“No one’s going to kill you.” I grabbed his arm again, just to keep track of him. “Kristyn? Let’s go ahead and hit the storm shelter, ’kay? I’ll lock the doors.” Well, I’d lock them once I could get Kidd confined. It was rather like dragging Annabelle when she was in one of her obstinate moods. Every step toward the back was an exercise in pitting my weight against his.
I almost made it.
Outside, a low whine began and quickly swelled into a strident wail. The early-warning system, tornado sirens, shrilled their warning for blocks around.
“No!” With a strength born of sheer terror, Kidd wrenched free of my grasp and bolted for the door. It binged cheerfully as he disappeared into the storm.
“Fuck!” Kristyn stared at me wide-eyed as I grabbed one of the hoodies from the rack and pulled it on. “I’ll get him. You get to shelter.”
I don’t know whether she locked the doors behind me as I ran out. The rain had just started to fall, large drops the size of fifty-cent pieces, big enough to sting against bare skin. The wind whipped my hair around my face until I pulled up my hood, scanning the area. Only our side of the shopping center had lost power. On the lighted side, the neon storefronts threw rivulets of colored light across the rain-slicked pavement.
Down the block, I watched Kidd’s fleeing figure disappear just past the Starbucks. Where the hell did he think he was going? The parking lot was in the other direction. “Hey! Get back here!” Although my right leg reminded me I was a bastard, I ran after him anyway, calling Kidd every nasty name I could think of—you know, the really good ones I can’t say in front of Annabelle.
Lightning struck close enough for me to smell the ozone, and the thunder made my teeth rattle. I rounded the corner past Starbucks and caught a glimpse of Kidd headed toward the opposite side of the empty grandstand. No bands were playing today. No one was around at all, except me and the lunatic I was chasing through the rain.
“Kidd!” My voice was lost to the grumbling clouds above us and the wail of the tornado sirens.
In all fairness, I was hurt, and he was a professional athlete. It didn’t matter that he was twenty years older than I. He ran like a damn jackrabbit. I even lost sight of him once, darting between the Thai place and some expensive perfume shop.
Soaked to the skin already, I came around the corner to find him stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Rivers of yellow mud ran from the construction site across the street, marring the cheerful neon reflections from the shop windows. I slowed to a walk, afraid to startle him into bolting again. “Kidd?”
His eyes fixed on something above us, he never seemed to notice the rain pouring down his face. I followed his gaze to the sign for the newest restaurant on the block. It was the garish marquee for Moonlight & Roses. The neon full moon shone like a beacon in the darkness, the purple roses casting everything in a mauve sheen.
Kidd looked at me, finally, and I realized that tears mingled with the rain on his weathered cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Wanting to ask what he was sorry for, I started to form the words, but then, seeing a sick determination settle into his eyes, I realized his intention. We were in a deserted place, and that sign was there above us—the one with the full moon, shining down. Under the full moon . . . I couldn’t move fast enough to stop him.
“______________!” The hound-demon’s name screeched through my skull, drowning even the tornado sirens for a moment.
“You son of a bitch!” I hit him square in the jaw, but it was too late. The damage was done. It was here, under the full moon, as agreed.
“I had to. Please believe me. I had to!” Kidd rubbed his jaw, cowering against the restaurant wall. “He said he’d release me. . . .”
The darkness gathered, solidified, and the pony-sized hellhound padded out of the black nothingness with a growling chuckle. “I never said when.” Kidd moaned and sank into a shivering, sodden heap.
Lightning flashed, throwing the demon into sharp relief, a mountain of black fur seemingly untouched by the downpour. My hood had long since fallen down, my mop of wet hair hanging around my face. I looked like a drowned rat or maybe something skinnier—a weasel or a ferret, maybe. I’m sure I was the scariest rodent in the county.
The demon smiled, long canines gleaming white in its muzzle. “I have come at the appointed time, champion. Let the battle commence.”
“I don’t have my equipment; we can’t fight now.”
“I agreed only to allow the armor. You did not say it was a requirement.”
