to take him instead of his wife, and the elderly woman who didn’t want to lose her soul because then she’d never see her deceased husband again. Everyone had a story, but never had she contemplated finding another way for demons to enter the earth realm. “Aren't you worried the idea might bring the gates of Hell to mankind?”
Brent leaned closer, his stomach pressed against the edge of the table. “Do you ever wonder why demons leave Hell?”
“Everyone knows why. Because they want to suck out people’s souls.” If demons had another purpose for leaving the underworld, her father would have told her.
“But what if you found out there’s more to it?” Brent asked. “What if they wanted to explore our world… say as a vacation, without harming anyone, then what if giving them that would make them less inclined to possess people without permission?”
She leaned back into her seat. “Sir, I've never met a demon who didn’t want to kill humans. I don’t think the Hellish kind do holidays.”
Brent studied her as if suddenly she’d grown a third eye. “Cary, you’ve been an outstanding hunter, and you never miss a beat. Most of the time, you get to demons before we issue the hit. And that got me curious. I think there's something special about you.”
Cary resisted the urge to retreat.
“I have a proposition for you. I want you to help me with my side project. Maybe we can help a lot of people by figuring out how the 'other avenue' would work.”
“So, you’re not going to fire me?” she admitted, surprised.
“No! I'm offering you a new mission,” he said.
“I'm not the speculative type. I see a demon and I vanquish it. It's simple. I don't know if I want to change that.”
“Don't
be scared, Cary. You're the perfect person for the job.”
“Why me? I haven’t been with Argos a full year.”
Brent ran a hand across his mouth. “Look, let’s cut the act. I tried to let you go on pretending, but I don't have time to coax you into helping me. I know what you are.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A sudden piercing shrill erupted from Cary’s cell in her back pocket and she flinched, sweat dripping down her spine. She snatched her phone to shut it off. Stupid thing.
“Sorry, I forgot to silence it.” When she looked up, he was staring at her.
“I studied you.” Brent smirked. “I’ve had you followed for the past month. We recorded your fighting techniques, saw how you rarely use holy water, and only sometimes pull out your lasso. You still fight with your own weapons and refuse to work with anyone else. You interact with demons in a way I've never seen before. You’re not scared or hateful, and honestly, you don't seem to enjoy it. So we caught a demon that escaped from you and interrogated it. That’s when I discovered the truth about you.”
Cary pushed her seat back, the metal feet scratching across the wooden flooring. A swirl of sickness lurched in her gut. “Y…You’re wrong.” Damn, even her waving voice betrayed her.
Brent stood and licked his lips. “But I don’t quite understand exactly what you are or how it’s possible.”
She climbed to her feet. “I need to go.”
“Cary.” His deep voice froze her on the spot. “I know where you live, where you have your morning coffee, who your friends are. There’s nowhere you can hide without me finding you.”
She felt violated, but refused to back down, and squared her shoulders. “What gives you the right to pry into my life? Whatever that demon told you was a lie.”
She remembered Tasha’s earlier words that she’d been asked to create dark spells. Was that about his ‘other avenue’ too?
“Join me. To let me study and understand what a cambion really is.” He smiled a bit too brightly, and it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. “Together we can finally find a way to stop possessions.”
“If I don’t?” The room seemed to close in around her.
Brent ran a hand through his slick, black hair, shadows gathering beneath his eyes. “Then you give me no choice. I won’t let an opportunity pass if it means saving my daughter from future possessions. This is why I started Argos, and you could hold the cure.”
This couldn’t be happening. No way. Except, this was far from some made-up bullshit. It was her life, her safety shattered, and her secret revealed to the worst person—a demon destruction specialist.
“I’m not what you think.” The words quivered from Cary’s lips. Options swirled within her mind. She could go with Brent and let him examine her, and maybe he'd let her go afterwards. She could take out her lasso, fight him off, and escape. If she tried that and failed, she could end up in a cage, poked prodded and exorcised, experimented on. She had to do something and fast.
She spun around and pulled open the door.
The moment she stepped outside, Brent clicked the intercom button on the conference room telephone and yelled, “Security. Stop Cary Stone. She’s been infiltrated by a demonic force.”
Yep, if ever she wished for the world to split open and swallow her, this was the perfect time.
Chapter 15
Cary ran out of the room, her heart crushed under the weight of being outed by Brent.
Across the room, Tasha stood frozen, a hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes bulging. The other people in the room stared as she ran past them, too, muttering to each other. Only pitch forks in their hands would complete the picture of an angry mob.
Liam, the one security guard she'd actually talked to before, burst through the door from reception, darting straight for Cary.
She swerved around the desks and bolted for the back exit.
“She’s a demon,” Brent shout. “Stop her.”
“No!” Cary yelled back over her shoulder. “I’m not possessed. It’s a mistake.”
