Freebie Halloween Story - Painted in Blood
Painted in Blood
By Jana Denardo
Author’s Note -- This freebie was written for spook_me’s Halloween 2013 round for the prompt of ‘demon’ and this wonderful tarot card which, no lie, gave me the whole idea for this story.
Honestly, I meant this to be a much shorter story (being a freebie and all) and hoped to have a little more polish on it before the deadline, but the paying gig got in the way (not a bad thing). It’s in the same 1930s urban fantasy universe as Snowbound (In Dreamspinner Press’s anthology Necking) and the novella (also with Dreamspinner), The Darkest Midnight in December which can be found here, along with other stories if you liked this one and wanted to see others. This story is roughly 4,900 words and believe it or not, is not erotica. It's entirely work safe except for the mention of two men on the bed in the very last scene but they're just talking.
XXX
“I have a strange case for you,” Taglioferro said, once Caleb’s team was situated in his office.
“Hopefully something less insane than dealing with a demon prince,” Temple said, sprawled in the chair closest to the window. A spring storm lashed the glass, and Caleb hoped they wouldn’t have to go out in that immediately.
“Most of our cases are strange. I’m afraid to know how this stands out, sir,” Caleb said, wagging his head.
“We’ve had two galleries report paintings coming to life and eating the patrons,” his General replied.
Caleb snapped to attention. Even Temple turned to Taglioferro.
“That’s definitely not something we hear every day,” Agni said, dry as ever.
Caleb didn’t know what to say. Even in the realms of demon hunters, paintings that sprang into life weren’t the norm. Finally, he found his voice. “Murder! Was this all in one night? How was it not in the papers?”
“It was in one night. The galleries are across the street from one another. They’ve been struggling a bit in this economy, so they threw a party to get people to come see what they have on offer. It worked. They had a full house.”
“Only to get eaten,” Temple said, wrinkling his nose. “Chrissakes, that will probably bring more people in just to see what happened.”
“That’s morbid,” Caleb eyed his teammate. “And true.”
Temple flipped a hand as if to say ‘naturally.’
“Was it just one artist’s work that came to life, sir, or many?” Agni asked.
“That has yet to be determined. It will be something for you three to investigate. Temple, take extra care because your partner is temporarily filling in with Tylor’s team for the new two weeks,” Taglioferro reminded him.
“I’ll be careful. If I’m killed by a paint-based ghoul, these two jokers would put that on my tombstone.” Temple jerked his chin toward his teammates.
“Without a doubt.” Agni beamed.
“I would as well,” Taglioferro laughed, and Temple scowled at his commander. “You will have to find out if there is a connection to the artists or if it is specific to the gallery owners.”
“Or worse, random,” Caleb said.
“I hate to say it, let’s hope not.” Taglioferro frowned, peering into the file folder. “They requested you to come to another opening in two days, and not in uniform.”
“Am I included?” Agni pointed to his cinnamon-hued skin. Caleb hated that they had to worry about the darkness of his lover’s flesh.
“I’ve told them one of the team was an Indian. They seemed to think the artists themselves wouldn’t mind. They were less sure about tomorrow’s patrons,” Taglioferro replied with the faintest shrug.
Caleb sighed. That wasn’t all that surprising of an answer. “All the same, being down one member of the team, I want Agni with us.”
“That’s what I told them. Use your best judgment,” Taglioferro replied.
“We’ll pay a visit on the dealer’s now, and see what we can learn,” Caleb said.
“Good luck, and be careful.”
XXX
Mr. Buehlman huddled on the steps to his gallery. “How can we even go back in there?”
“Because it would help us figure out exactly what happened here,” Caleb replied, trying to keep his annoyance to himself. “Which might take the blame off of you for the tragedy.”
The gallery owner brightened some, heading up the stairs. His companion, Mr. Stanislawski, the owner of the other gallery, said. “It was the most horrifying thing. We all know about the demons and your kind, but it’s always been the stuff of story and cinema. I never thought to see it.”
“I’m sorry that you had to,” Caleb said. Whether or not it comforted the men, he did mean it. No one should have to face what the demons could do. He wiggled his shoulders, feeling the pull of the knife he had in his uniform pocket. They had opted not to come fully armed to the galleries. Caleb hoped that wasn’t a mistake.
“Thank you. I don’t know how you men handle this.” Stanislawski replied as Buehlman opened the door.
The signs of the tragedy were everywhere. No one had been in yet to scrub the blood out of the floorboards or off the walls and remaining pieces of art. Caleb and his partners had to push past the two gallery owners who didn’t want to enter the building any farther than necessary. There wasn’t even anywhere to set their fedoras down on that wasn’t covered with dried blood so the Soldiers of the Sun opted to leave that part of their uniform firmly on their heads.
Caleb went to the closest torn canvas. The portrait next to it had a slash in it, as if something very sharp had neatly parted it. The one he had made a bee-line for had far more significant damage. Only tatters of whatever the painting had been remained in the frame. “What was here?” Caleb pointed the painting out.
“It was a treacle-sweet picture of cats by Paul Fenn.” Buehlman wrinkled his nose. “Something your grandmother would hang on the wall, but it sells.”
Caleb didn’t point out he’d never known his grandmother, and had no idea what she might have hung on her wall. He supposed it would be more likely she’d have had hung carved wooden spoons, a wedding commemoration, but since he had never known his parents, that was all conjecture and didn’t help him here. “Did Mr. Fenn have art in your gallery, Mr. Stanislawski?”
“Yes, he did. I think it was one of the ones that…” He shuddered. “You know.”
Caleb nodded. He did know, but he would need to go across the street any how to see for himself.
“How about this one?” Agni pointed to one that was so wrecked, even the frame seemed burst through. “Was this Fenn’s?”
“Or this one?” Temple ticked a finger against a blood-soaked tatter of canvas.
“No, the one with the broken frame was a portrait by John Ecklar,” Buehlman said. “And the other was some workers on the Cathedral of Learning by Harry W. Scheuch.”
“Three? I really didn’t expect that,” Agni muttered. He traded knowing looks with Caleb. That fact complicated things.
“Did you expect this to be easy?” Temple smirked.
“I don’t understand,” Stanislawski said. He cocked his head, looking between the Soldiers.
