Hot Blooded

by D V Wolfe

  I grinned at him and scooped it up. I slipped it back inside the fanny pack still half-filled with salt and zipped it shut. I tossed it onto the seat between us and closed my door. I heard the sound of a car coming behind us. I turned the engine over and pulled to the shoulder behind the closest SUV. The car was a green Taurus and it blew by us doing seventy. Noah and I both let out a sigh of relief. I grabbed my phone off the seat.

  “Who are you calling?” Noah asked.

  “Tags,” I said. I hit the four on speed dial and waited while it rang.

  “Yep,” Tags said.

  “So, Noah and I are on the backroads highway between Columbus and Rosetta’s and we’ve got seven black SUVs that need to be removed.”

  “Whoa,” Tags said. “Fill in the blanks.”

  “We ran into a demon blockade which quickly became a demon pissing match. Long story short, there are sixteen dead Empty Houses in the cargo areas of the seven SUVs which Noah and I moved to line the shoulder of the road and they need to disappear before the authorities stop by and take a gander.”

  “I gotcha,” Tags said. “Clint and Walt live over by Elkview. I’ll get them to head that way with some buddies. Are these luxury SUVs? I know that I can get them to move faster if they are. Especially considering the bodies they’re going to have to disappear.”

  “Cloth seats,” I said.

  “Damn,” Tags said. “Oh well, I can call them luxury and then let them cuss me out when they get there and see the upholstery.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

  “Are you and the kid ok?” Tags asked.

  “We’re fine. I’d say this was the easiest hunt we’ve ever had,” I looked over at Noah. “But I wouldn’t want to jinx us.”

  I hung up with Tags and pulled back into the road. We were quiet and I reached over to turn on the radio. We’d been damn lucky. If the demons had been a united crew, we would have been tortured, skinned alive, and dead in a ditch somewhere. I glanced down at Lucy’s fuel gauge and took the next turnoff to Soder, the nearest town. I pulled into a Gas-N-Go and yanked out my wallet. I handed Noah a twenty and he disappeared inside the store to get us drinks. There wasn’t anyone watching and I was able to get the pump going quickly. The wave of nausea and weakness smacked me in the face as my tab in Hell was added to for the gas. I gazed across the street at an empty wooden bench, set in the sidewalk. A semi was cruising down the road and as soon as it passed, I saw the bench wasn’t empty anymore. A man in a black suit now sat there, reading a newspaper.

  “Son of a bitch,” I said with a grin. It was Festus. As if he’d heard me, the man folded his newspaper down and met my gaze. He sighed, folded it, and got to his feet. He tucked it under his arm, strolled across the street, and came to stand next to the pumps.

  “Soder, West Virginia,” I said with a grin. “This has to be one of the more exotic locales your work takes you to.”

  “Sadly, I’m stuck on this whiskey tour of podunk-villes until you start hunting something in more…,” he paused as a farmer walked by us to his farm truck parked on the other side of the pump. The man paused and picked a wedgie out of his ass crack before continuing on. “Sophisticated locales.”

  “But you can’t beat that small-town charm,” I said, grinning at Festus and nodding at Farmer John who was rolling his starter over, trying to get his old truck to rumble to life.

  “I don’t think that charm…” Festus started to say but paused when he realized he’d have to shout to be heard over the starter and the farmer’s increasingly growing volume of shouted cursing. The farmer paused. “I don’t think that charm,” Festus tried again. The sound of the starter trying again to unsuccessfully start the engine and more swearing filled the air. Festus picked at something on his jacket and held it between his fingers, waiting for silence again. It didn’t come. The farmer was getting red-faced and his volume was now louder than the noises his truck was making. “For Crowley’s sake,” Festus barked. He flicked the thing in his fingertips in the direction of the farmer and his truck and the engine finally caught. Farmer John shifted into gear and rolled out of the lot.

  I grinned at Festus. “That was nice of you.”

  “Shut it,” Festus said, rubbing his temple with one hand as if he had a headache coming on. “I have some bad news and I have some good news.”

  I felt my heart rate beginning to pick up. Bad news wasn’t unusual when it came to Festus but I was more interested in the good. The last time I’d talked to Festus was before we’d killed Ornias. He’d been a low-ring demon and I was really hoping he was worth in the neighborhood of three hundred souls. Then, I’d be almost done. Maybe I was already done. Then I could use the rest of my time to hand out free demon proctology exams with the sword.

  I looked at Festus expectantly. “And?”

  Festus gave me his sarcastic smile. He loved to make me wait on his terms. Finally, he snapped his fingers and the red notebook appeared. He slowly turned pages. “So first, the bad news.” He glanced back up at me and it looked like his balloon of sarcastic enjoyment for making me wait had gotten a puncture. “I don’t have any paperwork on the incubus you killed.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I mean, lost paperwork that would screw me out of hunts did sound something that Hell would do, but I was pretty sure my lawyer would have closed that loophole at the trial, otherwise, Hell would have been trying that out much sooner.

