Chapter 1

March 12th, 2015
9:27PM
Tristan, California
Widow's Night--Nightclub

(Jason Crawford's POV)

The gothic club called the Widow's Night was booming by the time my beautiful raven haired date took us to a seat at a table. It was a very large club and a mish/mash of Techno music and Rock & Roll blasted out from the band and DJ on the stage, in the far back. It was amplified by all the speakers scattered along the corners and wall. Hundreds of people were out on the huge dance floor. It felt like the beat of the music vibrated down to a person's very soul. I had to admit that I rather liked it.

The place was filled with people, smoke and the strong scent of alcohol, not that I minded.

My name is Michael Carson, and truth be told, I could tell that this was exactly the type of bar that I would frequent more often now that I knew about it. Any club that made my soul feel like it vibrated to the beat was alright with me. I was simple like that.

The only thing that I really had to bitch about was the way I was dressed. My date--the raven haired beauty named Revvy--made me dress to fit in. So here I was dressed in some snug black leather trousers, a black silk shirt and had a pentagram hanging around my neck. A black trench coat finished off the ensemble. It just wasn't me, truth be told. I much preferred my cheap suits for my less than reputable clients. It made it easier to conceal weapons and it was cheaper to throw away cheap suits when they were soaked in blood.

Revvy Maximoff was very convincing though. It helped that she had a face and body like that of a Playboy Bunny. The way her tight leather trousers and tight, tight belly shirt fit her did sinful things to my libido. Her bright green eyes were also captivating. Yeah, I've always had a great weakness for beautiful women. I would have likely agreed in any manner she wished me to, just to spend more time with such a beautiful woman.

My own firm decision that was against her wishes were the two 9mm Glock firearms that were tucked away on myself. They were filled with hallow point bullets. The tips were silver and filled with purified holy water. No, they weren't for vampires and werewolves. I didn't even believe in wolves or vamps. They were for J'Kians. Demons who possessed humans after kicking the human's soul to the afterlife.

Yeah, yeah. I know it makes me sound like a goddamn nutcase. I dare you to meet a few of them and then tell me that to my face, though. There was nothing like meeting true evil to change a person's view point.

Though, I had to admit, the night started out alright. I got six or seven Crown Royal shots down me as I sat at the bar. I was feeling pretty buzzed and didn't even seem to mind that Revvy was dancing with half the guys in the fucking bar. I had only known the woman for a couple of days. So, yeah, I wasn't that attached to her. Moreover, I wasn't a jealous person in general.

Besides her beauty, the only reason I was celebrating was the fact that I finally was of legal age to drink. As I drank, I remembered how I left college. It wasn't exactly the way I wanted to leave though. Only two days before I was to receive my doctorates, I broke the Dean's jaw, broke six of his ribs and knocked out four of his teeth. I caught the fucker raping his thirteen year old daughter. So, I almost got doctorates in Criminal Psychology and Forensic Psychology. Not to mention Master Degrees in Network Security and Linguistics.

So now I had absolutely no college education on paper and very few goddamn job opportunities.

The school hadn't really given a rat's fuck that I had an IQ of 196. Hell, even Einstein's IQ was only in the 160s. They basically told me to leave or they would press charges. I countered with going to the police over the Dean diddling his daughter. In the end, they settled for giving me a measly $125,000 bribe and telling me to get the fuck out.

The money had barely been enough to get me a moderately nice house to live in and a cheap car.

Considering I just started college when I was only 10 years old, I thought it was quite an accomplishment to almost finish at 18 years old. That had been three years ago. Since then, I've been moving from job to job. Some were even legal. Most of them weren't even close to legal though. It's funny how the highest paying jobs are also the most illegal kind.

The sad fact in this world was that spilling blood paid good money. It didn't matter if it was demon blood or human blood. Hell, it didn't matter to me in either way. I quit counting the humans I've killed after the 37th assassination. I didn't even bother to count that high on the demons I wasted. To me it wasn't even worth the bother of giving those sick fucks a second thought--besides getting paid for killing them, that is.

Killing was just business and business was good. There were always assholes that needed to be dead and there were always people willing to pay for the job to be done. Money was money. I didn't have much of a moral compass. I had a shrink call me a borderline sociopath one time. I quit going to him when he accused me of that.

I was good at my job for one very good reason. For some reason, remembering things and studying always came easy to me. My former professors, before I got kicked out, did a test and told me that I had an IQ of 196, which technically made me one of the five smartest people on the planet. Even Einstein's IQ was only in the 160s. It wasn't something that I liked to get out though. Mainly because I didn't look like some dyed in the wool nerd. Plus, if you want to be technical, being a genius doesn't really equate to common sense. I still make mistakes with the best of them.

The reason I didn't look like a nerd was rather simple. While at college, I spent four hours a night at a local dojo. The Master of that dojo trained me in Taekwondo, Kenpo and blade fighting for three hours and then he made me work hellishly on the weight machines and treadmills for the last hour. I did this the entire eight years I was at college. Believe me, with all the assholes and stress in college, those kind of workouts helped out a lot. It was the kind of help that kept me from being homicidal, as much anyway.

