Sin City Daemon

by Rick Newberry

  Did Gorgeous suspect something? “As you wish.”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another performance to attend tonight, one which may hold a little more substance.” With that, Gorgeous vaporized into a blue mist and disappeared.

  “Bitch.” Lucas snapped his fingers, and Gwendolyn materialized in a cloud of pink mist. The scent of cinnamon and roses faded at once, replaced by the sickening scent of cotton candy. She stood motionless in front of him as if fossilized. Her eyes focused on his every movement. A thin red line ran horizontal across her stomach.

  “My dear, sweet Gwen. You’ve become quite the challenge. The two humans—that colonel and his young friend—have disappeared. I intended Gorgeous to witness their execution as a surprise from me, but it seems I’m the one surprised. Let’s see, who recommended you to me? Ah yes, I remember. Miss Charlemagne Nguyen. It seems I, too, have another visit to make tonight.”

  Gwendolyn closed her eyes. A tear snaked down her cheek and fell to the carpet. Her breathing came in short, labored bursts. More tears.

  Lucas ran his fingers along Gwendolyn’s stomach, raised the hand to his mouth, and licked at the blood. “Quite the predicament you’ve found yourself in. Working with the other side against me. Why would you ever do that? To help the humans? Ha.” He placed his hand in front of her face. “I could end you with one push of my little finger. You know I have the power to kill.”

  “You’re sick,” Gwendolyn’s face contorted. “You will never win this war.”

  “A war? Is that what you think this is? No, sweet girl, this is something much more personal. Not to worry, though, the war will come.” His eyes turned black as he placed a finger to her forehead. “You know, I would love to end you on stage this way, but the humans would call it murder. Ah well, tomato, tom-a-to.” He thrust his finger forward. The top half of Gwendolyn’s body toppled back, separating from the lower. Both halves collapsed to the ground.

  He reached into the closet and drew out the katana. With a sure and steady hand, he dug the sword deep into her stomach, scooping out her bowels. He raised the sword and slashed down across her neck, a clean cut, severing her head. The scent of cotton candy faded from the room. Lucas reached into his pocket and brought out a lighter. Touching the fire to her costume, his assistant ignited in a rush of pink flame.

  In an instant, Gwendolyn was gone.

  Lucas straightened, slipping the lighter into his pocket. He grabbed tissues from the box on the dresser in front of the mirror, wiping clean the katana blade before placing it back into the wardrobe and closing the door.

  His reflection in the mirror remained calm and cool. He opened the door to the hallway, letting the odors of burnt Daemon escape the confines of the small dressing room. Returning to the mirror, Lucas ran a hand across his hair, smiled, and straightened the lapels of his coat.

  “Sebastian,” he said. A moment passed. “Sebastian,” he yelled.

  Heavy footsteps clomped down the hallway and stopped at the open door. A large man clad in black stuck his head in. “Yes, sir?”

  “It appears I have an opening for a new assistant, so spread the word. Gwendolyn had to leave us quite suddenly.” He glanced down at the blackened outline burned into the light blue carpet. “And see about new rugs for my dressing room—something a bit darker.”

  ****

  Cutty navigates Claremont Drive at a steady speed, the wheels of the SUV digging deep into the crunchy gravel. A strong wind sends the pine trees into a sort of back and forth wiggle dance. Nobody says a word on the way up.

  When Colonel Dayton brought me here a few days ago, I was apprehensive. Now I’m flat out nervous, another human emotion I can do without. I know what lives on this hill; I know who they are—what they are—which makes me think about what I am. In prison, I’d resigned myself to living out the rest of my natural life as a normal human being. Claremont Estates reminds me of the fact I don’t have a natural life, and I’m anything but normal.

  Tina and another man wait outside my old house at the top of the hill. She waves at us as Cutty parks and shuts off the engine. The other man wears a scowl and avoids eye contact. I don’t trust him.

