Evil Eternal

by Hunter Shea

“Must be some pretty interesting stuff on there,” he said.

  Aimee looked up and smiled. “Kind of.”

  “Man, you love to work. If I had your work ethic, I’d at least have a place to live by now.”

  “Oh, it’s not work,” Aimee said and tilted the laptop so he could see the display. “For some reason, I felt compelled to go on the Internet and look up stuff on Saint Michael. Did you know he was considered the prince of angels?”

  Shane scratched his head. “Didn’t have a clue.”

  He tried to be flippant to hide his concern. Why was Aimee looking up saints on the Web? As far as he knew, she was about as religious as he was, which was not at all. He worried that she was somehow picking up the vibes around him and his newfound demon-hunting associate. Her dreams concerned him, made him realize she was more involved in things than he was ready to face. The last thing he wanted was for her put the pieces together. Maybe it was chauvinistic to want to keep her in the dark, but he didn’t give a damn. Some things were too terrible to share.

  “So, why are you searching for info on Saint Michael in the first place?”

  Aimee stopped to consider his question and looked genuinely perplexed. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s because you brought that priest, Father Michael, to the house. I guess it’s just been playing with my subconscious.” She tapped a few keys and swung the computer completely around to his side of the table. Standing behind him, she controlled the scroll bar to show him the home page of a website dedicated to angels and saints.

  She took a long sip of coffee and said, “Look at this. Michael is also known as the Archangel, a defender of the chosen people and key warrior in the Apocalypse. He and his angels battled the devil in heaven and kicked his ass, sending Satan and his followers to earth.”

  Shane gulped so loud he was sure Aimee could hear. “Yeah, so?”

  “So, as far as biblical stories go, he’s got a pretty cool one. I thought even you could appreciate it. The Archangel Michael is the most powerful warrior angel in heaven. Not only that, he’s said to be responsible for guiding lost souls to heaven and even weighing whether or not they’re worthy.”

  Shane got up from the table to grab another cup of coffee. He would have given anything to end this conversation about warrior angels and the Apocalypse. He considered throwing the laptop out the window but he sensed that wouldn’t be the end of it. They had been sucked into something much bigger than them and, no matter how much he’d like to turn back the clock, he felt any decisions he made from here on in were not truly his own.

  “Sounds like a real badass,” he said.

  “The baddest. Maybe next time I see Father Michael I can impress him with my knowledge of the angel he was named after.” With a casual flip of a switch, she shut the computer down and walked to the bedroom. “I have to go out with Patty and do some things today. I’ll be back later to catch up on some real work. You think we can rent a movie tonight and order Chinese?”

  “Uh, yeah, sounds like a plan.”

  Okay, that was fucking surreal.

  He waited for Aimee to go into the bathroom before charging into the bedroom and changing into his clothes. Now all he had to do was come up with a plan to follow her without her noticing, because there was no way in hell he was going to let Aimee out of his sight, not after this shit.

  It had taken all of Father Michael’s strength to will his soul back into his body after guiding Muriel’s spirit back to its rightful place in the afterworld. The temptation to remain in the world between worlds, to fully become Liam once again and find Ailis and Kerwynn, was almost too great. The thought of Ailis’s possible return in the vessel of Aimee DeCarlo was what ultimately hastened his return, especially now that he was in danger of losing her yet again. The cold fact that she was not, nor would she ever be, his in this life did not deter him. He’d resigned himself to that fact. He had spent almost a thousand years saving the lives and souls of thousands of innocent strangers. Failing to safeguard his true love twice was not an option.

  Rays of sunlight knifed through the remaining storm clouds, melting the very fine, top layer of snow that had buried his body overnight.

