Collateral Damage (Demon Squad Book 8)

by Tim Marquitz

  The parking lot had grass growing up through the asphalt, the painted lines almost invisible. The railings that had once led people inside were gone now, only the poles left behind. It didn’t look as if anyone had come here in a long, long time. Yet I found the doors unlocked. They swung open with a disconcerting ease given the state of the rest of the church.

  Inside was more museum than place of worship. An array of candles lit the room in a flickering yellow, which cast dancing shadows across the walls. The carpet had long since faded from blood-red to a weepy mauve, the sharpness bled out by the years. Wooden pews looked to be torture devices. Low backs and minimal padding, it would take the determination of the truly faithful to sit through more than a few minutes of hallelujahs without complaining about splinters. The walls were covered in all manner of antique symbols that seemed to drip dust: images of the crucifixion, great looming, ivory crosses, and even one fade painting of Longinus putting the spear to Christ. A cold chill went down my spine at seeing that one.

  I walked toward the dais erected at the front of the church. It stood only about a foot above the ground, if that. This was no platform for ego. Unlike the rest of the place, covered in the markings of religion, it was a barren place. A podium was set in the center of the stage, the paint fading at its edges. Only a single statue decorated the dais. It stood with its arms spread to the heavens, eyes seeking and audience upwards. It was an image of Christ, though strangely different from the man I remembered. He looked familiar, of course, but his appearance was hardened, less angelic than I was used to seeing. It was an older, harder image.

  “Been a long time since we’ve had adherents to the faith join us.”

  I spun at hearing the voice echo through the empty church. A man stood just ten feet behind me, smiling. I hadn’t heard him approach. That spooked me.

  “I’m not what you might call faithful,” I answered.

  He laughed. “Says the man who’s met God face to face and bears the power of the Son within his veins.” If his words weren’t enough to set him apart, his appearance most certainly did. He looked nothing like a priest.

  Tall and wiry, the man dressed in jeans and a plain blue T-shirt, heavy work boots at his feet. We could have been fashion twins. His hair was long, the front pulled into a ponytail that joined the rest in the back, hanging over his shoulders in gray waves, making him look like Legolas. Despite its color, there was enough to make a lion jealous. His face stood at odds to his hair. Clean-shaven and boyish, he likely got carded every time he went to the liquor store. His eyes stood out like golden orbs. There was a brightness to them I couldn’t attribute to the candlelight.

  “I’ve been around the block a time or two,” I admitted. “Still doesn’t exactly put me in line at the pearly gates.”

  He grinned. “I can’t imagine Heaven has much room for the Devil these days.”

  His words caught me off guard, my senses slipping out of their own accord. What they brought back only confused me more. “Who are you?” His essence was a void, emptiness in the ether that offered me no clues as to who or what he was. He clearly wasn’t human, though.

  “Forgive me,” he said, still smiling. “I am Father Du Lac, though most find it easier to call me Lance.” He stuck his hand out. “Pleasure to meet the infamous Frank Trigg.”

  I took his hand and shook it, pulling back quickly, still a little weirded out. This guy knew way too much about me. “I presume Forcalor told you I was coming?”

  “He did indeed.” He waved me to a pew. “Come, sit, and let us speak.” Lance dropped onto the stairs of the dais just a few feet from the pew he’d directed me to. I sat, still uncomfortable.

  “Then you know why I’m here.”

  He shook his head. “No, the duke could do little more than inform me that you’d be seeking me out. I suspect Heaven would disapprove of his helping you beyond that.”

  I laughed. “You got that right, Lance.” I glanced up at the cross behind the altar and sighed. While I knew damn well God was nowhere within listening distance, it felt odd sitting in a church discussing…well, anything.

  “So tell me, Frank, why have you come?”

  It was weird talking to the priest about matters of revenge, but since he knew who I was and hadn’t tried to douse me in holy water yet, I figured I’d give it a shot. What did I have to lose?

