Echoes of the Past (Demon Squad) Read Free Page A

sharp-featured face without expression. The only sign of life was the tiny flicker of the muscle of his jaw beneath his leathered skin. He reminded me a lot of Poe. He held the gun steady.
    “Civil? You shot me in the head.”
    “Actually, he did.” He motioned to a man standing behind him in the small, featureless room without taking his eyes, or the gun, off me.
    Also dressed in SWAT regalia, the other guy was easily a foot and a half shorter than the first, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in girth. His arms stretched the fabric of his sleeves to its fullest, like he was smuggling mutant coconuts. The mass of his chest put McConnell to shame, and his short legs were thick as columns running down from the puffed up flak jacket. A little darker than Katon, his brown eyes stared at me from a round face. Even his cheeks were muscular. He held up a sniper rifle and wiggled it, smiling as he did.
    “That’s Captain Emmett Johnson,” the older man told me, once more gesturing to the dwarf. “I’m Colonial Eli Castor, and you are Frank ‘Triggaltheron’ Trigg.”
    “Thanks for telling me who I am.” My eyes drifted to Johnson. “I had forgotten seeing how a chunk of my brain was splattered across the sidewalk.” That seemed to amuse him. His smile grew wider.
    “Well, Mister Trigg, I apologize for our abrasive introduction, but we felt it best to set the tone of our discussion early so we might head off any possible hostility…on your part, of course. I hope you understand,” Castor stated, as he pointed to a chair at my back. “Have a seat, please.”
    “Of course.” Pleasantries aside, I knew a threat when I heard one. I had no idea who the hell these guys were, but they’d made their point by putting a bullet into my skull right outside my own home. They also knew about the DA slayers and my name—all of it—so they were connected to the supernatural world somehow.
    I stood up slowly and dropped into the chair like a good boy as I scanned the room. These guys were human without a hint of magic whiffing off of them. Interesting. My own power flickered inside me. I felt pretty confident I could take them, if I needed to, without getting killed, but I wanted to know who they were and what they wanted first.
    “Okay, you’ve got my attention. What now?”
    “We have a little chat.” Castor handed my pistol to Johnson, who didn’t seem to mind keeping it trained on me. “But first, let me introduce our boss.”
    He went to the reinforced steel door at the front of the room and knocked twice. Pressurized locks hissed and I heard a number of heavy bolts release, one at a time. Once they were done, he pulled the door open.
    The room went cold, my breath misting in the sudden chill.
    Right outside stood a tall, pale woman dressed in the chic equivalent of the SWAT suits, minus the vest. Her pale skin stood out bright against the deep blue of her form-fitting outfit. Purple eyes looked me over as she strolled into the room, her long white hair flowing behind her on an imaginary breeze. Castor shut the door behind her.
    For a second, I thought she might be a revenant as my senses picked up the essence of her power. I let out a wispy sigh when I realized it wasn’t quite at that level. She was too solid for that, too. My puckering asshole relaxed when I caught the faint hint of decay mixed within the drift of her energy. She was undead of a different kind; a wight . I’d only seen a couple of them over the years. Neither had looked anything like this one.
    For a dead chick, she was pretty hot.
    The door closed behind her, the bolts sliding home, as she came to stand before me. “My name is Rebecca Shaw.” She held out her manicured hand.
    I waved it away. “No offense, but I have more than enough frigid women in my life already. I’m not really looking to add another.” I winked and eased back in the seat. “How about you explain why Captain Picard and Bushwick Bill over there shot and