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  Hot Blooded

  D.V. Wolfe

  Lightning Strike Press

  Copyright © 2020 D.V. Wolfe

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Lightning Strike Press

  Printed in the United States of America

  For Jimbo and Glenn, who rode shotgun on this crazy train.

  “The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.”

  - Bob Marley

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  Books In This Series

  JOIN THE HUNT!

  Acknowledgment

  About The Author

  1

  “What is that monstrosity?” Noah asked, staring down at the neon pink fabric on the table in front of me.

  “Shhh,” I said. “It’s the new fanny pack from Rosetta.”

  “Is she punishing you?” Noah asked, with a grin.

  “Well if you don’t want it, I’ll just take it back,” Rosetta huffed, coming into the kitchen. “I don’t want it to end up destroyed like the last one I gave you.”

  I snatched the thing off the table and held it to me. Rosetta reached out to take it and I moved away from her. “No, I’ll take it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” Rosetta sneered.

  I could kind of see Noah’s point about the color. It was an eye-watering, bordering on blinding, shade of pink. For most people, the thought of their crotch making people go blind might be off-putting. Me? I was more than ok with it. And I had to admit, fanny packs were the shit when it came to ammo storage. Rosetta was still giving me the I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it look as I held the fanny pack to my chest, so I pulled it around me and snapped it on.

  “See?” I said, turning on the spot in front of her. “I love it. I’ll never take it off. You’ll have to bury me in it.” I paused, hoping Rosetta wouldn’t react to that last line. It was almost July. Just about four months left before burying me would be an actual conversation that would have to take place. I turned again just so I wouldn’t see the look of pity on her face and I felt something shift in the zippered pouch. I reached down and pulled the zipper across. It snagged on the neon fabric and I started struggling with it.

  Rosetta let out a labored sigh. “Here, I’ll help you.”

  “I’ve got it,” I protested, tugging on the zipper. Rosetta smacked my hands away.

  “You’re making it worse. Just hold still. I swear you’re like a garbage bag full of raccoons. Just let me do it.” She tugged and the fabric came out of the zipper.

  “What’s in here?” I asked, pulling the pouch wide.

  “More pills,” Rosetta said as I pulled the bottle out to look at it. “I knew you had to be getting low after...Triton.” I didn’t meet Rosetta’s gaze.

  “Yeah, I’m up to two a day.”

  I expected Rosetta to rant about me using the pills as a crutch and that I was taking them too fast, relying on them too much to make it through the day. I waited. No rant came.

  “I’ll start working on another batch today,” Rosetta said. “I’ll just keep making them, just in case…” She trailed off, but I heard her. Time was getting shorter. The one-way trip downstairs was rapidly approaching. Of course, the visions were getting worse. I almost wished Rosetta had yelled at me for taking too many. It would have been better than her quiet understanding and the offer of more pills. I was like a terminal patient, moving towards the end. And Rosetta’s tone was, ‘whatever keeps you comfortable’.

  “Thanks, Rosetta,” I croaked, looking down at the pill bottle. I owed her. If it wasn’t for her pills, the visions of all the souls that were depending on me would be surrounding me, day and night, in bed, in the can, while we ate. They would charge at me, scream in my face, and cry as they burned alive. Just like that night so many years ago. I looked up to see Rosetta watching me, unshed tears in her eyes. The pity was back. I cleared my throat and looked away. I squeezed the pill bottle tighter in my hand. It had been almost ten days since Noah and I had staggered back to Rosetta’s after that night from hell in the warehouse in Triton. The night when I’d lost Nya.

  “Bane, I…” Rosetta started to say. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear anyone else tell me they were sorry. I was sorry. She’d died because of me. Not that remembering that fact helped anything at the moment. Revenge. Avenging. Take one of each and call the doc in the morning. That was what I needed now. Tags and Stacks had left the day before, back for Indiana after Rosetta and Tags had had one of their visit-ending fights. Rosetta and Tags loved the shit out of each other, but they were both fiercely independent and had a habit of poking each other in their sore spots. Despite the loud shouting, the fight had actually been a much-needed dose of normal. It was time to get back on the hunt.

  “I like that it’s dual-purpose,” Noah said, moving around Rosetta to look at the pack. “Ammo storage and a new kind of chastity belt?”

