Repossessors of Souls: Expendable Pawns

by Danae Ayusso

  Loki stood. “Remember, Junior, that isn’t your world, and you will not be a part of it,” he warned. “If I find out you did something to interfere, you will be locked up for a century, and that means no toys or boys, got it?”

  “Whatever,” Loke scoffed and rolled his eyes, making a face at his father then Loki disappeared. “Dickweed,” he mumbled. “So what’s up?”

  I started in on the first pie; blueberry sour cream with lots of whipped cream and flaky crust. It was heavenly, only in Asgard could they make such desserts.

  “This is Angelus, he is a repo man from the seraphim side,” I mumbled with a mouth full of pie.

  “Manners,” Angelus scolded.

  Wasn’t he the one spraying masticated chickpeas and fava beans at me on the street?

  “We both have open ended batches,” Angelus continued, “and in addition to our batches continually changing, we have both been showing up in batches on the opposite side of the invisible divide.”

  Loke sat there with his mouth gaping open, eyes wide. “Seriously?” he looked to me, and I nodded, starting in on my second pie. “You didn’t sell your soul for those Jimmy Choos did you?”

  “No,” I groaned. “Angel boy said the same thing. Am I so transparent?”

  “Yes,” they answered in unison.

  “Assholes,” I mumbled then shoved more pie in my mouth.

  Angelus ignored me. “If what you say is true about the demonic batch manager; that would suggest that he found something that he should not have. I am curious as to what that is. Have you heard anything? Any rumors, whispers, or large bets being placed?”

  Bets? He’s still banking on this being a game, but that’s impossible. The means to set something up like that would be staggering and beyond impressive.

  “This time of year, who knows?” Loke shrugged and poured himself a drink. “The last hoorahs of the fall always causes the spectrums to get their panties in a twist. It’s right before that one game starts, you know the one I mean,” he said, turning to me. “The one with the men in the tight pants, and they jump and tackle each other, only they should totally be doing it naked and all greased up like Greeks in the arena?” he sighed, his attention being pulled to the questionable mental pictures that created.

  “Football?” I offered.

  “Yeah, that’s the one!” he squealed. “Football’s in the fall so you get all sorts of bets getting passed around. People trying to get money for their children’s private school educations and shit, ooh, and the fall fashions, like those shoes,” he sang.

  Damn it, I so want those shoes.

  “I haven’t been shopping in weeks,” I informed him, and he dropped his drink.

  “Shut up!” he gasped and fanned himself. “You mean like actual weeks, not dog year weeks?”

  There’s a difference?

  “Someone’s trying to repo me, so yeah, I’ve been distracted,” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” someone said and instantly Angelus was on his feet, “you won’t have to worry about that for much longer.” The redheaded angel pointed his sword at me.

  I sighed is resignation and sat my pie down.

  “One…two…three…four…” Loke started counting the pies.

  “Not so fast, Demon, no tricks,” the angel snarled, his sword slamming into Loke’s chest.

  Loke looked down at the blade and back up and blood dripped from his lips. “Five pies left,” he mumbled before his head lolled to the side.

  “No!” I screamed and threw myself at an angel.

  “No!” Angelus growled, struggling from under me.

  I wrapped a leg around his and pulled upward, dropping him back to the floor. “Stay down!” I hissed in his ear.

  “Aw how sweet,” the redheaded angel mused, slowly walking around the table. “Everyone told you that this demon would be the death of you, Brother.”

  The ground started to violently shake and screams filled the air.

  I looked up, from the ashy remains of my best friend to the angel standing in front of us and smirked. “Ironically, it is this demon that was the death of you,” I informed him.

  His head tilted to the side a fraction of a second before a bloody fist busted out the front of his chest with angel’s still beating heart in the hand.

  “No one touches my son!” Loki snarled: that was one way to kill an angel.

  Chunks of the ceiling, crystal chandeliers, and light fixtures fell to the ground all around us, shattering and assaulting us with stone and glass. Large fissures tore the floor apart, steam shot up from each, and the entire building groaned in protest.

  “You come into my world, and disrespect my family, my home!” Loki continued, his tone dark and unmistakably lethal. “This is beyond the rules, and I am no longer amused.”

  The ground shook again before the angel’s body erupted in blue flames, burning away to ash in seconds.

  Angelus tried to get up so I slammed my knee into the back of his, buckling it, dropping him back to the floor.

  “Not yet,” I hissed in his ear.

  Prematurely getting up when Loki was throwing a fit could result in a lightning bolt to the face, which really hurts, or something far worse. His brothers wouldn’t let him get too carried away…I hoped.

  “Loki, that is enough,” Odin scolded.

  Thank the Dark Mother.

  “No it isn’t!” Loki shot back. “That winged asshole killed my son!”

  Odin tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t and started laughing. “And you just killed four-hundred, give or take, sons and daughters. Do you not think that was a bit excessive?”

  Loki’s thin lips twisted. “No?”

  “Real believable, Brother,” Odin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Freyja will take care of it. So what to do with these two?” he mused, eying me and the angel on the ground in front of him.

  I looked up at the menacing seven-foot blond. “Please, m’Lord, he’s an innocent,” I begged.

