Infernal Justice (Angels at the Edge Book 2)

by Michael Arches

  Instead of lashing out, I controlled my fury. Then I switched into Muttonchop’s head so I could see his memory of the two devils’ human forms. Both were Caucasian. The taller one had a long and thin face with small beady eyes. He wore his long black hair in a ponytail. He was wearing a ruby red jogging suit and a Raiders cap.

  The other devil was a few inches shorter and much beefier. He was cleanshaven, and red tattoos covered his arms. He wore a yellow t-shirt and faded jeans. I committed both images to memory.

  Their appearances could be changed, but they’d need the help of a powerful demon for that. They definitely had their hands full for the moment, hiding from the cops, the local demons, and the Angelic Legion. I hoped to have the pleasure of finding them shortly.

  Chapter 2

  Monday, August 7th

  UNTIL THREE A.M., I checked each new demon’s mind as they entered Claim Jumper. The place was undeniably popular, over a hundred dark immortals had dropped by, and I checked each one for information about the Winter girls. Nothing new since I’d found the satyrs. Worse, we ran an ever-greater risk of running into the minotaur.

  The flow of newcomers had slowed dramatically, so I said to Kiko, “I think we’ve done all we can for the night.”

  She nodded, and I told Honah with a mental message. Everything around me went pitch black. Without feeling like I’d moved or knowing how much time had passed, I found myself back in the barn at my sister’s ranch in Golden.

  To my surprise, he popped out of thin air in front of me and sat on a bale of hay. I sat on a second bale next to him and passed on to him what I’d learned, including showing him the images of the devils in human form. Then I said, “I’m more than happy to work on this case, but we don’t usually get involved in solving individual crimes, no matter how gruesome, do we?”

  He shook his head. “This is different, a new kind of terrorism. Until now, demons have avoided attacking human children. We cannot let this horror go unpunished. Already, these devils have managed to horrify parents everywhere. You’ve never had children, Gabriel, but I did, long ago. It’s hard to explain to someone who isn't a parent how this kind of attack unhinges mothers and fathers in the region. And if we don’t stop this new development immediately, demons everywhere will begin doing the same thing. That would pose a fundamental threat to human society.”

  The murder and kidnapping didn’t seem to be as horrible as the forest fires I’d worked on a month ago in Colorado—they’d caused so much devastation—but I didn’t get the whole parenting thing. At least, I could understand his point about stopping the attacks on kids before they caught on everywhere. This definitely was a chance for me to show him and the other angels that a detective could be damned useful to the legion now and then.

  When Honah left, I headed to the house and waited for my sister to come downstairs. When she did, she looked like she was about to drop her baby at any instant, even though she supposedly had a couple of weeks to go. The smile on her face created a lump in my throat—she was so happy. Ellen was going to be a great mom, and I’d have to work my butt off to be an equally great uncle.

  I made breakfast for both of us, but it was mostly for her. I didn’t need food anymore, but I pretended to eat some to keep her from figuring out my secret—immortality. It helped that Honah had put some kind of spell on her so she wouldn’t notice how much I’d changed.

  It was a warm morning, and after eating, we headed out to do our chores. She couldn’t bend over much, so I handled most of the work, which was fine. I never got tired, and while I milked the goats and sheep, I could plan my investigation of the attack on the Winter girls.

  By noon, the day’s ranch work was finished, which was wonderful because it was already ninety degrees outside. Ellen made lunch and took a nap on the sofa. She had to sleep on her side, she told me, or her back ached.

  I headed upstairs to the office we shared and researched online to find out more about the murder and kidnapping. So far, neither the cops nor the FBI had found the killers or poor Cassandra.

  Local law enforcement did publicize a grainy video of the two devils in human form as they’d swooped in. The clip had been recorded by a security camera far away from the attack. Even so, I could see the devils slithering up behind the girls as they walked on a sidewalk near city hall. The tall demon grabbed Cassandra, and the beefier one wrapped his arms around Iris. At the same time, the white van pulled up next to them. It only took a few seconds for the devils to haul the girls into the van, then it sped off.

