Big demon energy, p.1
Big Demon Energy, page 1
part #1 of Bedeviled AF #1 Series
Big Demon Energy
Bedeviled AF #1
Deborah Wilde
Copyright © 2023 by Deborah Wilde.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Illustrated Cover by Ben V Funk
Typography by Croco Designs
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN: 978-1-988681-71-9 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-988681-71-9 (epub)
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Excerpt from Throwing Shade
Become a Wilde One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
After five months, dozens of sleepless nights, and enough caffeine to fuel a large city, we were so close to capturing our targets, I could almost taste it. The storm clouds had even parted, the full moon beaming its golden light upon my partner and me in encouragement.
That’s when a vampire blew in and wrecked our momentum. Unnecessarily gaunt, with nails sharpened to mini spears like some beauty influencer, and black hair lacquered to his skull, all he needed was a drop of blood at the corner of his mouth and he could star in his own B movie. See the Creature of the Night prowl! Scaaarrrrrrry!
“Get thee behind me, asshat!” I splashed through a puddle, waving the irritant away from the entrance to this abandoned laundromat in East Vancouver.
Sachie Saito, my best friend and fellow operative on this investigation, snickered, jumping a piece of loose asphalt in our parking lot mad dash. “Bleh bleh bleh.”
Hissing, the vampire cracked his neck and bodychecked me. “I’ll bleh you first, bitches.”
Rude. I regained my footing, ready to take him out, but Sachie was on it.
“Bring it.” Sach ripped a thin wooden stake free of its thigh holster and dropped into a fighter’s crouch. She looked like a tall warrior pixie with her gamine spiky cut and the stretchy dress she’d worn to the office that morning that matched her fire engine red hair. “Then I’ll see how many of your holes I can shove this into in thirty seconds. My current record is seven,” she added helpfully.
The vampire furrowed his heavy brow, counting under his breath. He got to three—holes, presumably—then snarled, snatched the stake away, and snapped it with a chilling smile.
We’d had enough bumps in this case without this jerk throwing us off course before we’d reached the finish line. Those two humans we’d been chasing had a slim head start, but every second spent dealing with the bloodsucker added to the odds of them getting away.
I flashed my gold ring identifying me as a Maccabee. “Listen up. A) You have no authority to stop us or demand shit, which the undead landlord of this joint knows, and B—”
Sach grabbed a broken piece of wood back from the vampire and staked him in the heart.
His jaw went slack, his body paralyzed, then he fell apart like puzzle pieces and crumbled to ash.
I wrenched the cracked glass door open from its bloated frame. “B) Never take your eyes off the one with the stake.”
“Rookie,” Sach spat, barreling inside with a trail of powdery footprints. “We should ask the Spook Squad to find out who his boss is and remind him not to fuck with our portal access.”
I shook my head. “It’s such a simple concept, yet so hard for some of these vamps to understand.”
We raced over dirty cream and mint tiles, sidestepping the broken metal table lying on its side. Fluorescent light fixtures hung down like stalactites between exposed pipes while a lonely washing machine missing its glass was tagged in layers of paint.
Employees of the undead landlords who controlled this three-block radius were already scurrying past the small houses nestled close together and local businesses like the popular taqueria to tattle on the two Maccabee operatives who’d killed a minion and were headed through the rift. Information was power, in the human and supernatural worlds, and the vamps in charge probably had files on us with details down to my shoe size. I filed it under “know thy enemy,” but it still freaked me out if I dwelled on it.
My only consolation was that if they knew my biggest secret, the one that could unravel my life, they’d have used it against me by now.
I shielded my eyes with a hand against the harsh glare of sunlight spilling out from the back office. “It’s a balmy ‘Satan’s asshole is steaming’ day in the Brink, folks.”
“Let’s stay safe, partner,” Sach said. “And if we can’t stay safe, then let’s crawl back out before we die. Better benefits for our loved ones.”
Closing our eyes so we wouldn’t be permanently blinded, we jumped into the rift, a portal to a liminal wasteland called the Brink that served as a barrier between earth and Babel, a vampire-controlled alternate reality.
There were about a dozen or so rifts worldwide; ours had been the last to be discovered about a hundred and fifty years ago, back when Vancouver was a fledgling city. They weren’t painful to traverse, more like a tight hug from a clingy relative that you wanted to get away from.
Happily, it only took a couple of seconds to get free of its embrace. I stepped into the Brink and took a deep breath, the arid atmosphere scorching my lungs, and let my vision adjust.
Heat shimmered off cracked earth which stretched into infinity. Suddenly, bent, wiry husks of trees with needle-sharp ragged bark exploded from the baked dirt, spraying soil and wood chips that almost took out my eyes. In less than two breaths, a dense forest with no protective canopy had been created.
