by Rick Heinz
“Always prepared. I’m envious. My evening did not go as expected. Your new employee, Gabriel, might go poking around in restricted areas for secrets.” JJ poured himself a cup. “Can you keep a leash on him? I don’t want him showing up where I work.” Mr. Bollard thought about adding brandy to it.
“Like all new employees, they always have such a zeal to them. It usually ends up with them getting killed,” she said. “I have spent my evening entertaining our friends with the most obscure dietary habits and demands. I think some of them are of the worst kind on earth. They ignore the toll their agendas take on these men and women.” She gestured out, changing the subject. “This will be another night where I pay for all of their bills, to at least give them something to go home to. They are, after all, doing a much finer job than those in Greenland.”
“You have contacts with that branch?” JJ asked.
Of course she does, you idiot.
JJ chuckled and continued. “Have you had any contact with the other sites? I imagine none of them are faring any better.” He pushed aside his menu. “Has anyone gotten close to finding Lazarus’s prison? You’ve charged a high price for people to dive here in this city. Think any other site has a chance to beat us?”
“Don’t play coy, Bollard. It doesn’t suit you. The council has their specialists. What I find interesting is how they plan to put the genie back into the bottle. The McCarthy plan of media control may work, but not with what happened in Chicago. It seems the Unification’s media branch dropped the ball on the viral type.” She downed her coffee and poured another steaming cup. “I imagine entire branches of, well, you know, are in the process of being terminated for their estimates.”
“Oh, that reminds me, speaking of terminations. I had to terminate a dignitary a few hours ago. He was inside one of the restricted areas. I cleaned the area, but I need you to cover my tracks with his cohorts. I’m not sure which dignitary he’s tied to,” JJ lied, hoping Gabriel and Delilah would never mention the clinic to each other.
She flipped open her tablet case and made a note. “Thank you. I’ll have my people take care of that in the morning.” She looked at him with her green eyes and bit her lip. “Are you actually hungry? I have until just after dawn before I’m back on.”
JJ felt himself blush.
This is tedious. Fine. Have your pleasure.
JJ could not contain his ear-to-ear smile as he leaned in. “I did say that it should be you who ran this place, and I wager you already do by now. Let’s celebrate. Your place?” He winked.
“Let’s do yours. There is always business one foot away from my door, and I can’t relax there anymore,” she said, already standing up and grabbing her coat.
“After you,” JJ said.
Careful. She only wants to see our place.
One of the officers in a nearby booth overhead that last exchange and raised his cup in salute. JJ pushed Mr. Bollard down deeper into his subconscious.
Humans. Your instincts are what make you fun to play with.
The moment they were in the car, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Five years of stress and frustration gave way to a moment of earthly indulgence. Her lilac perfume was intoxicating, so much so that even Mr. Bollard couldn’t lift a protest.
While Delilah and JJ were enraptured with each other, the driver made sure to take less traveled roads and made nary a sound or seemed to even notice. A proper professional. They came up the road leading into JJ’s estate. He pulled himself off her and maintained deep eye contact as he held her hand, helping her out.
Cherry-red Christmas lights reflected off the untouched snow, giving the estate grounds a magical glow. Immense statues dotted the yard, each a carving of an ancient god in the old Greek pantheon, the twelve Olympians with Athena standing at the center of the round driveway. The driver handled their belongings, deftly hiding Delilah’s tablet from any spying eyes and giving a hand signal to Delilah.
“Christmas lights?” Delilah asked.
“It’s a neighborhood thing. What else are rich bachelors supposed to do with mountains of money, toss extravagant parties while they plan with covert societies the rebirth of the world?” He smiled and opened the large set of double doors into his palace. She only shook her head at the absurdity of the holiday and walked inside.
Despite the size and external opulence of the estate, only a small portion was ever used. Most of the manse was eternally dark and empty. JJ took Delilah’s coat himself and hung it up in a nearby closet.
Something is off.
“It’s my turn,” JJ replied. He chided Bollard for forcing him to speak. Their cohabitation was based on each of them experiencing equal amounts of pleasure. Mr. Bollard thrived on doubt and envy in humans; JJ craved physical sensation. When it came to murder, they were on the same page. It was getting tiresome with so few days left.
