by D V Wolfe
“Well, you said the platform the altar was on was kind of calling to you,” Gabe said.
Stacks shot forward in his chair, snapping the reclining foot shut and making Noah jump.
“Whoa!” Stacks said.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“Purgo Omnia!” Stacks said, getting to his feet. None of us moved as we watched Stacks scramble around the folding table, trip on the same rug Noah had tripped on earlier, and then tear down the hallway.
I glanced around at the other three. “Stroke or did he finally snap?”
“Both?” Noah asked.
Rosetta looked skeptical, staring down the hallway after Stacks. I glanced over at Gabe who was still slightly pale, but his eyes were bright as he struggled to get to his feet.
“Where are you going?” I asked as Gabe pulled himself up on the couch, trying to get his legs to work with him.
“I’m going to beat him to it,” Gabe said with a grin. He was still shaky on his feet and I jumped up to steady him. My palm was damp at the small of his back and I pulled it away to still see a light dampness of blood.
I showed it to him. “We still have to do something about this.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can hardly wait. Right now though, I really need to beat Stacks to the book he’s looking for.”
I moved to the side and swept him a bow. “Have at it.” I plopped back down onto the stack of cushions and Rosetta, Noah and I enjoyed the circus of Gabe and Stacks. They were yelling at each other and running into each other in the hall at an impressive rate of speed as they changed rooms, each sure that the other had missed it in the first room they searched.
“Got it!” Stacks finally called.
“And we have a winner,” I muttered.
Stacks jogged back down the hall and I half expected him to do a Rocky-esque loop around the table before throwing himself back into his recliner and cracking the spine of the old leather-bound book. Gabe stalked back in and dropped onto the cushionless couch next to me.
I leaned forward and patted his knee. “It’s better you let him win. He needed it more than you did,” I said.
Stacks gave me a dirty look and I could hear Gabe sigh. “Yeah, the things I do for Stacks’ ego.”
“You both can screw right off,” Stacks said. “Because I just found the answer.” He leaned over the book and read. “I don’t know that this was ever meant to be used in a situation like this. But, my guess is that those demons had to work some spell bullshit of their own for Hell to recognize their collars. I mean, these souls aren’t exactly being fully briefed on what signing means. And that’s kind of a huge part of the ‘deal’ thing.”
I shrugged again. “I mean, when I signed, the red-eyed s.o.b. didn’t tell me that by signing my name I’d be dooming my soul and everyone else in Ashley to Hell with me, but apparently my deal is the real thing.”
Stacks tugged his glasses off his face and wiped them on his dirty t-shirt. “Think though, Bane. Did you promise him anything, agree to anything more general, before you signed?”
I closed my eyes, thinking. “He asked me what I’d be willing to give to have a good crop and my...my dad...and I said… ‘anything’.”
Stacks nodded and shoved his glasses back on his face. “Exactly. You gave him an ‘in’. You told him you’d be willing to give anything for what you got in return. As you pointed out, these folks weren’t told any kind of consequences for what they are signing.” He paused. “Or did they? Was there anything that was said during the ceremony that could be misconstrued as telling them about consequences, or asking them to give up anything to become a part of the ‘covenant’? Anything like that?”
I shook my head and looked around at Rosetta, Noah, and Gabe who were also shaking their heads.
Stacks nodded. “I’ll bet that’s somewhere in the deal-making job description that they have to do. If they didn’t do it, there’s some other spellwork happening that allowed them to skip that step.”
“And this helps us, how?” I asked.
Stacks glared at me. “Well, depending on what it is that they did to make this hair-brained scheme of theirs fly, we might be able to blow it up with a spell of our own.”
15
“So there’s a spell out there that can undo the contract hoodoo that they’re working on the poor schmucks at New Covenant?” I asked.
Stacks gave a noncommittal shrug. “Well, not exactly. We’d have to make one ourselves. But we have the lore and the incantations.”
I rolled my eyes. “I love an arts and crafts project as much as the next girl scout, but time is short, Stacks. We can’t have long before they find us here. I mean, Messina is only so big.”
“Well, I guess that leaves something for you lunkheads to do while the brains figure out the spell,” Stacks said, smiling at me.
I gave him the finger, but I think he knew that it was half-hearted at best. I might not be able to translate sixteen hundred-year-old texts, but I could load shotgun shells and stash hex bags. The thought of having something to do that wasn’t twiddling my thumbs, felt good. I got to my feet and looked around. “I guess I’ll need to make a run to Lucy,” I said, looking at Stacks. “I don’t suppose you have salted tape or a shell loader or munitions in here?”
Stacks rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Bane. There are supplies in the second bedroom.”
