Deal with the Devil

by Kevin Lee Swaim

  “You’re safe,” Callie repeated. She held her hand out and beckoned the girl to the door. “We won’t hurt you, I promise. We’re going to get you cleaned up and take you home.”

  * * *

  Callie helped dress the girl while I made a cursory inspection of the property. The wind whipped against my shirt and the rain had slowed to a tolerable downpour, but the ground was soaking wet, and I kept slipping in the grass. My tiny flashlight didn’t help much, but I finally found the human-sized mounds of grass behind the hog shed.

  There were dozens of them lined up in a neat row where the grass grew thick and lush. I knew that if I dug down, I would find the bodies of the other abducted girls.

  “Those poor girls…”

  Thunder ripped across the sky and the rain picked up again. There was nothing I could do about the bodies. I hurried back to the house and entered in time to see Callie helping Aniyah up the stairs and into the kitchen.

  The girl was dressed in peach sweatpants and a flower-print shirt. I raised an eyebrow, and Callie said, “We couldn’t find her clothes, but I found these in a dresser in the bedroom. I think they belonged to Georgia Pitcock.”

  The girl glared at me. “Whatcha doin’ to me?”

  “We’re taking you home,” I said. “Do you remember how you got here, or the man that abducted you?”

  “You abducted me.” The words sounded like they were ripped from her throat.

  Thunder rocked the house, and the girl blinked, shrinking in upon herself.

  I shook my head. “Aniyah? Can I call you Aniyah? We didn’t abduct you. The man who lived here took you from the streets of Minneapolis. Do you remember that?”

  “Nah,” the girl said. “You must have hit me or something. My head feels funny…”

  “Aniyah?” I said slowly. “The man who took you was a vampire. He fed from you.”

  The girl stared at me like I’d gone crazy. “A what? Ain’t no such thing. You trying to rape me. That’s what it is, you motherf—”

  “Aniyah,” I snapped. Her eyes darted away from mine, and I regretted the harshness in my voice. “He fed from you. He kept you in a cage.”

  Callie shook her head. “Sam.”

  “She’ll remember sooner or later,” I said, “but sooner would be better. She’s been nearly starved to death, and Pitcock stole the life from her. We don’t have time—”

  “Sam!”

  I sighed. “Aniyah? Think back. You’ve never seen us before today, but you have seen Pitcock. He fed from you. He drank your blood. I really need you to remember.”

  The girl shrugged Callie’s hand from her shoulder and glared at me. I stared back and watched her eyes grow wide as the horror spilled into them.

  She remembers now. She remembers the abduction and the feedings. She’ll never be the same, but at least she’ll live.

  “We killed the vampire,” I said. “You’re safe.”

  “Vampire?” Aniyah whispered. “They ain’t real…”

  “Then what was drinking your blood?” Callie asked softly.

  “I don’t know. I … I ain’t got no words for it.”

  “You know it’s true,” I said. “That … thing … was a vampire.”

  “It ain’t supposed to … they ain’t supposed to be real,” Aniyah said without conviction. She licked her lips. “You—you killed it? It’s gone?”

  “We did,” Callie said.

  The girl glanced around the mundane living room, so normal that it was hard to believe there was a cage in the basement or a host of dead girls buried behind the hog shed, and then her eyes found mine and she snarled, “Good!”

  * * *

  I pulled the Chevy Cheyenne into the McDonald’s parking lot next to the Holiday gas station in Mankato, turned off the engine, and asked Aniyah, “You hungry?”

  The girl had been quiet on the drive, staring out at the pouring rain with haunted eyes. “I guess,” she mumbled.

  “You’re hungry,” I said. “You need food. Red meat. Iron. It’ll help.”

  She turned to me and finally asked, “Who are you people?”

  “I’m Sam. That’s Sister Callie.”

  The girl blinked. “She’s your sister?”

  “I’m a religious woman,” Callie said.

  “A what?”

