by Tim Marquitz
Rala stood in the middle of the lobby, clutching CB and the tome close as she spun in a slow circle, checking the place out.
“Why don’t you have any hiding places with maid service?” Rala asked when she heard me come in. “Or at least one that doesn’t involved trash and spider webs?”
“People don’t hide at the Hilton. They go there to spend their boss’ money and sleep on clean sheets someone else has to wash the crust off.”
“Now you’re getting the point.” She sighed, turning back to look at the elevators. Both were still taped off like they’d been the last time I was there. “So, which way to the ‘guest rooms’?” She did air quotes as she asked.
I pointed to the nearby doorway.
“The stairs,” She said, reading the posted sign. “Should have known.” She went over and yanked the door open. Poofs of rust exploded at the hinges and the door swung open to a symphony of mangled cats. “Lovely.” With that, she shook her head and went through the doorway, her footsteps echoing down the metal stairs.
I followed behind, overtaking her a way down the first flight so I could lead the way, not that she could get lost down two flights with only one exit. Despite that, it was as if I was on autopilot. My feet hurried down the steps and forced me past the bottom doorway and through the empty hallways as I made my way toward the room where Karra had sprung her trap.
There was none of the hesitation I’d had that first time, none of the uncertainty, but still there was plenty to think about. Karra kept popping to mind, but it was as though I were resisting any thoughts of her. I’d think about her and the baby, but the images would be washed away in a whitewash of static, like the snow between TV stations. No matter how hard I tried to focus on her, the thoughts were fleeting. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to care anymore. I sighed as we entered the surgery amphitheater.
Rows of unpadded white benches, like stadium seating, were set on a decline. A line of stairs split them in half. At their end was a low wall with an aluminum frame, which looked as though it were intended to contain a window. Shards of shattered glass lay on the floor at the bottom, just as it had before. None of the surgery lights were on as they had been last time, but I knew they worked, so that was a good thing.
“Here?”
Rala’s voice cut through my neutered reveries, and I nodded. “Yeah. There are beds down below, and lights. Plenty of room to hang out and get your magical groove on.”
She looked over at me. “You get hit in the head a lot, don’t you?”
“Come on.” I didn’t respond to that since the answer wouldn’t have been very flattering.
I went over to the window and dropped over it, landing in the surgery theater. Rala tossed the book and Chatterbox down to me, and I set them on the small, blue cooler Veronica had dropped off for us. Then I helped Rala over. CB was humming “Diary of a Madman” and while I wasn’t exactly an Ozzy fan, the song had a good rhythm. I found myself humming along.
Rala flipped the rubber mattress of the surgery bed and plopped down with a sigh, looking back and forth between CB and I. She had that look on her face.
“What?” I asked. We’d spent two months in Hell together, and I was getting damn good at reading her expressions.
She sighed again, and I waited for the drama to subside. “It’s just that…” her voice trailed off.
“Jesus, girl. Tell me.”
Rala bit her lower lip, letting it slowly slip free of her teeth. She was quiet until it did. “I don’t think this is a good idea…the book, and all.”
She was like a broken record. I tapped my arm thinking the translator worm had a repeat button, and I’d been hearing the same translation over and over. “Look, it’s not that I think it’s a good idea either, okay?”
Rala just stared.
“There’s more to this than you or I understand, and it has everything to do with that damn book and the portal you’re calling up.”
“Maybe, but every time we do it some weird monstrosity pops out.” Her eyebrows tented over her wide eyes. “There’s only some many times you can get hit in the face with a rock before you realize it’s not good for you.”
I thought about arguing but decided the mental institution might not be the place to take that particular stand. “I know, I know…” She had a point, but I couldn’t help thinking there was something I needed to do with the book. “Here, I’ll tell you what. Let’s leave it be tonight.” My head was killing me, and I needed a nap if I was gonna go play Whac-A-Mole with Mister Hobbs. “We can discuss this in the morning, okay?”
Rala fell back into the bed and nodded. “Sure.”
I went over and dropped down on my own wheeled bed, listening to it squeak as I settled in. “I’ve got to be up for the trap at the cemetery, so if you don’t mind, can you wake me at two?”
“Hideouts with alarm clocks would be nice,” was her answer.
I muttered something I thought sounded vaguely like agreement and was asleep before my head settled against the mattress.
Nine
Dark, roiling clouds devoured the sky, brilliant flashes of lightning bleaching them gray in rumbling spats. The last rays of a feeble sun drowned beneath the airy waves, shadows swallowing the remnants of distant blue. Thick droplets of rain pelted my naked skin, each collision welting flesh, the crack of a divine whip. The pain drove my breath from my lungs in ragged gasps. I steeled myself against its blows and looked out across the masses gathered on their knees beneath the jutting precipice that trembled beneath my feet. Above them, an emerald green star cast a sullen pall.
Voices rose up in terror as the waves battered the beach, as if prayers and pleas might hold back the water. They were fools, all of them. He had divined the end, the coming of the flood, and there would be no reprieve from His decision. There was no mercy in His world, no forgiveness for all the flowery words and cloying sentiments.
