Silence in the Flames (The Traitor's Shadow Book 1)

by Ryan Talbot

  It wasn’t that I had any intention of coming to Rachel’s rescue, it was too late for that. At this point both camps knew we were being fucked with by a third party. I just needed to know if I was going to meet up with the Happy Jesus Sunshine Hour kids at Thorne’s place. Unlike Rachel, they would try to perforate me with as much lead as humanly possible. With the Legion compromised, I couldn’t risk taking anyone with me except Abbadonna. Her, I trusted. It wasn’t just that Satan had sent her to guard me, it was that she made sense. Unlike every other creature beyond the Veil, she made fucking sense. Sure, she was a bit rough around the edges, but I was just fine with that. I wasn’t exactly Mr. Manners myself.

  “What are your plans, my lord Emissary?” Erzebet asked.

  “Find Thorne, empty a magazine in his face,” I shrugged without looking up. “Get breakfast, fall asleep.”

  “I hardly think that will be sufficient,” she snapped. “What will you need to locate him?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Why would you lie about it?”

  “Fun?” I shrugged again. “I don’t need anything. I’m just going to walk back to his place the same way I did before.”

  “And you will be captured, again.”

  “Not likely,” I said. “I’m thinking he has a new plan.”

  “Such as?”

  “Conversion,” I said. “Simon seemed to think that I’d been chosen for something.”

  “How could Thorne possibly think to convert the Emissary of the Lord of the Fallen?”

  “I’m just a man, Erzebet,” I said. “That’s all he sees.”

  “I think you’re mistaken,” she said. “You were chosen by Satan himself. He saw something in you that escapes me, but he saw something.”

  “Whatever,” I said, standing quickly, which I instantly regretted as I swayed woozily. “It’s irrelevant. I’m going to find him and kill him. Then I’m going to get Corrigan out of Thorne’s little chamber of horrors, and I’m taking a shower and a three day nap.”

  An aide knocked once and entered the office, carrying a piece of paper. Erzebet took it wordlessly and waved her hand to dismiss the young woman. She read it quickly and passed it to me.

  THIRD PARTY CONFIRMATION: ATTACK ON ST. BARTHOLOMEW CHAPEL, ONE PRIORITY-1 TARGET TAKEN. CONFIDENCE HIGH.

  I whistled and shook my head. “I thought she was smarter than that.”

  “You give her too much credit,” Erzebet snorted and took back the page. “To welcome your enemy to your breast with nothing more than words is foolish.”

  “You think she gave them a chance to repent?”

  “I do,” Erzebet nodded. “I think if you asked her for a chance to repent, she’d let you.”

  “I don’t think she separates my role as emissary from me as a person,” I disagreed.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Erzebet laughed. “Of any man in all the worlds, yours is the word I’d trust the least.”

  “Thanks,” I frowned at her. “Just get me a fucking car.”

  She nodded curtly, and stepped out of my way.

  43

  I couldn’t stop grinning when they brought the BMW into the garage. It was as black as my heart, and loaded. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it as I knelt in front of the car. This one was new, but it had been prepared for possession. It was perfect. I pressed my Mark on the hood of car and spoke a Word of summoning. As the aether rippled around me, I felt the Devil’s strength pour into my mind.

  “Abbadonna,” I called. “To me.”

  The engine revved, then settled to a low purr and I smiled. She liked it.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “This will do, Emissary.” Her approval poured into my mind. “This will do.”

  I reached into the Aetheric heart of the car, the nexus of energy where Abbadonna lay coiled like a snake. I wove sorcery around her, the tendrils of my magic sliding along her Aetheric signature, covering her in a mesh of magic and deceit. I drew shadows and silence and cloaked her presence as delicately as I could. The downfall of illusion magic is that it has to be precise, as Corrigan pointed out when he’d shredded my wards in the Grove. Too much was almost worse than not enough. I made sure that all of my wards were bound back on themselves, preventing any stray energy from flagging their existence. Complete, I stepped back to admire my work.

  “Excellent work, Emissary,” Abbadonna said appreciatively.

