Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by J. L. Murray

  Sam gave a dry chuckle. He loosened his tie and sat back in his seat. "You may be able to pull that line on Eli Cooper or Robert Gage, but not on me. It’s obvious that you’re in a great amount of discomfort."

  "You know Eli?" I said.

  "I know everyone," said Sam. "But only a rare few know me."

  "I’m fine," I insisted. "We finished the job. Just came here to tell you that."

  Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Let me help you, Niki. I can take the itch away. I wouldn’t want you to claw out those pretty eyes of yours."

  I narrowed my eyes. "What are you suggesting?" I said. "Are you hitting on me?"

  "Of course not," he said. "Not that you’re not an attractive woman, you see. But we have a professional relationship."

  "What are you going to do?" I said.

  "Just a touch," he said. I noticed he wasn’t as impeccably groomed as he was before. His hair was disheveled and his face looked drawn, like he’d been up for days. He put his hand over mine and squeezed ever so lightly. "Close your eyes," he said. I did.

  It was the oddest sensation. My whole body shuddered as the scraping, itching sensation deep in my guts balled up into my chest. I gagged at the feeling, but just as it concentrated in one place, it scattered, gathering again at the spots where Sam’s hands rested. I felt like I wanted to tear my flesh open to the bones, the itch was so strong, but just as quickly as I felt it, I felt it dissipating, being sucked right out of my body through Sam’s fingers. And finally, after a long moment of realization, I breathed. The taste had left my mouth, the pain and itch had gone. I opened my eyes to see Sam closing his. I wondered if he would be sick because he seemed to blanch for a second. But then he turned his head away and exhaled, a dark cloud dissipating into the air along with his breath. He smiled at me.

  "You could see it, couldn’t you?" he said.

  "What was it?"

  "Just a sort of residue left by the thing that was in you," he said.

  "Does everyone feel that way after it’s out?"

  "The ones that survive," he said. "It goes away with time. Not pleasant, though."

  "I killed an innocent man," I said. "When the Dark had me." I frowned. "I’m actually not sure it was the Dark, though. I may have pulled the trigger by accident." I shook my head. "I just don’t know."

  "Not you, Niki," he said, his voice gentle. "It wasn’t your fault. That creature should never have been out of its pit. Besides, there are other things to worry about right now. You can mourn later."

  "What other things?" I said. "The job is over. We took care of the Dark."

  "Indeed. Quite efficiently, too. However, the Dark may have been released as a distraction. So you wouldn’t notice what was really walking around in the city. That is why I need you to settle another matter for me."

  "Anything to do with Hugh Perry getting his heart ripped out?" I said.

  "Perhaps," he said. He leaned back, looking at me. "What do you know?"

  "I know that the prosecutor and the police commissioner were both killed the same way," I said. "And I know everyone thinks it reeks of Sasha."

  "Oh," said Sam, "there is no doubt that Alexei Slobodian is involved."

  "He’s in prison, Sam," I said. "How could he possibly be involved?" But even as I said it, I felt doubtful.

  "Can you think of a way he could not be involved?" said Sam.

  "No," I said. "Something weird is going on in that prison. Something to do with the warden. And he’s got this freaky guard. I don’t know what he is, but I got the strangest feeling from him."

  "Niki," said Sam, "do you remember when we met, and I told you about the Dark getting out?"

  "Frankly," I said, "the whole meeting’s a little fuzzy." I looked away, embarrassed.

  "Right," he said. "I overdid it on the booze again, yes? I always forget. Let me remind you. When someone broke the seal and opened the gate, they let the Dark out, and something else, too. The problem was that they had cloaked themselves so expertly that even I couldn’t tell who it was or what they let out."

  "Cloaked?" I said. "Like with magic?"

  "Exactly," he said. "But it wasn’t the sloppy magic that humans usually conjure. It was precise, effective. A finely-honed skill of someone that had mastered the art. To be able to hide something from me is quite a feat."

  "Obviously you are incredibly impressive," I said.

  "Your sarcasm does not escape me," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I have looked into the matter. And what I found was quite disturbing."

  I sighed. "I’m not going to like this, am I?" I said.

  "I think you will find it to be quite, what is your word? Peachy, " Sam smiled grimly. "The missing entity is Abaddon. He is an extremely powerful demon in charge of the pits."

