by Michael Todd
Katie took Damian and her pain-in-the-ass roomie to Kettle Glazed Donuts, one of the most varietal donut shops in the city.
She had looked up donut shops before coming to LA, since being prepared was half the battle with Pandora.
As soon as they walked into the glass-fronted shop with the little red stools at the window-side counter, Pandora lost her fucking mind. In the display cases were towers of handmade perfection, dripping with every topping you could imagine.
She was in donut heaven.
You can’t fight it! Pandora sniffed wildly, using Katie’s nose. You shouldn’t fight it. Please don’t fight it, and I’ll be your friend forever.
I am getting you one dozen, and that’s it, Katie told her firmly.
You already got your mad out, and I had nothing to do with you beating the shit out of that robber, Pandora grumbled as she looked at the choices, trying to figure out how to limit the list to just twelve.
You are a bitch! A stone-cold bitch.
“Hey, Bridgett.” Melvin nodded. He noticed her sunglasses as he walked up to the table. “How’s it going?”
“Hey.” She forced a smile. “It’s going good. Please sit down. Thanks for meeting me here on such short notice.”
“It’s no problem. What’s up?” He slid into a chair at her table.
Melvin Ransom was the team heavy for the Wyld Jokers, a group of ruthless killers hell-bent on ridding New York City of demons.
Melvin had a special-ops background and a lust for killing those who shouldn’t exist. He was a pusher; a guy who wanted to be top of the pack, but knew exactly what he was best at.
He killed them, but politics—they just weren’t his thing. He didn’t know why this chick he had barely said two words to would want to talk to him, but he’d figured, why not? What was the worst that could come of it?
“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She lowered her voice and looked around. “We both know you are in the demon business. That’s no secret to me.”
“It’s not?” He chuckled.
“I know someone who wants to help move things along for you,” she continued. “In exchange for providing me with information, I can give you information on attacks; ones you may otherwise have no idea are coming.”
He sat back in his chair, looking as if he was thinking things over. Bridgett removed her glasses, dropping them in her bag, and fixed her hair. She quickly looked up and to the side, letting Melvin see her red-ringed eyes. He breathed deeply, now understanding what was going on.
“All right.” He looked around before returning his gaze to her and nodding. “But we can’t talk about this here. Meet me in the alley in ten minutes.”
He glanced toward the door. “You leave that way. I’ll meet you around back.”
She smiled and stood up, walking nonchalantly out the door with her coffee in hand. He sat there for a few minutes mulling over her offer, sipping his coffee and watching the other patrons.
After sitting there for a little while, he got up and walked past the bathrooms and straight out the back door, making a mental note where the security camera was. Bridgett smiled as he approached, excited for once to be part of the action. She had waited a long time for this chance. He walked very close to her and leaned in.
“You see, Bridgett, there are only three options,” he whispered, like a lover might. “Dead, research, or on a team.” He grabbed her quickly by the neck. “At least for those who have tamed demons inside.”
Bridgett’s eyes went wide and she grabbed his hand, clawing like crazy to get free. The demon inside her roared in anger and forced her to fight back.
She brought her legs up, jamming them hard into his groin to make him let her go. She landed in a crouch, growling, her eyes now completely red and her expression wild. She ran forward to swipe at his chest; her hands now had small claws. He jumped back, chuckling as she attacked, and whistled at the power in her.
“Wow,” he taunted. “You must have a hell of demon inside you, sweetheart. Let’s see if we can’t get you some help.”
“I don’t want your help,” she hissed. “I want your head!”
She ran forward with her claws out, slashing through the air. He put his hands up and she grabbed his gun from his holster. His eyes went turned as she backed up, pointing the weapon at his chest. She clicked off the safety and smiled maniacally, ready to do her demon’s bidding.
“You know,” Melvin began, shaking his finger and moving carefully to his right, “I thought there was something weird about you calling me. You see, I don’t have any close friends in this city since my line of work makes it a little bit difficult, but I thought to myself, Melvin, how many times does a pretty girl you’ve run into a couple of times at the library call you out of the blue and ask you out for coffee? The answer, if you’re wondering, is not that often, so I came. I have to say, you definitely surprised me. I did not peg you for a drooling nasty soul-sucking-demon-ridden hag, that’s for sure. But then again, you wouldn’t be the first one I dated. Women in general tend to carry the gene, I think.”
“Shut up,” she growled, circling around him.
Just then, a girl wearing a Starbuck’s apron and ripped black jeans, with wildly colored hair and heavy makeup, came out the back door carrying the trash.
She didn’t immediately see them, since she was watching where she was going. She was bitching up a storm, and it distracted Bridgett enough to make her turn toward the girl.
Melvin leapt into action. He jumped behind her and grabbed her chin and the back of her head and twisted, quickly snapping her neck.
He had wanted to help her, but he could see that her demon had latched on hard and she was liable to shoot the girl who had come out of the building.
The girl gasped and froze, unsure what she had just witnessed.
Ivy, the demon inside Bridgett, panicked, finding himself being dragged down with the soul of the girl who had just died.