  Cutty is first out of the SUV. He marches straight toward Tina and gives her a quick hug. Her face brightens and they stand together, shoulder to shoulder.

  Colonel Dayton introduces Dixie and me as two survivors found near downtown Las Vegas, like the countless others they’ve brought to Claremont. Because many of them have already met Dixie, she transformed into a Giant Irish Wolfhound on the way up the hill. Her gray and white coat is remarkable. She has little flecks of white in her beard, her eyes are wide and alert.

  Marco Ramirez stays in the vehicle as Aunt Rose suggested. His face has not been seen at Claremont; no need to stir up any awkward questions. My face is a different story altogether.

  “I’m glad you decided to give us another chance, Adam.” Tina is nice. I like her. “And who is this with you? Such a splendid coat.”

  I give Aunt Rose an awkward glance. I know from her expression we made a mistake—we were in such a rush to get here after Nguyen passed out we forgot to invent a cover story for Dixie.

  Aunt Rose wings it without missing a beat. “Her name is Jenny. She convinced Adam to give Claremont a second look. He trusts her.”

  That last part is the truth. My skin crawls as I glance at my old house. I have to fight the instinct to run off. Being here brings back so many awful memories. Getting as far away from this place was all I ever wanted. Glancing at the rundown house with its faded paint and chipped stucco brings back the same emotion.

  “Why is she in canine form?” the scowling man says. He sniffs the air and grunts.

  Tina offers a thin smile. “I’m sorry, this is Marques. He’s always overly cautious of new arrivals.”

  I improvise and the words come quickly. “She’s weak, and can’t stand the pain of transformation. She needs to rest and eat, in that order.”

  “Then follow me,” Tina says, “most of the pack is out and about, stretching their legs before the sun goes down. I’ll show you to one of the bedrooms.”

  Cutty gives his customary yuk-yuk-yuk. “Just stick with Tina. She’ll make sure you feel right at home, won’t you Teen?”

  “Tina,” Marques growls. “Her name is Tina.”

  “Whoa, don’t mean nothing by it. You wanna help me with some supplies, big guy?” He presses the key fob and the trunk pops open. “We got plenty of water, some crackers, and a few jars of peanut butter.”

  “And meat?” Marques says.

  “Sorry, man. Not this time.”

  Marques shakes his head and strolls away.

  “Thank you,” Tina says. “I apologize for Marques. I’ll get some of the others to help you with the supplies. Don’t leave without saying goodbye.” She turns to us. “Come with me and I’ll show you around.”

  Tina leads us into my old home. The door squeaks and rubs against the framework as she closes it. “This is the living room, stairs to the basement, over there’s the kitchen. Follow me down the hall to your room. Each of the six bedrooms has its own bath.”

  I hear Cutty making small talk with those helping him lug in the supplies. Laughter follows them into the house as they come in the back door and stomp around the kitchen.

  We’ve done it—we’ve been accepted as two more survivors rescued by Aunt Rose and Colonel Dayton. Once Tina shuts the door to our room, we’re on our own.

  In a flash, Jenny transforms back into Dixie. There’s a tear in her eye.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

  “Aunt Rose gave me the name Jenny…my mother’s name—Jennifer. I’m not sad, I’m happy.” She plops down on the futon in the corner of the room.

  I join her. “Just be sure to remember the shape-shift warning.”

  “What do you know about that?”

  “Aunt Rose told me all about it when you left us alone in her kitchen last night. ‘Shift for one day—s
hift for all days.’ ”

  She giggles. “You worry too much. But I’ll be extra careful, just for your sake.”

  “Good. What’s on the agenda now?”

  She gives me an odd stare. “There is no agenda. It’ll soon be dark. We wait a little while, then go and talk with a few of our roomies—try and get some information.”

  “But they know your face.”

  “Good point. Let me shift into something a little more comfortable.” Silver light blinds me for an instant. When I focus on Dixie, I see Charlie Nguyen.

  “God, please, no. Can’t you do better than that?”

