Legion (Southern Watch Book 5)

by Robert J. Crane

  “Legion,” Arch said solemnly, crackling across everyone. “My name is Legion: for we are many.”

  “That sounds awfully ominous,” Lonsdale opined.

  “It’s from the Bible,” Arch said.

  “That explains it, then,” Hendricks said dourly.

  “You lost track of millions of essences,” Erin said accusingly. Reeve was just watching, hoping something useful would come out of this. “How?”

  “Because we’ve got a lot more than ‘millions’ to keep track of,” Duncan said simply, “and it’s not as though there was a census in the early days. We weren’t as organized as the Roman Empire, and it’s not like we could just tell everyone to go back to their hometown for a counting.”

  “So we’re up against potentially millions of these things,” Reeve said, trying to wrap his head around this whole concept, which had landed in his lap like one of his grandbabies with a sour diaper.

  “Potentially,” Duncan said without much in the realm of feeling. “Probably less, but hundreds of thousands wouldn’t be out of line for one of these ‘colonies’—”

  “Should we even ask what they’re doing here?” Hendricks asked. “Do you have any clue, now that we’ve narrowed it down?”

  “Other than getting pissed that you apparently vaped part of their colony?” Duncan shrugged. “I don’t know. They’ve clearly been hiding and off our radar for a long time since they escaped the purge of their kind. These ‘Legions’ were like a society crammed into a human body. Every one of them took on different characteristics, just like if you went to any different nation or sometimes even different towns on earth, you’d find differing cultures, upbringings, values. Whatever this particular group has going on, I think it’s safe to say that if they vowed revenge, it’s because they’re stinging from the loss of their people that were bunked in Lonsdale.” He pointed at the demon hunter. “And odds are good they’ve all been together for a really long time, like … thousands of years, so the bonds of affection are likely to be pretty tight.”

  “So now they’re super pissed at us,” Reeve said, feeling a little more heated, “because they feel like we struck down some of their own.”

  “Yep,” Duncan said.

  “Well, they can join the fucking club.” Reeve crossed his arms, his own fury burning hard inside. “Because that’s how I’ve felt for weeks.”

  “They are a fucking club,” Lauren muttered. “A country unto themselves, with borders of flesh.”

  “How are they going to come at us?” Arch asked, and he put his plate down without a bite taken.

  Duncan started to open his mouth to speak, but the doorbell jangled and stopped him.

  “Well, isn’t this a cozy little gathering of picnickers,” came the voice of the man at the door. His hair was slicked back, his suit jacket was pressed and in perfect order, and he was almost smiling, a thin layer of satisfaction plastered across his tanned face.

  “County Administrator Pike,” Reeve said, as the tension in his belly ratcheted from a 9.5 on a scale of 1 to 10 all the way up to 327 in a hot second. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you again … but it’s really not.”

  6.

  “I’m mighty thirsty,” County Administrator Pike pronounced with a smart aleck smile that Arch took personal offense to. “Where do y’all keep the Kool-Aid you’ve been drinking?”

  Alison landed a hand on Arch’s forearm that suggested to him to keep his mouth buttoned up. It wasn’t his first instinct, but he followed her guidance and let his eyes bounce on over to Sheriff Reeve, who was over in the corner. The man’s face had gone red; plainly he was just as affronted by the jibe as Arch was.

  “It’s right over there next to the ignorance antidote,” Reeve said, motioning toward the buffet of food spread across the front counter. “Take a big ol’ dose of that first, because Lord knows you need it.”

  “Oh, my,” Pike said, still smirking, walking his lanky frame on into the station, apparently undeterred by the hostility leveled in his direction. An uneasy pall had fallen over everyone in the room save for him and Reeve, and Arch had a feeling that this was a contest best settled by the two of them. “Well, if ignorance of your mythical demons is supposed to be some sort of insult, I reckon I’ll be okay with keeping my so-called ignorance … though I call it a connection to reality, one which I can only assume your Kool-Aid causes people to lose.”

