I Hear Voices(29)

I paused at the door marked office and pulled out my lock pick. A simple twist and I was inside.

A badly stained puke green couch was pushed up against a battered desk. The walls were covered with photos of people in explicit sexual poses. I

twisted my head and examined one picture closer.

Whoa! Was that even possible? She had to be double jointed.

A cold prickling ran up my spine. Shadows danced around the room and I felt them. Something ancient, something tainted with evil. Ghostly voices whispered in my head, Take us. I turned.

A neon sign cast a red glow over ancient dust covered stucco warriors. All but one was a guardian of the underworld. Touch a guardian and death would soon follow. It was the perfect trap for those foolish enough to hunt for Montezuma’s gold.

Horror curled into me like a living thing. My God, if I hadn’t put Derek to sleep, he’d be dead now. In that terrible moment, I knew I couldn’t live without him. He was the other half of my soul.

Sucking in a calming breath, I walked over to the glass case and studied the warriors. I could sense the presence of death. It reached out with skeletal fingers, luring the unwary with promises of eternal life and great wealth. But the price was your soul.

Opening the case, I carefully plucked a stubby little warrior holding a shield from the case and tucked it in my bag.

A flutter of movement, a whisper of sound spun me around.

An elderly man with yellowing parchment skin and wearing a molting black wig watched me closely. The Best Whore House in Vegas was embroidered on his ratty, blue silk robe.

Where in the hell had he come from?

He held open his robe, exposing a skeletal body covered in open sores. “Like what you see?”

“Omigod! That’s… I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The old guy touched himself with pride. “I’ve got the biggest cock in Nevada.”

I grimaced. The old guy’s penis reminded me of a shriveled up, diseased carrot. “Really? You must be so proud.”

He laughed, exposing rotting teeth. “I’ll give you a ride, you’ll never forget.”

“Oh… my…um… I think I’ll have to pass.”

“Playing hard to get, huh?”

“The dolt thinks he’s Hugh Hefner and this is his playboy mansion,” Granny commented in my head.

“Really? He’s that delusional?”

“The fool touched the warriors and he believes their illusions.”

“Shit! A dead man walking.” I edged around the couch. “I’ll just be going.”

“Not without a kiss.”

I flinched backwards. Hugh’s breath smelled like he had been licking someone’s nasty butt.

“No!”

“C’mon baby, just one little kiss.” He licked his cracked and bleeding lips. “I can tongue fuck with the best of them.”

My stomach roiled in disgust. “I’m afraid I have to turn down your generous offer.” I darted for the door.

The old guy got there first.

What was he? Speedy Gonzales?

A red glow bled into his eyes. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

Yee-flippin’-haw, the demon wanted to come out and play. “Okay, one kiss.” I moved forward, jammed my stun gun into his chest and pulled the trigger.

The demon’s shrieks shattered all the glass in the office as it convulsed on the floor.

Yanking the door open, I sprinted down the hallway, burst out the back door and crashed into a mountain of a man.

“Gotcha, little girl,” the mountain rumbled as his massive hand closed around my left arm.

“Beg to differ.” I pressed the stun gun against groin and lit him up.

He bellowed like a stuck pig and dropped to his knees.

“You bitch,” another furious voice spat.

Great, he had a partner.

Granny commanded. “Duck!”

Instinctively I obeyed and a fist missed my head by a scant inch.

BOOM! The back door disintegrated.

I hit the deck.

The old guy stepped out of the doorway and chambered another round into his shotgun. “I want

my kiss,” he shrieked and fired again. The kick knocked him on his ass and the birdshot hit the mountain’s partner in the shoulder.

Cursing a blue streak, the guy drew his Glock and opened fire.

I dove behind a smelly dumpster as they exchanged gunfire. Bullets pinged off the metal.

Holy hell! I was a shit magnet.

Gangster Paradise echoed in my bag. I pulled it out and whispered, “Help!”

Derek snapped, “Where are you?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Zelda,” he growled in warning.

“Alley behind The Best Whore House.”

Another volley of bullets slammed into the dumpster and I cringed in terror.

“Is that gunfire?”

“Un-huh, could you hurry?”

“You’re not going to be able to sit down for a week,” Derek snarled and disconnected.

