The Holy Dark

by Kyoko M

  Allison palmed her face. “You are literally the worst.”

  “Hey, maybe I was never a teenage boy, but I still know how they think. You’re not going anywhere near them while I’m still breathing.” The threatening tone in his voice was both humorous and 100% true. There was a boy down the street who had returned Ally’s hat when she dropped it on the way home, and I found Michael trying to Google the kid to see if he had a criminal record that same night.

  Michael sat at the table after pressing a quick kiss to my forehead and said a prayer before eating.

  “What time’s the interview?” I asked.

  “Ten. Shouldn’t be a problem. I think these guys are sure to be a big hit with a bit of help.”

  “So I can’t date. I get that. I still don’t get why you won’t let me be in a music video,” Ally said with a pout.

  Michael’s chest rumbled with a protective growl. I rubbed his arm. “She’s kidding, alpha male. Calm down. I think we all agreed that Ally’s going to art school.”

  “Yep. And I’m gonna go to SCAD, hundreds of miles away where I can date all the boys I want.” Her brown eyes sparkled with malevolence.

  Michael stared at me. “She’s actively trying to make me build a tower to lock her in.”

  “Well, with that hair, she’s already on her way to becoming Rapunzel.”

  Ally stuck her tongue out and returned to the stove for more eggs. I sipped my coffee and checked my watch. “Fran and Juliana’s flight lands in an hour. Did you clean up the guest room like I asked?”

  Michael winced. “Uh. Define clean.”

  I stood and flicked him in the ear before heading towards the sink. He chuckled. “Kidding. I did. They will be nice and cozy.”

  “Good. I want their first trip to America together to go well.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ally said with a smirk. “I’ll get them acquainted with our heathen ways soon enough. I’ll just force them to watch a marathon of Honey Boo Boo.”

  Michael and I shuddered simultaneously. “Don’t you dare.”

  My pocket buzzed with excitement and then whistled the tune from the end of Django Unchained. I frowned at Allison. “Would you stop changing my ringtone?”

  “What? It was a good movie!” she protested.

  I shook my head and answered. “Hey, Gabe. How are you, sweetie?”

  “I am well. Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but I just received a tip that there is a demon nest not far from you that is going to move in on some troubled youths in that area. The low level demons sometimes use them in an Oliver Twist sort of way. They snatch up inner city kids, teach them the trade, and then let them take the fall if anything goes south.”

  “That sounds perfectly horrible. I’m up for it. Got an address for me?”

  “Yes.” I scribbled it on the dry erase board on the fridge that we used for groceries and last minute to-do lists.

  “Thanks, Gabe. While I’ve got you here, can you make to Sunday dinner this week?”

  “I would not miss it for the world, my dear.”

  “Glad to hear it. Can you pick up Lily and Lauren on the way?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Thanks. Love you.”

  “And I, you.” He hung up.

  Michael arched an eyebrow at my sudden shift in posture. Nothing got my goat like demons abusing kids. “Trouble?”

  “Bucketloads.”

  “Need my help?”

  “No, you’re all suited up. I’ll see if Myra’s available.”

  Ally opened her mouth. “Or—”

  “No,” Michael and I said in unison. “We already discussed this,” I continued. “High school. College. Then you can decide if you want to spend the rest of your life hunting demons.”

  She sighed and tipped her plate into the sink. “Party poopers. I’m off. Have fun kicking bad guys in the junk.”

  Michael cleared his throat. “Forget something?”

  She stomped her foot childishly. “Michael, seriously. I’m seventeen years old.”

  He grinned in that irritatingly charming way of his. The teenager slouched her way over and kissed his cheek, and then did the same to mine. “You guys are dumb.”

  “Love you too, baby girl.”

  She opened the front door, but I caught sight of her smiling on the way out. The kid was alright.

  Michael peeked out the window and watched her go to the bus stop before turning back to me. “Need some equipment?”

  “Yeah.”