  “I’m looking for information regarding Trinity,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I presume you don’t mean the religious concept.”

  “Most definitely not. More like the religious fanatics.”

  Lance made a face that didn’t exactly speak of brotherly love. “Foul creatures those three.”

  On that we agreed. “What can you tell me about them? Why would they be working for the US government?”

  “They are?” he asked. “Interesting. I can’t fathom why they might align themselves with a government entity, their motives their own, but I suspect it is simply a means to an end for them.”

  “That end is me, apparently.”

  “Is it now? Then it appears you’ve made a grievous enemy.”

  “Tell me about it.” Once more memories of Karra leapt to the forefront. I squirmed on the uncomfortable pew. “They’ve taken something from me, and I need to know more about them.”

  He nodded as if he already knew what they’d done. “They were once the Sword of Christ, assassins sent to cleanse the holy land of heathens and restore it to Catholic control. They were good at what they did, bodies piling up in the name of God and in defense against the Islamic aggressors, but they were no saints. Once unleashed from consequence by papal decree, they spilled blood without mercy, cutting a swath through those who did not share their beliefs. They were nigh invincible.”

  “If they had been, the story of the crusades would be told differently, I imagine.”

  Lance smiled. “Quite astute of you. Their cruelty and bloodlust, ignored by Heaven as had been the custom for so long by then, drew the interest of another: Longinus.”

  I sighed. “Of course it did.”

  “The Anti-Christ wormed his way into their confidence, posing as a papal advisor, and set them on a task that would forever condemn them for their deeds. He convinced Trinity that Pope Urban II had become a puppet of the caliphates, and that he did not send them to war to win for God, but that their actions would win territory and prestige for a rival caliphate intent upon evicting the word of the one true God from the holy lands.

  “Longinus was quite the charmer, it seemed,” Lance said with a chuckle. “History tells us that Pope Urban died at home, in peace, just fourteen days after his crusaders seized Jerusalem. The truth, however, is quite at odds with this illustrious success.”

  Isn’t it always?

  “Trinity returned to Rome to confront the Pope, fueled by Longinus’s lies. Convinced they had been betrayed, they murdered the Pope only to be confronted by the growing ranks of the Knights Templar. A battle ensued and Trinity were cast from grace by the church, excommunicated. Only after that did they learn that Longinus had used them, turning them against their own creed.”

  I leaned back, shaking my head.

  “Those days were filled with supernatural politics, each power setting out to earn their place in the hallowed halls of history, but Longinus played the game like few others. Lucifer knew nothing of Longinus’s ploy, having long since retreated to Hell to avoid direct conflict with God. Trinity, however, shamed and dishonored, swore to find their way back into God’s good graces. They struck at Longinus to reclaim the glory they had lost. But in doing so, they crossed Lucifer.”

  “Which ended them in Limbo?”

  Lance nodded. “Lucifer left it to Longinus to decide their punishment, thinking Trinity to be nothing more than religious zealots in the employ of God-fearing fools. He never knew Longinus sparked the fuse that led to their attacks, or at least never confronted him about it.”

  “Then how do you know about it?”

 
He grinned. “Because, Trigg, I was there.”

  I leaned back in the pew, the wood creaking with the motion. “You don’t look a day older than thirty.”

  “Nor do you, yet you’ve more than five centuries beneath your belt, am I right?”

  Had me there. “So you saw this firsthand?”

  He nodded. “Most of it, though not all. I had been conscripted by Trinity—I was but a mercenary then—to take the fight to Longinus, but the trio was impatient. They struck before they’d fully rallied their forces. As a result, Longinus had conquered Trinity before the first of us even set foot upon the battlefield, not that our assistance would have altered anything. Longinus had used them to further his own schemes, whatever they might have been, and Trinity were but pawns. We were even less.”

  “They were powerful pawns.”

  “Perhaps, but they were soon trapped in Limbo without hope of escape,” he said. “Until, it seems, they were released.”

