Page 3 of Calling Chaos (Demon Bound #3)

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Cooper

D espite the strangeness Cooper had encountered at Ivan’s office, there were no more acts of lunacy from the universe on the way home. No flying pigs (or flying monkeys, for that matter). No alien entities dropping from the sky.

Cooper wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Relieved, definitely. He wouldn’t know what to do with a flying pig if he came across one. Take it to an animal rescue?

He summoned his boldness and asked the driver to stop at the corner of his block so he could head into the bodega. He gathered a few energy drinks and an armful of red licorice packages, plus a box of trash bags, since he was pretty sure he was out. He also ordered a chicken parm hero while he was at it, recognizing the need to eat something real for dinner. Or…lunch? Time was confusing when he’d been sleeping at odd hours, tucked in his workroom. He glanced at the clock—lunch it was.

So he’d eat half for lunch and save half for dinner, and bam, that was two square meals right there. Just like any old real, functioning human.

The guy manning the register knew him and knew Cooper wasn’t much for chatting. He never commented on Cooper’s eyes or said anything about the nutritional value of his purchases, so Cooper had an immense amount of fondness for him.

When the driver dropped him off at his apartment building—he’d insisted on waiting at the corner and dropping Cooper off directly at his building (“Boss’s orders, Coop”)—Cooper nodded to the doorman and headed up, ledgers in one hand and bags from the bodega in the other.

The building Ivan had set him up in was expensive as fuck, Cooper was pretty sure, but it wasn’t fancy in a way that set Cooper’s teeth on edge. The doorman and the guard at the desk were always polite but impersonal, and the other tenants all minded their own business. All in all, it was a pretty good deal for someone who didn’t like leaving the house much.

Once Cooper had unlocked his ten different locks and reset them all behind him, he headed to his workroom, dropping the ledgers in the corner and eyeing the mess.

It was even worse with fresh eyes. His actual work area was fine—the large, L-shaped desk with its monitor, two desktops, and ergonomic keyboard, plus the laptop he kept to the side for convenience. There were a few half-empty energy drinks tucked here and there, but otherwise it was all clean enough.

It was the rest of the room that was the issue. Cooper hated when he got like this, or at least when he had to face the evidence of it. It reminded him too much of his father at the end, before Cooper had realized he needed to move in with him—when his dad had been too sick and drunk to look after himself but too ashamed to ask Cooper for help.

Not like this, umnitsa, his dad had pleaded one night, bleary-eyed and only half-conscious. Don’t—don’t remember me like this.

But what other way was there to remember him? Cooper blinked stinging eyes. He may not have been a drunk—he was too afraid to touch the stuff, considering how his dad had ended up—but he supposed he had his own ways of getting lost in his demons. Focusing too hard on projects and forgetting to take care of himself, for one.

He needed to watch himself, make sure he kept coming up for air. He couldn’t lose it completely, not like that.

He got to work cleaning, which mostly involved stuffing garbage into trash bags and then taking them all to the chute. He did a cursory dusting and vacuum afterward and managed to make it look like a functioning person lived there by the end.

He settled in his cushy computer chair, eyeing his laptop and the message from Rabbit. It was tempting to respond now, but work came first, before he forgot about his tasks.

The false identities would have been fun to tackle, but Cooper needed to get in touch with a contact about social security numbers before he could really begin. He sent the message on a secure network, then swiveled his chair to face the corner, glaring at the ledgers he’d left there.

He really should get started on those. If he left them, he’d never want to tackle the chore. And he only needed to scan them in and send them back to Ivan—it wasn’t like he actually needed to organize the data. Ivan would hire someone else for that part, probably a real accountant. A dirty one.

So Cooper gathered the ledgers and set them on his desk. They were all pretty much identical—big, old-fashioned, leather-bound things—barring the book Nix had reminded him to grab, which was much smaller.

Cooper pulled the scanning app up on his phone and got to work. It was—just as he’d expected—dull as all fuck.

He got through two ledgers, scarfing bites of his sandwich in between pages, before he had to stand and stretch the kinks out of his neck. Just the two books had taken him hours already—the stupid, thick things were full of stupid, thick data.

It was annoying—give him a good project and Cooper could go for more hours than this without even realizing he needed to pee. But give him a mindless task like this and he was painfully aware of every passing minute.

His gaze fell on the one outlier in the group. It wasn’t just smaller than the other but also…pretty, kind of? Definitely designed with more in mind than just function. There were etchings on it, and it looked older than the rest. Cooper set it in front of him and—after making sure his hands were clean, no sandwich drippings to be found—began flipping through the pages, sipping on an energy drink as he did so.