The Brink always kept me on my toes. It presented different challenges each visit, even through the same portal. Last time I’d dealt with snowdrifts. Jury was still out on whether the needle-trees would be better. Both options were such delights.
Sach ran her fingers up the back of her neck, flicking sweat out of her hair. “I feel like I’m being punished for your sins.”
“Only six of them,” I said mournfully. “Lust hath forsaken me.”
“Why dost thou speak old-timey today?”
“I’m a whimsical woman.” I pressed the hollow above my left ulna, triggering a steady electric signal paired to my partner’s matching implant. It was the best communication solution we’d found since there was no cell reception in the Brink and the chaotic magic reduced walkie-talkies to a staticky nightmare. “Got a signal?”
“Confirmed,” she replied. “Happy hunting, Aviva.”
“You too.”
We split up, Sachie heading left through the tree graveyard while I went right. Unfortunately, there were no footprints to follow or scents of desperation to track.
Coming into the Brink was akin to Theseus entering the Labyrinth—except without any thread to find my way out again. That said, it was a freaking alternate reality, how could I not be enticed? Like the best seductions, it provided a heady emotional cocktail with complex flavors: a shot of disorientation, a generous pinch of anxiety, and a heavy splash of excitement, all shaken and poured into a glass crusted with sweet temptation.
I whipped off my navy suit jacket and draped it over my high, dark brown ponytail, attempting to form a makeshift visor with minimal success. Twenty steps later, my ankle boots and the hem of my slacks were already coated in dust.
I kept catching movement out of the corner of my eye, however, each time I spun to investigate, I came up empty. Just a trick of the light. I hoped. “Heloise, Clément,” I called out. “Turn yourselves in. Even if you make it to Babel, it’s hardly sanctuary.”
Our female suspect was Eishei Kodesh, a human with magic, but her husband had no powers. Not that it mattered; humans didn’t survive in the megacity of Babel without iron-clad contracts or protectors. Sometimes not even then.
I tilted my head, straining to hear a reply, but there was nothing save for the low moan of wind. That would have been fine had there actually been any hint of a breeze and not simply an evil, creepy taunt. I pressed forward, determined to find the married couple before anything else did, and wrap up this case.
The Toussaints had been running cons on the art world on three different continents, but my chapter had caught the case because they’d relocated to our city a couple of years back, believing that no one would look for them in Vancouver.
As far as cons went, it was simple: Heloise used her white flame magic to drive
Sach and I fought to remain the prime investigators. We’d been on this assignment from the start, knew the ins and outs better than anyone, and we’d lived in their heads. This was our chance to prove ourselves on a complex investigation with high stakes, yet we wouldn’t have pushed so hard if we’d believed anyone else was more suited to catch the Toussaints.
There’d been a lot of grumbling from more experienced operatives when the director had granted our request—on a probationary basis. Step by step, Sachie and I had built our case and narrowed in on the Toussaints despite every obstacle and red herring they threw our way.
If we lost the fugitives now? I shook my head, refusing to imagine the icy follow-up with our Vancouver chapter head and the massive derailment of our career goals. Failure was not an option.
Not when we’d come this far.
Wiping sweat off my brow, I crept forward, my eyes darting throughout the ghostlike trees, seeking any signs of movement. It would have been great to have water or be wearing cooler clothing, but when Sach and I had arrived at our fugitives’ last known location in Vancouver’s swanky Shaughnessy neighborhood, we discovered they’d fled to the Brink. There wasn’t time to stock up on provisions, let alone change out of our business attire.
Survival would come down to my wits and my blue flame magic.
I pulled my shirt away from my slick skin, sweat rolling between my boobs, and my jacket now a warm, damp weight on my head. Blech. Suddenly, my shoulder blades prickled and my skin was dotted in goose bumps like I’d jumped into a cold swimming pool. My heartbeat sounded like footsteps growing closer, but despite the feeling of being watched and the sense of unease that settled in my gut, no one was there.
No one I could see, at least.
Spinning around for a third time and finding nothing, I touched the brushed gold pillbox ring on my right index finger for confidence. The top of its round compartment featured an embossed flame, the design circled by five tiny gems: one each in red, orange, yellow, white, and blue.
All human Maccabees received their rings upon graduating from Maccababy to level one operative, and we never took them off. The part of our initiation ceremony that meant the most to me was the moment we slid the rings onto our fingers and pledged the Maccabee motto: Tikkun olam. My vow to fix the wrongs in the world.
