Demon Jack (33 page)

Somehow, he stood. Somehow, despite the physical impossibility of it, he was able to stand up and bum rush me. His momentum carried us both back, through the heavy wooden doors and into the street. We hit in a tangle of flailing limbs, asphalt hidden beneath the snow and sleet tearing a nice layer of skin off my back and side. I sprang up off of him, putting distance between the two of us again, goading him into giving me the advantage.

The street was empty, the buildings around us all dark. Maggie’s car was parked roughly ten feet away and I moved to put it between Yavetta and myself. He paused, staring at me. There was a sound like Rice Krispies, only louder, amplified a thousand times, followed by a wet sounding pop as the demons writhing under his skin forced his knee back into a more natural position.

“Fucking splendid,” I muttered.

“You have to kill him, Jack,” Alice said, her tiny frame nestled calmly atop one of those blue public mailboxes.

“You fucking think?” I asked, my voice traced with irritation and pain.

“You have to end it,” she said calmly.

I groaned and hopped up onto the roof of the car. I got a two or three step running start and launched myself towards Yavetta in a suicide dive. He caught me, using my own momentum to hurl me back towards the church, substituting the stained glass window for the door. Shards of colored glass sliced my skin, a hundred cuts opening all at once. I could see each shard raining down over me when I hit the floor, brilliant greens, sparkling blues, deep reds, most of them stained with my blood. The floor under me grew sticky, the blood cooling rapidly. One particularly nasty cut left me able to stick my tongue through my cheek. If it hadn’t hurt so much, I might actually think it was kind of amusing in a sick way.

I started to crawl away from the mass of shattered glass. I felt lightheaded, a sharp pain radiating through my thigh every time I moved my leg. I could feel myself growing weaker, the pool of blood, my blood, growing steadily wider. I didn’t know if I was going to die, hell, if I could die after my last little deal with Alice. I was pretty sure there was a better than average chance I could. Call it a hunch.

I put one hand in front of the other, and almost screamed when it came down on something, a jolt of pure fire lighting in a line across my palm. I heard a sizzle, and opened my eyes to see small tendrils of smoke rising from between my fingers.

I jerked my hand back, and lying on the floor was Hernandez’s rosary beads. They had burnt a perfect impression, scaled black and blistered now, across my palm.

Behind me, I heard the shuffling step of Yavetta’s feet, his pace still favoring the knee I had injured.

“What the Hell?” I muttered letting my brain latch onto the idea that was forming. I wrapped my hand around the rosary, gritting my teeth and ignoring the waves of pure agony it sent up my arm.

I felt myself lifted, a strong hand around the back of my neck. He turned me around, still holding me by the neck so we were face to face.

“And now, it is done,” he said, his voice echoing with a thousand choruses.

I didn’t bother with a witty retort. I let the beads slide over my hand, the crucifix, almost as long as my pinky sticking out of my closed fist like a spike. I swung, putting every last bit of muscle, every ounce of strength I had left behind it and drove the cross into his neck.

It hit behind his jawbone, just beneath the ear and sunk in with no resistance. I swung again and again driving the cross into his neck, his face, until he dropped me. He flailed madly, slapping at his wounds, a thousand voices screaming all at once in pure, hellish agony. The sound was deafening, a resonating tremble of noise that shook the entire building on its foundation. He thrashed, smoke rising from the wounds. The skin around them charred, turning black. It spread slowly, burning outwards, thin flecks of skin flaking off, rising around him like paper ashes over a fire.

He spun and staggered down to one knee. Both hands were at his neck, scratching and tearing at the skin. I threw the rosary around his neck, pulling it tight, dragging it into the flesh like a garrote. Yavetta’s face turned red, a stark contrast to the dark patches of burnt flesh the thin strands of beads were leaving against his skin. He thrashed, leaping back and slamming me into the wall. I fought to hold on through the impact and the lines of scalding pain radiating through my own hands everywhere the rosary touched my own exposed flesh. I let pure determination and stubbornness fuel me. A second wall, and despite the pain, I still managed to hold on.

Finally, his struggles weakened. I put a knee against his back, pushing while I pulled at the rosary. It sank deeper, the beads completely hidden within the flesh. I have no idea how the string that held the beads together hadn't broken. Fucking thing had to be made out of titanium. His eyes bulged, cheeks turning purple. One hand dropped, propping himself up, the other weakly slapping at the beads.

Alice appeared in front of him, staring into his face. She seemed to be waiting, her face holding the same kind of eagerness you'd expect to see in a kid on Christmas Morning. When his last breath escaped, she vanished, the sound of ringing bells in the distance hanging in my ears.

Finally he went still.

The shockwave hit a moment later, lifting me, tossing me back against the wall. I lay there dazed, on the border of consciousness. The last thing I saw before I passed out was an angel.

An angel with bloodied wings, a sword in her hand, and a circle of more corpses than I could count laid out around on the floor around her. Each one was little more than a shadow with no discernible features, twisted and broken. Then, there was nothing.

Chapter 34

I woke up in a bed I didn’t know, in a room I had never seen. Blankets, heavy and thick, were pushed up to my chin. I could feel a myriad of aches and pains, distant and far away, barely on the edge of some warm hazy dream. A thin tube ran under the blanket and after flexing my hand once or twice I could feel the IV needle. It led to a rather pricey gadget, all digital screens and fine-lined printouts. It measured my heart rate, which was a steady one hundred and seventy beats a minute, and my temperature, one hundred and ten.

It took me a minute to realize I was completely and utterly stoned. It took me another minute to drift back to a warm, comfortable, numb sleep.

