Sin City Daemon

by Rick Newberry

  “No thanks, I’m stuffed to the gills.” It’s a lie. I’d eaten my share of the bread, maybe more than my share—three, four slices at least, but I still had room for more.

  “Nonsense.” She puts four slices in the toaster and pushes the lever down. “Take a slice and don’t forget the butter. Everything is better with butter. I’ve even got some strawberry jam in the fridge.” She zips to the refrigerator, opens the door, and rummages around for a moment. “Aha, there you are, you rascal. You can’t hide from me.”

  She returns to the table with a plate of toasted bread and a jar of strawberry jam. Before I know it, I’m slapping butter and jam on the hot toast and shoving it into my gullet. “Your food is like a drug, and I admit, I’m addicted.”

  “Are you two doing drugs in here?” Dixie eases into the kitchen and wraps her arms around me. She kisses the top of my head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with my aunt. She’s corrupting you.” Her white cotton robe is loosely tied at the waist. She’s sleepy eyed, her blonde hair tousled in every direction. I’m aroused by her scent.

  I pull the lapels of my robe snug around my chest, my gaze wandering away from Dixie, my mind trying to focus on anything but her. “Try this toast. It’s amazing.”

  Dixie takes a bite of toast and jam as she settles into the chair next to me.

  Aunt Rose grins. “Wait till you see what I’ve planned for lunch. Surprises in store for everyone.”

  Dixie grins. “I can’t wait.”

  “Until then, I’m going to lie down for a little while. You were right, Adam. I am tired. Please be kind enough to wake me in an hour or so.” Aunt Rose saunters down the hallway to her bedroom. “Don’t bother about the dishes,” she calls back to us, “I’ll clean up later.”

  The bedroom door clicks shut, and I glance at the clock again. “It’s only eight. They won’t be here for another couple of hours. What do you think we should do until they—”

  Her mouth is on mine, tasting like warm strawberry jam. I lick the crumbs off her lips and run my hands around her waist. She trades her chair for my lap and sits down facing me, her legs straddling mine, her arms dangling over my shoulders. She giggles.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t be up for this because of the bump on your head. I was so wrong.”

  She bunches her robe up around her hips. The sun has crawled onto the table, melting the butter into a golden pool. I dip my fingers into the dish and run them across Dixie’s lips.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve heard everything is better with butter.”

  She reaches back and rubs an open hand in the melted puddle. Her palm caresses my face followed quickly by her tongue. “I’ve heard the same thing.” She loosens her robe and runs a slippery hand across her breasts. “Let’s find out.”

  The scent of her sex mixed with aromas of freshly baked bread and butter send me over the edge. Nothing in the world matters except the smell, taste, and touch of Dixie Mulholland. Butter covers our faces as we nuzzle. I gather her close, my body matching the rhythm of her movement. She opens her mouth and grips my shoulders in a silent scream. I follow her lead with a shudder, my feet braced on the floor, my calves tightening. For several moments, afterward we hang onto each other, panting in exhaustion.

  She slips off my lap and collapses back onto her chair, smoothing her robe around her body. I readjust my robe and let out a measured breath, trying to regain a normal rhythm. Sweat, mingled with butter, drips down my face. Dixie swipes a finger across my cheek and slips it into her mouth. She grins. “Yum.”

  Our mouths press together in a slippery butter kiss.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  We turn and face Aunt Rose.

  She strolls to the middle of the room. “I forgot my glasses.” She puts them on and inspects us like a detective looking for clues. “What have you got all over your faces?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dixie turned off the hair dryer and stood in front of the full-length mirror, examining herself from head to toe. In spite of all that had happened in the past two years, or more likely because of it, she was the happiest she’d ever been and it showed; content with whom she was, committed to helping the wolfhounds, and in love with Adam Steel. She picked a strand of hair from her shirt, tossed it to the floor, and joined the others in the living room.

  Colonel Dayton sat on the couch next to Cutty. He stood as Dixie entered the room. Cutty nodded and gave her a big, toothy grin. Charlie Nguyen and Aunt Rose huddled in conversation near the rocking chair. Adam and Marco Ramirez both broke into smiles.

