Devil's Due

by Percival Constantine

  “There are a lot of ministers who—”

  “I’m not talking about a minister, I’m talking about The Minister. There’s power in this place. Power that, obviously, you don’t possess. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  “I-I do,” said Conley. “He came here a few times, almost a year ago. Gave several sermons.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “He asked to identify women who were worthy. Who followed the Word of God.”

  “Dakota Reed and her friends,” I said. “You put them in his path.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “He kidnapped those girls. Basically turned them into his slaves. And you helped him!”

  I pulled the priest from the wall and threw him down the aisle. He hit the ground and rolled until he came to a stop at the steps to the dais, groaning the whole time. I crossed the distance in no time and wrapped my fingers around his throat.

  “I need to know where I can find him. Now, either you’re going to tell me or I’m—”

  “Cross. You’ll do nothing.”

  The new voice came from behind. Deep and powerful, like the clap of thunder. I turned around and saw a man standing at the end of the aisle. He wore a black trench coat buttoned down the center, and had a hood concealing his face. But in the shadow, I could see blue light coming from his eyes. As he moved, I looked at the wall behind him, swearing for the briefest of seconds that I could see shadows on either side that resembled massive wings.

  I released my grip on the priest and rose, turning to face a man I hoped I’d never have to lay eyes on. “Azrael.”

  24

  You might know him better as the Angel of Death. And trust me, that name’s not just a pithy title—he earned it by being one of the baddest motherfuckers Heaven’s got on their payroll. Probably the only one more dangerous than him is big-bad Michael himself. Letting this guy come down to Earth is like letting a rabid wolf loose in a room full of sheep.

  Anyone else feeling the sudden urge to urinate?

  The angel reached his hands for his hood and lowered it. He had a thick, black beard and his head was bald, his eyes the brightest blue I’d ever seen. Azrael raised his arm, pointing a single finger at me.

  “Cambion, what gives you the right to threaten a man of the cloth?”

  His power filled the air. The thickness of it almost made it difficult for me to move. I could feel electricity tickling the edges of my body. I generally make it a point not to tussle with angels, though I’d done it before. But Azrael was different; he was one of the archangels. Going up against one of those was kind of like going up against Ali with both hands tied behind your back. While drunk.

  I only had one option here—my words. I now had to try and convince the Angel of Death that we were on the same side. Although, with the news that a nephilim was in the mix, it made me wonder if we really were. Was Azrael here because somehow Heaven had learned the truth, or because he was involved?

  I had to play this carefully, dance around the issue. With both hands raised, I took a slow step towards Azrael. “Listen, can we talk?”

  “What could you possibly have to say to me, half-breed?”

  “This man has information, information that I need.” I pointed back at Conley, who was lying on the ground and staring at Azrael with awe. “I’m on a job, Azrael. Working for your brother.”

  Azrael’s lips tightened, but he said nothing. It gave him pause. It took him several moments—moments in which I had to keep my bowels from evacuating—but then he spoke.

  “Raziel. What has he gotten you mixed up in?”

  “Someone’s broken the armistice,” I said. “I think it might be a demon.”

  Now I was taking a risk. I was pretty sure Azrael wouldn’t know if I was lying or not, but if he was in on this, he might realize I was trying to play him. Maybe even correct the record. If he bought it, that could mean the angel responsible for Dakota was going rogue.

  “You mean to suggest one of the Fallen has bred with a human?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” I said. “Whoever it is, he’s working through someone. A guy I only know as the Minister. But this priest? I think he knows more about him. I think he can lead me to him. The only problem is, I’ve gotta get him to talk.”

  Azrael’s eyes shifted from me, probably studying the priest. They lingered like that for a moment before his gaze finally returned to me. “You expect me to take your word for it? You’re a cambion yourself. I should strike you down where you stand.”

  He held his right arm straight at his side. Embers started to crackle, appearing out of nothing in the palm of his hand. Those embers expanded into full-on azure fire, stretching upwards from his palm, taking form and shape. Azrael grasped the newly formed object—a flaming sword—and pointed the tip at me.

