Collateral Damage (Demon Squad Book 8)

by Tim Marquitz

  I slowed at the corner and peered down the alley where Marcus had gone, spying him immediately. He leaned against the wall between two trash dumpsters, and he wasn’t alone. Poe loomed before him, his hand on the big guy’s shoulder. There was a cocktail of emotions making his expression look like he had bad gas he was trying to hold in; the stabby sharp kind. I ran up to them just in time to catch a part of their conversation.

  “…be here, Marcus,” Poe said to him. “You don’t know what you’ve—” That’s when Poe saw me. He growled low in his throat. “I should have known.”

  I raised my hands to placate him. “This is all on me, Poe, so don’t take it out on Marcus.”

  “Damn it, Trigg,” he cursed, forgetting his manners in his anger. “You’re going to get him killed with your foolishness.”

  “Not the plan, I swear. I just needed to find you, to talk.”

  Marcus glared at me. It must have just sunk in that I’d used him for my own purposes. He groaned and fell back against the wall. “I’m sorry,” he told Poe, not a hint of aggression left in his voice. “When he told me you were alive, I just—” He stopped mid-sentence and darted forward, planting a kiss on Poe’s lips.

  I just blinked, caught off guard by the show of unexpected emotion. Poe stood frozen in place, but he didn’t so much as breathe until Marcus pulled back.

  “I’m…I’m sorry.”

  Poe’s frosty exterior cracked then, and he leaned in and returned the kiss, grabbing Marcus by the neck and pulling him into it. I blushed and turned away for second to give them something resembling privacy.

  While I’d guessed long ago that Poe was a fan of outies rather than innies, what I hadn’t realized was that he and Marcus were a thing, but it certainly explained a lot. I shook my head at the thought. It was a strange pairing that, the mentalist and the beast. Not that I gave a damn, or anything, but what the hell did those two talk about when they were alone? Wine craft and the best ways to torture puppies? I just couldn’t see it—figuratively or literally with my head turned away—so I held my peace until I heard them break apart.

  “Yeah, if you two could get a room, that’d be awesome.” Clearly neither of them had seen Office Space because they both swiveled ugly looks my direction. “Geez, folks, lighten up.” I smiled to ease the tension, but Poe’s expression fell flat, a mask slipping over his face.

  “Down,” he whispered, grabbing me and hauling me between the dumpsters where he and Marcus were crowded.

  “Hey, I’m all for experiencing new things, but this stuff doesn’t put wind in my sails, if you know what I mean.”

  “Silence, Trigg.” Poe raised a finger to his lips, hissing at me, while he stared out at the street.

  I stared after him and spotted a black, government issue van pull up in the circular driveway of the DSI building across the way. Not two seconds after it parked, the driver hopped out and circled around behind the van, pulling the back doors open. My vision zeroed in as he moved to clear the way, waving someone out.

  I watched as The Father stepped from the van a moment later. He looked much the same as he had the last time I’d seen him, all bluster and fury. The revenant came out after him, and I grinned as they turned back to the van. I knew what was coming next. A Hefty bag for the poor boy who’d killed Karra and met a just and brutal end.

  Only it wasn’t a body that emerged next.

  My stomach dropped into my heels as the Son clambered out of the van under his own power. A cold numbness washed over me then as he joined his companions, and the three of them headed into the building while the driver climbed back into the van and rode off.

  I’d only realized I’d started forward when Poe yanked me back between the dumpsters and shoved me into the wall. I didn’t even feel myself hit it. By the time my brain found something resembling traction, Trinity was gone, and there was only Poe and Marcus and the sour taste of bile left behind.

  “He’s alive?”

  Poe nodded. “He is now, yes.”

  Eyes barely able to focus, I spun on Poe, grabbing him by his suited shoulders and pressing him hard into the steel of the dumpster.

  “How?”

  Marcus growled and went to peel me loose, but Poe just raised a hand and the drunken gorilla stopped, though he clearly didn’t want to.

  “The same way I have returned to the living,” he answered. He glanced sideways at Marcus, then back to me. A shadow passed over his features as if he debated what he could tell me. Finally, he went on. “Shaw owns a necromancer.”

