Demon Hunters (28 page)

‘Dear Jake,

I think it would be best if I just went on
without you.

Thanks for everything.

Gwen’.

I crumpled it up and tossed it aside. I ran
to the balcony, but there was nothing below. No car speeding off.
Not even the vapor trail of one that had just left. She must have
seriously booked to cover her getaway that easily. I sat down on
the couch and listened to the silence of my home. It was familiar
but unwanted. It seemed emptier somehow; lonelier. There wasn’t
much else to do, so I flipped on the TV and that was that. After an
hour of trying to find something to watch, I decided to cut my
losses and I headed out to Fielding’s Pub, a little hole in the
wall bar I would frequent.

The pub was just a few blocks away from my
building so I just walked there. The name was a lot more impressive
than the actual establishment. It was located next to a small gas
station at the corner of the street. The exterior was quite plain
with a sickly shade of blue splashed across the front, a modest
sign hanging over the door and blacked out windows in front. I
pulled the door open and the stale air from inside washed over me.
I walked in and quickly noticed how quiet it was. I sat down at the
bar and with a wave of my hand; I had a beer in front of me. I
sipped it slowly and listened to the music playing from the
jukebox. It was an upbeat tune, which was odd. Usually the patrons
chose more sobering songs and they usually were country-western
songs. I turned to see a dark figure standing over the music
machine. A woman and for some reason, she looked familiar. As she
turned, I felt a shock come over me.

“Kassie.”

“Jake. Long time.” She crossed over and sat
down next to me.

“Long way from home, aren’t you? Out on
business?”

“Sort of. I felt you needed to talk.”

“You did?”

“Don’t ask me to explain it. I don’t quite
understand it myself. It’s just what us cupids can do,” She said
with a smile. “Of course, I think I know why I was able to zero in
on it. It’s about love, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” I took another sip of beer.

“I know you want to talk about it.”

“I don’t, really.”

“Fine. I already know everything anyway. She
lost her brother and part of her blames you.”

“She said she didn’t, but she does. She
should. She’s right to blame me.”

“Perhaps, but I also know part of her really
wants to forgive you. The only real problem is that you won’t
forgive yourself.” I looked back at her quickly.

“I did the one thing I swore I’d never do
and it got a good man killed.”

“Yes, but from what I understand Tyler knew
these kinds of risks existed and he was ready to face them. It
wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, none of this matters, because Gwen
left town and that’s it.”

“You sure? I could always track her down and
give her a little shot o’ love.”

“You could?”

“Sure. I’ve got a little of the old magic
still in me. How about it?” I thought on it for a moment and ran
the scenario through my head.

“No. Thanks, though, but I don’t want it
like that.” Kassie then gave me a firm pat on my back.

“Then how about shot of Tequila?”

“Bless you.”

Secret Motives

The next day, I went by the office and saw
an army of trucks parked along the street and a lot of building
materials piled up near them. I stepped out of my car and heard all
the noise coming from inside. Dust was drifting out of the open
windows. I could only imagine that Ivar had contacted our landlord
and informed him of our recent maintenance issues. Ivar always was
good at taking care of things like that.

I walked into the main lobby and there were
tarps and buckets of paint lined up against the wall and the
commotion from upstairs was getting louder. I assumed I was getting
closer to the epicenter of the activity.

I went on up to my office and I saw a large
gathering of workmen in the hall outside my open door. Some were
measuring things while others were ripping up tiles or driving
nails into the walls. I pushed past all of them and went into the
office and saw a large work crew busy making repairs to it. I saw
the floor had been patched up as I walked in. The walls were still
months from being stable, but for all the noise and dust, I could
tell it would get done. I noticed a big pile of lumber sitting on
my desk and dust coming from everywhere. I noticed by the state of
Ivar’s desk, he had opted not to even show up for work, and I was
in no position to argue.

One of the workers came waddling up to me.
He was a heavyset guy with a thick beard and a protruding belly.
His tool belt was stretched to the limit with each step he took
towards me.