  The fire wasn’t real—or at least wasn’t what a normal person would think of as fire. It was soulfire. Won’t leave a mark on your skin, but your soul’s a different story. That thing could turn a soul into a pile of ash. And now, it was just inches from my face. I could feel the heat from the sword—not physically, but deeper, driving me into a panic. I could feel the demon in me screaming to run. But I had to hold my ground.

  “Take it easy. I don’t wanna fight you.”

  “Because you would lose,” said Azrael.

  “That’s a very good point, and it’s also true. But it’s not the only reason.” I took a step back to get away from the sword. Azrael took a step forward to maintain the same distance. Wonderful. “What brought you here, Azrael? I thought you only came out when it was time to unleash plagues or rain down sulfur.”

  “Who are you to question the Angel of Death?”

  “Not questioning your jurisdiction or anything, just curious. You don’t show up on Earth unless something big is going down. So why now? What does this one priest have to do with all of this?”

  “I couldn’t care less about the talking monkey,” he said, his gaze locked on me. “I’m here for you.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  A smirk appeared on his face, one that sent shivers through my body. “Long have I desired to smite you myself, half-breed. Useful or not, a cambion is still an abomination that should not be permitted to live.” Azrael raised the sword in the air. “And now, you have angered someone in Heaven. Someone who has put a contract upon your head!”

  Azrael moved on me, bringing down the flaming sword in an arc. I barely avoided it, jumping to the side while I reached for the revolver. Azrael turned to face me and I opened fire. Each time a round punched into his chest, he twitched, but other than that, it barely slowed him down.

  I moved backwards between a set of pews, continuing to fire. These rounds worked on demons and other monsters, sure. But angels were a different story. Few things were capable of killing those winged bastards.

  Azrael stepped to the pew and gripped it in one hand. With unimaginable strength, he flipped the pew into the air, almost reaching the ceiling before it descended and crashed down on the rear benches.

  I backed up against the wall and pulled the trigger again. The gun clicked. Holstering it, I went for the dagger instead, readying my grip and taking careful aim at the approaching angel. I hurled the dagger and it spun through the air.

  Azrael caught it, grabbing the dagger by the hilt, the blade just inches from his eye. He moved faster than my sight could register, and the next thing I knew, I felt a stabbing pain in my shoulder.

  I looked down at my right shoulder and saw the dagger stuck there. I tried to move, but I was pinned to the wall. Now I knew what it felt like to be stabbed with an anti-supernatural blade, too. My human side gave me an immunity to some demonic weaknesses and resistance to others. Unfortunately, the mixture of iron and silver was one of the things I wasn’t immune to. It wasn’t as bad as if I’d been a full-blood demon, but the skin around the blade still burned like hell. Almost dizzyingly painful.

&
nbsp; Azrael was in front of me now, and he grabbed the knife by the hilt and twisted. I wanted to scream, but I kept my teeth clamped shut. Azrael stared at me and just chuckled.

  “I like this weapon of yours, Cross. Think I’ll keep it as a trophy once I remove your head from your body.”

  “Wh-why?” I asked. “Why’s there a contract on me?”

  “You want to know something funny? I didn’t care enough to ask.”

  Azrael raised the sword above his head, prepared to strike. Just great—so this was how it all ended for Luther Cross. Sliced in half by a flaming sword wielded by the Angel of Death.

  Actually, come to think of it, that sounded like a pretty badass way to go. But I wasn’t about to let it happen without a fight.

  I held up my hand, holding out my fingers and tensing them. My eyes glowed brightly as I focused all my magical energy on keeping Azrael’s arm raised, trying as hard as I could to prevent him from bringing the sword down on my head.

