80 Proof Hex_Deckland Cain 2

by D Michael Bartsch

  I put the vest aside, nothing I could do about that now. It had proved that it was well worth the price.

  I spent a good two hours breaking down and cleaning guns. I watched some trash tv about supposed housewives and people serving food on yachts as I worked. Once I was satisfied everything was clean, I showered, suited up, and walked down to the parking lot. Carl wanted to talk, and I might as well get it over with.

  It was damn near noon, and the parking lot was empty. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I’d never gotten around to picking up the Stang.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  I shrugged down into my jacket and started walking. I wanted more coffee, but I wanted a parking ticket even less. I headed to get my car. I’d been walking for ten minutes when something caught my attention. There was a wooden sign hanging on an old brick building. It read Sanctuary in simple black letters that looked like they’d be branded into the wood. It was the bar that I’d seen while searching through Veronica Owens’s photos. I dug through my pockets and found the picture of Veronica that Charlie had given me. It was a little rumpled and had a suspicious looking black stain on one corner that I knew had to be dried Hellion blood.

  “You don’t have time for this, Deckland.”

  I’d taken the kid’s money though, and besides, the bar was on the way.

  “To Hell with it.”

  The bar had a gated patio out front, facing the street. There was a tall garage door that opened up to let people in. The windows were all painted glass, and someone had drawn on them in what appeared to be chalk. Thousands of names, signatures, and offers of a good time were scrawled on the blackened glass. It butted up against what looked like a vacant apartment building. The recession had hit the area hard, and there were still places with boarded up windows that had yet to be revived by the slow process of hipster gentrification. My guess is that it wouldn’t stay unused for long with the way people seemed to be flocking to the place.

  I had to walk around the side of the brick building to find the front door. It swung easily, opening outward on silent hinges. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as I stepped inside. When they did, my stomach growled. The bar was on the opposite wall. Behind it, there were shelves and shelves of bottles filled with amber liquid. Whisky, scotch, bourbon, ambrosia.

  I gulped, swallowing the spit that was rapidly filling my mouth. My hands trembled slightly. I rubbed them on my pants taking a moment to gather myself.

  The guy behind the bar looked up. “Oh, we aren’t open yet. Was the door unlocked?”

  I nodded, starting forward. “Yea and I’m actually not here for a drink. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  I crossed the open room to the bar. The guy was dressed in what I’d call hipster casual, black button up with the sleeves rolled up, black slacks, suspenders and a black bow tie. He had slicked hair, short on the sides and long on top, combed over to the right. He had traditional Japanese style tattoos on his left forearm that disappeared underneath his sleeve, and I assumed stretched up the rest of his arm.

  “You a cop?” He asked.

  I almost laughed. It was either darker in the bar than I thought or I didn’t look quite as awful as I felt.

  “Private investigator. I was hired by a family to look for someone.” I left out the part that the family member who’d hired me had been all of twelve, and that I was reasonably sure the girl wasn’t missing.

  I pulled out Veronica’s photo, trying to hide the black blood stain. “You recognize her?”

  He grabbed the picture.

  “Yup. Vodka soda. Shitty tipper.”

  I love a barkeep who takes his craft seriously.

  “Seen her recently?”

  He nodded. “Couple days ago. She’s usually here a few nights a week.”

  I didn’t want to do what I did next, but I was feeling sentimental I guess. I dug into my pocket and pulled out one of the fifties Charlie had paid me with.

  “You got a pen?” I asked.

  He grabbed one from the cup sitting beside the register. I wrote my number on a napkin, sliding it and the fifty across the bar.

  “She happens to come in, give me a call?”

  He pocketed the fifty.

  “Sure. You want a drink?”

  I’d purposefully not been looking at the wall behind him, but when he mentioned the idea of a drink, my eyes looked up. Starting at the top shelf. It was dizzying. I could see three dozen varieties that I’d never heard of and was dying to get to know, intimately.

  “Nah,” I said, tearing my eyes away from the glowing bottles. “Appreciate the offer though.”

  I ripped myself away from the bar. I almost tripped over a stool on my way out. The bar was dark as hell. Bars aren’t known for great lighting, but this one was exceptionally dark. It was a damn safety hazard. As soon as someone got a couple of drinks in em, they were likely to crack their damn skull open. I walked out of the musky darkness and squinted in the light. The contrast was unbelievable. I walked around the corner and went to cross the street. It was completely empty except for a black SUV parked halfway up the block. I almost tripped over the curb looking around like an idiot, instead of watching where I was walking. If I couldn’t have the drink I wanted, I’d need coffee and a donut, maybe two to make up for it.

  12

  The Stang’s engine rumbled as I pulled into the parking lot at Carl’s coffee shop. Luckily, I’d avoided getting a ticket. Not that I would have paid it, but it’s the principle of the thing.

  I killed the engine and got out. I almost split my skull open on a patch of black ice. My boot slid as I placed weight on it. I had to grab onto the Stang to keep from falling on my face. The sunlight had melted a lot of the snow, but it was still cold as hell, and if anything all the sunshine had made the ice slicker. If my reflexes weren’t so good, I would have fallen and probably broken my ass.

