Twice as Deadly: The Deadlies: Book Two

by A. C. Miller

Overview

An elite team of assassins are back at it again. While on a dangerous quest to identify and execute a band of rogue vampires and their sovereign before they kill more humans, the Enforcers sneak into their informant’s apartment in the middle of the night. A corpse with its mouth frozen open in a scream lies on the living room floor in a pool of blood. Their informant, Scummer, is dead, and it is obvious that whatever killed him had no mercy.

Bane “Vanity” Hellblazer is a Deadly who has learned to roll with the punches. But when the Graces move into the Deadlies’ house to hide from an overzealous celebrity reporter, Bane soon realizes they are all bound to protect humans and supernaturals from danger. As the Deadlies attempt to identify the rogue sovereign vampire and find out who murdered their informant, Bane’s twin brother, Demon, makes the Graces an offer they cannot refuse. As soon as the Graces agree to help, the Enforcers embark on a search for two missing gnomes—all while still attempting to fit in the usual executions.

In this continuing saga, a struggle for power ensues as Bane discovers there are sometimes drawbacks to being Demon’s twin.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781475938135
Publisher:	iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date:	07/25/2012
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	238
File size:	610 KB

Read an Excerpt

Twice As Deadly

The Deadlies: Book Two

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By A. C. MILLER

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 A.C. Miller
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-3811-1

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Chapter One

UNDER THE THREAT OF never driving again, I had to promise my brother that I would drive slowly and that I would stay at least six car lengths behind his motorcycle. I know the motorcycle was a mass of dents but I swear Demon drove twenty kilometres an hour just to piss me off.

I was grumbling much to the amusement of the other Deadly riding with me as we followed Demon down the long, narrow gravel driveway. A large wooded area obscures the view of the house from the road. As we came into the clearing just beyond the woods, my brother came to a stop in front of the house and shut off the bike. I parked behind him and got out of the van, slamming the door as my brother swung his leg over his motorcycle. "Hey, Demon, I think you got passed by a tortoise back there!" I yelled at him.

"And you managed to stay on the road," he retorted, applauding lightly. "I guess the farmer's cornfields are safe for another day, Bane." Demon held his hand out for the keys to the van.

I dropped them into his upturned palm. "If it is any consolation, you blew the doors off that snail we passed on Bridgeton Road."

"You managed to miss the three cruisers but the two officers you nearly flattened when you swerved will never be the same," Demon responded.

"At least I do not drive like someone's dead granny."

"Tell that to the officer who was curled up in a ball weeping on top of one of the cruisers. Daedalus will probably make you pay for his therapy."

Demon gazed at me coolly waiting as I struggled for a comeback. Finally, I gave up, scowling. "I hate it when you do that."

"You are losing your touch, brother," Demon said with a wicked smile.

I heard Riot Hellcurse snickering behind me. "Burned," he remarked.

"You are going to get burned if you make one more smartass remark," I said, pointing my finger at him.

"I'm terrified," Riot said cheerfully.

"Asshole."

The front door banged open and Dev Xander raced out of the house. Alarmed, our hands automatically went to our weapons.

Dev stopped short, gaping at us. No, he was gaping at Demon. "Holy shit!"

I looked at my brother. While my hand was on my blade, it was still in its sheath. Not Demon's. His blade was in his hand, ready to use. Flames leapt in his blue eyes. The air around him shimmered like heat rising from the earth, still charged with his energy and the excitement from the chase and execution.

Aw, crud.

"What is the matter?" Demon's voice had dropped to a low Wrath growl. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Wrath was edgy and an edgy Wrath is a dangerous one.

"Shit, would you look at that?" Riot hissed as the air around Demon swirled visibly. "Shouldn't that have drained away by now?"

Riot was right. Demon should not have been stirring the air like that. I had hoped that the ride home would calm him some. I was really hoping to avoid having to toss my brother into the basement to work some of that off. Demon and I are identical twins but even on his off-days, he can clean my clock.

"Nothing is the matter," Dev said shooting an anxious look at me. "But, I thought you were going to talk to Scummer."

