by Devin Hanson
“How many months?” I asked
“Depending on the strength of the demon, I’ve seen it happen in as little as four weeks. For weaker demons, or in a struggle against a human with a strong will, it can take several years. But once the demon is in place, it is impossible to get out without the help of a priest.”
“Or a member of the Red,” I gestured at her.
Tovarrah gave me a wry smile. “I am ordained. This demon was smart. Smarter than most. It allowed the body to be sufficiently damaged that relinquishing its hold would guarantee the death of the host.”
The last I had heard the man was in surgery having the damage to his wrists repaired. He was expected to survive, if the drugs they gave him to counter the lethal dosage of tranquilizer didn’t give him a seizure first. “So, the demon is still within that man?”
“Oh yes.” Tovarrah sighed. “I did not succeed in getting the demon’s name. Without that, it is impossible to extract it.”
“I… see. But why did you need me to come so urgently?”
“The man was close to death. Another hour or two and his heart would have failed. I asked for guidance, and your name came to mind.”
“Come on. God is gone. There’s no Divine above us handing out insight to the faithful.” It was hard not to roll my eyes, but I managed it.
“There is a spark of the Divine in each of us,” Tovarrah said serenely. “Even in you, Alexandra. If one knows how to ask, and listens without ego, the will of God can be sensed.”
“Oh please.”
“I don’t pretend to understand it, but that is the nature of faith. Even you cannot deny the results. You pulled the demon to the surface by your mere presence. Thanks to you, we were able to shake its hold on that man and begin the healing of his body. With care, and proper supervision, we’ll pull the name from the demon and exorcise it.”
I kind of doubted that. I had recognized the voice of the demon, if you could call it that, and it was one of the oldest and most powerful of its kind. Mahlat. Daughter of Lilith the Corruptor. Ancient root of the sin of Lust. My mother.
“So, now what?”
“Now we wait for the man to recover. His name is Steven Martin.”
I shrugged. “Okay?”
“He’s a man. A human. He has a life. Family, friends. He has dreams and aspirations. That is what we’re saving, Alexandra. If you think of this effort as fighting against the demons you will never find happiness. Instead, we try and see it as saving the lives of the victims. That way, our victories mean something.”
“You should give Savit that speech,” I shook my head. “He would be happy killing me.”
Tovarrah’s mouth thinned. “I said we try, Alexandra. For Savit, all he sees in you is the potential for destruction and horror. If you truly wish to improve yourself in his eyes, assist us with fighting against this demon.”
The last thing I wanted was for Mahlat to regain a foothold in this world again. I nodded. “Okay. How can I help?”
“Excellent.” Tovarrah smiled widely at me. “I knew you had it in you to work for the good of God.”
“Take it easy with the proselytizing. I’ve no interest in religion. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“You of all people shouldn’t have to be convinced of the reality of our origins.” Tovarrah leveled a severe gaze at me, then gestured, dismissing it. “But we all deal with existentialism in different ways. I don’t blame you for feeling abandoned by God. I hope, in time, you will find your way back to His side.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I said wryly.
She nodded. “Yes. It may take years, or you may never find salvation before your nature turns on you. The first steps toward salvation are often the hardest. Sacrifice for the good of others is the strongest way to begin your journey.”
“Woah. Who said anything about sacrifice?” I had had enough of wide-eyed fanatics willing to sacrifice themselves and everyone around them for their cause. “Tell me what you want me to do to help this Martin guy, and I’ll consider it.”
Tovarrah nodded. “Nothing that you would object to. Steven had a life before the demon took hold of him. In that life, we may find clues to what caused him to seek the strength of a demon. By understanding him and his trials, we will find control over what plagues him now.”
“You want me to investigate him?”
“Yes. I understand that is what you do, isn’t it?”
I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. Okay, so what do you have to start with? A phone number? Address? Social security?”
Tovarrah drew out a simple leather billfold and handed it over to me. There was no cash inside, but there was a driver license and a scattering of business cards.
“Okay. I can work with this.”
“I am glad. Give your contact information to Amat and he will provide a way of reaching us.” Tovarrah gave me another of her wide smiles. “Alexandra, it may seem unlikely to you now, but given time, you may find yourself allied with the Red. I have a good feeling about you.”
“Uh. Sure. Anything could happen, right? Look, I’ll talk to you later. I have to get back and convince my friends I wasn’t abducted. Next time you want to get ahold of me, give me a phone call. Don’t send your goons to drag me away, okay?”
Tovarrah inclined her head toward me. “I look forward to hearing the results of your investigation.”
I flicked a hand at her, somewhere between a salute and a wave, and left to go find Amat. I needed his help lifting my scooter out of the back of the truck.
By the time I made it back to the gym, the class was winding to a close. I dragged my helmet off and walked into the gym. I was still buzzing with energy and feeling irritable about getting dragged into the Red House’s business. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to pit my physical strength and skill against someone else.
I barely even glanced at a man standing in the foyer watching the class go through the final exercises. He looked frumpy, sporting what could be charitably called a dad-bod, with limp brown hair and matching sweat pants and sweater.
