Demon's Doorway (34 page)

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Authors: Glenn Bullion

BOOK: Demon's Doorway
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"I'll go first," Cindy said, and grabbed a knife and fork.

"Alex, seriously," Jack said. "You'd better hold your wife's panties. They're gonna fly off."

Cindy tried a forkful of each plate, and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

"Kevin, yours is great. But Jack's is just a little better."

Everyone laughed, and Kevin took the news well. He smiled and shook his head.

"But, Jack," Cindy said. "My panties are still on."

Jack pointed at Alex. "You owe me one. If she gets turned on tonight, it's because of me."

"Alright, alright," Kevin said, and grabbed a clean fork and knife for Leese. "Your turn."

Leese sampled a bite, and nodded at Kevin. "His is better."

The group oohed and awed as Kevin held his arms in the air victoriously. Jack wagged his finger.

"No, that's bullshit. She's only saying that because she wants to play hopscotch on his dick."

Victoria's eyes went wide. "Jack!"

"Well, it's true. Look at her. She's thinking about it right now."

Leese hid her face, embarrassed, as Cindy hugged her around the shoulders.

"Okay, Alex," Victoria said. "You're the tie-breaker."

"I wish I could, but I have to pass. There's a ghost in the dining room that needs to talk to me."

"What a cop-out," Jack said.

Cindy squeezed Alex's hand. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said. "So, the best cook contest will have to wait. I'll be right back."

Everyone groaned and argued about the rules as Alex left the kitchen.

*****

Alex crossed the dining room and headed for the front door, toward the foyer. It had been a great night, a lot of fun. He wasn't sure how the addition of Kevin would go, and he really feared the direction of the evening when Jack showed up. But it was exactly what they needed, much different than racing through the sky to help his friends or tearing into mercenaries on his wedding night. Cindy was having a good time, and Alicia was truly happy just being in the same room with Kevin.

All of that made approaching Matt Little slightly awkward.

Matt dressed the same as when Alex met him, looking ready for a day at the office. He waved as Alex approached, raising the corner of his mouth in an attempt at a smile.

"Hey, Matt," Alex said. "How's it going?"

He shrugged. "I'm still a ghost. So, no change."

"Listen, thanks for giving me some time." He looked over his shoulder. "My wife's in good shape. My stupid sister's in love. All my friends are cool. I think I can help you without too many complaints."

"Thank you. You've got a beautiful family."

"I appreciate that. So, if it's cool with you, after work on Monday, we can get started."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm sorry for dropping in on a Saturday night, but…I found out who killed me."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. A neighbor, who lives two blocks away."

"Great. I can call the police."

"You could, but I was hoping you'd do something else."

"What's that?"

"Tell my wife. She can go to the police, and…I hear you can let the living talk to the dead?"

"I can."

"I'd love to talk to her. Just for a little while. I know you're having fun with your family, but do this for me tonight, and you'll never hear from me again. And I can get you paid."

Alex sighed, but didn't see how he could say no. It was part of the territory, part of the package of having demonic powers. Cindy and he were once interrupted in the shower while making love by a sixty-year-old ghost from the seventeenth century.

"Sure. Give me five minutes."

He went back to the kitchen to see Jack and Kevin still arguing about who cooked the better steak. Jack was trying to get Victoria to sample a bite, even though she'd get sick.

"Guys," Alex said. "I have to leave, just for a little while."

Cindy stood up and approached her husband. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just a quick favor I'm doing for somebody. I'll be back."

"Do you need some company?"

"Nah, I'm good." He gestured to Kevin and Alicia. "Keep an eye on those two. Make sure they don't sneak off to a room or something. Later, guys."

CHAPTER 17

It was an uncomfortable ride as Matt directed Alex to head to the highway. The first few conversations with a new client were typically awkward. Alex thought he'd be used to it after two years, but that hadn't happened yet. There was usually a lot of emotion, and many questions asked. It didn't matter if the ghost was dead five days or five years. They had to relive a very personal experience to get closure, and Alex tried to help them along the way. But it wasn't easy.

"You okay over there?" Alex asked.

Matt took a deep breath. "I will be, when all this is over."

"Where are we going?"

"To a soup kitchen downtown."

"Your wife works at a soup kitchen?"

"No, she…lives there, most of the time."

Alex glanced at Matt and saw his jaw tighten. He sat perfectly still in the passenger's seat, not casting a shadow or leaving a dent. Alex said nothing. He didn't need to know any more. All he had to do was tell Matt's wife whatever he wanted. Technically, he didn't even have to do that. He simply had to hold her hand, and Matt could talk to her himself.

"She won't spend the insurance money," he said. "She went a little crazy, after I died. Her family tried to help her. My family tried. I watched her fall apart, and couldn't do anything to help her. Her job, the house, gone."

Alex felt a pain in his chest. He liked to think he was a strong person, but if he lost Cindy, a part of his life since he was five, he didn't know what he'd do.

"Well, listen, you're gonna be able to talk to her tonight. Will you be able to set her straight?"

"I hope so. But look, you have more experience with this than me. It'll probably take ten minutes just to convince her she's not hallucinating."

"Hell, maybe longer. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

They drove for nearly thirty minutes before Alex finally parked across the street from the soup kitchen. He studied the building, looking over Matt's shoulder. It was separated from the other businesses nearby, surrounded by a gate. The gate was open, but all the lights were off inside.

