A Girl's Guide to Demon Hunting (2 page)

Chapter 2

"Everything can be forgiven if there's a double fudge chocolate shake involved."
                                                                                                             
-Allie

    Pancake and I ditched the car in front of a chop shop a few blocks from home, my mind was at ease knowing all evidence of the owner would be stripped by dawn. Ten minutes later I rounded a corner and came to a sudden stop and a mixture of anger and fear swirled in me. Idling in front of my apartment building was a long shiny black limousine. Most girls would have visions of prince charming waiting for them in the back of the limo with roses and Champagne all specially selected for her.
    Sadly I’m not most girls. All that’s waiting for me in the back of the limo is a Demon Lord. I didn’t bother trying to act like I didn’t see it; I learned a long time ago if the Queen wanted to talk to me, she’d find me, despite what I wanted. I picked up Pancake and walked to the limo, wanting to get this over with.
    Once inside I sat back in the soft leather seat with Pancake on my lap and waited for the most powerful Demon Lord in Las Vegas to acknowledge me. Peaches (and yes that’s her real name) was a very powerful, very brutal, Envy Demon. She’d came into power a few years before my mom and I came to Vegas. Evidently she had taken out the competition in such a heinous fashion even the other Demon Lords fear her. Which is why she is currently the de-facto Queen of Las Vegas.
    I ignored her while she sat reading her gossip magazine. She wanted to give me time to admire the long red hair that fell over her right shoulder in perfect loose curls, the light pink silk dress that set off her emerald green eyes and flawless pale skin. She was trying to inspire envy and had I not known what she was capable of it would probably work but when I look at her I see the monster she really is; no amount of beauty can hide her darkness.
    “It amazes me; humans make inciting envy and hate into a multibillion dollar business and it’s us Demons who get a bad rap.”
    Tossing the magazine to the floor of the limo she stared out the dark window and pouted.
I didn’t bother commenting, I’d heard this same complaint at least a dozen times. Even years later, Peaches was still angry that humans thought of creating gossip magazines.
    “You look like hell.” She said when she finally glanced at me.
    My stomach turned as I felt her power swirl around me in the tight confines of the limo, causing the air to feel thick. My skin burned where her power brushed against mine and I fought against the urge to flinch. I sat unmoving in the seat, a death grip on Pancake’s collar while she used her power in an attempt to intimidate me. Unwilling to let her see my fear, I watched her. The change as she felt my power was almost imperceptible; a slight flaring of her nostrils, pupils dilated as a faint look of wanting passed over her beautiful face.
    My power was irresistible to Demons, which was both good and bad. The weaker Demons usually couldn’t control their reactions to it, leaving them vulnerable to an attack. For the stronger ones like Peaches, it was a craving but one she could control. Under normal circumstances she would have just taken it long ago and in the process killed me. 
    Lucky for me she didn’t become the Queen of Vegas without recognizing a good opportunity, namely me. I had no illusions as to what she wanted from me. I was nothing more than an opportunity for the Demon Lords to keep control of their subjects without dirtying their hands.
    Peaches finally gained control of herself and the oppressive weight of her power lifted from around me. In response I felt my power settle as much as it would in her presence.
“There’s a new Demon in town and I want her dead.”
Beautiful, evil and blunt; at least I never had to guess what she really meant.
    “I haven’t heard of anyone new, what’d she do?” I asked.
    “Camilla is not known for her discretion when it comes to killing humans. I don’t want to have to deal with the same kind of bloody messes she’s left behind in other cities.”
     A shudder ran though me at her words. I’ve been here so long in the strange bubble of Vegas I sometimes forget there are Demons in other parts of the world that aren’t as civilized. The Demons here don’t kill humans and well, if they do, I take care of them. Killing a human would draw the attention of The Guardians, something the Demon Lords avoided at all cost. Since Las Vegas was first built, Demons have controlled it and they would do just about anything to keep control, including working with me-a Guardian.
    “What do you have on her?” I asked.
    In answer she handed me a manila envelope. I didn’t bother opening it, just slipped it in the dead Demon’s purse.
    “And Allie, I expect this to be completed by the Winter Art Gala.” With a fast move, she picked up her magazine from the floor. Opening the magazine, it was a crystal clear dismissal.
    “Understood.” I said and climbed out of the limo.