“If it’s not your galleries that drew in the demons, that leaves your patrons or your artists,” Caleb explained. “Once we’ve investigated here, we’ll start with the artists, since that would be easier than trying to track down the patrons.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And if there were any problems between those artists or between them and another artist whose art work didn’t come to life, that would be helpful to know,” Temple said.
“I don’t think so, but we could certainly ask around for you. I want to know why this happened,” Stanislawski grumbled.
Caleb and his partners went back to work, examining the entire gallery, going into the basement and even up to the roof, but nothing leapt out at them. That brought another question to mind, but he waited until they were sure there were no summoning symbols anywhere and they were headed across the street to Stanislawski’s gallery. “What happened to the demons at the end? Did they escape?” It struck him curious that Taglioferro’s report had said nothing either way.
“They dissolved into paint and flaked away, but not before they rampaged through the building,” Stanislawski said, shuddering.
Buelhman nodded. “Same in my gallery.”
“That’s stranger still,” Agni said. “That doesn’t usually happen.”
“It could have been an imperfect summoning spell,” Temple mused.
“Or the demon inhabited the wrong thing for its type. They can sometimes possess people or items,” Caleb told the gallery owners, but Agni was right; that was strange. Stanislawski’s gallery had nothing to offer, and they left the owners, armed with the addresses of the artists that they divvied up between them. They could only hope it would turn out more helpful than the galleries had been.
XXX
Caleb didn’t know what to expect in an artist’s studio. The smell of paint fumes had been a given. He almost wanted to put his fedora over his mouth and nose so he could breathe more easily. The bright light streaming through the windows surprised him. Somehow he’d been expecting a more vampire-like existence, thanks to popular fiction. Having light to paint by made more sense, in retrospect.
Paul Fenn looked like what he’d expected, with the thin, drawn face and the pallor Victorian consumptives had somehow romanticized. His blue eyes jittered and the pinch of his lips alerted Caleb to how unwelcome his visit was. Was the man on anything to make him so nervous-appearing? He knew cocaine was popular with this circle but Caleb so no signs of a Cadillac lying around. Of course, Fenn might be smart enough not to have his drugs strewn about. Maybe Fenn was just twitchy over last night’s catastrophe. Who wouldn’t be? It suddenly occurred to Caleb he had been remiss in asking if the artists had even been present at the gallery party. They very well might not have been. People tended to be more interested in the art than the artist.
“Thank you for taking time to see me, Mr. Fenn.”
Fenn’s gaze skittered up and down, taking Caleb in. “Not that there was a choice. They’re going to blame me, after all.”
“There were two other artists whose work...um, sprung to life.”
“Do you really think they’ll blame Scheuch?” Fenn snorted. “Not on your life.”
“Why do you think they’ll blame you?” Caleb took a step closer, studying Fenn’s face for guilt.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Fenn waved him off. “I’m a wet smack compared to some of the others. My art is barely appreciated, is all.”
“Appreciated enough to be in two galleries,” Caleb countered.
“My art is commercial with the wrong set.” Fenn’s face screwed up. “Anyhow, why exactly are you here? Do you think I know anything about this?”
Judging by the strange expression on the man’s face, Caleb felt sure there was something the man was afraid of, and it probably wasn’t just the blue Soldiers of the Sun uniform Caleb wore. “We’re talking to everyone involved, Mr. Fenn. Please don’t feel singled out. Somehow, your art came to life and killed people. It’s my job to figure out how and why.”
“And if I did it on purpose, which would be counterintuitive if I wanted to sell more of my work, then I’d hardly tell you.” Fenn sulked like a child.
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Caleb kept his ‘but if you felt unappreciated, you might just make a deal with the devil’ to himself. “So you don’t mind if I take a look around?”
“I don’t know what you expect to find, but go ahead.” Fenn fluttered his hand at Caleb, then reached for a paint brush.
Caleb knew that if the man was guilty, it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t have anything hidden here. Worse, searching alone left him vulnerable, just as Temple and Agni would be in their interviews. Fenn could sneak up behind him and hurt him if he got too engrossed in the search. The only things working in his favor was Fenn’s studio was small, and that the man lived in a flat just above it. Fenn didn’t seem to care if Caleb examined that and went back to his painting. It almost convinced Caleb that the man had nothing to do with the demonic painting, but he had seen cool cats before.
He started with the man’s meager living space, leaving Fenn alone in the studio. It wasn’t an ideal situation. Caleb hoped his vague status as an authority figure would make Fenn think twice about doing anything foolish. Luckily, it didn’t take long to go through the living space. Unluckily, Caleb found nothing. He went back downstairs to poke around the studio. He took a look at the scene the man was painting. It wasn’t a painting of cats or dogs, or anything his grandmother would hang up. Fenn painted a man, from memory perhaps, handsome with golden hair, his brow furrowed as he read something in the book he held.
“I like that,” he said. “Is it someone who sat for you?”
Fenn shook his head. “Ever have a dream that seemed real?”
“Yes,” Caleb replied, intrigued.
“This is my dream. I saw him. I don’t remember much about the dream, only that if I painted him, my fortune would be made.” Fenn turned to face Caleb. “I figured there could be no harm in it, even if I don’t really believe portents and dreams.”
Caleb shrugged. “I suppose not.”
“Are you about done?” Fenn leaned over to load some paint onto his brush.
“Yes,” Caleb muttered, noticing an odd pendant around Fenn’s neck. It had a strange symbol on it, like a distorted ‘Pi’ or twisted lowercase ‘N’ with a cross at either foot and at the apex. It sparked something in his memory. He saw it mirrored on the cover of the book Fenn had painted. “What is that symbol on your pendant?”
“This?” Fenn lifted it with the back end of his brush. “I don’t know. I just inherited it from an uncle a few weeks ago, just about the time I had that dream, now that I think about it. It just seemed natural to paint it in.”
Caleb wondered if he had found what he was looking for. “Could I borrow the pendant?”
Fenn’s eyes bugged. “You most certainly can not. Now, if you’re going to bother me all afternoon, I’m going to be vexed.”
“I’m almost done.” Caleb had no authority to take the pendant. He would have to research it further. Once Fenn’s attention was back on the painting, Caleb jotted the symbol down in his notepad. When he found nothing else that seemed suspicious, he headed back to Sun headquarters to meet with his partners, hopeful that he was on to something.
