After extinguishing the last cigarette from her depleted pack in the balcony ashtray, Amanda Sims stood and stretched, feeling every vertebra pop along her cramped spine. The city sprawled below in the late afternoon light, hazy and indifferent.
A long day of handling calls, emails, and calling in favors had given her a wealth of useful information—and a splitting headache. The ashtray overflowed with crushed butts, a small mountain of stress made tangible.
Unfortunately, none of what she'd learned was directly linked to the Bible, but she had made some intriguing connections among the reports funneled through SAC Stefon's office. The ones that truly piqued her curiosity were those that hadn't been local. Why was he handling cases from other jurisdictions?
It was circumstantial at best, but she sent the strange files to Ethan for his teams to analyze more thoroughly. Meanwhile, she planned to take everything else she had collected to Angel, hoping they might find a lead by reviewing the narcotics cases, weapons busts, and child rescue cases from the past year. She was confident he would see things with fresh eyes and discover some connections to follow.
It definitely helped her feel better once she'd cleared the air with Ethan. They had talked on the phone and made plans to take a vacation for a couple of weeks once everything settled down.
Now, she intended to make it up to him in a big way for how she had used him over the past couple of years. Still, she had little regret about what she had done to help Angel, and she hoped Ethan would understand her reasons and motivations.
Angel. She thought of him and Charlie, imagining how the two looked at each other—a look she and Angel once shared. Although a touch of jealousy would always remain, it wasn't as strong as she had expected. Her initial shock and fear had faded, and she was determined to help them find and destroy Bible for good.
Amanda stepped back inside, picked up her phone from among the tangled sheets of the bed, selected Angel's number, and pressed the call button. A brief silence, then it went straight to voicemail. Squinting, a flicker of concern entered her mind: Why was his phone off?
As Angel's recorded message finished, the automated voice went through its annoyingly long list of options, then finally beeped.
"Hey, Angel. Hope you're okay. I downloaded all the files I could get from D.C. and the local field office. I'll leave here in about half an hour to meet you at Cassie's shop. Call me if you want me to pick up coffee or breakfast along the way."
Hanging up, she dropped the phone into her purse beside the briefcase and was about to head for the bathroom when a sharp knock sounded at her door.
She paused, every instinct suddenly on alert. No one knew where she was staying except for Angel and Stefon's office, and after being suspended, she figured they'd call her in for any briefings rather than visit unannounced. Since they'd taken her service weapon, she had only a small SIG Sauer P938 she kept in her purse. Fetching it quickly, she tucked it into her waistband and approached the door cautiously. "Who is it?"
"It's Angel." The familiar voice came from the other side.
Surprised, she peered through the peephole to see him standing in the hallway. With a twist of the main lock and a flip of the secondary security latch, she opened the door with a relieved smile.
"Angel! I just tried to call you. I was about to leave for the shop." She backed away to let him enter.
He gave her that same warm smile and look he had once reserved only for her. Heat flushed unexpectedly through her cheeks.
"Sorry. My phone got smashed last night, and I haven't had a chance to get a new one." He surveyed the room as he spoke, his eyes taking in every detail with unusual intensity. He turned and gave her the same warm smile, but she suddenly felt uneasy. His smile didn't reach his eyes, and there was something predatory lurking in their depths.
"Smashed? How?" She lingered by the door, but he gestured casually for her to come closer to the bed.
"Long story." He dismissed her concern with a shrug. "Have you learned anything about Bible?"
"I did collect some files." She gestured to the briefcase resting on the small table. "I figured we could all go over them together this afternoon." Curious, she studied his expression. "How's Charlie?"
"She's fine," he said dismissively, his tone flat and uninterested. "But that's not why I came over. I figured we could look over the information alone."
"Alone?" Something cold settled in her stomach.
"Sure. I mean, we've not had a real chance to spend some time together in a very long time. I miss the old days with you." His voice thickened, smooth and seductive.