Chapter 3

Tip 506: When your two options are run or fight, it depends on the shoes.

    I stood on the curb as the limo’s taillights turned the corner, heading back towards The Strip. Holding tightly to Pancake I went inside my building and straight to my apartment. I’d wait to get the mail another day. Slamming the deadbolt, I latched the chain and leaned against the door.        
    I let go of Pancake and too tired to move I sank to the floor. I hated meeting with Peaches. I hated having to pretend I wasn’t afraid of her. Even more I hated knowing I was nothing more than a puppet and she the puppet master. This agreement of ours wouldn’t last forever, one of these days she was going to cut my strings and I would be alone, really alone.
    Unlike a “normal” Guardian I had nothing to lose. No family, no real oversight from the Guardian Council or King. I’m able to move freely through Vegas and take care of “issues” without the other Demons knowing it was often directed by a Demon Lord. After all, even Demons are against genocide. Which is why one night after a rather nasty ass kicking, I dragged myself home and found Peaches waiting for me.
    It was that night she proposed a deal between the Demon Lords and me, one that would benefit everyone. They would call off the attacks and I could still do my duty as a Guardian. Besides the targets I find, I would also get the occasional target from the Lords.
    The terms of the contract are simple: I can’t say no to any job nor can I harm a Demon Lord. In turn no job will involve a human and my friends and I are safe from sanctioned attacks. Like anything there were consequences should I break the contract but I try not to dwell on that part. Besides what was I going to do; say no? Peaches isn’t the only one who can spot a good opportunity.
    When you’re a teenaged Guardian with no family, no support other than a handful of humans and you’ve been getting your ass handed to you day after day, there comes a time when you decide to bend the rules a little bit. Although I didn’t so much bend them as I broke them into little pieces, lit them on fire and then flushed the ashes.
 
    Not wanting to sit and examine the mess that was my life, I did what I always do. I pushed myself up and looked for something comforting and preferably microwavable.
  
    While I waited for my Mac-n-cheese to cool, I fed Pancake and cleaned up my left over dishes from this morning. My dinner now edible, I carried it through my non-existent living room and into my bedroom.
   Plopping down on my bed I leaned against the wall and ate. This was where I spent most of my time. The apartment was only 500 square feet and most of that was in this room. My mattress laid on the wood floor, pushed into the corner of the room. The lamp I always left on sat on a little plastic stool next to the bed. A stack of library books waited by the door for me to return. I had a few things in the closet and bathroom but not a lot. It wasn’t much but it was mine.
     Having finished dinner, I took my bowl back into the kitchen. I rechecked the locks on the door and windows and went back to my bedroom. Throwing my dirty clothes in the hamper, I stepped into the shower. Clean and smelling like jasmine, which is a big improvement over sulfur, I climbed from the shower. As I toweled off I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Wow! Peaches wasn’t kidding when she said I looked like crap.
    My grey eyes had purple shadows under them and my skin was paler than usual, causing the collection of cuts and bruises to look even worse. The ribs on my left side still tender and looked nasty, the bruises a greenish-yellow. Brushing my long dark purple hair to the side, I felt for the still tender bruise on the back of my head. It was now the size of a golf ball; not bad considering I had my head slammed into the concrete until I saw stars. That was the last time I decide to take on a nest of Wrath Demons without a little backup.
    I found my bottle of sleep aide in the medicine cabinet and took two. I needed to get some sleep or these wounds would take even longer to heal. If I lived near other Guardians I would have the access to the special medical care my kind needed. Very little of the stuff a human doctor could give me would actually work which, considering what I did for a living, really sucked.
    While I waited for my hair to dry, I sat on my bed and sorted through the Demon’s purse. I made a pile of all the items I would burn later: credit cards, driver’s license, library card. She had forty-eight dollars and some change, which I hid under the loose floorboard next to my bed. I set the envelope Peaches gave me aside, it could wait until tomorrow.
   