As I walked by him, I felt a wave of lust coming from him. I picked up my pace. I knew people like that, creepy guys who went to gyms to stare at the women and harass them with awkward pickup lines. Cho would throw him out quickly enough.
“Alex! It is you!”
I jerked to a halt and turned to look more closely at the man. He had pushed himself off the wall when I had walked by, and he had the wide-eyed, gleeful look of a child unwrapping a birthday present. He was also sporting a painfully obvious boner, making a tent in the front of his sweat pants.
His face was plain, approaching ugly. His cheeks were a mottled moonscape of acne scars, one eyelid seemed to sag a little bit, and he had a wispy mustache that made him look like a pedophile. His teeth were crooked and yellow, his sweater stained from incompetent attempts to remove food. He had Cheeto dust staining the fingernails on his left hand orange.
“Do I know you?” I demanded.
“No. But I’m such a fan! I had to see you in person. I’ve been following your Instagram account since the very beginning!” When he spoke, I saw how glazed his eyes were. He seemed drugged or high or something.
Oh. Oh no. I knew this would happen eventually. I turned away and started walking toward the class again.
“Wait, Alex! Please, can I get a signature? An autograph? I have life-sized prints of my favorite photos in my car!”
I felt him come up behind me and I ducked away from his Cheeto hand as it came grabbing for my arm. I felt a tug on my scalp and I pulled free.
“Her hair!” he gasped.
I made it to the mats as Cho announced the end of the class. Ethan saw me and the worry creasing his brow eased. I reached Ethan’s side and turned back. The man had stopped twenty feet away and was carefully coiling a few strands of my hair into a loop. Every few seconds he would reach down and grab at his crotch, adjusting himself or giving himself a few quick strokes.
&nb
sp; “Alex, you’re back! Who is that?” The disgust in Ethan’s voice was plain.
“A stalker, I think. I’ve never seen him before in my life.” I didn’t feel physically threatened by the man, but my stomach twisted with nausea at the way he was fondling my stolen hair. Not to mention that he was all but openly masturbating, and the waves of lust coming off him felt like a violation of their own.
The man pressed the loop of my hair to his nose, inhaling deeply.
“Yeah. Stay here, Alex.” Ethan walked toward the man. Loudly, he said, “I think it’s time to leave.”
“But I just found her!” the man protested as he jerked his gaze away from the loop of hair.
“Leave, or I’ll have the cops escort you off the premises,” Ethan growled. “Now.”
“I’ve a right to be here as much as you do,” he whined. “You have no idea how hard I’ve been searching for her!”
Ethan grabbed the man by the front of his sweatshirt and started dragging him toward the doors. “You’re wrong,” he grunted. “This is a privately-owned establishment, and your presence is offensive.” Ethan reached the doors and shoved the man outside.
The man sprawled to the sidewalk before scrambling up, clutching the loop of hair to his chest. “I’ll be waiting for you, Alex!” he called.
“I’ll call the cops,” one of the other students said, and hurried to the lockers to get his phone.
Ethan came back, dusting off his hands.
“Thanks for that,” I shuddered.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Man. Tonight is not your night, is it?”
“No. It really isn’t.” I shook my head.
Ethan sighed. Now that the immediate drama of the crazy person was over, the class had broken up, with most heading to the showers. “I know you like your privacy, but I’m glad you have a roommate now. Ryan seems like a good guy to have around.”
Speaking of Ryan. I turned, trying to find him, and caught a glimpse of his blonde hair as he went into the locker room. “How very male of you,” I forced a grin, taking the sting from my words.
“Or, if you’d prefer, I have that room available at my place. If you don’t want to get followed home or something.” Ethan’s voice was carefully neutral, but he couldn’t hide the suppressed lust that stirred in him when he made the offer. It wasn’t there for long, probably nothing more than a fleeting thought that he quickly squashed down, but right then it was more than I could take.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll be all right.”
Outside, headlights swept across the parking lot, and I saw a grey sedan pull out into the street and drive off with a squeal of tires.
“Your stalker,” Ethan guessed. “If you like, I’ll handle any queries the police have. You could get a restraining order put on him, but a judge would need his identity to do that.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
Another car pulled into the parking lot, and I saw Trina get out on the driver’s side.
Ryan came out of the locker room, still adjusting his clean clothes. He saw me standing with Ethan and came over, looking a little embarrassed. “Alex, hey. Glad that creep is gone, huh? That was wild. Listen, uh, I was going to go out and get drinks with Trina. I might not make it back tonight.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Have fun!”
He grinned and nodded, before hurrying off toward the doors.
“So much for my roommate.” I puffed out a sigh.
Ethan laughed. “Well, I’m not going to pressure you, but if you want to spend the night at my place, you’re welcome to.”
I didn’t get any twinge of lust from Ethan this time. I smiled up at him and shrugged. “What the hell. Why not.”
Chapter Five
Ethan was good to his word. On arriving at his place, he sacked out in front of the TV and pulled a sports game up from his DVR. I’m not a fan of watching sports, but I sat on the couch with him and got my phone out. While he was occupied, I could start looking into Steven Martin.
