Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei

by L. J. Hayward

  I plunged the long end of the crucifix into his eye.

  The Demon Lord screamed and let me go. I hit the floor just as Amaya slammed into him from behind. They flew over me and hit the ground so hard the marble-like substance cracked. I rolled out of the way of their fight.

  It didn’t last long. Half blinded, Asmodeus was barely an adequate opponent. Amaya broke one of his wings, then wrenched his head around so hard bones snapped. She threw him onto his back and landed on his stomach so hard a gout of black blood spurted from his mouth. Not happy with that, she grabbed a handful of hair and slammed his head against the floor over and over. Bone crunched, wings twitched and the Lord of Lust’s head took a on a definite football shape. His wings spasmed once, twice, then fell limp. Amaya smashed his head down a couple more times, then as if his corpse burned her, she dropped him and leaped backwards.

  Damaged wings pressed to the wall, she stared at her dead father like she didn’t recognise him.

  “Amaya,” I whispered.

  Her throat convulsed. Tears sprang to her eyes. She didn’t acknowledge me.

  “Amaymon,” I tried.

  Oxy-torch eyes found me. The glow crept over her body, growing in intensity as she stared unblinking.

  “Get out of here.”

  Her voice was soft, but dreadful, full of pain and grief and something so cold and distant I knew without a doubt Lucifer had been right. Amaya could pretend all she wanted, but she was a demon. She was bound by her nature, a slave to it, and yet she had just crossed the greatest boundary she knew.

  I got out of there.

  “Mercy,” I sent down the private line.

  “Here,” she replied and I looked to see a small hand rise out of a deep depression in the floor. Shedding cushion stuffing and tossing aside dead imps, Mercy crawled out of the hole and stood. Her PJs would be given to the garbage man but for the most part, she seemed rather unscathed. Me? I was dripping human blood and demon gore and was crusted here and there with drying paint.

  Behind me, Amaya’s blue glow exploded into a gushing torrent. I glimpsed her from the corner of my eye as she pounced onto Asmodeus’ body and then they both disappeared into a seething column of her spirit light.

  Whatever that meant, I didn’t want to stick around for the end result.

  “We gotta go,” I said to Mercy.

  “How?”

  The rifts Amaya and Lucifer had opened were gone. Now that I had more than a split second to think, I could feel the toll the alien air was having on me. I couldn’t catch my breath, my thoughts were going fuzzy on the edges and the berserker rage had left me quicker than usual. Lucifer had said it was up to me to get us out of Hell.

  Panic started low in my sore stomach.

  Mercy tilted her head and her curious thoughts cruised down the link until she touched on something I had all but forgotten.

  Rufus.

  Two objects as similar as you could get, imbued with the same power. Amaya’s secret to crossing the boundary. But what if you had two halves of the same thing? It was our only chance.

  Mercy hopped into my arms, and legs wrapped around my waist, she pulled Rufus’ bottle out of my backpack. Cradling it between us, I put my hand on the bottle.

  As I concentrated, banishing the acrid taste of the air, the insistent blue light growing all around us, Rufus’ aura flooded us. Hot, dry vodka, the overripe oranges and crystallising syrup. Mixed in with the flavours were his emotions—terror, pain, twisted, horrible desire and beneath it all, a faint touch of regret and grief.

  Mercy put her forehead to mine and the channels between us opened fully. Our strength rushed together and swelled. We reached out, using Rufus’ soul as a guide. It seemed we reached and reached forever. We were close to the limit of our capabilities when we felt it—an echoing of the power between us. Latching on to it, we threw ourselves into the flow.

  It was another hard landing. This time I got elbows in my face and knees in my groin. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, but when reflex pulled in a sharp breath, it was of cool, sterile air.

  Mercy rolled off me, clutching the bottle. I coughed and curled up around my pain, grateful to be choking on nothing but proper air.

  “What are you doing in here?” a strident voice demanded. “What the hell happened to you two?”

