The Angel Alejandro

by Alistair Cross

  Jones feigned shock. “My, my. And here I’d been hoping we might settle this matter like gentlemen. But you intend to play hardball, I see.”

  “Let her go.” Alejandro’s voice a growl.

  Jones stamped his walking stick on the floor. The impact echoed through the room like a peal of thunder and Nick and the others stepped back as a spider web of cracks spread out. The fury in Jones’ face went soft and he spoke calmly. “Not until I get what I’ve come for.”

  Nick raised his gun, cocking the trigger for emphasis. “You’re not getting anything but out of this town. One more peep out of you and I’ll paint these walls black with your rotting diseased fucking brain.”

  Nathaniel shot him a look but Nick ignored it, training the Glock on Jones. “Now let her go.”

  “Silly, silly man,” said Jones. “You can kill me all you like. By all means, feel free to put holes in me. I rather enjoy the pain.” He spread his arms in a grotesque parody of Jesus on the cross and giggled. “Remind you of anyone?”

  “Do not shoot,” said Nathaniel. “It will only anger him.”

  “Nathaniel is right.” Alejandro looked ready to pounce on Astaroth, but for now he was very still, holding the other man’s gaze with savage intent. “Do not shoot him, Nick.”

  “The hell I won’t.” Nick’s finger tickled the trigger.

  “Nick.” It was Beverly’s voice that finally penetrated. She stood at his other side, though how long she’d been there, Nick didn’t know. “I think you’d better lower the gun.”

  Jones smiled. “I’d listen to the lady, Chief Grayson. The last person who angered me ended up in a rather unfavorable position.” He stepped aside and only then did Nick and the others see the heap on the floor. “Come closer and have a look.”

  “Don’t!” cried Madison. “Stay back! He killed Dette.” Astaroth yanked the girl’s head back hard, but Nick’s eyes were already on what lay behind Jones. He stared, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. His synapses were on rapid-fire trying to understand, and when he finally did, his stomach folded over on itself. “Dette.” His voice sounded far away. “But-”

  Beside him, the padre crossed himself. “Oh, dear God Almighty.”

  Nathaniel sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t need to be this way. We can do this in peace.” He turned to the blond. “Astaroth. Please try and reason with him.”

  Astaroth laughed.

  “Peace!” Jones’ face pulled into a hateful grimace. “You come to me with your little army, thirsty for blood, and you want peace?” He closed more distance between himself and Nathaniel, then stopped and clucked his tongue. “You angels and your reputations as such loving, caring, delicate creatures.” He looked at Nick, then Beverly, and finally, Tom. “Did you know that angels are in fact quite vicious? Vicious! Utterly and truly!”

  “You are a liar.” The padre’s words shut Jones up. “That’s what you do,” Tom went on. “You lie, and we’re not listening.”

  Nick thought Jones might blow then, but he waved the words away. “You priests and your blundering ignorance. You haven’t a clue about the realities of such things. Century after century after century! You’d think you’d learn something after all this time!”

  “We’re done listening to you.” Nick stepped closer, gun raised. “Let Madison go or-”

  “Or what?” Jones whirled to face Nick.

  “I’d listen to the chief, Mr. Jones,” said Beverly. “You’re outnumbered. Just let her go.”

  Jones’ gaze flickered to Beverly. He raised a finger and wagged it slowly back and forth, snicking his tongue. “Speaking when not spoken to, little lady? I see you’ve graduated to great and liberated heights since shedding yourself of that husband of yours. Soon you’ll be burning your bra and demanding equal pay!” He cackled, loud and hard.

  Nick’s eyes were riveted to Jones, but in his periphery, Beverly flinched as the laughter rang out; laughter that seemed to be loosening something in Nick’s mind.

  “Do not listen.” Alejandro was still locked in a hateful gaze with Astaroth. “His laughter can hurt you.”

  The laughter stopped.

  Jones smiled. “As for being outnumbered … ” He looked at Nathaniel. “You don’t really think Astaroth and I came here alone, do you?”

  Nick heard a subtle sound - a hiss-rustle that reminded him of slithering snakes. The black shadows that hung in the corners seemed to shudder. Nick’s throat went instantly dry as he made out human shapes stepping from the darkness - two men and three women.