“By all means,” Delilah replied. “I’m a bit surprised that you don’t have help here, or even security?” She smiled as she took off her shoes. “You do know what it is we do for a living, right?”
JJ leaned in close for a kiss. “You do know my reputation, right? Even your boss respects hospitality. After all, we are a civilized lot.” He took her by the hand and led her further into the mansion by the kitchen. “I have something for you. Something rare.”
The kitchen was large enough to be a condo in its own right. Intricately carved oak cabinets lined every wall. Racks of knives hung from multiple preparation counters, each with their own stainless-steel sink. There was not a single stain or object out of place.
Delilah placed her hands on a marble countertop and admired the variety of cutlery that decorated his kitchen. JJ went to one of his many fridges and started producing ingredients that would need to be cooked. Green, red, and purple vegetables, fresh from a Mediterranean deli, overflowed in his arms as he turned around. JJ began to move through the kitchen with the grace of a predatory cat as he flipped a switch to play music.
“I have always wanted to show you my craft, Delilah.” He smiled.
“Delilah, who’s that?” said a raspy voice from the hallway behind JJ. “Don’t tell me ya brought a birdie home?” said Frank as he walked out, an open bottle of blood in his hands. “Nice to meet ya, lass,” he said as he gestured with the bottle and took a swig before turning to JJ. “So the dame has to go. We got work. Pay the girl and ditch her. How many times I gotta tell ya to not bring pleasure home?”
Delilah didn’t hesitate and grabbed a knife from the rack above her. Throwing it with expert skill, she landed it between the eyes of the Irishman. She ran for the door.
Enough of your game, Mr. Bollard growled, taking over instantly. His eyes changed to resemble a tiger’s. He leaped over the counter as white fur started to grow while his muscles and bones cracked.
Delilah had almost made it to the door before Mr. Bollard, in his full form of half man, half tiger pounced through the hallway. His steel claws left marks in the floor as he dived onto Delilah. She rolled with him and used his strength and size against him, sending him into the door with a crash. “You are good, for a human,” Mr. Bollard growled as he recovered on all fours while Delilah had already vanished into the darker part of the mansion.
“Usually they scream now,” Bollard taunted. The lack of light didn’t bother him as he pursued her into an unfurnished corridor. A shadow nearby provided Mr. Bollard with the portal he needed as he ran into it. It felt like diving into a pool of ice water.
Delilah ran to a window at the end of the hall, attempting to dive through. Mr. Bollard was following her through the shadows as if he were swimming. He waited in his icy void until her feet left the ground before he pounced.
Mr. Bollard heaved himself out of the shadow, grabbing her face with claws that enveloped her head. The momentum slammed her into the ground, and he felt her body twitch in his hand.
I can feel her breath. She lives.
Mr. Bollard dragged his prey while ducking under a chandeli
er. His feet left pools of pitch-blackness behind him.
Frank had pulled the knife out of his head and joined them. “Ya know money usually works. You don’t have to kill the lass. It’s not like your birdie knows me,” he said.
Mr. Bollard growled back, his mouth filled with rows of pointed teeth. “This is Delilah Dumont, right hand to the warlock Vryce. Not only is she the most competent person in this city, she is also in the business of knowing exactly who everyone is.” Bollard dropped her limp body. “You have just single-handedly tipped my hand with your invasion. Why are you here? Speak quickly.” Bollard towered over the zombie. His steel claws reflected some of the light, creating shadows where there should be none.
“Easy there, tiger. O’Neil sent me up here to pull you out. We need your intel so we can turn this thing off. Hey, he’s got the details. I’m just the messenger.” He gestured to the claws. “You can put those back, tough guy. I had to break into your place with all those Deus boys around. I figured it would be best to go to ground here.”
“You’ve fallen to a mere errand boy? You were never the sharpest tool in the shed. It is indeed best for you to go to ground here. I’m done working with rejects.” Bollard yanked Frank’s head from his body. The skinless face showed no emotion as the light left his eyes in the last seconds of his unlife. “Consider this a favor to your dignity.”
