by Michael Todd
Timothy patted her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say he’s the muscle, because that isn’t an accurate description. He’s so much more than that. In the little time I’ve spent with him, he’s been tough but caring. He’s funny—likes to joke around about things—and he looks out for all of us.”
Her eyes dropped. “He cares about Katie a lot, doesn’t he?”
Ah, that. Timothy perched on the edge of his vanity and took Sofia’s hands in his own. “You have to understand something about us, sweetie. We’ve all been separated from our families, Katie and Calvin for longer than any of us. When the news came out that we could come out of the shadows, some of us decided that it had been too long and it would be too hard on our families. Some of us didn’t have much of a family to go back to.” He let go of her hands and tipped her chin to meet his gaze. “So we made our own family, with the people we relied on every day. That’s what Calvin and Katie did. She’s more like his little sister than his boss. Compared to those two I haven’t been here long at all, but from what I’ve heard Calvin was the one who trained Katie when she came in fresh off the infected bus. They’ve been a team ever since. Katie would never let anything happen to him, so you can rest easy knowing that she’s got his back.
“That’s a relief.” Sofia smiled, and she relaxed a touch. “I hope Katie likes me. I really care about Calvin.”
“She can be a little intimidating until you get to know her, but if Calvin cares about you, then she will too. Now, her demon is another story altogether.”
Sofia looked at him quizzically. “Her demon?”
Timothy grinned. “Yeah, Pandora. She has a tongue like the edge of a razor blade, and she puts her two cents in on a regular basis. She and Calvin have a love/hate relationship. They joke around with each other, pull pranks on each other, and frankly annoy the hell out of each other.”
“Oh, lord.” Sofia laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. I know whose good side to get on, then.”
“Donuts are the answer. You get Pandora donuts and maybe take them out for some Italian every once in a while, and you will be set for life with her.”
Sofia nodded. “I saw Katie fighting on the news. She’s really powerful, isn’t she?”
Timothy let out a low whistle. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Pandora is a pretty high-ranking demon, but she’s not like most of them. Mine’s a complete douche, but—and I would never say this in front of her—I see more humanity in Pandora than I do in a lot of non-Damned humans.”
Sofia wrinkled her nose. “Not too much of a leap, if you knew the people Calvin saved me from.” She smiled and stood up. “Thanks for keeping my mind off things.”
Timothy smiled and held up the almost empty bottle of wine. “Top up?”
Sofia giggled. “I need to use the bathroom first.”
Timothy waved her off. “It’s the wine. You know where it is, right?”
“I do, thanks,” she replied.
His demon chimed in as soon as Sofia had left the room. This girl has got me all tied up, and all you can talk about is Calvin and Katie? Bro, gay or not, she is fucking hot, and you’re all alone with her.
Timothy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I think you bumped your fucking head. I can’t think of any other reason you’re talking such bullshit.
Look at that juicy ass. You know you want a taste. Don’t deny it…or me, for that matter.
I’m only going to tell you once. If you try to touch her, I’ll exorcise you myself. Do you get me? Not only would Calvin kill me, but before you could slink back to hell Pandora would wipe your ass out. You wanna be dead for good?
So what? I’d just come back again.
Timothy poured scorn on his demon. Have you forgotten who Pandora really is? You know, Lilith? Queen of Hell? Lucifer’s wife? You want to mess with her?
Yeah...good point. Good lookin’ out.
Timothy sniffed. Shit, honey. I’m looking out for me, not you. I’m way too pretty to be dead.
Chapter Fourteen
The plane landed and taxied to a stop on the runway at Charles de Gaulle airport outside Paris. Brock’s team had taken the opportunity to get some good sleep on the way over.
The guys weren’t really sure what to expect when they arrived, since the briefing had been minimal. They would have to figure the rest of it out on the ground, but that was why they had been called in; they were the specialists. The team disembarked and went around to the side of the plane to unload their gear. Everyone had their normal packs, plus two or three bags of weaponry and specialist equipment to carry.
A French officer in full dress regalia waited for them to load up before addressing them. “Bienvenue dans notre pays, messieurs. Nous offrons nos remercîments pour votre service.”
Brock looked at the others and shook his head minutely to warn them that they were in French territory, which meant they had to listen to everything the officer had to say whether they understood it or not. He didn’t mind it so much, since he was happy to shoot in whatever direction they pointed him. However, he could tell the language barrier bothered a couple of his guys. They assumed they would be kept in the dark more than their French counterparts, but Brock hoped that since they were there to help that wouldn’t be the case.
“Welcome to France,” the officer repeated in English. “We are grateful to you and your country for your help. You are the honored team, the ones we have been waiting for. You will make the walk to the base temporoire together. It is not safe for vehicles, and we would like to keep its location hidden for as long as possible. We will send a guide to take you along the correct path, because to stray from it will result in death. Do not stray. Once there, you will check in with your own military commander, and they will set you up. Good luck, and Godspeed.” They were a little slow in obeying. “Maintenant, messieurs, if you please.”
“Oh, joy,” one of the guys grumped. “Another loaded march.”
