by J. T. Bock
We rounded a corner onto a modern, asphalt-paved street, leaving the quaint little downtown section behind for more contemporary housing.
Gregory steered the woman toward her front door, and she took her time unlocking it, eyeing us as she listened in. “Do you really want Eloa here?”
No, I didn’t. That angel had a major hard-on for Gregory. Having him here, either in male or female form, would seriously put a cramp on any romantic activities.
“Okay, okay. You go find this demon, but hurry it up. I wanted to get in the hot tub with you, then go roll in the snow.” Gregory was a bit of a workaholic. I could only hope he managed to find this stupid Santa/Krampus before the sun came up, otherwise my whole week would be spent alone while he chased demons.
“What about us?” Joanna asked, finally getting her front door open. “Aren’t you both angels? Shouldn’t you be protecting us from evil?”
“Only if the evil is a demon or non-native being,” Gregory informed her. “Otherwise, humans are in charge of their own destiny.”
Yeah, that whole free will thing.
“And I’m the Iblis – basically the Devil. Honestly, I don’t give a shit about some demon killing you all off. Most of you probably deserve it anyway. Besides, killing is a perfectly respectable hobby. I’d hate to curtail someone’s extracurricular activities.”
With that, the woman darted inside and slammed the door in my face.
“So,” I turned to Gregory, “how exactly are you going to find this demon? I hope you’ve got a plan, because that hot tub is calling our names. I don’t want to get all pruney-skinned waiting for you.”
Gregory smiled, rubbing his hand along my shoulder. “We go where the sinners are.”
“We? I don’t give a shit about some dude killing off humans. Fuck, I’d give him a hand if I didn’t have to write out a ton of reports afterward. I’ve got a better idea: you go find the demon while I go find a bottle of decent vodka and get the hot tub ready.”
The angel’s hand tightened painfully on my upper arm as he began to march me back down the street. “We. No vodka or tub for you until we catch this guy.”
It didn’t sound like Gregory was open to negotiation on this matter, but it was worth a try. “Tomorrow. I swear we’ll go catch Santa tomorrow first thing. We just got here. Let’s sin a bit then work when the sun comes up.”
“We will find him now, not in the morning. You’re the Iblis. You’re the one tasked with delivering justice to the sinners. This demon is usurping your rights.”
There was that fucking usurp word again. Krampus, Santa, this guy could have my rights. I didn’t want them. And I really didn’t want to start out my vacation with this crap.
“Whoa, whoa, I’m only in charge of sinners whose FICO scores are in the shitter. Just because someone is a murderer or embezzler doesn’t mean they aren’t creditworthy. Don’t give me any more work than I already have, asshole.”
Gregory picked up the pace, half dragging me down the street. Resistance was futile. He was far stronger than I was and wouldn’t be above hauling me along by my hair if needed.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re going to help me. We might be going into a den of depravity, but you’re the biggest sinner in the town at the moment. If this demon has a naughty list, you’ll be at the top of it.” He paused long enough to give me a heart-melting grin. “You, my Cockroach, are the bait.”
***
One thing I hadn’t realized about Gregory was that the angel had a great nose for sniffing out sin. I thought I was good, but he headed straight past the somewhat seedy section I’d visited earlier and led me to a three-story warehouse in between a lumberyard and a meat-processing plant.
The rusted chain was looped uselessly around the post of a tall chain-link fence. One push and we were in, strolling down the paper-and-plastic-strewn walkway to the large metal doors. Those were just as unsecured as the gate had been.
Once inside, I immediately realized why Gregory had chosen this location to stakeout our evil Santa. The odor hit me before I crossed the threshold, overpowering the strange mix of freshly hewn lumber and freshly slaughtered animals that had permeated the air.
Urine. Feces. Sex. Unwashed bodies. And the unmistakable odor of drugs. Melted on a spoon and loaded into a syringe, drugs had a certain smell that laced the air with a seductive scent. Beyond that, the place hummed with stirring bodies, the moans of those who’d moved beyond the cares of this world and into the dreams of an unfettered mind.
