by Rick Heinz
“Everyone! Listen up!” He waved his hand and the crowd fell silent. “They will try to cover this up! They will keep the truth from you! Ignore the news! Ignore the government! Demons are real. So are angels, ghosts, vampires, monsters, and everything else you can imagine. Even I don’t know the half of it. But I know this. I’ve shown you! You can beat them.” He pulled off his protest coat and held it up. “I am one of you. One of the many caught in the cog of the machine. We toil. We crawl. We sweat so we can try and feed our families. For what! So systemic wealth distribution flows from your pockets? So you can be thrown into prison if you don’t pay your debts? We deserve more than thrown-away scraps! You may believe that you have a good life. It’s a lie crafted to fool you!” He waved his coat like a flag as he was speaking.
Mike pointed behind him to the decaying body of Golgoroth. “Their blood gives you strength. It heals wounds. It can fucking cure cancer, and they have kept it from us! This is your chance to rise up. They are trying to summon more of these in secret to force us into another lie. They messed it up worse than every oil spill that’s ever happened. You have this one chance. One chance in your life to change your lot.” Mike gestured to the crowbar. “Our founders knew the right to bear arms was important. They knew that weapons would hurt these creatures. Imagine what modern guns could do.”
He watched them nod in understanding. They hung on his every word. Mike could feel his soul bristling with energy given to him from the crowd. “Demons are afraid of light! The daylight is your friend. When you see them, do not run. Do not be afraid. Face them. Kill them. Eat them.” Mike raised his fist in the air with each word. “We are the living! We are the future! Spread the word. Don’t become cattle herded into sacrifice for the needs of the few,” Mike shouted. The crowd cheered with him. Every word Mike spoke carried the weight of his emotions to the crowd. He watched their reactions as his spark and drive took hold of them. They were his.
“Mike!” One voice rang over the rest.
Mike looked down and saw Matsen flailing her arms while loading the chamber in her shotgun. Winters flanked the other side of the car yet was still facing the pit by the fence.
“Put down the crowbar, Mike. We gotta get them out of here,” Matsen said, pointing at the crowd. “You’re gonna get them killed, you moron! It’s why we fucking keep them in the dark! More could come at any minute!” Matsen almost drew her gun on Mike but looked at the crowd instead. She kept it ready instead at the pit and spat at him. “You wanna lead them all down that hole? Means less cover-up to be done. Because that’s what’s gonna fucking happen. Or they are going to get crushed, burned, and sliced in half by more. I’ll stop you myself if I have to.”
Mike took in the scene and dropped the crowbar. “Remember me! Mike Auburn! A son to a father, and a father to a son, just like all of you. We are the Sons and Daughters of the world! Go now. Protect your own!” he shouted, and waved for them to disperse. Looking at Matsen, Mike said, “I’m not going to fight you two. You are good working people just trying to get by. Take me to O’Neil. I have my answer.” He hopped down. The righteousness burning through him shone in his eyes. I am alive, even in death. He tried his best to ignore his lack of heartbeat as he went back with Matsen and Winters to their cruiser. They never lowered their guns.
CHAPTER 15
Initiate demon harvest protocols.
Rewrite channel 12 news reports.
Locate security leak.
Lunch.
Verify satellite monitoring of Walsh.
Sleep for ten minutes.
Feed the dog, Alexandria.
Exercise.
Pull off double double cross and live.
Delilah took a moment to update her schedule before entering a complex sequence of codes into her pad to activate the gateway before her. After a retina scan, voice authorization, and a small pinprick of blood from her finger for verification, the chrome-plated doors began to unlock with a series of clanks. She was down in the bowels of the city, deep underground. The Unification will learn of our treachery soon enough. Let’s strike now while we have the upper hand.
