Caleb
I woke up in the condo, my cock throbbing, my ears ringing. My balls ached like they’d run a marathon. This had to be the most insane sexual experience of my life—and I was no stranger to enjoying the female form. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared me for that . Never in my life had I ever experienced what had to be absolutely every last drop of cum being forcibly evacuated from my body at the same time… until now.
I laid back on the bed, closing my eyes as I remembered the moment I knew I was going to cum; I wasn’t just telling Magda that I couldn’t stop the orgasm from arriving —I was trying to tell her I literally couldn’t stop. Before I’d gotten inside of her, there had barely been a single thought in my brain about anything except getting inside of her. It wasn’t until I began reaching my first climax that I’d even realized I wasn’t wearing a condom.
Since I’d spent most of my post-puberty teenage years and early twenties sleeping my way through nearly the entire female population of Acolyte Seminary, other local schools, and several bars and clubs around town, I always made sure I had a condom… or three… with me. My cock might be greedy, but after spending years being threatened with the consequences of getting anyone pregnant, I’d been especially careful.
I’d been wearing condoms and pulling out during sex since I was sixteen, and I’d never—not even while stupidly, shit-faced drunk— ever , made the mistake of coming inside of someone before.
I’d intended to pull out, given that I didn’t have any condoms with me—not exactly Church-issued gear for a demon-hunting mission—but from the onset, it was like Magda and I had been fitted like a lock to a key; like some kind of finger-trap puzzle. The more I thought about pulling out of her, the tighter our hips drew together, like an invisible force had been pressing us as close together as we could go.
The moment I even thought about trying to stop, I found that odd invisible band around my hips cinching us tighter together. So instead, I’d pushed myself deeper inside of her and gave up trying to do anything else but enjoy her body… the sounds tearing out of her when I felt myself butting up against the back of her pussy… the feel of her tightening around me.
I had to admit, if only to myself, that the single reason I was hesitant about finishing inside of her—at all—was because I thought I should have been. Truthfully, I needed her more in that moment than food; than water; than air . When I found that I couldn’t leave her; when I discovered that my only choice—owing to the bizarre, insistent force keeping me inside of her—was to drench her in my cum, both inside and out… I’d felt relief . All I needed to do was the exact thing I wanted to do—the exact thing she wanted me to do. By the time I was done drowning myself inside of her—literally and figuratively—I had practically achieved an out-of-body experience.
Giving in to all the pleasure of enjoying her body and making her come had pushed me over the threshold of sanity. For several minutes, I doubted I would have been able to tell someone my name, let alone what the hell I was doing in a strange apartment with woman I didn’t know, whom I’d rescued from a succubus, buried to the hilt inside of her without a condom. And all this while being unable to dredge up even the tiniest inclination to do anything apart from fill her with every last ounce of my seed.
Hell, I could barely keep myself from doing it all over again, even though rational thought was coming back to me, slowly but surely.
Was it because of the succubus? Something the doctor had done to me? I couldn’t stop trying to recall what she’d said when I’d arrived. She kept making statements about expecting me to be there, but I had no idea when she’d spotted me; how she’d known me.
“She called me Knight,” I whispered. “She called me by my last name.”
There was something hazy in the edge of my memory; something that wasn’t apparent. I’d texted Home last night to let him know she was headed toward him. I’d gone to get dumplings, hadn’t I? But that wasn’t what I’d eaten… there’d been noodles, and—beer?
The case flashed in my mind, but I couldn’t recall what kind it had been, or when I’d left the shop, or how long I’d been there… Parts of my Friday evening had holes in it. I might not have learned much from the seminary, but I knew enough to recognize that someone—likely a demon—had been fiddling around in my head.
Shit. I ran my free hand down my face; the other arm was beneath Magda, and I didn’t want to wake her. I don’t know how long I’d been burned, but if that was the case, I was in a lot more trouble than I’d figured.
None of this gives me any insights into how she got mixed up in all of this—or why the doctor wanted me to protect her from the organization so badly, unless— I tried to stop the worry from welling inside of me, but the words spilled out regardless. Unless she’s a succubus too, and the doctor was trying to protect her because they’re both demons.
I closed my eyes. I’d slept with a demon. I’d come inside of her. More than once.
And there was still not enough sense in my head to keep me from wanting to take her again.
Fuck.