Fuck! The demon was right. I hadn’t been careful enough in my wording. Dammit, I knew better! “I don’t have a weapon. The terms said a melee weapon of my choice.” Shoulda grabbed my sword. Knew I shoulda grabbed it. This is why we listen to the voices, Jesse.
My katana was at home. Sure, I could stall long enough to go get it, but I knew the moment I laid my hands on it, the demon would be there. And there was no way I could put Mira and Anna in danger like that. My mind raced for other choices.
Even if I could get to my truck, I had only my small skinning knife in the door. That wasn’t going to do much against this behemoth. Hair spray and a lighter? Not in this rain. Kitchen knives from a restaurant? Not much better than my own blade.
“Do I understand that you choose to fight with only your hands?”
“Don’t rush me!” Did that thing look bigger than just a moment ago? I was so screwed.
“I am at the end of my patience. Choose now, or fight as you are!” It rocked back on its massive haunches, prepared to spring.
I did the only thing I could. I ran.
My leg burned, but I ran as if the hounds of Hell were on my heels. Oh wait—they were. Somehow, despite the constant thunder and wailing of the sirens, I could hear the demon’s claws on the sidewalk and its panting breath as it loped behind me, expending only minimal effort in catching me. It would wait until I tired, then run me to ground. I had to find a weapon before then.
Part of me knew there were still people behind those darkened storefronts, innocent bystanders who could easily become casualties. I ran the other way, into the construction site. Maybe someone had left something I could use—a claw hammer, a crowbar. Hell, I’d take a forklift at this point, and I didn’t even know how to drive one.
The yellow mud slithered under my feet, making running precarious at best. I crested the first mound of dirt and slid down the opposite side on my rump, covering myself in good Missouri clay. I heard the thing slip and slide down the same hill behind me, the sludge giving way under its heavier weight. I glanced back long enough to see it sprawled in the muck, struggling to get to its feet again. I savored the petty pleasure as I gained distance on it.
Angry now, the demon raised a low howl, baying in counterpoint to the incessant sirens. I fought the despair that tried to settle into my guts and just kept moving, telling myself that I refused to die wearing a sparkly vampire hoodie.
The skeleton of the unfinished parking garage loomed in the strobing light, and I darted for a gaping hole in the wall. Fido came galloping after me, snarling when it could only get its massive head through the opening. For a heartbeat, it tried to force the hulking shoulders through, then abandoned the effort. One point for scrawny guys everywhere. I lost track of it as it circled around to find a larger door.
There was no roof to stop the rain, and the partial walls did very little to deflect some of the wind. The strident wail of the tornado sirens reminded me that somewhere nearby, something very big and nasty was on the way. They didn’t sound unless there was a funnel on the ground. What a time to be playing hide-and-seek.
The hellhound bayed, proving that it had my scent again, and I stumbled on my bad leg, scrabbling a few feet on hands and knees before I could regain my footing. Great, now I was gonna die embarrassed, too. Dammit, I needed more time!
The lightning showed me the shell of an empty elevator shaft ahead, and I ducked into it. There was no car there, no cables, just the concrete tower st
retching three floors above me. Think quick, Jess. It was coming. It bellowed again, closing in on me.
My hands found rungs built into the wall, and I was climbing before I’d formed a conscious plan. The wall shuddered under my hands as the hellhound barreled in headfirst, slamming its massive bulk into the wall. Jaws snapped inches below my heel. A split second before it leapt again, I flopped out onto the second level, and I kicked at those enormous paws as it tried to scrabble up after me. “Down, boy! Bad dog!” It hit the ground hard, and I heard it snarl in irritation. It would have to find yet another way to get to me. I’d bought myself a few extra moments.
The second floor wasn’t finished, and at the far end, the mud formed a ramp for the machines that hadn’t been there in months. There were tools there, and I slid to my knees, frantically sorting through the discarded implements. In the yellow muck, my hand landed on something cold and metal. I didn’t care what it was anymore. I grabbed it.
