by Jill Cooper
Jessica.
29: Duncan
They arrived at Vaughn’s fortress—for lack of a better word—in the middle of the desert. A massive wall protected the compound. The stone surface had nicks carved into a pattern—short, short, long, short, it went along the sides.
The four towers on each corner were tall, their windows made of stained glass, the writing on them wasn’t only decorative. Duncan had seen the blue and white etching before and it hadn’t been at church. A type of warding spell that gave demons power and protection.
Father Mike, a passenger in the Blood family car sat beside him, he chomped on a peanut. “We take out one of those windows, and Vaughn loses some of his control. Taking them all out would even be better.”
“Noted,” Duncan whispered.
A demon stepped forward with his palm out to the car as they approached the gate.
“Showtime,” Mike said and made the sign of the cross.
Duncan wasn’t usually a spiritual guy, but Mike was who he was. He had to be okay with that. Besides, they were going to need all the help they could get.
“Stop right there.”
Duncan was used to demons with guns, so he idled the car and raised his arms in the air. It just seemed fitting to use the Blood’s car to get Amanda; maybe it’d even bring them a bit of luck.
Staring right into the mouth of hell, Duncan watched as Vaughn’s minions, guarding the entrance to the compound flanked the car. They stooped to glance into the windows, checking he and Mike out, looking for signs of a double cross. With his nerves in check, Duncan glanced in the rearview mirror.
The trucks filled with drugs were behind him, with a nasty little surprise in the back. If Vaughn agreed to willingly turn over Amanda to him, well, Duncan would be even more surprised.
Just thinking of her, his chest clenched hard, Duncan pushed the vision of her face to the back of his mind.
Distraction wouldn’t serve any of them well, so casually, he stuck a toothpick between his teeth and twirled it over his tongue. As a teen, he started doing it because his grand-pop had, and now it was part of Duncan just as much as his limbs were.
“Who the hell is this?” A demon leaned over into the passenger seat.
Father Mike made the sign of the cross in the air and the demon jumped back, repelled by the power of a true believer. “I’m here to bless the mission, of course.” He smiled. It was always creepy when he did that; it just didn’t sit right on his face. “To make sure when we take Amanda Blood, nothing’s been done to harm her.”
The demon snorted. “Nothing permanent.”
Duncan’s fingers clenched and fire raced through his heart. He hated the idea that Amanda was being held captive, but to think these beasts hurt her? Burn every single one of them to the ground, that’s what he wanted. If he had the opportunity, that’s was what he would do.
Getting Amanda to safety was paramount. He wouldn’t risk jeopardizing that, but restraint wasn’t his strong suit.
“We’ll take the drugs,” one of the demons said and pointed his men at the trucks.
“No,” Duncan said in a low, controlled rumble of a voice. “We see Amanda. No girl, no drugs. We’ll light them up right here. My men are ready and able.”
The demon scratched his head as he gazed around. “We can bring the trucks in, but not you.”
Duncan’s temper simmered. “No girl,” he whispered, “no drugs. You know what, bring me to Vaughn. I’m not dealing with any more lackeys.” He kicked the door open to the car and stepped out from its protective wards. The desert sun beat down on him even stronger, the wind dry, and laced with sand.
Gun safeties were flipped. Duncan’s heart skipped a beat, but then kept a steady rhythm. The toothpick rolled across his tongue to the other side of his mouth. He was still in control here; the demons were putting on a good show, but that’s all it was. Duncan met the show with a roll of his eyes. “If I’m dead, there’s no deal.”
The pig-nosed demon licked his lips and from his snarl, it was clear he didn’t like losing. The smell of his breath was astoundingly bad. “Get back in your car and head toward the gate. They’ll check your trunk.”
Duncan smiled as he got behind the steering wheel. Throwing it into drive, he glanced at Father Mike’s pensive face. “Poker face, Mike. Poker face.” The moment of truth was upon them. The car edged forward.
Mike sighed. “If something goes wrong and the drugs end up in their hands…”
“They won’t.” Duncan’s lips were drawn into a serious line, but he winked anyway.
