Chapter 4
Chapter four
The Chicago headquarters of the North American Council on Demon Entities mimicked the architecture of the Supreme Court, if on a smaller scale.
Instead of Lady Justice, a massive statue of Heracles slaying the Hydra towered over the plaza, his sword raised to hack off another of the monster’s multiple heads.
Dominic kept his eyes on the statue until he passed it. It was important to keep reminding himself what he was dealing with, and how the Council viewed demons.
As something to vanquish.
It was easier to stroll through the front entrance as a demon than the smaller, secured employee door in the rear. The warding surrounding the Council’s headquarters consisted of a massive mesh grid that he could feel from half a block away. Such a high security building couldn’t be breached with a simple maintenance gadget.
Like with any other net, sometimes it was simpler to just poke a hole right through it.
Dominic approached the three sets of revolving doors along with the other visitors. He checked his phone to hide his look of concentration as he listened for the telltale give in the warding, a spot where the strong hum faded away to nothing.
The hole occasionally shifted, out of necessity. Whomever Bastian so generously paid to keep disabling random parts of the grid needed it to appear as random dips in power, instead of intentional sabotage.
At the last minute, Dominic shifted to the left door, and stepped in line behind the others waiting to be scanned by security.
Usually, he breezed right through after the security guard noted his Council badge on his belt. But every so often, he encountered an asshole.
Like today.
Dominic maintained his tight smile as he was pulled aside for a full pat down. The man seemed to look everywhere except at the painfully visible Council badge while he ran his scanner over every inch of Dominic’s jeans.
“Hold still for the light.”
A few years ago, the request would have Dominic fighting panic, afraid his contact lenses would fail him. Now, he merely struggled to rein in his temper when the special flashlight was pointed at his eyes, a simple trick to catch the reflective iridescence in demon irises.
The iridescence-blocking contacts did their job as usual, and the security guard stepped back with a grunt. “You’re free to enter.”
Dominic only gave him another tight smile in return as he strode into the marble lobby.
The Claims department on the first floor was busy as usual, due to ongoing fallout from the Council’s overzealous Task Force police raids. A line of local residents already stretched around the corner, waiting to file claims over wrongly seized goods and damaged property.
A few representatives wearing special red name tags stood out in the group. Since demons couldn’t enter the Council, demon families would often pool together funds to hire an attorney.
Not that it did them any good.
Grimly, he headed for the elevators. Ten years of Council employment had taught him that it was easy to lose oneself in the role. Taking the front entrance anchored him. Reminded him at all times what he was, and wasn’t.
And why he was actually here.
Dominic got off on the tenth floor, and greeted a passing coworker on the way to the office kitchen.
He dumped two scoops of the protein powder he kept stashed in the pantry into his bottle, filled it with whole milk from the fridge, and shook it briskly.
The rather expensive, high-end protein shake was designed for professional human athletes, who burned far more calories per day than the average person while training.
Nearly equivalent to the calorie burn of the average demon.
Most demons would simply rely on demon snack bars between meals. The government-subsidized, high-calorie food supplement was the Council’s only concession to demon health in the last several decades.
But he couldn’t. Under his guise as a human, he’d fabricated a role as a health buff, allowing him to walk around all day with a protein shake in his hand.
Dominic gulped some of the thick shake, and forced it down. It tasted like shit, but got the job done.
He took his usual route through the office, stopping first at a desk in the corner. “Morning, Candice.”
“Oh, hey, Dominic.” The older woman brightened at his appearance. “Just in time. We’re about to order coffee and pastries from that good place on the corner. You chipping in?”
“Don’t wanna break my streak.” Dominic waved his shake. “My cheat day isn’t until Saturday.”
She chuckled. “I admire your dedication.”
His eyes strayed to the tablet on her desk. “Anything juicy today?”
Candice was an administrative assistant to the Council’s media department, who spent their miserable days issuing various gag orders for news stories deemed as disinformation, or too sensational. It was an open secret that they mostly targeted pro-demon news.
One of her many duties involving delivering a tablet loaded with the day’s potential gag orders to the bosses upstairs, for final sign-off.
Yet, she was also a shameless gossip. Dominic had spent years slowly cultivating a connection with her. Just a few minutes commiserating about her teenage grandchildren and exchanging recipes each day, and she’d willingly spill about every story that crossed her desk.
He considered her an intelligence asset, and one of his most valuable. Whatever she gave him, he immediately relayed to Bastian, who fed it into his vast network of eyes and ears around the city.
Candice winced and picked up her tablet. “It’s all grisly today, I’m afraid. There was an attack last night.” She glanced over her shoulder, and lowered her voice. “By a demon,” she whispered.
“Do tell.” Dominic struggled to keep his expression one of innocent curiosity while his mind raced. Hopefully, the next words out of her mouth wouldn’t be about a trashed bookstore and a dead demon.
Or two.
“Apparently, a smoke demon walked into a corner store late last night and smashed the place to bits.”
He stilled. “Really?”
“I was shocked, too. He also attacked the store’s employee, who’s currently in the ICU. But last I heard, he might pull through. Thank goodness.”
“What happened to the demon?” Dominic tried to keep his voice casual.
“That’s the worst part,” Candice murmured, leaning closer over her desk. “After all that, the demon went upstairs to the top of the building, and…” Looking nauseous, she shook her head.
“He took a nosedive, right off the roof.”
Dominic turned to find one of his least favorite people.
Captain Ross tucked his DCA helmet under his arm. He was still in full riot gear; the Demon Control Authority donned it so readily to face demons that it seemed to be their preferred uniform.