Beside me, Magda slept peacefully—deeply, I noted, her breathing calm and steady. She lay half on her side, a bare breast peeking just above the sheet. I felt myself growing hard again and had to force my gaze away. I needed to find that doctor. She told me she’d find us later, but that was probably another of her games. I’d never known a demon to be truthful unless it was part of their own peculiar ethos. They weren’t beholden to truth any more than humans were. Everything she’d said could have been a lie, but then… why? Why go through all that trouble to get me to take this girl out of the building before she could get on the organization’s radar?
I replayed the events of the evening. Once we’d gotten into the model condo, I’d searched Magda’s wallet for a driver’s license and only found an ID card that nearly had me flinch when I saw her name: Magdalene Church. Yeowch. I would have bet my right testicle she was a pastor’s kid. Unfortunately, her apartment was clear on the other side of town—a thirty-minute drive at minimum, traffic allowing—which meant I’d need to sit tight and figure out another plan.
I’d tried to wake her a dozen times, but she’d slept through everything. I’d even tried texting someone listed as Bestie in her phone, but the cell towers in the area were down, and one look outside at the black vans crawling all over the block left little confusion as to why. I’d watched the clock on the wall above the kitchen sink ticking away, practically feeling Jax’s rage growing with every passing minute.
I can’t let them find us here. The doctor’s right. They’ll either kill or imprison her.
“Hey, Magda,” I said gently, reaching over and stroking the back of my fingers down the side of her cheek. “Can you wake up for a second? I’ve gotta talk to you.”
Magda made a little hmming noise and rolled onto her back, exposing both breasts to me, but she continued to sleep deeply. I tried to tap her shoulder; shake her forearm. I called her name loudly, three or four times, but the woman slept like the dead. The same thing happened when I’d taken her from the doctor’s office, so I knew there was no point in continuing to try waking her. I covered her up with the sheet, more to stop from getting distracted than anything else, then forced myself out of bed.
I strode over to the window and peered out into the rain-soaked streets. Within moments, the patrol of black utility vans that had been scouring the streets for almost twelve hours now made their predictive patterns. The first that pulled up to the light across the street from the condos always took a left turn. The one behind it, a right. The moved in sync, following their routes.
If they ever found out about Magda—there was no mistaking what she was now that I’d taken the time to put the pieces together—she’d be arrested. She’d walked into that building a human woman; I’d not been able to sense any demonic energy from her when I’d seen her outside, but the pull of her power of me… She was most definitely a demon now.
The moment I woke up in the chair and saw her, I’d felt the call of her succubus powers grasping hold of my senses; by the time she’d ordered me to take her to the bed, I was already under her spell without a care in the world. She might even have been stronger than the doctor; I’d at least been able to muster the semblance of resistance with the other succubus. With Magda, there had been no question in my mind: I had to have her. I had to be inside of her. I had to make her my woman, or I would never know peace again a day in my life.
They’d have a hell of a lot of questions for her in the organization, and none of them would end with, Thanks, that’ll be all! The exit’s right this way.
I sighed and rested my forearm on the window frame. The vans were gone now, but they’d be back. They couldn’t—under any circumstances—see me near this building or have the faintest clue that there was anyone else with me. Especially not a demon.
I turned back to Magda. Her dark hair spilled out like silk against the cream-colored sheets; her ample chest rose and fell with each deep, steady breath. Her full lips begged to be kissed. I couldn’t imagine what had made me long for her so badly, but I forced my gaze back outside. I could almost hear Jax’s admonishment now: How could you be so stupid, ! Haven’t I taught you one blasted thing about how your fascination with carnality would lead to your downfall?
How could I have been so stupid, indeed.
Stupid or not, however, I wasn’t about to let the organization get their filthy fucking hands on Magda. I knew before I’d even finished processing the thought that if anyone caused her pain, I’d kill them. Without hesitation. I’d accepted this as truth while I made what little plans I could. If there was any hope of protecting this girl; of making sure she stayed completely off the Church’s radar, I had to leave before it got any later. The best chance for her would be for me to leave and never see or contact her again.
Once I’d returned home, I’d be watched like a hawk for an indiscriminate amount of time. Perhaps days, perhaps months… might even have my off-campus privileges revoked, or only be allowed to go with a chaperone, as if I was a child. That was, of course, after I’d served my time in the cells. I’d have to lie my ass off or admit it to Jax… I’d have to confess to falling prey to a succubus. The question was whether or not it was better to admit things up front than to wait until I babbled it in the cells during a round or two of torture. At least if I told them up front, they’d think I was being honest in the hopes of seeking repentance and wouldn’t realize I was admitting to a lesser sin in the hopes they wouldn’t find out about all the other ones.