  “They couldn’t have made it out on their own?”

  “Unlikely. They had not been left to wander Limbo as they pleased. Instead, Longinus had set them in separate corners of the realm, sealing them off, bereft of each other’s company, or that of any living being.”

  “Which explains why they’re psychotic nutbags.” Shit was falling into place, and it stunk.

  Lance laughed. “They were never truly sane to begin with, but no, I can’t imagine a thousand years of solitude has improved their senses.”

  While the history lesson was nice and all, I really hadn’t learned much about Trinity’s power. “Do they have a weakness,” I asked. “Something I can exploit?”

  “If they do, I’m sad to say I do not know it,” he answered. “I was not there to see Longinus defeat them. We were told what had happened by the Anti-Christ himself, a warning of what would come should we follow through with Trinity’s desire for revenge, but the actual combat had been long over by that time.”

  My stomach sank. Forcalor’s informant sucked. I got up and thanked the priest for his time, useless as it was, and started for the door. I made it about ten feet before a thought struck.

  “Do you know anything about this?” I dug the die from my pocket and held it out for his inspection.

  Lance looked at it and chuckled. “Jesus saves?”

  “Did you seriously just make a D&D joke?”

  “I haven’t spent my entire life in the service of God, my young friend. I have had many other…interests, let us say.”

  I groaned, picturing the priest and his altar boys gathered around a table slaying dragons. Sure beat out the other possibilities given that pairing.

  “I’m sorry I cannot offer you more assistance, but I wish you luck in your quest. Perhaps our savior knows more,” he said, bidding me farewell and walking off to disappear into an office at the side of the dais.

  The door clicked shut as I glanced up at the statue of Christ looming over the podium. He stared off into space, ignoring me, but there was something about the statue that nagged at me. It looked like a knockoff, some low-rent image of Jesus that failed to capture the mass-marketed likeness that humanity had grown to know. The shading of the statue was darker, closer to Jesus’s true skin, the hair wilder, a bit more untamed than the normal visage I was used to seeing.

  He looked like…

  Gears slipped into place as my brain engaged. The statue looked to Heaven with a desperation I’d never seen emoted by Jesus before. It lacked the certainty of all the others. There was none of the confidence of a man knowing his existence would carry on, his mission, his life eternal. No, this was a look of a fear, of need, of a desire for forgiveness.

  I took the stairs of the dais in a single step and found myself at the base of the statue. My eyes took the whole of it in, dropping at least to a plaque set upon its base. There in the faded gild of ages past did it all come together, a name etched onto the cold brass. And I laughed, cold and bitter, at having never connected it.

  I knew then who my true enemy was.

  Twenty

  “Are you sure about this, Frank?” Rachelle asked, staring at me with uncertain eyes, the black rings around them growing darker the longer she remained awake. “You don’t have to do this. We can wait them out.”

  “No, I do need to do this,” I said, defiant. “All of us are trapped in Hell until this fight is over.” My gaze drifted to Scarlett. She looked pretty much like you’d expect an angel to feel being stuck in the realm of her greatest enemy. “We can’t just stay here and wait for things to change.”

  “That may be true, but is this what needs to be done?” Rahim asked. Abby was cradled in his massive arms, a tiny doll with wide eyes. She chattered happily to herself. “Should you fail, you leave this child alone in the world.”

  “She won’t be alone. She’ll have all of you.”

  Rahim sighed. “You know what I mean, Frank. Both of her parents will have died for this foolishness. Do you want to leave her to grow up without you?”

  I thought about that for a moment, wondering what would happen, and the answer wasn’t exactly a cheerful one. “It’s not like we don’t all know she’ll be better off if I’m not a part of her life,” I said, cutting off the automatic denials rising up. “But I have no intention of leaving her. She, and all of you, are all I have left, and I don’t plan on abandoning any one you, however unfortunate some of you might see that.”

  Katon chuckled, and Scarlett swatted him on the arm.

