Bart of Darkness (The Book of Bart 2)

by Ryan Hill

  “We need to go,” she said, starting the car.

  I took her phone, holding it close to my ear, and saw a few hulking men with mullet wigs and coats storming out of Powell’s house. Their hands were empty, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any weapons hiding under their coats. I pegged them as Powell’s muscle for the get-together. The group looked up and down the street for something out of the ordinary. Moments later they keyed in on us and started running toward the SUV.

  “You should’ve let me go in,” Veronica said.

  I waved off my lover, then glanced at Sam. “Get us the Heaven out of here.”

  The men were within a stone’s throw of the SUV, now, and I hoped none of them had the idea to throw a stone. It’d have shattered my already broken heart to see another Mercedes get hurt or killed.

  We shot into reverse, away from the goons, and the almost-angel steered onto a side street, then put the SUV in drive, making our getaway. I hit the palm of my hand with my fist. We’d come so close, and now had to watch our work go up in flames. Sam didn’t speak. Her crestfallen body made it obvious that a horse couldn’t have kicked her any harder than she was kicking herself. I was angry, but Sam wasn’t to blame. It was smart of her to use the Hand of God on Miss Adams and make her our mole. The almost-angel couldn’t have known it would backfire. Even I thought the idea was foolproof. Then again, I was the same demon who told Napoleon invading Russia was a wise decision. How was I supposed to know about their winters? I only cared about looting vodka.

  One thing about our retreat from Powell’s thugs did catch my attention, though. Something that let me know our efforts weren’t in vain.

  Miss Adams had never bothered to end the phone call.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Calling in a Favor

  Sam, Veronica, and I hung on every word spoken, like we were listening to an old radio show before television came along to ruin people’s brains. I held the phone in the middle of the SUV to make it easier for everyone to pay attention, though Sam leaned closer from habit.

  “My friends, rocky waters are ahead,” Powell said. “Losing our good friend at the soup kitchen was only the first step. The non-believers are out there, and they mean to stop the Magister Caelo from creating his eternal Paradise.”

  Several people cried out, “No!”

  What was this Paradise Powell spoke of? The only Paradise that came to mind—besides Upstairs—was John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Except that was a boring epic poem. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of people with giant holes on top of their heads having a Paradise exclusively for them. What about Mop Tops screamed Paradise? It was weird.

  “We can’t let that happen, and neither will the Magister,” Powell said. “Everything that can be done to stop these rabble-rousers is being done. And once the Magister has finished with those malcontents…”

  My phone rang and I cursed my popularity. Why did someone always have to call me? I checked it see who it was. Remy. I ignored the call. That creole could wait.

  “–then our Paradise will be born,” Powell said.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  Sam and Veronica both shushed me. I shook my head at them.

  “That’s awfully ru–”

  They shushed me again, the ingrates. Since neither Sam nor Veronica had gotten me up to speed, I’d lost track of what Powell was saying. I was sure Sam took mental notes, or she better have. I didn’t want to get hit with a pop quiz I was doomed to fail.

  “So sayeth the Magister,” said Powell. The crowd in the background responded in kind.

  Everything went silent on the speakerphone. I ended the call and set Sam’s phone on the dashboard, then opened my mouth to give Sam and Veronica a stern lecture about the perils of shushing a being as exquisite as myself, but Remy called. Again.

  I sucked in my cheeks. He was playing on my patience, but I gave in and answered. “What?”

  “Bartholomew,” Remy said. “It’s time.”

  “For what?”

  “You to repay your favor.”

  Had he forgotten that Sam and I were in the middle of trying to take down this Halo Turd cult? This was terrible timing on the Creole’s part.

  “The Heaven it is,” I said. “We’re busy. You know that.”

  “Busy with my favor,” Remy said. “Be at the store tonight, or I’ll make sure you spend the rest of existence in a Louisiana swamp with mosquitoes nibbling at your toes.”