  “Who the fuck is this tosser?” Lonsdale piped up.

  Pike looked right at Lonsdale. “I’m gonna guess by your accent you’re not an eligible voter.”

  “Voting for what?” Lonsdale asked, clearly puzzled and out of his depth.

  “Do y’all even vote for people over in England?” Pike asked, and Arch had a feeling he was ribbing Lonsdale, “or is it all the Queen over there?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about England just now,” Reeve said. “Seems we got bigger problems right here in Midian than who’s got a queen.”

  “We do indeed,” Pike said, and something about the way he was conducting himself gave Arch the willies, like the man was holding something back, ready to deliver unpleasantness but savoring his moment first.

  Reeve apparently picked up on it, too. “I don’t suppose you stopped in to offer your support this time, did you?”

  “I did not,” Pike said, stepping up to the counter and sticking his nose over the nearest box of chicken. He leaned over and took a long whiff. “Mmmm. That smells mighty good. I doubt it’s as good as that Hot Chicken they got up in Nashville, but …” He reached right on down into the box and pulled out a drumstick, sticking it right into his mouth and taking a bite. “Oh, yeah, that’s good. But, like I thought …” He tossed it right back in the box and then smeared his greasy fingers on the counter, then looked up in challenge to see if anyone said anything to it.

  “You can’t fucking do that,” Erin said, taking the bait. Arch almost flinched, and not at her use of profanity. Reeve was standing back, burning, but taking it pretty steadfastly in Arch’s opinion.

  “Oh, but I can,” Pike said, and finally he got down to business, reaching into his jacket’s front pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He wagged it in front of him, greasy fingers leaving their mark on the page. “Anyone want to see why?”

  “If you think the mere threat of a recall election is going to stop me doing my job to the best of my ability—” Reeve started.

  Pike shut him down fast by slamming the paper down on the counter. “I’m not threatening anymore. I got the signatures and they’re being certified right now.” He grinned. “But until then … I have this. Do you know what this is?”

  “Looks pretty messy,” Brian spoke up, “so probably your degree from Hamburger U.” Everyone in the room looked at him. “Just a guess,” he added, making Arch feel the first bit of affection for his brother-in-law in a long time, “I mean, it could be a certificate of completion for the second grade.”

  “That’s a sick burn there, Ivy League,” Pike said, not put off one bit by Brian’s insult and turning one around on him so fast it tipped Arch to the fact that for some strange reason, Pike knew who was on Reeve’s crew. “You know all about burning ’em, though, don’t you?”

  That one tripped Arch’s trigger, and he threw a look at Hendricks, who was still standing not too far from Pike, his arms folded in front of him but the alarm bells ringing all over his face when Arch caught his gaze. The cowboy stepped back from the counter and his hand fell to his coat, surreptitiously going for his sword.

  “Hey, Mr. Pike,” Alison said, letting go of Arch’s arm and striding up to the counter. Arch got a quick chill, because he realized she’d caught Hendricks’s motion and was spurred to some action because of it, “anyone ever told you that you are the very definition of a cocksucking Yankee asshole?”

  Pike’s eyebrows launched right up his forehead as Alison parked herself squarely across the counter from him. “I don’t believe anyone’s had the gall to say it to my face before,
no, so I guess you’re the ‘Winner Winner Chicken Dinner’ in that particular contest. I’m not surprised that you’d be one in this group to have the biggest pair of—”

  Alison made a quick motion and Pike blanched, pulling away from her like he’d been struck, backing from the counter with a look of pain and anger. “What the hell are you playing at?” He held up a hand and scarlet blood ran down the side, toward his wrist, moving fast toward the sleeve of his suit.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were poking at each other here,” Alison said, and she moved her coat aside enough that Arch could see her return her consecrated knife to its place on her belt. “Figured maybe you’d want to take it into the physical realm instead of just doing it verbally.”