  The bottle landed on my stomach and there was a rush of displaced air as Mercy moved. With a yelp, the speaker was propelled out of the room and the door slammed shut in her face.

  “Good work.” Dear Lord, my voice was a six-pack-a-day croak. “Where did we end up?”

  “Hospital.”

  Mercy took the bottle off me again, helped me up and turned me to face the bed.

  Rufus was pale and on a respirator. Without a soul his body had started to shut down.

  “What do we do?” Mercy asked.

  “No idea.”

  Mercy held up the bottle, looked between it and the boy on the bed. With a shrug, she dropped the bottle.

  Glass or not, the thing shattered in a spectacular array of shards. The trapped soul expanded and then contracted. As the last tinkles faded away, the coloured cloud settled to the floor and made no moves to go home.

  Someone started banging on the door. Mercy went and leaned on it. That’d keep them out for a while longer.

  I contemplated the soul lurking under the bed. I sat down so I was level with it. Him, I suppose. Although I felt like lying on the beach would be too much of an effort, I summoned up the dregs of my strength and reached out toward the soul. It flinched and flung the fear and hurt at me. I hit back with my own pain, the memory of everything I’d gone through to save the ungrateful little wretch. I followed it with a good dose of compassion and understanding, tinged with the fact that while there would be punishment, there would also be sympathy.

  And that was me finished. I pulled back and Mercy hauled me up again.

  I don’t remember much of getting out of the hospital. I do recall a blur of faces and then the flickering spears of brightness of streetlamps passing at speed. Then I was slumped against a phone box and Mercy was talking to someone.

  Next thing I knew, I was in my bed, every bone aching so hard I could barely move. Lying still was torture. Voices came from somewhere, muffled but light-hearted. Things must have been okay so I took a vacation from reality again.

  The rumbling of my stomach woke me the next time. That and the enticing smell of bacon sizzling.

  It was an effort of epic proportions, but I managed to fall out of bed and land on my feet, sort of. My left knee didn’t want to cooperate, but I bullied it into action and hobbled out to the kitchen.

  “Hey, it’s awake.” Roberts presided over the divine alter of the stove top.

  I made it to a chair and had a little nap while he finished making the food. Two rounds of butter saturated toast, a veritable mountain of scrambled eggs and about three pigs worth of bacon revived me enough to drink every drop of orange juice in the house.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Ugh.”

  “That’s nice. You’ll be pleased to know that Mercy’s gone through the last of your blood stock. If you didn’t wake up today, she was going to have to move on to take out.”

  “How many days?”

  “Only two. You were both pretty beat up when we found you, though. The kid’s doing fine. Watched that bloody movie twice last night. Kept me up with her swooning and sighs.”

  Not that I was looking forward to the answer, I asked, “Chris and Rufus?”

  “Chris is fine. They released him yesterday. He’s got some amnesia and some pretty heavy medications to help him sleep, but he’ll be okay.” Roberts sucked in a long breath. “Rufus isn’t so good. I gather that not long after you and Merce made your escape from the hospital, he woke up. Damn near screamed the place down, apparently. He’s been sedated and they’re transferring him to Mentis.”

  “Under Dr Angelshire?”

  “That might be the guy th
ey mentioned.”

  I went back to bed for a while, got up around mid-afternoon, showered and convinced Roberts I was fine. He left reluctantly and I called Erin.

  We met at Pelican Park on the south side of the peninsular. The kite flyers were out in force, their multi-hued contraptions zigging and zagging through a clear blue sky. Over them all hovered a huge, white kite in the shape of a pelican.

  There were the usual ‘how you doing?’ and ‘fine, thanks’ things and then we sat down to watch the kites.

  “How did Mercy leave her room?” Erin asked. “It was the middle of the day and I was right there. The cage was never unlocked.”

  I thought for all of about two seconds about not telling her, but really, why fight it? Keeping it to myself might be the best for Erin, but I had to stop and wonder what was best for me. I gave her an option.

  “Are you sure you really want to know?”