  He tossed me his key ring, which had a key for our trunk of demon-killing weapons. We kept it in the garage just to make sure Ally wouldn’t try to fool with it. I went in and grabbed the case with my .12 gauge in it. I locked the trunk and set the case on the hood of the Honda Civic parked nearby. I opened the case and gave the shotgun a professional glancing over. It had been months since I’d needed anything quite as heavy artillery as a shotgun. Adopting Ally meant pulling Mom duty 24/7, and while she was a young adult, she still had a lot of growing up to do. That meant I couldn’t be out at all hours of the night getting myself in trouble. Just during school hours.

  Once I determined everything was in working order, I dialed Myra’s number. Her phone picked up on the fourth ring. A young male voice answered. “Hullo?”

  “Hey, Chris. Your mom around?”

  “Just a sec. We’re at the gym and she’s on the elliptical machine.”

  Movement. Then his voice returned with a casual tone that didn’t fool me one bit. “So, uh, how’s Allison?”

  A grin crept across my face. “She’s fine. Why?”

  “She ask about me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Cool, cool. Here she is.”

  More jostling, then Myra’s breathless voice. “What’s up?”

  “Got a tip from Gabe that there’s trouble brewing downtown in less than an hour. You up for it?”

  “Wouldn’t mind the workout. Text me the address. I’ll pick you up once I drop off the freeloader.”

  I heard her son protest in the background and she laughed. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  “As long as you know it, babe.”

  I hung up and shut the case, hauling it back into the house. I tossed Michael his keys and he tucked them back in his pocket. He stood by the microwave trying to fix his tie in the reflection, too lazy to head for the bathroom. I shook my head and motioned for him to turn around, which he did.

  “Once you’re done busting some heads, you wanna meet me for lunch at Mojo’s?”

  I smiled as I tugged the broad end of the tie through the loop he’d already made. “Sure. Though I find it remarkably disturbing that you can talk about me ganking supernatural creatures and then eating Mexican food in the same sentence.”

  Michael linked his long fingers over the small of my back. “That’s just the sort of woman you are, Jordan. No shame in that.”

  I finished tying the tie. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. O’Brien.”

  “I beg to differ, Mrs. O’Brien.” He stooped to my height, drawing me in for a luscious kiss.

  “Be safe,” he whispered.

  “Siempre,” I whispered back. He gave me one last affectionate squeeze and then gathered his suit jacket from where it rested on the kitchen chair. He headed into the garage while I set about cleaning the kitchen. A moment later, the engine purred to life and then the sound retreated as he left to do what he loved—make and produce music.

  A car horn honked in my narrow driveway about thirty minutes later. I retrieved my gun case and locked the door to our tiny but comfy house. Ace’s wooly head stuck out the passenger’s side, his gaping maw open so that his long tongue hung out. He barked once and it knocked a couple squirrels out of the tree in our front yard. I stifled a laugh as the poor critters scurried out of sight and opened the door. He immediately licked the entire left side of my face before I could stop him.

  “Ugh, Ace, why?” I groaned, wiping the slobber away with my sleeve. “Go back to hating me
already.”

  I gave him a playful shove. He crawled into the backseat obediently, content after greeting me. I dusted off the seat to rid it of his shaggy black fur and then climbed in. Myra helped me put the case on the seat behind her and backed down the driveway onto the streets of Albany.

  “How many do you think we’ll encounter?”

  “Michael and his men have been doing some population control around these parts,” I told her as I buckled my seatbelt. “We’ve only got maybe three or four actual demon nests left in the city. I’d guess no more than twelve of them. They like to intimidate with large numbers. Kids are pretty impressionable, especially misguided ones.”

  “I’ll say,” she snorted, blowing cigarette smoke out her open window. “The little Rugrats should be in school right now. Makes me want to scare ‘em straight.”

  “Everyone gets a little lost. They’ll find their way. I’m sure of it.”

  She cut her eyes over at me. “Careful. You almost sound well-adjusted.”

  I grinned. “My fault. Punch it, Chewy.”

