Sailor Ray and the Darkest Night (The Pact Book 1) Read online

  For six months we did that. And then one day, my dad got a call—a lead on where to find the ones who killed my mother. That’s when everything changed, and a second hunt began. It took three years, but we finally caught up with them. In the fight, my father died as well as everyone else who went with him. That day I was supposed to die and, in a way, I suppose I did. When my father died, a part of me died too. Seeing him pass before my very eyes hurt more than any bullet wound or broken bone. The pain combined with my newly found lust for vengeance kept me alive for as long as it did, but I was still useless. I was losing too much blood and I knew I had to live, so I did what was necessary to survive.

  So at death’s door, I made a pact.

  Chapter 8: Borrowed Time

  The door swings open to my apartment as I barrel through. Alfonse is still quiet, and it’s his silence that scares me. Tonight I felt his hold stronger than it had ever been, albeit temporarily, but it was still something I would rather live without. If anything, I want him out of me, permanently.

  My living room is just as dark as I left it, which is highly unsettling. I picture him waiting in the darkness, lurking in the shadows, stalking me for the right time to consume me. Yes, the darkness has become quite unsettling. Frightening even, but it’s a fear, ironically, that I am too afraid to show.

  I delicately weave through the darkness while trying my best not to stare too hard into the unknown before I make it to my room. I rush in and close the door behind me, silently analyzing the cryptic runes on the backside of the door for a nanosecond, and then make my way to the chest at the foot of my bed. I shuffle through my belongings in my coat pocket—looking for the key—and after searching far longer than necessary, the prize meets my eyes. I fall to my knees, unlock the chest, and rifle through the miscellaneous items until I find the syringe that I stowed away from before. With both hands, I take the syringe as well as a vial of Holy Water from the chest and close it before sitting on the edge of my bed. I load the water into the syringe and temporarily hold the needle in my mouth while I roll up the sleeve of my shirt on my right arm. I hate needles. I hate them with a passion, but this is a necessary evil. Just another tick against the demon that lives inside me, and one more reason to get him out. I brace for impact as the syringe draws closer to my forearm, targeting the seal that I was branded with by our deal. Every time I look at it, I can’t help but feel disgusted.

  “I’ll get you, motherfucker,” I whisper to myself as I plunge the needle into my dermis and release the Holy Water into my veins. The seal on my forearm glows red, and it feels as if a circuit of knives are traveling through my framework. Injecting the mix straight into my body isn’t ideal, but I’ve seen it done before on the possessed and they fare just fine. It’s a special mix to hurt the demon and not cause lasting damage to the vessel. The pain rips through my system but, of course, I survive. It hurts like hell, but for that, I am grateful. At least I know it’s working, fighting against the evil that slowly grows inside me.

  The pain only lasts for a couple seconds before the water takes hold. I flail my arms back as I throw my head down on my bedspread and marvel at the calm that now encompasses my being. A rush of ecstasy engulfs me as I stare at the winding ceiling fan overhead. The seal rapidly throbs, but the pulse slows with the passing time, until it ultimately stops. “That shut you up,” I say to myself, still riding full-throttle on the cloud I decided to hitch a ride on for the night. Outside of the humming of my fan, the apartment is still. I gaze up at the fan as it spins above me and feel myself rotating. Floating. Drifting away. The deadening silence comforts me now as I lay in my bed.

  I lay there for some time, until my mind snaps me from my trance, ushering me back to the world where everything isn’t quite fine and dandy. What am I doing? I ask myself with my eyes pointed to the ceiling. Going out like that, alone, was suicide, and I almost didn’t care. Maybe I did want to die. I never wanted this life. It was forced on me. Maybe now I’m just tired. Death itself wouldn’t be so bad. But my soul…as long as he’s tethered to me, it’s safe to say I’ll never see Heaven’s gates. I guess fighting is my birthright. Sailor, the demon hunter, whose soul is linked to a demon. She walks alone, and everyone that is close to her is dead, dying, or has abandoned her. Ugh.

