“Well, look who’s come to join the party.”
“Aw, shit. I knew something smelled bad in here.” Cael grimaced, flicking the safety off on his Škorpion as he took a half step between Malak and Asmodai. He shimmered into full visibility. Obviously staying dim didn’t matter anymore, since Asmodai had known they were there. “Do you even know what soap looks like, Asmodai? It’s that little bar of white stuff in the shower. Oh, wait… that would infer that you know what a shower is, wouldn’t it?”
“I knew you’d figure it out. Knew you’d come here.” Asmodai grinned as his bull and goat heads huffed and snapped at the air. Between his legs, his snake cock hissed. “But you’re too late, Cael. Merihim’s humans are almost ready to send little vials of liquid Hell to every corner of earth. It’s going to be quite a picnic. Too bad you won’t be here to see it.”
Asmodai raised one hand toward Cael and Malak, palm up. A green ball of light formed, crackling and glowing in the air. As Asmodai laughed, it zoomed across the space between them, directly at Cael.
Cael sidestepped, feeling it whiz by his ear, the heat of it scorching his hair. He could smell his hair burning and knew he’d look as if he’d had it cut by a blowtorch.
“You missed. My turn,” Cael said. His finger twitched on the trigger, the sounds of machine gun fire echoing loudly in the room. Sparks flew as the Škorpion sang in his hands, sending eight hundred and fifty rounds a minute into Asmodai.
Asmodai danced like a marionette, his body jerking wildly as the bullets hit him. All three of his heads screamed as his snake cock was shorn free of his body, curling on the floor like an oversized slug.
“What have you done? My baby! My love!” Asmodai wailed.
The Škorpion finally fell silent, and the smoke cleared. Ignoring his numerous other wounds, Asmodai dropped to his knees, picking up his snake cock and cradling it to his chest like an infant. Between his legs, black blood gushed, soaking into the carpet.
Malak moved so quickly that Cael almost missed him. In a streak of flashing silver, Malak’s sword swept across Asmodai’s shoulders, separating all three of his heads from his body in one clean stroke. They fell to the carpet before Asmodai’s screams fully died away. Three sets of eyes blinked incredulously. Before it even registered in them that Malak had ended it, Asmodai’s body—heads, cock, and all—began to fade, disappearing as he was sucked back into the bowels of Hell.
Within a few moments, all that remained were the greasy, foul-smelling black stains on the carpet.
“You okay?” Cael asked Malak. He put his hand on Malak’s shoulder, turning him, looking for injuries.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Missed me, but not by much,” Malak said, showing Cael a long, blackened burn on his arm. The ball of light that Asmodai had flung at them had melted Malak’s armor, cutting through it and several layers of skin.
“Still think Big Tex is only human?” Cael asked, gingerly touching Malak’s wound.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Okay, fine. You were right, I was wrong. Happy now?” Malak said, hissing through his teeth as Cael healed his wound.
It instantly scabbed over but remained an angry red. Hellfire burns never really healed completely. Malak was going to carry that scar forever. Cael almost wished Asmodai were still in the room, just so Cael could kill him again.
“No. The only thing that would make me happy would be if none of this was happening and you and I were cuddled up in bed somewhere. Naked.”
“Only you could think of sex at a time like this, love.”
“Who said anything about sex? I just said ‘naked.’ The sex is all you, baby.” Cael grinned. He rubbed his thumb along Malak’s jaw, wanting so much to send his angel away to safety but knowing that Malak would relieve him of his head if he said anything. He settled for a kiss.
“So, we know what Big Tex is, but who’s Merihim? Another general? Where do we find him?”
“Merihim is the Prince of Pestilence. I should have realized that Lucifer would make him the third Horseman. Nobody knows disease and how to spread it as well as Merihim does. He was the one that thought of using fleas to pass the Black Plague around Europe. Asmodai said that Merihim’s scientists were brewing up some viral beastie in the labs. He must plan to use it to taint the food at the Roundup restaurants.”
“Where do you think these labs are?”
“I’m willing to bet that they’re right here in this building, probably underground. Merihim is too arrogant to think that mere humans would be successful without his direct supervision. He’d want to oversee the project personally.”