“FUCKING HELL!” He hated rash actions, but he quickly jumped out of her body, not at all prepared to be in the real world. He raced over to the only uninfected body he could find and dove down Ella’s throat.
Melvin watched wide-eyed as Starbucks Girl stiffened and dropped the bags of trash, her eyes flashing red before they rolled back in her head.
He lunged forward, catching her as she fainted and fell from the stairs. He sadly held her in his arms, knowing she had just been infected.
Dammit! It was not his day in any way, shape, or form.
“Fucking hell,” he growled, pulling his phone from his pocket.
He called his supervisor Isaac, since the team lead was visiting one of the other compounds. He was pissed—beyond pissed—that the demons had lowered themselves to that level. Two girls, young and attractive—their lives ripped away because of one asshole demon.
Isaac chuckled as he answered. “Melvin, how is that coffee date going?”
“Uh, well, she’s dead,” he answered. “So I’d have to say it’s been pretty shitty. Listen, I need backup to come for the bodies. She was a demon and she wanted me to spy on the teams, so naturally I told her to go to hell…and then I sent her there.”
“You said ‘bodies,’ plural,” Isaac asked, calling out commands in the background.
“Yeah, the demon jumped into another girl before it could be pulled back to hell,” he told Isaac. “She’s passed-out in my arms, and let me tell you right now…” he stared down at her wild makeup and crazily-colored hair, “she looks like a wild one.”
Isaac sighed. “Well then, she’ll fit in just fine with us.”
Chapter 7
“He is dead, sir,” the servant said.
“Dead?” T’Chezz said whipping around. “What do you mean? He was the best we had. Well, the only one we fucking had, and you are telling me he couldn’t survive a month on Earth? For fuck’s sake! Are we sure he’s dead?”
“Yes, master,” he said, bowing his head in fear. “I went up to check on him after Zallot
returned, as you asked me to do, and I saw the demon’s dead human body being loaded into an SUV. It was one of the killers, but not your sister’s team this time; another one in a different city. I left my host’s body and came straight back to report to you.”
“And you saw no one else?” he asked. “He couldn’t have maybe jumped hosts to one of the Damned?”
“The only ones I saw were infested with low-level demons,” the servant replied. “No one else.”
“Pity. “T’Chezz sighed, twirling his black brittle goatee around his finger. “That means he didn’t accept our offer. The Killers, even the weakest ones, have more self-control than most humans, which I find both disgusting and interesting at the same time.”
“Occasionally they are cunning, Your Grace,” the servant sniveled.
“Yes.’ T’Chezz reached up to pull a piece of lunch out of his teeth. “Remind me to torture that Damned for a significant amount of time when I get Earth-side. Oh well, no use in crying over spilled humans. Let’s pick another. I can’t believe they are all as moral and incorruptible as that ass. Someone on those fucking teams can be turned; they are humans, after all. If they can be convinced to buy expensive jewelry and little boxes for their human bodies when they die, they can be convinced of this. I offer more than just jewels. I will find my human, even if I have to go there myself.”
T’Chezz turned back to the servant and found him eyeing the ball of metal.
He had kept it there as a daily reminder of the hatred he had for the human race—and for his sister, whom he hadn’t forgotten about for a moment. He needed to find the weapons, and he knew that when he found them he would find her. There was little doubt in his mind that she was connected to all of it; her and that pathetic useless body she had attached herself to.
“I kept it,” T’Chezz answered the unasked question. “I was told that it was a Ferrari California T model, a very expensive car on Earth—at least it was before it hit me. I crushed it in my frustration, as you know.” His smile was all teeth. “I’m saving it for my sister, so I can shove it up her ass without lube. I do hope some of the jagged edges rust before I do that.”
He smiled and turned toward the window, a happy feeling taking him over as he thought about the horrible things he would do to his sister when he found her.
He still hadn’t decided if he would do it to her human too, or wait until he got her back down in the depths of hell. Either way, it was going to be a very good day when he finally had that bitch back in his claws.
“Will they kill demons?” Amy asked, looking at the blade of a sword.
“They kill just like any other weapon of that quality,” Korbin replied. “The difference is, one slash from one of these and the demon is temporarily stunned and screaming in pain, which provides you the opportunity to deploy more tactics. Now, we also use a cross made from this metal, and it melts the head right off the demons, but they have to be weakened first. We are also working on turning this material into bullets.”
“That would be fantastic,” John exclaimed, holding up a sword.
Initially the idea was to give the first weapons to the other teams, but as he watched them, he realized there was no reason to pass up a profit.
Korbin grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and reviewed it quickly; it was the markup on the weapons he had been working on with Joshua, Stephanie, and Katie. It was the price-point at which he was willing to sell to the other mercenaries, but it still gave them a profit.
“I obviously have to have these,” Amy told him. “But what are the prices?”
“The weapons are priced between $35k and $55k if we keep government out of it.” Korbin shrugged. “If they get involved, the prices will go up and the quantity will go down.”
Amy nodded. “Sounds fair.”
