Unearthed, p.18
Unearthed, page 18
part #4 of Southern Watch Series
“I didn’t say it.” Hendricks grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. “I was thinking it, but I didn’t say it.”
“Seriously, though,” Alison said. “We’re talking about attending a demon party. Actually going in among the bastards.” She cocked her head at Duncan. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Duncan said graciously.
“Isn’t that … dangerous?” Alison asked.
“Every day is dangerous,” Hendricks said.
“Won’t they know we’re not demons?” she asked.
“Probably not,” Hendricks said.
“I would,” Duncan said, “but none of them will have quite the same capacity for sniffing out human souls that I do. It’s a specialized thing that’s built into the shell of some OOCs. Normal demons don’t have it. If you give them long enough, some of them with a keen nose might be able to tell by scent, but …” He shrugged. “Odds are good that there’ll be enough humans at that party—dealers, food, whatever—no one’s gonna be able to pick you out as human.”
Arch felt his jawline harden. “You’re not going in anyway.” He tilted his head to look at Bill. “You either. You’re on overwatch.”
Alison’s face got grim. “Let’s not forget that the number one way you’ll be caught is because Kitty Elizabeth knows what the three of you look like. Forget sense of smell; her eyeballs would have to be a complete failure to have it escape her attention that you three were standing in front of her last night, posturing and preening. And she knows you by name, Duncan.”
Duncan looked a little uncomfortable at that. “I have to go in. This doesn’t work unless I do.”
“That’s gonna cause a problem or two,” Arch said.
“Fuck discretion,” Hendricks said, folding his arms. “I’m not letting you all go inside while I stay out. I’m good, but I can’t cover a hundred feet in an eyeblink if you end up neck-deep in shit. And I’m not exactly qualified on that equipment.” He gestured at Alison’s rifle, now reassembled. “If this thing is gonna go tits-up, I need to be in the mix.”
“I’m trying to figure out how to keep it from going … cock up,” Alison said, looking at him with blazing eyes. “You strolling into a party where the hostess knows your damned name is not going to get us anywhere good.”
“I’ll avoid her,” Hendricks said with a shrug.
“Leave the hat,” Arch said.
Hendricks’s face went serious and his hand went right to the top of the hat as if he were holding it down against a strong wind. “I can’t.”
“It’s not surgically attached to your head,” Alison said. “If you go in wearing it, you might as well carry a sign that says, ‘Lafayette Hendricks, Demon Hunter. Slay My Ass, Please.’”
“That’s true,” Bill said. “Demons around here know the hat and the coat. Might be that without ’em you could pass, but with them on it’s like a lighting a road flare and waving it around.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Arch asked.
“You’re an extremely tall black man,” Duncan said. “You’re gonna stick out in a way that extremely-average Hendricks won’t.”
“I’m well above average, fuck you very much,” Hendricks said.
“Then stop overcompensating,” Alison said.
“I’ll stick out because I’m black?” Arch felt his lips purse into a thin line.
“An overwhelming majority of U.S.-based demons are wearing shells that are white,” Duncan said, “because—well, because that was hands-down the color to wear before 1970 or so. It allowed the ones with aspiring mobility to climb, to get elected—” He stopped, shook his head. “Anyway, whatever. It’s not the black thing at this point, even though that’s going to narrow the odds and draw more attention. You’re going to stick out regardless because of the tall thing. You’re like a redwood tree. There aren’t many demons that have that height to them because they need to blend, and tall draws attention. You go in, you’ll draw attention.”
“So you expect me to sit outside?” Arch asked. “I’m a pretty good in-fighter, you know.”
“Without a doubt, Arch,” Bill said, and he could tell the older man was trying to soothe him. “But we got a mission to think about here.”
Arch felt himself bristle, but let it go. “All right, I’ll wait outside. I hope I get a reason to come in with my sword drawn, though.” He glanced at Hendricks. “And I can cover a hundred feet pretty darned fast.”
