The tugboat crunched against the rocky shoreline. The hull scraped barnacles and half-submerged roots as the engine coughed its final breath. Cormac hopped off first. His boots sunk into the damp loam. He scanned the tree line.

  The jungle was still. There were no sirens, just the sound of insects humming and the distant roar from the crashing surf.

  “Come on,” Cormac muttered, trudging through the water around the side of the boat.

  Sawyer rose from the deck in a tight curl, wrapped in the mildew stinking tarp like some homeless shaman. He hissed as Cormac peeled back the corner to inspect him.

  “Careful,” Sawyer said.

  “You’re blistered,” Cormac said.

  “We’ll deal with it later. We have to find wheels and a place to lay our heads.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they rolled down a dusty road in a stolen Hyundai Accent with a busted AC. A rosary swung from the mirror. Sawyer lay curled in the back seat under his tarp and breathed slowly. The sun sliced through the back window in deadly shafts.

  “Window tint’s garbage,” Sawyer muttered. “I’m roasting back here.”

  “You’re fine,” Cormac replied. “Just stay covered and you’ll live.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He didn’t answer. Sawyer shifted and groaned. The tarp slipped just enough for his ankle to catch a stray sunbeam. He screamed and kicked his leg up into the seat. A raw cry burst from his throat. “My bones are boiling!”

  Cormac glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re not on fire. Tighten up. We’re almost there. The jungle canopy will provide some shade.”

  They rode in silence for another ten minutes.

  “There’s someone behind us,” Cormac said. “Black SUV. No sirens. No lights.”

  Sawyer tensed. “A tail?”

  Cormac swerved left onto another road. “Yep. Definitely tailing us,” Cormac said. “Hang on. I’m going to try and lose them.”

  He yanked the wheel and swerved onto a service road. After a couple of minutes, Cormac said, “Okay. I think he’s gone.”

  They continued for another half mile, then veered onto an unmarked trail. The car’s tires crunched across dry leaves and shrubs. Soon after that, he parked and killed the engine. Their vehicle coasted to a stop beneath a canopy of palms and low hanging vines. They were somewhere west of Ashley’s hideout. They were close enough to reach it on foot once the sun dropped.

  Sawyer groaned. “How long until nightfall?”

  Cormac checked his watch. “It’s four hours until noon. So…a long time.”

  “There are worse places to sleep.”

  Cormac leaned his chair back and kicked his feet up onto the dash. He grabbed a baseball cap from the seat beside him and placed it over his eyes. “Are you taking the first watch?”

  “Yeah…I got it.” There was enough shade from the overhanging canopies where Sawyer felt comfortable enough to peer over the seats and look through the little hole in his tarp. While it was shaded in the immediate area around their vehicle, he wouldn’t risk going outside.

  Half a day later, the last rim of gold vanished below the horizon and the cicadas filled the air with their shrill calls.

  Exiting the vehicle, Sawyer pulled the tarp off his head like a man surfacing from a coffin. His eyes were sunken and pale and his ankles were blistered and raw.

  “Let’s move,” Cormac said.

  Finally under the cover of nightfall, they followed a dirt path through the jungle which closed around them at every step. Any light from the moon was swallowed by the canopy. Crickets, frogs, and something large snapped twigs and rustled leaves.

  “Did you hear that?” Sawyer said.

  Cormac held up a fist. He scanned the trees.

  There it was, movement up high. It was a silhouette of a man, crouched. And he was watching them. Then, the man jumped down from the top of the canopy. Instead of falling like a rock, he glided down. His black leather loafers planted on the dirt in front of them.

  Cormac raised his pistol.

  Since it was dark enough, Sawyer tossed his tarp aside and drew his pistol. He aimed it at the man’s smug face.

  The man was tall and lanky. He was lean and wore a tight fitting zip-up hoodie and khakis. His hair was swept back carefully in a tousled way, like a Silicon Valley dropout on a spiritual retreat. His eyes were a bright and sickly yellow and they glowed faintly under the moonlight. A sly grin stretched across his face.

  “Evening, gentlemen,” he said, voice smooth and casual. “Lovely trail. Going for a midnight walk?”

  “Who the hell are you?” Cormac asked. His hand rested on the trigger.

  The man didn’t seem concerned.

  “Oh, why do humans have to put a label on everything?” the man replied, wagging a finger. “Always so simple. So crude. The question should be, what am I? What is anything, really?”

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  “You’re not human?” Sawyer asked.

  The man placed a finger on his chin and tilted his head. “No. But neither are you. Your brother, however, I can smell his human blood from miles away.”

  “How do you know that he’s my brother?” Sawyer asked. None of this felt right, he knew way too much.

  Cormac narrowed his eyes. “Sawyer, that’s a demon.”

  “Ding ding,” the demon said. He fired finger guns toward them. “Knew you boys were quick. Upstairs, you’re all the talk. I was never big on the big man’s plans, but all I’m hearing about lately is the unfolding prophecy of the Kestrel brothers. You’re hot now, but everyone goes cold eventually. I try not to get involved in gossip, but sometimes opportunities fall into your lap. And I never miss an opportunity.”

  Sawyer gulped and glanced at Cormac, unsure whether to shoot the guy or let Cormac take the first move. Cormac must have been thinking the same thing, but if they couldn’t kill an angel then they sure as hell couldn’t kill a demon. Besides, like their father taught them, a demon was just a fallen angel.

  Sawyer took a slow step back. “You followed us?”

