Memoirs of a Monster Killer: Killing Forever Book 1

by David J. Phifer

  And have a life for a change.

  My worst problems in that life would be deciding where to eat for dinner. Or what movie to go see. The kind of things normal people deal with. My monster-killing days would be over.

  Grace was my last hope. My last chance.

  And she was dead. Because of him.

  There was only only one thing I wanted from this creep. And it was attached to his shoulders.

  “Bring Grace back,” I said.

  “Augie’s old lady?” He scoffed at the thought. “I can’t do that.”

  I tightened my grip on the machete and moved toward him. “Then this is going to be a very short night for you.”

  Chapter 37

  Let's Make a Deal

  I got up two hours early and made some chemical cocktails using Blake’s blood. Black Death doesn’t take long to create, but it does take unique ingredients that are hard to come by. If I can’t get them myself, I pay the dealer’s price. Which is through the nose.

  I had the setup for this in every major location. Other than the ingredients, all it took was a chemistry set and a centrifuge purchased from Amazon. A few other minor things, but I can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?

  I was on my last batch of the necessary ingredients. For both the toxin and the healing agent. I didn’t like not having backups.

  Once the elements are mixed, the healing agent takes several hours to cure. The Black Death was ready after about an hour. After the elements were mixed, the healing agent needed time to settle. I hoped it was ready by the time I tangled with Poe.

  I would have done this the night before but I was exhausted. The last thing I needed was to do this when I was tired. One slip up with the healing agent and I’d end up as a pile of splattered goo like Landon.

  As I packed up the equipment, my cell phone vibrated. It was Poe. I answered.

  He paused before speaking. “I suppose you’re the reason my cleaner didn’t return?”

  “He was a terrible cleaner,” I said, grabbing an apple from my cooler. “He didn’t even dust first.” I bit into it, crunching into the phone mic. “Oh yeah, and he was a dick.”

  In case you were wondering, by eating the apple in his ear, I was lowering his status. Making him the submissive beta. Letting him know his time wasn’t as valuable as mine. It was all working below the conscious level for him, of course. But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.

  He waited a few seconds before speaking, probably to gain composure. He didn’t want me to know he was affected by my shenanigans. That would be a sign of weakness. “And the girl?” he asked.

  “On a bus to Tahiti,” I said.

  “You think you’re smart, don’t you, Reverend?” he said. “I have a new offer for you.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Come at noon or the boy dies. And I cut my losses.” There was annoyance in his voice. I could tell he was debating in his mind about this since our last pillow talk. But there was something else in his voice as well.

  Conviction.

  He wasn’t bluffing. He was sick of dealing with me. He wasn’t use to someone he couldn’t handle with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t appreciate someone getting in his way. And he certainly didn’t like someone killing off his team without being able to do a damn thing to stop it.

  He wasn’t use to not being in control. I could relate.

  “I can’t do noon, Alex,” I said. “I have a pedicure at that time.”

  There was a pause. He was gathering his thoughts. “Do you know what’s at stake here?”

  “Do you? I’ve had this appointment set up for weeks.”

  “Bring Alan Dill or the boy becomes a husk.”

  He didn’t try to drain Augie yet. Otherwise he’d know he wouldn’t be able to. Unless he ripped out the Ore from Augie’s gut. Anything was possible.

  “Alright, you win,” I said. I heard him breathe a sigh of relief. “Give me the addre—”

  CLICK.

  I hung up and shut off the phone. If he tried calling again, it would go to voicemail. He’d think that I lost service. He wouldn’t know it was intentional and have no reason to hurt Augie out of retaliation for something I did.

  I gathered my things and headed out. I drove with Serena and Landon to the convention center where the paranormal event was held on Saturday.

  I had a package to pick up.

  Chapter 38

  Unearthed

  It was only 8 a.m. and the convention center was closed. Luckily, I had a key in the shape of a lock pick.

  I broke in through the rear entrance and headed down the abandoned hallway. Made it to the small basement room and looked for the glory hole in the floor.

  The floor was made of dirt, not cement. Long before I booked my convention speech, I pulled some strings to set this all up for myself.

  I had a contact on the staff of the convention center. Saved her from a demon a few years back who tried to steal her baby. Suffice it to say, she owed me. She made sure things ran shipshape. She gave the event coordinators of the paranormal convention a deal they couldn’t refuse. Nearly free convention space to host the event.

  It allowed me to get what I needed: a convention center with an abandoned wing. The dirt floor was a bonus.

  I also knew the owner of the paranormal convention. He had a reputation for being a real cheap bastard. I knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to host an event for next to nothing.

  See, the most expensive part of any house or building is the foundation. And you don’t invest thousands of dollars into a cement foundation in a wing you don’t use or need. What are safety inspectors going to say? You don’t even use that wing.

  It was a lot of leg work to set this up. But I needed the convenience of being close to my target.

  Maybe I was just getting lazy.

  In the old days, I probably would have huffed it three blocks to secure my package. But as I grew more experienced, I got smart and made things easy for myself.

  The path of least resistance.

