Not In Chicago


Blake stopped thumbing his cellphone. “I’m giving the Hell’s Angels a heads up… They control most of the U.S. of A. and I doubt Simone bothered to ask their permission. Okay?”

“The Hell’s Angels?!?” Simon replied. “The biker gang?!?”

“Well… not those Hell’s Angels,” Blake stammered.

“I’m not following.”

“They used to be called The Four Horsemen,” Blake continued. “Before they updated their rides.”

“What?!? No!” Simon shouted. “You are not bringing The Frakkin Four Horsemen here!”

“It’s the only way,” Blake replied. “It solves all our problems.”

“And possibly opens a whole new can of gorram worms. No thanks.” Simon started walking down the alley. “I’ll find her on my own and handle it. Thanks for all the help.”

“Damn it, kid, I can’t just throw you to lions.” Blake drew forth his silver cross again, a divining rod to Simone’s unearthly presence. “Let’s go.”

“You have a plan?” Simon asked.

“Not yet, but…” Blake paused. “Wait, which virgin’s blood did you use in the summoning?”

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