by Tiana Laveen
Saint hissed in pain as Cruz tightened his grip, pressing his thumbs into his windpipe.
“You … lied!” Saint choked out before spitting up blood.
“I change the contract as I see fit. You were right to tell Cruz you didn’t trust his agreement, but in the end, you foolishly depended on him. What a pity. Now I will own both of you…” Suddenly, Saint’s body started to convulse, as if jolted with electricity. Cruz struggled to maintain his hold on him, but it was no use.
“FUCK!” A hard crack to his skull left him dizzy as Saint flipped him over with one arm, causing unspeakable pain from his head down to his toes. In that instance, he could no longer feel the duke inside of him … but he knew he was there, lying low during the abrupt attack.
Saint gripped his chin in a hard grasp, the pressure so strong his gums would surely be bruised.
“GET. OUT. OF. HIS. BODY!” Saint roared. “I command you to leave Cruz Black’s body! You must honor the original contract.” The demon within Cruz burst out laughing once more, his giggles causing him to grapple to catch his breath. “Cruz, you better fight this, damn it! I don’t hang with punks! GET UP AND PUT IN WORK!” Saint’s blood dripped all over him, the pain from Saint’s hits so excruciating, he gasped for air and relief. “I’m not letting you get on that damn plane and put all those people’s lives at risk! Duke Eligos, when will it stop? You’ll want more and more. Stick to the plan or you get nothing! CRUZ, COME BACK!”
Cruz kicked and writhed beneath him as various announcements were made over the airport speakers.
“Come on, now! I will kill you, Cruz! I will fuckin’ kill you before I let you get on that plane and hurt your wife and your baby!” He looked up and saw angry tears streaming down Saint’s face. The man shoved his palm against his temple, pressed, and forced him to see flashes of the beautiful woman he’d made his wife…
Images of Erika and their unborn son flooded his head. The sonogram, the happiness he’d felt when he realized she was pregnant before she even knew herself. A pain so intense burned the side of his cheek when Saint punched him on his jaw, his fist flying like swarming jets doing tricks in the sky. Tears fell from Saint’s eyes down onto Cruz’s face in droves…
Angry tears.
Hurtful tears.
Mournful tears.
Healing tears.
“Duke Eligos, I will kill this man to keep you away, and then you will leave with nothing! Read my mind, my heart … you know that I will!” Saint opened his mouth and out poured a golden cloud of smoke. Cruz grappled beneath him, fighting it, as Saint squeezed his chin once again, forcing his mouth to open. The golden fog filled his lungs, the burning like a hot match along gasoline-soaked fabric. Cruz wailed in pain, but was met with Saint cupping his mouth, muffling his pleading cries and making him swallow.
“Demon, that’s just a small taste of me. That’s just a bit of the last breath Krishna gave me, his healing power, his magic. I am using it to drive you out of Cruz. If you want me to stop, let Cruz go! Retreat!”
Saint swiped his hand, producing stinging cuts across Cruz’s skin.
“Ahhhhh!” he wailed as the hell within him bubbled and frothed. His very own blood burned in his veins.
“Cruz, you son of a bitch!” Saint’s voice shook as he straddled him, sorrow in his eyes. “Fight for your family. They need you! Fight for your life, or I’ll kill you! This is your last warning!”
Saint raised one shaky arm in the air, and if it landed, Cruz knew it would be the end…
Cruz struggled and strained in his own skin, finally getting the upper hand on his possession as the pain from Saint’s abuse brought forth images of his pregnant wife, and the happiness they shared. Gasping for air, the burn in his eyes began to subside. He struggled beneath Saint’s weight and felt his own skin around his bones and muscles. The scent of his freshly spent blood surrounded him, and he felt like his chest might detonate like a bomb. Saint traced the symbol of the cross on Cruz’s face. The Duke fled from his body, and the sound of a horse galloping away could be heard in the distance, followed by a black cloud of smoke.
Cruz looked around the bathroom stall, confused as to how he’d gotten there. Saint stood over him and extended his hand, helped him to his feet.
