Jess Flaherty's Blog, page 4

Fire

Author’s Note: Here’s another little Arbitratus Trilogy Fanfic that resulted from a one word prompt challenge over on IG. It’s something that doesn’t happen in Book II, Before the Dawn. But like so many of these little fictions, it could. 

[image error]

Their after dinner walk had gone on for longer than was probably smart. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the sun sank behind the mountains. The breeze rustled the frost stiffened trees. It was nice to be away from populations centers. There was less to worry about in terms of getting noticed, getting recognized, getting caught. But maybe they should head south again. It was too damned cold around here.

Mal untwined her fingers from Ben’s. “Sorry. I need my gloves.”

Ben was already pulling on the lopsided mittens she’d knitted him. “Same. We should head back anyway. It’s getting dark.”

They decided to cut across a couple of back yards to get back to the campground faster. “What is that?” Mal asked cocking her head.

Ben paused and listened, spending the energy on magically enhancing his hearing.

“Fire,” he said quietly.

“Where?”

He listened again then pointed. “There.”

They took off running and skidded to a stop in the yard of a large farmhouse already well on its way to burning down. Shouts and pleas for help came from inside. “Stay here,” he said firmly. “Call 911.”

“You’re not going in there!”

“Official help is pretty far out. And … there’s kids in there. I can hear them.”

She sighed and wrapped her fingers around the fabric of his sleeve. “Why do you have to be such a big damned hero all the time?!?”

“Well, you’ve got the damned part right.” He smirked and squeezed her hand, gently encouraging her to release his jacket. “I’m a demon, not a hero.”

She grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him quickly, then gave him a light shove toward the building. As he ran toward the calls for help she sighed again. “Pretty sure you can be both.”