"We are," Demon told him. We all heaved sighs of relief when he replaced his blade. "However, we cannot drive through Blackridge like that." He pointed at the roofless black van. "We have only come back to trade vehicles." He started walking toward the garage.

I studied my brother. His eyes glittered with intensity, his face flushed. He was so tense that I was afraid he would snap and that really would scare the hell out of Scummer, so much so that he would probably shut down and we would get nothing useful from him.

"Demon, wait," I called after him. "I will go."

Demon turned back frowning.

"It will not take all of us to interview an informant. Riot and Dev can go with me," I told him. "Besides, if I was Scummer and I ran into you right now, I would sooner throw myself under the nearest bus than face you."

Demon winced. "Is it that obvious?" He sighed. "Very well then, I will remain here. I would not want Scummer to commit hari-kari with public transportation."

I led the way into the apartment building where our informant lived. Riot walked beside me up the front stairs. We decided that it was better to stay out of the elevators and stick to the stairwells where people would be less likely to see us. We were at this particular building earlier in the evening and ... well ... there were a few complications. We did not want anyone recognizing us and calling the cops.

Behind us, Dev was whistling softly, hands stuffed in his pockets. Though a few hours ago he had hit a tree at 150 kilometers an hour, his arm had completely healed now and he had removed the bandage. You could still see the scar, but it would be gone by daybreak. "Could you knock off the whistling?" I asked, scowling at him. "We are supposed to be sneaking here."

Dev met my eyes with a big grin on his face. "Sneaking? Is that official Enforcer lingo? Anyway, we only hunt and execute the bad guys. I thought Scummer was on our side. So why are we sneaking up on him?"

"We're Enforcers," I said. "Do you think he is going to open his front door and offer us a beer?"

"And he's going to be happier if we sneak up on tippy-toes instead?" Dev asked sarcastically.

"Now I'm sure that term is in the Enforcers' official handbook," Riot remarked.

"We are highly trained assassins. We do not tippy-toe," I said haughtily. "Anyway, have you got a better plan?"

"Nope," Dev began to hum softly. I rolled my eyes.

"How much further is it?" Riot complained. I glanced at my friend. He had pulled his long white blond hair back in a tail. His brilliant golden eyes glared up the stairs. I sincerely hoped that we would not run into any prostitutes and their johns in the stairwell. I was afraid that if we did happen upon such a couple, the lady would quickly forget her client and start offering Riot a free sample. Then we would have a pissed off john on our hands as well. Brawls in the stairwell are not conducive to sneakiness either. I had a real reason to fear this particular scenario. Riot is Lust and this had happened before.

"Oh, come on," Dev spoke up. "Four flights of stairs would be nothing to Fechín. He wouldn't bother with stealth. He'd fly up the stairs."

Demon and I learned long ago that humans consider our first names unsuitable for polite society, especially with a surname like Hellblazer, so we chose names more acceptable for human males. I chose Brandon and my brother chose the name Fechín. Why he thought that was a more normal human name is beyond me.

I shook my head. "In the state Fechín was in when we left him, he would also punch in Scummer's door with his fist, grab him by the throat, and make the man piss himself."

My brother is not renowned for his subtlety.

Dev's brown eyes lit up and he opened his mouth to speak.

"No," I interrupted him hastily. "We can't."

"Party pooper," Dev frowned.

"Yeah, it's too bad. It's always fun watching Fechín go to work," Riot agreed. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "So?"

I sighed. "It is apartment A on the fifth floor. We are almost there."

We reached the fifth floor and, much to my relief, without running into any ladies of the evening or their surly customers. We moved silently down the hallway to apartment 5A and listened at the door. All was silent. I knocked. There was no response. There wasn't even a whisper of movement from inside.

Suddenly the door of the apartment across the hall flew open and banged against the wall with enough force to shake the floor beneath our feet. We jumped and whirled around. "Yikes!" Dev exclaimed at the apparition that confronted us.

