Hellfire Read online

  “Yeah?” he croaked into the phone while staring at the side table where the phone had been. A tiny plastic baggie of white powder ‘stared’ back, it’s mouth wide open and spilling snow-white dust all over the table’s surface. Well, that explained things. “Lindy?”

  He could hear the excitement in his roommate’s voice. She spoke faster than his addled mind could process, however, making him roll to a seated position on her bed and scratch at his head. “Wait, wait… say that again. - - I just woke up. - - Shut up. - - No, no bad dreams last night. Thanks.”

  Lindy continued on, repeating her exuberant words into his ear. She wanted to meet him for lunch at a bar called the 13th Hour; the same bar she worked at, if he recalled correctly. All things considered, despite living with the woman, he still knew very little about her. All the same, he promised to shower and meet her within the hour. So, true to his word, Hadi forced compliance from his limbs, washed up, re-wrapped his burned hand, and caught a cab to the bar in question.

  It was not terribly far from where Lindy lived as cabs went. The inside of the bar was dimly lit with industrial-looking lamps hanging from the ceiling. Booths and high tables filled the open space with a juke box against one wall, and darts on the other. There was a large, flat screen TV above the juke box running day time television as he walked in, the tiny bell above the door jingling loudly in his ears.

  “Hey!” Lindy said as Hadi walked in. She bounced to him, hugging him tightly as if all the depressing talk the night before had never occurred. “Tam, this is Hadi, the guy I was just tellin’ you about.”

  Hadi arched a questioning brow as Lindy dragged him over to the bar. She introduced him to Tamara Marshall, owner and proprietor of the 13th Hour as well as the building manager. The woman was easily in her forties, handsome, with chocolate skin and bleached braids tied up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She nodded at him while cleaning the bar down with a wet rag that smelled of bleach and peanuts.

  “Lindy says you’re looking for a job,” Tam said to him. No-nonsense, to the point. Hadi glanced at Lindy but nodded in the affirmative. “Ever wait tables?”

  “No,” he answered honestly. “I learn quick though.”

  “Can you mix a drink?” the owner continued, eying him up and down as if he were about to be sold to the highest bidder. Hadi swallowed the sudden rise in nerves, clenched his hurt hand shut so tight he was sure he made it bleed and nodded. “Show me. Make me a tequila sunrise.”

  Hadi blinked. Again, he looked at Lindy who gave him the most blessedly reassuring smile anyone ever shot his way. He cleared his throat, removing his coat as he squeezed in behind the bar and took a quick look at the impressive stock of liquor on the shelves. They had almost every hard liquor known to man and seven beers on tap. He didn’t bother looking inside the beer fridge, already imagining how full that would be. Instead, he bit down on his lower lip and collected the bottles needed for a tequila sunrise. When he was finished, he hesitated, wiping his hands on his pants and then slid the drink across the bar to Tamara.

  “I don’t see any cherries or orange slices out,” he explained softly. Tamara arched a brow, smirking as she sniffed at the drink and took a sip. Hadi watched her savor the drink, then slide it across to Lindy.

  “Dirty martini.”

  Hadi opened his mouth to question but thought better of it. Just like with the tequila sunrise, he gathered what he could easily find, including the olives this time though he had to ask for those, and mixed the drink, pouring it into a chilled martini glass. Tamara savored the drink in the same way she did the first, conferring silently across the bar with Lindy.

  “You’re hired,” Tamara said after a very long stint of contemplative silence. “You can start tomorrow. Lindy will train you. I got two rules: don’t come to my work high, and don’t steal from me. If you can follow those rules, we’ll be cool. You break those rules, and I’ll turn your ass out faster than you can blink. Are we clear?”

  “Yes,” Hadi said, mouth hanging slightly open. Tamara merely nodded and finished off the martini with one long gulp giving a satisfied sigh after. She winked at Lindy and left the pair alone, sliding back into the kitchens. Lindy practically bounced out of her seat with excitement.