  Supercharged with pain no human could withstand, Father Michael had slowly extracted the holy relic from his punctured heart. It pulled free from damaged muscle and bone with a wet pop. He lay still for hours, buffeted by swirling winds and icy drifts of snow and hail. It was just before noon when he fully regained his strength and stealthily made his way back down from Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. The walk downtown was slow and excruciating. A delivery truck nearly clipped his side when he was too slow to pull himself back onto the curb. The light had turned green and that meant go, person in the way or not.

  The more he walked, the better he felt, so it was only a matter of ten blocks before he was back to fighting form. The biting wind revived him to the point where he was able to run the last few blocks.

  He was waiting behind a tree across from Aimee’s apartment when a taxi pulled up, honked its horn once, and Aimee dashed into the cab, turning to wave good-bye to Shane who stood in the doorway. The cab was less than a block away when Shane emerged from the apartment wearing his jacket. He started to run after the departing taxi when Father Michael grabbed him from behind.

  Shane reacted with a reflexive chop to Father Michael’s chest.

  “You scared the hell out of me!” he shouted when he realized who he had hit. Shane rubbed the side of his hand which had instantly started to ache from bouncing off Father Michael’s granite chest.

  “Judging by your reaction, I would say the fear of hell has been placed into you. Good,” Father Michael said.

  Shane made an effort to resume his pursuit of Aimee but was stopped by the priest’s firm hold on his jacket.

  “Are you nuts? I have to follow Aimee. She’s in trouble every minute neither of us is around to keep an eye on her.”

  “This entire city is in trouble, but not at the moment.”

  Shane was torn between chasing a cab he knew full well he’d never find, or heeding Father Michael’s physical suggestion to stay put. It didn’t take long to realize he really had no choice.

  “I think she’s catching on,” Shane said.

  The snow, which had stopped for the past hour, was starting up again. The few people that walked past them on the streets cast wary glances at the immense priest who looked about ready to crush the punk rock kid in his grasp. “Quick, do you have a key to Aimee’s apartment? We’re attracting too much attention.”

  Once inside, the priest asked, “What makes you think she is aware?”

  Something about his girlfriend’s fascination with Father Michael stirred up the most bizarre case of jealousy Shane had ever felt. It wasn’t, nor could it be, a physical attraction. No, it wouldn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that out. There was something else, from the odd look in her eyes the day she met the undead priest to the incident this morning, that completely unsettled him. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine what it could be, but there was some bizarre connection to Aimee, some unseen way she had become tied up in all this, that made him uneasy.

  For that reason, he kept her nighttime vision and morning foray into the life of the Archangel Michael to himself.

  “Just a feeling,” Shane said instead. “When you live on the street, intuition is your greatest weapon.”

  Father Michael grabbed his gunnysack from the living room and emptied its contents onto the floor with a riotous crash. “These are the other weapons you’ll need along with your intuition.”

  Pugna

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aimee met up with Patty Wilson at the nail salon in the morning. She had a manicure and pedicure and, after a stop for coffee and donuts, they went uptown to have her hair done at the Bronze Beauty Salon. It was all the rave in town and many celebrities had been spotted getting high-priced coiffures at the ritzy salon and spa. It cost her well over two hundred dollars, but being asked by the mayor to
attend a convention was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. She was never one to splurge on herself. Aside from food, clothes and other basic necessities, the only time she really treated herself was on the occasional rock concert. So it was with a mix of guilt and excitement that Aimee shelled out her spending cash for the next month.

  “You look amazing!” Patty screeched when Aimee emerged from her session with Raul, a guy she was pretty sure was from the Bronx despite his attempts at an exotic Spanish accent and tales of his rich-and-famous encounters around the world. He may not have been a linguist, but he was great with hair.

  Aimee stopped and posed. “Thank you, thank you. Do you think it was worth it?”

  “Totally.”

  “I can’t believe I just shelled out two hundred dollars for a haircut. I must be losing my mind.”

  They walked out into the cold afternoon. Patty had thought ahead and brought an umbrella. She opened it and gave it to Aimee.

  “So the snow doesn’t spoil the do,” she told her.

