by Shad N Freud
The Archduke shrugged and was going to turn back to the game when Bob opened the door and hustled on over. He handed Baal an augmented phone and Baal put it to where everyone assumed his ear was. He then began arguing with someone on the other end of the phone in Infernal, his hissing voice making Impious’ skin crawl. Finally, the Archduke ended the call, stood up, and carefully handed the phone back to Impious. “The location of the remaining coinsss? Dissscovered. The Roman hasss them.”
“The Roman?” Impious asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you don’t mean-,”
“Yesss. Longinusss. I have hisss current location. I shall deliver the newsss to Beaumont after sssecuring the Roman’sss cooperation. I requessst permission to ussse intra-planar gatesss.”
Impious blinked in confusion as he processed what he’d been told. “Wait, you need my permission? I mean, of course you have it, but…”
“You are the authority on Earth for the Church. I have jussst been placcced under your command, for the time being. And, the individual I ssseek isss alive. Sssinccce I am not here on recruitment or collection duty and I wasssn’t sssummoned, yesss, I mussst asssk your permission. Let’sss not make a big deal about it.”
Impious smiled darkly for a moment, before waving his hand dismissively. “Go forth and do bad things, my son.”
Baal’s eyes flashed brightly for a moment before he chuckled, shaking his head as he pointed at the door to a broom closet, his black opal ring glowing with a green light before the door disappeared in a gout of hellfire. Baal growled, crawling through the portal on his hands and knees, the portal being only seven feet tall. Impious watched Baal disappear into the portal, the door reappearing moments later leaving only a small pile of sulfur on the floor to mark his passing.
The Pope’s eyes narrowed as he pondered what he knew about Baal. Something about the whole endeavor felt highly suspect and yet Graahl had treated the Archduke like an old friend. An old and trusted friend. It was highly unusual, as Graahl had very few he considered to be friends much less trusted. This Baal, or whoever he truly was, seemed to be able to command the respect, if not fear, of everyone he met, seeming to inspire almost instant fealty. Impious rubbed the scar on his shoulder absently, momentarily remembering the time he’d demanded respect from the honey badger. It had only taken two hours to find his arm after Graahl had ripped it out of his shoulder, beaten him nearly to death with it, and then hid it somewhere on the grounds. He’d learned his lesson and never ordered his bodyguard to do anything again. And yet, this Archduke walks into the room and Graahl kneeled of his own volition, without being commanded to do so. This Baal was clearly someone important or had been before he assumed the throne.
Impious looked down at his hand, and noticed it was shaking. It wasn’t due to a lack of chemical mind alteration, as he’d mixed an LSD-laced sugar cube into his tea earlier. No, it was due to the stress he was under. When Trixie brought him a beer, he gently grabbed her arm, and looked her in the eye. “Trixie, my dear, be a doll and go score papa some heroin? I’m thinking some China White would be good this evening. This whole Prophecy business is giving me the shakes.”
∞∞∞
There was a luxury yacht anchored in the sparkling waters off the coast of west Africa, the owner on the fantail grilling steaks for the crew. It was one of his hobbies, cooking, in the same way that billionaires sometimes like doing menial tasks around the house that the help could do in a far better manner. That said, he had a real talent for turning raw food into meals that could easily be served in a Michelin star restaurant. He smelled brimstone and growled as he grabbed his spear, then walked into large lounge most of the crew spent their time in. The crew had cleared out of the room as soon as runes began burning themselves into the framing around the utility closet’s door and the door itself disappeared in green flames.
A massive man crawled through the portal, pausing as he felt the needle-sharp point of a spear poking him in the head. The hooded being looked up at the tip of the spear that threatened to take up the “Room for Let” sign his temporal lobe had posted in the local adverts, then looked further up the shaft of the spear to see an angry black man glaring into his cowl. “You had better have a good reason to be here on my ship, Devil. I don’t suffer fools lightly, and I’m far too old for this shit. So, speak quickly and get the hell out or I’ll be using you for chum when I go fishing later.”
