Catching Hell

by D. B. Sieders

  I’d also followed him to his favorite restaurant about fifteen times over the past few weeks. I knew the specifics about his favorite food vice. Demon power aside, surveillance was my specialty.

  Murkowski perked up when the smell of deliciousness hit him. “Is that for me?” he asked, a hopeful look painted over his formerly jolly, white-bearded face.

  “Maybe.” I reached into the sack to snag a fry and took a bite, making a show of chewing and savoring the crispy-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside magical potato creation. “Feel like talking?”

  He scowled. “That’s not nice. I’m in the hospital on account of you. Least you could do is feed me. Then I might consider dropping the lawsuit.”

  It was my turn to laugh. I popped another fry. After swallowing it down with a moan of ecstasy, I said, “Nice try, Bad Santa, but you might want to rethink your strategy.” I fished out a file from my bag and plopped it on his lap.

  He snatched it up and started thumbing through the pages. His heart monitor ticked up a notch as he read. I unplugged it and sent a quick text to Roice asking him to work his magic with the computer system that linked monitoring equipment to the nurse’s station. Didn’t want any interruptions to throw us out of the moment.

  “Hey, are you trying to kill me?” His brows shot up in alarm as he reached for the call button at the side of his bed.

  “I wouldn’t do that. Not unless you want the contents of that file to get back to your family. Or the cops.”

  “That’s blackmail.” His gaze darted around the room. He was probably looking for something he could use to bash my skull in. I got that a lot, too.

  “No. It’s a reminder of what got you into this mess in the first place. Did you know you were demon possessed?”

  His gaze went wide as confusion, disbelief, and realization raced through his mind—at least that was what I read. Could’ve been gas, but I waited patiently for reality to set in. He wouldn’t be ready to talk until then. In the meantime, there were plenty more fries.

  “What do you want?” he asked at last. “Besides my fries.”

  “Well, Santa, I’d like to know when and how a powerful messenger demon targeted you.” I took pity on him and gave him a fry.

  He snatched it and gobbled it down with an appreciative grunt. “Not why?”

  I snorted. “I know why, and so do you. You got in over your head with gambling debts. Made a deal with the devil, right?”

  He scowled but didn’t respond. It was all in the file—the updated file Boice had left under my door last night, which included bank records, travel patterns derived from his cell phone, ATM, and credit card transactions, and what was available by way of mundane surveillance. Putting it all together, we figured out that Murkowski was broke. He liked betting on pro sports and was very, very bad at it, which probably explained the broke part. But like most gambling addicts, desperation and the adrenaline rush had him placing the mother of all bets in the hopes he could dig himself out of an already sizable hole.

  It hadn’t worked.

  He owed one local loan shark over a hundred grand and had no way to pay for it without selling the house he shared with his two high school–aged children. He’d tried to secure a loan against the value of the home, but the bankers had smelled the risk and said no. With no retirement funds available, since he’d already burned through them, he’d turned back to gambling.

  At least he hadn’t touched the college funds for the kids, but probably because he couldn’t legally get his hands on them.

  Then, all of a sudden, he’d stopped the desperate quest for cash—at least as far as the electronic paper trail indicated. Boice thought he’d managed to lay hands on enough cash to pay the debt. Didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. The man had become easy prey for a tempter demon, or so it appeared on the surface.

  After last night’s fiasco, however, we deduced Mephisto had come to Murkowski under the guise of a mammon, aka the most common species of immaterial greed demon, like Lacey’s demon. Being immaterial, Mephisto likely employed a corporeal henchman to broker the deal, someone other than Mara. I needed to know more about the henchman.

  “Look,” I began, going for a gentler approach. “I figure you came up with the money somehow, and since you didn’t win the lottery—we checked—you haven’t donated a kidney on the black market—your chart would’ve shown that—and you don’t have a Genie—because they’re rare and come with some pretty hefty price tags to go along with those ‘wishes,’ I’m guessing you found another loan shark who made you a deal that was too good to be true.”