It was only a piece of one-inch pipe, maybe two feet long, bent at a right angle at one end. But it was heavy, and it would serve as a makeshift tonfa until I could find something better. A brief search found another of similar shape, and now I had a pair. It was better than nothing.
I put my back against a concrete wall and waited, my new weapons resting against my forearms. Against a sword or knife, I could parry with them, disarm with them, snap bone. Against that maw full of fangs, I could maybe break a few teeth before it crushed my arm to jelly. Wonderful.
The corner I sheltered in would be good to protect my flanks, but I was also pinned with nowhere to retreat. I couldn’t stay here.
“Come out, come out, little slayer.”
I resented that. “I’m just wiry!” Never let it be said that I didn’t go down a smart-ass to the end.
The hound padded around a column, every muscle illuminated by the flashes of lightning. It was smiling. Splattered all over with yellow mud, it looked even more like some giant dire hyena from prehistoric times. Were there dire hyenas? I guess I’d never know.
I dropped into a fighting stance, hoping the thing hadn’t seen me favoring my right leg. If I could dodge left the first time, I was good. If it forced me right, onto my bad leg . . . Oh, who was I kidding? I was puppy chow.
It came fast, faster than anything that size had a right to be. I ducked left, improvised tonfas guarding my right side, and I was running again. The hound hit the concrete wall with all four feet and bounced off in pursuit. This was no leisurely chase now. I was armed, the contract fulfilled. Now the demon meant to kill.
The tingle down my spine told me there was a snap coming at my hamstring, and I jinked hard right. My leg screamed in pain, but held, and the vicious teeth snapped loudly on empty air. I wasn’t so lucky next time, and something sharp raked down my left thigh. I was never sure if it was claws or teeth.
There was no electric pop, no shock from my wife’s warding spells. I’d forfeited that protection when I had negotiated for a strictly physical fight. At the time, it had seemed a fair trade, but now I frantically wished for something, anything more between my skin and those wicked teeth.
The demon’s massive paws threatened to tangle with my own feet as we ran, and it threw its shoulder into my hip. I let the fall take me, rolling through it and back to my feet. I swung into that mass of solid fur and muscle with one pipe, and connected hard with something that sounded like it hurt. Blight wafted off into the air and the thing snarled, but it kept coming.
I could feel my blood soaking through my torn jeans only because it was warm against the rain-soaked chill. There would be no finding a better place to fight. I was done running, and the demon knew it. It held me at bay and circled, trying to find an opening. One lunge met with my makeshift tonfa, metal against muzzle, and I heard a crack as one of the sharp canines shattered. The white bone chips evaporated into black mist, flitting away to join with the rest of the demon’s spent energy. It backed away, shaking its head and growling. Man, did that thing look pissed off.
They say, when you’re about to die, your life flashes before you. People talk about seeing loved ones gone before, or forgotten things from childhood. Maybe I should have been thinking of my wife and daughter, soon to be without husband and father. I wasn’t. My only thought, which I voiced crystal clear above the pain and pounding adrenaline, was, “Hotel phones don’t have caller ID.”
The demon actually paused at that, head tilted comically to the side.
“Hotel phones don’t have caller ID. He said that’s how he found where I worked.” A rumble started somewhere in the demon’s chest, and it gathered itself to spring again. “How did he know where I worked?”
Thunder crashed, deafening both of us, and in the flashing light, I spied another figure standing behind the demon. The demon followed my gaze, and I was too surprised to even take advantage of its distraction.
I thought at first it was Kidd, until I realized it was too tall, too skinny. Then hope flared irrationally, and for one interminable heartbeat, I thought it was Miguel. The stranger walked forward, and a flash of lightning illuminated his face.
“He made it his business to know.” Paulo appeared from the depths of the parking garage. His usual T-shirt and jeans had been exchanged for ill-fitting studded leather armor. A machete, the blade so old it was nearly black, dangled from one hand.
The demon backed away to put both of us in its sight. “Treachery . . . fouled contract . . .” I swear, it lisped around its broken teeth, and it made even that sound purely evil.
