Legion (Southern Watch Book 5)

by Robert J. Crane

  “I don’t know if I’d agree with that,” the cowboy said.

  Chester stared at the cowboy. He had always regarded the humans they lived among as peculiar and often tragic figures. They could not know the joy of the collective; isolated, alone, there was a wide gulf between them and even their supposedly closest compatriots. Chester and William had argued it most vociferously, Chester taking the perspective that it was a difficult challenge to overcome in order to remain as functional as these people were and to build such an advanced society in spite of this handicap; William had not lacked admiration for humans, at least not at first; but he had spun from adoring the way they overcame their shortcomings to becoming jaded and angrier with them as the centuries rolled on.

  The one thing that living among humans and learning from them had taught Chester was that much like their saying about babes’ mouths, some occasional wisdom could be drawn from their words.

  He stared at the cowboy, pondering the thought spewed forth from the man, and it was as though someone had replaced a missing gear in the machine of Chester’s mind. “Of course it can get worse,” Chester said, thinking aloud. “For you. And it should get worse. So … very much … worse.”

  William and his fellows were in unspeakable torment, and would be for all eternity. Reciprocity—justice—demanded a similar price be exacted, as best as it could, from those responsible for his agony.

  “I don’t much care for the sound of that,” Deputy Stan said as they inched closer to Chester.

  Chester shot a look toward the van that he and William had shared. If he fought his way through them and took it, it would give these lawmen something to look for, an identifying mark to focus their search on. It was baggage, of a sort, and he didn’t need it anymore. He could run faster than the van could carry him over these streets, and all that was left for him was the sentiment, the memories of William that remained with it. His decision was made with startling speed and practicality. William would have labored with it, but Chester did not.

  “You will not much care for the sound of your own screams, either, especially by the end,” Chester said. There was fury in his voice, but he tempered it with cold as he considered the voices within, agitating for vengeance. He had a better plan, though, or at least one that would guarantee that these bastards suffered as they should for William’s fate.

  “Uh-oh,” the cowboy said.

  “You have made an enemy today,” Chester said, “and when you look back on this moment … remember that it was your failings that drove us to this inescapable moment of destiny, for I would have been content to leave this place in peace. But you have done me grievous harm, and that … I cannot merely let pass.”

  With that, Chester leapt into the air, using his full strength for the first time in a century, and landed atop a nearby house. Another leap carried him farther away, and the sound of gunshots behind him ceased quickly as he left his new enemies far behind him—for now.

  *

  “Goddammit,” Hendricks said, watching the demon leap out of sight, going up in a hard jump as Alison’s pistol barked one last time and then fell silent. He sheathed his sword, pretty sure that this guy, whoever he was, wasn’t doubling back right away.

  “Did that sound particularly ominous to anyone else?” Arch asked, still gripping his sword. He had the blade gripped so tight that the tip was wavering back and forth as he stared off into the sky, toward the horizon where the trouble had fled.

  “Yep,” Alison said, coming out from behind the Explorer’s hood. Hendricks watched her step past Lonsdale, who was still grunting lightly on the ground, to head for Reeve, who was doing some grunting of his own, flat on his back. “It sounds bad.”

  “Shit,” Hendricks said, bowing his head. “Well, Arch, I think you better get on the horn to Mrs. Reeve. Might want to tell her to assemble the watch because I’m guessing this new guy in town—he ain’t the sort that’s just going to duck out after making a vow like that.”

  4.

  Lauren was pulling up to Red Cedar Medical Center in Chattanooga, her place of work, when the phone rang. It jangled discordantly through the car, causing her to cringe and let off the brake a little too much. Her front tires bumped the block at the front of the parking space, jarring her as she fumbled to answer it.

  She saw it was the sheriff’s station and answered immediately. Part of her had hoped it would be Molly’s dad, so she could delight in sending him straight to voicemail. As soon as she answered and heard what was said, part of her wished she’d done it anyway.

