The Mark of a Good Editor

I kept my gaze locked with his. Damned if I’d back down when they needed me more than I needed them. His infinitesimal nod was both concession and slight.

“Belial tells me you need no coddling.” His voice like the flat of a razor, smoothing,  with threat implied.

“Don’t try to run me. God himself couldn’t manage it, much less his test-case creations.”

“Oh child, the things we deleted to preserve His preferred story are legion. But fear not, I’m a hands-off demon. I point, you kill, and we’ll get along famously.”

Truth without solace. I could work with that.

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Dance with the Devil

The gown supplied was a froth of silk, held together with filigree that showed enough flesh I’d forgone foundations. Our bargain precluded complaint. The male guests surely had none.

“I hate everyone here,” I murmured.

My angelic handler propelled me forward. “You hate everyone everywhere.”

“You most.”

“Yet you made the bargain.” Belial handed me pills, staples for my pretense of courage.

I swallowed them, then went to meet the lord of demons, pulled like a star toward a black hole.

He surveyed me. “Yes, I think you’ll do nicely.”

“Never nicely.”

His laugh caused lacerations. “No, not at all.”

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Missions

Majec scrubbed his hand over his scalp, missing his once-long hair. “How many are there?”

“A dozen, no more.” Wentz lit a cigarette.

“Even with a full clip, I couldn’t take out that many.”

“Since neither of us have half that, point’s moot.”

Mary Agnes pulled the pins out of her hair, long red curls tumbling down. “Unless we remove them for you.”

“Like that’s gonna happen.” Wentz blew smoke groundward.

Majec punched him on the shoulder. “What he means is that, even if trained, we couldn’t let you endanger yourselves.”

Mary Grace laughed. “You mean you won’t risk your CO’s wrath by screwing up this job.”

Majec nodded.

Mary Lucia stretched, long legs extending well beyond her black skirt. “Agnes, how many of these celebrations have you attended?”

“Four, not counting the one where we bailed at the last minute due to fire storm.”

“Grace?”

“Six that I remember. I started young. It’s a little blurry.”

Wentz frowned, confused.

“This is my second,” whispered Mary Margaret.

Lucia stroked the girl’s hair. "Listen up, new guys. I have as many as they do combined, which means we’re at two dozen, and not once have we failed our duty.” She began stripping off her habit, revealing a slinky dress underneath. “So, kindly step aside and let us seduce these jackholes standing in our way. Then we can offer ourselves up to the new god as virgin sacrifices – again – and get back to the abbey before someone wakes up another goddamned demon.”

Family Ties

“If the thing claiming to have spawned me is alive, then he probably activated a network to bring me in.”

“Or down.” Trust Uncle Jim to cover the even more negative aspect.

Nate nodded. “Explains Carlos. Interesting connections.”

I waited for Nate to ask the taboo question, the one that might sever our ties. He stared at me, refusing, forcing me to speak first.

“No, I am not part demon.”

Jim snorted. “No shit. You wouldn’t have made it past the driveway.”

True. His warding is complex and enormous. Challenging. Someday I’ll ask what he did for such an endowment. Or not.

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One Step Back

Nate swung again, piston-fast and with a similar hiss.

I sidestepped, pointing down. “Could you not let angst trample common sense beside an open portal to a place we can only hope is as nice as Hell?”

He nudged the pieces of Carlos into the slowly closing hole. “So, whose father sent that thing?”

“We’d best pray it wasn’t his, since Satan is way out of my weight class.”

“Couldn’t mean your father, because he’s dead, right?”

“I thought so, but Sybil intimated I could be wrong.”

For charity, he stepped away from the still smoking circle before he attacked.

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Cutting Out The Middle Man

by Colleen Foley

Things had become too turbulent, and I was done.

”Carlos” had let the sword fall when he’d grabbed Seth. Seemed he’d discounted me as a threat.

“Oh. Hell. No.”

I strode forward, sweeping up the blade and drove it into his groin.

“Kid marked me and I got no handbook.”

Grabbing a handful of hair, I yanked him toward me, jabbed under his sternum, twisted, yanked it out with a grunt.

“Want.. some answers…”
The blade sawed through his neck…

Blood.

Screaming.

Good.

“And you…are in…my way.”
I dropped both head and sword at Seth’s feet and glared.

“Dude...the fuck?”

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Save It For Later

I dove out of the way of a serrated sword.

“What is this thing?” Nate spat blood.

“Let me check the catalog of demonry we don’t have.” My thrown knife hit the hell-spawn’s shoulder.

Nate shot it. Repeatedly.

It didn’t seem to notice. “Name’s Carlos. Daddy wants a word.”

“Tough.” My tattoos blazed, the last of my magic.

Nate howled, covering his own markings. “What the hell did you do to me?”

“Later.”

“No.” He reloaded.

“You want to do this now?” I slammed Carlos toward the abyss.

“I really do.”

I couldn’t answer. Carlos had me by the throat.

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What Goes Unsaid

“First, she shaved her head. Then, she started piercing everything.” Aunt Aggie cataloged my sins to Pastor Joe, as I waited on the hard bench outside. “Now, she has a tattoo.”

“It’s not your fault,” he soothed. “Puberty is ripe for demonry.”

I stared at the floor. “He should know.”

“We can save her from the Abyss, Agatha. Send her here after school, every day.”

I started shaking.

Amber reached for me, promise ring glinting. “Is it true, what you told me?”

I nodded, crying.

She grabbed my hand. “Then tonight, he finds out what a real demon can do.”

Reunion - Take Two

He entered smiling, as if I hadn’t killed him a few weeks back. Or tried to. Either he didn’t hold a grudge or was contemplating retribution. Possibly both.