My gut clenched with fear. I knew what they did to the men who fell under a demon’s control; what they did to the demon was probably even worse. No one could suspect her. No one could know. If taking the secret of our meeting and subsequent tryst to my grave would keep them away from her, then I’d consider it a life well lived. I’d been responsible for enough deaths—human and demon alike—and even if she was the only person I ever managed to save, I would make sure she stayed safe.
I did some quick math. Based on the timing of the vans’ patterns from earlier, I reckoned I had about twenty-five minutes or so before they came back around; probably less, given that it was now close to two in the morning and there’d be fewer cars on the street.
I turned once more to drink in Magda’s beauty. The low-lying haze of magic surrounded her, radiating from her skin. Her power was nowhere near the sheer weight of Dr. Lowe’s aura, but it was still incredibly strong. I walked over and laid back on the bed beside her. Had I been one of the more pious hunters, perhaps I would have delivered her straight to the org and received a hero’s welcome. Instead, I’d hidden her from their retrieval teams, and then , instead of warning her that the reason I hadn’t just left a note and walked away was because we were being chased by demon hunters, I’d fucked her… I’d fucked her with such abandon and lust that even to think of it now made me simultaneously ashamed and desperate to do it all over again.
I reached over to touch her, but forcibly withdrew my hand before we came in contact.
You got yourself stuck in a demon’s charm. Way to go, dumbass.
I considered the differences in her power with that of Dr. Lowe’s. When the good doctor had turned her power on me, the power had been overwhelming. But Magda… I’d felt the power in her tone, but there had no coercion, as with the other succubus. She’d been so radiant; I was transfixed even before the pulse of that strange connection arose between us.
When I’d woken up earlier to find her on the floor by the side of the bed, my first thought was that we’d been discovered, or she’d been hurt. The moment I’d touched her… I knew I would never want to stop touching her. When her eyes began to glow purple, I knew I’d been tricked by a demon into protecting another demon—I just didn’t understand how or why.
Even knowing what she was, I hadn’t fought back the urge to take her like I should have. Instead, I had sex with her—the most incredible, mind-blowing sex of my life. Not just because I was under her power, but because I’d wanted to make her mine more than anything else I’d ever wanted in my entire life. I’d needed her… so much so that I wasn’t sure which of us was the guiltier party in this mess. She might have used her influence on me, but the only reason it had worked so well was because I’d wanted her so badly.
I stroked Magda’s dark hair back from her face, still unable to stop myself from being near her and touching her, even if it just meant stroking her cheek. I knew the clock was ticking on my escape plan, but it was agony to think about getting out of this room and never seeing her again. I wanted to gaze into those beautiful gray eyes, stroke her heart-shaped face; wanted to taste her on my tongue and bury myself inside of her until the feeling of her tightening against me squeezed all the sense from my head.
Probably not too far off on that already.
I pulled away from her with alarming difficulty as she gave a soft sigh in her sleep and curled deeper into the covers. I had to leave to keep her safe, and I had to go now, because if she woke up and asked me to keep making her come until we both couldn’t see straight or even walk, I would be halfway inside of her before she’d finished the sentence.
Even knowing full well that when the organization found me—and eventually they would—I’d have literal hell to pay.
Thinking I’d get even just three months in the cells was looking downright cheery as to what would happen now that I’d not only fallen under one succubus’s command, but then had willingly— very willingly—slept with another. I’d never handled a single instance of this type of demon since I’d graduated nearly a decade ago, and now, two succubi in a single day. I touched Magda’s shoulder and she mumbled softly in her sleep. I still wanted to touch her; hold her. I wanted to lose myself inside of her again, enveloped in the smell of her skin and hair, and the sound of her cries when?—
“Goddammit,” I whispered. “Get out of bed and leave, . Just get up and get the hell out of here before this gets any worse for either of you.”
The only thing I could think about was how much I wanted her to wake up and look at me with that same pleading gaze. I slipped out of the bed, looking for my clothes, trying desperately to ignore the stiffness of my cock. I’d almost tried kissing her awake. Even now, it was taking every bit of willpower not to get back into bed with her and just forget about the world outside of this room; outside of her.
“I’ve got to get back before this entire block gets torn apart while they look for me.”
Because then they’ll find her.
My punishment was pretty much assured. I’d completely poofed off the grid after announcing I was going after a succubus. Additionally, thanks to the fact that, owing to some kind of demon-charmed haze, I’d been sent away when the other agents arrived as backup, it was going to look like I’d pulled a runner. They would find me though. They always found the agents that ran.
