Collateral Damage (Demon Squad Book 8) (11 page)

I didn’t want anyone getting in the way of my kicking it in.

Twelve

They say anal violation is the mother of all invention, or some stupid shit like that. I’m paraphrasing obviously.

Still, if Veronica hadn’t stabbed me in the back, I would have taken her and Rala and the old man back to Hell and we’d all be sitting there waiting for the hammer to drop. Though, from the sounds of it, there might not be a hammer at all if Thud was to be believed. His unintentional confession made me more comfortable about the situation regarding Hell. They hadn’t found a way in or they wouldn’t have used Veronica to draw me out like they had. That was the best news I could hope for considering the circumstances.

Better still, Shaw had shown her hand without knowing I’d seen it. She’d stacked the deck and had five aces in her hand already, but she’d made a mistake by cheating. She’d made me desperate, and not in the begging for an alleyway toss-job from a homeless guy kind of way. Her going to Veronica forced me to really think about how few friends I have and how few people I could count on.

It made me think outside the box. And when that particular box is the one from the
Hellraiser
movies, you never know what you’re gonna get. In this case, it made me go in a direction I’d have never dared if I hadn’t been so screwed.

Still in Old Town, I circled around, taking the long way to ensure I didn’t stumble across Veronica flitting around, and finally came to a dilapidated laundry that hadn’t seen a customer in fifteen years. The liquor store beside it, however, had weathered every storm thrown its way. It helped that Baalth’s money funded it, and I’d kept the checks coming after I deposed the old lieutenant. Mind you, I used Baalth’s money so it wasn’t exactly an altruistic move on my part, but it helped to ground Old Town. The people there needed something stable to cling to.

Also helped that I’d paid the store owner to open a tab for a guy who was down and out on his luck and needed the fugue of booze to keep from dragging a razor blade across his wrist.

I waited until the liquor store was empty before stepping in, a battered brass bell jingling to announce me. The owner, an Indian gentleman with more beard than face, grunted at me from behind the counter. It wasn’t until he looked up and saw me that his attitude went from gruff to pleasant, all within a blink of an eye.

“Mister Frank. A pleasure to see you,” he called out, waving as if we were the best of friends. Given who he dealt with all day, maybe I was.

“How’s it hanging, Anjasa?”

“Very well indeed,” he answered. “Have you come to see
him
?”

I nodded. “Unfortunately, yeah, I have.”

The smile faded from Anjasa’s face. “He is, how do you say, in a mood today.”

Of course he was. I snatched up a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf, showing it to the store keep so he could account for it. “That’s okay, I have the cure to all his ails.”

Anjasa shook his head. “He is on his second bottle already. Coffee might suit your needs better.”

I chuckled. “I don’t want him sober, my friend. I need him agreeable.”

“He has never been that, Mister Frank.”

Don’t I know it?

I thanked Anjasa and went through the door at the back of the shop that led to the stairwell connecting it to the room above the laundry. The steps
creaked
as I made my way up. Anjasa kept them maintained but there was no mistaking their age. One day I’d probably get a call telling me the troll above the laundry had fallen and broken his drunk neck. While that wouldn’t exactly be bad news, it just couldn’t be today.

Today I needed him alive.

At the door to the apartment, I didn’t bother to knock, pushing it open wide and stepping in like I owned the place. I mean, I kind of did. What was Baalth’s was mine these days. Inheritance by murder. The taxman might not see it the same way, but no one else was challenging me for it.

“Come the fuck on in, asshole,” a slurred voice call to me from the couch, nothing but ratty socks on meaty feet jutting out for me to see.

“Always a pleasure, Marcus,” I answered. “And it’s Mister I’m the One Who Keeps You up To Your Rectum in Liquor Asshole to you.” The stench of the place hit me straight away. Nothing in the apartment had been washed in ages, and that included Marcus’s ass. The place was sweltering, nothing but bad air circulating.

“Here two damn seconds and I already want you to die, Trigg.” Marcus pulled himself up to a seated position—well, sorta—and hung limply against the arm of the couch. “That’s not really a record, though.”

The best part about my relationship with Marcus D’anatello was the complete lack of fucks given by either of us. I wouldn’t be there if I didn’t want something from the shithead and he wouldn’t entertain my presence if I couldn’t kick his ass six ways to Sunday. We had an understanding.

