The Angel Alejandro

by Alistair Cross

  Nick only hesitated a second. “Fuck it.” He slammed the gas and swerved around Crawley. In his rearview, he saw the man give himself a final hard whack, then collapse.

  Nick tried to ignore the things he saw as they sped through the flooding streets: Vandals threw rocks into shop windows; men brawled, shoving each other and throwing fists. A young couple fornicated on the hood of a dented Saturn.

  “My God,” whispered Beverly.

  Nick winced as a bolt of lightning missed the cruiser by four feet. He smelled the ozone even as thunder rocked the SUV. Gripping the wheel hard, he sped on.

  * * *

  The building was empty of vendors, closed for the day, and menacing shadows inhabited the other exhibits and booths.

  The blond dancer from Club Mephistopheles - Astaroth - stood before the sales table, Dette’s necklace dangling from his fingers.

  Dette, her lips swollen and bruised, mascara running down her cheeks in black streaks, stood behind the table, her eyes full of panic. “Get out of here, Maddy! They’re going to kill you!”

  Astaroth grabbed Dette by the hair and yanked her over the table. He held her against himself, one hand clamped to her waist, the other at her neck. He stroked her throat. Dette cringed and whimpered as her skin turned red under his touch.

  Madison caught a whiff of burnt flesh.

  “Where is the angel, Miss O’Riley?” Astaroth spoke casually, but his fist closed tight around the necklace.

  At once, the doors burst open and Madison spun.

  A broad black figure stood in the doorway. Lightning pulsed behind it as thunder splintered the sky. The man looked up from beneath a top hat, his pale face flickering into view as lightning flashed. He carried a walking stick under one arm and a black briefcase in the other. He walked slowly into the exhibit hall, the wind billowing his trench coat, his shiny black wingtips gliding soundlessly across the floor. Somewhere, tiny bells tinkled.

  His eyes never left Madison’s - and they were as dead, as eerily empty, as the streets of Prominence at three in the morning. She felt like a fly trapped in a web, unable to move, unable to scream. Her heart pounded hammer-hard.

  The man tipped his hat in a move so full of grace it had surely been practiced to perfection. “Pleased to meet you.” He smelled of leather, smoke, and sulfur and when he smiled, his lips peeled back to reveal alarmingly white straight teeth. “Gremory Jones, at your service.” He gave her a fluid bow.

  It was like standing close to a snarling wolf with a set of razor-sharp fangs. Unintentionally, Madison stepped back.

  “I believe you have something we want.” His voice was something between chocolaty and charred. “Something we’ve been trying very hard to obtain.”

  “Maddy!” Dette screamed. “Run!”

  Gremory Jones turned to Dette and brought a finger to his lips. Madison heard a hiss - like a cigarette being doused in a cup of coffee - and smoke rose as his finger made contact. “Shhh,” he said. The reek of burnt flesh was immediate. Dette went abruptly silent though her mouth was still open and cords stood out hard in her neck.

  “As I was saying,” Gremory turned back to Madison. “You have something we want, and we will have it.”

  “Never.” The word tasted dry and brittle in Madison’s throat.

  Gremory smiled, reached into his coat with long paper-white fingers, and pulled out an antique silver pocket watch. “Any minute now, they should be arriving.”

  Dette, still silent, fought for freedom, but the blond man tightened his hold on her, his arms like iron bars.

  “Astaroth,” said Gremory. “I told you to dispose of her the moment her part had been played.” He stared at Dette, tipping his head like a child looking at a toy he didn’t understand. “Where is her necklace?”

  “I have it.”

  Madison watched as Astaroth dropped it into Gremory’s palm.

  Gremory slipped it into an inside pocket. “Let’s save this for someone special.” He patted the pocket. “Now then, you were explaining to me why you have not disposed of this young woman.”

  “I was going to but-”

  “Let me do the honors.” Gremory clapped his hands.

  The sound made Madison jump.

  Astaroth released Dette.

  She ran for the door, but Gremory caught her in one arm and pulled her close. “Be still. Be still, my dear.” The sibilant whispers were like the hisses of a hundred serpents.

  Tears flowed from Dette’s terrified eyes. Her mouth worked but no sound came.

  “I am not going to hurt you,” said Gremory.

