Those Who Fight Monsters: Tales of Occult Detectives

Bullets started to ricochet off the brick and I felt a flash of pain in my ribs. There were shouts behind and the scent of rotten cantaloupe enveloping me as I made one final leap through the door of the boiler room, tearing at least two leg muscles in the process.

But I was luckier than my pursuer. The giant snake ran fang first into the boiler I barely missed and cold-cocked himself. Lucas and two wolves I’d never seen before rushed past me into the tunnel shouting for everybody to give themselves up, as I crawled under the massive machine with my prize.

A week later I was still nursing an ACL tear and broken collarbone from a bullet, which had felt like my ribs at the time. As a three-day, I don’t heal very fast. But I’d be back on my feet a lot faster than a full human.

Even Lucas hadn’t been able to get the box away from me that night. He said he’d have had to break my jaw to unlock it. We went through it together the next morning. There was lots of interesting reading. Most of the blackmail evidence was destroyed, but Lucas saw no reason not to give the gold back to Carmine. Anyone it might have belonged to was long dead now and he’d need money to pay his legal bills for being out of the country. Turns out the Feds were watching him closer than we’d imagined. The RCMP picked him up at the hotel while we were all out, to deliver him to the Feds. I’ll be laying low for some time to come because it turns out I was caught on film as well. Since I was supposed to be dead, and now I’m not, I’ll probably need a make-over so I don’t wind up in the cell next door. However, Lucas is going to see what he can arrange for us to get a clean bill — a full pardon from the President for both me and Carmine, owing to us turning over the weapons cache and virus we discovered and the terrorist spies … at least the full human ones. The others? Well, the snake attackers who I was able to finger through the hindsight on Carmine will never see trial. Not only is Carmine watched by the Sazi now, he’ll be protected by them. At least, so long as he’s not breaking the law.

That’s Wolven law enforcement, and it’s why I stick around.

C. T. Adams and Cathy Clamp are real people with slightly twisted minds who write strange fiction for fun. They are happily the award-winning, USA Today bestselling authors of the “Tales of the Sazi” and “Thrall” series for Tor Books. They are also now writing urban fantasy as “Cat Adams” and released a new series, “The Blood Singer” in June, 2010. Both C.T. and Cathy spend their days working in a law office in central Texas, which is what many claim warped their brains. They share a website at www.ciecatrunpubs.com

Tony Giodone’s skill as a hit man has resulted in a stack of cold case files in the homicide divisions of a number of major cities. Even before he was attacked and turned into a werewolf, if you met Tony in a dark alley, he’d be walking back into the light alone. Although still an assassin, he’s now working for Wolven, the police force of the Sazi council — in other words, the good guys.

Hell Bound: A Hell on Earth Story by Jackie Kessler

“Stupid fucking name.” The incubus Daunuan shook his head. “Why do so many human magicians pick stupid fucking names?”

“Aw, sweetie,” I said. “Don’t be like that. They’re just being creative. They think it makes them sound exotic.”

“It makes them sound like assholes.”

“Not everyone can have a name like yours, Don Juan,” I said with a wink, emphasizing the human pronunciation. The demonic version was more sensual, called for more use of the tongue and lips. We creatures of Lust were nothing if not sensual. And all about the tongue and lips. “Besides,” I said, “ ‘Noel Le Noir’ isn’t the worst name I’ve ever heard.”

“No, but it is hopelessly cheesy.”

“I like my men hopelessly cheesy.”

“You like your men, period.” Daun smiled. “And your women.”

“I’m an equal-opportunity succubus,” I agreed happily. Whatever the gender, whatever the form, I loved humans. To death. Speaking of which…