Bruises, Breakfast, and Bad Guys.

As the final of the supernatural flames finally went out, and my entire basement went pitch black as the lightbulb above me exploded, I stood there staring, thousands of things where flowing through my mind. "What was that?" "What is a Nephilim?" "Why am I so goddamn sore?"

That last bit really lingered on my mind, I wasn't just sore outside, I felt like someone who never exerted themselves a day in their lives, and just lifted three-hundred pounds through adrenaline alone.

It was a similar feeling to muscle strain, or maybe even a popped tendon, but deep inside, like the feeling you get from a sudden flood of sad emotions, that shock to the system, but throbbing and constant as opposed to sudden and painful. It felt like my soul hurt, like I had hurt something deep inside and I couldn't feel much beyond just that pain.

Barely standing, I stood there, in the pitch blackness, continuing to contemplate, until I was suddenly slammed against the wall by a pair of bright amber eyes glowing in the black. The sound of lavender and honey, and the smell of Grizzly wintergreen hung on the air. I heard some shouting and then mumbling, followed by another, more panicked, shout before I fell into blackness.

When I came to, I had the foul scent of Ammonia under my nose, slamming me into sudden consciousness, I nearly threw myself out of bed were it not for the iron strong crimson hand placed against my chest. "Rodney, calm down, It's me, its Lass."

I realized then two things, number one, Lass had gotten into my med kit, and found my smelling salts, the stink of which still hung on the air. And number two, he had moved me into my bedroom...

"I cleaned up a bit, figured I would let you rest a little, its been about four hours." Lascivious said as I slowly came to a clearer mind. "When I couldn't wake you back up I freaked out. Guess you must have just been really tired."
Lascivious suddenly held out a tray in front of me. "Here, you didn't have breakfast, your coffee is shitty by the way."

I looked, baffled, down at a tray, that I was certain I didn't own, a bowl with some kind of thick yellowish substance that smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg, a cup of coffee steaming next to the bowl, and a couple pieces of bacon lying, slightly singed, on the other side of it. The tray was decorative, had little kittens etched into it, and was very clearly silver.

"I would have made some eggs, but I don't know how you like them." Lass said. "Lascivious, if I didn't know any better..." My voice was rough, like sandpaper "I would think you were trying to seduce me."

"If you could only be so lucky." Lass replied with a chuckle, a real genuine chuckle, one even he seemed surprised by. "I didn't complete my contract, and while I could have gone back to hell when you fell unconscious, I figured as part of my debt I would make sure you were okay. So this was a freebie."

"What happened anyway?" I asked, looking down dubiously at the yellowish goo in my bowl.

"Hush, eat first, drink first, then we can talk about the awful existences we both have. For now, pretend you are Batman and I am your Pennywise." He gave me a sly wink and proceeded, in a much more oxford accent than his usual voice "Eat well master Bruce, its gruel, it tastes better than it looks."

With that, the pirate romance novel looking demon left my bedroom.

"Since when is a demon supposed to be caring?" I muttered, while I looked down again at the gruel. I took a spoonful, made a wry face, and put some of the almost-paste looking substance in my mouth. It was... good, really good. It was kind of like oatmeal but with a grainy texture, thinner and smoother, like if oatmeal was pudding, and the flavors of cinnamon, sugar, clove and nutmeg were perfectly balanced.

I didn't know Lass could cook, and I sure as shit didn't know he was even capable of being... Caring.
Was this like... a hobby? Demons watch Food Network down there or something? This shit was good.

As I cleaned up the bowl, wolfing down the bacon and washed it down with the coffee, I felt that pulled muscle deep inside ease up a little, just a hair, and reached over for the medkit. I took a prescription strength Tylenol and Ibuprofen, washed it down with the last of my coffee, and slowly felt the tingling numbness of the last few days start to wear away. The soreness deep in my soul was still there though, and it was like dull heartache as I slowly trudged down to my kitchen, tray in hand, to see the entire place fucking spotless.

The surprise of seeing a spotless kitchen was one thing, but seeing Lascivious, almighty Demon of the 0th layer, pencil pusher of the deepest hells, wearing a maid outfit and fucking dusting really got me.

I laughed for a good full minute, that soreness deep inside seeming to mend as I did so. Lass looked annoyed at me as he snapped his fingers and changed back into his usual attire. "What's wrong Lass? Thought you were keeping up the whole Pennywise thing?" I laughed again "I think you mighta gotten mixed up along the way but I like the spirit!" I struggled to breathe.