  “Nice,” Pike said, putting the bloody wound, only a little larger than a pinprick up to his mouth and sucking on it for a second. He looked over to Lauren Darlington. “I seem to have been assaulted, Doc. Any recommendations for me? Since I doubt law enforcement is going to do a damned thing about it.”

  “I wouldn’t put that in your mouth if I were you,” Dr. Darlington said coolly.

  “Because of bacterial colonies and all that?” Pike asked, removing the side of the hand from his mouth.

  “No, because the sheer volume of shit that comes out of your politician’s mouth suggests to me that a three-dollar hooker’s gullet would be cleaner than yours,” Dr. Darlington finished. “Actually, any of her orifices would be.”

  “And here I thought you and I understood each other,” Pike said, his smile fading to coldness.

  “I feel like I’ve got a pretty good understanding of you at this point,” Lauren said. “By the way, you’ve lost my vote.”

  “That’s all right,” Pike said, opening the piece of paper he’d been brandishing for the last little while and tossing it onto the counter, a few more grease stains marring its surface. Arch could still see the black typeface all over the inside of the paper, though. “You’ve all just lost your clubhouse.” He brightened back to a grin. “That’s a temporary restraining order from Judge Matheson removing Sheriff Reeve from office until the recall election can be held next Tuesday.” His smirk grew wider. “All of y’all in here just lost your deputizations so … you got ten minutes to get the fuck out before I have you all arrested for trespassing.”

  *

  Braeden Tarley was ready to put Abi to bed even though it was only afternoon. She’d missed her nap and it was obvious as all hell that she had, such was her behavior at the moment. She was alternating between that manic state of joy and the powerful crash that came after it, the sobbing fits where she would throw herself on the floor because some tiny little thing went wrong, most of it related to Daddy and how much attention he was paying to her at the moment.

  Braeden, for his part, was ready to sleep himself, but unfortunately that just wasn’t in the cards. Abi let out a shriek of joy as she put a puzzle piece where it belonged in one of her wooden cutout puzzles as he sat on the couch, watching her with one eye while he flipped through the local news station with the other. It wasn’t exactly local; it was based out of Chattanooga, and they were on about some shit going down at a plant there, something Braeden didn’t give two fucks about at the moment.

  “This is so damned stupid,” he muttered under his breath, then caught himself. Sometimes he swore in front of Abi, but he tried not to make a habit of it.

  “We’re not supposed to say stupid, Daddy,” Abi said, looking up from her puzzle.

  Braeden just frowned at that. “Sweetheart, some people are stupid, and it doesn’t do us any favors to be shying away from that.”

  Abi made a face. “But Miss Cweek says we’re not supposed to say that.”

  “Well, maybe Miss Creek is stupid,” Braeden said, feeling his blood boil again at the thought of that woman just walking away and leaving his baby alone like that.

  “That’s not nice, Daddy.”

  Braeden bit his tongue, because it was the only way to keep from going on a tirade that would probably teach Abi a new word if he let his real feelings out. He’d already had to break her of using the f-word, which had taken some doing. It had sounded cute the first time he heard it pop out of her mouth. She’d been playing with a Mickey Mouse tool set and mimed hitting her thumb with a hammer. “Fuck!” she’d shouted, in a pretty good imitation of Braeden himself. That had worn thin mighty fast, though.

  He flipped the channel and found Dr. Phil getting all up in someone’s junk, confronting them about something or other, and he clicked past without wanting to even see what it was about. He had enough problems of his own without worrying about somebody else’s shit. Paramount on his mind was who was going to watch Abi when he worked tomorrow.

  “Daddy,” Abi said, causing him to look over at her on the floor again. She was lying flat on her belly, resting on her elbows and looking up at him with those big eyes.

  “Yes, darlin’?”

  “Do you think Miss Cweek is okay?”

  There he went struggling with that diatribe again. “I hope so,” he said instead, though he didn’t really give a shit about whether Miss Creek lived or died at this point. He felt like she’d crossed him, and because of that she was dead to him.

