Badass Alchemy

by M J Marstens

  Sass: Whatever the fuck you’ve got to tell yourself, Lionel.

  I don’t wait for his wiseass comeback. I haul myself out of bed and get dressed in a pair of leather pants, a long-sleeve black shirt, and a leather vest. I strap my trident just inside the back of my vest, between it and my shirt. I finish the ensemble with leather boots— no heels.

  It sounds like a badass get-up and it is but, really, it’s functional. Leather is harder to stab through than cotton, although it can be done if you jab firmly enough. Life lessons that I’ve unfortunately learned first-hand. I look around my apartment, barely recalling stumbling into it last night.

  Luckily, it’s been heavily warded by the Voodoo Queen to protect me from vengeful souls while I sleep.

  I check my phone for the time. It’s 9:27, which gives me plenty of time to walk to the park. Most people would be abhorred to hear of a young woman walking alone at this time of night through the French Quarter, but I’m not most ‘young women’. I can kick anyone’s ass if they mess with me, human or otherwise.

  But, I’m also not nearly as stupid as my mèrè seems to think I am.

  As soon as I am outside, I slip into the In-Between. Time doesn’t exist in this realm. It’s neither night nor day. Nor is it really ever unsafe— unless I get dick ambushed again. Thankfully, my body feels almost one-hundred percent again. Mèrè’s potion might have tasted like ass, but it seemed to have done the job.

  Another clarification point— I don’t know what ass tastes like. I’m just making assumptions here.

  I see a few souls milling about but, as usual, they pay me no attention— exactly how I like it. It’s a peaceful and quiet walk that I use to settle my nerves and wrestle my recently awakened libido into submission. It’s perturbing to admit, even only to myself, how much I want to fall to my knees in front of this man and whoreship at his cock.

  I mean worship at his feet.

  dicked again

  I growl lightly under my breath. Even my thoughts are making Freudian slips. Not cool, brain. Tall, Dark, and Hung might spark every nerve ending in my body, but he ruins it every time he speaks. Which is a real shame, considering how perfect his mouth looks.

  But, looks are deceiving, as his lips clearly prove.

  I hope my inner hussy remembers this when we get to the park. I also hope she remembers that it’s illegal to jump someone in public and that, for all his swagger, Mr. Wanna-be Ritchie is probably nothing but talk.

  “You know what doesn’t speak?” I ask her because it’s perfectly reasonable to have a conversation with yourself that you’ve labeled ‘thot’. “A vibrator. It just gives a hum of approval and actually can go for all night. Just some food for thought.”

  The horny internal bitch doesn’t reply.

  I’ve arrived at the riverfront and she’s too busy taking in the magnificent cut of Tall, Dark, and Finger-Lickin’ Good against the backlight of the streetlamp. I briefly agree with her that he looks delectable but, then, I see his lips curl up in mocking amusement and it takes everything that I have not to draw out my trident.

  “You’re early,” he comments.

  I feel my eyebrows and hackles rise.

  “First, you bitch because I’m late and, now, because I’m too early? No wonder you have to go all night. There’s clearly no pleasing you.”

  Inwardly, I wince, pissed that I couldn’t even make it thirty seconds without bringing up something sexual, but Tall, Dark, and Feral’s smile just broadens at my insinuation. I clear my throat and gaze out over the Mississippi River.

  “How do you know my mèrè?” I ask in an attempt to pretend that the air around us isn’t electrically charged with something heady and intoxicating.

  “Every Creole knows your mèrè,” he shrugs.

  “No, you know her personally.”

  It’s just a hunch, but if my mèrè isn’t going to give me any answers, then this man can.

  “That information is going to cost you.”

  “It’s like you want me to stab you,” I grumble.

  I stare at him, willing him to speak, but when he doesn’t, I turn my gaze back to the water.

  “Let’s talk about the Assassins,” I finally murmur, too much of a coward to find out what he would demand for what he knows. “Why am I only hearing of this “special sector” now? I’m one of the best Realm Guardians. Ever.”

