by J. L. Murray
“Perfect,” he said. “I'm starving. All that getting kidnapped and then digging the graves of my captors really works up an appetite, y'know?”
I looked up the side of the cliff, where the makeshift village had been. I couldn't go back and change what had happened. And, thinking back, there was no way I could have changed any of it. I couldn't have refused to help Bobby find the guy who murdered his family. I couldn't have ignored the Outsiders, the only lead we had on Kane. And I damn well couldn't control the actions of Ba'al and the necromancer. Nor could I have known that Sam had some crazy resurrection pact going with them. And no one had any idea about what was inside of me.
“You okay?” Gage said. I looked at him. “Wasn't your fault, sis.”
I nodded. “I know.”
I stood at the top of Lucifer's tower, feeling far less unsure of myself than the last time I was here. I looked out over the city. It was so quiet. I saw movement as a soldier circled around the base of the tower. No one screamed, no one cried, there were no shapes moving in the shadows or over the wall. For now, there was peace. I hadn't yet made a decision about whether what I did was right, or what Lucifer did was right. But the silence suggested that maybe it was better than the alternative.
I ripped open reality and stepped into the void. Time to make things right. Even if it hurt.
I stepped into the Deep Blue Sea and watched the gap into the Unsung close like a healing wound. The floorboards creaked under my feet as I doubled over with pain. I'd been in Erebos for a long time and the souls had built up. I grabbed a bottle of Jameson from behind the bar, sat down, and threw the cap across the room. I drank deeply from the bottle. After a few swallows, the pain dulled. I could still feel the insistent tug, but it didn't hurt as much. A few more drinks and it didn't hurt at all.
I had been sitting right here the first time I'd laid eyes on Sam. That night seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had been less than a year. Less than a year for my life to change. Less than a year for me to die and come back to life. Less than a year to cease being human and turn into...whatever I was. Less than a year for everyone I ever considered my family to die.
Of course, there was my real father. I knew that I would have to get to know him, and give him a chance. And I would. Just not right now. I wasn't ready to know about him yet. Everything I'd been involved with this whole year had begun and ended at this bar. It seemed only right to accept my place in the world here. I wasn't human anymore. I never would be. I would never be normal – whatever that was. But it didn't bother me anymore. I had the power to make things right. I could feel every motion in every star, every shift of every plate on the world's surface. I could feel the sun on my face and know how far it had traveled to get there. I could walk between the worlds and I could save people from time to time. Even one person seemed so much more than I had before. This wasn't a life of darkness as I thought before; this was a new beginning.
I took one last long draw off the bottle, then stood up. I tipped the bottle over the bar, watching the amber liquid spread across the polished counter, dripping over the back of the bar. I walked around and pulled out all the bottles of alcohol I could find and lined them up on the bar. I took every liquor bottle off the mirrored wall, and every bottle stashed away in the cabinets underneath. I rifled around under the bar to see if there was something I missed.
I found a familiar duffel bag and pulled it out. It was heavy. I realized it was the duffel I packed when Gage and I walked through the war to save Sofi. Pants, shirts, some underwear. I had no need of clothes right now. I tossed them aside. Underneath, there were guns. I pulled out a Glock, checked the clip, and stuck it in the waistband of the old-fashioned trousers. I held another, hefting it in the palm of my hand. My old pearl-handled Taurus. I put it in my waistband next to the first. I didn't really need a gun for what I planned to do, but these were sentimental. Next to the duffel was a box holding books of matches, their covers plain and white. I grabbed one and put it in my pocket.
I stood up and looked over the bar. There were at least fifty bottles of booze. Would it be enough? I had to make sure every bit was destroyed.
I started opening bottles and upending them, spurting hooch all over the floor, all over the pool table, all over the booths and chairs. The old wooden construction seemed like it would go up with a single match. But I never could figure out the Deep Blue Sea. It was hard to say what it would do. Maybe it was fireproof. I splashed vodka all over the bathroom walls, and rum-soaked the Murphy bed that Sam had created just for the two of us.
