Those Who Fight Monsters (30 page)

Terrific.

Once I was back at the spot where I’d stumbled, it wasn’t hard to find the place where Marco’s thumb had dug into soft mortar. As I suspected, the brick was loose in the wall. It would be tricky to pull it out with one hand, but I couldn’t afford to let go of the Russian babe to use both. I did, however, take back my gun, and hers to boot, before yanking the brick loose to let it drop to the ground. The sound echoed and the voices, boots and scales moved faster still. The snakes sounded
big
.

The box was just behind the brick and had a handle on front that made me think of a safe deposit box. Maybe it was. All I knew is that I only had time to drop Natasha, grab the handle, and take off running. I couldn’t risk that box staying here, even if there was only a slim chance of them finding it before we could get back to retrieve it.

The moment I let go and started to run, I felt the moon slice through my skin once more. Just to be safe, I put the handle of the box in my teeth. It was a good thing I did, too, because it wasn’t more than a dozen feet before I couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. The howl that tried to leave my mouth was forced to escape through locked jaws and then I was running on four legs instead of two, pulling behind the tattered remains of my clothing as I ran.

Bullets started to ricochet off the brick and I felt a flash of pain in my ribs. There were shouts behind and the scent of rotten cantaloupe enveloping me as I made one final leap through the door of the boiler room, tearing at least two leg muscles in the process.

But I was luckier than my pursuer. The giant snake ran fang first into the boiler I barely missed and cold-cocked himself. Lucas and two wolves I’d never seen before rushed past me into the tunnel shouting for everybody to give themselves up, as I crawled under the massive machine with my prize.

A week later I was still nursing an ACL tear and broken collarbone from a bullet, which had felt like my ribs at the time. As a three-day, I don’t heal very fast. But I’d be back on my feet a lot faster than a full human.

Even Lucas hadn’t been able to get the box away from me that night. He said he’d have had to break my jaw to unlock it. We went through it together the next morning. There was lots of interesting reading. Most of the blackmail evidence was destroyed, but Lucas saw no reason not to give the gold back to Carmine. Anyone it might have belonged to was long dead now and he’d need money to pay his legal bills for being out of the country. Turns out the Feds were watching him closer than we’d imagined. The RCMP picked him up at the hotel while we were all out, to deliver him to the Feds. I’ll be laying low for some time to come because it turns out I was caught on film as well. Since I was supposed to be dead, and now I’m not, I’ll probably need a make-over so I don’t wind up in the cell next door. However, Lucas is going to see what he can arrange for us to get a clean bill — a full pardon from the President for both me and Carmine, owing to us turning over the weapons cache and virus we discovered and the terrorist spies … at least the full human ones. The others? Well, the snake attackers who I was able to finger through the hindsight on Carmine will never see trial. Not only is Carmine watched by the Sazi now, he’ll be
protected
by them. At least, so long as he’s not breaking the law.

That’s Wolven law enforcement, and it’s why I stick around.

C. T. Adams and Cathy Clamp are real people with slightly twisted minds who write strange fiction for fun. They are happily the award-winning,
USA Today
bestselling authors of the “Tales of the Sazi”
and “Thrall”
series for Tor Books. They are also now writing urban fantasy as “Cat Adams” and released a new series, “The Blood Singer” in June, 2010. Both C.T. and Cathy spend their days working in a law office in central Texas, which is what many claim warped their brains. They share a website at www.ciecatrunpubs.com

Tony Giodone’s skill as a hit man has resulted in a stack of cold case files in the homicide divisions of a number of major cities. Even before he was attacked and turned into a werewolf, if you met Tony in a dark alley, he’d be walking back into the light alone. Although still an assassin, he’s now working for Wolven, the police force of the Sazi council — in other words, the good guys.

Hell Bound: A Hell on Earth Story

by Jackie Kessler

“Stupid fucking name.” The incubus Daunuan shook his head. “Why do so many human magicians pick stupid fucking names?”

