The Devil You Know

5. The Deep Market.

5

The Deep Market.

“ Demon is a wide term to describe the sentient inhabitants of Hell. And, more precisely, the intelligent lifeforms who have been known to possess humans. These creatures are from different species and their physical and psychological attributes can vary vastly. As a State Exorcist, your primary focus is to know these differences and be prepared for the mutations they cause in the possessed. Be ready to face all sorts of demons, and you will not be taken unaware.”

-Extract from the State Exorcist’s Manual , edition of 2047.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, 2052

As I find my way back to Tina’s around eight; Leo is already sitting at my favorite table. He’s nursing an empty coffee mug. A plate with a half-eaten toast sits forgotten at the end of the table, while he has an old book in front of him. The pages are covered in scribbles and highlights. I would recognize the State Exorcists’ manual anywhere.

Tina kisses me on the cheek. “Good morning, Jon.”

“Good morning,” I say, taking off my coat. It’s blood-free today.

“He hasn’t slept,” she whispers in my ear, eyeing Leo.

Then she leaves with the promise to come back with fresh coffee.

“You should go to sleep, kiddo,” I say to Leo. “Or, before you know it, you’ll turn into a night owl like me.”

He smiles tiredly. “I couldn’t sleep after the exorcism.”

“Understandable.”

It’s not every day that you witness someone trying to chew their tongue off. At least, for normal people. It’s a weekly occurrence for me.

“Why are they doing it, Jon?” he asks me. “The demons.”

I gesture at the book in front of him. “Doesn’t your precious manual tell you that?”

He sighs. “Their main theory is that they thrive on chaos. But—”

“But it’s an oversimplification. Living creatures, no matter their world, wouldn’t all just risk their lives and their sanity for the sake of chaos.”

“Then why?” he asks.

I shrug. “They do what any living creature in the universe has always done: discover and conquer. Earth is different from their world, we have things they want.”

He looks disappointed. “That’s it?”

I shrug. “It’s not that deep.”

“But they’ve been doing it for millennia,” he says. “Demonic possessions have been recorded as far back as the Egyptians, the Romans, African tribes… Why did they never succeed in invading until now?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“What changed twenty years ago, Jon?”

I nod toward the book. “What does your book say?”

Leo offers me a withering look. He wants all the answers now. As if scholars and scientists haven’t been breaking their teeth on the subject for two decades.

“The State Exorcists think it’s a group effort,” he says. “Hell seems to have acquired an army and the real invasion has started. Unlike before, they’re organized.”

“For once, they’re onto something. Thank you,” I say to Tina as she brings my coffee.

She smiles and assures me that the cook is making me a breakfast plate with fresh fruits. Because I need to eat healthy once in a while, apparently.

“But why are they suddenly organized? What are you looking for, Jon?” Leo asks me as soon as she’s gone. “You’re not just hunting demons for the Hell of it—pun intended. What is the gate?”

I smile. I hoped he was too busy being terrified by the exorcism to pay attention to my questions to the demon inside Andrea. But Leo is a smart kid. He pays attention to everything. He would make a wonderful exorcist if he had the right motivation. Most State Exorcists keep doing what they’re doing for revenge. This line of work isn’t easy, and you need something to make you push through the shit, the blood, and the danger. And it requires a death wish, too. Exorcists rarely survive longer than a handful of years.

I keep quiet and drink from my mug.

Leo sighs. “Okay, keep your secrets, Jon.” He finishes his cold coffee, grimacing, and stands up. “Would you mind taking my book upstairs, please?” He points to the manual. “I’ve got to run.”

“I hope you’re running to bed!” I say, but he’s already walking toward the exit.

“See you at sunrise!”

And he’s gone.

