by Ryan Talbot
The Tower is a somber building. The tapestries that line the winding stair that leads ever upward tell the tale of the Traitor at the Gate, of the Great Betrayal. With every step, another reminder of all that was lost. Back then, though, they might as well have been Archie comics for all the attention I paid them.
The Harbinger of Days. What the fuck did that even mean? What was it with Aetherics and titles? I mean, seriously, my name was Jason Beckett—
“Emissary of the Lord of the Fallen,” her voice was deep, but not masculine. It was strong, and made me think of steel.
I stopped and turned to see who’d spoken. She stood on the stairs halfway between me and the tapestry depicting the taking of Eve. Her pixie cut black hair clung to her scalp like raven’s feathers. Massive black wings folded behind her. Her armor was the same silvered adamantite plate as Satan’s, but where his was heavy and thick, hers was lean and light. Black leather and onyx dragonscale were visible in the joints of the armor. A scout?
“Yes?” I raised an eyebrow cautiously.
“I am Abaddonna,” she bowed formally. “The Marchioness of Malebolge.”
“Nice to meet you,” I turned and pointed up the stairs apologetically. “Um, I’m kind of in a rush.”
“May I be of assistance?”
“Not unless you feel like carryin—”
Her wings flexed and she was next to me. With a curt nod, she swept her left hand behind my knees and caught me with her right. Another flex of her wings and we were airborne with impossible speed. She spiraled upwards, gracefully turning with each twist of the tower. I stared at her eyes, as she flew. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that her eyes weren’t attractive, they were. It was the speed at which they twitched, back and forth, measuring distance, velocity. She flew like a madwoman. The corners of her full lips would turn up slightly with each dangerous turn of the spiral. She enjoyed the challenge.
Her eyes locked with mine and she smiled. “Do not fear, Emissary. I have you.”
“I’m not afraid,” I said. And I wasn’t.
“No?”
I turned away, breaking the stare. There was more to fear here than death. I gasped as we flew through the arch that lead to the terrace. With a gut-wrenching jerk, Abaddonna threw wide her wings, and landed gracefully before Satan. She released me and I stumbled, dropping to a knee.
“Master,” I said, bowing my head before looking up.
He towered over me, his silver armor glowing in the perpetual twilight. He lowered his gaze, the wind blowing his raven black hair out of his face, revealing his gleaming sapphire eyes. His wings flexed, for a moment blanketing me in his shadow.
“Emissary,” he nodded in return.
“Things are happening,” I said in a rush. “And shit’s getting crazy Lifeside.”
“I am aware,” he motioned for me to stand. “We are not without incident even in Pandaemonium.”
“So I gathered,” I looked out at the vastness of Perdition and felt small.
“The Harbinger of Days is sending his agents against us.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Incidentally, what the fuck is that all about?”
“A ploy, perhaps?” He waved toward the Iron Gate, off in the distance. “They attacked us here, using a weapon of YHWH.”
I looked at Abaddonna.
“A reliquary, a finger of St. Benedictine.” She shook her head in disgust.
“I was attacked by elementals under the control of Gavin Thorne,” I said. “And the motherfucker kidnapped me.”
“I mislike enemies who are not known to me,” Satan growled. “Their motives remain obfuscated by my ignorance.”
“Personally, I just hate getting tortured and kidnapped.” I shrugged. “But, hey fuck it, right?”
Satan turned and leveled his gaze on me.
“Sorry,” I held up my hands and lowered my eyes, “I’m sorry, it’s been a fucking day.”
“Gavin Thorne must die,” Satan stared out over the city.
“I’m on it,” I said. “I just need to know a couple of things.”
“Name them,” Satan said without turning.
“Who is Gavin Thorne?” I asked, trying to keep my annoyance in check. “And what is the Harbinger of Days?
”
12
Satan turned to face me, his eyes gleaming in the low light. “A Traitor.”
“Why haven’t you killed him?” I asked.
“He…vanished.” Satan swept his gaze over Perdition, his eyes fixed on a point just beyond the confluence of the Styx and the Lethe. The Eye of Eurydice.
“He vanished?” I walked across the terrace to the rail next to him. “Why not just ask Sateriel?”
“I need not ask my brother to locate every trivial thing that escapes mine eyes,” His hand closed on the rail and he gripped it forcefully.
I stepped back a respectful distance. “I meant no offense, Master.”
“Gavin Thorne didn’t vanish from sight, my son.” Satan released the rail and clasped his hands behind his back. “He ceased to exist.”
“Yeah, but I saw him,” I protested. “He can’t have done a very good job at vanishing.”
“You misunderstand me,” Satan said quietly. “He is not the same being he once was.”
“What changed?”
“Everything,” Satan sighed. “He was a revolutionary. Now he is something utterly alien.”
“I’m guessing you want me to find out what?”
“No,” he said. “I want you to kill him.”
“Don’t you want to know what he’s up to? Why he’s trying to start the War all over again?”
“Whatsoever he has wrought, it will die with him.” Satan flexed his wings and hurled himself over the rail. “End him, Emissary.” Without another word, he dove toward the city below at reckless speed and disappeared into the distance.
