Demon Hunters (13 page)

“Is he a citizen of this country?”

“That, I admit, is embarrassing that I don’t
know. It’s never really come up.”

“Tell me about the case you’ve been working
on.”

“Is that what you want to know?”

“It would be a start.” I plunged my
cigarette into the palm of my hand to put it out. It sizzled upon
contact with my skin but I didn’t feel a thing. I could see the
look on Reynold’s face. I casually dusted my palms clean and lit my
last stick up.

“The last case. Fine. I’ll tell you all
about this last case. Get comfy.”

Opening Cases

It was a typical Monday morning. I walked
into the office and saw Ivar at his desk as usual. He was sitting
up straight, eyes glazed over with a post-it note attached to his
forehead that read ‘Will be back in fifteen minutes’. He had the
knack of projecting himself into the astral plane, or that was how
he explained it to me. He often went into these states at least
once a day to plunge through the cosmic everythingness in order to
find us work.

I went to my desk which sat in front of the
large window that looked down on Sunset Boulevard. It wasn’t the
best view as we weren’t located on the best lot on Sunset. It was
kind of ghetto, but it was cheap.

There hadn’t been any professional activity
in the office for over a month and there was a nagging pile of
bills staring at me from the corner of my desktop. I looked over at
Ivar. He was still out to lunch, so I decided to make the best of
it. I pulled open my bottom drawer and pulled out a full bottle of
bourbon. I spun the cap off and took the first drink of the day. It
stung in my mouth and was like fire down my throat. I felt a warm
sensation spread outward to every inch of my body. It was a nice
feeling but it never lasted long. The demon within me makes it
impossible for me to get drunk. I repeated the process until the
bottle was empty. Ivar suddenly came to with a slight start. He
looked kind of silly getting his bearings in his chair. He was a
big guy. He was built like a brick wall and his face was like
stone. To see him flail around as he tried to get a sense of place
was kind of amusing. He stripped the post-it off his face and
crumpled it away.

“Morning.” I said.

“Jake. When did you get in?”

“Few minutes ago. You were ‘out’ again. Find
anything interesting?”

“Yes and no. I sensed a surge of energy on
the horizon.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It could be. There’s been a disturbance in
the universal stream. I must do more research.” He then got up to
his full seven feet and headed out the door.

“A simple yes or no would kill you?” I
rifled through the bills on my desk and sorted through the final
notices. I then checked the phone. A dial tone. We were good. The
door swung open and Ivar lumbered back in with a newspaper. He
surveyed the front page and held it up to me.

“This.”

“What?” I scanned the page. The only story
that got my attention was a small blurb about Jackal Bledsoe. It
said that he was, once again, released from Kennison Asylum.

Jackal Bledsoe was a self-proclaimed warlock
with some proven mystical abilities. He’s also quite active in the
field of sacrificial killings and just plain homicidal behavior
He’s been a thorn in my side for years, but the most dangerous
thing about him was his total lack of sanity. He’ll never get the
chair because of his obvious insanity. He always works the system
and gets a vacation sentence to a minimum-security nut farm and six
months later he charms the parole board and gets released only to
start the cycle all over again.

“Jackal’s out. That’s the surge?”

“I’m not sure what it means. I’ve never felt
anything like this energy before. It’s powerful. I didn’t even
really detect it. It was as if it was searching for me.”

“Well, I was looking for an excuse to get
out today. I’ll go check out his usual hangouts and find out what
he’s up to this time. You go and talk to the doctors at Kennison.
Find out what was going through their heads when they released him
this time.”

I was driving south to downtown to check on
previous hideouts Jackal had used before. I had no solid lead as to
where Jackal would go so I was willing to take a shot.

I pulled over on a small street near the
garment district and pulled out my map. It still had some points of
interest marked on it with red ink. Each check was one hideout
down. The biggest unmarked block was currently a new condo
development that offered luxury loft living on the top floor.

