American Demon Hunters_An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Thriller

by J. Thorn

  “Y’all check it out. You’ll see.”

  He nodded as if the 911 dispatcher on the other end would be convinced by his body language.

  “That white bitch be a junkie and she paid to get her fix in blood. Hang that devil.”

  He hung up and tossed the phone into the oven preheated to 450 degrees. Johnny smiled as the plastic bubbled and melted, sending the stench of sour chemicals into the air.

  Chapter 30

  One Week Later (November 21, 2014)

  Corey smiled at Martha and grabbed his plate with both hands.

  “This is just a warm-up for the main event. We’re going to have one delicious bird.”

  Martha scooped mashed potatoes on to Corey’s plate along with a slice of meatloaf. The boy devoured the food in minutes.

  “She’s right,” Fred said “Your grandmother does Thanksgiving like nobody else. Just you wait and see what she cooks up next week.”

  Corey nodded and looked at his father. Hank twirled a fork in his mashed potatoes, turning them into beige sludge with gravy. The boy waited a moment and then took his dirty plates to the dishwasher before continuing up the steps to his room. The late-November sun disappeared hours ago and the heater was already working as hard as it would in January. Fred glanced at Martha and sighed before turning back to Hank.

  “Can we talk?”

  “Huh?” Hank asked, his head still down.

  “I said can we talk? We’re all a bit concerned about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not, hon,” Martha said. “When was the last time you took a shower?”

  Hank leaned back in his chair and dropped the fork to the plate where it made a sharp clang. He put both hands on the table, palms down, and bowed his head as if to pray. Hank looked up at them through bloodshot eyes. The color vanished from his face, his greasy hair stuck to his forehead.

  “We’re here for you, Hank. For Corey, too. We can help if you talk to us.”

  Hank looked at Fred as he spoke and then Hank’s face broke into a wide grin. He started to giggle at first until the laughter burst forth in spits and coughs.

  “Help, yes,” Hank said. He whistled and shook his head. “Everybody wants to help.”

  “Maybe I can cut you a piece of my famous apple—”

  “I don’t want any pie,” Hank said, interrupting Martha. He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

  “Listen to me,” Fred said, while Martha stood up and began to collect the remains of the meatloaf and potatoes to store as leftovers.

  “I am, Fred. I’m tired. That’s all.”

  Fred waited for Martha to walk the dirty plates into the kitchen before he continued, as if he could spare her the reality of the situation.

  “We need to talk about next month. About the anniversary of Michelle’s death.”

  Fred waited for Hank to respond, watching his face twist and contort.

  “I know what you’re considering and I have to tell you it's a huge mistake. She’s our daughter. Don’t you think we’d be supporting this if we knew it would turn out well?”

  “It will.”

  “You don’t know that. You haven’t seen what we have. You haven’t had to spend your life protecting this town from its own grief. The odds are against you. You’re a mathematician. You should know this.”

  “We’re talking about Michelle.”

  “No,” Fred said. “We’re talking about her memory. She’s gone. Whatever you think you can bring back won’t be her. You’re putting yourself, your son and this whole town at risk. We don’t have the most experienced people in the Order these days. You could be putting our entire civilization in jeopardy.”

  “I haven’t been able to live without her. It's been almost a year and I’m a wreck.”

  “You have Corey to raise and she’s part of him.”

  “C’mon,” Hank said. “I want my wife back and my son deserves to have her back. If there’s any chance I can do that, I’m going to try. Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you do everything you could to save Martha?”

  “Yes I would. When she’s alive. Michelle is dead. My daughter—your wife—is dead. What you think you can bring back will not be her. It might look like her and sound like her, but it will not be Michelle. Her spirit has been released and none of us here can make it return.”

  “Well I have to try. Maybe I can. There’s a first for everything.”

  “You know we can’t physically stop you. The universe will allow you to choose your fate. If you summon Michelle with her death map, we will have to be there to deal with the situation, but we cannot stop you.”

  “I know,” Hank said. He respected Fred and his honesty, but none of that could cut through the layers of grief Hank bundled inside.

  “Then please think about what you’re considering. Think about the consequences of your actions.”

  Hank pushed his chair back from the table and stood. He exhaled and turned toward the steps.

  “Hank?”

  “Yes,” he said looking over a shoulder.

  “Think of the consequences.”

  Hank waved his hand in the air as if walking through a smoky bar.

  “That’s all I do. I’m a professional thinker.”

  Chapter 31

  The Next Day (November 22, 2014)

  The temperature fell as the first stars kissed a black velvet sky. The last of autumn’s leaves gathered in piles, trapped in the corners of fences. The clouds thickened and threatened to drop the first lake effect snow of the season.

  Johnny looked up at the sky as he slid from the driver’s side of his delivery truck. The parking lot at Cleveland Heights City Hall was half-full, most of the cars huddled toward the entrance to the police department. He pulled his collar up and yanked his cap down tight. Johnny knew it was risky. He hoped Sonya would assume it was Singleton who sent him down to bail her out after she called him. The fact that Sonya would call Singleton first was the assumption Johnny had to make. He felt good about his odds but also knew if they didn’t break his way, he would have to make some last-minute changes. Johnny would have to pivot on his plan to exact revenge on Sonya Lisander, but only temporarily. He’d still get what he wanted in the end.

