Versus

by Nick Freo

  “What?” I shouted over the alarm. “Do you know that guy?”

  “Guy…” I had to read his lips because he was making no effort to speak louder. He didn’t look at me as he started to pace in front of the doors. “He’s not truly a man. He’s a species known as the undead.”

  I felt Cara shift her weight behind me as Lilah let a few dozen curse words flow out. The alarm went silent.

  “—Be a disaster. They’re not like the undead your human fables invented,” Mr. Gray continued like nothing had interrupted him. “They are rare, and they are formidable. They’re immune to most magic, which would make them extraordinary on its own, but they can also kill with their touch. Everyone, including the Celestial Court, avoids them. If there’s one thing that angels and demons agree on, it is that the undead are abominations. And that’s the good news.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets. “If that’s the good news, I hope it’s followed by great news.”

  “The bad news is that this particular undead is an individual known simply as the Dead Man. He has a history.” Mr. Gray shook his head. “I advised your father against meeting with him but your father was single-minded and—”

  “Wait.” I raised my hand up. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that my father met with someone known as the Dead Man who is capable of killing with his touch—who is known for killing with his touch—and you haven’t mentioned this to me yet? Was this recently?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Gray said, stroking his hair again. “While he is one of the few who could challenge your father directly, I wasn’t going to point you in the most dangerous direction first. Serena Foster is the lead you should follow.”

  Mr. Gray closed his eyes, rubbing between his eyebrows. I peered out the window again. The Dead Man was still there. He took one step forward. Two more steps. As he started approaching faster, the lawn lit up with a blue fire. It was a strange blue—almost oceanic-like—but it only caused the Dead Man to hesitate for a second before proceeding. After he moved a couple feet, the fire behind him disappeared, and the grass was left undisturbed.

  “Did he even acknowledge the purgatory ward, or did he ignore it?” Mr. Gray asked.

  “He ignored it,” I said, the pit in my stomach turning into a stone. “What was it supposed to do?”

  “It’s comparable to an electric fence except exceedingly more painful, and the pain is more permanent. But, as I previously stated, he is immune to most magic. I had some minor hope that it would at least deter him, but he must be determined to reach the mansion.”

  “This sounds like a great pity party for how much your security system sucks ass,” Lilah said, gathering her hair up into a ponytail. She was even more beautiful with her shoulders and collarbone clearly visible. “But I have a few suggestions on how we could all not get murdered tonight. Cara, you need to get ready to get Kyle’s sweet ass out of here. I’m gonna deal with this undead abomination the way my mama taught me to deal with a bad date.”

  Cara took a step in front of me, her arms spread out protectively. Lilah strode into the library, returning with an iron poker and an expression that could only be described as homicidal. She yanked open the front doors, nearly hitting Mr. Gray.

  The Dead Man was close enough that I could see him much more clearly. He had stopped a few feet before the stone steps leading into the mansion. He stared at me, his eyes reminding me of beetles with their shine and how they invoked a crawling sensation in my chest.

  “This is private fucking property!” Lilah yelled. She hurled the iron poker at the Dead Man with such speed that I only saw a flicker of it in the air before it pierced the Dead Man’s gut. It stuck out from his gut, oscillating up and down. His head slowly lowered, observing the poker like it was a butterfly that had landed on his stomach. His hands stroked the poker. It did not seem like a good sign.

  Lilah rubbed her hands together. Something black and red flashed in-between them. The Dead Man pulled the poker out slowly. I saw the slightest shadow of a hole where the poker had been, but as he threw the poker off to the side, most of my thoughts were on the fact that we were all definitely going to die.

  Lilah threw her hands forward. A torrent of black and red fire streamed from her hands, whipping out and surrounding the Dead Man. Cara bowed her head as the blaze became too bright and too hot, and I forced myself to look down too, though the fire was captivating. I felt Cara’s hand on my knee. She could have been trying to push me back or trying to reassure me, but neither attempt was working.

  After several seconds, the heat died down, and the light dimmed. I looked up, the scent of sulfur burning in my nose. Lilah took a couple of steps back, leaning against the doorway. The lawn was smoking. The grass was burned black.

