Blood Summoned

by N. P. Martin

  “Where do you even get these names from?”

  “I told you before, the minutiae of human culture is endlessly discussed in Hell. Damned souls have great trouble in letting go of their past lives, so talking about what once was is their way of trying to hold on to their identities. Not that it works, mind you. They all end up losing themselves, eventually.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “You can’t keep a good horse down, Ethan. You’d do well to remember that. Speaking of which, my hunger is approaching dangerous levels.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I said as I steered him toward my apartment building.

  “It means, at a certain point, I won’t be able to control myself,” he said. “I may even try to take a bite out of you, Ethan.”

  “You fucking better not.”

  “Get me dinner then.”

  “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Leaving Haedemus outside to eye up the drug dealers standing at the top of the dark street, I went inside my apartment building and came across Daisy Donovan sitting on the landing, a cushion under her as she sat reading a book which I could see was The Dark Half by Stephen King. “Reading a classic, I see,” I said as I stopped to talk to her. “King’s last great book.”

  “It’s the first book I’ve read by him,” she said, wearing the same shorts and T-shirt she always seemed to have on, making me wonder if her mother ever bought her any clothes. “I’m enjoying it.”

  “Try Pet Cemetery next,” I said. “You’ll like it.”

  “I will.” She frowned when she noticed my bloody shirt. “What happened to you?”

  “Animal attack,” I said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it as I leaned against the railings.

  “What kind of animal?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Did you kill it?”

  I shook my head. “I just ran.”

  “Not fast enough.”

  “Yeah,” I said laughing. “You know, you should move your bed out here. You spend more time out here than you do in your apartment.”

  “My mom has the TV up loud. It makes it hard for me to concentrate on my book.”

  “How is she?” I asked. “Any strange men coming around?”

  “No,” she said. “That whole thing with Jarvis shook her up good. She hasn’t even drunk since.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really? That’s good, I suppose.”

  “I’m sure it won’t last. She has these dry spells once in a while.”

  “Well,” I said, moving away. “You know where to come if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Ethan.”

  “No problem, sweetheart.”

  “Ethan?” she called out, stopping me in the hallway.

  “Yeah?” I said, turning around.

  “Do you have a daughter?”

  The question took me aback slightly, but I didn’t show it. “Why?”

  “I just saw a picture of a girl in your apartment that night I was in. She looks like you. Where is she?”

  “She died,” I said after a pause.

  “Oh,” Daisy said, dropping her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, so am I,” I said. “I’ll see you later, Daisy.”

  “Ethan?”

  I turned around again. “Yeah?”

  “What was her name?”

  Swallowing, I said, “Her name was Callie.”

  “That’s a nice name,” she said smiling, before going back to her book.

  I entered the apartment for the first time in nearly three days to a chorus of singing. I say singing; it was more like a bunch of strangled cats trying to remember the lyrics to their favorite song…while drunk.

  The Hellbastards were crowded onto the couch in front of the TV, crowing along to the theme music of Fraggle Rock, an eighties puppet show similar to The Muppets, though a bit more moralistic. “Dance your cares away,” the five diminutive demons all sang together. “Worries for another day, Let the music play, Down in Fraggle Rock, Work your cares away, Dancing is for another day, Let the fraggles play, We’re—”

  “Gobo,” Scroteface sang.

  “Mokey,” Toast sang next.

  “Weembly,” Snot Skull shouted.

  “Momo,” sang Reggie.

  And finally, Cracka jumped up and screeched, “Red!“

  Then they all jumped up and shouted, “Weeee! Wowie!“

  I just stood shaking my head at them for a minute, wondering what the hell I had brought into this world. Then Scroteface finally noticed me and shouted, “Boss! You’re home!”

  “The boss is back! Yay!” Cracka screeched, jumping up and down with his usual uncontained excitement.

  “Calm down, boys,” I said. “Before you give me a damn headache. Cracka, what the fuck is that on your head?”

  “You like, boss?”

  “Is that a fucking…Chihuahua on your head?”

  “He’s trying to copy me, boss,” Scroteface said, who still wore the skin of a dead tabby cat on his head. Between the two of them, they had the place smelling like a fucking abattoir.

  “Screw you, asshole,” Cracka said to Scroteface as he tried to head-butt him with the Chihuahua’s head, making little yelping sounds like he was pretending the dog was attacking the cat.

  Adding to the stench in the place was Reggie, who sat puffing on a fat cigar that he had got from somewhere, the cigar poking through his dreadlocks as it hung from his mouth. Next to him was Toast, who seemed to have acquired a pair of bright green budgie-smugglers in my absence, along with a red string vest and a yellow skull cap that contrasted brightly against his blackened skin. “Toast, what the actual fuck?” I said as I took in his outlandish outfit.

  “You like boss?” he said, standing up to show me his new getup.

  “You look like asshole,” Cracka said to him, and then punched the budgie smugglers, laughing as Toast doubled over, bits of blackened skin falling off him onto the couch.

  “May I remind you I sleep on that fucking couch,” I said. “Stop messing it up.”

