02 Oct Evil

God, it’s cold. Shivering, I push my hand out of my coat sleeve. Check my watch. Seven thirty. It won’t be long now. I scan the edge of the field, just to be sure, then reach for the thermos. I twist off the cap. Steam rises from the opening. The scent alone’s enough to get the blood flowing, but it’s the heat I need.

I don’t bother with the cup. Don’t take my eyes from the path.

I know how much time I have. The bitch is nothing if not predictable. Up at six, shower, cereal in her robe, then it’s time to get the daughter ready. Cute kid. I wipe my lips dry on my sleeve and screw the cap back on. Doesn’t know a damned thing about the world, but cute.

I set the thermos back down on top of the… I glance over at the slide, the ladder of twisted tubes on the other side, the bridge between, and pull my hand back inside my sleeve. Whatever they call this crap.

Cold stings the ends of my toes. I flex them, just to keep the blood flowing, and heave out a silent groan. Smoke rises from my nostrils. Damned bitch couldn’t be early. No, of course not. That’d break the goddamned routine, wouldn’t it? And routine is the routine. Doesn’t make a damned difference what else happens; it’s the routine. Burn the damn house down, and the bitch’d have her shower and cereal in the ashes. Why? Because it’s the routine.

A twinge of red jerks my attention to the far end of the soccer field.

There she is. Wearing her red shirt, because, “Oh my God, it’s Monday.” I swear…

But the way she’s moving, something’s wrong. I squint against the sun to be sure, but- “Son of a bitch.” She did it. She actually did it. “Damned whore and her routines,” I snarl and spit at the base of the slide. I gave that kid enough to keep her puking for days. And that bitch brought her along anyway.

I watch the little girl plod along behind her mother. Her back slumped. Her face pale. The mother pumping her stupid little jogging weights like it’s her job. Tittering on like it’s just another Monday. Like her three-year-old kid hasn’t been puking her brains out all night. Psycho.

They round the swing at the far end of the playground, kid stumbling along like a zombie. “Aw, hell.” I push my hands free, scratch behind my ear, and crouch down. This is not how I wanted this to go.

The girl looks up. Her eyes meet my stare. Flick to my tail, my claws. She staggers back. The mother spins around, still pumping her weights. “Come on,” the bitch’s voice bubbles. “Gotta keep that figure!”

The girl stares up at her mother like she’s insane, then levels a finger at my face. “M-m-monster!”

The bitch stops pumping, tosses a quick glance over the playground, and squats down in front of her daughter. “Sweetie, there’s no such thing as monsters.”

The girl’s gaze flicks back and forth between me and her mother. Barely able to stand. Probably doesn’t even know where the hell she is. And that’s when my alarm goes off. Her little blue eyes lock on mine.

A low growl rumbles through my chest. “Shit.” I’m out of time. The bitch needs to die. Now. “Sorry, kid,” I groan. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”

Nina

“Keep up, kid.”

I glance up just in time to catch Dad’s smile before he turns his head back around. He doesn’t slow down. He never does. But it’s just his way of making me strong. Never ask for help. Never expect anyone to make anything easier. “That’s a trap, kid. Someone does somethin’ for you, they’re lookin’ to get more than they gave. If you can’t tell what they want right off, it ain’t a price you wanna pay.” That’s what Dad says.

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I scramble to catch up, but my wings are too heavy. They throw me off balance. I can still run alright, but it’s more of a hobbling, skipping, waddle sort of thing than actual running, and it takes a bit to build up momentum.

I just pick up a good rhythm when I catch a group of Imps lounging out on the steps in front of their apartment building, watching me go. A big blue kid with wing piercings snorts. His lips curl up like he’s about to say something, but then he glances over at Dad, clears his throat, and goes back to picking his toes.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I don’t say it. I think it, but even compared to an Imp, I’m not all that tough. Dad? Dad’s badass. The only freelance Punisher around. Which is a big deal. See, Punishers don’t have a lot of friends… well, any, actually. It kinda comes with the territory. You want someone hurt, or killed, you write up a contract detailing who, how, if there’s torture, all the details, and the Punisher punishes them. It’s good money, but like you can probably imagine, it makes a lot of enemies.

That’s what the guilds are about. Join a guild, they take a fee, and if anyone wants to start something, the whole guild jumps in.

Dad? Well? I glance down at the barb at the end of Dad’s tail poking out from under his duster. Nobody messes with me when Dad’s around. Nobody.

But I’m not Dad. My wings aren’t really mine. Dad gave them to me a few years ago, for my birthday. I asked him how come other kids my age had wings and I didn’t. I didn’t want wings; I was just wondering, but he gave me these anyway. Said he ripped them off some Aswang barista who spilled his coffee. I think he was joking, then again, Dad does love his coffee.

Anyway, he was so… proud isn’t the right word. Happy, either. But it meant a lot to him to give them to me, so I can’t not wear them. It’d be like spitting in his face.

Thing is, now that I’m older, I can’t help notice that I just don’t fit in anywhere. Wings or no. I’ve never even seen a creature that looks like me. It kinda makes me wonder where I came from. If I even belong in the Shadow Realm at all.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“When did you get your tail?”

He glances down around his shoulder at me. “When I started liking girls.”

“Oh.” I push my horns up a little higher to match his. “How old were you?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” He stops, turns, and his yellow eyes narrow. “Why? Someone givin’ you crap?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“It’s that Foster kid, ain’t it?” He squats down, glances up and down the street to make sure no one is close enough to hear, then lays his enormous hand on my shoulder. “You want his tail?”

“No!” God, Dad… “He didn’t do anything. It’s just-” I take a deep breath. “Everyone else’s already got wings and tails, and I…” My eyes burn. I don’t know what to say, so I shrug instead. “Don’t.”

“Oh.” Dad pats my shoulder, almost knocking me over. “Is that all? That’s just cuz you ain’t an Imp. Look at me. I ain’t got no wings.”

