by Jill Cooper
Demons were moving in. Soon they’d own this town and any humans who dared remain would be dead, or so addicted to drugs, they wouldn’t even care.
Seeing how bad it was, it was no wonder the Blood sisters came here. Their primary mission, stop the demons. They didn’t realize how large the bounty on their heads had grown. Whatever they were up to, they had pissed demons off in high places. Lourdes didn’t set a bounty on just anyone, so whatever the Bloods had done to piss her off, must’ve been huge.
The girls were in more trouble than ever.
Duncan checked out the apartment building they visited while in town. Where a disturbed single mother had been shot and left for dead. Duncan talked to her at the hospital.
Her room was vacant, no flowers, which meant no family and friends. There was only the quiet hum of the machines.
Her name was Nancy and she gave him a smile he would have considered flirtatious under any other circumstances. “Why, don’t you have the best blue eyes.”
The smile and statement made Duncan’s stomach churn and bile rose in his throat. Laid up in her bed, the woman was more bones than flesh. Her blond hair like limp straw framed a skeletal face. Her cheekbones were too prominent and she had trouble swallowing. her eyes so deeply sunken that he had trouble even keeping eye contact.
How far could humanity fall? It was staring him right in the face, man. The essence of demon could destroy a person, but it was their choice to take the drugs. Their choice to shoot up in the first place. There was no doubt why the girls chose to help her. Amanda couldn’t resist a head case and Jessica, for the most part, was helpless against her sister’s wishes.
“I was left for dead. I know I was, but I’m healed now. No sign of the gunshot wound!” Nancy shook her head and her hands trembled. When she swallowed, it was a struggle as if something was caught in her throat. “I think I might have been given a second chance, for me and my babies.”
A second chance, the type only Amanda Blood could give. Not many things made Duncan’s heart swell with awe, but that woman, Amanda, did it every time. “There was a struggle, you said?”
The woman nodded. “I wasn’t really awake, but I heard her scream. There was…I think there was a gunshot.” Her eyes widened as her eyebrows rose up. “Lots of gunshots, actually.”
“Did you see another woman?” Duncan tried to keep the urgency out of his voice. “A sister? A friend?”
“She was cut off from us in another room, protecting my kids. And to think I didn’t like her.” The woman rolled her eyes. “She was mean. In my face talking about what drugs would do to me. Well,” she shrugged and rolled her arm over. It was covered in self-inflicted puncture marks. “The point is moot, isn’t it? She was right.”
Sounded like Jessica. She was the one he needed to find, but the notion of actually catching up to her, made his heart pound. His palms broke out into a sweat, at just the idea of laying eyes on her again.
Jessica and Amanda, they went together. Always did. If Amanda was snatched by a gang of demons, Jessica wouldn’t be far behind.
“Thank you, Ma’am. Any idea where they were headed?”
She turned toward the window with a trembling lip, her eyes dark and scared. “The Gypsy Curse. Branger would’ve taken Amanda there. It’s his…hide out.” Middle of the day and Nancy shuddered.
A quick good-bye and that’s where Duncan headed. The Gypsy Curse, a demon biker gang clubhouse, the kind he suspected might be nearby. The town stank of demon, like the smell of gas seeping from a freshly filled car. Demons were here and claiming lives in what might have been a nice place, once. Now one by one, it would fall.
Demons were spreading their filth across the country and they had to be stopped.
But first, the Blood sisters.
Duncan dismounted his Harley. He wore tight blue jeans and a black leather jacket. The emblem on the back was of his old gang, the Black Scorpions. The red and gold tattoo on his shoulder crept up the side of his neck and his sandy brown hair fell over one eyebrow.
His eyes were blue and paired with his roguish grin, ladies had a hard time resisting his charm. Duncan didn’t mind, often it got him out of a jam, but he rarely had time for ladies, except to satisfy his sexual needs. There were only a few who managed to wrestle their way into his heart.
Now they were in big trouble.