“And if they find the detonator?”
Duncan had to keep his spirits up somehow. It wasn’t like Father Mike to be such a defeatist. “It’s well-hidden, don’t worry. This is going to work.”
The wooden front gate squeaked open and retracted against the stone adobe wall. Duncan drove inside slowly, as he took in the surroundings. Up on the wall were two snipers, the barrels of their long rifles wavered. A giant fountain filled the center of the courtyard and the water flowed like Vaughn’s compound was an Italian villa.
It stunk of cigarette smoke and gallons of whiskey. To the left and right were cages filled with desperate looking women, most likely recent captures who hadn’t yet been fully addicted to Vaughn’s drugs.
Clothed in brown tatters that barely covered their breasts and groins, their eyes were vacant and sad. Some cried, while others clung to the bars. Some were so young; Duncan was sure they were barely adults at all. His stomach soured and they reminded him of his sister.
If Duncan could free those women, he had to do it. His chest heaved with anger. He thought to— Father Mike patted his hand and Duncan’s grip loosened on the steering wheel.
“Don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves, Jasper.” Father Mike smiled, glanced forward, as his eyes darkened. “Or we’ll end up helping no one.” He made the sign of the cross in the air as if to pray for those poor woman’s souls.
He was right. Mike was almost always right, which was one reason Duncan liked having him around. Even if sometimes, the Father said things Duncan didn’t like to hear.
Duncan cut the engine as he pulled the car close to the fountain. Just past it was the guarded entrance to Vaughn’s stronghold. A two-tower structure, Duncan would bet his life Amanda was being held, in one of them.
A glance at the rearview mirror revealed the movement of demons surrounding the car. Good, that’s exactly what they wanted. With some luck, they wouldn’t know what hit them.
“Guns. Hand them over,” a demon said to Duncan.
Duncan handed over his gun and a small knife from his boot. “Can we get out of the car, please? I haven’t taken a leak since we set out this morning.”
The demon stared at him with a stoic expression. “I need his guns too.”
Father Mike smiled. “I’m a man of the cloth, unholy beast.”
The demon wasn’t convinced. He sniffed with a growl. “You better give me your weapons, or you’ll join your God before it’s time.”
Father Mike scowled as he handed over his Luger and a set of throwing stars. “He is the God of us all, and he knows those who would dare stand against him, but you are doing your part. And because of that, I can forgive you, demon or not.”
The demon paused, unnerved at his words and stuttered before taking a step back.
You had to love Mike and his all forgiving nature. He knew just how to throw the enemy off and that was one of the other reasons Duncan loved to keep him around. He was like patriarch to all of the demon hunters. He wore the label well.
“Where’s Vaughn?” Duncan asked.
“Entertaining a guest.” Another pig-faced demon in a black jacket pulled Duncan’s door open. “Get out and pop the trunk. Then we’ll arrange an audience with Amanda Blood.”
Duncan threw a glance at Mike, who only nodded. Duncan hoped this would work. If their plan managed to get Amanda killed before they were close enough to help her—but Vaughn would never le
t Amanda go. Duncan knew that. Their plan had to be offensive.
His ruse? Get close enough to Vaughn that he could rescue Amanda.
Vaughn’s, get Duncan close enough to kill and take his drugs back. That had to be his game plan. Hell, that’d be Duncan’s plan if he was a demonic beast hell bent on corrupting the human race. Plus, Vaughn had a score to settle with Duncan, just like Duncan had a score to settle with him. Neither of them was done with the other.
Duncan stepped from the car and allowed the demon to close the door behind him. Ignoring the stench, his nostril hairs curled to be that close to one. He kept his hands slightly raised as he headed toward the trunk. Scanning the many demon faces surrounding the car, they tightened close in on him like a team of anxious football players.
Which was just fine with him, just fine indeed?
“Go on and open the trunk.” A demon edged him on with the butt of his gun.
Duncan pursed his lips to keep his anger in check. “Oh, the keys are in my pocket.” Duncan flashed him a flirty lopsided grin and with a playful wink. “How about you help me out, sweet stuff?”
