Fallen Stars (The Demon Accords)

by John Conroe

  “What did you mean when you said your babies?” I asked.

  “We have twins, girls, Polly and Cassi. They’re both in trouble, as is another child of the pack.”

  The band decided the drama was over, so it started playing a song about a "Red Solo Cup".

  “You’ve got three children possessed?” I asked, whispering the last word.

  “Is everything okay here?” a voice asked from behind me. Two individuals were standing even with Stacia but looking at the rest of us. A male and female who wore jeans and casual Polo shirts but looked completely official despite the clothes, as in federal type official. The male was about six-two, dark-skinned, and muscular. The female was Asian and equally fit.

  “Yes, Agent Krupp, we’re fine,” Rose said, her voice firm as she spoke to the woman.

  Behind the two agents, I could see a group of similarly attired federal types approaching a table next to the bar. They were all watching us carefully even as they took seats.

  “Are you sure? It seemed like there was a…disagreement brewing,” Agent Krupp noted. Her big companion said nothing, but he seemed very curious about me. Stacia, who looked up briefly from her texting, flexed one tanned leg in front of her like she was stretching a muscle.

  To his credit, the male agent didn’t glance her way, but the struggle was evident in his eyes.

  “No. Mr. Gordon is considering doing some consulting for us,” Rose said.

  “And just what do you consult in, Mr. Gordon?” Krupp asked me. She was an intense personality, with frighteningly intelligent eyes, watching everything at once.

  “Ah, spiritual stuff,” I fumbled.

  “He’s psychic,” Stacia offered from the side. I gave her a look, and she shrugged and went back to texting.

  “Psychic? So you’re here to solve the murders for us?” Agent Krupp asked, bemused, with one eyebrow raised.

  Murders? I went still for a moment, thinking it through. When Stacia had originally told me about this job, she had mentioned both demons and murders. We didn’t have any other details, which was what the meeting tonight was supposed to provide. All I knew now was that there were three possessed children.

  The group of feds at the bar were talking quietly and the band chose that moment to take a break, which let me listen in with my enhanced ears.

  “- who are those two that the Steel Flower and Dison are questioning?” one of the two males asked.

  “I don’t have a clue, but I’d like to be the one questioning him!” the blonde female said.

  “Okay, deal! I’ll take the blonde and you take the muscle dude and Connor here gets the dog.”

  “Seriously, I thought we were here to keep an eye on the splinter group?” the other dude, who was most likely Connor, said.

  “You mean what’s left of them. I see Simon. He’s just to the right of Granger. And the redhead is over by Mrs. Granger.”

  “She’s not in danger. The unsub never killed any of the females in the splinter group, but I see one other just behind the hulk there.”

  I glanced back at the were pack and spent a few precious seconds noting body language. Now that I studied it closer, the group looked like two groups thrown together, neither fully meshing with the other. The tall guy near the Alpha who had been so pissy about Awasos might be Simon. The redhead the feds mentioned had to be the hottie standing with Rose Granger, and there was a real young looking guy, almost hidden behind the goliath.

  I glanced over at Stacia and noted the screen of her smart phone was pointed in my direction, deliberately. Impossible for a regular human to read, but I could easily make out the text message written on it, as she intended. The contact name at the top of the screen was Big Momma, which was her nickname for Afina.

  ‘New pack joined Asheville Pack a month ago. Members of that pack have been murdered one at a time starting in Kentucky where they are from. Murders were in public place and crossed state boundaries so FBI is on case.’

  “I’m not here for your case, Agent Krupp. Mrs. Granger has some issues with her home—you know—feng shui and all that,” I said. “But I’m glad to know that the Bureau has assigned one of its Behavioral Analysis Units to the job.”

  Her eyebrows lifted slightly at my guess, but she didn’t contradict me.

  “Agent Krupp, as my wife indicated, there is absolutely no conflict here. We are delighted to have Mr. Gordon and his companions here in our establishment,” Ned said.

  Their bar? Interesting.

  At the word companions, Agent Krupp glanced at Stacia and then looked down at Awasos. Well, not down so much as sideways, as his head wasn’t much lower than hers in his sitting position.

  “It’s illegal to have animals in a dining establishment, Mr. Gordon. In addition, he appears to be a wolf. You do have the proper permit to own such an animal, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Wow, things must be slow if the Bureau is sending a Behavioral Analysis Unit out to check dog tags,” I commented as I pulled out my wallet and the set of tags I keep tucked in it.

  Agent Krupp frowned at the dog tags in my hand, then reached over and pushed my open wallet down so she could glance at my license. It was just a fast glimpse, but she seemed the kind of agent who memorizes details at a glance. Great!

  Finished with me, she then turned her attention to the tall, lanky Simon.

