Den of Iniquity Page 2

  “Certainly, Will. I’d love to see you. You’ve not mentioned a girlfriend before. Come on out and let me meet her. Tell me she’s nothing like Melanie!”

  I laugh. “No, Sissi. Rebecca is nothing like Melanie. I’m sure you’ll love her. I do.”

  “Ooooo. ‘Love’ already, Will? How long have you been dating her?” my sister asks.

  “Four weeks. I’m sure she will be happy to share our story.”

  “Oo! That’s fast! Regardless, it sounds good, Will. I’m really excited to see you.”

  “I’m excited too, Allie. Hey, Roger. I’ll send you our itinerary as soon as I get it set.”

  Roger responds, “Sounds good, Will. Looking forward to your visit. Bye for now.”

  “Bye, guys. I love you!” I tell them.

  I hear Allison gasp out “I love you too, Will!” right before I sign off.

  Josie pads out of the bedroom into the sitting area of the guesthouse that is serving as ‘Marissa’s room’ at her parent’s house. She’s not wearing a stitch, and she crawls onto my lap.

  “Will, can I go too? Please? I heard you say you were taking Rebecca, but I really would like to go, too. I’ve never been on an airplane,” she says. She bites her lip while she waits for my answer.

  “Not this time, my love. I could use the help with the tumors, but I want to have a passport or Real ID license for you before I put you on a plane. Rebecca has a passport, which will reduce the likelihood of unwanted scrutiny. Bernadette guaranteed your legend would pass scrutiny, but your license is less of a sure thing. The last thing I want to do is put you in a position where someone would look too closely at your forged license. Plus, I think I’m going to need Rebecca to practice her craft on Allison,” I explain.

  “Well at least I get to go to the den of iniquity,” she teases. “What kind of adventures will we get into there?”

  I smile and tell her, “I think we’re going to pull a demon out of a zombie like I did on the patio last week.”

  She grimaces, “You’re lucky it didn’t die. If you pull the soul out of a human, the body will die. You can make a zombie by reanimating it, but you need to embed a binding glyph where the soul would normally connect. Lafayette probably already marked him. Let me get a piece of paper and a pencil - I’ll show you the glyph.”

  She gets up and saunters over to the dinette that Marissa is using for a desk. For a woman that had no feminine role model since she was a child, it’s amazing how much sensual grace she exudes. She grabs a pad and a pen before bending over to draw the glyph. I see her plump pussy peeking out at the top of the ‘V’ created by her splayed legs. I stand up and strip as I walk over to her. My cock is ready by the time I grab her hips.

  Josie looks over her shoulder and gives me a dazzling smile. “I’m trying to concentrate, William.”

  I slot my cock in her entrance and push forward. “I’m concentrating too, my love.”

  2

  Going to town

  (Bernadette’s House - two weeks after Labor Day Weekend)

  Bernadette Pasquale and Jack Jerome sit in the parlor talking about Bernadette’s family problem with the greater imp lord, Xranalazny.

  Bernadette says, “I’m going to send Shryl home with a message this coming weekend. I would like you to be here for it.”

  Jack asks, “Why? You want me to kill Vanessa to send her back?”

  Bernadette scolds him. “No, Jack. Don’t be so bloodthirsty all the time.” She gives him her best ‘school marm’ look. “The sorcerer from New York City who sent me the original message to summon Shryl gets a new message every time he summons a succubus. Apparently he’s contracted with a high-end brothel that caters to the wealthy and powerful of New York. He summons a succubus almost once a day. I’ve been getting emails daily.”

  “Okay,” Jack acknowledges.

  Bernadette continues, “I need to send her back with a personal message for our queen. I found a necromancer to help.”

  Jack is surprised. “Where did you find one? You didn’t get a Church necromancer, did you?”

  “No,” Bernadette shakes her head. “He is not formally trained. He’s in his early 40’s and recently discovered that he has power. He’s managed some amazing feats despite having no training.”

  Jack asks, “Like what?”

