by Doug Burbey
Declan grinned as the drone smashed face first into the parking lot and laid there, unmoving.
Cautiously, he reached down and wrapped his hand around the handle of the knife lodged in the small demon's flesh. He strained his senses to see or feel the slightest indication that the drone might still be functioning. The dead eyes didn't twitch as he yanked the knife free causing the drone's rubbery flesh to ripple momentarily and cover its belly in the same thick yellow blood that coated the blade. The thick blood ran down the blade dripping onto his hand, leaving sparks of power that danced along his sense, muted but there.
Dead. But it was unintelligent and controlled. Who the fuck was controlling it. They could be anywhere, miles away even. But it's not miles away, is it?
Declan saw a shape outlined in the shadows crouching behind the small trailer mounted crab boat that the VFW stored at the back of the lot. He heard the nervous shuffling and faintly made out the smell of… fear.
Human fear?
Declan slowly moved towards the partially concealed individual, acutely aware of the sounds of his shoes on the blacktop and how it could betray his position. Reaching the boat, he began to hear the sounds of a chant beginning.
"Oh, hell no!" Declan yelled and started to run at the target. Risk of an imminent magical attack outweighed the need for subtlety.
Nobody is gonna throw a spell at me!
Crossing the front of the boat, he latched onto a crouched human male chanting and gesturing. Declan tasted and felt the small buildup of energy in the air around them. Nothing else registered before his body slammed shoulder first into the Mage, driving both of them onto the ground hard. The Mage took the brunt of the inelegant assault from Declan and choked on his chanting as Declan's body slammed him to the ground.
With speed born of adrenaline, Declan pushed himself up, grabbed the head of the human, pulling him back by the hair as he placed his bloody knife at the throat of the mage. His mind took in details even as he prepared to slit the throat of the threat.
Declan noticed the mage could not be more than nineteen years old. At most. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a retro Xbox shirt.
Keeping the young mage, who was still panting for breath, pinned, Declan pressed the knife against the human's throat. One pound of effort and a move to the right and the threat would be dead.
Could I really kill him? Am I no better than before?
"I think you need to start talking right now kid, and I mean right now, or I will slit your throat for trying to kill me and for summoning a god damn demon. What the fuck are you thinking?!"
"I'm a licensed apprentice mage, sir, I swear." The mage squeaked as Declan began to let the tip of his knife puncture the boy's neck.
"That doesn't answer anything. No mage is allowed to summon or even communicate with a demon or anything in their realm. The penalty is death. No. You couldn't summon a fucking thing on your own I'd bet. Who gave you the drone and why did you try to kill me with it like an idiot!"
Declan started to lose control as he screamed at the boy. He wanted, needed, to shove his blade deep into his neck. Feel his blood flow onto his hand like that of the small demon. He hungered to drain this human's power into his own. To have the ultimate control over all life and death while gaining power. He must gain more power or he would be consumed by those that were more powerful. He'd defeated this fool and now a price must be paid. It must be paid in blood now. It's the only way.
NO! Help me! No more of it. Not now. I can't. Please make it stop.
Declan moaned and fell backward against the boat releasing both the young mage and dropping the knife onto the ground.
"Please stop. I can't. I won't!" Declan shouted, grabbing at his head with both hands as his body began to tremble as it fought against itself for control.
Part of him saw the mage flee but nothing mattered but the rage pounding in him, crying to get out.
How do I stop it, I haven't had blood in years? Is there even enough left in me now to control it?
His battle sense remained as a side effect of the magic exposure and other realm blood elements. On the battlefield, the sense drew on him constantly. But the blood that coated him got into his mouth and absorbed into his skin, covering the cost and more. It thrived off a human's soul, or chi, and the blood balanced it. But the demon rage was like hitting the gas pedal on a drag racer, emptying the fuel tank in seconds. You received all the power you could want but you burnt out fast and had to be replenished. Replenishment meant blood, one way or another.
Must push it down now or someone will die.
Declan raised his hand slowly and closed his eyes as he began to lick the drops of blood off his fingers. Each drop of demon blood entering his body gave him a bit more control. He felt it merging with him - rewarding him for his kill, recharging his body so he can kill more for more reward. More power.
Yes. I have paid the debt. Now reward me.
Declan moaned, almost as if in pleasure. Then his eyes snapped abruptly open as all of his senses returned to normal. Looking at his hand Declan noticed they are completely licked clean of blood. Every bit of the demon's blood gone. He choked off an involuntary sob of revulsion.
Pulling himself up in a daze, he walked back through the parking lot and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He grabbed the dead drone carcass and tossed it into the back of his truck. Declan pulled himself slowly into the cab and drove away from the VFW and headed back to his place.
I don't think I can do this again. They can't be back already.
The battle awareness shutdown began, his senses dulling, oxygen fighting against the lactic acid build up in his muscles. His temples begin to ache as his body started reclaiming its chemical balance within his bloodstream. His reserve of latent magical energy was now almost totally depleted.
It's been too long. I'm burning much faster than I can recover from now.
His face grew rigid as he drove to his sanctuary. Demons were coming.
Chapter 9 - Allies?
