Sub-lets in Hell, chapter 15.

Here we are, chapter one of spooky season. Please enjoy.

I roared along the road, just a paved stretch of clean sand-blown asphalt that you couldn't really drive when the winds kicked up. It was fine right now though; it was a nice bright day filled with sunshine. The kind of day where anyone would like a nice drive.

I shifted up and gave my car some gas, ignoring my passenger as he tensed up in the seat beside me. I mean, with a road like this, in conditions like this? A hundred miles an hour was nothing. In fact, the car responded better the faster you were going, which was a fact that always tickled me since I'd expect the opposite.

I twitched the wheel to confirm it, and the car responded. The groan from beside me was entirely too melodramatic.

"Relax you baby, we aren't going that fast."

"This will be how I die," Clay answered with another moan. "I survive more demons than any five summoners put together, and die in a car accident because my friend can't keep the speed down."

"You aren't going to die. We could be going twice as fast, and I could roll this thing, and we'd walk away from it."

Clay knew I had more wards on this thing protecting my life than my new house. He hadn't seen me paint them, but he'd seen the aftermath.

"I'm not doubting your rune work, but I don't want to test it," the man answered.

"Look, this is a two lane stretch of perfect asphalt with plenty of space, and my car is in perfect shape. Nothing is going to happen."

I eased off a little; just so my friend would stop bellyaching about it, and thankfully, he quieted down.

The drive went by too quickly - I kind of wanted to keep going.

I shouldn't though; Dad was waiting. He'd taken a large step for him, and responded to my text, telling me so.

The traffic wasn't bad this early in the morning, especially since I was skirting around the heart of the city.

Most of my old haunts were on the outskirts, including my favorite park. All of them were right where I'd left them, of course; the chicken shack we liked was a little more run down if anything, my old school might be too. The park still looked good, but it'd look much better in the spring.

I could almost see us all there, laughing, chatting, and maybe drinking illegally. Just existing.

I drove on before Clay opened his mouth about why I might be idling past these places.

He already knew, of course, and was taking it all in silently.

He had one reaction when I pulled in; a single raised eyebrow. As if he couldn't believe my house existed.

I had to ask, as I pulled in behind Dad's new car and shut mine off. "What? surprised it's normal looking?"

I'd gotten that before from some people - mostly those who knew Mom or knew who she was.

"No, surprised it's so small. That's a two bedroom, and it's smaller than the place I grew up in. For two retired veterans? The place is small. What is it, sixteen hundred feet?"

Well, he had me there. "About that. You won't have to walk far to see everything, though there is a finished basement, so it's a bit bigger than it looks."

"A man cave?" Clay asked, his grin wide. "My Dad had one too."

I nodded. The basement was where we both used to hang out when Mom was pulling what Dad called her 'Suzie homemaker impression'. Or, when he was drunk and angry, her 'Suzie homemaker shit'.

The door opened, and the man in question stepped out into the sunshine.

He was the same, if maybe a little thinner, and a little more lined up. It was easier to tell since he was only clad in some thin pajamas and a robe and slippers. He had a steaming cup of coffee in hand, and the first words out of his mouth were: "Good morning."

"Good morning." No fool I, I locked up my car as Clay got out. He followed my lead, and if there was an eye roll involved, mum was the word.

I looked up and Dad was already back inside, leaving the door wide open.

Clay shouldered his bag with a shrug. We both had overnight bags, and he was right; I should get mine too, and help sell the idea that we were staying here to anyone watching.

We wouldn't fool Him, of course, but any more terrestrial watchers or terrorists, we had a chance with. Not that I was happy about the idea that terrorists knew who my parents were - but if they knew enough to watch, it was already too late. It wasn't like my Mom wasn't known, despite being out of the public eye for decades.

I snagged my bag and shut the door; Clay was already inside. It seemed like a waste not to enjoy the bright and hot sunshine, but both the men had already retreated and I wasn't going to yell them back out here like a jerk.

The kitchen was as dark and cool as I expected; my eyes adjusted to find Clay already pouring himself a cup of coffee, with Dad standing close enough to watch while leaning back casually on the counter.

"Coffee?" he asked, turning to me.

"No, thanks. I had some before we left, and I'm fine."

Dad shrugged and went back to leaning. "So, Captain. How'd she do?"

Sigh, of course he'd ask, and ask that now.

"She saved a lot of lives. Including mine, so she did just fine."

Dad nodded.

"Been saving that one? You could have asked before... or asked me if you were that curious."

That earned me a raised eyebrow. "Sometimes you like to hear it from an impartial source."

That was fair. "You should have known I did okay from when I came home."

I'd been sent back early, and not because I'd been jailed or facing a firing squad. That was usually enough to tell you a summoner was doing well for themselves.

