by Tim Marquitz
Almost imperceptibly, there was a rustle behind me. I spun about just as a figure burst from a nearby trash can and hurtled toward me. Before I could even draw my guns, the figure crashed into my chest, driving the breath from my lungs. I caught a glimpse of silver arcing through the air as I tumbled to the ground. It didn’t take a genius to realize it was a weapon. Page 89
And I was no genius.
I hit the ground rolling, kicking my feet out at the apex to make space. It was just enough. I struck my attacker as he tried to drop down on top of me, catching him in the arm. Off balance, he stumbled forward and I saw the blade of his knife sink into the ground. He growled as I hopped to my feet, his eyes meeting mine. I got a good look at him while he pulled his knife free. Dressed in all black, from head to toe, there wasn’t a lot to go off of. There was enough though. The cold gray eyes that peered at me through the opening of the ski mask, shined with feral determination. Lean muscle rippled beneath the skin tight clothing, and though he couldn’t have been much more than fivesix, he packed a lot of meat on his solid frame. He held the knife with confidence, waving it before him as he approached. It clearly wasn’t the first time he’d put a blade to use. I was hoping to make it his last. He must not have ever heard the saying: Never bring a knife to a gun fight. I went for my. 45’s. His blades out, he got off first. He closed the distance in a single leap, the blade flashing in a wide X before me. I felt a slight tug at my chest as I jumped back to avoid being cut open. Still reaching for my pistols, my hands came up empty. At the same time, I felt something slide down the back of my legs and land with a soft thump on the ground. Unable to slow my momentum, I tripped over the gun belt whose straps had been severed, and tumbled backward. I caught my balance after stumbling about five feet. Like a bad joke, my guns sat on the ground, splitting the distance between us. I could see the faint outline of a smile beneath his mask.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I was getting real tired of being the catcher. The assassin, on the other hand, was clearly still in the mood to pitch. He dove forward, whipping his blade toward me. I caught his wrist and answered with a quick, inside uppercut. He tucked his chin and took the shot without flinching.
Just my luck, the guy knew how to fight. A straight kick reinforced that fact. His foot caught me in the solar plexus and sent me head-overheels down the hill. Before I could adjust and turn my body into the roll, my head smacked the ground, all my weight behind it. Spots flashed before my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was laying face down on the cold, cement sidewalk.
I rolled over and hopped to a squat just in time to catch a boot to my jaw. Something phlegmy and wet spewed from my mouth as my head snapped to the side. The searing white light of pain blinded me as I spun about to land hard on my back. Dazed, I was beginning to think I wasn’t winning the fight. I opened my eyes as the assassin came to stand over me. My blurry gaze met his. I could feel the savage coldness in his eyes. He intended to finish the job.
“Who?” I asked, hoping for a second to catch my breath.
He waggled a finger at me and wrapped his hand around my throat, holding me in place. He lowered the knife toward me slowly, making sure I knew it was coming. That’s when I got a good look at it. It was a long boot knife and down its length was carved a series of magical runes. I recognized it instantly. It was the same one Eenie had used on me earlier.
“Veronica,” I muttered, his hand doing more to hold me down than choke me. Her name dripped off my tongue like bile. The assassin just nodded and tapped the tip of my nose with the blade. Bingo. Anger rose up in me like a volcano, blasting away the cobwebs in its fiery wake. I held it in check until the assassin’s blade neared my eye, then I exploded. Both hands wrapped around his knife wrist and I bucked my hips like he was the best lay I’d ever had. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I wrenched his arm to the side and swept him. He slammed onto his back and I mounted him, sitting on his chest and locking my legs together underneath to keep him there. I twisted his wrist even further, leveraging my weight behind it. The knife slipped free of his hand and bounced off down the sidewalk as I bent his arm backward. I heard a muffled snap as I dislocated his shoulder. He was a tough son of a bitch because he didn’t even cry out, but I could see the pain in his eyes. I knew I had him.
