The Devil Walks In Blood: Nick Holleran Private Investigator Book Two (Nick Holleran Series 2)

by David Green

  Diana shrinks in her seat and gives a small nod. “I knew when people felt angry. More than mad. The man who ki… Well, I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Rage, terror, shame, pleasure, regret. All rolled into one.”

  An Empath. Neat trick, but a tough one for a child to possess.

  “Kid, I have to say this and I hate it, but you need to understand. The monster who killed you, fair chance he’s dead. If he’s your unfinished business, then you’ll have to let him go.”

  Diana shakes her head. “No, he’s alive, Nick. I know it. He wasn’t all that older than me. Twenty, maybe. Twenty-one.”

  “White, I’m guessing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can call in a few favors. Reckon a good place to start is pulling up records on who used to live in my office. That might take a day or two. The other angle is your family. Diana, you said you’ve got younger siblings. They could still be around. Tell me about them.”

  Diana grins, and my heart breaks just a little. Look, I don’t try to make out I have a heart of stone. Emotion doesn’t make me wanna run a marathon in the opposite direction, but the look of hope on her little face makes me uncomfortable.

  “Could, I said, kid. Could.”

  That tempers the smile somewhat, and I feel like a dick.

  “We lived in the projects over on Redwood and Maine. Daddy taught us; he educated all the kids round our way. He said he taught himself letters and how to speak proper. Even still, Daddy might have been the smartest man I knew. Made me read a new book each week. Not the kids’ ones neither. Science-fiction from H. G. Wells, mysteries from Doyle. Polio took him when I turned ten. That left me, Momma, Gloria, Stacey, Florence and Mary. I worked in the diner and the Laundromat, and I’d just started at a bar, cleaning glasses at night. It’s there I met him.” She points at her face. “The one who did this. I’d seen him, the only white man in the joint, for about a week before he took me.”

  “How long did he…” I start, then grimace. “Look, there’s no skirting this. Did he kill you right away?”

  For a moment, I’m thinking she won’t answer. Glancing around, I see the place has filled up. There’s a crowd at the bar, but Ruby’s still looking my way.

  “He made me stand in the corner, staring at the wall.” My attention jerks back to Diana. Her voice is shaking, about to break. “It made him furious if I even glanced at him in the corner of my eyes. That’s why he took them before he…”

  I reach out and put my hand over hers. The coldness sends a shiver snaking through my body. Like I said, it’s something I avoid if I’m able, but Diana’s crying invisible tears, small body shaking from her sobs, and she’s only got me to console her.

  Some folk get all the luck, huh?

  “Hey, kid. It’s in the past. He can’t hurt you now.” Hollow words, and I know it. Memories haunt harder than any ghost I’ve met in Hell. She only just stopped reliving the moment of her death. “Redwood and Maine. Can’t say I’m familiar, but we can check it out. Let’s say I take you home, and we’ll pick up the case tomorrow.”

  “Your office? No, Nick. Don’t take me back there, please!”

  The fierceness of her voice startles me. I raise my hands, like I’m trying to calm a wild mustang. No office then. Cops can’t stay outside my place all day and night, can they?

  Well, maybe they can, but we need to go somewhere.

  “Okay, kid. We don’t have to go there. My apartment, how’s that sound?”

  Diana nods, settling down a little. In my peripheral vision, I see Ruby making her way over. I’m light-headed, not from drink but tiredness. I’m bone-deep exhausted.

  “One thing, Diana. When we find this sonofabitch, what do you want?”

  Her eyeless stare pins me. “I want him to know it’s me who’s come for him. I want to see him beg.”

  I open my mouth to reply, to warn the kid about revenge, but Ruby interrupts me.

  “So, you want to tell me who this lovely, little lady is before you cause another fight in my place? There’s still demon ichor stuck between the floorboards, Nick.”

  “Ruby, Diana. Diana, Ruby. Now we’re all friends. Kid’s the one I’ve shared an office with for the last half-decade. She’s got a case for me.”

  Ruby’s eyes narrow. “Is that all? Just another case?”

  “Diana became Aware tonight. Turns out she’s been half-listening to me yammer on for years. Ain’t that right, kid?”