  The Dead Man was gone.

  Chapter 7

  My hand felt stiff. I looked down and realized I had a tight grip on the Glock.

  “Is he dead?” I asked. I kept my hand on the gun, the metal offering a little bit of reassurance.

  “Nah.” Lilah’s answer came out a little bit ragged. She wiped a few beads of sweat off her forehead, leaning her head against the door frame. “If that abomination had even been slightly injured, you’d see him crawling on the lawn right now. Hellfire is a scorched earth weapon.”

  “I told you that magic doesn’t affect him,” Mr. Gray said, stepping forward. He gestured for Lilah to get inside. She rolled her eyes but swaggered into the house. He shut the doors, his hands moving over the various parts of the door again—possibly setting the wards back up or simply wishing he was in any other part of the country but here. “He must have decided that it wasn’t worth the effort to stick around. He lost the element of surprise, and he saw that Mr. Bishop had help. We could continue with the expectation that he won’t return, but I doubt that’s the best strategy.”

  I let my hand fall away from the Glock. The iron poker and Lilah’s hellfire hadn’t hurt the Dead Man. What was a gun going to do? Give him itchy skin, maybe.

  “Here.” Cara placed her hand on my cheek. A chill ran through my body, but as her hand dropped to my chest, the burned sensation on my face melted away. “There you go. Hellfire can run a little hot, so that should prevent any long-term damage. I also dealt with any microscopic particles that could have been in your eyes from the smoke. The ash and dust could cause irritation. Do you feel better now, or should I treat another part of your body?”

  “Hellfire is magic, you dumbass,” Lilah groaned. She leaned on my shoulder, her hair brushing up against my jaw. “His eyes aren’t in any danger other than the risk of seeing a super impressive power in action. Did you see that undead freak run with his tail between his legs? Boom. That’s what hellfire does. Actually, no. It mostly makes people die, but it makes the undead tuck their tails and run. I’m legendary—don’t any of you forget it.”

  I closed my eyes, but all I saw was the Dead Man with the poker in his chest. Or the hellfire getting ready to consume him. Or the way he looked right at me. He was willing to take a poker to the chest to kill me. I’d be impressed by his dedication if the end result didn’t involve my death.

  Lilah draped herself over me, her hands sliding down my chest and her lips close to my ear.

  “Forget Florence Nightingale. After all that magic action, I’m ready for some natural stimulation.” She grabbed one of my hands. “These look like they could do some damage. Come upstairs and show me.”

  “Perhaps we should broach the subject of Mr. Bishop taking the action that would be most beneficial to him,” Mr. Gray interjected. Lilah stood up straight, her hands on her hips. Cara stopped glaring at her to look at Mr. Gray. “It is in everyone’s best interest—especially his own—if Mr. Bishop refrains from dying. Therefore, the best course of action is for Mr. Bishop to marry his soul to an angel or a demon. I understand your reluctance, Mr. Bishop, but you must understand that we all have your welfare in mind. Whatever preconceived notions you have concocted in your head will be of no concern if your head no
longer exists to contain them. This is not so much a matter of souls as a matter of whether or not Heaven and Hell collide into each other in the center of Detroit. This is a matter of some urgency.”

  “You could do what I did and immerse yourself in the glory of hellfire,” Lilah said, her hands gliding over my shoulders. “It looks awesome, but it feels even better. Have you ever shot a gun? It’s like that, but with a mix of cocaine and skunk bud. And it’s also your birthday. And you’re eating Delmonico steak in a hotel bed in Cancun while I’m blowing you. It’s that good.”

  “Lilah is great at making over-exaggerated metaphors,” Cara said, pushing Lilah’s hands off my shoulders as she looped her arms around my neck. She smiled at me, some of her blonde hair draping over her right eye. “But, as you just saw, hellfire can end up doing nothing. We now have an angry abomination walking around. If the Dead Man had decided to keep coming after you, you’d want to be able to heal yourself or anyone else who was injured. Warlords get all of the glory, then the condemnation, but it’s the healers of the world who actually make a difference.”