  "Abaddon. The Dark talked about him. He said he wouldn’t be in the pit anymore," I said. "But Gage said that you’ve brought demons back before."

  "Yes, but not like this," said Sam. "Even I avoid Abaddon. He is unpredictable. And he has, over the millenia, acquired a great amount of power and skill in his abilities. Including some enviable cloaking spells."

  "So the Dark was from the pits," I said, "and this Abaddon, he was in charge of them?"

  "Yes."

  "So the Dark, it was what? A decoy?"

  "I believe that is correct," said Sam. He ran a hand over his face. "This is so very, very bad, Niki. You have no idea the destruction this could cause."

  "Why do you think Sasha’s involved?" I said. "Why not some other summoner?"

  "Because Abaddon is the demon your father was trying to summon when he was put away." Sam shook his head. "I should have taken care of the matter then, but I chose to let the human authorities handle it. I thought it would be enough. I believe that Alexei established a connection to Abaddon, before he was caught, but didn’t manage to get the demon out of Hell."

  "So they’ve been, what? Talking to each other all these years?"

  "Not exactly talking," said Sam. "But they would be able to feel each other. Feel what the other is feeling, know what the other knows. I know it sounds quite unbelievable, but your father didn’t actually fail when he was arrested. He was just delayed."

  "The worst mistake people make about Sasha," I said, "is underestimating him. So you want to hire me again?"

  "It won’t be easy," said Sam. "Abaddon is extremely powerful. I think he must have found a way to transmit his power to your father to pull him into your world. Alexei may believe that he is in control, but I don’t think anyone can control Abaddon. Not for long anyway."

  I nodded. "What about payment?"

  "I will pay you twice what I paid you before."

  "You’ll pay me triple," I said. "And my name will never be put on the Registry again."

  He smiled. "I agree to your terms," he said.

  "Peachy," I said. I rose to leave.

  "Wasn’t there something else you wanted to ask me about?" said Sam.

  "What do you mean?"

  "About your boyfriend. Mr. Cooper."

  "Eli is not my boyfriend," I said.

  He folded his hands and tried to hide a small smile. "He’s going to need you more now than he ever has."

  "He says his father was a demon. Is that even possible?"

  "Oh, you’d be surprised," said Sam. "They are a very passionate race."

  "What’s going to happen to him?" I said.

  "He will go through some minor changes, just like the rest of you."

  "Like what?"

  "Hard to say," said Sam. "It’s different for every demon, just as it is for humans. As I recall, his father had a penchant for fire, but that doesn’t mean anything. Your father is a Summoner, but that doesn’t mean you are."

  "Gage used the word ‘Halfer’."

  "That is a term I’ve heard before. But you do have to consider the source."

  I smiled. "So wouldn’t he find out about this when he was younger? All the Abnormals I’ve ever met found out when
they were kids."

  "Mr. Cooper is only half demon," he said. "It takes a bit longer. But they can be every bit as powerful as someone such as yourself."

  "This is all pretty new for him," I said.

  "You will be very supportive, I’m sure of it."

  "Can they hide it—do you think he’ll be able to hide it from the Department?" I said.

  "Those horns are going to keep getting bigger," said Sam. "It’s going to become more and more difficult to hide, I’d wager. "

  I nodded. "Thanks, Sam. Can I ask you one more question?"

  "Would it stop you if I said no?"

  "Probably not. Why don’t you go out and get Abaddon? Why employ us?"

  "I have my reasons," said Sam. "It is hard for me to hide in your world, for one. I would have a very different face in the world. I prefer to stay here in my little bar. Also, my work keeps me very busy."

  "Work?" I said. "What work is that?"

  "You have a demon to catch," he said. "I suggest you start at the penitentiary."

  Chapter Thirteen

  "All straightened out?" said Gage, as I returned to the bar.

  "Much better, thanks," I said. "You in on this Abaddon thing?"

  "You bet," said Gage. "Anything for Sam."

  "I have to go," said Eli. "Gotta go check in with Shipp. I kind of left him hanging with a whole lot of paperwork over the highway killings. He’s probably pretty mad at me right about now."

  "What are they saying it was?" I said.

