Devil's Due

by Percival Constantine

  “This isn’t you, Dakota,” I said. “This is the nephilim talking. It’s working its will through you.”

  “The Minister was right all along,” said Dakota. “This is my purpose in life. To bring this baby into the world for the glory of Heaven.”

  A large smile formed on her face. She was glowing—I know people say that about pregnant women, but this was literal glowing. When her eyes fell back on me, though, the smile faded from her face.

  “And you. Stupid little half-breed son of a demon’s whore!”

  She jerked her head towards the ground. My body followed, slamming against the concrete. The wind was knocked out of me. I tasted copper in my mouth and spat blood onto the floor.

  Dammit, Tess. Why couldn’t you have carpeting down here?

  “You’re nothing,” she said. “A self-hating bastard, hunting your own kind, bowing and scraping to the angels as if they give a shit about you.”

  She knelt in front of me and placed her hand on my head, rubbing the bald skin. I raised my head as much as I could, but her power was keeping me from too much movement.

  “Let me tell you a secret, Luther. Once the angels are done with you, they’ll toss you right into the pit. They’d never let a monster like you into their fold.”

  I looked past Dakota and saw Tessa moving across the floor, trying to get herself closer. She reached into her pocket and took out a switchblade. We made eye contact and I could tell she was telling me to keep the girl distracted.

  “You think I care what those winged assholes think?” I said to Dakota. “It’s all about the money for me, sweetheart. My demon side gives me advantages in this line of work, and I’m just using what God—or someone else, I guess—gave me.”

  I risked a glance again. Tessa was tracing her finger on the ground and I saw her hands were covered with blood. She had a look of concentration on her face. A blood spell—that was some serious magic. Especially against a nephilim. I only hoped Dakota could survive.

  Dakota stood up straight and with a gesture of her hand, my body was flipped up as well, hovering in front of her.

  “My baby is going to be the savior of this world,” she said. “He’s going to bring down Hell once and for all and humanity will finally know peace.”

  “Y’know…you set expectations like that…before the kid’s even born…you’re setting him up for failure.”

  “Too bad you won’t be there to see it.” Dakota held her hand out and her eyes hummed.

  My body was pulling itself apart. I could feel my bones and muscles straining to maintain their hold. “T-Tessa…think you can hurry it up, girl?”

  Dakota blinked and I felt the pull subside, at least temporarily. She looked to where Tessa was and saw the witch mumbling something under her breath, her bloody hand hovering over a sigil drawn on the floor.

  “And just what do you think you’re doing, witch?” asked Dakota.

  “Oh, y’know…just witch-stuff.”

  Tessa muttered something else and I knew now the language she was speaking was Enochian—the tongue of the angels. She slapped her hand on the sigil and light poured from it, filling the entire room. I heard Dakota scream but it was too bright to see a damn thing, not even anyone’s outline.

  As Dakota screamed, the hold on me vanished and I dropped to the ground. I could move again. The light faded, and once it was gone, so was Dakota. The spell blasted anything angelic to God-knew-where. I saw Tessa on her hands and knees. The sigil was gone, faded with the end of the spell. Tessa was breathing heavily and she looked up at me.

  She was attacked by a coughing fit so fierce that she started gagging, spitting blood. I ran to her side and put my arms around her, trying to offer some comfort until the fit passed.

  A few more coughs and then Tessa looked up at me with a smug smile. “Sure showed her, didn’t I?”

  Then she passed out.

  21

  After Tessa collapsed, I carried her over to the couch and laid her on top of it, watching her and trying to use some minor healing spells. A blood spell like that could be used to banish people or beings from a location. The more powerful the being, the more it took out of the mage.

  That nephilim was clearly very powerful.

  When Tessa finally awoke, a few hours had passed. I checked my watch and saw it was already after midnight. Tessa looked at me with weak eyes, just staring for a few moments before she tried to speak.

  Then, finally, “Did it work?”

  I nodded and rubbed her head. “Yeah, it worked. Brave move back there. Brave and stupid.”

  The corners of her lips rose slightly, then fell back. Probably the closest thing to a smile she could manage at this point.

  “So what now?” she asked. “We cowboy it up?”

  “We’re not doing anything. You did enough, girl. I’ll take things from here.”

  “How are you gonna find her?”

  “I’ll figure something out.” I stood and took my jacket from the back of the couch and pulled it on, followed by my trench coat. “I think you’ll be safe here for now. That thing’s not interested in you or me, just finding the Minister. But still, wouldn’t be a bad idea to go somewhere safe as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

  “My mom…she’s out in Schaumburg.”

  “Good, go visit her.”

  Tessa managed a weak chuckle. “She’s a pain in the ass.”

  “Well, turn her into a newt or something, then.”

  “We don’t actually do that, you racist.”

  “Yeah, I know. Just bustin’ your chops.” I patted Tessa’s shoulder. “Stay safe, okay?”

  “You too.”