  “Yes, you are, but only in comparison to everyone that you know.”

  “Meaning. . .”

  “Meaning you’re good, but you’re not the best.”

  “Oh?” I challenge. “And I suppose you’re the best.”

  “Obviously,” he says with an unhumble smile.

  And Mèrè says that I’m too proud.

  “I’m not denying your skills. You’re very talented and have the potential to become one of our higher ranking Assassins, but you still have much to learn,” he continues.

  “You sound like an Army recruiter, except I’m not seventeen and naïve, and you’re a sucky salesman. You should work on your pitch.”

  For the first time, I see something other than self-satisfied amusement flash across his face.

  Irritation.

  Now, I smile triumphantly. Mr. Unrufflable clearly isn’t used to someone contradicting him.

  “Well, if that’s all, I’ll be on my merry dick-soul-stabbing way,” I tell him with a grin and turn to walk away.

  He grabs my arm roughly and I shiver in delight.

  No, ovaries. You shiver in disgust, I remind my traitorous body, but it ignores me in favor for relishing Tall, Dark, and Dominating’s hands on us instead.

  He opens his mouth to say only souls know what next, but the ground rumbling violently under out feet abruptly shuts him up. We break apart, and I instantly grab my trident. I’m not quite sure what’s happening, but Tall, Dark, and Focused seems to have an inkling.

  His gaze is fixed on a point over my shoulder and I pivot around to confront, what I assume, is another dick ambush. And, quite frankly, I’m pissed at this point. Everywhere I turn, I’m getting dicked, but fuck if I’m getting any pleasure from it.

  I widen my legs into a crouching fighting stance, ready to take on whichever soul is stupid enough to mess with me before I’ve even had my breakfast, but it’s not spirits that stare back at me.

  It’s a legion of demons.

  the ember that

  started the blaze

  I blink a couple of times, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Although I can technically cross into any realm, I generally stick to the In-Between since that is my guardian domain. Sure, I’ve seen demons, but only a handful of times, and never more than two together.

  In fact, demons are a lot like souls in the aspect that they rarely band together. For the most part, their cantankerous attitudes generally make demons solitary creatures; so, to see a horde of them coming my way kind of makes me wish that I had gotten up in the A.M. instead of the P.M.

  The demons’ eyes glow red in the shadows of the park and I inch more firmly under the bright light of the streetlamp. Demons don’t like light. I feel a hand on my shoulder tug me back even further and, as testimony of how shook up I am, I forgot that Ferro is with me.

  Fuck, I’m so rattled, I even call him by his name- but only in my head, thank the realms. It takes me a second to realize that he’s slowly and methodically trying to push me behind him. Now, I’m even more confused. Trying not to make any sudden movements, I attempt to smack Ferro’s hand off of me.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss under my breath.

  “Protecting you,” he whispers back grimly.

  My brain really doesn’t know how to process this.

  Protecting me?

  MOTHERFUCKING PROTECTING ME?!

  “Excuse me?” I snap, giving two fucks now about the demons.

  “Shut up!” Ferro growls and a murderous rage crawls up my spine and heats my neck.

  Without thinking, I point the tip of my trident into
the soft skin of his jugular.

  “You know, I was only half-joking about stabbing you with my trident, but do or say something that stupid again and I’ll fucking skewer you. Fucking protecting me and telling me to shut up. I am Xena: Warrior Princess, bitch!”

  Ferro stares at me before a sardonic grimace twists his lips.

  “Fine, Princess,” he spits. “Have it your way. Consider this your test. Good fucking luck. Oh, and because I’m not a complete asshole, here’s some playing cards.”

  He carelessly tosses me a deck inside its pack; then, the bastard bows and disappears into who the fuck knows which realm. I look down at the deck of cards in my hand and back over my shoulder at the demons, who are now imminently closer.

  A million emotions riot through me, but my anger reigns supreme. I’m pissed at the demons, pissed that I’m in this situation, but I’m fucking furious at Ferro. I didn’t need him to protect me, but the fucker could have stayed to help me!