  “See, I knew I asked you to come along for a reason. Let’s get some lunch.”

  Passing by the gold-plated Trump Towers, they walked three blocks to a Thai restaurant. Inside was warm, small and cozy. The smell of Thai sauces and simmering chicken had their stomachs growling. The place was mostly empty. It only took a few minutes for them to order. In no time, they were sipping on sweet Thai iced teas and digging into an appetizer of soft spring rolls.

  “I meant to ask you,” Patty said after they had polished off the spring rolls. “What did Shane say when you told him the mayor asked you on a date?”

  Aimee waved her off. “It is not a date. The mayor said he was also inviting other members of the staff that have helped him out. You have such an evil mind.”

  They both laughed.

  “Your avoidance of the question tells me you didn’t share the good news with Shane.”

  “Not yet. You know how much he hates the mayor. I didn’t want him to talk me out of going. I’m going to tell him when I get back. That is, after we find a dress.”

  “So you go out, get a French manicure and spend mucho dinero on a haircut and swanky dress. Kind of makes it so there’s no turning back.” Patty grinned. “You’re pretty evil yourself, missy.”

  Aimee took a long sip of her iced tea. Was there anything she could hide from Patty, even her own subconscious plan that she wasn’t aware of until that moment?

  “Maybe I am,” she replied and the cloud nine she had been riding on all that day started to descend.

  Cain had an exceptionally good day playing mayor. His newly transformed disciples had displayed extraordinary discipline, not once acting or speaking in any way that would betray the change. It spoke well of his power that they had playacted so well at being normal.

  Just after lunch, a group of high school seniors from an all-girl academy was brought in to meet him. He had been tempted to lock the door and make more disciples, but he settled for an artful seduction during the photo op of a pretty brunette with an ass like a firm, ripe apple.

  After the meet and greet ended, he had a security guard call her back up to the office and he proceeded to introduce the seventeen-year-old to the wonders of anal sex. She was a virgin, after all, and she said she wanted to save herself for when she got married.

  I really have been away too long, Cain thought. Even the most promiscuous wench rolling in the shit and stink of the Middle Ages wouldn’t have allowed him to violate her in such a way.

  The girl got up from her hands and knees, frazzled and in pain, but she swore to keep their tryst a secret.

  “I promise not to tell anyone I got fucked in the ass by the mayor,” she purred with sex-starved eyes. Cain noticed the cell phone in her hand and how her thumb flicked the image away of him taking her from behind.

  She noticed his discovery of her deception and tried to hide the phone behind her back.

  “Why you little liar,” he said. “Were you planning to share that with all your online friends?”

  She shook her head. “I just wanted a souvenir for myself,” she replied, giving him a smile that would have made Lolita blush.

  “I happen to love naughty girls.” He sauntered closer, reaching out to undo her half-buttoned shirt. “You know what I like to do to naughty girls?”

  She leaned back on his desk, parting her legs ever so slightly.

  Cain used his fingertips to push her knees far apart.

  “I like to eat bad girls like you who lie. Would you like me to eat you?”

  Sucking on her index finger, she could only manage a short nod and a low moan of anticipation. She closed her eyes and hiked her skirt up to her waist.

  “That’s it. Just lie back and let me do all the work.”

  His mouth opened wider and wider, and he knelt before her sex, his jaw muscles popping as they were wrenched from their sockets. His teeth shredded his gums as they extended to deadly points. His tongue licked her inner thigh and she shuddered.

  He clamped down on her lower half, nose buried up to her bellybutton. At the same time, his hand flew up and onto her mouth to stifle her cries. He consumed her, down to her gold-stud earrings, his neck and body expanding and contracting like a python as he swallowed her down with wet smacks. She was gone in seconds and his body, satiated now, returned to normal. Cain out, mayor in.

  “You were a wonderful vintage of whore,” he said, patting his belly.