“Aw, sweetie,” I said. “Don’t be like that. They’re just being creative. They think it makes them sound exotic.”

“It makes them sound like assholes.”

“Not everyone can have a name like yours, Don Juan,” I said with a wink, emphasizing the human pronunciation. The demonic version was more sensual, called for more use of the tongue and lips. We creatures of Lust were nothing if not sensual. And all about the tongue and lips. “Besides,” I said, “ ‘Noel Le Noir’ isn’t the worst name I’ve ever heard.”

“No, but it
is
hopelessly cheesy.”

“I like my men hopelessly cheesy.”

“You like your men, period.” Daun smiled. “And your women.”

“I’m an equal-opportunity succubus,” I agreed happily. Whatever the gender, whatever the form, I loved humans. To death. Speaking of which…

From our secluded table in the corner, I gazed at my new client, who was sipping a drink all by his lonesome at the bar. To look at him, you’d never guess that Noel Le Noir — born Leon Siegal — was a Satanist (which put him on my side) and a master magician (which did not). At first glance, he looked bookish and plump, with a weak chin and acne scars. And talk about overkill on the black: silk shirt, slacks, shoes, socks, dyed hair. A gaudy silver necklace with a pentacle dangling point-side down hung around his fleshy neck. He looked like he’d tried going Goth when he’d hit 35 and didn’t quite make it.

Based on his reputation Below, I’d expected to feel his magical power teasing his flesh like foreplay. One didn’t become a master of the dark arts without radiating a little menace, or at least seeming like the sort who’d go out of his way to kick puppies and drown kittens. This guy? He radiated as much power as a limp dick. Maybe someone was fooling around Downstairs and mislabeled Noel’s file as that of an actual mage, instead of a wannabe who chanted his “Hail Satan’s” and pretended his rod of power was something other than what lay between his legs.

He didn’t need magic, however, to score a one-way ticket to Hell, even without the Satanism. Noel Le Noir was personally responsible for nineteen human sacrifices and too many animal killings to count, to say nothing of all the pain and suffering he’d caused others over the past dozen years or so. He was a serial killer with the face of a nebbish.

Yum.

“I still don’t understand why you scored this assignment,” Daun said, casting a dark look at Noel.

“What’s to understand? Queen Lillith gave it to me personally.” And never mind how she’d gloated as she’d handed me the paperwork. “Besides, I haven’t eaten a magician in
centuries.
And the last one was a charlatan.”

“This guy’s supposed to be the real deal, babes.”

“Even if he is” —which I seriously doubted— “I can take him. The queen wouldn’t have given me the assignment if I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken your queen for someone who’s on Team Jezebel.” Daun leaned in close. “She’s making it known far and wide that you intend to corral an evil magician’s soul down to the Pit, and that it wasn’t sanctioned by Lust.”

Gosh, Lillith had lied. What a shock.

Daun’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Demons of Greed are already taking bets on whether you get completely destroyed or just bound to the mage as his slave.”

“What’re my odds on actually nabbing his soul for Hell?”

“Against? I can’t count that high.” He grinned, his fangs flashing momentarily through his human disguise. “Your queen has set you up, Jez. If you do your job, it’s a win for Lust, and she gets the credit. If you fail, it’s because you overstepped, and she’s not responsible.”

I pouted. Lillith, the first mortal demon and my eternal tormenter (read: my boss) had it in for me, for reasons that I still didn’t know. She was why I was stuck as a fifth level succubus, even though I’d been around for almost four thousand years. She absolutely despised me. Maybe one day I’d know the reason why. Or not. “I know what I’m doing, Daun.”

“So do I. You’re getting in over your head.”

“You just prefer it when I’m giving head.”

“Not the point.” He looked at me intently, studying my features. Which was a waste of time, since, like him, I was in a human guise at the moment. “There’s a reason even the Lower Downs don’t like getting assigned to magicians. If this guy isn’t a phony, he very well could overpower you and then boom: instant bondage. And not in the fun-filled, handcuffs way. You’d be his servant until Judgment Day.”

