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

  “Alfonse,” I whisper as I lean over the balcony and bury my head casually into my chest. “I’m about to do something either really smart or really stupid. I don’t feel too good about the cops on the first floor, but the blond guy doesn’t check out either. He may not be a demon, but he might have connections with the occult. You got anything I should know about?”

  I continue to watch them from my perch as I wait for Alfonse’s response. Nothing.

  “Damn it,” I mutter between my clenched teeth as I raise my body up from the rail. I must have done a number on him last night, and he’s too proud to admit it. Going by that theory, the demons, if any, probably can’t sense him accurately. If his presence is currently weakened, then his backup is most likely next to nothing. I can’t afford to be careless.

  “Alfonse, I’m going to go talk to the guy downstairs. Playing dumb doesn’t benefit either of us, by the way.”

  Slowly, I make my way downstairs, carefully observing every watchful eye in the vicinity as I near the blond guy from the night before. Everyone seems to be doing their own thing, but you can never be too sure. If they’re demons around and they can sense me, they’re watching, most likely communicating silently amongst themselves to set up an ambush. I’ve got to be careful. One wrong move and it’s all over.

  “Casey Gertran, FBI.” I stand between the guy and the cop and flip out my badge for both of them to see. I make eye contact with the cop first and then with the bartender. He notices me—definitely, judging by the way his eyes flare up, but I ignore him for the moment and pray he doesn’t say anything stupid while I pull the officer off to the side.

  “So, what does this one have to say? You seem to be giving him quite the grill.”

  “The kid’s been around my office more than enough times. Drugs and other bullshit that he shouldn’t be involved in. He’s a good kid, but he’s made some mistakes. It’s been rough on him and his mother since his father passed away.”

  “How unfortunate…do you have anything on him so far?”

  “No, but given his past, he may know something that we don’t. He’s been staying out of trouble as of late, but you know what they say.”

  “Old habits die hard. Yeah.” I glance over my shoulder and eye him out. He pretends like he isn’t trying to listen, but I can tell he has as many questions as I have right now. “Hey,” I say as I turn my head back to the cop who’s in front of me. “Do you mind if I talk to him for a second? I think you may be on to something.”

  “Go for it,” the cop says lazily.

  “Good. What’s his name?”

  “Ben. Benjamin Evans.”

  “Ben,” I whisper to myself before walking off. “Thanks, Officer. I’ll be sure to bring him back when I’m done.” Before he can reply, my back is already turned, my sights set on Mr. Evans.

  He spots me as I approach him, forced to look my way as I slowly march into his range. He is quite the looker, yeah, the blond hottie who got all the tips from the ladies at the bar. His eyes are light blue and all the more intriguing with the look of a certain fragileness behind them. Like he wants to be held, or perhaps a fear that he is about to be choked to death. Let’s not forget that this is the same bastard that tried to spike my drink. Completely unforgivable. If I hadn’t been semi-afraid for my life last night, I would have dropped him on the spot. Lucky for him, I can’t do it now either, not when he has information that I can possibly use.

  “Hey.” I flash him a half-hearted smile that’s sinister in origin. “Care to take a walk? I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.” His tan face bleaches out as he sits up from the bar stool. I begin walking, and seconds later I hear his footsteps click against the floor, mimicking mine. I can tell he’s terrified. Rightfully so.

  ****

  “If this is about the bar thing yesterday, I swear it wasn’t my fault!”

  “Sit down. Shut up.”

  We were in a coffee house a couple of blocks away from the club. It wasn’t ideal but, assuming demons were in the club and watching, it was a casual way to get him away from a heavily infested area without raising any eyebrows. It would have been nice to ask some questions along the way, but all he did was plea bargain for shit I didn’t even know he did.

  “Are you done yet?” I say as I stare at him blankly from across the table. As soon as he gets over himself, I guess I can continue to save the lives of possibly the whole city while thwarting the never ending war of good versus evil. I guess. It’s not on the top of my to-do list or anything or that we’re crunched for time. I mean, I can’t get enough of this guy. First, he goes through this denial phase on the way over here, acting like there’s no way I could be a cop. Then, once he comes to terms with it, he was like, ‘Oh, shit, I tried to spike her drink, better try to smooth talk my way out of it instead of owning up to my shortcomings like an adult.’ Yeah, all that jazz. I tried my best to ignore him as much as possible, but I’m not as skilled in that department as I’d like to be.

  “I’m sorry I—”

  “Shut up. Just shut up. Jesus, can I speak? I don’t care about how not sorry you are for something you were clearly all about before you were caught. Save that for when you meet your maker. Point blank, you need some help. If I hadn’t been on a case last night, I would have personally delivered it to you.”

  “Hey, guys. My name is Morgan and I’ll be your server for today. Can I offer ya’ll something to drink to start ya’ll off?”

  Before I can refuse, she flips open her notepad and looks to me with expectant eyes.

