by Tracy Sharp
The fog thinned and I squinted. There he was, eyes glowing red.
The effect was unnerving. "Come on, Baal. Vacate the premises. Save yourself the ass kicking."
His laughter bubbled out, and ended in a phlegm rattled sigh. "How cute. Silver, you appear to me like the pup who thinks he's a wolf. I can play for a while, but I have other plans."
That didn't sound good. "I've kicked your ass before, Baal. I'll do it again."
That deep, cavernous chuckle lifted the hair from my scalp. "You didn't kick my ass, Silver. I merely grew bored of your games. There are so many bodies to possess. Look around your beloved realm. So many angry people. Their bitterness and spite are delicious. I need not stay in only one."
The idea that his words were true gave me pause. Maybe I remembered our last encounter wrong. "Well, the way I recall it, you called me names and then bolted."
The sound of labored, wet breathing. "I know all about you, Silver. Do you want to know what kind of sound your mother made when the truck smashed her head in?"
I’d expected this. If anything would get to me, Baal knew that this would. I felt a jab through the center of me as that old wound ripped open. He would bring me to my knees if I let him.
No. I wouldn’t let him do this to me. I might scream my throat raw later, but not now.
I refused to take the bait. He mixed lies with truths, like all demons. I couldn't trust a word he said, even if he spoke about my parents’ last moments on earth. "Blah, blah, blah, blah." I made talky gestures with my hand. "Same old shit. Drag ass, Baal. You're evicted."
His voice floated all around us. "Starry one, the twin who died in the womb beside you was female. She was sweet, so I took her."
I looked at Astrid's shocked face. She turned her wide eyes to me, but said nothing. She’d mentioned she’d lost a twin sister before she was born. Her sister came out first, but was stillborn. She wished she’d lived. "Shut up. You're just messing with my head."
"Same old tricks, Baal? Time to get some new ones." I stepped forward, raised both hands, and closed my eyes.
The rage in his voice shook the house. "You mock me! You mock Lucifer! You will pay in blood, pup! I will watch you writhe as he impales you and roasts you over hellfire!"
“Oh, yeah?” I raised a hand toward him and began to chant. An old Gaelic priest had given me a book of old incantations. I’d recorded him saying a few earmarked ones on my cell phone and had practiced until I had them right. Gaelic is a dead language, so this was important. This one had worked the last time.
He knew what was coming, and he was pissed. He may be a tough demon to pull out of a body, but he loathed and feared the incantations I used on him. They hurt him in some way, and he couldn’t stand it. If I could keep him in the house and say the words long enough, I could shake him loose and knock him out of Rick.
Raising my voice, I said the Gaelic incantation to force him to leave.
Baal shrieked.
Astrid screamed and I opened my eyes to see Rick crab walking along the hallway wall and over the ceiling toward us. His face white, blue veins bulging as he skittered, upside down toward us.
The front door flew open, tearing off its hinges. It fell inward, landing on the floor.
Astrid threw a hand full of salt in Rick’s face, and he squeezed his eyes shut, roaring unearthly fury, then skittered over the top of the doorway and vanished.
As I turned toward the open doorway, I felt something scuttle around my ankle. I lifted my pant leg and screamed.
A centipede. I hate centipedes. Creepy little things. They make my skin crawl. I suddenly had trouble breathing and the world became a little swimmy.
Astrid picked the centipede from my ankle with her thumb and forefinger and dropped it on the ground. She squashed it beneath her converse sneaker.
My heart was still up in my throat and I tried to catch my breath. “Thanks. I hate those.”
“No kidding,” she said.
I was more afraid of centipedes than I was of Baal.
Baal. He’d done that on purpose. I cursed my phobia but was helpless against it.
We ran outside, both of us looking wildly around. Rick had climbed the walls of the house, but as we ran around it, searching for him, I realized he'd jumped off the roof and run, likely on all fours, into the woods.
