by Sam Cheever
I looked to Emo and he shrugged. “That was my take too, Astra.”
I dropped my butt back into the chair. “So my mother has plans to kidnap your father and use him for a power grab. We already knew that…” I missed the look that passed between the two men in the room, conveniently forgetting that I’d forgotten to mention Raoul’s revelation to them both. “But now we know that my father is going along with that plan and managing it in an effort to solve some internal problem.”
I thought about this for a moment and then looked up at them with wide eyes. “It can only mean one thing. Someone on the inside, an angel most likely, is working with my mother on the power grab. And my father is trying to find out who it is.”
Dialle nodded. “And what they would have to gain by it.”
Emo said, “That’s easy. Power. If they simply take out King Dialle you will take his place. That gains them nothing unless they take you out too and then there will be another behind you.”
“My brother.”
Emo nodded. “Exactly. But if they time it right, once King Dialle is out of the picture and the royals are leaderless, in turmoil, who would be a natural to step in and take over? Who could make an argument that he or she is better suited for the role than a royal devil prince?” He stared meaningfully at Dialle.
Dialle returned his stare and I saw the moment Emo’s meaning came clear. “A fallen angel.” His voice was soft with horror at the thought.
Emo glanced at me. I nodded. “It makes perfect sense.”
Emo frowned. “Unfortunately it does yes. And unless I misunderstood my celestial court education whoever it is that your father is looking for, Astra, will be working to discredit him from within. Making his job even more difficult.”
I thought of Enoch and my heart rebelled. “No.” I whispered. My face must have reflected my horrified realization because Emo and Dialle were watching me carefully.
“Are you all right, Astra?” Emo asked, half-rising from his chair.
I waved him back down and turned haunted eyes to him. “No. But I will be. I know who the fallen angel is. I’ve talked to him already.”
Dialle stood. “You must tell me who it is, Astra.”
My head jerked around so I could glare at him. “And do what, Dialle? You don’t have enough power in the entire court to deal with this particular angel.”
Emo wiped his palms on his slacks, his face slightly green. He’d put the pieces together and knew who I was talking about. “Your father will never believe you.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face in frustration. “I know. Shit!”
I looked from one to the other of them and frowned. “I don’t know how we’re going to best Enoch. Or whether I’ll even be able to try given my feelings for him.”
Emo stared at me, the pain in his eyes mirroring my own. He’d grown up with Enoch too and I could only assume that the feeling of betrayal ran as deep in him as it did in me. “You realize you’ll have to take Enoch up on his offer, Astra?”
I slammed my head against the back of the chair. “Shit!”
I sat silently for a few beats thinking. I considered my options and discovered that I didn’t have many. And the few options I had kept circling back to the same thing. I couldn’t defeat Enoch by myself. I couldn’t join my father without alerting my mother to his false support of her. That left me with the final and least palatable option.
“I need to work with Enoch if I’m going to help my father. Our best hope is to distract him and let my father do his job.”
Dialle finally spoke up. “I agree.”
I sighed. “I just pray Seraphim James won’t let friendship blind him to the truth.”
* * * * *
Arriving in my office the next morning I found an urgent message from a client asking me to call her. I dropped my coat in the chair beside the door and dropped wearily into my desk chair. Leaning my head in my hands I tried to dredge up the energy to return the client’s call. She’d sounded angry.
After a few minutes I raised my head and tapped the woman’s name into my information unit. Her record popped up immediately. Mx. Samantha Beck had come to me because her daughter had been hanging out with a demon she’d met at one of the downtown clubs. Mx. Beck, the mother had wanted me to vanquish the demon and, after careful questioning, I’d determined that his behavior met the world government’s strict guidelines for execution. I had told her I’d vanquish the target by the end of the week. Since that deadline was still a few days away I wasn’t sure what she was angry about. I did a mental shrug and decided there was only one way to find out.
“Return last call.” The televisual kicked in with a high-pitched bleep and within a couple of seconds a woman’s angry face swam into view.
“Mx. Phelps. I called to tell you that I will not be paying for your services. What you did was unconscionable. My daughter is in a such a state of horrified shock I’ve had to make her an appointment with a therapist to help her cope. I never would have guessed you could be so incompetent, your references were very good…”
“Mx. Beck, hold on a minute. Please tell me what you’re talking about. I told you I would vanquish the target in a few days. I haven’t even done the paperwork on him yet.”
The woman’s voice climbed a few octaves. “Is that your idea of a joke, Mx. Phelps? My daughter had to throw all of the clothes she was wearing away because they were covered in demon gore. She thought she loved that thing and she watched him explode into bits and pieces!”
“Someone’s blasted the target demon already?”
The woman’s face darkened in disbelief. “Yes, Mx. Phelps, someone did blast the demon while he was standing about a foot away from my daughter and that someone was you.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Not impossible, Mx. Phelps, certain. My daughter’s friend had her portable televisual with her and she got it on film.”