  The asswipe tells me this is my “test” and gives me a deck of his stupid magician cards?!

  Well, fuck him and his help.

  I’m going to mop the riverfront with demon blood and shove their demonic middle fingers up one particular Assassin’s ass.

  a hellish encounter

  I let out a blood-curdling battle cry that would do Braveheart proud and rush at the demons, my trident poised and ready. Just as I reach the group, I launch myself onto a decorative flag pole and whip around like a stripper working hard for her money. But instead of flashing my milk-makers and booty-shaker, I kiss two demons across the cheeks with my leather boots.

  I keep swinging around as they go down, but the other three demons are now prepared for my acrobatics. When I come around for a second spin, they rake out at me with their claws— which have no problem piercing leather. Hissing like a wild cat, I drop to the ground in front of one of them and stab the demon right in the stomach with my trident.

  It howls inhumanly, making me cringe, as black blood wells up and out of its wound. The other two demons growl savagely and advance up me, but I wrench my trident free and brandish it at them. Their forked tongues scent the air and their tails whip around them in agitation. The two look at one another and seemed to come to an unspoken agreement.

  While one runs at me, hands curled into talons, the other disappears. It reappears behind me, and I don’t move in time before it rakes its vicious nails down my back. I scream as it splits through the leather, cotton, and my skin. I instinctively pivot on my right foot and sweep my left leg up into a roundhouse kick right to the demon’s face.

  It falls to the ground, but the other one tackles me, knocking my trident to the ground. The vindictive little shit then races to kick it into the Mississippi River. The special blend of three metals that my trident is made of burns the demons, as well as souls, which is why it’s such an effective weapon for obliteration.

  When the red-eyed fucker turns back to me, I feel naked and vulnerable. I hate not having my trident and, now, it’s at the bottom of the fucking river. The demon smirks at my predicament as I slowly rise from the ground. Without my trident, I’m truly defenseless against its claws.

  I curse Ferro once more in my head but, then, I remember his pack of cards. I’m not really betting a lot of money that it’s going to help, but beggars can’t be choosers. I whip the deck out from my pocket and yank a card out. I turn it over to see The Devil. I feel my eyebrows rise.

  These are tarot cards.

  And what are the odds that I would draw The Devil?

  Except, the card doesn’t say ‘The Devil’, it says ‘Beelzebub’. For some inane reason, my mind thinks of ‘Beetlejuice’ and the dead couple that has to yell his name three times to make him appear.

  Without questioning my reasoning, I yell out three times, “Beelzebub, Beelzebub, Beelzebub!”

  Like before, the ground revolts under my feet violently. The demon standing before me falls to its knees and I crash to my ass. The earth splits open wide and from it surges a true monster. It’s a cross between a goat and a demon and is twice as big as those that initially attacked me. It has fly wings and dipteran eyes, but caprine horns and cloven feet.

  “Good evening, M’lady Soul-Stabber,” it greets me with humor. “You called for me?”

  Oh, fuck.

  I just summoned one of the seven goddamn princes of the demonic realm.

  The Lord of Gluttony.

  “Please, call me Sass. And I did summon you— unintentionally, but since you’re here, your demons are trying to kill me.”

  Beelzebub looks at me with its many eyes in amusement.

  “You seem to be fairing pretty well considering there were five of them and only one is now standing.”

  Actually, the last demon is now cowering behind Beelzebub, which means I need to be very concerned.

  “Right, well, you haven’t seen my back. And the little dick demon behind you threw my trident into the motherfucking Mississippi,” I grunt angrily.

  “Oh my,” Beelzebub says with mock sadness. “We can’t have that.”

  He lifts a hand casually into the air and the demon behind him flinches. I don’t flinch, but only because I’m too proud and stupid to probably fully understand how fucked I am right now.

  But, Beelzebub doesn’t strike me down. Nor does he do so to the demon. Instead, he snaps his fingers and my trident rises from the water and into the palm of his hand There, it sizzles against his flesh and the burning scent makes my stomach roil.

