It was like any other night. A long, relaxing stroll through the mild moonlit darkness. An excuse not to think any more, just to enjoy the stillness only 3 a.m. can bring. Wait, scratch that, it wasn’t still. Not any more. I could hear…. A car? This late?

"Cops," I said quietly, "I never met a single cop on bad terms before I started walking."

As if in response to my comment, the night was suddenly pierced by carnival flashes of red and blue.

"Hold it right there, boy," said the loudspeaker in a tinny Southern drawl thick with the false bravado of a tiny man with a large gun.

I knew instantly that the cop and I were not going to be buddies, and my tranquil evening was going to end in a spacious cell in the nearest county jail. It had happened a few times before, but I try to avoid it if at all possible. It makes it easier for them to find me.

I could hear booted feet behind me, but decided not to turn unless they asked me. Small-town cops can get trigger-happy in the wee hours of the morning.

"Out a little late for a brisk constitutional, aren’t you son?" asked the voice above the boots.

This wasn’t the one who had spoken over the loudspeaker. This one sounded a lot like my father. I hadn’t heard that voice in years. Spooky.

"Could you turn around for me, please?" he asked.

"Sure, officer," I said, all peaches n’ cream, "Is there a problem?"

"We’ve had some problems with vagrants lately."

"I’m just passing through, I can assure you."

"Sure you are, but I still gotta check you out, and to do that I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me. It won’t take long, then you can be on your way."

"Okey-dokey," I sighed, holding out my hands.

"No need for that, you’re not under arrest, not yet anyway," he said, smiling. "Just hop in the cruiser and we’ll be on our way.

"Are you nuts, Howard? Are you going to frisk him, or should we let him shoot us as we’re driving along?" This was Loudspeaker again, but what was that tremor in his voice? Fear?

How strange that he should be afraid, I thought. There are much worse things than me out tonight.

"Okay, Art, okay," he yelled to the cruiser, "Don’t get your panties in a twist." Turning back to me, he shrugged almost apologetically, "Sorry, but it is procedure."

"Fine with me," I said, "But let me warn you; I’m very ticklish."

That got a laugh out of him, but it ended abruptly when he felt the knife under my denim jacket. Well, knife isn’t exactly the right word for it. It’s more like a dagger or short sword, about eighteen inches long. It’s almost too big to hide. The cop drew it out of the sheath inside my jacket and gave a long whistle. Not only is it a tad big, but the blade is inscribed with runes and figures. I looked some of them up at a library a year or so ago, and as far as I can tell they’re some kind of pre-druidic language. Oh, and it seems to be made of some kind of silver alloy strong enough to scratch steel and not dull. Not exactly something you find on every wandering longhair you see.

"Now, what in the heck is this?" he asked with a perplexed look on his face.

A reasonable question, I thought, deserves a reasonable answer.

"It’s a dagger used to kill demons," I said.

He just stood there, looking like they always do. Come see the crazy hippie, folks, only a dollar for admission. Oh well, another lost cause. He’d see, if he stuck around with me for long.

His cop face was on, impassive and a little cold. I looked down and saw his hand was now on the butt of his police-issue .38. I sighed. C’est la vie.

I ducked down into the back seat, and that old familiar odor of strong disinfectants and vomit was there as always, like an old friend.

"Lookit this," the older officer said, "You ever see anything like it?"

"Big, shiny pigsticker, so what?" The younger one asked impatiently, "Let’s just get this guy processed so we can go home, okay?"

"Fine, Art, fine." He turned the lights off and pulled back out onto the asphalt with a jolt that made Art squawk. I chuckled.

"Laugh it up, bum, we’ll see who’s laughing when UCK!" he was cut off as the cruiser came to a sudden halt, its back end jittering.

"Very funny, Howie, my belt almost cut me in half!" Art yelled.

I saw Howard through the mesh. He looked pale, almost ghostlike in the glow from the dashboard lights.

"My foot’s still on the gas, Art."

"What the heck?" Art exclaimed, "Well, let your foot off so I can get out and check it out!"

"You don’t want to do that," I said.

"Shut up, greaseball!" Art yelled, his voice quavering a bit. "Shut it down, Howard!"

Howard let up on the gas pedal and the rear end stopped shimmying.

"Okay, I’m getting out," Art said.

"Alright, I’ll call this in, then."

"Like hell! I’m not gonna have the guys laugh at us for the next three months just because we got spooked by our own cruiser. Just let me handle it, okay?" With that he threw open the door and angrily jumped out. He stood there beside the cruiser for a few minutes. "Doesn’t look like anything’s wrong from here, let me just…" He trailed off as he walked toward the back of the car.

"How’s it look, Art?" Howard called out his window.

"I told him," I said. My voice hitched. I reached up to my cheek and felt wetness there. Crying? You’d think I’d gotten past that way back when. No such luck.

"What are you talking about?" Howard asked?

"They found me," I murmured, "Again."

"Who found you? What the hell are you talking about?" Getting a tad hysterical.

"Give me my knife," I said quietly.

His eyes widened and then something landed with a meaty thump in front of the cruiser. Howard turned on the brights and there was Art, minus his legs and head, of course. Howard screamed and threw open his door. Before he could bolt something grabbed him. Something big. All I could see was Howard’s body lifting quickly into the air. I heard a breathy wheeze, a crunch like the sound of someone biting deep into an apple, then silence. I could faintly hear the crickets out in the field beside the highway. Then the car lurched violently to one side.

"Great," I said, "Just great." Leaning forward, I kicked at the heavy wire mesh between me and the front seat. It gave, just a bit. I kicked again, harder. And again. Finally, it gave way with a screech and I was able to crawl to the front. Just then I saw a large claw sink into the roof like it was clay.

"No pressure," I said with a little laugh.

The knife wasn’t on the front seat. Crap. I reached down into the floorboard and nearly cut my hand open on it. I grabbed the hilt and dove out the door into the darkness.

I ran into the pool of light cast by the headlights and crouched down. The thing climbed off the car slowly, sizing me up, unafraid. It was large and dark, almost reptilian, with glowing red eyes and fangs half as long as my knife. I’ve found that there are almost as many different types of them as of us humans, so this one was new to me. I don’t even try to classify them any more.

"Hello darlin’, wanna dance?" I asked

It emitted a raspy shriek and came at me then, but I had been ready for it before it had even touched the cruiser. I sprang from my crouch and met it head on. Leaping up into the air, I brought the knife down towards its neck with all my strength. It dodged, but not far enough. I buried the blade into its collarbone all the way to the hilt. It grabbed me then; in a bear hug I knew I couldn’t get out of. Its eyes glowed with triumph and it began to squeeze. I heard my ribs creak and I could feel its fetid breath on me, like brimstone and blood. I looked at Death then, right into its bottomless eyes, soulless, like a shark’s.

I smiled, and gave the dagger a sharp twist, cutting whatever excuse for a heart that thing had cleanly in two.

"Fin," I said through gritted teeth.

The light slowly went out of its surprised eyes and it crumpled lifelessly to the ground and began to smolder. Nothing would be left when the sun came up, just dust in the wind.

I looked sadly at the two mutilated bodies, wondered if I could have done anything more to save them, and pushed the thought away quickly before I broke down entirely. I wiped my blade on the demon’s hide and slid it back into its sheath. I’d need it again, probably soon.

"Well, crap," I said, standing up and dusting off my knees, " Why don’t they ever listen?"

I stood there a moment, watching the demon smoke and the bodies grow cold. After awhile I turned away and began to jog away at a pace that would get me far, far away before first light.

Grinning with pleasure.......

Holy Crap Jason,

Great writing as usual. I LIKE, I LIKE