  Erin studied the kites for a while, thinking. “Yes. I can’t run away from it anymore and I suppose, having you around might just help me come to grips with it all.”

  I told her everything. She was silent and listened without interruption.

  “So, Asmodeus is dead,” I finished. “All of his… deals should be null and void.”

  “Good.” She reached up absently to her left shoulder, then realising what she did, dropped her hand with a rueful, fleeting smile. “What do you think Lucifer meant when he said, ‘where you’re going’?”

  “I don’t know.” In truth, I’d been trying not to think about it. “Maybe he just meant having to deal with Asmodeus once Lucifer left.”

  Erin pondered that with her investigating-expression. “No. I think he knew you would get out of there. He pulled Mercy across to help you. I think he was looking further afield. Perhaps he wants you around in the future in case another Demon Lord decides to follow in Asmodeus’ footsteps.”

  I snorted. “I doubt it. I mean, Lucifer could have cleaned all of this up himself, without having to manipulate Amaya or Rufus. He opened a rift without raising a sweat and he froze an entire room of demons, including Asmodeus. Lucifer didn’t need Amaya or me to help him. He wanted us there.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no freaking idea, and that scares me.” Before I could wig myself out thinking about it, I said, “I’m going to talk to Angelshire about Rufus. I might be able to help him.”

  “It’s good of you to try.”

  “Does Chris know the whole story?”

  Erin shook her head. “I haven’t told anyone else. They think Rufus had a psychotic breakdown after killing Geraldine, attacked Chris and then collapsed. It’s as good a story as any.”

  “And has no hint of demonic forces about it.”

  “Are you going to harp on at me about telling the truth again?”

  Leaning back far enough to keep the pelican in sight, I said, “Not anymore. You made your point. So you haven’t told Ivan the truth.”

  “Not yet.” A sardonic smile curled her lips. “Let me have my one normal friend, please. For as long as I can, at least.”

  “Normal friend, huh? Does that mean I’m the abnormal friend?”

  “It means you’re abnormal, yes.”

  We sat in happy silence for a while.

  “William’s home,” Erin said. “He’s doing really well. They gave him something to boost his immune system.”

  “That’s great.”

  Her smile this time was glorious. “Yeah, it is.”

  I was happy for her.

  “You’re a pretty smart chick,” I said, eager to get past the moment. “Good at problem solving.”

  “So my boss likes to think.”

  “I want to hire you to help me solve a problem.”

  Erin regarded me for a moment. “What sort of weird creature does this problem involve?”

  “Just a ghoul. And how to get him into a cinema.”

  Her laughter was better than her smile and I let it comfort me while I watched the giant pelican dip and twirl.

  Chapter 44

  Amaya sat on the bench outside of the amphitheatre at South Bank.

  He was late, but she didn’t mind. The sun was low enough its rays slanted in under the branches of the tree. She leaned back and let it warm her through. When someone sat down beside her, she knew it was him without opening her eyes.

  “How did you know it was me?” she asked.

  “Be you Lila or Amaya you have this glow about you when you’re in the sunlight. As if the light loves you so much it wants to get as close as possible.” A hint of sarcasm entered his tone. “I should have picked up on the similarity earlier.”

  At least he wasn’t angry with her anymore, four weeks was enough time to get over it.

  It was also enough time for wounds to heal. Opening her eyes, she saw the cuts on his arms, sustained in the last fight with Asmodeus, were little more than white marks amidst the tan. Her own wounds were healed as well—mostly.

  “You look good,” Matt said.

  Amaya smiled. “Thank you. I’ve not been a blonde in ages. Might be fun again, for a while. How’s Erin?”

  “She’s good. Working hard, spending time with her husband. We see each other occasionally, for jobs here and there, sometimes for lunch.” He gave her a sheepish look. “I’d forgotten what it was like to have a normal friend. It’s… good.”

  She touched his arm. “Give it time. Things grow and change.”

  Matt shifted uncomfortably. “I was surprised to get your call. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me again.”