  “Mr. Masten, Agent Dison and I have a few more questions for you,” she said, redirecting her attention to the others. I stepped back out of the way, clearing the way for the two agents to get to Simon. I was more than happy to have her attention on him. The less the government and I interacted, the better. Unfortunately, Special Agent Krupp didn’t seem the type to be diverted once her curiosity was aroused. And her sideways glance at me as she moved past indicated that she was still very curious about me.

  “So Mr. Gordon, will you come look at my problem tonight?” Rose Granger asked me, trying to be nonchalant but not quite able to cover the desperate tone in her voice. Agent Dison glanced at her, frowning.

  “Sure, Mrs. Granger. We’ll follow you.”

  Chapter 3

  The Granger house was a massive, stacked-stone mansion on the outskirts of Asheville, tucked at the end of a cul-de-sac. The property appeared to occupy a multi-acre parcel that backed up to a thick forest.

  “Nice digs!” I noted as we got out of the car.

  Stacia, who grew up in a fairly low-income family, tried not to be impressed.

  “Most weres live over two hundred years. Plenty of time to accumulate money. I would be worried if it wasn’t a McMansion. And the whole Pack contributes to the Pack headquarters,” Stacia said.

  Ned Granger got out of his Escalade and looked pointedly at our vehicle.

  “Nice Volvo,” he said dryly.

  “Well, it doesn’t stand out like some people's rides, but that’s what we want. It’s also big enough for him,” I said, flicking a thumb at the furry beast beside me.

  “Well, it probably beats my gas mileage,” he said begrudgingly.

  “Yeah it’s not bad,” I said.

  Rose and Stacia were both looking at us with disbelief. Guys and cars, what can we say?

  Mrs. Granger led the way into the main foyer, moving past a number of weres who stood around with worried expressions.

  I immediately felt a wave of darkness roll over my senses. Something truly evil occupied the house. Stopping in place, I did a slow circle with my eyes closed, getting the lay of the land, so to speak.

  A demonic evil was clustered at the top of the house, up on the third floor.

  At least ten people were staring at me when I opened my eyes. The giant from the bar was there but his expression was neutral, not hostile.

  “Okay, so the problems are all on the third floor, right?” I asked.

  Ned looked slightly startled, but nodded agreement.

  “The house was built by a famous architect in 1926. We bought it a year ago and renovated the old servant quarters on the third
floor into a suite for our twins. The Pack children tend to sleep up there with them during overnight events like Moon Runs.”

  “At least, they started to do sleepovers up there, but the children were always tired and whiney the next day, complaining about noises and monsters in the closet,” Rose added.

  Were children are not usually concerned with monsters under the bed, as their parents are monsters.

  I walked over and felt the nearest wall, letting my senses ooze into the plaster. The interior decorating was top notch, but the house was bad. Rotted at its core.

  “Do you want to see the girls?” Rose asked, starting for the grand staircase.

  I held up one hand. “In a moment. I want a bit of background. I’ve never come across a multiple possession in the same house before.”

  “But you can fix it, right? You can save our babies?” another female asked, a tall brunette with red-rimmed eyes.

  “This is Lisa. Her daughter Lindsey is the other child involved,” Rose said.

  The giant had moved up close to Lisa, and I recognized that they were mates.

  “You are?” I asked him.

  “Jep. Lindsey’s father,” he answered, his voice ridiculously deep.

  “So tell me about this architect? Who was he, what else was he into?” I asked.

  “His name was Scott Lloyd. He built many of the big mansions in Asheville in the twenties,” Granger answered. “But what do you mean about what he was into?”

  “This house is off. Sour. Twisted right through its core. It’s been this way for a long time—I can tell. I would imagine there are stories about it being haunted.”

  Several of the people around the room were nodding, but they stopped when Granger’s frown touched them.

  “There are almost always ghost stories about older homes, Mr. Gordon. I discount them as a matter of course,” he said.

  “Some of them are real. This guy, Lloyd, was he into the occult and séances and shit?” I asked.

  “How the hell would I know?” Granger said, a little angry. “I didn’t move to Asheville until the Seventies.”

  “Ahh, actually he was known to be interested in magic and the supernatural,” a voice interrupted. A young male were, still in his teens, stepped forward and glanced apologetically at his Alpha.

  “This is Malcolm, my wife’s nephew. He’s our resident Know-it-All,” Granger said sourly.

  The kid flushed but kept his gaze on me. Brown hair, brown eyes, tall and thin like he was still growing into himself. His skin was perfectly clear though, a happy side effect for those who are born were.

  “Tell me about him,” I asked.

  Clearing his voice nervously, the kid nonetheless started to speak, settling into a rhythm in the first several sentences.

  “Lloyd was fascinated by anything paranormal. He hung out with mediums, psychics, and even bragged about knowing witches. He held séances and occult ceremonies here, especially around the solstices and equinoxes. Halloween was a big deal here.”

  “How the hell do you know all this, Mal?” Granger asked, frowning and turning to Malcolm.