  She just nods, head down.

  “Coincidence, I’m sure,” Ruby says, in a tone that suggests it’s anything but. Not sure I believe it either. Maybe Lucifer left his mark on me and that woke the kid up. Ruby points over my shoulder. “Anyway, there’s a guy who came in asking for you while you had your business with Suraz. He’s sitting by the stage. He’s not dead, so I’m pretty sure he’s one of us. Why don’t you go and chat, and I’ll get to know our little friend here?”

  The room spins and takes its sweet time settling when I look around. I needed my bed as soon as I left the Wheelers’ place last night. I squint and make out a heavy-set man with a face like the moon—pale, round and hairless.

  “Huh.”

  I don’t recognize him, and now I’m wondering what business he has with me. I’ve already picked up two new cases tonight. I don’t need another.

  Diana’s smiling up at Ruby and she’s smiling back. If anyone can make the kid feel at home in Hell, it’s her.

  “You two have fun now. Don’t talk about me too much.”

  “There’s something about that man…” Diana says, glancing over at the fella who’s nursing his untouched drink. “He’s…familiar, somehow.”

  “Guess he must have one of those faces,” I smile. “You’re safe with Ruby, kid. Relax. I’ll be right back.”

  She nods as I get up and Ruby slides into my

  seat. I hear them start chatting right away.

  A smile breaks out across the stranger’s face as I approach, and he raises a thick hand in salute. I scowl, because that smile ain’t touching his eyes. They’re cold and flat. Killer’s eyes, peering out of a placid, dull face. I’m edgy right away, but my brain’s working too slow. You know when you’re beat, and your head’s filled with wool? My entire body’s like that. I’m moving my limbs but they don’t feel like they belong to me. They’re these weird, floating appendages with a fuggy mind of their own.

  “Strange weather we’re having, friend,” he says, voice deep but flat, almost monotonous. He reaches his hand out. I don’t take it.

  “Yeah,” I say, giving him the once over. “You can say that again.”

  Guy’s tall. I can tell even with him sitting down. He’s bigger than me by a round, bald head, and I ain’t no small fry. He smiles up at me with those shark eyes. I suppress a shudder. He’s low-key freaking me out, and it’s not just the oddness of those eyes in that face. There’s a vibe around him I don’t like.

  “Rain and heat one minute, cold mists the next.”

  “You’ve got a case for me?” I ask, giving him a small, tight smile and cutting to the chase. “What’s your name, pal? Since it seems you know mine already, but we haven’t been introduced.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holleran. I’m Marvin Clancy.”

  I feel the frown forming. Something swirls inside those black eyes. Joy? No. More than that. Adulation, like all those pictures of teenage girls mooning at The Beatles when they came to America. Thanks, Diana, for the handy reference point. My heart’s hammering inside my chest. Because of the weariness catching up to me, or is it him?

  “Do I know you?”

  Folk say I’m a touch too direct at times.

  “Unfortunately not, Mr. Holleran. I’m looking for my dog. The news reports state they have a habit of going missing of late, and I fear the worst. I came into The Styx to drop in a poster, and I thou
ght I might speak with you. I saw you hauled in here, if I can beg your pardon for the phrase,” he pauses, his tongue snakes out like a fat, red slug and runs across his lips, “by the Nephilim.”

  I need to sit down before I fall, though my gut’s screaming at me to get the fuck away from this guy as soon as I can.

  “Marv…” My brain whispers to me, tells me to draw my Ruger. Without agreeing, my fingers inch their way to the holster under my coat. I tell them to fucking stop. Maybe it’s my shot nerves, maybe paranoia or some intuition, but the shadow I thought moved in my office window pops into my head. “Cut the shit. This ain’t about no dog. Are you following me?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Holleran. It does appear that way, doesn’t it? You are blessed to have the privilege to speak with one such as the Nephilim, and others greater than he.” Sweat’s beading on his thick forehead. “Take a seat, please.”

  “Rather stand,” I reply, trying to keep from swaying. My legs are about to give out, but I’m way too stubborn to change my mind now.

  Anger flashes in those charcoal eyes, and his kind face turns hard, like granite. Just for a second.