I take in his black, scaled skin, his ebony horns and claws. His fangs. My lips pull into a smirk. I guess we do kinda look the same. I mean, we both have two legs, two arms, and hands. We both move the same, when I’m not wearing the wings. But? I glance over at his huge hand covering half my body. My teeth are flat. My skin doesn’t have scales, my legs aren’t shaped like his, and I don’t have poisonous retractable claws in my toes. But it’s not just that. I’m twelve years old, and I barely come up to his middle. Every other creature I know my own age is at least close to their parents’ size. But not me.

I get that I’m only half Dad, but something just doesn’t fit. “What was Mom like?”  I swallow as soon as the question passes my lips. I’ve never asked him about her before. Not a word.

“What was she like?” Dad’s nostrils flare. “You don’t remember?”

I shake my head.

“Your mother was a whore.” My cheek twitches, and Dad clears his throat. “Don’t worry. You ain’t nuthin’ like her.”

Warm tingles spread through my chest, and despite my best effort, a smile pulls at the corners of my mouth.

Without warning, Dad snatches me by the back of my duster and sets me on his shoulder. “Enough of this crap. Fangchurl says he’s got a contract for me.” Rising to his full height, he snarls. “You sure about that Foster kid’s tail?”

Contract day. That means getting dropped off at Oozerend’s while Dad takes care of business. Giggling, I plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure.”

I’ve already decided on what kind of Eye-scream I want, Booberry, when Dad grunts, “Good.” He wipes my kiss from his cheek, pretending he doesn’t like it, but his eyes give him away. “I didn’t bring you along to talk cute. It’s time you started pulling your own weight, you little mooch.”

I wonder if Foster will be there. I hope so. It’s not much fun playing Wack-a-Man alone. “Pull my own weight, huh?” I kick out my legs, smiling to myself. “It’s a good thing I’m little.”

Dad’s mouth drops at the corners. “Damn straight you’re little. And weak. Makes you a target. And I’m gettin’ sick of havin’ to wipe your ass all the time. So shut up, get your head screwed on straight, and keep your eyes open. This ain’t a goddamn field trip. It’s training day.”

I blink. Training day? “You mean? You’re not taking me to the arcade?”

Dad’s lips squirm as he fights back a smile. “No. Today you’re comin’ with me, kid. See what a Punisher does.”

A squeal rips through my lips. I throw my arms around his neck as far as I can, peppering his face with kisses. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Alright, alright,” Dad snarls, pushes me back with a finger, and his voice takes on a serious tone. “One rule.”

I sit down, lay my palms on my knees and nod.

“You do exactly what I say, understand? None of this cute crap. Today, you’re my bitch. Got it?”

I hold up my right hand, press my two middle fingers to my thumb, keeping my pinky and index finger straight up. “I swear.”

Dad nods, and before I can stop myself, I sneak him another kiss and sing, “I’m going on a punishment, I’m going on a punishment.” Dad chuckles, rolls his eyes, but I can’t wait to tell Foster. I’m gonna be a Punisher!

Fangchurl

I like it when Dad carries me. It’s neat to look down at everyone. Watch them shrink and slink out of the way. Makes me feel strong. Powerful. When it’s just me, it’s not like anyone pushes me out of the way or anything. Dad’s still my Dad, and they know better. It’s more… I don’t know, like they’re annoyed I’m there? But don’t want me to know they’re annoyed? So they just sorta act like I’m not.

Everyone but Foster. He’s the only person I really talk to. But then, I guess he doesn’t really fit in either. His wings came in all shriveled, he’s only got one horn, and he’s the only one in my class that’s my size. The only one that comes over after school to see how I’m doing when Dad lets me ditch.

It’s a little weird, but I get it. It’s not easy knowing nobody wants you around.

A flashing sign pulls me out of my head. The arcade. I peek in the window as we walk past. I catch a few kids from school swarmed around Man Hunter, but only for a second. A few steps later and we’re right in the middle of the street mall. A few Dybbuk women coming out of a clothes shop pull up short when they see us. A group of Oni sitting at an outdoor café fall silent as we pass. Nightwalkers, Ghouls, Devils, Wraiths, and Daevas. All of them stop and watch us walk by.

A few stores later, Dad turns down a narrow alleyway. We pass a few stinky trashcans, and stop in front of a rusty steel door.

“We’re here.” He plucks me off his shoulder and plops me down on the ground. “Okay, look. Fangchurl is Tariaksuq. So, stare at the floor. Don’t look at him. Only out the corner of your eye. Look right at him and he’ll vanish. If that happens before we sign the contract, I’m gonna be pissed, got it?”

I nod, but my heart’s about to beat right out of my chest. He said we. Before we sign the contract. Not I. We. “Got it.”

He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “A’right.” Glancing back up the alley, he lifts his hand from my shoulder and stuffs it inside his duster. “This’ll be your first time, and I don’t want you goin’ in naked.” He fumbles around inside his coat for a second, then his face twists into an angry scowl. “Here.” In one smooth motion, he jerks his hand free from his coat, slips something into my palm, and glares at the door behind me like it owes him money. “My first wilah. Take it. it’s yours.”

“Mine?” I swallow hard. It’s just like how he gave me my wings. My gaze drops to the curved handle in my hand. The dark leather sheath concealing the blade. Slowly, I slide my other hand over the leather, slip the wilah free, and gasp, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Wide at the base, but narrow at the tip, its entire length curved like a steel snake. Layers upon layers. Some silver. Some black. Some copper.

“That’s orichalcum steel,” Dad grunts. “Cut through anything, but don’t lose it ‘cause you won’t find another.”

Barely able to breathe, I lift my arm, point the tip at the wall beside me. “It’s so light.” Fit’s my hand perfectly.

“Yeah. Made in Atlantis before… you know.”

An Atlantian blade. I turn it over, gaze down the flat side, and that’s when it hits me. Dad said it was his first wilah. But the blade is only as long as my forearm. The grip fits my hand like it was made for me. I glance up into Dad’s golden, snakelike eyes, but he answers before I can ask. “Yeah, kid. I used to be a lot smaller.”