Goosebumps raised on my skin as the faint sound of the ticking clock floated on the air. I looked down the dark hallway before me, counting twelve identical doors; six on each side of the hall. Turning to my right I faced the first door. It was tattered, white paint chipped in places, revealing the ashy wood beneath. I reached out and grasped the brass knob and turned. Locked.
 
    
I crossed the hall to the next door, trying to block out the tic-tock of the clock and once again turned the knob; again it was locked. This was going to be a long night.
     It wasn’t until I came to the last door that the knob finally turned. I found myself standing at the top of a grassy hill. The tick-tock of the clock louder now, urging me through the doorway.
    The sky was a light purple and a soft breeze made the emerald green grass dance. I walked out into the grass, to where a brilliant white stone angel stood.
 
Almost six feet in height, it looked to be pure white marble. Standing on my tiptoes, I reached up and ran my hands across her beautiful face. I’ve been here so many times and it never changed, she never changed.  It should have been peaceful but I could feel it; something was wrong…
    I opened my eyes to the soft glow of the light coming from my bedside lamp. I found Pancake curled in a ball next to me, softly snoring. I reached across her and groped for the dream journal I kept on the floor next to the bed and placed another tick mark under the heading “Stone Angel.” Tonight’s dream made it a total of thirty-two. I didn’t bother to look at any of the other pages. They would be the same, the title of a dream and tick marks.
    I’d been having the same series of dreams since the accident. Each different but the same. They always started with the hallway, the twelve doors and the ticking clock. The last door would always open and the ticking of the clock was always there, following me through the door.  More of the fun that is me.
    I closed the journal and put it on the other side of the bed, careful not to wake Pancake.  It’s best if your mixed-breed Hell Hound gets her sleep. Cranky can be bad. Turning to my side I pulled Pancake into my arms and her warmth settled against me I closed my eyes. Maybe this time I wouldn’t dream.
   Please?

Chapter 4

"Even I fear Chuck Norris."

                            
  -Peaches

    Early the next morning I stepped out onto the sidewalk and realized winter was fully here; no more jumping from hot to cold, making everyone sick. Pancake and I were dressed for the weather...for once; me in my purple hoodie layered under my black leather jacket, jeans, wool socks and black boots. Pancake had on her little red winter coat and matching red studded collar. She gets cold and generally I’m not concerned people will make fun; at least she’d be cute if she ripped a Demon’s face off.
    I took the long way this morning, not wanting to deal with being propositioned for either sex or drugs. Late-night meetings with the Demon Queen notwithstanding, a girl’s gotta have standards.
    Around me were boarded up windows, scattered litter and other evidence of collective neglect; the air was heavy with the sour stench of stale alcohol and something I didn’t want to think about. This was an area of Vegas the tourism people wanted you to believe didn’t exist.
 