The dark teen kept his eyes on the demon as he spoke. “They stalked you, Jesse Dawson, as they stalked mi hermano and Señor Archer.” He pointed the stained blade at the hellhound. “So now I stalk them.”
22
The storm itself seemed to grow quiet to listen to Paulo—or, not Paulo apparently, but Estéban, Miguel’s younger brother. I know, I probably should have seen that coming. What can I say? I’m a bit dense at times.
The rain stopped as if a faucet had been turned, and the swirling wind died. In its place, the air grew heavy and still, and I struggled to breathe through the pea soup atmosphere. The immense pressure of some great and invisible hand pushed down on us. Only the wail of the storm sirens remained, strident and ululating. Maybe you’ve never been through a tornadic storm. Trust me when I tell you, all of the above are bad things. We were running out of time.
The thunder in the distance was a quiet rumble, barely distinguishable from the demon’s throaty growl. “Deceit, treachery. To bring another to fight your battle. The bargain is broken, Jesse James Dawson. Your soul is forfeit.”
I laughed, leaning against the wall to get what rest I could. My right leg was throbbing, and the cuts down my left thigh stung fiercely. Any moment I could use to collect myself was vital. “The deal is broken, you’re right, but you don’t get my soul. The deceit was yours, and Kidd’s. His soul is yours to keep.” In case you’re wondering, that makes me a hard-hearted bastard. But the man had gotten two good men killed.
To prove me right, the tattoo on my right arm abruptly crackled and flaked away, leaving unmarred pink skin beneath. I was free.
I could see now how it had played out. “Mascareña. It’s just over the border from Arizona, isn’t it.” The baseball schedule, dammit. I’m so fucking stupid! “Kidd just drove down from spring training. And he had an exhibition match in Toronto. That’s how he found them. And how the boy found us.”
I’m sure Kidd’s demon promised him all kinds of things if the man would help lure champions into combat. They set seemingly innocuous terms, then sprang them when Guy and Miguel were unprepared. “Under the full moon” my ass. Good men, good fighters, and they never had a chance.
The hellhound snarled, but it knew I was right. Blight dribbled from its mouth, no doubt from the stump of broken fang. Its concentration was wavering. “Then our business is concluded.”
“No!” We yelled in unison, Paulo and I. Estéban! Dammit. The boy tried to open hi
s mouth, and I silenced him with a glare. He was a child, comparatively. He had no place here. “You have something I want. I propose a new bargain.” I had no time for this. The air was hot and muggy beneath the low-hanging clouds, and no rain fell. No wind stirred. We were in deep shit. But I couldn’t let it get away. I couldn’t let it lie in wait for me again, springing when I wasn’t ready. This had to end now.
“I listen.” The hound’s eyes flashed red, reminding me of Axel. If I lived through this, I was going to throttle him. Damn you, Axel, why couldn’t you just tell me?
“I offer you the soul of Jesse James Dawson, in exchange for the souls of Miguel Alejandro Cristobal Perez and Guy Thomas Archer.” Full names have power. They’d known mine as well, just in case. Ivan planned for everything.
The demon barked a laugh, and more blackness escaped its maw to wind away through the concrete columns. Somewhere out of sight, a portal was forming. “One soul for two? Even yours is not worth so much, Jesse James Dawson.”
“Then add mine. I offer my soul.” Paulo- Estéban needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. “I offer the soul of Estéban Paulo Juan-Carlos Perez.” Man, I bet he hated learning to write all that as a child.
Before I could come up with a suitable objection, the demon nodded. “Done! Name your terms!”
Fuck fuck fuck. I didn’t want to be responsible for the kid’s soul, too, but it was too late to quibble now—too late in more than one way. “We fight here and now, as we are. We finish this now.”
In a perfect world, I would have named some time in the future. I would have let myself heal, found my sword, something. The odds weren’t in my favor, in the rain-slicked mud, armed as I was with pipes, and already gimped in both legs. But I stood a better chance, fully aware and as prepared as I was going to get, than letting this thing get the drop on me again. Guy, Miguel . . . I hope I’m doing right by you guys. I couldn’t afford to be wrong.
A Devil in the Details Page 22