  "Rogue cop," Eli said, shaking his head.

  "Damn," said Gage. "That’s cold. I feel for that guy’s family. They’re gonna go the rest of their lives thinking that guy was a killer."

  "Thought you hated cops," I said.

  He shrugged. "Some of ‘em are okay, I guess." He nodded at Eli.

  Eli left, the door squeaking behind him. I looked over at Sam’s booth, but Sam wasn’t there any more.

  "Did you know your boyfriend was a demon?"

  "He’s not my boyfriend," I said. "And he’s a half-demon. And how did you know? I just found out today."

  "I can just tell," said Gage, finishing his beer. "Where to, sis?"

  "We have to talk to Sasha again," I said. "Sam seems to suspect that the murders and Abaddon have something to do with each other."

  "Yeah, he told me that too," said Gage, grabbing his army surplus jacket off the back of his stool. "That guy that hated you is dead."

  "Yeah, along with the judge that nailed my dad to the wall," I said.

  "Don’t look good for him," said Gage.

  "Or me," I said. "I’m guessing that if it weren’t for this job I’d be in cuffs right now." I jumped off my stool and held out my hand. "Keys?" I said.

  "Why? My car."

  "You’ve been drinking," I said. "Don’t make me get ugly, Gage."

  "It was only one beer," he said, but tossed me a key chain with two keys on it.

  We asked for Lou Craig when we got to the prison.

  "Last time we talked," I said, "you said the warden was bragging about meeting with the mayor."

  "Yeah," he said. "He does that."

  We were making our way down to Solitary. Craig was his usual helpful self, ready, he said, to help us in any way that was needed. "Has he mentioned, exactly, how he knows Mayor Delaney?" I said.

  "Not really," said Craig. "Just spouts off about business lunches and similar lines of bull. Hang on a sec," he said, frowning. "This ain’t right." We had arrived in the basement, empty cells on either side of us. I followed his gaze and realized what had startled him. At the end of the hall, where my father’s cell was, Bailey was missing.

  "Is that normal?" said Gage. "To have him unguarded."

  "Ain’t no normal around here," said Craig. "But it ain’t usual. Bailey never leaves Slobodian’s side. I don’t think he even goes home."

  We hurried down to get to the cell on the end, but when we got there, I wasn’t surprised. My dad was gone. His cell was empty.

  Craig called in on his radio. "Hey, Charlie, you know anything about Slobodian being moved?"

  "I never heard anything," came the tinny reply. "Why?"

  "Because he’s gone, that’s why," said Craig.

  "I’ll call around," said the voice of Charlie.

  "You’re going to have to call the warden," Craig said into the walkie. "Sorry, bro. Try his office first, though I haven’t seen him today."

  A few moments went by without any reply. Finally the scratchy voice came across again. "All right. Hang on."

  "I want to talk to the warden in person," I said. "You have no idea how bad this is."

  The scratchy voice came back on. "No answer in his office, Lou. I’ll try him at home."

  Craig looked at us. "Sorry, I guess he’s not here. I could tell you where he lives, though."

  "What the hell kind of way is this to run a prison?" said Gage. "You got murderers in here. Psychos. Why is this warden getting away with so much shit? "

  "I agree with you," said Craig. "Fact, after you were here last time I made a decision. I’m quitting. I’ll work for low wages if I have to, but this is no way to live."

  "Good man," said Gage.

  Craig shrugged. "No one questions nothing any more. This is some crazy world. I’m afraid for my daughter. Want me to take you to the warden’s office?"

  "Great," said Gage. "We can raid his liquor cabinet. Think he has any cigars?"

  "I think he’s more the box of wine and cigarette type, but you can sure check," said Craig.

  "Before we go," I said. "Let me into the cell, Craig. I just want to have a quick look around."

  The bed was neatly made, and creaked as I sat on it. I looked around the small space. There was an element of extreme tidiness to the small room. There were a few belongings placed with excruciating neatness and symmetry along a shelf: a sketchpad, a small notebook, a few worn-looking books, a stack of letters. There was a ceramic cat I recognized from Sofi’s collection, and it had not a jot of dust on it. On the wall were taped a few photographs, and dozens of articles and black-and-white pictures clipped from a newspaper. The photographs were mostly Sasha with various people from his past. One with him and his former right-hand man, Nazar Polzin. As a girl I’d called him Uncle Naz and his tattoos had fascinated me. I didn’t understand until I was older why Sofi had disliked him so much.