Baal gestured behind him at the portal and Darnel Christian took a couple steps back to allow the Archduke to come the rest of the way into the lounge. Space being a bit of a premium, he sat down on the…dirt floor?...of the lounge, allowing him to look the shorter man in the eye. He raised his hands in a placating manner, the spear still pointed at his face. “Firssst of all, I appreciate your hossspitality.” Baal reached into his ragged robes and produced a black folder with the Inquisition’s symbols emblazoned on the front cover. “I am here to act asss a broker. There will come a man in a few hoursss to try and acquire your coinsss. The piecesss of sssilver you have are required to sssettle a debt.”
“No shit. Why do you think I’ve been collecting them? Hell, two of them are several hundred feet below my boat and I can’t quite reach them.”
Baal nodded then handed the man the folder. “Within that folder are all the detailsss you need to know. What I offer you isss the chanccce to be freed of your…torment.”
Darnel’s grip on his spear faltered for a moment, mirroring the shock on his face before he snarled, and thrust the spear into…nothing. The iron gauntlet was wrapped tightly around the spear, in a literal iron grip. “You can fuck right off. The last time I got mixed up in one of these damned Prophesies, I got cursed with immortality. On the upside, I did get cured of blindness, something that was not worth the price I’ve paid. You think I like not being able to die? I was in Hiroshima when the bomb fell. On purpose. And you know what happened? I woke up in the middle east. Right next to this stupid spear of mine. I. Can’t. Die.”
“Then why are you collecting the coinsss?”
Darnel’s grip on his spear slackened as he looked down at the dirt floor. “Guilt. I…I was a centurion once. I caught syphilis and went blind. Because of my war record, they kept me on as an auxiliary, on execution detail. A bad throw of the knuckle bones and I ended up getting involved in a Prophecy I had no intention of being a part of. For the first few centuries, it was great, you know? Can’t die, can eat or do whatever I want…but, food loses its flavor. Gold loses its luster. Even sex becomes a chore, especially when you can’t have children. I even tried raising orphans for a while, to try and feel the happiness of being a father. Then…” Tears began to slowly slide down his face. “I had to watch my children…their children’s children’s children…I’ve had to watch so many die. I had to walk the Earth during the American Civil War, the Spanish influenza, World War Two…I had to see people killing themselves on Black Tuesday. Ghandi, Dr. King, Malcom X, Kennedy…September 11th. My life has been one of death, suffering, and pain. So, fuck you for teasing me with a false promise. This dossier isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”
“I can asssure you. It’sss legitimate. Lucifer himssself will ensure it happensss. Jehovah owesss him a favor.” Baal ripped the spear from Darnel’s grasp and flung it at the dartboard hanging on the wall. The spear vibrated violently as the dartboard fell to the ground, split neatly in half. The door to the chapel shattered, the ornate crucifix hanging on the wall bathed in a gentle golden light. Baal pointed at the cross. “You killed the ssson, sssure. But the father can forgive, if given proper motivation. I ssswear to you, you will die.”
Darnel stared at the cross for a long time, then lifted his hand, catching the spear as it ripped itself out of the wall and flew to his hand. “Let me make one thing clear, Devil. If this fails, I’m going to find you. Then I’m going to put this pigsticker up your ass and roast you over a soulburner. Am I clear?”
“Asss cryssstal. One quessstion before I leave.” Baal poin
ted at the other man’s bare feet. “Why isss the floor covered with dirt?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Carl laughed as he watched his charges help Jin catalogue his new toys. Three doses of Lazarus Compound, several tons of gold, silver, and copper coins, various antiquities, weapons…and three Jameson originals that had Cenere pledging his undying loyalty if he could have just one. Jin had laughed and laughed as he said no, then gave Cenere the bird. Carl whistled as he saw a black onyx stone with the elder futhark rune Fehu slide into Jin’s pocket. “Well, well…I suppose that solves that mystery. Only six of Jameson’s mansions were ever given out. You, my little friend, have the prototype. I can only imagine what it’s like in there. What were the bloody chances?”