  “She rents the apartments upstairs too. There ain’t none open now but when there is one, I don’t doubt she’ll let you have one. Not that I’m kickin’ you out or nothin’ but, I wager you’re gonna want your own place eventually.”

  Hadi smiled and kissed her cheek by way of thanks. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  ~

  Hadi smiled, raising his hand to the poor old drunk that stumbled out the door between uniformed police officers. It was the same every night for Greg since Hadi began working; since the bar had opened according to everyone else. The man drank too much whiskey, ate too little food, and proceeded to fall over. Twice Hadi called the ambulance to take him to a hospital; most times, the local patrol that passed through for dinner would take him to a halfway house or a holding cell at the station until Greg sobered up.

  The officers waved as well, as familiar now with Hadi as they were with Greg. He wiped the bar down with a fresh rag and restocked glasses, noting the time on the clock behind the bar.

  “Hey, Moose,” Hadi called into the kitchen as he returned the empty glass crates to the stack beside the washer. “Throw the onion brick on, yeah? V should be in soon.”

  “Sure thing, Haze,” the giant cook said. He was easily two of Hadi, tall and broad with skin as dark as coal and eyes that saw everything. He was no good with names at all, giving everyone he met a nickname that was easier for him to recall. Hadi was dubbed ‘Hazel’ thanks to the color of his eyes the very first night he worked. Eventually, the name evolved into ‘Haze’, which was equally fitting. He kept his promise to Tamara and never set foot into the bar when it was his shift while high. Off-shift, well, he had come in on cloud nine a few times to pick up Lindy. The day he moved into his own apartment required a hefty dosing of hallucinogenics too that Lindy shared with him before dragging him down for dinner at the bar. The nightmares lingered, though they were more manageable than before. He called Lindy any time he had one, listening to her voice until he stopped trembling. So far, nothing had burned; nothing important anyway. Books, or pieces of paper went up into a pile of blackened ashes, but that was as far as the fires got. Lindy kept his secret, kept their relationship casual with benefits, and kept him sane.

  “HAZE!!” Hadi heard from the kitchen, and smiled. Moose shook his head, marveling at the timing Hadi had. He walked back out to the dining area, arms raised in a ‘V’ for the man that now sat at the bar. If Moose was big, Virgil Kriskin was enormous. The man was an ex-con. Hadi didn’t know where he worked or what he did when he was not in the bar, but he was good people. He had a quirky sense of humor and loved wrestling like men loved women. “Ha, my man!”

  “Hey, V,” Hadi replied, pouring a stout from draft. “Ring brick’s in the fryer.”

  “Love it, love it,” Virgil nodded, reaching for the remote so he could change the channel. The other two people in the bar hardly cared. “How you settling in the new digs?”

  “Ok,” Hadi shrugged. “Still got too many boxes. I started with two bags of stuff, you know? Dunno how I ended up with a whole place of cardboard.”

  Virgil laughed, a throaty sound that was infectious. “Cuz you let a woman help you buy shit you don’t need!”

  Hadi only rolled his eyes and smiled, heading back to the kitchen to retrieve Virgil’s log of onion crisps. They weren’t really rings and if there were actually onions in the log, Hadi would forsake pot for a month, but they tasted like onion rings which is what mattered to Virgil.

  “Hey, Haze, think you can relight the pilot under the stove when you’re done droppin’ that brick off? I ain’t got skinny arms like you; can’t reach it,” Moose asked.

  “Sure, gimme a sec ok?” Hadi replied, taking the grease-filled brick of onion curls out to
Virgil. “Onion

  brick.”

  “You are a saint, Haze. For real. Got the-”

  Virgil cut off as Hadi set down a bottle of ketchup, a bottle of A-1 Steak sauce, and a bottle of Tabasco. All three condiments found their way onto the brick every time Virgil came in.

  “You’re a gem,” Virgil said with a bright smile. “Thanks, my man.”

  Hadi laughed, heading back into the kitchen. The stove’s pilot was all the way at the back of the oven - well, under the back of the oven. The giant beast of a machine was old as dirt. He’d seen Tam and Lindy both crawling underneath it’s greasy under belly to relight the pilot on many occasions. Moose handed him a pack of matches, moving stuff aside so Hadi could wrench himself beneath the stove unobstructed.