 
    Most everyone here had fallen on hard times, which announced itself in the peeling paint of the houses, the yards consisting of nothing but bare dirt and a few brave few weeds, struggling to survive. None of the glitz and glamour that defines Las Vegas could be found here. But much like The Strip, what happens here stays here.
    The little broken-down community center sat among the neighborhood like one of the weeds in the dirt; bravely trying for life in a dying area. The smell of coffee greeted us as I walked in out of the cold. I could always count on Father H to bring coffee and donuts to group. I’ll be honest; getting together and talking about my feelings really isn’t my thing. Free food though, that was totally my thing.
    Stopping in the dark entryway, I picked Pancake up and tucked her into my side; I didn’t want to chance it; there might be new hunters attending who might go after her. The main room was a multi-purpose room; theater props were piled in a corner, one whole wall was taken up by old voting booths, their light blue curtains drawn closed. In the middle of the room sat a circle of chairs; their prior occupants were at the moment crowded around the long table in back, which was laden with donuts, fruit and coffee.
    I knew most of the people standing in line, paper plates held tightly in their hands. Doctors, teachers and housewives stood next to men and women whose feet were wrapped in newspaper, everything they owned either on them or stashed in the shopping carts that lined the far side of the room. They intermingled easily; their differences didn’t matter, not here. They had more in common than those outside, the normal people blithely living in the firm belief that there were no monsters under the bed.
    Bouncing on my tiptoes (sometimes I really hate being so short), I looked though the crowd for flashes of brown leather or plaid. Seeing neither, I made a second sweep of the room. Knowing Ace and Shooter, they were probably doing something unspeakably stupid and sort of brave. You’d have to know them.
    I finally picked up a clue beneath the curtains of the dilapidated voting booths. A pair of shiny black penny loafers were in one booth and in the next booth I saw a pair of black motorcycle boots and jammed right next was a pair of battered tan hiking boots. I had to grin. Really?? Those two were going to confession? Didn’t they know you actually had to be sorry for what you did for it to work? Father H should totally be sainted for having to sit through Ace and Shooter listing their sins. Hell, they probably had to end it with “to be continued.”
    Father Henry, the resident priest at St. Mary’s Catholic School, was technically my legal Guardian. He’s been working in Vegas as a sentry for the Guardian Council for years. His family, like many humans, have been a part of the Guardian world for generations. The secrets of our world could be difficult to control so oftentimes we relied on humans for help.
   In Father H’s case, he mentored me and reported Demon activities back to the Guardian Council. What they did with the information I had no idea; I always figured they advise the King but that was just a guess. I’m not exactly on their newsletter mailing list. Too bad, I hear the crossword’s awesome.
    I frequently wonder if my parents chose him to be my Godfather before or after we found out about my little problem. Either way, when it came to both official Guardian things and everyday human things he was who I answered to.
    Happily for both of us, he doesn’t actually parent or even worse, lecture. Not that he wasn’t up for a good lecturing when I’d done something he didn’t approve of. Right after the accident he tried to do the parent thing; he was a tad surprised to find I don’t respond to authority well. We lasted a month together before I found my own place, which suited us both just fine. Turns out I do respond pretty well to respect and that’s something he’s always given me, even when I was too dumb or stubborn to know it at the time.
    I snagged a seat and sat Pancake in my lap as she munched on a cake donut while sneaking coffee from my cup. I’m not one for donuts so I stuck to fruit, biting into a big red apple. I watched as the seats were filled. I didn’t bother saving seats for Ace and Shooter; the ones on either side of me would remain open. I tend to make people a little uncomfortable, especially here where they’ve had a run-in with the Demon side of Vegas.
    Ace and Shooter though; they were different. Whatever it was about them that made it so they could stand being around me, I was happy for it. Friends were hard to find in Vegas and even harder to find were friends willing to fight Demons. Luckily for me Ace and Shooter were both, which was why Father Henry and I didn’t hesitate in inviting them to join our little Demon fighting duo.  
   Although at that point I’d been doing all the fighting; Father H was more into handing out the moral support and advice. The four of us, along with Jenny, have been together going on two years.
    Shooter was first to claim a seat, his blonde hair hanging in his eyes as he dug a cookie from the pocket of his flannel coat and gave it to Pancake. Ace wasn’t far behind, sitting on my other side. His brown hair was brushed away from his face, revealing a nasty looking scratch along his jaw.
Crap, I hate it when they fight without me.
    “What happened?” I asked with a look at his cut.
He scratched Pancake behind the ears, avoiding my eyes when he said, “Nothing, we happened to stumble onto a nest last night. No big deal.”
    My eyes closed in frustration as I thought of him and Shooter alone in a nest. One Demon was bad enough but a group of them, confined and usually starving, was a recipe for disaster.
    “You can’t keep taking risks like that, at least not without me,” I said, “it's too dangerous.”
    “Ah, come on Wonderkid. Relax; it’s not like we went in blind. Besides, we stopped by your place but you were out.”
     I had a flash of worry as I thought of them seeing me with Peaches, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. No way would Ace and Shooter even be here if they saw me with Peaches. Father Henry of course knew about my deal but no one else. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. There was no grey area when it came to their feelings about Demons. Ace and Shooter had a saying; the only good Demon was a dead Demon. Of course, they also had sayings like “I bet I can do this without catching on fire.”
    “Just promise me you’re careful,” I said, dropping the lecture for now.
    “Always.” He said with a smile, bumping my shoulder with his.
    Yeah. Ace didn’t do careful and as went Ace, so went Shooter. Father H looked tired as he sat down in the last empty seat; his blonde hair was going grey at the temples, face tan from a summer and fall spent doing volunteer work. He was dressed in the standard priest garb: black shirt and pants and the white collar thingie. When the room quieted we settled back to listen to people bitch about their problems.
    “-and that was when I knew it wasn’t me. I mean, how could I have just gambled away my home?” The thirty-something man with over-spiked red hair said, his voice full of regret.
  