XXX
“At least you found a symbol. Want to know what I got? Attitude,” Temple grumbled as he paged through a thick tome that had been brought into a private study room, along with several others.
“Did you somehow expect different from artists?” Agni didn’t even look up as he asked that.
“One could hope,” Temple sniffed. “And if I have to spend the whole evening looking at these musty books, and then have to go to a stuffy gallery party tomorrow, then you two owe me something tonight.”
“For doing your job?” Caleb grinned. “Talk to payroll, Temple.”
His teammate shot him the evil eye. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“You mean we should just put the books in the corner and do obscene things to you on this table.” Agni still didn’t look up to see Temple nodding.
“See?” Temple patted Agni’s back. “Your partner has the right idea!”
“My partner is being sarcastic. Maybe, if you’re a good boy and do your research, you might get what you want.” Caleb smirked at Temple’s dismayed look. He knew that Temple was - in part - just joking. Oh, the man wanted sex with him and Agni, but he would do the work without bribery or threats. Temple liked looking as if he was completely sexually motivated. Of course, what Temple wanted might leave them with something pulled. He’d hate to have to explain to Taglioferro how a groin injury took him off the case.
“Might, I like that qualifier,” Agni said, finally looking up. His dark peepers gleamed. “Or he can just watch while the two who actually do their research reap the rewards.”
“Or I could just tie up an annoying team mate in a closet while I seduce his partner,” Temple eyed Agni, then shoved a book toward Caleb. “Is that the symbol?”
Caleb peered at it. “Close but no. That’s from The Lesser Keys of Solomon symbol, right?”
“Oui.”
Caleb dug out his copy of the Ars Goetia and paged through it.
“Are you on to something?” Agni asked curiously, and Caleb nodded.
It took several minutes, however, to prove that he was. “Here it is, it’s the symbol of Dantalion.”
“Really?” Temple snickered. “We’re going after a demon named ‘Dandelion’?”
“Dantalion,” Caleb corrected, even though he knew that Temple purposely mispronounced the demon’s name.
“He’s a Duke of Hell,” Agni said, leaning over to read the text. He groaned in remembrance of the last time they had to confront a Duke. “He’ll be every bit as hard to deal with as Astaroth was.”
“I’m telling you now, if Dandelion shows up and he’s got a head full of white fluff, I’ll be utterly useless in the battle because I will be laughing too hard,” Temple replied with a wide smile.
“I say we feed him to Dantalion and just get a new partner,” Agni suggested with a grin and Temple flashed him an obscene gesture.
Caleb ignored them both. He was an expert at it since their bickering was endless. “Dantalion is a master of science and art, which explains a few things. I think we better go find out exactly who this uncle of Fenn’s was, and why he’d bequest that ring to his nephew.”
“If we’re lucky, we won’t have to fight the demon. We’ll just have to get the pendant from Fenn, and this will all be over with,” Temple said, hopefully.
“But if Fenn isn’t an innocent party in this, that will be harder than it sounds,” Agni pointed out.
“Agreed, but let’s divide this up. Agni, you and I will research Dantalion. Temple, go chat up the librarian, and see if you can find anything in the newspaper archives about Fenn’s family,” Caleb said. Once they had a little more information, they’d have the legal right to confiscate the demonic summoning pendant, and put an end to all of this, hopefully before any more paintings came to life. The damage might already have been done. He’d have to do more research to be sure.
XXX
“I don’t know where you get the courage to do this job,” Stanislawski said, leading Caleb and his team into the gallery hosting tonight’s party. “I don’t even want to be here at all, but I’ve made a promise to Jacob. Ah, there he is. Jacob, these are the Soldiers of the Sun I told you about. Captain Davies, this is Mr. Jacob Penny. He runs this gallery.”
“I’ve been expecting you.” Penny eyed the trunk Temple and Agni had suspended between them. “What is that?”
“Weapons,” Caleb said, holding his arms out to the side. “We can only wear side arms and knives while in our suits, at least if you want us to blend in. Our main weapons are in the trunk. We’ll need a place we can get easy access to it, but have it out of the way at the same time.”
“Bring it this way. Hopefully this will suit your needs,” Penny said. He beckoned them to follow.
“What would have suited my needs was finding a certain someone at his place and legally taking that pendant away,” Temple grumbled, wisely not naming their suspect. “I feel out of place here.”
“You think you feel out of place?” Agni muttered and Caleb shushed them both.
“How’s this?” Penny lifted the table cloth to the hors d’oeuvre table. “No one should be under here. There isn’t much in the way of hiding places in a gallery show floor.”
“It will have to do.” Caleb patted his pocket, to reassure himself his knife was in there. He had a Roscoe concealed under the brown tweed jacket he wore, but guns were never his thing. Caleb was better with edged weapons. It always felt like he was naked without his sword, but that had to remain in the trunk with Temple’s Tommy gun and Agni’s chakram. He could just make out the outline of Agni’s pistol under the white linen suit jacket. The contrast of the creamy linen and his lover’s cinnamon skin made Caleb’s mouth turn to desert. Temple’s taste in suits - a loud pinstripe - made him a safer bet to look at and not embarrass himself. Caleb had to admit he liked it when he and his partners were togged to the bricks, and no matter what he thought of the pint-sized soldier’s gaudy tastes, at least Temple wasn’t doggy about being dressed up like he and Agni always were.
“What do you need to do now?” Penny asked.
“Since this party is going to happen against our advice, we’re going to mingle and hope for the best,” Caleb replied.
Penny glanced at Temple. “It sounded like you thought you knew who was responsible for this.”
“No, we think we know what triggered it, but not why or why so many artists were affected,” Agni said.
“Nor do we know if it was intentional or accidental,” Caleb said, leaning toward the latter. He saw no motive for Fenn to kill people who might buy his art. He’d be ruined if anyone found out he had the talisman and wasn’t doing this on purpose. They would have to try and get the pendant from him. “No, Mr. Penny, there is much we still don’t know.”
“Well, I won’t get in your way. Try not to upset the guests,” Penny replied. “It would be best if they think you’re just another guest.”