I just stared at the woman on the screen, totally nonplussed. There was no point arguing with the woman since it was obvious to me that she wouldn’t believe anything I said. I made a sudden decision. “Mx. Beck can you send me that tape?”
This caught her off guard but she finally agreed after telling me that they’d made copies, as if I were going to destroy the evidence.
A moment later I heard the bleep that told me the video file had arrived. “Play Beck video,” I instructed the televisual.
The screen burst into light and sound as a pretty young woman emerged from a popular club on the arm of an extremely good-looking young man. The camera had captured the demon’s mask rather than his true form.
The light faded as they walked away from the building’s façade and started down the street arm in arm. A voice hailed them and the pretty young woman turned to smile at someone off camera.
The picture bounced as if the person holding the televisual was jogging toward the couple.
As the camera bearer approached, young Mx. Beck held a hand out in front of her face and then swiped it toward the camera. “Turn that thing off, Brittany. You’ve been driving me crazy with it all night.”
The young female voice behind the camera giggled. “No way, I want to get you two on film. You make such a cute couple.”
Mx. Beck turned to the demon on her arm and grinned, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. “I’m sorry I bought her that thing now.”
The demon laughed good-naturedly and turned to the camera. For the merest beat in time something evil glinted in the demon’s eyes and he licked his full lips. I saw it and I suspect the girl behind the camera saw it too because the picture bobbled for a moment before refocusing onto a smiling Mx. Beck.
“Brittany really…”
There was a shout and the camera swiveled as if the girl behind it had been surprised. Then the camera refocused on the demon, who was taking a step backward with his hands up as if to ward off whatever he saw beyond the camera’s range.
Suddenly a power stream came out of the darkness and the
demon shrieked in horror and pain, then he just exploded, spewing gore on everything within ten feet of the attack.
The camera dropped and bounced a few times before settling against the littered sidewalk. Mx. Beck screamed uncontrollably off camera and someone, probably the camera owner, was gasping as if she was trying to control a strong emotion. Or keep from spewing.
I heard the pounding of retreating footsteps and something else. I realized I was hearing a soft footfall that was approaching the camera rather than running away from it. Then soft, black leather boots came into view and something covered the camera lens. The screen bobbed around as it was picked up off the ground.
It wavered and spun and then settled on a very familiar face with a wide grin.
My face. My grin.
The face that looked like mine was joined by a couple of fingers as the person who looked like me wiggled a two fingered greeting at the camera.
Then the image stopped as the camera was presumably shut down.
“Holy bent gargoyle toes!”
I watched the video several more times before I was able to get my mind around what I’d seen.
What the hell?
What was this shit?
It wasn’t enough that my life was already hell? That the creatures who I thought were good beyond all doubt were most probably bad beyond my wildest imaginings and the creatures who I thought were bad were probably my best hope for saving the world? That my parents were both up to their eyebrows in trouble and calamity and my best friends were all compromised?
Now somebody was impersonating me and killing my targets?
Could my life get any more complicated? Could it get any more complex? I felt the culmination of the last several days sucking me down into an emotional muck that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to escape.
It was like that time I’d been tracking an Orgick across the Mars waste and I’d inadvertently stepped into a slog hole and couldn’t pull my leg back out. The slog had sucked and melded and generally locked onto my leg until the only way I could get loose was to shimmy my beautiful leather boot off and leave it in the slog hole. That had just sucked.
Pardon the pun.
I laid my head back on my chair wearily. “What the hell else could go wrong?”
As if on cue Myra popped into my office. She didn’t look much happier than Mx. Beck, da momma.
“Astra, would you care to explain why you blasted a demon into pieces right in front of a young human female last night?”
“Hello! You know where I was last night.”
Myra opened her mouth to argue and then realized it would have been nearly impossible for me to have done what everybody seemed to think I’d done to that demon. “What are you telling me? The young woman’s guardian identified you.”
“That wasn’t me.” I turned to the televisual. “Play Beck video.”
Myra watched without expression as I played the video several more times. Then I looked at her and said, “Did you see it?”
She nodded. “It’s a pretty good attempt though. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t watched it several times and really focused.”
What we’d both seen in the video was that the imposter’s mask had slipped for just the merest blip in time. It wouldn’t have been noticeable unless you could really study it. But it had been there.
Myra dropped her shapely butt on the corner of my desk and crossed, long, shapely legs under her shimmery robes. “We certainly don’t need this type of thing right now, Astra.”
Her tone of voice was mild for her and I chose not to take the slightly accusatory tone personally. I nodded and peered up at her.
“I’ve been thinking about that, angel and I think that’s exactly the point.”
She frowned at me. “What’s the point?”
“Don’t you see? Somebody’s afraid I’ll muck up the works on the power grab. If I’m busy defending myself and trying to save my business I’m less likely to get in the way.”