  The driver was a Caucasian woman with dark hair covering part of her face. She couldn’t have been very tall because her head barely stuck up over the steering wheel.

  According to a police spokesman, no fingerprints were found in the stolen van, just poor Iris’ dead body.

  The various articles repeated some of the facts I knew, but I also learned that Cassandra loved whales and wanted a career in law enforcement. That touched my heart. Hang in there, girl. We’re not going to let you down.

  Honah was right about the impact on the public. It was a slow news day, and the Winter story showed up on the website for every US newspaper I checked. The demons had found a way to terrorize parents in the Bay Area and worry lots of other folks across the country.

  I was eager to help local law enforcement, but my main goal was to start looking for the killers and Cassandra. That was what Honah needed.

  -o-o-o-

  AFTER MORE PONDERING without coming up with any great ideas, I decided to ask the chief about his connections with the cops in San Francisco. I figured I might be able to piggyback off of their work to find the murderers and the girl.

  As usual, Honah was busier than hell, and I didn’t hear from him for over an hour. Then, instead of responding, he sent my off-and-on investigative partner, Cleopatra, to the barn where I was finishing the evening milking. We were alone so she and I could talk freely.

  First, I gave her a hug. Cleo always managed to bring a smile to my face. We’d become good friends in fighting forest fires. Best of all, the woman was uniformly upbeat, no matter how nasty a situation happened to be.

  When I went back to my work, she said, “Honah asked me to pass on a bit of good news. One of the guardian angels in San Francisco is an FBI special agent, Jack Andrews. He’s ready to meet with us.”

  I finished with the last goat, but it still took me a few minutes to clean the equipment. Then I remembered. “Wait, I can’t leave until Ellen’s out for the night.”

  Cleo tittered, a sound that always reminded me of wind chimes. “You are so adorable with her. She’s asleep in front of the TV. If you help her upstairs, I’m sure she’ll stay up there until morning.”

  When I reached the living room, Ellen was snoring quietly on the sofa. I helped her up to her bedroom, and she told me she was going to head to bed.

  Because I was away most nights, Honah had arranged for a human security guard to keep her company while I traipsed around the West Coast. The chief had also installed a powerful ward to keep any nosy demons at bay. They weren’t supposed to know about the newest angel yet, but we couldn’t be sure.

  I told the guard Ellen should be down for the count until morning, and I would be leaving again. He simply nodded.

  Honah teleported me and Cleo to the sidewalk outside a restaurant in San Francisco’s Chinatown. As usual, nobody seemed to notice when we’d popped out of thin air near a crowd. That never ceased to amaze me. His magic worked on a level far above what I could understand.

  Cleo and I had to stand in line a few minutes to get to the hostess who showed us to a quiet corner where Jack Andrews had staked out a table. He wore a suit and a loosened tie. In human form, he looked to be in his mid-fifties, a stocky guy with a crew cut and black hair liberally sprinkled with gray. He rose from his seat to give Cleo a hug then shook my hand. His grip was viselike, but then again, so was mine. Although we looked human, we were much stronger.

 
A waiter showed up and took our drink orders, water which we left untouched. Cleo and Jack spent a few minutes catching up with each other.

  Then he turned to me. “You have to try the roasted duck. I rarely eat anymore, but once a month I come here. It’s my favorite comfort food.”

  We ordered a variety of things to share, including the duck, and when the waiter left, I whispered to Jack, “I’m hoping you can give us a starting point to look for the demons and the missing girl.”

  He grimaced. “I was hoping you’d tell us. We haven’t been able to pick up their trail.”

  I sighed. So, we were all flying blind.

  “From what little I know,” I said, “this looks like a botched kidnapping. If so, the devils must’ve figured out a plan in advance to contact the mayor and demand a ransom.”

  Our waiter brought our food, and we spent a moment filling our plates. Then Jack said, “Sure, you’re right. We’re monitoring all of his communications. No contact yet.”