  “I’d like you to meet my associates,” said Jones. “The ladies are Tyranny, Zazel, and Estrella.” He pointed to each one as he named them. “And the gentlemen are Corson and Thorne. And, of course, Astaroth.” He nodded at Madison’s captor.

  Nick felt the world folding in. There was no way they could take that many of them on. Beside him, Beverly had paled.

  Tom bowed his head, his lips moving rapidly. Nick hoped like hell he was praying.

  “You!” Jones thrust a finger at the padre. “Silence!”

  Tom looked up, his words falling dead.

  “We will have none of that!” Then the edges of his rage softened and he spoke almost reverently. “Give me what I ask for and I will return the female unharmed.”

  “We cannot do that,” said Nathaniel.

  “This is not your choice,” Jones replied. “This is between your brother and me.” He looked at Alejandro. “What say you, young man? Your soul for her life. That is my offer.”

  “Don’t!” cried Madison. “Alejandro! Please don’t!” She struggled against Astaroth but her strength was no match for his. She went limp, exhausted.

  “Your soul for her life,” Jones said to Alejandro. “Or death to all of you.” His cohorts moved in, forming a slowly tightening circle around them. Jones’ lips rose into a feral grin. “Of course, you could always try your chances and hope to conquer all seven of us with your little band of do-gooders.”

  Nathaniel gripped Alejandro’s shoulder. “Brother, stand away from him.”

  Jones grinned. “Your other option …” he nodded at the blond man. “Astaroth?”

  Astaroth thrust a hand into Madison’s hair and yanked it hard.

  She screamed and he smacked her. “Shut up, bitch!”

  Alejandro leapt into the air. A vast black wingspan shot out, giving him flight and beating wind across Nick’s face. Flames flared to life on their tips, blazing, burning bright.

  “God Almighty,” whispered the padre.

  Beverly was stone still, her gaze nailed on the suspended angel.

  In mid-air, Alejandro opened his mouth and loosed a primal war cry that nearly knocked Nick off his feet. The angel dipped, swooping down, a massive bird of prey. Screaming, he knocked Jones off his feet with a sweep of black wing, then grabbed the demon by the scruff and flew high into the air.

  Nathaniel roared and lunged at Astaroth.

  * * *

  Alejandro pounded Gremory Jones against the high ceiling, pounding, pounding, so hard and fast he couldn’t retaliate.

  Tyranny leapt and brought Beverly to the ground. Stiff as talons, her hands went for the demon’s eyes, digging her thumbs deep into the sockets as the demon screamed.

  Nick aimed and fired, aimed and fired like something in a video game, hitting the enemies of those who needed it most. A bullet tore through Tyranny’s shoulder, her arm flopping uselessly to the side. Her eyes dangled by the roots, hanging and bloody. Beverly lunged, tackled her, and drove her skull into the concrete again and again until there was nothing left of her but wetwork.

  “Christ compels you!” The padre’s voice rang out.

  Nick whirled, firing shots at the muscular woman who had her thighs vised around Tom’s midsection. She howled as bullets ripped through skin, muscle, and bone.

  Overhead, Gremory Jones looked like a rag doll in Alejandro’s violent grip.

  Nathaniel’s wings were a great spread of brilliant gold as
he collided with Astaroth, bringing him - and Madison - to the ground.

  Nick aimed, fired, and took off half of Astaroth’s face. Madison scrambled from the man’s grip.

  The sandy-haired man - Thorne - advanced. Nick put a bullet clean through his skull, dropping him like a sack of broken bones.

  * * *

  The longhaired demon - Corson - closed his hand around Tom’s throat. “Shut up!” He smacked the priest’s head onto the hard floor.

  When the airflow was cut and words were impossible, Tom continued the prayer in his mind. Our Father who art in heaven… He thought it hard, with great intent. Hallowed be Thy name …

  “I said shut up!” the demon screamed, his face twisting and contorting in rage and hatred. He squeezed Tom’s throat, harder, harder. “Shut up!” His lips frothed and a string of saliva slipped, hit Tom’s cheek, and burned like hell.