“We know our job, sir. They won’t guess we’re Soldiers,” Caleb said reassuringly.
“Not until the paintings start to eat them,” Temple mumbled under his breath, and Caleb silenced him with a look.
It didn’t take long for the wealthy guests to begin to arrive. Caleb would have thought the murders from the night before would have kept them away when even the tough economic times couldn’t. He began to suspect that they were there almost as much for the chance to see the art rampage as they were to buy any of it. Temple had been right, though, Caleb mused as he helped himself to an appetizer. It would have been so much simpler if they had stopped Fenn before tonight, but he had been nowhere to be found.
As Caleb watched the room, he realized someone was watching him as well. A very handsome, refined blond man studied him as if Caleb was one of the works of art. Was he homosexual and suspected Caleb was as well? Did the man suspect that Caleb was a demon hunter? He thought it might be helpful if he spoke to the man, while pretending he was here to buy.
The man’s eyebrows arched as Caleb approached. It made Caleb rethink what he was doing. There was something in those very blue blinkers that made Caleb nervous and not the sexy kind of nervous. There was something odd about his tie tack, but before Caleb could say a word or get a better look, he heard his name being called. Temple nodded toward the door.
Seeing Fenn coming inside, Caleb turned away from the handsome man, feeling for his knife in his pocket, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. He caught Fenn’s elbow, steering him back toward the door. Caleb noticed his partners moving in along with him. Oddly enough, so was the handsome man.
“What is this, Davies? Let me go.” Fenn jerked away.
“We need you to step outside,” Caleb said as authoritatively as he could.
“I have business to conduct that I can’t do from out there,” Fenn protested.
“And my business is with you. That pendant you inherited, I need you to turn it over,” Caleb said, holding out his hand. “Do you have it with you?”
“This?” He tugged it out from under his collar. “It’s just a piece of junk, but it’s about all I have of that uncle. I don’t see why I should give it to you.” Fenn curled his fingers over it protectively.
“Because,” Temple said, catching up to them. “It’s what’s calling the demons.”
“This?” Fenn tore it from his neck, his voice going shrill. “How? Why would my uncle give me this? Get it away from me!”
“He must have been using it,” Caleb said. “I’ll take that.”
“I think not, demon hunter.”
The handsome man hit Caleb from behind, taking his breath away. The area burned like acid had been dumped on him. The man reached for the pendant, giving Caleb a close up-of that strange tie tack. It was Dantalion’s symbol. Caleb managed to toss the pendant to Agni, making the man growl.
“Always interfering where you’re not needed, damned hunters.” The man threw Caleb like he was a sack of feathers. Caleb slid across the polished hard wood when he landed, scattering the screaming guests.
“Let me guess, you’re Dandelion,” Temple said, drawing his heater.
“I don’t understand what’s happening!” Fenn cried, running into the corner.
“It’s Dantalion, you impertinent brat. And as for you, your uncle was a loyal servant and artist. He’d hoped you’d be as well.” Dantalion smiled. “I suppose I overplayed my hand the other night.”
“You could say that,” Temple said, and calmly shot Dantalion in the face.
As people shrieked and stampeded toward the door, Caleb pushed himself to his feet before he could get trampled. Dantalion stumbled back, then grinned again, sticking his tongue through the hole Temple had made in his cheek.
“You can’t kill me, little man,” Dantalion lisped. “My children, to me!”
With that command, several paintings started to shiver and shake, the artwork beginning to rip free of the canvas.
“Get out of here,” Temple screamed to the guests and shot Dantalion again. The demon prince swatted him away like a mosquito.
“Caleb, catch.” Agni had made it to the chest and tossed Caleb his sword. His body aching, Caleb yanked it from the sheath.
Agni tossed one of his chakram at Dantalion, but the demon caught the circle of metal, winging it back at Agni. The prince leapt across the room, grabbing Agni, shredding the white jacket as he tore his sigil pendant from the pocket. He flung Agni toward a brace of dead rabbits rampaging free of their painting. They swarmed over Agni. Cursing in Hindi, he sliced them into pieces with the chakram. They turned into paint puddles on the floor.
Caleb slashed through the living portrait of someone’s child, the head flopping back like a child’s ruined drawing before it melted away. He managed to get to Temple’s Tommy gun, not that it would do much good. Even though the gallery was emptying fast, there were still too many people to just shoot willy-nilly. He tossed it to Temple, then went after Dantalion, stabbing the demon prince in the back.
Dantalion howled, jerking free of the metal. “You foul pest!”
“Take this, dandelion!” Temple raced in, using the chopper to fill Dantalion with daylight. Blood and chunks of flesh hit Caleb and destroyed the painting on the wall behind the demon. Dantalion knocked Temple away, panting.
“You are…not worth my attention,” Dantalion disappeared, presumably back to hell.
Caleb helped Agni finish off a curly haired, golden boy who’d been painted angelic, but was busy trying to strangle a woman. Blood and signs of mayhem were all that was left of the gallery opening. Temple staggered up to them, his auburn hair matted to his forehead with blood. “They don’t pay us enough for this,” he muttered.
“For once, we’re in agreement,” Agni panted.
Caleb nodded, surveying the damage. “We’d better help the wounded,” he said, knowing there was still a long night left before them.
XXX
“You know,” Temple said, lounging naked on Caleb’s bed. “If I inherited something from a long-lost uncle, it probably would be a demon necklace.”
“You? Hasn’t your family been in the Knights Templar since time began?” Caleb laughed, rubbing Temple’s back, keeping clear of the bruises. “I doubt they would have anything demonic.”
“With Temple’s luck, he’d get the one thing that is,” Agni offered from where he sat in his underpants, his body twisted in one of those yoga positions he swore helped ease his muscles after battle, but just looked painful as hell to Caleb.
“Definitely,” Temple said, rolling over to kiss Caleb’s chest. “And just like Fenn, I’d be clueless until too late.”
“With how you get behind the grind on your demon research, yes, I’d believe that,” Caleb countered.
Temple’s kiss sealed over his mouth this time. When he stopped for air, he grinned. “This is a sure fire way to keep you from teasing me.”
“You started teasing yourself,” Caleb said, pulling Temple against him.
“So, lover, it’s up to you and Agni to find a creative way to shut me up,” Temple dared.