His jacket fit snug, but was loose enough to hide his gun. His thumbs hitched into his belt buckle as he swaggered toward the front entrance. Too bad there was a car rammed right through its gullet.
A toothpick twirled in his mouth as he stuck his head inside. He saw the 1966 Chrysler crashed through the front door. There was fluid leaking all around. Duncan suspected a cracked radiator and that was probably only half of its problems.
Daddy’s car abandoned here? If they left it, things were bad.
The Gypsy Curse was a disaster zone with bullet holes in nearly every surface like it was a good ol’ shootout at the O.K. corral.
The center bar was still standing, but the bottles of booze were broken and blood ran like a river onto the bar stools. Duncan turned his attention toward the overturned tables, pelted with bullets. This must have been where Jessica made her stand to rescue Amanda.
Damn it, girl, she would make any mango prematurely gray.
But to leave her car behind? It was practically her second baby, her other sister that needed caring for. If she wasn’t here, things went bad, or she hadn’t left of her own accord. Duncan’s chest tightened at the thought. Nobody tamed Jessica Blood, not even a horde of demons.
Somehow she got out of this, but how?
Duncan pulled the door to the car open and looked inside. There wasn’t much left except a few maps. He snatched the key from the ignition. It’d be a shame to run the engine into the ground like that. She wasn’t immortal.
“Hold it right there, Mister.”
The drawl of the word came out harsh, like a local. Duncan glanced at the side mirror and all he saw was the brown brim of a police hat.
Here went nothing. Again.
Duncan held his hands up and turned. The officer stood like a rail with a grim expression on his face. It was hard to get a read on his beady little eyes covered up in thick brown eyebrows, but Duncan went for broke. “I know what you’re thinking officer, but let me just show you my identification—”
When he reached for his pocket, the officer twitched for his gun. “Whoa there, just going to grab my wallet, okay?”
He slid the faux leather billfold open and let the officer get a peek at his badge. Real or not, it never failed to impress, but the officer was staring at him with his mouth hung open. “You’re DEA? You?” His nose wrinkled in disgust.
Why did everyone always say that? “This?” Duncan pointed to his jacket. “I’ve been deep undercover, son. Deep undercover. So deep, some days I don’t know which end is up, but this here is a drug house like you wouldn’t believe. It’d be best if you left this job to the big leagues. I’ll just ask you some questions—”
The officer huffed with his hands on his hips. “We’ve been having more and more trouble in town. I guess I can’t say I’m surprised.”
He twirled the end of his mustache like he was a damn super villain, but then again maybe he was. Maybe he had been possessed and he was just waiting to unload his trap right on Duncan’s head.
Casually Duncan slipped his hand into his pocket and grabbed a few granules of sea salt. If the officer noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, copper just continued with the questions. “You know anything about this car? I ran its plates—”
Crap. An officer that actually did his job. “I followed her here too. Blood. Jessica. Dangerous. It’s best you leave it to me and the department.” Duncan widened his stance and tried to appear official.
The officer’s eyes widened and he nodded. “She sure is. I have a guy down at the station who can attest to that. He was knocked unconscious and his car was stolen. When I showed him this Bl
ood’s mug shot, said that was her to a T. Started sniffling and crying right away too.” The officer laughed.
Duncan huffed. It was like Jessica didn’t believe on doing anything if it wasn’t loud. Attracting attention to herself like that? “Thanks for the information, officer.” Duncan patted his shoulder, slipping the salt against his skin. The officer rubbed it away and gave him a dirty snarl, but he didn’t turn foul.
“What make did you say the car was?” Duncan asked.
The officer shrugged. “A red 1968 Ford Thunderbird. Only one like it in town.” He held out his pad and Duncan leaned in to read over his shoulder, committing the license plate to memory.
Duncan couldn’t stop a small smile. At least, Jessica still had taste in cars. “Put a trace on it but forward all leads to my phone. You can do that, can’t you officer…? Well, sorry about that. I haven’t got your name yet.”
