Daemon Persuasion

by S. K. Gregory

  S. K. Gregory

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Daemon Persuasion (Daemon Persuasion Series)

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  S. K. Gregory

  Daemon Persuasion

  Copyright © 2012 S. K. Gregory

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Dedication

  To my niece Amelia.

  T. Old friends, gone but not forgotten

  Acknowledgments

  To my family and friends, thanks for the support. All the hard work paid off.

  Prologue

  Eleven-year-old Mackenzie Murphy curled up under her Mickey Mouse bedclothes that were far too babyish for her, and prayed that the screaming would stop. She pressed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the noise.

  Her step dad Ray had come home drunk again. Furniture smashed against the wall, while her mother screamed at him.

  “Please make it stop, please,” Mackenzie whispered repeatedly, clutching at her neck for the gold heart necklace, that her mother had given her for her birthday last month. It was her mother’s necklace really. Her dad had given it to her mum before he left her.

  The day before her birthday, Ray had given her mother two black eyes for being late with dinner. She couldn’t go outside in case that nosy old bat Mrs. Preston saw and called the police again, so she had given Mackenzie the necklace as her present.

  Mackenzie knew that before morning, her mother would be in the hospital with a broken nose or jaw and if he hadn’t passed out, Ray would start beating on her, just because he could. In the last few months Ray had cracked two ribs and broken her wrist. Her right arm still sported a brace. She could be sure it would never stop, simply because her mother was too afraid to press charges.

  Mackenzie hated having to wear long sleeves, even in the summer, to hide the bruises, so many questions to answer or avoid.

  “I took you and that rotten kid of yours in off the street,” Ray yelled.

  “Go away. Why can’t you just leave and never come back,” Mackenzie chanted, “Just go away.”

  A strange hissing noise filled the room, like gas escaping from a pipe. Mackenzie slowly slid the blankets back and looked out. A sliver of moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains, leaving the room in shadowy darkness. She could make out the outlines of her dresser and wardrobe.

  “Hello?” she said.

  She knew that no one could be in her room. She was alone but she could feel a presence and it didn’t feel friendly.

  “Is somebody there?” she asked, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

  Loud whispering filled the room growing louder and more insistent. She couldn’t make out the words, but they sounded strange, nothing she’d heard before. Maybe they weren’t even words. Her heart knocked against her ribs, leaving her mouth dry.

  “Stop it,” she moaned as tears slid down her cheeks. The whispering ceased.

  Eyes wide, she watched in horrified fascination as one of the shadows in the room separated from the rest and began to creep towards her. There was no escape. The wall was to her left, the shadow approaching on the right. She whimpered and backed up against the headboard as far as she could go, her feet slipping on the blankets. First Ray, and now this—it was too much. It was going to get her. Her bladder suddenly felt full and she was afraid she’d wet herself.

  Please don’t let it touch me. She wanted to call out to her mother, but that would only draw Ray’s attention and he would make them both pay for it. His rule numero uno, as he was fond of saying, was children were neither seen nor heard.

  “What do you want?” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

  “What is it that you want?” the shadow hissed the words, definitely in English this time.

  Her mother let out a shriek downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

  “I want it to stop,” Mackenzie said. The shadow drifted towards the door and oozed through it.

  Mackenzie sat frozen in fear waiting for it to come back. This is a nightmare. A really bad nightmare. Her mom would wake her up any minute and tell her it was time for school. Wouldn’t she?

  “What are you doing?” Ray yelled. Screams of terror filled Mackenzie’s head. She slapped her hands over her ears. Abruptly, the scream cut off, leaving a thick, cloying silence behind. It was over.

  Gathering her courage, Mackenzie slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Taking a deep breath she turned the handle pulling it open a crack and peering out into the hallway. She saw nothing. Moving like a sleepwalker, she descended the stairs, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. The house was too quiet. Even the ticking from the huge clock that sat on the mantle in the living room, which sometimes drove her crazy with the noise, seemed muted now.

  At the kitchen doorway, Mackenzie called out to her mother. It came out in a straggled croak and she called again.

  Why wasn’t she answering? The door was ajar, light spilling out into the hallway. She pushed the door open, the light temporarily blinding her after being in the dark hall. When her vision cleared she saw the blood first. So much blood. Thick red puddles of it pooled on the linoleum covered floor, crawling toward her as though Ray’s bodily fluids were still intent on harming her. He lay on his back, the hilt of a kitchen knife protruding from his chest. His eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. There was blood and spittle on his chin.

  Her mother lay propped against the counter, eyes closed, but she was breathing. Her mother appeared unharmed and Mackenzie rushed toward her. She caught a movement from the corner of her eye and looked up. The Shadow hovered above her. On her knees in front of her mother, she watched as it crept toward the window, slipped under the frame and out into the darkness. She turned back to her mother, laying her hand on her mother’s arm. She had gotten her wish. It had stopped. But did her mother stab Ray, or had the Shadow caused his death?