After getting kicked out of college, I signed up for firearm courses. Technically my record was clean--mainly because I've never been caught. The course lasted eight months. They taught a person how to use six different handguns expertly and ten different rifles in much the same way. By paying a little extra on the side, they also taught me about C-4, detonators and hand grenades. Getting money for classes is easy, as long as you ignore the moral issues of doing it a certain way.

It didn't help that I looked a little strange. Having platinum blonde hair and very sky blue eyes made a person stand out. My eyes were such a vivid and strange shade of blue that I usually wore small mirror-plated shades, even at night. Yeah, yeah. Even geniuses can be damn self-conscious when it comes to looks. People staring at my eyes always made me feel like a freak.

About the only good and average things about my looks was my height. I stood six foot even.

It was when Revvy started back to the bar that trouble started.

That's when the night sort of went to hell. One of Revvy's new dance partners, and a friend of his, decided they wouldn't take no for an answer and started to drag her out a side entrance. The bastards were also doing it as violent as possible. Both men were about 6' foot even and looked like they knew how to handle themselves. One had three-day stubble on his face and dirty blonde hair. The other had black hair. That didn't matter though. As the saying goes, I was feeling 10 feet tall and bullet proof at the time. Too much whiskey will do that for you.

So I did what any drunk idiot would do--I followed them out immediately, looking for a fight. Blame it on my DNA and lineage--I always enjoyed a good and bloody fight. It got blood pumping and my adrenalin up. Fighting--whether it was with a gun, knife or bare fists--I always enjoyed a bloody and violent fight. It often unnerved people and set them on edge, but I truly didn't give a fuck.

When I made it to the dark side alley they were in, I seen that he had Revvy pressed up against a brick wall. Not only that but there was something else that shocked the hell out of me. They had driven steel spikes right through her fucking hands and pinned her to a brick wall with them. It took me a moment to imagine the strength this would take to drive a spike through a brick wall with nothing but sheer brute strength. I didn't think of it long though, cause as I said, I was a little drunk and a lot pissed.

Seeing Revvy's blood pouring and hearing her screams of pain, really set me to whole new levels of pissed off. The kind where your blood boils and you start to get tunnel vision. I reached behind the black trench coat Revvy made me wear and pulled out a Glock 9mm pistol and pointed it right at both of the bastards.

"Let her go, assholes!" I barked out firmly. "Unless you want to breathe through a new hole in the back of your fucking heads."

I was serious too. I had no reservations in killing people that liked to rape or torture women.

The fuckers actually turned and smirked, making their way towards me. I had no idea what they were thinking. Maybe they thought I was bluffing. However, my grandfather always taught me to never make a threat unless you're prepared to back it up. With that said, I took careful aim and fired three shots directly into each of their chests, right into their hearts.

Even half-drunk, I was still a dead shot at that distance.

Blood blew out their backs where the bullets exited and their fronts were also drenched in blood.

For all the good it did. The two men just got a strange grins on their face and kept coming forward.

"Oh, I think that stung a little, meat bag," the blonde haired one growled out menacingly.

It was then that I noted their fingernails elongating into claws and their eyes turning a burnished sickly yellow. I knew immediately at that point what I was dealing with. They were fucking J'Kian demons, who was possessing some bodies. They were Demons from the 2nd Circle of Hell. They possessed people that committed suicide or were irredeemable drug addicts and drunks. In other words: they possessed people with no fucking willpower.

As a side note, J'Kian Demons were some of the more weaker demons I've faced in my life.

A J'Kian also had the strength and speed of about seven mortal men while possessing a body. They also liked to feed on flesh, any flesh. It didn't matter if it was human skin, eyes, muscle or brain. They just loved devouring humans. Lastly, they mostly focused on women. You see, they liked to rape and torture them before they consumed their flesh. For some reason, they had the power to put women in a thrall to make them defenseless.

The only thing that killed them was silver pierced through the eyes. It made their demon essence leave the host. Unfortunately, the former owners of the bodies were long dead and wouldn't be able to reclaim them. To be honest, I quit caring a long time ago. If a person was stupid enough to commit suicide or waste their life on drugs, I figured they deserved to be dead.

I didn't hesitate. I rapidly fired four shots and nailed them both in both of their eyes before they took another step.

The bastards dropped like a stones and then their corpses just evaporated into reddish black mist and faded away.

I was just about to check on Revvy when something happened that I didn't expect. I heard the sound of a single gunshot. It was a distinctive sound. I immediately recognized it as a .50 caliber handgun. I've heard them enough to know exactly what they sound like. It was odd that I recognized the sound before I realized the pain. The pain started in the back. I clinically knew that it severed my spinal cord and exited my heart, blowing a massive exit wound out of my fucking chest.

I dropped like a ton of bricks, cursing my do-gooder nature the whole way down.