My eyes burn. I know Dad’s not big on emotional displays, so for a second, I just stand there. Shifting from leg to leg. Warmth swelling in my chest like a balloon. And then it bursts. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I throw my arms around his neck. “I love you Daddy.”

He doesn’t say it back. Doesn’t react at all… but he doesn’t pull away either. Not until I kiss his cheek. Only then does he push me back, jump to his feet, and cough. “Yeah whatever.” He clears his throat. “Put that thing away and get your ass inside.”

Chin shaking, I slide the wilah back in its sheath, unbuckle my belt, fasten the blade to my hip, and give Dad a nod. “Ready.”

“Right.” He nudges me out of the way, raises his knuckles to the door, and taps out a rhythm I don’t recognize. “Remember,” he grunts. “Don’t look.”

Near the top of the door, a little rectangle slides open. Two cloudy white eyes appear in the gap. Eyes I can tell just by looking at them, can’t see. “Password.”

Dad leans in close and whispers something that sounds like, “Snigglewiggle.”

“Ah!” The eyes widen. “The Master has been expecting you.” The rectangle slides shut, something rattles, and the door swings in. A shaft of red light spills into the alleyway. A plume of white mist. The scent of burning leaves and sugar. A shriveled, skeletal creature motions us forward, then steps back out of the way, and bows. “Come in, come in.”

Dad ducks his head and lumbers inside. I take two steps, and the creature jumps in front of me with a hiss. It’s eyes blazing red. “Who is this? The Master said nothing of a second!”

Dad’s tail thrashes. “She’s with me.”

“That was not part of the arrangement,” the creature spits. “The Master does not like surprises.”

A low growl rises in Dad’s chest. One I’ve never heard before. “Then go and tell ‘im, so he won’t be surprised.”

The creature’s head whips my direction. It’s fangs double in length. But then, it snarls, and they shrink. “Rules,” It huffs. Tosses up its hands. “What good are rules when no one obeys?” It spins back around and marches off, sputtering something about guts and blood.

I watch it stomp around a low table, and vanish behind a curtain of beads. That’s when I realize, I’m shaking. That I forgot to breathe. “What is that…that… thing?” I puff.

“Victor,” Dad growls, just as an airy shout ripples through the curtain.

Victor stumbles backwards through the beads, glances our direction, and bows his head. “The Master will see you now.”

Dad reaches down, takes my hand and pulls me around in front of him. “Remember,” he hisses. “Don’t look.” And pushes me toward the curtain.

I stumble through the beads, eyes fixed on the floor, the thick white fur carpet.

“Ah,” a voice blows, like wind in the trees. “So, you’re Evil’s new apprentice. Quite the honor. Especially since he’s never had one, not in all the centuries I’ve known him. No, not one.” It pauses, a slurping sound fills my ears, and the voice blows again. “Yes. Yes, you must be quite remarkable to have caught his eye, hmm? What is it called?”

“Nina,” Dad grunts. “She’s signing too.”

“In blood?” The voice…Fangchurl, wheezes.

Dad answers with a single grunt.

“Really?” Fangchurl coughs. “Yes, quite remarkable indeed. And she is…familiar with the terms, I assume?”

Dad gives me a kick. “I, uh.” My gaze jumps to a bowl of tobacco sitting on a table beside a hookah. I don’t have a clue, but I don’t wanna sound like a newbie. “Well, not for this contract.”

“Ah, yes. Yes of course.” I hear something shuffle around the other side of the table. “The client desires the slow torture and death of a certain family of mortals. The terms are open, so long as…” Fangchurl clears his throat, a paper flaps, and his voice takes on a detached air.  “Their deaths are long, painful, and each witnessed by the others.”  Again, the flap of paper, and his voice returns to normal. “Except for the last, of course. Be inventive. This particular client has a certain, well, shall we say, gift for understatement? Aside from that, timing and means of torment are at your discretion. Standard, really.”

“For your part, Nina,” Fangchurl continues. “Evil has decreed that you are to be full partner. This entitles you to equal share of risk, responsibility, and reward. Meaning, you will receive equal payment, but should Evil fail to fulfill the terms of the contract, you are responsible to see it done, or you, along with Evil, shall be subjected to all the torments described in sub-paragraph six, page sixty-six of the legal code, regarding the regulation of Punishers in violation… etcetera, etcetera.” He pauses. “Do you accept?”

My hands go numb. I’m not even sure what all that means exactly. And, I don’t really get a chance to answer before Dad slaps me on the back, somehow missing my wing, and barks, “Of course she does.”

“Very good. Now sign here.” A paper slides across the table, stopping next to the Hookah. And a pen with a really sharp looking point rolls up beside.

Dad picks up the pen, pokes it into the end of his pinky, signs in blood, and hands me the pen.

I glance over the sprawling script, but it doesn’t make anymore sense in print than when Fangchurl explained it, and I don’t wanna disappoint Dad, so I bite my lip, stab myself in the pinky, just like he did, and sign my name next to his. Evil Nina.

“Wonderful,” the contract slips back across the table and out of sight. “Looks like you’re off to the human world, then.” Fangchurl’s voice fades away. Replaced by the sound of a pen scribbling on parchment, followed by a soft thump. “I don’t envy you. It’s always so cold there. Even in their summer. Ghastly.” Again, the sound of rustling paper. Fangchurl takes a deep sighing breath. Two envelopes appear beside the bowl of tobacco, one with Dad’s name written across the envelope. Mine on the other. “Well, I suppose that’s everything. Happy hunting, and as always, the funds will be deposited in your accounts upon completion of your task. Good day.”

My hand shakes when I pick up the envelope. Just knowing what’s inside, seeing my name with Dad’s. My eyes burn. I drop my head to hide the tears, take a deep shuddering breath to keep from crying. I can’t cry. Not in front of Dad. But I can’t help it. He isn’t just taking me along. He trusts me. Made me a partner.