  I started to laugh, but Rosetta stamped her foot and I quieted down. She glared at us. “Pair of comedians, aren’t you.” She held out her hand to me. “Well, I can just take it back. Good luck fitting all your shells in the holey pockets of your jeans. I hope you sit on one and…”

  I held up a hand to stop her. “Ok, ok. I’m sorry Rosetta. I love the fanny pack and I love the pills.” I paused and studied Rosetta’s cranky expression with her nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge. “And I love your expression right now.” I glanced over at Noah who was putting on his orange backpack and still watching us. “But we have to hit the road.”

  Her expression changed to worry. “At least stay until dinner tonight. You two have barely eaten…”

  “Rosetta,” I said, gently. “You’ve fed us somewhere between five and six meals a day for the last nine and a half days.”

  “Seven meals a day,” Noah said quietly.

  I nodded at him and turned back to her. “Seven. We’ve gained the collective weight of a toddler since we got here. We’re well fed. And we need to get back to hunting,” I said.

  “But what about everything that happened,” Rosetta said. “You still haven’t really dealt…”

  “I’m fine,” I said to her. It was a lie, but I was more “fine” now than I had been when we’d arrived. Between Gabe’s constant reminder to “don’t think, just do” for the first day and a half, and Rosetta, Noah, and Tags just being present, I’d made it through. That had helped keep me steady, but what was really lighting a fire under my ass was the resolve I had to find Berith and run him through with the sword. He was the puppet master behind Ornias’ strings and behind how many other demons? I’d been keeping this plan to myself until I had more to go on, but it had become how I was able to sleep at night, how I was able to dam the river in my head and make it across. And the first step of the plan was to get back out there and start looking for some hell to raise
. I met Rosetta’s gaze and patted her on the arm. Before she could protest or say anything else, I moved past her and over to where my black duffle bag sat on her kitchen floor, the sword laying on top of it.

  “You’re not fine,” Rosetta muttered. “You’re about to take off after a Duke of Hell, armed with a sword.”

  “And a fanny pack,” Noah muttered. Rosetta glared at him and he coughed into his hand. I picked up the duffle bag, making sure the sword was cradled between the handles and then I turned to look back at her.

  “Well, say a prayer for any demon roadkill that has the misfortune of stepping out in front of us.”

  Rosetta snorted. “Skidmark those s.o.bs.”

  She followed us out to Lucy and stood by the gate to her backyard while we loaded up.

  “Oh shoot, hang on,” Rosetta said. She turned and hurried back into her yard. Noah and I shrugged at each other. “Here!” Rosetta huffed, coming back out of the gate, holding an old mayonnaise jar.

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Condiments? For safety?”

  Rosetta sighed. “It’s a good thing the kid is with you. At least there’s one brain rolling around in this rust bucket.” She held the jar out to me. “It’s the Solomon’s Spice leftovers from when we made the stakes in St. Louis. Taggert left it here. I don’t know how useful it will be without more cypress, but if you get in a pinch…”

  “I can rub it in the demon's faces like a playground bully?” I asked.

  Rosetta shrugged. “I was going to suggest poisoning the bastards, but I kind of like the ‘rubbing it in their faces like a dog dropping a turd on the carpet’ route.”

  I grinned at her and popped the toolbox in Lucy’s bed. I paused when the lid swung up and I was confronted with Nya’s bags. I took a couple of steadying breaths, wedged the mayo jar in, and closed the lid. I slid the sword under the seat of the cab and watched Noah give up on fitting his backpack in on the passenger side of the toolbox. He threw it onto the seat of the cab and headed back over to Rosetta.

  “Thanks for everything, Rosetta,” Noah said. She gave him a hard squeeze and said something low in his ear. He pulled back from her and looked her in the eyes. He nodded and she grinned. She tweaked his nose and he moved back over to Lucy.

  “My turn?” I asked, looking at Rosetta. “Do I get a super-secret message too?”

  Rosetta pulled me into a hug. “Don’t drive like your hair's on fire. Don’t hunt like you’re killing snakes and don’t forget to clean your guns at night,” Rosetta said.

  I pulled back from her. “Those aren’t secrets.”

  “Neither is the fact that you’re not going to remember to do any of those things,” Rosetta grumbled.

  With one more tight squeeze that lasted a lot longer than we usually hugged, Rosetta turned me loose and I headed back to the driver’s side.

