Love and Demons

written
by J L Oiler

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Cover
Artist: Carl J. Franklin

Second
Edition

©2013,
Rebel Ink Press, LLC

www.rebelinkpress.com

For Kenny

The only barriers to true love are
the ones we erect.

Hog: Harley-Davidson

"The rule is clear. No
inworlder is permitted to seek a human mate from the outerplane without the
unanimous approval of council." Adrik made a low, throaty growl at the
statement then spat on the red dirt at his feet. Though he was large, Barak
stood seven-foot, giving him a good two inches on his companion. The lord of
the Zironet's blue-hued skin shimmered in the glow of the golden sunset, creating
a unique contrast of his alabaster horns against his blue-black hair. That,
accompanied with the detailed muscles of his shoulders and arms, including the
ancient symbols circling his biceps, made him even more striking than usual. Not
that there were any females around to impress.

Most of them were lost to
the plague or the wars that followed. Now their numbers were down to a handful.
Barak's own clan, the Zironet, commonly called the Zi, now had a ratio of males
to females so dismal and unbalanced, they faced impending extinction if they
did not do something quickly. The council knew this, yet still they refused his
request. Unless they changed their minds, his people were damned.

The council was comprised
of two representatives of each of the four demiclans, and a single
representative of the Obsidian. They had been limited to a single
representative, primarily because their souls were as black as their skin. Their
whole philosophy was
death to all
. One
could trace most of the wars between the demiclans directly back to the Obsidian
in one way or another. Of course, they were not the only ones who would rejoice
in the demise of the Zironet. All but three members of the council voted
against his request, and two of those were from his clan.

"I don't give a damn
what the council's word is," Barak told the other male as he paced back
and forth, glaring down into the ravine below.

"Just give your father
and Tiran a chance," the male told him. Adrik reached out to clasp Barak's
arm in a show of support and solidarity.

"Perchance they can
convince the council to change their minds, and if not, they may know a way
around them." Taking a deep breath, Barak attempted to calm himself. Adrik
was right. He always was. He was the Calmer for the clan, but being Barak's
best friend and second in command made that a difficult task at times.

"Perhaps you are
right, old friend. My father is stubborn. He will not back down from this.
Though you would think the fact that the Anunnaki chose to rebirth the lost
souls of our Zi-mates in the human realm would be sufficient justification of
our cause."

The seven gods of their
world, known as the Anunnaki, had sent a messenger before the council only
weeks earlier. The salvation for his clan lay with the human females who bore
the mark of the Zi, and were immune to the plague that cost their kind so
dearly. On top of that, they were each Level Two toxin survives, meaning they
had survived both the plagues that had decreased their number so badly. It also
made their physical adjustment to this world possible.

He crouched lower so he
could peer farther into the ravine at the granite building below. The council
was there at that moment, most likely celebrating the death of the Zironet, but
if Barak had anything to say about it, it would be a premature celebration.

He fingered the bracelet
in the pocket of his pants. The silvery enchanted metal felt cool against his
fingertips. It was constructed from a rare ore found so deep within the ground
that obtaining it was nearly impossible, and he had commissioned one for each
of the members of his battle group. This was one of
six,
created about six months earlier, when they were certain their request would be
granted. Enhanced with a spell of Elements, they would allow the keeper to
locate whoever wore it no matter what plane they occupied.

The smith constructed
each with a solid band whose ends fastened tight with a heart-shaped lock. The
key hanging on the chain around his neck opened only the one he carried. His
bride would wear it one day and, council or no, he was going to outplane to
find her.

"The subject just
exited the building and is heading your way," the scratchy voice of
officer Drake Marrow whispered through the headset. They'd been staking out the
location for the past three nights in an attempt to track down a known arms
dealer named Malcolm Forest. This was the first real sighting of the perp in
over a week and it had come in as an anonymous tip, so how accurate the
information might be was anybody's call.

They had been after
Forest for months now, ever since he sold some automatic weapons to a bunch of
Neo-Nazis who tried to take over the city. They even managed to get one of
their own undercover agents into the inner circle. Then someone sold the man
out and he ended up being tortured and mutilated beyond recognition. If it
hadn't been for some extensive dental work, they still wouldn't be certain whom
the remains belonged to.

"I have him; all
units hold your position until I give the signal," Kat Dash replied, watching
Forest and two bodyguards make their way down the long, narrow alley toward her.
She almost laughed at the use of the word 'units', though in reality it was no
laughing matter. Of the original fourteen officers from diverse backgrounds and
specialties, less than half now remained. Ever since they began the pursuit of
Forest, their numbers had been dropping. Five members were killed at a drug lab
explosion, one in a shootout with some dirty cops, and the worst one of all had
taken place only last week when they lost a man to the worst fate of all:
Matrimony.

As Forest and his cohorts
continued toward her, Kat sensed she was not alone among the debris and
shadows. Someone was watching, though she didn't know from where. There was not
much cover, and she occupied one of the few places one could actually hide. The
alley was two parallel rows of decaying building rears, a cracked and rat-ridden
walkway littered with trash and refuse from years of indifference. It had an
ominous feel that seemed to keep the vagrants and alley cats at bay even in the
daylight. Tonight, however, was something even more special, for the wind
itself appeared to hold its breath in anticipation.

The three men were about
fifteen feet away when Kat made her move. Stepping away from her cover, she then
pulled her gun. Taking a stance that was anything but welcoming, she yelled
out, "Police. Stop where you are and place your hands on your head." She
knew the statement sounded corny, but it worked — or, at least, it was supposed
to. More than an attempt to halt their forward progression; it was supposed to
signal to the rest of the group to move in.

Now, standing there in
the dark silent obis, a feeling of complete abandonment slipped across her
senses. Forest began to chuckle, his deep voice sounding like the doom-filled
moan of a funeral procession. "Look, gentleman, it appears we've found us
a stray kitty." It was obvious that none of them were surprised to see
her.