Page 40 of Reaper (Quincy Harker Demon Hunter #10)

I stood in my living room gearing up to storm one of the few places in Charlotte anyone in the paranormal community, fractured and fractious as it was, considered safe.

Mort’s Bar wasn’t just a place with decent wings and a literally out of this world alcohol selection, it was a Sanctuary.

It’s one of about three places I knew of where monsters with beefs that would normally have them spilling blood on sight could sit down and talk without worrying that somebody was going to double-cross them.

And I was about to throw all that out the window.

Not that it applied to me, anyway. There was literally a sign over the bar stating that the rules of Sanctuary were for everybody but me.

That went up after Mort’s daughter, the half-demon cambion Christy, got killed by one of my enemies.

I’d always liked Christy, and between Mort and I, we made sure that the guy who killed her was exceptionally dead, but it didn’t bring his daughter back, and it turned what had at one time been a snarky friendship and mutual respect into a relationship balanced on razorblades.

Which I guess had finally tipped over into a volcano.

“You think this is because of Christy?” I asked Luke, who sat in an armchair watching Becks and I gear up.

He couldn’t come with us on this run because we were hitting Mort’s in the daytime.

There are a fair number of monsters and magical creatures that are weaker or completely nonfunctional while the sun’s up, so it was the right time to attack.

I still didn’t like leaving my heaviest hitter behind.

Luke’s not just one of the most powerful monsters in the world, he’s also one of the oldest, and his tactical mind is second to none.

Without him, and with Glory and Faustus still on their re-angeling retreat or wherever they were, I felt a little outgunned before I even left my house.

“I do not know, Quincy,” he replied. “It seems the most likely scenario, but he is aligned with the forces of Chaos, so it may be that he simply wanted to, as you say, stir shit up.”

“Maybe,” I said. “I guess it’s a little arrogant of me to think he would have started an entire underground fight club just to get my attention, isn’t it?”

“To a certain degree, yes,” Luke said, a slight smile twitching one corner of his mouth.

“But if it was targeted at you, he definitely chose a method which was certain to separate you from any backup, at least for a while, and to attack you at a point where you are particularly vulnerable—your sense of duty.”

I put down the Glock I’d been about to slide into a hip holster and gave Luke my full attention. “My…what?”

“You have your father’s sense of duty, Quincy.

It is one of the things I most valued in him as an employee, and most loathed in him during the time we were adversaries.

Both you and he are like the proverbial dogs with a bone when you feel that someone has been wronged, and if something or someone is under your protection, you will move heaven and earth to help them, protect them, or if necessary, avenge them. ”

“And who exactly was I avenging by getting into a pit fight with a bunch of monsters?” I asked.

“The city, of course.” Luke’s expression was unreadable, but it seemed like there might have actually been a hint of pride on his face.

“For some reason, you have appointed yourself the protector of this city, and of all the denizens herein, be they human or supernatural. You discovered something that you considered a threat to those citizens, and you were obligated to neutralize said threat. Not from any onus put upon you by an official, or even unofficial source, but from your own sense of duty. You are an honorable man, Quincy Harker, no matter what you may think about yourself. And when someone threatens those under your protection, you do what honorable men must do—you fight.”

I turned back to my gear, holstering my pistol and double-checking that I had a couple spare magazines in my back pockets for the Glock.

“You’re right,” I said without looking at my uncle, perhaps the most famous monster in history to have never been elected to public office.

“I do feel like the people of this city are my responsibility, and I do feel like they need to be protected from things like the Colosseum. If it was a straight fight, that would be one thing. People who chose to fight and could choose to leave—I got no problem with that. But Mort put his thumb on the scale. Nobody was getting paid but the house, and that’s not fair.

So yeah, he was taking advantage of people I promised to protect. And now I gotta go kick his ass.”

“No, babe,” Becks said, coming out of our bedroom in all black tactical gear, complete with a custom chainmail shirt made of ceramic links for lighter weight, woven tight enough to stop all but the tiniest of fangs or claws.

She fastened a choker of the same material around her neck, slipped a pair of fingerless gloves on her hands, and gave me a cockeyed grin.

“This is my city, too. I might not be a cop anymore, but Charlotte’s as much mine to protect as it is yours. We’re gonna go kick his ass.”

* * *

Only problem with our plan was that Mort knew we were coming.

Or he’d been cowering behind a wall of monster meat ever since we’d shut down the arena, which I doubted.

Way easier to have someone keep an eye on the parking garage of my building and call him when we left looking like we were ready to storm the castle, as it were.

The parking lot was full when we arrived, except for one spot right up front with a sign that read “Reserved for The Reaper.”

“I think he’s expecting us,” I said as Becks pulled the Suburban into the empty spot.

I wanted to drive, but ever since one road trip where I blasted the soundtrack to Hamilton for six straight hours, I lost my driving and therefore my radio privileges, even on in-town trips.

Mort’s bar was only a few miles from my building, but she was taking no chances on me forcing her to listen to show tunes for even a moment.

“Yeah, looks like it,” she replied. “You still wanna do this, or you want to wait until Glory and Faustus get back? Or maybe until Luke can come with?”

Truth be told, Luke could have accompanied us on this run.

He doesn’t get significantly weaker in the daytime, and although his idea of a sunburn looks more like a Roman Candle than a little pink skin, we’ve found workarounds before.

I just wanted to do this one on my own. I would have left Becks behind if I thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell she would have stayed home.

This felt personal, and I wanted to be the one to end it.

Luke had played the cavalry for me once already on this case.

I didn’t want to get used to him bailing me out, any more than I already was.

“Nah, let’s do this. What’s a bar full of demons and monsters just waiting for a chance to gnaw on our bone marrow?” I said with a bravado I didn’t really feel.

“For us? Just another Tuesday,” Becks said, opening the door and sliding out of the SUV. I followed, then paused as she grabbed a twelve-gauge from the back seat. She looked at me. “You okay? I know you liked Mort.”

“As much as a guy with ‘Demon Hunter’ on his business card can like a demon, I guess. My bigger worry is what meat suit he’s borrowed this time. I can’t kill him if he’s hijacked an innocent.”

“I don’t think cutting a deal with a demon to let them borrow your body qualifies you as innocent in anybody’s book, Harker,” she replied.

“Yeah, but there’s guilty, and there’s deserves to have your ticket punched guilty,” I said. “But there’s only one way to find out. Got my six?” I asked.

“Always.”

So we crossed the crowded parking lot to the door, which was unusually untended.

Mort normally had a guard of some sort floating around, but this time there was nothing.

No door man, no bouncer, just an unlocked metal door.

I took that as an invitation, and not feeling particularly welcome, drew my Glock and stepped inside.