Prologue

My name is Tristan Maxwell Abernathy II, and I hunt demons (1). I don't hunt werewolves, or vampires, or other critters like that, just demons. I work through a detective agency (2) that also employs my dad, and my aunt Misty.

It may surprise you that most of my clients here on the Colorado West Slope are farmers. Let me tell you, a Demon possessed rooster may sound funny, but they ain't no joke! Then there's the cows, horses, geese, and pigs. Pigs are the worst. Hard to kill, will eat anything, smarter than hell, and bad attitude. I hate them. That's also why I eat bacon at every meal (3).

Is that "Llamas" I hear you asking? No. Just no. Hell no. And don't bring up anything from Australia.

Ya know what? You're an asshole. Go away. I will taze your ass…..

(1) No, I don't get a government bounty, that's another series. I get paid in cash, like a proper employee.

(2) No, I'm not a Wizard, that's yet another series. I also don't do parties.

(3) Healthy shmelthy, I don't care. I'll probably get drafted and shot in some 3rd world country before heart disease kills me.

*-*-*

The phone sitting on the old sturdy desk rang at the Abernathy Detective Agency. A middle aged woman wearing a cake's worth of makeup and a pink pants suite answered, "Hello, Abernathy Detective Agency! How can we help?"

"Helllooo Ms. Misty! We got us a problem at the Crooked S today."

"Farmer Bob! What a pleasure! What happened today?"

Bob sighed on the other end of the line, "Well, Franklin got into something the other day. We thought it was just some weed, you know the devils lettuce? But weren't that. I think we got a infestation."

"Oh, dearie me! I'll send out Max 2, he's not doin anything at the moment." Misty looked over her shoulder and called, "Maxie dearest! Got a job for you!"

"Aunt Misty! Can't you please just call me Max like everyone else does?" T. Maxwell Abernathy II replied rolling his chair out of the back office where he had been playing bones with his dad. "Please?"

"Bless your heart, young man. I can't use the same name for you and your father! That would just be wrong."

Maxwell, the elder snorted. "Thanks sis. Now what's the job?"

"Farmer Bob has a live one!"

"That's the third one this month! Is his daughter still trying to summon things?"

The younger Maxwell rolled his eyes, "She's off at reform school till next month, dad."

Misty went back to the phone, "Alrighty Bob, Max 2 will be there in an hour or so. You good 'til then?"

Bob's voice was a bit shaky on the other end, "I think so. The missis is in the house, and I'm in the hay loft."

"Very well. He's on his way. You take care now, 'here?"

"Yes'um!" and the call ended.

"Now take the big gun, and don't forget the knife, just in case!"

"Yes aunt Misty." Max said, already collecting his go bag, and heading out the door.

"Poor dear. I hope things go well today."

"Which one?"

"Both."

- - -

Max climbed into the old Toyota 4x4 he had bought with his first several paychecks. Why does that woman always do that? I hate being called Max 2! He drove down the paved road through the west end of town, then turned south onto Hillock Trail. The old rutted gravel road wound around swamps, old trees, defunct farms that nobody had tried to resurrect in fifty years, and finally reached the Crooked S farm. He drove over the cattle grate, and parked near the sway backed barn. He pulled his chainmail shirt from his go bag, and tossed it on over his light leather jacket, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and strapped the knife to his left arm. "Let's do this."

Upon exiting the truck, he noticed two things, first, the pigs were all out of the pen, and second, one of the old hogs was standing on his hind legs, writing math on the side of the barn in marker. Shit. A smart one. This could be bad.

"'Scuse me, yes you with the marker, what in the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled at the hog.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly as the case may be, the hog answered back in a posh London accent, "I happen to be solving Newton's fifth law."

"I hate to tell you this, pig, but Newton only had three laws." Max yelled back.

"That you know of. Now get over here and give me a hand." The hog oinked something, then continued, "Get me a box or something else to stand on. I need to add several more levels of exponents to this section here." The hog gestured up and left with it's fore foot.

Max stopped and stared at the math equation. He had seen it before. Was it in grandpa's old journal? Or that other book set he brought back from his 'Travels'? "Wait a minute! That's the formula for opening a door to the beyond!" He racked the lever on the rifle, not realizing that he already had it in hand.

