by Tim Marquitz
Hoping to spare him, I called him over. “I’ve got a vial of my,” I caught myself, “of Lucifer’s blood in my pocket.” Abraham looked at me with an eyebrow raised, but said nothing. He knew when to let things lie.
A look of relief flashed across Katon’s face and he rushed over and gently slipped his hand into my pocket. It was probably a good thing I was numb from the neck down or he might have found a little extra something in there, a side effect of all my happy thoughts.
He pulled the vial out and unwrapped it, popping the cork.
“Just a couple of drops.”
Seeming grateful, he gave me the first two, then ran out of sight where he probably did the same with Scarlett.
It wasn’t but a few seconds before I felt the warming rush. The blood’s energy prickled my skin as it lavished its attention on me like a well-paid hooker. Where only seconds before numbness had reigned, I felt a gentle surface tickle as the nerves were repaired. The bumps and bruises were already gone. The shards of marble still stuck in my face clinked to the ground one by one, pushed out as the wound beneath sealed shut.
Though I wasn’t real thrilled about it when it happened, I was kind of glad Grawwl had straightened my neck. It made the whole process quicker, not having to rely on the blood to adjust my head, and then heal it. That could have turned out real ugly if something knitted together wrong.
My body almost back in one piece, I heard Scarlett gasp and glanced over at her, elated that I could do so at all. She popped up with wide eyes, the bruises and swelling on her face replaced by angelic beauty once more. She looked around the room, then to Katon, who held her in his arms.
“What happened?” she asked, clearly sensing the mood of the room.
“Rahim,” Katon whispered, explaining everything with that simple utterance. He shook his head, unable to continue, a fresh wave of tears running free.
Her hand went to his wet cheek and she pulled him in close. For a moment, they just sat there, Scarlett gently wiping his sobbing tears away. Then without a word spoken, Katon stood and disentangled himself before stumbling for the door. He set the vial on the desk as he passed. Scarlett gave me a sad smile and followed him out.
“Hey, we’re not—”
Abraham cut me off, offering me his hand as they slipped from the room. I knew better than to argue. On my feet, I looked from Rachelle to Abe and filled them in on what we’d learned.
They both took it in and seemed to shrink right before my eyes as the entirety of what we were facing settled over them. Between them, they’d seen a lot, but it was starting to wear them down. To realize it might have all been for nothing, their lives dedicated to combating the supernatural threat that had emerged after God’s disappearance, was too stiff a blow to just roll with.
After a few tense moments of silence, I asked, “What now?”
Abraham shrugged and went to his desk, dropping heavy into his chair. “There have been more storms. They’re spreading across the globe and getting worse,” he said. His voice was little more than a whisper. “There’s nothing we can do to contain them. The world is slipping into chaos, believing the end has come. Perhaps, this time, it truly has.”
Rachelle wiped tears from her eyes and slid into his lap. She buried her face in his neck. His throat muffled her quiet sob.
“I’ll do what I can to see a path through this, but for now, there is little we can do without the key.” He wrapped his arms around Rachelle and held her tight, his eyes closing as his own tears streamed with silver dignity down his cheeks.
Hopelessness hung thick in the room. It was a deathbed vigil, the end riding in fast on the ticking hands of time. We were just waiting on the corpse to figure out what everyone else in the room knew; it was dead.
With no way to enter Heaven, there was nothing we could do to stop the war before all life was wiped from the planet. In a nagging bit of irony, the key parts split between us, the Nephilim, and Grawwl, what I’d told Grumpy Bear as he held us hostage was just as true for us as it was for him.
With an army of lycanthropes on one side and an army of half-breed angels on the other, there wasn’t any chance to separate the parts from either before everything went to shit. We simply didn’t have the power, especially considering Azrael had made his stance clear.
While used to being an underdog, the odds were stacked too deep for us to land on our feet this time.
A defeated sigh slipped loose as I looked at Abe and Rachelle. Their arms entwined, they’d forgotten I was even there as they staved off their misery with their love for one another. It made my heart hurt that I stood there alone.
The end of the world coming, Rahim dead, I snatched up the vial and headed for the door. Right then, I could only think of one person I wanted to spend my last few minutes alive with. The one person who knew me inside and out and who’d never let me down.
Jack Daniels.
Chapter Fourteen
Half way into my fifth bottle of whiskey, I’d wandered out to Old Town on autopilot. A creature of bad habits, my body seemed to think that drunk equaled Fiesta Street. Can’t really blame it; there are boobs there.
Well, probably not tonight considering the storms had been busy tearing away at existence, but there usually is. That’s good enough for me.
My walk was quiet, eerily so. The streets were deserted like I’d never seen them before, with only the occasional emergency vehicle disturbing the unnatural still. The end of the world being prophesized on every news channel across the country, the people of El Paseo had apparently taken it to heart.