I drag the book toward me. It’s been years since I laid eyes on the pages. Leo’s been thorough with his notes and corrections; he’s been asking me questions since he proclaimed himself my assistant a few weeks ago. The State Exorcists’ manual isn’t supposed to be available to the public; he must have gotten this one on the black market. Most of it is outdated. The page on demons’ classes only has four. It’s been switched to five since the day six years ago when the most powerful demon ever seen made an appearance in New York. All the city’s State Exorcists weren’t enough to stop Lilith, so they brought down an entire building on top of her as a last resort. She’s been deemed a class-one demon.

The lower classes, four and five, are known to be beasts. Hellhounds, cerberuses, hydras, and other mythical creatures turned into reality. They’re the foot soldiers of Hell’s army. By nature, they’re easier to kick out of the possessed, as they have a looser hold on their host. The mutations take longer to manifest on the human DNA, and they’re more manageable and easy to contain. These are the bread-and-butter of demonic traders.

Classes three, two, and one are the humanoid demons. Those are the ones you should be wary of. They’re smarter and unpredictable. Their hold on the possessed is deadly. The longer they stay in their hosts, the deeper they burrow themselves in their body and soul. If not stopped, they will slowly devour everything that made the host. They’ll mutate and take over, until a new hybrid is born and they have full control.

I close the book and push it away from me just as Tina comes back with my breakfast plate.

When I wake up a little before nightfall, Leo still hasn’t made a reappearance. I turn on the TV on the News channel. The Hollywood raid is over, and most of the demonic traders have been arrested or killed. The daily report switches to the forest fires in the north and a hurricane ravaging most of the coast of Louisiana.

As I get to the roof to drink my evening coffee, I’m welcomed by a rare occurrence: heavy clouds over Los Angeles. Purple lightning cleaves the saturated sky. The rain will wash away the dust for a day or two, until the next dry storm reaches the city from the east.

I sit on one of the chairs and wait for the first fat raindrops to fall on my face. I’m drenched in minutes but don’t seek shelter. Delicious shivers travel over my skin as my clothes cling to my heated body.

Leo finds me in the rainstorm half an hour later.

“Boss! What are you doing?” He runs over with his leather coat over his head.

“Letting nature cleanse me,” I joke.

He snorts. “More like catching a cold.”

“I don’t catch colds. Have you slept?”

It’s hard to tell in the downpour, even with the lights from the huge neon sign for Tina’s Diner bathing the rooftop in blue and pink.

“No rest for the wicked!” he says. “I spent the day looking for a demon for you. And I’ve found him!”

“Demons are not difficult to come by, Leo,” I shout to be heard over the rainstorm. “You should have gone to bed.”

“Not this one, Jon. This one is a hybrid.”

The world turns quiet for a second. Lightning explodes in the sky, followed a heartbeat later by thunder. It’s close enough to rattle my bones.

I stand up hurriedly and gesture for him to follow me back inside. As I get downstairs, I drop my mug—now full of rainwater—into the sink. Leo rushes past me to the bathroom and comes back with two towels. I thank him as he offers me one.

“Explain yourself,” I tell him, drying my hair.

He already looks so proud of himself.

“Well, I heard a rumor the other day about a brothel that has a horned demon in the Deep Market. I didn’t pay much attention; they always do weird shit down there. I mean, it’s not like we can do anything about it, right?”

When the city built the aerial tramlines, they closed off one of the subway lines that had been deemed useless and dangerous. It was sealed off fifteen years ago. Of course, it wasn’t long before the demonic traders and other criminals found their way back. They built a black market down there for everything to do with Hell and the occult. They sell forbidden books on rituals, salts, contracts, experiences… The State Exorcists and the police tried to raid it a few times, until the traders announced they had placed explosives in the tunnels and that they would collapse half of Los Angeles if given no other choice. The government was forced to turn a blind eye and snuff the rumors to mitigate the market’s influence. The Deep Market is only known to a few. I wouldn’t have expected Leo to know about it.

I’ve been there a few times myself. But it’s one of the places where I am recognized too easily by the possessed and their demons. I’m not exactly welcome.

“What would a hybrid do in the market?” I ask, dubious.

