Semua Bab Damned Straight to Heaven: Bab 11 - Bab 20

NickChristian catches the bullet in a serving tray this time before he even opens his eyes. He’s had company recently. There’s no other reason there’d be four separate glasses crashing to the ground from that now inverted tray, and though he was deep in slumber, at least he’s mostly clothed this time in an airy, long sleeved shirt and loose fitting pants. Bright gray eyes peek over the edge of that burnished metal matching their brilliant shine, and that infuriatingly seductive purr of a voice most irritably drawls, “Hell of a way to wake someone, enforcer. Jolting awake to the thunder of gunfire is a far from pleasant--”I throw up a vial of holy water and shatter the casing with another rapid-fire bullet, dousing his sheets in purified liquid corrosive to his undead flesh. He blurs back against the wall before a single droplet hits him, but starts scowling all the harder. “Did you have to douse the bed? I’m never going to get those nasty, holy stains out, not even once they dry. I’

NickThe dead civi’s house is an active crime scene. I can’t go looking through his stuff for clues on exactly who turned him into a blood-sucking demon. The coppers would pull me over and haul me in for renewed interrogation if I attempted so much as a drive by that place. Detective overzealous no doubt has me flagged as a person of interest in this case, regardless of his superior’s orders to cut me loose. I’d be doing nothing but drawing unwanted attention to the Family by speaking with anyone related to the victims.That’s why Father Sicillio so wisely instructed me to rest up and stay out of it. The other boys can handle the demon tracking, using the info the priests will have passed along from their daily meetings with our moles in the police department.A cop going to confession is nothing out of the ordinary after all. Some of those Blues aren’t even informants, just bible-reading regulars of St. Christians parish, earnestly repenting for their impure thoughts, and their kills

NickI roll up to the address Sicillio provided for a potentially possessed individual. It’s pretty nice digs, especially in this market. I give a polite rapping of knuckles against the polished wooden door.A freckle-faced redhead pulls it open in an instant. She looks a little young to be the owner of this place. She also looks strung out and stressed – standing in a bathrobe with hair wildly frizzing and eyes red from crying. “Who the fuck are you?”My eyes narrow. Any other enforcer would not let slide that blatant disrespect. “Father Sicillio sent me. You got a demon in here, or you pulling the church’s leg, making false reports?”She clutches a self-conscious hand to the front of her fuzzy robe, but starts glaring all the fiercer. “It was not a false report. My brother… He is not himself. And I asked for a priest, not some goon.”I arch an eyebrow. “This here goon happens to be a gentleman of means, entirely aware of how to sort these type of supernatural disturbances. Now you g

NickWe pry loose the boards and head inside what used to be the entrance for the kitchen staff in this once fine but long since abandoned establishment. We keep our guns raised and senses alert, as we head through the deserted, dust drenched halls. I guess Christian don't got a whole army of thralls after all, because there ain't a single set of footprints in that inch thick carpet of cough-inducing neglect. No sign of any human residents, and not a single candle lit. We advance into the pitch black stairwell. We don’t need a light with the substance pumping through us, but the sketchy creaking of those rotting steps is an unwelcome clamor, echoing off the walls. Jimmy pulls up his foot just in time as the center of one step gives way entirely, opening up a jagged edged hole to the ground three stories below. “Watch your step, boys,” he chuckles.“Not a single nother word, Jim,” I hiss, putting my hand on the entrance to the fourth level. I can’t afford to have Christian hear other

NickI can’t ignore the tingle of pleasure rushing through my nervous system and right down to my dick, as Christian wraps his lips around my earlobe and starts caressing it with infuriating, arousing, expertise. “Trust me,” he repeats, a fucking brazen, impossible request. “Help me. It’s what’s best for this city, and for you. I’ll explain it all, but you can already feel it, deep down… You know I’m in the right here.” He splays his fingers over my chest, right over my heart, but all I can feel is fucking… pulse speeding, mind fuzzing attraction making me tense as a live wire. That is not what I want. It sure as shit ain’t what’s ‘best for me’. All this fucker deserves from me is hatred, rage. “I will never, in a million years fucking help you,” I growl, trying not to think about the meaning of the husky, strained quality to my tone. I feel Christian’s smile widen the second he hears it. “The second I get out of here, you’re f…” “Fucked?” he chuckles, filling in what I was about t