by Kit Colter
“I’m staying here,” Erin said awkwardly.
“Oh,” he said, busily separating the green loops and tossing them back into the box.
“So, then—you’re not going to kill me?” Erin asked.
“We can if you want us to,” the female said.
“Do you want us to?” the male asked.
Erin looked at them for a long moment. “No,” she said slowly. “I’d rather you not.”
“Cool,” the male said.
“Got any tequila?” the female asked suddenly.
“I don’t think so,” Erin said.
“Too bad,” she replied, taking another bite of cereal. “If you don’t want any of that, toss it over here,” she requested, nodding at the silver flask.
Erin tossed it across the kitchen. The female caught the flask, unscrewed the cap, and took several swallows.
“You guys are the Gemini, right?” Erin asked cautiously.
They nodded, still occupied by the cereal.
“And you run around killing things?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” the male replied, stealing the flask from his twin and taking a drink.
“And you’re just dropping by for cereal?” Erin asked.
“I was hoping for tequila,” the female said.
“Or steak,” the male added. “I wouldn’t mind steak.”
“Cereal’s good though,” the female said.
The male nodded.
Erin parted her lips to speak, then heard a knocking sound at the front door. She cringed, watching the twins.
The knock came again.
“Want me to get the door, Peaches?” the male asked.
“Never killed a cop before,” the female said in an optimistic tone, glancing out the kitchen window.
“No, uh, I’ll get it.” Erin reluctantly turned away and walked down the hall to the door. She opened it to find a police officer on the porch and metal rock still blaring from the bus.
“Ma’am,” the officer said.
“Oh, uh, thank God you’re here.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I was just about to call 911. I’d fallen asleep, and I heard this crash. I looked outside and someone—that bus—had pushed my car up into the yard.”
“And then?” he asked.
“I made sure all the doors and windows were locked.”
“Did you see anyone?”
Erin shook her head.
“And your name?”
“Stephanie Whittaker.”
“You’re the owner of the property?”
“Yes—well, no. My parents. They own it.”
“Their names?”
“Carl and Rebecca.”
“Do they live here in Phoenix?”
“No. Albuquerque. Most of the time. They travel a lot for real estate stuff.”
“Their number?”
“602-525-1222. Oh, no, silly me. It’s 505 out there, isn’t it?” Erin smiled, praying he wouldn’t recognize she’d just given him a random number.
The officer asked a few more questions, mostly just making Erin explain the details over again. When he asked about her face, Erin told him she’d gotten into a car crash over the weekend. He finally left, and a few minutes later, a tow truck arrived and removed the bus from Stephanie’s lawn. Erin parked her car next to the curb, amazed by how little damage had been done. She was halfway out of the driver’s seat, about to head back into the house, when both twins piled into the car.
“Food,” the male ordered.
* * *
Erin took the twins to a truck-stop. It was the only twenty-four hour public place she could think of, and she didn’t want to be alone with them. The twins bought half a dozen burritos and four cups of coffee, then sat down with Erin at one of the tables and started eating.
Erin stared as the female poured the rest of her flask into one of the coffees. “So, uh, are you two going to help me out then?” she asked cautiously.
“Want one?” the male asked, holding out a burrito.
“No, thanks,” she replied.
“Good.” He jammed half the burrito into his mouth.
“Are you?” Erin asked. “Are you going to help me?”
“Sure,” the female said around a mouthful.
“I don’t mind,” the male added, wolfing down the remaining half of the burrito.
“Alright, you didn’t come to kill me, and you didn’t come to help. Then what are you here for? And who are you?” Erin asked.
They glanced at each other, then shrugged simultaneously.
“I’m Derek,” the male said, then nodded at the female. “That’s my lesser half, Seven.”
“Can you tell me something—anything—about what’s happening?” Erin asked. “I’m ready to run off to Canada for God’s sake. I have to know what’s going on.”
“Canada,” Seven said with a grin.
“We should go with her,” he said with a sideways smile. “You know, for the souvenirs.”
“I am in trouble.” Erin searched their faces. “I need help. I need— I need someone to tell me what’s going on.”
Derek took a gulp of Seven’s coffee. “You got food at your place, right?” he asked.
Erin frowned.
“No?” Seven asked.
“Let’s get the bus and then go for food,” Derek said.
“But the cops took it,” Erin said, exhausted.
“Then I guess we’ll have to go get it, won’t we?” Derek said with a grin.
“I guess we will,” Seven said.
“Come on, Peaches.” Derek grabbed the Honda keys off the table and headed for the exit. Erin moved to her feet and followed, running to catch up.
“Hey,” she protested.
Derek tossed her the keys. Erin promptly slid into the car and put the keys in the ignition, then gasped as Derek piled into the driver’s seat right on top of her—forcing Erin into the passenger side.
“I should get to drive,” Seven said, crawling into the back seat.
“You’re drunk,” Derek said.
“So are you.” Seven pulled a tall bottle of tequila out of her jacket. She opened the bottle and took several gulps. It took Erin a moment to realize she had stolen it from the truck stop. “Want some?”