  But Tom didn’t waver. Even as his vision darkened at the edges, he prayed. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil … He brought the prayer from the deepest part of his soul - the place where, even in his darkest hours, his faith prevailed, pure and unstained.

  Like a man on fire, the demon shrieked, released his grip on Tom’s throat, and beat at his own head. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

  The air was life itself and Tom sucked in hungry deep lungfuls of it, gasping, nearly gagging as the oxygen hit his bloodstream. He brought his knee up hard, caught the demon between the legs and then, using all of his weight he shoved him onto his back and straddled him.

  “Arise, Lord!” shouted Tom, choking the life from the demon’s human vessel. “Deliver me, my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw! Break the teeth of the wicked!”

  Tom socked the demon in the mouth. The man howled as his teeth shattered into a thousand porcelain bits, and his jaw dislocated, slipping unnaturally to the side.

  Tom screamed the prayer, feeling the Spirit in a way he never had before. The impossibility of the situation was lost on him as every prayer - any prayer - shot from his mouth, from his soul. “Burn all these evils in Hell that they may never again touch me or any other creature in this entire world!”

  His fingers dug deep into the demon’s throat as he smacked his head hard on the concrete until it made a sickening, wet sound.

  Gunshots rang out from all around.

  Smoke rose from the demon’s nostrils, his lips. Blood spilled from his eyes and ears.

  “Soul of Christ, sanctify me! Body of Christ, save me! Blood of Christ, inebriate me!”

  The demon screamed, a vein-bulging, purple-faced scream … and then went limp.

  Tom, aching with rage and the passion of Spirit, released the man’s throat and watched, entranced, as air escaped the demon’s lungs like balloons deflating. I’ve killed him! But he isn’t human. What does it matter if the body expires? He’ll just come back, won’t he? An unbidden idea crashed into his mind. “Beverly!” He looked around for her. She was at Nick’s back, acting as extra eyes as he fired at the evil beings. “The red-head at one-thirty!” she called. Nick whirled and shot. A woman screamed in pain.

  “Beverly!” Tom called again. This time she heard. “Your cross. Give it to me!”

  She tore it from her neck and tossed it without question.

  Tom kissed the jade ornament then pressed it hard into Corson’s forehead. “Oh, Holy Cross! Ward off from me all things that are evil!”

  New life shot into the demon. He kicked, screamed.

  And then Tom felt the passing of his spirit, like the brief touch of something cold and dead as the black essence went back to … wherever it belonged.

  When Tom looked up, he saw the other demons, eyes wide, their terror apparent. Slowly, they began stepping back. They were wounded and bleeding, looking like things from a horror movie.

  “All of you!” shrieked Tom. “In the name of God! Get thee behind me!”

  One by one, they paled, seemed to grow smaller.

  His astonishment clear, Nick stared at Tom. He said to Beverly, “Go to him!”

  She did and Tom pulled her close, slinging an arm around her shoulders and shouting his prayers. He held the jade cross up. “Be gone from here, in God’s name!”

  Shots rang out as Nick unloaded his gun at the ceiling, turning his bullets on Gremory Jones.

  “Be gone from here!” cried Tom. “In God’s name, be gone!” Little by little, the demons wilted into nothing more than vague shadows in the corners of the room. And then they were gone, all of them.

  All of them except Gremory Jones.

  * * *

  “Madison! Run!”

  She looked up and saw Alejandro. His hands clutched Jones’ throat. His fire-tipped wings were spread wide and moved in great, sweeping arcs. Their flaming tips touched and ignited the buntings that hung from the ceiling. “Get them out!” he cried as the ceiling began to blaze. Flaming bunting fell, catching one booth on fire, then another.

  Madison ran toward Beverly and Tom. “We need to get out!” She crashed into them and all three tumbled out the door to the rain-soaked ground outside. Just then, there was a thunderous boom within the building and flames burst from the open doors.

  “Alejandro!” Madison jumped to her feet, slipping in mud, and ran.

  Just as she reached them, the doors slammed shut in a great sweep, locking into place with a finality that Madison felt in the depths of her soul.

  “No!” She tried the handles, beat at the doors, but they would not be moved. “Alejandro!” she cried. “Alejandro!”