"Sometimes you like to hear it from an impartial source," the man repeated.

Whatever. "Right, we aren't staying. Got to do some cloak and dagger crap, but we got a few hours. Anything you need help with? Where's Mom?"

"She's around. Upstairs asleep." That was a hedge if ever I heard one; it must not be a good day. "I got nothing I need help with, but I won't turn it down if you still remember our weekends."

The weekends we spent working on the car I now drove; of course, Dad had a new project; I should have known. He hated his modern beater, and it was out in the driveway - I'd pulled behind it.

Dad walked over and unlocked the door, leading into the darkened interior of the garage; the smell of motor oil and body filler hit my noise almost like a physical blow.

Dad's new project was an old corvette. Where he'd even gotten one was anyone's guess, but it needed a lot of care; the thing was almost just a frame, and I was certain that engine wouldn't survive a clean-up attempt.

Dad was trying anyway, of course, as you do.

"What a piece of junk," Clay stated casually.

Dad nodded in clear agreement. "For now. I can fix her," he added with a nod.

I knew it was old. That was about it. "What year?"

"A fifty-three."

I nodded along, as if I knew what that meant. It meant something to both Dad and Clay, I could see that in an instant. Well, Clay's appreciative whistle gave it away.

"Nice. Going to paint it polo white?"

Dad nodded again. "And order the interior custom. Going to try and save the engine, too. For now, I could use your help with the tear down and cleaning."

I tried to imagine Dad driving a white car; he hated white cars because they got dirty too easily.

"Where did you find it?"

Dad shrugged while picking up some kind of part: "In a barn somewhere."

Ah. That was Dad code for 'I found a dealer who found the car.' That must have cost a pretty penny. More than Dad liked to put into his restoration hobby - I guess this one was really rare though. Rare enough that he'd just jump on it.

Clay just said "Cool," and grabbed a rag.

Not much to say to that, I grabbed one too. Looking around, everything was where it usually was; dad was a creature of habit. Armed with a rag and wrench, I got to work attacking the engine.

It was a pleasant way to pass the morning. So much so, that I didn't want to leave, even when Clay started giving me looks.

Finally, I relented, however, and since she'd never forgive me if I left without saying hello, I went to find Mom.

I didn't have to look far; she was in the kitchen, with tea in one hand and the morning paper in the other. Maybe I didn't have to worry? If she was reading the paper, even the funnies, she was usually having a good day.

"Good morning."

She gave no indication that she found seeing me here unusual. She simply turned the page and favored me with: "Good morning honey."

I would have to press. "How have you been?"

"Better. I can focus, for now."

She sounded really lucid. "I thought I'd stop by. I'm going on a trip over the weekend, and thought I'd check up before I left."

That got the response I wanted, as she frowned, crumpling the paper a bit in her hands. "I'm not a child, dear. You don't need to worry about me. Or about us, either of us. I appreciate the visit, but we're capable of taking care of ourselves."

I'm sure she thought she was right here, but: "It's normal to worry. Especially for family."

She stared at me for a moment, then went back to her paper. The frown stayed firmly planted on her face. "We'll be fine; if we need anything special, we have contacts."

I knew Karen was one of those. I'd prefer it if she contacted Karen, honestly. She had the power to truly help when I wasn't here.

"You could have woken me up, you know," she said at last.

I knew. It was me or Dad; anyone else would have a bad time, no matter how good Mom was doing. "You need your sleep."

She always had issues sleeping, even in the best of times. I had a much more grounded understanding of why, now.

Issues and trauma for another day.

"I've been... doing well lately. The dreams have been gentle, lately." What did that look mean? She was looking away, sipping tea and glancing out the window. Clear patterns of evasiveness, my Dad's cop training informed me. Mom was a bit different; most of the time, she was very hard to read, but with the way she was asking right now, I felt confident in my instincts.

Still, she was lucid. Very lucid, and talking sense. So something must be working - or different. "Good to hear."

God, this was awkward. I wracked my mind for something, anything, for us to talk about. This was so much easier with Dad!

Mom turned back to me. "When you come back, I have requests. You'll indulge me, won't you?

"As long as it's not too dangerous or embarrassing, sure."

Mom looked shifty again for a moment, letting a bit of the other her slip out. "It won't be. It's just something I've been dreaming about, lately."

Oh, now I knew it was going to be bad. That and I'd have to do it, like always. "I can't just blanket promise anything, you understand. But I'll try."

My mother brightened immediately. "Sure, that's all I ask."

Then she frowned again. "You have to go, don't you. Right now."

"Near enough to it."

She sighed, and turned back to her paper. "I really wish you'd have woken me up. Go on then, do your duty."

