by Jill Cooper
Amanda was about to answer, when the mother seized Amanda by the arm. “What the hell are you?” Her words were spoken calmly enough, but Amanda heard a warble in her voice and the stink of whiskey on her soul drowned out the nutmeg of the place.
“We’re sorry,” Duncan said as they caught up to Amanda. “We were just leaving.”
Amanda rose up and faced the mother. The rage in her chest grew and her nostril flared. She yanked her arm back, pulling it free. She might as well have hit the mom with her full force, because the mom crashed to her knees and Amanda was flung back.
She would’ve fallen, if not for Duncan. He dragged her toward the front door as the husband pursued. “Where are you going? I want to press charges! She hit my wife!”
Hit his wife? Please. That woman put her hands on Amanda, everyone saw it, still Amanda couldn’t stop herself from yelling.
“Just like she’s been hitting your daughter you mean?” Amanda’s words slurred together as if she was the drunk, but far from it. Venom rose up in her, unlike anything that had happened in the past. The rage in her chest, she could barely contain.
“Amanda,” Duncan chastised her as if she were a child. A bad, unruly child, but that wasn’t the truth, was it? It wasn’t Amanda’s fault the world wasn’t ready. They might be running out of time to understand that a war was going on. The battle of good versus evil was happening right under their noses and someone needed to do something about it. People needed to pick a side and stop being so idle.
“Amanda,” Duncan sighed and she felt his disappointment. He shook his head with exasperation, but still, his eyes were kind. “You just can’t do stuff like that. I know how bad you feel for people, but—.”
He sounded just like Jessica and that thought put a lump in Amanda’s throat.
Duncan pulled her from the café, but Amanda caught sight of the television just at the last moment and pointed at it. “Duncan.”
“We don’t have—.” His eyes scanned the newscast on the television under an image of a rundown pub. A bar. His bar. Suddenly Duncan’s emotions jumped into his throat so intense that it pulsated into Amanda’s brain. Headache surging, Amanda remembered the pub from the time Jessica had trashed it and broken some guy’s nose. Amanda barely got there in time to drag her away.
Amanda didn’t need to hear the report to know what happened. All she needed to see on that television screen was the word ‘Massacre’.
Massacre.
Blood was spilled. The world would rue the day the Bloods were born.
3: Jessica Blood
What was once broken, was made whole again.
Ravaged by fire, Jessica was pulled through the earth. Her skin was torn asunder, charred and burnt beyond repair, made whole by the evil curse branded into her soul. If she even had a soul left to speak of. Her skin regained its youthful appearance, but it wasn’t purity. Instead, it was something unspeakable.
Evil. Death renewing. Every lasting life nestled inside a curse/
Things after that got fuzzy. Jessica could remember Lourdes. Remembered how she whispered something to her about…revenge.
Then the beatings started, heaven help her, Jessica remembered the beatings. The anguish of unrelenting pain. Lourdes, queen of the underworld, may have been able to heal her, but the pain etched through her remained. That pain, those screams, would follow Jessica everywhere. even if right now, she could barely even see.
Eyes swollen shut, Jessica tried to rub her face, but her arms were tethered to the wall by thick chains that clanked when she moved. They chaffed her wrists and caused them to burn with a powerful itch. Distracted by how much her head hurt, memories of Earth flooded through.
Jessica! Amanda screamed as Jessica was pulled back to the underworld echoed. The pain in her little sister’s voice was harder to bear than her own. Leaving her behind was best for Amanda, but that didn’t make it easy.
It just made it worse.
I’m sorry, little sister. So sorry.
Aunt Gwen, or what was using Aunt Gwen’s body, got the drop on Jessica because Jessica was weak. She should’ve been on guard, not let down her walls because Gwen was family. It was a mistake Jessica paid for with her soul, for eternity if Duncan couldn’t find a way to save her. If Duncan…
Thinking his name brought the image of his face. Soft lines around his eyes, how his brown hair fell over one eyebrow, and a smile that could curl the toes of just about any lady. Somehow through all the options, Duncan had picked her, of all people. He certainly didn’t like things the nice, easy way did he?