There were only a few bottles left. A large bottle of Bacardi, a cheap bottle of Scotch, a couple of plastic bottles of bottom-shelf gin. I lined them on the bar and grabbed the large bottles of gin, scattering the pungent liquid around the door and splashing it all over the walls. I had just finished when there was a noise behind me. A noise like skittering insects, or the claws of rats scrabbling along the floor. I turned, dropping the empty bottles.
“Hello, Niki.”
The necromancer was smiling at me. Ba'al towered behind him, red eyes seeming to burn in the semi-darkness.
“Bind her,” Ba'al growled.
Zagan took a step toward me, still smiling. He said something under his breath and his head twitched in the odd way he had. He stared at me. I raised an eyebrow at him. The smile fell from his face.
“I said, bind her,” Ba'al repeated.
The necromancer muttered again, his head twitching, like a tic going crazy. He froze and stared at me again.
“Is this a show?” I said. “Am I supposed to clap or something?”
“Why isn't it working?” the necromancer hissed at me.
“Oh,” I said, smiling. “That might be because this is my goddamn bar, you piece of shit.” I pulled the gun out of the front of my pants. “And no magic happens in my bar that I don't want to happen.” I hit the safety.
Zagan smiled his slimy smile. “You don't really think a gun can hurt me?” His smile turned to a scowl. “I'm a necromancer, you stupid girl.”
“And I'm Death,” I said. I squeezed the trigger.
Zagan laughed, but it was short-lived. He looked down at his stomach. Black blood was pouring out of his abdomen. He looked at me quickly. It was my turn to smile. “I told you it was my bar,” I said. I squeezed again and again, until the chamber clicked. I dropped the gun and it landed on the alcohol-soaked floor with a clatter. I pulled out the Taurus, the pearl handle smooth in my hand.
Zagan was clutching himself. He was covered in inky blood from the neck down. He looked at Ba'al, who was stepping toward me now. I cocked the Taurus and aimed it at Zagan's head. I squeezed the trigger...and nothing. I looked at the gun. It was jammed. Damn pretty firearms. Give me an ugly gun any day.
I didn't realize I'd been struck until I was flying through the air. There was a great cracking sound as I hit the bar with my back. I fell to the floor feeling like the life had been crushed out of me. I struggled to pull air into my lungs. The side of my head throbbed where Ba'al had backhanded me. I looked up to find him making a beeline for me. He pushed a table out of his way and it went flying, slamming into the wall, making the building shudder. With an excruciating gasp I finally drew breath. Shakily, I stood up.
“I think you've forgotten one thing,” I wheezed.
“I've forgotten nothing,” he said. “A god keeps his promises. I will bring Samael back. And I don't need you to do it. You wiped out my people, and now I'm going to kill you. Then Samael will take up his mantle again.” He was a foot away from me now.
“That's great,” I said. “Real pretty speech. But it looks like you lost your ride.”
“What?”
“How exactly are you going to bring back Sam when you don't have a necromancer?” I nodded to the spot Zagan had been standing a moment before. Ba'al turned to see the empty air, the only evidence of the necromancer a puddle of black blood.
Ba'al rounded on me. “This is your fault. Everything that happe
ns is your fault.”
I leaned against the bar. “You know they're all dead, right? All your little lords. I wonder who the city fears more now. A little god that shoots lightning, or a Death that pulled a demon lord's soul out through his stomach in front of everyone. And one more thing.”
Ba'al growled, showing his teeth.
“Lucifer is not dead.”
“He will be,” said Ba'al. “Erebos is mine.”
He raised his hand above his head. I saw the electricity there, coursing through his fingers. There was a rumble, like thunder that was very close, but it kept going on, growing louder, until I felt my eardrums would burst. The walls shook and the floor moved under my feet. The roof was rattling so hard that I thought it would cave in. I backed away from Ba'al.
“Don't do that,” I said.
“Are you afraid?” he said tauntingly. “You will be nothing but ash by the time I'm done with you.”
“This bar is soaked in alcohol. You let off your lightning and you'll burn up every bit of Samael that's left.”