  He walked through the glass doors and to the front desk where a long-faced cop sat amongst a collection of dirty coffee mugs and fast food wrappers. The man looked up at Johnny with the same suspicious look he gave all black men he encountered during his decades on the force. For some in his generation, racism was part of their DNA.

  “Can I help you?” the officer asked.

  “I’m here to bail out Sonya Lisander.”

  The cop looked at him from his head to toe. He nodded at Johnny’s navy blue delivery uniform and sat back in the old, rickety desk chair flipping through paperwork on his clipboard.

  “Really? Why don’t you just stack the hundred grand bail on the top of the counter and I’ll count it.”

  The officer smiled at his own joke and turned back to the show he was watching on a seven-inch television mounted on the wall.

  Johnny slapped the stack of bills down and folded his arms.

  “I hope this is fine.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sonya came through the security door and walked down the hall toward the front desk. Johnny felt the heat in his pants when he saw her. She wore makeup although it was smudged under her eyes. Her long, blond hair fell around her shoulders and over a black leather coat. She had on low-riding jeans that clung to her hips and a pair of black boots that came almost to her knees.

  “Singleton sent you?” she asked, while signing a number of documents on the clipboard at the front desk. The old cop was no longer entertained by the scene and was putting the cash beneath the counter into a lock box.

  “He told me what happened and I said I’d handle it. Had some cash saved and figured I could loan it to you until this all gets straightened out.”

  “Took you long enough,�
� she said. She looked at the stacks of cash being handled by the desk sergeant. Sonya finished the paperwork and gave Johnny a lukewarm smile.

  Fucking ungrateful bitch.

  “Those in the Order, we have to take care of each other.”

  “Yes... So where’s your car?”

  “I have my truck,” Johnny said. “I use it in emergencies.” Sonya turned her head sideways and raised her eyebrows.

  “They let you do that?”

  “No. But what they don’t know...”

  She walked past Johnny and through the glass doors without another word to the officer at the front counter. Sonya stepped into the cold November air, putting a hand over her eyes and scanning for Johnny’s truck. She spotted it to the east of the entrance to the police department and began walking without waiting for Johnny. He skipped ahead until he was walking beside her.

  “So what happened?” he asked.

  “Someone sent me drugs.”

  “You don’t seem too concerned about it.”

  “Why should I be? I didn’t buy them. Whoever did this will eventually get caught and then I’ll hang them by the balls.”

  Johnny snickered.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said, turning the tail end of his laugh into a cough. “Where do you live?”

  “Cleveland Heights. But we’re not going there.”

  No. No, we’re not, Johnny thought.

  “We have to go to the lab and talk to Singleton. I need an attorney and then we have to game plan. Michelle’s anniversary is in a few weeks.”

  “Right. Hank. You think he’ll do it?”

  “If I knew, we wouldn’t have to game plan, would we?”

  Johnny nodded. He was going to enjoy hurting her.

  Sonya walked around to the passenger side, slid the door open and lowered the jump seat so she could sit.

  Johnny climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

  “I need to run a report into dispatch.”

  “It's ten o’clock at night,” Sonya said.

  “It’ll only take a second.”

  Sonya sighed and lowered her head into her hands and used her fingers to massage her temples before releasing a slow, wide yawn.

  Johnny drove through the streets of East Cleveland until he reached the warehouse. He punched the security code at the gate and waited for it to open. He pulled the delivery truck around back to the loading docks and parked on the end, the one furthest from the lens of the security camera. He backed up to the dock and put the truck in park.

  “I need some help finding the report back here. How about a hand?”

  Sonya looked into the dark empty parking lot and then back at Johnny, her lip twitching. She hesitated.

  “C’mon,” he said, throwing her a warm smile. “We’ll find it faster if we’re both looking.

  Sonya ignored the alarms ringing inside of her head, stood up and followed Johnny from the cab to the back of the delivery truck.

  “If it gets us out of this shithole faster,” she said.

  Chapter 32

  With the dishwasher running and both Hank and Corey upstairs, Martha sat next to Fred on the couch. They stared at the burning wood in the fireplace. Martha stood to put another log on the fire when Fred broke the silence.

  “Should we ask Singleton to increase the surveillance?”

  “Why?” Martha asked. “We know what he’s going to do and we can’t stop him. We might as well make plans to have the Order there on Michelle’s anniversary. We should tell George and Sonya to be ready and hope it doesn’t turn into a hunt. I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m not sure I can stand there and watch my daughter’s physical form reappear.”

  Fred sighed and shook his head. The phone rang. Fred reached over to the end table and looked at the caller ID. “It’s George. Pick it up.”

  Fred hit the talk button.

  “Hello?”

  “Fred. It's me.”

  “Yeah. We have to talk. It's about Hank.”

  “Fred, we have bigger problems right now.”