  “Good hunting, you two,” Rosetta said as we climbed into the cab and rolled the windows down. “And don’t blame me if you make it two hours down the road and your stomachs start grumbling. Remember that I tried to feed you!”

  We waved and backed out into the alley. When we stopped at the end of the block, Noah turned to look at me. “So where are we headed now?”

  I reached for the radio knob. “Wherever the wind takes us?”

  “You mean wherever an old guy living in a radio station in Nebraska tells us to go based on the hallucinations he’s seeing?”

  “Visions,” I said. “And exactly. Wherever the wind and Walter takes us.”

  “I guess it sounds more poetic and less pathetic when you say it that way,” Noah muttered.

  I turned up the volume on the radio to drown Noah out. The last chords of a Foreigner song were fading away and I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter when I heard Walter’s old-man-throat-clearing noise.

  “It’s fifteen past the hour and it’s time for the weather report. Thunderstorms are expected tonight in northern Mississippi with high winds and the chance of flooding. Buckle up if you’re heading into that area.”

  “Oh that sounds good,” I said. Noah groaned beside me.

  “Also, there is a three-county tornado warning in effect for eastern South Dakota through tonight. Citizens have been encouraged to seek cover and wait for the all-clear.”

  “Oh, or that,” I said.

  “You’re like a kid in a 'shit store',” Noah said. “There are just too many choices of what we could step in.” I raised an eyebrow at him. But Walter wasn’t done.

  “There are also some heavy winds moving across Columbus, so if you’re planning an outside excursion, make sure and hold onto your hats!”

  I frowned at the radio. “That sounds a little puny.”

  “Oh! I choose that one!” Noah said.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Noah, we’re looking for demons. That sounds like it might be a possessed guinea pig. No, we’re going for South Dakota or Mississippi.”

  Noah groaned again, but I ignored him and picked up my cell phone. I flipped it open and hit the six on speed dial. I waited for it to ring, but I just got a busy signal. I frowned at Noah. “Huh, Walter’s line is busy.”

  “Maybe he discovered dial-up internet,” Noah chuckled. I remembered Andi once explaining to me about how the internet used to use a phone line about twenty years before I came back topside.

  “He better not have,” I grumbled. If I had to drive all the way to Nebraska to get information on a hunt, I’d do it, but I’d guarantee that Walter wouldn’t want to see me after that drive. I waited another couple of minutes and tried again. I’d turned us down some backroads heading west to northbound 64 and traffic was light. It was a Thursday, mid-morning, and none of the cars that passed us seemed to be in much of a hurry. I got the busy signal again and I had to suppress the growl of frustration in my throat. I needed a heading. I needed to move forward, move closer to killing that red-eyed…

  “Uh, Bane, the speed limit is only fifty-five here,” Noah said next to me. “And normally, I wouldn’t complain, but we’re behind a cop car.” I glanced down at the speedometer. I was going almost seventy. I let off the gas as the ass-end of the cop car loomed closer in front of us. Damn it, Walter. I just needed him to answer his freaking phone. I snatched the phone off the seat and dialed again. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding when I heard the phone finally start to ring. I took another deep breath and I heard Walter pick up.

  “Hello?”

  “Walter, oh thank god.”

  “Bane? What’s wrong?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” I said. “Your phone’s been busy.”

  “Yeah,” Walter said. “Lots of calls today about the weather reports.”

  I felt my heart sink a couple of inches in my chest. There was a strict rule amongst hunters. The early hunter gets the case. Whoever’s first to call Walter for details on something in the weather report, gets the hunt. I’d been lucky lately, lucky or stupid, depending on how you looked at it. I’d gotten the first bite at the hunts, either by being the fastest caller or taking the hunts that no one else wanted. But now… “Did someone already call in and take the Mississippi hunt?” I asked, praying he would say no.

  “Oh yeah,” Walter said. “Ruger and Andi were already in Louisiana. They decided to take that one.”

  I took a deep breath. I really didn’t want to step on Ruger’s toes, but Andi and I had history. She might be ok if I came down to lend a hand if it was… “Walter, is it demons?”

  “In Mississippi? No. It’s a banshee.”

  The way he’d said it gave me hope. “So there are demons in South Dakota?”

  “There are?” Walter asked.

  If I hadn’t been driving, I would have put a hand over my face. “Walter, I’m asking. The South Dakota hunt?”