  Even against a rogue with my strength, Remy was more than capable of pulling something like that off. He wouldn’t use brute force, either. He’d get sneaky, mixing up a potion that would both paralyze me and heighten my senses, making the experience infinitely worse. It wasn’t a road I cared to travel.

  “Fine,” I said with a whine. “But know that Sam and I do this in protest.”

  Sam explained to me on the ride back to her place what I’d missed during the phone call, mainly that there was a big to-do happening this Friday involving the soul eaters.

  “Like a party?” I asked.

  “No. Not like a party,” Sam said. “More like a ceremony.”

  “A ceremony?”

  “The ceremony.”

  “To create their Paradise?”

  Sam sighed. “You’d have known this if you weren’t being rude and trying to talk over Powell when we were listening in.”

  “Wait. Me? Acting rude?”

  “I don’t think I stuttered.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a grin. “That’s equal parts complementary and derogatory. Right in the sweet spot.”

  She ignored me. “We’ve got three days to put a stop to the ceremony and keep them from making their Paradise, because unlike you, I think a new plane of existence here on Earth is nothing but trouble.”

  “Maybe we can take care of this Remy mess in that time.”

  “What’s this Remy mess?” Veronica asked.

  “We owe him a favor from this thing he helped us with,” I said. “Most people consider a favor repaid with a nice bottle of liquor, but not that Creole.”

  The SUV pulled into the parking lot of Sam’s place and the three of us got out. I twirled the rental’s clunky plastic key ring around my finger and laid a hand on Veronica’s back.

  “I’ll take you home.”

  Veronica didn’t need to get involved with Remy and all that mess. We got into my awful rental car and were greeted with a terrible odor, like a combination of feet and soggy milk.

  The car’s nasty smell was the only thing that stunk worse than Remy and his blessed favor. This business with him continued to gnaw at me. He knew what Sam and I were up to. Why demand to be repaid now? It didn’t make any sense. Yes, it was well past time to repay the favor, but still.

  I went home to take care of Ozzie after dropping Veronica off. The pooch barked and jumped on my leg, eager for some attention, and I was happy to oblige, even extending my claws a little to scratch behind his ears.

  “Who’s a good Hell Hound?” I asked.

  Ozzie wuffed.

  “That’s right. You’re a good Hell Hound.”

  I took him outside for a short walk around the complex and stopped to light a cigarette in front of Kings Raleigh, the bowling alley downstairs from my place. I peeked inside at a TV above the alley’s bar. There was a news report about a candle light vigil for the missing children in Raleigh. The number was up to twelve.

  I looked down at Ozzie. “Twelve kids. Can you believe that?”

  He whimpered. Even he knew that many missing children was not good.

  Someone motioned to the bartender then, and he changed the TV’s channel to a college basketball game.

  Mortals. They cared more about watching a team that sold their souls years earlier than the fact that twelve kids had disappeared in Raleigh.

  I took a puff on my cigarette and walked Ozzie around the corner.

  “Your buddy Duffy is probably at the vigil,” I told the pooch. “Hovering around his pare
nts. Maybe he’ll make some ghost friends and leave us alone.”

  Ozzie growled.

  Sam was a little late picking me up, so we didn’t make it to the House of the Rising Sun until around 9 pm. Remy’s black Jeep was parked outside, that ridiculous New Orleans Saints sticker on the back looking out of place in North Carolina.

  The store closed at 9 pm, but it wasn’t locked. Remy was inside, hunched over the glass counter, filling out some paperwork. The bell above the door dinged as Sam and I walked in.

  “I had no idea you could read and write,” I said.

  “I can even do a little addition and subtraction.” Remy looked up at us. Well, Sam. “Hey, Sam.”

  Give me a flippin’ break.

  Sam smiled and waved. “I hear you want us to repay your favor?”

  Remy set his papers in a neat pile on the counter. “I do. A friend of mine is in some trouble and coming into town. I told him you two could help him out.”

  I didn’t notice I’d laughed until midway through, when Remy’s measured gaze moved toward me. He wasn’t in a laughing mood. Neither was Sam, but that wasn’t a surprise.