“Officer Andrews. And yours?”
Duncan flashed a grin. “It’s best you don’t know. Now, how about we move this car out of here, and whatever you do, don’t open the trunk. You’re going to have to leave that to me.”
Andrews frowned. “She’s really that dangerous?”
Duncan didn’t want to tell him what she really was. It’d take too long and regular folk wouldn’t believe him. “You’ve seen her rap sheet. People that get in Jessica Blood’s way die.”
The words he spoke were technically factual but the truth behind it? Well, that was much different. Much different indeed.
7: Jessica
The hours ticked by.
Amanda was healed, but depleted of energy. A simple shoulder injury shouldn’t have sapped her so much, but an impromptu exorcism would do that. Listless and unable to hold up her head, Amanda blinked her eyes and stared out her window as Jessica drove.
Jessica hit the gas just a little bit harder and they cruised around the curve of the mountain. Alone on the open road always made Jessica feel better. Darkness was her friend, when there were no headlights, there was no danger. Only
Amanda needed sleep. A real spot to lie down and rest, removed from Jessica’s worrying and bad attitude. “Sorry I got upset earlier. I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you.” Jessica’s voice was quiet for a change and she had trouble looking at her frail sister.
She was hardened about a lot of things, people, but couldn’t stand to see her sister weak, defeated.
Amanda’s forehead was wet like she had a fever. She shook her head to dismiss the apology, but didn’t bother to speak. Or maybe she couldn’t.
The family lake was in sight. Jessica gripped the wheel. To be here again, caused her to ache. Jessica bit her lip and tried to keep her grief and regret bottled up where they belonged, but just the sight of the covered bridge brought memories of laughter. Happiness.
Everything that was once theirs.
Jessica slowed the car as she drove across the bridge. The house, the only one along the lake, was shrouded by evergreen trees. Jessica drove into the trees to keep the car hidden.
She placed a few fallen branches on its top. In daylight they wouldn’t hide much, but for now it would give them a few hours of safety. Popping the passenger door open, Jessica nudged Amanda with a finger. “C’mon, princess.”
“I hate it when you call me that.” Amanda’s words slurred together as she stepped from the car. Her footing slipped and before she fell completely, Jessica grabbed her by the waist and headed up the stairs to the wraparound porch.
Jessica climbed slowly so Amanda could keep up. “One at a time, there you go.” The steps creaked in all the same places, but the chipped paint was worse than it had been last time Jessica had laid eyes on the place. The old swing swayed in the gentle breeze; the place they once sat as kids in bathing suits, sipping lemonade. The memory glowed, like a lit up Christmas tree.
The night was dark and gray. Beneath the frayed welcome mat, Jessica found the key.
The door squeaked when pushed open. One of the hinges was loose, but the old cabin smelled just as Jessica remembered. A flood of memories followed that she couldn’t control.
Mom cooking in the kitchen with her red curls tied at the nape of her neck. She always wore a frilly apron and that day she was covered in flour from making fresh biscuits.
Dad, running through the living room with small Amanda on his back. Both in their bathing suits and Mom’s eyebrows furrowing even as she smiled, when they galloped by. “No horseplay in here, you two!”
Jessica had laughed and chased after them, a pair of goggles on the top of her head and blue flippers on her feet.
“Jessie, you keep an eye on those two.” Mom’s eyes twinkled.
And Jessica nodded, still with freckles upon her nose and cheeks. She hadn’t known then it would be her life’s work.
The glow of the memory faded, and the dim harshness of night returned. Jessica steeled herself to ignore the cabin’s scent and took Amanda inside. The old, beat up sofa was covered in a blanket.
Laying her sister down, Jessica wrapped her like a burrito and slid a dusty pillow under her head. She sure hoped this place wasn’t crawling with spiders. Amanda hated spiders. The only living thing she actually wanted to kill.
Right now she couldn’t even do that much.
“I’ll be right back,” Jessica whispered close to her sister’s ear, but Amanda just snuggled into her pillow, her eyes long closed.