  “Well,” Aunt Rose addressed the group, “we’re all here. Shall we proceed to the kitchen? Adam has been kind enough to help me prepare quite a feast for you all. I know it’s really lunch time, but as some of you know, my favorite saying is: dinner is served.” They filed into the kitchen where six places were set on the table, each plate loaded with a different item. “Please find your seat, it won’t be difficult, it’s what each of you commonly eat.”

  Colonel Dayton laughed. “Fish and chips. Really, Aunt Rose?” He glanced at the other plates on the table. “The selections are all a bit…xenophobic, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Racist is more like it,” Charlie Nguyen mumbled.

  Aunt Rose smiled. “I prefer the word diverse. Quickly now, find your seats.”

  Cutty settled into a chair behind a plate overflowing with hot dogs and French fries. He grabbed the bottle of ketchup and squirted it over both. Marco Ramirez eased into position behind a plate of burritos, beans, and rice. “Is that a glass of horchata?”

  Aunt Rose nodded. “Homemade, I hope you like it.”

  Dixie spied a plate of pork chops and applesauce, her favorite, and claimed her place at the table. Aunt Rose pulled out a chair and sat down to a steaming chicken potpie.

  Adam and Charlie Nguyen glanced at each other as she hurried around the table to a plate of noodles and egg rolls. That left the plate brimming with raw hamburger for Adam. He shook his head. “I don’t remember helping you with this, Aunt Rose.”

  “My boy, you’ve got to get into the habit of changing, and changing quickly, in order to join the survivors on Claremont. This meal will help you do just that.”

  While the others sat down, he remained standing. “A grilled steak will do, or meatloaf with plenty of ketchup. Even beef stew might—”

  “Sit down, please. You know fresh meat, red and raw, is the best diet for you now.”

  Adam eased into the chair, all the while glaring at the plate of meat.

  “Aunt Rose,” Dixie said, “how about a nice porterhouse for Adam? Or filet mignon? That would work equally as well, wouldn’t it?”

  “Of course,” Aunt Rose said. “You’re right, how thoughtless of me.” The raw hamburger evaporated as if it were never there, replaced at once by a big, juicy steak, red and raw. “Now let’s all eat up and discuss what needs doing.

  “Colonel Dayton informed me another survivor was shot last night,” Aunt Rose said. “Murdered. He and Cutty did their best to patrol the hill, but it’s quite a task.”

  “I helped keep watch for a few hours as well,” Ramirez said, “but like she said, there’s just too much area for three men to cover.”

  “For three humans,” Aunt Rose said. “But tonight will be different. We’ll have three humans, two wolfhounds, and two Daemons on patrol.” She turned to Adam. “You’ll remain with the survivors during the day—getting to know them, that sort of thing—and we’ll return again at sundown. Should anything happen during the day, just inform Charlie Nguyen, and she’ll report to me.

  “She will shape shift into a wolfhound and accompany you to Claremont. Colonel Dayton and Cutty will present you as two survivors they located. Of course, during the day, Nguyen must transform back into her normal skin. But then, the survivors often transform as they please from wolfhound to human, so there won’t be any suspicion about her.” She tu
rned to Nguyen. “A word of caution, Nguyen. Remember the rules: shift for one day—shift for all days.”

  “What does that mean?” Adam asked.

  “Why it’s quite plain, my boy. If a Daemon takes another form for more than twenty-four hours, the form becomes permanent.”

  “I know, I know,” Nguyen said. “Do you think I’m stupid? Who would want to be a dog for the rest of their life? They sniff poop and lick their own privates.”

  Adam grabbed her attention by lifting the steak up over his head, bringing it down to his mouth, and taking a bite. He chewed with purpose, swallowed, and raised his glass. “Well then, here’s to sniffing poop.”

  Dixie choked back a laugh.

  The mood in the room lightened a bit. Charlie Nguyen held an egg roll with her chopsticks and took a sip of green tea. Cutty had already devoured two hot dogs, his cheeks bulging. Ramirez showed little interest in his food as he pushed a burrito around his plate. Colonel Dayton took a sip of tepid beer and ignored his meal altogether.