She drove Midnight through the streets, cruising with an almost silent purr. Kayter smiled as she felt the vibrations and listened to the streets around her. Everyone took for granted the wars were over but she never had. Her dad had made sure of that. Real enemies never quit, which is why she made sure she knew where her allies were in every city she could. Not friends, but allies. Allies would be more important than friends when shit went sideways.
Up ahead the VFW sign came into view and she angled towards it. The VFW would give her food, good booze, and allow her to scope out possible allies. Even if she would have to deal with men treating her like she was just someone’s kid to be humored.
As she pulled into the parking lot, she passed a black F150 pulling out with an older bald man behind the steering wheel. She only caught a glimpse of him but something pulled at her, a memory? Someone she knew? But even as she turned her head to look better, he pulled away leaving her with a fleeting memory of something she couldn’t pin down.
Huh, never had that happen before. I’ll keep an eye out for that truck. Too bad it wasn’t neon pink or something easier to pick out.
Filing the thought away in her head, she came to a stop and shut off the engine but she didn’t take off the helmet. Another simple spell let her listen clearly through the helmet though with anyone else, the world outside would have been muffled.
A man in dark jeans and a polo shirt that just struck her as too neat stood there talking on his phone, his head turning to track the F-150.
“Yeah, think he’s ready for pick up. He’s showing signs of the rage. I’ll meet you in two days so we can discuss setting up an incident. That should give him plenty of time to simmer.” He paused obviously listening, then spoke up. “If he proves too much trouble, we’ll eliminate him. Old demon hunters are flakey anyway, he’s just convenient. Sure. I’ll file a report.”
The man hung up the phone, unlocked the car he stood by, pulling something from the glove box then locked it back up
and walked back into the bar. He glanced at her as she pulled off her helmet. The cascade of hair caught his attention as she shook her head, purposefully yawning as if popping her ears. He smiled at her, lingering for a minute, but she completely ignored him. With one more backward glance he went back into the bar.
He’ll hit on me when I go in. Wonder why they were so interested in that guy? Hell, why am I so interested in him? And who are they? And why do I smell demon blood?
Her body stock still, she let the sting of the scent invade her nostrils but she couldn't place a location. As if there had been blood there but the body got up and left.
Demons here? At a VFW? How fucking stupid could they get?
Narrowing her eyes, she pulled off her leather riding jacket and tucked it into one of the saddle bags, after pulling out a worn jean jacket. The jacket was threadbare in places but as she pulled it on her fingers gently traced the black bar with a red ribbon through it. A small pin sat below it, a gold star on a field of red. The medal given to a serviceman's family. For all other wars the field had been purple but if they were the eligible survivor of his or her immediate family in the Blood War, it was red. Then, in a ritual years in the making, her fingers continued over to the patch she'd sewed on herself with the 1-66 Armored Battalion crest on it. The last stop in her touch pattern, the subdued eagle patch and name tag with her dad's name. His dog tags had never been found and the idea of reprinting them seemed wrong. But the patch and tag were spares he'd had shipped to her, along with other things that in the long run were more important, when he got word of the imminent portal.
But for now these symbols were paramount, especially here. She started to enter, then stopped. Something about the comments from the man, the twig of memory about the demon hunter, all set the hair on the back of her neck rising.
What the fuck, I don't have anything else to do.
She reached back in and grabbed a small tracking device and slapped it up under the wheel well of the car.
I can track him, see where he goes, and follow in two days. I’ll see who he meets - maybe nothing, maybe something.
Dismissing it from her mind, she'd follow up on the tracker back at her RV. Now she wanted food, some information, and some beer. Hopefully, they had more than pale swill on tap.
She buzzed in and signed the log. Conversation died as she strode through the room, the sharp cracks of her riding boots hitting the linoleum floor as she moved for a table in the corner. Dropping into the corner, she let her gaze sweep over the room and men looked back at her. As the only woman beside a waitress, the men assessed her, their gazes snagging on the bar and the medal, then flicking to the patch. Half of them nodded at her, the older ones, turning and going back to their conversations.
A stocky thirtysomething man, with a warm natural smile, detached himself from behind the bar and walked over to her.
"Hey. I haven't seen you here before." His eyes snagged on the name on her jacket. "Your dad?"
"Yeah, part of 1-66 at Ypsilanti."
"Ah. I've got a few other survivors here from that. You never joined?"
The question was common and she smiled, taking no offense. "No. For lots of reasons, but the primary one, Dad asked me not to when I turned eighteen. Besides the war ended a few years later."
"Makes sense. So, what can I get you?"
She glanced at the menu, you never could tell what a given VFW would serve but the quantity never disappointed. "Bacon cheeseburger, medium, fries, and a side salad, please. Large lager? Something dark?"
"You got it." He turned and strode back to the bar.
Kayter pulled out her phone and pretended to check it, even as she scoped out the other people in the room. The man who'd preceded her in sat at the bar but she caught his eyes watching her in the mirror. A few others, younger men, probably caught the mop-up of the Blood War. Since the armistice had been signed, there had been no overseas engagements. While the US still maintained a minuscule presence at some their bases overseas, the world had entered an unprecedented few years of peace. That was mainly because most countries were still trying to recover from the damage, that and no one had any patience with a country acting out. The last one to try had been informed that many countries still had nukes that were useless against demons but they had no issue with shooting them at humans.