  “Why? You might be incredibly dense but nothing that happened was exactly your fault. I can’t blame you for anything that went wrong.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Well, okay, a few things. But I can forgive them.”

  “How have you been since… then?”

  His tact amused her. “Recovering. After you and Mercy left Hell, word spread about what had happened and things got very hectic for a while. The hierarchy is different now, but you know, while the management might have a new face things don’t really change. It’s just as binding and suffocating as it always was.”

  “So you left again and here you are.”

  Amaya sat back and gazed at the river. “And here I am.”

  “Can you tell me one thing?”

  “Maybe. What is it?”

  “You’re a demon and therefore deathly allergic to salt. Weren’t you at all worried when you were on board the ship?”

  “If Nick had given me room to be worried, I wouldn’t have been. When I’m in human form, I am completely human. Salt will have no detrimental effect on this body, apart from high blood pressure if I overindulge, of course. If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t be able to survive here. It’s in all the food, half the drinks.”

  “But in demon form, it’s like acid. How does that work?”

  She smiled. “Quantum physics?”

  “I guess that’s as good an answer as any. What do you plan to do now?”

  “I think I might go back to Adelaide.”

  Matt quirked a sceptical eyebrow.

  “I never did finish my tour of the City of Churches. I like the dichotomy of it. A demon visiting all those churches. And I didn’t get to go to the Adelaide Hills and visit some boutique wineries. Then there’s Kangaroo Island. I really want to see the Remarkable Rocks.”

  Matt laughed. “You want to be a tourist. I don’t know which is worse, that or a demon.”

  “Don’t make fun of me. For once, I’m really free and I plan to take advantage of that.”

  He sobered and nodded gravely. “I hope everything works out for you. If you ever get summoned again, give me a call and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “If I ever get summoned again, I’ll know better than to pin my hopes on you.”

  When they parted, she kissed his cheek with true regret. As Lila she’d been close to feeling something honest for him. It would have been interesting to pursue thos
e vague beginnings and see where they went, but she knew Matt was not interested. There were other things he wanted more.

  As for what she wanted, well…

  She took her time getting to Adelaide, flying slow and stopping often in order to play tourist. Three days later, she was standing in Victoria Square, between the fountain and statue of Queen Victoria. Across the way was the St. Francis Xavier’s Cathedral, a Gothic Revival monument swamped by the cars, light poles and power lines of the modern world. It didn’t have the same intrigue it did three years before.

  Leaving it behind, she made the walk to Glenelg. There, she sat on a pier and looked over the heaving grey ocean. She missed it. Even under Nick’s oppressive love of it, she’d developed her own appreciation of its beauty. There was something that felt like home in its untamed glory.

  Eventually, she found herself at the docks. The Renata Rose was there, tethered safely, shifting on the slight swell. The ship was still beautiful to Amaya now she was free.

  And at last, as she knew she would, Amaya walked into Nick Carson’s Great White Experience Museum. There was a function on, a pre-trip party to let the guests and crew get to know each other. The atmosphere was lively and full of adventure. People stood in groups wondering just how close they’d get to the sharks, how many they would see, assuring each other it was going to be the best thing ever.

  Picking her way through the crowd, Amaya found Nick. He sat at the far end of the small bar in the corner. He nursed a drink with half melted ice cubes. That lock of hair hung in his eyes as he stared at the bar top, tracing patterns in the condensation left behind by his drink.

  “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. Are you coming on the trip?” Saul sidled up beside her, a little closer than socially acceptable.

  Hidden in a new body, Amaya smiled at him. “No. I’ve just come to see someone off. Is that Nick Carson?” She pointed to Nick.

  “Aye, the man himself.”

  “Is he okay? He doesn’t seem very happy.”

  “You mean you didn’t hear? It’s a very sad story. His long term partner died very recently. Horrible accident.” There was honest sorrow in Saul’s voice. “We all miss her. She was a great girl. Loved Nick to distraction and she sure could cook a mean hotdog.”