"Bugger! It is, isn't it?" The hog responded. "That isn't what I started with." He drew a number of lines through the equation. "That would be a horrible thing to do! I wouldn't want one of Them coming and screwing up my vacation!"

Max just stopped. And Stared. "You what now? Say that again?"

"I said that I wouldn't want one of Them ruining my vacation." The hog looked around. "Wait…What are you doing here? Humans don't belong here! This is a 'No Human' zone!"

"I hate to break it to you, Mr. Pig, but this is Earth. Where Humans live."

"Well, that is an unfortunate turn of events. I don't suppose I could trouble you to let me stay then?"

"Nope. No demons allowed. No dimensional travelers either." Max replied.

"Well, damn." The hog shook his head and the floppy ears wagged. "Can you get me back then?"

"Well, if you're willing, then I can get the preacher down here to preform a voluntary exorcism."

"I would most appreciate that." The hug sighed. "When I get home, I'm going to have a word with that sow at the travel agency! How dare they screw this up. I saved for decades for this trip!"

Max walked into the barn, "Bob! You can come down now! Looks like we got us a cooperative one on our hands."

Bob's head poked out from the loft, "Really? Well don't that beat all." He climbed down the ladder in the wall. "Seriously?"

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Yup. Apparently the travel agency messed things up."

"Remind me to never use that agency."

"Can I borrow your phone? The cell don't work around here."

"Sure. On the wall, just like always."

Max called the local pastor, "Pastor Johnson! Glad it's you. Look, I got a willing one this time."

The dry voice of the pastor came across the line "Oh. What a pleasant change from the norm. Let me guess, Crooked S?"

"Yup. Third one this month."

"Really? Interesting. Maybe we should look around this time, and see what madness is still there."

"Probably a good Idea. I'll tell farmer Bob."

"Excellent. I will see you in about half an hour, I'm giving miss Betsy last rights. Again."

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

"Hey Bob, Pastor J wants to have another look around, see if something cropped up again."

"Alright. Gimme a hand getting the pigs back in?" Bob yelled from out front.

"Sure." Max walked outside, and assisted Bob and the hog in rounding up the pigs.

"As I was saying, farmer Bob, I am truly sorry about this. It wasn't my intention to inhabit your prize hog." The hog, who's name was actually Kersamps, said. "This is a truly dreadful thing. On the other trotter, this beast in in fine condition, so you are doing quite well in that department."

Bob just nodded. He was used to possessed animals screaming, or threatening him, not talking like a person would. "Um…thank you? I do my best. Only the finest kitchen slop for my pigs."

At that point an older model sedan pulled into the farm, and a well dressed man stepped out. "Ah, Mr. Abernathy, Farmer Bob, a pleasure to see you again. Too bad I don't see you in church more often as well." Then he laughed a deep laugh. "Now that that's done, where is our poor victim?"

"Right over here, Mr. Pastor, sir." Kersamps said from where he was lounging in the shade of the barn. "Bob, may I call you Bob? This is some excellent slop! My compliments to your wife!"

"…Um, thank you Mr. Kersamps?"

"As I was saying earlier to Mr. Maxwell, it would probably be a good idea for me to accompany you on your little excursion around the farm here. I have a 'good nose' for the occult." Kersamps giggled. "Good Nose! Ha!"

"It may be a good thing?" Pastor Johnson gave Max the side eye. "Do you think that's wise?"

Max shrugged, "Well, he could have killed us several times already, and he didn't, so, I guess? It couldn't hurt."

"Extra eyes, and nose to the ground." Pastor Johnson said with a straight face.

Kersamps laughed. "Well played, I say!"

"Please, call me John." Pastor John Johnson said with a large smile. "Welcome to our walk."

The quartet wandered the nearby fields, and woods for nearly an hour when Kersamps stopped, and then backed up. "That's Pigs Bane over there. Makes us deathly sick, and is used in some tracking and location spells." He walked to the patch of shiny spines and leaves. "I believe someone has been playing silly buggers with you."

The humans looked at each other, then the plant. Bob was the first to speak, "Never seen that plant before. It does what now?"

"It spreads like kudzu if you don't keep it contained. It needs to be killed, and the area around it burned until the soil is killed." Kersamps replied. "Damn stuff is a menace." He cocked his head to the side, "It also can attract unsavory types to the area, if you know what I mean?"

