Demon Squad 6 The Best of Enemies

by Tim Marquitz

  I did my best to change the subject before I lost my temper. Too much time spent around the dread fiends, and trapped inside my own head, I wasn’t in the mood for our usual verbal foreplay. “What happened out there?”

  Veronica knew what I meant immediately. She sighed but held her defensive posture. “Seems one of Baalth’s old enemies decided now was a good time to stake his claim to Old Town.”

  “Looks like he was right.”

  “There wasn’t much we could do. He hit us hard when we were the least prepared for it.”

  “Any idea who it is? Someone I know?”

  Veronica shrugged. “Hell if I know. He didn’t exactly leave a calling card.”

  “What do you know?”

  Her cheeks darkened, her hands going to her hips. “I know you’re wasting my time. Why don’t you go back to Hell? I have a war to plan for.”

  Normally, I would have blown her posturing off, but she’d gotten under my skin. I took a step forward. She flinched but held her ground.

  “You’re in charge?” She met my eyes but didn’t answer. “Guess that explains why Old Town is under enemy occupation.”

  Veronica puffed up her chest. “You don’t get to—”

  I heard Chatterbox clear his throat, cutting through her sentence. He was clearly trying to mediate for his girlfriend, but I didn’t care. Something about her taking over for Baalth struck me as offensive. I’d killed the bastard, she didn’t. Why was she claiming Old Town? If it should be anyone’s, it should be mine.

  Without even thinking, I darted forward and wrapped my hand around her neck, eyes filled with a red haze.

  “Okay, okay, Frank.” Veronica’s voice came out in a weak gasp. She stumbled back with her hands in the air, blood running from her nose. It stained her lips red and dribbled down her chin. Her throat was already bruising.

  My heart sputtered. I looked to my hand and saw blood on the knuckles. A strange sense of disconnection washed over me as though I’d just woken up from a dream. Veronica stared at me but there was no defiance left in her eyes. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, her gaze on me the whole time. I glanced over at Rala, and she sat there with wide eyes, a hint of WTF in them. She didn’t know anything about our relationship, and I wasn’t up for explaining it.

  “Goooooooddd? Goooooooodddd?” Chatterbox asked me, the maggots squirming anxiously in their milky pools.

  I looked back to Veronica. She had crept over to Marcus, dropping down beside his unconscious form. They looked like two whipped puppies in a pound. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. That’s how it always was. Veronica screwed me over and I let it go so she could do it all over again. Not this time.

  “Look, I don’t know what you’ve done to reclaim Old Town, but it’s clearly not enough. I’ll take over from here. I’ve got another job for you.” I went over to her. She cringed into the cushion.

  “Sure, Frank,” she answered without hesitation. “Whatever you want, okay? Whatever you want.”

  I smiled at hearing that. She trembled as put my hand beneath her chin. “That’s my girl. Now here’s what I need from you.”

  Three

  I’d left Rala and Chatterbox with Veronica, making it her job to protect them. She might not be good with plotting urban warfare, but I knew it’d take an army to pry those two out from under her thumb; especially after I’d made her promise.

  Being a succubus, Veronica was pretty much a slave to power. She and I had butted heads when we were married, but there hadn’t been enough of me to keep her in line, in that respect. That was how Baalth controlled her. He was in another zip code with regards to power. Veronica was a moth to flame for that shit. There was no way she had missed out on what I was packing these days otherwise she wouldn’t have capitulated so easily. I couldn’t trust her as far as I could throw the moon, but as long as she believed she’d get something out of the arrangement, she’d do what I wanted.

  Just in case she didn’t, though, I tapped a tiny piece of my power and plugged it into Rala like Baalth had done with me not too long back. It wouldn’t do much—maybe only allow her to hold onto her dragon form for a little longer than normal—but it would let me keep track of her. It wasn’t a perfect fallback, but I’d know if Veronica dragged her away from the hideout. That would give me plenty notice if something happened.

