Hot Blooded

by D V Wolfe

  “Why are you here, Gabe?” I asked.

  “I’m here,” Gabe said, stopping to look at me, “to help a friend.”

  I shook my head. “Your family Gabe…”

  “Are dead,” he said. “I choose my family these days.” He smiled. “No matter how naive they are when it comes to trusting Pucas.”

  “But you’re not dead,” I said. “When do you have to go to...bleed?”

  “Soon,” Gabe said, sitting back down in the chair I had vacated and pulling his twelve-gauge out of the soft case he’d stowed under the table. He released the chamber and held it between his knees to reload. “You should come with me sometime. We could ride the Ferris wheel after.”

  I sat down in his chair and stared out across the trailer park. “As fun as that sounds, when this is over, I’m back to following Walter’s visions around. I need to up my numbers, fast.”

  Gabe shrugged, not looking at me as he tapped the shells against the table to break up the salt before chambering them and snapping the twelve-gauge shut. “Who knows, maybe he’ll see some mischief in Barathrum, South Dakota.”

  I shook my head. “I find it hilarious, but not that unexpected that the largest Hellhole topside is in an amusement park in South Dakota.”

  Gabe grinned. “Well for now. I think it’s like the Olympics. Every few centuries, something shifts and the Hellhole moves location. For now, though, I’m just enjoying the corn dogs and the roller coasters.”

  We were quiet for a while, listening to the rain ping off Stacks’ tin roof. I was lost in thought, thinking about how Gabe was sitting here with me, inches away, listening to the rain and smelling like a Waffle House in the woods, which is what I imagined heaven would smell like. Not that I would ever know. He had so much riding on his continued existence, so many responsibilities to the living. He gave so much. And he was asking me for one thing. Just one. And I couldn’t give it to him, no matter how much I wanted to.

  “Does it ever overwhelm you?” I asked. “Having something so important fall to you? Having to make sure you’re there, every year to bleed and keep the Hellhole closed? I mean, the stress of knowing that you have to stay alive and fight, every day?”

  Gabe cut his eyes to me. “You tell me.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t stay alive. You know this is my third Empty House. I die. And then I get in line and come back up and walk around in another stranger’s shoes hoping I can hit that magic number before I go toes up and liver treats down to the hellhounds.”

  “Besides the trips back and forth to Hell, we’re riding the same bus,” Gabe said. We were quiet for a moment and then he sighed. “I know you’re right.” I turned to look at him. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees again. “I know we shouldn’t.” He glanced at me. “You know.” He looked back out at the trailer park. “But Bane, I…”

  Headlights turned into the trailer park and the sound of someone gunning an engine and spraying gravel as it rolled into the lot had us both on our feet. I grabbed the sawed-off from the table and I heard Gabe pick up his twelve-gauge next to me. I lowered my gun when the white Scout skidded around the corner and came to a parking brake-induced stop next to the trailer.

  “I need a hand,” Tags called when he kicked his door open.

  The rain was pouring down on us by the time we hauled the last of Tags’ crap into the house and Gabe and I were soaked to the skin.

  “Rosetta, as I live and breathe,” Tags said, his voice faltering when he saw the cold glare she gave him.

  “Doesn’t look like he’ll be doing either for much longer,” I muttered to Gabe.

  Rosetta’s gaze snapped onto me and I moved behind Gabe.

  “Don’t use me as a Rosetta shield,” he said.

  “Why? You tried to use me as one back in Sicily,” I said. “When you had her .45.” I glanced around him and saw Rosetta turn on her heel and march back into the kitchen.

  “So what’s all of this?” Stacks asked, surveying the bags and crates and the long, wrapped poles.

  “It’s something I kind of invented,” Tags said, opening the nearest bag and pulling out a rough cut piece of welded metal.

  “Is that a pendulum?” Stacks asked.

  Tags looked like Stacks had just stolen his thunder, but he recovered as best he could. “Well, yeah. But it’s a really big one.”

  “And that’s helpful, because?” Stacks asked.

  “Precision,” Tags said.

  “Hang on,” Rosetta said. “Before you go assembling that, we need to talk. All of us. Taggert doesn’t know any of what’s going on here except what he heard on demon HBO. And Taggert, we need each and every scrap of information you’ve heard, and we need it fast.”

  Gabe, Stacks, and Tags took seats at the table. I flopped onto the couch next to Rosetta and Noah leaned back in Stacks’ recliner to listen, the laptop still open in front of him.

  “Ok,” Rosetta said to Tags. “Spill.”

  “First off,” Tags said. “There’s a good chance that some of them know I’m listening.”