She got out her phone and made the call to emergency services.

~~~~~

In bed, later that night, whispering so as not to disturb the others in the camper who were already asleep, Mal brushed his slightly singed bangs off his forehead. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’m good.”

“You really don’t hurt anymore?” He huffed a little sigh that told her he thought she was fussing unnecessarily but he didn’t want to call her out for it. “I know the burns look okay now, but I’m never sure about this magic stuff. Like what do I know about healing nerves and stuff?”

“All better. I promise.” Then he reached up, more to prove he really wasn’t in pain than anything else, and plucked at his uneven hair. “Just wish your healing powers included cosmetic repairs.”

She snorted laughter. “It doesn’t look bad. Your hands did though. I’m glad I could fix them.”

“Me, too. Burns really hurt,” he admitted. “Thanks.”

“And I’m glad you were a big hero for those kids.”

“I’m not…”

“Don’t argue. Or I’ll take back the healing stuff.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how those powers work.” Then he frowned. “Right?”

“Probably. But still.”

He laughed. “Not a hero.”

“If you can’t admit to being one in general, will you accept being my hero then?” She put her head against his chest.

“I can live with that.”

He was still smiling when he dozed off a while later.

*****

Image by Simon Matzinger from Pixabay

Silence

Author’s Note – Here’s another little fanfic of mine from a one word IG prompt. This scene doesn’t appear in Always Darkest , but it could.

[image error]

It was quiet other than the patter of rain and snow on the porch roof. Mal warmed her hands around her coffee cup, smiling faintly at the one tree in their yard still stubbornly holding on to its autumn leaves in the face of impending winter. 

The swing creaked and a blanket dropped over her shoulders.

She didn’t even have to look. “Morning, Dad.”

She glanced his way.

He was smiling, but it was a speculative questioning sort of smile. “You’re up early.”

She shrugged. “I guess. Bad dreams.”

“Again, huh?” He squeezed her hand.

She sighed. “Yeah. It’s been a rough week.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I wish I could help.”

She shrugged again. “At least break is starting soon. Then it doesn’t matter so much how I sleep.”

Ari put an arm around her. “Are you looking forward to a little vacation?”

“Yeah, I am. Teddy’s not gonna be around, but I’ve got plans with Petra, and Ben …” she trailed off.

“So his name’s Ben, huh?”

She blushed. “Yeah. Um … Ben Brody.” She didn’t know why she hadn’t said anything before now. It’s not like she hadn’t dated before. But Ben was different.

He smiled fondly. “The color in your cheeks is more than the cold. Maybe this is a more than friends boy?”

She turned toward him, her face splitting into a real smile, sleepy brain cobwebs be damned. “I think he really is.”

She told Ari about Ben then. She’d gone from feeling weirdly protective of her budding relationship to wanting her dad to know everything.

Ari chuckled. “He sounds like a great guy. And he must be if you’re this fascinated by him.”

“He is. I … I really like him.”

“Would you like to invite him?”

“Huh?”

“For Christmas? You said he can’t go home to his own family.”

She grew thoughtful. “It wouldn’t be weird?”

“Depends on how shy he is, I suppose. But I don’t think I’m all that intimidating,” he grinned.

“What about Uncle Davi?”

“I’m sure he’ll like your Ben just fine.”

Her Ben. She really liked the sound of that.

“I’ll ask him,” she said finally.

“Good.” Ari squeezed her shoulders and they sat looking out at the lake as the mix changed over to more serious snow.

It was a comfortable, homey silence.

School

Author’s note – I’ve been playing around with some little one word prompts over on our Instagram. For those of you that don’t goof off over on IG, I figured I’d share the little flash fan fictions for our Arbitratus Trilogy characters here. Here’s a little imagined scene from our Work In Progress (which is basically done – it’s all over but the final editing) Before the Dawn, aka Book II.

This isn’t necessarily canon, of course. But it could be.

If you do enjoy ‘gramming a little, you can follow us at Demons Run Lit.

[image error]

Mal had been quiet all morning.

When Ben suggested a walk, it was more because he thought she might talk if they were away from the others. It was cold this morning. Again. But the view was breathtaking.

They’d been sitting on the rough hewn bench for a while in silence and Ben was ready to give up. but he was pretty sure she was crying and trying to hide it.

One more try, he thought.

He pulled her in closer. “Mal … what is it?”

She sniffed, staring off down the road. “It’s nothing.”

He slid both arms around her. “It doesn’t sound like nothing.” He didn’t point out the tear trailing down her cheek, visible when she tilted her head against him, but he reached up and brushed it away with his thumb.

She looked up at him. “I’m starting to wish you weren’t so goddamned observant.”

“Now you know how I feel, literally half the time.” He let her have the small crooked grin he knew she liked to see. “C’mon, tell me. you never let me get away with keeping what’s bothering me to myself.”

“It’s stupid.”

He shook his head. “Not even possible. Have you met you?”

She gave him a watery smile. “Today would have been the start of semester break. I’d have been halfway through Freshman year today. One step close to being Dr. Sinclair.”

Oh.

“Oh.” He chewed his lip. “Wanna go hang out at the college library in town?”

“What for?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. We could just … pretend to be normal for awhile. Forget we’re not just at school.”

She smiled more genuinely. “That’s silly.”

“I could buy you a new gross medical textbook…” he offered.

“We don’t have any money, Ben.” She leaned into his side.

“Hey, I’m a demon. I’m not above picking someone’s pocket.”

She shook her head with an affectionate exasperation. He always tried. “Okay. Let’s. Not pick pockets, but you know, hang out in the library. At least it’ll be warm.”

“And we’ll be together reading about something other than the prophecy.”

“Together is good.”

“Always.”

Coming Soon …

[image error]

Demons Run Lit has a lot going on.

Book II, Before the Dawn, is out to beta readers, and so far the feedback is very encouraging! We’re also putting the finishing touches on Volume II of the Twelve Days of Fic-mas, which will be released the day after Thanksgiving (pre-order details will be forthcoming). Jess is featured in an anthology called Person(s) of Interest and will share the release date when she has it from the publisher.

We’re also very excited to launch some new features this Fall.

We plan to spotlight fellow creatives on the first Friday of every month starting in September. Whether you write, engage in the visual arts, make music, create content for Youtube, we want to hear from you. Contact us if you’re interested in a free feature, and stay tune to check out what members of the global creative community are proud to share.

We’ll also be adding a new page to demonsrunlit.com we’re calling Myths and Monsters will appear right around Halloween. Each month it will feature a new topic with stories, research, images, personal accounts, and wild speculations about the things that go bump in the night. If you have a creature you’d like us to feature, let us know in the comments.