Carl smiled, lighting a fresh smoke as he strolled over to where Jin was toying around with a simple copper coin. On the face was a sneering profile of Jameson, on the reverse a cute caricature of a piggy bank. The piggy looked sad and rubbed its belly as Carl looked at the coin. His eyebrows rose as he fumbled around in his trousers and pulled out 5p, holding it to the slightly green coin. The piggy’s ears perked up in excitement and a fist sized vortex formed near the surface of the coin, sucking the 5p right out of Carl’s hand. “Bloody hell!” He picked up a handful of the gold coins on the table and held them palm up in front of the coin’s eyes. The piggy audibly squealed with glee and sucked up the gold coins. Carl laughed as he flipped the coin and caught it, the face showing this time. The coin rolled its eye as it looked up at Carl.
“Are you quite finished? I’m not a toy, you slope-browed idiot.” The coin sounded just like the rare recordings of Jameson, removing all doubt as to the authenticity of the artifact. The coin sighed as a hand rose up on the coin’s surface, pinched the bridge of its nose, and silently counted to ten. “Yes, I’m authentic. Yes, I’m intelligent. And, you presently have, according to current market values, fifty thousand British pounds worth of gold coins and one five pence piece. If you’d like your money back, simply tell me how much you want or say ‘empty’.”
“Empty, if you please,” Carl said, and the coins appeared in his hand with the 5p on top. The piggy on the reverse side snuffled sadly and began rubbing it’s belly again. Carl handed the coin back to Jin. “Damned fine coin you’ve got there, mate. Be careful not to spend it like money.”
“I dare say! How do you think Jameson lost me in the first place!” the coin said, affronted. Jin laughed and pointed at the pile of coins. “Eat all.” The entire pile of coins disappeared. Jin laughed as he tossed the coin at the much larger pile of coins he hadn’t sorted yet. “Eat all.” Cenere groaned as he watched the coin squeal happily, rubbing its belly with happy snorting noises. The face muttered under its breath about gluttons as Carl turned to look at the girls, who were clapping while the last Jameson in the collection, a suit of intelligent armor, danced with one of the mansion’s marble golems.
Carl had always wondered if Jameson imbued intelligence into all of his creations, as the mansion always seemed to know when he needed Jeeves or when he didn’t want to be disturbed. The term Genius Loci had been bandied about by some of the “owners” of the mansions, and Carl was inclined to agree, based on the randy behavior of the suit of armor as it groped the marble golem who pretended to be affronted and slapped the armor’s helmet. The helm spun around before the armor reached up and stopped the spin, affecting dizziness for a moment before it winked to the girls and snapped its fingers, changing the music to a fiery tango instead of a stodgy waltz. The golem clapped in excitement before dancing with it again.
Cenere got the right idea and asked Camilla if she’d let him have that dance in a raspy voice, winking at the suit of armor as the pair danced. Carl smiled slightly as he watched the bard and witch dance. Those two were an interesting development and caused Carl to lose himself in nostalgia for a moment, remembering his own courtship with Tristana. When Cenere had fallen off the makeshift stage during his impromptu concert during their last battle, Camilla had caught him before he’d hit the ground and checked him for injuries, her eyes misty as she held the unconscious young man. He was generally unharmed, other than a strained voice. The song had taken a lot out of him, and wouldn’t be able to sing, much less talk above a raspy whisper for at least a few days.
The boy’s talent with bardic song was amazing, as most with the gift of song could only cast simple spells at best with their song and only a handful in the entire world could do so while also fighting a pitched battle, whether with blades or guns. Cenere, on the other hand, was learning how to layer spells and effects into his song while raising the bar for musicians around the globe. The Eye had given him what they could and that wasn’t much. One could tell that the jokers that played with him last night hadn’t played at Carnegie Hall before they ended up on that dock, the instruments subpar and the sound system held together with JB weld, duct tape, baling wire and chewing gum. But Cenere had turned that sow’s ear into a magnificent silk purse.
The video taken by one of the Eye went viral within minutes, getting millions of hits on both the internet and the aetherweb social media sites. Cenere eventually set his phone to ward mode to block all incoming signals. After declining the twelfth record producer in a row, he’d decided to just shut everyone out until things died down. He had a job to do, after all.
