Rat City

Chapter 4

Kirk MacLeod sat on a bench in Logan Square Park, pretending to read a book.

The book, which he’d bought at an airport book stand years ago, was a space opera. An old mass-market paperback with a spaceship and an exploding planet on the cover, yellowed pages with coffee stains here and there, and a spine that had been cracked many times. It smelled like an old basement, but that was part of its charm.

From the few words he read over the years, the book was mildly interesting. A stranger on a jungle planet fighting aliens.

He could relate to aliens. Pretending to read a book made him feel like one. He never was much of a reader, but he sure played the part. To a passerby, he was just a black man quietly enjoying his time in the city in the declining evening.

The wind rustled the tall oak trees, stirring up the summer smell of humid air and freshly cut grass. Not a bad place to spend time, but not his first choice.

A woman with earbuds in a t-shirt and jeans walking a bulldog passed, and the dog sauntered over to him, sniffing.

Kirk instinctively reached down and let the dog smell the back of his hand. The dog licked, but when the woman said its name, it veered back onto the trail. Kirk gave a quick smile to the woman. She nodded back to him.

It never failed to amaze him that he could fit in everywhere. People always said he had a familiar face, yet he didn’t look like anyone he knew. He’d stared at himself in the mirror many nights, wondering if he’d ever find his doppelgänger. The day he did, his time as a hunter would be over.

he He settled on the uncomfortable bench and turned the page, tilting his head with fake intrigue. He stole a glance across the street, at the Wicked Cat.

He hadn’t expected to end up casing a coffee shop. This wasn’t the type of place Gilberto Sanchez frequented.

Kirk’s head filled with static as his secret earpiece buzzed to life.

“I’ve got a good look at him,” a voice said.

His stepbrother, Aidan, was in a nearby tree on the other end of the park. Between the two of them, they had the Wicked Cat covered. His brother was probably looking through a pair of binoculars. How he made it into the tree without being seen was one of their many trade secrets. Besides, it was better for Aidan to do the odd tasks—no one would suspect a white guy climbing a tree. A black man? Maybe. That was why they made a dynamic duo.

For kicks, Kirk wondered if Aidan could climb the tall eagle monument in the park. The stone eagle perched on top of a giant Greek column, watching over the street. Yep, his brother might be crazy enough to climb it sometime.

“He’s talking to a woman,” Aidan said. “You ought to see the hipster vibe on her. I’d bet she’s the owner.”

“Give me the deets.”

“Crazy-a*s purple hair,” Aidan said, puffing. “The color is like a sickly eggplant. Anyway, she’s wearing a camouflage tank, red bandanna. She’s about five-six. Ponytail. Stud in her cheek. Looks like a dragon tattoo on her arm.”

“Gilberto likes his women weird, eh?”

“Nah, she’s not into him,” Aidan said. “Her body language is saying ‘get me away from this guy.’ Can’t say I blame ya, sister. He’s being extra cautious. Keeps looking out the window. We’ll have to give him some space or he’ll spook if he sees us.”

“I’m enjoying a nice book,” Kirk said. “I have all night.”

A few moments of silence passed between them.

“What do you see on the street?” Aidan asked.

“Looks like he came alone,” Kirk said. “I thought he might seek protection. He must not be thinking clearly.”

“Let’s make a bet,” Aidan said.

“You want to lose again?” Kirk asked. “You don’t learn your lesson, do you, brother?”

“I’ll bet you five bucks he takes a long way home,” Aidan said. “You know, the circle-every-block maneuver.”

“He’s going to visit someone else before he does that,” Kirk said. “From what we’ve seen so far, he’s a little too mousy to go home yet. The night’s young.”

“So, no bet?” Aidan asked.

Kirk went quiet as a couple holding hands strolled by. When they were safely out of earshot, he said, “Is he drinking a coffee?”

“They’re talking,” Aidan said. “She doesn’t like him, it seems. Trying to get him to leave.”

“Bless her heart,” Kirk said. “Maybe she’ll make our job easier.”

“Yep, he’s leaving,” Aidan said. “He’ll be out the front door in about five seconds.”

Kirk tucked his book into the inner pocket of his denim jacket. He cracked his neck, stretched his arms, and let out a refreshing sound.

“Over to you, brother,” Aidan said.

Aidan Macleod slid down the oak tree. After making sure no one was watching, he hung on the bottom branch for a moment before dropping to the ground. He quickly crouched into exercise stretches, glancing around to see if anyone noticed him.

Negative.

He shook the wrinkles out of his sweatpants and blue nylon training jacket. He adjusted a small runner’s backpack on his shoulders, and he jogged to the nearest path.

Just a jogger. That’s all he was now. He passed a woman in yoga pants walking a bulldog who didn’t even look at him, though he looked twice at her. Three times. He couldn’t help himself.

He passed a giant eagle monument. A column jutted at least fifty feet into the sky. He eyeballed it as he passed. Yeah, he could scale that thing one day.

“Don’t go get any ideas about climbing that monument, brother,” Kirk said.

Aidan laughed to himself. His brother knew him too well.

He passed a black man with a low haircut, sunglasses, a denim jacket, and black boots sitting on a park bench as if he were relaxing. Kirk didn’t even acknowledge his existence.