We look forward to sharing these new ideas with you! Let us know what you’d like to see. As Shepherd Book once said, “How you get there is the worthier part.”

Near Life Experience

[image error]

Author’s Note – I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this here. I wrote it a while ago as a little pic prompt microfic in a writers’ group. It popped up in my memories today on Facebook. It’s stirred something up this time around. Something dark. Something that won’t be quiet. I may have to listen to its whispers and see what happens. ~ J

He didn’t even know he was dead. That’s how mundane his life of reporting the horrors and atrocities of the world, of putting them on display for the public, had become. But the souls whose deaths he’d relayed so dispassionately waited. They waited for him to realize that he was just going through the motions. They waited to show him that the horrors he’d become so numb to in the living world were only the beginning.

Bourdain Day

[image error]

Authors’ Note – Anthony Bourdain was a huge source of inspiration for both of us. He was important to Keith as a chef and we both loved his books and shows. His work made me want to start writing again after decades of denying myself that pleasure.

Today would have been Tony’s 63rd birthday.

Chefs Eric Rippert and  José Andrés have declared today Bourdain Day. The story below came out of a writing contest we participated in only a few short weeks after Tony’s death. It was, and is, meant as a tribute. Mark was, of course, based on Tony. I’ll let you guess who Mark’s nemesis is modeled after.

We hope you can hear a little bit of his voice. We hope you like the story.

I  think Tony would have laughed his ass off. ~ J

Like revenge, Vichyssoise is a dish best served cold.

A former celebrity chef finally reaches his breaking point

and serves up a recipe that’s a real killer.

Just Desserts

I wish I knew what the fuck went wrong.

I wish I could remember the perfect joy, the sense of adventure, a taste of some new delicacy could convey when I was taking my first steps toward what would become a culinary career. But publishing Cooks’ Confessional took me off the map of my personal paradise and into some concentric circle of Dante’s Inferno.

I stared at the assignment. The Network had just signed another major deal with some Mega-global Foodzilla. So, the memo on the counter of my very own Purgatory, the test kitchen of Fifteen or Less and none other than Satan herself, Thalia Day, proclaimed the new episode’s theme: Insta Magic with Instadspuds. Just add water, 86 all that’s good and pure. Oh, and while you’re at it, throw in the last shred of my soul.

Meatless Monday Magic. Mock Shepherd’s’ Pie, heavy on the mock.

What fresh hell is this?

A chill warning of the presence of evil ran down my spine.

“Can’t wait to see what you come up with, Markie.”

And there it is.

“Yeah, this’ll be swell,” I bit out through a rigid smile, refraining from reminding her I don’t do nicknames.

Her shark teeth flashed in return. I think she smiled so much around me just to see if I’d say anything. That big fake grin had figured prominently in Confessional. My thinly veiled references to She Who Cannot Be Named peppered the later chapters. She might not have known, but I slipped in a few of her catch phrases, so there was no doubt.

“Oh, one thing …  Our sponsor wants us to use this new spread, so no butter … and let’s shake it up a bit for the live special. Maybe do an appetizer? How about vichyssoise?”

“Are you serious? That’s impossible in under fifteen minutes.”

“How hard can it be? Instant mash, a dash of EVOO, powdered cream base, some dry spices and veg, a can of chicken broth … Throw it in a blender and boom, it’ll be delish.”

A pregnant pause.

I bit my tongue to keep quiet.

Literally.

“Hard to believe you’re a better chef than you were a writer,” Thalia said as she breezed off.

Ouch.

Okay, in Confessional, I maybe said some not very nice things about the inspired paragon of selling out who currently employed me. Doesn’t mean they weren’t true. She hired me when my career tanked so she could appear the bigger person. She never missed an opportunity to needle me in her faux-wholesome, smarmy way.

Fuuuuuuck! I’ve done very little to be proud of since my fall from grace, and especially these last few months. Thalia made it clear from word one; I’m not here for ideas. I’m here to make her, and the corporate jackwagons ruining food for millions and pretending it’s a favor, look good.

I went from the top of my craft to another soulless master of compromise, whoring myself for an admittedly not inconsiderable paycheck. It feels dirty, but in an I-can-pay-my-rent-and-not-drown-in-debt kind of dirty. Like a blowjob in a barroom bathroom stall.

Sure, it’s morally questionable, but there’s something about it that feels oh so right.

God damn her. Instant vichyssoise? One of my fondest early memories of the slow seduction food wrought on my tender young soul and she’s fucked that up, too.

Brother, I’m no saint. Hell, my ex thinks I’m the devil, but even I have limits (bathroom blowjobs notwithstanding), and this … No. Just no.

My rage-wrinkled brain ran through some ideas. The old standbys; hot pepper extract, bittering agents in the base, spite spitting. Not good enough. I needed to make my stand. And I wanted to do it in a manner consistent with my style. She was always telling me what a prick I could be. This time I wanted to prove her right.

Wait.

A shit-eating grin stretched my face. I decided to make her nightmare come true and humiliate her on live TV. I mean, I’d lose my job. And forget about working in my field in a way that didn’t involve a paper hat and a dirty griddle in some backwater truck stop, living under the name Cletus, or maybe Bubba.

Shit, I could do time. Better make it worth the trouble.

“You okay, jefe?” Juan, my sous chef, asked with concern.

I shrugged and shared the news of what Ms. Delish had in store for us.

“Another day in paradise,” he smiled. “Give me ten and we’ll suffer together.” He snagged a smoke out of my pack on his way by.

I rubbed my temples as I pictured her fake smile with her fake perfect teeth.

Oh, no. I couldn’t … I really shouldn’t … I knew I still had some enzyme glue kicking around from my last foray into food photography.

Enzyme glue bonds proteins to porcelain, to keep food stationary for pictures. Adding some to the soup base would bond with her high-end dentures, gluing her mouth shut in front of her adoring mindless masses. On live television.

It took some planning, some sneaking around. Then, on the day of the show, I did the unthinkable. I stood in the wings to watch. I’ve always had a voyeuristic streak. You can ask any prostitute on the Upper East Side. Thalia took it as a sign of me getting with the program and showing some support for a change. I think. She looked pleased as anything. A blood-swollen tick feasting on the flesh of a job I used to love.

I had the decency to cringe as I watched her give birth to the culinary abomination I fertilized in her test kitchen. Hamming for the camera, she picked up the cutesy little shot glass she’d chosen as a serving dish.

