Devil's Shadow (Luther Cross Book 3)

by Percival Constantine

  Devil's Shadow

  Luther Cross: Book 3

  Percival Constantine

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Get a free book!

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Percival Constantine

  1

  Winter in Chicago. They can keep it.

  It wasn’t the cold that bothered me—though you’d think we were dead-center in the middle of the Arctic Circle some days. Being part-demon, I had a natural resistance to the elements that humans didn’t.

  Nah, what really pissed me off about Chicago winters was the snow. Had been especially bad the past few years. It quickly turned to slush, especially in the city itself. Not so bad when I was behind the wheel of my car, but at that moment, I was forced to slog through it on the sidewalk.

  My name’s Luther Cross, by the way. Chicago’s premiere paranormal investigator. Got a demon possessing your kid or a poltergeist haunting your house or a werewolf that won’t stop shitting on your lawn, then I’m the guy you call.

  Or at least I used to be. I’d recently gone through some pretty big changes in my life. But I’ll get to that later. All you have to know now is that I had come across a demon possessing some college student. Got a whiff of him from a bar and decided to follow. He was about half a block ahead of me, but that was fine. I had his scent and there was no way he’d be able to escape me.

  I stuffed my gloved hands into the pockets of my leather jacket as I followed the same path he did. One of the perks of being part-demon was I had a sixth sense for the supernatural. This guy, I’d already picked up on, and as long as I didn’t let him get too far ahead, I’d be able to follow him wherever he went.

  Overhead, the Chicago “L” train rattled on the tracks, chugging on past as it navigated the Loop circuit. I kept walking, spotting the metal stairs up ahead leading to the platform. He’d gone up here, but the scent was still strong. Must have just missed the train. He was gonna wish he’d walked faster.

  I climbed the stairs and stepped onto the platform. He stood at the other end, but didn’t acknowledge me. Just stared straight out at the tracks. My gaze never wavered from him, though. He wore earbuds and took the smartphone they were connected to out from his pocket, staring at the blue light of the screen, his thumb flicking across the glass. After a few moments, he put the phone back in his pocket.

  He was fidgeting. His knees couldn’t stop bending just a little bit, then straightening up again. His feet kept tapping on the platform. No doubt about it—he was scared of me. And that thought had a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

  I reached a hand into my jacket’s inside pocket and took out a monogrammed cigarette case, then drew a cigarette from it. My eyes stayed on him as I lit the cigarette, savoring the fear I could smell wafting off him.

  Goddamn, I loved this part of the job.

  Finally, he looked my way. And in a moment, I could see his eyes flash bright yellow for just an instant before they returned to the normal brown of the college student he was possessing. Demons generally didn’t like to associate with me. Probably because I had a habit of sending them back to Hell.

  I could tell this demon wasn’t very high up on the totem pole. More than likely he was someone who’d just crawled out of Hell and slithered his way into a body. Most demons were just sadists and hedonists, feeding off the negative emotions of humans. But they talked. They knew things, even the bottom-feeders. And there were some questions I wanted answered.

  The rattle of the train could be heard in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. I took the cigarette from my mouth and dropped it on the platform, crushing it beneath my heel. The train came to a stop and I broke my gaze on the demon, looking straight ahead at the doors. While waiting for them to open, I caught the reflection of my bright-red eyes in the window. And for a brief moment, my reflection changed, showing who was really in control now.

  The doors opened. I took a glance back at him and saw him quickly board a car further up. I stepped onto the train and walked to the front of the car. After a moment, the train started up. I stared through the car window, looking into the one directly ahead. He wasn’t in that one. Was probably at least two cars ahead, if not three.

  There was a sign on the door warning people not to cross between cars or face a fine. I’ve never been one for following the rules, so I pulled open the door and crossed over to the next car.

  It was late at night, so the train was mostly empty. A homeless guy sat on the bench closest to me, muttering to himself. He held a mason jar between his legs. Judging from his stench, was pretty obvious what was inside that jar. I continued past him, moving down the car. The demon’s scent grew stronger with each step I took.

  “Hey, mister, can I borrow a dollar? I’m hungry.”

  The voice came from a woman who stood to block my path. Her clothes were filthy, and her hair went all over the place. Judging from the look in her eyes, seemed she was hooked on something, and she held out her hand. I didn’t have time to waste on her, so I grabbed her wrist and stared directly in her eyes.

  “Sit down and shut up,” I said.

  Without another word, she sat right back on the bench. Another perk of my heritage was I could influence people. The weaker the mind, the easier they were to push to do what I wanted.