I stared down at the small, star-shaped brand on my inner right arm. It was a mark I’d always hated. No one outside of the organization would possibly recognize it; would most likely assume it was a scar.
When Jax told me I’d been “selected” when I was fifteen, I thought at first he’d meant for adoption. To my great dismay, however, I’d had to listen to him explain that it was just the fancy term the Church used when we’d been “adopted” by the organization. It was kinda hard to forget that day. As if being forced to go to mass that morning hadn’t been torture enough, me and a huge group of boys and a couple girls then spent the afternoon lined up like cattle to get branded with a hot poker.
To remind you of your devotion to Christ, the bishops told us, even as the smell of searing flesh and the sobs of teenagers filled the room. It didn’t take a genius to understand what they’d really meant was: You belong to us now; don’t ever forget it.
I walked over to Magda’s bag, searching through it briefly, but couldn’t find any paper or writing materials. Instead, I opened her phone with her thumbprint again, feeling a bit guilty as I did so, and typed a new text message to her on the screen.
I’m sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. Get home as soon as you can, and don’t tell anyone where you went, who you saw, or that you’ve ever heard the name Dr. Lowe. If anyone ever approaches you and asks about her, lie your ass off. I know this doesn’t make much sense, and you have no reason to trust me, but please know I’m trying to protect you. I wish I could explain more, but I think it’s safer if you just try to live your life like normal. Even if you’re a succubus now. —
As an afterthought, I added:
Don’t trust anyone associated with the Church. Ever.
I didn’t send the message; just left it open on the screen and put the phone on the nightstand. Hopefully, she’d find the message when she woke up. I picked up my pants and underwear from the floor. Those were fine, but the shirt was pretty much a loss. I was down at least three buttons, and there was a hole along the seam. Still, I slipped it over my head, pulled on my holster and replaced the gun, and then buttoned my jacket up to cover everything.
With a last look at the sleeping vixen in the bed behind me, I kissed her gently on the forehead, then hurried out into the hall and took the stairs rather than the elevator, hoping the movement and night air might take some of this need out of me. I had to lead them away from the area; let myself get found elsewhere. Had I been just an hour or two late, I’d have gotten a reprimand; perhaps even punishment detail, but it had been over twelve hours since I’d last spoken to Home. If they knew about Magda—not just that she had gone to visit a succubus, but that she herself had become one, then…
Need a story. Need a way to get out of this and keep from revealing anything to do with her.
What little I knew about succubi was that it took an incubus—not another succubus—to make another. The method in which Magda had been made into a succubus after encountering the good doctor would likely be of great interest to the organization. Interrogating her would just be the start. I couldn’t bring myself to think of what they’d do after she’d answered their questions.
I jogged a couple blocks; it was close to three a.m. now, and bars and other late-night places would be closed or closing soon. Since there wasn’t much in the way of recreation on this side of town, it took a while to spot anything viable, but I finally found a payphone on the corner of a street near a bank. Payphones were hard to find in this day and age, and the fact that it had what looked like a cross on its side and was well within sight of the bank ATM’s cameras told me it had been placed there intentionally, by someone who’d wanted to be able to see anyone using it.
It wasn’t the first time I’d had to call in on a monitored line—the last time had been when I’d been hunting a vampire carving a bloody swathe through the local homeless population.
I slowed down as I approached, letting my feet slide a bit, hoping to feign more exhaustion than I actually felt. I knew I was on camera now, so I had to act natural, but it was hard, considering that ever since I’d woken up next to Magda, I’d been feeling great—fantastic, even—apart from the aching in every part of my lower half… but even that I couldn’t complain about.
I pulled the accordion door of the phone booth open and was greeted with the pungent odor of piss. Clearly someone had used this as a urinal—possibly more than once. I left the door ajar, both because I needed the air, and because there was no need for privacy this late at night. I lifted the receiver; no dial tone, no sound. I pressed the plunger a couple of times before a small click alerted me to someone having connected the line, but no one spoke. I took the chance.
“Recon team, agent reporting in,” I said.
There was nothing for a moment, then I heard a series of tapping noises—typing, possibly.
“Your verification number please,” said the woman on the other end.
“0648992-IEC.”
“Your file has been flagged by the organization. State the reason for your delay.”
I hesitated. “I…” Any lies I could think of wouldn’t serve me. Keeping track of my story would just be harder if they—rather when —they put me in a cell with an investigator. “I attempted to confront the target?—”
“Your orders were to maintain distance?” Though there was the lilt of a question in the operator’s tone, I recognized it as a statement. There was reproach as well. Irritation prickled my spine, and I fought to maintain my temper.