“I do,” Derek said, reaching back as he started the engine and shifted the car into drive.
Erin glanced back at Seven, startled to see the woman packing extremely large bullets into a handgun magazine.
“So, um, you’re monster hunters,” Erin said in her best small talk voice.
Seven grunted.
“Which means you know about demons, too, right?”
“Sure,” Derek said.
“And how to kill them.”
“Definitely.”
“So, if someone—if I—had a problem with a demon that looked like fire, you could kill it?” Erin asked.
“Elemental. Sure. Not easy, but yeah.” Derek glanced at her. “Where’d you see it?”
“It walked into my apartment,” Erin said.
“What do you mean it walked?”
Erin gave him an embarrassed half shrug. “It was naked. And it walked into my apartment. And then it turned into fire and attacked this black, shadowy thing.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seven said, leaning forward in the back seat.
Erin hunkered down and shook her head. “No?”
“It had a body?” Derek asked.
Erin nodded.
“A naked human body,” Seven said behind her. It wasn’t a question.
“That’s impossible,” Derek said.
“I’m not lying,” Erin said. “I promise.”
“Oh, I believe you,” Derek said with a wide grin. “And I can’t wait to see it.”
Erin thought about that for a moment, watching cars slide by in the darkness. Finally, she got up the nerve to ask another question.
“But people get possessed all th
e time, don’t they? Why shouldn’t he—it—have a body?”
“Primary demons,” Derek said. “Not Elementals. Their energy is too harsh. Too strong. It ought to rip the body to shreds.”
“The dark ones are primary demons? The ones that look like shadows?”
Derek nodded and pulled the wheel to the right, practically flying down an exit ramp.
“And the fire ones are Elementals?”
“Sure,” Derek said. “Heat. Electricity. You get the idea. Basic energies.”
Erin did not get the idea. She felt overwhelmed and more confused than ever. “So, how did it get a body then?”
“I don’t know,” Derek said.
“But we’re going to find out,” Seven said.
Derek skidded to a stop outside the Phoenix Motor Vehicle Impound and climbed out of the car. Seven dropped the tequila bottle onto the floorboard and stepped out behind him.
“Meet us at the puffball’s place,” Derek said, then strode off into the darkness.
Erin made her way back onto the highway as quickly as possible, anxious to put as much space between herself and the soon-to-be crime scene. She headed toward Stephanie’s place. She assumed that’s who Derek meant by puffball. She just hoped Stephanie wasn’t home yet, or worse, Isaiah.
* * *
Forty minutes after Erin returned to an empty house, the twins were back, thrash metal pouring in through the broken window. Neighborhood lights were turning on. Erin looked outside to find the bus parked on the front lawn—again. Before she could reach the door, Derek burst through.
“Get your stuff,” he said.
Erin grabbed her suitcase and followed Derek out the door to find that Seven had unhooked the beat-up Camaro and latched Erin’s car onto the back of the bus in its place.
“What?”
“Hey! Stop dicking around, and get your ass in the car,” Seven called from inside the Camaro. She revved the engine.
“You’d better come with me,” Derek said, grabbing Erin by the wrist and dragging her up the steps of the bus. He pried the suitcase from her hand, tossed it aside, sat down in the driver’s seat, and pulled Erin right onto his lap.
“The other chairs aren’t stable.”
Erin stared at him.
“I’ll teach you to drive,” he said persuasively.
Erin gave him a cold look, then jumped out of his lap as Seven honked the horn again. She was shouting something, but Erin could only distinguish a series of profanities.
Derek started the engine and floored the gas pedal. Erin fell to one side as the bus jolted forward. She grabbed a seat to steady herself, then noticed the floor was covered in orange shag carpet. Overhead, a blow-up sex doll was attached to the ceiling. There were four rows of bench seats. On the right, the fourth seat was followed by a wall of lockers. On the left, several of the seats had been turned sideways. Beyond that, there was a metal table soldered to the floor. Other additions included a mini refrigerator and a dozen television monitors stacked from floor to ceiling against the back wall. The entire inside of the bus had been tagged with spray paint graffiti.
Erin frowned at a clump of doll heads hanging from the rearview mirror.
“You can take off your clothes now,” Derek said.
Erin stared at him in astonishment.
A wiry yap sounded, and Erin turned to see a small white, one-eyed Chihuahua at her feet, snarling violently with every decayed tooth in its mouth bared.
“That’s Princess,” Derek said. “Watch it, though, he’s a hater.”
“He?” Erin asked.
Derek nodded. “And, uh, that’s Betty,” he said, gesturing toward the blow-up doll. “Just so you know the whole gang.”
Erin looked at the blow-up doll, her frown deepening, then sat down on the step. “Who are you people?” she asked.
“Short-term memory, huh?” Derek asked.
“You work for who? That blond woman?”
“Sorta. And the government. Kinda.” He shrugged.
Erin parted her lips to speak, then braced herself as the bus screeched to halt.
Derek turned off the engine and gave her a sympathetic expression. “You look like you need a massage,” he said.