  Odin’s full lips pulled into a smirk. “Angelus is the farthest thing from being an innocent. However, you did bring this to our doorstep.”

  That was true. I should have known better than to come here, especially with…actually, that could have worked in my favor.

  “m’Lord,” I said and sat up, but made no attempt at getting off of the snarling angel I was startling, “whoever prepared my dossier for that angelic repo man would have never neglected to mention that I am the wingman for Loki Junior. It is impossible. The fact that he knew that I would be here is testament of that. So obviously someone conveniently omitted that very significant bit of information. You cannot deny that Junior looks just like Senior, only eight-inches taller like his mother. This was a deliberate attack and an insult to you and your family and people.”

  That last part was a total Hail Mary.

  Loki screamed in frustration and the building started to shake again. “They have gone too far this time,” he snarled. “I told them to leave my child out of it, and yet they drove a goddamn sword through his heart! They are trying to play a game that is way beyond their pay grade.”

  To my surprise, Odin nodded his agreement. “Since they broke the rules, Brother,” he offered with a smirk.

  The club spun around us in a blur of movement and colors before settling on the large open gathering room at Loke’s parents’ house; massive open space with a wall consuming stone fireplace you could roast a dragon in, two walls of windows lining each side, and soaring thirty-foot ceilings with large arched cedar beams running the width of the massive space. The floors were beautiful, a mixture of extinct woods and hand carved stones that were countless centuries old, and the furniture cost a small king’s ransom; leather, velvet and wood thrones with precious stones the size of my fist adoring each. The thrones were a gag gift from Loke and his siblings a couple thousand years ago.

  “I loved that shirt,” Loke complained as he joined us, buttoning up a new dress shirt as he went.

  Angelus look
ed around but appeared at ease next to me on the couch.

  Odin sat behind the piano in the corner and softly started playing while Loki paced the room, his eyes working over his son, checking him for damage.

  “What in the hell,” Loke huffed. “Why did he stab me? Does he have something against fags with OCD?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I instantly started apologized. “He thought you were casting some kind of ass backwards numerical spell.” Maybe, I didn’t know for sure. “The dossier didn’t say who you were, he thought you were a demon,” I said and instantly cringed.

  Loke, never to be one that got pissed for things that were completely out of my control, batted his lashes at me. “That sucks, but he should know that demons don’t look this damn good. What do I look like, the fucking sparkly version of the Count from Sesame Street? One vampire, ha ha ha,” he did the worst Count impression I have ever heard causing Odin to roar with laughter. “Don’t worry about it, Zee, one of the joys of being the son of a God,” he sang, “is not having to worry about mortality.”

  Well no shit, but it doesn’t mean that I like to watch my best friend die, especially because of me!

  “Thanks, Loke. m’Lords, what’s going on?” I pleaded for answers.

  Loki stretched out on one of the leather chaises and looked between me and my angel. “Well, Kiddies, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you are pawns in very elaborate game of Cat and Mouse, Chess, Battleship, Celebrity Death Match, Ultimate Fighter, Twister, Poker, Blackjack, Potato Sack Race-”

  I put my hand up to stop him. “m’Lord, are you simply naming off games?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted with a chuckle. “How could you tell?” he mused.

  Remind me again why I’m best friends with a trickster?

  Angelus wasn’t amused in the least. “Please start over. What exactly are you talking about?” he asked.

  Odin suddenly appeared next to Loki and shoved his brother’s legs off of the chaise so he could sit next to him. “This breaks the rules,” he said. “But considering they have already been broken, I don’t see what it would hurt. Every century Upper Management on both sides get together, and they randomly pick two Hubs from a hat and flip a coin to see who has the home field advantage. Then they take the six best repo men from each side of the hub and put them against each other in a last man, or woman, standing competition. It is set up like a bracket and each is given an open batch so Management can adjust accordingly to the bracket changes. Each has to repossess an appointment from Eden on the opposite side of the invisible divide they are on; angel to dark, demon to light, angel to demon, demon to angel.”

  I think I’m going to throw up.

  “Please tell me this is a trick,” I asked, hopeful.

  Angelus shook his head. “A decade ago I was placed specifically in NYC from the Central Asia hub,” he said. “I was called to repossess the soul of a holy man that was in Malaysia for the relief effort. After failed negations on my part for his contract, they did agree on an extension. In the terms of the contract extension, I had to follow him back home to NYC and witness the repossession. Zion was the one that repossessed his soul in front of me.”

  Loki stroked his chin in contemplation. “That sucks. The first round is usually simplistic, just your basic, run of the mill, appointment that is assigned to two agents, one on each side. First collection wins. However, after the first round, whomever repoed the soul, moves on to round two where they face a challenge round of sorts. That is where you and Zion had to repo a holy person from the opposite side of the divide. Zion repoed your precious priest and you, somehow, repoed the granddaughter of Lilith…she is so going to kill you for that one!” he said then laughed hysterically.

  I shook my head, not amused in the least.

  “Management from the winning hub gets bragging rights for the next year. It is all left up to chance!” Loki sang the latter.