Her heels echoed in the chambers as she made her way to the middle. Sterile and gleaming rooms filled with a soft white glow surrounded her on all sides. Shadowed figures locked behind cells paced with anticipation when they saw her. Oh . . . death lords . . . what did you think would be the result of your lock-down on blood? Monsters and rogues that were deemed a waste by the council were sentenced to death. Delilah plied her influence to acquire them instead under the pretense of cannon fodder for the second phase of their plan. The Society of Deus, as the Unification knew, was built to store and utilize the souls harvested by the Second City. Fuel for the walls surrounding the city to power and create a beachhead into other worlds, where their divers would scour the underworld, retrieving lost things, like Lazarus. She and Vryce had been collecting this menagerie on the side for years. Their army of damned soldiers would assist in this. “Better useful alive than dead, he always says,” she said. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Delilah had been working half a decade on the mental programming of these soldiers. The master himself took care of the supernatural enforcement, ripping out portions of their soul and binding them to his will. Delilah had long ago suggested that they not rely entirely on anything that could be undone by another sorcerer. She had personally overseen their mind control using the que neuro-stim technique she perfected to control sorcerers.
After McCarthy took his initial program too far, the Unification blackballed any further research into the subject for decades out of fear. Delilah had recruited many of the forgotten researchers before they were executed and advanced the cold-war technique to work on blooded sorcerers and vampires. One security leak from a treacherous apprentice and now the Unification was always asking her for the technique to keep world leaders in check. Old, wretched bygones. Who wants another thousand years of insipid control? The process wasn’t simple and required hiding vast amounts of divine blood from Regional Director Walsh. Fortunately for Delilah, the Second City seemed to cook their books about divine blood as well, which helped keep the cover. Even if they are probably the source of my security leak.
Her cell phone vibrated in protest as she moved deeper into the reinforced concrete facility, informing her that she was now cut off from the world above. So much can go wrong in even an hour’s time. She felt her love-hate relationship of being down here more than necessary flush her cheeks.
She came to the central chamber, her heels echoing with each step. Every wall contained prison cells that were stacked upon each other so high it made her seem tiny in comparison. Inside, her monsters paced, awaiting their chance. Only those who drank of demon blood were housed within. Most of them were soldiers for hire, but a few were tried-and-true killers sentenced to death. Here they would be given a second chance at life.
The middle of the chamber housed what Delilah was here for today. Seven special prisons were buried in the floor. Each of them was a solid frozen cylinder of ice lowered into the floor. The prisons served as a means to hide the society’s strongest soldiers from the Unification’s seers and sorcerers that knew magic to scry upon them. Water was a fantastic foil to a scrying spell, and being placed in stasis reduced the need for blood. Within each cylinder was a full-fledged vampire, violent slayers and eaters of a powerful demon’s heart.
Her master had stolen them from the clutches of the Nazis’ Thule Society after they were betrayed by the Third Reich. A perfect example of what happens when the world unites against you. They helped Vryce until just after the moon landing verified the Unification’s theory of a unified consciousness. For the past forty-five years, they were kept off the radar while tubes of fresh blood had been giving them strength. Each prison would have to be opened manually.
Alexander Lex DuPris was the leader. Trained to kill other supernaturals, he was a master of shape-shifting. With a long rap sheet of successful battles versus multip
le enemies in solo combat, he was perhaps the master’s favorite. As the prison rose out of the ground, Lex’s eyes were already open, and he wore a monstrous grin on his face. His flesh seemed to shift around inside the ice as he appraised the face of Delilah. His unique way of saying hello. She began the sequence to release him.
Symon Vasyl was next. A fellow soldier like Lex, they fought in the same unit in World War II. Unlike Lex, however, he wasn’t thrilled with his friend’s choice to sign up for this fifty-year imprisonment. Symon preferred to wander from battle to battle, feasting on the blood of soldiers instead of being fed like a cow. He was a master tracker and saboteur. Delilah was particularly fond of Symon due to his unique skill sets. Nobody else could turn a building into a fortress with booby traps made from piano wire and duct tape and have it be lethal enough to disable an entire Special Forces unit.