“Yes. I did act against orders.”
“State your reason.”
I paused before answering. “Because I believed a civilian may have been involved. The agent stationed at the target’s home can verify this information.”
“You were not present when backup arrived and missed rendezvouses with your handlers, yet we have your location as being nearby the area of operations,” said the operator.
Again, statements, not questions. I had to be careful. In times like this, I had developed a technique based on the silly introduction game two truths and a lie . Keep the information vague and twist as few facts as possible to make it harder to spot.
“I woke up about an hour ago”— truth— “and I wasn’t sure where I was, or what really even happened”— truth… somewhat —“so I went in search of a contact point. This was the first place I found. ”
And now for the lie.
“I think… I think the demon I was watching may have been a succubus,” I said, “but I’m not… I’m not sure what happened once I went inside her office.”
It wasn’t a total lie, but I certainly couldn’t tell them I’d only bothered to find the check-in point after absconding with a newly turned demon.
There was a long pause and more typing. “Are you compromised?”
“Compromised?”
“Have you committed any acts, illegal or sacrilegious, while under the demon’s influence?”
This was where I had to really lie my ass off. I’d tell Jax, but only if it were absolutely necessary. Otherwise, for the rest of my days, I’d do my level best to forget about Magda Church. Who the fuck was I kidding? I would never forget about her. In order to protect her however, I’d have to toe the line of sacrilege.
“I, uh… what? No. At least… I don’t think so. I can’t really remember what happened. It was all a bit of a… blur.”
“Just a moment.”
Not convincing enough , I warned myself in the ensuing silence. It was quiet for so long, I thought the call disconnected, but then came the sound of typing once more.
“Operatives are en route to collect you. Do not attempt to leave the area.”
The line went dead, and then there was a flat dial tone. I hung up and stepped out of the urine-soaked phone booth and staggered over to the ATM. I didn’t care if they could see me. I checked my coat and found my wallet still in the inner pocket. I pulled out my debit card—the one they’d given me for the job, of course. Agents weren’t allowed to bring any identifying personal information with us on assignments, so all I had was a fake ID, fake debit account, and the cash I’d discovered in my hand the other night. I inserted the card and held my breath.
Code entered, I checked my balance: $0.00.
They’d cleared the account, which meant they’d already begun sweeping up their mess. Or rather, I thought, as the screen flickered with an error message letting me know my card was invalid and the stupid plastic rectangle shot back out, they’re about to finish doing so.
I left the card in the machine, barely resisted the urge to flick off the ATM camera, and walked back over to the streetlamp before taking a seat on the cement curb. By the time I’d sat back down, one of the black cargo vans that had been circling the area all night screeched to a stop directly in front of me. The door slid open and two agents wearing all black kit and balaclavas stepped out.
“Up, asshole,” said the second man out of the van, gesturing with the shiny silver gun in his hand as they both approached me and yanked on my arms.
“What, not even the offer of candy?” I groused as I was pulled upright. “That’s just lazy kidnapping.”
“Hope that sense of humor comes out unscathed on the other side of the cells,” said the first agent. I recognized his voice as that of the man I’d spoken to on the phone earlier: Home.
“You’re gonna be rotting in them for a while until the big wigs figure out what the hell to do with your dumb ass,” said the agent with the gun.
They dragged me toward the open door, but I dug in my heels.
“Wait a second—that’s not protocol. You can’t take me straight to the cells,” I shot back. “Jax will want me in the debriefing room.”
“That was before you fucked up, Knight,” said the gunman. I could hear the smile in his tone as he spoke, and it sent an icy spike of fear into my gut. “Word from the org is that you were compromised, which means we’re going to have to quarantine you. But… since you’re not injured, there’ll be no med bay—just the cells.”
I mentally reassessed the situation. If they were going to take me straight to that hell, I’d be stuck in there for good. I’d planned to lie my ass off wherever possible and act penitent while accepting my punishment, but if they were going to subject me to the cells without so much as giving me the chance, well… Better to be shot in the back of the head than to be waterboarded and tortured until I couldn’t remember my own name.
Again.
I’d only stayed in the cells one time longer than two weeks, but the experience lingered with me even now like my own personal ghost. I’d had decidedly shorter stays following that, but the more often you went in, the more unbearable the idea of ever going back in became. For grunt-level agents, such as myself, the cells were meant to be a first line of defense against disobedience. While I wasn’t the only agent who’d enjoyed a stay within its concrete walls on more than one occasion, I was fairly certain I was the current recidivism record holder due to my repeated incarcerations.