“Seriously?” I asked Gregory. “Heroin addicts? We should be looking to hang out with serial killers or rapists. Doesn’t this guy prioritize?”
The angel shrugged. “The whole town has become surprisingly chaste over the last few centuries. These are the biggest offenders of human social law, as well as angelic law, in a fifty-mile radius.”
I rolled my eyes, not that he could see in the shadowed interior of the warehouse. “Druggies? That’s the worst in fifty miles?”
“Besides you, yes.”
Damn. Well at least I could score a decent high here, even if the aroma was riper than a dead deer in August. “Well, I better get to work on my sinning, then. As bait, I intend on taking my job seriously. Let’s light some shit up, baby.”
We walked through a large cement-floored room, navigating the maze of pallets and boxes. In the back, flickering lights beckoned, leading us toward the humans indulging in their addiction.
It wasn’t pleasant. Drug dens in the seventies hadn’t been as depraved or as stinky as this one. Twenty humans sprawled across the floor on a bed of soiled newspapers and plastic bags. Ten others were barely upright as they went through the steps to prepare their journey into oblivion.
I strode up to the one individual who seemed reasonably alert. “I need a fix. You got tar or powder, bro?”
The guy raised bleary eyes to me without a word, but the girl next to him smiled, revealing blackened teeth. Digging down the front of her shirt, she rooted around her boobs for a moment before extending a small, black lump.
“Tar. Cash.”
Yuck. I might be a demon, but that was just nasty. Guess I should be grateful she didn’t keep her stash in her underwear. Taking a deep breath, I took the rock of heroin. It was still warm — body-temperature warm. Ick.
I threw some Euros at the woman, well aware I was overpaying for what was probably the most unclean shit in the continent. Snatching a spoon and a bottle of taupe-colored water from the floor, I put it all together and warmed the bottom of the spoon with a Bic lighter.
“Give me a needle.” Didn’t matter if it was clean or not. The drugs were filthy; the water was probably filled with bacteria and E.coli. A dirty needle would just add to the whole unsanitary theme of this high. Luckily, being a demon had its privileges. I took the syringe and gave the muddy mixture another shot with the lighter to make sure I had integrated all of the drug into the liquid. No sense in leaving any residue behind on the spoon. If I was going to be Santa-bait, I was going to have a good time doing it.
“Needle.” I snapped my fingers in front of the junkie’s face, trying to get through to him.
The guy looked mildly confused – either from my archaic German or from the drugs he’d just injected. With a shaky hand, he extended a caked syringe.
Normally the best course of action would be to filter the mixture through a piece of cotton ball. Again, as a demon, I didn’t give a fuck. I could freebase every ounce of dirty heroin in the continent and ride out the cardiac arrest with joyful abandon.
With a smile, I loaded the brownish liquid into the syringe and pushed out any air. It wouldn’t’ kill me, but an air bubble in my veins would really fuck up a good high.
“Strap.”
No one responded, so I grabbed what looked to be a bright-red aerobic rubber strip from the floor and tied it around my arm. I twisted the knot around until my skin whitened and blue veins bulged in my arm, and then I tapped the inside of my elbow.
“
Stick to smoking, girl. Not wanting to be a killjoy. Just warning a sister.”
“Thanks for the public-service announcement.” The guy clearly didn’t take his own advice, and I wasn’t about to either.
Jabbing the needle into my arm, I smiled at the bearded junky, whose pupils were so dilated that his irises looked black. “Trust me, I’m right where I want to be.”
And I was. A drug den, chasing a fleeting bit of heaven with my angel standing by. Awesome fun for a demon-girl, and no huge reports to fill out afterward.
Gregory had been eyeing the filthy humans with a dispassionate eye, but now he watched me with the aerobic strap tight around my arm, and a needle quivering in a vein.
“Better get out of here. If this guy’s a demon, he’ll sense you as soon as he gets through the doorway. You leak.”