No, the end had come for this particular season of humanity, and it was my duty—my penance—to watch them scrubbed from the world before the coming of yet another new dawn.
I wiped the rain from my eyes with roughened hands, flakes of rotten skin sloughing off with the motion, carried off in the growing breeze, the bones withering away. The coppery tang of blood coated my tongue, doing little to ease the acrid stench of charred meat, which clung to every breath. Ash fluttered in the air, defying the downpour. The motes floated over the congregation of the damned.
This was God’s answer, His final judgment borne rancid fruit. This was the ash of angels.
How could humanity pray for more than He had offered His own, the holiest of His minions? No, the choice had been made and now there was nothing left but to watch the end approach.
I stood against the fury of the rain and watched as the ocean rose and took angry bites from the shore. Though in my defense, I had been given no choice save for whether to witness the last moments of Earth on my knees or on my feet. I chose to stand, but there would be no blocking my vision or turning away.
My eyelids had been cleaved from my face, the frigid moisture rolling down my cheeks alongside my crimson tears. The ground clutched at my feet, weaving vines and roots through the bones, holding me in place as though I were a part of the dying world.
But no, God had made it clear I had another role, a mission yet to be fulfilled. I would not die today, but what happened here was to be my burden, carried forever in the ruins of my soul.
And as the waves lashed across the beach, tearing the heretics from their pitiful obeisance, their screams filled my ears. They clutched at the sand, but earth and sea betrayed their feeble holds. The end came as they were carried into the deeps. They were the first, but they would not be the last. Soon there would be no more.
Ten
“Wwaakkkeeey, waaakkkkeeeyyy, eeeeggggzzzz and bbaaakkkkeeyyy.”
Chatterbox loomed over my face as I peeled my eyes open, his leathern lips curled back in what was supposed to be a pleasant smile. Black and rotten teeth ho
vered inches away.
“And all sorts of breakfast funk.” I sat up, palmed his face, and pushed him aside. Rala shifted back to get out of the way, her hands palming his skull so she could take him with her. “What time is it?”
“See, Chatterbox. He’s not always a dick, just when he’s awake.”
CB chuckled while I glared at the two comedians. I must have slept, but I sure as hell didn’t feel like it. My brain rattled inside my skull as though it had broken loose of its moors. I rubbed at my temples, massaging away the worst of it, but I could imagine this was how people felt after walking up in a bathtub in a foreign country after having their kidneys plucked out. The room swam around me.
Rala must have found some pity for me because she handed me a bottle of water. I popped the top and guzzled it down. It tasted like shit, but it washed away the sick taste of bile that had built up in my throat. I glanced over to see that Rala had turned on one of the surgical lights and had shifted it so it illuminated the room with softer tones rather than its glaring brightness, for which I was grateful. The light flickered, its quiet hum sounding louder for a moment before settling in.
“It’s two,” Rala said as soon as I glanced over at her, rubbing at her eyes. She looked even worse than I imagined I did. “Just like you wanted.”
I eased up from the mattress, wiped at the drool that had crusted my chin, and sat at the edge, my feet dangling over. “You get any sleep?”
She spurted out an obnoxious chuckle like a hyena, so I raised my hands in surrender. I didn’t have the energy to fight with her and the Hobgoblin, or whatever the fuck his name was. Rala kept on chuckling as I crawled off the bed and wandered over to the cooler. Her voice followed me, an annoying buzz in my ear.
“It’s not that funny, you know?”
“You have no idea,” she answered, flopping back against the mattress with a loud huff. “Oh, almost forgot; Veronica told me to give you this. She passed a folder piece of paper over. “And turn the light out before you go.” Rala rolled over, presenting her back to me. Chatterbox snuggled up in the crook of her knees and closed his eyes.
“Yes’m,” I answered, though she was snoring before I even got the word out. A quick glance pretty much confirmed my thoughts, so I wadded it up and tossed it aside.
I downed another bottle of water, which only tasted slightly less like ass than the first, and slipped out to make my supposed ambush at Rest Land. While I was in the mood to kick some ass, according to Veronica’s note, there wouldn’t be much of that going on, which was probably a good thing. Whatever sleep I’d gotten had only made me feel worse, which was a hell of an accomplishment seeing how bad I’d felt before. At least when Hobbs was a permanent resident of the cemetery, I could come back and relax.
I was pretty sure the DSI would try to hit back at me, though I figured it’d be a few days before they reorganized. Typical government. DRAC was another matter altogether, but if Hobbs were kicked out of the equation, things would settle down with them because I could disappear for a while. They’d been cool with Baalth, for the most part, so they needed to get it in their head that I would be filling essentially the same role…only doing it with more style.
On the way to the cemetery, I stopped off in Hell and gave the fiends marching orders. While I knew not to expect a full on war, I wanted to be sure I had some numbers on my side in case Veronica’s intel was wrong. All the distractions at the safe house made it clear my focus needed a metric fuck ton of work, so I wanted to alleviate that issue and prepare a little surprise for anyone hoping to corral me at the graveyard. My magic seemed to work of its own accord, so I didn’t want to take any chances of mystical dysfunction. There aren’t any pills for that.