The emergence of demons had shattered centuries-old religious feuds. Having real demons invade created a ripple effect on how religions treated the afterlife.
One of the men, youngish, probably did a few years in the Sandbox before the BW started, pushed back his chair and headed over to her. The others at his table were casting grins at his back.
Kayter rolled her eyes and prepared to be wooed. Unlike the idiot back at the Waffle House, this qualified as a potential ally and you never burned that bridge without serious consideration.
Decent enough looking, with an engaging smile, he ambled over, hands in his pockets and shoulders a bit bent. She had to restrain the desire to snap at him to straighten up and walk like a man. Her father had zero tolerance for anyone that didn't carry themselves in a no-nonsense manner. If you walked like a victim, you were a victim. If you walked like you were unsure, you were unsure.
"Hey, haven't you seen you in here before." His eyes snagged on her jacket, registering the emblems there, and his attitude changed. "Dad?"
"Yeah, 1-66."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
She shrugged. "I'm not. He went out and took a hell of a lot of those bastards with them. I know for sure he died well. He wouldn't have wanted anything less."
"How did you end up here?" It sounded like an honest question, so she answered it.
"Heard about the portal rumor out here, figured I'd check it out. I've got some experience with demons."
Understatement of the century there.
He glanced out the windows and looked at the Chief sitting there.
"That yours?"
"Yeah, my baby. I rebuilt her with Dad. Needless to say, she's kinda important." She couldn't stop the lilt of pleasure when she talked about the Chief.
The kid, and why did he feel like such a kid to her, when in reality he probably had a few years on her, straightened up and looked at her closely. She knew he saw her knives and her gun. She didn't make any effort to hide them; she just didn’t flaunt them. Then he gave her a real smile, not the come hither one she knew he had practiced.
"My name's Kyle and I came over to see if I could buy you a drink. Even though you're the most stunning woman I've seen in years," he said with sincerity, his blues eyes locked on her mismatched ones, "I'm not enough for you. You've probably killed more demons than I have. I never got any major action and… " he trailed off and shrugged. "You aren't looking for any action. Even I can see that. And I'm not about to go where I'm not wanted. I hope I see you around. Let me know if you need anything." He turned and walked away, this time his posture straight.
Kayter sat there blinking for a moment, thrown off guard and chuckled to herself.
Maybe there is more to the kid than I thought.
Before she had a chance to look after him, the watcher from the parking lot stood and walked over holding two beers and sat down across from her.
Her smile held not an ounce of sincerity but she kept her temper as she looked at the interloper.
"I figured since you chased away the child, you might like a man."
She looked him over, and unlike the kid, he blinked a bit when he saw her eyes, brown and blue locking on to him.
"Who said I wanted a man?" Her voice was cool but she reached out and took the beer; free booze was free booze. She glanced up and saw the bartender nod at her and took a pull, knowing it hadn't been tampered with. Or more accurately, if it had been, the entire VFW would be on fire soon. She knew her body and it would recognize most drugs, so she let the beer wash away a touch of her stress.
"Doesn't every woman? A man to protect her, to keep her warm at night?"
Kayter paused halfway to another mouthful of beer, grateful he'd said that before she took a drink, or maybe she wasn't. If he'd said it, he would have gotten covered with beer in a spit take.
"There are lots of things I need. New tires for my bike, a steady paycheck, and unlimited beer. Nowhere in that list is a man. So, thank you for the beer but I'm just here to get some food, then I’ll get going."
Taking that second mouthful of beer, she waited to see how he would respond.
He flushed red. "You owe me, I bought you a beer and you drank it."
"Sure, free beer. But that was your choice. You didn't say I owed you, so I got a free beer. Go me." She flashed him a smile, raising the beer glass in a mock toast and waited to see what he would say or do.
He pushed back from his chair looming over her, trying to intimidate. Kayter didn't care, she wanted to see how the rest of the bar reacted and had to fight to hide a smile. Kyle and his table of other two guys stood up and were headed over as were the two old guys in the corner, the bartender had stepped out with a bat in his hand, and one guy, a bit younger than her dad would have been, reached down to pull a gun and set it on the table facing their direction.
Yes, I could kiss you, you unknown asshole, you just did all my work for me.
"Bitch, just cause your daddy died doesn't mean all you have to do is shake your tits and get anything you want."
"My father gave his life to save assholes like you. But I didn't shake anything. Just cause you served, you think you should get into my pants? That's your problem, not mine. Go away."
"Ma'am, is he bugging you?" Kyle spoke with his friends behind him, and the two old men, Vietnam vets from their hats.
"Bugging? No, but he is about to get hurt." She said her eyes never leaving the sleaze. "Go away. I came in for food nothing else."
His face flushed red and for a minute she thought he would swing at her.
Please swing at me, that would be perfect. Please?
He glanced around to see the bartender looking at him. "Close out your tab. You're not welcome here anymore."