I didn’t leak power. It was one of my special stealth skills – one that made me such good demon bait. He did. He leaked wonderfully, the powerful energy flowing off him in blisteringly hot waves. I loved the feel of it on my skin, pushing against my spirit-self, but we had a killer to catch, and a hot tub to enjoy. Nothing was going to happen with him hovering over me.
“That’s quite a load of drugs you are about to inject into your circulatory system,” he warned.
I understood the concern under the admonition, and my heart jumped a little to realize he didn’t want to leave me high and defenseless with my name on a killer’s list.
“I’ll clear it out of my system if I get attacked. Go on.” I waved at him with numb fingers. “Get out of here so I can enjoy this overpriced, dirty heroin.”
He gave me one last long look before vanishing in a flash of light, leaving me with nothing but the smell and warmth of humans who hadn’t bathed or used a proper bathroom in months.
Plunger down. The snap of my makeshift tourniquet releasing. Bubbles, like champagne rushing through my body. Bliss. Holy shit, I’d forgotten how wonderful heroin could be. My body was cold, but inside, I felt so warm — like I was lovingly wrapped in a fleece blanket before a fireplace. Like my angel had gathered me into his arms. Like I was snuggled against naked flesh on a cold, cold night.
Everything faded away. There were no four-nine-five reports due, no rebellious angels, no plotting elves. I didn’t care about killer Santa, or the gnawing feeling in my belly that the scrap of bratwurst hadn’t curbed.
“Yesssss.” I slumped against the junkie next to me and closed my eyes, envisioning he was someone else. The bones poking into my ribs, the fetid breath, the sour odor of sweat transformed and I was surrounded by breathtaking beauty. Euphoria. Warmth. No worries. No pain. Nothing but a cozy sense of serenity, and a journey on clouds of bliss.
My head hit the concrete floor, jolting me from my happy space with a sharp spike of pain. Through unfocused eyes, I saw the junkies crawling and running, tripping over each other as they screamed. Laughter grated harshly in my ears, and I realized it was coming from me. Well, it was funny, seeing them all race around like frantic rabbits while a furry-legged monster with horns chased them.
Huh? Had the heroin been coated in PCP? What the hell had that woman stashed in her bra? A foot rammed into my ribs, and a human, so thin she was barely skin stretched over bone, collapsed on top of me. I felt the woman’s jagged nails dig into me as she struggled to get to her feet and smelled the excrement that caked her stained jeans. Ugh. If this was a trip, it was the worst one I’d ever been on.
The woman stood, kicking me again before lurching away, and I got a good look at the monster causing all this chaos. Krampus. Well, Krampus, only about a foot shorter than I’d remembered. His furry legs were straight instead of bent, and his tail was absent, but the spiraled horns and red eyes were there, as was the long tongue that flicked as he chased the junkies.
Using the wall for support, I rose and watched the action. The demon raced around, an empty burlap sack swinging from his belt as he ineffectually swished a thin stick through the air.
“Hey!” I shouted.
The demon ignored me, instead poking a male junkie in the chest with a finger and snarling until the guy ran away. So much for my being at the top of the sinners’ list. This demon didn’t seem to be paying me any attention at all. In fact, he was doing a piss-poor job of killing anyone. If this is what Krampus had come to, he was surely going to starve.
“Fucking asshole, ruining my good high,” I muttered, shaking off the heroin. “Waste of good money, even if that stuff was dirtier than a full outhouse pit.”
I contemplated frying him with a stream of energy, or shooting his horned head off with a blast from my Iblis shotgun, but there was a good chance I’d hit one of the humans running around the place. I weighed the stack of reports plus potential consequences from the angels against a convenient and fast death for the demon and decided to play it safe. Watching for my chance, I threw myself on the bastard as he ran by, attempting to neutralize his energy usage with the handy little skill I’d picked up when I’d gotten my wings.
Nothing. Well, nothing except a muffled voice screaming at me to ‘get off’ and a few swift kicks to my knees. It was then I realized something I’d overlooked before – this demon had no energy signature. It wasn’t completely uncommon. I didn’t leak. There were other demons equally skilled, but they weren’t running around with claws and two-foot tongues chowing down on humans. Usually that sort of activity produced an energy signature no matter how stealthy a demon was. This guy had nothing.