“Makes a certain twisted kind of sense.”
I extended a finger and tapped myself on the forehead, “From a twisted kind of mind.” Then I realized what I’d said and frowned. “Wait, scratch that.”
Myra laughed, it was shocking because I so rarely witnessed it. “No, I think you got it right the first time.”
I stuck my tongue out at her.
“So who do you think is responsible?”
I stood up and walked over to the large window behind my desk. The street below was full of people and vehicles. The air was thick with air transportation. A cold wind drove debris into the huddled forms of the walkers and rammed it into the nooks and crannies of vehicles. The sky was leaden gray, promising rain.
Standing there in front of that window a clarifying memory dropped into place.
“I’m pretty sure it was the Devil’s Glenn coven.”
“Why?”
“This wasn’t done by a demon. Demons can only utilize their own masks, they can’t mimic someone else. The Royals would have nothing to gain by keeping me off balance. So it was probably a witch. How does a witch mimic another person’s appearance?”
Myra shrugged. “Black magic.”
I nodded. “Using a biological piece of the person you’re imitating right?”
She nodded.
“Mx. Coltran filched a strand of my hair when she was here. She pretended her bracelet had snagged it but now I know she was harvesting it for the imitation spell.”
I heard Myra’s gowns rustle behind me as she uncrossed her legs. “What would the coven have to gain by this?”
I shrugged. “Raoul thinks they want to take over the Angel City Coven. If that’s true maybe they’re trying to weaken the coven by creating chaos. Maybe they think my mother will care if I have trouble and that will distract her.” I snorted in a very unladylike way. “Which proves they know nothing. Or maybe Raoul’s wrong and they are working together with the Angel City Coven instead of against them, to create turmoil between the demons and the royals.”
I turned away from the window to find Myra frowning thoughtfully. Then she looked up at me. “Which means that both covens are working under the assumption that they have help in powerful places.”
My eyebrows went north. “They do have powerful help. They shouldn’t be capable of half the stuff they’ve been doing.”
And I was just dying to tell her who their help probably was. But I knew the time wasn’t quite right.
As soon as Myra left I made myself a cup of strong black coffee to give me strength and then pulled the cross I always wore from under my sweater where I kept it for protection. The cross was almost three inches high and ornate. It was centuries old and filled with its own special kind of magic. Specifically, it could be used to call members of the celestial army. It had other, more practical uses too but I rarely needed its special kind of power for anything except communicating with Myra. Or now my father, I thought with a smile.
I sat staring at the cross for a few minutes, dreading what I needed to do. But I couldn’t think of another way so I finally placed the cross over my heart, closed my eyes in a quick prayer for guidance and said his name.
Enoch exploded into the room in a blast of light and sound. A far cry from the gentle pop Myra generally used when she visited. I knew he was being flamboyant and trying to prove something to me. It didn’t make me like what I was about to do any better.
He stood just inside the door to my office with a smug smile on his face and his large hands folded in front of him. “I see you’ve decided to see reason.”
I bristled. “I can still change my mind.”
He shrugged and floated across to the window behind me, looking down at the human type chaos below with a soft smile on his lips.
I swiveled to keep an eye on him. This feeling of not being able to trust an old family friend was like wearing a favorite dress that the cleaner had accidentally ruined trying to remove demon brains. The dress no longer quite fit and rub
bed me raw in strategic spots but I was still emotionally attached to it. I couldn’t wait to throw it off but knew I’d be naked without it.
“But you won’t change your mind. You inherited your father’s sense of duty and desire to do the right thing.” He turned away from the window. “It’s a particularly human trait that has caused him no end of trouble over the centuries.”
I peered at him, wondering when he’d lost faith in the divine goal and decided the bad guys had more to offer. “Yet you suspect him of being a dark angel?”
He turned away but not before I saw a spark of genuine pain in his dark eyes. “It is not my wish to distrust him.”
I said nothing for fear that I would blurt out my suspicions about him.
“So,” he said without turning, “you will monitor your father’s activities and report back to me what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with?”
Try as I might I couldn’t get my jaw to unclench at the thought. I cracked my teeth just enough to respond in an unnatural way. “Yes.”
He nodded once. “Good. I’ll appear before you occasionally to get your reports.”
“Awesome,” I murmured sarcastically.
“I heard that.”
Chapter Twenty
Mommy Dearest
The devil knocked upon her door, a smile upon her face,
The demon slayer let her in but kept her in her place.
Sometimes, if events keep you from visiting the devil, he finds a way to visit you. This also occasionally applies to mothers.
I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup the next morning when the door monitor announced that Danika Phelps was standing outside my door.
I was sooooo tempted to just leave her standing there.
In fact I was tempted to find a snug corner and assume the fetal position there. But in the end I decided to be a man about it and let her in.
I opened the door and recoiled. She was smiling at me. Never a good thing.