  I should have died months ago. So far, this second chance has nothing to show for it. My leads are blown, and now the demons know that their operation isn’t as secure as they thought it was. On top of that, Alfonse is fucking with me. He knew I wouldn’t die back there, but he wanted to see what my breaking point was—how far I was willing to go until I snapped. He’s trying to gain ground, and it isn’t something I’m looking forward to. I have too many things to do besides being his vessel. At the very least, I’d like to bring some good into the world.

  I reach into my pocket and cycle through the stream of missed calls and texts that I neglected before. It’s been like that for a while now, and not once have I responded. “Not yet,” I whisper to myself before chucking my phone to the floor, away from me. I need to do this alone.

  ****

  “Rise and shine, my demon companion,” I say as I swing open the door to my room. It’s a little before noon. We got in at about four last night, and I slept until about eight. The rest of my waking hours were spent doing research on the club, its owners, employees, and, of course, their new drink, “The Hieratic.” It was your typical work day out in the field. Sometimes my father and I would run off even less sleep when it was necessary. It’s something like a bad habit mixed with a pinch of paranoia. It’s hard to sleep knowing what’s out there. There’s always a reason to be afraid.

  “How did you sleep last night? Did you have a bad dream?” I’m in the kitchen now preparing breakfast—a healthy blend of oats and some other healthy crap mixed in with milk. So good but so bad. Halfway into my bowl, Alfonse finally responds.

  Demons don’t sleep. You know this.

  I shrug my shoulders before I take another bite from my bowl of cereal. “Good, so I won’t hear you complaining at all today then, because you’re well rested. I got something I need to handle, and I don’t have time for your backseat driving.”

  Oh, and what might that be?

  “You can’t tell by my outfit? I’m playing detective today. What happened last night is already on the news. Crime Scene Investigators are already checking things out. If I want to learn more, I have to get close. Some of the workers are being investigated, no doubt. It’s the perfect opportunity to pick up on the trail.”

  Hunting in broad daylight, are we?

  “It’s a thing,” I say before I scoop another mouthful from my bowl.

  The demons stationed there will be more vigilant. I’m certain they will be on edge.

  “You said last night that they can sense me. Is there any way you can lay low or at least give me a heads up of some sort?” An uncomfortable silence fills the room as I wait for his response. It takes longer than necessary.

  “Fine. I’ll be just fine by myself. You weren’t much of a help yesterday, anyway. That charade I pulled last night probably got them scared out of their minds. I told them they had moles. There’s probably hell going on between them. Pun intended.” I chuckle to myself as I take a sip of water from the tall glass beside my bowl.

  They’ll disembowel you and force you to eat your entrails.

  “Alfonse…I was eating. Now you’ve ruined my appetite.” I push away the bowl and take another sip of my water. “That’s cool and all, but they won’t do shit in broad daylight. Not with you watching my back and tons of people walking the streets. Besides, it’s not like I’m staying for dinner. Just a quick run through. I ask some questions, I get some names, and we’re out. The only place I’ll be isolated is if I go into the club alone or something. That’s not happening.”

  Don’t underestimate an enemy you have not yet encountered. The key player often lurks in the shadows.

  “Hmm. Well I guess.” I drag the bowl of cereal back in f
ront of me and take another bite, finishing off what was left in it. “Hey! Is your demon radar thing working yet? I mean, it would totally solve all of our problems if you could make it happen for me,” I say while still chewing the remnants in the bowl.

  No, not much has changed since last night.

  “Well, that sucks. Can’t you do anything to give me a hand?”

  You could give me full control of your body…

  “Yeah, that’s not happening. You can’t send out a ping or a spark or anything like that? Maybe if you stay quiet for a while you can focus your energy into something productive even? Yes?”

  You seem to have an acute awareness. You’ve hunted demons before my arrival. I’ll leave it up to you…don’t want you getting soft on me.

