“My name is Alastair McQuillen.”
He had an English accent. It wasn’t street cockney, but a fancy accent that spoke of money and class.
“The gun isn’t necessary. You have saved my life. I am in your debt.”
“Gun stays,” I said. “Don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not having a great day. You’ve got until Carl gets back with the truck to tell me something I wanna hear. Otherwise, I’ll make you a corpse and go about my day. Trust me when I say I have no qualms without shooting a priest.”
He gulped. To his credit, he didn’t step back. He stood his ground.
“I am a Cardinal of the Catholic Church on a mission given to me directly by the Bishop of Rome.”
Well, that was it. I got a sudden itch in my trigger finger at the mention of the Bishop of Rome, otherwise known as the Pope.
“You’re a long way from Rome, father. What in the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve been tasked with a secret mission. I have dedicated my life to understanding the things that lie beyond our world, the realm of the spirit made flesh. In the past five years, I have been studying inter-dimensional pockets, holes in the fabric of our reality.”
He was talking about Rifts. I didn’t know any other part of the church other than the Venatori that would be involved in something that didn’t have to do with shepherding the sheep. My knuckles were white on the gun, and the trigger had an ounce of pressure on it, just begging to break and spit out hot lead.
“You’re with the Venatori?”
The Venatori are the black-ops of the Catholic Church, Demon Hunters who travel the world fighting against the forces of evil, least that’s the line they’d give you if you ever happened to meet one of them. Really they are a bunch of tight-ass thugs that spend their Friday nights hunting down Warlocks. Most of those Warlocks are just kids with more balls than brains. There’s no three strike rule with the Venatori. You screw up once; you get put in the ground. Hell, you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they’ll put you in the ground.
I could see the surprise on his face when I mentioned the Catholic’s secret brotherhood.
“No.” He took a half a step forward. “I’ve long suspected their existence. In all my years of research, all I’ve been able to find is scraps of information, and half remembered whispers. You know of them?”
“We’ve met,” I said. “If you aren’t with the Venatori, then how did you know about all of this? The Catholic Church doesn’t recognize the existence of Magic or Hellions.”
I could see I struck a nerve somewhere because he took another step forward. I gave him the eyes, willing him to stay put.
“There are those of us who have heard enough rumors to know that there is more to our faith than tormenting spirits. I have seen a doorway open up and saw Death itself, and Hell came with him.”
Overly dramatic. Definitely Catholic.
“Trust me, padre. Harpies are a walk in the park compared to the shit I’ve seen, and if you ever happen to see a Demon Lord try and come out of one of those doorways, you won’t live to tell anyone about it.”
He cocked his head, studying me.
A horn honked twice outside. Carl had the truck in place, and it was time to go. The Fuzz couldn’t be far away. If Al really wasn’t with the Venatori, when the cops showed up and found the remains of two Harpies, word would get back to the Venatori. They’d be all over the area within a day. It was time to pack up and move on. Carl wasn’t going to be happy.
I looked back at the priest and considered gunning him down. He was trouble. Anyone on direct mission from the Pope had to have pull of some kind. I wanted more answers from him though, and if I shot him a dozen times in the chest, he wasn’t likely to give me any.
“It’s time to go. You’re coming with me, and we’re gonna continue this little chat. You’ve still got a whole lot of ‘splaining to do, Lucy. If you try and bullshit me, I swear to God, I’ll slit your throat.”
“You saved my life, and because of you, my mission will be able to continue. I will accompany you.”
“Yea yea. Let’s go.”
I moved forward, popping the safety on the 552 and grabbing Father McQuillen by the arm and half pushed, half pulled, him with me out of the side door and into the street. Carl was right where he needed to be. I shoved McQuillen into the cab of the truck and jumped into the back. I was covered in Hellion blood, and I didn’t feel like trying to clean it out of the seats later.
It was snowing again, and as I heaved myself into the bed of the truck, I landed in half an inch of fresh snow. Bitter cold shook me as my wet clothes were exposed to the elements.