The last soldier Delilah was going to release today was her ace in the hole. The ice cylinder rose from the ground. A man with a suit and thin black tie waited with patience inside. His face had no features, no markings, no nose, mouth, or even eyes. Just empty eye sockets. The Whisper, he was called, a master infiltrator and espionage genius with no knowledge of his past lives. Each life he lived, each name he stole, he became in full: mind, body, and soul. This single vampire would be Delilah’s spy. I finally found the correct target for you to replace, Whisper.
She waited for the heaters to melt the ice and release her soldiers. She was only releasing three of them today. The rest would have their time. It would be rude for her to release everyone. There was some etiquette as to how her master wished events to unfold that she vehemently disagreed with. Still, he has six hundred years of practice. He is just keeping his cards close to his chest. I much rather prefer a crushing victory. She reassured herself. The three of them began to move closer to her, all three not making a sound. Even with the puddles of water at their feet, no ripples were cast. The merits of the true undead, kings of the night, I suppose.
“Your time to usher in a new age for the world is at hand. All of your training is about to be put to the test. You will be my agents for the salvation of the Society of Deus. Our army will be marching forth in the coming nights to defend this kingdom from all enemies, both above and below,” Delilah said.
“Yesss. That we shall, my princess. Is his ascension complete yet?” Lex asked.
“Vryce has only begun. It’s why only three of you are activated at this time. You will be assisting his new apprentice, Gabriel D’Angelo. These are the orders I have been given,” she replied. The look of dejection on Lex’s face didn’t belong on a creature such as him. Pretending to have emotions is below him.
“Vryce found another vampire more competent than us, you say?” Lex replied. “We follow him on the promises to further our own ascension,” he snarled. “Amo-a-Deus, the name of his army, like a god, it means. We have trained it. Forged them to a weapon. He will replace us so quickly with a child vampire? History knows not of this Gabriel. Therefore, he is young and insignificant.”
“Silence!” she snapped. “You presume much. This is why you are an assassin and not a visionary. Gabriel has his place in his plans as much as you do. Where blades are needed, you will be found. Your task for now is simple.” She waited as the three of them recoiled and stood at attention.
Delilah stepped inches away from Lex. She could smell the sweet scent of blood as she looked up at him with determination. “There are sixty-three dignitaries within the city. Vampires, shape-shifters, and sorcerers waiting for centuries to dive into Hades and hunt for glory.”
Lex lowered his gaze in submission and spoke in a softer voice. “Yes, my princess.” A toothy grin began to creep along his face. “You want us to quietly assassinate any of those who get too close.”
Delilah paused and let that thought sit for a moment. Good. You already understand the real objective. She gave a curt nod of approval. “This city will soon be overrun by demons who find themselves on the edge of hell ready to crawl up. Let us liberate ourselves from the council’s shackles while the blood roams freely. Kill them all. Kill them and claim their hearts. You were promised strength and a new world if you fought for it. These are your first orders in his plan. Now go forth and do his work until you hear from me again.” She gestured to the exit chamber.
“As you wish, my lady,” Symon said in a thick French accent. “How you say? You look divine today. Perhaps a dance you will grant me under the moon?”
The three of them walked off to wage war. Delilah looked at the remaining four chambers, wishing she could just unleash them and end this in a single night. Not yet. Not yet. Delilah updated her list with a smile as she left the chamber.
Initiate demon harvest protocols.
Rewrite channel 12 news reports.
Locate security leak.
Lunch.
Verify satellite monitoring of Walsh.
Sleep for ten minutes.
Feed the dog, Alexandria.
Exercise.
Pull off double double cross and live.
CHAPTER 16
It almost seemed to look at him. Tiny and small, it protruded from behind his glove, spiraling up in defiance. A mistake. One that was soon to be plucked away with utmost precision. Bollard felt a twinge of pain as he plucked the defiant hair out of his wrist with his right hand. He placed the rebel weed with delicate care into his vest. Mr. Bollard had no room in his life for deviants. Not a single hair of his body could fall within the walls of the Twin Cities. A single mistake, a single hair, a single drop of blood was all Vryce would need in order to utilize his sorcery and learn the truth. Every single act Bollard committed within these walls was one of careful precision.