After he’d awoken from his impromptu nap, Camilla had fussed over the exhausted tiefling, refusing to leave his side until he could walk under his own power. Carl’s smile grew a little wider as he lit a fresh cigarette, recalling how thoroughly the Scottish demolitions expert had torn into the poor lad in a very thick, barely understandable brogue that only grew thicker as she tended to his minor wounds. All the while, Cenere had been trying to get a whispered word in edgewise, before deciding the direct method was best and shut her up with a kiss. Ever since, the pair kept sneaking looks at each other when they thought no one else was looking. Carl had them down for hopping on the good foot and doing the great thing within a few months. He had no idea how long these kids would last, but he wished them nothing but happiness. If things continued apace, their lives were going to be interesting. And not in a good way.
The smell of brimstone roused Carl from his reverie, and he snarled as he drew his baton and 10mm, thumbing the safety off as he trained the gun on the portal that opened where the foyer’s broom closet door had been but a moment before. The others had likewise dropped what they were doing and drawn their weapons, with Camilla and Cenere protecting Jin as he readied a spell. Green flames consumed the door and Carl took his finger off the trigger, whistling for the group to stand down.
Baal crawled out of the portal before standing up slowly, his hands empty and palms up to show he was unarmed. Carl holstered his weapons and sneered at the Archduke. As soon as the weapons were put away, Baal stretched, trying to get the kinks out of his back. “Could have jussst gone back to the Pit firssst and then gated here directly, but no, I chossse to ussse intraplanar gating instead. Ssscrew it. Nexxxt time I’m jussst going home firssst. Ah, Cardinal Beaumont. Jussst the man I wanted to sssee.”
Carl glared at the Archduke, crossing his arms as he signaled Jeeves to dial back the security. The copper man nodded, and the hidden weapons systems went back into standby as Carl cleared his throat. “Archduke Baal. To what do we owe the…pleasure of your company?” The tone of Carl’s voice made it clear that the Archduke was very much an unwelcome guest.
The Archduke hissed softly in laughter at a private joke as he reached into his long, ragged robes and withdrew the missive he’d been given at the Vatican. “Thisss isss for you, Cardinal Beaumont. It should give detailsss on how to acquire The Gun. Alssso…to shorten your travelsss, I have located a man off the west African coassst who hasss half of the coinsss. He isss a collector, you might sssay, and will be rather…reccceptive to your requessst for them. He isss currently anchored above the location of the remaining coinsss. He isss unable to acquire them, but hasss contracted transssportati
on to the sssea floor. I recommend you go sssee him presssently. Here are the GPSss coordinatesss. Until next time.”
“That soul burning greatsword of yours from Paris…where did you get it?” Carl gritted out as he watched the door disappear again, forming a portal back to the Vatican.
The hissing laugh commenced again. “Now, now…that would be telling, Cardinal. That sssaid, I’ll grant you a hint: you’ll be able to find one from the sssame sssource by the end of thisss little missssion of yoursss.” The hissing laughter grew more sinister as the Archduke dropped to all fours and crawled through the hole.
Carl sneered as the door reappeared and consulted the mansion’s diagnostic system. That Archduke entering his home should have been impossible. He noted that Jeeves had lowered the barrier just before the Archduke arrived, and then raised it back up immediately after the Archduke left. “Jeeves! You’ve got some explaining to do! Get your copper ass over here, right now!”
Jeeves rose up out of the floor behind Carl and startled him. “You called, sir?”
“I’d like you to explain just how someone got in here without knocking or being cleared. There were no security protocols active, and I want to know why right bloody now. Where the Hell do you get off letting whoever you want in here?”
“Standing order. My apologies, sir, but I cannot say anything further on this. I was following strict instructions that I cannot divulge and especially not to you, sir. Trust me, Carl, I would tell you if I could.” Jeeves had to fight his own protocols just to say that much. He could feel one of the gears in his neck had definitely slipped a tooth and could smell his cerebral cooling fluid cooking from the amount of literal resistance his own body had used to restrict his ability to speak. He hated all this cloak and dagger horseshit and would be so happy when he could speak plainly. Not much longer now, though. Jeeves sighed internally at the thought.