  “Whatever. Just have my back. I can’t make you do anything, but I assume a super old demon would have enough common sense to take care of the body it’s bound to. I’m just saying.”

  I get up from the table and place my bowl and glass into the sink before heading out the door and into my car.

  “Today, I’m Casey Gertran, and I’m in the FBI.” I flash my fake badge that I pulled out of the glove compartment and smile into the rear-view mirror. I’d say I’m coping pretty well with having a demon living inside of me. That or I’m just okay with seemingly talking to myself in the general public (a clear cut sign of intelligence by the way).

  Breaking the law really isn’t my thing but at the same time, it kind of is. Sometimes to crack a case, my father and I would have to play detective in order to get more information without seeming too suspicious. An ordinary chick stopping by to see a crime scene isn’t the most typical thing to do, but for an FBI agent, it’s all part of the job. A little lie here, a little truth there, throw out the right questions, nab a good lead, and you’re in. No one the wiser.

  I double check the clips in my Berettas to make sure that I’m properly suited if things go wrong. I knew they were there, but it’s always something you should do when out in the field. Chances are already less than favorable in a perfect situation, no need to make a bad situation worse.

  Last second jitters?

  “Of course not,” I say as I eye out the clip before reloading. “Just making sure everything is all right on my end. Being mauled isn’t something I’m too fond of these days.”

  I wait for a response, but he gives me the cold shoulder again. I can’t tell if it’s from the injection last night, or if he’s just fed up. I pretend to pay the awkward silence no mind, but in truth, it bothers me. Where I plan to go, it’s dangerous. I could use a helping hand.

  The impending doom that circulates in my gut rises to my throat as I grasp the steering wheel firmly. I’m not sure if I bit off more than I can chew, or if I’m just getting cold feet. Fuck it. It does me no favors to worry. I got enough shit on me as it is.

  I plunge my key into the ignition and my interior shakes as my engine comes alive. I close my eyes for a second and contemplate saying a quick prayer before I leave, only a whisper, nothing more. “Where are you, Big Guy? We aren’t doing too hot down here.”

  Chapter 9: Investigations

  By the time I arrive, the local police are already there. Two or three of them are securing the perimeter. Judging by the amount of cars out front, it is safe to assume that more are already inside. I could have made it sooner, but I was occupied with remaining as discreet as possible. The area has to be hot, so taking the scenic route gave less room for error.

  “And you are?” Not even two seconds after I slip under the yellow tape, I’m questioned. I can’t say that they weren’t doing their job. My gaze turns to the cop that called out to me. He is a bigger guy, white, easily in his early forties. He has his head pivoted to the side and his hands on his hips. I can’t get a good view of his eyes. The uniform visor he wears makes it hard to make eye contact from a distance. As I come in closer, the officer leans his head further in, as if he’s anticipating me to say something, but I say nothing until I’m within speaking distance.

  “Casey Gertran, FBI.” I calmly but quickly flash my badge before tucking it back into my coat pocket. The officer looks at me with questioning eyes and then squints as he turns his gaze downward. “Problem?” I fire back with the stalest face I can manage and still appear professional. From the look he’s giving me, I can already tell what he’s thinking. She’s about the same age as my daughter. It’s written all over his face. The confusion never gets old but once they accept it, a moment of reflection usually steps in to take the spotlight. I’m roughly half his age and in a considerably higher position than he is, after all. It’s a hard pill to swallow for some.

  “No, not at all,” he snaps back as he straightens his posture. Another guy comes from behind to check out what’s going on. Black guy, about the same age, but in considerably better shape. It looks like he’s the one in charge.

  “Hello, Officer. I’m Casey Gertran, FBI.” He looks to his partner, who then nods in approval before returning his gaze back to me. “I heard about the incident last night and was hoping that I could do a little browsing around the scene, if you didn’t mind.”

  “And what would the FBI be looking for in a club shooting, exactly?” The lead officer glares at me just long enough for me to notice the flare of suspicion he holds in his eyes.