“Hi. Are you Jake Corba?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Willie. The owner of the building got
me to fix your place up.”

“Great. How long is this going to take?”

“Oh. Not too long. Just a few weeks. A
month. Maybe two.” He said very easily. I felt a shock push through
me, but it was nothing compared to the shock I got the night
before. I simply wadded up all the frustration I was feeling and
tossed it aside and replaced it with a smile.

“Good to hear. I guess I’ll just have to
work out of my home.”

“That’s what I’d suggest. It’s gonna be
pretty much Hell on Earth here.”

“I kind of doubt that, but yeah,” I turned
for the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the workers
admiring a small clay pot I had found years earlier. I turned to
Willie quickly. “Uh, if it’s all right with you, I’d prefer it if
your people wouldn’t touch my stuff.” Willie followed my eyes and
saw his boy holding the pot.

“Sure. No problem. Hey, Benny! Put that
down!”

“It’s just a pot!” Benny complained as he
put the pot back where he found it. I leaned over to Willie.

“You may want to inform him that the last
person who handled that pot is now a puss collector on the third
level of Hell.” Willie looked at me oddly and then broke into a
nervous laugh. His eyes found mine again, and I was sure it was my
expression that ended his laughing.

I returned to my home and tried to relax
with a beer. It hadn’t just been Gwen’s departure that troubled me,
but also Dontavius’ visit. My mind was tracing past everything that
had happened and I was trying to make some kind of sense out of it.
Jackal hadn’t been much help and I had no inclination to go to
Kennison to see him again. I knew that if there were any answers, I
would have to find them myself.

I had felt compelled earlier that week to do
some digging on the new Grand of the Black Flame and I had
discovered that Dontavius made a very good living as a developer
and all around entrepreneur. The face of Dontavius DeMarco to the
outside world was that of the affable billionaire and head of
DeMarco Industries, who was generous with his time and money, but
was oddly reclusive. That bit probably made him all the more
attractive to the media hounds.

I pulled up to the world headquarters
building of DeMarco Industries at around ten or so at night. It was
located downtown in a large industrial park, and, as it was the
middle of the week, there wasn’t much activity on the streets. I
walked up to the entrance and couldn’t help but be a little
impressed. For being part of a hidden race of vampires, Dontavius
was doing quite well for himself.

I walked into the building and quickly found
the elevators. I pushed the button and as the doors slid open, I
could hear the soft music playing within. I stepped inside and
pressed the button for the penthouse. The doors closed and the
elevator car rose up. As it slowly climbed to the top of the
building, my mind drifted to the past week and my little
independent investigation. It was all I could do to get Gwen off my
mind. I had gone back to my roots and applied my most basic
detective skills. My findings yielded a lot of new information that
stretched back months ago, but it was all so random and chaotic.
There was a picture forming, but nothing definitive. For as much as
I discovered, there were so many questions that needed answers. I
was hoping Dontavius would be able to help me connect the last few
dots.

The elevator stopped at last and the doors
opened and it looked as though I was walking into someone’s home
rather than an office. I walked out into a marble foyer and I heard
the soft strains of Beethoven just above my head. The walls were
adorned with fantastic works of art; some were actually familiar to
me. The lighting was minimal, but effective. I could see where I
was going.

I looked around, but saw no sign of life.
There were no noises to indicate anyone was home, but I knew that
he was there. He had to be. I stepped down into what appeared to be
a sunken living room. A fireplace stood to my right, but it was
dormant. I progressed further and I saw a gourmet kitchen down a
long hallway, but again, no one present. I suddenly heard a hard
splash of water. I turned around and saw a large wall of glass
ahead. I walked toward it and soon saw a glass door that led out to
an exposed rooftop garden. I saw water spraying up into the sky,
over the larger plants. I pushed the door open and there he
was.