I went over and dropped down on the raggedy chair that sat across from him, a coffee table sat on the floor between us. It was a memorial to the booze that I’d been having Anjasa feed to him. Bottles of every kind stood tall on the face so there wasn’t a hint of wood to be seen. An army of glassy companions littered the floor around the table and couch. A number of the bottles had a dark, beer-looking liquid in them that stood in odds with the brand of liquor advertised on the labels.

“I see you’ve perfected squeezing your dick into the mouths of vodka bottles finally.” I wiped my brow. “Whew. I was worried you’d never be able to scratch that one off your bucket list. I am Jack’s bloated sense of relief. Or maybe that’s just gas.”

Marcus stared at me, likely thinking of something to say, but he didn’t bother. He lifted the bottle in his hands to his mouth and drained the dregs, tossing it on the floor to join the others. “Give me the damn bottle and tell me what the fuck you want, cocksucker.”

“I like when you sweet talk me.”

I tossed him the JD, which he caught to my amazement, and pried the lid off with gumption. He down a couple mouthfuls before coming up for air, but he held the bottle close to his chest as if I might take it away from him. He knew me pretty well.

“Come on, Frank,” he said, leaning forward a bit unsteadily, one hand on knee for balance. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

The guy looked more and more like a mummy that’d just been dug up rather than the slab of beef he used to be. Where he’d been a mountain of muscle, he now looked wasted. He’d probably lost fifty pounds or more. The fact that he wasn’t eating much showed in the gauntness of his features. His eyes were like dusty rocks in their sockets, and his normally shaved head hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a razor since the last time I’d seen him—though that was the pot calling the kettle black. My ragged hair and beard would make a hipster cry. His, however, only made him look old. Years of steroids or human growth hormone or whatever the fuck horse meat he chowed down on back in the day had hit his hairline hard. He looked like Bozo the Italian Mob Guy with an unfortunate fascination with vomiting on his shirt.

“You got someplace else to be?”

“No, just don’t have time for you.” He emphasized the point by swilling down more Jack, most of it making it into his mouth.

I watched him for a few moments while I debated what to tell him. He looked a mess, just as he had the last time I’d seen him, but he’d improved one thing in his life apparently. He’d become a professional drunk. While the liquor he was sucking down still messed with his equilibrium, he hadn’t stuttered once since we’d been talking. There was no tremble to his hands, nothing.

“Do you have time for Poe?” The question was out before I could stop it. I promptly kicked my own ass inside my head.

He bolted upright and knocked the menagerie of bottles off the coffee table. “What the fuck are you playing at, asshole? Poe’s dead.”

I cursed myself for bringing up the mentalist. I’d said I wouldn’t, but drastic times called for drastic measures. I’d never been all that trustworthy, so why start now? “You sure about that, big boy?” Means to an end was a mantra I’d have to get used to.

Marcus glared at me. If he thought he could kill me, he would have tried. Shit, I was thinking he still might attempt it given the way he looked at me. “Don’t mess with me, Frank,” he said once it sunk in that I wasn’t just having fun at his expense. He knew as well as I did how the supernatural world worked. Not everyone stayed dead. I hoped for a similar miracle for Karra, myself.

“As much as you and I hate each other, Marcus, that’s the one thing I wouldn’t lie to you about.” I ran my fingers through my hair to get it out of my face. This was a serious dick move, to him
and
Poe, but what choice did I have? “He’s alive, Marcus. Alive and well, and I know where.” It wasn’t entirely a lie.

His fingers played about the neck of the Jack Daniels bottle unconsciously, and I was afraid he might snap it off. Instead, he took a huge gulp and met my gaze once he was done, a trail of whiskey leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“And just what will this information cost me?”

There it was, out in the open. I’d blackmailed him and he’d given in to it. “I need you to do something,” I said, not bothering to deny his implication. There wasn’t enough time for me to pretend I wasn’t a manipulative prick.

“Of course you do.” He leaned back into the couch, exhaling loudly. “Spit it out then.”

“I need you to talk to a few folks and put some things in motion,” I said. “All this needs to be done right now, though. It can’t be put off.”

He chuckled, not bothering to say anything. He’d expected exactly that, so he just waved me on, certain he was gonna hate everything I had to say. So I told him what I needed from him without dragging it out.

He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Clearly he’d been right about hating it.

“No, I’m serious.”

“Do you think these guys are going to give a good goddamn what happens to you?”

Damn that was a lot of Gs.