  “Have it your way,” Marv purrs, all smiles again. “I’ve heard of you, of course. I’m like you. Well, perhaps I overestimate myself there. Let’s just say, I can see. I have desired to make your acquaintance for some time. The Nephilim’s interest confirmed my need.”

  “What in Hell are you talking about?”

  Marv reeks of bullshit. I can ‘see’ pretty well myself and I’m peering straight through this front he’s putting on. Marvin Clancy makes my teeth itch.

  “He’s left his mark on you.” The way he says ‘he’, it’s like he’s talking about a lover. He closes his eyes, slug-like tongue sliding over his lips. Still sweating. I wanna gag. “I can taste it. You’re blessed by the Devil, aren’t you, Mr. Holleran? You have basked in His presence, felt His power. I know what you do, how you help the living and the dead. I would like to offer you a job.”

  I look over my shoulder at Diana and Ruby but they ignore me, deep in conversation. It’s a mistake. The room lurches when I turn back to Marv. I lean on his table, my face close to his. His eyes search my face, filled with that adulation again, and I decide that, whenever the dude died and returned, it broke him.

  “My diary’s pretty full, Marv. Just took on a fresh case. Two, as a matter of fact. Maybe some other time.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe your two cases are more connected than you think. Maybe my case is connected too. Isn’t that how it works in detective novels, Mr. Holleran?”

  “I wish my life was that simple.”

  “I can offer you simplicity. Money is no object.”

  When I hear that, my ears dance. Might be my favorite sentence. I could get hitched and settle down with those four words. They could have my last name, no problem. Money is no object, Holleran. Has a ring to it.

  Granted, I have a ten thousand dollar check in my office drawer that I refuse to cash. The claret might be mine, but it’s blood money and there are strings attached somewhere. So money’s tight and, normally, I’d jump at the chance for quick cash. Still, there’s something about Marv that makes my skin crawl, and even in this exhausted, addled state, I ain’t broke enough to take his green.

  “Thanks for the offer.”

  I make to leave, but his meaty hand shoots out with impossible speed, and fastens around my wrist like a vise.

  “You’ve the Devil’s mark, Holleran.” Desperation in his voice, anger on his face. “Long have I desired to speak with Him, to bathe in His glorious presence, His glory. Summon Him for me. Fifty thousand dollars.”

  My lips curl in disgust. Pulling my coat back, I rest my other hand on my Ruger.

  “A Devil Worshipper, huh?” I spit.

  There’s plenty of those folk in Hell. Some are harmless—regular, misguided people who don’t know shit and think the Devil hides messages on Black Sabbath vinyls and dresses up at Halloween. And some are dangerous.

  I’d bet Marv’s 50k he’s one of the latter. See, Lucifer isn’t bad, as I discovered myself just last night. He’s different and he’s indifferent. Mortals can’t hope to understand him. Devil Worshippers who can see, they’re trouble. Sick in the soul. Obsessed with ‘Satan’. Let’s just say I’ve spent a lot of time tracking down folk like Marvin Clancy for the most heinous acts anyone could imagine. Their kind pop up with alarming consistency these days.

  “Back the fuck off, or you’re leaving this place in a bag. And don’t think dying will protect you. I know what to do with ghosts who cause trouble, let me tell you.”

  Marv bares his teeth in a grin, but his eyes remain untouched. There’s no adulation now, just Ted Bundy malice and hunger.

  “You have made a mistake, Mr. Holleran,” he says, releasing me. His fingers have left their mark on my wrist. “A grave mistake.”

  He climbs to his feet and looks down at me. He’s pretty fucking tall. Sometimes, I hate being right.

  “Be seeing you.”

  Charon said that exact same thing. Be seeing you.

  I watch him over my shoulder as he leaves, only taking my hand away from the Ruger when he disappears up the stairs. I sigh, and a wave of weariness washes over me. I rub at my temples. Time for bed. Way past time.

  “Diana?” I call, turning her way. I keep twisting, but now The Styx spins too. I hear a yell—mine—as I crash face-first onto a table and into darkness.

  A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

  It takes about two seconds after I open my eyes for the pain to catch up.