  Callie squinted at me but said, “I’m like a nun, but I took simple vows. I can live in the world and not a monastery.”

  Aniyah frowned at that and then turned her attention to me. “You some kinda priest or something?”

  “Shit, no,” I said.

  “Language,” Callie said. “How many times—”

  “Shoot, no,” I said quickly. “Sorry, Sister, I’ll get the hang of it any minute.” To Aniyah, I said, “She handles the God work. I … handle the rest.”

  Enough rain had fallen that a small river, at least three inches deep, ran between the Chevy and the door to the restaurant. Callie rummaged behind the seat until she found an umbrella and then opened her door.

  Aniyah inspected me as she got out, and her eyes widened as she saw me checking the Kimber in my Galco shoulder holster. I nodded to her, then pulled on a light blue windbreaker and followed them into the restaurant.

  Callie ordered for us as I led Aniyah to a booth near the front. She took the seat across from me and ran her tongue across her lips before asking, “Sam, right? What are you? Some kinda…”

  I smiled at her, but I knew that the smile didn’t make it to my eyes. “I handle the kind of thing that abducted you.”

  “The … vampire?”

  I nodded.

  She nodded at Callie, who was waiting patiently for our order. “And she is some kinda Sister?”

  “You’ve just about got it.”

  The girl chewed on her lip. Her eyes were shiny, and she was staring at me with a puzzled look. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why you helping me? Why you killing those things? Why…?” She raised a trembling hand and wiped at her eyes. “Why you doing this?”

  “Beats working for a living.”

  Aniyah blinked back tears. “You full of shit, Sam.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Something’s wrong with you. I can tell.”

  I started to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. Finally, I said, “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you when we’re done eating.”

  The girl waited for me to say more.

  I didn’t.

  We sat for a few minutes until Callie finally brought the food. She gave Aniyah a pair of Big Macs and two orders of large fries, along with a milkshake and a Coke. She took her own chicken salad and iced tea, then pushed the tray to me. I glanced down. There were at least six Quarter Pounders and two large coffees. My stomach grumbled, and it was all I could do to keep from ripping the wax paper off and shoving them in my face.

  I began to eat. The beef helped knock the edge off my hunger, but I would have preferred the meat … bloodier.

  Aniyah watched in fascination as I laid waste to the meal. I finished off my food while she was just starting on her second sandwich. “How can you eat all that?” she asked.

  “I have a strong appetite.”

  Aniyah frowned, then put her hamburger on the tray. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong with you?”

  Callie raised an eyebrow and said quietly, “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

  “After what she’s been through? Maybe it will help.” I paused. “Maybe not.”

  The girl didn’t speak.

  “I was … just a normal guy,” I said quietly. “I had a wife and a daughter. I ran a diner, if you can believe it. We lived in a small town in Ohio. Just … lived our lives. We were good people. Nothing but normal.”

  The girl squinted at me. “Vampires.”

  “They killed my wife and took my daughter. I had to get her back. I was taken in by a family member.” I thought about skipp
ing the details, but said, “My … well, let’s call him my distant grandfather.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter. The man’s name was Jack. He taught me to kill vampires. My wife had been turned. They call it ‘giving the gift.’ I tracked them down and killed them. I … had to kill Jack, too.”

  The girl’s mouth dropped. “You killed your own grandfather?”

  “He became one of them.”

  Callie watched me sadly, but my eyes caught hers and she went back to picking at her chicken salad.

  “What about your wife?” Aniyah asked.

  “I had to kill her, too.”

  Aniyah inhaled sharply. “And your daughter?”

  Callie glanced up from her salad. “Sam…”

  I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the girl.

  Aniyah shrank back in her seat. “She’s dead, too? You killed your daughter?”

  I stared at the girl’s dark brown eyes, and the weight of the world settled on my shoulders. I nodded.

  “Damn,” Aniyah said, her voice hoarse. “You’re a cold motherfucker.”

  I sighed. “Yes. I am.”

