Demontouched: The Demontouched Saga (Book 1) (2 page)

“It’s that obvious?” I take another drink.

“Yup.” He gives me a push on the arm. “Go get her, man.”

I couldn’t. It was going to take a lot more than three beers to break that barrier.

After a while, the constant razzing from Mike, and four more Buds I downed, my courage decided to show up.

Across the bar, I noticed her friend walking away with some guy.

This was my shot.

I approached from her blindside tapping her on her shoulder. Part of me wants to duck back into the crowd, but I’m not nearly fast enough.

She turned and looked me in the eyes.

“Hi, I’m Mitch.”

Even back then, I got lost in those eyes.

-2-

I wake up on the pavement with one hell of a headache.

Picking myself up, I try to remember where I am. I look around and notice a body dangling from a lamp, leaking out its intestines. Two more bodies smashed into the hood of one of the cars. There was even one that was stuck on a telephone pole in a way that would have made Vlad the Impaler proud.

Eunie had himself a little fun last night. I’m glad I don’t remember it.

I try to remember what I was doing to bring on the party when I notice a handcuffs on my wrists, the chain between them broken. I walk to the nearest body and grab his keys and free myself before grabbing my stuff off of the hood of the car, feebly attempting to avoid the blood.

Knife.

Gloves.

Holy Water.

Bible.

Eye Drops.

Bottle of Jim.

All the necessities are covered so I put them back in my bag and get into one of the cruisers. Unless Eunie left a witness, they won’t be needing it anytime soon.

I open the glove compartment and look for something to put in the stereo. The one downside to the apocalypse is that radio is the one industry to truly suffer. The people that got left decided that it wasn’t high on the list of things to keep running. Normally I would agree, but it isn’t often you find a killer CD collection in a cop car. Looks like I’ll be making the return trip in silence. The way my head is pounding, that is probably my best bet anyways.

I slap the car in drive and head back to the city. I don’t hate the country, but it is even more quiet now than it was before. The city has taken over as my favorite place to hang. Three years ago you wouldn’t have caught me out here at all, unless I managed to land tickets to a game. Today, if you even hope to catch a glimpse of another person you better move close to one.

When the world went to shit, humanity went crazy with it. If forty percent of the world disappeared on that first day, another twenty percent died in the next few months. Some were unfortunate enough to be on a plane where the pilots disappeared. Others on the highways. The rest died in the struggles of survival.

It didn’t take long for food and water to become the priority. I still laugh when I think about the idiots who thought the priority was looting the biggest TV you could carry. The smart ones were taking groceries.

I ditch the cop car before getting to Nal’s place. Driving a cop car around here is an easy way to draw attention. Something that I don’t want at the moment, though I think Nal may like the touch.

I walk the twenty or so blocks to the hotel Nal took over. Walking inside, I nod to his three goons playing cards in the lobby. Things may look relaxed, but these guys can fight. A few weeks ago we had a rival group come in and try to take over the pad. I guess they thought that simply outnumbering us six to one would be enough to drive us out. Rick, Adam, and Joe just laughed as they handled them by themselves. They may look calm now, but these guys are always looking for a release.

The lights flicker a bit as I walk through the lobby. This area of town still has working power. It isn’t really odd to see it now, but it was for a few months there. While there aren’t enough workers to keep the whole grid running, there are enough to keep some packets up. Nal happens to run one of these packets. That might be why I like him so much.

I enter the stairwell and start the climb to the top floor. I’m not afraid of taking the elevator, but the grid is hardly stable. The last thing I want is to find myself stuck on one. I blame that Youtube video I saw where a guy got stuck on one with massive diarrhea. It was funny as hell to watch, but I wouldn’t want it to happen to me.

I’m one step into the hallway on the top floor before I’m greeted by two dudes leveling their pistols at me.

“What business do you have up here?” guy on the right asks.

New guys. I hate dealing with new guys. One of these days Nal is going to have to start telling his bodyguards about me, though I think he gets off on me putting them in their place. Something about seeing a big guy getting his ass handed to him by the smaller one, I guess.

I pull out the sheriff’s wallet and flash his badge. “The boss is expecting me,” I say.

“The boss doesn’t have any appointments today.” I shake my head when they both start to laugh.

“I’m not the type of guy who needs an appointment. Tell your boss Mitch is here.”

“The boss doesn’t know a Mitch,” idiot one says.

“Besides, we don’t like you,” says idiot two.

I feign a smile. If these guys insist on playing this game, I’ll gladly take the first serve.

I focus my push on the barrel of their guns and wave my arms to the side. The new guys crash into the walls on each side of me knocking their weapons free. This is not the first time that I’ve done this move, but it is the first time I’ve seen two idiots holding their guns so tight. Normally, I’m happy if I disarm the morons. Something tells me that I’ll be waiting for this result from now on.

I reach down, pick up one of the pistols, and level it at idiot one.

“Now, take me to Nal or you will find this gun in a rather unpleasant area.”

Idiot two stands up and walks me to the suite.

“Mitch, glad to see you. Guess those cops won’t be bothering us anymore, eh?” Nal says. If you had the balls to say it, he is a rather nerdy guy. The last guy you would expect to see running a crime ring. What he makes up in looks though, he makes up in brains. In times like this, the later is more important.

“Not unless they raise from the dead. Took down the whole pack. The sheriff I got in his sleep, nice and clean. The others,” I pause for dramatic effect. “I can’t really tell you what I did to them. You may want to get a few guys out there to take pictures, though. Was the best display yet.”