  “Right now? Are you shitting me?” She closed her eyes and listened to Mrs. Reeve, a couple notes shy of panic, lay it out for a few seconds before she sighed. She’d just gotten here, dammit, and after getting someone to cover for her for an hour so she could go to the watch meeting this morning. “Fine, fine. I’ll be right there.”

  Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, she put her car in reverse and backed out of her spot. She’d need to wait a few minutes before she called in sick for the day. If she did it now, she’d sound so goddamned pissed that faking sick wouldn’t be a viable option.

  *

  Alison wasn’t much of the nursing type, but she did what she could, getting Hendricks and Arch to help Sheriff Reeve into the station while she trailed behind. She’d driven the man’s car while he rode with Arch. A little bit of her wished she could have been a fly on the window of that car as they drove back, but as soon as she saw her husband’s face, she knew it was all swearing and pretty much of nothing else, just by the scowl he worse.

  “Set him down on the cot over here,” Mrs. Reeve said, about two steps shy of wringing her hands, Alison figured. She would have been in about the same boat if Arch had been in Reeve’s shoes, maybe a little better off but not much. Hendricks and Arch helped the sheriff over to the cot Mrs. Reeve had set up in the corner of the bullpen, a blanket draped over it. She had it figured for something from emergency supplies, but it looked old, maybe World War II era castoffs.

  “I should go get Lonsdale,” Hendricks said, glancing out the door as the bell jangled. “Or not, since he seems to have crawled his way in.”

  Alison looked over her shoulder to see the other demon hunter hunched over, dragging himself along with a surly look on his face. She’d never heard of anyone being actually possessed before, and this guy didn’t look like he was taking it real well.

  “How are you, Nick?” Mrs. Reeve asked, all sad and solicitous.

  “Feel like Stuntman Jake tried to drive a damned school bus through me,” Reeve said, clutching his side. Alison chortled; Stuntman Jake did exactly that sort of thing, driving a retired school bus through old, stripped down campers and other “fun” obstacles at the Calhoun County Fair.

  “Where’s Duncan?” Arch asked, looking around like he’d be able to see the OOC through the walls, or lurking in the cells or something.

  “Saw him pass on the way here,” Hendricks said, keeping his eye on Lonsdale, who was shuffling back behind the counter like he’d been the one who’d had a demon play enthusiastic xylophone on his ribs. “I expect he wanted to meet Erin at the scene, maybe take a look before he joins us here.”

  Arch frowned. “Why wasn’t he there right off?”

  Hendricks shrugged. “I saw him turn behind us as we were getting back on the main drag. He waved and everything. He was probably five minutes behind you getting there, since he started about five minutes farther away.”

  “What the hell was that thing?” Reeve asked through gritted teeth. He started to sit up, but Alison saw him cringe and then take about five seconds to mentally write that off as a bad idea. If things weren’t presently going somewhat shitty, she might have found the process funny.

  “Looked like a demon in a human body to me,” Arch said, looking at Hendricks. She saw her husband’s eyes burning as he looked at the demon hunter, and she suspected this had potential to get kinda ugly. “Would have been nice to know such a thing was possible before
this happened.”

  “I agree,” Hendricks said, coolly and smartass as ever, “since I didn’t have a fucking clue that it was anything other than a whispered joke among us demon hunters.”

  “Like demon royalty?” Arch asked.

  “Seems there’s another something Duncan failed to mention to us,” Hendricks said, with a little ire of his own. “Might want to take a chunk out of his ass when he gets here instead of trying to turn your teeth at me.”

  “Sorry,” Arch said, sounding genuinely contrite for a second. “So it is real? Demon possession of a human host?”

  “Fucking right it’s real,” Lonsdale said, collapsing in a chair nearby. “I fucking felt it, didn’t I?”

  That drew a moment’s attention. “What did it feel like?” Alison asked, because no one else probably would.

  “Like I said before, a thousand screams in your ear,” Lonsdale said, rubbing his head. “A skull-fucking with a big fucking hickory-dickory-dock.”

  “Does he have Tourette’s?” Reeve asked with loud frustration. “What the hell is he saying?”

