by Michael Todd
“Things quiet down there?” Charles asked.
“Yeah, a little too quiet.” Katie looked around before turning back to the guys. “Something is stirring and we will find out right after it bites us on the ass, I think.”
Chapter 13
Joshua shuffled through some papers on his desk, trying to find the formula he had written down.
The shop was louder than normal, but Joshua didn’t mind. The girls were back, and they were trying to get the place straightened up. There was a lot of work to do now that the machines were there, and Joshua knew he was going to need all the help he could get.
Besides, he was tired of working with the government guys; he missed the way things had been. Just like when they moved to the base, Joshua felt uneasy. He wasn’t very good with change.
One of the girls walked over and handed Joshua a grape soda, his favorite. He smiled and nodded, sitting down and taking a sip as she walked away.
Charles and Travis looked at each other and back at Joshua. He knew they were standing there—and why—but he wasn’t about to turn around and look at them. It was the first time they had met the staff, and Joshua could almost smell the desperation seeping from them both. It was comical, but at the same time he knew they’d better watch themselves. These girls weren’t like normal females in town.
“Joshua,” Travis whispered, “when you said ‘staff’ we didn’t realize you meant all the hot women in Las Vegas.”
“Yeah, man.” Charles chuckled. “How do you get any work done around here?”
“They are good people.” Joshua put down his pen and turned his chair toward them. “These girls were in a different profession before they came here, if you catch my drift.”
“Really?” Travis smiled as one of them walked past.
“Yeah,” Joshua replied. “But don’t underestimate these girls. They are not easy pickings. These women faced demons head-on and didn’t run away. They shoved their knives straight into their bellies and watched them turn to dust.”
“Whoa.” Travis’ eyes opened wide and flicked to the girls and back.
“I don’t imagine they would have much of a problem taking a blade to an asshole if said asshole was being rude.” Joshua smirked. “Just like Katie, these women are tough as nails. They are pretty on the outside—and pretty on the inside—but all of that is wrapped up in a steel cage. These days they’d rather kick your ass than deal with your shit, so disrespect is completely off the table.” He waffled for a moment. “If you want to keep your nuts, that is.”
“We wouldn’t even think about disrespecting them.” Charles shook his head, eyes wide.
“Nope, not a single thought of disrespect going through my mind,” Travis agreed. “In fact, I think I will just get back to work.”
“Me too.” Charles pushed Travis back out onto the floor.
Joshua looked down at his papers again and smiled. He was going to protect those girls no matter what, even if it took fear to do so. By the looks of it, he had done more than enough to instill that fear.
Korbin passed the plate of pancakes across the table to Stephanie, who snuck him an intimate glance and winked.
Korbin tried to hold back a smile and looked down, clearing his throat. Damian read the paper as always, sipping his coffee and carefully eating his three pieces of perfectly-prepared cinnamon and sugar toast.
Calvin was in his own world, buttering his gigantic stack of flapjacks and staring at the huge bottle of real maple syrup in the center of the table. He had gotten up early and cooked breakfast and, figuring everyone would be hungry, he had made more than enough for three teams.
Mornings were usually chaotic for the team, no one really eating breakfast unless it was an apple or a granola bar they grabbed on the way to the training room. Coffee was usually the beverage of choice for everyone, but it was the weekend and Calvin liked it when everyone ate together. It was as close to a family situation as they could get.
He might understand that he would never have the wife, kids, and backyard barbeque, but he was determined to make something more out of the situation they were in than just killing demons and taking names. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it too, and it was nice to have Korbin in the general area for once, since he spent most of his time stuffed away in his office.
“Hey, guys!” Eric walked into the room, Katie following behind. “Look at this buffet of deliciousness.”
Katie watched Stephanie glance at Eric’s ass before winking and straightening her face.
“Morning,” Calvin said through a full mouth. “Grab some plates and chow down.”
“Ah, no thanks.” Katie smiled and poured a cup of java. “I’m good with my coffee.”
“Me too.” Eric nodded. “But thanks for the offer.”
“What’s up with you two?” Damian asked, glancing over his paper. “Neither of you ate dinner last night either, and except for garbage disposal Calvin you guys are the biggest eaters in the house.”
“Yeeeahh…” Eric grinned. “We kind of have something going on today that will require empty stomachs.”
“If it’s gross don’t say it,” Calvin told them, still through a full mouth.
“No, not gross,” Katie said. “Exciting, and I’m more than ready for it.”
“We have decided to go after the prize in a donut-eating contest the radio station is putting on,” Eric informed them excitedly.
“That’s cool,” Stephanie exclaimed. “I know Katie can put back some freaking donuts, but are you up to it, Eric?”
Eric took a sip of his coffee. “Always.”
“Pandora can put back donuts.” Katie laughed. “I’m just the vessel, but today I am not allowing any help. I don’t want to cheat.”
