The Rise of Babylon

by G. A. Rael

  "Told you the tuxedo wasn't overkill," Mrs. Herrin said in a triumphant tone. She was wearing a formal yellow gown but had opted out of wearing a mask since she was "sixty-four years old, dammit, and that's old enough to wear what you want." Darren didn't have such a convenient excuse, so he had opted for the simplest black mask the costume shop had to offer.

  "You did," he conceded, his arm linked in hers as he led them down the walk and around the iconic cherub fountain in front of The Wylde Country Club. He wondered if Chase had mentioned that little detail to his betrothed. Even Darren had to admit that the way the expansive gardens were lit up, framed by the grandiose stairwell that led up to the club itself, was beautiful in a ritzy kind of way.

  "You can stop scanning the crowd. She won't be out here with the guests," Mrs. Herrin said knowingly. Darren jolted when he realized he had been caught. "The couple always makes a grand entrance at this sort of thing."

  He glanced back at the staircase. He could imagine just where that entrance would be made and felt an instant pang of sympathy. If he knew Jordan at all as well as he thought he did, she was having a panic attack somewhere.

  "Come on," said Mrs. Herrin, pulling him along toward the open bar. "If I'm gonna keep my mouth shut about this sham of a marriage, I'll need a few drinks in me."

  "I think they'd actually have to get married first for it to be considered a sham," said Darren, ordering a couple of drinks. "And in my experience, alcohol doesn't so much seal your lips as oil them."

  "Does it?" she asked innocently. "I wouldn't know, I've never been much of a drinker."

  Darren snorted, taking a sip of scotch. The first of many, to be sure.

  "I still think you should have asked some hot piece of tail to be your date," said Mrs. Herrin, scanning the crowd.

  Darren choked on his drink. "Mrs. Herrin!"

  "What? Nothing makes a woman realize what she's missing like jealousy."

  "I'm not going to use someone else just to make Jordan jealous," he muttered, taking another long swig of scotch when he saw the waiters bringing out a tray of lobster that had most definitely not been sanctioned by Jordan. "Not that it would work."

  She sighed. "You know, it's not too late until the wedding. She won't listen to me, but she might listen to you."

  "I'm not going to proposition her the night of her engagement party, Julia." Even if it was more tempting than he'd ever admit. "Truth be told, I'm here for Chase.”

  "And here I thought it was just rivalry between you two."

  Darren rolled his eyes. "I just want to have a few words with him before he marries Jordan, that's all. At the rate he's moving, that could be tomorrow."

  "Words?" she echoed. "Is that what you kids are calling punches these days?"

  "I'm not going to hurt him," Darren insisted. He knew if he did there was a very real chance he might not stop. The song turned to a livelier jazz number that Darren actually recognized. He set his glass aside and offered his hand to Mrs. Herrin.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm dancing with my date," he said matter-of-factly. "Come on, old woman, you didn't get that hip replaced for nothing."

  She gave him a half-hearted glare and made a big show of letting him drag her onto the dance floor, but once they actually made it, she fell into step pretty quickly. In fact, Darren found himself struggling to keep up.

  "Come on, boy, you can't expect to get the girl if you can't even hack the Lindy Hop," she taunted.

  "My coordination isn't what it used to be," he admitted. He’d finally lowered himself to going back to Hermes for another “fix” when the last had worn off. To his deep shame, he didn't know where it came from and hadn't bothered to ask. If he didn't ask too many questions, it was easier to pretend like he didn't know what it was. What he was. Darren had been around enough of his father's patients with addiction issues to know exactly how this story played out and what his role in it was. He was the addict and Hermes was the dealer. He knew well enough that the demon was going to start demanding a price for supplying him now that he was hooked, but he told himself that he'd find a way out of it before that happened.