  He sighed, dragging a hand down his face and along his beard. “Yeah, well, I thought the lady was nuts. I didn’t realize the demon thing was real until it was too late.”

  I gave Murkowski a sympathetic nod, offering him the rest of the fries. I held on to the burger, though. He wouldn’t get that until I got the info. He took the fries and gobbled them down like they were the first meal he’d had in weeks. It had been less than twenty-four hours, but hospital food sucked. As a man who obviously appreciated a decent meal, I’d nailed the bribe.

  “No one ever thinks the demon thing is real until it’s too late.” I gave him a rueful smile. “Demons are tricky. Tell me what happened.”

  After licking the salt from his fingers, he cocked his head, seemingly lost in thought. “You’re right. I’d gotten in way over my head. I knew it was wrong, but I had a lot of bills. That’s what got me started. My wife had cancer. Damned insurance didn’t cover half of it. We were already in the red. Wiped out all our savings and retirement.”

  I nodded. The file had mentioned that, too, which is why I’d brought the blanket and a few other items in my goody bag. Bad choices aside, the guy had been through hell. Yeah, I was a total softy.

  “Right. Then you took up gambling, and it didn’t work out.” I scribbled on my notepad. It helped with the professional look, and my doodles weren’t half bad. I should have been an artist. “How did the demon come into the picture?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his bed. “Gal turns up after I lost my last bet—no, wait, it was a few weeks after I lost the bet and had been scrambling to keep my bookie’s goons from paying a home visit to me or my children.” Murkowski’s face turned red, though I couldn’t tell if it was from shame or anger.

  I nodded, encouraging him to continue while digging out the burger.

  “That smells awful good.” He eyed the wrapped bit of all-American goodness with longing.

  “You’ll get it when you tell me what I need to know.” I held it just out of reach. “Be quick, or I’ll eat it in front of you.”

  I was a softy, but not that soft. After all, I did work with demons.

  He sighed. “Like I said, this gal shows up with a suitcase full of cash and tells me it’s mine if I’d let her demon take over my body. I told her that while I was flattered, I didn’t go for jailbait. I mean, she could’ve been over eighteen, but I’m not into girls young enough to be my daughter. She just laughed and said she had a demon in need of a host body and wanted to borrow mine for a few days. Said the demon was looking for someone and needed cover.”

  Given the form Mara had assumed in the alley, I doubted he was lying. I stopped doodling and took down his description of the girl. Not Mara, based on her preferred shapes, and I believed her when she told me she’d only met Murkowski the night before. I’d run the description he gave me against known female summoners and demon associates, though Mephisto could’ve used or blackmailed another shape-shifting demon like Mara as his broker. It was a lead, though. I’d take it.

  “You just took the cash?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said, defensive. “I thought the girl was nuts. Crazy money is still money. After I shook her hand, I went straight to my bookie, settled up, and got out of there before I got tempted again. I waited for the girl to show up—thought she’d want to do some weird stuff and that I could play along for a while and then tell her to get lost. But
she didn’t, so I figured I was home free.”

  Yeah, classic demon entrapment. I had to admit, it was a little disappointing. I’d expected more finesse from a high-ranking messenger demon, something with more flair. Or more creative. This was about as lame as passing a note in study hall.

  Still, the tactic had clearly worked. As soon as Murkowski accepted the cash, he’d sealed the pact. It only took a yes and a single, miniscule drop of blood. Mephisto’s courier could have gotten that from a tiny needle planted on the cash case’s handle, or with the handshake. Murkowski would’ve been none the wiser.

  “When did the demon take over?” I asked.

  “A few days later. I woke up with a splitting headache and a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. When I went to shave, I saw a shadow in the mirror, and my eyes went all freaky—black with red sparks. I don’t remember too much after that, just bits and pieces. It was like, well, like after I came out of surgery here. I woke up a few times and caught a face here, a conversation there, but nothing made sense.”