  “Well, darling. He has resurrected two ghosts, and he has three more under his control. He sucked a zombie dry while the zombie was trying to kill him. I called him for some business we were transacting, and he mentioned that he had another encounter with a sociopath and had a disagreement with someone in his craft group. I translated that to mean he killed another zombie and had a duel with another necromancer.”

  “Wow,” Jack says. “How’d he do that without training? Many of those are master level tasks.”

  Bernadette, “I don’t know, but he seems to have good instincts about a wide variety of things. He’s a former soldier, too. I think you will get along with him. I’m confident in his power.”

  “Why are you so confident?” Jack asks.

  Bernadette smiles, “I caught him in an unguarded moment. He is very powerful. Also, I have a good feeling about him. I’ve known him for roughly three years. He loves his women as much as you love your pet. I’m fairly certain that he would kill just as quickly to protect his women as you did to protect Darcie. Yet he is kinder than you are. He connects more easily and more completely.”

  Jack objects, “I connect. I have connected with you, Candice, Chantelle, and Clarice. And then there’s Darcie. And don’t forget Janet. I still check in with her regularly.”

  Bernadette’s eyes school Jack. “Yes, but then you snubbed all us here on your last visit. You hurt Candice and Clarice in particular. All the girls present that day are quite wroth with you. As you might expect I got rather angry with you over hurting them.”

  Jack leans forward and runs hands through his hair as he releases a sigh. “I told you I was called out of retirement by the Church in June for a specific mission. I was sent to kill a rogue hunter in Minneapolis.

  He was enthralled by a succubus in a nest of five of them. They were eating the death throes of their victims, and he was protecting them with a handful of zombie guards that he found and recruited. There were also two imps working as prostitutes who were playing johns against each other and destroying marriages to feed off the chaos that resulted. I killed them all.”

  He sits back and sighs again. “Darcie has helped me since I finished the job. She went with me on my cover job as my PA, by the way. You trained her well.” He pauses a moment. “Her attention has me feeling just about human again, but I had to disconnect to survive that.”

  Bernadette leans forward to rest a hand on his knee. “I hope you’re feeling better, Jack.” She sits back in her chair. “By the way, you didn’t offend Chantelle, but the rest could use a hug and an explanation. Chantelle could too, but she’ll want to drag Darcie off to bed if you do.”

  Jack drops his head and nods.

  Bernadette continues to explain her plan. “Steven Chueng’s daughter, Audrey, is going to do the banishment. Steven has her trained to the master level. She has completed her first master level work, but based on what she did, it probably counts as two. My necromancer friend will pull Shryl out of Vanessa. I’d like you to be here when we send Shryl home. I don’t expect anything to go wrong but having a hunter on standby would be a comfort. Plus,” she pauses for a moment. “I think getting you all working together before we bring Xranalazny across would be a good thing.”

  Jack agrees. “I can do that. Perhaps I could meet with the ladies for a bit to reconnect this afternoon. Just a visit and cuddles. I’ll explain what happened.”

  Bernadette chuckles. “It might take longer than you think. I think Chantelle dragged Darcie up to her room. You may have to pry Darcie loose from her clutches.”

  Jack chuckles. “Maybe everyone gets cuddles and kisses, but Chantelle gets the bonus plan. Darcie would like to spen
d some time with Candice while we’re here, too. ‘Work, work, work!’ as Darcie says."

  Late morning on the Friday after I last talked to Roger and Allie, we are standing in front of the apartment. I pull a couple of bags from Marissa’s Audi and haul them inside. Rebecca and Josie brought clothes from Marissa’s in their new roller bags, but they have some items they want to grab from the apartment before we drive down to the ‘Den of Iniquity.’ As a result, they are repacking their bags with Marissa’s ‘help.’ It would be fun to sit and watch them with a beer, but I need to pack a bag from scratch. Fortunately, I have all my computer gear together from staying at Dan and Maria’s house. Dan let me use his office while he was gone, so I didn’t have to work off just the laptop screen. I’ll have no such luck in North Carolina I’m sure.