“Okay. Let’s go. We’d better hurry. I can hear sirens already. Someone must have reported the gunfire.”
“Malak….”
“Don’t, Cael. I know what you’re going to say, and just… don’t. We’re in this together, for better or worse. I’m not leaving you.”
“But….”
“No buts.”
Cael nodded. He might not be able to send Malak away, but he could keep himself between Malak and whatever Merihim would throw at them.
“If I were Merihim, I’d hide the entrance to my lab. I wouldn’t want nosy janitors or lost tourists finding it,” he said, looking around Merihim’s office. He walked over to the bookcase and ran his fingers over a few of the spines.
“Oh, come on…. Merihim wouldn’t be that clichéd, would he?” Malak asked.
“Why not? Don’t forget the arrogance factor, Malak. He doesn’t believe he’ll get caught, especially after so many years masquerading as Big Tex. Plus, if the entrance were in his office, he could get in and out whenever he pleased. There’s probably another entrance outside, most likely where all the guards were patrolling.”
Malak rolled his eyes but started yanking books from the shelves. Most flew off without the slightest resistance, except for one.
Merihim’s copy of Dante’s Inferno.
Cael looked at Malak and snorted. “What did I tell you?”
“What does Lucifer do? Give his generals lessons in arrogance?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He yanked on the leather-bound copy, feeling it give. It tilted to a forty-five-degree angle before the bookcase silently swung away from the wall, revealing a dimly lit staircase.
Chapter Eighteen
THE STAIRWAY proved to be three flights long, leading them deeply underground. Fluorescent lights illuminated a wide cinder block tunnel that stretched in both directions. A forklift trundled by bearing a stack of wooden crates.
Cael sniffed the air, pulling Malak into a small space underneath the stairwell. He put a finger to his lips.
Crouching in the darkness under the stairs, they counted the guards patrolling the tunnel. They passed by with regularity, in pairs, armed to the teeth. These were not human sentries. Cael had smelled the brimstone that clung to their pores, felt the cold breath of evil that they left in their wake.
They’d need to be very careful from here on out. Being dim would not hide them from the Hounds of Hell.
Slipping his knife from the sheath he had strapped to one thigh, Cael readied himself. They needed a disguise, and the next two Hounds to pass by Cael and Malak’s hiding place were about to provide them with one.
He dispatched both guards with lightning speed. “Okay, Malak, look alive. Let’s strip ’em down before they change back into their natural forms. The uniforms won’t hide our identities from Merihim, but they should get us past the rest of the guards.”
Malak looked slightly green as he pulled the dead Hound’s camo pants and army green tee on over his armor. “Good Lord, Cael. They reek!”
“Yeah, the Hounds have a natural aversion to soap and water.”
“I’ll smell like a sewer,” Malak whispered.
“No, you’ll smell like Hell. Literally.”
The army-issues didn’t entirely disguise either Malak’s chain mail or Cael’s Kevlar vest, but it was better than nothing, and the reek of the Hounds help
ed cover their own scents. With a little luck, they might be able to locate the lab and Merihim without drawing attention.
Luckily for them, the Hounds were vicious, malevolent, and bloodthirsty but not very bright. Cael and Malak briskly walked the length of the tunnel with their heads down, trying to seem as if they knew where they were going. Several Hounds passed them by. None gave them a second look.
They came to a long bank of reinforced windows that looked in on a huge laboratory. Entering through a small chamber that housed a number of white biohazard suits and ignoring the numerous signs that warned of contaminating the “clean” room, Cael and Malak slipped inside, weapons drawn.
Cael spun in one direction and then the other, ready to lay waste to anything that resembled Big Tex, but aside from a few cages of mice and a sour-looking rhesus monkey, the lab was empty.
“Damn it! I was so certain he’d be down here,” Cael hissed, pounding a nearby lab table with his fist. The beakers and glasses on the table rattled with the force of his anger.
“It’s okay, Cael. We’ll find him. Where do we look next?” Malak asked, putting his hand on Cael’s arm. The warmth from Malak’s hand seeped through the camo shirt, soothing as always.