  Dixie cut a piece of pork chop, dipped it in applesauce, and gave Adam a quick smile before gobbling it down. In short order, the sound of knives and forks clinking against china plates filled the kitchen.

  Aunt Rose stood, glass in hand. All eyes turned to her. “I would like to propose a toast.” The others put their utensils down and raised their glasses. “To Adam Steel, who will soon risk life and limb to bring peace to the survivors. We all know what he will sacrifice. Adam, we thank you for your courage.”

  “What about me?” Charlie Nguyen said. “I’m going, too.”

  “Will you risk life and limb?”

  “I’m going.”

  Aunt Rose raised her glass higher. “To Adam.”

  The others repeated her toast. “To Adam.”

  ****

  I feel like some kind of a celebrity, sitting at the head of the table with everyone toasting to my good health. I’m not, of course. I’m here for just one reason: I’m a human who happens to transform into a Giant Irish Wolfhound, and Major Ransom (from the other side) saw the viability of using me in an effort to stop the murders at Claremont. Nothing more, nothing less. At least the raw porterhouse tastes good, and fills me with more than simple nourishment. It gives me strength, confidence, and power.

  “Adam,” Aunt Rose says, “do you want to try a few transformations? From what I hear, you may be a bit out of practice. Two years is a long time.”

  “Aunt Rose,” Dixie chides, “he’ll be fine.”

  “No. I’m good. It’s like riding a bike.”

  Aunt Rose turns to Charlie Nguyen. “What about you?”

  “No. I’ve never ridden a bicycle, but I’m sure if he can do it, it’s not that difficult.”

  I can’t help myself. “You’re so arrogant.”

  “Thank you,” she says, as if it’s a compliment.

  “Okay, everybody, settle down.” Aunt Rose clinks her glass with a fork. “Let’s go over it one more time. We leave for Claremont soon, and I want everybody clear on their roles.”

  I place what’s left of my steak back on the plate. “Colonel Dayton and Cutty will escort me and Nguyen to Claremont and introduce us as recently found survivors.”

  “That’s correct. When they finish getting you two settled in, they’ll meet Dixie and me at the bottom of the hill. They will patrol near the base, and Dixie and I will hover near the top. Dixie,” she says, leaning over, “you are good with hovering, aren’t you?”

  “Well, never having done it before…sure. Why not?”

  “That’s the spirit. Now remember, I want everyone to be safe. I will stay in contact through Nguyen.”

  Marco, silent up until now, clears his throat. “And what do you suggest we do when we find the one responsible?”

  “Why, a simple binding spell, of course.”

  We all look at each other. What the heck’s binding?

  “It’s easy,” Dixie says. “The subject is frozen, their memory erased, and they’re transported to another city. Simple.”

  Marco lowers his brow. “You can do that?”

  Aunt Rose giggles. “It’s done all the time. You’d be surprised; a Daemon’s version of catch and release.”

  “Aunt Rose, the lunch was great,” Cutty says. “You got any dessert?”

  “I think it’s time we get on with it.” Colonel Dayton scoots away from the table and puts his plate on the counter near the sink.

  “Leave it, please.” Aunt Rose stands up and smiles. “I’ll take care of all the dishes. Please, all of you into the living room. I’ll join you in a bit.”

  She puts a hand on Cutty’s elbow, holding him back while the rest of us march into the living room and sit down. Before I leave the kitchen, I glance back. The table is already cleared of all dishes, glasses, and utensils. Aunt Rose hands Cutty a small plate: a piece of pumpkin pie smothered in whipped cream. Cutty’s eyes gleam.

  “Now then,” Aunt Rose says, her hand on Cutty’s back, easing him into the living room, “we all know what to do, so there’s nothing left but to see it through.”

  Cutty wipes his sleeve over his mouth. “Nice rhyme, Rose.”

  “Thank you, my boy. I try. Now, be safe out there. When we get back tomorrow, I may have a reward for you.”

  His eyes light up. “More pie?”

  “Even better.”

  Cutty is at the door in three large steps. He pulls it open. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get this party started.”

  Colonel Dayton steps out followed by Marco and Aunt Rose. Charlie Nguyen parades past Dixie and I, giving me a sideways glance as she passes. “C’mon, boy, wanna go for a ride in the car? Your kind likes that sort of thing, don’t you?”