  “This thing gonna blow up on me?” Hadi teased as he squeezed and stretched.

  “God, I hope not. I keep tellin’ Tam we need a new one but she’s gonna keep squeezin’ all she can out of it.”

  That did not make Hadi feel much better. He lit the match with a flick of his thumb once his arm was out of sight of Moose’s gaze. It went out twice with no contact to the pilot. Hadi cursed under his breath, rolling onto his belly instead with a new match. Again, he flicked his thumb over the match head, watching it light up in bright orange. This time, it caught - and kept going.

  “Shit,” Hadi spat, trying to contain the flame. It only spread further, snaking up the gas line and across the grease stuck to the under side of the oven. “Moose!! Moose!”

  The giant cook yanked on Hadi’s ankles, tugging him out from beneath the stove as the entire thing went up in a burst of flame that shook the pans right off their hooks.

  “Holy shit, Haze - you ok?” Moose asked, though the flame was not contained, not in the least.

  “Out, out!” Hadi ordered, shoving the larger man out into the dining area as the stove hissed. Three seconds later, it burst like an over taxed tea-kettle, sending flames roaring up to the ceiling or across the floor towards Hadi’s feet. Instinct kicked in. He opened up to the flames that reached for him and sucked them into his palms, rolling the fire into a ball that was easier to contain. He fell backwards when Moose ran back into the kitchen with a fire extinguisher, his concentration lost. It was enough though. The fire extinguisher did the trick. Hadi heard one of the bar patrons talking to the fire department, giving them the address of the bar.

  “You ok, kiddo?” Virgil said, hefting Hadi to his feet. Hadi winced, hissing in pain. His elbow was red and his right palm was a scorched mess; again. “That don’t look good. Put some vanilla on it.”

  “What?” Hadi said, looking at the much larger man curiously. Moose continued to spray the stove with the fire extinguisher, some of the grease still trying to hold on to a weak flame. The fire alarms were blaring all over the bar and the dinning room sprinklers spit out a pathetic spray of water when the kitchen door opened.

  “Yeah,” Virgil nodded. “Works better than aloe. You’re gonna need to get that looked at though. You’re lucky that stove didn’t fry you to a crisp like my onion brick.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” Hadi sighed.

  “You’re good people, Haze,” Virgil said, rubbing his shoulders rather roughly. “That was brave what you did. Dumb as shit, but brave.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Hadi breathed out. Virgil only snorted, slapping him on the back.

  “Right, and I’m just big and tall,” Virgil grinned but left it at that. Tam was going to get her new stove now whether she wanted it or not and Hadi now had a new problem to worry about in the form of a very large, very strong ex-con.

  03

  Agent Valerie Banrae of the Agency for Evolved Control, also known simply as ‘Sparrow’, squatted with the grace of a hunting lion amongst the char and violence laid out before her. Twelve people all turned into corpse-shaped pieces of char. Several other people moved about the crime scene, with a ring of A.E.C. agents keeping back curious onlookers or media personnel. The Agency for Evolved Control was in place to prevent things like this senseless massacre from happening. For the most part, they kept things in check, helping the Evolved that needed it and incarcerating those that used their natural born gifts against mankind and, most importantly, keeping it all silent. But, sometimes, the level of sadistic fuck-face was just too high. This was one of those times.

  “Sparrow.”

  Valerie stood up, her honey blond hair whipping back into her face as she turned to face the woman that spoke to her. Zephyr, a highly trained Agent of the A.E.C.’s most elite, outranked her despite being several decades younger. She was a member of the ‘elite’, an Evolved herself, and highly respected both in the states and abroad. Valerie walked up to the petite woman in a tailored suit and harlequin mask, eying the other woman that stood beside her in full blacks with a mask to cover her face as well; secrets.

  “We just got word that there was another fire within city limits,” Zephyr nearly growled, her accented English clipping with propriety and annoyance. “A bar. But we’re not there to investigate. Why?”