  Crazy thing—it was actually working. I risked a glance at Azrael’s eyes and he looked just as surprised as me. His expression was one of bemusement. But those blue eyes flashed again and I felt my hold on his arm weakening. Even if I were at full power, facing off against an archangel was just too much. The blade came closer to my head, and I could feel the heat of the soulfire deep inside my body.

  A sound broke through the air, drawing both mine and Azrael’s attention. It was a loud crash, followed by deep, guttural growls, snarling, and howling. A chorus of them. I stared at the splinters that were once the church’s wooden doors. Standing there in the opening were three of the largest dogs I’d ever seen, about the size of tigers. Mangled, black fur covered their bodies, and a row of spikes protruded along their spines, ending in tails that looked almost serpentine. Their eyes burned like hot coals, their lips curled back to show off the long, razor-sharp fangs. And on their paws, I saw jagged claws ready to tear apart anything that dared get in their way.

  Hellhounds. Interesting development.

  Azrael stepped away from me and twirled his flaming sword, returning back to the aisle and standing between the hellhounds and Conley. Looked like he was more interested in the Devil’s pack than me. I watched as the center hellhound roared and pounced. It didn’t even make contact with Azrael. Instead, the archangel raised his sword and sliced through the creature, severing it into two neat halves that burned away into ash before they hit the ground.

  The other two hellhounds apparently learned from their pack leader’s mistake, because they kept their distance and just watched Azrael, waiting for the opportunity. He did the same. As for me, I grabbed the hilt of the knife still stuck in my shoulder, straining as I tried to pull it out.

  With a wet sound that made me want to vomit, it finally came out and I breathed in relief. I held my hand over the wound and my eyes hummed as I whispered an incantation to slow the blood loss. There was a flicker of energy over the wound and I could feel the blood leaving my body at a much more manageable pace than before.

  I ducked down, moving along the side of the church before I came to the first row. Staying low, I moved closer to Conley, who was on the ground and watching as the Angel of Death fended off a pair of hellhounds, no doubt paralyzed with fear.

  “Hey, padre, you wanna get out of here or what?” I whispered when I reached the end of the pew. “Father! You listening to me?”

  He shook like he’d just been startled and finally turned his sight on me. “Wh-what is happening?”

  I sighed and peered around the edge of the pew. One of the hellhounds had managed to jump on Azrael, tearing at his flesh with its claws and clamping its snarling maw on his shoulder. Could that even happen? Could a hellhound really destroy an archangel?

  Apparently not. Azrael grabbed the hound by the back of its neck and twisted. A loud, sickening crack echoed off the walls of the church and he pried the hellhound from his body, tossing it on the ground. Its eyes were fixed in the open position, staring right back at us. As the glow faded from those burning eyes, the body itself flared up, turning to ash before us.

  “We gotta get out of here,” I told the priest.

  “But you…you were gonna kill me?”

  “Not quite. I need answers from you. And I don’t think you’ll live long enough to give them to me while we’ve got archangels and hellhounds going at it.”

  I grabbed Conley’s wrist and pulled him along with me. We walked over to the side entrance near the dais and I kicked the door open, then rushed through with the priest in tow, trying to keep up. We ran through the narrow hall, passing by a storage area and the priest offices before coming to a set of doors with an EXIT sign above. We ran through them, the sunlight blinding as we stepped outside.

  After my vision adjusted, I realized we weren’t alone out here. I took my sunglasses from my pocket and put them on to shield myself from the light. And then I saw him standing in front of us, smoking a cigarette and giving a slow clap while he leaned against the side of a black limousine.

  “I have to say, that was pretty impressive, Luther. Not many can say they’ve faced off against Azrael and lived to tell the tale,” said Asmodeus, dropping the cigarette onto the ground.

  Out of the frying pan…

  25

  Asmodeus opened the back door to the limo and gestured inside. “What are you waiting for? Those hellhounds won’t hold off Azrael forever and the car’s warded against angels.”

  “Who is he?” asked Conley.

  “A demon,” I said. “Now get inside.”

  “What?” asked Conley. “Are you insane? I’m not getting into a car with a demon!”