“Police! Drop your guns.”

Oh thank God!

“Drop it! Now,” a cop yelled.

“I want my kiss,” the old guy yelled and his shotgun boomed again.

A wild barrage of gunfire erupted in the alley.

That demon seemed real determined to kill his host.

A tomb-like silence fell.

In the distance, sirens began to wail.

I risked a peek around the dumpster.

The old guy lay unmoving in a pool of blood.

Guess he was joining Pirate John and Peg Leg Pete in hell.

My simple little mission had turned into a major cluster fuck.

To make it a complete FUBAR or as us civilians like to say, ‘fucked up beyond all recognition;’ the stupid bounty hunters had taken refuge behind an old piece of crap Plymouth.

“Toss your weapons out and put your hands over your head,” the cop commanded.

The bounty hunters responded with a hail of lead.

Testosterone raised its ugly head once again.

Did they want a one way trip to hell, too?

Shit! I flinched as bullets zinged crazily around me. The dumpster was rapidly turning into a sieve.

I had to get out of here.

Granny materialized next to me. “Wherever you go, disaster soon follows.”

I did a double take on her hooker outfit and hissed, “Can we save the lecture for later?

“I will distract them and you run as fast as you can.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She vanished and a second later, I heard a thunderous roar.

The gunfire stopped abruptly.

In my mind, I saw Asmoday’s double standing in the alley, his teeth bared in a menacing snarl.

A voice cried, “Holy Mother of God, what is that!”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Kill it,” another man shouted.

“Run,” Granny Annabel ordered.

“Color me gone.” I ran and thirty seconds later, all hell broke loose. Bullets whizzed past my head and I hit the deck.

My grandmother hissed, “Go!”

“I’m going. I’m going.” On my hands and knees, I crawled down the alley, wishing I had some body armor.

Two big, booted feet stepped in front of me.

My luck was truly phenomenal. I stared up at a tall, tattoo covered goon looming over me. Geeze, his face looked like a pin cushion with all those icky piercings. How did he shave or blow his nose?

The goon grinned, exposing gold teeth. “Well, lookie what we’ve got here.”

A second thug, wearing a purple Mohawk, stepped out of the inky darkness. “Looks like we hit the jackpot.”

Lucky me.

The goon yanked me to my feet and clamped a pair of handcuffs on. “Your aunt is right eager to get her hands on you.”

“I just bet she is.” Wonder if she had warned him about me being an escape artist?

They dragged me down the alley without searching me or my bag.

Idiots like these made my job so much easier.

Popping the cuffs off, I wrapped them around my knuckles, spun and punched the goon square in the nose.

“You fucking bitch!” He swung at me.

I ducked and the goon hit his partner right in the kisser. Mohawk’s head snapped back and down he went.

“I’m gonna beat you senseless,” the goon bellowed, lunging for me.

Side-stepping his lunge, I stuck my foot out and tripped him. Before he could get up, I zapped him with my stun gun.

Blood running down his face, Mohawk jumped to his feet and pulled out a big Bowie knife. “I’m gonna gut ya.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The cavalry had arrived in the nick of time. “No. You won’t. Cuz if you take one step towards me with that toad sticker, my husband will kill you.”

Mohawk’s eyes bugged out as Derek, Ed and Fabian materialized out of the darkness. Each man had a menacing expression on their faces and a silenced Glock pistol pointed at his heart.

With an audible gulp, Mohawk dropped his knife and held his hands up. “Don’t shoot! I give up.”

Smart guy. You never bring a knife to a gun fight.

Derek stepped in front of me. “No one touches my wife.” He rammed a balled fist into Mohawk’s stomach.

The air ooofed out of him and he doubled over.

My husband finished him off with a karate chop to the back of his neck. “No one.”

I took a wary step back when Derek turned around. He had on his scary face. Not being a complete moron, I quickly babbled, “I promise, cross my heart and hope to die; I’ll never, ever tranquilize you again. But, if I hadn’t you’d be dead now. The stucco warriors were cursed.”

He cocked a disbelieving brow and held out his hand for my tranq ring. “Cursed?”

Granny Annabel materialized next to me. “She speaks the truth.”