“That’s what I wanted to know! It sounded bonkers. But it turns out, a trader lost control of his demon a while ago—a class-two demon!—and they locked him up to try and secure the demon in a vessel. But he mutated faster than they predicted, and they kept the hybrid as a business opportunity.”

I chuckle and throw the towel over the couch. “Trust demonic traders to find ways to monetize Hell in all its aspects.”

Hybrids are what happens when a demon stays long enough inside a surviving host without containment spells to take complete control. The demon devours the soul and takes dominion over the body. A genetically modified creature, half-man, half-demon, is born. They’re incredibly rare, and most are hunted down fiercely by State Exorcists. They drag them to their secret facility to interrogate and torture them. I’ve only met two in my lifetime. Both died at my hands, but they came really close to killing me.

“And a hell of a way to monetize the hybrid, too—pun intended,” Leo continues. “He—the demon—is an incubus. They sell him in their underground brothel, with all the other freaks.”

That gives me pause. Incubi and succubi are a particular type of demons who are rarely seen on Earth. I’ve met only one, in a newly-possessed. She reigned over a cult in New Orleans—a sex cult. The first time I met her, she was having an orgy with her fifty subordinates. Incubi and succubi manipulate and feed on sexual energy.

“You could go talk to the demon, Jon,” Leo says. “He might have the answers you’re looking for.”

I eye him. The kid makes a good assistant.

“Thanks, Leo,” I say. “Be a dear and give yourself a raise. It’s on me.”

He grins, shaking his leather jacket. Water drips on the wood floor. “So, are we going tonight?”

“ You are not going anywhere other than your bed,” I say. “You’re not coming with me to the market.”

“But—”

“This place will chew you and spit you out, Leo. I have enough on my conscience to add ‘ the death of my young assistant because I brought him to a dangerous place’ to the list. Go to bed. And if you’re keeping up the good work, I might consider training you.”

His tired face lights up instantly. “Yes, boss!”

The Deep Market has many secret entrances, but I only know one that will let me in without a fight. The Garden of Eden is a private nightclub in the Arts District. The main door stands under a golden arch at the end of a lush garden that must costs thousands of dollars to keep alive in the Los Angeles heat. Guests have to scan their invitations to get access. Two colossuses dressed in white guard the entrance. One look at me, and they break the line of partygoers to let me in. I have an arrangement with the owner, Wade. When a possessed brings trouble to the club, I’m the one on call. The Garden ’s clientele includes numerous rising stars, actors, models, and other influential people mingling with demonic traders. No one wants the State Exorcists on the premises.

As soon as I walk in, I’m assaulted by the smell of spilled drinks, smoke, and other human excesses. The music echoes along the walls and through my chest. It’s still early, but the club is already full. The main room is as large as a cathedral—a cathedral of debauchery. Golden chandeliers hang from the tall ceiling, surrounded by fake vines and flowers. Naked dancers offer a show from gilded cages above our heads. Most wear accessories to look like demons. Horns, pointy tails, leathery wings, fangs… the devils have taken over the Garden of Eden . A neon sign representing a giant, bitten apple glows above the bar.

I push my way through the sea of writhing bodies. The faint flavor of Hell, sulfur and ashes, clings to some recently possessed’s skins. I ignore them all; I’m not here to exorcise properly contained demons.

The bouncer at the entrance of the Staff Only door lets me in with a nod. I came to his rescue three weeks ago when they had to lock a raging demon in one of the bathrooms. By the time I arrived, the possessed had almost broken through the door.

At the end of a dimly lit hallway is Wade’s office. Two more employees guard his door. These aren’t dressed in white, but all in black. They have guns strapped to their belts. The tattoos peeking over their collars are enough to tell me they have demons of their own.

“Mr. Shaw,” says one of them. “Is the boss expecting you?”

“Yes,” I lie.

They knock on the door and Wade answers from inside. He sounds surprised, but he allows me in.

Wade is a tall black man with a neat beard. His sheer size puts most of his bodyguards and bouncers to shame, but his abilities lie in business management, artful deals, and connections. He’s the king of the Garden of Eden and the master of sinners.