“Well then, I smell a field trip,” Damian replied, grinning at Korbin.
“Hell, yeah,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m taking bets on who blows chunks first.”
“Come on,” Calvin whined, pointing at his mouth. “But yeah, I’m in. Damian drives!”
“I’ll get the signs ready. Gotta cheer on my girl.” Stephanie winked. “And you too, Eric, but let’s face it—she’s got you by at least three donuts.”
“We’ll see,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “We will definitely see.”
General Brushwood took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, staring into space. His mind was in another place; he was getting ready to meet with Jehovivich to talk about her attitude and everything that had recently happened between her and the demons.
He had received her file, and though there was an obvious reason for what was going on, it wasn’t as black and white as he had hoped. She was good at her job, no doubt about that, but the issue needed to be addressed.
He was stirred from his thoughts by a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, sitting up in his chair.
“Morning, sir.” Jehovivich stepped inside. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Please sit down.” He pointed to the chair in front of his desk.
She nodded but paused as she sat, staring at her open file on the desk. She looked up at him and cleared her throat, sitting the rest of the way down and placing her hands in her lap. He pushed the papers around and took a deep breath, putting his fingers to his lips.
“That’s my file,” she began. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” he replied, “but we should go over some things.”
He turned the paper over and leaned forward to read through her service record.
“You have an impeccable record, Colonel. You have received six different awards, seven ribbons, an exemplary rating from every command, and you have never visited sickbay since you entered the service. You don’t take vacations, you don’t take leave, and you put your nose to the grindstone.”
“This is more than a career for me, sir,” she told him. “It is my life. I will have plenty of time to take vacations when I am out of the service.”
“Right,” the general
agreed. “You are a distinguished soldier.”
“Thank you, sir” she replied.
“BUT…you have a very black-and-white attitude about killing demons. You have this outlook that all demons are bad, no matter whether they are allies or not. You almost despise the human that has been infected, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t their fault. In this line of work that can be a serious problem, and it raises a warning to me on how to handle you around the mercenaries. I want to trust you, but part of me fears that I will turn around one day and find that you have shot our ally in the back with one of their own bullets. We need to discuss this, because if we are going to move forward I need to understand where you are coming from.”
She looked at him for a moment before answering. “I would never do that unless it was a direct order from you or a superior and they posed a significant threat.”
“I want to believe that,” the general replied. “And I appreciate your dedication and loyalty to the service, but that still does not explain your mindset toward the Damned and demons.”
She sat there silently for a moment, trying to find the words. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, sir. I don’t know if you want me to change the way I feel or just push it into the background. I have assured you that I am more than aware of my duty and would never sacrifice that because of my personal feelings.”
“Your personal feelings are getting in the way,” he replied, picking up a manila envelope.
He pulled out a stack of papers and flipped through until he found the spot. They were medical records for psych evaluations from before she was in the military.
“The patient, after trauma, refers to the accused as a demon with red eyes and no soul,” he read out loud. “The patient has a deep-seated hatred toward the ‘demons of the world,’ as she puts it. She exhibits no sign of mental instability, but further reviews and therapy will be needed to push past the events experienced.”
“Those are confidential.”
“Nothing is confidential when it comes to the security of the United States,” the general countered. “You didn’t disclose these evaluations or what they were for to the military when you joined. You know as well as I do that if the wrong person sees these records they could easily discharge you. This could put your entire career in jeopardy, which would be a shame since it has been so distinguished.”
“What do you want me to say?” She sighed. “I didn’t want it to hurt my chances of getting into the military, and I had already been recruited into the program. I just wanted to put it behind me.”
“That would have been fantastic, only it is rearing its ugly little head right now.” Brushwood looked at her. “You want to know what you should say? How about we start with the truth, because I need to understand where you are coming from on this or I will have no other recourse but to turn these files over to IA and let them know what I have discovered. Please, give me a reason not to do that.”
“Fine.” She let out a deep breath and rubbed her face before relaxing in the chair. “Before I came into the military I had a very good friend, someone I had grown up with. She changed one day—like a complete one-eighty—and the only thing I could come up with was that she was demon-possessed. She did terrible things to me; horrible things, so I hate them. I hate demons. I hate anything that can seep into a person and change them into a monster like that.”
The general nodded as he listened, trying to be understanding of what she had gone through. He wasn’t going to turn her in—and probably wasn’t even going to replace her—but he did need to know that it was safe to let her out in hostile situations with demon-killing bullets, side by side with the Damned teams. She could easily start a war between the military and the mercs just by giving into that anger in a combat situation. It was a serious risk, but she deserved the right to explain herself.
Brushwood turned the page and ran his finger down it, stopping and looking up at her. “Candice Johnson?”
“Yeah.” She nodded sharply. “Candice Johnson.”
She shook her head and chuckled softly. The general tilted his head at her reaction. She seemed to accept talking about her pretty well, but whatever this girl had done still affected the colonel to this day.