  “Water’s fine for both of us. Thank you.” I flash her a smile and she does the same to both of us before scurrying off to no-man’s land to get our beverages. She came at the worst possible time, but I can’t say that I’m mad at her. It’s rude to sit down and turn down service in a place like this. I look over at Ben as the waitress walks away. He’s still messed up so I give him some space. His head is virtually on the table, buried in his arms like some crying kid. I guess from his view of things, his life is virtually over. Maybe next time he’ll think with his big head.

  “Yeah, yeah…I get it. I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I’m sorry. Say what you want about me. I already feel like shit.” His head is still buried in his arms, but eventually he raises his eyes to meet mine. “I don’t care if you don’t take my apology or not. I know what I did was wrong, and I can’t explain why I did it. It was like I wasn’t in control. I don’t know.”

  I can tell he’s being sincere and it’s not some ploy. Under normal circumstances, not knowing why you did something like that would just be plain dickery. Usually it is just some excuse thrown out to people with big hearts (or small brains) who would casually accept, but in Ben’s case there may have been other reasons. Last night the music was blaring in the main room over the dance floor. According to Alfonse, it lowered inhibitions, among other things. He wasn’t possessed, but maybe he had been influenced by a demon or something else. I can only imagine how he felt after the fact.

  “One for you, and one for you! Two waters, no lemon.” I eye the waitress as she places our drinks on the table, but she avoids looking back at me. Her black uniform contrasts against her red nails that click as she fiddles with our silverware. A spoon drops prematurely onto our table. “Oops. Sorry about that,” she says as she looks over at Ben before finishing setting up the table. “Now, are you guys ready to order or do you need more time?” Ben looks at me and I shoot him a quick look before responding to the waitress for both of us.

  “We need more time, thank you.”

  “Sure thing! I’ll give you guys a moment. I’ll be back in a sec, kay?” And just like that, she leaves again.

  “Ben, how long have you been working at Hex?”

  “About a month or two. I’ve been picking up jobs here and there to help out around the house with bills and all. I used to work there occasionally, but I recently started working most of the events, once they started to trust me, I guess.”

  “
Why a club? Given your past, I’d imagine you’d want a different line of work than a bartender.”

  “What? The drugs? I hit a rough patch in high school, things got real shaky around that time and I made a few mistakes. That was years ago. I’ve been clean since. Check the records. I don’t know why that cop was on me like that. I guess ya’ll are desperate for some answers. But no, it wasn’t me. I didn’t kill anyone, and I’m currently not on drugs nor have I taken any for as long as I can remember. I can’t put my mother through all that crap again. It’s just me and her now.”

  “Easy, easy. I know you didn’t kill anyone. You were working the bar, I get that. I’m here for the information on the drugs. You had some in your possession, and now you’re telling me that you didn’t know that Club Hex was a cover for a drug ring?”

  “No, it’s not like that. I had no idea. Me and the other casuals didn’t really speak to management, or anyone else for that matter. It was weird. Like some exclusive club or something. They just did the interaction necessary for everyone to keep working, and at night, it was hard to find them at all. Meetings and what not. Yeah, it was pretty shady, but I never thought drug ring. People do all kinds of stuff at clubs, so if they were on something, I figured they did it before they got to the club, not while they were at the club.”

  “You say that, yet somehow you got your hand on Sphinx and almost drugged me. Your story doesn’t add up.”

  “Wait, wait! Hear me out. There was a guy, Gareth. He gave it to me. He was one of the older bartenders… I started mentoring with him not too long ago, once they decided to put me on for more events. He eyed you out when you first came through the door and told me I should give you some. He told me that you had been coming around for a while now and that it was your special request. It was stupid of me, I know. You don’t spike someone’s drink because a third party requests it. I don’t know. It made sense at the time. I’ve known him for a while so I thought you were honestly who he said you were.”

  I feel my face go numb as I draw my next conclusion before asking him the inevitable.

  “Who did he say that I was?”

  Ben hesitates as he looks at me, lost as to what’s going on. He feels stupid as he says it, but the words come out nonetheless. “A friend…”

  As twisted as it sounds, I’m elated that we made progress, but at the same time, disturbed at what is coming to play. From what he is telling me, essentially the demons found Club Hex and worked their way into the system, eventually making it to the owner. Once they got deep enough into the owner, they started branching out, getting other members on board through possessing susceptible targets, and, at one time, Gareth and presumably the majority of their staff. A typical infestation, rare, but all the patterns were there…which is bad. Ben was next in line but his didn’t take. Judging from what he told me, the Ben I’m talking to is the real one. The process is slow in some, fast in others, nearly instant in an unlucky few.

  “So this Gareth guy, he told you to do it. Was it only that one time?” I ask Ben as I steadily observe his body language. He’s doing much better now. His shoulders are relaxed and the stress isn’t making him look like death anymore. I can tell that he thinks he can trust me.

  “Yeah, he usually worked most nights by himself. Like I said, they were just starting to trust me out on my own on their more popular days. I never thought of or had done anything like that until I met him.”

  “Where is Gareth now?” He pauses and looks off to the side as if he, too, were just starting to get his daily helping of weird.

  “I have no clue…I haven’t heard from him since the murders last night. I’m sure the cops got to him already.”