  “I was at the port. I was signing a very lucrative arrangement with some of the BlackDiamond GCP dogs when something strange drifted into my senses.” He inhaled theatrically. “Angel’s grace. I could smell it from miles away. It reeks like skunk musk.”

  Sawyer froze. “You saw the mysterious man?”

  The demon grinned. “It’s hard to miss the righteous rot. The ‘nice guys’ always carry that glow like a disease. So I got curious, sue me. I followed my nose. And now…” He spread his arms. “Here we are. In front of the Brother’s Prophecy.”

  “Prophecy?” Sawyer asked. “What are you talking about?”

  The demon shook his head, no. “The head honcho forbids us from saying. He touts free will, but are you truly free when you’re censored? Anyways, I don’t have time for the philosophy of it all. You’ll just have to discover that yourselves.”

  “I don’t like the way you’re talking,” Cormac said. “What do you want?”

  The demon took a step closer. “A deal. A classic one, really. You give me something and I give you something. That’s how these things normally go. I thought you would have known that.”

  Sawyer’s mouth went dry. “Can you reverse my vampirism?”

  “Immediately,” the demon said, eyes glittering. “It’s not a common request. Usually, humans like that kind of power. You know, gold and glory and all of that temporal nonsense. But to answer your question, yes, I can cure your vampirism.”

  “Sawyer, no,” Cormac said.

  “Shut up,” Sawyer snapped. He turned back to the demon. “How? What do you need?”

  “I need your soul. I need your verbal consent. In return, I can restore your humanity. Would you like that?”

  Cormac snapped. “Don’t answer that!”

  The demon’s face twisted into something like pure hatred. “Shut your mouth, stinking human!”

  After a couple of seconds of tense silence, the demon wiped his face and returned to his faux charm. “I won’t need your soul immediately. After all, there is still a prophecy that must be fulfilled. This will happen after the prophecy. After your death. So…what will it be?”

  “After his death?” Cormac asked. “How long until he dies?”

  “Tsk tsk tsk,” the demon said. “I cannot reveal that.”

  Sawyer looked at Cormac. “What’s the value of a soul, anyways? It’s not like we’re religious. For a while, I never believed in heaven or hell.”

  “Tsk tsk tsk,” the demon said. “The tyrant of light won’t be pleased to hear that. As if he didn’t already know…still…it’s one thing to say that out loud.”

  “What?” Sawyer asked.

  Cormac didn’t hesitate. “No deal, Sawyer. And—clearly—angels and demons are real which means heaven and hell are just as real. All of that aside, I’d say your soul is worth a lot more than you think. Don’t do it.”

  Sawyer exhaled. He turned toward the demon. “No deal.”

  The demon raised a brow. “You sure? You seem like the practical type. I know vampirism can be quite burdensome.” He gestured around. “You always have to travel in the dark, never getting to see your best features in the light. A pity.”

  Cormac squared up. “You heard him. No deal. Right, bro?”

  Sawyer remained silent.

  The demon adjusted his sleeves and paced slightly. “Okay, how about an amendment to the offer? Hear me out.”

  “What is it?” Sawyer asked.

  “Kill Ashley Cross and I will reverse your vampirism. I’ll even buy you a first class ticket out of Panama, if that’s what you desire. In fact, why don’t you tell me everything you desire…"

  “Ashley?” Sawyer asked. “Why do you want her dead?”

  The demon smiled. “I don’t have an issue with her, but she’s causing problems for friends of mine in the region. She’s killed some of their agents and dismantled important networks in Panama. She’s involved with more than just your little prophecy. She’s a busy girl. She’s a saboteur and she’s dangerous. She’s slippery. I refuse to go after her—a boss never does his own dirty work. That’s why a demon contracts out these things.” He motioned to them both. “You two seem like perfect candidates. Keep your soul, kill Ashley, and reverse your vampirism. I don’t care who does it, so long as the job is done.”

  Sawyer stepped forward. “Not happening.”

  Cormac nodded. “Not ever.”

  The demon sighed. “You’re all the same. Humans are so prideful. So tragic. Just like poor Eve in the garden. In time, you will have wished that you would have made a deal with the serpent.”

  “I’m tired of this.” Sawyer drew his pistol and fired.

  A bullet passed straight through the demon’s chest like smoke.

  “Tsk tsk tsk. Bad business,” the demon said. He lunged forward and slammed his fist into Cormac’s chest.

  Cormac hit the ground with a grunt. Air wheezed from his lungs. Sawyer swung his fist, but the demon caught his wrist and threw him like a rag doll. His back cracked against a tree trunk and he cried out in pain. He crumbled in the dirt and soggy leaves.

  The demon chuckled. “Humans. Vampires. You’re all so squishy.”

  In the distance, police sirens wailed.

  The demon turned his head and grinned. “Took them long enough. I called them so long ago.”

  “You called them?!” Sawyer cried out. “Why?”

  “I can’t kill you directly, not yet anyways, but I can throw a little spice into the pot and see what happens,” the demon said. “I’m not going to kill you, but there’s no reason I can’t have a little fun watching you squirm for your lives. If you reconsider my offer, offer some of your blood into the flames and whisper: Caligo, I summon you.”

  A spiral of red and orange smoke erupted from the ground that stank of sulfur and burning hair. Once it dissipated, the demon Caligo was gone.

  Beaten and bruised on the ground, Sawyer groaned. Cormac aimed his pistol toward the jungle, probably expecting the demon to return.

  The police sirens grew closer.

  “We have to move,” Sawyer said.