  When the teacher chaperone called back less than an hour later to ask if they had seen the girl, Rose informed her that the girl had last been spotted walking with the other seniors from the group. Cain gave Rose a sardonic smile when he heard the lie.

  “Also, I have the producer for Meet the Press on the line for you,” she added.

  “I’ll take it here.” She flipped him the phone. “Hello, this is Mayor Spinelli.”

  “Mr. Mayor, it’s Bob. Just calling to confirm your appearance on the show next week.”

  Cain started to laugh. “Bob, I wouldn’t come on your fucking show if you promised me all the drugs and hookers money could buy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, you old fart. If you call here again, I’ll come over there and make you choke on my cock. Good day.”

  Cain slammed the phone on its cradle and looked at Rose. “How did I do?”

  “Excellent.”

  For an old broad who, before her murder, attended church every Sunday and went to confession six times a year, Rose was turning out to be one fine apostle. Transmogrifying the good ones was always his favorite part of the job. It was his way of giving the finger to his one true enemy, Father Michael aside.

  “Well, Rose, it’s been swell. If you’ll excuse me, I have to further demolish Mayor Spinelli’s reputation before preparing for the big clusterfuck tomorrow. It doesn’t look like he’ll be running for any office again. I’ll summon you and the others when I need you.”

  Rose nodded her compliance and answered the ringing phone in the kindliest voice New York had to offer. Cain adjusted his tie and strutted down the hall to his next meeting, anxious to tell the members of PETA that they were nothing but a bunch of bull dykes in need of a good lay, which he was more than willing to provide. It wasn’t an original thought, but he was saving his flair for the avant-garde for the mayoral convention.

  Father Michael reviewed in detail how to work each weapon in his bag, twice. He also hashed out their course of action at the convention and what Shane could expect to see and do. It sounded like hell on earth, only less pleasant.

  Shane’s head was throbbing from the sensory overload. He had never used a weapon of any kind on another person in his life until the incident with Cain in the alley. That didn’t go far into making him a stone cold killer. The fact that he was supposed to be using them to kill demons from the pits of hell didn’t make it any easier.

  “Why don’t we just go out and buy an Uzi or something? That would be a hell of a lot easier than throwing daggers and sta
bbing demons with crucifixes.” The breakfast he had eaten was hitching in his guts.

  “Bullets would not have the inscription of exorcism on them. It must be done this way.”

  Father Michael quickly packed the tools back into his bag. It was approaching late afternoon and Shane expected Aimee to arrive soon.

  “What if I kill a regular person by mistake?” Shane asked. “I mean, you said these demons of Cain’s will look the same as the people whose souls they replaced.”

  Shane was young and scared and, worst of all, a nonbeliever. Father Michael had never encountered anyone like him before and was unsure whether he would ultimately end up a help or a hindrance. He tried to recall how he would have felt had he been thrust into the same situation, but he was too far removed from his mortality to fully grasp the boy’s fears. Shane had been given a gift and the choice of whether or not to use it was not the young boy’s to make.

  “You will know,” the priest intoned.

  Shane’s shoulders slumped. “Somehow, I don’t find that very comforting. I’m still not one hundred percent sure I believe in all of this craziness, despite that little altercation in the alley last week. How much more blind faith is a guy supposed to have?”

  “Just with every fiber of your soul. Meet me tomorrow at Saint Luke’s.”

  Shane toed the bag full of sanctified weapons with his boot. “Quick question. If we now know exactly what Cain is up to, why don’t you rush over there and take him out?” He made a stabbing motion towards his chest. “I mean, why wait until Cain has all the chips in his pile? We know he’s in the body of the mayor, which I feel bad about, despite my previous feelings about Spinelli. I think it would make a hell of a lot more sense to ambush him before his little tea party at the Javits Center. Then it’s just you and him, mano a mano. Plus you have the element of surprise on your side, not to mention me safely hiding here.”

  Shane said it as if it made perfect sense and any rational person would agree.