Mr. Bollard began to shift his form to normal size as the smell of rotting flesh started to set in.
What . . . you . . . just . . . killed him with my hand? JJ forced himself back in control, driving Mr. Bollard down and shape-shifting to human. “Bollard, you fool. You’ve fucked me,” JJ said.
JJ sat on the stairs and pulled out his set of leather gloves as he allowed himself a moment to think. He only had a few hours before the sun rose. “O’Neil will have to accept his son’s death. I can explain that he was killed by someone else.”
Delilah was another matter. She was too good at her job, but she let her guard down and left her security detail. JJ had hoped it would never come to this.
Your kind never does. It is our path, never forget that, JJ. I refuse to allow the gates to be closed before I succeed in finding Lazarus. I want my freedom, and your boss’s bitch bound me to you. My arrangement is with Lord of Heaven’s Wrath. Not anyone else. If you want me gone, let me operate freely.
“You’re right. The society is betraying everyone anyway. At this point our best option is to find out what is really going on, from the person with all the answers,” JJ whispered.
The warlock will find out soon enough.
Shadows moved along JJ’s face as his eyes began to dull in color and he became more inhuman. “Removing her from the equation, we can get closer to our target, and perhaps find his vulnerability. He relies on her.” JJ knew he was resolute in his next course of action.
The shadows poured into JJ, pulling him deep inside himself. He did not struggle as he surrendered to the power of Mr. Bollard. This is the only way the world is saved.
Mr. Bollard sent a text to his driver, requesting an emergency pickup. With Frankie dead, he would need someone else to assist him, and the Unification agent could be trusted to follow his orders. Mr. Bollard wrapped Delilah up in a bearskin blanket, taking a moment to move the hair back from her bloodied face.
You were the only one here worth saving.
Bollard struggled with the emotion welling up inside him. A knock on the door snapped the snarl off his face and reminded him that time was running out.
CHAPTER 29
Mr. Bollard knew that the medical clinic from earlier was closed and under quarantine. So close to the bleed, this was the best place to hide Delilah. It was physically restricted, and he hoped the bleed would disrupt any magical means to find her as well. It would buy him the time he needed. The fires had been put out long ago, yet small wisps of smoke from the charcoal-covered walls struggled for life not unlike the skinny, bloody girl on the floor chained to a water main. He waited for her to wake up as the sun was rising. The driver waited in the shadows. As her eyes began to flutter open, Mr. Bollard opened his tool kit and removed a heretic’s fork, a medieval torture instrument that consisted of bipronged forks with a leather strap. He placed it on the table before producing a set of silver nail clippers from the kit.
“My dear Delilah. Welcome back to life. I apologize for the manner and situation we find ourselves in now. No doubt you are aware that this is not according to either of our schedules,” he said.
She spit out a fleck of blood on the floor and rattled her bindings to test them. “O’Neil’s group. Reject assassins and second-rate helldivers. I had pegged you for a higher calling than a thug.”
“Oh, I have my higher calling. Vryce is a dangerous creature, one who has been issuing orders against the new world order. There is no place for monsters such as him, or his kind. I realize now that the society has no intention of unlocking Lazarus’s prison. JJ had hoped to place you upon the throne when we succeeded, but instead you will serve as the instrument I utilize to bring about this society’s demise.” Bollard perched in front of her. “Let us not waste time. I know you will not tell me anything willingly, but you will by the end of this session.” He looked at her and studied her features while cocking his head. “First, we are going to make sure that you always see what is about to come.”
Mr. Bollard kneeled, straddled her legs, and grabbed her face, letting his demonic strength hold her head still like a vice as she thrashed her legs. The nail clippers in his hand went to her eyelid. She tried to keep them shut, but that was what he expected as he snipped and peeled the loose skin. Tiny clip by tiny clip, Bollard cut away her eyelid. She refused to scream, but even with her jaw clenched shut, throated cries still came from the pain. This gave Mr. Bollard even more satisfaction than screams.
