The Best of Enemies by Tim Marquitz

Author:Tim Marquitz
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-12-04T06:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

As it turned out, I wasn’t really all that surprised when Veronica told me who the bad guy was, and it made me feel kind of stupid I hadn’t thought of it on my own.

Hobbs was a vampire.

Both the bloodsuckers and furballs had a price on my head since I screwed up Gabriel’s plans to immigrate them to Heaven in God’s absence. I’d already had the wolves kick in my door because I’d screwed their pooch, so to speak, and they were desperate to get back at me. While Hobbs’ agenda might not be directly related to that, there was no doubt it was feeding into the idea that he could stake claim to Old Town and piss on any connections I might have to it. While Baalth might not have been all buddy-buddy with me out in public, there was no mistaking how much I got away with in Old Town. The fact that Baalth had been there at all made it clear there was something to be gained by taking over the place. Unfortunately for them, that put them directly in my crosshairs. I don’t share well.

It was one thing to be pissed at me for messing up the family vacation to Heaven, but it was something completely different to come at me and lay claim to what should be rightfully mine. They didn’t have the testicular fortitude to stand up to Baalth when he was here, and I’d killed that old bastard, so I’d earned Old Town through blood. It was time to spill some more to get that point across.

Not quite dawn yet, I’d followed Veronica’s directions to the opposite end of Old Town, a place affectionately referred to as the Devil’s Asshole thanks to a smelting plant nestled in the nearby mountain side. The fumes and gray-black fog billowed up from stubby smokestacks, and the air was always filled with the charred scent of fire and melted metal. It didn’t smell anything like Lucifer’s ass, but try and explain that to the locals. Regardless, the name stuck.

Hobbs couldn’t have found a better place to camp out in Old Town than there, though admittedly, I felt a little self-conscious about the title. I was the new Devil, which meant the asshole they were now referring to was mine. There was simply no way the rose and spring scents that fluttered out of my butt were anywhere near as rank as what lingered in the air. If Chatterbox were here, he would agree. Well, he’d probably stick his tongue out and plug his nose with the tip, but he’d agree this place was worse.

And unlike my ass, this one had hemorrhoids.

As I neared the location, I spotted the mercenaries Veronica said were watching the place. A broad, three-story warehouse type building engulfed the block over from where I lurked on a nearby roof, a twelve-foot fence enclosing the perimeter. Razor wire ran in coils across the top. Men paced back and forth down the long sidewalks that ran the length of the building.

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