Niki Slobodian 03 - Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

by J. L. Murray

  My eyes blurred with white and tears, but I didn't explode like I had outside my apartment building. I seemed to be able to control the power since grappling with the purple lightning, and tamping it down inside me didn't hurt as much as it had before. I could still feel its fiery tornado in the middle of my chest, occasionally flaring and spurting out of my fingers or my chest in tentative tendrils, glowing white.

  I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Whenever something caught my eye I forced myself not to look. I felt the weight of the gun, heavy and cold and reassuring. Yet now it seemed unnecessary. I couldn't bring myself to add more violence to this sickening world of chaos. They were dying pretty well on their own. The only way was to stop it. And the only person that I knew that had any chance of stopping it was Sam.

  Sofi was dying.

  My mind was like a broken record. It wouldn't let me forget, even for a minute. I wanted to scream. I could feel myself losing control of the force in me again. Just a little, but my grasp was loosening. Everything was for nothing.

  I saw the neon of the Deep Blue Sea tinged in white. Eli, who had made little attempt at conversation, so distracted by the violence, lagged behind. He seemed to sense I was volatile. I entered the bar, moving my hand in front of me to swing open the door without touching it.

  Sam was pacing near the bar, his face haggard again. He looked up and walked quickly over to me, stopping just short when he saw me. He looked over my shoulder at Eli.

  “What's happened?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” said Eli. “She's just been like this.”

  Sam nodded. “Leave us for a moment, would you please, Mr. Cooper? I believe Niki wants to have a word with me.” There was a creak, followed by a bang of the door. I heard muffled noises of gleeful fighting over by the river.

  “Niki?” said Sam.

  “She's dying,” I said.

  He swallowed, nodded. “I know.”

  I felt needles and pins, heat everywhere. I wanted to cry and scream and just lie down and die. The power burned again. My veins and nerves were on fire, feeling as though the white heat was burning them, charring them as it coursed through my body.

  “You said you could cure her,” I said. My voice sounded strange. Thick and hollow at the same time. “You said she would live.”

  “I did cure her,” Sam said heatedly. A dark, pained look came across his face. “I cured her over and over again. I cured her until it took everything out of me and I had to sleep for days. At the same time, I was dealing with Michael and his scheming. I worked myself to exhaustion to save that woman's life, Niki. For you. All for you.” He stepped closer to me. He was angry. I'd never seen him angry before. But somehow it just made the fire flare hotter. “That disease just kept coming back. Over and over again, and stronger every time.” He shook his head, the sadness shining through the anger. He sighed and put his hands on my shoulders. “Sometimes death just happens and no one can stop it. Not even me.”

  “You are Death,” I said. “You brought me back from the dead. I was ash on the floor and you brought me back. Why me? Why not her?”

  “I tried, Niki,” he said.

  “Why not her?” I said, my voice booming through the bar. There was a flash and then Sam was in the air, hurtling through the air, crashing into the wall. He crumpled to the floor. He looked at me, his face dark and dangerous. He stood up, glowering at me.

  “What the hell did you do to me?” I screamed. I pushed at the air toward him, a nuclear blast hurtling out of my hands towards him. He waved an arm and the air shimmered around him. The force of my blow hit him, seeming to stall at the invisible field around him, but he hit the wall again anyway. I pushed again, the dark bar white bright now. He narrowed his eyes at me. “What did you do to me, Sam?” I screamed. “What the hell am I?”

  “I don't know what you are,” he said, his voice strained from the white mist trying to encircle him. “Are you going to kill me, Niki?” he said, his voice low and angry. “Are you just going to kill me and get it over with? Because I couldn't save your godmother? Go ahead. Kill me. You'd do me and Michael a favor. End it.” He waved his hand and the field around him disappeared. The mist wrapped itself around him. “End it,” he hissed. “You have the power now to kill Death. Do it.” I took a step back. “What are you waiting for?” he screamed.