I’d learned, early on, that the punishment was typically somewhat tailored to the crime, so discovering what it was they wanted you to repent for was typically the key to getting out. At nineteen, I’d lied about sneaking off campus to go drinking—and to meet a girl, but they didn’t know about that part of my evening. I’d been forced to drink communion wine until I vomited. The priests asked me if I’d ever touch another drop of alcohol, and I promised I wouldn’t, but then they brought in more the next day and ordered me to drink it. After I’d thrown up again, they asked me if I’d touch another drop. I swore up and down that I wouldn’t, but they left me in there and repeated the whole thing the next day. I was crying as I begged them to just tell me what they’d wanted, but they said nothing.
By the morning of the fourth day, after having no food other than a few communion wafers and some water from the sink, when they brought the bottle in and told me to drink it, I’d refused. They tried to force me, but I upended it into the sink and smashed the bottle on the ground. Without a word, the priests had left the room, and this time, left the door open. The lesson, I’d later been told, had been to “not touch another drop.” By continuing to drink it every day after they’d ordered me to, I’d proven I was lying, so they’d done it again until I satisfactorily refused. The lessons hadn’t stopped me from drinking, but it had ensured that I never took part in communion ever again.
One of the first missions I’d ever gone on had been headed by an agent who’d messed up and gotten three new graduates killed. They’d put him straight into the cells and kept him there for three months—probably, we’d mused, one for each agent killed on his watch. After he’d gotten out, he never spoke another word to anyone. They’d had to take him off the teams and permanently assign him to the university’s groundskeeping crew.
Three weeks, four days had been my longest stay. It had taken them four days to make me crack; nine days to totally break me. But they’d kept going, even after I’d confessed to whatever they accused me of, even things they knew I hadn’t done. My crime had been sleeping with a married woman. To be fair, I hadn’t known she was married when we met, but that didn’t seem to matter to her husband—one of the university’s board members, as it turned out.
I didn’t even want to possibly consider what they’d consider the “proper punishment” for sleeping with a succubus, and I wasn’t about to, either. I tightened my fists.
If they used drugs to question me… I knew Magda’s name; her address… How much would I be able to withstand before I ended up giving them everything they wanted?
“You’ll go wherever you’re ordered,” said the agent with the gun. “Trust me when I say you’re in no position to make demands. You should know the consequences better than anyone, Knight. I figured they had a little room down there permanently reserved for you at this point?—”
“Fuck you,” I spat. “I knew I was going to get into trouble, and I still came back. What does that tell you?”
“Tells me you’re pretty stupid,” he replied with a snort.
Home glared at him. “Listen man, you fucked up, but it ain’t the end of the world. You’ve messed up before—we all been in the cells at some point or another. They can’t keep you down there forever.”
“Nah, they’re gonna let you rot this time,” said the other agent. “You cocked this mission up good. The archbishop himself will probably have you crucified. If you knew what you lost us?—”
“Sir,” said Home, “due respect and all, but would you kindly shut the fuck up? I’d like to get to bed sometime this week, you hear? Let’s go.”
“Get Jax on the phone—now,” I demanded. “I want to hear it from?—”
The second agent grabbed my jacket collar and yanked, but only succeeded in nearly falling back into me when I didn’t budge.
“Listen here, you fuckwit,” he snapped, then jabbed his finger into my collarbone. “I don’t answer to that old asshole, and I certainly don’t answer to you . Get in the van or get a bullet in the head. Your choice.”
I grinned down at him; something feral and savage danced within me. It was the energy that Magda had drawn out of me in bed; the monster within that I always tried to stifle. I raised my head, breathing deeply. “ My choice? Is that right? I think that’s gotta be the first time in my life I’ve ever had such a thing.”
The agents glanced at each other, and the soft chatter of their earpieces crackled to life. The man with the gun smirked, his hand twitching on the weapon. It seemed like they’d gotten authorization for a secondary plan. I’d been on that side of this situation more times than I cared to count. The rules were simple: when containment was likely to fail, live rounds were an acceptable next option.
My adrenaline surged; a similar sensation to when I’d been dispatched to hunt a target. Only, tonight, I wasn’t just some dog trying to tree the fox so its master could take the prize. Whether I resisted or returned willingly, I would be off to the cells, locked up, key thrown away, tortured endlessly—probably until I broke and told them everything. It had taken nine days last time. How long would it take now?