How could Caleb possibly resist?
By Jana Denardo
Author’s Note -- This freebie was written for spook_me’s Halloween 2013 round for the prompt of ‘demon’ and this wonderful tarot card which, no lie, gave me the whole idea for this story.
Honestly, I meant this to be a much shorter story (being a freebie and all) and hoped to have a little more polish on it before the deadline, but the paying gig got in the way (not a bad thing). It’s in the same 1930s urban fantasy universe as Snowbound (In Dreamspinner Press’s anthology Necking) and the novella (also with Dreamspinner), The Darkest Midnight in December which can be found here, along with other stories if you liked this one and wanted to see others. This story is roughly 4,900 words and believe it or not, is not erotica. It's entirely work safe except for the mention of two men on the bed in the very last scene but they're just talking.
XXX
“I have a strange case for you,” Taglioferro said, once Caleb’s team was situated in his office.
“Hopefully something less insane than dealing with a demon prince,” Temple said, sprawled in the chair closest to the window. A spring storm lashed the glass, and Caleb hoped they wouldn’t have to go out in that immediately.
“Most of our cases are strange. I’m afraid to know how this stands out, sir,” Caleb said, wagging his head.
“We’ve had two galleries report paintings coming to life and eating the patrons,” his General replied.
Caleb snapped to attention. Even Temple turned to Taglioferro.
“That’s definitely not something we hear every day,” Agni said, dry as ever.
Caleb didn’t know what to say. Even in the realms of demon hunters, paintings that sprang into life weren’t the norm. Finally, he found his voice. “Murder! Was this all in one night? How was it not in the papers?”
“It was in one night. The galleries are across the street from one another. They’ve been struggling a bit in this economy, so they threw a party to get people to come see what they have on offer. It worked. They had a full house.”
“Only to get eaten,” Temple said, wrinkling his nose. “Chrissakes, that will probably bring more people in just to see what happened.”
“That’s morbid,” Caleb eyed his teammate. “And true.”
Temple flipped a hand as if to say ‘naturally.’
“Was it just one artist’s work that came to life, sir, or many?” Agni asked.
“That has yet to be determined. It will be something for you three to investigate. Temple, take extra care because your partner is temporarily filling in with Tylor’s team for the new two weeks,” Taglioferro reminded him.
“I’ll be careful. If I’m killed by a paint-based ghoul, these two jokers would put that on my tombstone.” Temple jerked his chin toward his teammates.
“Without a doubt.” Agni beamed.
“I would as well,” Taglioferro laughed, and Temple scowled at his commander. “You will have to find out if there is a connection to the artists or if it is specific to the gallery owners.”
“Or worse, random,” Caleb said.
“I hate to say it, let’s hope not.” Taglioferro frowned, peering into the file folder. “They requested you to come to another opening in two days, and not in uniform.”
“Am I included?” Agni pointed to his cinnamon-hued skin. Caleb hated that they had to worry about the darkness of his lover’s flesh.
“I’ve told them one of the team was an Indian. They seemed to think the artists themselves wouldn’t mind. They were less sure about tomorrow’s patrons,” Taglioferro replied with the faintest shrug.
Caleb sighed. That wasn’t all that surprising of an answer. “All the same, being down one member of the team, I want Agni with us.”
“That’s what I told them. Use your best judgment,” Taglioferro replied.
“We’ll pay a visit on the dealer’s now, and see what we can learn,” Caleb said.
“Good luck, and be careful.”
XXX
Mr. Buehlman huddled on the steps to his gallery. “How can we even go back in there?”
“Because it would help us figure out exactly what happened here,” Caleb replied, trying to keep his annoyance to himself. “Which might take the blame off of you for the tragedy.”
The gallery owner brightened some, heading up the stairs. His companion, Mr. Stanislawski, the owner of the other gallery, said. “It was the most horrifying thing. We all know about the demons and your kind, but it’s always been the stuff of story and cinema. I never thought to see it.”
“I’m sorry that you had to,” Caleb said. Whether or not it comforted the men, he did mean it. No one should have to face what the demons could do. He wiggled his shoulders, feeling the pull of the knife he had in his uniform pocket. They had opted not to come fully armed to the galleries. Caleb hoped that wasn’t a mistake.
“Thank you. I don’t know how you men handle this.” Stanislawski replied as Buehlman opened the door.
The signs of the tragedy were everywhere. No one had been in yet to scrub the blood out of the floorboards or off the walls and remaining pieces of art. Caleb and his partners had to push past the two gallery owners who didn’t want to enter the building any farther than necessary. There wasn’t even anywhere to set their fedoras down on that wasn’t covered with dried blood so the Soldiers of the Sun opted to leave that part of their uniform firmly on their heads.
Caleb went to the closest torn canvas. The portrait next to it had a slash in it, as if something very sharp had neatly parted it. The one he had made a bee-line for had far more significant damage. Only tatters of whatever the painting had been remained in the frame. “What was here?” Caleb pointed the painting out.
“It was a treacle-sweet picture of cats by Paul Fenn.” Buehlman wrinkled his nose. “Something your grandmother would hang on the wall, but it sells.”
Caleb didn’t point out he’d never known his grandmother, and had no idea what she might have hung on her wall. He supposed it would be more likely she’d have had hung carved wooden spoons, a wedding commemoration, but since he had never known his parents, that was all conjecture and didn’t help him here. “Did Mr. Fenn have art in your gallery, Mr. Stanislawski?”
“Yes, he did. I think it was one of the ones that…” He shuddered. “You know.”
Caleb nodded. He did know, but he would need to go across the street any how to see for himself.
“How about this one?” Agni pointed to one that was so wrecked, even the frame seemed burst through. “Was this Fenn’s?”
“Or this one?” Temple ticked a finger against a blood-soaked tatter of canvas.
“No, the one with the broken frame was a portrait by John Ecklar,” Buehlman said. “And the other was some workers on the Cathedral of Learning by Harry W. Scheuch.”
“Three? I really didn’t expect that,” Agni muttered. He traded knowing looks with Caleb. That fact complicated things.
“Did you expect this to be easy?” Temple smirked.
“I don’t understand,” Stanislawski said. He cocked his head, looking between the Soldiers.