  Dixie puts her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t listen to her. She just wants to get a rise out of you.” She gives me a soft and warm embrace. “You be careful out there. When we get back tomorrow, I may have a reward for you.”

  I put my hands on her cheeks and give her a kiss. “Pie?”

  “Even better.”

  We step out into the remains of the late afternoon. Dixie closes the door, grabs my hand, and we stroll toward the waiting SUV where Aunt Rose approaches us. “What could be better than pie?”

  Dixie blushes. “You heard my thoughts?”

  “I should have told you before,” Aunt Rose whispers. “I’ve been able to read your mind clearly ever since you returned from The Sufferings. Butter, young lady? Really?”

  Now it’s my turn to blush. “Aunt Rose, it’s my fault, I can explain—”

  “No need.” She gives us both a wry smile. “I was young once.” She turns around. “I need a quick word with Nguyen. Now then,” Aunt Rose leans into the backseat where Charlie Nguyen has settled in for the drive, “let me see you transform.”

  “What? Right here? In front of the whole neighborhood?”

  “Yes. In the backseat of this car. No one will see anything. I want to be sure of your powers. Do you even know what a Giant Irish Wolfhound looks like? I don’t want our plans to fall short because of a careless oversight.”

  “You have to be joking.” Nguyen grins and raises her eyebrows. “Charlie Nguyen can do anything. Watch and be amazed.”

  Nguyen’s eyes flash yellow and she dematerializes. In an instant, she rematerializes and stands on all fours in the backseat, gray and white fur covering her body. She barks and jumps out of the vehicle, pushing past Aunt Rose. She’s obviously showing off.

  She runs around the SUV, barking and snapping at the wind. She spins around on the front yard and goes back to take another lap around the vehicle. Cutty opens the driver’s side door, and Nguyen smacks into it head first. We all rush into the street.

  “Oh my God,” Cutty says, “I’m so sorry. Is she all right?”

  Nguyen lies in the street, unconscious.

  “Well,” Aunt Rose says, “that’s that. We have to postpone.”

  “Can’t you fix her?” I say.

  “I’d like nothing
more than to have her fixed.”

  “We can’t heal people,” Dixie says. “We can do a lot of things: move objects, tele transport, cast spells—”

  “But we can’t fix stupid.” Aunt Rose steps back, allowing Cutty and Colonel Dayton the room to lift Nguyen and carry her back to the house.

  Marco grunts. “We can’t just stand around and wait for her to wake up. If we do, another canine could die tonight.”

  “What do you suggest?” Aunt Rose waits for an answer.

  “I’ll take her place.”

  All eyes turn to Dixie.

  I shake my head. “That’s not the plan. We’d better wait for—”

  “We can’t,” Dixie says. “Marco’s right, we’re out of time. If we don’t go tonight, another wolfhound will die. Leave Nguyen here. I know what to do.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Witnessing a double murder for the sake of art is quite entertaining,” Gorgeous said, visiting Lucas in his small dressing room after the performance. “I must confess, however, I did hope for something a little different—more meaningful.”

  Lucas broke away from her gaze and turned toward the mirror. Keeping Gorgeous out of his thoughts took a tremendous amount of energy lately. He decided not to bother her with the Execution mix-up. After all, it was his mess to clean up, and he had. Funny, the audience seemed to enjoy the new ending to the katana illusion, the one where Gwendolyn did not reappear. Humans are such bloodthirsty creatures.

  “Yes,” she said, “the guillotine was a delightful addition to the performance—thank you for thinking of me.”

  He twirled around and faced her, steeling his thoughts against her constant probing. “I hope you enjoyed it, my queen.”

  “I already told you it was delightful, didn’t I? Or is your mind on something else?” Gorgeous shifted her gaze to the wardrobe. She placed her hand on the latch.

  “My queen, there’s nothing on my mind.”

  Gorgeous pulled open the door. The katana gleamed from the corner of the closet. She stared at Lucas. “In any case, when you see your assistant—Gwendolyn, is it?—be sure to tell her how much I enjoyed the performance.” She reached into the closet and fondled the handle of the sword. “Especially the final act.”