  “A case we’ve been following for some time now may have a connection to this one. It’s a long shot, but it’s something I’d rather not overlook. Expect the unexpected. We have reason to believe the shooting was due to a drug related dispute.”

  “Isn’t it always?” the black cop scoffs. “The world would be a lot better off if people weren’t getting strung out on shit that would kill them.”

  “I agree, Officer. I know I look young, but I’ve seen my fair share of humanity at its worst, and then some.” I gaze down at the floor, over selling my emotions before coming back up to surface. “It was the club owner, right?”

  “Yeah,” the lead officer replies. “Paul Ontario was his name. Some of his other employees died too. All in the same room in the back.” He motions his hand behind him, pointing his thumb in the direction I desire. I follow his thumb with my eyes before reverting my vision back to him.

  “Anything interesting come up from the background check?”

  “No, nothing stood out in particular. Ontario was clean, and that’s saying a lot knowing his line of work.”

  “We are still talking about club managing and real estate, correct?”

  “That’s right. In his line of work, with some proper digging, usually you can see some form of corruption, but his backlog was a clean as a whistle. His system on the other hand…”

  “Was filled to the brim with drugs? Same for his co-workers who were killed, right?”

  “Yeah, autopsy rushed it last night. Some new drug on the market that these kids are taking now. Our sources say it’s something called Sphinx. It’s not too popular at the moment, but it seems to be making waves in the underground. It seems like only yesterday that bath salts were the big thing. Thankfully, no one has eaten someone’s face yet, but you never know. People will try anything these days.”

  “Yeah. People will try anything for a way to escape.” I glance down at his badge and read his nametag before continuing my train of thought. “Any eye witnesses?”

  “You would think, but none of them were worthwhile. There’s bound to be a good one somewhere out there, so we’re working on it. It’s tough, though. Everyone seemed to be having a good time last night. So much of a good time that the killings didn’t get reported till about an hour after they happened.”

  “Right. The dealers would have known. Doing a deal under the umbrella of a club setting is typical. Did you manage to get ahold of any of the employees who were working during the incident?”

  “Yeah, me and Russell over here already questioned them. Wasn’t much we could do so we plan on taking them back to HQ for processing.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like a solid plan,
” I say as I tap my pointer finger repeatedly on my lips. “Mind if I take a quick tour of the place and throw around a couple of questions?”

  “Knock yourself out, Miss,” the lead officer responds. “Suspects are currently being interviewed at the bar, first thing on the left. The murders took place in the room behind the DJ booth in the back if you want to take a peek. It should be taped off, but you have the proper clearance. As usual, be wary of prints.”

  “Naturally,” I say with a smile before walking past them and into the club I was in only hours ago.

  In the daytime, everything is different. There’s no music, no strobes, no party—only confused employees and busy investigators. I walk deeper into the club across the black interior. Yesterday it was blue, along with about ninety percent of the place. I pass the bar where the suspects are currently waiting. A few familiar faces, but one stands out in particular—the blond dick that tried to drug me last night. He seems to be under duress, mid-way in a dispute with another cop. They’re working him pretty good, which could mean two things. One, they’re doing their job and he seems sketchy as Hell, or two, the whole establishment could be in on it and cross-examining any viable witnesses. Regardless, I need to talk to him, but not until after I take a better look at the place.

  I slip by unnoticed and make a pass at the other rooms of the establishment. VIP, the second floor, the lounge—they all come out clean from what I can gather. In my search, nothing comes up suspect. Not a trace of Sphinx or anything mildly related. Defeated, I make my way to the second floor balcony and lean against the railing. The blond guy is still there, bowing his head at the bar table. The investigator assigned to him seems to be giving him a bit too much trouble. It would suck to have another murder scene, inside of a murder scene. I doubt he’s a demon. Alfonse said the guy was clean last night based off of instinct alone. The investigator on the other hand, also no. If he was, I’d have creeps all over me by now and that blond guy wouldn’t be here. He had access to Sphinx.