"What?" She blinked, confusion clouding her thoughts. "Angel? What do you mean?"
"Oh, come on, Amanda. We had so much fun before I went into the service, and I never, truly ever forgot about those days or us." His voice dripped with desire, and he stepped toward her with predatory grace, raising his hand to slide along her cheek. "And I'm pretty sure you haven't either."
"Angel, you have Charlie now. Why are you acting this way?" While she felt wary, his words rang true despite her better judgment. She'd moved on but hadn't forgotten, and his sudden affection triggered certain memories—moments that interfered with her reasoning and made her pulse quicken.
"Charlie's nice and all, but she isn't you. We can solve this case ourselves and get you back in good standing with the agency. I'm sick of being rogue. Working with you brought back too many fond memories." His hand was unnaturally warm against her skin, almost fevered.
She was momentarily dumbfounded, struggling to gather her thoughts. Something was causing her body to stir, going against everything she'd just figured out with Ethan, and finally letting Angel go entirely. His hand on her cheek was so warm, and she felt it slip down onto her shoulder, then lower to her breast. She gasped softly and peered up into his brown eyes, which seemed to flicker strangely in the dim light. "Angel?"
"Shhh," he ordered, his tone holding no quarter. "I just want a taste." Her body obeyed against her will, muscles relaxing despite her mind's protests.
He bent his head while lifting her chin with his other hand, and she felt his lips press firmly against hers. The kiss was electric, igniting vivid memories of their teenage lovemaking. Lust, guilt, greed, and shame blended together in a toxic cocktail. For years, she had bottled away the feelings she'd had for Angel, and that bottle shattered the moment his lips touched hers.
I'm going to hell for this—I know it.
However, warning signs were ringing in the back of her mind—warnings that her sexually-charged brain would not heed. She was better than this, so why was she letting Angel molest her?
As she let her head droop back, she felt his mouth slip down her neck, nipping and licking with unusual roughness, and she let out a loud moan of pleasure that echoed off the hotel room walls. She felt his free hand slip between her legs, and her long-neglected body screamed with a powerful ache of need. Her mind seemed to lose all sense of control when his hand ripped away the top of her blouse and pulled her bra down to expose her left breast.
Shocked by his violent action, she gasped. But all it did was raise the level of her desire, and she didn't care what he did to her clothes. Or to her. Hot moans of pleasure blew from her lips as she felt his mouth clamp around her nipple with bruising force. His tongue danced on it, teasing it and bringing it to full attention while she writhed beneath his ministrations. His other hand nearly lifted her off her feet as he pushed upward against her center, and she felt herself fall backward into the tangled sheets on the bed.
"Kevin, oh, my God, Kevin… I've missed you!" she moaned, her eyes tightly shut, tears streaming down the sides of her face from a mix of desire and regret.
Her hands reached up to grab his back, to caress his body as he moved over her. That's when her mind clicked with horrifying clarity. It wasn't a shirt that she felt in her hands, but fur—thick, matted, greasy fur that reeked of sulfur and decay. Her eyes snapped open in terror. Before she could scream, she felt a clawed hand lock itself over her mouth with crushing force. Licking her bare nipple was not Angel, but a creature out of H.P. Lovecraft's worst nightmares.
The thing above her was massive, its body a grotesque fusion of man and beast. Coarse, dark pelt covered most of its muscular frame, and its face was a horrifying blend of human and canine features. Yellow eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence, and when it smiled, rows of razor-sharp teeth glinted in the light spilling in from the balcony window.
Lifting its mouth from her now-bleeding nipple, the creature licked its long, forked tongue across its gross, blackish lips with obvious relish.
"You may be the sweetest piece of meat I've ever had, human. I can't believe Angel let this go." Its voice was a guttural growl that seemed to emanate from the depths of hell itself.
Amanda struggled in vain to move, her cries muffled by his claw, as tears welled in her eyes.