I didn’t wait for him to recover. Like Chuck Liddell on a tear, I started teeing off, raining down punches in bunches. He took the first two well enough, thrashing to get out from under me, but my third shot shattered his nose. He let out a moist grunt as blood squirted up from beneath the mask and blinded one of his eyes. I didn’t let up. I kept banging away, my fists smashing into his face like sledgehammers, until I felt his resistance cease. I hit him a few more times after that just to be sure, his consciousness having faded about twenty seconds earlier.
Not content to simply avoid being assassinated, and feeling mighty vindictive, I got up off the guy and went to retrieve the knife.
“Try to kill me, will ya?”
I walked back over and slammed the blade into his chest without hesitation, piercing his heart. His eyes popped open and he stared up at me, his throat rattling, trying to voice his surprise. Nothing came out. I could hear the sizzle of his blood and see it bubbling black where the blade entered. I snarled and pulled the hood from his head. While I didn’t recognize the guy, it was more than clear he was a demon, a minor one, but a demon nonetheless.
“See you in Hell.” I laughed, amending my statement. “Oh yeah, no I won’t. You won’t be going back. You’re dead forever.” I leaned in closer, pressing my mouth to his ear. “Hope that bitch was worth it.”
I stood up and spit on him as he twitched his last. I saw his chest heave once and settle, his final breath expended. Less than a second later, I felt my skin tingle while the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. A sudden warm flush ran the length of my body. I moaned as the feeling, way too pleasurable given the circumstances, set in. Thinking I’d been poisoned or something, my whirling mind raced along with my pulse. My crotch throbbed and felt like it was gonna explode. That’s when I realized what was happening. I was experiencing a soul transfer.
I stood still for a minute, letting the transfer run its course. I could feel it burning through my veins, passing on the assassin’s strength and vitality, his very essence. My pains were pushed into the background, only to disappear a moment later. When it was all said and done, I felt better than I ever had before. No wonder demons got off on killing one another. It was like taking a handful of Viagra and getting a sloppy hand job from Jessica Alba. I wanted more.
Before I could get too carried away with my analogies, a black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows rolled up and stopped a short distance from me. I grumbled to myself and took a deep calming breath as I waited to see what was next. A second later, I had my answer. The doors swung open and Baalth and Marcus stepped from the vehicle. Marcus, of course, Page 94 had his gun out, pointed in my general direction. Baalth clapped. “Well done.” He gestured to the body on the sidewalk. “You’re no longer a virgin. You’ve popped your soul transfer cherry.”
“While you sat there and watched. How naughty of you.” I was starting to think Baalth had a hand in the attempts on my life. While the assassins, both the longhairs and the demon fellow, had confirmed it was Veronica, I imagined she wasn’t doing it alone. There was too much going on around Baalth for it all to be coincidence. I’m no firm believer in serendipity. He shrugged. “If you can’t handle a lowly demon by yourself, you’re not worth saving.”
I ignored him and snatched the blade, wiping the blood off on the corpse’s shirt. I slipped it into my waistband, making a show of it. I glared at Marcus, testing his resolve. He stared back without flinching.
“Relax, Frank. You called me, remember? I’m not here to fight.” He waved Marcus off, sending him back to the SUV. As his goon returned to the vehicle, he gestured for me to walk with him. “There, now tell me why we’re here.”
&n
bsp; I sighed, putting my suspicion away for the moment. It wouldn’t make things easier. “Asmoday has captured an angel and has been using him to draw power from the Demonarch.”
A quiet hiss, and almost silent drawing of breath, was his only reaction. That was the only time
I’d ever seen Baalth appear even remotely concerned. It lasted only a quarter second before he regained his composure. In that instant, I learned an awful lot about what we were facing.
“Continue.”
I did. “As I’m sure you’ve figured out, he’s going to use that power to come after you.”
“So, what do you want from me? I’ve already engaged Asmoday. As we speak, my men are seeking out his and wreaking as much havoc as we can without drawing human law enforcement attention.”