  I leaned forward and stared at Tags. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Tags said. “Some of them know what happened to me in Arizona because they were there. That was before we knew we could stake the bastards and in my haste to get the hell out of there, I didn’t get the chance to send them all back to Hell. Mostly because I was bleeding from the head and outnumbered.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. So what does that do to your intel?”

  Tags shrugged. “It’s as good as I can get. I don’t think they all know about Arizona. It was kind of a fuck up on their part, so I doubt they sing about it or anything. And even the ones who do know don’t seem to have a choice of how they communicate because I still hear them talking to each other. Some of them talk in code from time to time, so I think that they might be the ones who know about my...condition.”

  “Point being?” I asked.

  “Anyway, Bane is topic numero uno downstairs right now, so I hear a lot.”

  “Lucky me,” I said.

  “And why is Bane the topic of choice?” Gabe asked.

  I shrugged. “Must not be anything else good on TV. And my time is getting close so that probably makes me more of a novelty. Like televised prison executions, I guess.”

  “Jesus that’s morbid,” Stacks said.

  I shrugged. “So all the popular girls are gossiping about me. Anything juicy?”

  “Well, they keep saying something about you and a prophecy,” Tags closed his eyes as if trying to remember something exactly. “Um, ‘You and the pious souls, something, something prophecy for the Reign and the revelations’.”

  I sat up straight and I saw Noah and Gabe do the same. Stacks put his face in his hands and I felt Rosetta sag into the couch beside me. “Just so we’re clear,” I said. “‘Rain’, like water from the sky or ‘reign’, like a king’s reign?”

  Tags scratched his beard. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same ‘reign’ thing you mentioned on the phone. They keep talking about the ‘Reign of Dukes and Princes’. Sound about right?”

  Stacks picked up the books around him and pulled one out from the bottom-most layer. “I found something in Garstalla’s Historia Infernum that mentions an uprising and a ‘regnum’ or rule.”

  He flipped some pages and turned it on the table, sliding it under Tags’ nose. “It seems the Dukes and Princes are planning a little house party upstairs.”

  Tags was quiet as he quickly scanned the page. “Well, it mentions our St. Louis pal, Ber-” The light flickered overhead and he cleared his throat. “So, this reign thing is when all these downstairs big wigs come out to play?”

  “That’s what it’s sounding like,” Stacks said. “We had a little intel from the other side of the aisle.”

  I looked around. “Where is he, by the way?”

  Rosetta made a face and glared at Stacks. “Go get him.”

  Stacks sat up.
“You go get him.” Rosetta’s glare was so strong I felt residual heat radiating from her. I was actually surprised that Stacks didn’t burst into flames. He climbed off his stool and slunk down the hallway, muttering to himself. He opened the door to the second bedroom and a second later we were all hit with the now familiar smell of cooked demon mingling with sewer and melted plastic.

  “That is a smell,” Tags said, moving to open the front door.

  “I’ll say,” a voice said from outside. We all paused and turned to look out the open doorway. Standing on the gravel in front of the porch steps, was Festus. I was the first one outside. “For a moment there, I almost thought I was back at the office,” Festus said, peering in at the melted corpse in the office chair.

  I looked around the trailer park. He seemed to be alone. “Festus, come inside before someone sees you.”

  Festus raised an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain I’m raising property values by just standing here.” He smoothed the front of his clean suit.

  “Property values and blood pressure,” Rosetta growled. “Get his ass in the house before he calls down all of Hell on us like some half-assed demon lightning rod.” She turned on her heel and headed back inside. I turned to Gabe and Noah. “You heard the woman.” Between the three of us, we cleared enough of the hex bags and salted tape away to get Festus across the porch and into the house. But he wasn’t happy about it.

  “I feel like I need to sneeze,” Festus said, his voice nasally as his cheeks started to turn pink, “but I can’t.”

  “Good to know our protections are working,” I muttered to Noah. He just nodded and headed back to the recliner. He picked up the laptop and sat down.

  I turned to Festus. He was staring at the demon in the chair and for the first time, I saw horror cross his face. “What is it?” I asked.

  Festus seemed to come to himself. I watched him force his expression back into detached boredom. “Nothing. I’ve heard of the odd demon ‘ashing out’, as you humans call it, but I’ve never seen it in person.” I watched his eyes follow a piece of gray ash, disturbed by the breeze from the open door as it fell from the corpse’s eye socket, down onto its lap.

  “What do you demons call it?” I asked him, quietly.

  “There isn’t a word for it,” Festus said. “It doesn’t happen often.” He cleared his throat and looked around. His gaze fell on the stack of pizza boxes we’d been grazing from all day and the stack of books where Stacks and Rosetta had been sitting. “All night cram session?” Festus asked. “Big test tomorrow?”