“Burn?” he said, looking around like he was seeing the Deep Blue Sea for the first time. The walls rattled, and a bottle tumbled off the bar, shattering on the floor. “Why would you burn it?”
“Because Sam told me to,” I said.
He frowned. “How?” He had his arms raised above his head. I could actually see the ceiling shaking, the boards coming loose from the nails.
“He's in my head,” I said steadying my voice. “At least he is now. He'll be gone after I burn this place down. Not enough soul to go around.”
“Why would he tell you to burn up his last chance to come back?” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the din he was making. “You lie.”
“Nope,” I said. “He saw what you did to me. And he decided that he'd rather die than be brought back that way. Also, he has – what? – a ninety-nine percent chance of coming back a raging, homicidal monster?”
Ba'al snarled. The sparks were still coursing between his fingers. I could feel the electric current radiating off his body. “It's still a chance. A promise is a promise.”
“Sam didn't read the fine print,” I said. “He didn't know your little friend was going to violate me and trigger a massive explosion. He didn't know you were going to team up with a band of mercenaries who were killing innocent demons. And he sure as hell didn't know you were going to kill me in the process if you had to. Sam and I are friends, see? And what you're doing? We don't find it acceptable.”
“Another speech?” he said. He took a last step toward me. “If this place burns, you burn with it. It would be worth it.”
“And you'll burn, too,” I said.
“Fire won't kill me. But it might kill you.”
I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. The truth was, he was terrifying. A white current ran between his horns. “I had my friend Bobby put a protection spell on me before I left Erebos. I'm essentially fireproof.”
I reached behind me and grasped the first thing I touched, just as a vibration coursed through the bar. With a thunderous explosion, the entire roof seemed to burst apart. A column of light came down on Ba'al and enveloped him, buzzing with electricity. I shielded my eyes. I saw him hold out his hands, as if reveling in the power. I looked at the object I had grabbed from the bar. The giant bottle of rum. Better than nothing.
I was angel-fast, bringing my arm back and throwing the bottle at Ba'al's face with all my strength. I heard it shatter and for an instant there was a blue flare all around him. I heard him cry out in rage, as the column changed. He seemed to vibrate as the tree-trunk sized lightning formed itself into a ball around him. I grabbed another bottle. Scotch. I threw it into the ball of throbbing, burning light. I heard him bellow again, but still the ball of lightning remained.
I looked around. The bar was on fire now. It had fanned out from Ba'al and was quickly spreading: over the pool table, up the walls, across the Murphy bed. I could see the flames emerging from the bathroom, licking the top of the doorway. I looked into the vibrating power that was Ba'al. I saw a massive arm reach out from within the center. He was going to try to do to me what he had done to Lucifer.
“No,” I said. And in that instant, I wasn't afraid anymore. I remembered the hole in Lucifer's chest. The fear I'd felt when I'd seen him like that. The raw, all-encompassing relief I'd felt when I'd touched him and hadn't seen his death. I narrowed my eyes. “This is for Lucifer.”
I stepped forward until I could feel the electricity against my skin. Every hair on my body rose. I felt the buzzing deep in my chest, occasional sparks hitting me like splattering grease. His hand was reaching toward me. He wasn't going to get a chance to blow a hole through me. I knew then that I was strong. Maybe not as strong as Ba'al, but it was worth the risk. I grasped his arm.
