Tim Marquitz - Resurrection

A tingle of dread crept up my spine. It’d only been two months since Asmoday’s plot to bring about Armageddon fell apart and I wasn’t up for act II quite yet. “You think something big is in the works?”

“At this point, I’m not sure. However, no one goes through the effort to raise zombies and send them out to kidnap people without a reason. There has to be something going on. We just don’t know what.” I could tell he wasn’t excited about the prospect of supernatural drama anymore than I was.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Wait for Michael and his clean up crew to finish, then see if they find anything that’ll point us in the right direction. After that, I’ll report to Abraham and get his take on it; standard operating procedure.” He shrugged. “We’ll go from there. Not much else to do.”

Abraham Solano was the top dog of DRAC-Demonic Resistance and Containment. As a psychic of amazing-if temperamental-ability, whose vision foretold of God’s disappearance, it was his mission we were on: to save the world from supernatural threats no longer bound by God’s rule.

Ever since the Big Guy and the Devil, my uncle, packed up and left for parts unknown, DRAC has stood against angels and demons, the undead, and even the living, to keep humanity safe, and for the most part, unaware. It was more than a full time job with lousy benefits. At least I had job security. If I didn’t die, that is.

“Abe will just send us someplace dark and nasty to get our heads ripped off.” I sighed. I might have been exaggerating a little bit, but not by much. Abraham had a knack for putting us in the thick of things. It was on us to find a way out. He was a good guy, but the mission came first. “Well, since there’s nothing left for me here, I’m gonna go home and get some sleep. I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.”

Katon nodded slowly, a glimmer of empathy in his eyes. “I’ll call you when we’ve got something.”

I waved and scampered off to the Impala, the lingering scent of my blue balls still evident. A few seconds later, I was rolling out of the parking lot, the strip club illuminating the rear view mirror. I stared back at the flickering lights and suggestive signage and let loose another sigh.

I was gonna miss the place.

After pulling into my driveway, I sat in the car for a few minutes, just staring off at the dark house. Though I knew it was mine, the way it looked now threw me off. It was so different than how I remembered it.

After my old house had been destroyed by Asmoday’s pet wizard, Henry McConnell-The Gray-I spent a few months living on the couch in Abraham’s office while DRAC rebuilt it. Turns out, as a thank you for my services, they added on to it, all without telling me.

What had been a cozy three bedroom, single-story home with a small garage became a huge two-story, five bedroom house with a pool and a fancy balcony. They even installed a basement, a kind of mystical bomb shelter, I guess in case another wizard came a calling. Given my luck, it would come in handy one day.

As nice as it all was, it felt a little disconcerting. I’d lived in my old house for over eighty years. I’d gotten used to the way it was. I knew every little creak, every tiny nuance of the place. It was home. Now, with all the newfangled conveniences and high-tech gizmos, it felt like I lived in a hotel, minus the benefits of someone changing my sheets daily.

I grumbled as I hauled myself out of the Chevy, slamming the door behind me, the sound echoing down the early morning street. I didn’t bother to lock it. It really didn’t matter if someone stole it. I had, so who was I to judge?

As I strode up the sidewalk, I caught a glimpse of someone standing in the shadows by the awning. Having had my fair share of excitement for the night, I went for my gun.

Someone was gonna get shot.

As my hand settled on the grip and I prepared to loose my senses, I heard a soft voice ring out.

“It’s just me, Frank.”

The instant I heard her, I knew who it was. Veronica: the ex-wife. A caterpillar of disgust crept up my spine.

“Knowing it’s you is supposed to stop me from shooting?” Despite my anger, my hand dropped from my pistol.

She stepped out of the darkness and walked over to me slowly, her tattooed arms out to her sides. The colorful Asian-themed art stood out bright against her pale skin. As usual, she looked great. In less than an instant, I felt the blood rushing to my crotch as memories of our times together sprang to mind unbidden. For all its masturbatory value, I hated thinking about it.

Even more so when I couldn’t masturbate to it.

Dressed in form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt at least two sizes too small, her ample chest stuck out defiantly as she strolled toward me. She wore a two-foot, rune-decorated blade on her belt, to the left, and a long dagger hung off it to the right; new additions to her wardrobe.

Drawn to her hips by the shimmer of the weapons, I watched as they swayed rhythmically, mesmerizing. I tore my gaze from the serpent-like movement and planted it on her face. Her blue eyes swirled under the frame of her wild, black hair, cut just above her shoulders. A hint of a smile flickered on her lips and her button nose scrunched up all cute. She knew what she did to me. She did it on purpose.

I’d seen it all before. And though my crotch would always be at the mercy of her feminine wiles, quite willingly so, there was too much bad blood between us for this to be a pleasant reunion. Her latest betrayal struck me hard, piercing the part of my heart that was still far too human.

“What do you want, Veronica?”

The smile slipped from her lips, no doubt realizing she couldn’t just strut her way back into my good graces. She took a deep breath before she replied, “I hoped we could talk.” Actress that she was, her face melded into the appropriate emotional position to emphasize her words. It only made me madder.

“I’m really not up for it.” I tried to ignore my crotch, which was apparently of a different mind. He was always the rabble-rouser. I turned and headed for the door. “Good night.”

“Come on, Frank. It’s not like I had a choice.”

I spun on her. “That’s exactly what you had! You’re free now, just like the rest of us. You’ve nothing but choices.”

She fidgeted, her hands rubbing across her thighs as though she were trying to smooth something away. “Baalth has a contract on me. It’s how I escaped Hell.” There was a hint of accusation in her voice, seeing how it was me who sent her there in the first place.

I shook my head. We’d been over this before. My exiling her to Hell after she cheated on me was old news. She wouldn’t get any sympathy here.

She must have realized that, letting it go. “Baalth had me follow you. He knew you’d distract Asmoday long enough so he could sneak in and steal the angel out from under him.”

I felt my face light up. “You think I’m mad about that?” I growled, pacing back and forth to keep from exploding. “Baalth is a demon lieutenant, one of my uncle’s old guard and one of the first among the Fallen. I expect him to screw me. It’s what he does. Quite well, and often I might add, all without so much as an attempt at a kiss. I don’t give a damn about that. It’s all business, same shit everyday.” She looked at me with blank eyes. She had no clue. That hurt almost as bad as what she’d done. “You stole my uncle’s blood.”

Her face dropped. She’d gotten it at last.

“I rescued you from the dread fiends, healed you, and you repay me by stealing the only thing I have left of my uncle, the man who was more than a father to me? What kind of low-life, scumbag does something like that? Oh yeah, a succubus ex-wife who can’t see beyond her own tits to care about anything besides herself. That’s who.” I poked a finger at her, jabbing her in the shoulder.