  “This is a bad time, Remy, you know that,” she said.

  “It’s never a good time to go out of your way for someone else.” Remy crossed his arms, trying to look very serious. “But when they need your help, you do it.”

  “We need one last extension,” I said.

  Sam clasped her hands together in a prayer-like motion. “Please.”

  Remy shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

  The bell dinged. More customers, and I didn’t bother to see who they were. Black Friday was several months away, but maybe Remy had extended store hours for the heck of it? There was plenty of money to make in the voodoo and mystical artifacts business, but it wasn’t the type of industry to have mass appeal.

  “Remy, we’re asking for a few days,” I said. “After that, we’re all yours.”

  Remy’s olive complexion somehow reddened. He was getting angry. “That’s not how this works and you know it. Either you do this for me now or we’re through forever, and all time.”

  “Is there any way we can persuade you to give us an extension?” Sam asked like a sweet Southern Belle. “This favor puts us in an awful tight spot.”

  “No extensions,” Remy said.

  Now it was my turn to get pissed me off. Ask a guy for a handful of favors and suddenly he expects one in return at the worst possible moment? Ludicrous. I threw my hands up.

  “Fine. If the world ends in the next few days, don’t blame us.”

  Remy huffed. “Like I’ve never heard that before.”

  “Not from me, you haven’t.” I said.

  I glared at the customers waiting behind me. A guy trying to look mean and tough in a leather jacket, and a rather attractive woman who’d been put through the grinder more often than not. She wasn’t a virgin, so the guy was welcome to her. Both customers had that same sad, desperate look as Sam and me. But whatever brought them to Remy at this hour wasn’t my problem. Good freakin’ luck to them. Remy had some Cajun crawdads up his ass or something. Favor or not, I couldn’t let this stand. I wouldn’t let this stand.

  “One more thing,” I said, flashing Remy my million-dollar smile.

  “What?”

  I reached into my jacket. The Creole knew exactly what I was reaching for. Even Sam knew. She shook her head at me, eyes wide with concern.

  “Don’t you do it, Bartholomew,” Remy said. “You know the rules.”

  “I do, but right now? I don’t care.”

  “Leave it alone,” Sam said.

  I ignored her plea and took out my pack of cigarettes. I popped one in my mouth, making sure I didn’t lose eye contact with Remy.

  “That’s enough,” he said. “You’ll damage the potions.”

  I flicked my thumb against the lighter, sparking a flame, lit the cigarette, and took a nice, long draw. The smoke filled my lungs with sweet refreshment. I smiled again, exhaling the smoke through my nose. It was a nice little F-U to the Creole.

  “Out,” Remy said.

  Sam grabbed my hand and pulled me outside. I tried to blow more smoke into the store before the almost-angel had me outside. No luck. The smoke bounced off the door and disappeared into the night sky.

  “Why do you always have to cause a scene?” she asked. “Do you know how hard you make things?”

  “Of course I do,” I said. “But don’t you think it’s odd that now, right now, with so much going on, Remy is so hard up to make us help some mysterious friend of his?”

  “I don’t know. Remy always did kind of go his own way.” Sam’s head bobbled around like she was trying to think of an excuse.

  “Don’t defend him. We both know something is way off here.”

  “Like what?” she asked. “Do you think he’s helping the Caelo in Terra or something?”

  “No, but something is up.” I finished the cigarette, then flicked the butt toward Remy’s Jeep in the hopes that it would somehow cause the car to go up in flames. It was a long shot, I know, but still. I had to try.

  Sam and I got into her SUV. I leaned my noggin against the headrest, closed my eyes, and sighed. At this point, all I wanted to do was go home, drink wine, and work with Ozzie some more on his Hell Hound training. Specifically, I wanted to use a chew rope as a stand-in for a human throat. I wished I’d had a real human throat for Ozzie to practice ripping out, but short of committing murder, those were difficult to come by. I was imagining ways to get an actual human throat, most likely from a cadaver, when my phone rang.