“Great,” I muttered. “This is what happens you know. You try and do the right thing, you try and keep people safe, and you get screwed. I swear the next time I see a Hellion I’m going to just let it kill everyone. No skin off my back if people are too stupid to run.”
I looked up at the sky as Carl pulled forward.
“God, I need a drink.”
10
I stayed in the bed of the truck when we got to the apartment. I told Carl to take our guest upstairs and bring me back a clean pair of pants and a trash bag. I sat in the back shivering for five minutes while he went upstairs to get everything. I spent the time stuffing weapons into a duffle bag and brooding.
The cops were at the church, had to be. There was no doubt that they’d found the dead guy, who I was sure was a member of the Pontifical Swiss Guard. I looked at the bastard’s passport again. Lucas Brohen was as Swiss a name as I’d ever heard. The Swiss Guard protect the Pope and Vatican city. They usually where pansy ass uniforms, but I wouldn’t take any of them lightly. They were all former members of the Swiss military and were trained in all manner of deadly shit.
I replayed the day and thought about my options.
In the pros column, I had the cash that I’d gotten from Charlie. It would have been better if I got all of it, but I had what I had. I felt a little bad at the fact that I was going to have to take his money and skip town, but his sister was probably okay, and it would be a valuable object lesson in not trusting people. I’d also come up with two new guns. The .45 would come in handy in a fight, and I could always sell it for a quick couple hundred bucks in a pinch. Might have to. I don’t make enough money to stockpile too many kinds of ammunition. The 220 was worth more than that, but selling things illegally out of your trunk means taking a hit on MSRP.
The 552 was a helluva find. You can’t find the Full-Auto variants in the U.S. I could sell it for a couple grand if I got strapped for cash. I didn’t know if I would want to though. Since I’d bailed out of the Bay, I’d been hurting for decent firepower. I had small arms and the KSG, but the 552 would get me closer to where I’d like to be when it came to dealing out death.
I took a deep breath and stopped daydreaming about the guns. I had been prepared for this day. I hadn’t put down any roots. Our landlord didn’t have our real names, and it isn’t like my false identity has a credit score that I’m overly worried about ruining. Carl was different though. He’d met people. He’d started to settle into a routine, and he’d been meeting in the park on Sundays to preach to people. They were his flock. I doubted that he would want to leave them behind. He was going to have to though. Either that or I was going to have to leave him behind.
The hipster I’d chocked out had seen him with me, and that douchebag looked like he would run straight to the cops and tell them it was me that shot up the church and killed the guy inside. They’d tell the Venatori, and when the Venatori showed up, they’d come in guns blazing.
Carl had to come with me. He was going to hate it, but it would have to happen. I’d get some answers from the priest, and then we’d get out of town before the sunset. I’d need to figure out what to do with him. I knew Carl wouldn’t let me kill him. Might have to do it when he wasn’t looking. Sometimes I really hate that my only friend is a damned Holy Man.
“Our guest is upsta
irs.”
I snapped out of my brooding and looked at Carl standing next to the truck, holding a pair of pants and a trash bag for me. I took them, knocking some snow off the side of the truck and laid the pants down as I stood up and hopped out.
“We’re going to have to leave aren’t we.”
I looked back at him. I didn’t know the right words. I nodded and grunted instead.
“When?”
“Soon as I get done talking to the priest.”
“We don’t have any time?” He asked.
“Every minute we stay here the chances of the Venatori finding us goes up. You can stay if you want. I’m not going back.”
I grabbed the pants and stalked off through the snow to the front of our building.
“Deckland!” Carl jogged after me.
“You know I’m not just going to stay here if you’re leaving.”
He reached out and opened the door for me. I walked into the building and kicked off my boots. I’d need to hose them down inside and out. I peeled my socks off and tossed them into the trash bag. I threw my belt with my boots on the floor and stripped off my pants. Carl turned and looked out the front door, looking like he was keeping watch.