  “Please.” Madison stepped forward. “Don’t.” She halted when Gremory cast that gaze on her - so pale, so empty, so … dead.

  “I’m going to release you,” Gremory said to Dette. “And if you make any sudden moves, do you know what I will do? Hmm?”

  Dette shook her head.

  “I will snap my fingers and turn your bones to dust.” He giggled, high and loud. It ricocheted off the ceiling and walls, slithering across Madison’s skin like cold eels. “Just like that! Dust! You’ll be nothing but a flesh-sack of sand, a powder of mummy dust!”

  The mad cackling continued and Madison took another step back, clamping her hands over her ears. The sound of his glee could drive a person mad. Think! she told herself. Stop standing here and do something!

  Then Gremory went silent, as abruptly as if someone had cut the cord of giggles. “Do you understand me?” he asked Dette, suddenly grave.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He released her and held up a hand in warning. “I am trusting you.”

  Dette stood there, eyes wide, tears spilling silently over quivering, swollen lips. But she didn’t run - she didn’t move at all.

  Madison too, was motionless, as if she were hypnotized. She wanted to move, to run, to scream, to anything! … but she couldn’t. It was as if she stood mired in mud. It’s him, she thought. He’s doing this somehow!

  Gremory circled Dette, a wolf examining wounded prey. “You’re not as pretty as you once were.” He paused, resting his pointed chin in his hand. “You were almost beautiful enough to be one of my own.” Frowning, he added, “And now, just look at those crow’s feet, that sallow skin. That’s what happens when you get mixed up in sin. Did you know that?” He tipped his head, grinning. “You do now, don’t you? Sin is an ugly, ugly thing. You each have your weaknesses and lust and greed are particularly deadly to you, my dear, but you didn’t hesitate a moment before getting yourself tangled in all of this wicked, wicked nonsense.” He waved his long fingers in the air. “Such a shame. Such a crying, dying shame.”

  Move! Move, move! “Please, sir … Mr. Jones.” The step toward him was the hardest Madison had ever taken in her life. “Please don’t hurt her.”

  The man whirled and grinned, the skin around his mouth peeling back in a terrifying visage of mad joy. “Oh, I won’t hurt her, my dear. I am not a torturer!” He raised a hand to his throat, looking at her with exaggerated astonishment, then glanced at Astaroth as if to ask if he could even believe this girl’s crazy ideas.

  Astaroth chuckled.

  Jones’ hollow gaze shifted back to Madison and the cold smile melted. “But I will not let her live. Surely you understand that.”

  “Please, don’t.” Tears spilled, searing hot, from Madison’s eyes.

  “What do you think, Astaroth?” Gremory asked.

  The blond man in red leather smiled - a hungry smile. “I like it when they cry.” He was watching Madison and she realized his hand was on his crotch, squeezing and stroking. “Make her cry some more.” His voice was breathy, lusty.

  “You’re absolutely vulgar, Astaroth.” Gremory clucked his tongue. “Forgive him,” he said to Madison. “He’s been denied pleasures of the flesh for far too long.”

  Astaroth plunged his hand down his pants, his fist pumping furiously. “Enough foreplay! Make her scream!”

  Gremory Jones looked at him the way you looked at a
Chihuahua humping your leg. “I forgot how hasty you always were, Astaroth.”

  Astaroth breathed hard, his head back, eyes rolled upward, hand working like a jackhammer. “Do it,” he said in a shuddering whisper. “Do it.”

  Gremory turned to Madison and shrugged. “Indeed, I shall. Indeed, I shall.” He turned to Dette and raised a hand in the air, his thumb and middle finger poised to snap.

  Dette squeezed her eyes shut.

  Gremory snapped his fingers - it sounded like a gunshot.

  Dette dropped to the ground in a boneless heap, literally splashing onto the concrete - like a water bucket had been emptied.

  Madison felt her sanity crack. Screaming, she ran toward her friend. “Dette!” Her knees hit the floor hard and the gears of her mind turned furiously, but she couldn’t comprehend what she saw. Dette was a pool on the floor - an unzipped skin-suit, vacated and abandoned. One familiar green eye rolled, peering around from the blob of flesh, then it went blank, like a light burnt out.