“If it’s not your galleries that drew in the demons, that leaves your patrons or your artists,” Caleb explained. “Once we’ve investigated here, we’ll start with the artists, since that would be easier than trying to track down the patrons.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And if there were any problems between those artists or between them and another artist whose art work didn’t come to life, that would be helpful to know,” Temple said.
“I don’t think so, but we could certainly ask around for you. I want to know why this happened,” Stanislawski grumbled.
Caleb and his partners went back to work, examining the entire gallery, going into the basement and even up to the roof, but nothing leapt out at them. That brought another question to mind, but he waited until they were sure there were no summoning symbols anywhere and they were headed across the street to Stanislawski’s gallery. “What happened to the demons at the end? Did they escape?” It struck him curious that Taglioferro’s report had said nothing either way.
“They dissolved into paint and flaked away, but not before they rampaged through the building,” Stanislawski said, shuddering.
Buelhman nodded. “Same in my gallery.”
“That’s stranger still,” Agni said. “That doesn’t usually happen.”
“It could have been an imperfect summoning spell,” Temple mused.
“Or the demon inhabited the wrong thing for its type. They can sometimes possess people or items,” Caleb told the gallery owners, but Agni was right; that was strange. Stanislawski’s gallery had nothing to offer, and they left the owners, armed with the addresses of the artists that they divvied up between them. They could only hope it would turn out more helpful than the galleries had been.
XXX
Caleb didn’t know what to expect in an artist’s studio. The smell of paint fumes had been a given. He almost wanted to put his fedora over his mouth and nose so he could breathe more easily. The bright light streaming through the windows surprised him. Somehow he’d been expecting a more vampire-like existence, thanks to popular fiction. Having light to paint by made more sense, in retrospect.
Paul Fenn looked like what he’d expected, with the thin, drawn face and the pallor Victorian consumptives had somehow romanticized. His blue eyes jittered and the pinch of his lips alerted Caleb to how unwelcome his visit was. Was the man on anything to make him so nervous-appearing? He knew cocaine was popular with this circle but Caleb so no signs of a Cadillac lying around. Of course, Fenn might be smart enough not to have his drugs strewn about. Maybe Fenn was just twitchy over last night’s catastrophe. Who wouldn’t be? It suddenly occurred to Caleb he had been remiss in asking if the artists had even been present at the gallery party. They very well might not have been. People tended to be more interested in the art than the artist.
“Thank you for taking time to see me, Mr. Fenn.”
Fenn’s gaze skittered up and down, taking Caleb in. “Not that there was a choice. They’re going to blame me, after all.”
“There were two other artists whose work...um, sprung to life.”
“Do you really think they’ll blame Scheuch?” Fenn snorted. “Not on your life.”
“Why do you think they’ll blame you?” Caleb took a step closer, studying Fenn’s face for guilt.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Fenn waved him off. “I’m a wet smack compared to some of the others. My art is barely appreciated, is all.”
“Appreciated enough to be in two galleries,” Caleb countered.
“My art is commercial with the wrong set.” Fenn’s face screwed up. “Anyhow, why exactly are you here? Do you think I know anything about this?”
Judging by the strange expression on the man’s face, Caleb felt sure there was something the man was afraid of, and it probably wasn’t just the blue Soldiers of the Sun uniform Caleb wore. “We’re talking to everyone involved, Mr. Fenn. Please don’t feel singled out. Somehow, your art came to life and killed people. It’s my job to figure out how and why.”
“And if I did it on purpose, which would be counterintuitive if I wanted to sell more of my work, then I’d hardly tell you.” Fenn sulked like a child.
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Caleb kept his ‘but if you felt unappreciated, you might just make a deal with the devil’ to himself. “So you don’t mind if I take a look around?”
“I don’t know what you expect to find, but go ahead.” Fenn fluttered his hand at Caleb, then reached for a paint brush.
Caleb knew that if the man was guilty, it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t have anything hidden here. Worse, searching alone left him vulnerable, just as Temple and Agni would be in their interviews. Fenn could sneak up behind him and hurt him if he got too engrossed in the search. The only things working in his favor was Fenn’s studio was small, and that the man lived in a flat just above it. Fenn didn’t seem to care if Caleb examined that and went back to his painting. It almost convinced Caleb that the man had nothing to do with the demonic painting, but he had seen cool cats before.
He started with the man’s meager living space, leaving Fenn alone in the studio. It wasn’t an ideal situation. Caleb hoped his vague status as an authority figure would make Fenn think twice about doing anything foolish. Luckily, it didn’t take long to go through the living space. Unluckily, Caleb found nothing. He went back downstairs to poke around the studio. He took a look at the scene the man was painting. It wasn’t a painting of cats or dogs, or anything his grandmother would hang up. Fenn painted a man, from memory perhaps, handsome with golden hair, his brow furrowed as he read something in the book he held.
“I like that,” he said. “Is it someone who sat for you?”
Fenn shook his head. “Ever have a dream that seemed real?”
“Yes,” Caleb replied, intrigued.
“This is my dream. I saw him. I don’t remember much about the dream, only that if I painted him, my fortune would be made.” Fenn turned to face Caleb. “I figured there could be no harm in it, even if I don’t really believe portents and dreams.”
Caleb shrugged. “I suppose not.”
“Are you about done?” Fenn leaned over to load some paint onto his brush.
“Yes,” Caleb muttered, noticing an odd pendant around Fenn’s neck. It had a strange symbol on it, like a distorted ‘Pi’ or twisted lowercase ‘N’ with a cross at either foot and at the apex. It sparked something in his memory. He saw it mirrored on the cover of the book Fenn had painted. “What is that symbol on your pendant?”
“This?” Fenn lifted it with the back end of his brush. “I don’t know. I just inherited it from an uncle a few weeks ago, just about the time I had that dream, now that I think about it. It just seemed natural to paint it in.”
Caleb wondered if he had found what he was looking for. “Could I borrow the pendant?”
Fenn’s eyes bugged. “You most certainly can not. Now, if you’re going to bother me all afternoon, I’m going to be vexed.”
“I’m almost done.” Caleb had no authority to take the pendant. He would have to research it further. Once Fenn’s attention was back on the painting, Caleb jotted the symbol down in his notepad. When he found nothing else that seemed suspicious, he headed back to Sun headquarters to meet with his partners, hopeful that he was on to something.