  * * *

  Nick! thought Beverly. Nick’s in there! She’d hit the ground hard and it took a moment to catch her breath. Beside her, Tom scrambled to his feet. Madison hammered on the doors of the flaming building. “We need to get them out of there!” Beverly and Tom ran toward the building.

  The inhuman screaming from inside was the stuff of nightmares. Glass shattered as a window burst open and flames shot out, licking the side of the building, reaching up to the sky. The doors rocked as all three of them pulled, but they couldn’t get them open more than an inch before they slammed back into place.

  “Tom!” cried Beverly. “Pray!”

  “What?”

  “Pray!”

  Tom fisted the jade cross and began reciting words. The effect was instantaneous - it was as if someone had turned the volume up on the screams.

  “Alejandro!” Madison’s face was streaked with tears and rain as she beat the doors so hard Beverly thought she might break bones.

  Beverly looked at Thomas Wainwright. His hands were clasped tight under his chin, his mouth working quickly, a stream of unintelligible whispers flowing from his lips.

  Beverly helped Madison pull on the door. They got it open perhaps three inches before it slammed shut again. But it was progress. Keep praying, Tom, she thought. Just keep praying.

  He did.

  * * *

  Flames burst all around him, consuming booths and displays with ravenous hunger. Nick coughed, trying to see through the thick curls of smoke. If he didn’t get out soon, he’d die of smoke inhalation long before the fire got him.

  Raising his Glock, he peered through the smoke looking for enemies. He knew he’d wounded - and possibly killed - several, but it was all a blur. Coughing, oxygen-starved, he backed toward the door. Briefly, he saw the fiery tips of Alejandro’s wings as he swung Gremory Jones around, then the glitter of Nathaniel’s golden ones as he swooped toward Jones and Alejandro.

  Nick saw the doors not ten feet away, then something slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. Tyranny’s ruined face was in front of him, her bleeding sockets raw, her eyes bouncing against her blood-streaked cheeks. Nick felt a pain unlike anything else. Her hand was clawing into his chest, yanking at his ribs, breaking them, then gliding into his lung, digging deep. And deeper. Blood torrented out of him. He knew she was going for his heart - for his aorta. She laughed. And then everything went black.

  * * *


  The doors flew open and Nathaniel and Alejandro burst from the building, all wings and fire. But Beverly did not see Nick.

  With no other thought, she raced into the building, ignoring the blaze.

  And found him.

  Tyranny straddled him, her hands buried deep in his chest.

  “No!” Beverly threw herself on top of the woman, knocked her off Nick.

  There was a crash as a flaming wooden beam fell to the ground a few feet away.

  “Beverly! No!” She heard Father Tom’s voice, but she wasn’t listening. Using all her strength, she pushed the eyeless woman into the wall of flames.

  The fire touched Tyranny’s hair, ignited it, and set her head ablaze. Inhuman screams rent the air as the fire consumed her.

  She turned back to Nick and saw Tom and Madison dragging the man out of the building.

  Another beam hit the ground. Sparks shot up around it. Beverly ran to help the others get Nick outside.

  * * *

  Tom knelt over the chief, fighting tears, preparing to give last rites.

  Beverly, sobbing, cradled Nick’s head in her lap, oblivious to the rain.

  Madison’s leg burned and throbbed and bled where one of the demons had clawed her. She barely noticed it though. She felt disconnected from herself - as if someone had punched a hole right through her. How has this happened? Her mind struggled to absorb the impossible things she’d just seen. And where’s Alejandro? Will I ever see him again?

  Exhausted, dazed, and out of strength, she dropped to her knees. The angels had disappeared into the night and without them, she felt helpless. Looking at the wound in Nick Grayson’s chest, Madison knew that he had mere minutes to live - no one could survive such an injury. Blood oozed out from beneath Beverly’s staunching hands, mixing with the rain, sluicing away. His life is being washed away.

  Madison’s head spun and her vision blurred. Help us. She didn’t know who she was talking to - and supposed it didn’t matter. I can’t fix this. Please, help us.

  A sound - like a great wind - broke her trance. She looked up as the angels appeared, setting down with a beat of wings.