  “Good,” I nodded. “No sense in making you a target.”

  “The Embassy cars are already shielded and ritually prepared,” she said. “Why not use one of them.”

  “I couldn’t imagine you in a limo,” I said as I pulled the door open. “You needed something sexier.”

  “Where are we going?” She asked, her smile flowing across our link.

  I opened my mind to her as I rested my hand on the steering wheel. I flashed through the route I’d taken the last time. She was in motion before I opened my eyes again.

  “You are aware that this is a trap?”

  “Yeah,” I said aloud. “I really only have two options, wait for him to snatch me again, or go kick down his door.”

  “It is always preferable to be a lion than a rabbit,” she said. “Running ill suits the Face of the Lord of the Fallen.”

  “Don’t get too used to this,” I warned. “I’m not much for face to face. I prefer a shot in the dark to a knife in the gut.”

  “Then you would be first of his emissaries to do so,” she said as she maneuvered the car expertly through traffic.

  It was a sight to behold, the way she handled the car. No human could ever hope to have reflexes as finely tuned as hers, and she put them to good use. She tore down side streets timing each corner, each light with perfect precision. She drifted around corners, the car shifting through the gears and finding the sweet spot in each. Initially, I’d been concerned with the police, but Erzebet assured me that the diplomatic plates on the car would discourage any activity from that direction. That meant we could play for a bit. It’s called counter-surveillance, it’s like peacocking for your enemies. Let them see you, let them get a good look, then see who follows.

  It took us less than half a block into Thorne’s territory before we picked up a tail. I spotted them first. Desolate Sons in a souped-up Civic pulled into traffic and tried to remain inconspicuous. Granted, that’s a bit difficult when you’re in a lime green, flame-painted deathtrap with the loudest pipes on the Eastern seaboard. Abbadonna gunned the engine, whipping across a lot strewn with torn up cars and sheet metal scrap piled everywhere. Smoke poured from the tires as she spun the sedan into the fastest one-eighty I’ve ever experienced. She drifted around piles of scrap, wending her way back to the road. I buckled my seatbelt and leaned back into my seat. I’d like to say I sat back and just enjoyed the ride, I really would. It was equally exhilarating and terrifying.

  “Be at ease, Emissary,” Abbadonna sent through our mindlink. “I’ve not even begun to test the limits of this vehicle.”

  She shot across four lanes of moving traffic and the moment I lost visual of the lime green monstrosity, she whipped the car into another spin. This time, she threw it into reverse and took us down an alley at well above sixty miles an hour. My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn’t stop grinning.

  “Are you well, Emissary?” She asked coyly.

  “I…” I swallowed. “I think I’m in love,” I laughed. “Where have you been all my life?”

  Her deep, rich laugh echoed through my mind. “Waiting.”

  I laughed nervously. She said nothing else.

  Before the silence became awkward, the Civic crept by the alley. I ripped through every deception incantation I knew, I avoided Words and stuck to sorcery. While my previous shielding might be enough to keep the casual passerby from detecting Abbadonna, these motherfuckers were actively looking for us. I wrapped and encircled the car with a literal and metaphorical web of deception. Anyone looking at it would feel their eyes slide off of it with
no memory of what they had seen. The casual passerby might find himself questioning why he couldn’t look in a particular direction, but that would fade as the sorcery sapped his will.

  As I assumed it would, the Civic circled back, its occupants peering out the windows, staring down every alley, looking closely at every shadow. In any other situation, it would be comical. This time, I was looking for targets. I had to know where Thorne was hiding his people, where he kept the Desolate Sons when they weren’t beating the shit out of innocent people and trying to kidnap emissaries. What frightened me most, however, was once we got there, how many of them would be people I knew? How many Legionnaires were empty kids broken by the Toymaker? How many might have otherwise been healed? Or fixed? Or at the very least given a true purpose?