  Like the devil himself, Hermes seemed to materialize on the other end of the garden, wearing a fine gray tuxedo that made him look like some kind of winter god in conjunction with his stark white hair. The demon's ruby-colored mask made his strange green eyes stand out even from a distance. Of course the mask was fashioned like a cat’s face, complete with pointed ears and beaded whiskers. Hermes never missed a chance to ham it up.

  The band switched to a slower song and Mrs. Herrin patted Darren on the shoulder. "This is a little more your speed, dear. You never were very athletic."

  "Thanks for the reminder."

  "Well, don't sulk. Jordan obviously doesn't have a thing for athletes, unless you count tennis as a sport."

  Darren arched an eyebrow. "They play it at the Olympics. There's a professional association and everything."

  Julia made a dismissive sound. "I don't know why you're so dead set on them sticking together. Engaged wasn't married the last I checked."

  "Jordan is fully capable of making her own decisions." Darren told himself he wasn't really being a caveman if all he did was make sure that she had all the information she needed to make it an informed decision. The fact of the matter was, Chase Wylde shouldn't be alive. One way or another, Darren intended to find out whether he was walking around due to a miracle or a perversion of nature. Now that he had come up with a temporary solution for his own supernatural dilemma, it was time to get to the bottom of Chase’s.

  The music changed again and stage lights lit up the stairs one by one. The guests stopped dancing as the band played an elegant tune, perfectly timed with the lighting of the stairs.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," began an announcer Darren didn't recognize, "I now present to you the future Mr. and Mrs. Chase Wylde.”

  The final lights illuminated the stage, revealing Chase in a black tuxedo with Jordan on his arm in a flowing silver gown. Chase wore a silver mask the exact color of Jordan's dress that only covered half his face while Jordan's was a lace mask of the same jet black hue as his tuxedo.

  For the first time since Darren had known her, Jordan actually looked like a witch with her long dark hair falling around her shoulders and a gown that hugged her body in places his hands ached to touch. It clung to the generous swell of her hips in a way that stirred a very different but no less dangerous kind of hunger inside of him. She was a ‘40s movie star reincarnated, a princess descending the stairs on the arm of a ghost.

  For one fantastical moment, it was easy for Darren to let himself pretend that life could be simple, just like it was on the movie screen she seemed to have stepped out of. In his version of the story, Chase was the villain. Maybe he was with her for a time, but the hero always got the pretty girl in the end. Soon enough, maybe even the moment she reached the bottom of those stairs, the world would come to its senses and send her running into his arms. They would dance and laugh about how narrowly they had come to missing their happily ever after. They would share a kiss that would right every misunderstanding all in one magical instant and, for once in his life, he would know what it was like to feel whole.

  In that moment, the last shred of resistance Darren had been holding onto with regard to the existence of souls fell away. He was suddenly acutely aware of the empty space in his chest. He might have been walking and talking, but he knew well enough that what really made him human was all the way across the courtyard, resting on the left-hand symbol of another man's love.

  Life wasn't a movie, he reminded himself. Even if it was, Darren's was certainly no romance. It was a horror film and he was the monster.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Darren noticed the look of barely veiled dread on Jordan's face. She might have looked like a confident, powerful witch from a distance, but now that she was close, she just looked like a terrified girl who wanted nothing more than to tap her heel
s together and go back home to Kansas.

  It was all Darren could do not to rush onto the stage Chase was leading her onto, throw her over his shoulder and prove that he was nothing but the brute everyone thought he was. If he couldn't beat Prince Charming at his own game, maybe being the beast was the next best way to get the girl.

  "We'd like to thank you all for coming," said Chase. Someone had handed him a microphone while Darren was still contemplating his own King Kong moment. The sight of Chase’s arm around Jordan's waist kept him from taking that option off the table completely. "You're all here because Jordan and I could think of no better way to celebrate our impending nuptials than to be with the people we love most. Now, I have to apologize to my beloved for keeping her up here one second longer than necessary, but you all know I can't pass up a captive audience."