“I have a coffee for you when you’re done wrestling with that costumed human.”
Gregory. His energy signature I picked up, roaring around the room like a forest fire. He was standing amid the still-panicked and running junkies, holding two steaming Styrofoam cups. “Did you have a nice high? I take it the demon has not shown up yet?”
The furry figure underneath me raked my face with latex claws and screamed. I turned my attention back and grabbed a curved horn, yanking upward. With enough pulling, the glue came loose, and with the horn came a peeling of latex. Underneath all the black rubber was a human – a man with short, blond hair and red contact lenses.
“Think you’re a bit late for Halloween, buddy,” I told him.
“Stupid American tourist,” he spat. “I’m dressed for the winter festival as Krampus. You’ve destroyed my costume. I spent half the day getting the mask and horns on properly and you’ve ruined them.”
These Germans took their demon lore seriously. Krampus would be thrilled to know they dressed up as him each winter and paraded around town. But a winter festival didn’t explain why this guy was scaring a bunch of drug addicts in a low-rent warehouse.
“He’s lying,” Gregory confirmed, taking a sip from one of the cups. “Do you want this coffee? Get off that human and drink it before it gets cold.”
The coffee smelled wonderful, even mingled with the sweat and filth, but I was having too much fun with this human to give up yet.
“Okay, so you’re early for tomorrow’s parade.” I ran a finger down the man’s cheek, scraping up bits of glue. “Practicing? Or do you just get your kicks out of chasing people who can’t even stagger to the bathroom on their own?”
He glared, giving me a shove and wiggling to get free. I didn’t budge. “They’re addicts. They steal and prostitute themselves to pay for their drugs. We don’t want them in our town.”
“Just like you don’t want the murders and rapists, the embezzlers and check kiters in this town either?” I pursed my lips, making a ‘tsk-tsk’ sound. “Who else is on your list, Krampus? Who else do you plan on stuffing in your sack? Will you stash their bodies in some mountain cave? Or weight them down with rocks and sink them to the bottom of a cold alpine lake?”
His skin paled, and the hands against my legs shook slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lies.” Gregory waved a cup at me. “Come on. We’ll never catch the demon if you don’t stop playing with this human and go back to being bait.”
“There is no demon. It’s just this guy, doing a vigilante thing dressed as Krampus. I’m going to kill him, then we can head back to the hotel and the hot tub.”
Gregory took a few steps toward us, looking at the Krampus imposter with interest. “Is his FICO score less than five hundred and eighty?”
How the fuck was I supposed to know that? I didn’t think they even used FICO scores in Europe. The Krampus imposter looked up at me in confusion, confirming my suspicion.
“What’s your credit like? Can you qualify for an auto loan? A mortgage? Have you ever defaulted on your debt?”
The man’s eyes widened. It was an odd expression with the red contact lenses. “I rent an apartment and paid cash for my car. I’m an honorable man, an accountant with many long-term customers. I wouldn’t be able to obtain my licensing if I didn’t honor my financial commitments.”
Figures. I kept my weight on him and dug around his hips for a pocket in his furry pants, groping him a bit in the process. “Here.” I tossed the wallet to Gregory. “I can barely speak German, let alone read it.”
The angel floated the coffees in the air while he pulled various slips of paper and plastic from the wallet. “Aaron Blau. Business cards say he provides financial services. He has four credit cards all indicating special status with the lending institution.”
Fuck. I was going to have to let this guy go. Something deep inside me resisted, and I struggled, torn between the need to keep this man in my clutches and the desire to head back to the hotel with Gregory. The seductive smell of coffee filled my nose, and my grip on the man loosened.
“Even though you cannot kill him, I do sense this human knows more about the murders than he claims to.”
I hesitated. “Yeah, but humans killing humans isn’t your business. And he’s not under my jurisdiction either. I can’t do anything about it without facing a stack of reports or punishment in Aaru.”