  Madison reached, not quite touching the remains, trembling violently, tears streaming. Her mind couldn’t absorb the shock - someone had sprung a trapdoor and she was falling, falling into some place deep and dark and black and mad. “W-why?”

  Jones shrugged. “Why not?”

  Astaroth, having finished himself off, was out of breath. He withdrew his hand from his pants and grinned at her, running his tongue between his wet, glistening fingers.

  Bile rose, burning Madison’s throat. “WHY?” The scream tore out of her like a mad bull.

  Gremory Jones tossed his head back and cackled. He seemed thinner now, and blue veins pulsed under his papery skin.

  Mind reeling, Madison thought, Please, Alejandro, don’t come. Don’t come! She thought it as hard as she could, in hopes he’d receive the message.

  * * *

  “Dude, this place really emptied out.” Bobby Beckstead finished fixing a short on the Octopus ride.

  Shawn Barzetti chuckled. “Buncha pussies. Afraid of a little rain.”

  Lightning lit the sky; thunder crashed and boomed.

  “Dude, that was epic!” Bobby put his tools away.

  “This place is deserted.” Shawn looked around the midway. All the rides were turned off now, all the customers gone home. “You know, we could ride just about anything we want to. For free!”

  “Dude!” Bobby’s eyes lit up like a little kid’s.

  Shawn grinned. “You’re pretty cute when you look like that, man. Maybe we should test the Octopus. Make sure we fixed it.”

  “Awesome.” Bobby popped a Pucker-Button into his mouth. “You know what else we could do …?”

  Shawn looked at his friend, immediately responding to the suggestive glint in Bobby’s eye.

  They turned on the power to the Octopus and flipped the switch then, together, ran and hopped in one of the round red cars before the ride could begin moving.

  * * *

  The doors of the cruiser slammed shut and Nick, Beverly, and Tom ran through the rain, past the ticket booth, up to the locked gates where the angels were waiting for them. Nathaniel made a hand motion as if he were swatting a fly and the iron gates flew open before them.

  The place appeared deserted, but as they ran up the midway, he saw all the rides were dark except for the Octopus, which spun and jerked its cars up and down despite the rain.

  “Madison?” asked Beverly. “Where is she?”

  “We are trying to locate her,” Nathaniel said.

  Alejandro whirled, eyes wide. “I cannot feel her.”

  “She is here. Be calm, brother, use your senses.”

  Alejandro closed his eyes. “She does not want me to be here. There is danger.” He raised his chin, nostrils flaring. “But she is close.”

  The wind picked up, hard, whipping their clothes and hair. Beverly moved to Nick’s side - he was grateful for her warmth.

  Alejandro turned one way then the other, his frustration clear. “I cannot locate her!”

  “Try harder!” Nathaniel’s voice boomed loud enough that the padre took a step back and Beverly’s hand found its way into Nick’s.

  Jaw set, hands fisted, Alejandro tried again. When he opened his eyes, they blazed silver. He pointed to the exhibition building beyond the midway. “She is there.”

  * * *

  Once the shock had worn off, Madison tried to run. Astaroth had stopped her, fisting a hand in her hair - his soiled fapping hand - and wound it tight to her scalp, rooting her in place. Having ripped plenty of hair out in futile attempts at escape, she’d given up and now watched Gremory Jones pace back and forth, back and forth. All the while, she thought, Please, Alejandro. Stay away. Please!

  “Oh, stop, he’ll be here soon enough.” Gremory looked at his pocket watch. “You should be glad about that. If he doesn’t come, you’ll be useless to me. And you’ve seen how I feel about useless things. You don’t want to end up like your spineless little friend, now do you?” He glanced at Dette’s remains and giggled.

  You’re a monster, Madison thought, knowing - and not caring - that he could read her thoughts.

  And he was a monster. He even looked like one. The hair around his temples was gray now and lines had etched deeper into his face, which had become gaunt and pale. More blue veins beat in his temples, and black rot had begun creeping up his leathery neck. His skin looked like stage makeup - or the thinnest coat of paint. It didn’t look real. He didn’t look real.

  He watched her a moment, his eyes dead, unreadable. An amused smile lit his lips. “He’ll be here soon. Then you’ll see what monsters are made of.”