  Jordan laughed nervously as a low chuckle passed through the crowd. When Chase took her hand and turned to face her, she looked like she was contemplating the idea of running. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on Darren's part, but he had the credentials if she needed a getaway driver.

  "Jordan, the moment you came to town, I knew my life would never be the same," Chase began. Darren could feel the bile rising in his throat. "You make me feel things I never thought I could feel. I'm not the man I was, and it's all because of you."

  Darren's senses were going haywire as Chase spoke. Even though the groom-to-be wasn't looking at him, he knew who those words were meant for. They were a challenge.

  "Anyone who knows me can affirm that I'm not particularly receptive to theories of the divine, but you make me believe in something greater than myself," Chase continued softly. "You told me a while ago that I was perfect, but that couldn't be further from the truth. On my own, then and now, I'm a prideful, arrogant, selfish, reckless man. I'll strive to be better as long as this heart is still beating, but the only thing that really matters to me is being the perfect man for you, Jordan."

  Darren cringed as the crowd let out a low chorus of, "Aww."

  "I don't know what to say, Chase," Jordan said, her voice stiff and nervous. Darren could only hope that she wasn't buying into the sap and false charm that seemed to have won everyone else over to Chase’s side, but when the man pulled her into his arms for a kiss, she didn't pull away. Darren tried to tell himself it was just because the crowd was roaring with applause, but he knew better. Jordan might have returned her fiancé's kiss out of obligation, but the way she melted into his arms was purely involuntary.

  When the kiss finally ended after what seemed like a century, Jordan's face was bright red. Chase led her out onto the dance floor as the others followed.

  "Excuse me, Mrs. Herrin, but may I cut in?"

  Darren flinched at the silky intonations of the familiar male voice and turned around to find the demon towering over Julia. "Sorry, but I don't think the lady wants to dance with you," he said tersely.

  "Understandable, but I wasn't asking for her hand," Hermes said with a wicked grin, extending a gloved hand to Darren.

  Darren stared at it. "I'd rather not."

  "Darren Allen St. Clair!" Mrs. Herrin scolded harshly, striking his arm with her clutch. "Your mother raised you better than that and so did I."

  Darren groaned inwardly. "Fine," he muttered, knowing he would never hear the end of it if he didn't accept the dance. He certainly didn't feel like defending his open-mindedness at the expense of putting Julia in danger. He didn't buy the harmless cat routine for a minute.

  Darren followed Hermes onto the dance floor, if only to get him away from Mrs. Herrin. When the demon tried to place his hand on Darren's waist, he subtly brushed it off. "If we're doing this, I lead."

  "No complaints here, cowboy."

  "For a cat, you sure know how to work the puppy eyes.”

  "What can I say? I like shtick." A smile curved the demon's lips as he wrapped his arms around Darren's neck and toyed with the other man's hair.

  "Almost as much as you love wordplay. Tell me, Hermes, how many other aliases do you have?"

  "Oh, I've been called lots of names in my time," he purred. "I could tell you, but it would be more fun to show you how I earned them."

  "I'm sure you have," said Darren, ignoring the last part. They were getting a few looks, but not as many as he had expected. His bachelor status had apparently leveled up to confirmed bachelor after passing the age of thirty without getting married. "In fact, I'd be surprised if even you remember who you are behind that mask, and I'm not talking about the one on your face."

  "You're very intuitive for a corpse," Hermes said proudly. "Guess you have to make up for being five-foot-ten somehow."

  Darren laughed. "How do you know I didn't just choose to apply the two inches elsewhere?"

  For the first time, Hermes seemed at a loss for words.

  "What's the matter?" Darren taunted. “Cat got your tongue?"

  "Cute," Hermes said, leaving his dance partner for the open bar. Darren decided to relish the fact that he had flustered the unflusterable because it wasn't likely to happen again.

  "I know you think you're intimidating me with the lusty demon act, but you're not," said Darren, following him.

  "Oh?"

  "Last I checked, I wasn't a high school boy or a closeted politician, so no. It doesn’t get to me.”

