Page 43 of Virgil's Demons

SPECTRE

The call came in just as I was about to head upstairs, my hand halfway on the railing, the old wood cool against my skin. Raven was already in bed, her body curled around the soft pillows, her pregnancy giving her a glow that made my chest tighten every time I saw her. It had been quiet lately, our life, for the first time in years, felt... peaceful.

But that was the thing about peace in our world—it never lasted.

My phone buzzed on the table, Bulldog's name lighting up the screen. My gut twisted. Bulldog was the only person in this whole world who knew where to find me. We'd been running ever since Lucifer had set his eyes on us, and let me tell you, it's not easy hiding from the devil.

Which meant that I had to stay away from my brothers, keeping them out of harm's way. But as a tracker, I still performed my duties and I knew that Bulldog wouldn't reach out to me unless he needed me to find information or something was seriously wrong. And if he was reaching out to me now, it meant only one thing—trouble.

I snatched up the phone and hit the answer button, putting it on speaker.

"Spectre," Bulldog's gravelly voice crackled through the line, sounding more worn than usual.

"Prez."

There was a long pause before he continued. "We need your help."

I frowned, already sensing the tension in his tone. "What's going on, Prez? You know I'm not exactly free to ride out these days."

"No, I get that, but there's someone here who asked me to contact you."

I frowned, my voice dropping a dangerous octave. "Who?"

"Spectre, brother...it's Virgil."

I froze for a second, surprised at the name.Virgil?I hadn't heard that name in years. Not since New Orleans. Not since we'd first crossed paths through Madame Laveaux, the High Priestess herself.

Virgil wasn't the kind of man you forgot easily, especially considering what we'd been through back then. That city had nearly swallowed us whole, both fighting our own demons—his more literal than mine.

After all this time, I never expected him to contact me, let alone ask for a favor. He wasn't that type. He was the type to run, wallow in self pity as he self-destructed. I knew he was in a bad way back then and had asked him to come back with me, but he declined. I never thought I'd see the day he'd become a club member but it was Bulldog who got to him on my behalf.

I'd told Bulldog months ago to bring him in, that we needed him after what went down with Lucifer. That residue left on the club, the darkness was eating at the edges of the place, a slow rot. I'd figured Virgil might be the key to wiping it clean. But he'd stayed off the radar. Until now.

"What the hell are you doing calling me, Virgil?" I growled, suspicion lacing my words. Virgil never asked for help, not evenwhen demons had their claws in him. For him to reach out? This had to be bad.Realbad.

There was a long pause before he continued, "I'm in deep shit, man. You're the only one I could think of who could help me."

I frowned, the weight of his words hitting harder than I wanted to admit. Virgil and I had a history, and he wasn't wrong about that debt. But the idea thathe—of all people—was asking for help? It didn't sit right. I leaned against the railing, staring at the floor, already feeling the tension in my muscles.

"What's this about?"

He exhaled, a rough, tired sound. One that carried the weight of years. "It's about a woman...Barythaya."

My frown deepened. "What about her?"

"It's complicated, but without mincing words...I exorcized a demon out of this girl and now Death's taken over her body, like a goddamn vessel," he spat, the frustration clear in his voice. "I need your help figuring out how the fuck to get it out. I'm pretty much at the end of my rope here."

I closed my eyes, rubbing a hand over my face.Barythaya… I'd heard whispers about her through the club. Knew she had some connection to Virgil, though I hadn't realized it had gotten this deep.

What he was describing to me was bad. Death walking around in a living body? That was unheard of, and not something you handled lightly. Hell, it wasn't somethinganyonereally handled.

I felt a knot tighten in my gut, and memories of New Orleans came flooding back—those long nights we spent trying to banish spirits, demons, things that crawled out of the darkest corners of the world. Madame Laveaux had shown us things no one should ever see. Virgil had barely walked away from that mess intact. And now, he was diving back into it headfirst.

"You sure this isn't something you can handle on your own?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"No," he said flatly, his voice cold with finality. "I need you, Spectre. Trust me, I wouldn't be asking if I had any other option."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. Virgil asking for help... that was like seeing the devil on his knees. He wasn't just asking for me to come back and fight some ghost. This was personal.

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