The last place I had to look was a warehouse
near the old railroad tracks, which I knew to be Jackal’s first
lair. There was a fence closing it off, which meant I’d have to
work for it. I climbed over the fence and snuck towards the
building. As I approached, I saw a door standing open. The lock and
chain were laying on the ground. I went in.

It didn’t seem to have changed since the
last time I was there. I continued on to the main floor of the
warehouse. Light streamed in from above. Suddenly, a faint noise
came from around me. I pulled out my gun and held it up toward the
shadows. I heard footsteps. My eyes darted across the way and I
could see figures emerge out of the darkness. First just a couple
and then three more. Before I knew it I was surrounded by an army
people. The only thing I could see that was common among them was
the way their eyes glared at me. Dead and listless.

I took a step back when suddenly from out of
the crowd, a man emerged. He was young with wild brown hair and a
firm, solid build. He looked as though he jumped right off the
cover of a romance novel. His eyes dared me to look back at
them.

“You are trespassing. Leave now. Or
die!”

The Black Flame

I stood before the throng of people that
surrounded me. Their dark, penetrating eyes drilling through me.
The one whom I assumed was their leader was standing before me. His
stance was authoritative and deliberate.

“I’m just looking for someone. I didn’t even
know where I was going. I’m sorry if I barged in on something. I
promise I won’t tell anyone you’re here. You can trust me.” I
didn’t like pleading like that, but I learned a long time ago, when
you’re one against hundreds begging’s okay. Their leader looked me
up and down curiously.

“Who are you?”

“Jake Corba. I wasn’t aware you were having
a club meeting today.”

“Jake Corba? I know you!”

“You do?”

“Yes! You’re that investigator guy. The guy
with the curse.” My reputation had preceded me again.

“That’s me.” The leader’s expression
softened and a smile appeared across his chiseled jaw.

“I knew it! I’m sorry about all that ‘leave
or die’ stuff. That’s usually enough to scare off most trespassers.
It’s a little over the top, right?”

“A little.”

“My name’s Tyler Thorne. I’m the Grand of
this order.” He graciously offered me his hand.

“Great and what exactly is this order?

“We are the Order of the Black Flame.” His
tone suggested that I should have had some kind of recognition of
the name, but I didn’t.

“What exactly is this all about? I thought I
knew all the cults that were active.” Tyler stretched his spine up
and looked at me with a measure of curiosity.

“You don’t know?”

“Not really.”

“The Black Flame is an ancient order that is
charged with the protection of this level of creation. We are also
a representative body of the entire extra normal community.”

“Translate that, please.”

“We’re a group made up of humans, vampires,
werewolves, witches and wizards and other, shall we say, creatures
of the night who are dedicated to making this world better for
everyone. At the risk of sounding too corny.”

“Cool, but aren’t you guys always fighting
all the time?”

“Once, we all were at war, but time has
eased our differences and we have come to realize our survival
depends upon rising above those conflicts. Many of us want to be a
part of modern society and to do that, we have worked to set aside
our past and work together now to preserve this world for future
generations and to enrich our lives today.”

“So this is kind of a United Nations of
monsters.”

“We really don’t like that term. There’s
still quite a stigma.”

“This is your little club house then?”

“We have several meeting spots all over the
world. We just happened to be meeting here today to discuss a
rather important matter. When we arrived, we found you.”

“And what are you?” He shot a little glimmer
at me.

“Excuse me?”

“Which child of darkness are you? It’s so
hard to just tell.”

“Later. Who are you looking for?”

“Just a garden variety whack job. Jackal
Bledsoe.”

“I’ve heard of him. Nasty piece of work.
He’s not here.”

“Okay. That’s all I need. May I go?”

“Actually, it’s fortunate you’re here. We’ve
assembled here today to discuss a serious matter, and I think you
may be able to help us.” I began to smell a pay day
approaching.

“What were you discussing?”

“It’s in the paper today. A drilling
expedition up in Washington State has uncovered a dead body.”

“Okay. How does that affect you guys?”