I got out the wallet Tovarrah had handed over to me and dealt the contents out on the cushion between my legs. A driver’s license, a small stack of general contractor cards with various specialties, a library card, a single folded currency note of Chinese Yuan, and a card to a business lawyer.
Ethan muted his game and leaned over interestedly. “That looks like work.”
“Yeah. Background check.”
“He dead?”
I looked up at him. “Why do you ask?”
“Normally when you do a background check you don’t have the guy’s driver’s license.”
I shrugged. “Psych patient. Aren’t you going to watch your game?”
It was Ethan’s turn to shrug, and he settled back and restored the volume. I flipped through the contractor cards, making a mental tally of the skills on offer and trying to guess what Martin had been working on. Plumbing, drywall, tiling, concrete block laying… could be anything, really. Maybe he had been renovating a bathroom or a kitchen. Further investigation would be needed on those. Maybe a visit to the address on the license was in order.
I noticed Ethan shooting glances in my direction, but I ignored him for now. The driver’s license photo didn’t look much like the Steven I had seen strapped to the gurney. In his photo, he was wearing glasses, healthily tan, full in the cheeks and had his hair combed neatly to the side. He looked like a computer nerd, and completely unrecognizable from the wasted, drained victim on the gurney.
After adjusting the license so it didn’t have a lot of glare on it, I took a photo with my phone and cropped it down to just the portrait, then I fed it through Google. It was a long shot. Most people took more care with their social media photos than they did at the DMV.
Or maybe it was just girls that did. After scrolling down a bit, I found a passable likeness to a LinkedIn page. It was an unimaginative corporate shot with a mottled grey background. Steven was wearing a tie in his profile, and his hairline was a little lower, but it was the same guy.
“Jackpot,” I said.
Ethan gave up the pretense of watching his game and scooted over to look over my shoulder. “Steven Martin,” he read, “freelance app coder.”
I tapped on the link to his website and was treated to a competent, if dull, summation of his recent products. “Huh. I didn’t know you could get an app to track your farm equipment rentals.”
“Probably a custom app for a client,” Ethan shrugged. “From what I understand, making custom apps is a lucrative business.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t hurting for clients either. Look at this, five apps created in the last year alone.”
“Check his reviews. Five stars, five stars, four stars… looks like this guy Martin was pretty successful. Not the kind of person you’d normally see wind up in a psych ward.”
“People have all sorts of unexpected weaknesses. That’s kind of what I’m looking into. Why would Steven Martin, apparently successful entrepreneur, go insane?”
“Got a Facebook page?”
It took some searching, but there weren’t a ton of Steven Martins living in the United States. I found his page and started scrolling through his history.
“Lots of female friends,” Ethan commented.
Ethan wasn’t wrong. Steven Martin had an improbable number of attractive women as his friends. Considering his plain looks, I instinctively classified him as someone who scanned through social media looking for pretty women and sent them friend requests.
“Ten bucks says he’s got a profile on every matchmaking site in existence,” Ethan said wryly.
“No bet.” I was starting to get an idea of who and what Steven had been. A shut-in programmer, socially inept, struggling to find love—or sex—and finally reaching a breaking point. With love out of reach, he turned to desperate measures to somehow attract women.
Unfortunately for Steven Martin, he had succeeded. Mahlat had answered his c
alls and had likely offered him some sort of bargain. In exchange for space in his head, she would aid him in sating his lust. And make no mistake, it was lust that Mahlat was interested in. Steven might hope to eventually find a wife or a long-term partner, but Mahlat had no desire to help a human find love.
I could see Steven’s downward spiral in my mind. His initial attempts at flirting with Mahlat guiding him would have been successful beyond his wildest dreams. Lust-filled one-night stands would have given Mahlat more power and more control over Steven. The more sex Steven had, the less control he had over himself and the more he desired to fulfill his now-raging hunger for lust.
At some point, Steven would have realized what was happening. Maybe he had raped a woman, or had otherwise been pushed beyond his usual moral limits. He had attempted to take his own life in an effort to break the demon’s hold on his mind. I didn’t know how, but Mahlat had prevented his wounds from bleeding. He had ended up in the psych ward of the hospital, his mind in full rebellion but unable to shake the demon’s control of his body.
I wanted to find Steven’s matchmaker profiles, but without having his passwords they wouldn’t do me any good. I needed to see his message exchanges and track down some of the women he had interacted with to corroborate my hunch. If I was lucky, I’d find his computer or laptop at his address and gain access to them.
Until that happened, I had the business cards to follow up on. I started with the contractors and called the first, the plumber. The call went to voicemail, so I moved to the next card. The phone picked up on the second ring.
“Rodman and Sons,” a gruff voice said.
“Hi,” I pitched my voice to be worried and a little exasperated. “I’m calling trying to follow up on a job you did for my boyfriend. Steven Martin?”
“Yeah, we did some work for him. Still hasn’t paid us in full, though,” the contractor grumbled.
“Oh, that’s what I’m trying to resolve,” I assured him. “There was a problem with the permits that we’ve been trying to untangle. Um, what was it that Steven told you the work was for?”