  The next was a picture of Sasha and my mother that shocked me. It was taken shortly after they were married, she looking every bit the fresh-faced girl of eighteen that she was, and he looking smug. The third photo was a much older Sasha with his arm around none other than Norah Delaney. Even through the graininess of the old Polaroid I could tell by Sasha’s eyes that it had been taken in the days he’d been drinking heavily. I pulled it off the wall and looked at the back. In a woman’s handwriting were the words, For Sasha. I stuffed it into the pocket of my coat. The last photo was of me just after we came to America. It was taken at the apartment where Sofi and I first lived. At first glance the girl in the picture looked like a normal, though solemn, little girl. But I knew to look for the sadness behind the eyes, the fixed serious expression that gave away nothing of the horror I had witnessed only too recently. I put this picture in my pocket as well, but only so I could look away from it.

  I turned my attention to the articles plastering the walls. They were mostly about Sasha and his trial. He had been the first Abnormal criminal ever successfully prosecuted, and it had been a huge deal. Sofi had home schooled me for the entire eighth grade because it became impossible for someone named Slobodian to exist in public schools at the time. I skimmed the articles, but then came across a surprise. He had also saved the articles written about me during my paranormal trial. Another Slobodian on the Registry. And I thought he didn’t care. Freaking peachy.

  "Find anything, sis?" said Gage from the other side of the bars.

  "Just a bunch of articles," I said. "Mostly about his trial."

  "Guy holds a grudge, huh?
" he said.

  "Yep," I said. I picked up the sketch pad and leafed through it. It was completely filled up with sketch after sketch of one face. Mine. I threw it back on the shelf in disgust. "Is there any surveillance video of this cell block, Craig?" I said. I stepped out of the cell to face the two men.

  "As it happens, ma’am," said Craig, "the warden monitors this particular area pretty well. No one else is supposed to see it, though."

  "Why?" said Gage.

  "Have I known why anything is the way it is? " said Craig. "I have no idea."

  "Where’s the camera?" I said. Craig pointed it out, a tiny black box attached to the ceiling outside Sasha’s cell. It was pointing directly at us. "The warden monitors this himself?"

  "Far as I know," said Craig. "Has a little set-up in his office."

  "Just so you know what you’re getting into, Lou," said Gage, "the warden’s probably not gonna like you telling us all this. Might be hard to find another job."

  Craig shrugged. "Probably. But I just don’t care anymore. Country’s gone to shit, we’ve turned against our fellow citizens, and I work for Warden Jeffries, who thinks the dawn of New Government shines out of his ass. Forgive me if I’m just damn sick of it all. I’ll take anything over this. My family and I will get by."

  Craig showed us to the warden’s office. He unhooked a giant ring of keys from his belt and fit a large brass one into the lock. It didn’t budge.

  Craig raised his eyebrows. "He must have changed the locks," he said.

  "Stand back," I said. I kicked the thin wood door with my steel-toed boot and the wood splintered immediately. I reached my hand through the boot-sized hole and unlocked the bolt from the inside.

  "Enjoyed that, didn’t you?" said Gage. "Feel better now?"

  "A little bit," I said.

  The warden’s office was as cluttered as Sasha’s cell was neat. The nameplate on the desk told me his name was Donald C. Jeffries, Warden, and the family portrait in a frame propped up next to it told me that he was a short wiry man with a red face and an unfortunate bushy mustache.

  Craig saw me looking at the photo. "That’s his ex-wife," he said. "They’ve been divorced for a couple of years now."

  The rest of the desk was covered in a half-inch of dust and messy mounds of papers. I counted three moldy cups of coffee. It looked as though Donald C. Jeffries had been neglecting his work. No surprise there. The only clean spot in the office was a corner table that held a desktop computer and monitor. I assumed this was where he watched the surveillance. The desktop looked to be still on and I flicked on the monitor to find I was right. A black and white image of the cell we’d just come from showed up on the monitor. Numbers superimposed in the lower corner of the image showed the date and time.