  I went to the front of the car and looked through the window. I saw the demon in the next car, sitting at the far end. With a smile, I pulled open the door and crossed into the first car. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up. His gaze lingered for a moment, fear passing over his face, and then he looked down again.

  We were the only ones in this car. I moved down the center, closing the distance between us. The train’s speed reduced, and I looked out the window to see a stop coming up ahead. He stood from the bench and went to the door.

  Oh no. Wasn’t gonna be that easy.

  I quickened my pace, and just as the doors opened, I ended up right behind him. I reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his coat. He fell back, stumbling onto the car floor. The doors closed and the train started moving again. He looked up at me, his eyes now remaining in their yellow state. No reason to hide what he was—not anymore.

  “H-hold on!” he shouted, his voice full of fear. “I don’t want any trouble with you, man!”

  I lifted him off the floor and sat him down on the bench, then sat across from him. With my elbows resting on my thighs, I leaned forward and clasped my hands together, staring right into his yellow eyes.

  “You know who I am, don’t you?” I asked.

  He gave a nod. “There’s not a demon in the tri-state area who hasn’t heard of Luther Cross.”

  “Good, that’ll make this easier. How about we
start with something simple, like your name.”

  “K-Killian.”

  “Okay, Killian, here’s how it’s gonna go down. You’re gonna tell me everything I wanna know.”

  “But I don’t kn—”

  “And if you don’t, then we’re gonna have words.” I leaned back into the bench and pulled open my jacket so Killian could see the modified revolver I kept holstered under my shoulder. “You know about me, so I’m gonna assume you also know about this.”

  Killian’s wide eyes confirmed he did.

  “Now, what’s a little piss-ant bottom-feeder like yourself doing in my town?”

  “Look man, I’m really not interested in causing any trouble. I escaped the pit, found a body, and that’s that. I’m just taking it for a joyride, seriously.”

  “You escaped?” I asked. “How?”

  It was a good question. You could think of Hell as something like a prison. The Hell Lords who made up the Infernal Court, they were the wardens and could come and go more or less as they pleased. But no prison’s perfect—there were secret passages in and out of Hell and no shortage of mid-level demons willing to provide you with a way out. Provided you could pay whatever price they asked.

  Usually, that meant you had to take on a debt to corrupt a certain number of souls. But Killian here, he didn’t seem like the type capable of doing much corruption. Doubt he could make any deals, either—probably couldn’t sell a boat to a drowning man.

  “You didn’t know?” asked Killian. “Asmodeus is missing. No one’s seen him in a few months.”

  Actually, I had known about that. Asmodeus was one of the archdemons, a Hell Lord who had his own corner of the pit to rule over. Last time I saw him, he’d convinced me to go to Purgatory with him. He’d gone off on his own and we hadn’t seen him again. As far as I knew, he was still trapped there.

  I wasn’t about to explain any of that to Killian. Last thing I needed was any Hell Lords knocking on my door. But I went through some changes myself in Purgatory, and there were things I wanted to know. In the past, Asmodeus could sometimes be counted on for information. That obviously wasn’t an option now.

  “I like you, Killian,” I said. “So that’s why I’m gonna do you a solid.”

  “You’re gonna let me go?”

  I chuckled. “Sure. So long as you live up to your part of the bargain.”

  Killian’s eyes went from side to side. “What do you mean? What do I have to do?”

  “Like you said, probably not a demon around who doesn’t know who I am. And that’s the problem. So, here’s what I’m going to propose—you now work for me.”

  “W-Why would I work for you? You kill our kind.”

  I sighed. “Kid, I just explained this to you. If you scratch my back, I won’t put a bullet in your head. But if you’d rather I just killed you now…”

  I drew the gun and casually pointed it at him. Killian jumped, holding his arms over his face. As if that would really do anything. I waited for him to lower his arms, which he did after a moment. But I kept the gun trained on his head. My face remained stoic, not allowing a hint of emotion to pass across.

  “What’s it gonna be, Killian? You willing to be my eyes and ears in the demon world in exchange for staying alive?”

  “So, I’d be your snitch?” he asked.

  I smiled and holstered the gun. “Now you’re getting it. And who knows, maybe this will lead to more opportunities for you in the future.”

  Killian cringed once more when I reached into my coat a second time. I just sighed and took out a card case. I took one of my business cards from it and passed it over to him. Killian reluctantly accepted the card and looked at it.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “See those numbers on it? You enter those into a fancy new device called a phone and that’s how you get in touch with me.”

  “I know what a phone is, what I meant was—”

  “Head over to Lust on Rush Street. I want to know who’s in charge. Once you find out, you give me a call.”

  “That’s it?”