"Are you quite finished?" Lass was tapping his foot on the kitchen floor "It's comfortable." He said as he walked over to me, still doubled over with chuckles, and slapped me in the face.
"There. That's better." He said as he walked back over to the coffee machine, grabbing my tray as he went. He dumped the dishes in the sink, save my cup, poured us both one, and set them on my table, next to the corkboard I had set up the evening before.

"Right." He said, gesturing for me to sit. "Why the hell did you call me into an open circle? I thought you were some random nobody trying to score some points with some bitch they fancied."

Rubbing my face, I sat down. "Yeah, about that, why didn't you tell me your boss was a crazy bitch?"

"You first."

"Fine." I explained to him what happened in the basement, how she blew out all the candles and how the flames still hung there, what she called me, and the deal I struck with her.

"Fuck." Lass said "Damn it all to hell! I have to tell her all the truth? I have to tell her I just babysat you? I have to tell her about the maid outfit?!?"
I held back the guffaw, failing a little, "Not really, you just have to tell her the truth, whatever you tell her."

I frowned at the corkboard.

"Lass, what's a Nephilim?" "Older than I am is what it is. The Nephilim were the offspring of angels and humans."
"They can do that?" "Not anymore, the Almighty prefers to ensure loyalty from his soldiers nowadays, neuters their minds to make them perfect vessels of His will. Only the Seraphim and Cherubim still have any real personality. Folks like the Death angel you fancy fall in those circles."

"I'm the child of an angel?" "No, dumbshit, you are not. You are about as far from the first Watchers as I am from Lucifer. But you apparently have some blood in your family somewhere, that's probably why you can do this stuff. See me even when I am invisible, punch demons in the face, talk directly to angels... Your grandad couldn't do what you said you did though."

"So your circle fell, and then she pulled me through right after... Bitch probably blew the lightbulb as she went."
"What is her name?"
"Folks call her Fortuna."

"I mean her Name Lass." "What, so you can get yourself killed? This is a weird way to commit suicide Rodney." "No dumbshit." I said, stealing Lassies line "I need it to get her to go away."

"I don't know it." Lass replied, holding up a finger as I was about to protest "I would tell you if I knew, but I don't."

"Alright... Fine. Lets get to the Elephant in the room..."
"Right, yes, the serial killer board." Lass turned toward it. "No, where the fuck did you learn to cook?"

Lass looked at me, surprised, then gave me some kind of half-opened mouth which I figured was a smile, you could see all his teeth neatly fit together in his round mouth. "If you would believe it, I used to work for a chef back in Italy, probably around the year of your-lord 1322. Disguised myself as some kind of vegetable Genie, way back when I used to be a Deceit demon, still pretty high in the ranks. Managed to get his soul when he was lynched for witchcraft. Good times really, can't do any modern shit though. anything past the 1300's is a mystery to me, haven't been in a kitchen since. But seriously Rodney, the corkboard."

"Yeah yeah, the Corkboard."

I explained what it was that I knew, what I had seen, and what happened to Stacy. He proceeded to explain to me what happened when he showed up right before the murder happened.

"He just expelled you right then and there? No latin or nothing?" "No, that's the wild part, just told me to leave, he did grab me by the face, I think he had a stave rune on his hand... Did I mention he was sexy?"

I rolled my eyes.

"You think these guys are actual wizards?" "Rodney, please, you can't just call whatever magic happens to cross your path wizardry or sorcery. This is more like when a catholic priest tells someone to get up and walk." I stared blankly "The pantheons don't exist." "Ohh yes they do, have existed since the Titans. Sure most of them are remarkably weak nowadays, and I might have been a false god, but I still keep tabs on my old colleagues, Quetzalcoatl is really into baseball now you know. We might not all be bloodshed and murder anymore Rodney, but the Gods exist. Otherwise what would God have to be jealous of?"

"Lass, remind me to call you up for a beer or something sometime, maybe find you someone to possess so I can go out somewhere. I'm getting really sick of all these things I was not aware of, a conversation about something not work might be good."

"Sorry, I still have trouble separating the two of you, the whole immortality thing makes it difficult. Your grandad knew. He even watched a game with Quetzal."