“Shit … I think my rib is broken.” He winced. “Saint, I’m almost afraid to ask, but what happened?”
“We’ll talk about it later… Get cleaned up. We’ve missed our flight and need to get the next one out.” They left the stall and stood at the large sink, side by side. Silently washing their faces and hands, they looked at their reflections in the mirror. Water splashed from the faucet. Saint washed his face with the cool liquid, then washed his skin in soap—washed away the pain and proof of something horrific. Saint fished a clean shirt out of his carry-on bag and put it on, then combed his hair with his fingers, looking utterly exhausted.
“Saint, whatever happened, I’m sorry.” The man kept looking in the mirror, trying to make himself into something that was halfway presentable.
“Let’s get out of here. I’ll meet you at the gate.” And with that, Saint reached for his carry-on and headed out, leaving him to his own devices.
Cruz looked in the mirror, hunched over and forlorn. He tried to piece together what had happened, to bring it all back home.
I was following the guy … yeah … I got him, tackled him. But then, he looked at me and smiled. Blood coated his teeth and he waited, laughing, a strange, witch-like cackle. It wasn’t a man… It wasn’t a Demon Child at all. It was an actual demon, disguised as such. And then I heard the horse charging towards me, full speed ahead…
“Oh no, no…” Cruz gripped the sides of the basin, trying to keep himself steady as he fell apart. Flashes of his hands around Saint’s neck replayed in his mind. “Oh God, no.” Cruz pressed his eyes closed and pinched the skin between them, wincing at the recollections of his own actions and words…
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The third day had come…
Saint had been in bed for over forty-eight hours since he’d returned home from India. Xenia took care of him, watching over him after the horrendous ordeal with his dear brother, Cruz. They’d barely made it back after having been stopped by customs due to their fight in the restroom. People had complained of a great commotion, and when he’d emerged, he’d explained he’d had an argument with his buddy, nothing more. When Cruz surfaced, bloodied and barely able to stand, Saint was promptly arrested. Luckily, he was released soon thereafter when Cruz explained it had all been a misunderstanding. They didn’t get out of there until twelve hours later and thankfully enough, the dead body of the Demon Child had been discovered, but not linked to them.
The Duke had played a ghastly game with them for mere sport. Saint shook the thoughts out of his mind and drifted back to sleep, falling into a dream…
Krishna sat in a large, white chair, dressed in a flowing white gown. His skin practically glowed, and he donned that warm, charming smile, the one that made Saint feel so comfortable in his presence.
“You did well, my son. You have three fathers now—your biological one, James, and myself. James and I met and discussed you. What a blessing you are to us and the world. I am safe, Saint. I am well. I have seen your mother. Such a beautiful soul. She watches over you, your wife, and your children. James is proud of the work you’ve done—how you’ve handled the Rainbeau Knights of the Round Table. I witnessed several souls from the dead army arrive… they’ve been accepted, Saint. The Blood gang members of L.A. were no longer afraid to cross over because of their sins. I also saw the Savage Skulls of New York and several Crips, too. You and Cruz helped them arrive! Well done!
“I witnessed what happened between you and Duke Eligos. He’s not interested in owning you and Cruz, Saint. He doesn’t care for humans, and has no use for you as a whole. It was a cruel test of skill … like a chicken fight. He simply wanted to watch you two brawling to the death. He was in awe of Cruz’s strength, as well
as yours. He saw you both as mere toys, simple entertainment. Evil begets evil. All is well that ends well, child. I must warn you: you have fought a good battle, but it is not quite over. Almost … but not quite. When the last of it comes, look it in the eye for what it is, son. Do not be fooled. It is hiding behind that which you love. Like the dead army, the duke inadvertently taught you a powerful secret. You always fight evil with love, Saint. He knew that; thus, his war strategy worked and now, you must devise your own…
Saint’s eyes fluttered open as Krishna’s image began to fade away. Gripping his pillow, he fought the urge to scream out the old man’s name and mourn in full volume.