“Nope, but I bet they’ll care when they miss out on the opportunity to mount my head over their fireplaces and the DSI comes knocking on their doors, looking to provide community cavity searches.”

“You really think they’ll listen to me?” Marcus went to take a drink and thought better of it. He set the bottle on the table.

“Tell them to turn on the damn news if they don’t want to believe you. My pretty face is all over the place these days. If the DSI gets me first, where does that leave them?”

“Pissed as all hell.”

“No doubt, and shit outta luck on top of it all. You can also assure them that I will burn every bridge I know if I go down. There will be no peace left in this world for them. Drop Baalth’s name if you have to.”

Marcus sighed, realizing what I was stirring up. “You sure this is how you want to play this, Frank? There’s not going to be a lot of chances to turn this back around.”

I hesitated a moment before nodding. If Marcus was cautioning me—good old dense Marcus of the solid fists and tiny brain—I was probably taking things too far, but I hadn’t started this war, and a war it was. There were no half-measures left to fall back on. My finger was on the red button.

“I’m sure,” I said. “Now are you going to do it?”

“I really hope you know what you’re doing, asshole.”

Do I ever?

“Just take care of this shit like I asked and I’ll deliver you to Poe. Now do we have a deal?”

“Why the fuck not?” he answered. “I’ll get to see him one last time before the world crumbles down around us.”

I shrugged. At least he’d get that much from it before shit fell apart. Karra was still gone.

“Get to it, then,” I said, tapping my knuckles on the coffee table as I stood. “The apocalypse is waiting on you to kick start it.”

Thirteen

After Marcus’s apartment, Hell felt like a resort spa. I stepped through the gate, slipping into the God-proof room, grateful once more for the silence that came with being
home
, not to mention the clean air. My visit to Marcus had been a necessary evil, but it sure as shit didn’t improve my dislike of humanity in general. These days Earth was an out of control gay gangbang, assholes everywhere.

I peeled open the room and slipped out, hoping Hell hadn’t imploded while I was gone. It hadn’t. The halls of Lucifer’s chambers—one day I might actually think of it as mine—were crowded with DRAC operatives with nothing more to do than hover. The terror of the situation had calmed a bit, so those without some close friend in the hospice waiting to die, there wasn’t anything to keep them occupied. It was, essentially, a medieval castle located in the remotest part of the world disconnected from the rest of existence by a dimensional wall only a few folks in attendance could open, and only those who I allowed. No internet, no phone, no TV or porn—not counting my personal collection, of course, and I wasn’t sharing—these folks were gonna go stir crazy before the week was out. There’d be some great job opportunities for therapists in the near future.

I pushed past the sullen groups and went into my chambers where I figured I’d find everyone since the fiends hadn’t built us a conference room yet. Sure enough, Katon was sprawled out on my bed alongside Scarlett, little Abby using them both as a jungle gym while Chatterbox watched with a lopsided grin. She gurgled happily as she played. Katon’s head turned my direction, hearing me come in, but there’d been little progress in his healing. Scarlett smiled at me over the baby. People to play with, Abby was oblivious. I swallowed a sigh and left her to the company of angels and vampires.

CB thumped off the bed and rolled over to me. “
Duude!
” I picked him up and held him in the crook of my arm. He was the puppy I never wanted. At least he was housebroken. Sort of.

“Should I ask where you’ve been?” Rahim asked.

“Seems you just did.” I plopped down in one of the chairs that littered the room, rolling CB into my lap. It was damn good to relax for a minute. Too bad it wouldn’t last. “If you must know,” I grinned, “I was out visiting the ex-wife.”

Everyone in the room groaned at once. Abby looked up at the sound, confusion coloring her tiny features at the sudden mood change. CB was the only one to have something positive to say.

“
Gett some?
”

“So little trust they have in your father, Abby, and no, CB, I didn’t get any unless you count the bitch fucking me over sans lube or the decency of a reach around.” The hate I’d managed to put aside resurfaced, and I could feel my cheeks lighting up like Rudolph’s nose.

Chatterbox sighed his disappointment. He’d been hoping for a play by play.

Scarlett hopped up and ran over, cradling Abby. “What happened?”

I plucked my daughter from her arms and rubbed my nose against hers in greeting. She giggled and grabbed a handful of my hair, doing her damndest to rip a chunk out. I managed to pry her free without needing a prescription for Rogaine and set her in my lap alongside Chatterbox. He started humming to her right off. He’s a good head.