I stared blankly again, this was becoming a bit of a theme. "So, the gods exist, and this guy is a cleric of one of them, probably Odin." "Yes, most likely." "Is Odin a racist?" "No, not really, he is a dick, and a trickster, but not a racist. He would probably still help the blonde guy out if it benefits him."
I added that to the board, along with adding our three Russians and a blonde guy as my little circle of Wotanists.

"Can you still track them?" I asked "Like a bloodhound, the loss still hangs on that man like a death-shroud, I can smell it on him. Ripe for someone to take advantage of the hole in his heart and turn him to casual sex and pointless revelry."
"Lass, are we the bad guys?" "We are hunting pagan uber-racists that have turned a largely innocent religion into a hate-group and you are asking me that?"
"Like... That guy lost his girl, probably because of me, he could one day have turned a new leaf, maybe walked away from all that, and we are talking about tracking him down to hunt his boss..."

"Listen, Rodney, take it from a demon who has been around the block a few million times. If you linger on the could-haves and the what-if's of everything, you are going to go completely insane. I try to be, not so much good, but honorable in my demon-ing. I refuse to take an easy soul, I don't mess with kids or families anymore, I haven't done anything easy since meeting your grandfather, but if I started asking myself if the souls I get from my coworkers could have been saved, I would have gone mad ages ago."

He put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat "Trust me, if we take a soul, it was too far gone in the first place. We want monsters remember? These guys are being monsters right now. Whether or not they will remain monsters in thirty years? I don't want to find that one out do you?"

Before I could reply, my phone started ringing.

I rushed over to the wireless landline, and picked it up before Lass could stand. "Rodney." I said into the receiver.

"Rodney, calling to check in. First off, congratulations on being the newest consultant of the SPPD, you have a bunch of paperwork over here you still have to sign before its proper official, but you aren't a suspect anymore, boss thinks I hired you under his nose."

"Thanks Charlie, how is the investigation coming along?"

"We suspect a few murderers, with ties to pagan groups, what do you have?"

"They are Wotanists, white supremacist pagans basically."

"But our victim was white?"

I explained what I knew, and we compared notes. Unfortunately it looked like the police were in a similar boat to mine.

"Any word on the street? Movements at all?" I asked "Nothing, they must have gone to ground, laying low for now. We are keeping an eye out though. Oh and, don't let any newsies know about this, or we are both in deep shit."

"Got it Charlie, thanks, I will make some time to sign those papers soon, I got a lead right now I am going to try to follow..."

"Need backup?"

"Nah, I got a Jamaican getaway driver and a demon of flirtation with me, we should be fine."

"Alright, you know what number to call if you need help." Charlie sighed "If you would just get a cellphone this would be a lot easier."

"Cellphones take too much of my attention, I wouldn't get anything done. Thanks for everything Charlie, be seeing ya." I hung up the call.

"Alright Lass, ready to fight a few assholes?"

"Born ready, finally some action."

I called up Levon.

A few minutes later, the cab driver showed up, and I asked "Hey Levon, is this thing insured?" "The company is mine Neo, so of course it is. Why?"

"Might need a getaway driver today."
"I might charge extra." Levon said.

"Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?"

Both Levon and Lass chuckled at that.
Levon couldn't hear or see Lascivious, and while I can't hear him while he is invisible, I could see the chuckle on his face.

"You can't afford my idea of a Scooby Snack Neo, you and me both know dat. Where we goin?"

He was talking about an expensive strain of Indica he apparently preferred, not the shit that ends up in your mouth from a bad joint.

"How ready are you to interact with my work directly man? This is a serious question, Lascivious, that demon my grandad used to work with is here, not visible right now, but he's here. Looks like he is checking you out."

I glanced at Lascivious, who was currently sat in the passenger seat, looking Levon up and down approvingly.

"You tellin' me the demon is gay?" "No, the demon is everything, his sexuality is a singularity. If a dog had soul enough to sin he might check them out too. He does the same thing to women." "You serious?" "As the grave man."

"Can I see him?" Levon seemed excited now. "I mean, Lass isn't as scary as some demons, but I warn you, he isn't really gorgeous."

Lass suddenly allowed himself to become visible in the passenger seat, thankfully we weren't driving yet or Levon might have thrown us off the road. "Fuck you Rodney, I'm fabulous."

"Jesus Christ!" Levon stared at the crimson skinned demon, the round-toothed grin Lass was giving him probably didn't help. "Bro, the teeth."
"Yeah, you get used to it, other than the teeth, he looks better than most."