“Jon. What brings you to my humble nightclub?” he says with a tight smile. He gestures toward the empty seat in front of him. “Drink?”

Me being here usually means bad business for the night. I don’t blame him for being tense.

I shake my head and keep standing. “I need to use your access to the Deep Market.”

He relaxes visibly. “What for?”

“Personal matter.”

“They won’t like it, Jon. You know you’re not their favorite person in the world.”

“And yet, they still use my number when they’re in a tight spot. And so do you,” I say.

Wade smiles. One of his front teeth has an embedded diamond; it shines under the light from the expensive chandelier above us. He gets up from his chair and gestures for me to follow him. His two personal bodyguards trail after us like armed-to-the-teeth ducklings.

We cross a dark hallway with a waterfall along the wall before entering the VIP lounge that hides the access to the Deep Market. It’s a circular room with green velvet couches. In the center stands a gilded cage with a dancer inside. She’s a gorgeous woman dressed as a kinky demon. Her generous breasts spill over her tight red dress, with plastic horns to match.

“Let him down, sweetheart,” Wade says to the dancer.

“Of course.” She opens the cage’s door and invites me in with a seductive smile.

Wade and his men leave us and I find myself face to face with my beautiful hostess. She leans over to reach for the hidden button above our heads. The cage slowly lowers into the ground.

“What brings you to the market today, handsome?” she asks me. “Selling or buying?”

She doesn’t seem to know who I am; she must be new.

Her dress does nothing to hide the tattoos spanning over her arms and legs. If she’s guarding the Garden ’s entrance to the market, she must be possessed by at least a class-four demon.

“Buying,” I lie.

Her smile widens. “You know what you’re looking for?”

“Oh, yes.”

She trails a hand over my chest. I wouldn‘t be able to escape her if I tried in this small space. We’re plunged in darkness for a minute as the cage goes deeper underground. She explores my body some more, but I keep my hands in my pockets. As light pours around our feet once again, she steps away from me.

“Looks like I’m not your type,” she says.

I smile faintly. “You’re not. Regretfully.”

The elevator comes to a stop inside a dimly lit room. The walls are made of damp concrete and the air smells stale. We’re far from the Garden ’s luxuries.

She sighs and pouts, opening the cage’s door. “Off you go, then. Ring the bell if you’re coming back up this way.”

“Thank you kindly.”

“Try not to get into trouble,” she tells me as the cage slowly goes up again.

“I make no promises.”

She laughs before disappearing back to where we came from. I hope she’ll survive her job.

I exit the dark room and walk through two heavy doors before finding the subway tracks. Christmas lights have been hung along the tunnel to light the way. The cheeriness offers a stark contrast with the setting. Water drips from above; it must still be raining over Los Angeles. A few people give me wary looks as we cross paths.

The underground is colder than the surface all year round. The market has one rule above all else: no rituals in the Deep Market. No one wants to be stuck in the tunnels if a powerful demon gets loose. Which raises the question of why did they bring the hybrid here? Have they found a way to control him?

The heart of the market is what used to be known as Bunker Hill Station. Different gangs of demonic traders have made peace to share the space.

As I reach the station, I begin to walk by the first stalls. Vendors try to sell me everything Hell-related, from salt to books on summoning rituals and magic to contain demons. There is also, to my disbelief, a place offering a selection of demons in Eames vessels. Some State Exorcists must be selling their catches.

I try not to meddle with the demonic traders’ affairs. Unlike the authorities, I’m not here to pass judgment or stop their trade, but they still often see me as the nemesis of their profession. A few gang members notice me and follow my every move. I give them what, I hope, are interpreted as reassuring nods. I’m not here to rage war.

The brothel isn’t challenging to find. It’s a long building made of sheet metal and beams along the train platform. Red lamps blink near the entrance. Prostitution is still illegal in the US, but I guess that’s the least of their worries. No one stops me as I enter.