  Once all that was done, and Rala was back to work at translating the book, I headed off to find out who had laid siege to Old Town. I didn’t figure I’d stumble across an arrow pointing at a sign saying “Bad Guy Here” but whoever he was, he’d left more than enough bread crumbs lying around that I could follow them back to his door.

  I found a handful of those crumbs hanging out near one of my favorite strip clubs. They hovered near the alleyway at the back. While they weren’t as blatant as some of the other thugs I’d seen scattered across Old Town, their weapons stuffed out of sight beneath their loose-fitting jackets, there was no mistaking them as part of the nightlife crowd. Their eyes wandered in a way that didn’t just take in the asses and tits of the girls walking along the strip like all the other guys. They were watching the men, too, but not in a way that made you think they were looking to prove their manhood and start some shit. No, they were on duty, keeping track of everything going on nearby. There was no bluster to them, only vigilance.

  The men were dressed casual, jeans and dark T-shirts under their jackets, most of them with close cropped hair or shaved heads. It wasn’t so much a uniform as everyone dressed like that in Old Town, but there was a rigid readiness that screamed ex-military or law enforcement. My head spun with that realization. These guys looked more like mercenaries than they did gang bangers. If that were the case, there was way more going on than a territorial beef, some asshole taking advantage of Baalth being gone. And why hadn’t local law enforcement stepped in?

  It made me wonder how much of Baalth’s network was still in place. I’d have to remember to ask Veronica about that when I got back. There had to be some part of it still up and operating or the police or federal government would have swarmed in at the first hint of organized gunplay. Then it hit me. They might not be mercenaries after all, but full-fledged government. DSI. That would explain the lack of police presence.

  Shit. Didn’t need that crap. The last time we tangled it was all about shooting me in the head. Not that things would work out so sweetly for them this time, but still, they were another monkey I didn’t want on my back. I already had a damn barrel of them up there as it was. Throw in a clown car and I could run a damn circus.

  I glanced over at the men and watched them for a minute or two. They weren’t so much on guard duty as they were on patrol. They hovered about but didn’t appear as though they were on the lookout for anything in particular. The men never stopped anyone, or even spoke to anyone outside of their little clique, but their eyes were always active. They were on high alert, possibly expecting some sort of counter to their invasion.

  Well, why not give them what they want?

  Dressed in my standard jeans and dirty white tank top, I didn’t look much different than the rest of the people wandering the streets. I tugged my shirt down over the pistol at my back and headed off toward the guys at a casual stroll. Hair and beard scruffy, I probably looked homeless, which meant mostly harmless. They would see me coming, but I didn’t imagine I’d set off their Spidey sense. I figured I could get close enough to catch them off guard.

  Sure enough, a couple glanced my direction as I made my way through the loose crowd gathered around the strip club, but their gazes slid off as quickly as they landed on me. I was just one more piece of Old Town trash. That was fine with me.

  I strolled past the edge of the group and made my move. No point in being subtle, I reached out and said hello to the closest of them; my fist smashing into his face. There was a resounding crack, his nose exploding. The guy stumbled backward, out long before he hit the ground. His friends were quick
to respond.

  Jackets splayed out like manta ray wings as the mercenaries went for their guns, but they might as well have been frozen in place. I stepped around a guy as his pistol cleared its holster and clasped my hands around his wrist. He grunted as I twisted his arm around and shot him in the gut with his own gun. His scream lasted a split second before I yanked his arm around and coldcocked him with the pistol butt. Arm still attached, it snapped like a brittle twig. I spun his unconscious body into one of his buddies and snapped a kicked out at another. My reward was the sweet sound of air spewing out of his lungs. A quick upward knee turned off the vent and put him out. He flopped to his back as the first shot rang out.

  Heat zinged past my cheek, and I ducked away, coming in low to nut punch the thug who’d shot at me. He squeaked and slunk to his knees, and I punted him into his friends.

  “Three,” I called out as the crowd of pedestrians scattered at the sound of gunfire.

  In close, the mercenaries were hesitant to fire at me, afraid they’d hit each other. I didn’t have that problem, so that’s where I stayed; right up on them. Another shot filled the air with thunder but it wasn’t anywhere near hitting me. I feinted left toward the alley, and then dodged right. The men shifted, closing their ranks as I bowled into them.

