Demon Squad 6 The Best of Enemies (3 page)

The first two of Baalth’s hideouts I searched out were empty. Both showed signs they’d been scavenged but not ransacked. Whoever raided them knew where everything was. They’d only taken what appeared to be essentials, leaving behind books and computers and household type stuff, but all the food and weapon stores were gone. That made it clear they were friendlies. Unfortunately, all of the mystical safeguards and wards had been tampered with.

The third, fourth, and fifth locations were pretty much the same, though all of them were still supplied despite the soldiers who wandered the streets nearby. Someone had stopped by to sabotage the magical defense but had left everything else alone inside, which didn’t make any sense. Regardless, it made all of the places useless to me seeing how I needed them to be shielded from detection. While I’d managed to use my newfound power to swat bugs and bad guys easily enough, the fine focus stuff like setting up wards and empowering sigils was beyond me. Half the supernatural community would know I was in town if I tried it, which kinda defeated the purpose of hiding out.

Rala paced behind me while I stood there wondering where to try next. She kept shifting the basket to keep CB from seeing her as though they were playing hide and seek or something. Chatterbox’s zombie tongue slapped at the edges with moist and scented
splats
. I yawned and started off. It was like babysitting the Addams Family’s mentally challenged cousins.

After a couple more dead ends, I found what I was looking for. I stepped up to the door of yet another one of Baalth’s getaway locations and felt a vague tickle just as I reached out to touch the knob. It was so faint, I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been looking so hard. The wisp of mystical energy fluttered against my senses as lightly as the flap of a moth’s wings. Rala must have seen my eyes light up because she glanced over at me.

“This it?” she mouthed.

I nodded and glanced down the street to make sure we were alone. No armed men in sight, or anyone for that matter, I tapped gently on the door, willing the barest sliver of my essence to mingle with the wards. As I hoped, there was a muffled click and the door swung open. I grinned and stepped inside.

A part of Baalth’s world for so long, it didn’t surprise me he’d set the wards with me in mind. I doubt the bastard had done it because he gave a damn, though. It was more likely he was afraid of what Lucifer might say should he return and find his
favorite
child crispy fried because Baalth didn’t want me breaking in on him. Regardless the reason, we were in. I waved Rala on and shut the door behind her, sensing the soft touch of the wards sealing after us.

The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming bouquet of cheap booze and unwashed flesh.

“Whoa!” Rala muttered through the hand that covered her mouth. “What died in here?”

A loud crash in the adjoining room drew our eyes to the half-open door that separated us from the sound. Incomprehensible curses filled the air as heavy footsteps stomped in our direction. There was the unmistakable
clack
of a round being chambered in a pistol as the door was flung open, a massive shadow filling the doorway. The sordid funk we’d smelled as we came in was suddenly much thicker.

Rala stepped behind me. “All yours, big guy.” Chatterbox ducked as low as he could inside the basket.

The gleam of a chromed pistol caught the light before figure stumbled into view. I recognized the gun an instant before I did the guy holding it in his trembling hand.

“Marcus!” I shouted. “My man.” Baalth’s former enforcer swayed before me, a mountain of meat ready to topple over.

His eyes narrowed at hearing his name, the pistol twitching like an epileptic dance partner. “Who?” He took a stiff-legged step closer, one eye clenched as he tried to force the other one wider. “Ah, fuck—” The gun drifted my direction, but it was so slow I could damn near see the thought traveling from his brain to his finger, telling it to pull the trigger.

I stepped in and slapped the pistol—my pistol to be precise—out of his hand and put my palm to his chest. He flew backward, crashing into what looked like a lifetime supply of empty pizza boxes, crushed beer cans, and discarded liquor bottles. They covered every available inch of open space in the neighboring room. The .45 dropped to the dingy carpet with a
thump
. I scooped it up and laughed at seeing the safety still on, slipping it into my waistband.

“Friend of yours?” Rala asked, making sniffy noises in Marcus’ direction.

I ignored her and went over to the guy, lifting him upright so we were face to face.

“You look like crap, Marcus.” And he smelled like an outhouse at a chili cook-off.