John and Max looked to each other, then John spoke, "Bob? Do us a favor and get the stuff for lighting brush piles? I think the pig's right, we need to do this fast." Bob ran for the 'fire' building (1).

"John, do you have salt on you? Otherwise I have some in the truck." Max was keeping an eye on the plant, as a small tendril slowly reached forth from its center, and arched it's way to the ground several inches away.

"Don't you have some in your go bag?" John asked in return.

"Yes, but not enough for what I'm thinking." Max was already fishing in his bag for the can he always carried. "I want to cover the whole thing, not just a circle." Finding the can, he opened the spout and began to liberally draw a circle around the plant. John left to get the spare salt from the truck.

After several minutes had passed, both John and Bob returned. Bob with a 'proprietary' mixture of flammables in a sprayer, and John with the extra salt. The plant itself was pushing against the oblong ring salt, trying to escape and spread, but with little in the way of luck.

"Thank god you're both back." Max tossed the empty can to one side, and grabbed the spare from John. "This thing has been trying to make a break for it since one of its sprouts encountered the circle as I was drawing it." He opened the can, and liberally doused the plant with salt. "Kersamps, how should we go about burning it out?"

"Well, the best practice is to contain it with a spell, then excavate, then once contained out of the ground, you place it in an inferno spell." Kersamps replied.

"And how does it usually go in the field?" John asked, as Bob began pumping up the pressure in the sprayer.

Kersamps looked up at John, "Well, since we don't have the luxury of doing it properly, douse the outside of the ring with flammables, then douse the inside. Don't get any on the containment ring itself, it will make a hole through which the beasty can escape."

Farmer Bob carefully started his spray around six inches from the salt, and worked out to about twelve. When that was done, he started just inside the circle, and spiraled the spray into the center, where he let it spray a good amount.

Max looked around the group, "Y'all ready for this?" He asked, pulling a barbeque lighter from his go bag. All in attendance stepped several feet back before nodding there assent. Max reached out to ignite the center of the ring.

"Remember to light the outer circle first!" Kersamps cried at the last moment. "I'm so sorry I didn't mention that earlier!"

Max nodded his thanks, and lit the outer ring. The mixture of chemicals burst into an explosive white flame, and Max let out a yelp as he fell backwards. "Jes…Holy… Bob, what the hell is in that stuff?"

"Well, you know, stuff?"

Max gingerly reached the lighter inside the salt circle, pulled the trigger, and the inside exploded into flame.

The four 'men' stood and watched as the pant screamed, shuddering. They winced at the noise. A few minutes later, the unhealthy thing was nothing but a pile of charred ash inside a partly melted circle of salt. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now what you need to do is sprinkle the entire field with salt for the next three years, and burn it all down each season." Kersamps said. "Once that's done you will be rid of the evil thing forever. If you don't, it may come back."

"Seriously?" Max cocked an eyebrow.

"Well…no." Kersamps laughed, "But the look on your faces was priceless!"

"So we're done here?" Bob asked.

"The Pastor should say a prayer to bless the area, but that should do it." Kersamps said, before trying a bite of a nearby dandelion, and swallowing. "Best to check it every few days for a month or so. If you see anything starting to grow, just dump salt on it, and burn it again. Might I add that these are amazingly tasty?" He nosed at another dandelion.

Everyone else stared at him, shook their heads, and headed back to the barn.

A half hour later, Kersamps was standing in the middle of a circle of holy water, listening to Pastor John renounce his presence. "Oh, I can feel it taking hold!" He whispered. Then there was an audible pop, and a very confused, and therefore angry, Hog charged out of the circle. Everyone ran.

Several hours later found Max driving back to the office on the rutted gravel road, envelope of money on the seat next to him in the truck, and music playing on the only rock station in the county. Just as the DJ was announcing a song by the Rolling Stones, a voice came from under the passenger seat. "Damn them all! They killed my body! And I can't pass on!" Max locked up the breaks, and started to skid as the opening bars of 'Sympathy for the Devil' started to play on the speakers.

1. Known by many names, this is the place on a farm where one stores inflammables' (Gasoline, Kerosene, Diesel, and others ) and explosives (Dynamite, Blasting Caps and the like).