  “M’lady Soul-Stabber,” Beelzebub grins.

  He bows with a flourish, presenting me my trident. I hesitate a split second before snatching it from his smoking hand. Instantly, the skin clears and heals. Clearly, Beelzebub is very strong. I try not to shiver. Then, he turns and waves his hand again, only this time, all the demons disappear.

  I’m in awe, and extremely wary, of Beelzebub’s magnanimity.

  Shit like this cost people.

  Hopefully, the price wouldn’t be my life.

  a demonic deal

  “Thank you,” I tell him sincerely, albeit cautiously. “But, why did you help me?”

  “Because I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, little Realm Guardian.”

  “Oh? And that would be?”

  “Yesterday’s incident.”

  “You mean the one at the DMV?”

  “Yes,” Beelzebub clarifies. “Souls do not band together like that.”

  “Nor do demons,” I point.

  “These demons were possessed,” Beelzebub announces and I almost fall over.

  “What?!” I screech.

  I’ve never heard of a soul possessing a demon. The two entities are of two different realms. They shouldn’t even cross paths!

  “How?” I demand.

  “This group of demons was called in to investigate what happened at the DMV. They came into the human realm and, from there, the souls possessed them.”

  I hear his words, but my brain can barely compute them. What Beelzebub is telling me is life-altering.

  “Do you know why these souls are banding together and possessing anything within the human realm, apparently?”

  Beelzebub looks thoughtful, stroking his chin. Behind him, his wings flap distractedly, catching my eye.

  “I do not. Contrary to human belief, I’m not omniscient. Nor are those golden fucks in the angelic realm, no matter what they say. But, I do think The Guild of Guardians knows something. Specifically, the Assassins of the Shadow Society.”

  “Ugh,” I grunt. “Why does everyone know about this fucking club but me?”

  Beelzebub laughs outrightly at my vexation.

  “Something to ask them yourself, M’lady Soul-Stabber. I will keep my demons from entering the human realm for the time being, but know this-- someone is trying to start a war.”

  “Who? And why?”

  “The souls. As to why. . . I can only postulate. At first, I thought the little incident at the DMV was to stir shit u
p in my domain. There are seven continents and seven princes; lucky me got saddled with North America,” Beelzebub jokes. “I have archdemons who oversee the different countries and larger cities, and I tend to stay in my own realm. Usually, my demons only cause mild fuckery and chaos— nothing to necessitate me coming into the human realm. What happened yesterday was unprecedented. As were tonight’s events. Either someone is trying to start a war with demons; or. . . someone wants us to start a war to divert all other attention from their actions.”

  “You think the souls are trying to start a war with demons?”

  “No, M’lady S.S. I think souls are using demons to go about their own nefarious plans.”

  I ponder his words. Any other time, I would have laughed at what the princely demon is insinuating, but after seeing rogue souls band together and possess not only humans, but demons, too— well, fuck if it doesn’t have a ring of truth to it.

  “The Assassins have the answers, you say?”

  “I think,” Beelzebub corrects. “Ask the one who gave you the cards.”

  “Unfortunately, he’s going to die by trident-stabbing tonight. I’ll have to ask someone else.”

  The demon prince chuffs out a laugh.

  “His kind are hard to kill.”

  “His kind?” I ask with interest.

  “Not my secrets to tell,” Beelzebub smirks.

  “I performed a free exorcist on one of your demons tonight,” I remind him.

  “And four others are still possessed— one of them missing,” he counters.

  “Whatcha going do?”

  An evil sneer paints his face.

  “For the ones that I have— practice my torturing skills. As for your free ‘exorcism’, I did retrieve your trident, free of cost.”

  “Shit, you’re right. Damn, getting information from people is proving disappointing. And difficult.”

  “I’ll make you a deal, M’lady Sass. I’ll tell you where to find He-Who-Is-Dying-By-Your-Trident-Tonight and, in exchange, you will come to my realm to finish your exorcisms when I ask. But, firstly, I need to find the other possessed demon. Fair?”