Undead Agent

by Gary Jonas

  Bang bang right in the head.

  I kept the smile going. “Double tap,” I said.

  “But—” Hank said, and jumped behind Paul’s chair.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “Shaun of the Dead is a much better movie.”

  Kelly raced toward Doris, leaped into the air, and missed.

  Doris screamed.

  “Simon, release me,” Kelly said.

  “No.”

  “It’s all right, Kelly,” I said. “Can you please disable Hank without hurting him?”

  “It’s not as much fun,” she said, walking toward him, “but I can do it.”

  Hank started to back away from her, but that would put him in my sight, and getting shot wasn’t on his list of things to accomplish. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

  “It’s all right, sweetie,” Kelly said. “This won’t hurt.”

  She leaned forward, and with two fingers she closed off his carotid artery until he passed out.

  Doris waved her hands, trying to open a rift.

  I didn’t want to shoot her, so I rushed over and grabbed hold of her.

  The rift was partly open, but it didn’t lead to New York City. It led to someplace dark and red that smelled of rotten eggs.

  “No you don’t,” I said.

  I wrestled her to the floor. “You shot my boy!” she yelled.

  “Whatever you are, you’re not Doris Tanner. Papa Simon? Can you order her to take off this ring?” I pointed to the wedding band.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’m going to punch you in the nose.”

  “You can’t hurt me. I ordered you not to.”

  “You haven’t been paying attention, have you? You also ordered me not to kill Paul. How did that work out for you?”

  “But I said Simon says.”

  “Fine,” I said, and dragged Doris over to where Simon stood.

  He put his hands up. “What are you doing?” he asked, nervous.

  “Simon says bleed,” I said, and punched him in the nose.

  He sat down, and bled.

  “Ow!”

  “Order her to remove the ring or I’ll punch you again.”

  “Doris? Simon says remove the ring.”

  “No,” she said, but his magic worked on her, and she pulled the ring from her finger.

  I snatched it from her hand. It tried to wrap itself around me, but couldn’t.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a way to melt the ring. Doris could do it, but the demon still possessed her.

  “Doris,” I said. “If you can hear me in there, you should be able to push the demon out. Pretend it’s coconut flavor and you’re spitting it out.”

  Instead, she slapped the ring out of my hand. The darkness poured out of Doris’s eyes, and she dropped to the floor. “What the hell is going on?” she asked. “Where’s Paul?”

  I motioned toward the corpse in the chair.

  And that’s when I saw I had bigger problems than trying to apologize to Doris for shooting her dead son.

  The darkness knocked the ring out of my hand for a reason, and guided that damn ring the way it had at Madame Rousseau’s.

  “Uh oh,” I said.

  Because the ring jumped onto Kelly’s finger, and the darkness leaped into her, too.

  “Time for you to die, Jonathan,” Kelly said.

  She vaulted over the chair, landed on Doris, who was staring at her dead son.

  Kelly used Doris as a launching pad to reach me.

  I didn’t stand a chance.

  Kelly kicked me to the ground. I lost my grip on the gun and it skittered across the floor and dropped into the hole the plywood partially covered.

  My chest hurt where she kicked me, but I couldn’t stay still or she’d kill me. I rolled to the side and tried to scissor-kick her legs. She easily jumped over my attempt.

  “Simon!” I yelled. “Order the demon inside her to stop.”

  She did a shoulder roll over to where Simon sat. She punched him in the throat and he fell backward, clutching his neck, trying to breathe.

  “Shit,” I said, and ran through the kitchen, jumped over Sarah’s corpse, and out the back door.

  Kelly pursued.

  I jumped to the side, nearly tripping over the edge of the screen door. I grabbed the door, spun around to give it some force, and smacked Kelly in the gut with it as she tried to follow me. I whipped it around and shoved the door against her, trying to drive her backward.

  She punched through the wire mesh. I twisted the door, and spun her to the porch.

  Then I ran toward the river.

  My only hope was to get to the speedboat and get the hell away from her. Even though the demon didn’t have Kelly’s training, it had her strength and endurance. I was no match for Kelly.

  I chanced a look behind me, and saw that she’d disentangled herself from the screen door. She raced after me.

  I darted around a cypress tree and cut through the tree line to the river. The Scarab still waited, tied off to a cleat on the hidden dock.

  Kelly was too close for me to stop and untie the rope.

  I jumped into the boat and glanced at the ignition. The goddamn key was in Hank’s pocket.

  Cuss words burst from my lips like bullets. Could I swim for it? I looked into the brown water. I had no idea how deep it was because I could only see about twelve inches down before it got too murky.

  Kelly ran through the trees and leaped for the boat.

  Fight? Or jump overboard?

  Both.

  She tackled me, and we fell into the water.

  Kelly drove me down into the water, wrestling with me. The water at this point was about five feet deep, but would be deeper toward the center.

  I kept my mouth and eyes closed, struggling to break free. I kicked, punched, and squirmed, and managed to pull away. The current wasn’t bad here. Most places it moved slower than you can walk.