“Seems Veronica decided her own life was more important than mine and Abby’s combined,” I said, grinding my teeth as I spoke. “She made a deal with Shaw to turn us both over to Trinity.”

“That…
bitch!
” Scarlett muttered under her breath.

“Anyone surprised?” Katon asked from the bed. “If so, let me see your hands.” He paused for just a second. “I’m not seeing anything.”

“Katon!” Scarlett admonished.

“No, I deserved that, Scarlett. He’s right. Everyone saw it coming but I’ve always wanted to believe Veronica could be more than what her mother created her to be. I was wrong in thinking so. She is exactly that, and there’s no denying it now. I’m done trying to pretend.”

“Did you confront her?” Rahim asked. There was worry in his Barry White voice.

I shook my head. “Nope. I did the smart thing for once and let her hang herself.”

Scarlett raised a questioning eyebrow. She was a pretty Spock, minus all that logic stuff.

“Well, figuratively, at least.” I exhaled loudly and made funny faces at Abby to get her to smile. She lit up like the sun, and I felt the anger draining from me at seeing her mother’s eyes staring back at me, bright and shiny. That was exactly what I needed right then. “She’ll be contacting me soon enough to let me know she and Rala are in danger.” I did air quotes around `in danger,’ and gestured toward the dread fiend slumming in the corner, who’d be passing that particular message along. “I’m not sure if it’ll be Trinity or the DSI crew who’ll be waiting for us, or both, maybe even a bunch of butt-troopers on top, but knowing it’s a trap changes the entire complexion of it.”

Rahim nodded, rubbing his hands together as if he were a mad scientist. “With a mystic who can open a pinhole window to give us 360 degree surveillance before we even show up, it most certainly changes things.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Scarlett sighed and glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on Katon a moment before returning to us. “We’re not exactly at fighting strength. Think we can we take them?”

It was strange seeing Scarlett being conservative. Her relationship with Katon had tamed her in a way I would never have imagined possible. I knew she’d fight just as fiercely as she ever had, if not more so because of what the Trinity shits did to him, but she had something to live for now beside the empty wish that her God would one day return to her. She seemed…reluctant to leave Katon. It was cute in a mama bear ripping out someone’s throat kind of way.

I shrugged in answer, not wanting to lie to her. Didn’t matter who went with me, I was doing it anyway. “Maybe, maybe not, but the advantage would be ours this time. They’ve been herding me…us…since the start of all this bullshit. This would be our chance to turn things around and take the fight to them for once. Do it on our terms.”

“And if we lose?” Rahim asked. The room went silent as he played devil’s advocate.

“Then we don’t have to worry about dying some other day.” That probably wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear, but I wasn’t in the mood to sugarcoat things. “What do you want me to say, Rahim? My crystal ball keeps telling me, `Outlook hazy. Try again later, dipshit.’ I don’t know what we’re walking into any more than you do.”

“
Kicck their asssssessss.
” Chatterbox chimed in with his opinion before gently head-bopping Abby. She squealed happily, oblivious to the tone of the discussion around her. His maggots danced for her, doing loop de loops in his eyes like tiny stunt planes. He was her world right then.

“I’m with you there, buddy.”

“Me too,” Scarlett said, clasping the hilt of her sword as if for reassurance. A bit of the old fire shone on her face. “These heretics deserve a beating.” It probably helped Trinity was running around claiming to do the work of Jesus. That’d get her riled up every time.

Katon slid to the edge of the bed and dropped his feet over, sitting up. He stared blankly our general direction. “This can work. Just need to be sure you make the most of the surprise and get the hell out before things have a chance to go south. Guerilla tactics, hit and run.”

“It worked for the good ol’ US of A against the Brits, right?”

Rahim drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Let me get Rachelle in here, and we’ll draw up battle plans and make our decisions from there.” He shuffled out of the room and down the hall.

After he was gone, I turned to Scarlett. “Can you squeeze a message to Heaven in?”

“You think that’s wise given everything that’s happened recently?”

“Not particularly, but I suspect we both know a recipient who would be less inclined to throw lightning down on my head just for receiving a letter.”

She nodded. “He always has had a sweet spot for you. Tell me what you want me to pass on.”

I did, and then we got down to the nitty gritty of planning an assault. I cracked my knuckles in retributional glee. “Time for some motherfucking payback.”

#

Okay, maybe that was a bit anti-climactic.