I nodded over at Noah. “You want to help me take inventory?”
Noah was on his feet and edging around the table towards me when I noticed Gabe was also struggling to his feet. I stepped over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, you’re too smart for us. You better help Stacks and Rosetta decipher this spell thing. Leave the fortifications to us,” I shot a look at Stacks, “‘lunkheads’.”
I grinned at Noah and motioned for him to follow me down the hall. We stood in Stacks’ cramped second bedroom, crammed full of way too much computer shit, hands-on-hips, and glaring at the “supplies” Stacks had told us he had.
“Stacks, I’ve seen outdoor truckstop bathrooms that were better stocked than this,” I barked down the hall at him. He had one roll of salted tape that was half gone, a half a box of salt-packed shotgun shells, a jar of Devil’s Shoestring that looked like the lid had been left off for too long and was now dried out and disintegrating, and a flask of holy water.
“Well I used to have a much better stock,” Stacks called down the hall. “But then some asshole blew it up.”
“That was technically Yolanda that blew your trailer up,” I called back.
“Well and if Stacks hadn’t wired the place with explosives, Yolanda wouldn’t have set them off. So, it’s really Stacks’ fault to begin with,” Noah said. He was looking through boxes for more supplies and we’d started stacking whatever we found useful on the small desk. I clapped him on the back. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Noah snorted. “Funny, it feels like since Gabe showed up I’ve become a side-kick, kicked aside.”
I rolled my eyes. “Bit dramatic, aren’t we?” Noah sighed. “Noah,” I said. “I didn’t ask him to come.”
Noah turned to look at me. “And you tried to dump me off multiple times I might add, at Greyhound stations.”
I raised a hand to stop him. “But I didn’t and I don’t try to drop you off anymore. And you’re here with us and we’ve got bigger shit to deal with than yours, mine, and Gabe’s mental hang-ups. I’m sorry if you feel like I side-kicked you or whatever. It wasn’t intentional. Ok?” Noah grunted and I figured that was the best I was going to get. “Ok, this rinky-dink bullshit isn’t going to be enough,” I said. “We need to make a Lucy run.” I went back out into the hallway and tugged up the carpet square and the crawlspace hatch.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Rosetta asked.
“We’re making a run to Lucy to get the shit we need to protect this rat trap. He doesn’t have spare premise hex bags, or ammo, and he only has about six feet of salted
tape left on his one measly roll.”
“Now that’s just pathetic,” Rosetta said, glaring at Stacks.
Stacks threw his hands up from his spot in his recliner. “What do you want from me? Right now I can translate or I can stockpile. I can’t do both.”
“Calm your sphincter,” I said. “Shop smart, Shop Lucy-mart. I’ll get what we need out of the truck.”
“Not alone you won’t,” Gabe said, starting to get to his feet. “If the New Covenant crew is out there looking for us, you’ll be an easy target.”
“She won’t be alone,” Noah said behind me. “I’m going too.”
Gabe looked annoyed and I rolled my eyes. “Thank you both for caring, but I’ve been watching my own ass for years, so I’m fine. But Noah coming with me means we can carry more shit. And,” I said, raising a hand to stop Gabe before he could argue. “Until I can get you stitched up, you will be a free bus ride for every bacteria down that tunnel. So stay here with Rosetta,” I glared at Stacks. “And Suzy-Un-Prepared and we’ll be right back.”
I dropped down the tunnel and started to crawl. I heard Noah drop into the tunnel behind me muttering. “How did you crawl through here with pizza boxes?”
“It wasn’t graceful,” I said.
It was pitch black in the tunnel and not much better when we made it out the other side. There was a green-tinted area light at the road and it gave off just enough light to keep Noah and me from walking into trees. It took us ten minutes to feel our way back to Lucy. I flipped the headlights on so we could see what we were doing.
“You get the duffle…” I started to say to Noah, but it turned into a hiss as a new slicing pain erupted from my left ass cheek. Someone kicked the back of my right knee and I fell forward.
“Now all sinners must fall down,” a deep voice drawled above me. “So they can know that they are weak.”
“Great,” I groaned. “Door to door mission-dick-bags.” I kicked out, my heel making contact with something hard.
“Son of a bitch,” the man hissed as he stumbled sideways. I was pretty sure I’d caught him in the ankle. I crawled under Lucy.
“Seriously,” I said. “What is with you assholes stabbing people in the butt? What, is it the only piece of human anatomy you actually understand because it’s where all your heads live or something?” I crawled out by the driver’s side door and pulled it open, feeling under the seat for the sword or the sawed-off. I heard Noah shout from the other side of the truck and I looked up to see him in a headlock by one of the blue-blazered assholes from the church. But only one. My hand found the sawed-off first. I knew I only had one shell in the chamber and it was rock salt. I’d put him down and then get the sword to finish him. The douchebag screamed as the salt pellets dug into his skin. He let go of Noah and grabbed his face. Noah punched the guy in the side, knocking him away.
