Soul Bite

by D. N. Erikson

  “She took him,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “The demon hunter.” My vision swam, but the truth hurt more.

  Kai was gone.

  Taken.

  “Tough break.” Tamara had turned into a hardass again. No more tears for Max. She glanced up the street, brushing sewer slime from her leather pants. “That’s my cue.”

  “Give me the number,” I said.

  “What will you grant me in return?”

  I didn’t have an answer. “Don’t you want to know who might be hunting you?”

  “Oh, I think your demon hunter is only interested in FBI agents.” Her full lips puckered. “I’m just your garden variety Soul Eater.”

  Tamara slung the rifle over her shoulder and walked off in the opposite direction of the cruisers.

  I watched her disappear, then let my head roll toward the other end of the street.

  It was a familiar scene. All of two months before, I’d had a run-in here with a few assassins from the Department of Supernatural Affairs. They’d unloaded a small army’s worth of ammunition at the building.

  Quite the shitshow, all things considered. The aftermath had brought half the damn FBI.

  A familiar figure with a blonde wave and stiletto boots approached from the haze of lights.

  I suddenly felt sick, and leaned over to vomit.

  “Not on the shoes, Hunter.”

  I slumped against the wall, saliva dangling from my lips.

  The weight of reality threatened to crush me.

  Loki had an army of demons in the FBI—just to cause chaos.

  Ares had sent his own demon—Moreland, of all assholes—to stop it.

  And some angry, damaged soul had taken up the mantle of demon huntress—and taken Kai along with her.

  I heard Rayna reach down and pick up Kai’s badge. “Shit.”

  “No kidding.” I closed my eyes.

  “Hunter?” Snapping fingers clicked in front of my nose. “God fucking damnit, Hunter, concentrate.”

  I slapped Rayna’s manicured hand away and glared. “I’m listening.”

  “Did this man give you a hint, anything, about where he was taking Agent Taylor?”

  “It was a chick,” I said. “And yeah, she left her forwarding address.”

  “You’d tell me if you knew something, right?”

  Rayna brushed her blonde hair from her eyes. Even roused from a short slumber, she was runway ready. Her casual clothes—blouse, loose blazer, jeans—were all tailored to accentuate her features.

  “Probably not.”

  “Transparency is the foundation of a good working relationship, Hunter.”

  “No wonder all your relationships are shit.”

  Rayna looked ready to strangle me. Despite the dire circumstances, I felt a glimmer of satisfaction.

  I struggled to stand up. Rayna wrinkled her nose when I stumbled forward.

  “I had to run through the sewer.” My sneakers were covered in brackish slime.

  All these clothes would have to be burned immediately.

  “What did you learn from Tamara Marquez?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing interesting.”

  “Don’t hold out on me.”

  I almost told her about Loki, Ares, and the rest of the gang, then decided against it. “Did you all find a body in there?”

  “Firefighters said there were two heavily burned corpses.”

  Shit. That meant Moreland had escaped.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and started walking in the same direction as Tamara had gone.

  “Going somewhere, Hunter?” Rayna’s stiletto boots clicked behind me.

  “I’m finding Kai on my own.”

  “And then what?”

  I thought about my agreement with Lucille—how I couldn’t kill.

  In this case, I’d make an exception for the demon hunter. It wasn’t like I could make my relationship with the goddess worse.

  I said, “You can dig the grave.”

  Rayna cut in front of me. “There’s a better offer on the table, Hunter.”

  “Unless it involves this woman’s location, I’m not interested.”

  “All the government’s resources. At your disposal.”

  “Pass,” I said.

  “You work for us.”

  I dug in my pocket and took out my ID card. My laminated face stared sternly back, the FBI’s holographic coating glinting in the morning light.

  “Then consider this my one-minute notice.”

  Rayna didn’t reach for the lanyard. “Think about it.”

  “Already did.” I tossed it at her feet and walked past.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this, Hunter.” Rayna almost looked ready to beg.

  “Trust me, it does.” I started walking again, away from the sirens and smoke.

  Rayna called after me, “If he dies, and you’re responsible…”

  “I’ll put the bullet in my own chest.”

  But I was already too far away for her to hear.

  I was on my own.

  9

  A few blocks over, exhaustion set in, and I called a cab.

  Then I settled into the backseat, heading home.

  Did I have any leads?

  Nope.

  Not a single damn one. If I wanted to learn what Tamara Marquez knew, then I’d have to give her something in return.

  Right now, I had no idea what she might want.

  But I did know that I had big problem staring me in the face.

  Problems, rather.

  Blondie—Brenda, rather—had been hacked to pieces in the middle of the night, and Kai had been snatched up fighting the good fight. All I had to work on was that this demon hunter was a serial killer—with four previous murders in Philly, Chicago, Los Angeles, and the island—and the Feds had no desire to clean house.

  Instead, they were in ass-covering mode.

  Not to mention Ares and Loki having a pissing match on the island via demonic proxy.

  I hoped Ares—who had once shaved off a sliver of his soul for the phoenix’s guardian—was trying to act as a stabilizing influence. Prevent Loki from causing any chaos.