  I stepped back, clenching my fists. I sank to my knees, trying to stop the fire inside me. It burned painfully inside me, its excruciating leisure maddening.

  Sam was standing in front of me. I stared at his shoes. “Stand up,” he said, his voice taut. I shook my head. “Stand up, Niki,” he repeated. I gathered everything I had and pushed myself up. I felt the floor leave my feet and I knew I was hovering in front of him. “Control it,” he said.

  “I can't,” I whispered. “It hurts. I have to let it out.”

  “Control it,” he said again. He was looking into my face intently. I couldn't tell if he was enraged or if it was his own strange, dark power showing through.

  “It's going to kill me if I hold it in,” I said. “I'm going to burn up again.”

  “It won't kill you,” he said, his voice steely. “I don't know what it is, but it's part of you. It can't hurt you. Control it, or you're going to hurt people. Stop fighting it. It's not against you. It is you.”

  I closed my eyes. The thing inside me hurt so much, I didn't know how long I could hold it.

  “I'm not going to save you, Niki,” said Sam. “You have to do it. Embrace it. Or it will destroy you.”

  I felt for the power. It blazed inside me. If I let go I was afraid I'd kill Sam, if such a thing were possible. Embrace it? How could I embrace something that was ripping me apart? I opened my eyes, the world still white. Sam was watching me intently.

  “You're strong, Niki,” he said softly, his voice warmer than it was before. “Make it part of yourself.”

  The pain coiled around my every cell. I made myself breathe. I concentrated on the roiling power within me. It was like anger, pushing against everything in its path. I felt it and reached for it at its center with my mind. How could such a thing be part of me? It was alien to me, this power, but somehow familiar. Embrace it.

  Sam was right. It was a part of me now. No one seemed to know how or why. As Bobby would say: It is what it is. Experimentally, I released my grasp, just a little. I didn't push it away or try to get it out of my body, but just let go a little. The pain lessened. Just a small amount, but I felt encouraged. I let go a little more. The strain of holding it eased. It wasn't that there was less pain, but that the pain didn't hurt as much when I didn't fight it. The power wasn't crashing around inside me anymore, but was fusing inside my body, my blood and my organs and my muscles absorbing it like a sponge. I didn't fight, didn't move, barely breathed. The fire was no longer a fire, but a heat that filled me. And then, the pain was gone. I could still feel the heat burning in my chest, accessible if I needed it. But I felt easier, more in control.

  I staggered as the last of the pain left and firm, hot hands steadied me.

  “I've got you,” said Sam.

  “I'm sorry,” I said.

  “You did well,” he said. He put an arm around me and led me to a nearby chair. I sat down heavily.

  “Are you hurt?” I said.

  “A bruised ego,” he said. “Nothing that a drink won't cure.”

  He went to the bar and came back with two glasses. He sat down next to me. His dark eyes bored into me, searching. “I tried to save her, you know,” he said.

  “You should have told me,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I should have told you. I suppose I was afraid.”

  “Afraid?” I said.

  He smiled wryly over his glass. “You are quite intimidating. Even before your new abilities.”

  I took a sip of my drink. It was warm and smooth going down and relaxed me a little. “Bobby took her away. Somewhere safe. Even he didn't know where he'd end up. Sam, they th
ink I'm Death,” I said. “Out there. The angels and the demons. They're afraid of me. I made an angel boy tell me why. They think I'm you.”

  He drained his glass. “I'm afraid,” he said slowly, “that part might actually be my fault.” I raised my eyebrows. “When I brought you back, I had to give you a piece of myself. I think it was rather a large bit. I've never done that before. I didn't even know if it would really work. But you do remember when I told you that there would be side effects? That you wouldn't be the same?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I wondered if that might be one of them.” He frowned. “I'm sorry. You're lucky, though. I can't go outside without looking like a Hieronymous Bosch painting. ”

  I smiled weakly at him. “Things can always be worse,” I said. “At least I'll be alive when Sofi wakes up. She won't die grieving.” I finished my drink and set the glass down.