  Marissa and Josie are wearing identical yoga pants and loose, off-the-shoulder long sleeve shirts - it looks like a uniform. Rebecca is in a light knit dress in slate blue that hugs her nascent curves. I’m in my standard jeans, oxford, and roper boots.

  Once my bag is packed, I pack weapons onto my person and pull on my navy blazer. I’m planning to pack my weapons on the flights to and from North Carolina, but I’m strapped at the moment. I have all the permits printed out with my itinerary in my attaché. We finally finish packing our bags. Everyone fills their water bottles and takes a last run to the loo.

  We are loading our bags into the back of Marissa’s Audi Q5 when a top-end BMW sedan pulls up behind Marissa’s car. I don’t know what model it is, but I think it’s one of those that costs more than my annual salary. Then I notice the familiar face of the driver. I immediately pull my pistol and rack a round.

  I command quietly, “Ladies, back in the apartment. Now.” The tall, lean, pretty woman with shoulder-length wavy blond hair in a ponytail steps out wearing jeans and a western shirt. I recognize her immediately from when she chased me around New York City. Her eyes immediately lock on me.

  Marissa lays a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Will. This is Carla.”

  I respond, “You didn’t tell me she was a fashion model.”

  Marissa snickers softly, “She’s too butch to pull that off; although, she wears a dress very well.” She directs her attention to her ex. “What’s up, Carla?”

  Carla says, “Get away from him, Marissa. He’s dangerous.”

  I respond, “That’s funny, Carla. I distinctly remember you following me around the streets of Manhattan for two hours with homicidal intent.”

  “I - I - I,” she stammers. I look at her with my second sight and confirm she’s a zombie. ‘Yep. No soul.’

  I pop the magazine out of my pistol, jack the round out of the chamber and bounce it off my toe to catch it. I let the slide snap forward, put the round back in the magazine, and seat it in the grip before holstering it. Carla’s eyes are locked on my weapon until I holster it, and then she locks back on my eyes.

  Marissa says, “Carla, either tell me what you want or leave. We’re about to leave on a trip.” Josie and Rebecca come back out of the apartment with their walking sticks.

  Carla focuses on Marissa long enough to say. “You. I want you, Marissa. Just like always. Come home. Please.” Despite the ‘emotional plea’ insinuated in her word choice, there is no emotion in her tone.

  I look at Marissa, “May I.”

  Marissa frowns. “Sure. She’ll just say the same thing repeatedly. You may have to physically move her.”

  I shake my head as I look at Carla again. “That won’t be necessary.” I take a breath. “Carla you are currently undergoing an irrational fight-or-flight response, and you don’t know why. Would you like me to explain it to you?”

  She nods once. I tell her, “Your subconscious views me, and likely Josie too, as an alpha predator. Your survival instinct is telling you to either kill me or run away. Does that ring true to what you’re experiencing?”

  “Yes,” the gorgeous zombie says.

  I try to choose words that would appeal to a sociopath. “I’d like to offer you quid pro quo,” I see her brain latch onto that. “I promise I will not kill or harm you in any way as long as you don’t attempt to harm any of us. Do you accept?”

  Carla still looks like a rabbit ready to run, but she nods her assent. “I can agree to that.”

  I tell her, “That won’t help your subconscious, but now that we have agreement you can use your logical mind to help control your fear. Okay?”

  She nods. I step around the hood of her car and offer my hand. “Carla, my name is William James. You can call me Will.”

  She tentatively grasps my hand and then gives it a very through shake. “Carla Jackson. Carla is fine.”

  I wave towards the apartment. “Please come inside. We have a few minutes before we have to leave. I think we should have a short talk. Afterward, the ladies and I are leaving for a trip. Does that sound, okay?”

  She is watching me like I’m a rattlesnake coiled at her feet. I add, “Thirty minutes maximum before you will be out our door and safely on your way.”

  “Okay,” she murmurs.

  I keep my eyes on Carla. “Marissa, honey? Would you lock up and join us inside?”