A bleak landscape. Ba'al looked out over Erebos. Only it wasn't Erebos. It was Hell. Before the city, before anything. He was alone. A flash like lightning. Thunder rolling and echoing from the other side of the cliffs. Lightning filled Ba'al's eyes and he knew his power. He was worshiped in the world and he felt it. Another flash. Demons everywhere. They obeyed him. They feared him. They didn't ask him where he came from or what he was. They already knew. He was great. He was a god. Made from nothing and no one. Flash. Servants, ugly demon women who offered themselves to him. He didn't taint himself with them. He was too high above them. Flash. A war. A war like I had never seen. It wasn't like the human wars. It wasn't like Michael's war. It was far worse. Demons crushing demons under spiked, deadly-looking weapons that dripped thick black blood. They filled the valley like insects, crawling over each other, ripping the flesh from their brethren's bodies. Ba'al stood above them all, watching, laughing. It pleased him. Flash. Ba'al was older, softer. Another war. The angels. One angel, really. Lucifer. The others only came to help him, and left afterwards. The demons feared him more than they feared Ba'al. Ba'al didn't hate Lucifer. He had grown bored with the demons, tired of ruling them. Flash. A death. His own death. He had gone into the Pit. He thought he was powerful enough. Something in there was bigger, stronger than Ba'al. Something slimy with teeth. Abaddon pulled him out, but it was too late. To bring him back, Samael gave him a piece of his own soul. Angel inside of him. He felt himself changing. He felt compassion and it filled him with shame. Flash. News of Samael's death. He had given his life to save the wretched world of humans. No better than animals. But there was something nagging at him, a promise he had made in haste. The angel soul made him loyal. Made him want to keep his promise. Flash. Bones. His bones. Burned black and smoking.
And then the pull. It grabbed me from the dark reaches. Vaguely I knew that my arm was burning, that the electricity was singeing the flesh off my bones, but I didn't care. I was touching Ba'al's soul now, and it was the strongest I had ever felt. It wrapped itself around my fingers, my flesh that was vibrating with electricity. And then I pulled with all the power within me. I felt the burning sensation course up my arm, more painful than any electrical current could ever be, and then, he was there, in front of me.
The ball of lightning sizzled out and Ba'al's body fell to the ground, into the flames that encompassed the bar. His spirit looked at me. He mouthed a question: How? But he was already fading away, swirling into the fire like so much ash. And then he was gone.
I gasped as the pain registered. I looked down at my arm. It was black and crackling. Like a stick from a bonfire. I let out a sob, cradling it, careful not to let it touch anything. I knew it would fall off if I touched it. The bar was falling down around me. A white flash caught my eye. I looked down at my fingers, flaking away, and there was a spark. A strange sensation was coursing through my whole body. I felt the muscle expanding. The black charred flesh flaked away and I could see a bubbling just underneath. I recognized the sensation. The same power that had decimated a village, the power that had almost unmade the world. The Creator's power was healing me.
I sensed a movement behind me. My eyes widened.
Zagan was standing there. I hadn't heard him return. He was smiling again, but it was even more strange. His face was wet like he'd been crying. He had something in his hands. I realized it was one of the guns I'd seen in his shack.
“Where did you get that?” I said through clenched teeth. The pain was unbearable. I'd seen guns like that used during Michael's war. They turned people to dust.
His voice cracked. “She's gone.”
“Who's gone?” I said. I cried out as my arm gave a monstrous throb. I held it out in front of me.
Zagan giggled. “I'm going to kill Death.”
“Why are you doing this?” I said. “Sam's not coming back, can't you see?” I struggled to breathe, to stay conscious. I remembered when Sam had brought me back. My flesh being remade on burned bones. The remaking was far more painful than dying. Zagan looked around, seeming to notice the fire for the first time. It didn't faze him.
“She's gone,” he repeated. His face crumpled and tears fell down his face. “Dorana is gone and it's all your fault.”
“She's not dead,” I said.
“I know, you stupid girl. I'm a necromancer! I know when someone is dead. Everyone else is dead. Ba'al is dead. My people are dead. And yet you still didn't manage to kill my father. Soon you'll be dead, and so will I.”
“Why?” I said.
“She was my life,” he said. He pulled something back on the gun and it clicked. He smiled.
The world went gray as I became lightheaded. I stumbled, catching myself with my foot to keep from falling. My hands might just snap off if I fell. Then the gray dissipated. I frowned, trying to place the feeling, but I dismissed it and focused on Zagan.
“Don't,” I said. “Don't do this. After all that's happened. After all you've done, you're still capable of love. There isn't anything more important. You could find her. She loved you once.”
“Love,” he hissed. “Who knew Death was so sentimental? I had love, and you took it away from me. You.”