  I don’t know which part of my body to hold, so I make do with lying and mewling like a newborn lamb. At least the bed’s soft.

  Wait. Bed?

  It hurts to turn my head, but I do it anyway. Sunlight streams through half-drawn window blinds, assaulting my eyes in the process, and illuminates the bedroom of my cramped, low-rent apartment. Weird things happen in Hell all the time, but I sure as shit didn’t teleport here. Someone brought me home, and that means the cops must have taken off. That, or I’m under house arrest.

  I try to say, ‘hello?’ but a hacking cough rips into life instead. It rattles the ribs that were broken just yesterday, and the tortured flesh around the point where Michelle Wheeler jammed a knife in my side. My head starts to pound like a kick drum, striking up the rest of the band. I feel like someone’s grabbed me around the neck and shredded my spine for a guitar solo.

  Lucifer’s healing must be like going under the knife. Fine until the pain meds wear off. He’s fused my ribs back together, and I ain’t leaking blood from Michelle’s killing plunge, but Lord above does it hurt.

  “Think I’d rather have died,” I mutter, and then, because you never know who’s listening, “I’m kidding.”

  I’m lucky to be alive. I appreciate that in a way I haven’t in a while. Maybe it was the promise of Heaven that made me long for death once, but pretty quick I fell into this lethargy instead. Cynicism, some might say. I know Rosa said it often, but change is in the air. Events at the Wheelers’ saw to that. And the kid? She needs my help.

  Just as soon as I can stand.

  I decide against trying it just yet and let the mattress hold me. Room’s nice. Ain’t too hot or cold and the sheets are soft. Which I’m feeling in a pretty holistic way right about now. Frowning, I peak under the sheets and discover I’m buck-ass naked.

  I’ve woken up in stranger situations but, still, it’s unnerving. Casting my mind back’s like wading through a river of molasses, but the immediate events from the night before replay. I recall the conversation with Diana, the look in Marvin Clancy’s eyes before he left The Styx, the table rushing up to greet my face.

  “Be seeing you,” I whisper. Charon said the same thing. Funny turn of phrase, that. Sticks in the mind.

  I’m not a big enough fool to think I’ve s
een the last of either of them.

  Voices drift in from the other room, and I mean literally ‘the other room.’ My apartment has two—the bedroom with its en suite, and the den with its open-plan kitchen. I don’t need much and spend little time here. It never felt like home and I can’t say anywhere has, not since I came back the first time. For a place to sleep, it’ll do. It’s close to my office and overlooks the corner of Chessington and Fox, a stone’s throw from The Styx.

  I sit up, listening harder to the conversation. Two women—Diana and Ruby—and I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they sound like they’re getting along. That’s just swell. I could almost relax, except another stab of pain rips into my side.

  My cell pings. Fumbling for it, I see someone—Ruby, I’d guess—charged it and placed it next to my pillow. Quality service. I should leave her a tip. Squinting, I check the screen and find a message from Rosa.

  Up late last night, Nick? Some things don’t change. I can meet tonight. 8pm, I’ll get us a table at Tony’s. You’re paying.

  The cell drops from my fingers as a wave of weariness takes me. I don’t know why Rosa keeps hanging around, waiting for me to sort my shit out, but the message raises a smile. At ease, I sink into sleep for a little longer. Hell can wait.

  …

  Hammering on the front door and muffled yells jerk me awake, set my heart pounding. Ruby sticks her pink-haired head into my bedroom.

  “Nick, wake up. It’s the cops.”

  “Shit.” I swing a bare leg out of bed and pause. Ruby’s still watching. “You mind?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, Nick. Who d’you think put you to bed last night, sugar?”

  Scowling, I improvise and wrap the bed sheet around me, like some pauper Roman Emperor. Or like I’m at a frat party. “Fine, just stay in here while I talk to them.”

  She moves aside as I push by her, but I see the concern in her eyes. Ruby’s someone I can rely on and she knows I don’t have the best relationship with the local PD. Not to say I’m at odds with all of them. I’ve had a run-in once or twice, but most remember my days working with the department, and the rest think I’m a crank.