A single whimper leaks past my lips. My mouth goes dry. I catch it, try to cover it with a cough, but Dad’s toes clench. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. He heard. I cried. He heard me cry.

Evil

It’s like dragging rocks, getting Nina out the door. Damned girl’s soft. Keeps staring at her contract when she oughta be walking. Chin quivering, eyes all wide and sappy. Whimpering like a pup. Pathetic.

“Move it, kid.” She lifts her head, pushes her horns up a little, and gives me one of her stupid little smirks. Some cross between a smile and a frown. Like I’m supposed to know what the hell that means. But her cheeks are wet when she pokes through the beads, so she’s either sad or happy. Who the hell cares?

Victor slinks out of the shadows. Bows like the little bitch he is. “I trust your meeting-”

“Is none of your damn business,” I snarl, knock the table out of my way, and rip open the door. Damn girl. I stomp out into the alley and give the trashcan a kick. Trash flies everywhere. The can bounces off the wall, rolls down toward the street, and rocks to a stop. Damn girl’s crying and we ain’t even gone nowhere. What the hell is she gonna do when she gets there? When she sees other humans and figures out we’re there to kill some of her own?

Her tiny boots click against the pavement. Slow. Quiet.

I spin around, smoke billowing from my nostrils. “Look, there’s only dicks and pussies. You ain’t a dick, so you’re gonna get fucked.”

Her eyes go wide. She staggers back, panting. Frightened like a little bitch.

“Damn it!” I aim a punch at the wall. “Gimme back that damned wilah. You ain’t got the balls to use it anyhow.”

She sniffs, fumbles for the buckle, but she’s shaking so bad she can’t get it loose. Weak. Worthless. Bitch.

I can’t take it. Roaring, I charge the trashcan, grab it with both hands, and rip it in half. “Forget it,” I howl. Fling one half her direction. It slams into the wall above her head, and she crumbles to the ground, hands over her ears. Another roar and I fling the other half at her. It slams into the wall inches from her shoulder. “Bitch!”

Pulse thundering in my ears, I turn and stomp up the alley. Out into the street. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shoulda killed her when I did the whore.

“Domestic trouble?”

Carlile. I stop mid step. “What the hell do you want?”

“Me?” He leans back against the side of a building. Props one foot up on the wall behind him. “Nothing.” He pulls a knife from his sleeve and gives it a flip. “The Guild? That’s another matter.” Two shadows move under an awning a few shops down. “Have you reconsidered our offer?”

A flash of iridescent green jerks my attention to three more creatures watching from the other direction. Clad in black armor. All the shoppers are gone.

“Six against one,” I snarl. “Cute.” Tossing back my coat, I crouch down. Ready. “Well? What are you waitin’ for?”

Carlile raises an eyebrow. “Well, to be perfectly honest, Nina.”

The kid. Damn it. “You want that little bitch?” I stifle the sulfur burning in my throat and force a smile. “Fine by me. Take her.”

Carlile’s eyes narrow. “You know what? After witnessing your tantrum, and the surprise in your eye when you saw me, I quite believe you, Evil.” He sighs. “But you see, now you went and took all the fun out of it. My orders were to get the girl. Rape her, torture her… only until you agreed to join our merry band, of course.” He clacks his tongue. “And now I find you no longer care for the girl. Pity. I was so looking forward to it.” He nods at the three green figures. “I suppose we’ll have to do it the hard way, then. Lads? Take him.”

Nina

I don’t know how long I sit there. Eyes shut. Hands over my ears. Curled into a ball. Rocking back and forth. Trying not to hear. But I can’t shut out the roar of Dad’s flames. The crashes, screams, the sound of breaking glass as he trashes the market.

And it’s all my fault. He gave me his wilah. He made me a partner. He trusted me. Thought I was strong enough. And I betrayed him.

A shrill screech echoes down the alleyway, and I shudder. “Goddamned cockroaches,” Dad’s voice howls, the screech melts into a ripping moan, and everything falls silent.

The warmth leaks from my hands. He’s not just smashing stuff. He’s smashing people. Ripping off their wings and arms. Biting off their heads. And it’s all my fault.

Sirens blare in the distance, bile burns the back of my throat, and I retch.

The Enforcers are coming. Dad might kill a few, but they’ll get him. He’ll go to prison, and there’ll be nobody to protect me anymore. Our lives are over.

And it’s all my fault. Because Dad’s right. I’m nothing. Just a weak little bitch. “A weak little bitch. A weak little bitch.” The words come on their own. Chase away the fear. The alleyway. The stink of rotten garbage. Everything.

“Hi there.”

I don’t look up. Don’t stop rocking. “Weak little bitch. Weak little bitch.”

“Hey, do you need some candy?”

“Weak little bitch. Weak little bitch.”

Somewhere, on the edge of consciousness a shape flops down beside me. “Yeah, me too.” The scent of chocolate mixes with the smell of trash. “Sometimes, you just need a snack, you know?”

Chocolate. The smell weaves through the cracks of my chant, and my voice falls silent. Slowly, I turn my head and stare at the shape beside me.

It’s a woman. A woman with pointed ears, but no horns. She catches me looking, and her violet eyes sparkle. “It’s not the best chocolate in the world,” she sighs, breaks a chunk off the bar, and tosses me a sort of sad smirk. “But even bad chocolate is better than no chocolate. You want a bite?”

I shake my head. She’s wearing Enforcer armor. I don’t take anything from enforcers. Dad taught me that.

Dad. My eyes burn, but I won’t cry. Not ever again.

I wipe my nose on the back of my hand. Glance down the alley at the flashing lights, at another Enforcer watching from the street. “Where’s Dad?”

She lays her smooth white head back against the wall, stares up at the night sky peeking in between the buildings, and the red marks under her eyes sparkle. “What’s your name, Sweetie?”

