by Sawyer Black
Henry smiled and slapped Boothe on the shoulder. He tipped the demon a theatrical wink. “What, you want to drink it?”
“I’m half-tempted, yes.”
Henry sighed.
Just when I think I’m learning something.
He pointed to the next door. “What’s in that one?”
Boothe blinked as if waking from a daydream. “Nothing.”
And nothing in the rest of the cells until they reached halfway to the end, and a breeze rippled the fabric of Henry’s hoodie, washing the floral brownie char away with a blast of hay and dry leaves. They rustled underfoot. The sun beamed through the limbs of the trees above the path, and colorful bugs danced to the song of a bubbling spring.
Boothe stepped up next to Henry and looked around in appreciation. His forehead wrinkled. “Charlie? Is that you?”
The bugs froze, their wings beating in place, and a rough voice floated out of the trees. “No …”
Whistling intruded on the glamour.
Is that ‘Always Look on the Bright Side’?
The whistled tune further broke the illusion with its jaunty immediacy. Rushed and shrill. The bubbling water sputtered to a halt, and the bugs fell to the ground in fluttering spirals. The whistling grew louder. More desperate.
Henry winced away, and the peaceful glen broke apart like burning mist. A demon roared from behind the fifth door, chains rattling with rage. The demon caught his breath, and the whistling from the end of the corridor continued unabated.
“That you, Boothe?”
“Yes, Charlie. It’s me.” Boothe flapped his hand, stepping toward the door, and Henry handed him the keys. The demon didn’t fumble through them like Henry had. The door squealed open.
A red demon hung from the ceiling. Wrapped in iron chains from ankles to neck, the only things free were his smooth head and clawed feet. Boothe stepped forward, but Charlie thrashed like a fat butterfly trying to leave its chrysalis. “No! Don’t try to save me. Just go down there and shut up that God damn WHISTLING!”
The spear appeared in Boothe’s hands, and he raised it overhead. Charlie closed his eyes and jerked his head back as Boothe sliced through the chains. They parted with a crackling sizzle, and the naked demon tumbled to the floor.
The spear drooped and melted in Boothe’s hands. He tossed it into the corner, wiping his palms on the front of his jacket. Charlie pushed himself to his feet. Thick muscle covered every inch of his body. His squat legs like kegs. His hanging gorilla arms bulging and roping up to his cannonball shoulders. A neck as wide as his head.
He looked up at Boothe with a beaming smile. “Thank you.”
He transitioned into movement in a heartbeat, blurring through the door, veering up the corridor with a whoop of joy. At the last door on the right, he went from full speed to stationary, sinking his claws into the iron door and planting his feet. His face stretched into a grimace, and the muscles in his back rippled.
The skin on his fingers peeled back as it burned, and he shook his head with a growl. Every time he heaved against the door, it bulged out, warping like taffy. One last pull, and the door tore free of the stone with a clang that shook the floor. Charlie dropped the door behind him and blew on his fingers.
The whistling finally stopped, but a weak voice floated through the open door as Charlie rushed inside with wide and gleeful eyes. “I wonder if you would be so good as to hurrk …”
A squat man stepped out of the cell brushing his hands off in front of him. Built like a bricklayer, he had Buddha's face and a shiny black ponytail. His oiled goatee extended to a point under his chin. Jeans and a black mechanic’s shirt, he sighed with a grin and turned to face Henry, dropping his hands to rest them behind his back. “Much better.”
Boothe indicated Henry at his side with a wave. “Charlie, this is Henry.”
Henry stepped forward with his hand out. An instinct that he didn’t bother fighting.
This is all too fucking much.
Charlie looked at Henry’s hand with his eyebrows riding up into his widow’s peak. “Why not?” He grabbed Henry’s hand in greeting. “Charlie Mara.”
“Henry Black. You’re standing where I think I need to be.”
Charlie snatched his hand back, and the mirth drained from his face. “You don’t wanna go in there. You don’t need that shit.”
“I’m afraid we must,” Boothe said.
