Hellfire Drop (Brimstone Cycle Book 2)(16)
Using his hands to vault over the window frame, he launches himself into the air, then lands, knees first, onto the back of the woman. She lets out a grunt, hits the ground, and tumbles across the ground until she slams into a wall. Her weapon knocked out of her hand in the process. It clatters to the ground and spins away from her, towards me.
I look down at the revolver, feeling something, elation maybe, leap in my chest. For hours I’ve been helpless. Not just outgunned, but completely disarmed, useless. With a weapon, I could at least try to defend myself.
I’m not facing some carjacker though. This thing is a devil, and the people it’s attacking are trained killers. Against that, a lone gun would be nearly useless to me.
Nearly, isn’t the same thing as wholly, though, so I bend down, quietly to grab the revolver anyway.
The fight is almost over by the time I get the weapon in my hands. Three Letter Agency is flat on her back, grappling one handed at insane speed. She struggles hard, and uses joint locks and ground fighting that looks custom made to break bones and maim.
The devil for the most part, just ignores her attempts to cause pain, even when his own wrist gets snapped in the fight. He’s single minded, trying nothing more than to reach both of his hands down and wrap them around the woman’s neck.
“Tom, please don’t do this.” she gasps while sliding from one joint lock to the next. “We’re your family.”
For a moment, I could have sworn that her pleas for mercy worked. The devil wearing Tom goes still for a moment, ceasing his attempts to crush the woman’s neck. He leans back from the woman and tilts his head to the side.
I can see his expression in the glare from the light still aimed at the window. There’s a look on his face. Excitement, but on a level far above anything that I’ve seen before. Reckless as a frat boy on the Las Vegas Strip and as unabashed as a child licking away melted ice cream. In that moment, I catch a glimpse of the depths of his cruelty. He’s enjoying this, the kill. More than anything I’ve ever seen.
“Tom. Isn’t. Here.” he says. “I am, because of the woman you so rudely kidnapped. She took your friend Tom to my hometown, and once there, he gave his body to me. It’s a vacation for me. But it does get lonely.”
I see the woman shift a little under the devil, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I have other friends downstairs who would love to meet you. Love to visit up here. And with the little imp’s help, I can arrange the meeting.” The devil wearing Tom flicks his eyes over to me. “So how about it? How badly do you want to keep breathing?”
Truth be told, I can’t tell if he’s honestly speaking to the woman, or me.
There’s a silence for a bit, but it ends when the woman beneath the devil lets out a shout. It’s sharp, but not one of terror. More like one of those yells sometimes heard while passing close to a Karate dojo. She moves her hips sharply and does something else with her legs as she screams, and the next thing I know, the devil wearing Tom is again flying through the air.
He slams into the nearby window frame, hitting hard enough to dent the edge of the awning, before bouncing off and falling to the ground.
Not that that phases him. I watch dumbstruck as the devil is back on his feet in the time it takes me to blink.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The woman is smart, though, and isn’t waiting for him to recover. Instead, she’s running, brushing past me, and pausing only to dip down and grab up her shotgun with one hand before disappearing into the night.
Jesus fucking shit. Why the Hell aren’t I running? This whole time I’d been standing here instead of booking it as fast as I could in the opposite direction from these people. I’ve got a gun now and haven’t even had the slightest impulse to aim it. Why had I just stood here? Why hadn’t I done something?
The answer comes to me in the form of an emotion that now fills my belly. An emotion that grows stronger as I listen to the sound of Three Letter Agency’s panicked flight away.
Satisfaction. Ugly, vindictive, thoroughly enjoyable satisfaction.
I’d never considered myself to be a bad person, even after making my first deal with Ole Beeze. I’d done bad things to be sure, but in a world as ugly as the one that I’ve seen, bad things were often the only way to survive, let alone thrive.
I’m not a good person, though. Not when it comes down to the wire. From the moment I’d seen that devil wearing Tom lying outside of the window, I’d known that he’d come for the assholes who took me from the diner.
I hadn’t run because these mercenaries had hurt me, and I wanted to see them bleed.
The devil turns to face me, looking disappointed.
“That is certainly vexing.” He sighs. “I’ve been downstairs for too long. Thoroughly off my game.”
He inhales deep as if bracing himself, then turns back towards the driver, who’d used the chaos earlier to crawl away from the window.
“No use worrying about it, though.” he says. “After all, I still have something left to play with.”
His eyes have a particular look to them. Predatory, like a cat playing with its food, intent on stretching out the misery. He takes his time with the driver, and for a while I try not to look away. There are limits, though. Not for the devil, but definitely for me.
I walk outside of the abandoned building to the two vehicles outside. One of them is the van, parked near the side of the industrial building. The other car is a newer model Honda Civic Coupe. The vehicle’s bumper is dented, but it’s not otherwise much worse for the wear. An hour passes before I’m joined by the devil wearing Tom. He looks horrible. Every inch of his skin is stained a deep shade of red.