Theirs was a future that would never be. Prisoner of the underworld, Jessica was somewhere humans couldn’t follow. Humans…
Images flashed in her mind of blood. Thick blood so red it was black and it coated her hands. Jessica blinked her eyes open, her damp and haggard red curls blocking her vision. Through the parting of the veil were the walls of her cavern, but there were no humans here. Only Jessica and the longing spreading in her heart to complete her mission.
Kill Amanda Blood. Bring her to Lourdes.
No, Jessica wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Sounds echoed outside of the chamber. Lourdes must’ve known Jessica awoke and was ready for her next session. Tears Jessica thought long dried, clung to her lashes, but she didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to be a victim. She needed to find a way out of this mess like yesterday.
Jessica Blood was no man’s damsel, no victim and certainly no woman’s punching bag. She could be master of her own destiny, if only she could find a way…if only.
The memory of the Black Scorpion’s bar flashed in her mind. Men, friends, lay dying on the floor. Blood ran like a river as their screams and cries echoed through the small room. On the counter, Ron slumped unconscious.
So much death. Was that on her? Had Jessica…killed all those people because Lourdes demanded it? Jessica wouldn’t; she couldn’t! Her mission was to save, not to destroy. Not to…Vomit rose in her mouth at the idea that she could be turned into such a weapon. Such a creature of death.
The image of herself strolling over to the bar played in her mind. Jessica pulled Ron’s collar so he flipped down to the floor. On the ground, his mouth twisted in pain, but his eyes were still lidded. Jessica’s mind pulsed with an order.
Kill him. Show Duncan Jasper, he cannot so easily escape us. Kill his dearest friend and be done with them, Jessica.
“Lost in thought, are we?”
Jessica snapped her head toward the entrance. Her skin chilled at the sound of Lourdes’s voice. The demon had an effect on her like no other, and, as the queen strolled passed the threshold. With her rigid posture, her regal black dress glided across the stone slab, her commanding presence was one demons couldn’t say no to. They fell in line as servants to their master.
Twisted and black, her dress showed the tormented faces of all those she had imprisoned. Wracked with agony and writhing in terror, they shifted and changed; as one disappeared, another popped up. Those poor souls, all of them begging for salvation, but Jessica wasn’t a savior. She hadn’t even figured out how to save herself— if such a thing was even possible. After what she did at the Black Scorpion’s bar…
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you have me kill those bikers?”
Lourdes’s eyes were slanted like a cat’s and atop her head, black curls so messy they resembled thorns. A simple set of green horns crested, barely visible through the mess. “For their interference a hundred times with my legion, is that not enough for you? For what Duncan did, stealing Amanda from me, he needed to be taught a lesson.”
Jessica squeezed her eyes shut. Just like that, she was a tool for evil? Nothing had ever felt as dirty, grimy, if she washed for a million years, her skin would never come clean.
“And so did you. For refusing my orders, but I blame myself.” Lourdes sighed. “I was rash. I sent you in too early; that won’t happen again, dear Jessica. Faithful servant. Next time, I’ll make sure you’re ready bef
ore you fetch my prize.” Her lip snarled.
Jessica’s spine shivered. She knew what that meant—more torture, more suffering. More pain than she could endure, but she would, because Lourdes wouldn’t allow her to die.
“I must say, I didn’t realize having you down here would change so much.” Lourdes smiled; twisted and evil, it lit her face. “All this time, perhaps I’ve been chasing the wrong sister.”
“Good.” Jessica’s answered sharp. “Keep me and let her go.”
Lourdes’s laughter echoed through the chamber. “I’ll have both. I like a complete set, but having you here is going to advance my plans faster than I expected. Heaven and Hell both are ripe for the taking. Having you take up the mantel as commander of my army will tear the fabric of the underworld open even further than it already has. Oh, Jessica,” Lourdes’s slurred her words like a lover might in the heat of the moment.
Leaning over she stroked Jessica’s face and Jessica revolted, thrashing her head back. “Don’t touch me.”