He ran to the edge of the park, at a busy intersection.

A pedestrian light blinked on and he crossed the street, running away from the Wicked Cat. Once he was a block away, he ducked into a shaded alley.

“Whaddaya got?” he whispered, dipping between two dumpsters.

“He’s out of the shop and headed east,” Kirk said. “I’m trailing him.”

“Slow down when you figure out where he’s going,” Aidan said. He pulled his backpack off, unzipped it, and produced a stainless steel case. He unlatched it and revealed a human skull set in black foam. Its plates were covered with swirling tattoos and runes. Aidan had a tattoo sleeve of similar designs on his left arm, and Kirk had them on his right.

Aidan held up his father’s skull and blew into it. His breath turned into a wisp of smoke and golden particles of light. The skull’s eye sockets glowed with distant pinpoints, and the mouth hung open. A voice spoke from the skull, but the jaws didn’t move.

“Can’t you two do anything without my help anymore?”

“Love you too, Dad,” Aidan said.

Even though his father had been dead for years, his cantankerous but charming voice sounded the same as if he’d never left. How many people were blessed enough to talk to their dead parents whenever they wanted?

Aidan still radiated pride every time he thought of adopting the Macleod last name. The old man didn’t have to take him. If it weren’t for Bruce and Maggie, Aidan would have probably been left for dead as a baby. But the couple insisted on foster children.

“Are you working?” Bruce Macleod asked.

“Always.”

“Are you tired?” Bruce asked.

“Yep.”

“Are you following your passion?”

“What do you think?”

“Good. Then your mother and I are still proud.”

“We need some assistance,” Aidan said. “We’ll cash in two requests.”

“Good God, Aidan. You know the consequences.”

“We’ve got a good feeling about our odds,” Aidan said. “Kirk is willing to risk b*****e with a succubus for a week in exchange for what we need.”

A quiet laugh emerged from the skull. “He doesn’t know that yet, does he?”

“Come on, Dad, let’s have a little fun.”

“Well?”

“We’re on a job, and we’ve got bad vibes,” Aidan said. “Something doesn’t seem right, but we’re not ready to join you and Mom yet. I need to know exactly how, why, when, and how hard Axel Valentine is going to screw us.”

“That damned nephilim again?”

“He hired us,” Aidan said. “The money’s good, and normally, he’s a good client, but we don’t trust him this time.”

“You better hope he doesn’t find out about this.”

“That’s why we’re asking the best, smartest, kindest, and most kickass spirit we know,” Aidan said.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bruce said. “What else?”

“What can you tell us about the owner of an establishment called the Wicked Cat Coffee & Brew?”

“I suppose I could ask around, maybe explore the place myself.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Settle up and I’ll get started,” Bruce said.

Aidan closed his eyes and thought the darkest thoughts he could in rapid succession across his mind’s eye. He thought them so hard he could feel them. Someone realizing they were being murdered and strangled before their very eyes as the crazed killer gritted their teeth. Dead bodies lying in a field with their eyes open, torn apart by crows. Blood-curdling screams. Gunshots. Frenzied news reports. He recalled across the dark canvas of his mind sirens, evil laughter, jagged knives, blood, bullets, tombstones under a full moon, and nothing at all. His mind went blank, and still.

Suddenly, a twist of shadow appeared on the dumpster next to Aidan. In the corner of his eye, he detected a faint contour of horns, claws, and swirling shadows. He dared not look. To glance upon the face of a demon with no reason was to invite eternal b*****e.

Whoever died and made demons in charge of the dead did the supernatural world a disservice. They never cared if you talked to dead spirits, but the moment you wanted something, you had to pay, and they had no need for currency.

“You are sure about this transaction?” the demon asked in a distorted, staticky voice.

“Lay it on me,” Aidan said.

The demon smashed into him, crushing him against the wall. He screamed in pain as the shadows ravaged his insides. He floated into the air, his arms and legs stretched like a human anatomy picture.

The demon laughed and filled Aidan’s head with a foreign language in a grunting unlike any he’d heard. Then the voice faded, and he dropped to the ground, gasping.

How many demons did he and his brother carry within them now? They incubated the demons like babies to be born into this world, the wicked things crawling out whenever it was convenient. Sometimes it took days. Most demons took years to emerge. And when they scurried out, Aidan and Kirk had to do whatever they demanded. Sometimes, it was as simple as murder. Other times, it was more subtle, more devious. The brothers never asked questions. But when the deed was done, the demon was finally in this plane, with free will, with the ability to form a physical body. Whatever they did after that was their business.

Bruce’s skull stared at him from the dumpster, its eye sockets glowing. A column of smoke streamed from the eyes, forming into a hazy silhouette that hovered above Aidan.

His father waited patiently.

Aidan mustered the energy, pulled himself to his feet, and locked the skull in its case.

“What’s up, Kirk?” Aidan asked.

Kirk gave him an intersection.

Aidan would have to jog at a good pace to catch up, but he was up for it.

He walked through the alley, savoring a few last moments with his father’s spirit before exiting onto the street.

Bruce circled him and then floated down the street toward the Wicked Cat.