  Not a good sign. The girls had been grabbed more than twenty-four hours before. My heart twisted. It might already be too late for little Cassandra.

  “What if the demons used a secret way to communicate with the mayor?” Cleo asked. “Maybe they know someone close to him?”

  Jack paused with his fork full of roasted pork suspended in midair. “Could be. His ex-wife refuses to speak to him, but the mayor is very close to his brother. The two have been inseparable since the girls were snatched. Maybe the demons are using him as a go-between.”

  “It’s worth checking out,” I said. “If you can get me close to the mayor, I can find out.”

  Jack checked his watch. “I’m scheduled to interview him again in an hour. You two can come with me and check everybody’s mind at the mayor’s townhouse.”

  “Works for me,” I said. That would answer Cleo’s question much faster than wiretapping everybody and hoping someone would be dumb enough to blurt out the truth over a phone line.

  We finished our meal, and Jack had been right. The duck turned out to be terrific. Maybe I’d have to return with him on his next monthly visit.

  On the way to the mayor’s house, I asked him, “How rich is the mayor and his family?”

  He said, “Not much dough. Wally Winter started out as a community organizer. Then he became a local councilman for years. He was elected mayor almost two years ago. In short, he’s never held a job that paid the big bucks. If he has money, it means he’s dirty somehow. No evidence of that yet.”

  “Then he’s not a good target for a ransom, is he?” Cleo asked.

  Jack shook his head. “This whole deal is confusing all of us. His brother owns a small plumbing company in Vallejo. No big money there either. All I can imagine is that the demons assumed that a politician as well-known as Winter would be rich.”

  I didn’t comment, but I didn’t accept his reasoning. The devils had planned their attack carefully, and they’d most likely taken the time to investigate the mayor’s financial situation. If the demons were in it for the money, there were plenty of rich people in San Francisco who were much more attractive targets. We were overlooking something important.

  -o-o-o-

  JACK PARKED ON the street close to the mayor’s two-story brownstone. One of the buildings nearby had broken windows and a neglected front yard, so this wasn’t a fancy neighborhood. That confirmed Winter’s lack of money.

  As long as Cleo and I promised not to snoop, Jack let us share his mind. We agreed, and he exited the car.

  On the way to the townhouse, I asked the other two, How much do you two think Winter’s place is worth?

  After a moment’s hesitation, she told me, At least two million dollars. He must’ve obtained a large mortgage.

  Jack added, He owes $1.6 million. Like most people living in this town, he can barely afford to pay his housing expenses.

  The FBI agent strode up the steps to the front porch. He showed his badge to get past a pair of beat cops. When we entered the home, a white-haired woman in a beige business suit approached.

  “I was about to call you, Jack,” she said. “The mayor is extremely ill. He’s been vomiting since before dinnertime, and now he’s a wreck. His doctor has ordered immediate bedrest and gave him a powerful sedative.”

  It seemed awfully peculiar he fell apart a full day after his older daughter was killed and the younger snatched. I couldn’t wait to check his mind.

  Annoyance flooded through Jack, but he kept his voice even. “I’m sure he wants to get his daughter back as soon as possible. If we could speak to him for just a few minutes, Linda, it might help us in our mutual goal.”

  She shook her head. “Yesterday was an incredible shock. He simply can’t cope. His heartfelt plea to the kidnappers at his press conference this afternoon has been ignored completely. I’m hoping a good night’s sleep, or at least some sleep, will help him to bounce back tomorrow.”

  She’s a good place to start, I told Jack. Then I merged into her mind.

  His pinched face told me he wasn’t happy with her stonewalling. “At least ask him,” Jack said.

  She sighed. “If he’s awake, I will.”

  The FBI agent nodded, and Cleo told me, I’ll check the others in the house for secrets or new information.

  As Linda headed upstairs, I checked her mind for sincerity. It didn’t take long to figure out she was just doing her job. If the mayor hoped to avoid talking with the FBI, she didn’t know about it. And the woman was genuinely worried about his health.