“The problem is that this body was found
tangled in the roots of a tree that’s known to have been there for
hundreds years.”

“Quite a trick.” Tyler looked around. The
crowd was encroaching on us.

“Come with me.” Tyler began to squeeze
through the crowd toward a small door in the back. I followed him
into an old break room that had been used by the employees of the
warehouse back when it had been functioning. He flipped on a switch
and light flooded the room. I caught faint glimpses of scurrying
bugs dashing into the shadows. There was one table in the middle of
the room. Tyler sat down and indicated for me to join him. I pulled
a nearby chair out and settled onto it.

“I take it you didn’t read the story.”

“No.”

“We believe the body is that of Morgan
Sanguine.” I felt a twinge in the back of my head, like a bullet
hitting the back of my skull. I hadn’t heard that name in years. I
had learned that she was the sorceress who had originally cursed my
family after she failed in a bid to win Earth as a new realm of
Hell. My ancestor was able to stop her, which resulted in her
leveling a blood curse upon the Corba family. No one had known
where her body had been stored, if there was a body at all to be
had.

“Morgan Sanguine?”

“You’re familiar?”

“She’s the reason my family was cursed in
the first place. Why do you think it’s her body they’ve
discovered?”

“The body was found under a tree that was
hundreds of years old, yet it didn’t have any sign of
decomposition. That alone is reason to wonder. I also happen to
know that the small cadre of monks who were sent to the new world
to dispose of her remains left her corpse buried in that general
vicinity. Legend says they planted a tree over her body to mark her
grave. The tree grew but its bark turned black and the leaves that
grew on it died instantly.”

“All right. So the good people of Washington
have accidentally dug up Morgan Sanguine. So what?”

“Now that Morgan’s body has been found,
we’re concerned that groups loyal to her will try to recapture the
corpse and attempt to bring her back.”

“Is that a possibility?”

“You, more than anyone, know that it is.” In
the circles I ran in, death was more of a revolving door.

“Are you hiring me?”

“I’m asking you if you might be able to help
us. I’ve spoken with some officials in Washington, and thanks to a
few colorful facts; I’ve arranged to have Morgan’s body transported
here to Los Angeles. When it arrives, we are going to take
possession of it and destroy it.”

“Good plan.”

“Yes, except for The Reborn.”

“Who?”

“The Reborn is mostly made up of Morganists.
They believe that true life doesn’t begin until after you’ve died.
Suicide is part of their induction process.”

“I guess they don’t have a lot of
members.”

“Six primary members in California, as far
as we know. There could be more, though. Whenever one of them dies,
the others bring them back, but with each incarnation they become
less human.”

“Zombies? In my experience, they aren’t
exactly the sharpest forks in the drawer. You think they even know
what’s going on?”

“It’s a safe bet that they do and it’s only
a matter of time before they come for Morgan’s body and when they
discover what we’re doing, they are going to be relentless in
getting it back.”

“Well, your order looks big enough to handle
this.”

“You’d think so, but they really aren’t
fighters. They are more civil dissidents than revolutionaries. I
feel we need someone with a little more hands on experience.”

“What do you need?”

“I’ll be at LAX to accept Morgan’s body
tomorrow. Will you help me?”

“You pay for parking?”

The Reborn

I returned to the office a little after six.
Ivar was hunched over his desk looking for whatever information he
could on his computer. He looked up as I walked in.

“How did you make out at the hospital?”

“I spoke with the doctors at Kennison, but
they had no helpful information. Did you find anything?”

“I stumbled onto something. You ever heard
of the Order of the Black Flame?”

“Yes.”

“I ran into them and their Grand, Tyler
Thorne, told me about Morgan Sanguine.”

“Morgan? What about her?”

“They seem to think she’s been dug up in
Washington. They said it was in the paper.” Ivar lunged for the
front page that was still sitting on my desk. I saw his eyes race
from one end of the page to the other until finally they seemed to
settle. I watched his lips move as he muttered beneath his breath.
He threw the paper down.