  “You might say that,” I said, moving around towards the door so that I could block it if Festus tried to exit early. “This is actually perfect timing on your part.”

  Festus groaned and put a hand to his forehead. “Good timing for you always means my self-preservation skills couldn’t have picked a worse time to take a break. What have you stepped in now?”

  I stared at him. “You don’t know what’s happening here in town?”

  Festus frowned at me. “In town? As in this snake-fart of a town?”

  “Do snakes fart?” Noah asked.

  “You’re the one with the Google,” I said. I heard keys typing and I turned back to Festus. “Yes, here. The demons that are playing church and turning all their church members into blood oaths?”

  Festus shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  I filled Festus and by extension, Tags, in on everything that had happened since Noah and I had rolled into Messina. The color had drained from Festus’ face by the end and he was sizing me up. I was sure he was trying to decide if it was better to move around or through me to get out the door.

  “So?” I asked, widening my stance in case he made a run at me. “What’s going on?”

  Festus sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m out of the loop on whatever this is. Something is going on downstairs. More than usual, but I’m not exactly every demon’s gossip buddy. I got the paperwork about the eight imps you killed,” Festus said, meeting my gaze. “That’s why I’m here. But, from what you’re telling me, the demons here aren’t planning anything good.” He closed his eyes. “And I have to admit, there’s something...foul on the air here.” He opened his eyes and I pointed at the corpse in the chair. He glared at me. “Metaphorically, Bane. There’s something wrong here. I didn’t sense demons when I arrived. That’s why it felt safe enough to bring you your tally. But now that I know…”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Tags said, holding up a hand. “You, a demon, couldn’t even sense the other demons in town?”

  Festus shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint. We’re not all as perfect as you hunters.”

  I shook my head. “Festus, the Harbinger couldn’t sense these demons. What the hell is going on with them? What kind of thing could hide them from other demons and from the Harbinger?”

  “Yeah,” Tags said. “And the rest of Hell seems to know about Messina. They won’t quit jabbering about it on the downstairs demon radio.”

  “Again,” Festus said, and I could see anger and heat rising in his face and replacing the bloodless tone of his skin. “I’m not exactly ‘wired in’ downstairs. I’m sorry I ruined that illusion for you.”

  “Well, now that you know,” I said. “What do you think? What can you tell us? What do we need to do?”

  “Get out of town,” Festus said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Get out of town, now,” Festus said again. “If these demons are collecting blood oaths and they’re able to hide from other demons and the Harbinger, and Hell is talking about this town as if it’s the next vacation hotspot, you should leave town. Now. And get as far away from here as you can.”

  “Well, that’s not happening,” I said. “So, anything else? What do you know about a ‘Reign of Dukes and Princes’?”

  Festus sighed. “It’s a demon bedtime story about what life will be like when we take over, yadda, yadda, yadda. It’s something to get new demons excited about being demons. It’s never going to happen.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Because there’s a prophecy involved and that crap never comes true,” Festus said.

  “Do you know what the prophecy is?” I asked. I could feel everyone else leaning in towards Festus now, too.

  “No,” Festus said, looking around at us. “The story just says, ‘when the prophecy is fulfilled’.”

  “Can you find out what the prophecy is?” I asked.

  “No. Even if I wasn’t the demon with the ‘kill me’ sign taped to my back, why would anyone want to talk to me about something like that? That is low-ring political daydream crap,” Festus said.

  I was getting frustrated now. “Well, this shit is happening here. Now. Whether it’s political crap or not.”

  Festus frowned. “Look, I don’t know what’s happening here, or what exactly Extra Crispy over there,” Festus cut his eyes to the corpse in the chair, “told you, but it’s not the prophecy. They may have themselves convinced that that’s what they’re doing, but there’s no way. It’s a lie told in the pit, to give demons hope. You as humans should understand that.” We were quiet for a moment. “Regardless,” Festus said, his old tone of bored annoyance returning to his voice. “Deluded doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. Again, I reiterate that the best course of action you could take would be to exit the premises and probably the state.” He paused. “But, since I know you and I know that won’t be happening, let’s get down to brass tacks so that I, at least, can demonstrate a shred of self-preservative thinking and get the hell out of here.” He snapped his fingers and the red notebook appeared. “It looks like you killed eight imps, worth two souls each, so another sixteen souls. Not bad for an afternoon of work.” He made a note on the page. “Which brings your total from three hundred and seven souls down to two hundred and ninety-one.” He looked up and gave me a tight smile. “Congratulations, you’re under three hundred souls.”