Blood Curse
Debt
Six months later…
Minerva flicked the soft pointed corners of the old photo with her right index finger. The photo was worn from years of travels in the washing machine, rolled up in dirty laundry, numerous wallets, bags, pockets, purses, being stuffed in drawers, bras, and was covered in dried tears. The photo was her reminder of why she put up with the daily shit, a reminder when death seemed so much easier, and a reward for all the fucked up things she’d seen and done.
Minerva set the photo face down on the couch and rested her feet on the coffee table. The healed stab wound on her thigh itched, causing her toes to twitch in discomfort. It still pissed her off that the damn demon had gotten the best of her. Her! Not only had Minerva nearly been killed by the low level demon, but an agent from The Agency had been the one to save her. And of course, it hadn’t been just any agent that saved her; no it had been none other than that judgmental bastard Thomas Moore. She could barely tolerate The Agency on a good day, and that had been a shit awful night. Most of all Minerva hated being in the debt of others.
Her phone rang, cutting through her angry thoughts, and Minerva almost let the call go to voicemail because of her annoyed mood, but caught the call before it could.
“Scarlett.” She answered, scratching at the old wound remembering how Wind had scolded her doing the same thing to a fresher wound a few months back. The old weapon had this annoying belief that it was the end of the world if a woman was scarred—like Minerva gave a flying fuck if she had scars.
“It’s Russell, Minerva.” Russell greeted, the faint sounds of keyboard clicks in the background. Russell was a genius when it came to anything technology related, and it was that big brain of his paired with his cocky attitude that brought him to the attention of some dangerous people—people like her.
He’d been a kid when she was tasked a few years back to find and kill "the arrogant little rat who thought they could get away with steal from him" by Minerva’s former boss, and Wind’s previous owner. The geek had made the mistake breaking into the old man’s information system because there had been a rumor spreading through hacker groups that it was impossible to break through the firewalls and encryption system, and stolen money along with a set of locations for cursed items auctions as trophies. It had taken her nearly two months to track down Russell because of all the fake paper trails and dummy accounts he’d set up when he’d figured out that he had pissed in the wrong bowl of cheerios. Minerva had already been planning to break free from the old bastard’s blackmailing control, but because she’d found a scared sixteen year old kid at the end of the trail she’d been forced to move up her plan. Minerva didn’t hurt kids; sure she might use a little tough love on the older ones—like Russell—but the first hint of danger had her maternal instincts flaring up with the intense need to protect.
Once she managed to get Russell to trust her enough to help protect him, Minerva—with the aid Kieran who was now the current boss—challenged the old bastard to a duel for hers and Russell’s freedom. The old man had been a hell of a lot stronger than her, not to mention the he was determined to retain control of the demon inside her, so she had been damn near close to losing. Minerva was still foggy on some of the details, but from what Wind had explained to her was she had somehow managed to fatality wound before Kieran had jumped in the moment King’s power overwhelmed her body forcing her mind to shut down, and slit the old bastard’s throat. By demon law Kieran had become leader of the organization by the act of killing the old man—cementing him as the strongest within the group. Minerva held no doubt that had the old man died at her hand, Kieran would have slit her throat instead. Two weeks later had found her in possession of a new weapon and a computer dork because, according to Wind, Minerva had been the proper winning of that battle, thus by some sort of ancient rule within his own contract Wind was to be her weapon until the same fate as the old bastard Kieran killed became hers. Russell, on the other hand, was a chicken shit and thought the best plan to keeping himself alive was sticking to her. He was lucky his skills were unmatched because all his damn toys were expensive as hell.
“What’s up, Russ?”
“There’s been talk about the agent that saved your bacon two months ago.” Minerva could hear the shit eating grin in Rustle’s voice, and it had her grinding her teeth.
“Yeah, so?” She demanded in a clipped tone, itching at the damn wound again.
“He wants to set up a meeting.”
That surprised her. “A meeting?”
“Yup.”
“Did he say why?”
“Nope. Apparently, he sent out the word via a possessed human.”
“He didn’t exorcise the possessed human later?”
“Not that I know of.” Interesting.
“That’s not normal behavior for the agent.”
“That’s why I called you.” Rustle said slowly, as if talking to a child. Minerva pulled the phone from her ear and gave it the bird before putting it back.
A thought occurred to her, causing her to groan, “God, you don’t think he’s going to try to recruit me again, do you?”
“I doubt it. Didn’t you have me sign him up for a dozen gay dating sites last time he offered you a job?” Rustle laughed.
“He pissed me off with that self-righteous attitude of his. ‘You think you’re helping but you’re acting foolishly and dangerously. Sooner or later someone will get hurt because of your actions, and I’ll have to clean up the mess.’” Minerva quoted in a deep, mocking voice.
“Yeah, yeah the guy sucks. So are you going to meet with him?”
That was the million dollar question. Something serious must be going on in the background for Mr. Holier-than-thou to use a possessed human without exorcising him to get this message to her. “Sure, why not?” Minerva gave him the time, date, and place to set the meeting. “Make sure you cycle it down through the same network he used. Let me know if he exorcises the messenger.”
“Sure thing, Minerva.” Rustle answered, and hung up.
Picking up the old photo, Minerva wondered what God’s gift to humanity wanted to discuss. Whatever it was, she would know in a few days.
She had a shit eating grin of her own when she thought of where the meeting was taking place. Minerva couldn’t wait.
