Depths: Southern Watch #2

by Crane, Robert J.

  * * *

  Lerner pulled himself up on one arm, an easier feat for a demon than a human, he knew. Dangling over the side of the dam, picturing the drop that Duncan had just taken, it wasn’t something he wanted to ponder too long. As soon as the flame vanished over the side, he started to reel himself up using his wiry arms.

  Water was sluicing over the edge, the overflow of the reservoir running over the dam and raining down on him. Lerner cursed it, cursed Sygraaths, cursed his fucking job and cursed the home office for sending him here. As he came up over the edge of the dam, water pouring onto his face, he cursed Duncan, too, for being a brave, dumb son of a bitch and doing what he’d done.

  The black bag was still sitting there, just a few feet away from him. Lerner pulled himself up as Hendricks hit that fucking shitbird Sygraath with the sword, plowing into him and knocking him into the reservoir. Lerner could barely see it from behind the wall of steam that Gideon’s flame breath had made. Lerner had a feeling it was pointed at someone, and that meant said someone was dead. Duncan might have been able to survive that shit—maybe—but a human? No way.

  Then the smoke started to clear, and Lerner saw who was at the middle of it. It wasn’t until he saw the state of them that he whispered, “Son of a bitch.” And he almost forgot to finish pulling himself up over the side.

  * * *

  Erin was standing there, stunned, the rain dotting the end of the scope as she watched Hendricks plunge a sword through Gideon and then tilt with him into the reservoir. It wasn’t exactly a long drop, maybe a foot or two, but because of the steam from Gideon’s attack on Arch they disappeared within a second. It took her a second more to realize that what she’d seen was real, not the product of the steam or the drops of rain gathering on the scope.

  She heard movement behind her and turned with the AR-15 to cover the approach of whoever was coming.

  It was Lucia, her bright red hair wet, and her white tank top soaked to match. Erin lowered her gun then turned back to the edge of the dam, where she’d just seen Hendricks go over. The steam was starting to clear, but something in her mind flared before it did—

  She spun back around to Lucia and stared at the girl’s eyes. They weren’t green anymore, they were dark, indescribable, shadowed. “What the fuck?” she whispered, all thoughts of Hendricks and Arch momentarily forgotten. “Who are you?”

  “Starling,” the girl answered and walked past her like she hadn’t even seen her. “Follow me.”

  Erin turned to watch the redhead go, beating a steady path to the edge of the dam where Hendricks had disappeared. And she would have followed, but the steam finally dissipated, and she caught a glimpse of Arch, crouching down, his uniform top seared and burnt, nearly gone—

  But his skin was flawless, drops of rain beading on it and running down his muscles like he was some model posing for a photo shoot instead of man who ought to have just burned to death.

  * * *

  Arch hadn’t even felt the fire as it surged around him. He’d looked down as it blazed and watched with almost absent interest as it burnt his uniform shirt to embers that flaked off, melted the radio that was clipped to his shoulder into plastic slag that ran off his back like droplets of rain, burning holes in his pants as they fell.

  He was on his knees, not from the impact or the heat, but because he’d reacted by dropping down. It was a natural position for him, the same one he adopted as he prayed his prayers each night. Just as he’d done every night since he was a child and had learned to pray and speak scripture.

  He had murmured one as the orange fire of hell had nearly blinded him—with its light, not its heat. “I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.” Then the flames disappeared, and he started to stand, his eyes still blinking away the light of the blaze.

  * * *

  “Out of the way, Shadrach!” Lerner called as he pushed past Arch. He shouldn’t have been surprised the cop was still standing. He’d seen this kind of thing before, once or twice.

  That didn’t matter at the moment, though. Lerner peered over the edge of the dam into the reservoir. The water was right there, in front of him, and Hendricks had already disappeared beneath the dark, rippling surface, sunk from sight.

  Lerner felt a presence next to him as he started to jump in. He caught a glimpse of red hair and thought, Son of a bitch, it’s the hooker, before he plunged into the cold water.

  * * *

  Erin halted after watching the man in the suit and Starling both jump into the water after Hendricks. Arch was standing there on the edge of the dam, looking in, and looking like he was still trying to catch his breath.

  “You all right?” Erin asked as she came up behind him. She had the AR in her hands, cradled, pointing it down the dam automatically, her finger off the trigger but ready in case she needed it.

  “I’m fine,” Arch said, but he sounded a little dazed. She couldn’t really blame him for that; it wasn’t like being immolated alive was an everyday thing. “Where’s Hendricks?”

  “He pushed that—” she stumbled with the word, “—that demon-thing into the water. Tackled him in, I guess.”

  Arch stared into the black water after him, and Erin wondered for a moment if he was going to jump. “Damn,” he said finally.

  “What?” she asked. Hearing Arch say damn was like hearing Reeve drop the c-word; it didn’t happen, at least not in her presence.

  “I don’t know how to swim,” Arch said.

  * * *

  Hendricks could feel the cool water seeping into his coat, saturating his shirt and flooding his boots. Gideon was right there, in front of him, he could feel it, even as the world went weightless around him.