  “It’s Cockney rhyming slang.” Duncan breezed in, jangling the bell atop the door as he entered. “They rhyme what they really mean with something else in order to obscure the meaning.”

  “From who?” Reeve asked. “Anyone trying understand them?”

  “When it first started, it was to hide what they were saying from the cops,” Duncan said, rounding the counter. He paused then smiled faintly. “And right this minute, looks it’s being used for the same purpose.”

  “Son of a …” Reeve drawled in pain.

  “Duncan,” Hendricks said, and Alison recognized him reining himself in, “why didn’t you mention demon possession being a thing?”

  Duncan didn’t really show surprise, but Alison could have sworn she saw a little nonetheless. “Because there isn’t, not anymore. It’s been consigned to history books and horror movies. The type of demons that can do that sort of thing were all wiped out and sent back to—well, you know.”

  “Hades?” Arch offered.

  “Hell?” Alison corrected.

  “The Flying Spaghetti Monster’s Ship?” Hendricks asked with a huge fucking grin. Arch grimaced visibly at both their added answers.

  “However you want to spell it, the Office of Occultic Concordance solved this problem for you.” Duncan looked around. “You’re welcome.”

  “Well, you didn’t solve it very fucking well, did you?” Lonsdale asked, sounding pretty put out about it.

  Duncan looked right at him, frowning. “You … you’ve been possessed recently.”

  Lonsdale’s face darkened. “I fucking know that, I do. Just said it, too.”

  “That’s impossible,” Duncan said, and now he was actually frowning, bending at the waist and looking at Lonsdale like he was peering into a dark well, trying to see the water at the bottom.

  “Like Ygrusibas rising was impossible?” Hendricks asked.

  “Yeah, like that,” Duncan said without appearing to notice he was even saying it.

  “So then it’s totally just happened,” Hendricks said.

  “What?” Duncan snapped upright again, breaking his gaze away from Lonsdale, who had been looking at him with a hefty amount of suspicion. “No, it’s not possible. We accounted for—”

  “I’m here to tell you that you didn’t,” Arch said, and strolled over to Lonsdale, lifting his wounded arm and prompting the demon hunter to say, “Ow!” when Arch exposed the bleeding wound on his wrist. “Hendricks cut him here, the demon face went away, leaving nothing but a—”

  “Incoherent whiner,” Reeve finished.

  “Oh, you’re a right Moby Dick,” Lonsdale fired back.

  “That means ‘prick,’” Duncan said. “And—this,” he grabbed Lonsdale by the hand, tearing it away from Arch and causing the demon hunter to let out another cry of pain, “this could be anything. He could have cut himself masturbating, or whatever it is you people do with sharp objects.”

  “Generally not masturbate,” Alison said. “Not with sharp objects.”

  “Yeah, that’d be hard objects,” Hendricks said with a smirk. He didn’t say it as quick as he would have before Kitty Elizabeth, though, Alison knew, and his smirk was pretty hollow, fading after less than a second.

  “Oh, Lordy,” Mrs. Reeve said under her breath.

  “The point is, this is not necessarily possession,” Duncan said, but to Alison it sounded like he was trying real hard to convince himself.

  “Look at the holes in his shirt, Duncan,” Alison said, trying to cut right through the bullshit and self-denial. “I shot him a half-dozen times.”

  Duncan paused, looking down. “Could have been that serum from Spellman at work here.”

  “He didn’t even take damage, man,” Arch said. “Skin just rippled. And he had himself a demon face.”

  Duncan stood there, frozen, and let Lonsdale’s arm fall from his grip. “Well … shit, then.”

  The door opened, bell jangling, and everyone turned to see who walked in.

  “Just us,” Brian said, smirking at his sister. Alison could see her mom and dad following behind, back in the glass entry. Brian hadn’t bothered to hold the door for them, because why would he? “What’s the haps?” He nodded at Lonsdale. “Another new face.”

