"…Hello, uh, sir."
"Evening, Temeluchus," said Crowley. He was sitting in a high-class bar in New York City, sipping scotch. The décor was tasteful, the humans there more tolerable than most. He would have preferred to be in a house, but he had not bothered to get a new one since Lucifer's minions had burnt his. Being decentralized was safer, anyway.
"Evening, sir." Temeluchus was clearly nervous, which Crowley relished. "We caught a few loyalists today, just so you know. Everything's going pretty well."
"Hmm. Actually, I wanted to discuss that rugaru of yours."
"Oh. Uh, sir…I thought we already…went over that?"
"Did we, now?"
Silence.
Crowley stifled a laugh. "Relax. Turns out I need to find the thing after all. Where'd you think it was?"
Temeluchus cleared his throat. "Oh, well, it looked like he was living in the Black Bayou wildlife refuge south of Monroe, Louisiana."
"The wildlife ref…" Crowley felt his good mood fading as he pictured a swamp swarming with unpleasant creatures. "Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, sir. I mean, it's not too bad, really. I poked around there myself, there are like raised paths and—"
"It's a bloody swamp, Temeluchus," Crowley snapped. "It can't be anything but bad."
"Well, I know exactly where he was living, sir. You wouldn't have to traipse around. I was about to send a team in there myself when…you know."
"When I told you to get back to the work you're supposed to be doing? How tragic." Crowley drank the last of his scotch. "So, where was he, exactly?"
"I can email you the map of the refuge. I marked where I thought his lair was."
"Go ahead." A melodic chirp from his iPhone signaled that the map had arrived. "All right, well, I'm off. Fire, yes?"
"To kill them? Yes, sir. There's no way to know if it will be enough to kill the alpha without trying, but I haven't heard anything to suggest it wouldn't." Temeluchus hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want help, sir? I'd be glad to—"
"No, I'd rather not." Crowley thought Temeluchus was too nice. He was not sure if the demon was just trying too hard, or if he was plotting to ingratiate himself with his superiors and perhaps take their place. The latter would be typical—Crowley had certainly done it himself. "Goodbye, then."
"Goodbye, si—"
Crowley hung up before Temeluchus could finish. He rotated the phone and pulled up the map of the wildlife reserve. Temeluchus had circled a small area with red ink. Sighing, Crowley got up, walked into a back hall out of sight of the bar's patrons, and vanished.
The instant he reappeared, Crowley felt the hot, humid air like weights in his lungs, like drowning. Taking a deep breath, he loosened his tie and glanced around. He was on a wooden path above dark, murky water, and surrounded by tall cypress trees. The darkness and near-silence, broken only by a faint hum of insects, was a jarring contrast to the New York bar where he had been only a moment before. Crowley pulled out his iPhone and squinted at the bright screen to check his map. The rugaru's nest was supposed to be a few yards to his left, so he slipped his phone back into his pocket and headed off in that direction.
In a few moments he reached the spot Temeluchus had marked. At first he saw nothing, but then he noticed a larger than normal gap between two roots at the bottom of a tree. Leaning down to peer into the darkness, he realized that there was a small wooden door partly hidden by the roots and vegetation. Thinking it would be quieter than trying to unearth the door, Crowley teleported just inside.
Crowley found himself in a dark room with dirt walls, rather like a root cellar. The air was musty and damp, with a rotten tinge to it. At the end of the room were two openings into crude hallways, continuing into what Crowley imagined were endless dank warrens beneath the swamp.
It was not an encouraging prospect.
He stood still for a few minutes, listening and smelling the air. The smell coming from the right-hand path was a bit worse, and he thought he could hear breathing from far off. Perhaps the creature was that way.
Deciding that teleporting was quieter and less liable to stain his boots, Crowley reappeared further down that tunnel. The rottenness in the air there was stronger, but the darkness had lessened, replaced by a strange, sickly yellow glow. Remaining very still, he listened again. He could definitely hear breathing coming from down a side tunnel that veered off to the left. Carefully he took a few steps in that direction and peered around the corner to see that the tunnel went on in a fairly straight line until it seemed to widen at the end, possibly into a room. Now that he was further down in the rugaru's warrens, he could hear a few other sounds like an odd scampering noise, but the breathing remained constant.
Crowley reappeared in the room at the end of the tunnel. The room was lined with cabinetry and wooden racks, all coated in dust and grime. Various knives and strange metal implements hung from the racks. Two large metal chests sat near one wall, cold emanating from them. The air was thick and fetid, the stench so strong it nearly overpowered his other senses. For a moment, Crowley thought he was alone.
A choked gasping sound came from Crowley's left. He spun around to see what looked like a tall human male, upright but strapped to a series of boards so his limbs were spread out. The man's body was filthy, his black hair matted. Crowley took a hesitant step forward to see that large pieces of the man's flesh on his legs and sides were missing, leaving bones and organs visible. An oddly clean-looking IV stand gleamed silver beside him, feeding some type of liquid into his body through a thin tube. Whatever it was, clearly the man would be dead without it. His brown eyes, stark against his pale skin, were wild and pleading.
Monsters, Crowley thought, his lip curling in instinctual revulsion. "Is the creature here?" he asked quietly.
The man managed to nod.
"Good. Is he alone?"
