Daemon

by Doug Dandridge

  DeFalco coughed as the stench of the room hit him in the face. It smelled of Earth, decay and death. The iron smell of dried blood competed with the stronger odors. DeFalco moved cautiously into the room, tracking with his gun as he moved his eyes. There was an unmade bed close to the door, and a dresser with a TV sitting on it. A small table and some chairs were placed close to the heavily curtained window.

  DeFalco walked past the bed, his gun moving to cover the other side. His eyes grew wide as he saw the make shift coffin on the floor. Made from a pair of refrigerator boxes stapled and taped together, it had a cardboard lid that was fitted over the top. DeFalco kept the gun trained on the box as he kicked at the top, lifting it enough to see inside. When nothing appeared to be in the box he pushed the top completely off and found himself staring down into a thin layer of soil.

  “He’s been here,” said DeFalco over his shoulder. “But he’s not here now. Bring him in.”

  Washington pushed Jackson into the room and closed the door behind her as DeFalco checked out the bathroom. He came out a moment later, pushing his gun back into its holster.

  “It’s clear,” he said to Washington, pointing at one of the chairs. “Take a seat Mr. Jackson. I think we have some business to discuss.”

  Tanesha pushed Marvin Jackson into one of the chairs, then walked around the bed to look at the homemade cardboard coffin. She put her hand over her mouth as the odor hit her.

  “Yeah,” said DeFalco, sitting on the bed. “It had that effect on me too.”

  “Now Marvin,” said the Agent, turning toward the man in the chair. “What do you say we discuss Tashawn, or whatever he calls himself these days?”

  “I want to talk to a lawyer,” yelled the man, pulling at the handcuffs behind his back.

  “I don’t really think a trial is in your immediate future,” said DeFalco, moving over so Washington could have sitting room on the same side of the bed. “You think I’m going before a judge with you to talk about a vampire?”

  “Then let me go,” said Marvin, a pleading look on his face. As DeFalco shook his head the man’s face took on the appearance of a wild animal’s as he jerked the cuffs and started to stand.

  DeFalco was off the bed in an instant, pushing the man back into the chair.

  “You don’t know what he’s capable of,” said Marvin, glaring up at the FBI Agent.

  “What if I tell you I’ll get you Government protection?” said DeFalco, looking down on the man.

  “You think you can protect me from him?” said Jackson, his voice frantic. “Or that other bastard who’s leading him around?”

  “Now that’s the stuff I want to hear, Marvin,” said DeFalco, leaning over the man to go nose to nose. “Tell me about Tashawn. And this other bastard you’re talking about.”

  “Fuck you, man,” yelled Jackson, “and your fucking bitch too.”

  DeFalco stood straight as he pulled his pistol back out of his holster. He raised it into the air, then swung it down hard on Jackson’s left shoulder. He controlled the force he struck with, not wanting to break anything, just to cause pain. The grunt from the man told him that he had achieved his goal.

  “It’s going to be a long fucking night, Marvin,” said DeFalco, looking at his watch. “It’s only eleven right now. We have a long time till dawn.”

  “He’s going to kill you, man,” shouted Jackson, tears in his eyes. “He’s going to kill you, her and probably me.”

  “I'm counting on him coming to try,” said DeFalco, moving back to the bed and sitting down. “I’m counting on it.”