  “I hope so, too,” Abi said, going back to her puzzle. It was only six shapes, but she was laboring with it. All it’d take would be another minor little setback and she’d burst into tears again. He was tempted to put her to bed, but if he did, he knew by long experience that she’d wake up at the ass crack of dawn, ready to go, and it’d screw up her schedule for days. This was the crap they didn’t tell you about having kids. “I hope I get to see her again tomorrow.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one, sweetie.”

  Abi’s little dimples poked in as she frowned again. “What does that mean, holding your breath?”

  Braeden sighed. He knew he wasn’t the most patient with answering questions, and one tended to lead to another like rolling down a hill. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he said instead, and for now, she just went right back to her puzzle, thank God, though he was sure it wouldn’t last.

  *

  “I am eagerly waiting your wiseass response to this one,” Pike said, dangling the temporary restraining order in front of all of them. Alison was still standing up near the counter, and she was sorely tempted to pull her knife and draw a little more blood, but she held it tightly to her and looked back to Reeve instead, to see where he was going to lead in all this.

  Reeve was looking pretty implacable to her eyes, but he finally spoke up. “Well, I ain’t gonna argue with the law, if that’s how it is.” He looked around at the watch. “Come on, then, let’s go ahead and pack up. Seems we’re not welcome here anymore.”

  “Oh, that sounds so sad,” Pike said, really rubbing it in. Alison was sorry she hadn’t voted in the last election now, because it would have been nice to go back in time and punch the ballot for the other guy now. At least she hadn’t voted for this dick, though.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Arch said, and Alison looked back to see him all looming and stony-faced. She knew her husband well enough to be able to tell he was closer to blowing up on this than Reeve was.

  “Well, ain’t this just Holborn Viaduct,” Lonsdale said.

  “Apparently I’m not with the law anymore, so you can just shove that slang right up your ass and talk normal,” Reeve said, not missing a beat. He worked his way up to the counter at last, apparently no longer content to shoot back and forth with Pike from across the room. “Should I ask who the acting sheriff is, now that I’ve been deposed?”

  “Indeed you may ask,” Pike said smugly.

  “Who’s the new sheriff?” Reeve asked quietly, apparently not feeling the need to go big with his feelings at the moment.

  “I believe you know Ed Fries,” Pike said. “He’s a longtime law enforcement professional, and he’s next in line for the job, in terms of seniority.” He shot a spiteful look at Arch
and Erin in turn. “I sincerely doubt either of y’all’s services are going to be needed for the time being, so … just consider yourself suspended without pay for … well, whatever. Being crazy as hell, something like that.”

  “You’re going to regret this,” Arch said.

  “Don’t go threatening me,” Pike said, pulling his lanky ass up tall, like he could compete with Arch in any way, “or you’ll never work for this department again.”

  “I wouldn’t want to work for a department that turns a blind eye to evil when it rears its ugly head,” Arch fired back.

  “Then why are you working for this one?” Pike asked. “I mean, really … crime goes through the roof and you and your boss blame demons.” Pike’s face twisted with stark amusement. “Demons. Not criminals, which are your job to catch, but demons … which are not. Your job performance is so poor that you have to invent boogeymen to explain your incompetence.” He shrugged. “Which is more evil? Failing? Or lying about it in order to cover your own ass?”

  “You cannot believe all this is the work of simple criminals,” Reeve said, much calmer than she figured he would be.

  “I do, actually,” Pike said lightly. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s a lot shorter leap to that than uncontrollable surge of ghostly activity or whatever. Anyhow … the timer is ticking for y’all, unless you want to try and force a confrontation here.” He put both elbows on the counter. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you’d win, since I’m unarmed and at your mercy, but … I also think that’d probably just add grist to the mill of people saying you ain’t fit to do the job of keeping the law in Calhoun County.”

  That landed with a crack, and Reeve didn’t pause to answer it. “Come on, y’all,” the sheriff said, “let’s get our things and go. We got enough trouble already without adding to it.”