When I woke up again, Lucy was watching me. She was dressed in clothes more her style. A long sleeve, form fitting shirt and jeans, both built to accentuate her curves. I sat up slowly. The IV line was gone, a small piece of gauze taped to the back of my hand in its place. I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the scars of my deal with Alice and the burns around my eyes.

“Jack,” Lucy said quietly.

“Lucy.”

“You’re awake.”

“Obviously. Where am I?” I asked.

“A safe house in Salem,” she said, moving to slide a chair up to my bed. She seated herself.

“What about Maggie, Hernandez?”

“Maggie is touch and go. She’s in a coma. They aren’t sure if she’s going to pull out of it. She’s in real rough shape. Hernandez has a broken leg, a concussion, but he’s going to be fine.”

“And Yavetta?”

“Taken care of.”

“What happened? I mean-”

“After Maggie threw me into the car, I had to track you down by scent. I got to the church maybe an hour or two after Maggie took you. Apparently someone had already been by there. The place was on fire. You were nowhere to be seen.”

“Okay?”

“So, who had been there?”

“That would be me, Mister Draughn,” a woman’s said. It was familiar, but nothing I could place.

The vampire from Adam’s lawn stepped from the shadows, the darkness parting like a curtain as she entered. She was dressed much the same, her dress skin tight, showing little in the way of figure outside of lean, corded muscle. Her face, now that I could see it without the racing of adrenaline and the fighting for my life bit, was something close to perfect aristocracy. A tiny, sharp nose set above perfectly shaped lips. Eyes that managed to make even the milky cataract-like film of a vampire’s eyes seem haughty. She radiated an aura of quiet confidence, of pure control.

“I told you we would talk. I figured cleaning up your mess after saving your life would be an adequate way to, shall we say, open the lines of communication just a bit more, no?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” I said, turning to put my feet on the floor. I was wearing scrub pants, nothing else. Apparently someone had been kind enough to change me out of the blood, dirt, and whatever else stained my previous pair of jeans. My boots were gone, which bothered me. I had loved those things, had ‘em for years.

“My name is Siobahn,” she said.

“Where are my things?” I asked.

“They have been disposed of. I took the liberty of getting you new clothes, as well as a coat. I have an offer for you, if you’d be willing to hear me out.”

“Not in the slightest,” I said. “Save it.”

If Siobahn was put off by my tone, she wasn’t showing it. She seemed perfectly content to watch, to study me. Her face was a picture-perfect mask of patience.

“Jack. Hear her out,” Lucy said.

I settled my eyes on Lucy for a long draw. She nodded once.

“Please?” she asked.

“Fine. Go ahead,” I said, impatient.

“What you did to Adam, was in fact a large favor to me,” she said, “Are you aware of who the spectators were at your little prize fight?”

“Not really concerned with it to be honest with you,” I said.

“Ah, well, they were... I suppose the best word for it is lieutenants, as well as those that oversaw him. Those aren’t as important as his underlings though are they Jack? You know how this works given your previous affiliation with Mister Lin I take it?”

I knew all to well. A nobody rises up, punks the boss, he loses all respect. It was a situation like the little kid beating the shit out of the playground bully. Once shorty wails on mister big and scary, he doesn’t seem so big and scary anymore. After that, he’s fair game. When it’s in the criminal world, it’s a lot more violent. It’s the equivalent of putting a nice fat cow in a river full of piranhas.

“I can put two and two together.”

“Then you understand the favor you did for me.”

“Wasn’t for you,” I said.

“But the end result was the same,” Lucy said.

“Whose side are you on here anyways?” I asked, cutting my eyes towards her. The flat stare she gave me answered that question. She was on her own side, plain and simple.

“You also understand that you’ve created a power vacuum of sorts in Boston amongst my kind. They’re going to be fighting for power, each one trying to take Adam’s spot. I intend to win that contest.”

“Well bully for you. Not my problem,” I said, standing. I didn’t feel too bad all things considered, sore as hell, but I had expected worse. “How long was I out?”

“A week,” Lucy said. “You had a piece of glass through your femoral artery. You're lucky you didn't bleed to death.”

“He almost did,” Siobahn said.

Well, that would explain that then.

“No, it's not your problem. But it is your opportunity. I’d like to offer you a job.”

I looked over at Siobahn. I had spent a lot of time working for monsters. Working for monsters was what had put me in prison, gotten me into the mess with Adam to begin with. I studied her, her features, running through scenario after scenario in my head. I’d probably be able to get the respect I once had back, I could get off the streets. I knew how it would end though. Poorly.

“I will make it quite worth your while,” she said. “You will be well taken care of.”

“Not interested. Where are my things?”

“Jack. You don’t have things,” Lucy said.

Siobahn nodded slowly.

“I’ll give you time to think it over then.”

She looked towards Lucy.

“Show him out when he's ready,” she said, pulling the door to the room open. She stood there for a moment, hand on the doorknob. “I do hope you’ll reconsider.”

I didn’t bother to look up at her. A moment later, I heard the door shut.

“You take orders from her now?” I asked.

“No. But she’s going to teach me, protect me. Something I can’t ask or trust you to do, Jack,” she said. “She found me at the church when I was looking for you. She’s the one who pulled you out, started the fire. She saw the way Adam treated me, how he tried to make me hurt you. She... She offered to take me in and I accepted.”

“What’s it going to cost you?”

“Nothing I haven’t already lost.”

I stared at her for an uncomfortable moment.

“It’s your call. I won’t try and talk you out of it,” I said finally.

“Excellent,” she stood up, motioning me to follow with a wave of her hand.

She walked me out of what turned out to be a nondescript house in the suburbs. It was dark out, early evening. Come to find out, Siobhan had been holing up there since all hell had broken loose after Adam’s loss. After everything at the church, she had scooped me up and brought me there as well. At least, that's the story Lucy gave me.