Chapter Twenty-four
N
ick didn’t know what he expected Annie to say, but that wasn’t it.
“Demons?” He couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“Yes,” Annie nodded, “just like the one you encountered.”
He frowned, not following her.
“The Midtown Murderer,” she said, her expression beseeching.
Nick didn’t react for a moment, but when he did it was to feel anger seeping into him. She was using his weakest moment against him. He’d told her about that dark moment, that moment when he was sure he was going mad and now she was using it to control him.
He couldn’t believe it.
“That’s low,” he said to her, his voice raw and hurt.
Annie shook her head, her eyes looking genuinely confused.
“It’s true,” she said. “Demons are real.”
He couldn’t believe she was continuing with this. He’d spent hours in therapy sessions, hours coming to terms with the fact that he’d lost his mind, just for a moment. A way for his mind to deal with real-life horror. And now she was trying to convince him what he’d seen was true.
“Nick, please, you have to believe me. Finola, Tristan, they are demons. Just like the kind of demons in movies and books and folklore.”
Nick shook his head and raised his hands. He wasn’t going to listen to this. He headed toward the apartment door, but Annie followed.
“I needed a job,” she said, the words tumbling for her mouth. “I needed a job badly and when I was offered the position at
HOT!
I was thrilled. Even when Finola explained the contract to me, I thought it would be okay. I signed the contract. And now I’m indentured to her for ten years. Well, only seven now.”
Nick stopped and turned back to her.
“You expect me to believe this bullshit?” he snapped at her.
Annie winced like he’d slapped her.
“It’s true,” she said softly. Her eyes searched his pleadingly.
Nick closed his own to block hers out. He didn’t know what to think. All he knew was he needed to get out of there.
Nick stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cold winter air feeling good. He breathed in deeply, hoping it would clear his head and help him understand what the hell just happened.
Demons. Sold souls. Annie selling her own soul.
It was crazy. Totally crazy.
He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and started to walk. And as he walked he thought about what Annie had told him. He thought about the missing people. And Jenna and Jessica Moran.
He thought about his own feelings while at
HOT!
He thought about the things he thought he’d seen. He thought about the Midtown Murderer and what he’d seen with his own eyes then.
Then his thoughts returned to Annie. She wasn’t a cruel person. In fact she was good to a fault. Accepting to a fault. She was genuinely terrified of Finola. She worked herself to the bone for that woman, not because she loved her job, but because she said she had to.
Annie wasn’t a liar. And she wasn’t the type to use his own fears and insecurities against him. To what end, anyway?
There was no denying that she was truly afraid. For herself. And especially for him.
When he finally stopped walking, he realized that he hadn’t been wandering aimlessly. He’d had a destination, even if he wasn’t conscious of it.
He looked up at the building in front of him. Finola White Enterprises.
Getting into the building was surprisingly easy, even despite the late hour. It was almost midnight now. He’d literally walked for hours. But the guard in the first-floor lobby had taken one look at his badge and let him in.
Nick immediately took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. When he stepped out he saw no one at the lobby’s reception area.
He strode over to look at the desk. Everything was tidy, normal. He checked the large double doors, half-expecting them to be locked. They clicked open.
He walked into the back offices, the place even stranger at this time of night. Without the buzz of employees. The place looked cavernous, the red recessed lighting still glowing eerily.
Very Hell-like.
He wandered, looking here and there, not really sure what he was looking for. It wasn’t as if he was going to find a big file box labeled “Contracts for Sold Souls” or anything.
Still he continued to look around until he finally made his way back to Finola’s offices and Annie’s desk.
Annie’s desk wasn’t as tidy as the front desk, but then she always had a zillion different tasks going on. To Do lists, appointment information. People to call.
He left her desk and tried Finola’s office door.
It was locked. He considered trying to pick the lock, but decided he’d probably just end up getting himself in trouble.
He sighed, feeling a little silly even for trying to find any proof of what Annie said. After all, even if she was telling the truth, what did he expect to find? Satanic crosses? Pentagrams? The sign of the Beast?
Deciding he should probably just leave before he did actually get caught, he headed back toward the front lobby. But just as he reached the door, the skin at the back of his neck began to prickle and he had the strong sensation he was being watched.
He turned to scan the offices. He didn’t see any signs of anyone. Any movement. He listened for another few seconds, then decided it was probably his own imagination getting the better of him. This place was creepy at night.
He twisted back toward the double doors, when he heard the distinct sound of a swinging door swishing closed.
A swinging door. He knew exactly where that type of door would be and he headed in that direction. The janitorial hallway, where he and Annie had tried to talk privately, but Elton had interrupted.
Carefully he pushed the door open, peering inside. The long, utilitarian gray hallway was empty. But probably any noise he heard was the nighttime cleaning crew working. Most office buildings had them and it would make sense he’d heard noise from back here.
But still he started down the hallway. The few doors that lined the hall were closed. He tested one, but it was locked. He walked a little farther down and decided there wasn’t anything to be found in here, either.
Then he heard a noise. A sound like metal rubbing against metal. Faint, but distinctive. It seemed to be coming from the freight elevator. Nick got close, realizing the door was closed. Someone had just gotten onto the elevator.
