The Undoer (3 page)

Brecken

Raphael and Michael leave me standing alone on a dark street somewhere in southern California… in the middle of the night. The asphalt glistens after a recent rainstorm and stars peek through the clouds that move silently across the sky.

I take in a long, slow breath, reveling in the scent of ozone. It’s a heady perfume I associate only with Earth. It’s good to be back.

I have been away for five long years and yet, it feels like yesterday that I walked these streets. I can’t believe I’m here again… in a body of flesh and bone, but I don’t get to keep this body and stay here. That’s fine. I don’t need to.

Michael gave me a runed weapon, making me recognizable as a Cazador, but I still have my Nephilim blade, which will kill anything… permanently. Not just send them back to whatever spiritual realm they’re from, like the runed dagger.

I turn in a circle, eyeing my location. They haven’t dumped me in a completely foreign location. I know vaguely where I am. Downtown L.A. Or what used to be Downtown L.A. There’s a bar across the street. A prime place for hunting. I’m supposed to let the Cazadors catch me killing demons as my way in to their elite group. The plan sounds easy enough.

Glancing up at the sky, I study the stars. I guess it’s about eleven o’clock PM. I walk over to the bar and pull open the heavy, wooden door, striding inside. A cute, blonde bartender glances up and grins. A rush of adrenaline shoots through me as I take in her tight, black tank top, ample cleavage, and toned arms.

At one time, sex appeal had been one of my greatest weapons. One I’d wielded with pleasure… as a demon. I still feel the draw to use it now. It would be so easy, and I’d have a warm bed for the night. The fact that this thought even enters my mind tells me how far I’ve come.

Not far at all.

I’m already in love with the perfect woman, after all. She’s waiting for me, and that is enough to motivate me to keep my gifts to myself.

I sit down on a stool and lean against the counter.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender moves closer while wiping glasses and setting them on a towel.

“I’ll have a coke.” I smile, but I don’t use the one that makes women weak in the knees.

Best to keep that one hidden.

“A coke?” I know what she’s thinking. Why the crap am I in here if I don’t want a beer or something stronger? I can’t tell her the truth—that I’m hunting. That a demon is bound to sneak in to search for a new body—possibly hers. Human bodies don’t last very long with a demon inside, so they are constantly looking for a replacement. I need to be sharp when I meet one face to face.

              “Yep. Just a coke. I’m waiting… for someone.”

She shrugs and pours my drink. “Whatever.” She turns to deal with someone else, not even giving me a second glance.

Whoa. That feels weird. When was the last time I was ignored by a woman? It stuns me for a second, but I shake it off and swivel on the stool to search the room while I sip my drink. An older gentleman lounges at the other end of the bar, nursing a beer and minding his own business. He’s human. No demon lurking inside him… yet. He looks worn and tired, his graying hair curling out from under his ball cap.

Demons are easy to spot. They have no aura. They do, however, leave a smoky residue that trails in their wake, like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown, their filthiness puffing out around them in a cloud. Most people can’t see it, but I’m not most people. I turn back to the bartender and tend to my coke, waiting patiently.

I sit there for only a few minutes when I feel the temperature drop. It’s subtle at first. I almost miss it. I’ve forgotten that a physical body makes it more difficult to detect things of a supernatural nature. It takes effort, and I’m a little slow on the uptake, having to focus harder.

Leisurely, I spin on my stool, searching the room. There. In the corner, not far from the door, the disembodied form crouches, surveying the bar for its next victim.

I called them
gray men
during my mortal existence—that I never got to finish—because of their smoky appearance and their long, thin arms, and hollow eyes. Their mouths had seemed huge to me, gaping and able to swallow me whole. I was only a kid then, and they terrified me.

I’m not afraid anymore.