Her smile faded as the glue set up. Teeth cemented shut, she panicked. Muffled screams ensued. At some point she puked. And that glue holds on tight. It was all over then.

For the record, I didn’t want her to die.

Well, not like that. Drowning in adhesive potatoes and stomach acid.

I took in the chaos. This was the bathroom blowjob, except the girl is dating the bouncer, a jealous ex-con type, who’s just opened the stall door.

I lit a cigarette and breathed deep.

“No smoking! It’s in the employee handbook!” some pointless production toady chided.

“Buddy, I don’t work here,” I said with actual relief.

I blew smoke in his face as I shouldered past.

“But hey, if you’re ever in East Cousinfuck, West Deliverance County, look me up.”

“Huh?”

“Just ask for Cletus.”

~ End~

It’s a Celebration!

“It was strange being surrounded by the glory of Heaven, knowing you had nothing, but trying to hang onto it anyway.” ~ From Always Darkest

[image error]

It’s a special day for Demons Run Lit.

Always Darkest is having a birthday!

You can visit our social media to enter to win a signed copy, here:

Demons Run Lit on Facebook

Demons Run Lit on Twitter

Demons Run Lit on Instagram

If you want to celebrate with us here, we thought an excerpt from the sequel would be a fun way to do that.

From Before the Dawn (Coming Soon) …

Teddy made his shuffling slippered way down the hall, rubbing his eyes. It wasn’t so much sleep stickiness now; they were beginning to burn. Awful smells started to overpower his mom’s good cooking. One smelled mechanical like when Mal’s catalytic converter went on the fritz a while ago, one smelled kind of like the stink of the grill on the patio the morning after a cookout, and the other was a sickly metallic smell that made Teddy feel as though he’d eaten ten pennies.

He was stopped cold by the tableau he witnessed as he entered the dining room, and fell to his knees retching and weeping, remembering all at once that this couldn’t be real, remembering what had happened, and realizing that it didn’t matter if it wasn’t real, he was really here.

Spread out over the dining room table was his father’s dismembered and smoking corpse. It was arranged carefully on various platters, as though this was some kind of nightmare holiday. In serving bowls tucked neatly in between the plates were dishes with big spoons and ladles containing what could only be blood, brains, and ugh, Teddy didn’t even know, but probably other inside parts. Teddy saw that Kelly’s highchair was empty but there was a split down the middle of its back and a long, curved blade rested in the wood of it, blood pooled in the seat, turning black and sticky as he looked on.

In front of the empty chair was a large platter covered with a silver dome, a gleaming carving knife resting on its edge. Teddy prayed under his breath that no one would open it. Then he thought about what would be there if they did and he immediately threw up all over his mom’s favorite cream-colored carpet. This was all terrible enough, he didn’t want any of that all over him. He struggled to his feet, using the door frame for leverage to compensate for his shaking legs and he leaned against it heavily, pretty sure he was going to pass out any second.

He glanced to the side and out on the terrace, the smoking wreckage of the waterfront as its backdrop, Teddy saw his friends, dangling by their ankles from the balcony of the apartment above like some sort of perverse wind chime. It looked like they were dead, but in the silence of the dining room he could hear whimpering and weeping. One of the voices he could hear was distinctly Mal’s. His knees nearly buckled again.

As he started sliding back down the door frame into the stinking mess he’d made, he saw an even greater horror at the head of the table. His legs froze, and he straightened almost against his will. At the head of the table sat the monster from Petra’s, the monster from his dreams.

The Handsome Man, for that was how Teddy thought of him in the long hours he spent thinking of him every day, was sitting in Teddy’s father’s chair comfortably, his beautiful monstrous face split into a wicked grin, a newspaper he was clearly not reading held up in front of him as a prop for the scene he had created.

Behind the Handsome Man stood Teddy’s mom, his no-nonsense heart surgeon mom, dressed like someone out of a 1950’s TV show and looking down at The Handsome Man with blank affection while calmly rubbing his shoulders. Teddy tried not to let it happen, but he bent over at the waist, throwing up again, more violently this time. His stomach muscles were starting to feel a little sprung already. Maybe they’d just let him stand here and throw up until he was so dehydrated that he’d die. That sounded pretty good.

The Handsome Man folded the paper and put it down on the table next to Teddy’s father’s head and looked at him reproachfully. “Come now, Theodore, is that anyway to greet your new daddy?” …

Child of the Air

[image error]

Author’s Note – Today’s flash fiction challenge was to write about an extinct flower that somehow blooms for the first time in a hundred years. Of course I couldn’t help putting an apocalyptic spin on a little floral fiasco. ~ J

 

It seemed like such a good idea; you know?

Just grow this seed into something people could connect with?

The rest of our work is so distant and impersonal to most of the world. Go dig around where the permafrost is thawed, tell everyone about what climate change is revealing, what it’s doing to us and our world.

Noble, important work, right?

Yeah, well, most people don’t give a shit. And I want them to. I want people to care.

The whole team was intrigued by my discovery. I’ve always loved orchids and here was the seed to a species that no one alive has ever seen flower. Aerides glacies orchidaceae, a flower so long extinct that we don’t even have any photographs.  Not just the seed either. But spores from the fungus it would need to penetrate its route systems and nourish it.

I just thought, if I could grow this flower, take my work out of the lab … Maybe people would care about it, care about the other things we’re finding, too.

I guess it worked.

Everyone knows about my ice orchid; a flower no one had seen or smelled in a hundred years.

Unfortunately, it’s killing them.

And I don’t know how to stop it.

 

Opening Gambit

[image error]

Author’s Note – The challenge in my writing group today was “An encounter with a deity.” That’s so close to what we write for the series, it seemed like an ideal opportunity to give readers a little preview of Before the Dawn, Book II in The Arbitratus. We are very close to finishing and I’m excited for you to get a sneak peek. This is Chapter 2. It hasn’t been through an editor yet, so apologies if there’s anything untidy about it.

For those who don’t know, it fits into the challenge because Ba’al is an ancient Canaanite deity or one of the seven princes of Hell in traditional mythology, depending on who you ask. In our world he’s an Old god, Lucifer’s second in command, and Hell’s Chief inquisitor. He’s also not a fan of our Ben.

If you don’t want spoilers for the end of Always Darkest, this is not the post for you. If you’ve been dying to know what comes next, then read on. ~ J