A large dark shape swooped down with a low, raspy screech, and I ducked, cursing. Supe-vultures were the only creatures native to the Brink. They’d been reported by operatives no matter which rift they came through. However, like everything else in this place, the birds’ appearance was random. They might show up seven visits in a row in one location, no matter what the weather or physical environment held, and then not be seen again for the next six months.
Supe-vultures were beady-eyed, sharp of claw, and had feather-free heads—all the better to keep from being matted with blood when they reached inside a carcass. They operated on a cycle of feed, hasten the death of anything that moved too slowly, and feed again. Eerily sentient, they were a by-product of the constant clash in this realm between demon magic and Mother Earth. What a gift.
Three birds circled above, showing their lack of respect with dinosaur-like cries and a strip of white shit that splatted less than two feet away, while the sun beat on me like a crotchety grandma with a wooden spoon greeting her husband, who was late for dinner—again.
Every step was a nightmare of cramping in my leg muscles. I licked salty moisture off my cracked lips, dimly aware that bad as this heat exhaustion was, the next step was full-on heat stroke, then death. Best to live in the moment.
A high, thin cry pierced the air behind me. Pulse spiking, I called out for Sach. When she didn’t answer, I tapped my subcutaneous implant, changing it from a single pulse to two rapid pulses followed by a pause. Rinse and repeat.
Three heart-hammering cycles later, the signal returned to its original beat, and I gave a relieved sigh. Sachie was fine. She’d probably desiccated one of the supe-vultures with her orange flame magic.
I glanced up at the birds, tripping over a tree root that hadn’t been there ten seconds ago and bashing my shoulder on a listing tree. My jacket tore; my skin didn’t. I took the win.
Plus, my pain was rewarded. Sort of.
A badly sunburned Heloise and Clément Toussaint stood defiantly on either side of a doughy vampire, who sheltered them all with a golf umbrella made of some shiny iridescent material. It generated its own breeze and moved incrementally as its users did, so it always provided maximum shade.
The vamp smirked and spun the umbrella, showing off its amazing recalibrating abilities and generally flaunting the incredible technology he’d brought from Babel. Even low-level vamps had access to things humans wouldn’t see for ten or more years.
I narrowed my eyes. The vamp’s presence complicated things. I couldn’t easily slap magic-nulling cuffs on Heloise with him acting as her protector, and I didn’t dare pull the small stake from my boot when I’d also have to contend with Heloise’s powers.
I surreptitiously tapped my wrist, changing my subcutaneous electric signal to a fast vibration. Code for “Get here now,” it lasted about five seconds before reverting to the regular signal, which Sach could follow back to me.
Then I let my magic out to get a better read on the human pair. All Eishei Kodesh were synesthetes. We Blue Flames saw our magic, though neither the synesthetic quality nor the magic itself was visible to anyone else.
My particular talent was illuminating people’s weaknesses. Got a scarred liver? A nicotine craving tightening your chest? If I studied a person with my magic sight, their vulnerabilities were illuminated in blue. They weren’t all physical, but those were the most basic tells.
Heloise and Clément were awash in blue due to their sunburns. Colored dots rapidly beat at their wrist and throat pulses, and there were navy splotches on the crowns of their heads. Heat stroke, what did I tell you?
A journey that took ten minutes one time in the Brink could take an hour or a day the next. By the looks of the couple, they’d been in here a lot longer than I had before meeting up with the vamp.
Heloise’s all-silk ensemble was a ruinous mess of dirt, pit, and crotch stains—ew—while Clément looked like an escapee from an old film noir in his linen suit, complete with cravat and a gold stick pin. Sorry, a villainous escapee. Interesting that for a supposed artist, there were no traces of paint or gesso on his hands, not a single callus, and no sign of skin damage from handling solvents. His nails were buffed to a high sheen, and his skin was pink and plump. Much like the rest of him.
The vamp could have been one blink away from keeling over, but I’d never know. Blue Flames couldn’t illuminate the undead.
I crossed my arms. “This is cozy. Did you bring a picnic basket? I enjoy a creamy brie on these outings, but I also prefer it lightly melted, not bubbling liquid, so let’s rain check that.” I nodded my chin at the vamp. “Hand the humans over and we’ll be on our way.”
More supe-vultures joined the party with loud, raucous cries.
“Willem is our escort,” Clément said in a heavy French accent.
“Like an undead Boy Scout? Cool.”
Willem hissed at me, his fangs descending, but even with vamp magic, I could tell he wasn’t a skilled fighter like me. We Maccabees worked damn hard to achieve our high level of physical conditioning. I didn’t have the muscle mass of some operatives, but my limbs were long and lean, both from training and all the running I did.
I unfurled a cruel smile and beckoned Willem forward. “Want to play?”