    One of the regulars, Betty, still dressed in her bright green house coat and pink slippers, leaned towards him, offering a comforting pat on the shoulder.
    Hearing an almost imperceptible snicker beside me, I shot Ace a smile and rolled my eyes. Yeah, we’d heard this one before (like a million times maybe); family moves to Las Vegas and shockingly one of them gambles away their life savings. Somewhere in the bucket of lies he just told, there was probably one drop of truth, at some point he had likely encountered a Greed Demon who encouraged him to keep gambling.
    Greed Demons were very specific, same as Sloth Demons, they tended to just feed off your emotions, not your body. Not that this wouldn’t kill you, it was just slower and more brutal. If the worst thing that happened to this guy was he lost his house, he should count himself lucky and shut the hell up, I thought with a sigh.
    “Allie, would you like to share your story?” Father H asked, all innocently.
   He didn’t much like it when Ace and I dismissed someone’s suffering.
    “No.” I said, giving him a look which he countered with what I called the “parent glare.”
    Ignoring it, I settled back in my seat and listened for indicators of any new Demon attacks among the usual gripes and excuses.
    Afterward, Ace, Shooter and I stayed to help clean up and see if Father H had any targets for us. It was surprising what people told priests, even outside of confessional.
    “Any kills lately?” Ace asked, once everyone was gone and the room clean.
    “Sloth Demon at the DMV last night. What about the nest?”
    “Greeds at a motel a couple miles out of town.”
 
he said.
    “Anything I should know about?”
    “Not unless you like corpses. It was easy, they were all pretty young. You know how it goes; once we killed a few, they just started going after each other, making our job so much easier. Man I love greed. We did get to try the new crossbow.”
    “The one from Philip? Any good?” I asked, jealous I hadn’t been able to test it out yet.
    “A little shaky to aim but otherwise smooth. It pins them down just like he promised.”
    Philip was the local arms dealer in town. He had a legitimate business as the owner of a gun range but he also dealt in slightly more obscure wares for people like us. Not a bad guy, if you could look past his unwavering belief that he was a Vampire. Demons, real. Vampires, not so much.
    “What’s taking Father Henry so long?” Shooter asked from across the room, where he was carefully feeding Pancake leftover donuts.
    “He’s probably having to pour holy water in his ears. What the hell do you guys confess?” I asked, instantly realizing I didn’t want to know.
    Father H saved me, rushing back into the room, his face pale.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked. Not liking the panic I saw on his face I instinctively began pulling on my power.
    “It’s nothing for you to be concerned with; a school matter, but I need to make this quick.”
    Whatever it was, it was clearly not a topic he intended to discuss as he went into leader mode.
     “You all know the old bottling plant in the business district?  Well, Frank down at the shelter said he’s heard some of the homeless are going missing in that area.”
    “That’s not much to go on.” I said, expecting more. Geesh didn’t he even run this by Jenny? Then I remembered she was at school right now.
    “And the nominee for least helpful is...” Ace whispered at Father H’s retreating back.