"Pleasure to meet you Levon." Lass held out his claw-tipped hand, his eyes giving him a smoldering look as he did so.

I was glad Lass couldn't do the same Come Hither his boss could do, I wouldn't want to find out what he might do with that kind of power.

"Uh... Nice ta meet you too?" He shook the hand of the devil, giving me a look that was filled with a combination of awe and horror.

"Like I said Levon, serious as the grave. You sure you still want to play getaway driver?"

"This is way cooler than smuggling rum or runnin taxi's Neo, I'm in! We need to ditch this ting though."

He started up his taxi, and off we went, Lass and Levon having a conversation the entire way, I kinda felt like a third wheel here, figures the demon would be better at talking about nothing than I am.

We pulled up in front of a rented garage space, he took a spot nearby, opened up the garage, flicked on a light, and gestured to a tarp-covered vehicle in the space. "Behold." He said before pulling off the tarp "The Lord Burgess."

What I saw was a Dodge charger, a classic American muscle car. It had been heavily modified, the roof was lowered, a large spoiler added to the back, and it had dozens of decals along the side, one of which was an advertisement for Banana Boat sunscreen. Most of the Decals had something or another to do with Jamaican culture, flags, famous singers, a Rastafarian hat on top of a weed leaf.

The whole car was dark green, across the top was one black stripe edged with yellow, like the Jamaican flag itself, and sticking out of the hood was a massive air intake, which hinted at the powerhouse V8 that rumbled within.

"Holy shit." I said, looking over the gorgeous vehicle "This thing is gonna be pretty noisy for a getaway vehicle, its kind of hard to miss man."

"It's not about how hard it is to miss Neo, its about how fast you get out of there."

"And if you get spotted by a police camera?" "More fun that way." Levon said, giving me a high-pitched laugh as he entered the vehicle, sure enough, a sound like a loosed panther came from under the hood, rumbling through the car as she came to life.

"Well, I'm in love." I heard Lass say behind me as Levon pulled the gorgeous car out onto the concrete.

"With the man or the car Lass?" "Does it matter?"

I entered the back seat of the beautifully upholstered interior, the scent of old weed and new car somehow blending in a melange of rich playboy and college frat house.

"Where are we headed?" My taxi driver said as he revved the motor a couple times. A rumble emerged, like a lynx stretching across a tree branch rising from the vehicle like it had a mind of its own.

"Give me a minute." Lass said, he held his hands out, closing his eyes, and took a deep breath through his nose.

"North."

The vehicle rumbled again, and we pulled out onto the street.

Eventually, we slowed to a halt near an apartment building, as Lass continued to breathe in scents that we couldn't catch. "He's in here, second floor."

The building was sketchy, in a really sketchy part of the city. It didn't help that it was nearly 3 AM, and with the near pitch blackness from a couple busted lamp posts, the headlights were the only source of light on the entire street save a couple windows with lights in the neighboring buildings.

"Alright, showtime." I stepped out of the car, gently closing the door behind me, the well-maintained door latching shut without much force, Lascivious just walked through the door, to the silent surprise of our driver. He turned off his headlights and illegally pulled into an alleyway to hide.

I started heading into the building, heading up the stairs, Lass closely following me from behind, silent and invisible.

My nostrils were suddenly assaulted by the foul scent of rotting trash, as one of the apartment doors were seemingly overflowing with garbage bags, stuck open from the sheer volume of filth. I could see the occasional writhing something or another from underneath them, which I assumed were roaches. I put my ear to each other apartment, not hearing any sound as I went. There weren't many cars on this street, and only one was parked in front of this building.

My suspicion was that this was one of those "Ask no questions" type places, where they wouldn't ask where you were or what you were doing, just charge an inordinate price to live there, like five hundred a month for a one-bedroom half-bath shithole, not do a damn thing to fix any plumbing or lighting, leaving it to the tenants, and then using any rooms they couldn't fill as storage for their unhealthy habits.
I had contemplated moving into one of these a couple of times, its cheaper than trying to live someplace nicer, and while five hundred a month was still way too much for a shitbox like this place, it was cheaper than trying to get a nice apartment. But I decided that if the roads were cleaner than the house, it wasn't worth staying in, even when the winters got bad.

The walls of this place were cracking in places, and I saw a near foot-long centipede roll by.

