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One More Time

Chapter one: The pack is made

A young woman pushed the multi-stained curtains over the window aside and glanced out towards what used to be Stanford University. The building was in ruins with maybe a third of it still being stable enough to walk through without risky instant death. Two teenagers ran across the street and darted towards the apartment complex located on the west side of campus. The woman snorted. Either they wished for a short life or they were already possessed by demons.

Twenty years ago, one demon managed to escape Hell. Just one, but it was enough to turn the tide in the standstill battle between good and evil. He took the reins of leadership and took the world by storm. Stanford University was the first place he hit. It had fallen within hours with no survivors.

Father and she had been sitting in a run-down motel in Jericho, California for a night of rest before heading out to Wisconsin when the news tragedy had aired on the TV. She could still remember how pale her father had become as he watched. An hour after the news father had them back in the car and on the road out of California. She hadn't understood why they had to leave so quickly. How could she? She had only been three years old at the time. But her father had understood what was occurring. The hunters had become the prey and this demon was targeting them. Stanford University was just used to declare that the hunt was on.

It went downhill from there. The demon understood how hunters thought. How they moved. It had even known several of their connections. Or at least it had known Dad's and slowly destroyed them one by one until it was just Dad and her.

The ironic thing is people still deny that supernatural is real despite the evidence that says otherwise. Humans have more or less become an enslaved race or an everything-you-can-eat buffet for the supernatural. But the population chooses to blame terrorist or gangs on PCP in order to pretend that the things that go bump in the night don't exist.

The war was over. It ended when her father was killed by the demon leader four years ago. The demons had won.

The woman turned away from the window and tied back her blonde streaked brown hair before stopping at the table where a gun sat next to a leather bound journal. The gun was a Colt Patterson, a replica of the gun forge by Samuel Colt. The original was taken from her father at his death and used to reopen the gates of Hell.

The demon had also took her father' car after he murdered him. She had been forced to steal a car in order to get around. The demon still has it to this day. She could swear that he guarded that car better than he did his base of operation.

She grabbed the gun and slipped it behind her faded jeans in the small of her back, making sure that her beat up jean jacket covered it. The replica wasn't useless by any means. It took her four years to get it right but it now had the same kill-all monsters that the original colt had. Or at least it could kill demons. She hadn't tested it on anything else yet. Now she just needed to figure out how to transfer those properties to a Taurus Model 92—at least she would have faster action time that way.

She opened the journal and grabbed the hex bag inside and placed it in her front pocket of her jacket. It wouldn't throw the demon off her trail much longer since he really wanted her head on a platter. But if her plan worked then it wouldn't matter.

She glanced over at the mirror and sighed at the tired green eyes staring back at her. She was only twenty-three, but she felt like she was in her late fifties. Pathetic really. She flipped open the journal towards the back. On the page in her handwriting was a summoning ritual that she had been researching for the last two years. Her whole plan depended on getting the trickster's help for without it there was no chance in Hell she was going to be able restart the war much less win it.

Reaching into the bag she grabbed the chalk and began the seven sets of symbols needed before setting a bowl of herbs in the middle of the pattern an hour later. She glanced at the watch on her wrist watching as the seconds counted down to midnight before striking the match and setting the herbs on fire.

She waited for a second before she stood. She glanced from one side of the room to the other. Nothing. "Loki." She called softly. "Is this game necessary? I doubt the demons have managed to kill you yet, though I heard they're trying. You're clever. You've fooled them all before, haven't you? I know I heard stories how you fooled their leader from a trusted source."

"You're good with the flattery, Riley. Smart too. You knew I was here." The trickster stated from the corner. "Bold or as dysfunctional as your daddy, though."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Dad never did like you."

"No, don't image he did." The trickster shook his head. "What do you want, kiddo?"

Riley took a deep breath and released it slowly. He wasn't wasting his time. That was unlike him from the stories she heard from her father. "I want to be sent back in time preferably to the year 2006. I want to prevent the demons rise to power."

"Hell Gates weren't open until 2007." The trickster countered.

Riley nodded. "True, but key events occurred in 2006 that sent the ball rolling in that direction."

"True." The trickster nodded. "Doesn't mean I have the power to do what you ask."

Riley snorted. "You do have that power."

"True," The trickster grinned, "doesn't mean I should."

Riley frowned and studied the trickster. Something was off. Her daddy's stories weren't matching up to the real deal. "He got to you didn't he?"

"Smart. You're daddy taught you well." The trickster commented and he waived a hand and a gun wound appeared on his left side. "Listen up kiddo. If I do as you ask then that's it for me. I'll die."

She narrowed her eyes and glanced at the wound. "You're all ready dying. The wound was made by the colt, wasn't it?" The pieces snapped together in her mind. "The real reason it took you awhile was because you were in battle with the leader. The summoning ripped you away from a kill shot."

The trickster chuckled. "Like I said-cleaver like your daddy."

"He'll trace you here." Riley felt her mouth go dry and swallowed nervously. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and counted mentally backward from ten. "He'll be here in hour, max."

The trickster nodded. "But he'll only find one of us." Riley jerked her head towards him silently asking a question with her eyes. He grinned. "One last trick before I die. Gather your stuff baby girl; you have a date with the past to catch."

Riley grinned and tossed the journal into her duffle bag that held her other weapons and one other pair of clothes. She threw the strap over her shoulder and stood in front of the trickster. "Thank you."

The trickster waved the thanks away. "Don't thank me, baby girl, just make sure the demon leader doesn't rise to power."

"I will."

"Good." The trickster smiled and snapped his fingers as the door crashed opened. The trickster chuckled as Riley disappeared and looked at the black-eye man in the doorway. "You're too late, Dean-boy. You're reign is about to end."

Dean smirked, his black eyes fading to green as he raised the colt. "Yours already has," he stated as he shot the trickster in the head.

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