Tempting the Demon

I’d always known I would be a cop. Even when I’d worked summers and nights in high school, bagging groceries in the ghetto suburbs of Chicago, sucking up to tired mothers who were dragging screaming children through the store. I knew then I wasn’t going to do that all my life.

The streetlights and neon signs gave a false sense of security. As soon as I stepped into the alley the shadows thickened, almost as if they’d come alive and wanted to lure me into them. I sniffed—one of my demon talents. Some demons had the ability to throw fire, but all I could do was smell stuff, like dead people, werewolves and zombies. Big whoop. Unfortunately tonight I smelled decomposing trash, smoke from a cigarette butt tossed recently. And death.

No matter how often death hit my nostrils, it didn’t get any easier to handle. I stiffened. “The demon died three days ago?”

“According to Thomas,” Blaise responded.

To my right, something moved in the dark.

My heart leaped and my hand went to the gun in the holster beneath my jacket. My senses identified the creature at the same time as a scrawny black cat eased out from behind a giant trash container, headed straight for me. I hate cats. And of course, for some bizarre reason, they love me.

All slinky, independent and mysterious, they give me the creeps. Long ago I’d decided not to make war with them. If they truly had nine lives, that gave them nine chances to get back at me. I wasn’t risking it. As the feline weaved its body around my legs, I braced myself and pretended it didn’t matter.

Blaise bent and scratched the creature beneath its chin, his body warm next to mine. “Hey, kitty, I bet you have stories to tell, huh, fella?”

Rudy strode past us into the alley. “So this is where they found the stiff?”

Trust Rudy to be crass. Blaise said, “That stiff might have been someone’s father, son or husband.”

The agent feigned shock. “You mean demons have parents and children? I thought they hatched, like lizards or snakes.”

“Can I hit him now?” I asked.

Blaise straightened. “Not worth the scraped knuckles. Besides, he’s goading us. Are you going to rise to his remarks?”

“That’s why I brought him along.”

“I can hear what you’re saying, you know,” Rudy said from halfway down the gloomy alley. “Nothing here, by the way.” He bent to lift a discarded cardboard box and peered beneath it.

“Three days and I can still smell death.” I tipped my chin up and inhaled. “But it’s not coming from this alley.” Like a beagle on the trail, I followed my nose past a closed appliance store, a liquor store with a neon Open sign flashing in the window, and a grocery whose doors had probably closed at sunset, the steel cage rolled down over the windows and locked securely. The scent grew stronger the closer I got to the next alley entrance.

Blaise and the cat kept pace.

As I turned into the next alley, someone groaned. No, it was more of a last breath being released. The acrid smell of death hit me hard and I staggered backward.

That’s when I saw it.

Like a wraith swathed in a long black cape, the figure rose from the ground and raced to the opposite end of the alley.

“Stop!” On instinct, I ripped my nine-millimeter Glock from my holster and aimed at the fleeing person. “Or I’ll shoot!”

The shadowy figure never slowed, dodging right around the far end of the building and disappearing from sight.

“Take the next block!” I shouted to Blaise as I ran after the figure.

I tripped over a big lump of rags stretched across the ground, mostly concealed in the gloom of the building, and landed hard on a pale blob. My hands pressed against the blob, realizing it was a body with arms and legs. Death wafted up and wrapped around me, its cloying scent gagging me as I struggled to get off of the body.

The whitewashed features, the blank stare and the horrific stench led me to the instant conclusion that he was dead, and nothing I could do would fix that. I pulled myself up and ran on, determined to stop the killer before he took another life, human or demon.

As I skidded around the corner at the end of the building, gun drawn, another figure came to a halt at the opposite corner. I aimed and would have pulled the trigger if he hadn’t spoken immediately.

“It got away,” Blaise called out.

“Damn.”

Blaise closed the distance between us and we walked back to the body.

“Is he human or demon?” I asked.

“You tell me.” Blaise waited.

I’d smelled dead human more times than I could count. This wasn’t the same. He had a grittier, more pungent scent. “Not human.”

With a nod, Blaise crouched down beside the dead demon. “This man looks like he’s been dead for while, but at the same time it appears to be a fresh kill.”

“Look at his face.” I knelt beside him, trying not to let the stench choke me. “He’s smiling.” His lips were turned up at the corners.

“And he’s still got a hard-on.” Blaise pointed to the man’s genitals, exposed to the night air.

“You think a hooker is offing these demons?”

A shot rang out, echoing off the brick walls.

I leaped to my feet. “Where’s Rudy?”

Chapter Two

Blaise and I ran toward the sound. Before we reached the unmarked sedan, I picked up the metallic scent of fresh blood.

Rudy lay crumpled against the side of a building. His weapon hung off the end of his finger, and his breathing was shallow, his face pale. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He dragged in a deep breath as if every word was pure agony. “One minute I’m standing by the car, the next, I’m lying against a wall and I don’t know how I got here.”

“Did you see who hit you?” I asked.

He shook his head, his eyelids drooping. “Got a helluva headache though. And I’m as dizzy as a blonde.” He blinked up at me. “No offense, Blondie.”

I blew off his sexist remark and yanked the radio from my utility belt. “Got an officer down. Send an ambulance.”

While I gave the address, Blaise bent closer to Rudy. “You sure you didn’t see anything? Maybe a dark figure?”

“Nothing. Didn’t want to say anything in front of Danske....”

I could hear every word Rudy was saying, but I didn’t bother telling him that.

“But funny thing is, I got a boner that won’t quit.” Cardelli glanced at the ridge of his fly pressing upward, like a miniature tent. “You know how it is...a boner without an orgasm...” he groaned and plucked at his jeans. “Hurts like hell.”