  “Nerd.” she hit the gas and we were off to intimidate some hellspawn.

  This particular gang of deadbeats had chosen a closed down Blockbuster as their home base. The windows were all boarded up and no one had bought the property yet because it was on the rougher side of the city. Less cops, less legal trouble.

  It was on the corner at the end of a long street of convenience stores, cigar shops, and liquor stores. It was also broad daylight, so we couldn’t go in guns blazing. Myra parked two blocks away, put a leash on Ace, and waited for me. I strapped the shotgun to my back and pulled my grey duster over it. Michael always reminded me I’d be more comfortable if I got the duster adjusted to fit me, but the extra cloth and room was awful handy for hiding guns.

  “Are we going for the direct approach?” Myra asked after we walked up the sidewalk to the rear entrance. There were a couple of sigils to ward off angels spray-painted on the rusted back door, confirming the demons’ presence.

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  She swept a hand towards the entrance in a mocking gallant gesture. “After you, then.”

  “How kind.” I did one last check of the empty parking lot and then fished my lock-picking equipment out of an inner pocket.

  After a minute or so, the door swung inward and we were greeted by darkness. I stretched my energy outward and found my estimation had been correct. Ten demons inside.

  I unhooked the shotgun and walked down the narrow hallway. To my right, an old office and to my left, the bathrooms. The walls were peeling from condensation and lack of circulation. The air was stale and humid. The grey-and-black carpet had dark splotches from things that once belonged inside people. Definitely a demons’ nest.

  Muted voices spoke from the main part of the store straight ahead. No door—just an archway where the counter used to be. The storage room to the right had no one in it, so I took a deep breath and prepared myself.

  I walked through into the main area where the demons were gathered in a throng chatting about their plans. I cocked the shotgun to get their attention and beamed like a cheerleader.

  “Hiya, folks. My name’s Jordan O’Brien. Which one of you ordered the ass-kicking with extra cheese?”

  The assortment of men and women fell silent. Disbelief, shock, and annoyance stamped on most of their features, but one skinny guy up front paled.

  “Wait, wait a second…did you just say Jordan O’Brien?”

  “Yup.”

  “As in…the chick who busted Gabriel out of Hell and turned Mulciber human?”

  I did my best Lana Kane impression. “Yuuup.”

  “Ha. Ha-ha. Yeah, no. Screw you guys. I’m going home,” the skinny demon said, shouldering his way through the crowd. He held his hands up in surrender as he sidled past me and made a hasty exit. Smart man.

  “Anyone else?” I asked.

  “Lorenzo’s got no balls, sweetheart,” one of the female demons said. “Don’t expect the rest of us to run and hide from the Commander’s wife. You might have escaped Hell once, but I doubt you can do it again.”

  “Hey, I’m trying to be diplomatic here. I’m not telling you to get out of my city or anything as cliché as that. Just lay off the kids and I’ll stroll right back out that door. There are ways to coexist, y’know.”

  “Not when we’re done with you,” she sneered, and the other eight of them inched their way towards me. Well. Some people you just can’t reach.

  “Alright. Just remember that I gave you a choice.”

  The monsters surrounded me. I fought them. I fought them because it was what I was cursed to do, born to do, meant to do—not for my own glory or for God’s glory, but for those who still had a chance to live without bloody hands and sleepless nights. Over the years I had fought for myself, for love, for peace, and for innocence. Now, I fought because I wanted to protect. And I found out that was totally worth it, scars and all.

  Who the hell can argue with that?

  FIN

  Acknowledgments

  To my mother, who is and always has been the reason I can write with any sort of confidence. You not only understand what I’m trying to accomplish with my work, but you are always genuinely excited about it, regardless of quality. There is no better feeling than the belief you have in me and it means more to me than you will ever know. Thank you so much for your constant support and everlasting love.

  To my father, who has been steadfast and patient with me in my various states of anxiety over my work from conception to final product and from writing methods to marketing. You are my inspiration. I want to become a savvy entrepreneur and learn how to make my dreams a reality the way that you do every day. Thank you for providing that example.