"Anyone here Lass? Besides our guy?" I whispered under my breath. He shook his head. "Can't tell, too much stink, I just smell our guy."

I started moving towards the only door that wasn't jammed open or stinking with junk, I didn't hear anything going on inside, so I made a motion with my hand for Lass to check it out. Giving him five fingers, a five second sweep, if he wasn't back by then I was blowing through the door.

He walked through the door, I heard a faint click from the deadbolt being turned, and a little over four seconds later, he was back.

He gave me one finger, one guy, then he made a motion like a person sleeping on a pillow. Target was asleep.

"That our guy?" I asked in a whisper. He shrugged, signing "Hard to tell.".

I nodded back, and slowly inched towards the door. I made another motion with my hand, a little squeeze in the direction of the hinges. He waved a hand, and a shimmer fell over them. I opened up the door, which was now silent.

The inside of the front hall was pretty standard for these shitty apartments, grey walls because its easier to wash blood out of grey than white, cracked laminate flooring, and I could see the kitchen and living room from here, wood paneled walls in the kitchen,with half the panels missing leaving raw sheetrock beneath.

Sneaking across the laminated floors, a tacky bright blue number that looked like it had been put there in the 80's, I moved toward what I assumed was the bedroom, and was about to open the door when I heard a familiar, and blood chilling click from behind me.

A thick russian accent said "Who the fuck are you?"

I tossed a glance over to Lass, who made a motion like "Five fucking seconds wasn't enough clearly!"

I raised my hands, turning towards the guy. He had a cheap handgun, looked like a tokarev in the dim light from the room he walked out of. As he emerged from the shadows, I saw a gaunt, haunted face, but by the color of his stubble and the look of sorrow in his eyes told me this was Petrov Sidorovich, the guy Stacy sent me after.

"Easy there Petrov, I'm not here for any trouble."

"You broke in, trouble started." He shifted his gun towards center mass, and I gave Lass a look.

Lascivious stepped between me and Petrov, invisible, bracing himself for the pain that he was likely about to experience, but also getting ready to become visible the minute the trigger was pulled. The demon's reaction speed was way better than mine, and he could take the hit, while I couldn't.

The bullet couldn't kill Lass, but it would still hurt like a bitch until his body healed it, and I would have to fight on my own while Lass was down.

"I just want to talk, I have contacts that know where I am, your girl was my client. I want to know why you killed her and left her guts scattered across her bedroom."

The man's face went green when I mentioned his girl "Shut the fuck up cyka! You don't know me! You don't know the shit I have been through!" Petrov looked like he was about to pull the trigger, when his face softened at a small noise from a nearby bedroom.

"Papa? What is the shouting?" a tiny child, of no more than seven, walked out of her bedroom wearing an oversized T-shirt. She had long hair, dyed purple and straightened but frizzy from her pillow.

Aw shit... We are the bad guys.

The kid couldn't see the gun from her angle, and I took the opportunity to take a step to the side, Petrov hiding the gun, giving me a glare as he did so.

"Its alright sweetheart, go back to bed, this man just needs a charger for his phone."

"Okay." The little girl wandered back into her room, Lass was following behind her, looking over to me, wiggling his fingers like a wizard, and snuck in behind her, mouthing (somehow) "Don't get shot"

I gestured to the gun "Neither of us want to start shooting anyone, so let's just talk. That look in your eyes tells me the Vodka is almost empty, but I could use a shot right about now."

"Isn't that racist?" "Culturist maybe, am I wrong though?" "No..."
The man looked back at the door where his daughter walked through, took the gun out of his pants, and walked me over to the table.

We both sat down, a half-bottle of Absolut was sitting in the center, and a second shot glass was set next to his.

"Vashe zdorovie" I said the only Russian words I knew, badly, and took a shot, letting the alcohol burn through me, warming me to my toes, the hurt in my soul twanged against it, but I didn't care. "Your Russian is shit." Petrov said and took a shot for himself.

"I never was so good at other languages."

"What do you want?"

"I want to know who your boss is, and what they are up to."

"He would kill me, or have me deported. We can't go back home."

Lascivious had moved out of the girls room, making a shush gesture, and moved in behind Petrov, curling his arms around the man's shoulders, unseen, unfelt.

I tried not to let any tells slip as I spoke. "Man, I could have you deported, just about everyone in the US could call someone at this point, and this place would get torn down for the sake of human safety. The fact that you're illegal doesn't matter here."