When I arrived at Rest Land, my senses immediately picked up on two different presences. Though they weren’t exactly bad guys, I wasn’t all that happy to spend more time with them.
“And here I was thinking I’d be ambushed by someone who liked me more,” I said as I walked up alongside Katon and my cousin, both staring at me, their arms across their chests. Twin towers of nonchalance.
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” the enforcer answered, his cold dark eyes meeting mine.
Once upon a time that might have scared me, but I was over it. “Awwww, how quaint.”
“Stop it,” Scarlett growled, “both of you.” Katon sneered but he held his tongue.
I’m not that well trained. “Seems like Wings has had enough.”
“I have, Frank. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’re acting strange…even for you. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing, for the first time in Goddamn who knows how long,” I answered, enjoying seeing her purse her lips like she’d swallowed a lemon. “I’m finally living up to my potential. Isn’t that what everyone wanted from me?” My gaze shifted to Katon.
He shook his head. “Abraham would be disappointed in you, Frank.”
The words were a slap in the face. Before I’d even realized it, I had closed the distance and had slammed Katon to the ground, my forearm pinned across his neck, my fist pulled back.
“Don’t ever say that to me again,” I told him as he growled, trying to throw me off. “Keep Abe’s name out of your mouth or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”
Scarlett yanked me back, and I let her after a moment of quiet resistance. Katon hopped to his feet, and as he had always been, he was ready to fight. That was one thing I’d always respected about him; there was no quit in the enforcer, but that was also something I knew might one day get between us. That day had come.
When you were an enemy of DRAC—of Katon—you could count on one thing: you needed to kill him or he would never stop coming for you. That’s where we were then. He couldn’t truly understand why I’d taken Mihheer, why I’d killed the bastard—well, Longinus had done the dirty work but there was no washing my hands of it. Now, face to face with Katon, having chosen Longinus and Karra over DRAC, there was no going back. We’d pissed in our beds, and now we were gonna have to wallow in the funk.
Scarlett hovered close, knowing all it would take was an errant word to set us off. “You two have never been at each other’s throats like this, not even at the beginning. Why now?” Her gaze shifted back and forth between us.
“Ask Sparkles over there.”
“Damn it, Frank, that’s what I’m talking about,” she shouted. “You’ve always been an asshole but this…” she pointed at me, “isn’t you.”
“It’s the new and improved me, Cuz.”
“Hope you saved the receipt because you need to take you back.” Katon laughed, showing his eyeteeth. “That shit’s defective.”
Scarlett turned on him before I could respond, glaring. He huffed and went silent. “We have better things to do than sit here arguing.”
“Do we?” I asked, my senses drifting through the cemetery gardens. I picked up the vague sense of a human presence—probably the night guy, Marvin—but that was it.
Veronica’s note had said there’d been no evidence of movement of any kind at the cemetery, above ground or below, so if anyone was gonna show up, they were looking to make a grand entrance. Reminded of my first encounter with DRAC, I willed a shield up around my head so I didn’t have to worry about having my teeth picked by a high caliber bullet.
Katon shifted into combat stance the instant my magic welled up. “You sense something?”
Content to let him stew a little, I kept quiet.
Scarlett ruined it by shaking her head. “No one out here but the groundskeeper.”
I smiled. “Just being cautious.”
“If you’re suddenly motivated to be worried, you might cast your eyes upward then,” Scarlett told me with a grunt. “You keep flashing your magic and playing around with that weird portal and you’re going to have Metatron or Uriel knocking at your door.”
“Tell them to stop by. We’ll have lunch.”
Scarlett growled. “You’re clearly insane, y
ou know that, right?”
“If I were crazy, would I really know?”
“There are two people here to back that opinion up,” Katon said.
I winked at him because I knew it pissed him off. “Opinions are like assholes…”
“Opinion must be your middle name then, huh?”
“I see we’re still doing this.” The essence of Rahim’s presence washed over as I heard the words, the wizard teleporting in.
I shrugged. “A boy’s gotta have a hobby.”
Rahim didn’t waste more than a second of his attention on me before he looked out across the cemetery. “Seeing how it’s a minute after three and this place isn’t being razed to the ground, I suspect Veronica’s information isn’t as accurate as we’d like.”
He’d always hated my relationship with Veronica, having understood what she was when I was too blinded by the depth of her throat and her ability to hum across eight octaves. She could have handed him physical proof that Baalth ordered the Kennedy assassination and he’d still doubt her. That said, he would never understand her compliance when it came to power. The old Frank might not have had her squirming around all tickly-feely, but the new model was something she couldn’t resist. It was a weird thing how submissive succubi would be when faced with real power. Independent and domineering with pretty much everyone they ran across, all it took was a show of force to get Veronica to heel. Rahim couldn’t know how tight my leash on her was, but she couldn’t fart without asking please.
“No, she was pretty much dead on,” I answered. “She reconned the area and hadn’t spotted anyone. I thought Hobbs might make a splashy arrival, but it doesn’t look that way.”