  The words were a shiv to my chest, turning over and over in my head. A necromancer. One who’d brought both Poe and the kid back to life. His was an extremely rare breed of power. I’d only known two necromancers my entire life, one being Karra, and the other, Reven, the man who taught her to be one, and both were dead. I felt sick and overwhelmed all at once hearing of another, hope battling my fears inside. I needed to know more.

  “Who? Where?”

  “I cannot tell you, Mister Trigg.” He’d found his manners once more but his answer hit me like a hammer. Murder boiled in my guts, but I held that instinct in check. I needed to know.

  Instead of exploding and demanding he tell me, I ripped a gate open behind Marcus and shoved him through it. He squawked as he tumbled between dimensions, but I cut the sound off by sealing him in Hell. Poe went red, and I felt the flicker of his mystical energies igniting, but the grim determination on my face stopped him cold.

  As much as I respected Poe, he stood between me and the life I’d lost. Nothing would stop me from reclaiming it.

  “Tell me about the necromancer or you’ll never see Marcus again.”

  Nothing.

  Sixteen

  Turned out, the necromancer was the dark lord wannabe, Styg. The same little shithead I’d faced off against at Katon’s house. He was right there in front of me and I hadn’t even known it, his necromantic powers apparently taking a back seat to his other sorceries. It was a bitter pill to swallow realizing the opportunity I’d missed, but I could still fix things.

  Even though I’d hated betraying Poe like I did, I’d made it worse by holding onto Marcus even after the mentalist told me what he knew about the necro and the DSI organization. I couldn’t afford him lying to me, and Marcus was my leverage against that. If there was a chance at atonement after everything was said and done, fantastic. If not, I was willing to live with what I’d done if it meant bringing Karra back to life.

  I’d left Marcus twiddling his thumbs in the God-proof room so none of the DRAC folks would know he was there or what I was doing. As much as I wanted their help, I didn’t think it was right to drag them along with my mad schemes. They were safe now, finally, after being put at risk because of Shaw’s love of tormenting me. Besides, they wouldn’t want me to do what I was planning. They would try to stop me, convince me to think about what I was doing, but I couldn’t do that right now. This was a chance I needed to take. If Poe was walking me into a trap, so be it. No one else but me would suffer for it.

  Waiting for my moment, I stood on the neighboring roof and stared across the street at a non-descript office building at the far edge of downtown. The place wasn’t one I’d known about but Poe had been all too willing to spill its location. Seemed the mental restraints plugged into him by Styg only applied to Shaw and the mysterious shit starter lurking behind the scenes, yanking everyone sideways. He had no issue with ratting out his fellow agents, though I wasn’t so stupid as to realize he wasn’t being altruistic by doing so. He, too, had an angle he was playing.

  Should the necromancer who controlled him suddenly disappear or die in a tragic, Frank-related accident, Poe’s leash would vanish. He’d be a free man again, able to defy Shaw and the DSI and go about his business. And I was fine with that.

  Nothing mattered but Karra.

  I watched the building as it settled in for the night, the sun sliding behind the mass of silver and gray that made up downtown El Paseo. Security would be lo
ose because it had been designated as living quarters for Shaw’s pet monkeys. With all their targets ensconced in Hell, and my other machinations yet to take flight, the DSI agents were essentially on call, waiting for their boss or Trinity to figure out how to get to us. Fortunately, according to Poe, Shaw had underestimated my willingness to be stupid.

  She hadn’t bothered to consolidate her forces, thinking them safe from retaliation if they were spread about the city. And Trinity, it seemed, wasn’t entirely under her control, though she’d managed to circumvent that to a small degree by having Styg raise the kid after Scarlett and I killed him. Just thinking about him made me sick, but at least I’d get the opportunity to kill the fucker again. How often do you get two dishes of revenge from the same person? The second time would be hell. That I promised.