  “Yeah. They call that difference death. With hellfire, you can keep everything the same, also known as not fucking dying,” Lilah turned to me, her snarl changing into a smirk. “Come on, Kyle. You know you want to play with fire. It’s so hot. Wild. Intense. Unquenchable.”

  “It may also leave you with severe open sores,” Cara interjected. “Kyle, I’m literally from Heaven—the place of immeasurable pleasure. How could you not choose Heaven?”

  I turned to Mr. Gray. He looked back at me.

  “Which one should I choose?” I asked. Cara squeaked in happiness, squeezing my arm. Lilah smacked my ass.

  “I am pleased you’ve decided to do the soul-marriage,” Mr. Gray said. “As for the decision between the angel or the demon, they both make compelling arguments. You are well aware that I am always happy to assist you in any way that I am capable of, but this must be your choice. Which one do you believe will help you track down your father’s killer?”

  The image of the Dead Man snapped into my mind. Was I truly willing to face him again to find my father’s killer? Why? My father hadn’t been around to give a shit about me. Why should I care about him? Because he appeared right before I died? Because he was the most powerful wizard in the world behind my back?

  I never knew him. Even the most important things about him—like the fact that he was preventing a war between Heaven and Hell—was never mentioned to me. That fact chewed on my nerves—wouldn’t a deadbeat asshole father brag about doing something so valiant? Could he have truly had my best interests in mind?

  The man’s DNA was part of me. His absence was part of me. If I was honest with myself, every time he visited, it added and took away something from me. And I knew that was why I had to find his killer. It wasn’t out of some emotional obligation, but because I needed to know who my father truly was. I needed to find out if I was the same kind of man.

  Cara fixed my jacket. “I know that you must think angels are boring or too moral to have a good time with, but I promise I’ll prove to you that we’re not. We’re just a little more…human than demons. Angels are servile. We live to please humans. Don’t you want someone a little subservient? I can be your fallen angel.”

  Lilah grabbed my arm, jerking me toward her. “Ignore the damsel. You know how those types of women are. She’ll start crying the second you go to the bathroom because you hurt her feelings. You can’t hurt my feelings.”

  Cara grabbed my other arm, yanking me toward her. “That’s because you don’t have any feelings. You don’t care about what he wants. I do care.”

  Lilah slid her hand down my thigh. Every nerve in my body traveled to where she touched. “I beg to differ, and when I beg, everyone gets exactly what they came for.”

  Cara put her hand on my other thigh. Lilah glared at it like it was a spider.

  “Ladies,” Mr. Gray snapped. “How about the two of you don’t split Mr. Bishop apart before he makes a decision? I’d also prefer if you both didn’t split him apart afterwards, either. Give him a little space to make his choice.”

  As they both stepped back from me, I shifted my coat to hide any evidence of my desperate need for friction. Hopefully, everyone assumed I had another gun.

  “Mr. Bishop, I should also inform you more about allegiances,” Mr. Gray said. “Once you choose, the other side will more likely be repulsed by you, as I had previously mentioned. The other side will consider you an agent of the opposition. It is not an ideal situation, but the Arbiter line must survive in some manner, and considering your lack of magic, this is the best course of action.”

  “And my soul…” I let the sentence fade. I knew that both women’s interest in me was based on what they’d get to experience by sharing my soul, but from the way they were arguing and the way I’d seen Michael and Belial bicker, I was certain that whichever side I chose would benefit immensely. Cara and Lilah weren’t just fighting for a taste of humanity but to earn a huge win for their side by getting the future Arbiter to align himself—myself—with them. “You’re saying that one side will be repulsed by me if I choose the other side. That means that the side I choose…they’ll be friendlier to me, right?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Gray said. “They will treat you as one of their own. Or even better.”

  I turned toward Cara and Lilah. If this were a hypothetical situation, of course I’d choose Heaven. I’d seen enough deals with the devil in fiction to know that it wasn’t the best plan. But this was real life, and one of the few lessons my father passed down to me was that I should keep my friends close and my enemies closer. Also, I was fairly certain I did not want fire-wielding demons angry at me.