  Gideon tried to hit him, but his blow was reduced in power, slowed by the water. It felt like a hard slap and that was it. Hendricks smiled, a hand anchored on the hilt of his sword. He pulled it hard to the side across Gideon’s belly.

  Air bubbled out and the water warmed around Hendricks. He knew he was getting somewhere and even in the frenzy of the water bubbling around him he could swear he heard Gideon scream.

  Hendricks ignored another ineffectual blow from the demon and turned the sword right, then pulled it up. The blade sawed its way up to where the demon’s sternum would have been and stopped. Hendricks could barely see him in the water, and the light from above seemed to be growing ever dimmer.

  There was a low thrumming all around him, mechanical and steady. It was audible somewhere around the level of his heartbeat.

  Hendricks felt hyperaware, time slowing down as the water flooded into his nose and mouth. It was just like this the last time, too, that drowning feeling, except this time he wasn’t helpless when he plunged into the water. He didn’t stagger into trouble by accident, dragging an innocent person with him.

  He’d pulled Arch in with full knowledge, and he’d gotten the man killed.

  Hendricks ripped the sword through Gideon even harder, and he felt the heat wash off in waves as the water bubbled up around him. He’d been in Ygrusibas at the end, felt the flames of hell licking at him. They were real, he knew that much, wherever they came from, and they were hot enough to boil the water around him if he didn’t find the heart soon.

  Gideon hit him again, a punch that didn’t even make him blink. The mighty demon, reduced to something that felt comically like a slap fight. Gideon clearly hadn’t been in any fights; if he had, he’d have grabbed Hendricks around the neck and just crushed his throat. He had the strength for it.

  Hendricks stared down at him, and Gideon flailed his remaining arm at him one last time. Hendricks ignored it and tugged once more on the sword. He brought it diagonal this time, and broke through where the ribcage would be on a human.

  Where the heart would be, if Gideon had any such thing.

  The effect was immediate; the water turned from warm bath to scalding hot in an instant, and Hendricks felt his skin start to sear. This was it: he was going to burn too.
<
br />   Just like Arch.

  But at least he’d taken this fucker with him first. And before he could drown the town.

  * * *

  “What’s that?” Erin asked, her eyes catching on a red silk bag. It was pretty and stitched, and floating in the rapidly rising water that was running across the dam.

  Arch seemed to stare at it with unblinking eyes as it washed to the middle of the dam. “I think it’s … it might be that thing that Gideon—the demon guy—was going to use to blow up the dam.”

  “He was gonna blow up the dam?” Erin said, blinking. Holy shit. She didn’t say it, just thought it. What the fuck was going on here? She didn’t say that either. She just watched as the red silk bag washed off the front of the dam, making its long drop down the sheer face before she or Arch could even move to stop it.

  * * *

  Gideon felt the blade cutting into him, felt it and fought back. He was slow, though, from the wounds, and from the water holding him back from using his full strength. He could feel them sinking, here in the depths, and as the sword cut through his chest, a dim feeling of awareness that came over him, even as he tried to lash out at the man in the black coat.

  He’d felt this feeling before. A thousand times. Ten thousand times. But from the other side.

  Death.

  When the blade tore through into his heart—the beating central nexus of his massive essence—it didn’t kill him right away. No, just like a knife to the heart—or a heart attack, he thought ironically, remembering that guy a few days earlier—what was his name? The first one that he’d felt die here in Midian?

  It was like that. Agony in the chest, a sick feeling spreading through his limbs. He lost control of his hand first, and with a last spasm it went limp. He could still feel the heat rising off his body, like blood flowing to his extremities in one last burst.

  Gideon drifted down and looked up to the face of the cowboy. He was missing his hat now. Didn’t look right. Not like the time he’d seen him in the parking lot.

  It was the black hat that sold the look for Gideon. Without it, this guy just looked human. He realized that now as he stared him in the face. Before, he’d been a demon hunter. Now he was just a guy.

  A guy who’d killed him. But still just a guy.

  There was anguish at the thought of his long life being squandered. All those years and he’d never awakened to what he had in the last few days. It could have been so much better if he’d known. He could have had so much more if he’d just pushed beyond what he’d always been told.

  But now it was too late.

  He wanted to rail against it, would have if he could have moved his arm or his legs. But he couldn’t. The heat was rising, the cowboy hanging over him like death—real death, finally—and dark wings sprouting up on either side of him.

  Gideon was going to burn, he didn’t have any illusions about that. He was lifeless, but the life hadn’t quite fled yet. When it did, it would be a spectacular burst of hell's fire that would flash-boil the water around him for twenty feet.

  And maybe—just maybe—he could burn the cowboy up as he went. One last one, for the road.

  Show him who death really was.

  * * *

  Hendricks felt strong hands grabbing his arms, dragging at him as he hung there in the wash. In the river? Water had flooded into his nose and mouth, was drowning him now, just like it had last time, and he was ready. Oh, Renée

  , how he was ready.

  One last death, and he was settled up. Not really, but it was as close as he was going to get in this life.

