Time Jacker, Aaron Crash [most important books of all time txt] 📗

The demon grabbed a wedge of cherry pie and stuffed it into her mouth. She fluttered her eyes as she chewed it down.

“So demons and angels collect souls?” he asked.

“Some do.”

Jack could barely make out the words. “Bailey, that’s gross. Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

She licked her lips and her fingers. “You sure have a lot of rules. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Don’t sneak into the women’s bathroom. Don’t hit on the middle-aged waitress with the foot fetish. Dammit, Jack, I’m a sex demon, not an etiquette columnist.”

She drank four cups of coffee and then slurped down the apple pie, berry pie, and coconut cream pie. She sat back. “Oh, pie. So much pie. Having a body is awesome. I want you to smear pie all over me and fuck me in the ass.”

“You need to keep your voice down,” Jack said. He needed to eat—his meal was getting cold—but he was getting the answers to all of his questions. About life, death, the afterlife, the whole deal. “Tell me more about soul collecting.”

“Human fucker dies, right?” Bailey sucked cream off her finger. Of course, she lingered a bit, letting her tongue swirl the cream into her red mouth.

Jack felt a tingle in his half-hard cock.

Bailey giggled. “So some fucker dies, and his soul leaves his body. It’s fair game for anyone in the soul game, though in the end, the amount of fuckery you’ve done weighs you down. The lighter the soul, the more it goes to the light. The heavier the fucker, the more likely they’ll wind up in the darkness. But not always. Souls are powerful. Some come back. Some haunt shit. Some go beyond and become whatever. I don’t fucking care. The soul business is where you have heaven and hell fighting. Fuck all that action. I feed on Ijjinaya and mind my own business.”

“And the Interim?” Jack cut off a strip of his steak. It was tough as nails but still had some juice.

“The Tempus Fugits, the time flyers, also known as the Interim, but most of us supernatural bitches call them Fugs. As in fucking ugly. Fugs aren’t demons. Fugs aren’t angels. They are creatures in the flow of time that snack on someone’s Kairos. Every human is a mixture of the Septua energies. You want me to go through them all? Fuck you. Let me eat cake first.”

Jack ate his steak and eggs. Bailey ate all the cake—carrot, chocolate, strawberry, the range of cakes. She should’ve started with the ice cream, but it seemed she liked it melted anyway. It was good Jack had a strong stomach. Bailey plowing through the desserts was gross. And down went another pot of coffee.

She went over the energy types that made up your average human.

Kairos was temporal energy.

Ijjinaya was lust.

Corpus was their spatial energy, which helped people travel through the world. Basically, it was the energy within a person’s cells.

Nefesh was soul. That was what demons and angels fought over.

Psyche was the intellect.

Morpheum was dream energy.

Decaysia was death energy that eventually consumed people.

The seven sacred energies were also known as the Septua.

“So are there creatures that leech off each of the energies?” he asked.

Bailey shrugged. “Like I fucking care. I eat Ijjinaya. I know about the Fugs because I spend a lot of time in the Tempus Interim, the spaces inside time. Also, the Fugs are part of the Tempus Bellum.”

“And that is?”

“Fucking boring. All of this is boring.” Bailey just drank the bowls of ice cream. She sat back, hands on her stomach. “I don’t feel so good. I suppose I shouldn’t puke in the middle of the restaurant.”

Jack was a bit mystified. “You ate too much and drank too much. You didn’t know that was going to happen?”

“How could I know that? I haven’t eaten human food since 1972. Ugh. This is terrible.”

It seemed their conversation was done for now. He had a sick sex demon to take care of. He’d gotten a lot of good information, but they weren’t done. Not yet.

Chapter Eleven

JACK GOT THE DEMON out of the restaurant. He froze time just as she lost her lunch. He held her hair back as she filled the gutter with very humanish puke. He started time again, got her into his car, and sped off.

Jack headed for Highway 85, otherwise known as South Santa Fe Drive. Rio Grande Avenue brought him right to the freeway. He wanted to secure a month’s rent before he completely gave up working.

A miserable Bailey lay in the back seat. “Ugh. You should shoot me.”

“I can only shoot Fugs once, and then my bullets don’t work. Any idea why that is? Would you be the same?”

Bailey groaned. “Stop asking me questions. Dammit, Jack, I’m just a simple country sex demon. I don’t know shit.”

“Why don’t you just take off then? You can make another body, right?”

The sex demon sighed. “However shitty I feel, I like this fleshy vessel. Being incorporeal is fine. Building bodies sucks, though I have to do it all the fucking time. No, this is better. I just have to learn how to deal with being meat again.”

“Well, if your meat needs to puke again, let me know. I’ll stop the car, stop time, whatever.”

They were zooming up Santa Fe Drive. He’d hook onto C-470 and go east to I-25, and that would take them to the rich Cherry Creek neighborhood and the homes of the Tarringtons. They had several.

“Jack!” the demon shrieked. “I’m gonna do it again. I’m gonna—”

Jack had the toy soldier ready. A click to the left and the traffic around him became statues, as did his own car. Whatever the physics, he wasn’t thrown through the dashboard. That was convenient.

He opened the door, ready for his feet to go smearing across the highway at seventy-five miles an hour. Didn’t happen. He ran to the back passenger door, opened it, and dragged Bailey out just as she spewed up again on the asphalt.

“Give me a