Johnnie and the Demon Queen Chapter 1

The Specter

“The Demon Queen’s hit city after city all across the Confederacy and absolutely no one has been able to stop her.”
-The Confederate Post

“Drake, don’t do this!” Quick Shot’s heart wrenched at the sound of Antonio’s whine.

She darted up the rotted wooden steps leading out of the Crazy Jake’s crowded upper level and onto the “roof”. The bar’s background noise seemed to vanish entirely when a flash of lightning illuminated her leader.

“Drake!”

He looked dead already: his muscular frame hunched against the remaining wall of the third floor; his head down so that all she could see was his matted white hair.

She thought she saw his trigger finger tighten.

“Drake, no! I brought Corley! He says Bridgett’s still alive!”

“What?”

Corley stepped forward. “This information comes at a price, of course.”

Another bolt of lightning illuminated Drake’s ghastly gray eyes as they reverted to their resilient blue. “Just tell me what you know!”

The following crack of thunder shook the building, causing a loose piece of cement to come crashing down between Antonio and Chica. The boy hopped back as it shattered against the ground, but no one else moved.

Corley cleared his throat. “Very well. It was late last night, after the Demon Queen left…”

* * *

The door to Crazy Jake’s burst open loud enough to turn most heads on the first level, but Corley kept his eyes on the overhead TV. He was tired, and though the latest story interested him, it hadn’t made him jumpy like all the others.

“Once again, it is advised that everyone return to their homes immediately,” the newsreel continued. “While the Demon Queen has reportedly left the city, this new breech in our defenses could be just as dangerous.”

A deep, heavy breath came from the doorway, and Corley realized just how silent the room had become. He looked over his shoulder.
There it was in its black, hooded coat and tattered, bloody jeans: the specter the Feds were looking for.

“I need someone to arrange a meeting for me with a man named Drake.” It dropped the case it was carrying, spilling a few of the thousands of mennigs inside onto the floor. “I’ll pay handsomely.”

Corley stood up. “I know Drake.”

The dark figure turned its head toward him with another ragged breath, slowly gathered the money it had spilt onto the floor back into its case, and hobbled over.
Corley could feel all the eyes in the room on him and wondered for a moment what he had gotten himself into.

He could smell the rotted flesh beneath its coat as it put the case down on the table beside them and couldn’t help but goggle at its decrepit, clawed hand.

“Tell Drake that his daughter is still alive, and that if he meets me at this location,” it handed Corley a ratty piece of paper, “I’ll tell him where she is.”

* * *

Drake sat eerily still for a moment, then slowly lowered his gun. “I’ll pay you anything you want.”

Quick Shot’s entire body shuddered in relief.

“Good.” Corley offered him a hand up. “But before you see my man, you’ll need to find Johnnie Bernstein.”