"Situation is bad. The life of your kid hangs in balance, your country is ravaged by war and economy is shit, and some guy says he can bring you across border for cheap, all I had to do was a job."

"Why you? Why pay to get you over here?"
"I used to be sniper, damn good one too. Went AWOL when wife died, was living underground, trying to keep our daughter safe. I had no choice."

"Listen, Petrov, I know people who can help you out. We can get you out of this."

"No." Petrov shifted in his seat, grimacing as he did so. "You haven't seen what this guy does, what he's capable of. The shit I have seen him do... I thought was impossible."

I crossed my arms "Try me. Bet I got something scarier."

"He reached out and grabbed something out of the air, whatever it was it looked horrifying, smelled like fresh rain on sidewalk, and used matches. And killed it with a word."

"Yeah, here's the scary part. That thing he 'killed'? That was mine."

And suddenly, a hand was clamped over Petrov's mouth, his eyes going wide with shock and sudden sobriety, "Hey there handsome." Lascivious spoke with extra smoke in his voice. "I'm gonna need you to not scream right now. You're daughter is sleeping soundly, don't you worry about that, and I didn't hurt her, just made sure she wasn't gonna wake up too early. Its a handy trick I have, keeps the fun from getting... Interrupted."

He brought his face exceedingly close to Petrov, "I didn't like getting sent back to hell early like that very much."

Petrov looked nearly sick when he saw the way Lass's lips moved, and the rows of sharp pointed teeth in his rounded jaws.

"Easy Lass, let the man breathe." I said. Lass gave me a glare, and then removed his hand from the man's mouth. Petrov took a breath, seemed to think about screaming for a moment, then clearly decided against it.

"Wh-wh..." He seemed heavily shaken, I hoped Lass wasn't going to lean too hard on his "Bad Cop" routine, I didn't think this guy could handle it.

"Wh... What are y-you going to do? Please, do what you want to me, but don't hurt her."

"I just want to know where your boss is, and who his other lackeys are, probably where they are too. As well as what he is planning." I leaned back and steepled my fingers like a bond villain. "And if you don't." Lass moved in and gave the man's neck a lick with a long sinuous tongue I didn't know he had. "I get to find out what your spinal fluid tastes like."

Petrov's face went ghost white, and started muttering something in russian. Lass gave him a gentle smack on the cheek "Praying doesn't work so well if you have no actual faith pumpkin." He said. "Tell Rodney what you know."

Petrov swallowed hard before speaking. "He calls himself Bjorn Odinson, I don't think that's his real name. He owns a shipping company, that's how I got over here. I don't know what his actual goals are, but he talks about 'Forging The Tabula Rasa' whenever anyone asks about it."

My latin is pretty shit, but I knew Tabula Rasa meant "Clean Slate" and coming from a racially motivated psychopath, that gave me serious genocide vibes. "So he wants to create a clean slate for himself and white people or something?" I asked. "He says he wants a world where warriors can rule, where the strong destroy the weak, where only the strong can survive."
"And he figures the white race is strong?"
"No. He thinks they are weak, he wants to bring them to a position of strength once more, with this 'clean slate', forcing them to fight for their racial identity or something."

"Sounds to me like you weren't paying attention in class." Lass said "Or something? Seriously?"
"Look, I don't believe in the shit he is selling, I just don't have a choice." Petrov's eyes started to sparkle a bit with unshed tears, his fear and despair hanging thick in the air, I could swear I smelled piss.

Fuck I am the bad guy here...

"Alright, who are the other two? And are there any other people in his little cult?"

"Vlad and Kimir. Both of them assholes, practically suckling at the boss's teats. They are the ones that killed my girl, not me. I left before I had to hear them hurt her. Those two suggested I be tied down and forced to watch."

"For what?"
"They said that I should learn discipline."

"Where are they?" "Probably some crack house somewhere, waiting for the boss to call them up."

"And where does the boss usually call you?" "An old car assembly factory, abandoned, near the old Ford place."

"Thanks Petrov, where is your cellphone?"

"Why do you need that?" "Two reasons, I gotta make a phone call, and just in case you get called by your Boss, I wanna make sure Lass is the one who answers."

"Hey boss, what do you need?" Lass did an exact replica of Petrov's voice, then chuckled wickedly at the color he turned.