I saw Dontavius, hose in hand, as he was
watering his impressive collection of exotic flora. It was
interesting seeing a man such as Dontavius doing something mundane
like watering his own plants. I noticed a look of happiness on his
face. He was smiling, but it wasn’t like the other times I had seen
him smile. The smile he had on had no trace of irony or
maliciousness. There was no agenda behind it, but I felt that would
change soon enough.

“Hi.” His head cocked toward me and his
smile disappeared behind a look of surprise. He shut off the water
and set the hose down.

“Mr. Corba, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you
come in.”

“My fault. I guess I forgot to ring the
bell.”

“What can I do for you tonight? There was no
trouble with the check I trust.”

“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to
come by and talk. Sorry to interrupt your gardening.”

“It’s a helpful way to manage the stress of
work.”

“Of course.”

“At the risk of sounding rude, I’m a very
busy man, Mr. Corba. I don’t really have the luxury of pointless
chit chat.”

“Then I’ll be quick. I’ve been doing some
research recently and I’ve found some interesting things. It’s all
very abstract to me now. I was just hoping you could help fill in
the gaps.”

“Of course.”

“First, I talked with Dr. Zucker...”

“Dr. Zucker? I’m afraid I don’t know who
that is.”

“Of course you do. He’s the one who released
Jackal Bledsoe in the first place.”

“And how should I know this?”

“Because you’re the one who sent him.” I
clasped my hands behind my back to keep them from shaking, but did
as best as I could to make it appear as a sign of confidence.

“I have never met the man.”

“Like I said, I spoke with Zucker and he
says that he doesn’t have any memory of speaking with Jackal or
releasing him, yet there’s security camera footage of him visiting
Jackal on three separate occasions. The police said that they think
he was under some sort of influence, but he tested negative for any
drugs.”

“There you go then.”

“The police did offer a theory that he may
have been hypnotized, and it’s a theory I am inclined to agree
with. In fact, after speaking with him I have no doubt that he was
hypnotized.”

“He might very well have been.”

“No. I mean really hypnotized. Not by some
dime store magician who pulls rabbits out of his hat. Deep
hypnosis. I’d say on a near psychic level. By someone who could
actually reach into his thoughts. Someone like you.”

“This is starting to sound like an
accusation, Mr. Corba.”

“He claimed he had no memory of what he did,
and the day after it was done, he said he had a terrible headache.
I know what you are, Donny, and I know how it all works. I’ve had
that headache myself a time or two. I know it and you know it. He
was hypnotized by a vampire.”

“Even if he was, what makes you think I was
the one?”

“I also found out that the construction
company that found Morgan’s body was owned by a subsidiary company
under the DeMarco umbrella.”

“Perhaps we should continue this in my
office,” Dontavius said. His eyes were cool as marbles as he locked
onto me. He stepped forward and glided past me like smoke. I
followed him in and he led me down a long hallway to a room way in
the back. It was a sterile type of office. A lot of metallic gray
and very few personal mementoes. Very opposite of the rest of the
penthouse, which seemed to be decorated in a way as to make his
guests feel at ease. To lower their guard. He sat down at his desk
and gave a glare as though I was next on the menu. “You were
saying, Mr. Corba?”

“You were the next one in line for
leadership of the Order of the Black Flame, correct?”

“That’s true.”

“Is there any other way to become the Grand
of those guys? An election or something?”

”I’m afraid not. It’s inherited and once you
have it, it’s yours until you die.”

“Interesting. I spoke with some members
recently. They told me that you and Tyler rarely saw eye to eye on
several issues.”

“Mr. Thorne and I did butt heads on
occasion. That’s not to say I didn’t have the utmost respect for
him.”

“Of course not. Perish the thought. I just
find it fascinating that you found Morgan’s body and then arranged
the release of a psycho like Jackal, who, incidentally, would be
perfect bait for a cult like The Reborn. It seems like someone in
your position would know that those two elements would be bound to
collide.”

“I don’t like what this is sounding
like.”