Hendricks gave him a nod of deference. “Faster than my busted up knees, no doubt. I prefer to walk.”
“So Hendricks and Duncan are going in,” Alison said, talking out loud to herself. “Duncan, you can’t wear that. You can’t wear any of your normal suits.”
Duncan looked down. Today he was wearing a suit that looked mostly grey. Mostly. Arch couldn’t tell what color the pinstripes were, but they didn’t exactly match. “Demons don’t wear suits to these sort of parties anyway,” Duncan said. Arch thought he sounded almost morose. “I’ll need something … uh … whimsical, probably.”
“I’ll need a gown, right?” Alison asked, and Arch felt himself snap back to attention, eyes wide.
“You’re not going in,” Arch said, staring at her, head swimming.
“Oh, I’m going in,” Alison said, her back straight as she sat in the chair. She smoothed the cloth she had down under her gun. “Unless you want to send these two yahoos into the fray without any cover at all.”
“Cover?” Duncan asked, and got a searing look from Alison in response. “Oh, uh, right. Cover. She makes a point. Hendricks and I walk in alone it might seem … strange. Make us look like OOCs.”
“Why?” Arch asked.
“Because OOCs were traditionally all white males,” Duncan said, “and they come in pairs.”
Arch felt his back teeth grind. “Are they still?”
“No,” Duncan said, “but the image persists for most demons. They see two white guys walk in together, it might not sink us for sure, but it’ll draw attention. Two guys and a girl, it’s a little less unusual.”
Arch could feel his teeth pressing together, and he sat there deciding how much of his spleen to vent. “This is starting to feel like a bad idea.”
“This is what we do, Arch,” Hendricks said, arms folded. “We get the bad guys. You wanted to work with Duncan, this is how we have to work with Duncan.” Arch could see the light of amusement flicker over the cowboy’s face. “Or we could just do what Alison suggested and launch a rocket inside—”
“La la la la,” Duncan said, fingers in his ears.
“Oh, knock it off,” Hendricks said. “We don’t have a rocket launcher, and you know it.”
“And I don’t have functional ears,” Duncan said, fingers still jammed in his ear canals. “The rules still remain. I can’t hear you plotting harm to Katlin Elizabeth, okay?”
“I’m not gonna harm her,” Hendricks said coolly, “I’m gonna help you find evidence that she’s a demonic rule breaker, so you can … do whatever it is you people are going to do to her. I hope it involves something pointed and blessed.”
Arch looked dead on at Hendricks. “Is this really worth it? Because of your ego or Starling’s say so?”
Hendricks shrugged, hesitating just a beat beforehand. “Leave those two aside: getting bad guys is always worth it.”
Arch stared at him evenly. “This isn’t how we do it. We don’t dangle ourselves over the pit like this. We plan. We cover each other. We don’t take stupid chances—” He stopped himself. “Well, you do, I guess, but I try to keep the rest of us from doing things like charging blindly into danger.”
“And those of us who aren’t think-with-the-groin-first Marines sure do appreciate it, Arch,” Bill said. “This lady sounds like some bad juju from what Duncan says. I wouldn’t be sad to see the back of her. Let’s get her out of town. We got enough to deal with without demon royalty dragging their mess all over our carpet.”
“Or threatening to make us munch hers,” Hendricks said darkly.
Arch let that kill the conversation for a moment, give it a chance to settle. “Are we all agreed on this, then? Because it sounds awfully risky—”
“I could go in alone,” Duncan said.
“And if you’re found out, you have zero help until we can breach and get inside,” Alison said. She snapped her attention to her father. “Where is this party?”
“Venus Plantation,” Bill said.
“Big windows everywhere,” Alison said. “You can cover us some, at least.”
Bill lowered his voice. “But if you get into trouble, daughter of mine, you’re going be on your own in the middle of a dance floor of demons, without a sword to call your own.”
“She can borrow my knife,” Hendricks said, pulling off his hat and shaking it until a metal switchblade fell out of the band and clattered to the table. “I’m not gonna be able to carry it anyway.”