“
We don’t want games!” The demon roared and reached into Duncan’s pocket. “Back up, and I’ll open it myself, you sonofa—”
“No reason to get so hostile,” Duncan muttered and moved over to the side. Through the rearview mirror, Duncan’s locked with Mike’s.
It was now. Time to go for gold.
Mike pressed the button on the detonator. The trunk flew open and gallons of holy water sprayed high into the air, raining down on the demons. Some ran for cover, while others didn’t make it. It burned their skin as they fell to the ground, slithering and writhing. A few even caught fire, burning while the water fell all around them.
Wet himself, Duncan dropped to the ground and reached beneath the car to grab the shotgun taped beneath the fender. The tape came free with a yank, but his leg, it was yanked on too.
“You son-of-a-bitch! You’ll never get out of here alive!” The demon clawed at Duncan’s face, tearing his nails down his cheek.
Rolling over, Duncan held his gun firm and blew the demon’s face off. Demon guts and blood sprayed warm ooze onto his face, but it was the sound of an M-16 that really captured Duncan’s attention.
“Sniper’s on the roof, Mike!” Duncan screamed and opened the passenger door to use
as cover in order to take the snipers out.
“One and done, Duncan! Now get our girl so we can get out of here!” Mike fired a round into the tower window, it shattered, that was going to bring them a whole host of attention. On the outside of the compound, the Black Scorpions opened fire on the tower. The shots exploded like bombs going off, as the windows on the tower structure were shattered.
He needed to find Amanda and get her out before a battalion of demons descended upon Mike and their getaway car. With luck, in a minute the Black Scorpions would detonate the drugs and get away on their bike’s, stashed in the rear truck.
Duncan hopped up to his feet and stood by Mike, blasting the demons to kingdom come. “Back into the fiery pit of hell!” Mike sprayed the area with bullets before launching into psalms and deep prayer.
Demons always hated when he did that.
“Give the order! Time to light up the trucks!” Duncan screamed at Mike as he ran for the front gate. Once the trucks were destroyed, the bikers would move into the compound. Time to level this place to the ground, one demon at a time.
There was no time for well wishes, Duncan charged for the entrance to the club, weaving between demons and said a silent prayer as he kicked in the wooden French doors.
For Amanda. God, let her by alive. Let her still be the same girl he saw last, sweet and innocent, dancing in his living room. If anything happened to her under his watch, Jessica wouldn’t be the only one who wouldn’t forgive him. Duncan would never forgive himself.
The place was thrashing with music and smelled of whiskey. There were chandeliers overhead the further in Duncan went, and black drapes gave the place some ambiance. The bar to the left was empty, but Vaughn stood on the catwalk where the strippers normally practiced their trade. Overhead a disco ball spun, casting light onto his skull mask.
It was enough to set even Duncan back. The guy was big, scary. But it was time for Vaughn to pay the final price. He had hurt enough people and Duncan was the one who’d make him pay. Finally, Duncan would put an end to it.
“Check out what’s going on out there,” Vaughn’s voice boomed. “If Duncan has triple crossed me, ready Amanda for sacrifice.”
Duncan ducked behind what was a makeshift hostess station, as if this place was a legal establishment. It was nothing more than a podium, but up against the wall, it provided enough cover so he could hide. He pushed up against a black velvet curtain and it was soft against his face.
Demons rushed by and Duncan peered into the main room of the club. A woman was pushed up onto the catwalk in a leather jacket. Duncan’s heart raced because there was no mistaking those flowing red curls, or the way she stood with her arms at her side.
It was Jessica. My God, she was all right she was—but she turned her head and Duncan saw it. His vision wavered, and breath left his body, Jessica’s eyes were red.
They were damn red, just like a demon.
30: Amanda
Seven years old, Mandy Blood sat on her pink comforter and cried. She sobbed uncontrollably; rocking and gripped a tissue in her hand so hard it pulled apart.