  I did one last check to make sure I had all my belongings, then went upstairs and out the front door. I used my magic to lock the door from the inside and then drew my dagger and held the blade against my left palm. I dragged it across the skin until it drew blood, then sheathed the dagger beneath my jacket. With my right hand, I dipped my index finger into the blood and then drew a sigil on the door. One of the pentacles from The Key of Solomon, used for protection against supernatural forces. I took a step back and held my hand over the sigil, tensing my fingers as I muttered in Latin.

  The glow of crimson light from my eyes was reflected in the door’s glass window, and the blood I used to draw the sigil lit up like it was on fire. The sigil burned away, leaving a trail of smoke that lingered in the air.

  That spell would work for the time being, at least a few hours or so. Combined with the other wards I knew Tessa had on The Sanctum, it should be enough to keep her safe. I cursed myself as I stepped away and gave the shop one last look. Should never have come here. Didn’t matter what Cassandra’s tarot cards said; getting Tessa mixed up in all this was a mistake. I got that girl beaten within an inch of her life, and for what?

  I got into the Camaro and started it up. I blinked a few times and slapped my cheeks. Fatigue was setting in. I’d been running around all day, barely stopping to eat. All I wanted more than anything was to go home and crawl into bed.

  But I couldn’t. There was work to be done and time was a factor. I lit up a cigarette, hoping the nicotine could help keep me awake.

  I shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb, heading back towards the Gold Coast and my building.

  * * *

  Silence greeted me when I entered my apartment. Expected, absolutely. But after everything that had happened today, I was on edge. Part of me almost wished there was someone or something waiting to ambush me in my place so I could tear its throat out.

  No such luck.

  I took off my trench coat and jacket, tossing them on the couch, then removing my tie and adding it to the pile. I’d worry about hanging stuff up later. Right now, I needed a drink before I got started.

  With my collar unbuttoned, I loosened my cuffs and rolled up the sleeves, then poured myself a glass of Laphroaig, nearly filling it to the brim. I drank down about a third of it right off the bat and sighed.
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br />   I sat down in my chair and set the glass in the cup holder while I lit a cigarette. Dakota was under someone’s control. Could be the Minister, could be the nephilim, or it could be the angel behind all this. But what still bugged me was why an angel would go to such lengths, take such a big risk.

  Whenever a demon went off the reservation like that, it was understood that it was in their nature to be deceitful and chaotic. The Infernal Court would even help find the offending bastard and serve him up to the Divine Choir for whatever punishment they saw fit (and usually, they felt letting Hell take the lead on discipline was a better move).

  But for an angel to do it…that had dangerous implications. A rogue angel could be disastrous. And if the angel was acting on orders…that was tantamount to an act of war. If Hell knew what was going on, they’d be really pissed off.

  Which meant I shouldn’t say anything to Asmodeus. If he were to make contact, I’d have to keep up the lie that I believed Dakota was pregnant with a cambion. If he knew the truth, I didn’t even want to think about what he might do.

  I finished the cigarette, and shortly after that, the scotch. Leaving the glass, I stood and walked into the master bedroom, going straight to the bathroom. I opened the hamper and dug around inside until I found what I was looking for.

  The white dress Dakota was wearing when she first came to my place. It was the only possession of hers I had. Wasn’t something personal for her, either—the Minister made her wear this—so I didn’t know how well it would even work. Had to give it the old college try, though.

  I took the dress in hand, then went to the office. In the bookcase, I had a collection of maps and I grabbed one for the entire area around Lake Michigan, including the borders of Wisconsin and Indiana. I went to the dining room and spread the map on the table. I had candles in the kitchen and I set them up around the map in a circle, lighting each one of them.

  With the dress grasped in my left hand, I closed my eyes and waved my right in deliberate motions over the map. Though my eyes were shut, I could still visualize the candle flames following my movements, trying to pull themselves off the wick. I concentrated on the dress in my hand, visualized Dakota in my mind, communicated my intention to find her.

  It was important that locator spells start off with a large area. In this case, Dakota and I both knew the Minister’s last known location was near the Wisconsin border, and I knew that Tessa’s spell probably didn’t blow Dakota much further away than outside the city limits. If Dakota was under the thrall of the nephilim, it would seek out familiar ground. More than likely, that meant the Minister. She’d probably start at the border. If I needed to go more specific than that, I could use another map centered on that area.

  I muttered in Latin, my hand gestures moving with practiced precision. I opened my eyes. I could feel the glow as the energy moved through my body. I looked down at the map and the flames jumped from the wicks, each one touching the edge of the document. They burned down the edge, reducing it to ash in moments. The flames extended, growing and linking together as they continued to burn inward, focusing on Dakota’s location. Whatever was left of the map when the flames burned out was where I’d find Dakota.

  The progression of the flames grew slower. This wasn’t unusual in itself. The more powerful a target, the harder it could be to track them; the more resistance they had to spells of this nature. And the nephilim Dakota was carrying certainly fit the bill. The other issue was the object linked to the target. With Reggie, I’d had his favorite toy, so finding him took no time at all. With Dakota, I only had something slightly imprinted with her aura.

  It should still work, though. I held out my hand, my fingers tensing as I tried to will more of my magical energy into the spell. Easier said than done. A locator spell shouldn’t put this much of a strain on me, but between the day’s activities draining my reserves and the power of the nephilim, this was becoming a whole lot harder than it looked.