  Festus looked pained. “There’s no record coming up that you killed the incubus. There’s no record of an incubus checking in as power for the engine downstairs.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I was there. We were fighting on his lawn, sunlight hit him and he turned into a big pillar of ash that fell apart when it hit the ground. Shit, I got his ashes in my mouth.”

  Festus sighed. “Sadly, what you eat on your own time isn’t considered evidence of what you’ve hunted and successfully killed.” I opened my mouth to argue and Festus held up a hand. “Look, I believe you, but I’m not in charge, remember?” He looked back down at his notebook. “Now, let’s focus on what we can count, shall we?” I was pissed. That incubus had been a bitch to take down. He’d hurt Noah and Nya and now we weren’t even getting credit from it? Festus met my gaze. “I’ll keep asking for the paperwork. Incubus, succubus, and sirens are of the illusionary class of supernatural beings and sometimes their tricks carry beyond their demise for a time. I’m sure the paperwork will turn up, just breathe into a paper bag or something and let’s carry on.”

  “Fine,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “Wonderful,” Festus muttered. “On the positive side, you did kill the demon Ornias.”

  “And he was a low-ring demon that had blood sacrifices and the whole nine yards,” I said, pushing the memory of Ornias and Nya’s deaths out of the replay frame in my mind. Not right now. I focused on Festus.

  “Well,” Festus said. “He was definitely a lower-ring demon then the other demons you’ve killed.”

  “What?” I asked. “I thought there were high-ring and low-ring demons and that was it.”

  Festus glanced at me. “Bane, there are nine rings in Hell. High-ring demons occupy the top two. The lower seven contain different levels of low-ring demons. Ornias…,” he paused and flipped a page in his notebook. “Occupied the fourth ring. So…” I wasn’t going to strangle Festus. I wasn’t going to strangle Festus. This wasn’t his fault. Don’t kill the messenger. But I was pissed. “Killing Ornias netted you...twenty-five souls. Which brings your total remaining to, three hundred and seven souls.” Festus looked up at me. “Congratulations.”

  Twenty-five was excellent for a hunt. But considering what that hunt cost, it felt like playing poker at the fifty-thousand dollar table and walking away the proud winner of ten dollars. Festus seemed to understand when I didn’t speak. He let out a heavy breath and reached into his jacket pocket for his pack of cigarettes. His hand was black and blue and I saw him wince as he drew it out. At least two of hi
s fingers looked broken and the other three were swollen.

  “What happened to your hand?” I asked.

  “Quarterly Review,” Festus said around the cigarette in his mouth. He offered me the pack. They were clove cigarettes. I took one and he passed me the lighter. I wasn’t a smoker, but just then, a clove cigarette sounded good. “I liked her,” Festus said on an exhale, turning his head to blow out a lungful of smoke. He looked back at me when I didn’t say anything. “Nya,” he said. I nodded. He looked out at the street in front of us. “She had girl balls.”

  “She hated you,” I said.

  Festus shrugged. “Par for the course. We both have our jobs.” He turned to look at me again and I met his gaze. “And we both do them.”

  I blew out a breath. “So, three hundred and seven.”

  Festus nodded. “And I’ll keep digging around for that incubus paperwork. It might be even less. You might be under three hundred by now. It might be time for you to go toes up and hit the restart button,” he said with a sly grin. “I mean, this is the furthest you’ve ever made it.”

  “Thanks, Festus,” I said, blowing smoke in his face. He coughed and grinned.

  “Hi Festus,” Noah said, jogging up to us. “Did you hear about the demons we were just up against?”

  Festus raised an eyebrow at me. I shook my head. “Yeah, damndest thing. We were on a supernatural trash run for a cursed object, which by the way, how much are those worth?”

  Festus shook his head and ground out his cigarette between his fingers. “Sorry. Cursed objects dissipate the power they hold when the curse is broken. They’re worthless in your situation,” he said, nodding at me. I gave an inward sigh. Festus focused his attention on us again. “Now what about these demons you just went up against?”

  “Yeah, well, just outside Soder, two ‘divisions’ of demons showed up and fought over which one of them was going to shine a flashlight up our asses to find something. I think it was the soul stone…”

  Festus put his face in his hand. “I forgot you still have that damned thing.” He looked up. “Wait, two divisions?”

  I nodded. “Some demon named Gladius and some demon named Turpis. Anyway, they proceeded to have a pissing contest over and around Noah and I. Long story short, they got pissed at each other and the divisions ended up killing each other and the cursed object finished off the two of them.” Festus’ face was drained of all color. “Anyway, none of them actually died. They all just lost their Empty House meat suits and swarmed off, I’m guessing back to Hell.”