  I shuddered, remembering my first glimpse of Hannah in the mirror. Shaking off the distraction, I turned my attention back to Murkowski. “Classic demonic possession. Do you remember meeting Mara?”

  “Mara?”

  “The demon from the alley, the one who looked like a librarian? She’s a succubus. Mephisto, the demon who possessed you, forced her to target you so he could attract a demon hunter.” I didn’t mention that the demon wanted me specifically. He didn’t need to know that.

  A pained expression crossed his face, full of sorrow and agony. I had to look away.

  “Yeah, I remember.” His voice was broken when he spoke. I risked a glance at him, caught him wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. I gave him the burger then. I hated to see anyone cry, especially a guy who looked like Santa.

  “She was the spitting image of Margaret—my wife, at least the way she was before the cancer got bad. We lost her not long ago.”

  I hated Mephisto already. Now, I loathed the bastard. How incredibly cruel, using the man’s grief against him. It was inhuman. It was so very demon.

  I gave him a moment to regain his composure and enjoy the first bite of his burger. As much as I despised Mephisto’s methods and lack of flair, they’d worked exceedingly well. He’d been able to lure me, and apparently the boss, into his trap and almost managed to send Hannah and me on a one-way trip to the hell realm. Before that, though, he’d needed a portal and a summoner. Glad my team was working that angle. We needed to find the summoner and secure the portal.

  “I’m sorry.” I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We caught the demon who possessed you, and he’s going to pay for what he did. I promise.” At least I hoped he would. Considering Hannah just let him go, he could be long gone back to the hell realm by now.

  Murkowski chewed his burger and nodded. After swallowing hard, I offered him the soda I’d also stashed in my bag. He smiled and accepted it, taking three large gulps before setting the can down and letting out an appreciative belch.

  “Excuse me,” he said, sheepish.

  “Not at all.” I chuckled. “Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened to you? Did the demon take you to any strange locations? Do you remember anything about his associates?”

  “Not much.” Murkowski frowned. “But I thought you said you caught the guy—demon—whatever he is.”

  Bad Santa was sharp. I supposed I could give him a little more information as incentive. “Here’s the thing, Mr. Murkowski—”

  “Call me Jack,” he said. “You pulled a demon out of me. I figure we don’t have to be so formal.”

  I laughed again, liking the guy even more. “You can call me Jinx.” I fished out a business card. He took it, quirking a brow at the logo—my sigil—and the strange symbols under my name. It was demon for “Eat at Moe’s,” but humans wouldn’t know that.

  “Here’s the thing, Jack. The demon who possessed you was a messenger, and he was also sent on a retrieval mission for another, more powerful demon. I need to find out how he got here and who helped him. Anything you can remember could help me do that.”

  He leaned back and patted his belly. Closing his eyes, he said, “After he took over, he took me someplace strange, a park, I think. I don’t go to many parks. I remember talking to someone. I heard a voice, but it wasn’t clear. Maybe a woman’s voice? And there was something that growled, like a dog, only…bigger. Anyway, the whole thing seemed weird, going to a park at night. That’s what serial killers or perverts do, right?”

  Or demons looking for a portal and a summoner.

  I pulled out my phone and loaded some pictures of the locations Lacey had scouted in west Nashville. There were a few large parks out there and at least two portals that fit the description. I showed them to Murkowski. He said it could’ve been one of them. The guy didn’t remember much else except an odd-looking tree.

  It was something. I took more notes about the voice and the growls and sent them off to my roomies, along with instructions to be on the lookout for demons or human associates who fit the description of the girl who’d brokered the deal between Mephisto and Murkowski. I had Murkowski make a rough sketch of the cash-for-possession courier and the tree, and then decided to let him get back to the business of recuperating. After plugging his heart monitor back in and texting my roomie a message to restore the hospital computer system to normal operations, I thanked him for his time and warned him to stay out of trouble.

