Author’s note – Here’s another little piece inspired by our Instagram for Friday the 13th. It features Caleb Saint Claire, of the Order of the Temple of Solomon, whom you may have met in The Twelve Days of Fic-Mas. We never meant to have him turn into a series regular, so to speak, but he’s just too much fun to not keep having back.
Caleb skidded around the corner on wet pavement, almost wiping out. He’d lost his partner a couple of blocks ago. Damned rookie was going to be getting up and hitting the hills with a training unit every morning for the next month if Caleb had anything to say about it. And he did. You don’t get to call yourself a Knight of the Order if you crap out after chasing a homicidal demon eight blocks.
That said, Caleb was starting to lose steam, himself. Of course, he had the excuse of bleeding freely from several deep scratches. He was also pretty sure this bastard’s claws were venomous, because he had started to feel a little woozy, too.
At least they weren’t far from the local safe house. Once the threat was neutralized, could have the counter-potion in less than ten minutes. Or sooner. He remembered his ability to call them it. It was kind of nice to not be all on your own occasionally. He ducked down an alley and reached for his radio to call for some assistance.
His next breath was crushed out of him as he slammed with unsurprising supernatural force against the wet brick wall. Two of the creatures four arms pinned him while the others went through his pockets.
“Hey, there, Ormru,” Caleb said wryly, wanting to see the demon flinch at hearing its name.
He wasn’t disappointed. The distraction did allow him to start to wriggle free, just a bit. But it’s hot breath in his face made him cringe a second later. “Caleb Saint Claire.”
It knew him, too. Great.
“Taking out a member of the Order is an eternity long dream of mine. The fact that it’s you will be quite a feather in my cap.”
Caleb flashed a tight smile. “I imagine it would be.”
“Doing it on Friday the 13th will be the coup of the week. I’ve always thought that unlucky slaughter worth duplicating.”
Caleb finally got his left hand around to the small of his back where he’d been inching toward. He thrust the ceremonial dagger into the demon’s middle with a grunt. Ormru crumpled to the ground, smoking already.
“That’s a myth.” Caleb walked away, cleaning his blade on the handkerchief he kept in his pocket for that purpose.
He reached the street and Novice Helms ran up to him. “Back-up’s on its way, and I told them to bring a Healer.”
“Good.” Maybe he wouldn’t have to run the kid ragged after all. He’d have a chat with him about separating from his partner without a word, but at least the kid’s head had been in the game.
As though reading Caleb’s mind, Helms assured him, “I was right behind you, but I found a nest.”
Caleb’s eyebrows went up, impressed. “Where?”
Helms pointed at a crumbling apartment building back up the street.
Caleb grinned. “Well, isn’t this just our lucky day.”