“He’s not going to live that long.”

“Or you could just be vaporized.”

“Why, sweetie,” I said, cooing. “It’s almost like you actually care about me.”

He chuckled, low and lush. “You’re the best lay in all of Hell. I’d hate to see your ass incinerated by mortal magic.”

Awww. For a demon, that was practically a love sonnet. “Strip away the human magic, and all you have is another flesh puppet. He’s got his temptations, just like any other mortal.” I patted Daun’s thigh. “No worries. When I’m done with Noel Le Noir, he’ll be ten minutes dead before he realizes he lost his soul.”

“Big talk for a little succubus.”

“It’s my chance to finally prove to my queen that I deserve to be promoted. Besides, I’m sure Noel’s a fraud. I’m not sensing anything from him.” Real magicians reeked of magic, like garlic in an Italian restaurant. “What about you?”

Daun glanced in Noel’s direction, sniffed loudly, then rubbed his nose. “Only thing I smell on him is his aftershave.”

“See that? Nothing to worry about.”

“He could have a shieldstone. That would mask his power.”

“You’ve been screwing the role-playing folks again, sweetie. There’s no such thing as a Shield Against Evil.”

“Some would say there’s no such thing as demons.”

“The difference is they’d be wrong. Bye-bye, Daun. I’ve got work to do.”

“Fine, go get lusty with the master magician. If he destroys you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He kissed me, very thoroughly, then disappeared in a puff of evil intent.

I fluffed my hair (currently jet black), adjusted my boobs (double-D), and retouched my lipstick (blowjob red). Then I stood up, grinning like a cat after a serving of canary.

All right, Noel Le Noir. Time to say hello to the best — and last — lay of your life.

I shimmied over to him with practiced ease, the clacking of my four-inch heels announcing my presence well before I reached his side. The bartender, who was sliding another drink in front of Noel, paused to give me an appreciative glance, his gaze stopping at my boobs. I gave them an added jiggle by way of saying hello. And then I slid onto the barstool next to my new client.

“What would you like?” the bartender asked me.

“Sex on the beach.” Yes, I like the drink, too.

He grinned and got right on it. I watched him work, enjoying the way he wore his black tee-shirt, feeling Noel’s gaze on me. Noel Le Noir was into power games; being a multiple murderer proved that. He’d make the first move. And if he didn’t, a lick of my infernal power would turn up the heat. I preferred not to resort to my Hellish magic to hook a client — that gets old after the first thousand years — but I had no qualms about whammying a hesitant one with lust, if that’s what it took to get the job done. I’m a demon, after all. We cheat.

As the bartender slid the drink in front of me, Noel dropped a twenty on the bar and cleared his throat. “I’ve got this one, Dave. Keep the change.”

Dave the bartender flashed a perfunctory smile and took Noel’s cash, then also took the hint and sidled away.

Me, I beamed at Noel. “That’s sweet,” I said. “Thanks for the drink.”

“You’re welcome.” Noel actually talked to me and not to my chest. Hmm. To fix that, I took a deep breath. Yep, there we go — now he was staring at my twin assets. Much better. He introduced himself to my breasts: “I’m Noel.”

“Jesse,” I said, offering him both my nickname and my hand. He pressed my palm to his lips — old fashioned and wonderfully, inappropriately intimate. The kiss was warm, and lingering, and hinted at many things. As did his tongue.

Ooh. Whether or not Noel had any real magical power, he sure knew how to use his mouth. Bonus!

He released my hand, and I sipped my drink and smiled inanely as I let him talk for a bit, telling me about himself (yawn) and that I was beautiful (well, duh) and that he wasn’t seeing anyone now because his last girlfriend didn’t work out (that often happens when you use the girlfriend as a human sacrifice, but whatever).

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” I chirped. “My last boyfriend wanted a relationship, but all I wanted was hot and sweaty sex.”

Noel spluttered his drink.