Free Raw Power: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demon-Hearted Book 1) by Ambrose Ibsen

Kubo and shrugged. “What's my power, then?”
    “You're a smartass, for one,” blurted Joe, toying with something in his back pocket. It was the switchblade; I could tell by the way he was fidgeting that he was seeking a good way to pluck it out of his pocket and open it before plunging it into my ribs.
    I leaned away from him a little, glancing up at Kubo. “Well?”
    Kubo shut off the projector and chuckled. “Not sure, actually. For all I know, you might be a dud. Time will tell, but for now I can only guess that the top dogs have sent you along as a meat-shield.”
    “Oh, fuck you,” I said, throwing up my hands. “When is this demon heart supposed to kick in? What do I have to do? Do I transform into a monster or something? Will it make me a great fighter? Can I vanquish souls to Hell with a magic spell?”
    This time, Kubo grimaced, his massive frame bristling. “Actually, you can't. Because this isn't a goddamned cartoon. Your powers will take some time to develop. The demon heart will have to get accustomed to your body, but there's no way for us to know exactly how your powers will manifest because transplants like this one are seldom done. There's no step-by-step guide, no 'What to Expect' book I can refer you to. Shut up and take this.” He reached into a box at his feet, pulling out a large handgun and a black cell phone. “Both are for official use only,” he warned, adding a small cardboard box of bullets shortly thereafter.
    I eyed the gun first. It was the biggest, meatiest thing I'd ever seen and looked like it might take my arm off if I dared to pull the trigger. Seriously, the giant silver piece probably had a great deal of kickback. I never carried a gun at my old job, didn't bother. Not that it would have been a bad idea, for my own protection, but my experience with firearms was practically nil, and to see this imposing piece on the table before me made me kind of nervous. I stood up and tried to tuck it into the waistband of my shorts, but the thing was too heavy and nearly fell out. I scrambled to grasp it and then set it back on the tabletop, lest I accidentally shoot myself in the groin.
    The phone was really something else. It was made of a tough, black material that felt sort of like leather. It was an old model, a flip-phone, and a cursory look at its pixellated screen made me chuckle. The buttons were chunky, back-lit. A phone like this one might be useful in the field while running away from bloodthirsty witches and dialing for backup, but it looked like a joke. “You secret society guys sure are cutting edge,” I said giving the phone a shake. “You ever hear of smart phones? How the hell am I supposed to update social media on this dinosaur?”
    Leaning on the table, both fists pressed into it, Kubo glared at me. “I thought I told you, it's for official use only. That's the phone we're going to use to get ahold of you when we need you. Sorry it doesn't have enough frills for you, princess.”
    Joe burst out laughing, relaxing somewhat and crossing his arms once more. “You're pretty high maintenance, you know that, Lucy?”
    With that out of the way, Kubo opened the floor to questions.
    Oh, sure, I had questions. Lots of them. But I wasn't really sure where to start, or if I actually needed them answered badly enough to subject myself to more of the team's bullshit. The mission was pretty clear; I'd be doing whatever Kubo told me to do and we'd be looking for witches. Whenever we found them, we'd kill them. Simple, clear-cut.
    Now, don't misunderstand. I wanted those witches dead. They'd done a number on me, after all. I wasn't exactly a part of this Mater Agatha's fan-club. And yet, the stubborn part of me, the part that hated being pushed around and left out of the loop, detested this arrangement. No one had told me that this heart transplant had strings attached. There hadn't been any advertisement detailing “One Free Secret Society Membership When You Buy One Demon