All the businesses downtown were boarded up or just plain abandoned. Even the bars and liquor stores I’d passed were shut down and empty. Much to my surprise, I didn’t see any sign of looting, which renewed my faith in humanity. Better late than never, huh?
The roads were clear of traffic and even the homeless had fled the impending doom, finding shelter elsewhere. They couldn’t possibly know it didn’t matter where they were, the storms were coming. They were coming for us all.
The only place I saw any sign of life was at the church I passed. There, the people gathered in rabid hordes, the arched doorway packed thick as they struggled to get inside. Some sobbed and looked to the sky while others trudged in, zombie-faced and silent. Children scampered about, some catching onto the gloom of their parents, others oblivious; like kids should be. Their end was coming too, and there wasn’t gonna be anyone to save them. Not their parents, not their grandparents, and certainly not God. They’d all come there in vain.
Even with my tongue soaked with liquor, I couldn’t bring myself to tell them they were wasting their time. God was out of the office. If it made them feel better to end their days clamoring for a seat on a pew, then good for them, but there weren’t gonna be any miracles today. I certainly didn’t have one in me.
So, to the rhythm of the sloshing bottle, I turned my back on the throng and made my way around to where Baalth had fricasseed the neighborhood. Once there, I stared at the ruin, made more poignant by my whiskey-addled brain. It was a bitter preview of things to come. My stomach churned with disgust and I chugged another mouthful of Jack to help keep my inebriated perspective.
Half devil, it took an awful lot to get me drunk, and a whole Hell of a lot more to stay that way. My recuperative powers burned away the alcohol just a smidge slower than I was consuming it so I had to keep sucking it down or I’d sober up.
While I didn’t have to worry about hangovers, my bar tab had a lot in common with the national deficit; way too many zeroes. The good part of the end of the world lurking around the corner was that I wouldn’t have to pay it. That was a plus.
Maudlin, I pulled my eyes from the scorched earth and stumbled down the road. It felt weird to see how abandoned it all was. It was if the world had given up, just like we had. It didn’t inspire confidence.
Driven on in mindless motion, my feet kept on slapping down, one after another, as they steered me toward the red light dis
trict—my own personal place of worship. As much as I wanted to pretend I could die alone and be all right with it, the truth was I wouldn’t be. I hoped there’d be some brave—or stupid—souls out tonight with whom I could commiserate.
My thoughts swirled to Veronica and our life together. It’d been Hell sometimes, but there’d been plenty to smile about, despite it all. I wondered where she was and what she was doing, though the more I thought about it, it probably didn’t matter. She wasn’t exactly the snuggly type. Were she around, we’d only fight until the world blew up, and probably for a little while afterward.
Then there was Karra. Nothing would make me happier than wrapping my arms around her and telling her how much her coming back into my life meant. It was like I was fifteen all over, minus the constant erection.
Well, things really hadn’t changed much in that department.
That aside, her presence had reawakened something in me I’d thought dead and buried long ago. Maybe it was just the whiskey making me emotional, but I couldn’t help but feel like there was something there between us, some hint that we had a chance at something special. Something more than we’d made the first time around. She had her father though, and he was ready to go down with the ship. There wouldn’t be any room in her life for the both of us if things went to Hell. There was no way I was gonna win out over daddy. I hadn’t the first time, and no amount of liquor made me think I would the second.
I swallowed the rest of the bottle and let my feet do their thing. So deeply alone it hurt, I let them guide me toward the only sanctuary this city held for me; the dregs of society. Unable to spend my last moments with my own kind, I’d spend it with my mother’s. While I can’t say she’d approve of my choice of locations, it gave me a kind of solace to think of dying amongst the humans. It would be the closest thing I’d ever have to being with her again.
Moist eyes on the sky, I stumbled on and tossed the empty bottle away. It took me a second to realize I hadn’t heard it land.
My heart surged with adrenaline as I drew my gun and spun around. Two grim, blue and blurry eyes met mine.
“I presume by this you haven’t you’ve had much success?” The weathered old man held my bottle in his hand, the bronze of his armor reflected through the thick glass.
Taking a deep breath, I stuffed my gun in my waistband and glared at him. “I know I’m supposed to respect my elders and all that, but I’m not really interested in whatever it is you’re selling.”
It was obvious he wasn’t human, but strangely, he didn’t ring back on my senses like any supernatural I’ve ever known. It was if he wasn’t even there. The blood on his armor was definitely real though. Splatters coated his right side in crimson and there were streaks running the length of his right arm. Seeing that, I regretted putting my gun away.
He tossed the bottle aside and smirked as it smashed into a million pieces, glistening shards skittering across the asphalt. “Is there no room for salvation in that calloused heart of yours, demon?” His voice had that raspy bite that lifelong smokers develop over the years.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, or how you factor into all this, but can you get to the point? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” The alcohol was wearing off and I was starting to give a shit again.