His normally bald head hadn’t been shaved since I’d seen him last. The hair was growing in Vin Diesel style, more of a salt and pepper wreath than a full coat. Crow’s feet were chiseled alongside his eyes, the lines running damn near back to his ears. The same gray-black fluff that erupted from his head had sprouted from his cheeks. In all the years I’d known the guy, I would never have imagined him capable of growing a beard, but there it was. Crumbs and dirt and who knows what else had nested in the wild growth, its tangled mess crusted stiff. He had hobo chic down pat.

“Motherfu…” he started, the curse gurgling into incoherence. Frothy spit bubbled up at the corners of his mouth. His breath was easily a hundred-proof with a hint of squirrel ass on the side. I only hoped the relationship had been consensual.

I knew he was in a bad place after Poe died and Baalth went off to find God, but I hadn’t realized how messed up the guy was. Not that I cared enough to check on him. I had more feelings for my morning shit than I did Marcus, but seeing him like that struck a nerve. I never realized how lost he was until right then. Without Poe or Baalth, he was all alone. His world was gone, and I had more to do with that than anyone. Shit, he didn’t even know Baalth was dead. Wonder how he’d be when he found that out?

I sighed and lifted him up, clearing a spot on the ragged, stained couch before plopping him down, which kicked up a mini storm of pizza crusts and bottle caps. He stared at me through swirling eyes, his tongue worming around in his mouth as though he were speaking, but nothing came out but a tiny river of drool. The dude was fried. Put a fork in him.

“Welcome home, Frank.”

I spun around at the voice, recognizing it the instant she said my name. Veronica stood there, hands on her hips. Nothing defines
buzzkill
better than having your succubus ex-wife sneak up on you out of the blue.

Rala
eeped
and jumped back, clutching to the basket. “Don’t you know anyone with manners?”

Veronica glanced at the alien and shook her head. “Apparently not, hobbit.”

“I would have gone with Gelfling, personally.”

Rala just stared back and forth between us, the references lost on her.

Chatterbox’s eyes peeked over the edge of the basket. “
Luuuuvvvvvvv bbbbuuunnnnyyyy.
”

Veronica’s face paled at seeing the zombie head. The two had a moment once, and CB had never forgotten it. Apparently Veronica hadn’t either.

She put her hand over her mouth, her grimace visible between her fingers. “What the hell is
that
thing doing here?” She shook her head, her gaze shifting to me. “Never mind. What the hell are
you
doing here?” She pointed at me, the colorful tattoos that covered her bare arm standing out bright against her pale skin.

“I’m looking for a vacation home and heard the prices were good out here.”

Veronica growled and went over to check on Marcus, pushing me aside. “Seriously, Frank, what do you want?”

It was then that I noticed her face. Her cheek was swollen and bruised, a dark swath running down her neck. She’d layered on makeup to cover it, but up close, I could easily see the purple leaking through. Someone had worked her over good. Veronica turned away when she caught me looking at it.

I stepped back and waved Rala off. She sneered at me and went over to a table half-buried under fuzzy green-black trash. Using the basket so she didn’t have to touch anything with her hands, she cleared a spot and hopped up onto it once she was satisfied she wouldn’t catch anything.

“Happy?” she asked. I sighed as she looked down at Chatterbox and started talking as though I weren’t there. “I don’t know what he sees in her.”

“
Tooooonnnggguueee piieeeeerrciiiiing,
” CB answered without skipping a beat.

Rala snorted, and I turned away to see Veronica glaring at me.

“You didn’t have to hurt him, you know?” She glanced over at Marcus as the big ape snored.

“I didn’t. He was like that when I found him.”

“Which brings us back around to why the fuck you’re here.”

The sharpness in her voice set me off. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, but I can damn sure make an exception if you keep talking to me like that.”

Veronica took a half step backward, her eyes narrowing as she planted her feet. I hadn’t meant to be so rude, but something about her attitude was pissing me off. Her voice was a persistent fly’s buzz that wouldn’t go away. It didn’t help that she’d set me up for Baalth. She’d been the one to tip Gorath off to Karra. No matter what was going on between Karra and me—whatever it was—that shit was unforgivable.