“That was…unproductive,” I sighed.
“Was it?” Abaddonna asked.
“Sorry,” I looked over my shoulder at her. “I didn’t realize you were still there.”
She stepped closer to me. “Strange, isn’t it?”
“What?” I didn’t move, and my breath caught in my chest.
“This moment,” she rested the back of her delicate hand on my face, and traced a line from my forehead to my chin. “This second in time, it seems to welcome me.”
“Like deja vu?” I asked. I get stupid when attractive women touch me, it’s a condition inherent in my gender.
“No,” she tilted her head and stared into my eyes. “More like I am meant to be here, just here—just now.”
My heart stopped and for a moment, it seemed as if reality itself stilled for a beat. “Yes.”
“I had thought to travel today; I am expected in Dis.” Her eyes remained fixed on mine.
“I had no intention of being here,” I admitted. “I’m only here because it got me away from the Fae.”
“Do you believe in fate, Emissary?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Fate spoils choice. It makes life meaningless.”
“Interesting,” she smiled.
A gentle cough sounded from the arch that lead back into the tower. Mara stood in the shadows.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s time to go, Emissary.”
“Where?”
“Home,” she said. “We have a problem.”
I turned back to Abaddonna, but she was gone. A distant shining speck hurtled along the wind, away from the Tower and toward the fires of Dis.
“What sort of problem?”
“Rachel’s gone missing,” she said. “The Angelics are blaming us. They’ve bombed the Shrine of Judas.”
13
I stood just inside the Carrion Gate staring at the pulsating monochromatic glow of the Road.
“It’s probably best to just jump,” Mara said. “Like pulling a band-aid off quick.”
“I hate throwing up,” I muttered.
“It’s the only thing
keeping you thin, Hoss.” Mara winked and nudged me. “Just do it.”
“Fuck it,” I took a quick step and felt the twisted aetherous winds of the Road envelop me.
“This feels fucking creepy,” Mara said.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What the fuck?” I whipped around. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Skippin’ town, Handsome,” she winked again. “Ain’t nothing for me here.”
“Would’ve been nice if you’d said something.”
“I did!” She shrugged. “I said ‘this feels fucking creepy’. Nice to know you listen.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Right, I got that.” I sighed. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me you were tagging along?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I’m going home.” I said.
“So?”
“I’d just as soon keep where I live a secret.” I shrugged. “I’m a private man.”
“And that’s why you live in a building full of Satanic faithful?” She grimaced. “Jason, you aren’t real bright.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“First rule of humanity, people talk.” She tied her ginger hair back. “Not even the dead keep secrets.”
“Fine.” I tucked my own hair behind my ears. “I’ll take you as far as the City.”
“Good enough,” she said.
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” I asked as I started walking.
“Nope,” she kept pace beside me. “Kinda figured you had a couch.”
“You’re not my type.” I said as bluntly as possible.
“C-o-u-c-h,” she reiterated. “Keep it in your holster, cowboy.”
“Just trying to be clear,” I said. “No sense in leaving any illusions.”
“You’re not my type either,” she said. “Don’t want to give you any false hope.”
“Good.”
“What is your type?” She asked, smirking at me.
“My wife.”
“I see,” she nodded sagely. “That’s a pretty narrow definition.”
“It is.” I replied. “How about you, what’s your type?”
“I like men with fangs,” she grinned mischievously. “The kind of guy that’s likely to be around for a long, long time.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope,” she shook her head. “I like ‘em old, cold, and bold.”
“That’s just twisted,” I said.
“Says the guy who just got all turgid and knock-kneed because some big breasted Traitor Angel gave him the eye.”
“I di—”
She fixed me with that glare, the one that women use to scare the lie right out of your mouth. “Really?”
I blushed. “Shut up.”
“Ha!” She chuckled and turned back to me. “You’re too easy.”
“Give it time,” I snorted. “The novelty wears off quick.”
“I bet.”
“So what’s this shit about Rachel?” I asked, scanning the horizon for the path that would lead me back to New York. Back to the Lifeside and the prick that was trying to kill me. And I suppose who I was trying to kill right back.
“I dunno,” she said. “The Avernus Guard down by the base of the Tower were talking to a messenger.”
“So you were eavesdropping?” I asked, incredulous.
“I have ears, he was a loud talker,” she shrugged. “Not my fault.”
“You made it sound official,” I said. “You passed it off like you’d been sent to fetch me.”
“No,” she shook her head. “You assumed I’d come to fetch you. I just told you what I heard. You made up the rest.”
“Fine,” I shook my finger in her face. “But you fucking knew I would, and you took advantage.”
“How often do pretty girls come and give you information?”
“Constantly.” I snapped.
“So you do think I’m pretty?” She grinned.
“That was low,” I said.
“Who cares, it worked.” She said.
We crested a hill and below us the Road branched, and the left branch lead to a gleaming city of light.
“Whoa,” Mara said.
“Yeah,” I said. “It gets me every time.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“No,” I corrected her. “It’s horrifying. It glows that way to let predators know that ‘this way to food’.”