  “For now.” I looked out the window and saw we were approaching the next stop. I stood from the bench and looked down at Killian. “Don’t piss me off, kid. I’m giving you a huge break here. Think you can handle it?”

  “I got no loyalty to the Court, honest.”

  “Good. Because if I find out you’ve betrayed me, just remember that I’ve gone toe-to-toe with the Angel of Death.”

  The doors opened, and I stepped from the train onto the platform. Maybe it was a bit risky to recruit an informant like Killian. Never would’ve done that before. But things had changed since Purgatory, and the Luther Cross who went into that place wasn’t the same one who walked out.

  2

  It had been a few days since I’d sent Killian on his little errand. He was finding his way through the underworld, sending me updates via text. I didn’t need constant updates, but the fact that he felt compelled to send them showed he was pretty scared of me.

  Who needed to pay off a rat when you could put the fear of God into them? Well…okay, maybe not the fear of God, but you get my point.

  Until Killian found something I could work with, it wasn’t a bad idea to just lay low. Things had been quiet on the supernatural front since I had gotten back from Purgatory. Probably too quiet. I was surprised Raziel hadn’t tried to reach out to me in that time.

  That wasn’t a complaint, mind you. If I ran into that winged choirboy, he would see right through me. I may have looked like Luther Cross on the outside, but there was something different driving the bus. An angel, especially one who’d known the old Luther for years, would be able to sense the change.

  I didn’t want that to happen. I had plans of my own. And if Raziel was content to leave me be for now, then as far as I was concerned, that was a gift horse, and I wasn’t about to go looking for teeth.

  Instead, I was having a relaxing night in. Poured myself a glass of Laphroaig on the rocks and settled into my leather recliner in front of the television. I sipped the scotch and turned on the TV, scanning through the channels when I fell on the news and saw a buffoon in an ill-fitting suit and bad combover giving a press conference where he tried to dodge questions about whether he was planning to go to war or not.

  Whole world was going to Hell, it seemed. Since Purgatory, I didn’t give a shit anymore. Now I was just focused on saving my own ass from the fire. But to do that, I needed leverage, and to get that leverage, I needed information. Specifically, I needed the name of a very important demon.

  The doorbell rang, and I glanced over my shoulder. I set my scotch down on the side table and rose from the chair, walking over to the front door of my Gold Coast condo. This was supposed to be a secured building, so how the hell had someone gotten to my front door without me knowing?

  It wasn’t anything supernatural, that much I knew. My walls were lined with protective sigils drawn in fluorescent paint. I looked through the peephole and groaned. Now I knew who could get past the front door without any problems. Just flash a CPD badge in the doorman’s face and he’s not about to stop you.

  I thought about ignoring him. Just going back to the chair, finishing my drink, and drowning out the sounds of the bell (which he now kept pressing) with Netflix until he decided to go away.

  But he was a persistent little shit, so no chance that would actually work. Hopefully, I could shoo him away without exerting too much effort.

  I opened the door. Standing in the hall was an older guy in his fifties or so. His hair was short and blond, and he had intense blue eyes, combined with a face that looked like it had seen some serious shit. He was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt underneath a brown leather jacket. Hanging from his shoulder was a leather briefcase.

  “Took your ass long enough,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  “Coop. Been a while.”

  Detective Wayne Cooper of the Chicago Police. He’d helped me out on several ca
ses in the past. Or, rather, helped my good half. I didn’t have much use for him anymore and wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

  “You gonna invite me in or what?” he asked.

  Shit. Didn’t want him getting too suspicious, either, so I knew I’d have to play along for now. I stepped to the side and opened the door wider for him. Wayne entered the condo and navigated directly to the bar in the dining room. I followed him and watched as he helped himself to a bottle of gin, pouring it into a tumbler over ice and topping it off with some dry vermouth.

  “Make yourself at home,” I said.

  “Don’t I always?” Wayne took his drink and walked over to the couch, setting the briefcase on the cushion beside him. “Have a seat. Something I wanna talk to you about.”

  I groaned and returned to my chair, where I picked the cigarette back up and took a slow drag. “This better be important. I’ve got shit to do.”

  Wayne looked at me like I was crazy and then took a glance around the room. “Oh, yeah, you really look like you’re burning the midnight oil.”

  I waved the cigarette in a circle, the smoke spinning in the trail of my hand. “Just get on with it, okay?”

  “Fine.” He reached into the briefcase and pulled out a file. Just as I’d thought. Wayne hadn’t dropped by for a social call; he was here because he had some case he wanted to rope me into. Wayne leaned forward and dropped the file on the coffee table. I just stared at it, alternating between sips of my drink and smoking.