"Next time then." I wouldn't, of course. Mom needed her sleep.

I stood up and headed back, almost slamming into Clay, who was standing suspiciously close to the open door while paying Dad his full attention in the most obvious way possible.

"We need to go. We might as well do it here." Our bags were here, after all.

Clay nodded. "I'm ready."

"Grex, veni huc!"

I felt the warmth of flames behind me, and as he was wont to do, his hands surrounded me in a backwards hug. "Good morning, my Mistress. Ah, the humble abode! It has been some time since I've seen it."

"Grex," my Dad acknowledged with a nod.

"Mortal," Grex said as he returned the favor. At least it wasn't his usual 'meatbag'.

"That's Mark to you, Grex."

Grex sighed, ever so slightly... then stepped around and bowed at me. "As you command, my Mistress."

Then his name was called again - from behind us. "Grex."

A glance at me, and Grex nodded again. "Samantha. It is good to see you well."

I turned just in time to see her grin - wide and all teeth. "Liar."

"What can I say?" was my demon's response. "Demon."

I had to get control of this. This... I hadn't thought this through well enough. "Grex, I need you to take Clay and I to Russia. Open a gate. Let's go see Moscow."

That got the demon's attention back to me - and he paused a beat. "Of course, Mistress."

The tear in space cycled into existence, and Clay wasted no time grabbing his bag and stepping through.

I was going to send Grex through first, but I guess that worked. It was nice to see Clay trusted me enough.

"Grex, let's step through together."

He held out his hand. Why would he do that? I grabbed my bag and turned to Dad. "I'll be back by Sunday evening for my car."

He had spare keys in case he needed to move it or use it. I didn't mind.

Gate travel was just as disorienting as ever, and with the short layoff from it, the sickness came back with a bit of vengeance.

I found myself in red square, already surrounded by a squad of troops whose guns were absolutely raised threateningly at us. They were backed by a small guy in robes not unlike what we wore on duty back home, who breathed a clear sigh of relief and pushed back his hood upon seeing me.

He was all scars and bald. It looked like his face had been peeled apart, slowly, which meant it probably had.

"Alice. We were told to expect you." The man's English was very good, if accented.

"Good morning." Moscow was five hours away from us, if I remembered correctly, which would put it around eight here. "Where do you need us?"

I almost said me, but it wouldn't be right to leave Clay out of things.

"One moment, I shall ask."

He grabbed his walkie and started rattling off words... and I could understand them. Grex must be covering for me - but he wasn't supposed to do that without asking.

It wasn't anything bad or paranoia inducing; he just said he had sight of me and asked where they wanted me to go.

The answer came back clear enough that anyone should have heard it. A clear name in any language; Sevastipol. A port city that had been mentioned by name by my own superior, days ago. Was something going on there? Something I wasn't allowed to know directly, despite my security clearance?

"The Colonel says you should go to Sevastipol. To aim for the docks, if you can, and you will find someone there to direct you further."

"Alright, fine. Phone ahead though; just so they will be looking for us." I had no idea how large the docks at Sevastipol was, but they had to be big. A long distance to cover from end to end for anyone.

I turned to Grex. "You been there before?"

He looked amused and he bowed, ever so slightly. "Of course I have. I've been everywhere on this miserable planet."

"Open the gate then." It was time to see what was going on.

Grex did so, clearly amused. Once again, Clay dove right in without hesitation, forcing my hand. "Grex, follow me."

Another bout of disorientation later, another long second of feeling as if I were stretching until everything snapped back, and we were in front of a ship.

It looked to be a warship, and it was huge. There were guns on it, and it had that sleek knife-like bow, but the upper deck looked mostly empty. The dock itself looked mostly empty, come to think of it; aside from that group that was clearly rushing to meet us, there were only a few people here.

A long cry away from what should be a busy dock.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Clay clearly thought so too.

Grex sidled up behind me. "Close the gate."

I heard the tear and affront to space seal itself as the group got within shouting range. These people weren't reaching for their weapons at least; a clear plus. They were all clearly military though, except for one guy, who was dressed with in coveralls of all things, and with a white cap he was currently wringing to death in his hands.

His completely bald head gleamed in the morning light; the man could have used a buffer to polish it, the effect was so good.

The man to get closest pulled himself up tall (which wasn't quite as tall as Clay could manage) and saluted. "Captain Rodin. You are Captain Alice?"

He didn't even look at Clay, which was more than a little rude. I returned the gesture and some fire: "Captain Alice and Captain Clay. We heard you had a problem we might be able to solve?"

The man released the salute and nodded. "We have a demon. One that has already killed."

That explained the docks being empty - and why Karen wanted me here; she wanted a visible investigator, one with experience.

This was something I could do. "Do tell."