I’m not about to find out what it would take for me to betray her , I thought. I wasn’t certain why I felt so protective of her, but I would fight to do so until my last. I won’t let them put her in that place. Not now, not ever. They’ll have to shoot me first.
More radio chatter. Home shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. I was taller than them both by several inches. I was stronger than them, filled with burning energy I’d never felt before. If they knew who I was, then they’d know the beasts I’d fought on my own; that there was a reason I was still a hunter agent after nearly a decade, even when everyone else from my graduating class had moved onto other positions or locations.
Or died in action.
It wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough to get promoted, or that I wanted to stay in the lowest ranks of the organization. I was among those who were issued the crappiest apartments, pay, and assignments, all while being subjected to the worst possible punishments for the slightest grievances—real or perceived.
It was because they needed me to be a killer. Because, until today when Dr. Lowe had caught me off guard, I had never once in my life failed to find and then capture—or neutralize—my target. If these assholes knew who I was, then they’d know what I was capable of .
“Hell, man, just get the bishop on the phone in the van,” Home said to the other agent, tugging my arm. “Can we please just?—"
“No,” I growled, locking my knees.
The agent with the gun cocked his head. “No? Well, now, that does put us at an impasse. You see, if?—”
I reared back, then slammed my forehead straight into the dumb fuck’s face. He stumbled backward, dropped his gun, and screamed as blood gushed from his nose. I yanked my other arm back and sent Home flying over my shoulder and onto the sidewalk behind me. He landed with a startled cry and then groaned as he grabbed his ribs.
“Yeah, I’m familiar with the drill,” I snarled.
I took off running around the front of the van. The driver, looking surprised, opened his door and stepped out, aiming a pistol at me, but I rammed my shoulder into the door and it slammed against his leg. The unmistakable crack of a breaking bone echoed right before he screamed and fell back into the seat.
I kept running, back toward Magda, against my better judgment, and dashed into the intersection.
Wham!
I felt the horrific crunch of a vehicle ramming into my side, and I rolled over the short hood, gasping as I tumbled back to the concrete. My lip was bleeding, and my right leg and ribs were aching, but I regained my feet, staggered upright in time to spy the second black cargo van that had been stalking the neighborhood looking for me. The doors slid open and four more recovery team members popped out. They too, wore all black kit and balaclavas, and each of them carried an assault weapon aimed right at me.
“Get him!” screamed the agent I’d headbutted, pinching his nose beneath the mask. Blood poured down his face. “Fucking shoot him, now!”
The first agent approached to point the barrel of his gun in my face, issuing orders for me to get on the ground. He got within my reach, and I grabbed the gun, turning it to the side as he fired off several short bursts. I brought my elbow flying toward his face and caught his jaw. He crumpled to the ground as I claimed his assault rifle, spun it around, and then swung it upright into the second agent’s groin. The stock landed square in his nuts; he wheezed and stumbled back, tripping over the first recovery agent.
“He’s a fucking hunter agent!” screamed the whiny bastard pinching his nose. “Are you seriously telling me you can’t take on one lowly meathead?!”
The third agent ran at me; I smashed his tactical goggles with the butt of my rifle. He fired off a round, but the shot went wide, and then I brought my knee up into his gut. He doubled over, fell to his knees, and puked on the street.
“Goddammit, Knight,” said the last recovery agent, pointing his weapon at the ground. “C’mon, man. You know this won’t end well for you!”
“They already told me it wasn’t going to,” I growled. “Now. You gonna shoot me, or just tease me a little more?”
“Asshole—” The agent lifted the gun to shoot; I raised the assault rifle and swung it like a bat. It hit his weapon so hard, the barrel bent and he cursed as he grabbed his hand, trigger finger clearly broken.
“Someone just shoot him already!” the silver-gun toting agent shouted. “Shoot the dumb bastard!”
The agent whose gun I’d just broken pulled a pistol from his hip with his unbroken hand, took aim, and fired. I dodged the shot, rolled to the ground, my ribs and leg burning.
“How is he this fast?” the agent said, lining up his second shot, taking a step away from me.
I could smell his fear, and the scent of it brought a wave of pure euphoria. I growled, then catapulted myself into his gut with my shoulder. I lifted the pistol from his still fingers, then tossed it aside and sent my fist careening into his face. He went limp at once, and I stood, panting, moving toward the van with a purposeful pace.