There weren’t any numbers in the thing, which was odd. And the writing wasn’t in any language Cooper had ever seen before. It definitely wasn’t Russian; he knew that much. The book was filled with intricate symbols set across from stanzas that were either ancient or…made up?

Why the fuck would Ivan want this thing digitized? Was this some black-market artifact he was hoping to sell? It wasn’t like he needed the extra cash…

Either way, the symbols were cool to look at. At least it gave Cooper something different to stare at for a while. And it was, what, maybe a hundred pages? He could get through it fast, no problem.

Then he’d reward himself with a break. It wasn’t like Ivan had given him a deadline with these things. It was only that Cooper knew if he didn’t tackle them now, he’d forget they existed when more interesting tasks came along.

He got through the first fifty or so symbols without issue, but then he stopped. The symbol he’d just revealed was…interesting. They were all cool-looking, really, and Cooper wasn’t exactly sure why this one was more entrancing than the others. Maybe the color? It was a bright, golden yellow, and the symbol was a mess of swirling loops, the kind of thing where the eye couldn’t tell where one line ended and the next began.

The longer Cooper’s gaze settled on it, the more it seemed to almost move.

Cooper side-eyed the energy drink in his hand, then set it aside. Maybe he should lay off for the rest of the day.

He traced the symbol lightly with his finger, even though he knew he probably shouldn’t be touching it. But Ivan hadn’t said anything about needing to be careful in preserving the thing, had he? And Cooper could swear there was heat coming off it too.

If Cooper were bolder—and if he had zero respect for the sanctity of books—he’d want to rip that page out and…what? Hang it up? Tuck it under his pillow? He wasn’t sure. But he knew he’d want to keep it close, to pull it out and look at it whenever he wanted.

Well, whatever. He wasn’t going to deface one of Ivan’s books and run the risk of being defaced himself in retribution. After he scanned it, he could make the symbol the background image on his laptop if he really wanted.

But first, he needed to scan it in.

Cooper opened the app on his phone again and took a careful picture. The image took longer than the others to upload onto his computer, the lines seeming to swirl and pulse in and out of focus as the image resolution came through. Cooper rubbed his itchy nose and traced a finger over his laptop screen, the way he’d traced it over the book.

Red smeared on his screen, covering the now clear image of the symbol.

Damn it.

Cooper clapped a hand over his face, reaching for a tissue. A fucking nose bleed. Too little sleep and too much caffeine were finally catching up with him.

He stuffed the tissue into his nostrils, leaning forward so blood didn’t start trickling down his throat. It would stop by itself in a minute, if past experience was any indicator. Cooper grabbed another tissue to wipe his screen while he was at it. Gross.

He really was a fucking gremlin today, wasn’t he?

He stared at the pretty symbol as he waited for the bleeding to stop, but his perusal was interrupted by a chat box popping up.

Which was strange because it wasn’t from any chat program Cooper recognized. Nothing he’d set up himself; that was for sure.

But there was a message anyway, in a bright-yellow font that hurt his eyes.

You summoned me?

By the time Cooper’s nosebleed had stopped and he’d run to the bathroom to wash the blood off his face and fingers, his suspicion had only grown.

Where the fuck had the message come from?

He tried to look into the program, but there didn’t seem to be one running. Just the little gray box with bright-yellow font, front and center. It had a close-out x in the corner of the box too, but Cooper wasn’t dumb enough to click it. Not when the whole thing could be some phishing scam.

So the little box stayed up on his screen.

After another minute of Cooper poking around, a second message popped up below the first one in the box.

Well? Summoner? I don’t have all day. And then, immediately after, Well, I do. But it’s very boring in here.

That prompted a chuckle out of Cooper. He could relate well enough to mind-numbing boredom today.

He should leave it alone, but he was curious. And Cooper wasn’t stupid enough to click on any unfamiliar links, or to send any personal info, so what was the harm in replying?

How did I summon you? he asked.

Clumsily , the program replied.

Cooper let out another soft snort of laughter. This secret messenger was kind of funny. Was this an AI thing? They didn’t usually have a sense of humor, but sometimes the comedy was accidental, as the programs tried to mimic human minds without any of the millions of layers of subtext real humans walked around with.

And what’s the next step? he asked. I give you my bank info?

The next step is we make a deal.

