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

vegans and anything fried in lard just don’t mix. Sure, McDonald’s swore they used vegetable oil, but Gabby wasn’t going to take any chances.

Jack drove over to the gunsmith that Pinetree had mentioned the night before. Chet Lauder was the older brother of some mutual friends.

The Lauder place was open, and Chet was very helpful. He actually found three extra cylinders for the big cap-and-ball revolver. He had the powder, a powder measure, extra patches for wadding, extra lead balls, and percussion caps or the gun wouldn’t fire at all. Chet did suggest using paper cartridges, which is what men used in the Civil War, before modern bullets were perfected.

Jack said he’d keep it in mind, but Bailey shook her head. “Fuck paper cartridges. We’re doing this shit old school. I think we have to, so we don’t fuck up the magic.”

Behind the counter, Chet laughed. “So, I can’t believe little Jackie Masterson is in my shop with the two hottest women I’ve seen in my life.”

“It’s Jack Masterson.” Bailey stared the gunsmith in the eyes. At the moment, her red eye was actually a bright green. Still, she sizzled as she stared into Chet’s soul. “And he fucks us so good, Chet. And don’t worry, a lot of guys like to get pegged. It doesn’t make you gay.”

Gabby blushed. “She doesn’t mean it, Mr. Lauder. I’m so sorry for my friend. I’m fairly certain she has a form of Tourette syndrome.”

Chet laughed a bit too loud. “That makes sense. The girl can cuss. Fine, Jack. Switching subjects. I have a holster for your revolver. I’ve never seen a model like it. It seems similar to an 1858 Remington New Model Army revolver, but it’s also very different. Almost like a bastardized version of the Colt 1851 Navy. It’s old, though, and very rare. Have you thought about selling it?”

“No, it’s not for sale.” Jack was still trying to process what Bailey had said about Chet’s personal life. Not that it was any of his business what Chet did behind closed doors, but Jack just hadn’t seen that coming, and he’d known Chet for a long time.

Jack paid for everything with a credit card that probably should’ve been smoking because it had been used so much.

Back in the Ford Whatever, Jack turned to his ladies. “Where are we going?”

Gabby pointed north. “We should head toward Denver. The more people there are, the more likely we’ll be able to find wrongdoing. That’s where we’ll find demons.

Bailey was thrilled. “We’re going to the big city, baby! Denver-fucking-Colorado. But I’ve been thinking, do we want another sex demon? I know an incubus or two we could kill. But there are seven other energies. I don’t want to mess with Morpheum. That shit can get weird on you quick, and I don’t want to fuck around with Baku. We have enough shit we’re pissing off.”

Jack had to think a minute. Morpheum was dream energy. Baku must be creatures that dined on dreams.

Gabby mussed Bailey’s hair. “Oh, you’re so cute to have forgotten. We have to kill two demons and get their teeth. A Baku won’t work!”

Bailey let out a wail. “I just fixed my hair, Feathers! Don’t be mean!”

“I’m sorry,” Gabby said with real concern on her face.

Bailey had the sun visor down. “It’s okay. I’m just sensitive about my hair.” She pouted.

“I really am sorry.” Gabby sighed.

Jack patted the demon’s thigh. “You look great, babe. Really.”

“Thanks,” the demon muttered. Sometimes she could be so moody. Bailey brightened and snapped her fingers. “I know the perfect place. It’s kind of a mini-Vegas in Denver for the rich, on Capitol Hill. We’ll have our choice of demons. They love to hang out there.”

Jack got on Santa Fe and headed north. “So, the Fugs eat time, demons seem to dine on a variety of energies, but angels only like Nefesh.”

“Except for me,” Gabby muttered. “Since I have this body, thanks to you, I can feel Ijjinaya. But yes.”

They chatted more as they drove the hour into Denver. Then they pulled into a rich neighborhood in the Capital Hill district. There were a lot of big houses with lots of land. In the distance, Denver’s skyscrapers rose into the sky.

Jack found a place to park. He turned to Bailey. “Tell me about this place.”

The demon grinned, one eye blue, the other back to being a gleaming red. “Welcome to Denver’s version of Sin City, baby.”

Bailey certainly was excited. Jack couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

BAILEY ROLLED DOWN the window and lit a cigarette. It mingled with her spicy perfume perfectly. “It’s called the Wycombe House, but some of the rich and famous refer to it as the Hellfire Club. To be a member is a hundred thousand dollars a year. Once you pay it, once you go inside the Wycombe House, the law is nonexistent. Sex, drugs, gambling, whatever kink, and whatever fetish you could ever want is in there. It’s fucking dripping with Ijjinaya. Whenever I got hard up, I would just hang out there.”

“And churches,” Gabby pointed out.

The sex demon shrugged. “And churches. What can I say? I like horny religious people. But anyway, I’m pretty sure Gudzu and Carpitia will be in there. They wait for people to die, which they do all the time in the Wycombe House. In the meantime, Gudzu and Carpitia sip off their Decaysia. Death demons are the worst, but I prefer them to Reapers.”

Jack put it together. “Baku eat dreams. Reapers eat death energy. Got it.”

While they talked, he loaded up the four empty cylinders of the Eternity Cannon. He measured out the powder, then tucked a patch in the hole, followed by the round ball. He used the long loader lever to stuff the ball and patch back into the powder. Then he had to set the blasting caps on the nipples at the back of the cylinder. He rotated the barrel until the hammer was over one