That was demon-speak, which meant he was doing only just enough to fulfill his contract to me, and not a pubic hair more.
Even knowing what Asmoday intended, and its consequences for him personally, Baalth still played the role of uninvolved. Gotta hand it to him, he was one smooth operator. Even on his death bed, he’d be wracking up favors. I turned to face him so he could see how angry I was.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Baalth. This isn’t some petty coup attempt you can put down with guns and goons. Asmoday has drawn so much power from the Demonarch the dimensional walls are crumbling in its wake.” I saw his eyes narrow. It was clear he hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t realized the extent of the damage. “The fact he hasn’t already butchered the angel and stolen his soul to come after you tells me he Page 96 intends to draw even more. It’s likely his next attempt will shatter the wall and free the dimensions to merge. What then?”
He didn’t answer.
“Fine, I’ll tell you what.” I poked my finger into his chest. He took it well. I didn’t lose it. “Heaven and Hell will flood into Earth and all of creation will explode with war. Everything you’ve worked for since Lucifer disappeared will be washed away. If you survive, big if, you’ll be beholden to Asmoday as he’ll have the biggest dick in this pissing contest of yours. How do you think he’s gonna treat you after all you’ve done to thwart him? Let me tell you how. You’re gonna be his bitch. I hope you like taking it up the ass, buddy, because that’s how it’s gonna be from here on out.“You finished?” Baalth put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows. His eyes glowered at me. I could feel emanations of power wafting off him as his anger simmered inside. I thought about continuing for a second, but I figured I’d pushed my luck far enough. “Yeah, I’m done.”
“Good.” He remained calm, much to my surprise.
“I don’t know what your organization has planned, but I’m sure it hinges on my hitting Asmoday before he strikes at me.” He paused to gauge my response. I imagine my face told him everything he needed to know because he continued. “I will do as you ask, but be warned, given the circumstances, I cannot commit the entirety of my resources to this. I must hold them in reserve to defend myself should you fail.”
I groaned quietly, knowing that was the best I was gonna get. At least I didn’t have to trade another favor to get it. “Fine, but you’ve got to do it soon and it’s gotta pack a punch. We’ve only got about a day and a half before Asmoday kicks down our house of cards.”
Baalth nodded and waved to his men. The Escalade pulled up alongside us and the back door swung open. I saw Poe peering out at me with cold eyes. Marcus glared at me from beyond the mentalist, his gun visible in his lap.
“I’ll do what I can, but after that, you’re on your own.” Baalth climbed into the SUV. “Make it count.”
He closed the door and the Escalade sped off. I watched until its taillights disappeared before I relaxed.
“I guess it’s just you and me now.” I turned to the assassin’s body. It wasn’t there. “Or not.” In its place was a pile of clothes soaked in a thick black goo, which resembled tar. Albeit nasty, it sure saved on my having to dispose of a body. My buddies at the local cemetery would appreciate the break, I’m sure. They were good guys. They let me dig a lot of holes. Presuming the assassin was smart enough to not carry any clues as to the whereabouts of Veronica, I left his mushy remains behind and went up the hill. Fortunately, my guns were still there. I could just picture some homeless guy stumbling onto them and Page 98 going on a rampage at a liquor store. That would just make Abraham so happy.
Bum crisis avoided, I scooped them up and headed for the car, kicking over every trash can I came across. I didn’t have the time to deal with my succubus ex-wife, but I reiterated my earlier promise to myself. The first spare moment I got, she was going down. And I didn’t mean in a good way.
Behold the Light
I had just started the car when I heard a whispered voice. I jumped at the sound and spun around, searching the vehicle. There was no one there. Then I heard it again, this time more clearly inside my head. I laughed when I realized what it was. Rather than use unreliable cell phones or twoway radios whose signals could be interrupted or intercepted, DRAC uses telepaths to contact their members. They have several on staff, their abilities varying from a range of a few miles all the way up to global and dimensional communication. As such, DRAC could call any of their people without the fear of eavesdropping. The only real drawback of the system was it only worked one direction. I couldn’t contact them through the link. That and it was rather disturbing hearing someone else inhabiting the same space as my mind. I always felt dirty afterward. More so than usual, that is.