An elderly human glared out at us. I wasn't certain at first, but I thought it was a female. She wore a pink and red flowered housedress that was far too large for her thin, bony body. She looked to be about ninety with a few curlers wrapped optimistically around the remaining strands of gray hair on her head. She was about four feet tall.

I thought at first that the old woman was a displaced dryad because her small brown face had the appearance and texture of tree bark. However, the voice that came out of that tiny woman was definitely not the wind-rustling-in-the-leaves voice of a dryad. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded in a deep, raspy voice.

"Electric Company," Dev told her.

She glared at us for a minute longer and then ducked back into the apartment, slamming the door. Riot groaned. "She's calling the cops. I know it."

I glanced sideways at Dev. "Electric Company?" I repeated incredulously. "At 2 a.m.?"

He shrugged.

"Let's get a move on before the human police show up," Riot urged. He glared at Dev too. "Of course, if you want to be the one to call Fechín when we get hauled off to jail, I have no objection."

"I'll pass," Dev remarked.

We turned back to the door. I tried the knob gently. The door didn't budge. "Maybe the door sticks," Dev suggested in a whisper. "It usually does in places like this."

I turned it a little more forcefully but it still didn't move. "I should have known it could not be that easy," I sighed.

"Now what are we supposed to do?" Dev whispered.

"We could take it down," Riot suggested.

"And what do we tell the scary little dryad in the next apartment then?" Dev wanted to know in an uncharacteristic display of practicality. "She really will call the cops."

Riot glared at the door. "Fechín would just take it down," he muttered.

"He can hypnotize people into forgetting that he was ever here," I reminded him. "We cannot."

"So how are we getting inside then?" Riot demanded.

I had to think about that. Then I noticed a small flowerpot sitting next to the door. Call me prejudiced, but I was betting that Scummer was not a flowerpot kind of guy. Following my hunch, I turned it over.

"Voila." I brandished a key. "We walk in."

"What an idiot," Riot muttered. I trusted he was directing that term at Scummer.

"Lucky for us he is an idiot," Dev shot back obviously taking Riot's comment the same way. "Or we would be climbing in through the windows. I hate getting stuck with my ass hanging out of a window."

Having wings is a definite disadvantage to sneaking into places.

I unlocked the door and opened it. Immediately, the smell of death overwhelmed me. "Shit," I muttered.

"Or something very close to it," Riot held his hand over his face in an attempt to defend his nose from the smell.

The three of us slipped inside the apartment. I closed and re-locked the door behind us. We did not want any more curious neighbours coming over to find out who we were. I doubted any of them would buy the Electric Company story either.

We found the body curled up in a ball on the living room floor. The mouth was wide open in a silent scream. A pair of dull brown eyes gazed up at us, frozen in horror. There was no life in them. Our informant was dead and whatever had killed him had not been delicate about it. It had shredded him. His jeans were in tatters and there wasn't much left of the denim jacket that he was wearing. He was wearing one green and white running shoe. The other was missing. A pool of blood spread around him, soaking into his shaggy brown hair and what was left of his clothing.

"Someone obviously didn't want him talking to us," Dev commented.

I fumbled for my cell phone and attempted to flip it open the way I had seen Demon do it. It opened and immediately snapped closed again. I cursed. Demon had insisted that I get one if I was going to lead executions. I had had it for a while now but was nowhere near being as adept with it as my brother was. It was obvious that I needed practice.

"Who are you calling?" Riot asked curiously, as I carefully opened the phone avoiding the wrist snap that Demon used to open his.

"When you got a body, lying in your home ..." Dev sang. "Who you gonna call?"

Riot groaned. "Not the Boogeys!"

"You like the Boogeys," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but this is a damned small space to invite them into! There is no ventilation and I doubt Fechín would appreciate it if we threw back the curtains and opened the windows!"

"They couldn't make it smell any worse in here than it already does," Dev pointed out.

"Want to make a bet?"

"Relax, Riot," I told him. "I'm just calling Fechín to find out what he wants us to do."

He answered the phone after the second ring and I spoke to my brother, briefly, explaining the situation. I hung up and turned to Riot. He wasn't going to like this.