  Chapter 1

  Ten Years Later

  Mackenzie prowled the backstreets of downtown Los Angeles searching for her mark.

  Johnny Beckman was the name her boss had given her, but he usually went by Ace, because he always seemed to be able to pull one out of his sleeve when the stakes were high. Unfortunately, his luck had taken a turn for the worse lately and he owed her boss over ten grand. Money that Mackenzie was going to collect.

  She had spent most of the night talking to p
eople, trying to track him down. Rumor had it that he liked to hang out in a bar called Pot Luck.

  The club closed at two, so she loitered outside waiting for Johnny. She stood against a wall trying to look casual, staring at the reflection of the neon green Pot Luck sign in a nearby puddle.

  “Hey there sweetness, why don’t we go back to my place?” A bald drunk leered at her as he left the club. He tried to cop a feel, but before he could touch her she grabbed his wrist and twisted it up his back. He cried out, trying to wrench his arm away.

  “Keep your hands to yourself,” she said. She let go of his wrist and he hurried away, calling her a few choice names as he went. Nothing she hadn’t heard before. She had fended off more than a few unwanted admirers in her line of work. At five foot ten, she towered over a few them, and that intimidated them.

  Although some of them looked past that to the curly black hair, green eyes and a body with curves in all the right places.

  A half hour later, Johnny finally staggered out. He was shorter than her by three inches. Dressed in a sports jacket which he wore over a checked shirt, he bumped into one of the bouncers at the door. He was loaded.

  “Watch it,” the bouncer growled.

  “Drop dead,” Johnny muttered, not loud enough for the bouncer to hear, but she heard it. She kept her distance until he was away from the club. The stench of urine in the alleyway was overpowering. Breathing through her mouth, she crept along behind him. There was little light, so Johnny wouldn’t see her until she was right up on him.

  She passed a pile of blankets tucked between two trash cans. Pausing, she checked to make sure they were empty. She didn’t need some homeless person as a witness.

  Johnny stopped to light a cigarette and Mackenzie closed the distance between them.

  “Hey, Johnny, how’s your luck been?” she said, in a friendly tone.

  He turned around, the lit match still in his hand. Weariness lined his pudgy face. Running a hand through his greasy black hair, he eyed her through small, bleary dark eyes. He reminded her of a pig. And not the cute one from the film.

  “Who’s asking?” His tone was guarded but his body was relaxed. He didn’t view her as a threat and she found that insulting.

  “Mr. Clayton is wondering about his money,” she replied.

  That got a reaction. She didn’t relax her stance. Things could turn ugly in a moment’s notice and as they said in her kickboxing class, ‘Never let your guard down.’

  “You tell Clayton that if he doesn’t have the decency to send his heavies for the money, then he can wait for it. Seriously, how old are you, sweetheart?” He was right up in her face now and she could smell his stinking breath.

  Ever since she’d been a kid, she hated when people invaded her personal space. It made her edgy and more than ready to do whatever she needed to get them to back off.

  “Old enough to do this,” she said. She brought her knee up into his groin. He let out a muffled grunt of pain as he doubled over. Grabbing the back of his head, she slammed her knee into his forehead. He cried out again and fell to the ground, clutching his balls and head simultaneously.

  “Mr. Clayton wants his money by midnight tomorrow or...” she left the sentence unfinished. Leaning over him, she checked his pockets and found over a grand tucked away. He was still earning his nickname.

  “I’ll take this as a down payment.”

  Eager to get out of the alleyway and away from the stench, she turned away.

  “You fucking cunt,” Johnny yelled. He shoved her hard from behind and she fell to her knees. Something wet soaked through the left leg of her jeans. I really hope that’s rain water. From behind her she heard the distinct click of a blade.

  “That was a big mistake,” he said, pointing it at her, “How about I send Clayton a message in the form of your dead body.”

  “A little help here,” Mackenzie said. She whispered a few words in Latin.

  The streetlight above them blinked out, as Mackenzie climbed to her feet.

  A cold wind swirled around them. A trashcan tipped over, spilling its contents over the ground. The smell of rotting food filled the air.

  “What the hell is going on?” Johnny said, his eyes wild with fear. He backed away from her, his eyes darting back and forth. The knife flicked out of his hand and bounced away.

  Mackenzie saw the Shadow move in behind Johnny, flipping him off his feet. He hit the ground, smacking his chin on the concrete.

  As the Shadow moved over him, she knew what was coming next.

  “Subsitso,” Mackenzie barked. The Shadow halted, poised in anticipation, waiting for further instructions.