Mom entered the girls’ bedroom and sat on Amanda’s bed. With patience and virtue, she stroked Amanda’s pigtails until the tears subsided. Then, with tear stricken cheeks, Amanda gazed up at her with a trembling chin.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom said with pain in her voice as she cupped Amanda’s chin. “Kids can be mean to each other. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
Amanda shook her head, her pigtails slashing back and forth. “They laughed at me. Everyone did! Jessie stood up for me. She took me home. I just wish…” Amanda covered her face and sobbed. She wanted to take care of herself. Why did Jessie always have to be the one who said stuff?
Mom put her arms around her. “You’re sensitive and there’s no harm in that. I love that about you and so does Jessie. She’s always protected you, even when you were a baby.” A smile danced in Mom’s voice.
Amanda gazed up at her. “I want to take care of myself. I’m not a baby anymore.”
Mom’s eyes were kind. “I know that, but it’s okay. You’ll see, one day, that your sensitive nature, is a gift. Not just to me, but to you, to all of us.”
Amanda thought about it and pushed her lips together. “Even Jessie?” Amanda couldn’t imagine that. Jessie was always so tough. A tomboy.
Mom smiled, a haunting sadness in her eyes. “I think she might need it most of all.”
Mom? Amanda’s eyes flapped open. She was no longer seven years old. She was no longer the child, who had once taken comfort from the platitudes her mother used to soothe her soul. Pain and exhaustion, rolled into one, Amanda couldn’t breathe. Her mind’s eye saw Jessica, she was there, had come for her.
But it couldn’t be what she thought. Amanda refused to believe it. Jessica wouldn’t hurt her. Never would. Their bond went beyond what normal people felt. Amanda’s bones, her heart, knew it was true. It thumped like a pounding river through her veins.
That was truth. That was knowledge. That was love.
The seer was up on her knees beside Amanda. “Child, let it go. For now, push it from your mind. We must conquer this together.” The woman’s jaw was slack. “Heal…me.”
There wasn’t time to worry. There wasn’t time to give into the panic swirling inside of her. Amanda nodded and lifted her hand, crackling with power. Pulling herself up onto her knees, Amanda slammed her open palm against the seer’s chest.
The seer rose up with a scream, her arms splayed and the brightest of lights filled the room.
Hurry.
The d
oor jingled. Soon, they would be interrupted. There was no time for mistakes.
Amanda held firm, gritted her teeth against the searing pain in her flesh. The light grew brighter, warmer, and it burned against her skin, but she held on. The pain of healing was always intense. Whatever she healed, Amanda felt. The broken bones, the withering soul, all their pain, was also owned by her.
The more she healed, the weaker Amanda became. The worse the pain, the more power it took. Withering and dying, one day Amanda thought that healing someone might be the last thing she ever did.
With another push, a blast of healing lightning shot out from her hand and surrounded the seer.
Her skin tingled and what energy she had, was gone. Amanda’s jaw slacked, and her shoulders rounded, barely able to hold herself up. “I can’t…” she whispered.
The seer’s wings puffed up like dehydrated fruit placed in a glass of water. What had been torn was again whole. The black, tattered bone structure of her wings was replaced with golden feathers from the heavens. Her eyes were not nearly as translucent and the wrinkles on her face tightened up.
“Don’t give up,” the seer, no—no, she was an angel. A creature of heaven, Amanda couldn’t believe what her fatigued eyes were seeing. “Restore me to full health, and I will release you from this place. Amanda, child, hold firm.”
Amanda gritted her teeth. Nothing would give her greater pleasure, but already her fingers were wrinkled, decaying as the death that surrounded the seer entered her body. Her head collapsed onto her arm and a dream threatened to claim her.
But she kept pushing, even if it meant her own death, even if every last bit of strength passed from her to the angel.
And it did.
The angel’s face grew plump with youth as the decay of corruption faded. Her skin was silky, her lips rosy, and her eyes shone a brilliant blue. The angel rose up, her white gown now fully restored, cinched at her waist with a golden lasso. Hair re-grown, it flowed like a golden river down her back.