  Kelly tried to grab me, but I broke the surface and swam back to the boat. I grabbed the edge, pulled myself up. Without the use of the boat, I needed something else for an advantage.

  Was there anything on board that might help? I knelt and opened the front storage, but all it held were a few life vests and a small fire extinguisher. I could have sprayed white foam on Kelly, but that wouldn’t help me. I left it and opened the lid at the back of the boat, but that only held the engine.

  Kelly surfaced at the dock and climbed out of the water. As she pulled herself up, I saw she still had Derek’s pistol stuck in her waistband.

  It was soaked, but it might be good for one shot.

  A bullet to the head wouldn’t kill her, of course. She was a Sekutar warrior, but she would be momentarily stunned by that. It was my only hope.

  “Shall we take this to dry land?” I asked.

  “I’m fine killing you right here,” she said.

  “You can have more fun killing me in the back yard where there’s more room. You can smash me against a tree, throw me against the house, or even through a window. Breaking glass is always fun.”

  “You can’t win this,” she said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Papa Simon can’t help you. Hank won’t help you. Doris is grieving her son. You’re all alone, and you’re out of luck.”

  “Thanks for the rundown. I appreciate it.”

  “You don’t have the keys to the boat, Shade. Get over here.”

  “You didn’t like the water?”

  “I want to break you in two.”

  “Easier on land,” I said. “Lead the way back to the house. I’ll fight you there.”

  “Running away isn’t an option,” she said.

  “I know that.”

  “So come over here and die.”

  I remained on the boat. A large piece of driftwood floated by. It looked reasonably solid.

  “Give me a minute,” I said, and dived into the water.

  I grabbed the driftwood. It was solid
. It was a good sized club, not quite the size of a baseball bat, and the curve and bend made it a little awkward, but it would have to do.

  I swam ashore twenty yards downriver. Kelly trudged through the trees to come after me.

  But that gave me time to get out of the water.

  The trees might work to my advantage if I could keep out of reach.

  “Here we go dancing around the cypress trees,” I said in a sing-song voice as Kelly got close enough to try to grab me. I dodged her, and kept a tree between us.

  I jabbed at her with the driftwood.

  She laughed. “Pathetic,” she said.

  She tried to grab the wood, but I pulled it away. I darted around another tree, then came out swinging.

  She caught the driftwood with one hand. I let go, and tried to reach around her. I grabbed the gun, but she twisted, and the pistol fell to the ground.

  “Batter up,” she said, and shoved me back. She swung with the driftwood. I tried to dodge, but I wasn’t fast enough. I took the impact on my upper left arm, and it knocked me sideways. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but nothing was broken.

  Adrenaline kept me moving.

  She threw the wood, and I batted it aside.

  The exertion was already wearing me out as I hadn’t fully recovered from the poisoning. She came at me with a flurry of punches.

  I blocked the first three.

  The fourth knocked me off my feet.

  I landed on the ground, hard.

  The pistol was ten feet away.

  I rolled toward it, but Kelly grabbed my left ankle, and pulled me to her.

  With a quick roll and spin, I kicked her in the head, and pulled my ankle free.

  She jumped at me, and I tried to get away, but she was too fast. She grabbed a fistful of my shirt, pulled me up and smashed me in the face once, twice, three times.

  The third punch broke my nose, and everything flashed white for a moment.

  She pulled me up, and I wrapped my arms around her, trying to hold her in place.

  She drove me against a tree trunk. One of the branches scraped my side, and the scratch felt deep.

  She slammed me against the tree again and again, then pulled free from me, and kicked me in the sternum.

  I bounced off the tree, and dropped to the ground, unable to breathe.

  She grabbed me by the hair, pulled me up, and punched me hard on the cheek. The intense pain told me she’d fractured my cheekbone.

  “See?” she said. “You’re nothing.”

  She kicked me in the ribs, and I rolled over. Blinding pain ripped through me. But I rolled in the direction of the pistol, so I kept rolling.

  Kelly sighed. “This isn’t as much fun as I expected.”

  That meant she was going to finish me off.

  But not if I had something to say about it.

  My hand closed on the pistol. I thumbed back the hammer, raised the weapon, and Kelly kicked the gun out of my hand as I pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide, and the gun sailed away from me. The pistol landed and skittered through leaves, dirt, and weeds.

  Kelly reached down and pulled me up. She smiled and took hold of my right hand.

  “Maybe I’ll just break your fingers one at a time and see if that’s any fun. This little pinkie cried out in agony.”

  And she snapped my pinkie finger.

  I grunted in pain, and fought to draw a breath.

  “You don’t really need a ring finger since my ring can’t go on there. Right?”

  And she snapped my ring finger.

  Again, I grunted in pain.

  “I don’t think you should be flipping people off,” she said, and took hold of my middle finger.

  “Simon says stop!” Papa Simon yelled. His voice sounded terrible.

  Kelly gripped my finger tightly, but couldn’t bring herself to break it.

  “Simon says release him.”