With each snip, Bollard cleaned the blood off his instrument, ensuring the pain would dull before resuming his work. The look of hatred in those beautiful green eyes was more becoming on her, even as blood ran down her right eye. He leaned in and kissed her forehead before standing up, satisfied with the work he had performed on her right eye. Her eyes darted around without control, grasping for a way out of the situation.
“Now, I suppose that the left eyelid will stay for now. You know that eyes are the gateway to the soul?” he said as he cleaned the clippers before placing them back with precision in his case.
She stammered and mumbled, gasping for air. “You will die. I will see your skin ripped from your bones and placed in front of my fireplace when this over!” She laughed as she thrashed. “You. Demon scum. You will lose.”
Mr. Bollard started to hold up tools in his kit one by one. Having fun yet, JJ? She is not looking as strong as you thought. I think the heretic’s fork is most appropriate. No, maybe a simple knife? “Perhaps, but I am a demon on the side of the light, my dear. It is typical for my kind, the rakshasa. We are allowed to choose where we stand. If one starts losing, I’ll just change sides.” He saw her pupils dilate as he held up pliers. “This one, then? Very well. I apologize, but we are not at the point where I can ask you questions yet. Torture is a tricky thing. If I begin asking questions early, you’ll lie. If I wait too long, you’ll tell me whatever I want to hear. I need to go just past that point, to the brink of death when you can only whisper and your subconscious speaks what I need.” Bollard was about to resume the torture, but he paused when she giggled.
Delilah’s shoulders shook as she laughed, and strands of bloodstained hair were shaken loose. She looked up at him, slammed her jaw into her chest, and screamed. Blood flowed in streams down her throat, and she smiled a bloody, toothy grin as she continued to laugh. She spat her tongue out at him as she struggled to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head. She coughed and choked as blood drained down her throat.
Mr. Bollard did not hesitate in shifting forms. He lunged and licked her throat with his cat’s tongue, biting playfully and leaving rows of teeth marks along her thin n
eck. “Oh dear, you think you can kill yourself for freedom. You are that devoted, aren’t you? You are truly worthy of the gift of blood, then. You will tell me everything. I will take you from Vryce and cause your soul to weep.”
Mr. Bollard shook her to bring her back. “The vitae, or life, the blood of kings. You shall be forever my child. Constantly returning for more to satiate your addiction.” Mr. Bollard sliced open his wrist with the steel claws and jammed it into her mouth. “Drink. Heal. Live eternally. Your soul freed from the shackles of this frail mortal frame.”
At first she resisted, but the sweet nectar of demon blood, of his blood, could not be resisted for long, no matter the human. Mr. Bollard stepped back and watched the drunkenness set in, the droopy eyes, the half smile, as she began to heal the damage she had caused. He waited as the change set in. His blood was unique, regenerating the most grievous wounds.
“Well, I think now is an appropriate time to ask questions. Tell me, dear Delilah. Tell me about your master and his plans. I can keep this up all night and day,” Mr. Bollard said as he picked up another tool and kneeled down. She lowered her head and gazed at him with hatred as she politely, with utmost etiquette, told him. Everything.
Mr. Bollard spent the day listening to her. Taking in every word, each more incriminating than the last. She even had information on the workings of other sites. North America was not playing along with the rest, it seemed. The Society of Deus would need to be dismantled and destroyed along with other warlocks. “We knew the warlocks have had their own agenda . . . but this?” he asked. “Vryce has violated the principles of divine law and sought to reclaim his soul. The others pioneer their own experiments. Every demon and angel and man on this planet should seek their demise. You are no different, Delilah.”
Vryce needed to be eliminated and they still needed to free Lazarus. Thoughts ran through his head about how to best achieve his goal. For starters, warlocks were as cautious as skittish deer. Vryce was particularly more difficult than some of the others as the master of possession, but he did have his weaknesses. First, his real form was weak and vulnerable to attack. Second, Mr. Bollard reminded himself, and of this he was particularly pleased, was Vryce’s vision. “When humans reach to the heavens, their wings melt from the purity of creation,” Bollard said. In this, he found Delilah Dumont and the organization of the Society of Deus to be Vryce’s weakness. In past centuries, enemies that would strike at the warlock would attempt to assault him directly.