I can kill it quickly before it enters a body. I have the Nephilim dagger that will do the trick—actually
kill
the demon’s soul. That way, a mortal won’t have to die also. That is always preferable, obviously. But there are too many people in here. Too many eyewitnesses. Too many questions to answer, because they can’t see the demon, just me thrusting a knife into thin air, looking like a serial killer.

              I have to make a choice. How fast can I escape? I’ll take my chances rather than kill an innocent bystander.

Nonchalantly, I slide off my stool, slapping a few dollars down on the counter, acting as if I’m ready to leave. As I draw close to the door, I reach behind my back, wrapping my fingers around the hilt of my dagger, which is tucked into my belt. It’s solid and cool in my grip. Familiar in my fingers. I’ve had it a long time. I’ll use it over my runed dagger any day.

The demon watches me as I near, probably assuming I’m just a normal person it can possess. I never look at it directly, but I’m ready. Without missing a step, I lunge. The knife slides easily into the gray man, through its right eyehole. It erupts into a cloud of pewter ash that the patrons in the bar can’t see.

When I glance up, they are all staring at me
and
the knife I hold. Smiling sheepishly, I straighten and tuck it into my jeans. They continue to gape. Surely, they think I’m crazy or dangerous. Before someone calls the police, I dart into the night.

A darkened alley lurks across the street, so I hurry into its shadows, leaning against the brick building, breathing heavily. I shouldn’t have done that in front of so many people. It was stupid, but at least I saved someone from becoming demon fodder. The bad side is, there weren’t any Cazadors in the bar to see me do it. At least, I don’t think there were. I’m not even sure who I’m looking for. Raphael said I’d know them when I saw them, and that it’s my job to earn their trust and become their leader.

Yeah. That’s going to be easy.

With my heart rate under control, I step from the alley. The bar door opens and the man who’d been sitting at the end of the counter stands there, searching the darkness. He looks a little tipsy, and I have the feeling he is probably searching for me. He’s going to try to be a hero; I just know it. He wants to take down the crazy guy with the Bowie knife.

I spin back into the shadows and wait, determined to avoid a needless argument. That’s when I see them. Seven misty bodies floating down the street, heading toward the bar. I should have waited inside longer.

The lead demon makes a beeline for the guy in the doorway, unaware of the danger. It becomes a race with his cronies. I jump from my hiding spot and dash across the street. The demon beats me there.

Faster than I’ve ever seen before, it plows through the startled man’s open mouth. His eyes widen and he stumbles back against the door, knocking the back of his head with a dull thunk. The demon enters him completely. As soon as the rest of the pack sees me, or more importantly, my Nephilim dagger, they turn and flee.

I raise my knife, but the newly possessed man is quick… and no longer drunk. He blocks my thrust with his forearm and smiles, and then gives me a quick punch in the face. Pain explodes behind my nose, and my vision goes dark and blurry. I stumble back a step to give my eyes a chance to stop watering. Oh, the pain! I forgot how much a human body can hurt!

The demon laughs, low and throaty. “You’re new at this.”

“Not that new.” I can see the gray man beneath the façade as he grins manically at me.

“You can’t kill me so easily, human.”

“That’s still up for debate.” I grab my other knife—the runed one—and drive it into the guy’s belly. “Give Bas Iblis my best.”

The demon’s eyes widen at my reference to one of his nefarious leaders—the one who hates me most right now—but he doesn’t have time to react. He explodes into a cloud of dust that floats to the ground. This time, the ash will be visible to mortals… the part that was human. The guy’s wedding ring clinks to the ground and rolls in a circle before it comes to rest.

Oh. I forgot that would happen. I can’t walk away and leave something as personal as a wedding band lying on the ground like garbage. I glance around, hoping no one saw what I did. Granted, violence is a part of everyday life here on Earth, but I assume it’s still illegal to murder.

The guy hadn’t been old, maybe in his mid-forties, fairly fit. He was somebody. He mattered, but once the demon is inside, there is no other way to deal with it. At least, that’s what Raphael tells me. Exorcisms aren’t working. The demons have found a way to make the possession stable until the body gives out.