  Hannah chose that moment to get with the program, yanking me to my feet and turning my body toward the door in a very awkward and less-than-grateful manner. Why was she suddenly in such a hurry to get out of there and go hunting? It was weird.

  “Cut. It. Out,” I whispered through gritted teeth. Wrestling control of my body, I turned back and stepped closer to the bed to deliver a final message to Bad Santa.

  “No more gambling, mister.” I issued the stern warning with hands on hips, barely resisting the urge to shake my finger at him. “You need to take care of yourself and your kids, okay?”

  He chuckled. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.” Then he grew serious and said, “So this demon thing is real? I was possessed?”

  “Yup,” I said. “Afraid so. You shouldn’t have any lasting side effects, but I suggest you don’t pick up any more bad habits, unless you want another target on your back for tempter demons.”

  He nodded, but then he frowned. “But demons? I mean, seeing is believing, but…”

  I tugged on my black mirror and asked Hannah for a small demonstration. To my surprise, she came through. Murkowski’s gaze flew wide as he stared at my eyes. No doubt he found the sparks of red swirling in my irises familiar and unsettling.

  I probably should have done that before plugging the heart monitor back in.

  In moments, a nurse popped in to check Murkowski out in spite of his protests. Eyeing me with suspicion—I got that a lot, too—she said I needed to get out and let the man rest. She crinkled her nose and gave me another scowl. Damn it, nurses had the best sniffers when it came to contraband food. Murkowski reassured her we were almost done and promised he’d lay off the junk food.

  Liar. I didn’t blame him, though. Junk food was one of life’s more appealing guilty pleasures, as long as it didn’t come with a gluttony demon. Once a beelzebub got its hooks into its victim, other compatible vice demons tended to tag along. Succubi and incubi worked with the bubs—augmenting lust for excess food and drink with, well, lust. Sloth often followed, and the belph demons of laziness were such a pain in the ass to evict.

  I hoped none of Mara’s bub and belph buddies showed up on my doorstep looking for a place to hide or hang out. I wasn’t running a demon hotel, and the demons of gluttony and sloth were messy.

  When we had the room to ourselves again, he said, “You’ve got one, too? You’re possessed?”

  “Not exactly.” I struggled for a way to explain my unique relationship with Hannah.
“My…companion helps me with cases and is a pretty cool roommate.” I hoped Hannah heard that part. “It’s part of the demon-tracking gig. Takes a demon to track a demon. If you think of anything else, even if it seems trivial, call me, okay?”

  “That what you really look like?” His gaze had grown wide and filled with suspicion. No wonder, given his experience with demons and deception.

  “Yup, this is all me.” I swept a hand down my compact body. “My demon pal is immaterial, like the one who possessed you. Only corporeal demons can shape-shift, like Mara and maybe like the girl who gave you cash in exchange for possession.”

  He grinned, this time checking out my boobs. “Your demon keeps you in pretty good shape.”

  I laughed. “It’s not all fun and games. I train hard, and I’ve got good genes, except when it comes to height.” I also healed fast and didn’t suffer the aches and pains other humans complained about. I suspected it had something to do with Hannah’s prolonged occupation of my body, one of the few perks that came with demonic possession.

  “Will more demons be coming for me?” Murkowski asked, growing serious. Poor guy was probably terrified.

  I smiled. “Not likely. It isn’t like being possessed once puts a bull’s-eye on your back.”

  He relaxed visibly and fixed me with a quizzical expression, gaze narrowed as if I were an interesting puzzle he was trying to piece together. No idea why. I wasn’t that complicated. Then again, maybe he wondered if the demon in me might jump out and try to take his soul. No, that couldn’t be it. He didn’t appear afraid. Just curious.

  He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “You know, someone picked up the hospital tab for me. Covered everything my insurance doesn’t, plus the balance for my wife’s cancer treatments. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”