Brock chuckled and patted him on the back. “We’ll make a man out of you yet.”
Look who’s talking, his demon snickered.
Brock ignored the remark and set out with his guys toward the base just outside Paris. They followed the guide and kept to the path as instructed. The guys talked about the information they had been given before leaving. Some had heard rumors, while others had been informed by friends in the admin offices.
“I heard there are three disturbances being tracked for possible gate openings,” one of the guys imparted. “A guy I know in intel told me all of them are showing that the gates are going to be massive if they open. We are talking Incursion Day and bigger. Massive.”
“Dude, this shit is going to be huge,” another soldier commented.
“Fuck yeah, it is,” another agreed. “There are over four thousand Damned soldiers en route to deal with it as we speak. On top of that, we are going to be supported with tanks, large artillery, and attack helos. They’ll keep it clear around us while we’re fighting. Dudes, we’re preparing for one of the biggest offensives so far.”
Another guy shook his head and shifted his pack on his shoulders. “All that means is more American and French bodies to sift through for remains. We’re just cannon fodder to them. They don’t care how many of us die protecting their freedom.”
Brock laughed him off. “I feel like you forgot why you signed up.”
The boys continued along the trail until they reached the temporary base. Brock was taken aback by the odd familiarity of the camp, which reminded Brock of a scene from Apocalypse Now. Tents of varying sizes and camo patterns were arranged concentrically around a cleared square of land, and the soldiers sat around smoking and playing cards, stripped to the waist to cope with the heat. They all looked up at Brock’s team as they walked through camp toward the commanding officer’s tent.
“Fall in, boys,” Brock called when they reached the tent.
The commanding officer came out of his tent and stayed them with his hands. “At ease,” he told them solemnly. “We don
’t salute in war, men. That will get an officer killed in a heartbeat. Welcome to our temporary base, Fort Paris. I like to call it ‘Fort Fuck You,’ since that’s exactly what we’re going to deliver to the demons when they emerge.”
The guys glanced at each other and stifled their grins. They knew that officers in war were often strange, but this guy took the cake. The legs of his fatigues were rolled up, and he was walking around barefoot. He had a bushy mustache and kept a pipe clenched between his teeth, although it wasn’t lit.
The officer’s eccentricity did not extend to his command style. He continued, “There are three disturbances, the statuses of which we expect to change at any moment. We don’t know if one, two, or all three gates will be used, but we aren’t leaving it to chance. We will be there, and we will be ready. US troops are the only ones at the moment with the correct ammunition for demon killing, which means we are the front line of defense until the situation is rectified.” He scratched his bushy mustache. “Here’s the rub. While we have multiple auxiliary support units available to us, they are not Damned soldiers. We are doing the best we can to get everyone the correct loadout so they can participate. Until then the fate of France rests with the Damned, which is fine because we are Americans, dammit! We take the front line with smiles on our faces and joy in our hearts.” He nodded at them, satisfied they understood the stakes. “Good. Follow me, and we’ll get you to your temp barracks.”
The guys followed the officer to their tents. They all tried to stay quiet, not wanting a lecture on bravery from their leader. He seemed like the kind of guy who would let them have it with both barrels. The commander stood in front of a long tent and nodded at the team.
“You will call this home for the next…however long this damn thing takes. Unpack and get comfortable with your surroundings, then go grab some hot chow.”
The men nodded and waited until he left before entering the tent. Brock lay down on one of the cots and took a moment to calm himself. He wasn’t nervous, although he supposed he should be. Instead, he felt like his insides were on fire, as though he were high but not. He supposed this was what purpose felt like. He had a duty to perform, and he would defend those gates to his last breath if necessary.
A mixture of anticipation and pre-battle nerves settled over the tent as the guys unpacked. One of the guys, who’d been a college football player before he was Damned, was feeling it a little more than most of them. “This is gonna be fucking huge. Bigger than anything we’ve been in so far.”
Brock shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. They’re mindless fucks, and we’re total badasses.
They had brought as much ammunition and weaponry as possible on the planes to help the French military, but there was no way around it; at that point, his team was the main strike force. All Brock could hope was that they got out of there alive.
Sofia looked at her hair in the mirror and touched her fingertips to the elaborate coils of the up-do Timothy had created. She shrugged shyly and nodded at Timothy, who was standing proudly behind her, the tail of the comb pressed to his lips. “I love it! Thank you,” she gushed. “Seriously, I was feeling absolutely terrified of everything. Coming here and meeting you—this really helped a lot. I wasn’t sure if I would fit in or feel comfortable, but you’ve made me feel so welcome.”
Timothy blushed. “How could I not? You, sweetie, are fabulous. And you look fabulous, too.”
She stole another glance at herself in the mirror. “I know, right? You have a gift.”
Timothy’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “So now what, little lady? Want to watch a movie?”
Sofia cracked a huge yawn. “I was actually thinking that I might go to my room and get unpacked, and maybe take a nap. I wasn’t able to sleep on the flight over, I was so worried. I think now I will be able to rest better.”
Timothy smiled. “Good, since that was the entire point of it. Well, that, and I was in desperate need of some love and care for this body.”