“Where you gonna put your sword?” Bill asked.
“Down my leg,” Hendricks said. “I’ll just take the guard off and tape it, act like I’ve got a prosthesis—”
“Still overcompensating,” Alison said.
“Demons don’t wear prostheses.” Duncan screwed up his mouth. “Except for that one greater who lost a leg. What was his name …?”
“Well, shit,” Hendricks said. “Uh … maybe I will keep that knife.”
“Your blade is narrow enough we could fit it into a cane,” Bill said. “I’ve got a friend who could probably fashion one with a hollow center in his wood shop.” He looked at Duncan. “Do demons carry canes?”
The OOC looked almost amused. “Some of them wear monocles and top hats, too. It’ll fly.”
“So we’ve got a plan,” Hendricks said. “We take this bitch out.” He looked at Duncan. “To a … fancy restaurant, or … uh …”
“No,” Duncan said, “we take her out. We just find the evidence that allows us to do it legit.”
“Are we sure about this?” Arch asked. He had a nagging voice of caution running through his head.
“We fight the bad guys, and she’s one of the worst,” Duncan said. “I’m all in for helping you get her—this way. Otherwise? I have to leave her alone.”
“I don’t want to leave this lady to stir up shit in our neck of the woods,” Hendricks said, but he was awfully stiff about it. “She’s not even a loose cannon; she sounds like a loose nuke. I want her gone, one way or another.”
“This is the sort of screwy mission that could make the rest of us gone,” Arch said. “We are all of us stepping outside our comfort zones here. You’re putting our best sniper up front, you’re taking me out of the fray, and the three of you are going to try and creep your way through a demon party without getting caught. This is a cluster-flop waiting to happen.”
Hendricks grinned. “I’d go with Charlie Foxtrot if I were you. Even you could say that.”
Arch felt that worrying, nagging feeling pushing at the back of his mind. The cowboy had proven himself crazy gung-ho, and everything about this sent chills down Arch’s neck. “I think we should pass. Either let her run or find another way to get her within the bounds of Duncan’s laws.” He turned to the OOC. “What?”
Duncan looked stricken. “I can’t enter her house if there’s not a party going on. If there are other demons, I can … stretch things. Claim I’m there for one or more of them, because it’s almost a guarantee that one of them is doing something untoward or has human parts on them, something. If I go just for her or her household staff?”
“The repercussions will be worse?” Alison asked.
Duncan wore a look of great discomfort. “She’ll have my essence in fire in no time flat.”
Arch felt his head drop, felt the fight go out of him.
“We’re an army, Arch,” Bill said. “You said you wanted a war. Well, armies don’t just fight when they think they can get away with zero casualties or when there’s no danger.”
Arch felt the roiling emotions settled in, felt them sluice down into his guts, and he looked up. His eyes fell on each of them in turn, from the cowboy to the OOC, to his father-in-law and finally, to his wife. He saw the hope, the buy-in, that all of them were on board with this crazy scheme, that he was the only one not committed.
But it was a war, wasn’t it?
“All right,” Arch said, shoving his misgivings deep inside and ignoring them. “Let’s figure out a way to make this happen.”
*
Lauren made the call in low tones, with her door closed and a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her palms were sweating, and each ring in her ear made her want to jump up and hit the end button. Hanging up the phone would have been so much more satisfying.
“Hello?” Dave Belzer’s voice came on at the other end of the line, a sharp shock that jolted Lauren into action.
“I got something,” she said, almost breathless.
There was a pause on the other end. “What is it?”
“Demon party,” Lauren said. “Tomorrow night at a local plantation. Lots of drugs. I’ve been assured it’s not a local thing.”
She could hear furious scratching of a pen on paper on the other side. “That does sound a little like things I’ve heard in the past. This demons love their meth and coke.”
“Pot, too, apparently,” Lauren said, feeling like she was having a furtive conversation with a boy. Which, technically, she was. “Anyway … I figured you should know.”
“You gonna come with me?”