  I sunk my shoulder into the stomach of one and lifted him in a fireman’s carry. Before he could think to shoot me, I latched a hand into his pants leg and jerked him free, ducking under as I spun him about. He shrieked until his skull clacked into another guy’s, the moist thump of two melons colliding.

  A bullet grazed my arm as I let go of my makeshift flail. There was a flicker of pain, as though a lit match had been dragged across my skin, and then it was gone. I was on the guy before even that tiny pain faded. The gun trembled in his hand as I grabbed his wrist. A quick twist turned the pistol toward the ground, and I punched him in the sternum. There was the popcorn crackle of his ribs giving way, and he let out a wet gasp.

  I used him for leverage to kick the guy coming up behind me, letting go of his wrist as the other mercenary folded. One quick step put me at his back. I bumped his ass with my crotch and laughed as he stiffened, standing upright in a heartbeat. A bullet meant for me thudded into his chest. I snapped his neck before he even felt the gunshot, his body dropping at my back as I charged the remaining men.

  “Seven,” I called out and had the pleasure of seeing the mercenaries pause to confirm their numbers.

  I was on them before they hit the count of two. A snappy kick took the knee out from beneath the one on the left. He toppled forward into my welcoming arms. One hand behind his neck and one clutching to his gun hand, I turned him around and shot his buddy in the face. I let the momentum play out and set the mercenary on the ground, using his own weapon to punch a hole through his eye socket. He slumped as the gun fell away, splashing into the growing pool beside his head.

  “And that leaves just you,” I told the last of them.

  The mercenary aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger. As fast as he did it, though, he was too late. With nothing more than a flicker of a thought, I plugged the barrel of his pistol with my magic. The gun exploded, black smoke and shrapnel enveloping his hand. He cried out and stumbled back clutching to the mangled stump, his two remaining fingers charred and bent at awkward angles. I jumped on him, wrapping my hand about his throat before slamming to the ground. He went quiet beneath my grip.

  “Rough day, huh?”

  Our eyes met. His were red with tears and agony. I went for predatory on my end. It seemed to work as he stopped squirming and lie there trembling beneath me.

  “Got a few questions for you. Answer them truthfully and you’ll walk away from this. Bullshit me and I’ll shove my arm so far up your ass I’ll pick your nose from the inside. You feel me?”

  He nodded as best he could against my hand, and I released him. The merc sucked in a deep breath and drew his wounded hand to his chest. He’d gotten my point.

  “Who are you working for?”

  He swallowed hard and shook his head. “I-I can’t tell you.” The words meekly slipped between his lips.

  I sighed. “You really want to go down this road?” My cheeks warmed, and I could feel my anger bubbling in my guts. Either that or it was gas. Neither boded well for the mercenary’s future. “Answer the question.”

  He shook his head.

  I rolled my neck, the vertebrae popping loudly as I contemplated which piece of the guy I was gonna rip off first.

  “Do I look like—” That was all I got out before a familiar voice sounded behind me.

  “Leave him alone, Frank.”

  The wash of mystical energy confirmed who it was before I recognized the sultry Barry White tones of his voice.

  “I was wondering when you guys were gonna show up.” I straightened and turned my head around to see Rahim standing there, his hands dangling at his thighs as though he were a gunfighter. He might not have come for a fight, but he was ready for one. Katon, of course, hovered at his side, a pit bull panting to be set loose.

  “We need to talk,” Rahim said, the words slow and measured as though he were talking me off a ledge. It brought a smile to my lips.

  “Sure, we can do that.” That was the last fucking thing I wanted to do right then, but they’d found me already, so it wasn’t like I could ask for a rain check.

  Regal as ever, Rahim look composed, but his eyes gave away his uncertainty. He stared as if he were concerned I might explode, shoulders rigid, his fingers clenching slowly to fists and then releasing, over and over. I doubted he even realized he was doing it.