Getting outed by her boss was horrendous enough, but when her best friend gave her a sympathetic look as if she’d contracted leprosy, Cary wanted to curl in a hole and never come out again.
Someone grabbed her arm and pulled against her. Tottering backward to a halt, she jerked around and rammed her foot into the guy’s shin. He crumbled and released her wrist. Behind him, the guard, including Brent, burst after her.
“Stop!” Brent yelled.
Cary sprinted down a corridor in the opposite direction, passed the bathrooms, and reached the rear exit. The metal door was locked and wouldn’t budge. She dug in her heels. Prayed to any entity that would listen. Please. Please. Please. She pushed harder. The door opened a crack, not enough to squeeze through, but enough to show she could force it open. Cary took a few steps back, got a running start, and she shoved her shoulder into the door.
An alarm erupted. The door swung open.
She scrambled away from the building into sunlight and down the sidewalk of a side road.
Her silver SUV was several cars away, with Blinkie stretched out on his back over the hood. Shit, if he wasn’t invisible, his presence would only make Brent more determined to catch her. But Blinkie would attempt to protect her, and she couldn’t risk him getting hurt.
She sprang forward, her breaths shallow and racing. “Blinkie! In the car.”
He jumped off the hood as voices escalated behind her.
With a click of her car’s alarm, she ripped open the door. Blinkie leapt inside, and she dove into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind her. Her hands were shaking, and the key kept missing the ignition hole.
Several security guards, along with Brent, spilled out from the back door. Was this really how it ended with her job? The company that had given her a job and a chance at normality?
Jamming the key in, she revved the car and slammed the gear into drive.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
Swerving into a U-turn, her front wheels climbed over the curb as the guards closed the distance between them. She hit the gas and barreled toward the main road.
Fuck! What just happened? Since last night, her life had become a whirlwind of problems, each worse than the next, but nothing compared to this. Nothing. Going onto the entry ramp to the freeway, she passed several cars and sped forward.
What was she going to do now? Her apartment would be swirling with paranormal trackers and security in no time.
The phone trilled. She flinched and snatched it from her bag. Tasha. She shoved it into its the stand on the dashboard and answered it.
“Cary, where are you?”
“It’s not what you think. A demon sprayed me last night with something. That’s what Brent was referring to.” How else was she to explain it without sounding guilty?
“Why did you run?”
Cary’s voice stilled, and the words wouldn’t come at first.
Her father’s words rammed forward. Never tell a soul. You can’t trust anyone. The world hates demons. Cary loathed the beasts, too.
“I got scared. Brent wanted me to let them experiment on me! I’m not their lab rat and don’t want people poking me or cutting me open as they scraped off whatever is on me.”
“They would understand if you told them.”
“No, they wouldn’t, because I told Brent, and he called security when I didn't give him what he wanted.” Which wasn't entirely a lie. “Argos specializes in abolishing demons, not befriending them. Brent doesn't know how to turn it off when it's a person. So, I’m leaving town, Tasha. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“What’ll I tell Brent?” Tasha’s voice quivered. “You’re scaring me.”
“Trust me. I need to do this.”
Tasha didn’t respond at first, and Cary was convinced her friend dropped the phone. “Listen, they’re going to try and track you down by your phone. Get rid of it. Call me later. Stay safe.”
“Thank you, Tasha. You’ve always been an amazing friend.”
“Got to go.” She hung up.
She unlatched the back of her cell, pulled out the sim card, and broke it in half. No possible tracking now.
This was the right decision. Run away and never return. Except her stomach ached like crazy. What about her friends, apartment in Detroit, and her clothes? She’d worked damn hard for them, and it tore her insides to lose the life she’d built up, as small as it was. Finally, she had been working toward something, and now what? But she wouldn’t stay and let Brent get his hands on her.
“I’m no one’s guinea pig!” Her voice bellowed inside the car.
Blinkie grumbled and nipped at his front paw as if he had a mad itch.
Focusing on the cars and trucks around her, Cary wiped her cheek, refusing to cry. Of course getting busted was bound to happen eventually. Her dad had warned her.
She was now forced into hiding. She whacked both palms into the steering wheel.
“Son of a bitch!”
Cement buildings on either side of the freeway blurred by in a whizz, and the bright sky had no right being glorious today. It should piss down fire and brimstone.
A thousand scenarios careened through her mind, from going into permanent hiding to coming clean to Argos. What was she supposed to do?
After a couple of hours of driving non-stop, she pulled over in a small town and climbed out. She made a hasty line for the bank machine, deciding it was time to cash up just in case. With the pin number punched in, the machine made that churning noise. She glanced over her shoulder at the couple crossing the road, the cars zipping by, and an elderly man walking his dog along the sidewalk.
A beeping sound had her return her focus to the machine, which flashed a message across the screen.
Insufficient funds.
She pressed the cancel button, but no card came out and the screen reverted to its welcome message.