The loud creak of a weathered door announced Samedi's return to his sanctuary. The door opened to a small, single-wide mobile home nestled in the swampy outskirts of New Orleans. When Bible had chosen the city as his port of exit three years earlier, Samedi had scouted out land away from the urban sprawl. He needed somewhere private and far less likely to be scrutinized by prying eyes.
With Bible's contacts and resources, he found the perfect spot to place an older mobile home purchased from a nearby run-down park. He posted more than twenty "Private Property" signs as clear warnings against trespassing. He also set up a magical boundary that would ward off those who were more susceptible to magical influence. Finally, he felt sufficiently isolated to perform his rituals and follow Bible's instructions in collecting merchandise.
No one would ever hear him complain or show that he was exhausted, but the truth was: he was worn out. The magic he used to escape the warehouse was more potent than he usually employed, but it had been necessary if he was to remain undetected by the many federal and local authorities that had descended upon the warehouse earlier that evening.
Dropping into a worn-out La-Z-Boy chair by the door, Samedi pulled out his tablet and glanced at the dark screen. He wasn't afraid of Bible, but he didn't feel like dealing with the kingpin right now. However, the source at the FBI would have already informed his boss about the loss of merchandise, and the weary Vodou priest was a little surprised he had not been contacted first.
Intent on finishing this quickly, he opened a video chat window, clicked the connect button, and waited. A few moments later, Bible's familiar silhouette replaced the black screen. Despite the program masking his boss's features, he could easily tell the man was angry. After all, his first words were quite emotional.
"What the fuck happened, Samedi? According to my mole, they arrested everyone at the warehouse and confiscated all of my merchandise!"
The source had been prudent and expedient as he knew they would be, considering the evidence Bible held over their head. Good. He could move on to the main issue immediately. "Yes. And I may have the answer to why you've been losing product."
There was a pause. When Bible spoke again, his rage was tempered by curiosity. "Explain."
"Before the FBI showed up, two individuals invaded the warehouse and took out each of my sentries, one at a time. One was a man—military-trained for sure—who eliminated my men outside."
"Did you recognize him?"
"It was too dark. I couldn't make out his face clearly. But it is the other one that intrigues me most."
"Go on." Bible's voice sounded impatient.
"The man's partner, who took out the men inside, is a demon."
"What!?" With a click of a button on his side, the image of Bible cleared. He leaned forward, revealing himself. He was in his early sixties with receding gray hair styled into a military crew cut atop a weathered, scarred face. An ugly gash, likely from a blade, ran diagonally across his cheek and over his left eye.
The wound had apparently destroyed the eye, which was now replaced by a cold, white glass orb. His remaining eye, a cruel dark brown, glared at the screen with predatory intensity, and he chewed hard on his cigar, the ember glowing orange in the dim light. "Are you certain?"
"Oh, I'm very certain. This one, I saw clearly, and she was magnificent. Sharp horns, cloven hooves, and gleaming fangs—definitely a demon. She paused at the dead girl's body, and I swear she wept, and this is no ordinary hellborne—there is something special about her."
Samedi leaned forward in his chair. "If she's working with the military man, they are likely the ones who have been interfering in your business for the past year."
"You say you didn't see the man's face?"
"No."
"Describe what you did see," Bible commanded, his voice taking on a harder edge.
He paused, feeling a bit surprised, but Bible's tone suggested he had an idea about the mystery man's identity. He elaborated on what he observed, though it was very little. He described the man's height and body type, recounted the events of the evening, and explained how the two had collaborated to free the girls with military precision.
Bible was silent for several moments after the report, chewing slowly on his cigar, the smoke curling around his scarred features. When he finally spoke, there was venom in his voice. "It seems that the information I extracted from those who failed me is accurate. They spoke of being frightened by something supernatural. Now I believe I know who is working with this demon."
"Who?"
"It was Angel."
"Angel?" His eyes widened with recognition. "I thought he'd retired."
"It seems not. He's taken up a private business—one that is costing me money. It's also damaging my reputation with some very powerful people. He must be eliminated immediately." Bible pulled out the cigar and cursed. "I will also need to have a word with my source in the FBI. I ordered all links to me to be destroyed or diverted, but it seems he was lax on some important details."
He had never heard this tone in Bible's voice before: genuine concern, and it intrigued him. "If Angel controls this demon, I suggest we counter in kind."
"What do you propose?"
"I can summon my own. One that will kill Angel and subdue this demon girl. Once it brings her to me, I can bind her, and we will have two demons at our disposal."
"As long as you kill Angel, you may do so in any way you wish, provided nothing is traced back to me. When you have this demon under your control, bring her to my base in Libya. She could be useful in making sure my product remains secure."
"As you wish," he said, simultaneously thinking, Like hell, I will.I won't give you this treasure. This demon could be the key to taking over your operation. Aloud, he announced, "I will begin the ritual immediately. Angel will be dead as soon as my demon is ready."
"Good. This is your last chance. Fail me, and I will see that you share Angel's fate." Bible severed the connection abruptly.
Samedi muttered under his breath as the screen went dark. While Bible's threat didn't faze him, the man possessed connections and power that could pose serious problems for his own ambitions.
Pocketing his tablet, he folded his hands and began mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. He was about to perform a ritual he had only executed twice before in his life. Both times had been at great risk to his own survival. And those had been smaller, tamer demons at the time. Now, he needed to create a summoning powerful enough to call up from Hell a demon capable of becoming a weapon. It had to be equal to—no, greater than—Angel's demon.