That was a bolt out of the blue. “You actually want me to … go to a party with demons?” Lauren asked, a little dumbstruck.
“We could watch it from outside,” Belzer said. “Though I gotta admit, I’ve always wanted to see one from the inside. Maybe chat up some of the other guests.”
Lauren felt her face dissolve into hard lines. “You want to be their dinner? Because you told me they eat people.”
“Some of them do,” Belzer said. “But can you imagine getting an interview with one of them? Being able to publish an article on what happens at one of these things?”
“No,” Lauren said. “I can’t imagine it. I don’t want to imagine it. I’d like to forget it’s happening.”
When Belzer spoke again, he almost sounded disappointed. “This your town, not mine, I guess. If it was mine, I might want to get a better look at who’s who in the destruction of it. Can you at least give me an address so I can take a look? I mean, maybe it’s nothing.”
You motherfucker, Lauren thought. “I’ll show you where it is. Meet me at the diner tomorrow night.” Because I really do care who’s causing this fucking chaos, she told herself. And that was all. Really.
*
“I’ve made the arrangements, madam,” Rousseau said with a little bow. “Invitations out there to the right people. Catering handled. I used Detmar Lawrence’s contacts to provide entertainment and refreshments, and I’ve made … other arrangements as well, the ones you requested.”
Rousseau leaned low over where Kitty sat on the couch, watching her two new toys play together, and proffered a tall glass filled with dark brown liquid and ice cubes. It was a little dissatisfying, watching the leg try to stand. Even with the arm’s help, it was somewhat pointless. It’d stand up and then fall down with a thump, echoing across the wood floor. She took a sip of her drink—human blood mixed with diet cola—and let out a low, “Ahhhh. It really was a struggle to cope without you around, Rousseau. I almost had to clean up blood myself a time or two. Can you imagine me on the floor, licking it up? Or maybe even with a rag in hand?” She laughed. “No, I can’t either.” She glanced at him. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rousseau said with a smile of his own, and then retreated from the room. He really was a good servant. Always considered all the angles.
Kitty sat there for a while longer, plotting out her endeavors at the party. So much to accomplish in such a finite time. Not that her time was finite; she could practically live forever. But the world … well, its time was running out. And this town? It had practically no time left at all. She watched the hand crawl around, inching more like a worm than a snake, and shook her head. Soon.
Very, very soon.
7.
Lauren was dreading the end of her life, sitting in a parked car in the middle of nowhere. Night was heavy against the windows, oppressive darkness that crawled in and felt like it was going to smash the glass, drag her out in the woods and lop her damned head off just for being out in it. It was a paranoid feeling, sitting out here with a man she didn’t really know and didn’t really trust, but she was doing it anyway.
Also, Belzer’s rental car smelled like … Cheetos?
Belzer was looking through binoculars at the house. They’d parked with a bunch of other cars, in a lot paved here for events such as this. There were valets closer to the house, she saw. Fucking valets, with coats and tails and such. She wondered if they were demons or not and was about to voice this thought to Belzer when he spoke.
“I think this is the real deal.” His voice had that excited, kid-like quality to it. Which was a little strange, coming from a grown man. He had the binoculars pasted to his eyes, was scanning the plantation house in a constant pattern. “I can see through the windows, and it’s like … it’s almost like some of these people … like their faces aren’t right every now and again. Like they’re letting the illusion slip.”
“How does that work?” Lauren asked.
“I don’t exactly know,” Belzer said, “but I’ve heard demons have faces that don’t look human sometimes. Like it’s an illusion pasted over the top.”
“Like new paint on a wall,” she said. “The old lines show through.”
“Yeah,” he said, and she could hear the uncertainty. “Something like that.”
*
Brian made the decision to jump to the endgame. It made sense to stop pussyfooting around, to get right to the business at hand and just confront his dad once and for all. He was pretty tired of the chase, anyway. So when he talked to his mom and found out that his dad hadn’t even mentioned the party, Brian figured this was as good of an opportunity as he was going to get.
