Hot Blooded

by D V Wolfe

  “Allow me,” I said, gently. He nodded and I pulled the pack out of his pocket, shook one out, and handed it to him. He dug his lighter out of his pocket but he kept trying to ignite it from the wrong end. I took it from him and lit the cigarette in his mouth. I looked around and found an old five-gallon bucket behind the house across the alley. I flipped it over and set it down next to Nigel. I put a hand on his shoulder and got him to sit down. “Just breathe,” I said. “And have a cigarette. I’ll be right back.” I needed to do a double-check to make sure there weren’t more coming. I checked the street from both ends of the alley. No more yellow polo shirts walking around that I could see. I grabbed the imp corpse at the end of the alley and started dragging it down towards the rest of them. When I got back to Nigel, I saw he was on his phone.

  “Oh yeah,” Nigel was saying. “Right behind my house. A bunch of kids with firecrackers. Well, you know, the Fourth is only a couple of days away. Yeah. Dumb kids. Yeah, thanks for checking, Tilly.” He hung up and took a long draw on his cigarette.

  “Neighborhood watch?” I asked.

  Nigel nodded. “Nosey neighbors. Though, gunshots can be hard to explain. Good thing firecrackers have been going off all over town.” He looked down at the pile of imp corpses I’d rounded up. “Now what the fuck are these things and what are we going to do with them now?”

  “Dumpster fire,” I said, evaluating the alley. It was definitely the quickest means of disposal at hand. I started hefting bodies up and into the dumpster.

  “I was looking for a way to piss off Mrs. Gerber,” Nigel muttered, bending down to help me lift one of the corpses. I raised an eyebrow at him. “This is her dumpster,” Nigel said, nodding at it. “She refinishes furniture in her shed for a living. Fills the damn thing with rags full of paint stripper and all those other chemicals. Anyway, the old biddy keeps stealing my paper. Guess setting fire to her dumpster is an even trade.”

  “I have to say, Nigel,” I huffed as we stuffed the last body in. “You seem to be handling this whole thing pretty well.”

  “I was in the war,” Nigel said. “I’ve seen blood and guts and carnage. Carried bodies, all that. Now, these bodies don’t look like any human body I’ve ever seen before, but…”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That will be stage two of clean up.” I dug through Mrs. Gerber’s trash and found a bag full of rags that still smelled like paint stripper. I borrowed Nigel’s lighter and lit one of the rags on fire. The rest caught pretty quickly and I knew that the gases imp corpses gave off would only fan the flames. I put a hand on Nigel’s shoulder and pulled him back with me a couple of steps when I heard the first hiss of flames hitting the noxious gas. The dumpster rumbled and I heard the contents inside shift as the flames grew taller. I looked around the alley. There was blood spatter on the side of the dumpster from earlier, but the heat of the fire should help with that. I kicked the dirt around, trying to cover up bone fragments and brain fragments. Hopefully, the local wildlife would disappear that evidence by nightfall.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Nigel muttered. “Come on.” I followed Nigel back through his gate and into his backyard. Messina must have had a ban on sprinklers because Nigel’s backyard was all brown grass with a few spindly trees and a wilting hedge by the back gate. Besides the dead and dying plants, it was well kept. It was a simple yard with stepping stones and a birdbath and a pair of plastic lawn chairs. I could see a sliding glass door leading back into his house, but Nigel moved towards the lawn chairs and I followed him. We both sat down and Nigel pulled the pack of cigarettes back out of his pocket. His hand was still shaking when he offered it to me. I decided to take one. We both lit up and the clove smell reminded me of smoking one with Festus. We were quiet for a moment. I was going to let Nigel ask the question. I didn’t want to tell him more than he needed to know. Better to just answer his questions and move on. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to explain away what he’d just seen. “So what the hell were those things?”

  “Imps,” I said.

  “Imps,” Nigel repeated. “And what are imps?”

  “They’re kind of like...feral monkeys,” I said, carefully. I was trying to not pull the whole lid off of Pandora’s box.

  “Feral monkeys,” Nigel said. I looked at him and saw the same look of disbelief he’d given me when I’d first told him I was undercover. This wasn’t going to work a second time.

  I blew out a sigh. “Ok, Nigel, I hunt shit like imps. And I think there’s more than fraud going on at New Covenant.” I held my breath while I waited for Nigel to process this.

  He was staring at me like I had three heads. “Well, no shit,” he said finally. I started to breathe again. He waved his cigarette in the direction of the smoke starting to rise above the fences from the dumpster fire. “Those kids...imps...whatever they are, do the recruiting for the church.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. So, now you know why I’ve been snooping around the church and trying to find out anything I can from you.”

  “So, what is it like...monsters running the church?” Nigel asked. I could almost see the battle play out on Nigel’s face between the rational part of his brain the fear of the unknown.

  “Something like that,” I said. “Is there somewhere you could go for a week or so? Like a family member’s house or go away on vacation?”

  Nigel turned to look at me. “No, why?”