“It’s funny how for the longest time I thought we were friends. Best friends, even.” She stared toward the windows, her voice calm for all the anger she must be holding in. “As a child you are so innocent. You are willing to believe and trust those around you. You think you know your friends and their lives and their thoughts, but then they go and surprise you. Those are the moments where that innocence is ripped away and you realize the world is made up of some pretty nasty things.”
“The girl’s record says that after the events that occurred with you she was put into home care,” he told her. “Her symptoms only got worse, though; she was attacking the help, the nurses. Even her parents.”
“She had rich parents and they wanted her to be comfortable…and for their reputation to stay sterling,” Jehovivich answered. “So they called in favors and got her remanded to the house with care. They didn’t understand that the demon inside her was growing stronger by the moment.” She turned her eyes to him. “She couldn’t be caged, you know? She just got angrier and angrier.”
“It says here that when she was twenty-four she was seen by a psychiatrist who was connected to us in some way,” the general continued. “There is a laundry list of issues including personality disorder, borderline schizophrenia, PTSD, and the list goes on. However, she was given the all-clear on our end.”
“What? I mean, that can’t be,” the colonel exclaimed, reaching for the paper. “I remember the way she could look right through me. How could any person do the things she did to me without having a dark and powerful demon inside her? There had to have been some mistake. She was a demon. That was one of the reasons I was so drawn to this program; it gave me a chance to help someone else so they didn’t turn into Candice.”
“I’m sorry, Colonel,” the general said kindly. “The truth is she was simply a sick person. She had no demon in her.”
“I’ll be damned,” Jehovivich mouthed and read through the report.
Chapter 14
The loud music pulsated through the crowd and the lights shimmered through the smoke-filled arena.
The cheers could be heard for miles as the bands grooved to the melodic tones of their instruments. The scene was wild and on fire—just the way Brock liked his shows.
He was a newly-minted star and had been traveling with his band full time for the last six months. The record company they signed with had made it a sweet deal with a classic band bus, hotel rooms in every city, and only the best treatment.
It was unlike anything Brock or the band had ever experienced, since they had grown up in small-town America.
Brock grabbed the microphone stand and sang hard, giving it all he had. He laughed and grinned as he threw back his long sweaty blond hair and stared into the crowd with his bright blue eyes. In the front row girls swooned and screamed, reaching their arms out for just one chance to touch the golden god on the stage.
The guitar solo went on and on, and Brock bobbed his head up and down as he smiled at a hot redhead in the front row who ceremoniously lifted her top and flashed her big fake tits. He glanced at the bassist, who gave him the universal hand sign for “rock on,” and Brock stepped back to the mic, signaling the end to the solo.
The boys finished their set on a high from the attention of the crowd, the lights, and the size of the stage. When the last note of the last song faded there was a moment’s pause before the crowd erupted into cheers.
Brock put his hands into the air and leaned toward the mic. “Thank you, everyone,” he screamed, waving to the people on the floor, then those in the upper seats. “We love you!”
The guys ran off-stage and out of sight, panting and laughing, the adrenaline still rolling through their blood. The concert staff handed them all towels and water bottles
and they moved back into the alley where the artists prepared for their set.
The next band was getting ready to go on and they stared in awe over at the hottest new rock band in America.
“That was fucking golden,” the guitarist exclaimed, high-fiving Brock. “The way that rhythm moved over the crowd—and the way the chicks jumped up and down. Fuck yes.”
“It looks as if our night may not quite be over yet.” Brock smiled, turning the guitarist toward the gaggle of groupies down the alley who were whispering and giggling as they stared at the band.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” The guitarist tapped the singer’s chest. “I get the brunette with the belly ring.”
“You can have as many as you like.” Brock turned to his bandmates and put his hands in the air. “There are plenty to go around, boys, but first we have to go sign those autographs we promised the company.”
“How many chicks do you think you can get back to the bus?” the drummer asked. “You know, since we are jamming out of here tonight? There won’t be any crazy hotel parties like in LA.”
“Hi, there,” a blonde girl purred, strutting past Brock in a short jeans skirt and crop top.
“Well, hello,” he replied, watching her as she continued down the alley. “Good lord this is going to be an exhausting night.”
“Not too exhausting, I hope,” the keyboard guy said. “We have three shows in three cities in three days coming up.”
“Aw, come on,” Brock replied, putting his arm around him as they walked toward the autograph table. “You need to lighten up a bit and relax. Besides, it’s not like I have to do that much work. I just lay back and let them take the reins.”
“Righht, like last time…when somehow the mattress ended up in the swimming pool at that very expensive hotel.” The keyboardist laughed. “One day we are going to find ourselves at the Motel 6.”
“Hey, I put that mattress back. It’s now a waterbed.” Brock chuckled, taking the pen from the venue staff and turning toward the line of fans—mostly girls—waiting to hear from him. “Who’s first?”
