“What the hell happened to you?”
Greetings weren’t always the most tactful when it came to my roommate. Callie, however, could be forgiven because I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked a mess. Despite the cool outdoor temperatures, the back of my hair was plastered to my head from sweat and my breathing remained labored. The sighting of an actual demon all decked out in full ugly glory and heading directly toward me had prompted a mad sprint—and my body hadn’t run more than a block since my high school track days. Until tonight. Tonight it ran eight.
Tossing my purse onto the floor, I collapsed onto the overstuff arm chair. The sprawling of both my arms and legs may have been an indulgence to the overdramatic, but I was due. I stared up at the white painted ceiling. “Max Pierson paid me a visit, and I owe money to that cafe over on Lark Street.”
My petite friend jerked up into a sitting position from her lazy slump on the couch. Drawing her knees underneath her chin, Callie’s wide eyes rounded on me. “What do they want you for this time?”
The P.G.U. was supposed to be a secret organization, but if I knew of its existence, then Callie knew of its existence. That was simply how our friendship worked, and the government would have to deal.
“I don’t know much since everything is classified,” I said. “I do know that they’re searching for five Immunes.”
“No detail—”
Callie’s words were cut off by the low, gurgling croak sounding from the open window. The raven stood tall as she eyed me from her perch. A sheet of paper was tucked between her beak.
“Mischief’s been busy.” I grinned, walking over to the bird and giving her a pet with my finger before retrieving the slip of paper. “Was this freely given or did you live up to your name?”
The raven’s head cocked. Innocent, black beady eyes stared at me.
“You have some stolen goods there.” Callie laughed. “What did you get?”
“A list of names.”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“The Immunes?”
“No doubt,” I said. Mischief’s feathers ruffled, and I wondered if she actually had managed to swipe the information. Doubtful. As clever as the raven was, Maxwell Pierson was good about keeping all important items under tight lock and key. Except for his hat, apparently. I turned back to my roommate. “This is a bribe. If I have names it makes everything more personal so I’ll feel suckered into helping.”
“Perhaps you should? You don’t have any clue for why the government needs Immunes?”
The raven’s feathers once again ruffled as she emitted a low warning. A reminder at what my turbulent thoughts hadn’t quite yet pieced together. Because that encounter tonight had felt rather… intentional. And not just by the six foot tall piece of eye-candy that did his damned best to hide behind low-brimmed hats and geeky glasses.
As if reading my thoughts, Callie asked, “How’s Max doing?”
“Being as obnoxious as ever,” I said, making a mad dash for the needed stash tucked away in my bedroom.
“But oh-so yummy to look at.”
My glare was the only response to her comment as I returned to the living room. “His obnoxiousness is evidenced by his arrogant assumption that I’d willingly sign on to a government job simply because he sent me names. Mischief is not his pigeon carrier.”
Callie’s gaze narrowed on the contents in my hands. “Mads, what are you forgetting to tell me?”
“There’s a pure demon on the loose. We need to set up protection wards.”
The TV remote control Callie had picked up slid from her hand. “Well… that’s interesting.”
Her lackluster response gave me pause and my eyebrows rose. “Not surprised?”
“I was worried something like this would happen after last night.”
“What happened last night?”
“Warlocks breached the portal to Hell.”
“Well, that explains…” I slid down onto a chair and set the jar of salt and clear quartz crystals on the floor beside me. “Nothing. That explains absolutely nothing. How do you know this?”
“Scribes,” she said. Scribes of Oak was an active online Wiccan community Callie often frequented. “Haven’t you felt the shift today? Something’s not right. Everything has seemed off.”
I had felt it, but I’d had too much other going-ons to allow the dread to rise. After my earlier encounter with a pure demon, however, it was time for me to accept the facts and worries.
“That’s why they want the Immunes.” I reclined into the back of my chair, allowing the thought to take root.
“Explain.” Callie leaned forward.
“Once the pure demons acclimate to this realm, they’ll be able to shift into any form they want. Human will no doubt be their choice.“ I glanced up at my friend. “The government needs someone who cannot be deceived by its appearance. Do we know how many demons are here?”
Callie’s head shook.
“It still doesn’t make sense for how they can remain on the earthly plane without being grounded.” That part seriously had me stumped. Due to the directional flow of the portal’s vortex between planes of existence, demons couldn’t reside on the earthly realm without being attached to something already belonging to its existence. Humans primarily. Vampires, cambions, and demon-possessed souls were able to freely wander about, but the closest a pure demon was able to reside was within the veil. Until now. Something had apparently changed with last night’s breach, and it was about to wreak havoc with everything.
The sound of unexpected words lost my train of thought.
“Breaking News. There is no monster on the loose.”
“Look.” I gestured toward the TV. “Wait, pause that.”
Callie clicked the remote to the DVR, freezing what appeared to be a cell phone video of the demon being broadcast on the local news station.
“Unpause it.”
“Will you please make up your mind?” Callie shot me an annoyed glare as she again pressed the button to the remote control.
The two of us sat in silence as the newscaster beseeched the fine, upstanding citizens of the city to remain calm. The image of the demon straight out of a horror flick was nothing to worry about.
“Late Halloween prank? That’s the explanation?” Callie’s eyes were back to wide as she glanced at me. “Like anyone will believe that ugly thing is part of Halloween, especially when it’s already mid-November.”
“Surprisingly, some people will believe just that. It’s easier for their minds to rationalize than to acknowledge there really are beasts from Hell. As for the others? I’m sure the PIGS are already out magically ensuring they forget.”
“Do the P.G.U. agents wear black suits and sunglasses? I’ve got this Men in Black image going on inside my head.”
Rolling my eyes, I fought back a smile because the situation wasn’t the least bit funny. Except now I had my own vision of Will Smith with his neuralyzer facing that thing I’d ran from only thirty minutes before. “Go back to the beginning of the segment. I want a better look at the demon. Maybe I can figure out what level of demon he is.”
“Do you actually know the levels?” Callie asked.
“Not really… Wait! Stop.”
“I went too far back, I know.”
My head shook as I stood and approached the television, pointing at the screen. “No, look.
The breaking news had cut into a story about a murder victim found that morning. The paramedics could be seen loading the sheet covered victim into the back of an ambulance. Despite it taking place several feet behind the journalist, who stood in front of yellow police tape while covering the story, I could clearly see the victim’s arm. The left arm, which had dropped down from the top of the stretcher while the paramedics were loading the victim into the vehicle. More precisely, it was the marking on the inner-arm of the victim that captured my attention.
“Who is this person? They were marked.”
“Marked?”
“Killed by a demon. That marking is only left behind from a demon killing, and it wouldn’t be from one of these beasts who recently escaped into the city. This is a particular type of demon.”
Callie rewound to the start of the news segment. “Victim has already been identified as Jacob Moreno.”
The name was written in the chyron at the lower part of the television screen. The man’s family must have already been notified, and it probably wasn’t the first airing of the story for the day.
Numb, I walked back over to where I’d dropped the list Mischief had brought to me and looked at it. “Jacob Moreno is number four on this list.”
“He’s an Immune?”
“Was,” I said. “That means there are only four Immunes left and if a demon’s after them? I damn well better find the rest of them before it does.”
Decision was made. But what choice did I really have? Max knew me too well. I could totally be suckered into helping… because the government? They just got a new recruit.