Sofia laughed and hugged Timothy. His demon grunted lewdly as she hugged him, but he put the noises out of his head. The damn thing was going to lose him his new friend, and there was no way he was going to allow that to happen.
He walked over to the mirror after Sofia had left for Calvin’s room, and wiped the smudge of eyeliner from the corner of his eye, and grabbed his cell phone. Guess it’s time to get back to work.
His demon was less than impressed. You are so fucking boring it hurts.
Timothy rolled his eyes. The truce was evidently over. Oh yes, the flaming gay guy who was Damned by a hetero Incubus and works intel from a real-life lair for a secret mercenary team who battles demons and now drug cartels. What, all the armory visits with Joshua aren’t sexy enough for you? Your life must be sooo boring. Seriously, what did you do in there before they found me?
Stared at your computer screen and contemplated taking your life so I could go back to hell.
Nice to know you care, asshole. If I didn’t despise you so much, I might actually take offense to that. Of course, I do, so it doesn’t bother me at all.
The feeling is mutual, my boring friend.
Timothy rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. He took the elevator down a floor to his IT room and settled in at his desk. The first thing he always did was check the warning announcements, but found nothing more than the normal. There were small incursions all over the US, and the rest of the world was toughening up, getting ready to face their own hell on earth. Just as he finished reading, the phone rang.
Timothy didn’t recognize the number, but he answered all the same. “Who is this?”
“Timothy, this is General Brushwood. I am returning your call.”
Timothy brightened. The general couldn’t have called at a better time. “Oh good, I’ve been hoping you’d call soon.”
The general’s gruff voice held a note of confusion. “I received the documents you sent. Half of it is redacted, and I have to say, I’m a little unsure as to why you sent them to me.”
Timothy grabbed a pad and pen to doodle while he spoke. “Okay, so a few days ago an IRS agent by the name of George something-or-other showed up on the base and served me papers for Katie. She’s being audited, which is strange because she hasn’t been undead all that long. Anyway, after looking through the paperwork, I realized that not only are they auditing her, they are preparing to charge her with embezzlement and refusing to pay her fair share in taxes.”
The general was pissed. “What?”
“That’s what I said. So, I went through a backdoor program and hacked into the IRS. After some detective work, I found that several petitions had been made to attack Katie on a financial level, but they had all been shut down. After the third try someone pretty much nailed the damn file open, giving someone the authority to go ahead with this witch hunt. I couldn’t make out exactly who it was with all the redactions, but I figured it would be something that you might want to see.”
“You would be correct,” General Brushwood replied.
Timothy decided the truth was best. “I’ll come clean, sir. All the papers I faxed you are from the IRS file.”
There was a rustle of paper on the other end of the line. “I’ll just ignore the whole illegal hacking into government computers part—” The general stopped mid-sentence, looking down as a notification popped up on his computer screen. He clicked on it and raised an eyebrow. It was an invoice from Timothy, billing for “Sensitive Network Security and Intrusion Efforts.” The general chuckled. “How about we cut this bill by seventy percent and work together to find out who is harassing Katie? Since it’s obvious that there aren’t too many people on the inside we can trust, we will have to do this covertly.”
“Glad we’re on the same page, sir,” Timothy replied. “I knew there was something fishy about it when I got the papers, so I have kept this to myself. I didn’t want to worry Katie until there was a reason to.”
“I appreciate that and agree wholeheartedly. The woman has e
nough on her hands to not worry about the IRS or some idiot trying to get to her through her money.”
Timothy put the finishing touches on his doodle. “I guess they figured that if she was actually guilty—and they have gone to extensive effort to make her look guilty—she would be going to jail. She wouldn’t really be a threat to anyone then, except maybe the Damned prisoners.”
The general harrumphed. “That’s not going to happen. We will get to the bottom of this, and whoever is fucking with our girl, they’re going to pay the price.”
Moloch deposited a deep-fried hamster in his mouth.
“Good, huh?” Baal sat across from him, his takeout box open for them to share. Hell wasn’t all fire and brimstone and endless toil, at least not for the higher-ups. They had several different fast food places on the upper levels. Baal was a frequent customer at most of them since the demon never ate in.
“These are good,” Moloch replied. “Which place is this?”
“Oh, that new restaurant over by the Pit of Souls. I think it’s called Hell’s Kitchen or something unoriginal, but they fry everything. I went in there the other day, and they had fried human ears on special. They were fucking divine, all gooey on the inside and crispy on the outside.”
Moloch nodded in approval and helped himself to another hamster. He wiped his claws off on a napkin and took his feet off the desk, then sat forward in his chair, thinking about the issues they were facing. Taking his bid for domination worldwide was no small undertaking. He needed all the help he could get, and although demons tended to have rivals who hadn’t attempted to kill them yet rather than allies, Baal was the closest thing he had to a friend.
“Do you remember the time we decided to take a vacation to Earth?” Moloch asked with a chuckle.
Baal almost choked on his hamster. “How could I forget it? There were those three low-level demons who didn’t recognize us and tried to start a fight. I thought I would die of laughter when we dropped our human forms.”