  She responds clearly, “Of course, husband.” Carla starts on the word ‘husband.’

  I prod our visitor, “Come along, Carla.” Rebecca and Josie lead the way back into the house.

  I guide Carla to the loveseat, and Marissa sits in my desk chair. Rebecca and Josie sit at the dinette.

  “Carla, what is the longest time you’ve been in a relationship before Marissa?” I ask.

  “Six weeks,” she responds. No emotion. No shame. Just the bare words.

  “Do you know why?” I ask.

  “The guys knew that I was spreading my legs to get something from them. Some of the women were the same, but the ones I wanted to keep all said they couldn’t take my emotional distance or something similar.” She looks at Marissa. “Basically the same thing Marissa said. She just put in more effort than most. I'm very fond of her.”

  “I notice you didn’t say you love her,” I observe. “I reckon you understand the concept logically…” she nods. “...it’s just that you don’t recognize it emotionally. Is that about right?” She nods again while looking at Marissa.

  Marissa sobs, “Damn you, Carla. I loved you. I was keeping Will at a distance for you. You just wouldn’t meet me half-way.” She gets up and heads back to the bathroom.

  Carla watches her go but speaks to me. “Psychologists have told me I’m a sociopath. I know those emotions exist. About the only ones I relate to are desire and anger - satisfaction when I get what I want. There were a couple of times I thought I might be feeling love or affection, but it was fleeting. I’ve never really felt fear like what I feel around you.”

  I look at her until she turns to face me again. “Carla, the reason you feel fear is that you sense that I can destroy you with a thought. I have done it before, so it’s not an idle claim. Despite having the ability, I would prefer not to.”

  She looks at me with curiosity. “How?”

  I think about how best to explain. “I have an ability that allows me to see life and death energies. I can suck the life right out of you.” I let her ponder that for a moment. “Carla, have you ever felt like you were missing part of yourself?”

  She nods gently, thoughtfully. “That emotional piece,” she murmurs.

  I nod in acknowledgement. “Carla, the reason you feel like that is because you are missing a part of yourself. You have no soul.”

  3

  A difficult conversation

  She flinches a bit as she tries to wrap her brain around that idea. “No soul?” She ponders the idea. “Emotions are related to souls?”

  “Apparently,” I tell her. “People in the magical community refer to people like you as ‘zombies’ or ‘soul-less’ - and no, that doesn’t mean you’re a flesh-eating undead. It simply means you have no soul.”

  She almost looks angry and maybe on t
he verge of tears. “But that means I’m evil, right? A zombie?”

  I shake my head. “No, Carla. It’s like having a birth defect. Your body and intellect are fully functional. Your ability to emote and have empathy are missing because you’re missing a part of you.” Tears start running down her cheek. I ask, “Are you angry or sad?”

  “Angry? I think?” She looks genuinely puzzled. “Definitely angry but different from anything I’ve experienced in my memory.” I pull a tissue from the box on my desk and hand it to her.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I ask, “Why did you thank me?”

  “It’s what you’re supposed to do,” she answers after just a momentary pause.

  I nod, “Exactly. You learned that behavior.” She nods, so I continue. “You have also learned to use your sexuality as a tool and to please people you want to connect with. You’ve learned to use your intellect to solve problems that most people don’t have to worry about - how to fit in by approximating appropriate emotional responses. You’re no less of a good person, you just have to work harder to blend in.” She looks at me intently.

  “You’re trying to make this easier, aren’t you?” she asks.

  “Yes. I promised not to harm you. That includes not attacking your self-worth. You don’t deserve that any more than someone that has a soul. You are still a person,” I tell her.

  “So - does that mean that God exists? And that I have no chance of an afterlife?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “I can’t say for certain that God exists, but I have faith that he, or she, or it, or they, do exist. I also cannot definitively say you have no chance at an afterlife. I can give you a soul, but it would be shared. There might be other ways that I don’t know about.”

  “How do you mean?” She asks as Marissa walks in with one of my handkerchiefs in her hand. She sits next to Carla and wraps an arm around her ex.