  I shook off the stray thoughts and focused on the kids in the Civic. A young Asian kid, his skull bandanna hanging loosely around his neck, lowered the window on the passenger side of the car and leaned out, trying to peer into the sorcerous shadows of the alley. Just to be on the safe side, I leveled my Beretta at his face. Thankfully, they crept by the alley slowly, missing us completely for the second time.

  “That’s it,” I predicted. “They’ll speed off, be ready.”

  The Civic’s engine screamed as the driver pounded the gas. Abbadonna slid silently down the alley, my deception shield and her precision control of the engine keeping the noise down to a minimum. The Civic’s tires spun on the damp ground before finally getting traction. By the time the noisy, wasteful idiot got his car in motion, we were right behind them as they left the alley.

  44

  We followed the Civic past the quarry, past all of the junkyards and scrap shops that blanketed the area. They drove recklessly, and we followed just as quickly, lurking in the blind spot of their minds. We followed them into Flushing, which I had to give Thorne, was unexpected. It’s not the sort of place I’d have pegged as his hideout. The Civic pulled up curbside at a small church. St. Michael’s, of course. I shook my head. I hadn’t ever given much thought as to where the Angelics would base their soldiers. I’d assumed one of the larger, better defended churches, but suddenly, this made a lot more sense. Why not a smaller community church? It would never be suspect.

  The young Asian skull-kid was joined by an equally young Black driver. Based on the way they continually adjusted their low hanging pants as they walked, they’d either shat themselves or were concealing weapons. By the way they locked their left legs, they were carrying cut down long guns, either assault rifles or shotguns. Neither one was optimal for me right now.

  “What is your plan, Emissary?” Abbadonna sent through my mind.

  “I’m gonna follow them in,” I said.

  “That’s a viper’s nest,” she growled. “Even should they not have corrupted this temple; you will be in danger the moment you enter. There are Loyalist Angels in there.”

  “Then I’ll walk very quietly,” I said. “I can’t lose this lead. Otherwise, I’ll have to walk back into the quarry hat in hand and just give myself over to Thorne. I don’t own a fucking hat.”

  “I’m not concerned with your wardrobe, Emissary,” she said. “My only concern is your wellbeing.”

  “Then come in with me,” I offered.

  “You are not ready for possession,” she said quietly.

  “That’s the only other option,” I put my hand on the door handle. “So, which is it?”

  I felt a sensation like a curtain closing in my mind. A feeling like I’d put my hand in a fire that burned cold flowed up my arm and across my heart. My eyes boiled like they’d been filled with acid, and my veins throbbed as if they were overloaded. I ran a hand over my eyes, I was sweating profusely and my cock was so hard it ached. My hands shook with want of blood, of sex, of conquest.

  “Wh…what…” I stammered. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Setting you free,” Abbadonna’s sensual voice sounded as if it were coming from beside my left ear and her hot breath set the skin of my neck alight.

  “It’s…” I took deep breath after deep breath. “Too much. I’m coming apart in my head.”

  “I warned you, Emissary,” cold shivers followed a bead of sweat down my spine. “You are not ready.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” I said. “How do we make this work? How do you condition soldiers to accept you?”

  “You have not the conscience for it,” she whispered in my ear again.

  I swear I felt her tongue brush my neck and the faintest touch of teeth on my ear. “Fuck…” My hands gripped the steering wheel with enough force to shatter bone. “I don’t care,” I snapped. “Just do it!”

  My sacral chakra, the one in my lower abdomen, ignited. Power flowed through me, and I collapsed against the wheel, my right hand punching the dashboard repeatedly as wave after wave of terrible desire poured over me. The pain in my hand kept me sane, drove me back from the edge of failure.

  “Do not fight me,” she whispered again. “Surrender to your desire, give in, Emissary. Let go.”

  My memories of her sprang to life in my brain, her eyes bored into me, the generous curves of her body inflamed me further. She knelt before me and kissed me just over the chakra, one hand slowly stroking my cock.

  “Give in,” she whispered, sliding her tongue over the length of it, before taking it all in her mouth at once.