  She pauses then smiles. Another silver light. “There, how’s that?”

  I stare at the woman next to me on the futon, telling myself this is Dixie, so there’s no real harm in finding the form she’s taken so damn attractive. Her curly brown hair, deep blue eyes, and full smile take my breath away. “Haven’t I seen you someplace before?”

  “Adam Steel, using pickup lines?”

  “No,” I say feeling a quick blush crawl across my face. “I mean, I really have seen you somewhere, but I can’t remember—”

  “The picture on Aunt Rose’s mantel.” Dixie laughs.

  “Of course, your mother.” I think about it for a moment. “You’re your mother?”

  “Why not? My name is Jenny. Do you want me to try something else?”

  “No, I love the choice.” I stick out my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Jennifer Mulholland.”

  She shakes my hand and gives me a quick kiss. “This isn’t too weird, is it, I mean, you know, you and me and my mom?”

  I hadn’t thought about it. Now I do. “No, nothing to worry about. Let’s go out there and meet the pack. I’ll help you if you get stuck with anything.”

  “Stuck? What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, for starters, you don’t smell very canine. I’m pretty sure Marques noticed, maybe Tina, but she’s too nice to say anything about it. Can you take care of that?” After a moment, I sniff the air and detect the fresh, musky scent of hound. “Good. Remember, wolfhounds are curious by nature, and very suspicious at first sight. They’ll probably have lots of questions for us. To blend in, we’ve got to answer naturally and without hesitation.”

  “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

  “Yeah, I have. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Remember, like Aunt Rose said, the plan is to get to know them without raising any alarms.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll all get along swimmingly.” She gets up, but I pull her back down to the futon. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Not to stereotype, but we generally don’t use words like swimmingly. Most of the wolfhounds don’t have a very well-rounded vocabulary. It’s not their fault, just the way they were raised.”

  “Of course, there are exceptions,” she says, giving me a hard stare.

  I nod. “Most of them learned how to kill humans while I learned how to blend in with them. Remember, wolfhounds are extremely territorial. They’re aggressive, and quick to act, especially the wolfhounds on this hill. Keep in mind they were bred as killers, not scholars.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  I furrow my brow. “Better let me do the talking. Many wolfhounds have trouble with the English language. They have difficulty expressing themselves.”

  She gives me a sour look. “Gee, thanks. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I used to go on the air every night and speak to thousands on TV. I think I can handle a few—”

  “That’s just it. Most of them are quiet, introspective. They’re not really word people. Do you think you can handle that?”

  She glares at me and points a finger in my chest; a spat is about to start.

  The door creaks open and Tina appears. “Jenny, if you need something to eat…oh, I see you’ve already managed to transform.” She glances around the room and furrows her brow. After a quick twice over, she says, “Well, come and get something to eat anyway, if you want.” She peers around again then eases the door shut.

  “I see what you mean about not being word people,” Dixie says. “What in the world was she looking for?”

  “Leftovers. If you had just transformed, you would have left something behind.”

  Dixie covers her mouth. “I didn’t even think about that.” She waves her hand and a pile of flesh, blood, and clothes appear on the floor. She puts her hand on mine. “Maybe you’d better do the talking. I’ve got a lot to learn about being a dog.”

  “Canine. If you say the D word, it’ll stand for dead.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Enamel paint on the kitchen walls had once gleamed a brilliant yellow as evidenced in the nooks and crannies behind some of the cupboards. The current muddy-beige pallet gave the room a worn-out and decayed feeling. With no electricity, the only light flickering into the kitchen this early in the evening came from the living room fireplace.

  I stroll, hand in hand, with Dixie (under the guise of Jenny) into the kitchen, waiting in silence behind Tina as dishes are tucked away in open-faced cabinets.

  Tina turns to us and nods. “Have a seat,” she says, waving to the large oak table in the center of the room, “Meal time is over, but I’ll get you two something to eat. Are you hungry?”

  “Famished,” Jenny says.