~~~~~

Lucifer’s anger weakened the spells that created this space and the room grew uncomfortably warm. Ba’al met his eyes boldly, while Castor and his attendants tried to find places to look other than his burning gaze. “Failure again!” Lucifer said from between clenched teeth. “Scores of Fallen. Lahash and Lilith slain!”

A deep sadness tempered his anger. Lilith and he had a history. She had been the first to answer his call after the war. And Lahash, well, she had been a special favorite of his, and she had come so close to securing the girl. Castor made the grievous error of interjecting. “I lost hundreds of demons. Not to mention the countless I lost to that old magic, so you could have a handful that can see through wards …” his voice trailed off with the hiss of Lucifer’s blade separating his head from his body in one smooth motion.

“As though demons matter.”

His expression dismissed the king’s people and they scurried from the room.

Ba’al cleared his throat. “My Lord, the survivors have arrived.”

His voice revealed an anticipatory relish. Ronoven had always gotten under his skin; he was so sure of himself, and whenever he opened his mouth seemed able to convince a fire it didn’t burn. Ba’al would like to see him talk his way out of this situation. The only way any of Hell’s people could have survived was simple cowardice, or more likely, betrayal.

Lucifer glared at him, as the Agent Aife and Lord Ronoven, looking composed and dressed for a formal audience, were escorted into the room. Lucifer’s voice rumbled from deep in his chest, dripping menace. “You have failed me and …”

“Disagree,” Ben interrupted pleasantly, waving a dismissive hand, as he strolled over to a side table. “May I?”

He casually poured himself a glass of wine without waiting for an answer. He moved with deliberate unhurried calm to the table in the center of the room, sat down, and put his feet up on the nearest chair.

“Bit of a rough day. I’m sure you don’t mind.”

Aife stood looking anywhere but at the other beings in the room. Lucifer’s eyes flashed burgundy fire, and Ba’al moved off to a safe distance. Lucifer closed the distance between them without seeming to move, his blade drawn. He spoke with icy composure that could not conceal the rage in his eyes. “Explain yourself.”

Ben looked up at him steadily, took a sip of his wine. “I told you where to be looking more than two years ago.”

His tone was not quite a challenge, but only just.

“I’ve been doing my job since the beginning, and I accomplished it per your instructions.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

“I risked my immortal being to test dangerous old magic to overcome the protections on the half-breed. I found her, confirmed her identity, and was following the procedure you expect of demons. I had just reached our Agent to summon Lahash. I certainly didn’t anticipate a bunch of angels showing up.” He let his eyes flash just a bit. “Like a freaking Arch. I’ve never seen anything like what Metatron … And her Guardian came calling, wielding a sword and tossing around holy fire like paper airplanes … And then Uriel showed up.”