Lascivious managed to find the cellphone in Petrov's pocket, and handed me the phone, while practically sitting on the poor man's lap.

"Is your phone bugged?" I asked, realizing that his boss would have heard this whole conversation by now if it was.
"No, I keep catching the bugs, Boss keeps planting them but I swept the place today."
"Good."

I made a phone call.

"Hey, David, listen, we gotta jaw. I have someone here that needs a home where no questions are asked, and where less cockroaches live in the walls, you dig?"

"Shiit, the Drug Puncher himself, prodigal son returns, I met your guy the other day, he's doing okay, got another druggie?" You could practically smell the weed on David's breath through the phone. He was called the Bum King, for three reasons, one was his constant need to bum a smoke off anyone who would offer it, tobacco or weed, didn't matter. The second was because he was the only guy who managed to lead nearly an army of homeless to form a little community, and managed to pool their begging money to try to get everyone he could get off the street, and in a rental place, paid for by the commune. Once they got a job and a place of their own, the next guy got the rental, and the one with the job and place for themselves usually paid David for a while to support the commune until life got in the way and the money stopped flowing in.

The third reason, was his nonexistent skill with women, because he couldn't find a piece of ass besides his own.

"Nah man nah, this ones a homebody, but he's in a bad way, Ruskie, illegal, decent sort in a bad situation, has a daughter. Need him to disappear and come back in a year or two with a new name see?"

"Gotchu man I gotchu, send em down. We can handle a couple more. You comin' down for storytime this weekend?"

They were talking about the big smoke circle he would throw together, pass around a bong full of shitty Reggie, and they would all take turns telling stories about their lives. It helped with the depression, and my stories always got a round of wobbly claps, after everyone was suitably baked.

David was a good man, and he would support anyone I supported.
"Might be, might be, warm me up a seat. When are you sending someone?" I asked David. "Gimmie a couple hours, I will send one of my guys. Ciao bella."

"Peace." I said, and hung up.

Lascivious was looking at me, mouth agape. "Rodney, you sounded like a hippie. Are you secretly a hippie?" "I prefer beatnik, or bum, but whatever shoe you think I fit, I'll wear. David won't talk to me if I don't talk the same jive, he says it proves your chill enough to vibe with him."

"Stop, stop, its getting creepy." Lass said, getting up from the lap of the Russian under him, lifting him out of the chair.

"Wait... What is happening?"

"Im getting you and your girl out of this shithole, and then I am going to call my friend at the precinct and tell him the info I got from you, and then I will tell him that you slugged me, and disappeared, you are going to lay low with your daughter in a homeless commune for a little while, until you get a spot in one of the rentals, then you are going to figure out a new name to live by until you can get legal."

"And I am going to get the fuck out of this building, and get some fresh air." Lass said "God it smells worse than hell in here, change your pants old man."

"What?" Petrov was baffled.

"You have around two hours. Get yourself packed up and ready to leave, as long as you listen to David, do a little pulling of your own weight, he can make sure you will be okay. Don't thank me, I feel bad enough about threatening you."

Petrov stared for a moment, then, realizing I was serious, he started moving to pack up what few things in this shitbox of an apartment were actually his.

He lifted his head and nearly cried out when Lass's face was right in front of him again. "And if I find out that you were lying for even a second when you said you had no part of this, I will personally drag your pretty little ass down to hell where you belong." Lass gave the man a smile, patted him on the head, and started trotting away, vanishing through the front door as he went.

"Sorry about Lass, demons is as demons does. Try not to fuck this chance up Petrov, and good luck, hopefully we never meet again."

I walked out the door, Petrov's cell in hand, and headed over to where our taxi was hiding in the alley. "Sorry Levon, no Tokyo Drift today, maybe tomorrow." "Aww damn, and here I thought today was gonna get exciting."

"Like I said, maybe tomorrow, for now, I gotta get home, but first..."

"Lass, what the fuck does your Boss prefer for a drink?"

Lascivious thought for a moment. "French champagne, but your cheap, so sparkling white will have to do, she can't tell the difference anyway. I'm going to need a hell of a lot more chew today as well, we did enough for two summonings here Rodney, I'm running on empty and now that I have to offer a share to my boss I only have so much to pass around the office for extra souls."

"Fine, first the liquor and smoke shops, then, home, call to Charlie, and sleep."

Levon put the purring beast that was his car into drive, and we sped off into the night.