  The only one who still looked normal—for a Hellbastard anyway—was the four-armed Snot Skull, though his greenish skin was splattered with blood. “Snot Skull,” I said. “Why do you have blood on you? It looks suspiciously fresh.” Snot Skull sank into the sofa as they all fell quiet and stared at the TV. “Alright, out with it. Who did you kill this time? Another homeless bum?”

  “No, actually,” Scroteface said. “We’re trying to do good now boss like you said. No more innocents.”

  “So who’d you kill?” I asked again.

  “Man in park,” Cracka said.

  “He was talking to little kiddies,” said Reggie, blowing out a thick plume of smoke.

  “He bad man,” Cracka added.

  “So you killed him?” I said. “What did you do with the body?”

  “We left it in the bushes in the park,” Scroteface said.

  “After we had our way with him,” said Snot Skull with an evil smile, his bulbous nose glistening with mucus.

  “Alright,” I said nodding. “There’s a hungry Hellicorn downstairs. Go and take him to where the body is. He’ll eat it.”

  “Eat it?” Scroteface said.

  “Disgusting,” Cracka said.

  “Really?” I said. “And the shit that you guys do isn’t?”

  “We don’t like that Hellicorn,” Reggie said. “He talk too much.”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” I said, switching off the TV to a chorus of moans. “Get going before I send you all back to Hell.”

  “Fine, boss,” Scroteface said. “We go now.”

  “And get rid of those fucking animal skins,” I said. “You’re stinking the place up something terrible. And when you get back, you’re cleaning this shit hole up.”

  When the Hellbastards had all left, I put Howlin’ Wolf on the stereo before grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass from the kitchen and sitting down on the couch, wrinkling my nose at t
he stench left behind by the Hellbastards. I swear, I’m gonna have to get them a fucking cage or something. Little bastards are wrecking my apartment, not that my place is a fucking palace or anything anyway, but you have to have some pride, right?

  Sitting back in the couch, I drank half a glass of whiskey and closed my eyes as I listened to Howlin’ Wolf perform Spoonful, my thoughts melting away for a few precious moments as I got lost in the music.

  When the song was over, I reluctantly opened my eyes, took my phone out of my trouser pocket and switched it on for the first time in two days, surprised that the battery still had a charge. Within moments, several text messages came through, most of them from Carlito Martinez, but also two from Walker.

  I looked at the messages from Carlito first, not surprised to see that they were angry messages asking where the fuck I was. The last one, sent just this afternoon, read:

  AS YOU HAVEN’T BEEN ANSWERING MY CALLS OR TEXTS WE ARE NOW DONE ETHAN. YOU’VE MADE AN ENEMY OF ME. I’M COMING FOR YOU.

  Shaking my head after reading the message, I sighed as I refilled my glass. I knew it was coming, this angry retribution from Carlito, but reading the message now made it real. He was out to get me. Meaning: He would try to set me up for something and land me in jail, whereupon he would have me killed. That, or he would skip the setting up part and just try to have me killed. Meaning: He wanted to kill me himself.

  I think he thought we were friends, so he’d feel my perceived betrayal even more. Fuck him. Let him come for me. If he thinks I’ll be an easy target, he’s in for a grave shock. And now that I knew he was into sex trafficking, I’d have no problem taking him down, along with his whole organization.

  I read the texts from Walker next. She was updating me on the mass suicide case. The last text said she had closed the case, which was good to hear. She seemed to have enough of a handle on her existential issues these days that she could be a competent detective, which meant I didn’t have to worry all that much about her slipping back into demon mode.

  After lighting a cigarette, I gave her a call. “Hey,” I said when she answered. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” she said. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Yes, actually,” she said, somewhat sheepishly.

  “Well, I’m back now. You wanna update me?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Did you get my text? I closed the suicide cult case. The hellot leader is in custody, though it remains to be seen for how long. You know what these hellots are like, they always seem to find a way out.”

  “What’d you charge him with?”

  “Well, the cult members all killed themselves of their own accord,” she said. “The leader didn’t force anyone to drink the Kool-Aid, so to speak.”

  “Nice reference. You sound more human every day.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she responded.

  “And sarcasm too. I’m impressed.”

  “Anyway, we got the guy on fraud, kidnapping, money laundering, and bribery. We just have to see if the charges stick.”

  “It’s out of your hands now. You did your job. Time to move on. What else has come in?”

  “I’m glad you asked that,” she said. “A pregnant girl landed into the precinct about an hour ago saying she’d been abducted into a cult some months ago.”

  “Jesus, another cult? These fucking things are becoming a scourge.”

  “Well,” Walker said, “from what I could glean from the girl, this particular cult sounds bad. She’s pretty messed up at the moment as if she was on drugs or something. She’s in with a doctor now. You want to come in for the interview?”

  “Of course. Just let me get cleaned up. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  With Howlin’ Wolf still jammin’ in the background, I got up off the couch to take a shower. Almost the second I did, there was a loud bang as the front door came crashed in, causing me to freeze for a split-second by the kitchen entrance just as a heavyset Cuban guy in a blue tracksuit and dripping with gold chains came walking in, a silver-plated pistol in his hand.