Lourdes snarled and yanked on Jessica’s hair. “I will touch you, kill you, and do whatever I want to you. A little mouse like you can’t stop me. Haven’t you learned yet, that you can’t resist me?”
The answer was no, but it wasn’t so simple. Jessica’s resistance to Lourdes couldn’t last forever. Like a battery, eventually her will to fight would be drained. Already her limbs ached to find Amanda and do whatever necessary to fetch her. Drag Amanda into the underworld kicking and screaming so Lourdes could go free.
Lourdes pushed Jessica back and gripped her throat. It starved off Jessica’s air and she gagged, feeling that rush of panic. “You will become my commander. You will do more than just bring me, Amanda. You’ll bring me everything my heart desires. Hell, Heaven. Anything. You’re in my service, Jessica Blood. I won’t ever let you go.”
But she did, Lourdes released her hand and backed up. Jessica gasped for air and relief flooded in with it. Jessica gripped the stones with her fingernails and watched the queen head for the exit.
“I will post guards outside. They’ll let me know when you’ve changed your mind. When you’re ready to talk.” Lourdes waved her hand at Jessica as she left, just like that.
Well, that was simple. That was…
A tightening against her lyrnx. Jessica gagged and grabbed at her throat, feeling the skin concave around her esophagus and ligaments. Couldn’t breathe, as if her throat was crushed by invisible hands. Jessica tilted her head and gagged for air. Her legs lashed out from the pain.
Lungs. They were on fire. Desperate for air, but her throat compressed onto itself, like a crushed coke can.
Jessica knew there’d be no end. She would suffocate and die, only to be brought back for it to happen again and again. That pain, that panic, would go on forever until Jessica lost her will to resist Lourdes.
Or until her mind couldn’t handle the pain anymore—until all that pain and death drove her insane.
The urge to breathe overpowered her. Jessica’s whole body screamed with rage, even as her hands fell to her side and consciousness drifted away. In the space between life and death, Jessica saw the moment where she slid the dagger into Ron’s heart, back at the bar.
Only she hadn’t.
Instead, she put the handle in his hand, gripping his fingers tight around it, but why—why would she want to frame Ron for all those murders? Why—.
And then Jessica bent over and whispered something in his ear. A secret, just between them. Maybe there was a way to beat Lourdes at her own game after all. Have to be careful, have to quick. Like chess Jessica had to stay two steps ahead, but she could do that—couldn’t she?
It was worth finding out.
The next time Lourdes brought her back to life.
4: Vaughn
Those bitches would pay. Amanda, Jessica, the seer—the angel trophy he’d kept around for, what was it, eight decades now? They’d pay with their blood.
Vaughn didn’t lose, but here he was. On the run, searching for a home. He wasn’t used to scurrying along like a bug. With his fortress gone he had no choice but to relocate. A smaller warehouse, one designed for emergencies, that, let’s face it, he never expected to need. There wasn’t a bar or even a catwalk for his lady friends. No, instead it was a barren space with a dirt floor.
He needed to make some adjustments. Make sure it was safe and make it fun.
Stationed in a shipping yard, the area smelled of salt water. A misty breeze blew off the harbor and Vaughn kept his face set as he sauntered passed those that worked at the harbor. His warehouse was adjacent to a fishing company.
He needed to make sure they didn’t disturb him.
Heading up the stairs, Vaughn grabbed the shirt of one of his minions. “Ward the entrance. Make sure those men don’t disturb me.”
“Yes, Master!”
Vaughn threw the door open, stepping inside, he sniffed. Shades drawn, the space was dark. Non-descript, except for the empty cages lining the rear wall. Demons stood at each corner awaiting his orders. “I’ll need a bed. And get the girls in here!”
His teeth bared as he screamed. The demons charged for the door, anxious to be the first one out of the warehouse. His wrath knew no bounds.
Look at what he was reduced to. Starting over? His drug trade had been the finest in the country, the finest, and those Blood girls had managed to take it from him. All of it. He shouldn’t have underestimated Amanda. Should’ve seen her as something other than a toy. That mistake wouldn’t be one Vaughn would make again.