He paused and took another longer drink.

“That gal knows her smiting.”

Lucifer placed his blade against Ben’s neck and asked in a low voice, “Then how is it you survived?”

Ben didn’t flinch, didn’t even move his eyes away from Lucifer’s face, but it took all his will. He still felt heavy with his flesh. In fact, when he’d dressed for his audience with Lucifer, that bothersome scar was on his chest underneath the sun tattoo, as though he were still in his human form.

Worse, the scar on his palm from consecrating the dark blades was highly visible, looking almost fresh again. He was holding the glass of wine more to conceal it than because he wanted to force any liquid past the tightness in his throat. Perhaps as the result of the old magic or perhaps because he’d been back in a body longer than he’d spent in it when he was alive, he didn’t feel like he expected. But he was determined.

“Lahash revealed that we weren’t to murder the girl; that you believe the prophecy is real, that you wanted her brought before you. When it was clear that the operation wasn’t going as planned, the Agent and I attempted to complete the mission. We managed to grab her and then … I’m not certain what happened.”

The pressure of the blade on his neck increased fractionally, tilting his chin up slightly.

“We touched her and there was a flash, a burning like fire, and we were back in Hell. Of course, we collected ourselves to report to you immediately.”

“I see,” Lucifer said tightly, but he lowered his blade to rest on Ben’s shoulder.

“It must have been the wards, My Lord,” Ba’al interjected.

“Perhaps.” Lucifer was not convinced. “But what of your kind’s magic now supposedly part of our friend here?”

Ba’al strode over to the table and grabbed Ben’s exposed wrist. The mark burned mercilessly, and his jaw tightened almost against his will, but he gazed at Ba’al, unblinking. What he wouldn’t like to do to this washed up god after the things he said to Mal when he’d possessed their friend, the things he had done to Teddy for that matter. Mentally, Ben recoiled from this creature, but his face remained almost expressionless.

“The mark is there, Lord Lucifer. There must be another explanation.” He enjoyed the momentary discomfort that had crossed the demon’s face; impressed at Ronoven’s self-control, and wondering, not for the first time, what it might take to finally break it. He had never seen even a crack in his steely resistance and was curious. Fascinated was perhaps a better word.

Out of nowhere Aife interjected, “Begging your pardon, my Lords,” Lucifer and Ba’al turned as she dipped into a low bow, “There was other magic involved. As you know, I also bear the mark, and a strong repellent force made it difficult to even approach the girl.”

Sensing that Aife’s contribution was at least a chance for some fast talking, and impressed at how convincingly she lied, Ben jumped in, “My Lord, the city was half destroyed. No one else from Hell survived. I have no doubt that, if not for whatever magic was protecting the girl that thrust us through the veil, we would have perished as well. That cannot be part of their plan, my Lord. Had we not been cast back, you would not have this new opportunity.”

Lucifer lowered his sword, considered Ronoven for a moment, and re-sheathed the blade. “Opportunity?”

“Word around Hell is the girl survived whatever happened after we got thrown out of the party, and I know what she looks like, as well as her companions. I believe I could track her.” He glanced at Aife and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“As do I, my Lord,” Aife added, bowing deeply again.

Lucifer smiled, went and poured himself a glass of wine, and joined Ronoven at the table. “It is no wonder you have been favored by several Kings of Hell. Perhaps you will please the next one as well if you serve me in this matter.” Ben glanced over at Castor’s smoldering body, wondering briefly where his head had gotten to, and gave an appreciative dip of his head. “You will go and hunt this girl. You may take the Agent as your second.”

He paused significantly.

“But know this: Failure will not be tolerated.”

Ben raised and drained his glass, placed it on the table, and rose. He inclined his head to the seated Lucifer by way of a bow. “We will prepare to depart immediately.”

He turned and walked toward the exit with purposeful measured strides, ignoring Ba’al and concealing a smile when he saw that the god felt his slight. He didn’t think Aife was going to be able to move but when he got near her she bowed again and followed Ben silently out the door.

When it closed behind them, Ba’al joined Lucifer, sitting almost primly, hands folded on the table top. “You trust that smooth talking slippery little demon, do you?”

“I’m not a fool.” He sighed. “He knows who destroyed the city. If he’d been that close, he should be dead, the final death since Uriel was involved. I never had cause to doubt the Agent before now, and Ronoven is not one I would have guessed to play dice with his own skin, but I’m sure you noticed there wasn’t so much as a scrape on either of them, and given the nature of the battle and the presence of a Guardian and more than one Archangel, I can’t believe that’s possible. Wounds inflicted by angelic weapons travel with a body between realms, down to the base matter of our existence, not unlike the mark of the shielding spell. Someone powerful helped them. And it wasn’t one of us. I can’t imagine what he’s up to and I mean to find out.” Lucifer shrugged with an appreciative smile, “I must admit though, I admire his style.”