“Krishna, I miss you…”
Erika’s restaurant was bustling with an almost full house early dinner crowd for a Wednesday night. Saint, Cruz, Lawrence and Jagger sat in their favorite back booth, ordered their rounds of beer and liquor, and made special requests for the cheese covered nachos with jalapenos. Saint clasped his hands and sat back as they continued on with their meeting. Cruz was in no mood for his man-shower. He’d cancelled the shindig last minute but Saint said they were at least going out to eat anyway.
Jagger popped a tortilla chip in his mouth and chased it with a swig of beer.
“They’re mad.” He swallowed. “You surprised them. First of all,” he said, counting off his fingers, “they knew there would be Angel Children, but not the dead army and, on top of that, Bloods and Crips were working together. Secondly, this fuckin’ Duke Demon is an absolute monster, but he did do what he said he was going to do, and he still expects compensation. We’re not finished yet, so he knows as well as we do that he’ll get it. It’s really messed up what happened at the airport, but I think your dream is right, Saint. He was just messing with you and well, according to me trying to educate myself a bit better about these situations…” Jagger shrugged. “That’s not uncommon.”
Lawrence shifted in his seat. “I agree. Basically, some demons are totally invested in human interactions and downfall, while others pay little to no attention to us. Hell has its own set of rules, as well as provinces, hierarchies, and governments. There are so many different types of demons, like the low-level wall crawler that was in your home bothering Hassani, all the way up to Lucifer. There are ones that hold high offices, like this Duke, but he doesn’t have a history of catering to or caring about humans. The fact that once he was summoned he actually assisted is almost unheard of. Cruz made him a deal he couldn’t refuse, but honestly, he wouldn’t be true to his nature if he didn’t try something slick along the way, at least once … and that’s what he did.”
Saint shot a glance at Cruz who had his hands folded over one another and was rather quiet. He hadn’t quite been the same since they’d returned from India. A bit withdrawn, remorseful, perhaps depressed.
“Saint, there’s something else I want to discuss before we get piss poor drunk,” Lawrence stated with a smirk. “I was looking at Cruz’s family tree, and we understand what and who he is now.” Lawrence gave a friendly nod in Cruz’s direction. “And speaking of gifts, you’re aware that Hassani is developing quicker than average.”
“Yes, that’s been ongoing.”
“Correct.”
“Well, remember I told you a few years ago that that will happen sometimes because it’s necessary?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s true, but it is more likely to happen with Angel Children who also have a civilian in the family who is what we’d call a Sensitive … an Empath if you will, in their bloodline. Typically, it’s through the maternal side.” Saint snatched his beer bottle off the table and took a hearty gulp that burned so good going down.
“All right, well, I don’t think Xenia is an Empath. She’s got great intuition, but I wouldn’t classify it as empathic.”
“Yes, I understand, but what about her mother? Or her mother’s mother?”
Saint sat there for a minute tracing the slick, cold bottle with his fingertips. He shook his head. “Nah, Pam isn’t empathic. I would’ve picked up on it by now. Now, as far as her mother,” he said with a shrug, “I have no idea.”
“Does it have to be a woman?” Cruz questioned, his voice finally waking from its slumber. “Hell, I think Erika might be empathic. Every now and again she has these dreams and she sees things, but check this out—she said her father was like that, too.”
Saint and Cruz locked eyes and spoke telepathically to one another…
Cruz, thank you for participating tonight. I know you just wanted to stay in the house and lick your wounds. I want you to relax, settle down, and have a good time tonight. I need you. All is forgiven … it wasn’t your fault. It had to be you or me, the Duke didn’t care which one of us he got. You didn’t do anything wrong and now it’s settled. We beat him. How many times must I repeat that to you?
Cruz smiled and nodded, then looked away.
“It doesn’t have to be a woman, Cruz, you’re right. See, with Angel Children, the men outnumber the women by three to one. We know Angel Children are a male dominated population. With civilian psychics and empaths, however, women are more inclined to have those gifts. Men do possess them too, though, so maybe we do need to look in that direction afterall. Xenia’s father?”