I lean down and pick up the gold band, a symbol of this man’s loyalty to someone else, and roll the ring in my fingers. Life here is so fragile. Much more fragile than it used to be, it seems.

With a sigh, I look for a place to stay. More than anything, I want to go home and climb into my own bed in the basement of my family’s house. It’s been five years, and thanks to Raphael’s magic, no one will recognize me. My room has probably been turned into storage.

My sisters don’t like to go down there, with good reason, considering all the spirits that appeared to me there. Heidi and Sophie thought it was haunted, and they were kind of right. My heart warms when I think of them. Heidi has to be eighteen now and Sophie about fourteen, I think. The desire to see them grows.

I pull my hoodie up, stuff my hands deep into my jacket pockets, and head down the street like a thug. I doubt I’ll find my groupies my first night in town, so I search for a motel. My funds are limited, but Raphael gave me enough money to get me through the month. By then, I’m supposed to be one of the Cazadors. Hopefully, they’ll feed me.

***

For the next three days, I plague the bars. They’re hotspots, but I’ve yet to meet anyone that looks like they’re in a club of demon hunters. I sleep during the day and prowl at night, falling into bed in my cheap motel room as the sun rises over the eastern hills.

The city is hardly recognizable. Everything looks so different and the destruction is unbelievable. Whole regions have been leveled and others thrust up to become hills. Millions of people were killed in the earthquakes—what people are calling the Rift—and the ones who are left survive on spurts of electricity, limited food, and an unstable government.

After three days, I can’t take it anymore. I have to make sure my family is okay. I need to see my house and confirm it’s still safe for them to live in. To hell with my promise.

Since I don’t have a vehicle at my disposal, I choose the next best thing. A taxi. They are few and far between, but I manage to flag one down. We take the backstreets and alleyways, as there is rubble everywhere. Some streets are completely blocked off and only the most important ones have been cleared. The taxi gets me as close to my neighborhood as possible before dropping me off on a lonely sidewalk. I pay the driver, my jaw slack and my eyes wide.

There’s nothing left.

I hurry down what used to be my street to find the houses all folded in on themselves. Mine is the last one, bumping up against the park, which miraculously, still stands, but my house is pretty much leveled. The roof sits on the ground as though the whole thing dropped twelve feet.

With a wrenching heart, I make my way around to find a way in. A hole in the back wall goes underneath the roof, but only a small dog or cat would be able to fit through. There’s nothing here. My life as Brecken Shaefer is truly and officially over. Gone. Totally and completely. Where is my family?

My dad must have taken them somewhere. Maybe to his sister’s place? She lives an hour north, but it would take two days of walking for me to get there. I’ve already spent too much money on the taxi, and I can’t afford another fare. I probably shouldn’t rekindle my old habit of hot wiring or stealing, but there aren’t a lot of options. I can stand here, mourning my old home and my old life, or I can get on with my job. The sooner I start, the sooner I’ll finish.

That’s when I see him. A kid, barely out of high school, wearing a black denim jacket and jeans. His blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a rubber band, his skin pale, but it’s the look in his dark eyes that stops me. Resolve. Anger. Ache. Grit. I find him so interesting that I wait to see where he goes next.

He scans the street, his gaze studying every corner, every shadow, every movement, as he waits outside a little corner grocery shop. A moment later, another kid, about the same age, comes out of the store and joins him, handing over a Snickers bar. He’s shorter, slender, and has bright eyes and a ready smile. The first boy seems to wear his scowl as a permanent fixture. They’re relaxed and comfortable together though. It’s obvious they’ve been friends for a while, but it’s the angry one who intrigues me. He’s a predator. I can feel it. What is he scouring the street for?

I follow the pair, curious.

The sun begins to set and will soon fall behind the ocean. Darkness will reign and I’ll become a hunter, but I still have time to kill.