He stood outside Walsh Tower with his driver and waited for Ms. Dumont to return. He struggled with his host body, a mortal descendant of Lazarus. Mr. Bollard was tasked with embedding himself deep within the organization and as close to Vryce as possible in a limited time window. Per the wishes of Lord of Heaven’s Wrath, Mr. Bollard would locate the best path to free Lazarus before anyone else, including the society. Countless layers of espionage over the nine decades had paved the way for Mr. Bollard. Don’t fool yourself, demon. You were one of Lazarus’s jailers. You bartered your escape from hell on the promise of his location. You’ve been paying lip service by helping O’Neil. It’s time to pay up. Mr. Bollard tried to silence JJ’s voice in his head while biting his lip.
“O’Neil is a cunning monster to keep me wrapped in his affairs,” Mr. Bollard spoke under his breath.
Cunning? Dare I say it was you that wanted freedom from the pits of hell and entrapments of heaven? In your desperation, you bargained with Lord of Heaven’s Wrath. I never brought you to me, so try and tell me you do not enjoy your time here. Hidden from all sides by borrowing half my name and body.
“You are, of course, correct,” Mr. Bollard said while inspecting the rest of his clothing.
The society is a tool for us to use, JJ’s voice came bubbling up from within. One which needs to be handled carefully.
JJ and Bollard were brought together by the Unification in Chicago, deep below the city, over the protest of all but two death lords. Many saw the alliance with a demon king as a sin. None believed it was possible to navigate the eternal landscape of purgatory, as they had tried for a millennium, much less return even a tiny fragmented soul across the barrier. So a challenge was put forth by all other death lords. O’Neil’s teams of helldivers would jump in and locate specified lost artifacts and soul fragments, a daunting and nearly impossible task for even the world’s strongest vampires, sorcerers, or most experienced helldivers.
The expedition was launched beneath the city, a city that had been burned to ash once, forging its close connection with death. The more death and sacrifice in an area, the farther one could dive into purgatory, or hell. Cities, with their concentrated populations, allowed for missions unattainable in past centuries. Twenty-four from O’Neil’s team went in. Only thre
e returned: Morris, Frank, and O’Neil. A small wooden cross, a set of grave clothes, and a single soul fragment were brought back. Upon realizing that Mr. Bollard’s information was true, Lady of Fate quickly bound Mr. Bollard to JJ with the fragment before it evaporated. And it worked.
It only took small whispers into the ears of the death lords to convince them a worldwide ritual was required to return an entire soul, or person. A massive undertaking had begun. The Unification bound demons for information, exploring the depths of purgatory in earnest. Lost objects and forgotten secrets were recovered as the art of helldiving was perfected. Yet souls, entire souls, required the current undertaking, and Mr. Bollard knew exactly where to go.
Currently, the goals of many groups were aligned: Bollard and JJ, bound demons and the Unification, Deus and the Unification. “Step one, open up the barrier between the worlds, the one part that requires everyone working together,” Mr. Bollard mused. Every organization intended to use the great alignment of December 21 to its own ends. Perhaps, he thought, a similar battle is waging at each ritual around the world. It was not the first time this decade he had such thoughts. For his part, he only wished for true freedom, no longer in debt or bound in service, a goal achieved by freeing Lazarus before any other. All the death lords wished success to be theirs first, so Mr. Bollard played his cards close to his chest.
Don’t forget, you will need me if you wish to remain anchored and hidden in this world.
“The first part is done. Now we need access to the perfect threshold to dive in, a location which we still need. According to O’Neil’s information, the Society of Deus will have the best beachhead.”
And the stiffest competition. “Joining” the society itself will put us closer.