I did my best to change the subject before I lost my temper. Too much time spent around the dread fiends, and trapped inside my own head, I wasn’t in the mood for our usual verbal foreplay. “What happened out there?”

Veronica knew what I meant immediately. She sighed but held her defensive posture. “Seems one of Baalth’s old enemies decided now was a good time to stake his claim to Old Town.”

“Looks like he was right.”

“There wasn’t much we could do. He hit us hard when we were the least prepared for it.”

“Any idea who it is? Someone I know?”

Veronica shrugged. “Hell if I know. He didn’t exactly leave a calling card.”

“What
do
you know?”

Her cheeks darkened, her hands going to her hips. “I know you’re wasting my time. Why don’t you go back to Hell? I have a war to plan for.”

Normally, I would have blown her posturing off, but she’d gotten under my skin. I took a step forward. She flinched but held her ground.

“You’re in charge?” She met my eyes but didn’t answer. “Guess that explains why Old Town is under enemy occupation.”

Veronica puffed up her chest. “You don’t get to—”

I heard Chatterbox clear his throat, cutting through her sentence. He was clearly trying to mediate for his girlfriend, but I didn’t care. Something about her taking over for Baalth struck me as offensive. I’d killed the bastard, she didn’t. Why was she claiming Old Town? If it should be anyone’s, it should be mine.

Without even thinking, I darted forward and wrapped my hand around her neck, eyes filled with a red haze.

“Okay, okay, Frank.” Veronica’s voice came out in a weak gasp. She stumbled back with her hands in the air, blood running from her nose. It stained her lips red and dribbled down her chin. Her throat was already bruising.

My heart sputtered. I looked to my hand and saw blood on the knuckles. A strange sense of disconnection washed over me as though I’d just woken up from a dream. Veronica stared at me but there was no defiance left in her eyes. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, her gaze on me the whole time. I glanced over at Rala, and she sat there with wide eyes, a hint of
WTF
in them. She didn’t know anything about our relationship, and I wasn’t up for explaining it.

“
Goooooooddd? Goooooooodddd?
” Chatterbox asked me, the maggots squirming anxiously in their milky pools.

I looked back to Veronica. She had crept over to Marcus, dropping down beside his unconscious form. They looked like two whipped puppies in a pound. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. That’s how it always was. Veronica screwed me over and I let it go so she could do it all over again. Not this time.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve done to reclaim Old Town, but it’s clearly not enough. I’ll take over from here. I’ve got another job for you.” I went over to her. She cringed into the cushion.

“Sure, Frank,” she answered without hesitation. “Whatever you want, okay? Whatever you want.”

I smiled at hearing that. She trembled as put my hand beneath her chin. “That’s my girl. Now here’s what I need from you.”

Three

I’d left Rala and Chatterbox with Veronica, making it her job to protect them. She might not be good with plotting urban warfare, but I knew it’d take an army to pry those two out from under her thumb; especially after I’d made her promise.

Being a succubus, Veronica was pretty much a slave to power. She and I had butted heads when we were married, but there hadn’t been enough of me to keep her in line, in that respect. That was how Baalth controlled her. He was in another zip code with regards to power. Veronica was a moth to flame for that shit. There was no way she had missed out on what I was packing these days otherwise she wouldn’t have capitulated so easily. I couldn’t trust her as far as I could throw the moon, but as long as she believed she’d get something out of the
arrangement
, she’d do what I wanted.

Just in case she didn’t, though, I tapped a tiny piece of my power and plugged it into Rala like Baalth had done with me not too long back. It wouldn’t do much—maybe only allow her to hold onto her dragon form for a little longer than normal—but it would let me keep track of her. It wasn’t a perfect fallback, but I’d know if Veronica dragged her away from the hideout. That would give me plenty notice if something happened.

Once all that was done, and Rala was back to work at translating the book, I headed off to find out who had laid siege to Old Town. I didn’t figure I’d stumble across an arrow pointing at a sign saying “Bad Guy Here” but whoever he was, he’d left more than enough bread crumbs lying around that I could follow them back to his door.