Mrs. Collinson came up behind us, sobbing quietly. "Oh, God. Oh, my God. You have to catch him. You need to catch him before he kills someone."
I nodded, and placed an arm around her, leading her to her house that would never feel like home again. I told her that I would catch him. But I left out the part about having little hope that I could do it before he killed someone.
A homicidal demon was on the loose.
4
Candace
"Where are you?" Candace said in my ear. “Did something come up?”
She did not sound happy. Every second spent not dealing with the shade demons might cost people their lives. Of course, so could Rick Collinson. Six of one, half dozen of another.
"Uh, yeah. You could say that." I walked through the woods behind Mrs. Collinson's house while Astrid tried to calm her with a cup of tea. Considering what had happened with her son, I had to think that the tea wouldn't do much to calm her without a Valium dropped into it. Come to think of it, I could use one myself. But that wouldn't help catch Rick or deal with the shadow demons.
Candy sighed in my ear. Not how I’d imagined her sighing in my ear would go. "Ezra? Monsters are eating the people in our town. What could be more important right now?"
"A demonic possession."
"Can't that wait? You deal with that shit on a daily basis, don't you?"
I continued walking toward the woods. "I wouldn't say daily. And to tell you the truth, it's been pretty quiet lately. No possessions since about six months ago."
She gave a humorless laugh. "Feast or famine. Look, I’m freaking out a little bit here, Ez. The demon isn’t going anywhere, right? I mean, that’s why you’re there. To get it to leave. Right? So can’t your guy wait?"
I squinted into the woods around me. A thick fog moved along the ground. "Not unless you want a string of demonic serial killings to clean up after. He took off. And this is a nasty devil, Candy. He's going to murder a lot of people for fun and sport."
There was a long pause, during which I could feel Candy weighing the pros can cons of letting my guy wait, and then a frustrated exhalation of breath... "Fine. Do you think you'll have the demon situation wrapped up by dusk?"
"I'll do my best." I searched the tree tops for the possessed Rick swinging from branches or crouching in the trees.
"Would you call me and let me know? I kind of want to deal with this shade thing before any more people are eaten." The strain in Candy’s voice made me feel bad for her. She was in a tough situation.
"Any idea who was eaten?" I thought I caught sight of Rick, but it was only a hawk taking flight from a branch.
"Got a missing person's report on Al Clark. His wife Janet reported him missing this afternoon when he didn't return home from walking their dog, Duke. But then, the Rolex was inscribed, so I knew it had to be him."
"What are you going to tell her?"
"What can I tell her? That her husband was swallowed by a monster that disguises itself as a shadow?”
I saw her point. “Right.”
“I'll just say that we found his watch, but he was nowhere in sight. We'll keep the case open for a while. Maybe she'll think he ran away with another woman or that he was in trouble."
I winced. "That's tough. Sorry, Candace."
"Just hurry up and find that demon, okay? I need you."
I wished. "Roger that."
She hung up and I continued walking around, looking for signs of the possessed Rick, but I knew it was pointless.
The first time I dealt with Baal, I didn't catch up to him until he'd ripped apart twelve people. That time it was young men. Hitchhikers, all across the country. Whe
n I caught up to him, living inside the body of a forty-seven year old trucker who liked young male hookers but had never murdered one, he was leading a young man from a truck stop toward his rig.
The trucker had gone to see a voodoo priestess living in the Bronx, to get revenge on the brother who stole his wife. He got more than he bargained for. Baal was apparently hanging around the Voodoo lady, waiting for the right host. Pair black magic with vengeful outrage, and he found a perfect possession portal into the trucker.
The trucker took the kid hostage and I shot him in the head before he could slit the kid's throat. The knife only left a nick.
The last time I’d tangled with Baal, he’d possessed a nineteen year old mechanic with mother issues. The kid bludgeoned thirteen ladies between the ages of sixty and eighty-three in their homes.