Grunting, he picked up the only folding chair in the room and flung it hard as he could, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Neither did the laughter he heard from the corner of the room.
Scowling, Vaughn turned and saw a shadow creeping from the darkness. Vain—or whatever her real name was, nursed a glass of whiskey as she approached. Her mocha colored skin contrasted with her tight silver leather cat-suit.
Nonchalant, she handed him the whiskey.
“You really need to be more in control. We’ll get your precious cargo back.” She peered up at him, her lips plump and silver, begging to be kissed.
Vaughn picked up the shot of whiskey and slammed it back. That rush of heat wasn’t enough to soothe him, but it was a start. “You haven’t been able to get your hands on it yet. What makes you so sure?”
With a roll of her eyes, Vain tossed her long dreds off her shoulders. Her nipped hourglass waist accentuated her wide hips. On her belt were a gun, a dagger, and a rope. As far as assassins went, Vain was best of the best. A human that had turned her back on humanity a long time ago, for nothing more than cold hard cash. Vaughn could respect that.
“The angel protecting them is gone now. She has a lot to answer for. Heaven won’t let her interfere again, until they make a ruling.”
Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. “You know this how?”
Vain shrugged. “Demons talk. They fear the angels and with one gone, chatter is picking up. For now, she’s away from the battlefield and that means now is the time to strike.”
Now was the time to set a trap for the angel. She’d return, Vaughn was sure of it. When she did, Vaughn needed to be ready. He wouldn’t be taken out by his own greatest slave.
“I’ll get you what you want. The Bloods. And carve my name in their flesh.”
Vaughn sneered. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Jasper, would it?”
Vain’s eyes narrowed and her lips puckered. Did that mean she still felt something for the demon hunter? “Revenge will be mine. If he runs with the Bloods, he puts himself in the line of fire. I’ll hunt him. I’ll find him.”
Vaughn stepped up closer. “Then you bring him to me. He’s going to pay for what he did to my drug supply. For freeing Amanda, and letting our angel loose on the world, he’ll suffer.”
“Not before I put my hands on him.” Vain’s fingernails were painted white. She scrunched her hand into a fist. “His lies, his betrayals, he hasn’t known
real pain.”
“Then stop talking. And start hunting.” It was after all, why Vaughn paid her. Behind them, the door opened and a troop of demons marched his sex slaves inside.
They wore leashes around their necks and were scantily clad in silver bikinis. Those lucid enough to know fear cried, but most were so drug stricken, they crawled into their cages with no resistance.
The girls were about the only thing that could warm Vaughn’s heart. He went over to one of the cages to inspect one of the newer girls. Blond hair in braids, she was young, with freckles speckled across her cheeks. Her shoulders rocked back and forth in wailing sobs. She might be his new favorite.
Vaughn was looking forward to breaking her in.
“When you find him,” the corner of Vaughn’s lips turned up with vengeance, “let’s send him a gift. Which one do you think will be best?”
Vain’s stance widened and she put her hands upon her hips. “He’s always had a thing for redheads, have any?”
“Soon.” Vaughn’s voice simmered with a vortex of anger.
5: Amanda Blood
Sun was set and the stench from the Black Scorpion’s bar hit them from a mile up the road. The place was as Amanda remembered, small and box-shaped, but big in character. Police tape flapped in the breeze around the door and Amanda’s mind swam with smells; blood and metal.
Sounds—screams and shrieks and fear. So much fear it boiled off the top and spilled down the sides.
She opened her car door before Duncan came to a complete stop, allowing her bare toes to sink into the small pebbles that littered the driveway. Wasn’t comfortable, but something about it grounded her.
Amanda saw images from inside the basement. A circle of salt surrounding her Aunt Gwen, who was sitting in a chair. With her short red hair tied back in a yellow bandana, she was the aunt Amanda remembered, but the evil cackle wasn’t.
Her eyes were dim, containing someone else’s soul.