“One of the traffic cams caught it, but the video was taken down before it could spread online.” Ross shook his head, though his hard eyes gleamed with amusement. “Some real Briarworth shit.”
“Briarworth?” Candice stared at him in confusion.
Dominic took a long gulp of his shake, not trusting himself to speak.
“It was an experiment by the government, to see if they could train demon kids to think and behave like humans,” Ross told her. “They sent a bunch of orphans to some place called Briarworth Academy. Basically a glorified military school designed to drill the demon right out of them.”
Candice’s eyes widened as she switched to full gossip mode. “Did it work?”
“Not at all. Their little demon brains couldn’t handle it, and most of the kids cracked by the time they hit their teens. Then the bodies started stacking up. They’d find a tall building at night, and…”
He whistled low as he curved his finger down in a slow arc. “Splat. Didn’t take long for someone to make the connection that they were all former Briarworth kids.”
“Oh, my god. I never heard about that. Is this new?” She looked from Ross to Dominic.
“No. It’s an old story,” Dominic replied quietly.
He focused on remaining still, his eyes studying the geometric patterns of the carpet. On the hypnotic rhythm of his own heartbeat, while he pushed back on the memory of the wind rushing around him.
Of falling.
“It was maybe twenty-five, thirty years ago when they finally shut down Briarworth?” Ross glanced at Dominic.
He nodded.
“How terrible. Was the government ever held accountable?”
Dominic refused to be drawn in by the dismay in Candice’s voice. He’d learned too many times that human sympathy was fleeting, and paper-thin. It wasn’t weight-bearing.
Unlike human fear.
Ross shrugged. “Slap on the wrist, really. They agreed to stronger oversight for any future experiments . No one likes scrubbing demon blood off the pavement, after all.”
Dominic ground his teeth. “What brings you here today, Captain?”
“My squad responded to the attack last night. I’m here for the Counter-Terrorism brief. You’re joining, right?”
“Of course.” The meeting notification was probably on his phone, which he hadn’t checked since he’d walked in the building. “I’ll catch you later, Candice.”
“Oh, Dominic. Did you try that new keto recipe I sent you?”
He floundered, his mind blanking on whatever the last godawful recipe she could have sent him might have been. With a hand to his stomach, he grimaced regretfully. “Didn’t agree with me.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. It sounded so nice.” Candice looked just as dismayed as she had over the Briarworth story.
Perhaps more.
He turned away quickly, and followed Captain Ross down the hall.
The Counter-Terrorism department was relatively small, and their proportionally-sized conference room was already crammed to capacity.
Dominic nodded at his supervisor when he walked in. He went to stand in the back against the wall, next to a cluster of other agents from his unit. Silencing his phone, he glanced up at the ongoing briefing presentation, and froze.
On one half of the screen, a silent surveillance video was on loop, showing a man slowly walking toward a convenience store with a slow, clumsy gait. As though he’d only just learned to walk.
Just as Mira had described Nikhiv’s controlled movements.
On the other half, there was a collage of DFC members in blurred photos, most of their faces obscured by baseball caps, face masks, and even scarves.
Including a familiar mane of dark hair, above a distinctive backpack.
Dominic shoved his fists into his pockets as he fought to keep his face under control.
“…current persons of interest. At the request of the Mayor’s office, we’re pursuing all leads. A media source has suggested the Demon Freedom Coalition as the potential culprits.” Cooper cleared his throat and paused to take a sip of his coffee.
“The DFC is a relatively underdeveloped grassroots organization with no mature recruitment pipeline,” Dominic said, raising his voice to be heard from the back. “But you believe they’re not only recruiting demons, but radicalizing them for extremist attacks?”
“Formal recruitment isn’t the only available pipeline.” An edge of defensiveness crept into Cooper’s tone. “The younger generations are interacting far more with demons, in levels not seen since the free love movement of the 60s and 70s. They’re exchanging ideas in hidden online communities. Fraternizing, in underground bars and clubs.”
A few others murmured and nodded.
Dominic knew the powers that be upstairs were still deciding how to crack down on the latest wave of nightclubs, where humans often went to seek out demon companionship, if only just for one night.
Being as humans were involved, even the Council knew it’d be a bad look to just swarm the clubs with DCA officers in riot gear.
Cooper worked for those upstairs. As a so-called incident analyst, he mostly spent his time reviewing the information that others had busted their asses to collect.
“Considering these new dynamics, I’d say it’s even possible that demons are radicalizing humans, not the other way around,” Cooper continued. “We’re working to determine the current leadership structure within the Demon Freedom Coalition.”
“There is no leadership,” Dominic replied, annoyed. “That’s why you can’t find it. The DFC is a network of fully decentralized, independent units operating on a common ideology. Decentralization is one of their key tenants.”
Cooper stiffened, and Dominic held his glare.
The analyst was young, and had only been with the Council for five or so years. Since he was constantly searching for connections, his brain had become wired to find ones that didn’t exist.
And if Cooper thought he could endanger Mira with his half-assed theories, he was in for the lesson of his fucking life.
“As you can see, Dominic is our resident expert on this particular homegrown group,” his supervisor said. “Dominic, get back out there and put your ear to the ground, so we have more to work with.”
“Already on it,” he muttered, and straightened from the wall. He spared Cooper one last, irritated glance as he headed for the door.
Meeting up with Bastian in a few hours couldn’t arrive fast enough. It appeared their little air demon problem had just grown a lot bigger.