  I gave a sheepish grin to Cara. “I’m sorry, Cara, but Lilah’s skill does seem more useful. I’m going to, uh, align myself with her.”

  Lilah whooped, the sound echoing in the house. She threw her arms around me and kissed me. Her mouth tasted like cherries, and as her tongue slipped between my teeth, I swear it felt like a blissful death.

  “Come on, come on,” Mr. Gray chastised. “Let us complete the ritual quickly before we have any more unannounced guests. Mr. Bishop, I need to make you the official Arbiter before we can complete the soul-marriage ritual. You will need to recite these words: under the fundamental laws of the Celestial Court, I, Kyle Bishop, solemnly swear to perform my duties as Arbiter.”

  Lilah stepped away from me, lingering a few inches behind me, but I could feel her glowing like a small fire.

  “Under the fundamental laws of the Celestial Court,” I repeated. “I, Kyle Bishop, uh, I swear…I solemnly swear to perform my duties as Arbiter.”

  Mr. Gray frowned but continued. “By the oath taken by my forefathers and by my future kin, I will be faithful to the Celestial Court and administer justice in a manner that will ensure the safety of the innocent in the natural and supernatural realms.”

  “By the oath taken by my forefathers and by my future kin, I will be faithful to the Celestial Court and…and administer justice.” There was a sweeping chill around me, but I was certain it wasn’t because Cara was glowing. Maybe glowering. “Uh, in a manner that will ensure the safety of the innocent in the natural and supernatural world.”

  “Kneel down.”

  The floor was warm under my knees. The floor started getting warmer as Mr. Gray murmured some words, his pen gripped between his fingers as he gestured around my knees. The floor heat was nearly searing through my pants as Mr. Gray stood up straight.

  “Arise,” Mr. Gray said. I stood up. He offered me his hand. I shook it. “Congratulations, Arbiter.”

  Lilah whooped again. Cara gave a half-hearted clap.

  “That’s it?” I asked. “There’s no more magic involved?”

  “What magic? That’s just radiant floor heating.”

  I narrowed my eyes, not sure if he was making a joke, but he reached out to touch my right hand, turning it over.

  “Yo
u should have the mark of the Arbiter on your palm. Focus on your new identity to bring it forth.”

  I looked up from my hand to Mr. Gray's face, still unsure what was hapenning, but his expression was dead serious.

  “Okay, my new identity. I'm the Arbiter.”

  I flinched as a circle appeared in the middle of my palm, half dark, half light, like a ying-yang symbol, but without the extra dots.

  “Holy fuck…”

  The symbol vanished after another second. I looked up to ask about the mark, but Mr. Gray had already turned his attention to Lilah.

  “Are you ready?” he asked her. She grinned.

  “Absolutely. Let’s get this bad bitch going.” She grabbed my hand, her nails scraping against my skin. She smiled at me—the first smile I’d seen on her that wasn’t manipulative or seductive. Or both. “You better prepare yourself. I’ve heard this process is like getting struck by lightning.”

  Before I could dwell on this statement, Mr. Gray stabbed me in the heart.

  The tool he used seemed to be made of a beam of light. There was pain, but not like any physical pain I had experienced before. It felt like all of the fluids in my body were replaced with sand. The finger with the ring itched, suddenly warm. As he pulled out the beam, there were gold flecks and jet black streaks on the surface and inside it. He shifted his body and slammed the beam into Lilah’s chest. I expected her to glow or explode with fireworks, but the gold flecks and black streaks vanished from the beam, and Mr. Gray pulled it back out. As he held the beam in his hands, it grew smaller and smaller until it returned to the form of his pen.

  The gritty feeling in my body began to fade.

  “Do I get something back from her?” I asked.

  “You have it,” Mr. Gray answered, but he was frowning.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked. I felt my chest, checking for holes, but there was nothing. Lilah was gazing around her, captivated by the dust or the scents or something else I likely took for granted every second.