“Oh,” she scrunched up her face. “I didn’t know that.”
“Stick around,” I snorted. “I got a million ways to ruin your day.”
“I’ll just take the couch for a few days.”
“You get one,” I told her. “Then you can petition the Barracks for a bunk. I’m not running a bed and breakfast.”
I turned without another word and headed down the left-hand path toward home.
14
I rested my head against the rough bark of an oak tree. My eyes cut through the night, carefully crawling over every inch of space around the entrance to the Grove. I didn’t want to walk into another ambush. Unfortunately, I was stuck. If I wanted to find Thorne, I had to get back in. Last time, the prick had suckered me with his elemental friends. There was nothing stopping him from summoning more, and summoning something else for that matter.
His sorcery was raw and untrained. He’d left traces of it all over the Grove. It was like a kid making a bowl of cereal. Sure, he’d get enough in the bowl to eat, but there’d be a fucking mess all over the kitchen. I stepped across the Threshold and into the Grove proper. It was still.
I let my human blood fall away and stared at the temple with my Sight. The torchlight held the darkness at bay, and the Grove was completely silent. My eyes darted nervously from shadow to shadow. There was a gentle clicking sound, and my gaze swept over the altar. An enormous black mastiff paced back and forth before the font. I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out of the shadows and walked toward the altar. The mastiff let out a low growl and turned to face me instantly.
“I come without conflict,” I said quietly. “I bring myself before the Lady as an adherent, my peace is my supplication, and my Art is my offering.”
My eye is upon you, Jason Beckett.
I stopped, my brain whirling through memories, many not my own, to find the proper response. “Hail to you, Hekate Titanborn. I come with peace in my heart and praise on my lips. My Master is ever loyal to your pact.”
Whatever words I might have for your Master, I would speak directly to him. This is not his place, my child. This is mine, and here, your words are for me alone.
I bowed at the waist. “I offer my apologies, Lady. I meant no offense.”
I have labors for you.
“I’m tasked by my Master, my Lady,” I cringed inwardly. “I am torn between duty and thanks.”
My disciple has been taken by an enemy not my own. Corrigan turned his Art against those who attacked my Temple, those who came here seeking you.
“I’m looking for the guy that did this, my Lady. Satan ordered me to find and kill him.”
Find my disciple, for inasmuch as he is human and fragile, more fragile still is my heart. I need him returned home, Jason Beckett. Avenge him the hurt he spared you.
“I will,” I said. “Can you tell me anything about Gavin Thorne, the man who did this?”
He is no man; he is an abomination. Sooner would I grant the entirety of the Umbral Host succor than have that creature within my Grove.
“Everybody keeps saying that,” I said. “He just seemed like an asshole to me.” My eyes went wide. “No offense, my Lady, I hadn’t intended to say that aloud.”
He is deathless. He is Unbeholden. He is consumed by the Harbinger of Days.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Thousands of undead creatures worship you. I’m dead, and I’m welcome in the Grove.”
He is deathless. He will rise anew after every death, but he will be diminished with each death, until nothing but the Harb
inger remains.
“Okay,” I said, still confused. “We’ll come back to that. You said he’s Unbeholden. What do you mean by that?”
All souls are bound, constrained by the bonds of fidelity, fear, love, hate or even indifference. All souls are tied to something, even yours.
“Right,” I nodded. “But so what, Thorne’s a selfish prick. He’s not tied down, why does that matter?”
What sort of creature loves so little that he can find nothing of consequence, of meaning in all the worlds?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. I was a cold bastard, but even I’d found love. “I guess I can see how that makes him dangerous, but what’s he after?”
I cannot say, Jason Beckett. To say overmuch is to invite the very disaster we seek to prevent. You must find him, and bring him low.
“Done,” I said. “I owe him pain.”
Then your debt will go unpaid, child. The Harbinger feels neither pain nor sorrow. You must end him, bind him to that which breaks all bonds and hide that which has been unearthed. Seek the Harbinger, my child.
“That’s just it, Lady,” I said. “I have no idea where to look. He’s made enemies of every sect in town. He has nowhere to hide, and somehow, he’s like smoke.” I waved my hands. “And you can’t catch him.”
Seek him where others will not go, look to the empty places. He will walk among shadows and dust, empty and alone.
15
I laid the map of New York over my dining room table resting a bottle of scotch on each corner. I smoothed it out, my eyes crawling over it as I did. Where would there be only ‘shadows and dust’? My mind went immediately to Long Island, short of the Jersey Shore, it’s the most soulless, intellectually desolate place on Earth. But then again, when have the rich, entitled folks ever allowed the dirt of the common folk to intrude on their pretty little lives?
I stepped back from the table and lifted my glass, my frustration was grating on my already frazzled nerves. I closed my eyes and inhaled the rich scent of my scotch. I relaxed my mind, focusing on Thorne’s fucked up face as I did. He spoke eloquently, dressed impeccably, and yet for all of that, he might have been a rat clothed in gold. He reeked of wrongness, and his every move was calculated, leaving him with all the hallmarks of life. He was a dead thing, a wreck of humanity. Where would he hide? What would welcome him?