Charlie looked from Boothe to Henry and back. He raised his hands. “Fine, but do me a favor and put me back in the chains first.”
Charlie moved to the side, walking on the bent door with echoing steps. Henry stepped forward, and the right key fell into his hand. He knew with more certainty he’d ever felt. It slid in and unlocked the door as if turning on its own.
The door swung open and Henry looked directly into the eyes of a beautiful boy sitting on the edge of a cot with his hands in his lap. Small and dirty, his face puffy from crying. He smiled, and Henry fell in love.
Don’t look into his eyes, Henry!
Words without meaning. A warning he couldn’t possibly heed. He looked into Amélie’s eyes for the first time, his breath hitching, swallowing tears that threatened to pour from the deepest part of his soul.
“Are you here to free me?” His voice in Henry’s head and ears. Hesitant. Expectant. Strained with a short life full of pain.
Amélie’s tiny squirming face had been red from the cloth used to clean the birth from the folds in her skin. She was a wondrous beauty, and he felt hideous standing there with her in his arms. He knew she couldn’t really see yet, but the feeling that she was looking into his heart, and his darkest thoughts, made him shrink deeper into his hate and self-loathing.
Henry, don’t look!
He had to look. He saw the same thing in the boy’s eyes now. And just like staring at his daughter, knowing she would forgive him anything, he felt it from Adam. His promise to Amélie on the day she entered the world, echoed through him with the weight of crushing responsibility.
I’ll never let anyone hurt you, baby. Daddy will always be here.
Henry tumbled into the boy’s gaze, but he knew which way was up. It was the direction of her love. Her understanding and forgiveness. Things he didn’t deserve, and yet he clung to them with all his might.
The boy’s power washed over him, but it didn’t touch his resolve. He already knew what a monster he was. He’d shown the world his demon face his whole life. If he couldn’t save one child, he’d save the other, and maybe that would be good enough.
Tears filled his eyes, and Adam’s face became Amélie’s. Henry nodded, and the child rocked back as if struck by an unseen hand, his power bounding back into him. “Yes, I’m here to free you.”
Adam blinked, fresh tears tracking through the dirt on his cheeks. “But you are champion to another.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Henry marched in and swung his claws, striking the chain from Adam’s leg in a flash of sparks. Thunder in the distance. The blast of trumpets heralding the child’s release, and Adam flung himself into Henry’s arms.
I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.
I’m here.
Adam bawled into his chest, and Henry stroked the boy’s pale hair with a twisted hand tipped with black knives. Boothe walked in, and his face was unsure and questioning. “Henry?”
Adam pulled back with a gasp. He looked up at Boothe, and his face twisted with rage and terror. He beat on Henry’s chest with tiny fists and screamed, “Kill him!”
The compelling power dug into him, but Henry brushed it aside. “Suck shit, kid.”
Adam froze with a hand drawn back for another strike. “What?”
“What?” Boothe echoed.
“Boothe’s an asshole, for sure. Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing I’d like to see more than that fucker get eaten by a pack of syphilitic rats, but I had to admit earlier that I maybe kinda owed him, so … fuck that shit.”
“Henry!”
He looked up
at Boothe’s scolding tone. “What? Don’t just tell a kid that it’s bad to say fuck. Let ’em hear it first so they know why you’re smacking them when they say it.”
“You disobeyed me,” Adam whispered.
“Yeah, I guess I’m an asshole, too.”
He squeezed Henry in another hug.
What he wouldn’t give to feel Amélie’s arms around him again. He buried his nose in Adam’s hair and rocked him until the child stopped crying.
Adam leaned back, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “You saved me because you wanted to?”
“That’s right.”
Adam looked up at Boothe from under his brows, his eyelids flashing as he blinked. “I’m sorry I commanded Henry to kill you, Mr. Boothe.”
“It’s quite all right, Adam. Henry?”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this little guy out of here.”
“That kid ain’t going nowhere,” Charlie said from the doorway.
Henry spun with a growl, setting Adam behind him on the floor.