The kid had been playing with a Ouija board. By the way, those things really are trouble. Don’t play around with them. People get cute, acting all brave, like they’re not afraid of a silly, harmless Ouija board. Ever see The Exorcist? Nothing cute about that. Take it from me.
Or else you may be seeing me. If you’re lucky.
So, I evicted Baal and the kid went to jail.
The trick was to get him before he killed at all. Or before I or Baal ended his host’s life. That was a tall order. So far I hadn’t been able to do that.
I looked up at the ever darkening skies and let out a deep breath. I knew he was long gone.
And I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find him without some bread crumbs.
That meant I wouldn't know where to look until Rick’s first kill.
I’d hoped someone wouldn't have to die.
Ezra
Nobody wanted the demon situation buttoned up more than I did, and time was of the essence. I had Astrid get as much information as she could about Rick and then she met me at the office, where I'd stopped to take a quick shower. It had been a day since my last one and I smelled a tad bit ripe. She talked to me through the bathroom door as I toweled off. "The only hang-outs Rick has are at his gaming buddies houses. They set up at each other's homes and play computer games every weekend."
"What kind of games are they playing?"
"Does it matter?"
"Actually, it does. No computer game is going to make a kid go out and kill someone by itself, but along with the rage and revenge fantasies Rick no doubt has, it might give him a little nudge. If he's really into the game, it may tell us the kind of victim he'll choose or the setting he'll kill in."
"I guess they're all into Minecraft. I doubt he’ll find zombie villagers, Creepers or Endermen to kill."
I stepped into the fresh pair of my favorite worn jeans and pulled a black cotton t-shirt over my head. When I opened the door, Astrid stepped back. Her pink hair was cut in a layered, Emo style shag, and several locks fell over her left eye.
A quizzical look came into the eye I could see. "What?"
"Nothing. Just that you look like something out of Monster High."
She smirked. "That's a compliment. How do you know about Monster High?"
"I dated a girl with a twelve year old. She watched that show all the time." A pang in my chest surprised me, but I recovered quickly and moved into the office area. I wished I could keep a relationship, but the job gets in the way. I’d resigned myself to the reality that I’d be alone the rest of my days. "So, it's Friday. Whose house were they supposed to play at tonight?"
"Alberto Torini." She lifted her mini tablet into the air. "Got the address."
"You're the best."
She shrugged. "I know."
If anyone knew any of Rick's plans, it would be his closest friends. Unless Rick planned to murder them. He might not let them in on that plan.
Alberto Torini lived in the Little Italy part of town, which boasted cobblestone walkways and Italian style brick homes. It was a quaint, beautiful area, kind of tucked into the west side of town.
Astrid fell into step beside me, her sneakers silent on the cobblestone. "You seem to know your way around this place."
"I once dated a girl from here. Nice girl. Far too nice for me."
She punched me lightly in the arm. "You dog, you."
I gave her a wink, and then turned back to the narrow, curved road in front of us. I wondered what had ever happened to Leona. She probably got married to a nice, Italian boy and still lived in Little Italy. I hoped she was happy. She was a really sweet girl.
Alberto Torini's house was a white, Italianate style mansion set back at the top of a hill, large and ostentatious. We parked at the bottom of the driveway and walked on the pink stone path leading to the house.
Astrid rang the doorbell and we stood, casually waiting for the door to open.
A set of heeled shoes approached the door and a moment later Leona stood in front of me. Her eyes widened as she looked at my face. "Ezra."
My jaw dropped. She was a little older, and even lovelier than she had been years before. The tiny lines beginning at the outer corners of her eyes somehow made her more beautiful. "Leona. Hi."
"Hi." Her large brown eyes ticked from me to Astrid and her brow furrowed slightly.
"I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here on your doorstep after a decade and a half."
She gave me a polite little smile. "The thought had crossed my mind. Is this your daughter?"
That one hurt. I wasn't that old. Nearly, but not quite. " Actually, Astrid is my assistant.”
Leona frowned a little. "Assistant. So, this is definitely not a social visit."