“I’m changing Carl. It’s not like I’m taking a dump and you need to be the lookout.”
He gave a tired laugh. “Just thought you’d like a little privacy.”
“I’m changing in the entryway of our apartment building. I think I gave up on the expectation of privacy.”
He shrugged.
I yanked the leg of my jeans and almost toppled over. The wet denim stunk, and my frozen fingers were having trouble getting the jeans off my legs. I finally resorted to kicking out of them. I tossed them in the bag, and my shirt went next. That left me standing in my underwear, which were also soaked through with blood. I hesitated for half a second and started pulling them off.
“Turning around may have been a good call,” I muttered.
Carl had brought me a towel. I tried my best to wipe the cold Hellion blood off my legs before I put on clean pants. I pulled the fresh pair of jeans on as quickly as I could. I threw the towel in the trash too for good measure.
I tied up the bag and bent to get my boots and belt.
“I’ll take the bag,” Carl said.
“Thanks. I’m going to go scrub all this shit off me. Then, we can both have a nice chat with our new mystery friend. I don’t know about you, but I have questions.”
He nodded.
I trudged up the stairs and walked down the hall to our apartment in a chorus of creaks and squeals of flooring. I hip-checked the door open, and it swung, colliding with the wall. I was past the point of caring if it left a dent. I wasn’t going to be around to worry about a security deposit. I found the priest in our living room. He was sitting on the couch, looking what I assumed was nervous. It was hard to tell, English propriety and what not.
He looked at me, seeing that I was shirtless and covered in sticky black blood.
“Are you hurt?” He asked, sitting forward slightly as if to stand.
I held up a hand. “It’s not my blood. Though, I’m gonna have plenty of bruises from being dropped on my ass.”
He looked confused. I let it go. It wasn’t worth giving him a play by play. If he’d been hiding behind something, I suppose it was only natural.
“Look, Padre, I’m covered in blood and smell awful. I’m gonna take a shower and try and clean all this shit off. Sit tight and don’t touch anything. Carl will be back up in a minute. He’s a Pentecostal. You can try and convert each other. Think of how fun it’ll be.”
He started to say something, but I turned and walked away.
The water was just under boiling when I got in and began vigorously scrubbing. I pressed the bar of soap against my side a little too hard and my ribs protested. I groaned and stopped, leaning forward and placing my head against the wall. Everything hurt, more than I’d let on to Carl or the Priest. I took a couple of deep breaths. My hands started to shake, and I could feel the old familiar itch at the back of my throat. My mouth watered at the thought of a stiff drink, a triple shot of whatever was closest to the glass.
I took a few deep breaths and fought down the feeling. I was in a position for the second time in a year when I needed to go to ground. I had to run again. My body was in better shape than I’d been a year ago, but I was getting older, slower, and I was tired. I didn’t know how much more running I had left in me.
“Just a little further, Deckland,” I muttered. “You can go a little further. You don’t have any other choice.”
I cranked the handle to cold and looked up into the stream of water, letting it wash over my face and shoulders. I nearly jumped out as the water faded from sizzling to frigid. I forced myself to stay there, water pounding my face like frozen needles. I did a slow count to thirty and cranked the handle to turn the water off. I was as clean as I was going to get, and I couldn’t hide in the shower forever. I grabbed a towel and started drying off.
“Get your shit together Deckland,” I said. “If you don’t, they’ll throw you back into the Void. You remember the Void right? Empty place, outside the existence of time and space. Horrible feng shui.”
The Void, Purgatory. It’s the cosmic glue that holds the universe and all of its dimensions together. It is the utter lack of all things, and the Venatori use it as a prison for anyone they hated too much to kill. I was there for over a hundred and fifty years. I’d sold my soul, betrayed them, and ended up in a place that was worse than any Hell the human mind can imagine, and I would never, ever go back.