  I met his gaze. “Nigel, this could get really bad. I don’t want you to be in the middle of it and get hurt.”

  Nigel gave an indignant huff. “Screw them. They came to my town and my building where I work. They’re the ones that are going to need to get out of town.” He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, knocking his flat cap forward. “So, uh, what should I do?”

  “Lay low,” I said. “Pretend everything is normal, but watch your back. I’m hoping to get this all cleaned up and out of here in the next couple of days.” Wow, I sounded sure of myself. I did my best to keep up the appearance for Nigel.

  Nigel nodded. “I can do that. You’ll tell me if I can do anything on my end to hurry this along? I really want this shit to be over with.”

  “What about your job?” I asked.

  Nigel grinned. “The guy who owns the building pays me. Of course, the church pays him, so there’s that, but, he lives in Florida and he can’t see what’s happening here. I’d rather go back down to lower pay than…” Nigel shook his head and I saw him give a full-body shiver. “Monsters. Shit.”

  I nodded. “I’ll give you my cell number. If you see or hear anything strange, give me a call.” I got to my feet and turned to look at him. “Thanks for your help today.” I scanned the backyard and saw the mini-chainsaw on a pole leaned up against the fence, the blade stained red. “Sorry about your chainsaw,” I said.

  “Eh, it was almost time for a new one anyway,” Nigel said, pulling his phone out. I gave him my number and he dropped his phone in his lap. The expression on his face wasn’t bravado anymore. I knew this expression. I’d seen it on so many faces. Most recently on Noah’s, as he fought to comprehend the fact that monsters exist. “Can you beat them?” Nigel asked, looking up at me.

  “I’m sure as hell going to try,” I said.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was back in Lucy and heading for Stacks’. Everything I’d learned today was churning in my head and I was so preoccupied in my thoughts that I turned into Messina Estates instead of going past it to the Jeep trail. There was no place to turn around unless I drove to the back of the lot and flipped a u-turn. I motored past Stacks’ trailer and froze.

  Sitting in front of his trailer was a pink convertible Cadillac. Rosetta. I had been kidding myself to think she’d perform a seance from home and call Stacks with the result. Especially considering the green and black custom Triumph 5T Speed Twin motorcycle parked next to her Cadillac. Gabe’s bike. I laid my forehead on Lucy’s steering wheel. Why were they here? I was already having a hard enough time convincing Stacks and Noah t
o let me do the leg work with the demons. Now I had to convince Rosetta and Gabe too? Flashbacks of Nya’s smile and the look of pain on her face when Ornias had run her through… I couldn’t let that happen again.

  “NO!” I screamed at the truck interior. “No, no, no and fuck no!” I pushed my foot to the floor and sprayed white rock as I sped to the end of the lot and turned as quickly as I could, Lucy groaning in protest beneath me. I’d find somewhere to hole up for a bit and figure out a plan of attack. I’d kill the demons before the rest of them knew what was going on and then I’d call and tell them that everything was all clear. I straightened out and headed back for the main road at a modest forty miles an hour. When I drew even with the trailer that was two down from Stacks’, a flash of color entered my vision on the road ahead of me. I slammed on my brakes, causing Lucy’s engine to stall. There in front of me, pink sundress flapping in the breeze, was Rosetta, sighting me and Lucy down the barrel of Big Joe, her double-barrel twelve-gauge.

  “Get out of the way!” I yelled at her out of the window.

  “I told you once that I’d shoot your tires out for running, Bane,” Rosetta said. “And I’ll do it now if you don’t park that bucket and get your ass in the house.”

  10

  Rosetta and I stared at each other. Me revving Lucy’s engine and Rosetta tightening her grip on Big Joe. Rosetta showing up was one thing. She was a mother hen who had a bad habit of chasing after anyone she considered to be one of her chicks. She was also a hunter down to her bones and she’d never admit it out loud, but like Tags, she was an adrenaline junkie when it came to a hunt, and leaving her out could be considered a death wish. Gabe on the other hand. Shit. Gabe. He’d stayed at Rosetta’s for a week after Nya had died. We’d talked. We’d not talked. Sometimes he’d just sat next to me on the back porch, looking at the stars. Then, he’d opened his mouth and asked a question. A question I couldn’t answer yes to, no matter how much I wished I could. We’d fought. He’d left. He was the last person I wanted to see in Messina right now. It wasn’t really Rosetta I was pissed at, but she was the one standing in front of me, gun drawn and ready to put the match to the gunpowder.

  “Go ahead and shoot me,” I called to Rosetta. I cut Lucy’s engine and kicked my door open. I climbed out and started towards her. “Just shoot me then, Rosetta, because there is no way in hell I’m going in that house if he’s here.”

  Rosetta rolled her eyes. “Get a grip, Bane. So what, you two have a past, the fact is, he insisted on coming.”

  I stopped, just as the gun barrel brushed against the front of my shirt and I crossed my arms. “How did he even know what was going on here? I sure as hell didn’t tell him about Messina.”