XXX
“At least you found a symbol. Want to know what I got? Attitude,” Temple grumbled as he paged through a thick tome that had been brought into a private study room, along with several others.
“Did you somehow expect different from artists?” Agni didn’t even look up as he asked that.
“One could hope,” Temple sniffed. “And if I have to spend the whole evening looking at these musty books, and then have to go to a stuffy gallery party tomorrow, then you two owe me something tonight.”
“For doing your job?” Caleb grinned. “Talk to payroll, Temple.”
His teammate shot him the evil eye. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“You mean we should just put the books in the corner and do obscene things to you on this table.” Agni still didn’t look up to see Temple nodding.
“See?” Temple patted Agni’s back. “Your partner has the right idea!”
“My partner is being sarcastic. Maybe, if you’re a good boy and do your research, you might get what you want.” Caleb smirked at Temple’s dismayed look. He knew that Temple was - in part - just joking. Oh, the man wanted sex with him and Agni, but he would do the work without bribery or threats. Temple liked looking as if he was completely sexually motivated. Of course, what Temple wanted might leave them with something pulled. He’d hate to have to explain to Taglioferro how a groin injury took him off the case.
“Might, I like that qualifier,” Agni said, finally looking up. His dark peepers gleamed. “Or he can just watch while the two who actually do their research reap the rewards.”
“Or I could just tie up an annoying team mate in a closet while I seduce his partner,” Temple eyed Agni, then shoved a book toward Caleb. “Is that the symbol?”
Caleb peered at it. “Close but no. That’s from The Lesser Keys of Solomon symbol, right?”
“Oui.”
Caleb dug out his copy of the Ars Goetia and paged through it.
“Are you on to something?” Agni asked curiously, and Caleb nodded.
It took several minutes, however, to prove that he was. “Here it is, it’s the symbol of Dantalion.”
“Really?” Temple snickered. “We’re going after a demon named ‘Dandelion’?”
“Dantalion,” Caleb corrected, even though he knew that Temple purposely mispronounced the demon’s name.
“He’s a Duke of Hell,” Agni said, leaning over to read the text. He groaned in remembrance of the last time they had to confront a Duke. “He’ll be every bit as hard to deal with as Astaroth was.”
“I’m telling you now, if Dandelion shows up and he’s got a head full of white fluff, I’ll be utterly useless in the battle because I will be laughing too hard,” Temple replied with a wide smile.
“I say we feed him to Dantalion and just get a new partner,” Agni suggested with a grin and Temple flashed him an obscene gesture.
Caleb ignored them both. He was an expert at it since their bickering was endless. “Dantalion is a master of science and art, which explains a few things. I think we better go find out exactly who this uncle of Fenn’s was, and why he’d bequest that ring to his nephew.”
“If we’re lucky, we won’t have to fight the demon. We’ll just have to get the pendant from Fenn, and this will all be over with,” Temple said, hopefully.
“But if Fenn isn’t an innocent party in this, that will be harder than it sounds,” Agni pointed out.
“Agreed, but let’s divide this up. Agni, you and I will research Dantalion. Temple, go chat up the librarian, and see if you can find anything in the newspaper archives about Fenn’s family,” Caleb said. Once they had a little more information, they’d have the legal right to confiscate the demonic summoning pendant, and put an end to all of this, hopefully before any more paintings came to life. The damage might already have been done. He’d have to do more research to be sure.
XXX
“I don’t know where you get the courage to do this job,” Stanislawski said, leading Caleb and his team into the gallery hosting tonight’s party. “I don’t even want to be here at all, but I’ve made a promise to Jacob. Ah, there he is. Jacob, these are the Soldiers of the Sun I told you about. Captain Davies, this is Mr. Jacob Penny. He runs this gallery.”
“I’ve been expecting you.” Penny eyed the trunk Temple and Agni had suspended between them. “What is that?”
“Weapons,” Caleb said, holding his arms out to the side. “We can only wear side arms and knives while in our suits, at least if you want us to blend in. Our main weapons are in the trunk. We’ll need a place we can get easy access to it, but have it out of the way at the same time.”
“Bring it this way. Hopefully this will suit your needs,” Penny said. He beckoned them to follow.
“What would have suited my needs was finding a certain someone at his place and legally taking that pendant away,” Temple grumbled, wisely not naming their suspect. “I feel out of place here.”
“You think you feel out of place?” Agni muttered and Caleb shushed them both.
“How’s this?” Penny lifted the table cloth to the hors d’oeuvre table. “No one should be under here. There isn’t much in the way of hiding places in a gallery show floor.”
“It will have to do.” Caleb patted his pocket, to reassure himself his knife was in there. He had a Roscoe concealed under the brown tweed jacket he wore, but guns were never his thing. Caleb was better with edged weapons. It always felt like he was naked without his sword, but that had to remain in the trunk with Temple’s Tommy gun and Agni’s chakram. He could just make out the outline of Agni’s pistol under the white linen suit jacket. The contrast of the creamy linen and his lover’s cinnamon skin made Caleb’s mouth turn to desert. Temple’s taste in suits - a loud pinstripe - made him a safer bet to look at and not embarrass himself. Caleb had to admit he liked it when he and his partners were togged to the bricks, and no matter what he thought of the pint-sized soldier’s gaudy tastes, at least Temple wasn’t doggy about being dressed up like he and Agni always were.
“What do you need to do now?” Penny asked.
“Since this party is going to happen against our advice, we’re going to mingle and hope for the best,” Caleb replied.
Penny glanced at Temple. “It sounded like you thought you knew who was responsible for this.”
“No, we think we know what triggered it, but not why or why so many artists were affected,” Agni said.
“Nor do we know if it was intentional or accidental,” Caleb said, leaning toward the latter. He saw no motive for Fenn to kill people who might buy his art. He’d be ruined if anyone found out he had the talisman and wasn’t doing this on purpose. They would have to try and get the pendant from him. “No, Mr. Penny, there is much we still don’t know.”
“Well, I won’t get in your way. Try not to upset the guests,” Penny replied. “It would be best if they think you’re just another guest.”
“We know our job, sir. They won’t guess we’re Soldiers,” Caleb said reassuringly.