“Nina. Where’s my dad?”

“Nina.” She pops the chocolate into her mouth. “You’re Evil’s daughter, aren’t you?”

I nod. “Where is he?”

She lifts her head from the wall. “I don’t know. But maybe, if you tell me what happened, I can help you find him.”

I swallow hard. “It’s my fault.”

She sneaks her arm behind my head, and for some reason, I don’t pull away. “Sweetie, no. This is not your faul-”

“Yes it is,” I shout, cutting her off. “He needed me to be strong, but I’m just a weak little bitch.” My voice cracks, but I won’t cry. I can’t. “He needed… but I’m just… weak…”

Her arms close in around me like a blanket. “Honey, your dad was jumped by six Punishers. There is nothing you could have done.”

I pull back. “What?”

The woman kisses my head. “I wish we’d found you sooner, but from what the other witnesses say, those men came looking for you. If your dad wasn’t…” She winces, like she’s not sure what to say. “Your dad’s probably the only creature this side of Hell that could’ve fought them off alone. You are not weak, Nina. And I promise, for your dad to fight like that to protect you? You are more than precious to him.”

I pull off my horns. It doesn’t make sense. Not after what he said. Not after he… My heart skips a beat. Unless Dad knew they were coming. That’s it. That’s why he said all those mean things. That’s why he went nuts. He wanted to scare me, make sure I wouldn’t follow him. He wanted me back here, where nobody could get to me. He was protecting me. I glance at the contract, still clutched between my fingers. “Is he okay?”

Her mouth trembles at the corners. “No, Dear, he’s not. That’s why I need you to tell me if there’s some place he might go, a safe place to hide, maybe?”

I shake my head. “Dad doesn’t hide. Not from anything.”

She smirks and holds out her chocolate bar. “You sure you don’t want some?”

Vala

Nina. I glance down at the girl beside me. Strange creature. She looks human, despite the fake horns and wings. Smells human. The warmth of her pulse, the skin, the hair, everything fits. But she can’t be.

Schwarm nods. They’ve got the bodies covered. It’ll be a while before they clear the scene, but it’s safe to bring her out. Or it would be…

Closing my eyes, I open my mind, and focus on Nina once more. Her aura pulses, the same rhythm as before, but not chaotic like before. Unified. Impenetrable.

Sighing, I offer her the chocolate one last time. “You sure you don’t want some?”

She shakes her head.

Schwarm drops his chin. I motion for him to wait. Forensics is going to want to get in here, but something doesn’t feel right. A second ago, I sat down beside a shattered little human girl. One whom, according to dispatch, Evil claimed as his own, after a lawful fulfillment of contract on the child’s only parent, as an act of benevolence. It’s rare, almost unheard of in cases of human punishment, and wildly out of character for a creature of Evil’s lineage, but all perfectly legal.  But now, she’s got a force five mental barrier in place. I’ve been on the force for over two-hundred years. I’ve eased the minds of thousands of criminals. The strongest barrier I ever got out of a human was only level three. Once. I didn’t even know humans were capable of that kind of focus.

And it’s not just her aura. Her entire demeanor’s changed. I can’t connect with her, so I can’t deaden her senses to what she’s about to see, and I don’t have a clue how she’s liable to react.  All I can do is alter my aura to match. Become a kindred light, someone she might be inclined to trust, and hope she can take it. “Do you have a place to go? Any one we can contact?”

Nina pulls her lower lip between her teeth. The vague shadow of a withered wing presses into my mind and it’s gone. Nina sits up. “No.”

Liar. I pop the rest of the chocolate in my mouth, slap my thighs, and swallow. “Well? Maybe you like the smell here, but I’ve had all I can stand of rotten,” I make a show of sniffing. “What is that?” Sniff. Sniff. “Beets?”

Nina almost smiles.

“What do you say we go find a better smell? You like Ghoulies?”

She glances down the alley at Schwarm. “With cheese?”

I twist up my face, like it’s the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard. “Uh, yeah? Who wants cheeseless Ghoulies?”

This time, she does smile. Before she gets the chance to think, I jump to my feet and offer her my hand. “Come on, my treat.”

She hesitates. But then, just when I’m about to adjust my aura, she slips her hand into mine. “You know where they got the best Ghoulies? Fanick’s.”

I pull her to her feet. “Fanick’s?” Shaking my head, I focus on the conversation, maintaining a sympathetic resonance, and erecting sensory barriers as we walk. “Nah, I’d say Dweedle.” Schwarm taps the side of his helmet when we get close, radioing that we’re on our way out. For the others to keep back.

We clear the alleyway, and my heart almost stops. It was my idea to cover the bodies. I thought that if she couldn’t see the carnage, I could keep her mind distracted. Blind to the gore. The destruction. But what we walk into is an ocean of tarps. Blue lumps here and there. Flat expanses covering severed limbs and pools of blood.

Nina’s aura pulses. My hand tightens around hers. I don’t have control of her emotions, so I focus on what I can do, dampening her senses, matching my aura to hers. But without the connection to draw on, it’s all I can do just to keep walking.

Each tarp we pass sends her aura reeling, but somehow, we reach the last body. The Manananggal. We’re almost there.

I take a deep breath, and that’s when it happens. A breeze lifts the corner of the tarp. I catch a glimpse of the woman’s face, frozen in a death snarl, and Nina’s Aura explodes. Pain flashes behind my eyes, white hot, and everything goes dark.

Her hand slips from my fingers.

“Nina!” I make a blind grab. My palm slams into her wing. I grip it as tight as I can, but it doesn’t feel right. Plastic. Gasping, I swing my other arm around to wrap her in a hug, but all I get’s an empty coat. “Nina, wait!”