  To my brother, who has been a pillar of strength since I started this series and never wavered on your faith in me against all odds. I may be awful at showing it, but I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me.

  To Sharon, I owe you so much for your insights into these characters and storylines. You are also my role model as much as you are my big sister. I want to grow into the kind of woman that you are someday: sweet, fiercely intelligent, driven, and loving above all. Thank you for the countless phone calls to rebuild my confidence and help me refine my writing into something people can enjoy.

  To Andy Rattinger, who quite literally saved this novel. That chat we had all those months ago kept me from making a huge mistake and from derailing the book series into certain oblivion. You’re far too kind to me. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your good-natured shit-flinging and words of sarcastic wisdom. You are the Ebenezar to my Dresden; the Alfred to my Batman. Thank you so much for your years of support.

  To my family, who may not always understand what I get up to these days, but has nevertheless showered me with love and wonderful times that I can treasure for the rest of my life. Thank you for being the inspiration to the little family Jordan has after her long journey.

  To my friends, who have the patience of a saint to put up with my nonsense and inconsistencies year-round. I would not be here without you. I would not be able to have the courage to publish my work without you. You are invaluable and don’t ever forget that this book is as much a part of me as it is you.

  To my few but faithful fans, who have every reason to want to stone me to death for what I put you through over the course of the four books in the Black Parade series. Thank you so much for sticking with it and strapping yourself in for a wild ride. Thank you for your reviews, your recommendations, your tweets, your reblogs, and your subscriptions. You are what this is all about. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for choosing to stay when you could have left.

  To the KBoards community, who whipped me into shape and tore down any preconceived notions I had about writing and publishing and rebuilt them with knowledge and sage advice. You’re the pot of gold at the end of my crazy rainbow.

  To Linda Wilkins of the FBI, who help
ed me with my wacky research. Thanks.

  To Chris Cold and Gunjan Kumar, thank you so much for your gorgeous artwork.

  To Jennifer Troemner, you are the best editor money can buy. Thank you.

  Author’s Note

  Man. It’s been one hell of a run, huh?

  Just so you know, it took me forever to finally woman up and write the Author’s Note for this novel because I’m so unsure of what I can even say about ending my debut series. How do I even begin? Where do I begin? How do I avoid turning this into a 5-page essay of gross sobbing and nostalgia?

  I guess I’ll start by thanking my lovely main cast of characters: Jordan, Michael, Gabriel, and Belial. Gun to my head, I would argue that the three novels in the series are all about them and they’ve been so good to me over the years. I could have written a different genre with its own cast that was nothing like this one, but I’m glad I stuck with Team Amador in the end.

  It’s been such a unique experience telling the tales of Jordan and the gang, if only because they taught me so much about writing and life in general. I’ve grown just as much as Jordan has over the course of writing her, and I’m definitely going to miss this hardheaded, scrappy spitfire of a woman. She has so many layers to her and I’ve enjoyed exploring them to see how many there were beneath the surface. It’s the same with the boys as well. They’ve been great company these past five years.

  Writing this series has definitely forced me to mature and create my own path in the publishing world. Part of me will always wish I had gotten a literary agent and took the traditional route, but I also don’t think these books would be as honest and raw as they turned out if I had been accepted by a publisher. What you’ve read is more than just a story. It’s all the weirdest, scariest, brightest parts of who I am and I’m so glad to have written this series because it has been the purest form of self-expression that I have ever experienced.

  Optimus Prime once said that freedom is the right of all sentient beings. This book has allowed me the freedom to explore all kinds of subjects and share them with the people I love as well as total strangers. I don’t have to hide anything within these pages. It’s my home, my Fortress of Solitude, my Serenity, my Bat Cave. Regardless of its financial success or popularity or overall quality, these novels are my legacy, good or bad, right or wrong. There may be a few things I wish I could have done better, but I’m so glad I took a chance on Team Amador and let them be my voice in the writing world.