The Demon Senders by T Patrick Phelps

them.”
    “I burned the feather. Does that remove me from the target list?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
    “Just makes you a feather burner. You’ll always be targeted but you’ll also always be feared.”
    “So,” I continued, “both you and that creepy old dude are spotters, playing for different teams. And since I’m a sender, can I assume the other team has senders as well?”
    “I guess you can call the demons ‘senders,’ but I prefer just calling them what they are: Soul stealing wretched wraiths.”
    “How about that hazy-faced asshole in the bar earlier today? Another spotter?”
    “Nope,” she said. “That, my friend, was your first demon.”
    That bit of news was a tad shocking. Deep in my soul, I knew there was something twisted about Hazy Face. Something horribly dangerous and evil, but I hadn’t put the whole thing together in my mind yet. Sure, I still had plenty of doubts about the whole “demon sending” role I guessed I was playing, but making the connection between what Rachel was telling me about demons roaming the Earth in search of trophies and me actually running into an actual demon was still a connection not ready to be made.
    “So he’s out there, roaming the streets? Shouldn’t we do something about that?” Now, I know that this sounds like I was brave and ready to tackle, or, in my case, to drown a demon, but it wasn’t like that at all. As soon as I hinted we go after Hazy Face, my stomach curled into a radiating ball of nerves.
    “You weren’t ready yet. But don’t worry, we’ll be seeing him again real soon.”
    “He told me that if I leave him alone, he’d leave me alone,” I said. “Any luck with that happening?”
    “The demon is a liar. They all are. They are masters of mixing the truth with lies, which makes them incredibly powerful. They lie to each other, to themselves and to their targets.” Rachel’s expression went distant for a moment, like what she said had forced her to take a mental pause. She continued a moment later, “They are so twisted with hate that the truth is a source of pain for them. You should never engage one in a conversation. They will twist your mind. They will either make you want to be their best friend or terrify you beyond any point you could possibly imagine. It’s best to identify, send back and move on.”
    After letting Rachel’s words sink in and demanding my tired little brain quickly process the contents of the conversation, I turned to Rachel and said, “Two things: Why was Hazy Face, hazy-faced and why aren’t we going after him right now? I mean, he is a demon after all.” Again my feigned bravery sent another round of commands to my already twisted up stomach.
    “Demons need a place of transition when they cross over. A place to solidify, for lack of a better term. Hazy Face must have chosen that bar to be the place to make his transition. He probably goes there whenever he crosses and waits out the time till he can blend in. Other demons choose very obscure places as their transition areas. I’ve seen some walking out of the densest woods, out of sewers, any place they feel comfortable and believe they won’t be noticed. But they all stick close to areas with plenty of water.
    “The reason we don’t go after him is that there isn’t anything we can do till his transition is complete. Hazy Face is still moving between the realms. You try to drown him and, yeah, he’s sent back but only for a few minutes. It’s too dangerous for us to try to send a demon back before they are fully on Earth. It’s not worth the risk.”
    “So when do we send him back? What if he steals a soul before we get him?”
    “I’ll know when it’s time.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

    Phillip’s feet were battered, his head screamed in pain and his ears ached from an unknown pressure and from the constant sounds of the distant screaming. He was full of hatred and anger and wanted, somehow, to use his emotions for something that