  “Niki?” said Sam. “How did you know she was dying? Wasn't she sleeping?”

  “That's the other thing,” I said. “I can see memories. Not all of them. But, you know, the big ones, the defining ones. It happened with Bobby and Eli. When I touch someone, I can see inside them. I touched Sofi. That's how I knew.”

  “Can you see mine?” he said. He held out his hands, palms up.

  I sighed and braced myself. I put my hands in his. They were dry and warm. And then I saw...nothing. Silence, peace, a sense of warmth. I looked at him. His eyes were steady on me.

  “No,” I said. I smiled a little. “No, I can't see anything. Just sort of a feeling.”

  “What sort of feeling?” he said.

  “Like being warm.”

  “Interesting,” he said. He didn't remove his hands.

  “Is that what you see?” I said. “When you look into people. Do you see their memories?”

  “No,” he said. “It's more like their sense of themselves. Their judgment of their actions in their lives, if you will. Good and evil, right and wrong.”

  “Is it always so obvious?” I said.

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “Most people are full of gray.”

  “Was I?” I said. “When we met you said you looked into me.”

  “You were different,” he said. “You were all light. Not gray like most other people. Not good, not bad. Just light. You shone so brightly.”

  “That seems a little weird, doesn't it?” I said.

  “Not weird,” he said, the word sounding strange coming from him. “It was like waking up. Like feeling the sun on your face.”

  “Yeah, I'm a ray of goddamn sunshine, all right,” I said. Sam smiled. “So what's next?” I said. “What should we do?”

  “I believe we need to go to Hell,” he said. “If I find my brother, he may be able to stop this madness. And if Mr. Cooper is correct, his father can help us.”

  “I might need to rest before we go,” I said.

  “I thought you might,” he said. “I conjured up a bed while you were gone.” He walked to the wall behind the pool table and tugged on a strap there. A Murphy bed pulled down out of the wall, complete with pillows and a thick comforter.

  “You did that?” I said.

  “You can do it too, when you wish. You recall the washroom?”

  I laid down on top of the comforter. I hadn't realized how tired I was. Just before closing my eyes, I realized that since absorbing the power in my body, my eyes hadn't flickered back and forth but were staying white. Now I looked out all the time through a glowing white veil. But when I closed my eyes there was nothing but darkness.

  Eight

  “Niki,” said a voice.

  I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. Someone was lying next to me. My eyes adjusting, I realized it was Sam. His suit jacket was draped over the back of a chair and his slow breathing told me he was still asleep. It wasn't Sam whispering to me.

  I could hear the echoes of war outside. I don't know how I could have slept through it. Screams, the sound of blades clashing, gunshots. Death sounds. I looked at Sam. His face was more relaxed than I had ever seen it. He had a shadow of a beard on his cheeks and chin. I'd never thought about it, but for some reason found it humorous that angels needed to shave.

  “Niki,” said the voice again. I looked around. There was no one in the bar. I frowned and recognized the voice was in my mind: Natalie.

  I shook my head. It still hurt to think of my half-sister—or if she was telling the truth, no relation at all—and I was not about to let her get inside my head. I closed my eyes and concentrated very hard on pushing her out.

  “Niki, I'm sorry—&rdquo There was a feeling like a pressure being relieved, and then there was silence. I wasn't in the mood to be manipulated. I sighed with relief. I looked beside me and realized Sam was awake. He was staring at me with his dark eyes. Though now, through my eyes, they took on a light gray color.

  “Trouble?” he said. His voice was husky from sleep.

  “Natalie,” I said. “Trying to get in my head.”

  “Unfortunate,” he said.

  “That's one way of putting it,” I said. “When do we leave?”

  “We will need Mr. Cooper to come back to us. I had hoped he would be here by now.”

  “He's probably having too much fun killing things,” I said.

  “It's his nature, Niki,” he said.

  “Never used to be.”