  But using Moreland as his demonic messenger…all bets were off on his intentions.

  The taxi passed a fading billboard for the mayoral election. Vote for change and progress.

  Vote for Marie Claudette.

  She’d run on an anti-corruption platform. The former mayor—Stephen Cambridge—had been a prolific serial killer, with at least twenty-five bodies buried in his backyard. After that, people had been eager for a squeaky-clean leader.

  But the newly minted Mayor Claudette also had vowed to clean up the notoriously corrupt police force and put the island back in the hands of the people.

  I had little doubt she was already on Aldric’s shit list, even though her inauguration had only been last week.

  “You vote for her,” I said as the billboard disappeared in the rearview.

  “Nah. Nothing ever changes.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You’re on your own. Ain’t no one coming to piss on you if you’re on fire.”

  “Uplifting,” I said, and tapped the divider. “Change of plans.”

  “You gotta make up your mind, lady.”

  “The fuck do you care?” I asked. “I’m still paying.”

  “Maybe I care about your bank account.”

  “Well, care a little less,” I said. “Head up north and stow the commentary.”

  I gave him the address, and he shrugged. But he heeded my instructions, because the rest of the ride passed in blissful silence.

  After rolling through a picket-fence suburbia, the landscape became sparser, the trees battered by the ocean winds. Ahead, at the edge of a cliff, an intense construction project was underway on a vacant lot.

  I shoved a hundred bucks through the divider and popped out of the taxi, a stiff sea-salt breeze whipping through my hair.

&nb
sp; I shouted to the tanned man in the chair, “You free?”

  A voice that was the epitome of British cool responded without turning around. “Is that Eden Hunter, finally coming for a visit?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Glad to hear it.” And Dante Cross, shirtless and wearing shades even in the dead of winter, glanced over his shoulder and winked at me. “Because that makes two of us.”

  10

  I approached Dante Cross’s lawn chair. The immortal treasure hunter was eating a bowl of cereal, his feet propped on a cooler.

  Workers pounded nails into wood framing, getting an early start on the day.

  Cross had inherited this chunk of land on the island’s northern cliffs from Jack—an elderly apothecary shop owner for whom the treasure hunter had once done a favor. Following our run-in with a Department of Supernatural Affairs demon, the ranch home that had once sat on the property had been torched.

  I hadn’t visited since that demon encounter.

  The new house looked impressive, even if it was still little more than a skeleton at this point.

  “So this is how you spend your days?”

  “When I’m not helping you rip off a goddess.” We’d tricked Lucille into taking a fake Sword of Damocles a couple months back.

  “Or running like a bitch from your ex-girlfriend,” I said.

  Cross grimaced, his jaw twisting like I’d poked him with a shiv. “How is Tamara?”

  I summarized the day’s events as best I could. Then I said, “You can see why I’ve come out here.”

  “I thought it was for my roguish charm.” Cross’s swirling soul of blood, cannon shot, and gold lingered on my tongue.

  “Dream on, buddy.” I glanced at a worker putting a two-by-four through a band saw. The construction site had a refreshing normalcy that had evaded my life since I’d come to the island.

  Being a Reaper makes you nostalgic for the little things.

  “You look tired, Eden.” Cross reached over and poured more cereal into the bowl. The chocolate flakes turned the milk light brown. “And, if I’m being honest, the smell…”

  “Can we help each other or not?” I was running on borrowed adrenaline, which was like riding a rollercoaster without being strapped in.

  One minute, you were soaring.

  The next, freefalling.

  “And why would you need my assistance?”

  “You’re the only one around,” I said.

  “By default.” Cross took a bite of cereal. “If it’s the only way to spend time with you, then I have little choice but to accept.”

  “Yeah, yeah, asshole,” I said, “don’t get too excited.”

  “And what’s the plan?”

  “Hadn’t really gotten that far,” I said. “Tamara has a lead on the other demons. But she’s not sharing.”

  “I’m afraid her ears are no longer receptive to my charms.”

  “Real shocker there,” I said.

  “Any other leads on the missing agent?”

  “Nope.”

  “Any ideas, then?”

  Besides shaking the branches at City Hall? Not really. And I wasn’t even sure what that would accomplish, other than aggravating Rayna.

  But that was basically a win, right?

  Cross set his cereal bowl in the dirt and rose from the lawn chair. “Follow me.”

  “Where?” I could see through the house’s frame to the ocean. We were at the end of the street, overlooking a sheer cliff.

  There wasn’t anywhere else to go.

  Cross just winked and headed across what was once the lawn. With nothing better to do, I trailed behind him, weaving around two workers trying to lift a heavy beam.

  He stopped about ten feet from the cliff’s edge.

  “Behold.” He pointed at his feet, where a charred stairwell led below the earth.

  “Is that…”

  “Only thing to survive the DSA’s firebomb.” Cross gestured for me to head down. “After you.”

  “I almost died down there.” After he’d inherited the property from Jack, Cross had left the basement storeroom—filled with magical potions and critters—go feral. I’d been bitten by a venomous snake upon trying to explore the mess.