I wiped the mirror and looked at myself.
“Just a little further.”
I found Carl sitting with our guest in the living room. They both looked up at me expectantly as I walked in. I looked at them both but didn’t say anything. I walked into the kitchen and got a Redbull from the fridge. I popped the can and killed it in a single go. I slammed the can down on the counter and leaned over, bracing myself with both hands. I had to gasp for breath. Maybe chugging it was a mistake. I breathed in three times, long and deep breaths.
I stomped my foot in frustration. Just one stomp, but it was a big one.
Jerry pounded on the wall below us.
“Jerry if you keep that up I’m going to come down there and kick your ass!” I shouted. “I swear to God I’ll come down there right now and beat you to death!”
“Deckland!” Carl shouted from the other room.
Jerry pounded the wall again, and I thought I could hear him shouting back at me. I was on edge and Jerry was about to learn the hard way you don’t try and cage a wild animal. I had to get out of town soon anyway. At that moment, I made a mental note to kill Jerry before I left town. I had visions of Scarface, just loading up the 552, kicking down his door and spraying his whole apartment with enough lead to kill a rhino.
I shook my head. Yelling back at Jerry wasn’t worth the talking to that Carl would give me for it later. Taking out a second can, I walked back into the living room. I leaned up against the wall and popped it open, taking a pull and looking over at our guest.
“Start talking.”
He smoothed his pants and looked from me to Carl. Carl nodded at him.
“Tell him what you were just telling me.”
The Priest nodded. “As I was saying, I have spent the last twenty years studying the occult. More than a two decades ago, I found myself face to face with a group of wayward souls who had summoned a creature of the Dark. After completing a blood ritual in which they communed with a Demon, one of their members realized what they had done and sought to unburden his soul. I was new to the priesthood then. When he came to me in the middle of the night, it was to give confession. I happened to be in the booth that night, and what he told me chilled me to the bone.”
I nodded. That happened more than people think. Kids with no damn sense and too much time on their hands would dabble in the darkness and get in over their heads.
“You believed him?” I asked.
“His story was convincing, but I would be lying if I said that I was not skeptical. I asked him to show me to the location where the ritual took place. He agreed.
“When we arrived, the others were in the middle of another ceremony. One of their members was sacrificed. What I saw that night haunts me to this day. What came out of that circle of blood was no creature of this world. It was a wolf, that is the closest thing I can think of to describe it, however, it had curling ram’s horns, fur blacker than the night, and eyes of smoldering fire.”
“Hellhound,” I muttered.
He nodded. “I know that now. At the time, all I knew was that everything I had ever believed was wrong.”
“That happens.” I looked at Carl as I said it, remembering his introduction to the real world.
Alastair nodded. “It was what followed that haunts me so. The group had become overconfident in their ability to control something of such evil. Their leader broke the circle.”
“Morons.” I muttered at the same time Carl said, “Oh no.”
Al nodded slowly, letting us create our own mental pictures.
When you summon something out of Hell, you generally put down a summoning circle that doubles as a containment circle. The portal to the beyond is isolated to the space within the circle, and anything that comes through is confined to the same boundary. Breaking the circle would let it out, and unless you were a badass with the hoodoo, you generally don’t live to fix your mistake for next time.
“It slaughtered them all. I fled in terror. From that moment, I knew that this world was not what I had known it to be. I devoted my life to studying what I’d seen.”
“What did the priesthood say to that?” I asked.
He smiled, his teeth white as the driven snow. “As you can imagine, it was not well received. I was sent to the Archbishop of Canterbury. When he asked my story, I told him the truth. After that, he did the unthinkable. He believed me. The leaders of the church are more aware of the threats against humanity than they let on. There are too many stories from across the globe to dismiss them all out of hand. He transferred me to the Vatican that very day. There, I was instructed to study and learn all I could to help our brothers and sisters in the war against the forces of Hell.”
80 Proof Hex_Deckland Cain 2 Page 9