“Whoa!” Charlie raised his hands, his round face an O of shock. “I didn’t mean it that way, mòmíngqímiào!”
“Then what did you mean, Charlie?” Boothe stood calmly, but Henry saw the tension in his shoulders.
“Until that kid is called, he has the weight of destiny on him.”
Boothe pursed his lips. “Henry, will you pick up the child, please?”
Henry slung Adam up on his hip. Boothe grabbed his shoulder and looked at Charlie. “Would you like to join us?”
“Not really.” Charlie walked in shaking his head. He took Boothe’s hand with a rueful shrug.
Boothe reached through time and space to take them back to his apartment, but nothing happened.
A blip of power hit Henry in his chest. A flicker like a movie reel with a missing frame.
Charlie walked around to sit on the cot. “Maybe I’ll just put myself back in the chains.”
Boothe scratched his head, looking at Henry with his forehead wrinkled in apology. “This may have been an error on my part.”
Ezra burst into existence in the doorway. “Master Henry! Oh, hello, Master Charlie.”
Charlie waved without looking up.
“Master Henry!”
“Yeah, I hear you Ezra.”
“They’re coming, Master Henry!”
“Who is?”
The goll lowered his eyes to the floor, rubbing the top of his head with rough passes of his gray claws. “Trackers, Master Henry.”
CHAPTER 29
“What’s a Tracker?” Adam asked.
Henry hitched the boy higher on his hip. “They’re kinda like God’s fishermen.”
Boothe shook his head. “More like fishers of men.”
“Nah, my man,” Charlie said. “Fishermen of demons.”
Adam’s brow wrinkled. He lifted his hand and pressed his fingertips against Henry’s cheek.
Henry’s memories shuffled across his mind until the Trackers swelled in his imagination, growing with his pain and terror and panic. Adam pulled his hand away. “Oh, that’s a Tracker.”
“You just did the Vulcan mind meld. You’re like a little Spock.”
Adam rolled his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling. He opened his mouth, and the Trackers’ song issued into the silence. Demanding. Commanding. Echoing with distant horns and thunder.
Henry stared in awe at Adam’s face as a golden glow filled the cell. Shimmering like the sun streaming through rippling water. Heat at his back, and Henry turned, squinting into the holy glare.
The Tracker that had thrown Henry into the well floated down the corridor, his wings brushing into the upper corners and his hands clutching the black sword that was stained with another angel’s blood. The chains that held him to the service of the Order dragged across the floor, jangling in chiming counterpoint to Adam’s song.
The yellow fire in his eyes reflected off the scars streaking across his face. Puckered skin where Henry’s claws had slashed. He hovered in front of the door, his light tightening Henry’s skin across his forehead.
Charlie hid in Henry’s shadow, while Boothe backed up out of the Tracker’s view.
“Put me down, Henry.”
Henry lowered Adam to the floor, and the child walked out of the cell, his silhouette burned into Henry's retinas.
Your song has beckoned me forth.
Who here can free me of this torment?
Henry looked at Boothe with his hands spread in a question, but Boothe shook his head. “Don’t look at me. Those chains are under an enchantment far beyond me.”
Adam stood on his tiptoes and laid his hand against the angel’s thigh. The Tracker’s light dimmed, flowing into the small hand in pulsing flashes. He lowered to the floor, staring into Adam’s eyes. His wings folded in, and he lowered his sword.
Henry blinked the spots out of his eyes. Adam turned with a smile, and Henry smiled back. “Break his chains, Henry,” the boy said.
The Tracker jerked his head up, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, the muscles under his ears bulging.
“Um, I can’t.”
“You can. It’s easy.”
“How do you know, kid?”
“You are a paladin, Henry. You have sworn to free those who can’t free themselves. There are no chains that can hold against you.”
“Oh.” Henry nodded. “Sure.”
Adam stepped aside, and the Tracker lifted his hands. Henry charged forward with a roar and swung his claws at the chains with all his might.
They shattered like ice.
