“Are they what killed Asmoday?”
Unsure if I should tell him about the empty case, I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
His eyes narrowed at my answer, but he didn’t say anything. Having not been definite, even though I doubted the fiends had butchered Asmoday, he couldn’t get a bead on my true feelings.
Before he could start asking more questions, I got to my reason for being there. “Hey, you got plans for tonight?”
He looked at me and I swear I saw a flash of red color his cheeks before his mask of neutrality washed it away. “You’re asking me why, Mister Trigg?”
A once in a lifetime opportunity in my grasp, I bit my tongue and let it slip away. Damn. “We’re a little short on the Save the World Committee and I was hoping we could enlist your help.”
He swallowed deep before he answered, “What do you have in mind?”
“We’ll be storming Heaven a little later, and if you don’t have anything better to do, we’d appreciate your assistance.”
He sighed, knowing full well I was serious. “I’ll clear my calendar.”
I told him we’d swing by and pick him up when everything was in place, making it clear I didn’t want Marcus tagging along. That done, I headed for the house.
A hop, skip, and a teleport later, I was home. Chatterbox greeted me with happy giggles as I entered the living room, bouncing up and down on the table beside the couch. The TV was on and Dawn of the Dead screamed from the screen. A quick flick of the remote dropped the volume to a reasonable level.
Both Chatterbox and I grumbled at the same time, though for different reasons. He complained because I’d turned the movie down. I was annoyed because the remote was covered in zombie tongue-slime. He got the better end of the deal.
“You can turn it back up in a bit,” I said to keep him quiet, my hand unconsciously wiping the slimy, gray-green nastiness off on my pant leg.
The screams and howls of the dying and undead-those on the screen and those in my house-muted well enough I could think again, I headed for my room when there was a sudden, loud knock on my front door. Chatterbox and I whipped our heads toward the door at the same time. The security camera monitor in the foyer was filled with static, so I couldn’t see who was outside. It got me thinking.
Neck deep in paranoia, I pulled my gun out and let my senses loose. It’s not like I expected my current crop of foes to politely knock at the door, but you never know. Stranger things have happened.
My senses relayed back a lack of any substantial mystical aura, but there was a glimmer of confusion in what I felt. It was as if they couldn’t read what lay beyond the door, an uncertainty in their report. Not encouraged by that, I probed a little deeper as the knock rang out again, a little more insistent this time.
Not able to pick up anything I could construe as a magical threat, I whispered for Chatterbox to sit by the phone just in case. To be safe, I ran to my room and stashed Eve with the blood vials, then I went to answer the knock.
“Who is it?”
A muffled, but polite voice answered, saying something I couldn’t understand, though I picked out the word neighbor. Still unsure, I cracked the door open and peeked outside, my gun just out of sight and ready to go.
Two men stood there in simple black suits. My eyes instinctively went to their hands and saw they were empty and relaxed, so I drifted back to their faces. The men smiled at me in stereo.
One was dark skinned, though it seemed more from exposure to the sun than natural pigmentation, and the other was so pale I could almost see through him. Both were shaved bald and neither had the slightest hint of facial hair. Their twin brown eyes sparkled with excitement and their perfect teeth seemed to glimmer in the dim light, their smiles wide.
The shorter of the two, though neither of them could be called short-both easily six feet plus-proffered his hand.
“Mister Frank Trigg?” His voice was smooth; a salesman’s modulated tone. The use of my name sent a shiver up my spine. Once more, everyone seemed to know me, but I had no clue who the Hell they were. It was getting seriously annoying.
My glance flickered back to their hands. I’d been looking for weapons the first time, but now I was looking for pamphlets.
“Out a little late to be selling salvation, aren’t we?” At the risk of appearing rude, I didn’t take the man’s ashen hand.
He lowered it easy, not looking the slightest bit bothered, as though it happened all the time. “My name is Jonas Black and my partner here is Ethan White. We’d like you come with us.”
My eyes shifted back and forth between the two and I shook my head, trying not to laugh. Someone in their family trees had a wry sense of humor. “I’m not sure who you gentlemen are, but I really don’t have time for this right now.” The politely disguised order made me think they were government agents of some sort. If that were the case, I definitely didn’t need to be talking to them, let alone going anywhere. “Come back in a couple of days and we can chat all you want.” If the world still exists, that is.
White took a step forward, the smile still on his face. “I’m afraid we must insist.”
My finger on the trigger, I went to close the door. “Some other time, thanks.”
Jonas Black stuck his hand between it and the frame, the door thumping against his knuckles as though they were made of brick. Despite my leaning against it, he left it there and the door stayed cracked.
A quiet voice called out from the other side. “We need you to come with us now, Mister Trigg. This matter cannot wait.” There was no change in his inflection, but the words seemed somehow harder, fiercer.
No clue what these guys wanted, or who they were working for, I didn’t have time to be nice anymore. My foot against the door to hold it in place, I swept down with my pistol grip and smacked Black’s hand. It was like banging two steel pipes together.
A sharp metallic clack rang out and his hand popped free of the frame, the door slamming shut once it was out of the way. The house wards came up instantly, their energies prickling my skin as I ducked around the corner to be out of the line of fire.
Turns out that was a good idea, though not for the reasons I’d expected.
A thunderous explosion shook the house and my front door was blown off its hinges. It flew backwards down the hall and through the living room until it crashed into the adjoining kitchen wall. The impact devastated both. Shards of plaster and wood flew everywhere, a gray dust kicking up.
Chatterbox rolled for cover as the door hit, dropping off the table to cower behind the couch. I made sure he was safe before tucking my head. Then waiting until the pieces settled, I cast a glance down the hall.
The two men were out by the street, flat on their backs where the explosion of the defending wards had tossed them. Smoky whispers drifted from them as they quickly got to their feet. The house unprotected, I hunkered down and took aim.
Their smiles gone, they ran straight toward the missing door. The move was so obviously stupid, it made me wonder if there were more of them behind me somewhere, waiting for me to take the bait. They couldn’t possibly be that dumb.
“Watch my back,” I called out to Chatterbox, just in case. He moaned an affirmative.
The men closing, I waited to make sure my shots counted. Just as they reached the threshold, I put two in the chest of Ethan White. The impacts rang out as though I’d shot a steel plate.
He stumbled back into his buddy, slowing their momentum, but he didn’t fall. His lips screwed up into a crooked sneer, he caught his balance and came forward again.
Surprised by the quality of his flak jacket, it took me a second to steady my hand and put a shot into his skull. Once more the bullet rang out, metal on metal as I caught him in the forehead. White fell to his knees and wiped the protruding bullet away as though it were an annoyance. His buddy slipped past him and charged.