“The middle of quitting is what it looks like to me, boy. I’d have figured you for sterner stuff considering your bloodline.”
If there’s one thing that pisses me off more than anything else, it’s when people know who I am but I have idea who they are. His vague reference to Lucifer didn’t help my mood much either.
“If you’ve got something to say, old man, spit it out while you still can.”
A smile exploded onto his face, the Grand Canyon cut between the not so grand. “I knew there had to be some fire left in there somewhere.” He raised his hands to warn me off as I went for my gun. “I’m on your side, at least until our current crisis passes.” He looked at me for a moment and shook his head. “There is so much you don’t know.”
“No shit, Sherlock. How about we start with your name?” That’s the problem with supernaturals–they live so damn long that paranoia becomes a way of life. They hoard their knowledge and squirrel away every myth and legend just to prolong their miserable existence, hiding the truth from the world. Every great once in a while, they give a drop of it away, for a price of course, just to make themselves feel important; remembered.
“I have many names, but you may call me Akrasiel, if you must.”
Didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t a surprise. Most angels and demons had a handful of different names they used, each buried in deeper mystery than the last. There wasn’t room in my head to remember them all. The fact that I didn’t care probably didn’t help.
“Well, Akrasiel, mind telling me what your stake in all this is?”
“The same as yours. Should the Tree of Life die, it’s only a matter of time until all of existence follows it to the grave.”
“Wow. You should be a motivational speaker. I’ve got chills. I mean it, seriously. The way you’re telling me what I already know is just amazing. Where do I sign on?”
His cold blue gaze met mine as his leathered lips dropped into a grim line. It looked like I pissed him off a bit. Good. It’s the little things that make life fun.
When he spoke, it was in a rough-edged monotone. “There is a faction not yet represented on the field, which may sway the battle in a favorable direction.” He motioned toward Heaven. “The end looms, but there is still time for one who knows how to use it. The last guardian of the throne lies inert. Stricken by the loss of God, he is blind to what is happening in the Kingdom. He must be made aware.”
“Just a shot in the dark, but I’m guessing he’s in Heaven.”
The old man nodded.
The circle jerk continued. “Maybe you haven’t been paying attention, but I don’t have any way to get in up there. They’ve revoked my passport.”
A crooked grin cracked the hard leather of his face. “You’d be surprised by what you’re capable of, Triggalt—”
My given name not even all the way out of his mouth, I waggled my finger and growled at him. “Don’t say it.”
He chuckled and took a step back, his arms raised in mock surrender. Then he stood there silent, just staring at me as though it were my turn.
“Is that it? No more words of wisdom, no prophecies to lead me? No bridges or beachfront property?”
He nodded again, his smile inching wider.
“You’re a snake oil salesman, you know that? You show up selling hope, but it’s all just bullshit and broken dreams.” He hadn’t told me a damn thing that would help. “What about the key parts? Can you at least tell me where I can find them?”
“Do you not want the same thing as those who hold the other pieces?”
The obvious hit me between the eyes like a brick. Akrasiel just laughed at me and bowed, disappearing in a flash of golden light.
The old bastard was right. We did want the same thing. Both the Nephilim and the were-critters were looking to get into Heaven just like us. That meant the key pieces had to end up at the gate soon for them to be any use. Now all I had to do was figure out how to take advantage of that fact. Clearly that would be the easy part.
Yeah right.
Presuming the two groups were quicker on the draw than me—which is pretty much a given—they would be prepared to defend their piece and had probably worked out a plan to relieve everyone else of theirs. So, while it was an opportunity I hadn’t thought about before, it wasn’t much of one. It would put us smack dab in the middle of both factions, and that was the last place I wanted to be.
My head running in circles, the remnants of the alcohol still tripping it up, I needed to sober up and think. The melancholy having eased just enough to let a glimmer of sunlight through, I headed off to find a portal back to DRAC. This problem needed a greater mind than mine.
Caught up in my head, I did
n’t notice the car that pulled alongside me until I heard the distinctive clack of a bullet being chambered. Before I could look to see who it was, the cold steel of a gun barrel was pressed hard against my skull. There wasn’t even a tremble in the manicured hand that held it.
“If you so much as breathe, Mister Trigg, you’re dead.”
Chapter Fifteen
Someone behind me yanked my pistol roughly out of my waistband with no regard for the wedgie he’d given me. His rapids huffs warmed my nape.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was from the smooth voice of the gun wielder and the gorilla breath of his helper wilting the hair on my neck.
“Hi, Poe. There a problem?”
“Fuck this!” D’anatello’s voice rang out over my shoulder and I cringed. To no surprise, I felt the grip of my own pistol crash into my skull.