The man looked unsure.
"Very well."
"Please," the man coughed, trying to speak. "P…please…kill me."
Crowley thought for a moment. He was not compassionate by nature, but he did not like the idea of leaving the rugaru's captive in that state. "I can do you one better. I can heal your body and mind completely, and give you ten whole years 'til I collect your soul. How does that sound?"
"Okay," he said without hesitation.
"Splendid," Crowley smiled. He never missed an opportunity to dabble in his old line of work. "It's sealed with a kiss. Hope you don't mind."
The man closed his eyes.
Crowley moved closer and kissed him gingerly. The client's condition made no difference—when Crowley sealed a deal, all he ever tasted was power. He felt the familiar faint jolt as his end of the deal was completed. Opening his eyes, Crowley took a step backward to see that the man was fully healed and clean, released from his restraints, and in clean clothing.
The man gasped as he looked down at his body. His eyes were wide, but only with astonishment as all fear and desperation had vanished from them. "Thank you so much," he spluttered.
"Shh," Crowley hissed. "Now get out of here before he finds out his dinner's been canceled."
"Oh, you don't have to tell me twice," he said, lowering his voice. "But thank you, truly, whoever the hell you are. And please, if you're ever in New Orleans, look me up. I'm a book dealer—Paul Fallan's the name. I owe you."
"Hmph. You'll pay me back soon enough. Now out!"
"Yes sir!" Fallan smiled, and ran off toward the start of the tunnels, making far too much noise as he went.
Crowley shrugged. He gave up on teleporting and walked down the tunnel, finding himself in the dark once more. Following the rotten scent in the air, he walked for several minutes, the tunnels getting larger and damper as he went. Finally he saw an opening up ahead at the edge of what looked like a large room, with the same yellow glow as one of the previous tunnels. From the smell and strange scratching noises, he knew the rugaru was inside. Straightening his tie, Crowley walked through the opening.
The room was oval-shaped, its walls coated in a yellow slimy substance, a rivulet of sluggish water cutting through the floor. At its center, sitting on what looked like the remains of an armchair, was the alpha rugaru. He was very tall and gaunt with mottled skin, fingers longer than any human's. The whites of his eyes were blood red, oozing into yellow irises and tiny pupils. Four more rugarus stood beside him, glowering.
"Evening," said Crowley.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to find your way down here," said the alpha. His voice was low, gurgling, and entirely inhuman.
"Had to look around the place first. It's…quaint." Crowley smiled, studying the alpha. He noticed a ring on the alpha's bony finger—just the sort of item the Order could use in their locating spell. "Such bold décor choices. Love the wall treatment in here, too. Is it saliva, or…?"
"What do you want, little demon?" the alpha growled.
"I'm sorry, are you in a hurry? Oh, are you mad because I set your dinner free?"
The alpha shrugged in an oddly jerky motion. "It is insignificant. Their herds are numberless, though soon we shall devour them all."
Crowley thought of the increase in monster activity, how so many types of monsters were multiplying and mobilizing. He assumed they intended to take on humanity—something that would disrupt Hell's business and make life unpleasant all around. "Is that what your Father wants you to do?"
The alpha grinned, his mouth spreading unnaturally wide, teeth gleaming within. "Our Father and Mother, who stand incorruptible since the dawn of time. Soon She will come to feast upon the human cattle and remake the world in Her dread image."
"Oh, naturally."
"Mock me if you wish, little demon. Your kind's turn will come after the humans are dead."
"Sorry, mate," said Crowley, his green eyes cold. "Not going to happen."
"You are lower than a human. You are nothing but a corrupted soul, a glorified ghost. I would pity you if I deigned to such things."
"And I would be offended if I gave a fig what monsters think of me."
The alpha growled. "Then I am sure you will not mind if my children tear you apart." He leaned forward slightly, fingernails extending like cat's claws. The four other rugarus bounded at Crowley, claws flashing, sharp yellow teeth bared.
Crowley smiled and snapped his fingers. Instantly a ring of flame materialized around him and shot outward toward the rugarus in an eight-foot wall of searing heat. The lesser monsters screamed and roared, their bodies engulfed in fire. The alpha did not flinch as the flames passed over and beyond him, but stared straight at Crowley with his blood-rimmed eyes.
"You asked about the coating on the walls?" said the alpha, leaning back in his decrepit chair. "It coats my skin as well, and protects against fire. My kind can adapt, you know."
Crowley took a step forward. "You're not a survivor, you pathetic animal. Not a real one. You're nothing but a second-rate freak of nature more concerned with filling your gullet and destroying mindlessly than accomplishing anything of substance. So don't insult me with your arrogant delusions. You monsters will never rule this world, and you know why?"
"Why, demon?" The alpha was still smiling, but anger seethed in his eyes.
"Because you're not nearly clever enough." Crowley stretched out his arm toward the alpha and narrowed his eyes.
The alpha frowned and coughed, and a bit of black smoke trailed out from between his jagged teeth. Suddenly he shrieked as flames poured from his mouth, his skin peeling and blackening. Crowley's smile faded as he watched the rugaru burned to death in front of him. Although he wanted the monster dead, something about it nagged at him like a reminder of a forgotten dream. Shrugging off the feeling, he snatched the rugaru's ring from his charred finger and vanished.