A dim shadow darts around the cruiser. “Nina, it’s okay!” I stumble after her, but by the time I reach the other side, she’s gone. “Damn it.” Head spinning, I fumble for my radio. “Be advised, I have a ten fifty-seven. Be on the look out for a small human female.”  A warm trickle leaks down my lip. I sniff, press my finger to my nose, and blink at the blood on my knuckle. “What the…” I glance back at the alleyway. Fangchurl. I don’t know if he’ll talk to me, Punishment is usually outside Enforcer jurisdiction. But I have to try. No human could hit like that. They don’t have that kind of power

Nina

“Foster!” The whisper echoes off the side of his house. Twitching, I glance down the street, then chuck another rock at his bedroom window. “Foster!” His light clicks on. “Out here,” I whisper-shout and toss another rock.

His face presses against the other side of the glass. Somewhere down the street, a dog barks. Tingles explode down my back.  “Wake up!”

His window opens. “Nina?”

He says it so loud every hair on my body prickles. “God, Foster, shut up!”

His head pokes out a little further. “What are you doing here? It’s like, three in the morning.”

I press my finger to my lips. “I know, I know, but I need your help.” I glance at the street, at the neighbor’s windows. I can’t stay here. It’s too open. “Help me up.”

“What?” His eyes go wide. “But you’re a girl. And I’m… in my jammies.”

Oh my Go-O-od! “I’m not gonna look! Come on, before your parents wake up!”

He leans out again and looks down. “How?”

“Damn it Foster!” I stomp. “Gimme your tail!”

His shoulder’s slump. “Fine.” Muttering under his breath, he vanishes for a second, then his tail pokes out over the sill.

I make one last check to make sure the coast is clear, grab his tail, and just get my feet off the ground when my hand slips. “Why are you so slimy?”

“I got tail rash,” He groans. “Why are you so heavy?”

Tail rash cream. Yuck. I wedge my fingers between the ridges on the back of his tail, use my boots to grip with my feet, and a few seconds later, I’m standing in his room wiping my hands off on my pants. “Turn off the light.”

Cradling his tail, he sulks over to the lamp and clicks it off. “Okay. Now what are you doing here?”

I stuff my hand into my back pocket, pull out my contract, and hold it out. He snatches it, peels back the flap, and pulls the contract from the envelope. “You know? You shoulda let me leave the light on.”

“Shut up. I know you can see in the dark.” He’s just all pissy ‘cause of his tail. “Just read.”

He shoots me an angry scowl, his gaze drops to the page, and his jaw drops. “Holy fu… is this real? You’re a Punisher?” I nod, and his eyes go back to the contract. “Is that your blood?”

“Yeah. My blood, and Dad’s, which is why I need your help.”

“My help?” He lifts a claw to the paper, barely listening. “How?”

And that’s when I reach into my pants. Show him what I found while I was hiding under the cruiser.

He almost drops the contract. “Is that?”

I nod. “Dad’s tail barb.”

Foster swallows. “What happened? Is he?”

I shake my head. “No.” A lump settles in my throat, but he’s not. He’s not. “We got jumped by a pack of guild rats. Dad fought ‘em off, but he’s hurt, so it’s up to me to fulfill the contract.”

Foster looks like he’s gonna puke. “No, it’s not.  You’re just a kid. They can’t expect you to do that. Just go back an-”

“It’s not school, Foster,” I almost shout. “That’s a contract of blood, not an essay for Ms. Dod. If I don’t do it, Dad and me both…” But I can’t say it. Can’t even think it. “And I never been to the Mortal Realm. You have. I need your help.”

For a second, Foster just stands there. “That was camp, Nina. For Imps who don’t have magic.”

But it’s still more than me. “We always talked about being Punishers. Now’s your chance.” I need him. “Are you gonna be a badass, or Mommy’s little cripple.”

Cripple. Foster winces. I hate myself as soon as the word crosses my lips, but I had to say it. I don’t even know how to get to the Mortal Realm. But I’m not sure I didn’t go too far. Still, I can’t take it back now. I can’t show weakness. “What’s it gonna be?”

Foster’s whole body shrinks. Like someone letting the air out of a balloon. Then, just when I’m sure he’s not gonna help. He scratches his forearm and sighs, skulks over to his bed, lays the contract out on the sheets, and using his talon, scribbles his name next to mine. “Fine. I guess I’ll be a badass, then.”

Vala

It doesn’t make sense. I take a deep breath and imagine the web connecting everything I know. But I can’t settle. I can’t believe that jackass actually gave a contract to a kid. Evil? My temple throbs. He’s one of Vritra’s spawn. Chaos personified. He shouldn’t even be allowed in this realm. There’s no trace of him. No way of guessing his motives. It’s a freaking miracle he hasn’t caused more trouble than he has.

I snort, and Schwarm’s aura shifts. I push it away, try to sink back into myself, but it’s too late. The moment’s gone. Pinching my nose, I lay my head against the window. Listen to the soft hum of the cruiser’s engine. Watch the buildings glide by. But it’s not helping. “I’m missing something.”

Schwarm clears his throat. “You think Nina’s blocking you?”

A Kobold at a bus stop we pass, flips the page of a magazine he’s reading. I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s more like I don’t have enough information.”

He doesn’t respond, but his aura goes opaque.

I lift my forehead off the glass. “Look, we aren’t gonna find Evil. The bastard can flux. I don’t even know if he’ll turn solid again if he dies. He’ll just be…gone.”

“You think he took her?”

“No, it doesn’t work that way. He can’t pull anyone else in with him.” I watch Schwarm’s eyes move as he drives. The slow steady gaze of a predator. “I don’t pretend to know how Evil thinks. If it were up to me, I’d have tossed him in a portal centuries ago, but I’m telling you, the guild was right. He loves that girl.”

The muscles along Schwarm’s jawline bulge and relax. “If that’s true, then you know where to find Evil.”