  Aniyah’s mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. Finally, she closed it. Callie shook her head and finished her salad while Aniyah watched me. I had no idea what the girl expected me to say, and a part of me didn’t care.

  I had done what I had done, and now it was a part of me.

  “How’m I supposed to go back to normal?” Aniyah asked. “The things I did on the street? And … that thing that took me? Ain’t no way I can tell no one. Ain’t no one gonna believe me. They’d call me crazy.”

  “I can’t speak for the things you did before you were taken,” I said. “Whatever problems you had, or you think you had, they shouldn’t matter. You saw behind the veil with Pitcock. You know those things are out there. God exists, Aniyah. Evil exists. It’s not some abstract concept or something you see in movies or television. There’s good in this world, and there’s evil. Try to be on the side of good.”

  Callie smiled at the young girl encouragingly, but Aniyah’s face remained bleak. “My momma…”

  “She’ll be glad to have you back,” I said. “No matter what happened before, she’ll be happy. Trust me.”

  “Live your life,” Callie said. “You’ve been given a second chance. I’m not going to preach to you, but God loves you. No matter what, He loves you.”

  Aniyah considered that. “If God is real, why does He let these monsters exist?”

  I raised an eyebrow and turned to Callie. “That’s a damned good question.”

  Chapter Two

  I knocked on the apartment door. The hallway was dimly lit, but the white walls were clean, even if the paint was old and chipped. Callie stood next to Aniyah, and Aniyah held Callie’s hand in a fierce grip. There was noise from inside, and a gruff woman’s voice barked out, “What you want?”

  “Maya Washington?” I asked, pulling Aniyah closer so that she was visible through the peephole. “We brought your daughter home.”

  There was an intake of breath. “Oh, Lord.” A chain rattled, and there was the sound of several locks snapping open, and then a heavyset woman with ebony skin and close-cropped white hair, no more than fifty but already looking years older, threw open the door and gaped at Aniyah. “You … you…”

  Tears ran down Aniyah’s face. “I’m—I’m sorry, Momma.”

  “Sorry?” the woman said. “Sorry? I thought you was … for six months I been thinking you was…” She grabbed her daughter and hugged her so hard that Aniyah woofed out a breath. “I thought you was dead. Thank you, Lord, for bringing my daughter back to me.”

  We sat in Maya Washington’s apartment for the next fifteen minutes while she poked and prodded at her daughter, virtually ignoring us until she picked up her cell phone to take a picture of her daughter to send to Aniyah’s sister who had moved to Seattle.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I said.

  Aniyah’s mother finally took notice of us. “Why not?”

  “It’s probably best if you give it a few days,” Callie said.

  “Who are you people?” Maya asked as if the thought had just occurred to her, placing her hand on Aniyah’s shoulder.

  “They saved me,” Aniyah said quickly.

  “Saved you? From what?”

  “From life on the street,” Callie said. “She was afraid to come home, but we convinced her that you wouldn’t judge. You would just be glad to have her back.”

  “Of course, I’m glad to have my girl back. I didn’t want her to leave—”

  Aniyah pushed her mother’s hand away. “You—you told me to get out.”

  Maya leaned back against her couch, and tears streamed down her face. “I didn’t … I didn’t want you to leave, but you were hanging out with those gangsta wannabes and smoking pot—”

  “That’s all behind her now,” Callie interrupted. “Isn’t it?”

  Aniyah hugged her mom. “I’m changed, Momma. I swear, I ain’t ever gonna do nothing but what I’m supposed to. I’m so sorry.”

  Maya snuffled out, “Oh, girl, so am I. So am I!”

  They held each other and cried together, and I felt uncomfortable watching their grief and their joy. It was so raw and intimate that I finally nodded to Callie. We stood and made our way to the door.

  Before we could leave, Maya said, “Your room is just like you left it. Go get cleaned up. I want to talk to these people.”