Minerva flicked the soft pointed corners of the old photo with her right index finger. The photo was worn from years of travels in the washing machine, rolled up in dirty laundry, numerous wallets, bags, pockets, purses, being stuffed in drawers, bras, and was covered in dried tears. The photo was her reminder of why she put up with the daily shit, a reminder when death seemed so much easier, and a reward for all the fucked up things she’d seen and done.
Minerva set the photo face down on the couch and rested her feet on the coffee table. The healed stab wound on her thigh itched, causing her toes to twitch in discomfort. It still pissed her off that the damn demon had gotten the best of her. Her! Not only had Minerva nearly been killed by the low level demon, but an agent from The Agency had been the one to save her. And of course, it hadn’t been just any agent that saved her; no it had been none other than that judgmental bastard Thomas Moore. She could barely tolerate The Agency on a good day, and that had been a shit awful night. Most of all Minerva hated being in the debt of others.
Her phone rang, cutting through her angry thoughts, and Minerva almost let the call go to voicemail because of her annoyed mood, but caught the call before it could.
“Scarlett.” She answered, scratching at the old wound remembering how Wind had scolded her doing the same thing to a fresher wound a few months back. The old weapon had this annoying belief that it was the end of the world if a woman was scarred—like Minerva gave a flying fuck if she had scars.
“It’s Russell, Minerva.” Russell greeted, the faint sounds of keyboard clicks in the background. Russell was a genius when it came to anything technology related, and it was that big brain of his paired with his cocky attitude that brought him to the attention of some dangerous people—people like her.
He’d been a kid when she was tasked a few years back to find and kill "the arrogant little rat who thought they could get away with steal from him" by Minerva’s former boss, and Wind’s previous owner. The geek had made the mistake breaking into the old man’s information system because there had been a rumor spreading through hacker groups that it was impossible to break through the firewalls and encryption system, and stolen money along with a set of locations for cursed items auctions as trophies. It had taken her nearly two months to track down Russell because of all the fake paper trails and dummy accounts he’d set up when he’d figured out that he had pissed in the wrong bowl of cheerios. Minerva had already been planning to break free from the old bastard’s blackmailing control, but because she’d found a scared sixteen year old kid at the end of the trail she’d been forced to move up her plan. Minerva didn’t hurt kids; sure she might use a little tough love on the older ones—like Russell—but the first hint of danger had her maternal instincts flaring up with the intense need to protect.
Once she managed to get Russell to trust her enough to help protect him, Minerva—with the aid Kieran who was now the current boss—challenged the old bastard to a duel for hers and Russell’s freedom. The old man had been a hell of a lot stronger than her, not to mention the he was determined to retain control of the demon inside her, so she had been damn near close to losing. Minerva was still foggy on some of the details, but from what Wind had explained to her was she had somehow managed to fatality wound before Kieran had jumped in the moment King’s power overwhelmed her body forcing her mind to shut down, and slit the old bastard’s throat. By demon law Kieran had become leader of the organization by the act of killing the old man—cementing him as the strongest within the group. Minerva held no doubt that had the old man died at her hand, Kieran would have slit her throat instead. Two weeks later had found her in possession of a new weapon and a computer dork because, according to Wind, Minerva had been the proper winning of that battle, thus by some sort of ancient rule within his own contract Wind was to be her weapon until the same fate as the old bastard Kieran killed became hers. Russell, on the other hand, was a chicken shit and thought the best plan to keeping himself alive was sticking to her. He was lucky his skills were unmatched because all his damn toys were expensive as hell.
“What’s up, Russ?”
“There’s been talk about the agent that saved your bacon two months ago.” Minerva could hear the shit eating grin in Rustle’s voice, and it had her grinding her teeth.
“Yeah, so?” She demanded in a clipped tone, itching at the damn wound again.
“He wants to set up a meeting.”
That surprised her. “A meeting?”
“Yup.”
“Did he say why?”
“Nope. Apparently, he sent out the word via a possessed human.”
“He didn’t exorcise the possessed human later?”
“Not that I know of.” Interesting.
“That’s not normal behavior for the agent.”
“That’s why I called you.” Rustle said slowly, as if talking to a child. Minerva pulled the phone from her ear and gave it the bird before putting it back.
A thought occurred to her, causing her to groan, “God, you don’t think he’s going to try to recruit me again, do you?”
“I doubt it. Didn’t you have me sign him up for a dozen gay dating sites last time he offered you a job?” Rustle laughed.
“He pissed me off with that self-righteous attitude of his. ‘You think you’re helping but you’re acting foolishly and dangerously. Sooner or later someone will get hurt because of your actions, and I’ll have to clean up the mess.’” Minerva quoted in a deep, mocking voice.
“Yeah, yeah the guy sucks. So are you going to meet with him?”
That was the million dollar question. Something serious must be going on in the background for Mr. Holier-than-thou to use a possessed human without exorcising him to get this message to her. “Sure, why not?” Minerva gave him the time, date, and place to set the meeting. “Make sure you cycle it down through the same network he used. Let me know if he exorcises the messenger.”
“Sure thing, Minerva.” Rustle answered, and hung up.
Picking up the old photo, Minerva wondered what God’s gift to humanity wanted to discuss. Whatever it was, she would know in a few days.
She had a shit eating grin of her own when she thought of where the meeting was taking place. Minerva couldn’t wait.
♠ ♠ ♠
Any thoughts would be awesome. Thanks for reading.