“How about right behind y’all?”
The voice was deep and gravelly and familiar. It should be—they’d heard it countless times in commercials for Roundup Restaurants.
“Big Tex!” Malak exclaimed as both he and Cael spun around.
“Merihim!” Cael hissed nearly at the same time. His fingers twitched over the butt of the Škorpion, but a ferocious growl stilled his hand as Hounds popped into the room all around them—dozens of them, far too many for he and Malak to take down.
“In the flesh… so to speak,” Merihim replied, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders. “You two boys have caused us a heap of trouble. Lucifer is fit to be tied over it. Damn shame, too, fine demon like yourself hooking up with one of them feathered fairies. What possessed you, boy?” he asked, looking at Cael.
Cael’s mind was spinning, trying to find a way out, but he was coming up empty. For once in his life, he was at a loss. What had possessed him? What had he been thinking when he’d marched Malak into the lion’s den with only a machine gun and a knife to keep them safe? They were both about to pay with their lives for Cael’s arrogance.
Arrogance.
“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for wanting to stay out of Hell and have a little fun, can you? The angel was my ticket out. I’ve had three thousand years of fun because of him,” he said, smiling. He tossed a sneer at Malak, one as full of malice and contempt as he could muster. “But when I found out that Lucifer had released the Horsemen, I knew I had to do something. Balam and Mephistopheles were such fucking amateurs—it would have been a shame if they’d succeeded in bringing about the End of Days. It would be like baboons writing Shakespeare’s plays. But you, you’re a legend in the Circles. A hero! I knew that if you had your chance to shine, you’d outdo them all, so I conscripted this pathetic excuse for an immortal and made sure that Balam and Mephistopheles would fail.”
Cael fought hard not to cringe under both the weight of his lie and the glare he received from Malak.
“This one didn’t even know what I was doing! He actually thought I loved him, that we were going to stop the End of Days! I just wanted to have the opportunity to watch the master at work.”
There was shock in Malak’s eyes, outrage, and a stab of pain that twisted in Cael’s heart like a knife.
“How about that. A fan, huh?” Merihim said, a broad, conceited smile spreading across his doughy face. Cael was surprised that his shirt didn’t pop its buttons as Cael’s lies inflated his already overblown ego. “Funny, though. Asmodai said Halo-boy here was your lover.”
“So I got a little angelic ass along the way. Can you blame me?”
Malak’s eyes were full of confusion and pain. “Cael! What are you saying—”
Damn it! He hated hurting Malak, even though it was necessary. Then again, could Malak really think that Cael meant what he was saying? How could he not realize that Cael was lying to save their asses? He bit the inside of his cheek hard, tasting blood, as he snatched Malak’s sword out of the angel’s hand.
“Shut up!” Cael snapped, hating himself. He slapped his hand over Malak’s mouth. He squeezed Malak’s cheeks together roughly, fingers sinking into Malak’s flesh. “Not another word or I’ll cut that sweet tongue right out of your mouth.”
“Good for you, demon. Got to keep these boys in their place. He’s one fine looking piece of ass, even if he does play for the wrong team. Speaking of Asmodai, you left quite a mess in my office. Why’d you have to kill him?”
“He was an asshole,” Cael said, shrugging. That much at least was true. “He said he was going to wait until the mojo juice you’re making was ready, then kill you and take credit for your work. He wanted to be the one who brought on the End of Days.”
“Stupid bullheaded… I knew that sneaky bastard was up to something. Not that he would have succeeded. Nobody stabs me in the back. I got eyes in the back of my head.”
Cael nodded. “So, where is everybody? I’d have thought you’d have teams working round the clock to concoct your super-virus. That is what the plan is, isn’t it? To poison the food?”
“Among other things. Food, water supplies… son, before you know it the whole world’s gonna have the worst case of food poisoning ever recorded.” Merihim laughed. He was practically strutting. “But you’ve missed the entire process of creation. It’s a done deal. We’ve got it in the warehouse, ready to be shipped worldwide. Plus another few thousand crates that’ll be chucked into every body of water we can find. Tell you what, son. Kill the angel and come with me. I’m going to dump the first batch myself. You can help me do the honors.”