“Welcome!” chirps a woman as I walk in. But then one look at me, and she gasps. “Mr. Shaw.”

Recognition hits me at the same time. She’s a petite blonde with curly hair. The right side of her face is covered by a pink eye patch with rhinestones. It hides the gruesome wound underneath. Her demon ripped her eye out last year when she lost control over him. I was the one who brought her to the hospital. She wanted to become a star and chose the wrong traders to do the ritual. She paid dearly for her mistake.

I think her name is Sabrina. She’s standing behind a desk.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Her hand reaches reflexively to her eye patch. “No one wanted to hire me above. Not with that face. They all knew how I got in such a state.”

I refrain from saying that she could have left this rotten city, start anew somewhere. But I know what she’ll say. And go where?

So, I simply nod. “I’m a customer today.”

She gives me a look. I know what she’s thinking about. What twisted desires does the White Exorcist hide from the light of day? Does he crave the touch of the demons he hunts? Luckily, I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I’m happy to let her imagine whatever she likes.

“Any preference?” she asks. “Male, female, mutations? All of them have demonic particularities, as you would guess.”

I nod. “Can I see who you have for sale?” The words taste foul.

She seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat. She wonders if she’ll get in trouble for allowing an exorcist to see their sex workers. I hold her gaze with an innocent smile. She owes me her life, after all.

“Of course. Follow me,” she finally says.

She opens the door and leads me to the rest of the building. Many rooms can be found along the wide hallway. Most have screens that can be closed for intimacy but many of them are wide open, revealing the many orgies and depraved acts happening between customers and sex workers alike. In one room, a possessed with red scales along her back is pegging a young man. Her arms are covered by intricate tattoos to contain the beast. In the world above, she would have to get the scales surgically removed to hide from the State Exorcists, scarring her for life. Such impressive mutations are rare. In another, three men are having sex together, while two older women watch. There is blood-play involved.

A shiver of disgust racks my skin but I keep walking, Sabrina trailing behind me. She explains the rules of the brothel but I’m not paying attention. I can see a tall cage at the end of the hallway.

“Mr. Shaw,” she says. “Please, you can’t—”

Who I seek is the demon they built a cage for, the hybrid behind bars.

As I get closer, cries and moans echo from the end of the hallway, and the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh.

The hybrid is more than I expected to find. My first thought is: how the hell did they manage to contain such a creature? He’s tall—at least six-ten—with two leathery wings hanging behind his back. The place is dimly lit but I can still see that his skin is a light gray color, almost like smudged charcoal. Two horns curve above his head through his slicked-back dark hair. The tips appear to be a lighter color, maybe red. These are real, unlike the accessories the dancers wore in the Garden . He’s entirely naked, his body carved with muscles. His skin is covered in white tattoos and runes.

So, this must be how they control him , I think.

He has a woman bent over the circular bed at the center of the cage. She’s screaming now as he pounds into her. His large hands are holding her down. His nails are like claws, the points digging into the woman’s skin. A pointy tail, like a whip with a sharp end, is wrapped around her ankle.

The air tastes sweet, and my body vibrates. I can feel the blood pumping into my cock in a matter of seconds. The incubus is working his dark magic. No wonder the entire place is resonating with sexual tension. Sabrina moans at my side. I turn to look at her. She has a hand over her breast, and she’s clenching her legs.

The demonic traders couldn’t have found a better asset for their brothel.

The demon works the woman until she orgasms, and she loses consciousness from pleasure. He drops her limp form over the bed. He pulls away, and I make a point of not looking below his navel. A new wave of sexual energy washes over me as the hybrid looks up. His eyes glow like molten gold as he watches me, a smile pulling at his sensuous lips. His canines are sharp. I can’t help but imagine how they would feel if they pierced skin.

“And who might you be?” he asks in a deep voice, pointing a dark claw at me.

Sabrina falls to her knees behind me, moaning. And it takes me all I have to contain the flood of desire rising inside me.