  I treaded carefully as I made my way inside. Carl was behind the bar, so was my blue haired admirer. Now that Carl had called attention to it, I could see her blush when I walked in. Poor girl. If only she knew me better, she’d have the good sense to know I’m a bastard and keep away. I did a quick glance around the place and saw that Carl’s favorite master’s student was sitting at a table, books spread out all around her. I smiled and looked at him, nodding in her direction. He looked over and then shook his head.

  Chump.

  I walked over to a table in the corner and plopped down. I would have preferred one of the comfy leather chairs, but Alastair had called on my way over, and I’d told him to meet me here. The chairs were a little too close to the cream and sugar table for my taste. I had a feeling, whatever Al had to say, I didn’t want people overhearing our convo. I also didn’t think the handoff of thirty grand would be as discreet either.

  I saw something coming out of the corner of my eye and looked up. Jules was walking over with a giant mug of coffee, like a damn blue-haired angel. Well, better than an Angel. Those guys are all assholes.

  She set the mug down on the table gently, it was filled to the brim, and the foam on the top could only have come from heavy cream. I looked up at her.

  “I get cream?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “Sugar?”

  “Three. Don’t tell Carl though. I told him it was for someone else.” She said, laughing.

  “Your lips to my ears,” I said.

  She laughed again, a loud cackle that was inappropriate for how quiet the place was. I liked that. I could tell she wanted to stay and talk. She was waiting for me to open the conversation. Thankfully, Carl was walking out from behind the bar.

  “You better leave the scene of the crime before Carl comes over here and knows you gave me something other than black coffee.”

  “Oh, yea we wouldn’t want that. Not at all.” She turned on a heel and walked back behind the bar, a little bounce in her step.

  Carl wasn’t headed my way though. I watched as he walked over
to Rebecca’s table. I couldn’t hear what he said, but she smiled and gestured toward the chair on the other side of the table.

  “Sly dog,” I muttered, sipping at my coffee. “You get yours.”

  Sugar flooded my senses, glorious, beautiful sugar. It was sweet and delicious and everything good in life. I closed my eyes and savored it, every single molecule. For that moment I think I was in love with Jules. It didn’t last all that long, but at that moment, I would have burnt the world to ashes for her.

  I had to wait twenty minutes for Al to show up. I watched Carl and Rebecca for a time. I kept watching her after Carl went back to work. I don’t think I’m a creep so much as a concerned friend. What did we know about the girl anyway? A master’s student? Sounds like someone who should have a full-time job and be working during school. Carl would have been able to tell me what she was studying. Hopefully, it was something that paid well. If she was getting a Master’s degree and not working full time, that meant student loans, and Carl was already broke as hell without adding someone else’s loans into the mix.

  When Alastair finally did show up, I tried to sink into my chair and disappear at the sight of him. He was still wearing the all black get up and white collar. The only difference is the guy looked like a damn male model. He was over six feet, seemed to be well built for an academic, and he had a neatly trimmed goatee with white and iron-grey starting to mix into the black hair. You can find him on the cover of the new Catholic romance novel, Confessions of a Minister. I watched four women turn and check him out despite the get-up.

  He saw me and walked over, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He had a black briefcase with him and set it on the table.

  “Stealth,” I said. “I like the low profile look you got going on.”

  He smiled. “I’m a tall black man with an English accent in a small town in the United States. I rather think I would stand out regardless of my clothing.”

  Touché.

  He straightened his sleeves, dialing the code on the case and snapping it open. He rotated it around and opened it just enough to for me to see the cash. Carl had definitely joined the wrong denomination. He either needed to start taking confessions or figure out how to open one of those megachurches.

  “Thirty thousand, as we discussed. The other seventy has already been secured and will be transferred to you after we’ve finished our business.”

  I almost yelled ‘Duh!’ in his face, but thought better of it. I also resisted the urge to grab it and bail.

  “I want to go over a few things before we get too far into this,” I said. “If I’m going to do this, I want you to know that when we’re out there, I’m in charge. We go when I say go, we run when I say run. I’m not getting killed for you or because of you. Also, this isn’t the Marines. If you stick around when I say run, you will get left behind, and I won’t even feel bad about it. That clear?”

  He nodded. I felt like he was fighting the urge to smile, smug bastard.

  “Second, Carl doesn’t get involved any more than he already is. You’re paying me to go with you, and this isn’t a BOGO deal. If you encourage him, I’ll beat the living hell out of you, take your money, and bounce. I don’t care if you’re a holy man, you’ll end up eating through a tube the rest of your life if you push him into anything that gets him hurt.”

  Another nod. “Of course. I would not want any harm to come to Mr. Rodriguez.”

  “Good. Last thing and this may be the most important one. I don’t want to hear one word, not one damn word about me or my soul. I swear to God if you try to take my confession and absolve me of my sins, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to you. I get enough of that at home. I don’t need it from you on top of that.”

  That did get a laugh. It wasn’t a deep belly laugh but more of a rye chuckle, with the English accent it sounded condescending as hell. “I can agree to those terms. However, should you change your mind on the last one, I would be more than happy to take your confession. I have a feeling you may be in dire need of it.”