“Oh, you don’t want to do that. Kill the angel, I mean,” Cael said, giving a little laugh. “He’s far too good to waste.”
“I don’t have time for—”
“You ever fucked an angel, Merihim? Trust me. It’s like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. Creamy flesh, tight ass, beautiful mouth, and he makes the sweetest sounds when you pound him into the mattress! Probably won’t get the chance to fuck one after the End of Days. You know Lucifer—when he gets through with Heaven he won’t leave any pieces big enough to fuck.”
Merihim’s gaze fell on Malak, his small piglike eyes roaming over Malak’s body from head to toe, with a long, leisurely stopover just below Malak’s belt buckle. Cael could see that Merihim’s lust was getting the better of him.
“All right. Bring him along. It’ll take a day or so after contamination for the virus to actually reach the consumers and do its magic. We can use him to pass the time.” Merihim laughed. His beefy hand slid from his suspender to his crotch, rubbing himself lewdly. “Hounds! Back to the warehouse!”
They disappeared instantly, leaving Cael, Malak, and Merihim alone. Merihim turned, heading toward the door.
It was the moment Cael had been waiting for. He ripped the Škorpion out of its sheath, finger pressing the trigger even as he swung the barrel toward Merihim’s back.
The bullets ripped through empty air, peppering the wall, digging out chips of concrete, dusting the air with a cloud of pulverized cement.
Merihim was gone.
“You disappoint me, son. Didn’t I tell you that I had eyes in the back of my head? Did you think I was talkin’ out of the side of my mouth?” Merihim was behind Malak, arm around Malak’s chest, as he pressed the serpentine blade of an ornamental dagger to the soft flesh of Malak’s throat. The blade drew a thin line of blood. “Twenty-twenty vision, both sets.”
“Let him go!” Cael said, baring his teeth. His finger twitched on the trigger, but he didn’t dare take a shot. Not with Merihim using Malak as a shield.
“Drop it, or I’ll slice his throat. You’re done, son.” Blood dripped from the knife’s keen edge, bright crimson against Malak’s skin.
>
Cael bent down, never letting his eyes leave Merihim’s, and placed the Škorpion on the ground. As he slowly straightened, he let his hand slide against the leather of his boots, feeling the hilt of his dagger brush his palm.
In one swift movement, he slid the dagger from his boot and flung it end over end toward Merihim’s shoulder. It sunk in deeply, striking with enough force to pierce flesh and bone.
Malak twisted away from Merihim’s knife at the same instant Cael snatched up the Škorpion and opened fire.
Jerking under the bullets’ impact, Merihim shed his human disguise, revealing his true form. Two pairs of huge eyes, blood red and sparking with pain and fury appeared, one on his face and the other on the back of his bald skull. His skin was a mottled purple and yellow, and two large black horns curved from the top of his head. Thick gouts of black blood pulsed from more holes than Cael could count. Bellowing, he fell to the floor as he raged and thrashed, casting curses that would strip flesh from the bones of any human within hearing range. They were painful even to Cael and Malak’s ears, and that was saying something about Merihim’s power. Both covered their ears, wincing.
“Finish him, Cael!” Malak cried, doubling over as Merihim’s curses slammed into him with the force of a runaway semi.
Fighting the screaming pain in his head, Cael aimed the Škorpion at Merihim and opened fire again. He kept his finger on the trigger long after Merihim had fallen silent and the ammo clip had emptied.
Still gasping for breath from the debilitating pain of Merihim’s curses, Cael and Malak watched Merihim’s body erupt into flame, charring to a body-shaped pile of oily black ash. Then that too was gone, leaving only a scorch mark burned into the cement floor.
Malak shivered violently and leaned back against the wall, sinking down to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest.
“You okay?” Cael asked. He knelt down and reached for Malak, pulling him close. “Come on, angel. You know I didn’t mean anything I said.”
“I know. That’s not it.”
Dancing on the Head of a Pin Page 12