  I took a hard look at my handiwork. The leftover duct tape was still on the cement support beam. Lying against the beam was a shovel. My eyes followed it down to the ground. And landed on the straw sticking out of the dirt.

  I admit. I chuckled a bit.

  Three days.

  That’s how long it was.

  Three days without food, water, or the ability to eat, piss, or shit.

  I half-expected Dill to be completely insane. Or dead. I grabbed the shovel and started digging. Dirt poured away from his face and eyes as I loosened the earth above him. Once I freed his head, he spit out the straw and took a massive breath of fresh air.

  “You s-son of a b-bitch,” Dill said. He was defiant but weak.

  When I said I buried Dill, you didn’t think I actually killed him, did you? What good would that do when I could think of so many creative uses for him?

  To his credit, I didn’t actually know it was Alan Dill I’d be using this space for. But I knew it would come in handy for someone.

  As a monster killer, you have to keep your options open but set your goals high. Positive thinking always pays off.

  I was just glad a mouse didn’t shit down the straw. Not the way to go out. Even for Dill.

  No food, no water, no hope of my return. Just him. Buried alive in a vertical six-foot-deep hole that didn’t allow him to move an inch. His hands and feet were also taped, binding him even further. I suppose that didn’t help his morale.

  The more I thought about it, I wasn’t sure if someone who kidnapped women and children and sold them like cattle to monsters even had morale.

  Huh.

  When I pulled him out of the hole, I smelled the urine and feces soaked in his Armani pants.

  Even though I planned it to a fault, I didn’t expect the rancid smell. The man must have eaten some hardcore Mexican food before I put him down there.

  I crouched down to him on the ground. “Out of curiosity, wh
at the hell did you eat on Saturday?”

  “Y-You left me in a hole,” he said, spitting dirt from his mouth. He wiggled his duct-taped arms and legs.

  It was adorable.

  “I left you a straw.”

  “Poe is going to kill you for this,” he said.

  “I’m counting on it.” I unbuckled his belt.

  “W-What are you doing?”

  “You soiled your pants, Alan. My truck is much too sensitive for the stench. I just had her cleaned.”

  “Don’t touch me! Do you know who I am?”

  I cut the duct tape off his ankles and removed his pants. His boxers were white with yellow rubber duckies on them. I looked closer.

  Not just any rubber duckies. It was Bert and Ernie boxers.

  “Look at those. Did your mommy give those to you? So sweet.”

  He was so exhausted and beaten from being in the ground, he didn’t have much fight left. All his bravado ran out within the first minute.

  “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” I said, getting him to his feet. “I’ll let you keep the boxers.”

  I walked him outside and tossed him in the back of the truck. Serena kept him company.

  While she wasn’t a hunter, she wasn’t a pushover either. Very few people could get one over on Serena Acosta. She may not be the most emotionally balanced person you’ll ever meet, but she was smart as a whip. Wicked. And deceitful.

  All positive traits when she was on my side.

  Plus, I gave her one of my Glocks. There was no way a beaten down power-broker who spent three days in a hole could get the best of her.

  I drove for over an hour heading northwest out of Chicago.

  Landon was with me in the front. Though, as many times as I’ve seen it, I still didn’t understand the scientific reasoning why spirits could ride in vehicles. Or go on elevators. They should pass right through.

  But if cars and elevators were normal things they did when they were alive, I speculated that their minds gave them the ability to do it after they were dead. That was my reasoning anyway.

  According to the radar on my laptop, Augie was forty-five minutes off the expressway. In the country. Away from prying eyes and civilization. How did I know such a thing?

  Magic.

  Okay, not magic. But the tracker I had in Augie’s watch was fairly bewitching.

  As I neared the end of my trip, I grabbed Dill’s cell and I dialed Augie.

  Poe answered.

  “I’ll trade Dill for the boy,” I said.

  “I was wondering if he was dead. You’ve had him the whole time?”

  “He was a little buried with work earlier, but yes, I have him.”

  “Maybe I should just kill the boy now,” he said.

  “You could,” I said with a deadpan voice. “He’s just a ginger punk who will end up getting me killed anyway. It would save me the hassle if you did it yourself. You’d no longer be my problem and I could go home and Netflix and chill.”

  He grinded his teeth. “I. Will. Make. The. Trade.”

  “I need proof of life.”

  There was a fidgeting on the speaker from the other end.

  When a voice spoke, it was Augie. “Don’t come, it’s a trap.”

  “I know. Are you all right?”

  “I’m tied to a chair. Surrounded by six Forever People. No, I am not all right.”

  Clever kid. Giving me the number of how many goons Poe had. About as subtle as a bull in a China shop though. It wasn’t like Poe didn’t notice. But he probably didn’t care.

  Most of his crew was dead. If there were only six of them left, he was on his last reserves.

  Forevers were hard to come by, much less hard to organize. First you had to find the ones who weren’t druggies or insane. Then you had to give them something to fight for.

  All were difficult tasks.

  Once upon a time, before I came along, Poe had a fairly large supply. Pretty impressive resources for someone who was a human trafficker.

  But he didn’t have those resources, did he?

  Blackwell did.