The beast's smile grew even wider, revealing more of his terrifying teeth. "Since I was dragged into this hellish realm, I have been shot, cursed, and nearly killed by the Morningstar herself. You cannot begin to imagine the heights of my rage." His eyes glowed brighter with each word. "Yet, despite all that, I shall make you a promise I do not often grant to many of my victims. Since my time with you is short, your death will be quick."
He leaned down and sniffed her skin with his wet, black nose, delighting in the strong aroma of fear mixed with latent sexual desire that wafted from Amanda's bare breast. He drew his long, wet tongue along the nipple again, smirking at her body's mixed reactions, and wondered aloud, "I wonder what it would feel like to mate with a human female?"
In response, Amanda fought harder, cursing words muffled by his paw pressing over her mouth. Curious, the beast slipped his claws away, allowing her to speak.
She gasped as fresh air mixed with the foul stench of the demon's claw filled her lungs, and she coughed hard, tasting copper and brimstone. Through the gagging, she spat out, "What the hell are you? Let me go!"
"Oh, I can't do that, sweet meat." The beast's chuckle rumbled in his throat. "And you may call me Rygen."
"How could you look like Angel?" she choked, her voice hoarse with terror.
"A lovely trick some of us hellhounds have, meat." Rygen lifted one claw to display a beaded necklace around his thick neck, the beads pulsating with an eerie, otherworldly light. "And this little trinket heightened your pleasure centers so you'd react more strongly to 'Angel's' advances. I have to admit, it makes you smell, oh, so much more delectable."
A spell had influenced her actions? With the regret she felt for her actions washed away, a primal emotion took over: survival. She whimpered and increased her struggling, not to escape because his strength was overwhelming, but to hide her attempts to get her one hand down behind her back to her waist.
She kept the demon talking as she silently slipped the gun from her waistband. "Why me?"
"My master commands it. And, to hurt them, of course." Rygen chortled, the sound like gravel grinding together, then his tone shifted to something darker. "Like they hurt me." He tapped her cheek roughly with the tip of his pointer claw. "And they will suffer so, so much, when they find your mangled body."
That's what you think, demon! Clenching her teeth, she spat her words at him with all the venom she could muster, "Go to hell!"
With a grunt of effort, she pulled her arm free and aimed her gun at Rygen's face. Before she could squeeze the trigger, however, she felt a sudden, sharp, white-hot pain along her arm that made her vision blur.
She screamed only for a moment before Rygen's claw slammed down onto her jaw with a sickening crack, breaking it instantly. Through the sting of burning tears, her frantic eyes darted to her arm, or what was left of it, as it now ended in a bloody stump halfway between her elbow and her wrist.
Hot, sticky blood spurted out from the severed limb as if from a crimped hose, splashing the hellhound's wolf-like cheek and dyeing the white hotel sheets in crimson stickiness. The rest of her arm was gone, having been swallowed down the creature's gullet in a single, horrifying bite. She felt his claws sink into her cheeks, piercing her flesh like switchblades, and copper-tasting blood began to leak down the back of her throat.
Agonizing pain, fear, and defeat overwhelmed Amanda's hopes as Rygen reared back, laughing with genuine delight. "You almost had me, meat! But you may blame Angel in the afterlife, for his actions last night taught me to be ready for anything!" He growled softly, lowering his head until his hot, wet nose brushed her own, his breath reeking of rotten eggs. "I don't blame you for trying, though. I like it when my meal tries to fight back. Now, enjoy the honor of being my first human victim."
Amanda emitted a final whimper as she watched in horror as the demon's jaws widened far beyond their natural limit, exposing a throat that looked like a dark tunnel with no light at the end. The last thing Amanda felt was the sting of a thousand needles as the beast's teeth sank into her neck, severing her head from her body. And the world went dark.