Again it could easily be the cleanup crew, but his neck and back had begun to tingle again, so without any further thought, he pushed the UP button and waited.
After several seconds, the elevator returned to his floor and slid jerkily open. He got inside, realizing he didn’t know which floor to go to.
Then he remembered that Elton had gotten into this elevator, presumably to go back to the mailroom. And the mailroom was on the lowest level. And the workers there
had
all made him very uncomfortable during his interviews. Lower level ... Hell. Hell ... demons. Ergo, the mailroom staff were all demons.
Nick knew it was a stretch, but what could it hurt?
He pressed LL.
When the doors opened, he found the mailroom lit up, but otherwise quiet. He stepped out and decided to look around. But as soon as he stepped off the elevator, the doors shut and it shuddered to life.
Nick checked to see if it would indicate which floor number the elevator was going to, but there were only UP and DOWN arrows above the doors.
He’d started to head into the mailroom when he paused and looked back at the elevator. The DOWN arrow was the indicator lit up.
Down?
He started back toward the elevators when he heard the gears grind to a halt, then a slight pause, then the elevator began moving again.
Nick backed up, bracing himself, not sure what he would find on the other side of those metal doors. He thought about being in that interrogation room with that monster or demon or whatever it had been. He prepared himself for something just as horrifying. He glanced around for a weapon, wishing he’d remembered his gun.
Instead he grabbed ... a stapler from one of the mailroom desks closest to him. At least it was industrial-sized.
The doors began to part and he positioned himself with the stapler, poised to throw.
But when the door opened, he found Eugene waiting on the other side, his hands clasped behind his back, a curious look in his eerie blue eyes.
“Have the NYPD stopped issuing firearms?”
Nick glanced at the stapler, then set it back on the workstation next to him. “I didn’t bring mine.”
“That doesn’t seem wise when performing a covert investigation.”
“No,” Nick agreed, “it’s really not.”
“So would you like to tell me what you are hoping to find in the mailroom at midnight?” Eugene asked, stepping off the elevator.
As soon as the man got close to him, Nick felt that prickly feeling return, this time stronger than upstairs. Unable to stop himself, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“I was just looking around.”
Eugene nodded.
Nick regarded the man. Could he be one of them? Could he actually be a demon?
The idea was still a stretch for him, especially when he stood in front of what appeared to be a normal, unassuming man in his mid-to-late thirties.
“I’m not,” Eugene said so a matter-of-factly that Nick wasn’t even sure the man had actually even said the words.
“You’re not what?” Nick asked slowly.
“I’m not a demon.”
Nick tried to remain composed himself. He shrugged. “Why
would
you be a demon?” He glanced over at the stapler, wishing he hadn’t set it down.
Eugene sighed, then smiled almost in the way a person might when dealing with a slow child. “You are looking for proof of demons here. Which you probably won’t find. But you might. This is kind of a sloppy lot.”
Eugene walked toward his office, and Nick had no choice but to follow. He did pick up the stapler on the way by.
“That really wouldn’t do you any good if I was a demon,” Eugene said without looking back at him.
“But it could help if you’re just a regular Joe,” Nick said, again trying not to be totally unruffled by the fact that the man in front of him seemed to be reading his mind.
“True,” Eugene said stepping behind his desk and sitting down. “I suppose it would sting a bit.”
He gestured for Nick to take the same seat he had last time he was in this office. Nick hesitated, but finally sat down. After all, he had to find out what was going on here.
“What’s going on is pretty huge, actually.”
Nick stared at Eugene. “That is very unnerving, you know.”
The man nodded regretfully. “I understand.”
“So what are you? An alien or something?” Nick couldn’t believe he was genuinely asking a question like that.
Eugene smiled, his demeanor still seemingly unflappable.
“No. But I’m not human, either.”
“Okay,” Nick said, still wondering how he could be sitting here having a conversation like this.
“I’m a demon slayer.”
Nick’s eyes widened at that. Funny that this comment would be the one that surprised him enough to get a reaction.
“Well, not exactly a demon slayer,” Eugene clarified. “More a demon controller. Demons can’t actually be slain. They are eternal. But they can be monitored and controlled.”
“Well, from what I’ve seen so far, you aren’t doing a very good job,” Nick stated wryly.
Eugene shrugged, giving him a look that said he couldn’t argue. “But we are working on it. This is the largest assembly of demons we’ve ever had in one place. Usually demons work alone, but here they are working together. So all our moves have to be carefully planned and executed. But we are going to get the situation under control.”
“We?”
Eugene nodded. “We’re like a task force. Brought in by the government.”
“Like the NSA or something?”
“Exactly.”
“But how did you know I was here tonight? I mean I understand you can read my mind now, but can you read it all the time?”
Eugene shook his head. “No, I can only read it when I can see you. But we have been watching you.”
“Why?”
“Because we did not want you drawing too much attention to the problems here. It’s actually easier for us to clean up if not too many humans know there is a problem. We certainly don’t want the NYPD involved. That would bring far too much attention.”
Nick supposed he understood that. “So you know about all the missing people.”