  Zac was searching for everything he could find on that name, but I didn’t need intel to know that Blackwell was behind it all.

  Blackwell had the resources.

  Blackwell had the agenda.

  Blackwell had the vision.

  Poe said, “We will be waiting for you, Solomon. Bring the broker or the baby hunter dies. Painfully.”

  “Where are you?” I asked. He gave me the address.

  “I’ll be there by one o’clock,” I said before hanging up.

  It was almost noon. I didn’t need another hour to reach him, I was staring right at him.

  We were parked a quarter mile down the road from Poe’s farmhouse. The laptop beeped beside me.

  Landon looked at the computer screen. “Did you throw a tracker on Poe?”

  “No,” I said. “On Augie. His watch.”

  “That’s clever,” he said. “How did you get it in—” He paused. Landon looked at the radar and back at the watch he was wearing.

  Technically, he wasn’t wearing anything. As a specter, his subconscious mind created an ethereal body from memory. His clothes were merely ectoplasm made to mimic what he wore when he was alive. He wasn’t really wearing a watch. But he thought he was.

  He looked at his watch. He looked at the radar blip on the screen. He looked at his watch. He looked back at the radar. He turned to me. “Holy shit,” he said. “You gave me this watch when I was alive. Ten years ago.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “This is how you’ve been tracking me for the past decade? I moved twelve times.”

  “I know.” I grinned. “Thanks for keeping in touch.”

  “It’s a Rolex.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “It’s very prestigious.”

  “I think so.”

  “It’s a fifty-thousand-dollar watch. I looked it up.”

  “Fifty-five. I spared no expense.”

  “No one throws away a Rolex.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “I thought it was a heartfelt gift for being your partner. A sign that you appreciated me.”

  “It was. And I did appreciate you. For never losing the watch.”

  “You’re a shitbag, Ivy.” He huffed and turned to the window.

  He always used my last name when he was mad. I knew that Landon loved to look like a big deal to other people. Like he was better than he was.

  What better way to say you’re a big deal than wear a Rolex?

  “It’s not like I didn’t have other ways to keep tabs on you,” I said. “You just made it easy is all.”

  “Screw you, buddy.” He pointed at me accusingly. “Don’t talk to me.” He ripped the watch from his wrist. “Better yet, take it.” He threw it at my head. It passed through me and out the window. When he looked back at his wrist, the Rolex had returned.

  “Shit,” he said, “Even in death, I can’t get rid of you.”

  When you travel for two hours with a chatty ghost, you end up wanting to put a bullet in your own brain. I could not, for the life of me, get Landon to shut his pie hole for more than five seconds straight the whole ride here.

  Now he was giving me the silent treatment. I was glad he was pissed at me. I enjoyed the peace and quiet for a change.

  He was part of my past. And reminded me of simpler days. I was glad he was on the team.

  Damn.

  I said that word.

  Team.

  Serena was a bad influence on me.

  I stared down the road at the farmhouse.

  The perfect place to have a commune, cult, or a farm full of undead lost souls with an unknown insidious agenda.

  “Landon, make yourself invisible and take a look at what we’re up against,” I said.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Where his people are hiding. And the kid’s location.”

  “Okey-dokey.�
��

  “Landon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not clear on the limits of Poe’s magic, but if he’s able to harm you, you’ll have to learn how to teleport real fast.”

  “Now you tell me. You couldn’t have mentioned that two hours ago?”

  “Would you have come if I did?”

  “This is my immortal soul we’re talking about here, Solomon. No, I would not have come. Not only did you steal my last six months, you might steal my afterlife too?”

  “I’m very thorough,” I said, smiling. He wasn’t smiling back. “You’re doing the right thing, Landon. You’ll get extra points in Heaven.”

  “I don’t think Heaven works on hit points, Sol. I can’t just roll the dice and hope for snake eyes. St. Peter isn’t gonna be standing at the pearly gates wondering what my advantage points are.”

  “Stranger things have happened. Now go.”

  Landon phased through the door. He didn’t learn to fly yet, so he walked. He went invisible as he got closer to the house.

  I pulled out the binoculars from the glove compartment. Serena opened the back window and stuck her head through. “Are we there yet, dad?”

  “Landon is surveying the area.”

  “I have to pee.”

  “We’re off the beaten path, go in the woods.”

  “That’s not very ladylike.”

  “Are you a lady? I must have been misinformed.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “If you’re not tough enough to pee in the woods—”

  “I’m tough enough—”

  “Tough chicks pee in the woods. They don’t complain about it, they just do it.”

  “You’re an asshole.” She slammed the window and pushed out the back door, locking it behind her.

  Her reflection caught the rearview passenger mirror as she squatted behind a tree.

  I refocused on the house. I brought the binoculars up to my eyes. A minute later, Serena yelped. She pulled up her pants and stomped back to the truck.

  I opened the back window. “What’s wrong now?”

  “Landon was spying on me in the woods.”

  “Can you blame him? He’s a ghost. He’ll never see a live woman again.”

  “Just hush.”

  Landon phased in the front seat. “Well, that was in eye full,” he said.