We sat around for a couple hours slurping down gallons of coffee and plotting revenge long enough to become disillusioned after my efforts at rallying the troops. Clearly Shaw hadn’t been in a hurry to kill us.

Finally, after what seemed forever, the dread fiend in the corner perked up and rumbled at me, its voice gruff, full of odd stutters. It was like Morse code for furry alcoholics. Of course I understood it perfectly.

“There’s our sweet little princess now,” I said, listening to the fiend as he delivered the message, barking it out as he received it from Fido. I passed the location on to Rachelle as soon as I had it so she could play spotter.

The room went quiet after that and it felt as if my breath had frozen in my lungs. The moment had come. We were as ready as we were gonna be, but Trinity had proven they weren’t lightweights. They were determined. They were on a mission from God, if only in their minds. We weren’t gonna walk away from this unscathed no matter how careful we planned it.

“We all ready?”

“I’ve got everyone linked up,” Michael Li answered, tapping his temple with his finger. “The instant things go wrong, I’m having Rachelle pull you out, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

I forewent the obvious Beavis and Butthead joke, and we all nodded. It was just as we’d agreed upon. As much as we needed to take advantage of the opportunity, this wasn’t a suicide run. We couldn’t afford to lose anyone else to these psychos.

“Veronica’s led us to a desolate area of Old Town,” Rachelle said, not really saying anything we hadn’t already known would happen. “I see a battalion or so of DSI soldiers lying in wait on the first floor of the building across the street from the location Veronica stated.” Rachelle went quiet for a second as she surveyed the pinhole in front of her eye. The air flickered, and I could feel the tingle of her power as she shifted her viewpoints in rapid succession. “There they are.”

“Trinity?”

She nodded. “They’ve hidden themselves in separate room that encircle the one Veronica is luring us to, which looks to have been prepared for exactly this. The walls are covered in steel plating and wrought iron bars. It looks inept from a craftsman’s perspective, a rush job, but if you go in through the door as expected, the only sure way out will be through them.”

“Nice to know Shaw doesn’t do things half-ass. She or any of her super flunkies there?”

“I don’t see them anywhere.” She went quiet again, searching, then shook her head. “Obviously they might pop in at any time, but they’re not there now. It’s the best situation we can hope for.”

“Think they suspect something?” Scarlett asked.

“Don’t know,” I said, “but the longer we draw this out, the more likely they will. As much as I don’t want to give these guys credit, they don’t seem to be dumb. Overzealous, sure, but not stupid.”

“I agree.” Rahim grunted, teeth bared. “Let’s get this over with then.”

Adrenaline flooded my veins as the figurative starting pistol was raised, and I smiled. Our pound of flesh was waiting.

Rachelle ticked off the count of five on her fingers, opening a portal as her pinky folded south. Time for phase one.

We hit the rift with cruel intent, bursting into a small room, empty of everything but the Son and his `I think I shit myself’ expression. But for all our surprise, the little fucker was fast.

He cursed as Scarlett drew a crimson gash down his spine, her sword
plinking
against his vertebrae. The kid spun about, right into the barrel of my magic. My hand slapped against his side, but I didn’t give him time to push off. I let loose with everything I had.

My power erupted from my palm like vomit from a bulimic stuffed full of birthday cake. The Son shrieked as the magic engulfed him. His ribs shattered beneath my hand as if they were kindling in a tornado. I’d felt his power well up at the last second in an effort to deflect mine but it hadn’t done much good.

Whiplashed from the blow, he smashed through the door to the main room, taking most of the frame with him. Splinters of wood filled the air, igniting as he passed. He hit the ground and slid twenty feet through a whirlwind of ash and cinders. We followed him into the main room, low and ready for the others. Rahim held back, holding his power in reserve while Scarlett and I tried to remove the kid’s head from the rest of his body.

At the same time, Rachelle had unleashed Hell upon the soldiers across the way. As we tussled with Trinity, a legion of dread fiends rained from the roof onto the heads of the DSI minions. There’d be nothing left of those guys but gnawed pieces of gristle and blood soup by the time the fiends were done. Rachelle would have dropped an extra hundred or so just inside the door to ensure no one made it out alive to come up behind us. That was lovingly referred to as phase two.

The Father and Holy Spirit crashed through the doors of their hidey holes just a few seconds after we arrived, fury overtaking their expressions. That’s what Rahim had been waiting for. He turned it on like a mystical repeater rifle, firing a flurry of magic bolts at the pair.