Erin glared at him, then yanked the door lever, and jumped out of the bus to find herself in a grocery store parking lot. She leapt back as Seven pulled up in the Camaro, killed the engine, then crawled out of the driver side window. Behind her, Derek hopped out of the bus with a wide grin. He bent down, swiftly picking up Princess and carelessly tossing the dog back into the bus, then closed the door. Seven hooked an arm around Erin’s neck and began walking toward the grocery store. Derek stepped up beside Erin on the left, making her feel suddenly trapped between the towering twin figures.
When they entered the building, Derek grabbed a shopping cart, and as if on cue, Seven hopped inside, laying in the bottom with her long legs hanging over the sides. Derek aimed the cart toward the produce section, and the reality of what they were doing dawned upon Erin. They were shopping. For groceries. At the grocery store. She was running for her life, and the twins were about to browse the vegetable aisle.
Erin turned to the twins. “I don’t have time for this. I need your help. I’m asking for your help.”
“Yeah,” Derek said, “and we’re going to give it to you.”
“Our help, that is,” Seven added, glancing at Derek.
“This isn’t funny!” Erin cried.
Seven crawled out of the cart and hooked one arm around Erin’s neck. “Relax. You’re with us now, and we’re the meanest shit on the block.”
“So, chill. Loosen up. Get drunk or something. Here,” Derek said, plucking a phallus shaped squash off the counter and handing it to her, “play with that for a while.”
Erin angrily tossed the squash back onto the counter. “I need to know what’s going on,” she said. “I have to know, or I’m going to die.”
“I think she missed that whole ‘chill out’ part,” Derek said to Seven.
“Yeah, I think she did,” Seven replied.
“We should get her drunk.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Food first.”
“Definitely.”
Erin stepped in front of the shopping cart and squared her shoulders. “I need answers,” she pressed.
The twins frowned.
“Alright,” Derek said. “We were going to kill you because—”
“—that’s what our boss told us to do,” Seven finished.
“Yep,” Derek said.
Erin stared at them. “Is that all?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” Seven said.
“You don’t know why she sent you?” Erin asked. “You don’t know what she meant about my soul being bound to something? Some power?”
“Nope,” Derek said.
“So you don’t know anything? Nothing at all?”
They shrugged and continued searching the aisles.
“Then why’d you come back?” Erin asked.
“Because I’m in love with you,” Derek said in a deep, masculine voice.
“Yeah, me too,” Seven said, dropping a box of oatmeal into the cart.
Erin took a very slow breath. At least they were here. And they had knives, and guns, and—and a blow-up doll. She bit her lip, studying the twins.
“I hope you have money,” Seven said to her.
Erin’s shoulders slumped.
* * *
Back at the apartment complex, Erin rested her bat against her left shoulder and glanced down the stairway of her building as the twins pushed a shopping cart up the steps. She was worried about the cops again. The twins were anything but inconspicuous. She couldn’t believe they stole that cart.
They banged and jolted the cart up three flights and halfway down the hall to Erin’s apartment. That was when Derek reached down and crossed one arm over Erin’s chest, stopping her. With his free hand, he swiped one finger across the sweat shining against
Erin’s temple. Erin wiped her face self-consciously.
“Nervous,” she said.
Derek shook his head. “It’s hotter on this floor.” He glanced at Seven, who reached into her jacket and pulled out a short, black gun shaped like an underwater speargun with three prongs at the end. Giving Derek an almost imperceptible nod, Seven turned and dashed back to the stairway and disappeared.
“Stay close,” Derek said, holding an enormous silver handgun in one hand and something round and green in the other. A grenade. He pulled the pin with his teeth and nodded at Erin’s left hand. She wasn’t sure what the gesture meant until he spit the pin out. Erin caught it.
“Don’t lose that,” he said.
Erin shoved the pin into her pocket.
“Now, kneel down on the ground and tie both your shoes.”
Erin glanced down. Her shoes were already tied.
“Hurry,” he said. “It can feel you. It’s wondering what you’re doing. So, do something normal. Seven just needs a minute or two.”
Erin knelt and did as he said, quickly untying her left shoe, then tightening and retying the knot. She did the same on the right. When she was done, she looked back down the hall, toward the staircase, and thought about running for it.
Derek tracked her eyes and grinned. “Better make up your mind.” Then he started walking toward the door of Erin’s apartment.
She clenched her jaw and followed him, her heart pounding in her chest.
Derek gave her a steadying glance.
Then he kicked open the door.
Several things happened at once.
The naked man standing in the center of her living room—the carpet smoldering at his feet—took a step forward.
Derek’s gun let out a deafening crack.
Seven sailed through the back window, speargun in hand.
The man’s body began to dissolve into a geyser of flame that arched toward the ceiling.
Then Derek threw the grenade, and an instant later, a flash of blinding light. Erin stumbled back, felt an intense wave of heat pass overhead, and toppled over. She crawled to her hands and knees, blinking rapidly, desperate for her vision to readjust.
Derek grabbed Erin by the jacket collar, pulled her to her feet, and ushered her through the door. He leaned her against the wall.
“Well, it’s got good taste in bodies,” Seven said from across the room somewhere.