“Really? They just sent one of you dickweeds after us?” Noah asked, staggering sideways into Lucy.
“More likely, they spread out looking for us and it was just this old boy’s lucky day,” I said, limping over to look down at him. He was curled into a ball, holding his face.
“Where are your stakes?” Noah asked. “Or better yet, get the sword.”
A thought occurred to me and I shook my head. “Nah, why kill him, when we could use him?”
“Don’t you think he could be, I don’t know, a beacon to the mothership if we keep him?” Noah asked. I raised an eyebrow and Noah shrugged. “You know what I mean. If they know where he was patrolling and he doesn’t come back.”
“I have my doubts that they’re that organized,” I said, watching the guy let go of his face and try to scuttle away. I gave him a kick to the back of one thigh, knocking him down to his stomach and I turned away to look at Noah. “Grab the salted tape out of the duffle in the toolbox, will you?” A punch hit me in the back of the knee, knocking me back against Lucy. A sharp pain shot up my leg from my new ass wound. I turned back to look at the guy who was struggling around on his hands and knees. He was searching the ground, presumably for his knife, which was now lost in the loose brush and leaves. I still had the sawed-off in one hand. Empty, but still a weapon. I swung it at his head and dropped him back to the ground. The salt pockmarks had burned into his skin and little drizzles of black blood were oozing down his face.
“You ok?” Noah called.
“Peachy,” I grunted, putting a foot on the guy’s back, knocking him back to the ground. “Just get the tape.” I bent down and grabbed his ear. I saw the pentagon branded into the skin. Empty House. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about him smoking out of his slim jim. Trying to “compel” us would be the next trick in the bag if he was capable of it. Really, there was no downside for taping his mouth shut. Even if he couldn’t “compel” us, at least then, he couldn’t call for help. The guy was moaning and flopping around, pinned under my foot when Noah approached and tossed me the roll of tape. I gritted my teeth as I bent down to slap a piece across his mouth. “Help me tape his hands,” I said to Noah.
We got him taped up just as he was really starting to struggle. “Should we tape his feet?” Noah asked.
I looked at Noah. “So we’ll have to completely drag him through the tunnel?”
“Good point,” Noah said.
“Let’s pack a bag for grandma’s house,” I said. There was a struggle on the ground next to us and the guy started trying to crawl away. I grabbed him by the collar of his suit jacket. “You pack, I’ll entertain our guest.”
The way back to the trailer took significantly longer.
“This sucks,” Noah said for the sixth time when we finally headed back towards the tunnel. I turned back to him, hitting him with the beam from the penlight. He was wearing two duffle bags, one strapped over each shoulder and he was toting the ten-gauge.
“I heard you the first five times,” I said. “Would you rather babysit this asshole?”
“Yeah,” Noah said. “And you can carry the heavy shit.”
We trudged on and when we were at the mouth of the tunnel, I ripped the tape off the guy’s hands.
“What are you doing?” Noah asked.
“He’s going to have to crawl,” I said. “He’s going to need his hands.” As soon as the man’s hands were free he lunged at Noah, knocking him back, one long-nailed hand digging into Noah’s chest. I grabbed the guy by the neck and yanked him back from Noah.
“Hands to yourself, dirtbag,” I said. I glanced at Noah. “Still want to be the babysitter?”
Noah gasped and put his hand to his shirt and pulled it away. He showed me his palm, stained with a light sheen of blood, and then gave me the finger. I nodded. “So everyone still good with their post?” I asked, waving the sawed-off at Noah and the guy. “Hostage, pack mule, and I’m the babysitter. All clear? Let’s move on.” I swung the now fully-loaded sawed-off around to rest the barrel against the guy’s nostrils.
“You’re going to crawl through this disgusting tunnel now. And I’m going to be right behind you with this sawed-off pointed at your asshole. If you pause, if you reach for that tape around your mouth, if you try anything of a hilarious nature, I will become your new proctologist and this,” I tapped the sawed-off against his upper lip. “Is the only instrument I will need. Got it?”
Progress was slow down the tunnel. Our demon hostage had some good self-preservation instincts. He wasn’t stupid enough to pause or try anything with the shotgun barrel at his back door, but he did pick his way around the puddles and piles of refuse more than Noah and I had. Probably not a lot in the budget for new suits.
“Up here,” I said, reaching through the open square cut in the tunnel to tap on the bottom of the trap door into Stacks’ trailer.