“Doesn’t it ever bother you, the work I have you do?”

“I’ll be honest. I’d rather be in sales.” If there was a sales job open now, I would probably take it. The problem is that those jobs used to pay in cash. While we still use the same currency, supplies are now much more valuable. Believe me, I miss the days when you could buy two cans of corn for a dollar.

Nal laughs leading me to one of the side rooms. He opens the door revealing a nice large cache of food and other supplies. Mainly can can goods and ammunition. This is the modern version of Fort Knox, unless someone figured out how we can eat gold. While I am standing in a sea of wealth, over in the corner is my prize.

Behind the crossbow and leaning stack of sniper rifles is a sword. Not any sword, but the sword used by the angel Tamiel. He was one of the first angels to come down after the Rising and one of the first to die. This is why I never even considered the Marines after high school. Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to be in a hurry.

I really don’t care that Tamiel owned it before Nal got his mitts on it. I just want the blade to help with my demon problems.

“Where’d you get her?” I ask, trying not to cut myself while trying to do some Jackie Chan moves with it.

“Couple of my boys picked it up on the riverfront. They say Tam died there, trying to shut down the rift.”

It makes sense. Not long after the Rising, a pack of demons had come straight into St. Louis. They planned to use the arch to create one large portal straight to the hells.

Yes, there are more than one. I’ve seen at least three of them. Ole Eunie tells me he has seen eight, but I digress.

They were attempting to do a flat-out hostile takeover of the Midwest. Something similar to what Hitler tried in World War II. Tamiel led the group that moved in to destroy the portal. He supposedly died destroying the portal. When the portal went, half of the Landing went with it. So much for the beautification initiative a few years back.

“Well Nal, it has been a pleasure, as always.” I put the sword back in its sheath and attach it to my belt. I’m three steps from the door when I hear my name.

“They found something else while they were downtown that you may be interested in.”

I turn around and look straight at Nal. The bastard knew how to get my attention, I’ll give him that. “And that is?”

He holds up a small black notebook. It almost looks like my sister’s old diary that I may or may not have read a few dozen times. “Blaine’s journal. It is full of notes on how he was able to control his demon.”

“You always believe everything you read?” I say. “You can’t control them. You just set up a mutually acceptable working agreement ahead of time so you know who gets to play and when.” Sadly, I did want that journal. If there was even a sliver of truth behind it I might not have to clean up many more of Eunie’s messes. “What’s the job?”

“I want you to take out Duncan Stansbery.”

“The guy who runs Memphis? He is well out of your territory, isn’t he?”

He walks up and pulls out his phone. He shows me a dozen or so text messages from his people on the east side all complaining about some new guys coming in, demanding taxes. Considering the nature of the businesses on the east side, the tax could be ass or grass. It would take some enormous balls to tax Nal’s gas, but something tells me Duncan has some big ones.

“He has been sending his people this way for a while now. For the most part they have just hit us on the outskirts, nothing that really hurts us here.”

“Then why send me down to Memphis? Just have me hit his lackeys.” Unless he has some massive intelligence network, there wouldn’t be a reason to head down there. His guys could be dead for months before he even caught wind of it.

“You aren’t going to Memphis,” he says. “I think he has set up somewhere on the north side.” He shows me more messages from the guys he has in charge up north. They normally check in twice a week, every Wednesday and Saturday. They have done it for months without fail. “Two weeks ago, things up north went black. It’s not like the boys to not send word after this long.”

“Perhaps they went rogue.” Doubtful, they know that Nal would call me. He makes a habit of showing off my handiwork when he can.

“I considered it. That is why I want to send you. You come back with Duncan’s head, or with the heads of Jason and Mark, and the journal is yours.”

“One of these days, you’re going to have to clean up your own shit storms,” I say walking towards the door. “As long as you keep getting some nice shiny toys I guess I’ll keep being your maid. Just don’t expect me to wear one of those short, sexy skirts.”

“Bad visual man,” Nal winced. He definitely got the visual.

“Tell your guys in the kitchen I’m heading down to get a case of Diet Coke and a bag of salt.”

“Why the hell do you need salt?” He asks giving me one hell of a look.

“Don’t ask.”

-3-

My first order of business is to check in with Sara, my tech girl.

She is hot. Not hot in a Gisele sort of way, but hot in a sexy librarian right down the the nerdy glasses and pony-tail kind of way. If I need information on anything, she can find it in about as much time as it takes me to piss. The best part is that she only accepts two forms of payment. Sex and Diet Coke. Too bad for me her sex machine is closed.

Guess that is what I get for walking home drunk wearing some stripper’s panties around my neck.

“Why hello there, beautiful.” I place the case of soda at her feet.

“What do you want now, asshole?”

Ouch. Guess it is going to take a lot more than some Diet Coke to fix this one.

“Nal has another job for me. Some dude named Duncan Stansbery has been harassing some of the border ops for the last few weeks. He wants me to go all Kane from Mortal Kombat on his ass and bring him his head.” Part of me wants to do the move, but the humor would probably be lost on her.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Let’s see. We start with the soda that I had to give Nal entirely too much for and I’ll throw in dinner at that fancy steak place you like.” I can remember the days when the dinner would have been enough to persuade my wife to do something for me. Considering they haven’t reopened the Coke plant, the soda is the deal maker here.

“I think we are on two different pages here, Mitch.” It’s a cold day in hell when the soda doesn’t seal the deal.