  Katon on the other hand, just looked pissed. There was no hiding the glare that spilled from his eyes and infected the rest of his expression. His upper lip was pulled back in a sneer, sharpened eyeteeth standing out in stark contrast against the darkness of his face. Fingers clutched at his sword so tight his knuckles paled. He didn’t say anything, but a low, feral growl rumbled deep in his throat. He looked ready to pounce. Rahim gave him a steely sideways glance, which kept him in place.

  I’d been worried about what I would say to them when they finally caught up to me, but seeing them so wary startled me. Katon’s fury was a given, but the vague sense of anticipation I caught from Rahim was disturbing. I needed a moment to get my thoughts in order.

  “Give me a second,” I told them, turning to glance back at gimpy.

  I heard a muffled snikt as I did, spotting the shimmer of a switchblade. Instinct put me on the defensive and before it clicked in my head what the merc intended, he drove the point of the knife into his ear. His eyes burst wide and blood gushed through his fingers, running down his forearm. He twitched twice and crumpled to the ground, staring at the sky, the last wisp of his breath pushed from deflating lungs.

  With that breath went my answers. Ten men dead and nothing to show for it, I turned to Rahim and Katon, my face warming. “That one’s on you.”

  Katon bristled, gesturing at the bodies slumped across the street. “You can’t pin this on us, asshole.” His sword slipped a few inches from its sheath as he started forward.

  Rahim stuck an arm out and set it across Katon’s chest, stopping him. “Easy.”

  “No?” I shook my head as a dull, throbbing pain rippled at the base of my skull. “Where the hell were you when a hostile military force took over Old Town, huh?” I kicked the corpse at my feet. “This is one of the bad guys, just in case you’re confused. I wonder how many people he killed before today.”

  “Clearly I am confused, Trigg, because all I see is you standing over a bunch of corpses, no one else.” Katon glared, and I could see Rahim’s arm straining to hold him back.

  “We don’t know anything about a takeover, Frank,” Rahim cut in. “You know damn well we’d have acted had we heard about it.”

  “Really?” His words were the flame that lit my fuse. “Yeah, you’re all about the decisive action, right? Like how you sat on our little alien friend for a fuckin
g week while his boss had Karra?”

  “And there’s the excuse.” A rough chuckle slipped loose from Katon. “Mike was having success digging through Mihheer’s head. Had you given us a few more days we could have helped you. Instead, you took it on yourself to kidnap him.” He shook his head. “Where is he now, Frank?”

  “He’s right where you think he is.” While I knew my answer wouldn’t win me any points with Katon, there was no holding it in. His smirk infuriated me. Karra had languished on Desboren because they wouldn’t do what was necessary to find out where she was. “He’s got a seat right there alongside Gorath. In fact, they’re having tea in the dusty hereafter with Baalth.” I took a step forward. “You want to join them?” The words were out of my mouth before I could swallow them back.

  Katon stiffened, his sword slipping free of its confines. “Are you threatening me?”

  Rahim stepped between us. “This isn’t like you, Frank.”

  “You sure?” a grin nagged at my lips. “I’ve been through hell to save both of you. Shit, everyone at DRAC for that matter—the world—yet when I needed your help to find Karra, the mother of my unborn child, you couldn’t be bothered. That left it up to me, and I did exactly what I always do, Rahim. Whatever it takes, and that’s the position you put me in.”

  Both of them went silent but there wasn’t time for my words to sink in. A hum resonated against my senses as yet another antagonist joined the party. I sighed as Scarlett dropped from the sky and landed beside Rahim and Katon, the ephemeral trail of her wings fading behind her. She gave them a quick look—her gaze lingering an instant longer on Katon—before she faced me. Her eyes met mine and there was no doubt whose side of the argument she was on, not that I had expected anything different.

  “I was sent—”

  “Yeah, yeah, Blondie,” I told her, cutting her off with a wave of my hand. It wasn’t much of a surprise that she’d figure out where I was if DRAC could. “It’s bad enough I have to listen to these two prattle on, but I’m not in the mood for an angelic sermon on top of their bullshit salad. Go wax your tits while your boyfriend and I chat.”