  “I did a paper on him for English. We had to pick a local historic figure, and you had just bought this as the Pack headquarters,” he said with a shrug. “Got a ninety-three on it.”

  “So when did the possessions start?” I asked, still looking around. My eyes were constantly drawn to the ceiling by the blackness I felt up there. It was the strongest presence of evil I had ever felt, and I was looking for as many answers as possible.

  “The girls complained about the noises a lot when we moved in and seemed to find reasons not to sleep up there. About a month ago, Ned put his foot down about them sleeping in our room and ordered them to stay up there. They had no choice,” Rose said, her tone clear on who she blamed for the situation. Weres have no choice but to follow their Alphas' direct orders, even the children.

  “They also found the box about then,” another female said. Middle aged, which for weres meant she was really old, she was a short, Hispanic woman with a set of nasty scars on one arm. She was likely a bitten were, rather than one born to it. Born weres don’t scar, unless the wound was caused by silver.

  “What box, Puebla?” Granger asked, eyebrows raised as if hearing this for the first time.

  “We had a house cleaning, remember? The children were helping me in the basement, and they found a loose set of stones in the wall with this wooden box inside. Dark oak or something. It had an old lock on it, and it was pretty small,” she said, holding her hands into length and width dimensions that would fit a small paperback book. “They dragged it to their room but couldn’t get it open.”

  “And no one thought to bring it to me?” he asked darkly.

  “Actually, they did, and you said they could keep it,” Puebla answered.

  He frowned, but then you could almost see the moment he remembered. “Oh,” was his only comment.

  “How did Lloyd die?” I asked the kid, Malcolm.

  “Ah, it’s a bit of mystery. He died in this house, actually. In his bed. Had some kind of massive cough thing and basically spewed his own lungs out. He was a big smoker, so it was probably emphysema or something.”

  “Or something,” I agreed, looking back up at the ceiling. “Okay, let’s go see the girls.”

  Chapter 4

  The stairway to the twins’ third floor suite was located just outside the master suite entrance, which made sense. The kids’ rooms were old servant quarters, and the master of the house would want his staff handy to his quarters.

  A door off the hallway, just outside the Master bedroom archway, opened to a steep set of stairs. The top of the stairs was shut off by another door. The lighting was minimal and left the closed door in dark shadows, like something from every horror movie Hollywood had ever produced. You just knew that nothing good could be waiting behind that door. It didn’t help that loud bumps, bangs, and screams were audible from where we stood, looking up.

  “You appear hesitant, Gordon? Mallek told me you could smash any demon!” Granger demanded.

  I felt one of my eyebrows arch on its own. “You know much about demons, Granger? 'Cause I’ve been fighting with them all my life. You know any easy ways to exorcise three of them at once without hurting their victims? I assumed you tried the Catholic priest route? How’d that turn out?”

  “Father Preston never came back down,” Rose answered for her husband.

  “Fantastic,” I muttered. “Alright, everyone stay down here. I’m gonna recon the situation and then figure what I might need for help.”

  I started up the stairs followed by Awasos. “You’re gonna wait just outside the door till I get the big picture,” I told him. He gave me a dark look, but I thought he would abide by my order.

  The banging and screams got louder till we got to the top of the stairs; then everything went quiet. That was kinda standard. The demons could hear me climbing the stairs and were now waiting for some fresh meat to toy with.

  Nearing the top step, I glanced back down the stairs behind, a sea of anxious faces staring up at me. As soon as I reached the door, I popped it open, slid through it, and shut it tight behind me, right in 'Sos’s face.

  The first room was a sitting area with girls clothes strewn over the modern furniture mixed with books, various electronics, and one open makeup case. The doorway beyond was open but completely dark, and I could literally feel the heavy presence of strong demons on the other side.

  Moving closer to the door, I could just make out a human leg on the floor, the loafer-encased foot pointed my way, the rest of the leg leading back into the dark. Based on its size and the black pants, I was assuming this was the Priest, Father Preston. I squatted down and touched the bare ankle, feeling for any kind of a pulse. The blackness beyond was complete, but when I switched to thermal vision, I could see that the body in front of me was almost totally cool and three child-sized outlines of yellow and red awaited me, lined up in a row, perfectly sti
ll.

  The room stank of shit, piss, vomit, and fear. There was also a very heavy sulfuric stench that sharply bit at my sinuses. Thermal vision gave me the outline of everything in the room, from the two double-sized beds to the matching dressers, vanities, and chairs. But seeing heat patterns doesn’t help with human faces, so I couldn’t tell much about their expressions. Two of them were wearing shorts and tee shirts, the other a knee-length sleep shirt. Two evenly matched for height and size, the third much taller. Three sets of heads tilted to the same side at exactly the same time, considering. I realized that they couldn’t see me, my unique nature cloaking me from them, but they knew someone was there by the sounds I was making.