“What are your plans then?”

“Summon Abaddon, Belial, and Samael.”

Ba’al gave a derisive snort. “Honestly, Lucifer, the bold play didn’t work out particularly well the only two times you’ve tried it. What makes you think it has a chance now when all are alerted to your desire? Besides, whether intentionally or unintentionally, Ronoven seems to keep evading your efforts to keep proper track of him. And even if the only thing he’s lying about is hiding instead of fighting during that battle, he’s not terribly likely to find the girl in a land that large. Today’s events are sure to have sent her back on the run. Without Lahash your options are extremely limited. While I welcome you to try, even to trust that Ronoven will be trying for you, I’d prefer you also looked at some fresh ideas that have some chance of success.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed, and he was about to let loose a diatribe about Ba’al’s subordinate position when Ba’al continued, “Please.” He was dismissive. “We both have too much to lose. Taking her isn’t enough. She is a woman now. You will have to win her cooperation. I offer you a true opportunity to do so, if only through building fear and then offering escape.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Her little friend. I’ve still got a thread of connection. He thinks obsessively of our time together. I’d be happy to try to work in the background; see if I can break through.”

“And if he’s nowhere near her?”

“How would he have survived if he weren’t rescued with the girl? The devastation there is total.”

Lucifer nodded, seeing the possibilities. “What do you want in return?”