“Not until the paintings start to eat them,” Temple mumbled under his breath, and Caleb silenced him with a look.
It didn’t take long for the wealthy guests to begin to arrive. Caleb would have thought the murders from the night before would have kept them away when even the tough economic times couldn’t. He began to suspect that they were there almost as much for the chance to see the art rampage as they were to buy any of it. Temple had been right, though, Caleb mused as he helped himself to an appetizer. It would have been so much simpler if they had stopped Fenn before tonight, but he had been nowhere to be found.
As Caleb watched the room, he realized someone was watching him as well. A very handsome, refined blond man studied him as if Caleb was one of the works of art. Was he homosexual and suspected Caleb was as well? Did the man suspect that Caleb was a demon hunter? He thought it might be helpful if he spoke to the man, while pretending he was here to buy.
The man’s eyebrows arched as Caleb approached. It made Caleb rethink what he was doing. There was something in those very blue blinkers that made Caleb nervous and not the sexy kind of nervous. There was something odd about his tie tack, but before Caleb could say a word or get a better look, he heard his name being called. Temple nodded toward the door.
Seeing Fenn coming inside, Caleb turned away from the handsome man, feeling for his knife in his pocket, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. He caught Fenn’s elbow, steering him back toward the door. Caleb noticed his partners moving in along with him. Oddly enough, so was the handsome man.
“What is this, Davies? Let me go.” Fenn jerked away.
“We need you to step outside,” Caleb said as authoritatively as he could.
“I have business to conduct that I can’t do from out there,” Fenn protested.
“And my business is with you. That pendant you inherited, I need you to turn it over,” Caleb said, holding out his hand. “Do you have it with you?”
“This?” He tugged it out from under his collar. “It’s just a piece of junk, but it’s about all I have of that uncle. I don’t see why I should give it to you.” Fenn curled his fingers over it protectively.
“Because,” Temple said, catching up to them. “It’s what’s calling the demons.”
“This?” Fenn tore it from his neck, his voice going shrill. “How? Why would my uncle give me this? Get it away from me!”
“He must have been using it,” Caleb said. “I’ll take that.”
“I think not, demon hunter.”
The handsome man hit Caleb from behind, taking his breath away. The area burned like acid had been dumped on him. The man reached for the pendant, giving Caleb a close up-of that strange tie tack. It was Dantalion’s symbol. Caleb managed to toss the pendant to Agni, making the man growl.
“Always interfering where you’re not needed, damned hunters.” The man threw Caleb like he was a sack of feathers. Caleb slid across the polished hard wood when he landed, scattering the screaming guests.
“Let me guess, you’re Dandelion,” Temple said, drawing his heater.
“I don’t understand what’s happening!” Fenn cried, running into the corner.
“It’s Dantalion, you impertinent brat. And as for you, your uncle was a loyal servant and artist. He’d hoped you’d be as well.” Dantalion smiled. “I suppose I overplayed my hand the other night.”
“You could say that,” Temple said, and calmly shot Dantalion in the face.
As people shrieked and stampeded toward the door, Caleb pushed himself to his feet before he could get trampled. Dantalion stumbled back, then grinned again, sticking his tongue through the hole Temple had made in his cheek.
“You can’t kill me, little man,” Dantalion lisped. “My children, to me!”
With that command, several paintings started to shiver and shake, the artwork beginning to rip free of the canvas.
“Get out of here,” Temple screamed to the guests and shot Dantalion again. The demon prince swatted him away like a mosquito.
“Caleb, catch.” Agni had made it to the chest and tossed Caleb his sword. His body aching, Caleb yanked it from the sheath.
Agni tossed one of his chakram at Dantalion, but the demon caught the circle of metal, winging it back at Agni. The prince leapt across the room, grabbing Agni, shredding the white jacket as he tore his sigil pendant from the pocket. He flung Agni toward a brace of dead rabbits rampaging free of their painting. They swarmed over Agni. Cursing in Hindi, he sliced them into pieces with the chakram. They turned into paint puddles on the floor.
Caleb slashed through the living portrait of someone’s child, the head flopping back like a child’s ruined drawing before it melted away. He managed to get to Temple’s Tommy gun, not that it would do much good. Even though the gallery was emptying fast, there were still too many people to just shoot willy-nilly. He tossed it to Temple, then went after Dantalion, stabbing the demon prince in the back.
Dantalion howled, jerking free of the metal. “You foul pest!”
“Take this, dandelion!” Temple raced in, using the chopper to fill Dantalion with daylight. Blood and chunks of flesh hit Caleb and destroyed the painting on the wall behind the demon. Dantalion knocked Temple away, panting.
“You are…not worth my attention,” Dantalion disappeared, presumably back to hell.
Caleb helped Agni finish off a curly haired, golden boy who’d been painted angelic, but was busy trying to strangle a woman. Blood and signs of mayhem were all that was left of the gallery opening. Temple staggered up to them, his auburn hair matted to his forehead with blood. “They don’t pay us enough for this,” he muttered.
“For once, we’re in agreement,” Agni panted.
Caleb nodded, surveying the damage. “We’d better help the wounded,” he said, knowing there was still a long night left before them.
XXX
“You know,” Temple said, lounging naked on Caleb’s bed. “If I inherited something from a long-lost uncle, it probably would be a demon necklace.”
“You? Hasn’t your family been in the Knights Templar since time began?” Caleb laughed, rubbing Temple’s back, keeping clear of the bruises. “I doubt they would have anything demonic.”
“With Temple’s luck, he’d get the one thing that is,” Agni offered from where he sat in his underpants, his body twisted in one of those yoga positions he swore helped ease his muscles after battle, but just looked painful as hell to Caleb.
“Definitely,” Temple said, rolling over to kiss Caleb’s chest. “And just like Fenn, I’d be clueless until too late.”
“With how you get behind the grind on your demon research, yes, I’d believe that,” Caleb countered.
Temple’s kiss sealed over his mouth this time. When he stopped for air, he grinned. “This is a sure fire way to keep you from teasing me.”
“You started teasing yourself,” Caleb said, pulling Temple against him.
“So, lover, it’s up to you and Agni to find a creative way to shut me up,” Temple dared.
How could Caleb possibly resist?