It was hard to leave her, but Jessica pulled herself away and headed down the hallway. There was one bedroom with an old queen bed frozen in time thanks to the dated bedding. With the coast clear, Jessica checked the bathroom, pulling the old blue vinyl shower curtain back.
No demons and no serial killers.
Pleased, Jessica hurried to the bedroom to the opposite side of the hall. In there was a daybed covered in princess pink sheets and a bunk bed. Jessica ignored the growing grief in her heart and went to the dresser.
Framed pictures of the family were face down, so she wouldn’t be reminded. Although she didn’t have to see them, Jessica’s eyes were drawn to them, tempted to pick them up. She pulled her eyes away, and didn’t touch them.
She couldn’t go back there. Never could.
The past was best left dead and buried. Remembering how Mom brushed her hair, or how dad tucked her in at night would do nothing except distract her. Get her killed.
They were gone. End of story.
To sleep in the room they once shared as kids when things were good? No, Jessica would never sleep here again. She needed distance. Not regret.
Jessica pulled a drawer open and found a row of shotgun shells and small pistols. This was real, this was life, and everything else was just paper dolls cut from a page. Loading her shotgun, Jessica kept her eyes trained on the window.
Moon was high. Night wasn’t over yet which meant she had to stay ready.
Pocketing the small pistols in her jacket, Jessica pulled a small drawer open and found old dried sage. It was brittle, but it’d work well enough to activate the warding spell.
In the kitchen Jessica found an old bowl and scattered the dried sage at the bottom. By the stove., sat a little left over olive oil covered in cobwebs; Jessica poured it in before dropping a lit match over the entire thing.
Snap-crackle-pop.
A small fire erupted in the bowl and Jessica took it to all the corners of the room, fanning the smoke out. She made sure to get all the doors and windows. If something was out there tracking their scent, this would keep them at bay for a while. Hopefully long enough for Amanda to regain her strength.
The job done, Jessica peeled off her leather jacket and left it by the stone fireplace. She was wearing a tight red halter top that exposed the tattoos traveling down one muscular arm. It rode up in the back to just above her ass where her tramp stamp was visible. That one was white carnation flowers and had the words ‘Track Clan’ etched over the top.
A big battle. A big victory. It was customary to have your battles inked onto your skin
for bragging rights. Unless you were a passive healer, then it just messed you all the hell up.
Everything was quiet. Eerie. Jessica sat by her sister and put a hand on top of the blanket. Absently Jessica rubbed her toe while gazing out the window. She could see the tops of the trees shifting gently in the breeze against the glowing moonlight. Awfully pretty for such a scary night.
But they would live to see another day, or at least for a few hours. Jessica would take what she could get.
“Thank you.”
Jessica startled at Amanda’s voice, nearly jumping off the sofa. So much for being an observant, armed guard. Jessica deserved a demotion. “What?”
Amanda’s eyes were lidded. “For coming for me. Getting me out of there. I hadn’t—I forgot to say thank you.”
She almost always did, but Jessica didn’t do this for thanks. Instead, Jessica just smiled best she could. “I’ll always come for you.”
“You always say that.”
“That’s because it’s always true.” Jessica leaned over to stroke her sister’s hair. It was way more like Mom’s than her own. Part of Jessica felt like when she was helping Amanda, she was helping Mom. It made things better. Made Jessica forget how bad she screwed it all up when it had really mattered.
“Get some sleep. Okay?” Jessica said gently.
“You too.” Amanda closed her eyes again.
Yeah, right. Jessica leaned her elbows on her knees and bent far over, holding her head in her hand. Close to tears, but they didn’t fall. Jessica didn’t have the strength even as her shoulders quaked back and forth.
Sleep, rest, peace. Not in this lifetime. Not for her.
8: Jessica
Lightning crashed outside the window illuminating Donna Blood’s face. Her hair cascaded around her like a rolling ocean wave while a trail of blood from her lips left a puddle on the living room rug.