I almost laugh. Schwarm the analytical. Evil knows Nina signed the contract. If the contract is breached, then she suffers. Evil loves Nina. Therefore, Evil will fulfill the contract, for his benefit and hers. But he’s operating under a flawed premise. That Evil is alive and able to port. “There were a lot of scales at the scene, Schwarm. I don’t think Evil’s in any condition to make a jump. And even if he made it, what are we gonna do? Send a Squad to go get him? To the Mortal Realm?” I shake my head. “You know as well as I do how he’d react. We’d be exposed. The treaty with Heaven would be broken, and we may well find ourselves in another war with Elysium.” I snort. “But there’s another option here. Nina loves Evil. The girl craves his approval desperately. I mean, she’s running around in fake horns and wings for Lucifer’s sake!”

Schwarm’s aura goes orange. “You think she’s a half-breed or something, that she has enough shadow blood to port.”

“She doesn’t need demonic blood.” I toss up my hands. “She signed a contract. It’ll port her as soon as she wants to go. Nothing but will required.”

“Then why are we going to the school?” His thumbs tap against the edge of the steering wheel. “Shouldn’t we be-”

“No,” I grunt, cutting him off. “That wing she was thinking of was definitely an Imp’s wing, but without dewclaws, so preadolescent. I’m guessing it’s an Imp from school. I need to find that Imp. There is no way I’m stepping into the Mortal Realm without all the facts.” The dammed last thing I need is surprises. Especially there.

Nina

Darkness swirls around me, through me. Panting, I struggle to my hands and knees, and that’s when the cold hits. I gasp and my eyes burst open, but it’s like staring at the sun. “Foster?” I can’t see. “Foster!”

“What the hell?” His voice shakes, but he’s here. I’m not alone.

A shiver rakes down my back, I crack open an eye. But we’re not in his bedroom anymore. “What happened?” Blobs of color rise out of the blinding light. Green like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It covers everything. Brighter than a Pixy’s eye.

“I think we just jumped,” he coughs. “At least, that’s what it felt like last time.”

Blinking against the light, I turn toward his voice. To the shriveled blue wings in a sea of green. “We…” Jumped. That’s what he said, but it doesn’t make any sense. We weren’t at a depot or anything. Neither of us even has any magic. “How?”

“No idea.” He sits up on his haunches, raises a hand to his eyes to try and block out the light. “But this is definitely the Mortal Realm.”

I gape out across a wide carpet of green, surrounded by hills of green, at the grey and brown rectangles poking out of the hills, and shiver. “God it’s cold.”

“It’s further from Hell-” Without warning, he jumps to his feet screaming. “You ported me without clothes!”

“I didn’t,” I start, but he cuts me off with a howl.

“I’m gonna freeze to death!” He falls to his knees, crying like a little bitch. “I’m gonna die in my jammies.”

“Shut it,” I hiss, but my teeth chatter so bad, it sounds more like a curse than anything else. But he’s right. All I’ve got on is a midriff and pants. “W-we need to get w-w-warm. Y-you were here before.”

He moans, “last time I had a parka,” then goes quiet. Almost like someone flicked a switch. He just sucks in a sob and goes still as stone, eyes fixed on something behind me, and nods. “C-clothes. We need those c-c-clothes.”

I turn around, stare out across the green carpet, at three creatures walking toward us on two legs. No horns. No wings or tails. “W-what are they?”

“H-h-humans,” Foster chitters.

“H-humans?” One’s wearing a hoodie. The other two, jackets. Almost without thinking, my hand finds the wilah at my side. I don’t know much about humans. But I know Dad kills them, that they only have a few years to live anyway, and they’re wearing clothes.

Vala

I raise my hand to the door.

“You’re really going to do this?” I glance back, watch Schwarm tuck his chin. “You do realize it’s six in the morning. On a Saturday.”

“I know.” I rap my knuckles on the door. “But we’ve already lost too much time.” Beating the streets. Talking to teachers and students. All I learned is Nina’s a freaking ghost. No friends. No sports. Nothing. No one even remembered her name. Evil’s kid, the girl that hangs out with Foster. Even the teacher had to look her up. I’ve never seen anything like it. She lived in the same place, went to the same school, for years, and no one remembers her. Just vague shadows of some non-descript girl. “This Foster kid is the only lead we have.” And our only lead just happens to be an Imp with shriveled wings, like the image I plucked from her mind. It’s not a coincidence. He’s involved somehow.

“Not the only lead,” Schwarm mutters under his breath. “You know where to find her. This is a waste of time.”

The door rattles, and I twist my face into a friendly smile. “No, it’s not,” I sing, dropping into character. He doesn’t get it. That girl has abilities she shouldn’t have. No human has that kind of mental energy. Not even on record. Not even close. Hell, it’s not impossible she’s been blurring their memories of her. And God knows what else. There’s no way I’m gonna confront her until I know what I’m up against.  The door knob turns, and I blink sweetly over my shoulder at Schwarm. “Smile.”

The door swings open, a pale blue Imp in a pink fluffy bathrobe rubs her eyes. “Whaddawant?”

I hold up my badge. “Good morning, Mrs. Gladstroke. I’m Vala, with the Office of Enforcement? I wonder if we might have a word.”

She squints at the badge in my hand, blinking like she’s not sure if she’s dreaming or not. “Enforcement?”

I bob my head and press my aura into hers. “Mm-Hmm,” I chirp. “I was hoping we could speak with your son…” Every word, every inflection, every twitch of my lips, perfectly tailored to illicit her compliance. It’s almost too easy. Like picking a lock.

I plant the vague notion that we’re here as part of a youth recruitment program, and her lips curl up at the corners. “Yes!” She glances down at her robe and fuzzy slippers and her face goes purple. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect-” She steps back, unsure of what to do. “Come in. Foster! Let me get you some coffee. Foster,” she shouts as cheerily as she can muster. “There’s someone here to see you.”

No one answers. She giggles and waves us in with a sort of bowing backstep. “I’ll just go get him. He’s a fine boy. You just caught us a bit unprepared… uh, not that that’s a bad thing. ‘Always prepared,’ that’s Foster, he’ll make a fine Enforcer.” We step inside, she pushes the door closed behind us, gives another nervous laugh, and hurries upstairs. “Make yourselves at home. Foster!”