"Her brother owns this place," Matt said. "He lets her stay here, and I'm surprised she even lets him do that."

Alex was still for a moment as he stood on the sidewalk, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to do. He would tell a woman that ghosts were real, and he could talk to them. He would take her hand, and let her speak to her murdered husband.

"You ready?" Matt asked.

He nodded and walked alongside the ghost toward the front door.

"Are you sure she's here?" he asked, looking at the darkened windows.

"Yeah, but she might be asleep. There's a cot near the kitchen."

Alex knocked on the front door, and was surprised when it opened a few inches.

"She left the door unlocked again," Matt said.

"Mrs. Little? Are you in here?"

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, Matt at his side. The room was bathed in darkness. He searched for a light switch on the wall, but felt nothing. Blinking once, his night vision pushed away the black, just in time to see two shapes rise from behind a table.

The liquid splashed him in the face, stinging his eyes. A smell touched his nose that made him dry-heave. He fell to one knee, and the lights came on just as a boot struck his nose.

The voices surrounded him, far more than one.

"Holy shit, what is that smell?"

"Did it work?"

"Grab his feet."

Multiple hands grabbed his legs and dragged him across the floor. He reached out and grabbed a chair, but someone kicked him once again. Blood ran down his face.

He squinted up at a group of men, maybe eight of them, all dressed in black. Matt stood behind them, his face stone. Slowly, he started fading in and out.

"Sorry…." Matt said. "He said…he'd…resurrect…."

Matt disappeared completely as a boot buried into his ribs, cracking two of them. Alex howled, and tried to sprout his wings. He expected the pain in his back, but nothing happened.

One of the men leaned down to strike him. The punch caught him just under the eye, sending him back to the floor. His attacker grabbed his shirt to pull him forward, and slugged him once again.

He tried to vanish, move into the spirit realm. He didn't know it failed until one of the men stomped on his stomach.

His powers were gone.

"This is supposed to be some kind of terrible monster or something?"

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't look like much to me."

"It's probably that smelly crap we threw on him."

There was a new voice from across the room.

"Of course it was the
smelly crap
."

The men all backed up a few steps and stared at the well-dressed older man, standing in the doorway to another sitting area. Alex tried to count the men, but couldn't think through the pain, and his eyes fell on Anatol Grigori.

Anatol smiled sadly as he approached Alex, and knelt in front of him. Alex tried to back away, but someone snaked an arm around his neck from behind, nearly cutting off his air. He struggled to breathe as he fought the grip.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," Anatol said. "Please believe me when I say that. As long as I've been alive, I've never seen a creature like you. But I know if I'd offered you my friendship, you would have rejected it."

"You're…right," Alex struggled to say. "Fuck you."

Anatol shook his head. "Such a loss."

He stood up and simply nodded. Alex was hauled to his feet. He tried to fight, but one of the men stepped forward and punched him. He gasped for breath, and noticed a man approaching with a syringe. He could do nothing as the man pierced his skin and took his blood. Anatol stood back as Alex was tossed to the floor.

Alex could barely see, but noticed someone walking to the corner and grabbing what looked like a lantern. The man shoved the syringe inside the lantern and set it on a nearby table. The light in the room was almost blinding as the lantern vanished, taking the syringe with it.

"You've done your job well," Anatol said. "Please, dispose of the young man like we discussed. You have about another hour before the potion wears off."

Anatol faded away. He was never in the soup kitchen at all, probably not even in the state. It was a terrifying thought that Anatol could have him killed from wherever he wanted.

Killed. Alex was surrounded by killers, and he was helpless.

But he wouldn't go down without a fight.

The men looked at each other.

"Okay, guys, we have an hour to have some fun."

"Let's just kill him and get it over with. I've got things to do."

"What can you possibly have to do?"

"I have to do your mom."

"Look, let's just do this, and get out of all this supernatural shit."

"What's the matter? You afraid of the little monster?"

They turned to look down at Alex, but he was gone.

"Son-of-a-bitch. Was no one watching him?"

"I thought you were?"

"Did he disappear, like that foreign guy?"

"No, idiot. Look. He's trailing blood."

"Nothing like a fun game of hide and seek. Here, monster monster."

*****

Alex clutched his ribs as he limped his way through the back kitchen. He kept as low as he could, but every breath was agony. Blood dripped from his face to the floor, and he tried to catch it and rub it on his clothes, to avoid leaving more of a trail.

He needed to get away or hide, but didn't know the layout of the place. It was a large building, but only one floor. He needed to find a closet, a dark corner, a phone, anything at all. Cindy was always on him about getting a cell phone, and he always refused. If he survived, a cell phone would be the first thing he bought.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

The voice was to his left, in the dining room. He could see the men moving about in different directions. One stood guard by the front door, laughing at the jokes everyone shared.

There was a door at the back of the kitchen, but it wouldn't budge. A storage closet was to his right. He didn't want to hide in such a limited space, but saw a shadow moving not far away, on the other side of the middle counter. He slowly opened the closet door and sneaked inside, trying not make a sound.

The closet was pitch black. Night vision was one of his lesser powers, one he often took for granted. He'd have given anything for a light of any kind. He felt his way through the dark, and found a rack in the corner, full of what felt like cleaning supplies.

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