  “Trust me when I say neither of us has that kind of time on our hands.”

  Jules came up. “Can I get you anything?” She asked.

  I wanted to think she was asking me, but it was clear that she was talking to Alastair. Bastard was a damned chick magnet. I felt strangely jealous, and couldn’t figure out why. I’d been trying to figure out a way to get Jules to think I was the scum between her toes like twenty minutes earlier, now Al was here, and I was pissed he was getting more attention than me. Focus Deckland.

  “You have the loveliest eyes.” He said. “I would love Earl Grey if you have it.”

  “Sure. Definitely.We definitely do. Definitely. I’ll go get it now.” She blushed while she rambled. She turned to me next. “Another latte?”

  Alastair turned and raised an eyebrow at me. Stuck up English prick. I should know. I’d lived there when the whole English snobbery thing had been invented. “Yea. Maximum sugar. Oh and maybe some vanilla or something in it this time. Oh and like chocolate swirls on top?”

  She smiled and bounced off behind the bar.

  “Lovely girl.”

  My temper flared for a moment. I couldn’t tell you why, but there was something about the way he said it that sounded like a predator, the kind that hunts for sport instead of need. I got an itch in my trigger finger and a chill that crept across the back of my neck. “I’m gonna need to know the timeline of the Rifts,” I said, trying to change the subject.

  “Of course.” He reached somewhere and came out with a map of the area. It was a God’s honest paper map, the kind you buy at a gas station in the middle of nowhere.

  “Little low-tech don’t you think?” I asked. “I didn’t even know they still made maps like this.”

  “They are harder to procure than they were in years past. I prefer to do things traditionally. Also, due to the sensitive nature of my work, I don’t want to email things to myself either.”

  I couldn’t blame him there. I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of the cloud either.

  He spread the map across the table. I could see a series of red circles on it with dates and times. There were dozens on the little map with dates ranging from the day before all the way to several months prior. We were currently inside one of the circles that had yesterday’s date. It must have been drawn around the Rift that had opened in the church. There was an annotation underneath it to add the exact time and location of the Rift opening. It also listed the type of Hellion that came out and the amount of them. Thorough.

  “I have listed out all of the locations that I predict a portal will open. As you can see, I have been tracking them for some time, gaining accuracy with each passing event. I believe the next one will be here.”

  He pointed to an area that was green on the map. Rancho San Rafael park was near the town’s university. It was a massive open area with stands of trees and small ponds and a dog park.

  “Lot of open ground. Open ground and people.” I muttered, pulling the map closer to me. “Last thing I need is some Hellion getting dumped out into the dog park and some crazy lady blasting it on the internet cause her Pomeranian was an appetizer.”

  “You sound unwilling to go through with it. Perhaps I should take the money and procure other means of protection.”

  “Unwilling is an understatement, but I’ll be there. Don’t you worry about it. This one is in the middle of the night, which should be good. Little old ladies will be gone. Might find some kids getting drunk and diddling each other.”

  I checked the time. I had about seven hours before the time listed on the map. That was more than enough time to get prepped and eat something.

  “I gotta get my stuff together. You can pick me up at the apartment in six hours. After that, we can go find you a Rift.”

  I asked Jules for my coffee to go. I had work to do.

  13

  The next six hours blurred by. I had already cleaned and oiled most of my guns. I focused on the Sig
552. I only had two mags for the thing, but it was more firepower than I’d had in awhile and would happily use it to supplement my arsenal. I’d had to pick up several boxes of 5.56 ammo from the local place I get all my stuff from if I’m in a hurry. I’d have to order more online and get that bulk rate.

  Hunting Hellions is more about preparation than anything else. They come in so many sizes, shapes, and abilities that you want to make sure you know what you are going up against ahead of time. I didn’t exactly have that luxury in this case. Literally, anything could come out of a Rift. That meant that I had to be prepared for damn near anything, which blows.

  I had my custom tac-vest laid out across the couch. It consisted of a Level III steel plate, and instead of the usual spalling on the front, it had hexagonal ceramic plates. The hardened plates were hollow, each one filled with holy water. They were designed to crack if enough pressure was applied. If a Hellion tried to take a bite out of me, it would end up with a mouthful of holy water. That would put an end to it in a jiffy. The stuff eats through Hellion flesh like a blowtorch through butter.

  The vest also had two eighteen inch khukris sheathed to the back of it. The handles stick out at the lower back. I’d sharpened each of the machetes to the point where I could shave a cat in its sleep. The sheaths were coated in anointing oil. I didn’t care to get close enough to ever use them, but those machetes had saved my life more times than I could count.

  I would have preferred to have more armor on my arms and legs and head, but I didn’t have any. I had the Sig 552 loaded and ready to go. The 320 was tucked in a shoulder rig beneath my left arm. I had the .38 in an ankle holster on my right ankle and the SOG on my left ankle. I rounded it out by stuffing the 220 into my fanny pack with my Halo V and a squirt bottle filled with a mixture of holy water and anointing oil. I wore loose track pants that zipped at the ankle to help with access to the .38. I looked like complete Euro-trash, but I’d rather be alive and tacky than well dressed and dead.