"He wants us to call the Satana CSI-Team," I said.

"Okay," Riot said, relieved.

"Then he wants us to call the Boogeys to come and get rid of the body afterward."

Riot groaned.

I knew he wasn't going to like this.

Chapter Two

THE HUMAN COPS SHOWED up about fifteen minutes after the Satana and, as the only shapeshifter present, I had to pretend to be Scummer in order to convince them to leave. When I opened the door, the old woman from across the hall was with them so I knew immediately who had called them. She was hiding behind them and kept peeking around the taller cop to glare at me.

"Yes?" I asked glaring back at her.

"Is this the gentleman who lives here, ma'am?" one of the officers asked the dryad.

She sniffed at me but nodded reluctantly. "It looks like him."

Thank goodness. I did not really know what Scummer looked like. I had only the corpse to go by and there was not much left of it.

"Excuse me, sir." The other officer touched the brim of his hat in an old- fashioned gesture that nearly made me grin. "But your neighbour here said she saw some men lurking outside your door. She didn't know who they were and was afraid that they were up to no good."

"No, officer," I pretended to yawn as though they had gotten me out of bed. "I know the young men. Everything is fine."

It didn't take much to convince the cops that the neighbour had made a mistake. After the cops left, the old woman remained standing in the hallway, still glaring at me suspiciously.

"Was there something more, ma'am?' I asked her.

"What's wrong with your voice?" the old dryad asked.

"I beg your pardon?" I said surprised.

She shook her head. "You may look like Mr. Scummer, but you sure don't sound like him," she said. "You're too genteel."

Oops. It is one of the pitfalls of being as old as I am. Demon and I have a hard time with the casual dialogue of modern times. We were born when words meant something and carried weight. You spoke carefully because whatever you said could make things happen, bad or good. Now, anyone can say anything. They threaten to kill people when they are angry. Curses have become part of everyday vocabulary. It does not have the same power as it once did. It is such a shame because it makes people less careful and considerate.

"So who was the kid who told me that he was with the Electric Company?" she demanded.

I went with the story we had devised before the police arrived. "He was my nephew," I explained, trying to sound less polite without being outright rude. A mischievous thought sparked in my head, so I rolled with it. "He can be a bit of an ass when he has been drinking."

"Hey, stick to the script!" I heard Dev hiss, obviously irritated by my ad- lib. He was hiding behind the door in case I had to produce my "nephew" for questioning.

"And why are you wearing a coat at this time of night?" she demanded.

Shit. She should have been a cop. The police officers had not even blinked at the coat. "I am coming down with a cold," I told her.

"Humph." The old dryad gave me one last glare before she shuffled back into her apartment and closed the door.

"You are so clever, Bane," Dev said sarcastically as I closed the door. "I am coming down with a cold," he mimicked.

I glared at him. "You started it with your lame-ass excuse."

"I didn't hear you coming up with a better one!"

"Excuse me." Chief Daedalus Hellcurse stood in the doorway between the living room and the front hallway with his arms folded across his broad chest, staring at us pointedly. Daedalus is Riot's uncle. He is shorter than Riot is, and has dark hair. His eyes are emerald green and his skin is daemon red. He looks, as most daemons do, about twenty-five years of age physically. However, Daedalus is closer to my age chronologically.

"If we could continue with our investigation, then perhaps we could all get the hell out of here sometime before noon," Daedalus went on.

He was exaggerating. It was nearly three now and I was sure that the investigation would not take nine hours, but Dev and I meekly followed the chief back into the living room.

Riot was lounging against the arm of the sofa watching the Satana's M.E. as he examined the body. Scummer's appearance and smell had not improved in the last five minutes. The M.E. glanced up at us; the thick glasses he wore magnified his pure black eyes. He looked like a cockroach. His skin was redder than Daedalus' skin and that was rather dark red as it was. He blinked. "Someone ate him," he announced as his glasses slid down his long, pointed nose. "Partially."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Twice As Deadly by A. C. MILLER Copyright © 2012 by A.C. Miller. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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