  Finally, after the building closed, and everyone but the residents and the handful of security personnel on duty had left, I leapt across the intervening space between the rooftops and landed on the DSI building. Styg and whichever of his buddies were there with him—something even Poe hadn’t been certain of—were located on the 8th floor of the fifteen story building. My power reined in, they wouldn’t notice the tiny bit I’d used to traverse the rooftops, nor would any alarms be triggered. Poe had promised to deactivate them for the general quarters of the building. The security on the floor with the DSI folks couldn’t be so easily tampered with, or the niggling wards on the place, but that didn’t really matter. Once I showed up, it’d be too late for the cavalry to arrive in time.

  I went to the stairwell door and yanked it open. Though I couldn’t be sure a silent notice hadn’t been triggered somewhere, no obvious alarm went off, just like Poe had promised. I started down regardless, sensing the barest tingle of the interference wards being triggered. It was too late to turn back. At least Poe had been true to his word so far.

  Better still, he’d been an excellent source of intel, though I guess holding his boyfriend hostage helped to promote sharing. Still, I wasn’t too proud to take what I could get in my current situation. There was shit I needed to know beyond what Styg was capable of. Poe had filled in most of the blanks.

  Down and down I went, doing my best to keep from making too much noise on the metal steps. If anyone was in the stairwell with me, they’d hear me coming floors away. Luckily, I made it to the 8th without running into anyone. That was when shit got real.

  The door to the agents’ floor was reinforced so much that it stuck out from the wall by a couple inches. It must have weighed a ton. On top of that, it was secured with a camera and keypad off to the left side. I’d yet to slip into the camera range but there’d be no hitting the door without being seen. It would have been great if Rachelle could have helped but no one was gonna be teleporting or gating in or out of the building as long as the wards were up. I’d just have to keep doing things the hard way.

  I drew in a steadying breath and bolted across the walkway, my power swelling as I went. Bolts of red energy ripped from my hands, striking the security door at the top corners, on opposite sides. Sweeping my hands downward in the shape of an X—and yes, I crossed the streams—I cut the door from top to bottom, gouging smoldering trails in the cement floor. As alarms erupted all around me, I put my foot into the center of the door and punted the pieces of it inside. Four roughly triangle-shaped hunks clattered into the hallway beyond, taking out the two human guards who’d been on duty there. Thy crumpled without resistance beneath the slabs of heavy steel.

  I was in.

  Poe had drawn me a map to where I’d find Styg’s room and the basic layout of what was essentially a penthouse stuffed into the middle of an office building. The thing he couldn’t know was where everyone would be inside the suite, if they weren’t in their rooms. I’d have to figure that out on my own. Turned out to be easy enough.

  After I’d gone halfway down the long hall, which led to the living area, a familiar face appeared around the corner. Venai, Shaw’s Nephilim sidekick and all around bitch of prodigious proportion. She wiped sleep from her eyes as she assessed the situation, and I damn near fell over in terror.

  She was butt-ass naked.

  A mountain of muscle that loomed somewhere near six-foot-six, her sandy-blonde bob cut nearly scraping the roof, she stood there glaring, her fists clenching as she recognized me. I kept running at her, but my lizard brain felt the need to analyze every shameless detail, much to my regret.

  It was like some plastic surgeon with a bad case of the abstracts felt the need to slap a pair of double-d tits on Lou Ferrigno’s ugly twin sister. Mind you, there wasn’t any sag on the woman, and I could applaud her for that, but her nudity wasn’t anything I’d ever wanted to experience firsthand. As I closed, I could see the turtle shell tightness of her abs and the shaved valley beneath, her legs spread in a fighting stance.

  I wanted to cry.

  I went to hit her instead.

  My mother would have kicked my ass if she could see me now, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, it wasn’t like Venai hadn’t earned a good beating for what she did to Scarlett a while back, not to mention all the bullshit she’d been a part of since she joined up with Shaw and the DSI. She deserved to be punched in the face.

  So I did.

  “No fucking way,” she managed to spit out before my fist collided with her jaw. She hurtled backward into the living area, taking out a couch and a coffee table along the way. Her back crushed the latter when she landed, and her legs shot straight up in the air.

  And I got to see everything, and I do mean everything.

  Venai’s puckered starfish would forever remain seared into my memory.