The driver, a young man with no mask, stared at me with terror in his gaze until I opened the door and yanked him out, flinging him to the street. He rolled several feet, then got up and ran toward the other van. I was near the edge of jubilation; like something inside of me had been unleashed. I began to pull myself into the van, convinced I’d get out of here, ditch the vehicle somewhere, circle back to Magda, and make sure she was safe before I ran. The plan seemed solid; good, even—until something pinched me hard, just below my hip on my right side, like a sharp mosquito bite. I cursed and looked down; a silver dart was poking out of my ass cheek a few inches above my thigh.
I reached down, yanked it out, and looked over to find Home aiming the dart gun at me, looking furious. He took three steps forward and fired another tranq into my thigh when I turned to face him, then one into my left arm.
“Son of a bitch,” I murmured, abandoning the idea of fighting him and instead pulling the darts out as quickly as I could. They were fast acting and released a lot of medicine on impact.
I turned back to reach for the steering wheel, but my fingers lost grip as the tranquilizer took hold, and I slid against the seat and to the ground, where I collapsed into an inelegant heap with my back against the van. I wasn’t totally out, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think straight. My vision was doubling. I fought to keep conscious, even as I felt every bit of strength getting sapped from me.
“Wish you just… shot me,” I panted as Home and the other agent approached.
Home kicked my boot, as if checking to ensure I wasn’t tricking them.
“He did, you dickhead,” moaned one of the recovery team as he staggered back to his feet. “But yeah, I think we all wish it had been with a bullet.”
“Dumbasses,” panted Home as he lowered gun and shouted, “Can we get a move on? I already had to clean one mess today, and now I gotta babysit your asses, too? Christ.”
“Patience,” said the other agent, snorting a clot of blood from his nose, “is a virtue.”
“Ain’t one of mine,” muttered Home as he turned toward the driver I’d taken out of the van. “Call in for cleaners and a med bus—and get our people on intercepting 911 calls—quick. Someone probably heard those gunshots.”
The agents who were able to move lifted me—perhaps a little rougher than necessary—and brought me back toward the other van, since the second van’s front was completely caved in where it had hit me; it was a smoking, inoperable ruin. If I wasn’t so completely paralyzed at the moment, I might have laughed. I’d never have even been able to get the damn thing started even if I hadn’t gotten shot in the ass.
“Hold on a second.”
The gun-toting agent held up his finger as they went to throw me inside, and the men paused. He tapped his cheek, then reared back and punched me square in the face. Since my feet were currently dragging behind me and I couldn’t brace for his fist, the blow not only knocked me backward, but also the men carrying me. Home rubbed his forehead.
“Fucking macho shit,” he muttered. “Here I was, thinking I was working with professionals, but noooooo .”
“Enough,” said the other agent, shaking his hand and massaging the knuckles. “Now we can go. Get his ass in here.”
He climbed inside the van, and I was shoved unceremoniously in after, squished between him and Home. The man I’d headbutted laid his gun on his lap, pointing in my direction, his finger on the trigger. I could scarcely hold myself upright and slumped over onto his shoulder as we turned a corner. He shoved me away, but I toppled right back. My body was so numb, I might as well have been a floating head.
“Just… fuckin’ shoot me,” I rasped. “Not… going… to die… cells…”
“You were always going to die in there,” spat the man on my left. “You always screwed around with danger and this time, well… looks like danger screwed you right back. So, unless you manage to work some kind of miracle, Knight, I’m going to see to it that you rot in a little hole somewhere in the deepest, darkest parts of the cells, and I’m going to pass by every day just so you can hear me laugh.”
Home directed our new driver—the only one there I hadn’t injured—through the darkened streets, then placed manacles over my wrists and tightened them until my bones ached.
“The bishop is not happy over that little disappearing act you pulled,” the agent continued. “The archdiocese is calling for blood after you botched that mission, so I’d make my peace now.”
“Wait,” I muttered, “…didn’t… you… catch the… demon?”
The agent turned to me, his blue-gray eyes narrowing in agitation. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place him beneath that mask. He seemed old enough to be someone I’d gone to the seminary with, though.
“No,” he seethed. “We didn’t. For some reason , she seemed to know we were coming and set off an illusion we chased around the office for ten goddamn minutes while she made her escape. I wonder… what would have alerted the demon to the organization’s involvement, hmm?”
“Oh,” was all I could manage.
I stared ahead through the metal grate barring the front and backseats. The driver kept peering into the rearview, staring at me in terror.
It occurred to me then that I was in a prisoner transport van—not just one of our regular vans. I stared down at my wrists.
“You really should have just come quietly,” whispered Home, resignation in his words.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the other agent, grinning through his bloodstained teeth. “I think if anything, he’s made this project even more exciting.”
…Shit.