  Astaroth laughed. “I almost hope he doesn’t show.” With his free hand, he smacked Madison on the backside. She yipped and he gave her hair a hard tug, just because.

  Gremory’s cold eyes flashed at him. “You bite your tongue, young sir. An opportunity like this is priceless. I would think that you of all people would-” He paused, cocked his head, listening to something Madison couldn’t hear. “Ah. That will be them now.” His lips peeled back into that hideous grin. “The fools.”

  Astaroth released Madison’s hair, locking both arms around her. His embrace was like a metal cage, but it didn’t stop Madison from fighting him. If she didn’t fight, if she didn’t try, she’d go mad.

  * * *

  They stood outside the exhibit hall, concealed in shadows that also hid the bodies of a security guard and a fair worker. Both lay further back and looked untouched, but they were dead. Nick looked from Tom to Beverly. He patted his Glock. “You don’t have weapons. You’re staying here. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

  “You should remain with them, Nicholas,” Nathaniel said. “Humans are no match for these creatures.”

  “They’re demons,” Tom said. “I’m a priest! I can help.”

  “Yes, they are demons,” Nathaniel said. “But they are much older than your religion and far more powerful than you realize.”

  “I know that,” Tom said. “But evil is evil and only good can combat it.”

  “True. And you are a good man,” Nathaniel said. “But this is beyond your realm. They will snap you all in half! That includes you, Nicholas.”

  “We do not have time for this!” Alejandro stepped forward, eyes glinting impossibly silver. He raised his arms and the doors of the building crashed open.

  Nick whipped his gun from its holster and kept pace with Alejandro as he made his way inside. The first thing he saw was Madison O’Riley, her eyes filled with terror, locked in the arms of a hulking man with spiked blond hair. “No!” she screamed. “Stay away, Alejandro! Stay away!” She writhed, twisting and turning.

  Then Nick noticed the other man. Despite the top hat, it took a moment to realize this was Gremory Jones - he was no longer movie star handsome, not at all, but it was the same man.

  Nathaniel stepped forward. “Dream Reaper.” His voice seemed to carry an electrical charge that stood Nick’s hair on end. “Let the wom
an go.”

  Jones stared, eyes dancing with amusement, but Nick thought he saw a spark of apprehension. Then Jones doubled over in a fit of shrill giggles.

  “He’s mad.” Beside Nick, the padre took a slow half-step back.

  “Pardon me.” Jones collected himself. “I don’t mean to be rude, but surely, you see the humor in this, yes? This must be the punchline of some silly joke!” He looked at them, one by one, as if waiting for them to get it then he sighed, resigned, and said, “A cop, a priest, a psychic, and two angels walk into a bar …”

  No one spoke.

  Jones tossed his head back, loosing another chain of high-pitched giggles from a wide mouth that showed sharp yellowed teeth gritted with rot and filth.

  “Be silent.” Nathaniel stepped closer, seeming to loom over the other man.

  Jones’ eyes sobered when he looked at the seven-foot angel. “Ah, Nathaniel. My old friend. And I do use that term very loosely.” His crawling gaze slid over Nathaniel’s bare torso, down to the ill-fitting blue sweatpants. “I see you are attempting to keep up with modern fashions.” He frowned. “But I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark. Fashion changes so rapidly, don’t you think?” He tapped his top hat with his walking stick. “That is why I prefer the classics. A well-dressed man in black never goes out of style.”

  “Let me go!” Madison struggled, but the blond demon tightened his hold on her.

  Alejandro made a move toward her.

  Jones raised a hand, and with the flick of his wrist, Alejandro was flung back. He crashed into the wall, landing in a heap. He shot to his feet and started for Madison again.

  “Stop!” cried Nathaniel. The word seemed to penetrate the walls, the floor. Nick felt Nathaniel’s voice vibrating through his own bones. He tightened his grip on the gun.

  Alejandro obeyed but barely. He reminded Nick of an angry mastiff, straining against an invisible leash.

  “There is no need to shout, Nathaniel.” A slow smile seeped onto Jones’ face and he turned to Alejandro. “Such a hero, you are. But all heroes fall eventually.”

  “Damn you,” said Alejandro. “Damn you back to Hell.”