The Tracker reeled back, and the sword dropped from his hands. He caught his balance and dropped to his knee. One fist over his heart, the other pressed into the ground in front of his feet.
I swear fealty to you.
The booming voice in Henry’s mind held a finality he didn’t care for you. “Oh, fuck no.” Henry pointed to Adam. “Swear to him.”
He is already served by another.
“God damn it! Boothe, tell him. I’m just some fuck-up comedian who you suckered into all this nonsense.”
Boothe spread his hands in genuine confusion. “Henry, I have no idea how to proceed. I believe I was suckered, as well.”
Ezra hopped back into view. “We must go, Master Henry.”
“Fuck, why is everybody looking at me?”
No answers. Just looks.
“Fine.” He pointed at the kneeling tracker. “What’s your name?”
Ramiel.
“And stop doing that for fuck’s sake. It hurts my head.”
A smile played at the edges of the Tracker’s mouth. “I am Ramiel.”
“All right, Remmy. Your brothers and sisters are coming to … do whatever you guys do. They’re probably busy laying the smack down on the Viazo riffraff, but we should heretofore … as to … you know, fuck off.”
“That was poetry, Henry.” Boothe pressed through the door, leaning away from Ramiel as he passed.
Henry shrugged. “We need to get out of here. It’s as simple as that.”
A booming concussion above their heads sent dust cascading down like sifted flour. The fluorescents flickered, blinking back on at half intensity, angry hornets buzzing from their ballasts.
Charlie jumped from the cot. “I got no weapon or nothing.”
“Peterson’s office,” Henry shouted. He spun to find Ezra hopping from foot to foot. “You remember how to get back there?”
“Yes, Master Henry.”
Henry crowded into the hallway and scooped Adam up, slinging the boy onto his back.
Adam held onto his savior’s neck, fingers laced under his throat, weighing nothing.
He charged past Ramiel, giving him a sharp slap on the ass that stung his palm as he passed. “Let’s go.”
They compressed into the stairwell and burst out into the pantry. Henry couldn’t wait to see the expression on the first busboy to see them coming down the hall. Ramiel’s light flared behind them, an
d Charlie passed in a humming blur of pumping arms and flashing teeth.
Retracing their steps, Ezra led them through empty hallways to Peterson’s office. The floor shook as Henry crossed the threshold, bucking him off balance. He recovered in time to see Charlie stand with the cultist’s daggers held up in front of him. A swirling mass of entropic energy flowed from the blades to surround his forearms in swirling tendrils. He smiled in appreciation. “Oh yeah.”
Boothe scooped the sword from the floor, and it rang, black wisps of energy radiating from its tip like sound waves.
“There’s nothing for you, Henry,” Adam said in his ear.
“Don’t worry about me, kid. Even the champ couldn’t take me down.”
The floor heaved, and Henry braced himself against Ramiel’s solid shoulder. The lights died, and only the Tracker’s glow kept Henry from losing his direction. The noise of war swelled in the distance. Explosions and gunfire. Shouted curses.
A porter sprinted by pushing a luggage cart on squealing wheels.
Henry cocked his head to listen. “It sounds like Apocalypse Now out there.”
“Great movie,” Charlie said. “Why I started surfing.”
Boothe stepped to the door with the sword out in front of him and peered around the jamb. “Well, Henry. Front or back?”
“Shit, it sounds like it doesn’t matter.”
“The lobby is wide open. Room to swing a weapon. Time enough to see the enemy coming.”
“Or to hide behind this thick slab of angel, here.” Henry turned to look at Adam from the corner of his eye. “What do you think?”
“I think this is the most fun I’ve ever had!”
“All right, then. The front door it is.”
Ezra scampered out in front of them, leading the way. Boothe and Charlie walked in a hurried crouch behind him. Henry followed, and Ramiel brought up the rear with his light making their shadows dance along the walls as they ran toward the battlefield thunder.
They left the hallway, stepping out onto the balcony overlooking the lobby. When they passed the spot where Ariana had announced the auction, Henry convulsed with a shiver.