  Fred sat up straight on the couch and locked eyes with Martha while keeping the phone tucked under his chin. “What is it?”

  “Sonya.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s been arrested. Drug charges.”

  Fred leaned back into the couch cushions, dispelling a puff of air and dust mites from the ancient pillow.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Sonya is in jail. Meet me at the police station in an hour.”

  When they arrived, Singleton was standing on the sidewalk in front of the police station with his hands in his pockets. He wore a black wool coat and a fedora, making him look like a gangster from the 1950s. He rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels, trying to stay warm. Fred put the car in park and reached for the door. Martha was already halfway to Singleton.

  “Drugs?” Martha asked.

  “It's a mistake. A misunderstanding. We’ll clear it all up,” Singleton said.

  “It has to be,” Fred said, as he caught up to Martha and stood on the other side of Singleton. “It's not like she’s a common thug.”

  Singleton flicked his hand in the air and turned to enter the station. Fred and Martha followed him.

  The officer behind the desk sighed. He looked at Singleton by turning his eyes, not his body.

  “We need to talk to the chief.”

  “He’s not taking visitors,” the cop said.

  “Do you know who I am?” Singleton asked.

  “Yep.”

  Singleton looked at Fred and then back at the officer behind the desk.

  “I want the chief. Now.”

  “Listen, doc. I don’t know what voodoo you practice in that ivory tower you rent from the university, but you ain’t gonna push me around. The chief ain’t here. And even if he was, there would be no way you’d bully yourself in to see him.” The officer picked up his clipboard and ran his finger down the list of releases for the day. “Besides, she split.”

  “Who?” Martha asked, nudging Singleton to the side.

  “Lisander. She’s been out on bail for an hour.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” George said to Fred. “Sonya doesn’t have any family. Who would have bailed her out?”

  “How much was bail?” Singleton asked the officer.

  “A hundred K.”

  “Did she make a call?”

  “No.”

  George, Fred and Martha stood in a semi-circle around the desk. They glanced at each other, heads shaking. Singleton turned back to the desk.

  “Who did she leave with?”

  “Black guy. Delivery uniform,” he said. The officer grabbed the clipboard with a meaty hand. He squinted and read the name at the top of the paper. “Johnny Jackson.”

  Singleton stepped back and scratched his head.

  Fred put his hand on George’s shoulder and the three of them stepped to the side, hoping to signal to the officer they needed a moment in private. The cop slapped the clipboard down and faced the television, but he kept his show paused.

  “Did you send Johnny?” Fred asked Singleton.

  “Of course not,” he said. “Why would I ask you to meet me here if I had?”

  “We need to get to her house,” Martha said. “I don’t like how this feels.”

  Singleton headed for the door.

  “I’m too frazzled to drive,” he said, tossing the keys to Fred.

  Martha was in the back seat, surrendering shotgun to Singleton. She called Sonya’s cell phone seven times. The same measured greeting played each time she called.

  Singleton’s white hair lay scattered in patches on his head and the wrinkles on his face deepened in the shadows, like long, thin cuts of darkness. Martha caught glimpses of his face in the mirror. Singleton’s eyes darted left to right, seeming to search for Sonya as if she were a lost dog in the neighborhood.

  Fred drove faster than usua
l, pushing Martha against the door on a quick right turn. She clicked her tongue and shook her head, but Fred was not paying attention. The doctor broke the silence, the first time anyone in the car spoke since leaving the police station.

  “It had to be Johnny.”

  “What was Johnny doing? And how would he know she was arrested?” Fred asked.

  He brought the car to a stop at a red light and turned to face Singleton.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Singleton said. “Why would Johnny bail out Sonya and with what?”

  The questions came like water over falls. Martha remained quiet in the backseat. She stared out the window, turning something over in her mind.

  “He had the money somewhere,” Fred said. “They wouldn’t exactly let her slide on that. And drugs? That doesn’t seem like Sonya. I got a call from a guardian who knows an officer on the force.”

  “She said it was heroin,” Singleton said.

  “That’s even more bizarre. Sonya could have written herself any script she wanted. Why mess with that stuff and who would be dumb enough to have it arrive in the mail?”

  “It was his pride,” Martha said from the back seat.

  Fred and George looked into the mirror at the same time, waiting for Martha to explain.

  “She bruised his ego. Remember what she said after killing the Gaki? He was angry, embarrassed.”

  “That still doesn’t make sense,” Fred said. “If this is some kind of revenge, why would he bail her out? Wouldn’t he leave her in jail?”

  Singleton waited for Martha to reply.

  “Yes, he would. Unless he was the one who planted the drugs in the first place and the revenge he has planned is not jail. It's something else.”

  “He’s a delivery man,” Singleton said, slapping a palm to his forehead.

  “He planted the drugs,” Fred said.

  “Which means she is in trouble,” Martha said.

  Fred pulled the car alongside the curb. He put it in park and all three of them looked at Sonya’s house. Her car was in the driveway but the house was dark.

  “She’s not there,” Singleton said.

  “Or that’s how he wants it to appear. We need to check. Do you have a key, George?”