“Hello, son.” The rasp in his voice was satisfying. He hadn’t escaped entirely unscathed.

“Told you last time, I’m none of yours.”

“Right before you made me choke on the blood we share. That spell would have worked on someone else.”

“But you aren’t human,” I finished for him. “Did my mother know?”

“Not sure. You want me to raise her spirit and ask?”

I shuddered. “Leave her out of it.”

“Ah, but it was she who made off with you in her womb, thus depriving me of my child and heir.”

“Whatever you want from me, I’m not interested. I have my own problems.”

“I’ve watched you rushing around, saving people from monsters. Stomping on smoldering brush does no good when the wildfire is heading your way. There’s a battle coming, and you’ve a part to play, whether you will it or not.”

“Did you start this fight?”

“In a manner of speaking. There didn’t always used to be a war. You know what began it.”

I couldn’t tell you how I knew, but I did. “My birth.”

“Good boy. Now, let’s see if we can stop it.”

“I’d rather save innocent people.”

“Perhaps you should consider what will happen if they’re caught in the crossfire. War is coming.”

I sighed, resigned. Turns out, being the half-breed prince of monsters sucks.


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Written for Thurs Threads. Consider this a possible alternate universe for Seth. Boy, would that irritate him! And hey, look what happened:

Call and Response

Sunlight strikes stained glass, fragmented patterns birling across mosaic tiles. Light dances over intricate designs, all organic, geometric, balanced.

“I love an old church,” I croak, throat long unused. “Such delightful corruption.”

Silence.

“You have made a terrible mistake.” I am not sure the wildling in the wings understands my tongue.

“As summoner, I command you…” Latin roots hide in a dreadful language.

I remember it and switch. “Alas, pet, you’ve mixed it up.”

Little bird tastes fear. “The grimoire said…”

“Ancient tomes aren’t infallible.”

Ignorance is not excuse. It is invitation.

She screams as I make her my creature.

Overlook

Back against concrete, Marcel looked over the lights of Toronto. He’d risked much for this view and the people below. Walking past, most did not see him, an apt punishment for hubris. He’d never railed against being doomed to walk the Earth. It was, after all, the mission he’d accepted before his fall.

“They wait for a fat man in a sleigh to bring them love.” The familiar voice dripped with disdain.

“They’re born with love, brother. It’s why you hate them.”

“One of many reasons.”

Marcel looked again on his city, before entering a fight he could not win.


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Yet more background from my current WIP. Angels keep popping up everywhere. It's disconcerting, as I'm not overly fond of them and trust them not at all - nor should you.

Crossroads

“Paltry paltering’s pointless.” Demon tongue twisted like her tattoo vines. “I’ll not suffer a liar.”

“The offer was fair,” I protested.

“Until you slide that sticker ‘twixt my ribs. I’m no fool.”

“If I meant to kill you, I’d have done already.”

“And I’d have done you for less than a promise, but I know what you are. Witches usually come begging. Not you.”

“Magic born, but I still need information.”

“A kiss for payment.”

“My soul?”

“Yours, if you can keep it.”

Swirling tongue warmed my blood.

“I know what hunts you,” she whispered.

The knowledge chilled my marrow.

Origins

She was pregnant when she left me, no note, no trail. Josette had been good at covering things up, but she’d slipped at the end. That’s how I knew she was carrying my child. I didn’t think she had it in her to run. My mistake.

I expected a daughter. Witches always have girls. There’s a bunch of lore about why, including prophecies warning of the First of Many – the male witch whose son would have a son who would have a son who breaks the world. Never had a male witch been born nor likely would be.

My own mother had tried to pass me off as the First, but that wasn’t why I was special. Wasn’t the spells she fed me, either. It was the father who didn’t belong in this world who gave me my power, such as it is.

I use illusion to fool folks into seeing what they fear most. Demons are a big favorite – proof that most have never experienced the terror of meeting an angel. The cast-out are easier to face than God’s precious warriors, but not much.  

The young man facing me wanted to see a demon, a monster, a foe. At first, I let him. Then he tried to banish me using his mother’s words. I barely kept from laughing at this terribly serious boy.

My boy.

My son.

The First.

I let him see the real me, so like him.

“No,” he prayed, but God doesn't hear aberrations like us.

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Written for Thursday Threads, found here. Romance, erotica, dark fiction, good people. Check it out.
Note: this is from the POV of Seth's father.

Tripping the Snare

Another bar fight. Naturally.

“You aren’t immortal,” I growled at Nate.

He ducked a punch, landed another. “Nothing is. Not really.”

The girl Nate kissed whipped a bottle at his head. It winged me, instead. I hardly felt it.

Bright light permeated the grimy, faceted window, sending dirt-tinged rainbows to dance with dust motes. I considered leaving Nate behind as recompense for poor choices. Then I saw the demon in the corner, feeding the rage.

I murmured a spell to banish the fucker.

Nate’s head snapped up. “Seth, don’t!”

Too late.

The thing that was not a demon smiled. “Gotcha.”

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Parlor Tricks

I swore I would never get inked again, was still swearing when Jax put needle to flesh.

“Quitcher bitchin’.” Crumbs fell from Nate’s mouth. “You left your talisman in the trunk, which is now at the bottom of the lake with the rest of my friggin’ car.”

“Not my fault,” I grunted.

He swallowed everything but his outrage. “You were driving!”

“And having my guts rearranged by hellspawn,” I spat. “It was averse to water, so I went off the bridge.”

The protective tattoo sank beyond skin, settled deep, thrumming.

I didn’t tell Nate how it burned my compromised soul.

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