him. I may not be a bulky man, but I know very well how to use my height to my advantage. “Are you attempting to blackmail me, Mr. Verelli?”
I had to give him credit. He stood his ground, though I could see the faint sheen of sweat break out on his forehead. I was willing to bet he’d never been in an actual fight in his life. “I am merely educating you as to the consequences of any dubious actions on your part.”
“Man, you haven’t seen dubious yet.” I loomed just long enough to make him really nervous, then stepped back. “Get outta here, kid. Ya bother me. And learn to tie your shoes.”
I left him standing in the hallway behind me, fuming. I was almost positive he couldn’t do anything to me. Almost positive. Seventy percent sure. Okay, I wasn’t sure at all, and it was starting to worry me.
Sure, if I ran around telling the world I was a demon slayer, they’d lock me up and medicate me into vegetation. Hence, not doing that. I was okay with Junior’s not believing. But it was going to be a royal pain in the ass if he insisted on interfering. Seeing how easily he’d come up with information on my employment history, I had no doubt that he could dig up (or trump up) something to make my life more complicated. The question was how to get rid of him.
“Pompous little pencil-pusher,” I grumbled to myself as I knocked on Kidd’s door. He joined me with little fanfare, and we were on our way.
The old man was quiet as we drove north up the highway. He didn’t remark on my ratty truck, which was good, because he might have hurt her feelings. He even held my sword for me without question. There was a look of intense weariness around his eyes. I assumed he’d been arguing with Skippy the Chihuahua all day, so I could sympathize.
The sun was only a deep red glow on the horizon when we pulled off the highway. I tried to pretend it didn’t look like blood streaming through the darkening sky. I’m not a man who believes in portents, but things were just too weird lately. I took a few quick turns from the service road, and we pulled onto a seemingly random dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Only then did Kidd give me a quizzical look.
“It’s property that belongs to the airport. I did a favor once, and the security people look the other way if I need to use the land.” I didn’t owe him an explanation, but I hate it when people think I’m doing something shady and I’m not. Now, if I am doing something shady, then it’s all right for them to think whatever they want. What? I wasn’t always an honorable man.
I hopped out of the truck long enough to unlock the gate and swing it open. Then we bounced and rattled our way past the row of screening trees and into a large open area filled with tall prairie grass. I suppose it could be called a meadow, but that always makes me think of Bambi, which then leads to visions of some demon ripping Thumper’s head off and sucking him like a juice box. Until you’ve seen the things I’ve seen in the last four years, don’t be judgmental of my mental non sequiturs.
I used this place on the rare occasions that a local job dropped into my lap. It was secluded, impossible to see from the highway, and if the planes swooping low overhead happened to notice anything, it was easily explained as a trick of the eyes. We were in the dark of the moon, too, which would add to our concealment. With a witch for a wife, I had become very aware of the moon phases, and I used them to my advantage.
Kidd climbed out and watched as I removed my armor from the duffel bag in the back. Buckling it on was a lengthy process, but I’d become quite adept at doing it without help-and in the dark. “I thought the fighting wouldn’t happen tonight.”
“I said ‘most likely.’ Never take anything for granted.” I usually left the timing of the fight to the demon’s choice. When it came time for negotiating, there were other, more important things I’d want to secure first. I left the plated leg guards in the bag. I wasn’t about to wear new armor without giving it a good breaking in first.
Before I could do anything else, I had to pull my hair back, but since it was shorter now, doing so was a quick process.
“Is hairdressing really necessary?”
I wound the elastic band around it to hold it in place. “Loose hair falls across the eyes and creates a vision impairment. Gives the enemy an advantage.”
“Why don’t you just… cut it all off?”
“My wife likes my hair a little longer.” For centuries, men had done stupider things for worse reasons.
Though it was getting hard to see in the dark, I thought I saw him frown as I slipped the chest piece over my head. “You’re not wearing a cross.”
“Should I be?” Ninety percent of my clients mentioned it.
“Isn’t it… I mean, don’t you need protection?”
“The only thing that gives a cross power is the belief behind it, Mr. Kidd. It’d be useless in my hands.” Not entirely true. Faith was just another tool to harness magical ability. I had a distinct lack of both.
Though the night cooled quickly, the padding beneath my armor was stifling. Hopefully, this would be a quick negotiation and I could get it off.
“You don’t believe in God?” The concept obviously baffled him. It’s not an unusual reaction, but it was one that required more explanation than I usually had the patience to give.
“I suppose there’s something larger than myself at work. But I’ve never seen him, or her, or whatever. So I tend to believe in myself. In the end, I’m the only one who can let me down.”
He shook his head in amazement. “How can you see demons, believe in demons, and not believe in God?”
I had to grin. “Funny how that works, isn’t it?” Even amongst the people who do what I do, I’m an anomaly. I know this. Ivan lectures me on my lack of faith. He doesn’t understand that I do have faith. I have faith in myself.
Mira, on the other hand, carries more than enough faith in the unknown for both of us. The undersides of my leather bracers were carved with intricate patterns. It was Marty’s craftsmanship, but Mira’s precise design. As I slid them on, I swore I could feel a faint tingle, the sensation of Mira’s protective spells settling into place. I consider that the power of mental suggestion. I knew she’d put them there, so I imagined I could feel it. I suppose I did have more faith than I give myself credit for. I had faith in Mira.
Full dark had fallen by the time I finished my preparations and settled my sword on my hip. I sat the squirt bottle of nastiness on the hood of the truck, then motioned for Kidd to step out into the grass. “Go ahead. Call it.”
“You… aren’t going to draw a circle or anything? To… confine it?”
“You can, if you think it’ll work.” I shrugged, the chain jingling faintly. I’ve never seen a circle confine a summoned demon, even if I did have the juice to lay one myself.
Think on that, kiddies. Once you say that name, you give up all kinds of rights. When you speak that name, that demon has permission to be here with very few controls on its behavior. Sure, it can’t hurt you unless you let it, but you also can’t just tell it to sit and stay like a good puppy. Bargains, that’s all they understand. Their language is one of negotiation, tit for tat. And if they can get a bigger tit for a smaller tat, they will.
“Just call it.”
With one last uncertain look in my direction, Kidd stepped out into the tall grass and took a deep breath.
Not a sound meant for human mouths to utter, it should have been something impossible to pronounce. For one brief shining moment, my sanity rejected the unfathomable tangle of vowels and consonants and rage and despair and greed and… It’s impossible to explain how all that can be rolled up into one word. Pray-if you’re the type that prays-you never understand it.
I tried not to listen, tried to shut out the sound, but a demonic name is something that gets under your skin, into your skull. My ears rang, and my spine tried to crawl out of my body and run away whimpering. The logical part of my mind, the part that screamed that such a thing could not be, was reduced to raving gibberish, and the name lodged there, finding a home amongst others of its kind.
I willed my heart to slow, my breathing to resume a steady cadence. Releasing my grip on my sword was a concentration of effort, one joint, one finger at a time.
With the name seared permanently into my psyche, I could roll it around and compare it to the others that resided there. No, this was not one I’d tangled with before. There was always that possibility: that a demon I’d beaten could regain enough strength to come across again. It hadn’t happened yet. I’m not looking forward to it if it ever does. Demons don’t strike me as the kind to forgive and forget.