Special Agent in Charge Mike Stefon stepped out of the elevator at the hotel where Amanda was staying and glanced at the numbers on the wall to find the correct hallway. He was in a foul mood, his footsteps echoing sharply against the worn carpet. Bible had returned his call, instructing him to meet with Amanda in the morning to thoroughly discuss the events at the warehouse and gather any files she might have collected—files he knew she'd obtained through favors pulled with contacts across the Bureau.
Bible had suggested it might be best to eliminate her permanently, but for once, he convinced him that it would cause more trouble to explain her disappearance. Instead, he told Bible he would officially fire her and send her packing back to D.C. By the time anything could be sorted out, any link to Bible would be erased.
What bothered him, though, wasn't the order or that Bible had relented on the extreme measures, but how jovial and somewhat benign the call had been. It was quite unlike Bible, whose usual demeanor was cold and calculating, but maybe he finally recognized the value in his position and had backed off. Maybe it would lead to less stress in the future, having to work for such a dangerous crime boss.
Following the numbers until he reached Amanda's room, he steadied himself for the confrontation and knocked firmly. He waited a few moments, then knocked again, this time harder.
"Just a moment." He heard her voice call out in answer, and he nodded quietly in response, checking his watch impatiently.
As he waited restlessly, he detected soft footsteps approaching the door, followed by the sound of locks being undone. Then, the door opened, and Sims, dressed in a see-through nightgown that left little to the imagination, stood unabashedly before him, dabbing what appeared to be ketchup from her lips with a napkin. "Why, Mike, what brings you here this morning?"
"M-Miss Sims." He stuttered and immediately averted his eyes, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Do you greet all your guests in this manner?"
Sims looked down at her state of undress and smiled seductively. "It's quite the conversation starter, don't you think, Mike?"
He averted his eyes toward the arch of the doorframe. "You'll address me as Agent Stefon."
"Oh, so business-like. Fine. Fine. Have it your way." Her voice carried an odd, almost musical quality. "You caught me finishing breakfast, but I've yet to have dessert. Why don't you come in?"
"Shouldn't you put on something more decent first?"
"I promise, I will. Please, just come in. My food's getting cold." There was something compelling in her voice that made it difficult to refuse.
Sighing and keeping his gaze fixed away from her, he stepped past her and entered the room, the scent of copper and something else—something foul—hitting his nostrils. With her behind him, he scanned the room, and as his eyes panned around it, he caught sight of what was on the bed.
"What in the hell!?" He shouted, his voice cracking with shock. Lying in a pool of fresh, congealing blood was the body of a woman; her head was gone, as was most of the right side of her torso. Entrails draped over the side of the bed like grotesque party streamers, soaked in blood that dripped slowly from them to form sticky puddles on the carpet. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the stench of death filled the air, making his stomach lurch violently.
"She wasn't the most gourmet meal I've ever had." Sims's voice blended into something darker and more sinister, and he spun around in shock to see Rygen, in all his hellhound glory, settling down from his bipedal human form into a more comfortable, predatory stance. His massive frame filled the doorway, blocking any chance of escape. "So, I really hope you'll be a tastier dessert."
Stefon never had a chance to process what was happening as Rygen pounced with inhuman speed. With a swipe of his massive claws, the hellhound tore open the agent's stomach, spilling his intestines and bowels onto the tacky hotel carpet in a steaming heap. Stefon's lips moved, trying to form words or screams, but no sound came out.
Securing his claws on the man's shoulders to keep him from falling, Rygen held him steady. Tilting his head slightly, the beast offered the dying man a melancholy smile, "Oh, and Bible sends his regrets. He's going to have a hell of a time replacing you."
Then, Rygen clamped his massive jaws over Stefon's face and squeezed with bone-crushing force. Brain matter and skull fragments burst into the demon's giant maw like a ripe melon exploding under pressure.
Rygen relished the delicious taste of the FBI agent, savoring the mix of fear and flesh, and for the moment, he didn't care that he was bound to Samedi. Humans were quite delicious indeed.