  "As lovely as the scenic route is, are you eventually going to arrive at a point?" Hermes asked in a bored tone.

  "Yep. See, my college roommate was your typical musclehead jock. Never missed a Celtics game and couldn't tell a Riesling from a shot of grape juice," Darren replied. "He also had sex with men. That's when I learned that what you are and who you love aren't intrinsically linked."

  "Duly noted. I'll try to butch it up, just for you," Hermes sneered.

  Darren rolled his eyes. "My point is, as 'butch' as Tom was, I never saw him look at a woman the way you look at Jordan."

  "What can I say? Girl's got an ass."

  Darren chuckled. "That she does, but you don't look at her like she's a piece of meat the way you look at everyone else. You look at her like she means something to you, something more than you'd like to admit. Judging from the look in your eyes right now and the way your blood pressure is starting to rise, I'd say maybe you haven't even admitted it to yourself."

  “So you have heightened senses now and you think you’re the love doctor?” Hermes quipped.

  “I’m just saying I don’t buy the whole ‘frenemies’ routine. I know you have feelings for Jordan, and if that’s the case, seeing her with Chase has to piss you off at least half as much as it does me,” Darren replied matter-of-factly. “And yet, you never miss a chance to try to make her hate you even more. Why?”

  “God, you’re still talking?” Hermes threw back another drink. “I zoned out for a minute.”

  "I'm sorry, is this conversation not going the way you wanted it to?" Darren asked, smirking.

  The demon’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know, the only reason I tolerate you is because I can't stand to see her cry. I could develop a tolerance for it if you become enough of a nuisance."

  "Alright, alright," Darren said, deciding that he'd pressed his luck enough for one evening. "What is it you really ambushed me for?"

  "I came over to dissuade you from rocking the boat tonight," he replied. "You've got questions, but trust me when I say you're not ready for the answers."

  "I've had a lot of regrets in my life," said Darren. "Can't say a question was ever one of them. I always find a way to live with the answer."

  "But will she be able to?"

  "I don't follow."

  "You think you want to know the how and why of Chase Wylde’s miraculous transformation, and I'm telling you, you don't," he said simply.

  “And you do?”

  “Of course. I know lots of things."

  “And you don’t think Jordan has a right to know, too? Before she marries him?”

  “Marriage!” Hermes laughed. “How quaint and ult
imately insignificant. Children playing house, and nothing more. If it keeps them both occupied, it’s better for me.”

  Darren frowned. “How can you say that? I don’t know what the hell happened to Chase all those years ago, but people don’t just change overnight. That doesn’t concern you in the least?”

  “If you actually think I’d let that mechanical freak harm her, your brain really has already begun to rot,” said Hermes. “You’re also a fool if you think your little ‘investigation’ is going to lead anywhere other than the outskirts of her goodwill. Whatever the truth is, however damning it is to Chase, you'll also be hammering the final nail into your own coffin. Ever heard of shooting the messenger?”

  "If I didn't know better, I'd say that was a threat."

  Hermes gave him a benevolent smile. "Impressive deduction. Just remember, it's not a good idea to piss off your dealer unless you have the means to go out and get the product yourself."

  Darren clenched his jaw. "I won't let him hurt her."

  "You won't have the chance," said Hermes. "You think I've invested this much in Jordan only to see her come to ruin? If there's only one thing we have in common, Darren, it's that we both want what's best for our girl."

  "At least until she dies," Darren shot back. "I get the feeling your long-term plans for her soul aren't exactly pleasant."

  "Talk of the future is such a waste of the present," Hermes said as the music faded into another song. "Thank you for the dance, Doctor. It was lovely."

  "The music might have stopped, but the dance sure as hell isn't over," Darren muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go congratulate the bride-to-be."

  "I think you'll find her dance card quite full for the evening, but don't worry," Hermes said in a singsong voice, "I'm sure there's always a slot open for you."