  “I hadn’t heard. It might not be related,” Sparrow said, peering at the younger woman and her companion.

  “If and when I decide something is not related to this horse shit it will mean I have a tag on my pinky toe and failed to resurrect! Until further notice, all fires within the greater Chicago Metropolitain area are related, is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sparrow nodded.

  “Get someone down there and find out what happened.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sparrow repeated, sneering as she turned away from the younger woman. Tart. She understood the frustration, but the attitude was unnecessary. There was nothing left of the duplex that housed four families. Every single one perished. There were no signs of an accelerant, yet the fire obviously spread quickly and at high temperatures. Things were melted together, the bodies fallen from beds or chairs where they had been prior to the fire. There had been no time for escape. Whoever did this, was an Evolved with immense power. Moreover, whoever they were, they’d been setting fires across the whole of the Chicago Metropolitain area for over four years now. It was starting to get frustrating.

  “Duck!” Sparrow barked. A man with black hair and Ray-Ban sunglasses trotted over to her along with three other black-suited agents. They were absurd, always flocking in small packs, but they knew how to do their job. “Bar fire couple nights ago - go figure it out. I want names. I want incident reports from the police. I want suspects, gentlemen. We’re looking for an Evolved. Get on it.”

  “Sure thing,” Duck replied. He jerked his head towards the others who peeled away while she watched. Their entire agency worked off of secrecy and code names. ‘Duck’ seemed like such an absurd name until she observed how he interacted with the other goons that followed - all like a flock of ducks traveling for the season. Sparrow shook her head and checked her phone. Two messages from her mother and the expected check- in from her parolee. “Good job, Virgil. Keep up the good work…”

  ~

  Hadi glanced up at Lindy and Tamara, both enamored with the young man that sat between them. Amir, his younger brother, had arrived earlier that morning. His energy and enthusiasm for the States spread like a plague, making the women swoon or giggle while Hadi mixed early afternoon drinks for the lot of them before the bar opened for the dinner rush.

  “I had never been on a plane. I thought that I was going to die!” Amir laughed, gripping his heart in dramatic fashion. The two women laughed; Hadi shook his head. He was glad to have Amir around. The two were so close, that not having him around for the past year made life seem surreal. Much like Hadi when he first arrived, Amir was now in the states on a student visa to finish his master’s degree at the University of Chicago.

  The 13th Hour was a little darker than normal despite the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. Several had popped during the stove incident, a backlash of Hadi’s power that he had not accounted for until none of the stupid things
would turn on. The insurance company still fought Tamara on replacing the stove, claiming user error rather than faulty equipment. Every time Hadi walked back into the kitchen, he felt guilty for the trouble he had caused her but he tried to shove that aside in favor of enjoying his brother’s arrival.

  “… would. Not. Stop. Screaming. It was, like, someone turned the volume up on that dammed kid. Mathal, Mara, nem?”

  “What’d he say?” Tam asked with a smirk on her full lips.

  “Like Mara,” Hadi translated. “Our sister. She’s sixteen. She used to scream a lot.”

  “Still does,” Amir groaned. They all laughed.

  The door opened at that point, the tiny bell jingling wildly as three men in sharp suits entered the bar. They looked like they belonged at a fancy bar as bouncers or, perhaps, following the president on her daily jogs through wherever the news reported that she jogged through. Or maybe the Men in Black. Either way, they did not belong inside the 13th Hour.

  “Sorry, fellas, we’re closed until 4:00p,” Tamara said. The men did not move, the one in front with rich black hair pulling out a badge that only gave a few seconds of flashing brass for them to look at and nothing more.

  “We’re here to ask a few questions ma’am,” he said brusquely. “There was a fire here a few days ago, yes?”

  Tamara frowned and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “My stove blew up. Thing was old as dirt, we’re lucky the whole building didn’t go up.”

  “Hadi Shahir?” Black Hair said, ignoring Tamara completely. “My report says you were here the night of the fire - is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Hadi said calmly. Tamara’s nostrils flared in fury. She did not like being ignored.