  She looked at Johnny whimpering on the ground, “Excedo,” she commanded.

  The Shadow sank slowly into the ground and disappeared.

  “Get the money Johnny,” she said.

  Breathing hard, she walked away, angry that Johnny had gotten the jump on her. She hated having to call the Shadow for help when she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  It had appeared a few times over the last ten years, especially as she had a knack for getting into trouble. At first, she had been terrified and convinced she was going crazy. When it appeared, it would whisper to her in Latin. Once she figured out it was Latin, she memorized a few simple commands, which it seemed to prefer to English.

  Constantly moving as a child meant she never had anyone to confide in about the strange and sometimes scary phenomenon. She had tried telling Suzie in the children’s home about it, but that had been a mistake. Suzie had laughed in her face and shoved her down, calling her a nut job. Unwittingly, Mackenzie had summoned the Shadow and Suzie ended up in the hospital with stitches in her head. This Shadow thing craved violence and Mackenzie knew it would have loved to have killed Johnny, but it followed her orders without question. At least so far. Over the years, it had become a kind of guardian for her, but considering the outcome of its last visit, that night with Ramone, she had sworn she would never call for it again. Calling it was a mistake, but sometimes she did it without thinking.

  Still, she had what she came for. As she left the alley, she felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck as if she was being watched. She stopped, searching the area, but saw nothing. There were shouts in the distance, more drunks no doubt. Crossing the street, she glanced over her shoulder.

  There was definitely someone watching her. She looked up and found him, standing on a fire escape on the building opposite. He was tall, wearing a long coat, which flapped around him in the wind, but that was about all she could see. She couldn’t see his face but she knew he was staring right at her. Something about the man sent chills down her spine. She turned and hurried away. She’d had enough surprises for one night.

  Blue Moon was the club Mr. Clayton owned. Its usual cliental consisted of the dregs of society or out-of-towners who didn’t know about its reputation. They played mostly dance music, which personally Mackenzie hated, but she had learned to drown it out over the last couple of years. She let herself in the back door hoping to leave the money and go, but a few people were still up, including Clayton.

  “Johnny sent you a little present, Mr. Clayton,” Mackenzie said, dropping the money on the table in front of a blonde woman in her late forties. Two bodyguards stood on either side of her.

  Her ice blue eyes gave nothing away. She was dressed in a simple blue calf length dress, but Mackenzie was sure the woman could make sack cloth look classy.

  “You gave him my message?” Mr. Clayton asked.

  “Yes, he’ll pay,” Mackenzie, replied.

  “He’d better,” the woman replied. Mr. Clayton was in fact Greta Clayton. She had taken over from her husband after he was shot two years ago. Even though he was dead, his name still meant something among the locals. Since he was rarely seen, Greta kept up the pretense that he was still alive. Mackenzie knew that if the locals knew a woman ran the show, there would be chaos.

  Mackenzie worked odd jobs for he
r, usually bartending and deliveries but more recently ‘collections.’ Greta had seen her take down a couple of drunks a few weeks earlier and decided that she was worth promoting. She didn’t argue when her promotion came, especially since it tripled her salary.

  “Any trouble?” Greta asked, counting the money.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she replied.

  Greta smiled, transforming her face, “Good girl. Your payment will be ready in the morning.”

  Mackenzie never asked, but Greta had a presence about her. Mackenzie often wondered if she had been an actress back in the day. It seemed every young girl who came here wanted to be one. A few lucky ones got their big break. A lot more got swallowed by the city. The appeal of acting was lost on her. It was hard enough making ends meet.

  Mackenzie left the way she came in. In the ally, she climbed onto her motorbike. Some people said that in a city this size you needed a car, but she preferred her Ducati. Back tire squealing, she headed home.

  As she drove over the crest of a hill, someone stepped into the road. She slowed slightly, wondering what someone would be doing out this late, on such a deserted stretch of road.

  Flames erupted in front of her. Mackenzie braked hard, jerking the bike to the left. A wave of heat hit her. The bike went out from under her, straight over the cliff edge. She skidded on her back a few feet and came to a stop inches from the flames. Heat tinged her face like a lover’s kiss.

  Unable to catch her breath, she lay motionless. A man stepped through the flames, unaffected by the heat. He loomed over her, face hidden in shadow. Could this be the same guy from the roof? He was about the same size. Her heart jack-hammered in her chest, leaving her breathless. A medallion in the shape of an eagle hung around his neck.

  “Consider this a warning,” he hissed, “Stop messing with things you don’t understand.”

  Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the flames, leaving her speechless and suddenly very afraid.

  Mackenzie struggled into a sitting position, the flames dying around her. Her back burned and she was sure her leather jacket was a write off, as was her motorbike. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but somehow knew, this wasn’t the end.