Oh, of course. Something like…Cooper’s social security number and birthday in exchange for the promise of a hundred grand, once the displaced prince he was talking to had secured his fortune?

Ridiculous.

What kind of deal? he asked anyway.

What do you need, human?

Human? Either this thing really was AI, or it was someone cosplaying a machine. Could this be a program one of his hacker acquaintances was demoing? Or just a new phishing scam? Either way, Cooper didn’t like that it had managed to pop up on his computer. He had his own background programs running that were supposed to deal with these things.

He frowned at the screen. There was no reason to take it seriously, but…what did he need?

I’m lonely , he ended up replying.

Now he could only hope there wasn’t a real human on the other end of this conversation. If this was any of the hackers in his circle messing with him, he’d just embarrassed himself horribly.

Although, it wasn’t like any of those fuckers could claim they weren’t lonely as hell too.

You wish for a bed servant? the program asked.

Cooper stared at the screen. Well, damn. He shifted in his chair. That was kind of a kinky reply for an AI bot, wasn’t it? Was this about to turn into old-fashioned cybersex? He giggled, a touch of hysteria in the sound.

I don’t think those are exactly legal these days , he typed.

I am not bound by the laws of man.

Okay, then. Cooper cocked his head, considering. He thought of some muscle-bound dude wearing…a jockstrap and a leather harness, maybe? Was that what a modern-day “bed servant” would wear? Anyway, some muscle-bound dude wearing something revealing , kneeling at Cooper’s feet. Following his every order.

Cooper wrinkled his nose. That didn’t really do it for him, did it?

I think I’d rather just have a friend.

He regretted it as soon as he typed it. It was too raw. Too real.

It wasn’t like he was completely disconnected from humanity. He had friends on the internet—other hackers he’d connected with, although never in person. Some of them even lived in New York, he was pretty sure. But Cooper didn’t have anyone in the real world these days. His last real-world friend had been…well, his dad. And he hadn’t exactly been reliable.

Cooper swallowed through a thick throat as he watched the next reply pop up on the screen.

And what would be the ending terms of the deal? How would it be considered complete?

How the fuck was Cooper supposed to know? He considered, then typed, I guess when I don’t need you to be my friend anymore.

Cooper stared at his computer, nibbling on his thumbnail. When he caught himself, he stuffed a licorice twist into his mouth instead, chewing absently. The program was taking a long time to respond now. Had Cooper broken its hard drive with his pathetic request?

But then a message popped up. The weirdest one yet.

I accept. I, Bracchus of the demon realm, will aid this computer human by being his friend, until that friendship is no longer needed, in exchange for a piece of his immortal soul.

Cooper’s eyes widened. Demon realm? Piece of his immortal soul?

Had he stumbled into some underground marketing for a new video game?

He was kind of intrigued, honestly. Although, now he wished he’d thought of contract terms less lame-sounding than “please be my friend.”

Hold your finger to the screen , the program prompted.

Cooper rolled his eyes. How the hell would the program know if he didn’t comply? But he did it anyway. If he’d needed any further evidence that he was bored and lonely, this would have been it.

A shock ran through his body, like a bit of static electricity, and then another drop of red smeared his monitor.

Fuck. Was his nose bleeding again?

But no, Cooper’s hand came away clean. And there was no time to wonder any more about it, because yellow-gold smoke was filling his room.

Cooper yelped, jumping up from his chair, the licorice dropping from his mouth. If his monitor was on fire, that was his whole life going up in flames.

But the smoke was coming from the floor, not his computer. And it wasn’t the color of ordinary smoke, anyway. And Cooper could swear he could hear high-pitched giggling coming from somewhere.

So this was it—Cooper was losing his mind. It hadn’t been an AI marketing thing at all. Cooper was just hallucinating nonsense.

The smoke began to clear, and Cooper nodded like a demented puppet at what it revealed.

Yep, he was definitely losing his marbles.

Because there was a man in Cooper’s workroom. Or something vaguely resembling a man, if one was willing to discount the…accessories.

He was close to Cooper’s height but leaner, with elfin features that included little pointed ears. Small, black feathered wings were extended behind him, and something resembling a lion’s tail was flicking out from behind his legs. The hair curling around his ears was…blue? No, purple. Green? It kept changing.

And his eyes.

“You have a fox’s eyes,” Cooper said dumbly, the words coming out slurred as his vision dimmed around the edges. His knees were no longer doing what knees were supposed to do either—mainly, keep him standing.

And then everything went black.