“No fuckin’ way!” Jagger chortled. “Lawrence, you met him at the pool party in L.A. that one time, remember? What a joke! There was a big scene between him and Pam. It was unbelievable.”
“And definitely unforgettable.” Saint chuckled as he lounged back in his seat.
“Now, I know assholes can be Angel Children too—my father is proof of that, but my father was also gifted, you could see beyond that,” Jagger said. “Xenia’s father is definitely out of the question. We would have picked up something and if not, Saint would have. Saint, didn’t you say you didn’t like him from the get go?”
“Pretty much,” Saint said. “But of course, I was trying to be careful with expressing that to Xenia. Something was just off about him. Of course, we found out later that he wasn’t remorseful for how he abandoned his children. He was just pretending to be so that he could use them.”
“It seems like out of the four of us, I was the only one with a father who was really good to me from my birth until his death.” Lawrence grimaced. “Okay, Xenia’s father is not an option. Could it be—”
“Oh my God.” Saint sat up straight as the realization hit him. “Ira! Check this out—you know how he just came home from Iraq?” They all nodded. “Well, he was at the house, right? He was alone at one point in my home, and then he was suddenly packing his bags and then he was gone. That was around the same time I found out that we had a low tier demon in our home that was harassing my children, but mainly Hassani. I kept calling Ira after his departure, trying to figure out why he’d left so soon and he kept dancing around it or making excuses. Then, finally, he came clean. He said he thought he was going crazy because while in my home, he was hearing voices.”
“So, he thought maybe he had PTSD, right?” Jagger questioned.
“Right. I asked Ira to tell me what he’d heard, right? And he told me. So, I said that I believed him, and I didn’t think he was crazy or anything like that. I explained to him that I believe in spirits, and his sister does, too, and it sounded like something was trying to spook or mess with him. I reassured him that I’d had similar instances from time to time, you know, I tried to play it off a bit, but I wanted him to feel validated. I knew of course that it was a demon that had said that shit to him, but maybe that’s why he’d heard it in the first place. Considering the facts that he was in my home, had just left a traumatic environment and is possibly empathic … this would make perfect sense.”
Lawrence shook his finger at Saint. “That makes complete sense. So, if Ira is an Empath and he has had traumatic experiences, which war definitely is as Jagger can attest to, then it is definitely plausible that he is an Empath. And that trauma, of course, can allow spirits, good or bad, to speak to him even more so.”
“Right, because trauma is a fracture in our foundations. A doorway,” Jagger stated.
“That’s right. So, Saint, Hassani has all of this energy, it seems, from both sides of the family. He has a King Angel Child Father, which, quite honestly, is enough to warrant his abilities. Adding to that fact, having civilians with empathic tendencies in his bloodline tends to cause an early puberty sometimes, if you will.”
“Thank you for your insight, Lawrence. That’s something, isn’t it? Wow. If Ira is empathic though, that still means he got it from somewhere. As with us, it tends to run in bloodlines.” Saint glanced over at the bar in the restaurant and took note of several men standing about holding glasses of liquor and flirting with a small crowd of ladies. “Hey, let’s make a toast.” They all raised their beer bottles up.
“May we always remain brothers, trust and help one another, through good and bad times!”
“May we always say Saint is the best for our own safety, and kiss his yellow behind!” They all burst out laughing at Cruz’s shocking joke.
The bottles clinked against one another.
CHEERS!
The alcohol soon loosened their tongues and each one took turns complaining about a case at work, a Rainbeau who got on their friggin’ nerves, something one of their wives did, or a sports-related issue. Saint caught a glimpse of Erika waddling over like a duck. His brow rose as she paused and took a deep breath, then made her way over to the table. Leaning forward, she looked around at them, clearly out of breath.
“If you all are finished drinking all of my wine, beer, and alcohol and eating all of your special, made to order appetizers, you greedy bastards, I would appreciate it if one of you good for nothin’ motherfuckers would tear yourselves away from stuffing your fat faces and call me an Uber! I need to get my ass to the hospital! The baby is coming!”
Cruz jumped up out of his seat, spilling beer along the way.