  “Is anything as it used to be?” said Sam.

  I felt the heat in my chest and turned my head away. “Can I save her?” I said, not trusting myself to look at him. “Can I save Sofi?”

  He was quiet for such a long time that I looked over at him to see if he had fallen asleep again. He was lying on his back looking up at the ceiling. “No,” he said. “No, she is beyond saving, I'm afraid.” He looked at me. “I'm so sorry, Niki.” I could tell he meant it.

  “It's okay,” I said. But it didn't feel okay. I felt like crying but I swallowed the thickness. “At least you tried.” Sam took my hand. I felt the familiar calm come over me. The heat in my chest flared. Our eyes locked and we stayed there frozen for a long moment. At last Sam looked away, shaking his head.

  “We should prepare,” he said. He started to sit up, then smiled, looking down at his hand. I looked to see white mist surrounding both our hands, locking them together. I began to pull it back, but Sam's eyes went glassy, and the shimmering power holding us together congealed into a thin, pale stream that disappeared into his hand. He let go of me and flexed his fingers. For a moment, his eyes grew pale, even discernible from my whitened vision. Then they went back to normal. Something shifted there, like a pale cloud across the night sky.

  “How do you do that?” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. I decided I liked him better unshaven. “How do you do whatever it is that you do?” he said.

  “I have no idea,” I said.

  “Neither do I,” he said. He picked up his jacket and shrugged it on.

  “What does it feel like?” I stood up and straightened the blankets and pillows. Sam bent down, lifted the end of the Murphy bed, and unseen springs pulled it back into the wall.

  “Usually, it's a bit painful,” he said. “I feel it here,” he put a finger to his forehead. “And here,” he pointed to his chest. “But with you, it's different. Your power feels more like a drug. It's heat running through my veins and heart racing. And a feeling as if I could do anything.”

  “It doesn't feel that way for me,” I said.

  “Odd how that works,” he said. I looked away, unsettled by how I felt when he looked at me like that. He wasn't even human. But then, I kept forgetting, neither was I. I wasn't used to anyone having a hold over me. Even when I was with Eli, I was in charge. I was in control of everything in the relationship. The way my stomach turned when Sam looked hard into me, it made me uncomfortable. And a little angry.

  “So we wait for Eli?” I said, taking a step back and straightening my shirt.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “We need to speak to his father. H
e can get us an audience with Lucifer.”

  “You're the Angel of Death,” I said. “Can't you just walk in?”

  “Yes, I could,” he said. “But the demon race is different. They have their customs and traditions. And they aren't terribly fond of my kind, even an outcast. I could force him to tell me, but demon lords did not get to where they are by being truthful. He could lead us astray. And we simply cannot afford to waste time.”

  I nodded. “I could go look for him. I could use some food anyway. This magicky bar thing, does it work on food? Or coffee?”

  “Afraid not,” he said. “Only changes to the bar itself.”

  “Couldn't have been a pizza place, could it?”

  There was the squealing of hinges and the bang of the door. Eli stood blinking at us. He held a plastic grocery bag in one hand.

  “Interrupting anything?” he said.

  “No,” I said quickly. Maybe too quickly. Sam looked at me curiously. “What's in the bag?” I said.

  “A few things,” he said coming over and setting the bag on the table. The front of him was covered in angel blood. “Here,” he said. “I need to wash up.”

  “Does that bother you?” I said when Eli had disappeared into the bathroom. “The angel blood.”

  “It does,” Sam said. “A bit. But I understand it. No one gets to choose sides here, Niki.”

  “I could,” I said. “If I wanted to, I could choose a side. I think if I wanted to, I could wipe them all out.”

  “Do you really want to try? Do you want all those deaths on your hands?”

  I sighed. “Of course not.”

  “And what's more,” Sam went on, “what if you couldn't kill them all? You seem to have a tendency to pass out. If you didn't get them all, and I'm sure you couldn't, they would kill you. No questions. Just chop your head off.”