  Aniyah started to protest but wilted under her mother’s gaze. I smiled reassuringly, and she nodded and trudged to the back of the apartment. Maya waited until a door opened and closed, then turned to me and her smile faltered. “Who are you people?”

  I pointed at Callie. “This is Sister Calahane, and I’m Sam.”

  “Why were you helping my daughter?”

  “It’s our job.”

  Maya inspected us. “You ain’t no cops. You ain’t no social workers, neither.”

  “No, we’re not. Look, we brought your daughter home. Love her. Don’t let go, you understand? Don’t ever let her go again.”

  Maybe it was my tone of voice, but she asked in a faltering tone, “What was my girl into? What did she…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Not anymore.”

  “Maybe I should call the police—”

  “You don’t want to do that,” I said softly. “They might dig into certain aspects of what Aniyah did while she lived on the streets. She’s home now. Take it from a parent. This is literally a gift from God. Some people would kill for a second chance.”

  Maya shrank back from me, and Callie put her hand on my shoulder, then handed Maya a plain white card with a cell phone number on it. “This is our number. Take it.”

  “Why?”

  “Just in case,” Callie said.

  “In case of what?”

  “Just … take it,” I said.

  Maya reached out and gingerly accepted the card. I turned and opened the door, letting myself out. Callie followed behind me as I made my way out of the apartment building, through the rain that had slackened to a gentle shower, and to our truck.

  After we climbed inside, Callie asked, “Sam? Are you okay?”

  I started the truck and pulled out, heading for I-35. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “I’m tired, and I know you are, too.”

  “After Monticello…”

  I didn’t have an answer for her. Callie and I had spent weeks recuperating from the debacle in Monticello, Illinois, until a phone call from a priest in Omaha had alerted us to a fresh vampire kill. We had staked the young vampire responsible for the disappearance of a married couple, then we had traced its maker to Kansas City. Both kills had been easy. Then came the trip to Dallas, where we’d barely survived a vampire attack.

  I picked up the I-35 exchange and soon the Chevy wa
s eating up the miles. The headlights sent pools of light shining on the wet pavement before us, and there were flashes across the horizon as lightning was still having its way in the distance.

  My stomach growled, but I ignored it.

  Callie heard my stomach growling. “Are you hungry?”

  “We just ate a few hours ago. I shouldn’t be hungry yet.”

  “That’s not true,” Callie murmured. “Wishing it away won’t make it go away.”

  “I can hope.”

  We followed I-35, taking the exit south of Clear Lake, Iowa, heading toward Waterloo, then took US-63 south to Tama. The sun was starting to rise, a ball of bloody red that peeked out from beneath the storm clouds, when my cell phone vibrated.

  I answered the call. “Checking in, Henry?”

  The voice on the other end was a rich baritone with a southern twang. Ironic, since it belonged to Henry Hasting, a thousand-year-old vampire and the sheriff of Hot Springs County, Montana. “How was your trip to Minnesota?”

  “Keeping track of me?”

  “You wanted this life, Sam. Don’t be surprised when someone keeps an eye on you.”

  “Who?”

  Henry guffawed. “The Ancients have the world just the way they want it. You think they’re going to risk that?”

  Henry wasn’t just the sheriff of Hot Springs County, he was also the Vampire Sheriff. The Ancients, twelve of the oldest vampires on earth, had tasked him with maintaining the status quo, and that meant killing anybody—human or vampire—that threatened to expose the supernatural to an unsuspecting world.

  Callie watched me speak. She frowned and started to interrupt, but I raised my hand to shush her and demanded, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I need to talk to you,” Henry said. “Meet me at King Tower Cafe around eight.”

  “You’re in Tama?”

  “See you then, Sam. Bring the Sister with you.”

  The phone went dead, and I stared at it, wondering about the implications of an ancient vampire inviting me to breakfast at a diner just a few miles from my home.

  “Was that Henry?” Callie asked.

  “Yeah.”

  She sucked in her breath. “What does he want?”

  “I guess we’ll find out over breakfast.”