  “Yeah…I’m sure they did.” I take note of Ben’s face as he looks into my eyes. He’s puzzled now, taken aback by my sarcasm. I shouldn’t have said what I said, but I let my emotions get the better of me. He begins to open his lips to say something else but just as he begins to speak, the waitress comes to our table and causes his curiosity to fade.

  “Here you go. Complimentary scones for the both of you,” she announces before she puts the tray down between us. It’s that damn waitress again. Her smile irritates me but Ben doesn’t seem to mind. It’s not genuine. It’s nervous. Anxious. Unnatural. She places her hands behind her back and then returns them to the front with nothing to show for her efforts. She looks up at us and smiles again before reaching for her notepad and pen. “Are you guys ready to order yet?”

  “Sure,” I respond. “Two cappuccinos. One for each of us.” She writes it down and studies it before reading it back to us.

  “All right, I have two cappuccinos. Anything else?” Her smile hits me again, and I try my best to act neutral.

  “Um, yeah. Just one more thing. This water you brought me, it has something floating it. Also, my silverware is kinda dirty. Can I get a new set, if you don’t mind?”

  Her smile instantly shrinks as she eyes my glass and utensils. “Sure. I’ll get you a new set, no problem.” She grabs at the napkin where my silverware rests and quickly re-wraps it before shoving it deep into one of the pouches of her apron and attempts to leave.

  “Ma’am, my drink, too.”

  “Oh, right. Of course.” She stares at the condensation of the glass longer than she should before nervously smiling at me and Ben. I return the favor with a fake smile and watch her next move. She reaches for it and her hand buckles as she grips the rim of the wet glass.

  “Oops.” The glass slips from between her fingers after being lifted no more than half of an inch, causing a surplus of water to spill over the table. “Sorry about that. When my blood sugar is low, my hands get a little shaky.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem, Ma’am. I had no idea. You can just bring me another. Take your time, please.” She leans over the table and reaches for my napkins. Suddenly the seal on my forearm begins to burn. It’s Alfonse. He’s warning me, but I’m already ahead of him. I already know the signs. I hide my pain and resist flinching from the sudden sting.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it,” I say as I take the napkins from her and begin sweeping away at the table.

  “Okay. Be back in a second.” She leaves, but I can tell that she has her questions, too. I’m sure she’s heard about me and is now putting the pieces together. I don’t want a fight in broad daylight. It would be too much to deal with, especially if they have members in the force. I look at Ben, and he’s still clueless.

  “That poor lady,” he says as he raises his glass to his lips while shaking his head.

  “Don’t drink that.” He stops and looks at me, confused as to what’s going on. “Don’t question what I say, just trust me if you want to make it out of here alive.”

  “Wha—what are you talking about?” he asks. I stand up and draw my Berretta.

  Chapter 10: Confronted

  With Ben behind me, I do a sweep of the upper floor where we are sitting. The people who were there before have already left, making it a ghost town of a coffee house. “Shit,” I whisper under my breath as I realize that it’s just us and her. I carefully make it to the stairwell and signal for Ben to wait for me to reach the bottom before following behind. I move gently, carefully placing one foot in front of the other in my descent, ready to shoot anything that moves. To my dismay, the wooden staircase faintly creaks as I step.

  I tighten my grip on the gun in my hand as I inch down the stairs. My eardrums pulse in tandem with my heart. A slow, steady beat that matches my breath keeps me from losing sight of what I’m to do. One by one, my feet move down the creaking case, but the waitress seems to be unaware of the sound. My last foot hits the floorboard and still nothing. I look back to Ben at the top of the staircase. He’s worried and unsure of what to do next. “Come on,” I mouth to him as he watches me from above. The fear on his face escalates as he moves his foot to take the first plunge. It lands gently on the surface, and I don’t hear a thing from where I’m standing.

  Perfect.

 
; I leave him to his own devices as I go scout out the rest of the interior. The dining hall on the first floor is empty as well. I make my way to the outside of the kitchen door and place myself against the wall. The sound of water running grabs my attention, prompting me to find out more. I take a deep breath and raise my Berretta to my side. At a snail’s pace, I peek around the corner.

  Nothing.

  A running faucet draining into a sink and nothing more. I stare blankly, confused as to what’s going on. Fuck. Should I stay or should I go deeper into the unknown. I don’t know where she is an—

  Duck.

  It’s Alfonse, again. I feel him. My body reacts to the message, and I feel a rush of adrenaline overtake me.

  I snap my head back and see the waitress looking dead at me, twisted as ever with a knife in her hand. She flings it and my body lowers instantly. The knife connects with the wall only inches above my head.

  I rise up and point my steel companion at her without a moment’s hesitation.

  “How did you know?” The words slither off her tongue as we face off. I can see now that Morgan is no longer with us, long gone, trapped as a prisoner inside her own body. Poor girl.

  “Your vessel still has some fight in her. Fresh possessions sometimes leave residue of the person’s will when you guys take over. A waitress with shaky hands? More like someone trapped on the inside trying to fight back. Humph. Amateur.”

  “Quite the knowledgeable hunter, you are, but I’m no amateur,” she says with a smile as she moves closer to me.