  “Carlito sends his regards,” the heavy-accented Cuban gangster said, before opening fire on me.

  With nowhere else to go, I dived through the kitchen doorway, crying out when my injured shoulder slammed against the wall.

  “There’s no point in hiding,” the intruder called out, who I doubted was alone. He had to have had at least two or three other men with him. No way Carlito would send just one guy to take me out. “You’re coming with us, dead or alive, asshole. It makes no difference to us, though the boss said he wanted you alive so he can kill you himself.”

  With no weapon on me, I grabbed the first thing to hand, which was a large kitchen knife. The knife was in my hand for all of two seconds before a different gangster barged into the kitchen to confront me, his gun outstretched as he fired a shot that whizzed past my head, missing me by mere inches.

  Without a second thought, I threw the knife in his direction, satisfied to see the blade penetrate his throat. The shaven-headed gangster gagged and choked as blood burst from his mouth, but he must’ve been full of coke or something, for he could still keep his gun held out and pointed at me as he squeezed off another round. The bullet missed, lodging in the wall behind me, so I dropped down low and dived at the guy, my shoulder slamming into his lower abdomen as I forced him up against the door.

  His gun arm had dropped, but he was still squeezing off shots as I grabbed his wrist and slammed his hand against the wall, finally forcing him to drop the gun.

  The fight wasn’t out of him yet, however, and even though he had a knife sticking in his throat, he used his other hand to punch me in the face.

  Covering with one arm, I used my other hand to grab hold of the knife and pull. A burst of warm blood hit me in the face, but I didn’t care as I immediately stabbed the knife into the side of my assailant’s neck, which finally put the fight out of him.

  With blood jetting from his neck, covering the walls and me along with it, the guy slid down the door onto the floor as he finally died.

  Grabbing the dead guy’s pistol from off the floor, I ejected the clip to see there was still some rounds left in it. Slamming the clip back in, I started dragging the dead guy across the floor so he was no longer barricading the kitchen door. I didn’t know how many guys were left outside, but I was about to find out.

  With my hand on the door handle, I took a breath and got ready to fling the door open and face the music, but as I did, I heard a shot being fired in the living room, a shot that sounded like it had been suppressed.

  The sound of something heavy hitting the floor quickly followed. A split second later, another suppressed shot, and then another heavy thud.

  What the fuck? Was someone else out there?

  Only one way to find out.

  I flung open the door, the gun in my hand pointing into the living room.

  The first thing I saw was the guy who’d kicked open my front door. He was lying slumped against the couch with a hole in the center of his forehead. Then to my left, there was another guy lying on his back on the floor, also with a hole in the dead center of his forehead.

  As I inched my way out of the kitchen, I soon saw the cause of these two deaths standing by the front door.

  “Looks like I was just in time,” Scarlet Hood said with a smile.

  4

  Scarlet Hood stood by the busted front door wearing a black leather outfit with a red poncho over the top. In her hand, she held a pistol with a suppressor attached to it. “Detective,” she said, smiling. “What big eyes you have. Almost like someone just tried to kill you.”

  “I thought I told you to call first,” I said, the dead guy’s blood dripping off me as I moved past her and out into the hallway. “Did you see a little girl out there?”

  “No,” she said frowning. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

  Daisy must’ve gone into her apartment when Carlito’s m
en came into the building. Or at least, I hoped she did. “I had it handled,” I said as I came back into the apartment, closing the door behind me, even though the frame was now busted.

  “Didn’t look like you did. These two guys would’ve shot you before you got anywhere near them.”

  “You don’t know me very well if that’s what you think.” I shook my head at the mess in the living room, and then at the blood seeping from the kitchen. Fuck it. How was I gonna explain this to my fellow officers if they showed up? Assuming someone in the building had called the cops upon hearing the gunshots.

  “If you’re trying to think of an explanation to give the cops,” she said as she walked farther into the room, putting her gun away beneath her poncho, “just say you don’t know them and that they were probably gangbangers out for revenge.”

  “As ridiculous as that sounds, it’ll probably have to do.”

  “Ethan?”

  I turned at the sound of the voice by the front door. Daisy stood there staring at the two dead bodies on the floor with a look of mild disgust on her face. “Jesus, Daisy,” I said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I knew they were bad guys as soon as I saw them,” she said. “Where’s the other one?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Go back to your apartment. You don’t need to see any of this.”

  Daisy switched her gaze to Scarlet then. “Who are you?” she asked.

  Scarlet seemed amused by Daisy as she smiled over at her. “Scarlet,” she said. “Scarlet Hood.”

  A smile spread across Daisy’s innocent face as she seemed to realize something. “You remind me of someone.”

  “Oh yeah?” Scarlet said. “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter who,” I said, ushering Daisy out to the hallway. “If the cops come, you saw nothing, okay?”

  She nodded. “Sure. Are you okay? You have a lot of blood on you.”

  “It’s not mine.”

  “I’m glad,” she said as she walked back down the hallway. “I wouldn’t like it if you died.”