  She let go, and I dropped to my knees, cradling my hand. My pinkie and ring fingers bent out at odd angles.

  Papa Simon strode toward us, one hand caressing his throat.

  “Simon says remove the ring.”

  She pulled the ring off her finger.

  “Simon says return to the ring.”

  “No,” Kelly said. “You can make me stop, but you can’t confine me in that band of gold. Your magic isn’t that strong.”

  But as she spoke, the darkness drained from Kelly’s eyes, and slowly drifted to the ring.

  Kelly dropped the ring and blinked a few times.

  She looked down, saw me on my knees, beat to a pulp, broken ringers jutting out.

  Kelly knelt before me. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “It wasn’t you,” I said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Some doctors get off on inflicting pain. They get away with it because they’re “fixing” people. When I woke up in the hospital that evening, my fingers were splinted and taped together, my ribs were tightly wrapped, my arm was in a sling, and I suspected I’d be bankrupt when the bill arrived.

  Don’t get hurt if you can’t afford to pay for the repairs.

  Kelly remained downright mortified about what she’d done to me, and no matter how many times I told her it wasn’t her, that it was the demonic force Madame Rousseau had imprisoned in the ring, she always came back with, “But it used me to inflict the damage.”

  Had it used anyone else, I wouldn’t be so banged up, but I wasn’t going to say that to Kelly. First of all, she knew it, and second, I didn’t want to make it into a bigger deal than it already was.

  She remembered every moment of it, but she’d been essentially a passenger in her own body.

  Time seemed out of whack, and some of what I remember might have been a dream. For example, Papa Simon tried to explain something to me about Emmanuel using Tara’s body while Madame Rousseau was out, but that was while Doris was opening a rift to the hospital, and I was in too much pain to make any sense of it.

  And now that I was floating on painkillers, it seemed even less important because Emmanuel was a ghost, and the only ghost I cared about was Esther, and I’d done her wrong again and didn’t know where she was. And while I felt I deserved the pain, if I could have retreated to a different body right then, I’d have done so in a heartbeat.

  At one point, Doris said something about her son’s body, and while on the surface it sounded like she was thanking me for finding it, the subtext suggested she wished she’d never met me. I didn’t expect her to be singing my praises. Once she got us to the hospital, she opened a rift and went back to New York. Or maybe she waited a while and then left. My brain still can’t process what happened.

  Papa Simon said something about wanting to go to Landy’s, but I thought he was saying Landry’s, and I didn’t know if he was hungry or was reminiscing about the old Dallas Cowboys football team.

  So yeah, they gave me some good drugs.

  The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a darkened hospital room with beeping machines, and an IV in one hand. There was a curtain pulled most of the way across the room, and Kelly sat in a chair in front of a window reading a book using her cellphone flashlight on the pages.

  I watched her for a moment, then her eyes flicked over to me. She just stared at me, not saying anything.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi, yourself,” she said. “Are you really awake this time?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “We’ve had this conversation a few times,” she said.

  “I think I’m awake.”

  She turned off the flashlight, and set the book on the table next to a plastic cup of water. She put a straw in the drink and carried it over to me.

  “Sip,” she said.

  I did as she said. The water felt good on my tongue.

  “How’s the pain?” she asked.

  “Tolerable,” I said.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “I think I remember you saying that alrea
dy. Bits and pieces are floating in my head.”

  She put a hand on my shoulder, and gazed into my eyes. “It’s my job to protect you,” she said. “I let you down.”

  “We knew it was a trap. What happened to the ring?”

  “It’s in your pants pocket. The pants are folded on the chair over there.” She gestured to a chair with folded clothes, and a plastic grocery bag filled with personal items.

  A whiteboard hung on the wall with the name of the nurse on duty and the CNA and numbers to reach them.

  “They’re keeping you overnight for observation,” Kelly said. “They’re concerned there may be internal bleeding.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “When I filled out the paperwork, I felt lost. I didn’t like that feeling, Jonathan. I want stability. I want to live somewhere, and not travel all the time.”

  She held the cup of water so I could take another sip.

  “I think you want that, too,” she said.

  We’d been moving aimlessly from place to place for a few years, sometimes taking cases, sometimes not. While there were existential dangers to our existence, it made sense to keep moving around. Once that threat was negated, though, we just kept going. A month here, two months there.

  No place felt like home. We couldn’t go back to Denver because a different Kelly Chan lived there, and the people I knew in Colorado all believed me to be dead.

  My sister lived in New York, but she didn’t want me anywhere near the Manhattan branch of Dragon Gate Industries.

  And then it occurred to me that Kelly might mean she wanted to go somewhere on her own.

  “Can we talk about this later?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  They released me the next morning. Kelly and I went back to the hotel. As soon as I set foot in the lobby, Esther rushed over.

  “I did it, and it’s the bee’s knees!” she said, then looked me up and down. “What’s eating you?”

  “I got beat up by a girl,” I said. “Before you go any further, I want to apologize to you.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Is he bent?” Esther asked.

  Kelly shook her head.