  He wanted to fight against the hands that had him, but he couldn’t. He thrashed, but they were far too strong, both of them, and he was far too weak, and his lungs were crying for air, and—

  When his head broke the surface, it felt like had the last time he’d been pulled out of the water. He hadn’t wanted to come back then, either, but he’d been at peace—or something close to it—when he had. Now he was kicking and screaming as he was lifted up onto the concrete, sputtering and spitting the water out of his nose and mouth.

  Hendricks landed on his forearms and knees, and he felt it when he did. He rolled to the side shortly, then to his back, and felt water tap-tap-tapping him on the face as he lay there, spent.

  “Hendricks?” The female voice was lighter than the last time. He knew it, too. Not because it sounded like something born of infinity and familiarity, but because he’d heard it before. Whispering in the night. Urging him to fuck her.

  He opened his eyes to see Erin leaning over him, an M-16 in her hands. And he could have sworn he saw Arch just behind her shoulder. “I’m not married,” he whispered as he looked at her. “Not anymore.”

  * * *

  Erin stared down at Hendricks, a little surprised by his first words after Starling and the guy in the suit had fished him out of the water. “Uhm … that’s good. It looks like you were right about there being demons, too.”

  “Heh,” Hendricks said, still looking up at her like he was dazed. “I guess I’m not a fucking liar after all.”

  “No,” she agreed, “just a fucker.”

  * * *

  Arch stared down at Hendricks over Erin’s shoulder, and finally saw Hendricks’s eyes alight on him. “Arch?” the cowboy said.

  “I’m here,” Arch said. He was still feeling more than a little dazed himself. And cold, the rain beating down on him with his shirt gone and all.

  “Where are your clothes?” Hendricks asked. “Why do you keep losing your clothes?”

  Arch sighed. He really didn’t have an answer for that.

  * * *

  Lerner stood on the edge of the dam closest to the reservoir. The redhead was next to him, watching Harris and Arch hanging over Hendricks like he was dead. They were all wrapped up in each other, but he was watching the redhead.

  He’d seen her at the whorehouse, at a distance. Her eyes were normal, then. And Duncan could read her just fine.

  Now, her eyes were dusky as all hell. Indeterminate color. And he was looking real hard, trying to figure it. This wasn’t some shit he’d seen before, and he’d been on the job a long time.

  Which meant she was something new? Or something that predated his years of service?

  He kept watching her, and she kept watching the little scene playing out in front of them.

  * * *

  Hendricks almost felt well enough to get to his feet. Almost. Arch threw him a helping hand and he took it, and the cop pulled him up. He ran a hand up his own face and up to the top of his head before he realized something was missing.

  “My hat,” he said.

  * * *

  Arch saw it drifting toward the other edge of the dam. He went toward it at run and caught it before it went over the edge. He looked down—all the way down—and took a quick step back. It wasn’t a plunge he thought anyone could easily survive—human or demon.

  * * *

  Hendricks felt the smooth felt of the wet hat as Arch handed it back to him. He dumped it out and set it back on his head, felt it settle just right. The brim drooped from the effect of the water, but that had happened last time, too. It dried out in time.

  “Thank you,” he said to Arch. “I can’t …” He stopped before his voice broke.

  * * *

  Erin heard the quaver in the way Hendricks spoke, and while part of her said to stay back, another part urged her on, and she placed a hand on his back, unasked. It felt right. He made a slow turn around to look at her, and she caught sight of something in his eyes. A pain in the depths, something she’d never seen all the times they’d been together.

  She leaned in and kissed him. It just felt right, too.

  * * *

  Lerner was still watching the redhead watch everything unfold. She was a cool customer. Beyond cool, actually. It wasn’t until the cowboy kissed Deputy Harris that the ice queen melted, just for a second. But when she did, it was obvious as hell to him. Him and no one else, because she
only wavered for a blink before she went back to her normal even self.

  But he saw it, the flash of it, for the half second of existence it had. Saw it and recorded it in his mind for later. He knew that emotion. He’d felt it himself only a few minutes earlier when he watched Duncan go flying off the top of the dam.

  Rage. Pure, hate-filled rage.

  * * *

  “This is a beautiful denouement,” Hendricks heard Lerner say as he broke off his kiss with Erin. Her lips were soft, and moist. He was still dripping wet and could feel it as he stood there, his clothing absolutely soaked under the weight of his coat. His sword was on the ground where he’d let go of it when he got thrown out of the water, and he stooped to pick it up and sheathe it. “But I need to go check and see if my partner survived his plunge off the dam,” Lerner finished. “Adios.” The demon sketched a rough salute to them and started off toward the sedan.

  “You owe me a mirror,” Erin said. She didn’t sound angry, more weary. She was still clutching an M-16 in her hands. It took him a second of staring at it to realize it was probably an AR-15. Cops didn’t carry M-16s.

  “Bill me for it,” Lerner tossed over his shoulder without looking back. He stooped to pick up a black gym bag that was still resting on the surface of the dam, two or three inches of water running around it. It didn’t so much as move until he picked it up. “Better yet, bill your boyfriend,” Lerner went on, holding the gym bag in his hand like it weighed nothing. “I did just save his life, after all.” Lerner got into the car without once looking up and backed up off the dam in the sedan with a little more speed than Hendricks would have thought safe given the location.