  Tina narrows her eyes. “Such a human word. You must have done well out there.”

  “Out there?”

  “She means with the humans,” I say. “We got by, but we never stayed in one place for too long. We ate scraps, and kept moving. Hard living.” Tina stares at me as I speak, enough to make me feel uncomfortable.

  She sniffs at the air, then turns her back to us and opens a drawer. After placing two clean plates on the table, she pulls another one from the icebox. This one is heavy with bits of sausage, pieces of chicken, and strips of beef jerky. She needs two hands to move it about.

  “You have refrigeration?” Jenny asks.

  “Sure,” Tina scoffs, “like the humans did a hundred years ago: blocks of ice from town thrown onto the top of the box. We don’t exactly live like kings, but we get by. Every day gets easier, you’ll see. Still…” Her words hang in the air, seemingly for any takers.

  Jenny bites. “Still, what?”

  “We’re not going to be here forever, you know. Cutty says we’re all going to be fine. He says it won’t be long now. So we eat what they bring us, and take lessons when we can.”

  “Lessons?” I have to ask. “What sort of lessons?”

  “With speaking and human customs. Colonel Dayton and Cutty share what they can, when they can. We learn human ways—we learn fancy words like famished, which means hungry, or starving.” She grins like a schoolgirl showing off her new found knowledge. “We listen to the radio and learn current customs—how to act. Some even learn about laws and countries and science. I’m content just to speak as one human does with another. Cutty is a wonderful teacher.” She blushes.

  I wolf down my food. In a few seconds, my plate is clean. Dixie nibbles at the sausage, and takes small bites of the chicken, leaving the jerky alone.

  “I thought you were famished,” Tina says.

  Jenny stops nibbling and glances up.

  Tina’s voice raises, “Sorry it’s not meat, red and raw. Not much of that around here. They bring us enough to last a day or so then bring more. It’s like they were…I better keep my thoughts to myself.”

  “Like they were what?” Jenny asks.

  Tina glances toward the living room, sits at the table next to Jenny, and whispers, “I mean no disrespect, but it’s like they’re weening us off meat, giving us less every day so we’re forced to stay in human form. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but I sometimes think that way.”

  “But that would be smart, wouldn’t it?” Jenny smiles “When we eventually live in the human world, you know, when we learn how to assimilate, we’ll have to remain in human form all the time, right? We can’t change back and fo
rth as the mood suits us. I think—”

  “Sorry,” I have to interrupt, “but Jenny speaks out of turn.” I carry my plate to the sink. “Thanks for the food.”

  Curious eyes stare into the kitchen. Three forms stand just outside the door within range of our conversation. A large human pushes away from the three and scampers into the kitchen.

  “And what if being human all the time is not our choice?” Marques says. “I’ve been here longer than most, but I remember not being here. We were born to hunt, to eat meat. Why don’t they just take us someplace where we can do that and leave us alone?”

  “Where?” I ask.

  Marques sits down. “Someplace.” He stares at the table.

  There’s a strange accent in his voice—some of my brothers had the same inflection. The only way I’ve been able to describe it is canine-burr, but I think I made that word up. It’s like some of the words he uses are not completely formed, and it’s not noticeable unless one is really listening for it. I feel sorry for him. He’s doing his best to assimilate, but it’s harder for some, almost impossible for others. I want to help him.

  Marques closes his eyes as he speaks again. “When my Alpha was killed, during the war, I escaped into the desert. I hunted; I ate. I should have stayed there.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  “The colonel. He found me in the desert. He said he watched me hunt and transform. He told me he would teach me how to live in the human world. He said there are some—both humans and Daemons—who would track me down and kill me and it was only a matter of time until they did. He said I would be safe here.”

  “Are you safe?”

  Marques opens his eyes and grins—a moment of innocence gone; the rebel returned. “Like a pet in a cage.”

  Murmurs of support come from the living room.

  “That’s so unfair,” Jenny says. “They’re doing their best to help you.”