  “Shit,” Festus moaned.

  “What?” I asked.

  Festus’ attention focused on me. “Turpis and Gladius are friends of my boss.”

  “Oh,” I said. “So, what does that mean for you?”

  Festus shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.”

  “Festus,” I said. “What does it mean?”

  Festus pulled out another cigarette and lit up. “Did you kill any of them?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, they were armed, we were restrained, and then when the bullets started flying, we just climbed under the truck. I didn’t really feel like getting shot in the ass while trying to dig out a weapon to fire back. Especially when they were doing such a good job of shooting each other. Of course, if I had just gone to town on them, I’d be another, what eighty souls closer to the goal if high-ring demons are five souls each?” I paused to multiply sixteen by five in my head and had to suppress a smirk when I realized I’d gotten the right answer.

  “But you didn’t,” Festus said. He was actually asking.

  “No,” I said. “They shot each other. Noah and I just waited for it to end. Then Gladius and Turpis were fighting over the cursed object and the curse surrounded them in their meat suits and one stabbed the other and then themselves, killing off their own Empty Houses.”

  “But you had no part of it,” Festus said. I nodded and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Hopefully that will make the next staff meeting only light to medium torture.”

  “They’re going to take it out on you?” I asked.

  Festus shrugged. “When someone standing on the ladder above you shits, where does it go?”

  “That sucks,” I said. “Are you going to be ok?”

  Festus nodded. “I’ve got to get going. See you down the road.” He turned away from us and started back across the street. He made it to the other side just as a truck and trailer drove by and when it had passed, Festus was gone.

  “Shit, I hope he’s going to be ok,” Noah said, climbing back into the truck.

  “Me too,” I said. We were quiet as we started back down the road to Rosetta’s.

  “So what’s your new total?” Noah asked.

  “Three hundred and seven. And that’s just Ornias. Festus says the paperwork for Kosmas the Incubus hasn’t shown up yet.”

  “So it might be less than three hundred,” Noah said, his excitement ratcheting up a notch.

  I nodded and reached for the radio. “Could be.” We were quiet as a Journey song filled the cab. What if Festus wasn’t ok? Everything I did had an impact on him and put him at risk for retaliation downstairs. And it wasn’t just Festus I kept putting in danger. I felt a stab of guilt deep in my gut. I couldn’t do this. Not to Noah, or Gabe or any of them. I couldn’t let them throw themselves in the path of Hell for me anymore.

  “So Rosetta is going to be able to...fix the haunting on that pen? Noah asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Rosetta and I had promised Noah that he could stay with us, that we wouldn’t send him away. However, I never promised that I wouldn’t leave him with Rosetta, where it was marginally safer. “Hey Noah,” I started, trying to keep my tone light. My cell phone started ringing. I sighed and snatched it off the seat. I flipped it open.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s the symbol!” Stacks practically yelled.

  “Stacks?” I asked.

  “Who did you think it was?” Stacks asked.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I have so many nutballs that call me…”

  “You remember when we were in Messina and I asked you if you felt the…” Stacks began.

  “Yeah, the ‘weird shit going down’ feeling?” I asked, jogging to catch up with where his mind was heading.

  “That’s the one,” Stacks said. “And you remember that symbol attached to the necklace with the soul stone?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Is it in Messina?”

  “Big time,” Stacks said. “And in a bad way.”

  “Oh goodie,” I said. “Can you give me anything else to go on?”

  “Not over an open line. I’m not suicidal. How far are you from Messina?” Stacks asked.

  I slowed down to find a place to flip a u-turn on the highway. “About four hours.”

  “Good,” Stacks said. “Drive fast.”

  Noah let out a little scream as I gunned it to get across the road and into the northbound traffic just as a truck passed us. “Put the kettle on and disconnect your tripwires. See you in a few.”

  4

  It was evening when we rolled down the off-ramp towards Messina. Noah was snoring gently, having tuckered himself out griping about going back to Stacks’ which almost certainly had a newly booby-trapped lawn. The sun from the west was pouring in through the truck window, making his orange hair look like it was on fire. I felt a small stab of guilt. I was about to drag him back into something. Something that might get him killed. I had no idea what kind of shitstorm Stacks had dug up. If it had to do with the symbol, then it had to do with the demon. As we rolled down the main street of Messina, the ‘weird shit going down’ feeling was almost overpowering. It was evening, but still, four or five hours before dark and the big park on the main street was deserted. The sidewalks looked like they had been bleached. Not a single sprig of grass or weed grew in the cracks. We slowed down as we approached The Rowdy Hole, the one dive bar in town.