  On the plus side, I’d gotten Khan from the ordeal.

  On second thought, that might’ve been more of a negative.

  “Second time’s a charm, as they say.”

  “No one says that.”

  Cross shrugged, the bright sun glistening off his V-shaped torso. “Suit yourself.”

  The treasure hunter whispered a few words. Magical wisps flitted through the morning air like steam as the protection wards dissipated. Then he disappeared down the creaky stairs, which sounded liable to collapse at any moment.

  With a sigh, I followed him into the basement.

  The space was far less cramped than it had been during my previous visit. All the ruined merchandise had been removed, along with the store shelves, making for a room about the size of a decent studio apartment.

  A bed sat in the corner of the unfinished concrete floor. Nearby was a hot plate, mini fridge, and a small collection of dishes. Plus a bunch of cereal boxes, which begged the question of why he even needed the hot plate.

  “Love what you’ve done with the place,” I said.

  “Women don’t seem to mind.”

  He wasn’t kidding. On the bare concrete floor, next to the bed, was a pair of panties.

  On top of another pair of panties.

  “I bet.” I found the lone piece of furniture—a battered folding chair that had seen better days—and sat down.

  Cross took the bed, and said, “I’m surprised Rayna won’t help you.”

  “She offered. I told her to fuck off.”

  He shook his head. “Given the circumstances—”

  “Not worth it,” I said.

  “You might reconsider. We’re so close.”

  It took me a minute to figure out what Cross was referring to: Drake’s treasure map.

  I’d given it back to him two months ago and hadn’t heard anything about it since. Ostensibly, I was part of their team, dedicated to finding its treasure—the Sword of Damocles, a god-killing blade that only a Reaper could wield—and using it to dispatch Lucille, but my heart wasn’t really in it.

  Sure, killing the goddess would solve some of my problems.

  No question about that.

  But that still left with me with Aldric-sized pain in my ass. And without the goddess lurking in the bushes—or wherever she’d gone after the vampire had torched her headquarters—he’d have full reign over the island.

  Two steps forward, five steps back.

  It put a damper on my enthusiasm.

  I said, “I think Rayna’s more concerned about saving her career than your little goddess-killing project.”

  “That’s the thing,” Cross said. “The reason Rayna came on board was her job.”

  “I don’t really follow,” I said.

  “Getting rid of the goddess? That’s just a stepping stone to any position she wants.”

  It was obvious when he laid the situation out like that. It’d always struck me as strange that an ambitious woman like Rayna had thrown in with Cross’s crew of thieves. She wasn’t the justice for the sake of justice type.

  Too pragmatic.

  Honor and justice were for the peons destined to remain agents.

  Like Kai.

  My stomach twisted at the thought of him alone with the demon hunter.

  “So, about that help you were offering.” The sheets rustled, and Cross returned with a map clutched in his fingers.

  The map.

  “You kept that under your fucking bed?”

  “Where else would I keep it?” Cross winked and brushed dust from the parchment. “Now that you’re finally here—”

  “Hey.” I stood up and snapped my fingers. “Were you listening before?”

  “I got the gist.”

  �
��Did you, now?”

  “Demon hunter killing agents. Took your friend.”

  “Exactly. Took Kai.”

  “I was getting to that.” Cross waved the map in front of me. “May I?”

  “Then get to it faster.”

  “We’ve nearly cracked the map’s final glyph-cipher.” Cross held it out, and I could see the faint glow of Latin symbols in the unlit basement.

  “Good for you.”

  “But the final glyph has proved expensive to solve.”

  “Kai could be dying,” I said, patience growing thin.

  “And this could be your solution.” He rustled the map. “Take it.”

  “Unless this five-hundred-year-old map shows me where he is, I’m not seeing a solution.”

  “Could take your mind off things,” Cross said. “Inevitable things.”

  “Unbelievable.” I brushed his hand away and kicked the chair against the wall, ready to storm out. “Great talking with you.”

  “Killers don’t let their prey go free, Eden.”

  “She’s a demon hunter.”

  “I saw the news story,” Cross said. “Dismemberment. Bloody. That’s not even an execution. That’s someone who enjoys killing.”

  My heart clattered against my rib cage. “Your bedside manner sucks, you know that?”

  I headed for the stairs, dodging another pair of panties on the way.

  “Wait.”

  “I’m good on any help.”

  “I was serious about the map.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Tell me I’m lying.” Cross leaned against the crumbling wall, a devil-may-care expression spreading across his face.

  It was true.

  He was a horrible liar.

  Cross smiled and held up the weathered parchment. “The last cipher-sorceress I visited mentioned a woman needed her to decipher a document.”

  “Another map?”

  “Typewritten list. Like from the desk of a sixties intelligence agency.”

  “Why would the list be encoded?” I asked.

  Cross shrugged. “Stolen. Classified. An aptitude test from an employer. Take your pick.”

  “And why would this cipher-sorceress share this with you?” I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.

  “Oh, you know.” Cross rubbed his designer stubble and then gave the ground a side glance.

  I traced his gaze to the lingerie collection gracing the floor. “Fucking hell, man, Kai could—”