“Indeed,” William agreed, shaking his head. “I’ve paid more for normal swords that snap when pushed into a tough demon body. There aren’t many weapons out there that give us an edge on these beasts—and until recently that was okay. We had our soldiers, but now things are changing. Normal tactics aren’t enough to get us through these encounters anymore. The demons are getting bigger, and the infected humans we can save have gotten thin on the ground, since most of these demons are taking hold of them too deeply to get them back.”
“I’m not bullshitting you on this,” Korbin warned, stepping forward. “If the government so much as sniffs around, all these goodies are going to stop being available. Higher-ups control most things, but in the end we are mercenaries, not slaves.”
“It hasn’t been so bad lately,” Brian commented. “In fact, we have been working with the police and the DEA on a lot of things.”
“Us too,” Amy added. “And wasn’t it the CIA or the FBI or one of those organizations that helped get your men to Los Angeles during that last incursion that flattened that cemetery?”
“They did,” Korbin agreed, “but do not forget that they have to take orders. They would turn around and shoot us in the back of the head if they were told to. We take for granted that we are family; that we help each other first, and voluntarily do the right thing. The government is not like that, and I don’t want you to fall for their kind words and amazing gestures. They need us right now, but when they don’t they will turn on us. They have before, and they will again.”
Korbin picked up a sword and examined the blade closely.
“I don’t want to become a vassal to the state,” Korbin continued. “I know how much the international budget for fighting demons is, and we know the US government has their own teams doing it too. There is no other way to produce these, and I’m not going to share. I don’t trust the government to have my best interests or the best interests of my team at heart—or yours, for that matter. We are the ones out here doing the back-breaking work, losing people and finding answers. When is the last time you saw or even heard of one of the government teams taking out a horde of normal demons, much less one or two of the larger bastards? Where were they when we needed them in Los Angeles? They were nowhere, and sure as shit they weren’t jumping on any backs cutting demons’ necks.”
“He’s right.” William looked at the other leads. “I haven’t heard that any of their teams has ever made a big catch. It’s been all small stuff, and when it matters and shit goes down, they never seem to show.”
“Yeah.” John sighed. “You may be right. We might be mercenaries, but we have the lock on the demon-slaying thing. If the government finds out about this stuff they may try to seize the weapons, and getting some back will be like pulling teeth. They will equip their men first, and then throw the bones to us—even though we are the ones who have kept shit in the W column for decades.”
“You won’t hear a peep out of me,” Amy agreed. “This is too important. I’ve seen the destruction, I’ve been to the ceremonies, and I know what your team and all the others do to keep ourselves afloat without the government’s help with anything besides money.”
“That’s why they pay so well for demons.” Brian chuckled. “They aren’t giving us any money to operate without quid pro quo, so they know we will have to spend our own.”
“I’ve heard there is a new general in place over the government teams,” William shared. “They say that he has a better attitude about working with mercenary teams; that he recognizes the importance of what we do, and were doing long before the government was as focused as they are now. I don’t know if that means anything, but I am hoping we can get some assistance when we need it. Give the tools to those of us who actually do the job.”
“Sounds better than the last guy, who actually tried to shut us down.” Amy shook her head. “I was convinced the bastard was a demon himself.”
“Yeah.” Korbin nodded. “I’ll believe that the general is on our side when it happens—and continues to happen through more than one incursion. Maybe five ops in a row will change my mind. I’ve been around a long time, and I have to say that it’s complete bullshit; how they keep b
ringing us in and pushing us back out. We are the ugly stepsisters of the demon war, and it’s time that changed.”
“Preach it!” Amy waved the knife she was holding in the air and the metal shimmered in the light.
“I have to be honest, though: it would be a lot easier if we did have a good relationship with the military side,” Korbin continued. “I mean, at least then we would be given the tools to protect each other, instead of selling them to those who are going to be on the front lines. It feels almost demeaning, in a way. ‘We know you are going to save our asses, but you have to buy the weapons from me to do it.’ It’s total bullshit!”
“Ah, the American economic system.” William laughed. “It’s so fucked up that it is backward; no one can fully understand it. Nothing changes, which makes it difficult for me to continue to watch it happen. I mean, did no one notice that Armageddon is here? Demons on Earth? Sorry, that shit just gets me going.”
“So far, all the government and military folks have wanted to do in the past was throw their weight around.” Korbin sighed. “And I don’t have time for ritual dick-measurement events.”
Amy chuckled. “Nor do I.”
Brian pointed to her. “You have the biggest one of all!”
“Very true,” Amy agreed, putting her choices on the table. “All right, I will take these. Ring me up, sir.”
“Two long swords and a dagger,” Korbin tallied, writing up a receipt. “That will be $145k.”
Amy pulled over a briefcase she had grabbed from the SUV and opened it, revealing the large amount of cash inside.
They couldn’t write checks because that would alert the government, so they bought everything with cash. She always carried a couple hundred thousand with her. Just never knew when you would need it. It was kind of ridiculous, like a bad mobster movie, but it worked.
The rest of the team leaders made their selection, until all the weapons had not only been chosen but paid for as well.
In the end, Korbin racked up over half a million dollars from this one sales effort.