I answered aloud. I never quite got the hang of thinking an answer. It always got muddled up with whatever other thoughts were rutting about in there. Let me tell ya, the last time I tried, the telepath got way more information than she ever wanted to know.
Trust me. It was real bad timing on her part. I heard she turned a beautiful shade of magenta and went rushing off to the bathroom. She doesn’t handle my calls anymore.
It’s too bad, she had a sexy voice.
Abraham’s not so sexy voice echoed inside my brain, interrupting my reverie. “Frank?”
“I’m here.”
“Rachelle has picked up a massive spike in magical activity near where the other three incidents occurred.” A map image appeared in my head, showing me the location. It wasn’t too far from where I was. And of course, it was in Old Town. I was getting real sick of that place. One day there’d be a barrel of gasoline and a match with Old Town’s name on it.
“It’s a little soon, isn’t it?”
“Magic isn’t an exact science, Frank. You know there’s no way to be sure. Just head over there and see what’s happening. If Asmoday is drawing more power, we need to stop him. Katon and Rahim have been informed and will be there shortly.”
“All right, I’m on my way.” The Lone Ranger to the rescue. I couldn’t get the image of being scalped out of my head as the telepath broke the connection. I hit the gas and headed out. Less than five minutes later, I rolled up near the address. As usual, I parked a block or so away and walked over. No point in advertising I was there. The site turned out to be another abandoned warehouse. I sighed when I saw it. Things hadn’t worked out so well at the last one so I didn’t expect it to be much better this time around. I debated on waiting for Rahim and Katon, but I didn’t know what kind of time schedule I was working with. So, rather than risk being too late I decided to go it alone. Besides, if I died in the line of duty they’d call me a hero. I’d get a better epitaph, at least. You gotta have priorities.
I extended my senses and let the psychic feelers wander out. I could tell there had been some sort of magical outburst here, but the footprint didn’t feel the same as it had at the other locations. That could only mean one of two things. One, this was a trap. No big surprise there. Or two, this incident was unrelated to our Asmoday problem and I was walking in on something I didn’t want to deal with at this point. Neither was appealing. I guessed the only way to find out was to go inside.
I drew one of my guns from my waistband, bitching to
myself about not having a holster anymore, and went in through the open gate. The yard was windblown, with debris scattered along the base of the wire fence. Despite the fact the scene felt and looked different than the other locations, I couldn’t let my guard down. I ran to the docks and crept up the ramp slowly. At the top, the rolling door stood open. I had this strange sense of deja vu hit me, broken only by the fact that the lights were on inside the building and there weren’t any of the long lines of shelves like the last place had. Too late to worry about it, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and went inside. Less than fifty yards into the barren warehouse, a man stood staring at me as I approached. I recognized him immediately. It was Asmoday. My first guess this was a trap was right. Chalk one up for me. Tall and lanky, Asmoday was dressed in an expensive, black business suit, cut to his thin figure. He wore an understated black and red tie, which hung from his narrow neck, a gold upside down cross pinned in the center of it. Light-complected, his full beard and short hair were jet black, so much so shimmers of blue appeared in them when he shifted under the lights. His lean face looked chiseled in wood, cut with sharp lines and delicate angles. His brown eyes, so dark as to appear black, settled on me. I could feel the weight of their stare. If ever a man truly fit the description of sinister, Asmoday was it.
“Come in Triggaltheron, I was hoping it was you who would arrive first. I wanted to speak with you.” He waved me forward.
Damn demons and their penchant for given names. Some people say true names give the wielder power over the named. That’s superstitious crap at its finest, but it definitely makes a guy uncomfortable when someone knows you well enough to name you fully. It sets a defensive tone to the whole encounter. I walked up to him, shaking my head. “Said the spider to the fly.”
“Come now, do you truly think so little of me?”
He feigned hurt.