"No," Astrid said. "We'd like to talk to your son, Alberto."
The frown deepened. "Are you police? Is he in some kind of trouble? The kid never leaves his computer. Has he been hacking into government files or something?"
"No, no," I said. "We're private investigators. A friend of Alberto's, Rick Collinson, has gone missing. We just wondered if he knew where Rick could be."
"Oh, no." Leona's hand flew to her chest and she stepped back from the door, opening it wider for us. "Please, come in."
"Thank you," Astrid said. "May we speak with Alberto?"
"Yes, yes. Of course. Rick's mother must be worried sick."
"She is," I said. The smell of Leona’s lasagna made my mouth water. Maybe she’d invite us for dinner. Even paranormal investigators need to eat.
"Has she contacted the police?" The worry lines between Leona’s perfectly shaped dark brows deepened. I loved those brows. Women were allowing their brows to thicken these days. Thank God. The over-plucked fashion of previous decades gave me the willies. They’d reminded me of skinny caterpillars crawling around on their foreheads.
I sighed inwardly. That lasagna could’ve been for me if I hadn’t been such an oddball. The weirdness of the supernatural world bleeds into every part of my life in some way. "Well, Rick hasn't been missing for 24 hours yet. It's only been a few. So she called us."
The frown was back. "Then how do you know he's actually missing?"
I couldn’t tell Leona that the last time I’d seen Rick, he was skittering around on the roof like an enormous, supernatural bug. "It was the way Rick left. He left shoes, his phone, and it looked like he was in the middle of a game." I added that last part because the mother of a kid who lives for gaming would know that no gamer leaves in the middle of a game unless the house is on fire.
"Oh, that is strange." Leona’s fingers reached up and grasped the little gold crucifix hanging from her neck.
Astrid nodded. "We suspect foul play."
I gave Astrid a sidelong look.
She gave me a little shrug, her eyes widening slightly.
"Is Alberto home?" Of course he was. Where else would he be? These days the kids didn't even have to go to the store to get games. They could download them right from their well-worn computer chairs.
"Yes. I'll get him. Just a minute." Leona walked down the hall and up a carpeted stairway leading to an upper floor. She’d been thin as a younger woman. But now she was wonderful
ly curvy. The curves suited her. I tried not to stare at her curves as she went. I tried, but lost the fight. She disappeared around a wall and after a few seconds we heard the sound of knocking on a door, and her voice softly calling her son's name.
"We suspect foul play?" I said to Astrid.
"Well, we do, don't we?"
"Yeah, but it's probably a good idea not to give away too much when questioning people. Especially mothers who might worry for their own kids. It could make them nervous."
"She should be nervous. Rick might come for his good friend Alberto. Do you want her opening the door to a psycho demon?"
"Good point."
The sound of soft footfalls drew our attention. A teenage boy with his mother’s long, wavy black hair came down the stairs and stood in front of us. "Something's happened to Rick?"
"Yes. Rick's gone missing under kind of weird circumstances," I said. "When was the last time you spoke to him?"
"Just a minute ago. He texted me." Alberto held out his cell phone.
I peered down at the screen. The text read, At Darren's. Come over ASAP. You won't believe his new set-up.
Alberto said, "I was just about to reply to him. So, he's not missing. He's just over at Darren's."
"It's a trap," Astrid said. "Darren's likely in danger, too."
Alberto gave us a suspicious look. "Who are you two?"
"We're private investigators," I said. "We think Rick was kidnapped and now both Rick and Darren are being held against their will." This was getting dicey in the believability department.
Alberto regarded us with outright skepticism. "Can I see some identification, please?"
“Sure.” I dug my card and private investigator's license out of my wallet, and handed it over to him. "Okay?"
"Anyone could get one of these online." The kid eyed the license and handed it back. "I'm not convinced."
"Whatever," Astrid said. "Just don't open the door to Rick if he shows, all right?"
Alberto lifted a brow. "Right."