  “Well, well.” I showed Sam the phone’s display.

  “Be nice.”

  “The Heaven do you want?” I asked Remy when I answered the phone.

  Sam shot me a glare. “Nice.”

  Bless it all. Sam was right. Remy might’ve called to apologize for being the genetic combination of a horse’s and mule’s ass. “Sorry. What’s up?”

  “Something’s happened here,” he said. “Come back and I’ll explain.”

  I wasn’t high on making a return trip to Remy’s store, but I was high on finding out about this “something” that had happened.

  “I have a way you can get an extension,” Remy said.

  Sold!

  “On our way,” I said. “Give us five minutes.” I ended the call.

  “So back to Remy’s?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. It seems someone’s finally come to his senses.”

  “Is he letting us off the hook?” she asked.

  “Kind of, sort of, but not really,” I said. “He said he has a way for us to get an extension.”

  She turned the car around, and we once again headed toward the House of the Rising Sun. This night tried my patience like few others. Why didn’t Remy give us the option for an extension when Sam and I were there? Something couldn’t have randomly popped up to change his mind between now and when we left. This was annoying the Heaven out of me.

  A moment later we turned into the House of the Rising Sun’s parking lot, where Remy was standing outside with the two customers from earlier. Some kids were with them. Three guys and a gal, all of whom looked close to Sam’s age. The guys were easy to figure out. There was the nerd, the jock, and the third one… Well, he was hard to peg. The way he moved suggested karate geek. The girl was smaller in stature and looked wholesome, but there was a maturity in her eyes. She’d been through a lot.

  Pass.

  “What on Earth, Remy?” I asked, not even halfway out of the SUV. “Why didn’t you tell us about the extension when we were here earlier? You could’ve saved us ten whole minutes. Do you know what I can do in ten minutes?”

  Sam tapped me on the shoulder and pointed. Indeed, something had happened since we’d left to change his mind. A Camaro had crashed through the front of the store. Based on the sad look on the woman’s face, it was her Camaro. I hated seeing such a nice car go to waste, but that didn’t take away from the hi
larity of the situation.

  “Brilliant.” I thumbed at the car. “Renovations, or a disappointed customer?”

  “This ass clown named Mr. Lovell did it,” the nerdy kid said. “He did some tornado thing and threw the Camaro into the store.”

  “That so?” My eyes perked up. “I may need to meet this fellow.”

  “You really don’t,” the tough guy in the leather jacket said. “He’s the reason we came here for help in the first place.”

  “Shame.” I jutted out my bottom lip. “I wouldn’t mind hearing more about it.”

  Remy leaned back on his heels, sliding his hands in his back pockets. “Do you want the extension, or not?”

  “We do,” Sam said.

  “These people need a ride back to Mooresville,” he said. “Right now.”

  Seriously? My car was still drying after taking a dip in the pool, Remy had a Camaro stuck in his store, and now he wanted us to take Sam’s SUV for a little trip?

  “Sam’s SUV is pretty new,” I said. “I know, because I bought it for her. I’m pretty sure it’s still in the no-road-trip stage of newness.”

  Remy held out his hands. “This is the only way you can get an extension.”

  Taking these people to Mooresville, some po-dunk town on the coast, and coming back would take several hours. I wondered… “Wait. This is the favor, right? This road trip?”

  “Nope.” Remy shook his head. “Only the extension.”

  Crap.

  “This is a dirty, dirty trick,” I said. “And if you weren’t the one doing it, I would commend you for it.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Detour

  Going to Mooresville made me wistful for the days when I was serving my punishment in the Seventh Circle of Hell. Even Franklin, the guy trying to look cool in the leather jacket, looked annoyed. The kids would not shut up. At all. It was like a thousand different bits of white noise coming at me from all directions, each worse than the last. It gave me a headache.

  The freeloaders said they were on some quest to save the world, but I figured that was B.S. It was more likely that the kids had paid the couple for a ride to Remy’s store to buy some voodoo-level steroids; a potion to help end their virginity, or something like that.