  I sighed and grabbed him by his collar, lowering my sunglasses so I could meet his frightened gaze. “Either get in or I throw you in.”

  With a shove, I let go of his collar. He sighed and straightened his jacket, looked at the car and the smiling face of Asmodeus, then shook his head and reluctantly slid inside. I followed behind. Once Asmodeus got in himself and closed the door, the car started up and we began to drive, leaving St. John’s behind.

  There were three cushioned benches in the back of the limo. I sat on one along the right, the priest was across me on the left, and Asmodeus relaxed on the rear one. Looking out the tinted window behind Conley’s head, I saw us drive by the church just as a bright light shone from inside. Guess Azrael finished off the hellhounds.

  “You ready to tell me what’s going on?” I asked Asmodeus.

  “That’s rich, coming from you,” he replied while he took a cigarette from a golden case he produced from his charcoal suit jacket. Asmodeus lit the cigarette with the tip of his finger and leaned back against the cushioned seat. “You told me the man you were after was breeding cambions. Now it seems that’s not the case.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “I heard about what happened at The Sanctum. And then Azrael turns up trying to kill you? Something’s not quite right,” he said.

  “How’d you know about The Sanctum? Did you do anything to—”

  Asmodeus rolled his eyes as he exhaled smoke. “Don’t be so melodramatic. Your friend Tessa is fine. I didn’t touch her. There was a sudden burst of magical energy, so I had some of my people investigate. Tessa is still inside and it seems she’s staying that way so long as those wards remain in place.”

  “So what did you find out?”

  “I think it’s obvious. Whatever that girl is carrying inside her is too powerful to be a cambion. Not even the offspring of a Hell Lord could be that powerful. And then, all of a sudden, I get word that Azrael is paying a rare visit to Earth? I learned he was after you, so it was simply a matter of finding him.”

  “C-can I go?” asked Conley in a soft voice.

  “No,” both Asmodeus and I said in unison.

  I took my own gold case from my jacket and produced a fresh cigarette, lighting it with my Zippo after placing it between my lips. Drawing on the end of the filter, I allowed the smoke to help ca
lm me before I looked at Asmodeus. “You’re a smart guy. I think you’ve already figured out what’s going on here.”

  “A nephilim,” he said.

  I nodded. “Someone upstairs is playing hide the salami with a bunch of good little Christian girls.”

  “You think it could be Azrael?”

  I shook my head. “No, he mentioned there was a contract on my head. Besides, you know how he feels about humans.”

  “The only way Azrael would accept a contract like this would be if it came from the Host of Heaven,” said Asmodeus. “Seems you’re right, Luther—an angel is behind this. And that means Heaven is in violation of the armistice.”

  I saw Asmodeus’ eyes flicker with anger. I could tell what he was thinking: that this amounted to the angels declaring war on the demons. Which in turn meant a lot of people would die in the crossfire.

  “I know what’s on your mind, Asmodeus. And you can’t go down that road.”

  Asmodeus remained silent while he smoked, staring at me. He didn’t even bother looking at Conley, almost like he’d completely forgotten about him. Or maybe Asmodeus just felt the priest was beneath his notice.

  “This move threatens all of Hell. The Infernal Court has to be made aware of what’s going on,” said Asmodeus.

  I took a drag on my cigarette and exhaled. “Think about it, okay? If you tell the Court, they’ll start to prepare for war. Then the Divine Choir will do the same. And what if that’s the plan?”

  Asmodeus raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

  “Maybe that’s what the mastermind is really after. Make both sides think the other has violated the armistice so Heaven and Hell go to war with each other.”

  “Why in the name of Lucifer would anyone want such a thing?” asked Asmodeus. “It would be disastrous. It would be—”

  “Armageddon,” said Conley, chiming in.

  I pointed at the priest. “Exactly.”

  Now Asmodeus took an interest in Conley again, leaning forward and staring at him. “What are you saying, mortal?”