  “Regardless, we need to end this now. Trinity and Shaw no longer have anything to draw us out with. They’ve failed, and I can’t imagine either of them are all that pleased about that. If I can draw them out on and maneuver them into place on our terms, it’s worth the risk to me.”

  “And if we’re wrong about Trinity? What then, Frank?” Scarlett asked.

  I turned to my cousin. “Then we’re no worse off than we were before.”

  “That’s not exactly comforting.”

  I shrugged. “Sorry, but I’m not sure what else to tell you. Shaw and her lackeys are dingleberries compared to the diarrhea that is Trinity. We need to draw them out and deal with them sooner rather than later. If we don’t, none of us are will ever get to leave Hell without a bullseye on our backs.” I grinned, doing my best to make it apologetic. “Besides, I’ve already set everything into motion. Little late now to be turning back.”

  “Of course you have,” Rahim groaned.

  “Didn’t see much point in putting it off,” I said. “If this doesn’t work out, then Abby’s got a hell of an inheritance coming her way.” Quite literally, though I didn’t want to think of that. This last bit was a walk in the park compared to all the rest we’d endured.

  I went over and collected the kid from Rahim, pulling her in close. “I’ve got to save the world for democracy or some stupid shit like that, baby girl—”

  “Language, Frank,” Scarlett growled. “She’s just a child.”

  “Yeah, like she’s not gonna learn it growing up around me.” I laughed my cousin off. “Anyway, kid, Daddy’s got to go and do something stupid, so I want you to play nice and be a good girl, you hear?”

  She cooed and tugged at my beard, biting down on my cheek.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I pulled her from her meal of beard hair and face and gave her a big, wet kiss. “I love you, Abigail. See you soon. Promise.” My heart thumping in my chest, I handed her back to Rahim.

  “Metttal?”

  I glanced over at Chatterbox, who’d propped himself up near Rahim’s feet. “Absolutely. Nothing but a steady diet of thrash and doom, my brother. If any of these uncultured bastards,” I gestured to the others, “brings any hip hop or Justin Bieber near the kid, I give you permission to bite their toes off.”

  CB grinned, showing everyone the mouthful of nastiness that awaited them should they try to defile my daughter’s listening habits. I patted him on the head, and leaned in close. “The porn collection is all yours if I don’t make it back
.” He squeed and looked ready to cry, maggots swishing in his eyeballs.

  “Okay,” I told Rachelle. “Let’s do this.”

  She glanced to Rahim first, and he only nodded.

  “It’s me they want more than anyone,” I said. “So why keep them waiting?”

  “Be careful, Frank.” Scarlett clasped Katon’s hand, her green eyes nervous. The enforcer just nodded my direction.

  Rachelle drew in a tired breath and gave in, opening a portal for me. I glanced back at the others for a moment, my gaze lingering on Abby longer than I meant to. She’d be in good hands if things didn’t work out. I just had to hope they would. They had to, for all of us.

  I stepped through the portal.

  #

  El Paseo glowed in the darkness.

  I stood on a roof in downtown and watched as the red-orange shimmer of flames embraced the skyline. The weres and vamps had done more damage than I’d thought they could, burning and pillaging and all around making a nuisance of themselves in defiance of the DSI and their mandates. Shaw had declared war on me in the name of supernaturals, never once thinking anyone would rise up in my defense.

  Well, she’d been right about that. At least technically.

  The shifters and fangs didn’t give a damn about me—other than wanting my head on a platter—but they knew well enough that I’d instigate things to the point that they’d be dragged into it regardless. I’d eventually give the DSI the fuel they needed to go after everyone so they dove into the fight early, hoping to head things off, just like I’d expected them to. They’re anything if not predictable.

  That was the easy part.

  The harder part was to provide them with enough information to back Shaw into a corner. Fortunately, Poe helped with that department. He’d given up all of Shaw’s holdings here in the city in exchange for Marcus and the possibility of freedom from Shaw’s control.