  I blinked, silently begging for a bottle of bleach to scour the image from my scorched retinas, and bolted left down the adjoining hallway toward Styg’s room, my senses not quite recovered from seeing Venai’s lady bits and back doorway. Still, I figured it was best to secure Styg first, then worry about scrubbing that image of her away later. I just hoped the necromancer had the good sense to slip on some tighty whities before crawling into bed. I didn’t think I could handle seeing the emo dye job he no doubt had performed on the boys below.

  Venai raged behind me, scrambling to her feet, as I continued down the corridor, coming across the door to Styg’s room. He whipped it aside just then—only the door, thankfully—and went pale(r) at seeing me standing there. At least he had the dignity of wearing pants.

  They were spandex, mind you, and all too damn revealing at that, but at least they were black.

  “Way to stay in character, buddy.”

  He didn’t get a chance to say anything before I punched him, too. Unlike Venai, however, his jaw wasn’t made out of scrap metal from the Titanic. He went out like Michael Bisping getting hit with the H-Bomb. His neck went rigid, tendons standing out against his skin as consciousness took a vacation. Styg’s legs went stiff as boards, and he fell back as if he were part of a trust exercise. He clearly didn’t have much faith. Good thing because no one was there to catch him. He hit the ground with a thump and stared at the ceiling with blank eyes.

  Venai crashed into me while I admired my work.

  She tackled me to the floor and slipped immediately into mount, straddling me while raining down punches. First, I’d see a fist, knuckles slamming into my face, and then she’d pull back and treat me to the glorious sight of her giant boobs bouncing right in front of me, and then she’d hit me again. The whole time she was pummeling me she was grinding her crotch into mine. It was all so terribly confusing.

  I think if I hadn’t been so blinded by my loss I would have suspected Venai was hitting on me, not just hitting me. Thoughts of why I’d come there in the first place reasserted themselves, and I bucked Venai off, using the wall to help me get to my feet. She jumped up ready to clobber me some more, but it was time to end it.

  She came at me swinging. I sidestepped her punch, grabbing her wrist as it flew past, and twisted. Momentum did the rest. She stumbled forward, fall
ing to her face on the carpet as I bent her arm behind her. The pop of her shoulder as I yanked it out of socket reverberated through my hands. Venai screamed but a half-dozen follow up shots to the side of her grounded face shut her up.

  Whatever else I thought of her, she could take a punch.

  I stepped over and collected my prize, tossing Styg over my shoulder like a sack of emo potatoes, and ran out of the room, avoiding the Nephilim once more in case she was playing possum. Then I had an idea. I went back and knelt beside Venai and grabbed her uninjured arm. She didn’t make a sound as I triggered my magic. A few seconds later I was done.

  Mission accomplished, I bolted for the door. No one else had popped up to take a shot at me so I had to assume Styg and Venai were the only two agents in residence or the others slept like grizzly bears in the winter. There was still a chance I’d run into security on the way out, but I’d rationalized that possibility coming into the building. The soldiers working for the DSI were assets of my enemy. I didn’t want to kill any more humans than necessary—or any at all, for that matter—but the line had been drawn in the sand. I couldn’t afford to let anyone pass it without response.

  Fortunately, no one stood between me and freedom. I reached the door and slipped into the stairwell, bolting toward the roof to the sound of stomping feet running up from below. I grinned and ran harder, ignoring how Styg’s unconscious head jumped around like a kid in a bouncy balloon. The city’s skyline appeared a moment later when I burst through the top door and stumbled out onto the roof, feeling the interference wards give way.

  I opened a gate a heartbeat later and dove through it, taking my necromancer hostage with me. And for the first time since before Trinity had come to my home and murdered Karra, I felt a real, honest sliver of hope worming its way past my sorrow.

  It was about goddamned time.

  Seventeen

  Styg woke with a start, finding me grinning at him in our own private nook of the God-proof room. Forty dread fiends hugged the walls to keep us company. He’d been out for most of the night, dawn on Earth only a few hours away. Hadn’t meant to hit him that hard but everything was a waiting game at this point, so, though it was frustrating, it wasn’t a big deal. We weren’t going anywhere until the stars aligned anyway, figuratively speaking.