“Only things you already hold in no regard, old friend.” He smiled coldly.

~~~~~

Down the hall, Ben and Aife proceeded to his home, with Ben greeting and accepting congratulations on a battle well fought and accolades that he survived the day from various demons they passed. He saw no reason not to confirm those rumors and thought it might shore up his story with Lucifer if everyone talked about it. Aife walked beside him, face as still as stone. When they were what she deemed a safe distance away and found themselves alone, she grabbed his arm.

“Were you trying to get us killed?”

She tried to drag him to a stop, but he continued, determined to be done with this as quickly as possible, pulling her along.

“He likes that; has a weakness for it. It made him question killing us on sight … or turning us over to the interrogation squad.” He paused. “There was a time when that wouldn’t have worried me, but now that Ba’al has taken over they’re much more creative and determined. I know from experience …” He felt Aife tense beside him, so he pressed on, his voice purposely more casual. “I’ve at least bought us a moment to breathe. But we need to leave as soon as possible.” Ben shrugged. “Fortune favors the bold.”

He stopped and looked at her steadily.

“Let go. Please.”

When she did, Ben kept walking. She paused for a moment and then ran a few steps to catch up. “But you can’t possibly trust him!”

“Of course not. He’s not foolish enough to have bought the story about wards that magic from the old gods’ bag of tricks can’t deal with.”

“All you’ve done is delay the inevitable, Lord Ronoven.” It had been so long since she’d addressed him in that way, Ben stopped again and turned to face her fully.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He spoke with a grim shake of his head. “No matter how I play this out in my head, it doesn’t end well, and I already gave up any chance at …” He trailed off. The way Chris looked at him sometimes when he didn’t think Ben noticed made his stomach flip. He couldn’t tolerate Aife looking at him like that, too. Some things were best left forgotten.

She frowned but didn’t say anything. Whatever was going on inside his head to make him look so lost … She didn’t think she wanted to know.

“I’ll understand if you go right back and spill everything. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. You have a choice.” His eyes searched hers, very serious.

She put her hand on his arm, almost smiling, and shook her head. “I don’t believe I do.” She was sure that he hadn’t meant her to see the relief that passed over his face, so she stepped away from him and said in a businesslike manner, “What are we going to do now?”

Ben started walking again. “We’re going back to Earth to find Mal and help her, whatever that means. We’ll find a way to stay there as soon as we can.”

“Let’s just get out of here before Lucifer changes his mind!”

“I’d like to check on my souls, if you don’t mind.” Ben shrugged, “Besides, I know what I’m doing. If we take off in a rush it will only bring them down on us. We need to do what demons do when they’re ordered out on a mission. We can use the time they think we’re preparing and see my servant Gareth. If Ciara found her way here after that angelic nuke he can get her clear of the worst of it.”

Aife gasped, having not even spared Ciara a thought since before the Battle. Then she admitted in a rush, “I tore up her contract and freed her before I left to meet Chris. I don’t know what made me do it. Seems suicidal in retrospect.”

Ben chuckled from deep in his throat, shaking his head. She was as rash and impulsive as he was sometimes. Small wonder they were friends. Then he was serious, “Still, you never know which direction they’ll travel, do you? And there are other things we might need.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve got some rare books and spell ingredients.”

“Why would we want to go to all that trouble? The spell is ridiculously complicated.”

Ben opened the door to his apartments with an exasperated sigh. “Well, I can’t exactly call you anymore, can I?”

She followed him in, the reality of their situation beginning to sink in. “What about the other offices? We can just …”

Ben cut her off, “He knows; you know he does. Letting us go is some kind of ruse. He’ll be trying to track us as soon as he can, and someone’s bound to notice what you did with that contract sooner or later.” She tried to interrupt but he continued, “We’re burned.”

Her eyes were wide as she watched Ben see to his souls, pack the things he mentioned, and say goodbye. The reality of seeing him set his affairs in order, ensuring things could work without him, that the right mechanisms were in place to shelter his people, to keep souls continually being added to his retinue and thus protected, brought home to Aife more than anything else that Ben knew if he came back it would not be to a position of privilege. She knew he meant it when he said he would understand her deciding to give him up.

“Ben.”

He looked up from the trunk he was sifting through, surprised to hear what he thought of as his proper name spoken in this place.

“What can I carry, love?”

Pool Shark

[image error]

 

There’s something in the water.

The thought came with such easy certainty, Roz almost laughed.

When she was small she wouldn’t even go in the pool because Sean had told her the pool sharks would eat her. Home from college on summer break, he’d given her shit about it at the breakfast table this morning. She’d chucked a syrup covered Eggo at his head and gone up to her room in a huff. She’d brooded about how to shut him up about it for hours.

The sounds of Rob’s noisy old pickup pulling in next door. She hadn’t seen him since the start of summer break. He’d been off doing some junior counselor soccer camp thing. Before exams started he’d never even noticed her as anything other than the awkward neighbor kid before … But they’d been partnered up in the Chem final and it apparently occurred to him that she was a lot less awkward, and maybe a lot more graced with cleavage, than she had been.

It was hot and Rob and his brother would almost definitely go swimming. Roz’s pool was easily visible from the Danforth’s deck.

She decided she’d kill two birds with one stone and go for a swim. Casually hitting the pool alone ought to shut Sean up. And … it couldn’t hurt neighborly relations any for Rob to see her in the ruffled fuchsia bikini she could finally fill out.

She got changed, grabbed one of the big fluffy towels from the linen closet, and headed out onto their deck. Sean has raised his eyebrows at her announcement that she was going to catch some sun and go for a swim, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he didn’t believe his baby sister’s stated intentions. He was probably just waiting to give her more crap when she didn’t go through with it.

She glanced around. No sign of Rob yet. But she could hear talking and laughing through the screens next door. She cranked up her radio so the boys next door couldn’t miss that she was outside and stood on the edge of the deck looking into the cool blue water.

It was perfectly tranquil and had the inviting Caribbean color that had always sort of fascinated her.

Throwing caution to the wind, and trying not to over-think how edgy the idea of swimming alone made her, she took a running start and splashed noisily into the water.

At first how chilly it felt compared to the warm air set her gasping and sputtering. But she quickly adjusted to the temperature and after swimming a few laps, she started to actually enjoy herself. She was having such a nice time, in fact, she got one of the pool floats off the deck. She tossed it into the water then followed it with another loud and splashy jump in.

She stood on her tiptoes in the shallow end, trying to glean any sign that Rob might be on his way outside. The quiet yard from across the fence yielded no encouraging information, so she stretched out on the float and closed her eyes. The baking sun had her sweating in minutes. She wasn’t ready to get all the way back in yet, so she let her legs hang off the float and trailed her hands through the water.

That’s better.

She had almost dozed off in the sun when the thought jolted her back to wakefulness.

There’s something in the water.

A warning from somewhere outside herself, sending a shiver over her whole body, raising goosebumps on her arms and legs.

Don’t start being ridiculous Rosalind Kelly, she chided herself. No way was she going to let a reemerging case of toddler brain send her running inside so Sean could pick on her and she could miss seeing, and being seen by Rob.

She talked herself down and pretty successfully. She started to relax again.

The tug on her ankle was so sharp, so sudden, for a second she didn’t even process it. Before she envelope opened her eyes she was ready with Sean’s most embarrassing childhood nickname and a plan to dead arm him maybe on both sides.

But he wasn’t there.

The back yard and pool was empty except for her and her blaring radio.

Another tug.

This one hurt.

She was about to call for help, but she was pulled under too quickly.

She screamed, but no one heard her over the radio. And it was over quickly in the time that existed above the surface of the water.

 

Underneath, the end went on forever.

 

 

When Rob Evans headed outside a while later it was wearing his nicest swim trunks. He wasn’t above trying to impress the neighbor either. He strode out onto the deck, cocky smile firmly in place. He looked over toward the Kelly’s pool.

 

This time everyone in the neighborhood heard the screams.