  “C’mon, work…” I muttered through gritted teeth, pushing the magic forward.

  The flames stopped right in their tracks. That shouldn’t be possible. Moving slow was one thing, but stopping altogether? That had never happened before. I tried to push, and the flames started up again.

  Except now, they moved way too fast, and they flared up into a small explosion that threw me to the ground.

  I landed flat on my back and instantly pulled myself to a sitting position. The table was still in one piece, although there was a scorch mark on my ceiling. Getting that cleaned up wouldn’t be fun. I stood and walked over to the table.

  The wood was scorched and smoldering. Nothing was left of the map but ashes. I didn’t know if it was the fatigue or if it just wasn’t possible to track Dakota with magic. Maybe the nephilim or the Minister had a way of hiding her. The tattoos on my body were capable of the same thing, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

  I took a breath and tried to think on my next move. Using magic didn’t seem to be as effective in this instance. The forces around Dakota and the Minister were far more powerful than anything I was capable of. I’d have to rely on my other skills. After all, I was a paranormal investigator—now it was time to put some more focus on the investigative side of things.

  After fixing myself another drink, I went into my office and turned on my computer. The first thing I’d have to do was what I should’ve done right away—find out everything I could on Dakota Reed. I started by sending an email to Wayne Cooper at the Chicago Police Department. A quick look at the clock in the corner of my screen said it was now after two. He might be asleep now, or he might be out on the street. Either way, he’d have to reply to me soon.

  I started searching through any records I could find, checking online databases, social media accounts, the whole works. There were a few Dakota Reeds in the city and the pictures weren’t all obvious, so it’d take a bit of time to go through each of their profiles.

  I paused to take a drink and rub my eyes. Damn, I was tired. Getting hard to think straight. What did she say she did before the Minister…? Something with the church… No, she was part of a Christian group, her and the other girls. That’s how they met him. The group…a university club, that was it. Couldn’t remember the name right now, but the school…

  “Northwestern!”

  Finally came back to me. She was a student at Northwestern. I went on their website looking for their student directory. At the same time, my eyelids were getting heavier. I was just about to type in her name when the screen blurred, and soon, I saw only darkness.

  22

  I was awoken by a repetitive banging noise. I grumbled and stirred, realizing for the first time that my head was on my desk. I’d fallen asleep while I was trying to do research last night. Dammit, I pushed myself too far and now I had even less time than before. Smooth one, Cross. I was in over my head and I wasn’t sure if I could make it through this time. Sitting upright in my chair, I rubbed the crust from my lips and blinked a few times to get my bearings.

  The banging continued. Someone was at the door. I pushed the chair away from the desk and rose to my feet, rubbing my eyes as I walked through the office and into the hallway leading to the foyer.

  “You gonna open up or what, Cross?”

  The man’s voice was gruff and he, evidently, was not in a very patient mood. I unlocked the door and opened it. Standing in the hall outside my condo was a tall man with blue eyes and a receding blond hairline. He wore a leather jacket over a button-down white shirt with the collar open, tucked into a pair of navy jeans. Hanging from a strap around his shoulder was a leather bag.

  “Coop?” I asked.

  Detective Wayne Cooper of the Chicago Police Department. He studied me, the look in his eyes expectant, like I was supposed to say something.

  “You wanna come in?” I took a chance that might work. He didn’t say anything, just stepped inside my foyer as soon as I made an opening.

  Wayne stuffed his hands in the pockets of his
jeans, walking through the corridor and into the living room. I walked past him, going into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. As I prepared it, I called back to him.

  “So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Coop?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You left me messages, about finding some girl? I’ve been trying to call you all day with no luck.”

  “Sorry, didn’t hear my phone.” Wait, what time was it anyway? I looked down at my watch and saw it was almost three in the afternoon. Fuck, I had to get moving. The more time I lost, the likelier it was Dakota would find the Minister. Once the coffee was ready, I poured two cups and took them out to the dining room. Wayne had already made himself at home, sitting at the table. I sat across from him and passed him his coffee.

  “You look like shit, Luther,” he said before sipping his coffee.

  “Pot, I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, Kettle.”

  “Shut up.” Wayne set the coffee on the table and reached for his bag. He pulled out a file and dropped it in front of me. “I looked into Dakota Reed.”

  “What’d you find out?”

  “This girl was never reported missing.”

  “What? You checked with Indianapolis and Evanston, right?”

  “See for yourself.”

  I took the file and opened it. Dakota had been with the Minister for nearly a year. How could her parents not have reported her missing in all that time? There was nothing in there about Dakota at all. But as I looked through the documents inside, I understood why no one reported her. Instead of a missing persons report, I found myself staring at a pair of death certificates. For Jesse and Hope Reed.

  “Her parents are dead,” I said.

  “That’s right,” said Wayne. “About a year ago. Car accident.”

  “What caused it?”

  “Officially, lost control on the highway as they were taking an exit. Slammed against a guardrail; both died. Strange thing is, the skies were clear that day and the road was fine. No problems with the car. Doesn’t seem to be any reason why Jesse Reed would’ve lost control taking a simple exit.”