“Charming woman,” Schwarm grumbles as he picks up a ceramic unicorn from the end table beside the couch. “She seems a bit…” he nods at a pile of laundry filling an armchair, the box of half-eaten pizza, and assortment of red solo cups scattered over the coffee table. “Taxed?”

It’s hard to miss his meaning. She’s a single parent of a kid with special needs. The damned last thing she needs is us making her life more difficult. And I have to admit, he’s right. But I need to talk to her son. I need to know what Nina is. What she’s capable of. “Just a few questions. Then we’re gone.”

Nina

“Okay.” I zip up my new jacket and pull the contract out of my back pocket. “So now we know humans can’t see us. But, how are we gonna find our marks?”

“Uh…” Foster tugs the hoodie off his horn and presses his head through the hole. It’s a tight fit, but it works. I had to cut a hole in the pants for his tail, but said he didn’t want his wings out. It’s not exactly high fashion, but at least we’re not freezing to death anymore. And, honestly? The blood stains kinda make him look badass. “I don’t know. What are their names?”

I open the envelope, pull out the contract, and skip to the section labeled: Details of Services Required. “Contractor shall furnish all weapons, poison, and instruments of torture necessary to provide satisfactory service as defined above, and falling under the guidelines laid out in The Charter of Punishment, page twelve, subparagraph three, Regarding The Duties and Responsibilities of Agents of Hell.”

Foster’s tail twitches. “What?”

“Um…” I glance back at the contract, but I don’t have a clue what any of that means, so I skip down to a list of names. “Got it.” I hold out the contract to show him, and everything sort of spirals together. The green, the humans we killed. The blue sky. All of it melts together, and then, just like that, we’re standing in some weird kind of dungeon between two lines of Enforcer cruisers. At least, they kinda look like cruisers, but in all kinds of shapes and colors.

A low bang echoes between the cars, followed by two voices. Foster snatches the contract from my hands. “Woah. Check it out!” He flashes me a wide fanged grin. “It’s a focus port.”

But I have no idea what he’s talking about. I shake my head, and he points to the first name on the list. “Look at the contract, think about the target, and it ports you to the mark.” He nods at the two humans walking toward us. “One of them is this guy.” He taps on the name. “God, I didn’t know it was gonna be this easy.”

Not that easy. I slide my wilah from its sheath. “Which one is it?”

Foster shrugs. “I don’t know. Just do them both to be sure. Oh, and it’s supposed to be slow and painful.”

I nod, give my wilah a spin, and slash the nearest man across the belly. His guts spill out like tickets at the arcade. He makes this face, like a constipated werewolf mid howl, and they splat against the floor. And the whole time the other guy just stands there. Not even blinking. Not until Foster rips him open with his talons.

But standing there, heart pounding, watching their faces twitch, their bodies spiral together as we teleport to the next name on the list, every sound, every moment so full of color. Squealing, I snatch Foster’s hand and give it a squeeze. It’s like I’ve been dreaming, but now, I’m awake. And don’t ever want it to end.

Vala

I don’t like the Mortal Realm, even on a good day. It’s cold. It smells like human. But more importantly, it’s not safe. There are rules we cannot break. Laid down in the treaty between Heaven and Hell. The agreement that ended the Great War between Elysium and the Shadow Realm. Neither side wants peace, but neither do they want to face retribution. Both sides can enter the Mortal Realm, but only to tempt and punish. Only to bless and sanctify. And even then, only under contract. Only by order of the Divine or Infernal Powers. Powers that render us invisible to one another, and to those who live here.

Kept in check by the ever-present gaze of the Watchers.

And this? I watch a human in a white suit snap another picture and shake my head. This is a nightmare.

The woman picks up a severed head, places it inside a plastic bin, and moves on to a hand.

“What the Hell?” Schwarm squats down beside what looks like a pile of entrails. “These humans weren’t part of the contract.” He swings his arm over the crime scene. “None of them.”

“No.” My voice comes as a whisper. She’s just a little girl. No record. Not so much as a sneeze, even at school. It’s insane.

“I count three, at this scene. But if they’re killing off contract, God knows how many others there are.” Schwarm rests his forearms on his knees. His face pale. “I mean, look at this. They didn’t just kill them. They stripped them naked and hacked them to bits. It’s like they went through a blender.” His head droops. “You said she wasn’t human. I didn’t really believe you. But now?” He pulls his hand down his face. “What kind of thing would do this?”

“I don’t know.” I swallow hard. “But I bet I know who does. That’s why Evil took her. That’s why he raised her as his own.”

“Evil…” Schwarm mumbles a curse under his breath. “Even he never did anything like this. What the Hell is she?”

But I can’t answer.

Schwarm tosses me an exasperated looking scowl. “You know what this means?”

I nod. Numb as the realization presses in on me. The Powers of Hell will punish us for our carelessness, for allowing anyone to violate the treaty. The Watchers will take over management to ensure nothing like this ever happens again. The Shadow Realm will become a prison. “Life as we know is over.”

Schwarm falls motionless. Captivated by the humans working the crime-scene. “What are we going to do?”

There’s only one thing we can do. “We have to catch her. The Watchers know who did this, but they can’t see into the Shadow Realm. I suspect they’re waiting to see how we react. To see if she’s rogue or part of some conspiracy. We have to hunt her down. Get back to H. Q., tell them what happened, and that we need reinforcements. As many as they can spare.” Schwarm opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “No. This time we need to risk it. If we don’t, it’ll look like we’re complicit. We have to violate the treaty in order to show them we want to preserve it. Don’t give me that look. Just go. I’ll stay here and try to pick up the trail.” I’ll jump ahead, go to the last name on the contract and work my way up the list. I don’t know if I’m already too late, if the bloodlust has taken over, if she’s even trying to fulfill the contract. But it’s the only clue I have. And if I’m lucky, I can end this. Now. Before all Hell breaks loose.