  Rosetta looked a little sheepish now. “He came to my house, looking for you, just after you and the kid left. He said he wanted to talk to you. I told him you’d left to hunt. We called Walter and he told us where you were headed and about your phone call with him when you were finished and frustrated about there being nothing new to hunt. To tell the truth, Walter was sounding pretty nervous about not seeing any new hunts. Gabe figured you’d be coming back to my house after the hunt in Columbus to figure out your next move.”

  Sometimes I really hated how much that man knew me. Or at least thought he did. It was the most frustrating bullshit in the world to have someone be able to anticipate your movements and habits, but not understand or comprehend a single word that comes out of your mouth when you answer his questions. But that was Gabe. His own personal brand of bullshit. If he bottled it, he could sell it on late-night TV.

  “And of course, you tried to tell him there was no way I was coming back to your house after the hunt, I said.

  Rosetta nodded. “Yeah, because I thought you would be on your way to my house and I figured after that fight you had, you wouldn’t want to see him. So I tried to send him on his way.”

  Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “How hard did you try? Did you offer him dinner and a place to sleep for the night?”

  “He was dusty,” Rosetta began, her tone defensive. “He needed a shower and I was already making dinner.”

  “And?” I said. “Fill in the blanks, Rosetta. How did he end up here?”

  “He came out of the bathroom while I was talking to Stacks on the phone last night,” she said. I held up a hand to stop her.

  “When did Stacks call you? I was with him all night and he never…” Then it hit me. “The fucking bathroom break that lasted forever. I thought he’d died in there. But he was talking to you!”

  Rosetta sighed again. “So dramatic. Yes, he called me and asked me to come up and perform a seance on some dead parishioners.”

  “Why couldn’t you have done it from there? Huh?” I asked. “And then just called with the results?”

  She shook her head. “No offense Bane, but you don’t know jack-shit about seances. I have to have something the person touched, especially if it’s a complete stranger, and proximity to the place they died is key. And since we’re on a clock of sorts, when Gabe and I’d finished dessert, I filled him in on the fact that I needed to head up here to help out. And he kept asking questions, and I might have mentioned you, I can’t remember. Next thing I know, he’s following me all the way up here.”

  “What did you have for dessert?” I asked, my eyes narrowed. It had better not been….

  “Well I thought you were coming back to my house, so I already had it in the oven and I thought it would be rude not to offer it to…”

  “Rosetta?” I asked, trying to keep the volume of my voice in check.

  “Huckleberry Buckle,” she said with a sigh.

  “Was there any left?” I asked, feeling my voice rise as she shook her head.

  “He was really hungry. I suppose biking that whole way…”

  That did it. I pulled the .45 from the back of my pants and marched to the front door.

  “Bane,” Rosetta barked. “What the hell are you going to do? Shooting him won’t bring back the Huckleberry Buckle!”

  “It’ll make me feel better,” I said as I ripped the front door open and cocked the hammer back on the .45.

  “Holy shit!” Noah squeaked and then he dove behind the couch. Stacks was sitting on the floor with books open on each knee, all the newspaper clippings fanned out on the carpet in front of him and he threw his arms up in the air in surrender.

  Reclining on the floor next to Stacks, long legs in leather biker chaps, was Gabe. He glanced up when I came through the door and smiled. “Imagine meeting you here.”

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you, right now,” I said.

  “Well, speaking chronologically, there was the patch-up job I did on you in Tennessee,” he said, putting down the photo he was holding. He got to his feet by putting a hand on Stacks’ shoulder. Stacks seemed to sink an inch or two lower into the carpet as Gabe stood, his head getting dangerously close to the lighting fixture overhead. I kind of hoped he’d bash his head on it. Or trip over the pizza box laying on the ground beside him. Anything. Anything to make him stop looking like he did. His short beard curled over his chin and up the sides of his face, making his blue eyes seem brighter for some stupid reason. His face was dark tan except for where his shades normally sat. I spotted them in the chest pocket of his leather biker jacket, unzipped and hanging open over a dirty white a-shirt that actually looked frighteningly like the one I was wearing now that I’d shed my FBI gear. He wore jeans under those…stupid...leather chaps and his biker boots were so beat up, the steel toes were beginning to work their way through the leather. He was looking smug and I really wanted to pull the trigger.

  I glared at him. “Why is that a good reason not to shoot you? I patched you up too. We’re square.”

  Gabe raised an eyebrow at me and I felt my hand tighten on the gun grip. “Well that would have been the case, but I recall this incident where someone’s Chuck Taylor All-Star kicked me right in the stitches and ripped them open again.”
/>   “Imagine that,” I said.

  “Yeah, and then the stitches had to be re-stitched, very sloppily I might add, and it ruined my best feature.”

  “Since that’s where you store your head, I guess it must be,” I said.

  Gabe ignored me. “And so you owe me restitution. And if anyone should be pointing a gun at someone, it should be me, pointing one at you, considering what you owe me.” He put a hand to his ass and winked at me. I rolled my eyes. “ Besides,” he continued. “I only came to help.”