  Angelus looked torn, as if he knew this all along, but something wasn’t making sense to him at the same time. “They have already cheated and stacked the deck,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Loki and Odin demanded in unison.

  He looked at his hands and absently traced the runes on his bracelet. “They sent Zion to repossess Father O’Malley because they knew she would be the only person I would not kill for it,” he said in a whisper.

  For some reason they both laughed.

  “This changes things,” they said in unison.

  I still didn’t understand what in the hell was going on. “Huh?”

  “Our bets are getting pulled,” Loki explained. “They cheated. They knew the location and started putting pieces together years before the draw. Obviously the rules are out the window. Most likely that is why the batches aren’t pulling the soul of the agents that fail to repo their appointments.”

  Loke was as confused as I was, so he raised his hand. “Then where did all of those repo men go?” he asked.

  “They’re dead,” Loki assured him, us, whichever. “Some of them were killed by each other in order to get the appointment. Others mysteriously died, taking out entire churches in both spectrums with them.”

  That one was me.

  “And others are being canceled by Upper Management when they drop off the bracket—it’s their way of keeping the playing field even.”

  I should have retired a long time ago.

  “What’s at stake?” I whispered, not really wanting to know the answer.

  “Other than bragging rights?” Odin was reluctant to answer. “A dollar.”

  “A fucking dollar?” I yelled. “My life, our lives, are worth a fucking dollar?” I demanded.

  “Yup,” Loki said then sighed. “I’m sorry. If you weren’t so damn good at your job, you wouldn’t have been on the board. I’m assuming that the angry winged asshole they pulled out of the East River found out about it and that is why he was killed, in order to cover their asses.”

  This can’t be happening. Shit like this doesn’t happen. There are rules and guidelines that keep those in positions of power from doing this exact type of thing. Earth is supposed to be the haven, in essence, from those that couldn’t get down with all of the bullshit like this in Heaven and Hell…amongst other things. I just can’t catch a break.

  “Don’t cry,” Loke said and hugged me. “You can stay here until you figure out what you’re going to do. Isn’t that right, Daddy?” he snarled.

  Loki rolled his eyes. “If you want to have a slumber party, knock yourself out. But if you dye the dog’s hair pink again, I’m kicking your ass. Chopper didn’t find it very amusing that you bedazzled all of his stuff.”

  That was an interesting night of vodka and nothing else.

  His offer was very acceptable to me, however I need the permission from the contemplative angel next to me.

  “I promise that Loke won’t paint your toenails when you’re sleeping,” I whispered.

  Angelus looked over at me as if he had forgotten I was even here. “That is fine. I need time to wrap my head around this without having to worry about someone stabbing me in the back, or keeping me up with their relentless chatter,” he quickly added.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I assured him. “Thank you, m’Lords,” I said then nodded.

  Odin shook his head. “After all these centuries, I’ve never understood why you do that.”

  I shrugged.

  “It’s nice, but at the same time, you are like a daughter to most of the family. You’ve even been around longer than some of our great-grandchildren, and you are less annoying then most of our children in general, and yet you always call us Lord.”

  “Old habits,” I tried to explain.

  Loki smacked his brother. “Shut up. Zee is the only one that calls me that any more, it’s nice, like a power trip without having to exercise my will. We’ll be around,” he said and smiled wide then vanished.

  Odin shook his head. “The oldest five-year-old in existence,” he said. “If you need
anything, let us know. You know where everything is, help yourself.” He smiled then disappeared.

  That was one thing that I loved about Loke’s family; they were really cool when his siblings weren’t around. Once you get ten of them together though, it was irritating and made you want to run home the first chance you got. But when it was just his parents and aunts and uncles, since he was the baby of the family—out of the siblings—it was nice and relaxing.

  “Loke, I need Knob Creek,” I said and leaned back, pulling the vial from my pocket and looked at it.

  “That bad eh?” he groaned; hated the hundred proof bourbon.

  “That bad,” I sighed and broke the seal on the vial. “And down the rabbit hole I go,” I whispered and threw it back like a shot of tequila and cringed when the bitter liquid dripped down my throat, and my eyes rolled back in my head and my lashes fluttering faster than a moth’s wings.

  Unlike a batch, that floods your mind with information on your appointments, an information dump was much more specific, like a recorded email or video message. As the disgusting liquid quickly broke down in my system, and absorbed into the soft tissue lining my throat, images started to flicker in and out of my mind; words, pictures, faces… I couldn’t make sense of it. They were streaming by so fast that it was a nauseating blur. Words echoed in my ears, but it was as if they were yelled through a tin can under water. The worst was the emotions tied to them; regret, fear, sadness, and guilt. And each flooded me, making me want to scream, but I couldn’t open my mouth.

  “Zion, I’m sorry,” Volac’s voice echoed in my mind. “I swear to you that I didn’t know.”

  The images stopped.

  I focused on the only one that I could pull into my mind then I gasped.

  I sat up, eyes wide and shook my head, turning to the angel looking at me expectantly.

  “This is bad,” I whispered. “Really bad.”

  Beavis and Butthead from the alley were dead. They got lucky on their first round picks; I think they were the B Squad. However, they didn’t make it back from Toronto.