  Inside, I saw more evidence that the mayor was relatively poor. The old oak staircase showed wear from many decades of use, and one of the newels was missing the ornamental ball on its top. In addition, many of the plaster walls were cracked. Winter obviously hadn’t put much effort into upkeep, probably because he didn’t have money to spare.

  Linda knocked on his bedroom door but got no response. Then she opened it a crack and peeked in. He was lying in bed, apparently asleep.

  I urged her to approach him so I could read his mind, even though he was unconscious.

  But she felt very uncomfortable in his bedroom and wouldn’t get close enough to him for me to make the jump into his head.

  Instead, she closed the door and headed back downstairs to give Jack the unwelcome news. When she shook his hand good night, I switched back into his head.

  The two of us stood there, chatting with a housekeeper and waiting for Cleo to return.

  A few minutes later, a young aide walked by Jack, leaving for the evening. Cleo popped back into his head from the aide’s. Then Jack headed back to his car.

  I learned nothing new, she told us.

  As we passed the cops on the front porch, their radios squawked.

  We all heard the news at the same time. “Cassandra Winter has been found in a parking lot at a suburban Walmart store far south of the city. She hasn’t been physically harmed, but she keeps screaming for help. The EMTs on scene can’t comfort her. The chief of police has ordered her transported by helicopter to the emergency room of Savior’s Hospital in downtown San Francisco. As soon as she's cleared by the ER doctors, she will be questioned.”

  Jack drove straight there. All the while, I wondered what the devils had done to that poor girl. The EMTs who first checked would’ve found any obvious injuries, but it sounded like they couldn’t assess her mental state, except to say she was distraught. I needed to find out the gruesome details if we had any chance of tracking down the devils who attacked her. I might even be able to help her cope with the horror she’d experienced.

  -o-o-o-

  WHEN WE ARRIVED at the hospital, the news had hit the news media. Dozens of television vans filled the hospital’s parking lot, and a crowd of well-wishers holding lighted candles was gathering outside the ER entrance. They were kept back from entering by a solid wall of cops.

  Jack’s badge got him though that first line of defense, with Cleo and me in his head. Then
he showed it to the ER receptionist. “Where’s Cassandra Winter?”

  “Fourth floor, Pediatrics, but you can’t talk to her. Her mother has issued strict orders. She’s to be left to her doctors’ care.”

  I could understand the sentiment, but the girl was our best link to find the kidnappers, and I could get the info we needed without her even knowing I’d invaded her privacy.

  Jack took us to the fourth floor. Several more cops met us at the elevator there and checked his credentials again. When they let him pass, he strode over to two women talking with the SFPD chief and introduced himself to the women.

  Cassandra’s mother, Roxanne Davis, shook his hand and said hello. She was a tall, statuesque brunette wearing a sweatshirt and dirty tan slacks. Her eyes were bloodshot, and tears ran down her cheeks.

  Jack didn’t beat around the bush. “Ma’am, either I or the chief need to speak to your daughter as soon as possible. Every second counts.”

  She shook her head. The other woman, who was older and wore a business suit, said, “Sarah Wainwright. I’ve been retained to represent Cassandra. She’s under her doctors’ care at this time and won’t be available for police interviews until tomorrow, at the very earliest. She’s suffering from severe post-traumatic stress. The poor girl is simply devastated. I haven’t even been able to speak to her.”

  The police chief threw up his hands in frustration.

  Jack nodded. “I can be extremely tactful. She’s our best chance to catch the people who murdered her sister and traumatized her. Every minute that passes is critical to finding them before they can hurt someone else’s little girl.”

  Wainwright’s lips pursed in a thin line, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Not happening tonight. My obligation is to Cassandra, not the criminal justice system or any other potential victims.”

  They were still arguing when a white-haired black man in scrubs approached Roxanne. “I’m Doctor Reynolds, the head of the child psychiatric care department. Which of you is Ms. Davis?”