  “Same one I’ve always had,” Lonsdale said, scowling, “though the mind behind it was almost recently changed out like a Longmire.”

  “Tire,” Duncan said absently, his mind or essence or whatever clearly elsewhere.

  “Ali,” her mother said, coming around the counter and giving her a big hug. Her mother was about her height, but Alison felt like she’d gotten frail recently. Addy rubbed the back of Alison’s arms after she finished giving her a peck on the cheek. “I was worried.”

  “I’m fine,” Alison said, trying her best to act like it was nothing. She was fighting demons now all the time, after all. She caught the look from her mom, though, that told her that there was a struggle still going on in there—moms were going to mom, after all, Alison thought as the phone rang loud in the station.

  *

  Chester only leapt twice, for that was all that was needed. Leaping high was a conspicuous activity and tended to draw undue attention, so after he landed he settled into a jog, making his way quickly through backyards until he found one with an immense clothesline hung with clothing from one end to the other.

  The internal debate was going quite loudly, but Chester was ignoring it for the most part. It was pure anger and venom, and all of it directed at those they viewed as the responsible parties for William’s departure. He had all those feelings himself, and listening to the others was rather like running a knife blade across a newly healed scab. He had no interest in that at the moment, and so he stayed in command of himself and considered the next priority.

  And the next priority was to formulate a plan.

  They would be looking for him, which suggested that he needed to get out of sight. His body was not so unusual as to cause people in this town to take immediate notice, but he was a stranger and this was not a large place. They would surely notice him by his clothing first, and so that needed to change. Chester stole a flannel shirt and a pair of old jeans from the clothesline and made the switch, balling up his old clothes and tossing them in a drainage ditch as he made his way across several backyards to another street.

  He walked along the street focused on his next steps. He would need a place to lie low, to hide. He would need food, and currency, for after the drive he had little money remaining. None of these problems were particularly difficult to deal with, and so he continued his walk unworried, cool air rushing against his cheeks.

  He stopped in front of a playground, casting a wary eye over the scene. Children were at play, small ones, chasing each other around in circles. Sitting on a bench, watching it all, he saw his first humans since he had fled the encounter that had cost him William.

  Two women s
at talking, one dark-haired, one blond, both of them with similar hairstyles that reached their shoulder blades. Chester had not done this in quite a long time, centuries, in fact, and he felt awkward as he made his way across the grass toward them.

  He walked as silently as he could, their backs turned to him, a peal of laughter causing them both to shake with the hilarity of whatever one had just said to the other. They both paused mid-laugh and turned their heads; the dark haired one shouted, “Abi—don’t you do that! Leave Charlie alone.”

  Chester’s gaze followed over to the playground, where one of the girls was guiltily clutching a small shovel filled with sand, poised to dump it on one of the younger children, one so small Chester doubted he could walk yet. Chester’s experience with children was limited, but the answer came from his fellows—the girl child looked about four, the baby she was about to dump sand on seemed to be closer to one. There were two others laughing and frolicking as well—aged three or four according to those within him who knew.

  Chester took that little into account as he swooped in behind the women. He had his plan already set and had received more than enough concord to make it happen. He took the last steps at demon speed and landed his hands on the back of the women’s necks before they had a chance to turn around. He touched them gently, and a wash of five of his fellows poured into each of them. Plenty enough to keep their human minds under control while the collective did their work.

  Both of the women stood, their eyes focused, and each gave him a nod. Bentley was the duly elected speaker for the blond, Charity was in charge of the dark-haired one.

  “This one has an empty house at present,” Charity said, staring right at Chester.

  “This one doesn’t,” Bentley said, shaking the blond head. “An older child is home, a male, fifteen or so.”

  Chester pondered that for a second. “We will need all the ears we can get.” He reached out a hand and touched Bentley, who raised the woman’s to meet his. He poured twenty-five more volunteers into Bentley’s new body, and the body sighed as it received the bounty. “Take the older child, learn what he knows, and spread yourselves around wisely. Then come to—” He looked to Charity’s dark-haired vessel.