  My mind shattered and my body gave in. I gasped for breath as my mind and flesh betrayed me. I shuddered and fell back against the seat, I felt her embrace soften as she enveloped my mind. It was like an iron trap covered in the softest velvet surrounding my thoughts, encapsulating the essence of my self, yet not smothering it.

  “There,” she said softly. “You remain master of yourself, Emissary.”

  “What…” I gasped and shuddered as the orgasm ripped through me again. “What the fuck was that?”

  “You ordered me to force your body to accept me, Emissary.” I felt her mental shrug. “That is what I did.”

  “You just psychically raped me,” I snapped.

  “I did no such thing,” she snapped back, offended. “What you gave, you gave willingly. You’re too fearful to admit it.”

  “I…” I cleared my throat. “It’s done,” I said coldly. “And it won’t happen again.”

  “It need not,” she conceded. “We are bonded.”

  “Then,” I threw the door open unsteadily. “Let’s go find some motherfuckers to interrogate.”

  I stepped out of the car, still weaving a bit. I tried to swallow my guilt. I was a married man. How the fuck did this keep happening?

  “None of this was of the flesh,” Abbadonna said softly. “Your word is unbroken.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “You never met my wife. Jess would've ripped the thoughts out of my head and beat them to death with the butt of her rifle.”

  “Your wife was a warrior?” She asked.

  “Is,” I corrected. “Once she…” I trailed off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I hopped the short wrought iron fence and crossed the grass that separated the church from the street. Unbuttoning my jacket, I reached around and pulled my Beretta from the small of my back. I tried the doorknob, finding it unlocked, I pulled it open quickly and slid inside, catching the door before it had a chance to slam. I stood in a narrow entryway that led to a larger hall.

  “Where are the Angels?” I mentally questioned Abbadonna.

  “Below us,” she replied.

  I stepped quietly into the hall, mindful of the sound of every footstep on the hard tile. Down the wood paneled hallway, I saw the placard for the stairs next to a green metal door. I traced a sigil of silence in the air before me. It wasn’t as effective as a Word, but it was magic intrinsic to Creation, so it wouldn’t alert the Angels to my presence. Well, any more than the rest of the sorcery that covered me like a goddamned cocoon.

  I made it to the door unseen by either parishioners or guards. I causally pushed on the door to test if it
was locked. It gave easily and without pausing, I opened it and stepped through. A guard stood on the inside. I smiled warmly at him.

  “Is the bake sale downstairs this year?” I asked.

  He held up a hand to stall me and opened his mouth to reply. I kicked the inside of his left knee, forcing his foot off the top stair and making him stumble. As he threw out his hands to arrest his fall, I spoke a Word of silence and fired my pistol twice into the back of his head.

  “They know we are here,” Abbadonna warned me.

  “Then we’ll add a few more notches to my belt,” I said, my lips pulling away from my teeth. I wanted more blood, more death. I wanted other things, but I refused to acknowledge that part of my primitive lizard brain.

  “Let me help you, Emissary,” she said. Her tone told a story that my heart, my blood echoed. She wanted what I wanted, only so much more.

  “I’ll take what I can get,” I said took the stairs down two at a time.

  45

  I hurled the door to the basement open hard enough to tear it from the hinges as Abbadonna’s strength poured through me. Bullets shredded the crawlspace beneath the stairway. The deep bellow of a machine gun chugged as thumb sized holes appeared in the bottom of the cement steps. I rested against the cinder block wall just inside the door. I wished I had a grenade, but sadly, it wasn’t something I’d thought to grab at the Embassy.

  I stepped away from the wall, spoke the blessing of Leviathan and charged the wall. Concrete and cinder block exploded outward into the basement. Abbadonna tracked targets through my eyes and I leveled them, one shot at a time. I couldn’t miss with her guiding my hand. For one glorious moment, I felt invincible, I felt immortal.

  “I was unaware Leviathan had gifted you thus,” Abbadonna mused.

  “What?”

  “His blessing,” she said. “You just invoked it.”

  “Yeah, shocked me too,” I nodded. “I don’t make a habit of looking gift horses…or dragons in the mouth.”