Storm Demon

by Gregory Lamberson

  And all the king’s men

  Couldn’t put Jake Helman together again.

  His ribs rose with the breastbone, reconstituting his chest, and his breathing returned to normal. The bones in each limb rejoined, and the bones in his skull came together. Lying on his back with tears streaming from his eye, he unleashed the primal scream that had been building inside him. Pain burned every nerve ending in his restored body.

  Groaning, Jake rolled over onto his side and got up on his hands and knees, every movement torture. His glass eye stared at him from the roof’s surface. He grabbed it and held it between his thumb and middle finger, allowing the rain to cleanse it, and popped it into his waiting socket. He raised his left leg, then drew himself to his full height. Every inch of his body tingled.

  I’m alive, he thought. The only pain was an echo in his brain. His bones felt fine.

  The same could not be said for Laurel: she had taken Jake’s place on the roof, her body broken, her face shattered from within, no longer human in appearance, a long, strangled gasp escaping from her lips.

  Kneeling beside her, Jake reached out to her but stopped, knowing his touch would cause her pain.

  She turned toward him, tears rolling from her eyes.

  He looked at Lilith. “I’ll do anything you ask. Just save her.”

  Lilith’s face turned cold. “It’s too late. She’s already dead.”

  Jake returned his gaze to Laurel. Her eyes had stopped blinking.

  Oh no.

  “Without my power preserving her life as it did yours, she couldn’t survive the pain.”

  He closed Laurel’s eyes. “Then why didn’t you keep her alive?”

  “She made the choice to sacrifice herself to save you, her final insult to me. I allowed her to have the final gesture, but it was a gesture of futility. She gave her life for yours, which has a decidedly short expectancy.”

  Standing once more, Jake balled his hand into a fist. “You’ll have a hard time explaining her body and those of your witches to the world.”

  “The most miraculous storm since the great flood has left mankind in a quandary. Tomorrow the people of this world will have much weightier issues to worry about than the bizarre deaths of four women who worked at a romance publishing house.”

  “Erika Long may have a difficult time reclaiming public favor.”

  “While Lilian Kane’s followers mourn her tragic demise, Erika Long will resurface at her mentor’s funeral, easing all that pain. At least that’s what I’ve outlined so far.”

  Jake retrieved his sword.

  “What do you think I’ll allow you to do with that?”

  A gust of wind knocked Jake off his feet. Shaking his head, he got up again. “You made me beg like a dog before, but here I am, standing before you: a man.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Without intending to, Jake dropped to his knees.

  “Let me teach an old dog a new trick.”

  Jake held his sword before his face.

  “They say guns are phallic extensions, but I think that applies to swords as well.”

  Jake extended his arm before him, pointing the sword at the sky.

  “As a true romantic, I prefer blades over guns.”

  Jake tilted his head back and bent his elbow just a little, aiming the sword at his face, the tip an inch from his flesh. The blade moved to his remaining eye and stopped.

  “Shall I gouge your eye out and leave you blind?”

  The tip moved down to his mouth.

  “Or make you swallow the sword whole?”

  After the pain he had just endured, Jake found he did not fear death at that moment.

  “How about neither?” a masculine voice said.

  Lilith spun to the doorway as a gun fired. An instant later a crater opened in the back of her head.

  Jake dropped the sword, which clattered on the roof, and rose.

  Lilith turned away from Edgar, who stood in the doorway with a smoking Glock in both hands. The entry wound in her forehead resembled a third eye that did not blink, and blood flowed from the hole. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed at the same time. Her head made little jerky movements like a windup doll. She took a single step toward Jake, grimaced, then pitched facedown to the roof and lay still.

  Jake looked at Edgar. “I owe you one.”

  Edgar lowered his gun. “Let’s call it even, okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jake eyed the sky. The storm continued.

  Lilith drew one arm back, her palm sliding through the water. Edgar raised his eyebrows.

  Lilith drew her other arm back. Edgar aimed his gun. She pushed herself up, and he shot her in the back, dropping her again.

  “The storm is still going,” Jake said. “She isn’t dead.”

  Lilith coughed, then pushed herself up again. Edgar took aim but Jake lifted his hand, stopping him. Lilith raised her head so that she stared at Laurel’s corpse. “Erika . . .”

  Jake picked up the sword and moved closer to Lilith, who turned her head to him. Her eyes reflected lightning flickering in the sky. Jake raised the sword and brought it down in a wide swing that separated her head from her shoulders, the gaping wound in her neck coughing dark blood as her corpse collapsed.

  Thunder boomed and the rain and wind stopped, and Lilith’s head and body disintegrated into clumps of dust that turned into mud and swirled in the bloody water.

  “Now she’s dead,” Jake said.

  Lowering his weapon, Edgar crossed the roof. “I hope so.”

  A sphere of concentrated black light rose from the spot where Lilith had perished. Jake had never seen such a dark soul.

  “What the hell is that?” Edgar said.

  Jake turned to Edgar, his pulse quickening. “You see it, too?”

  Edgar aimed his Glock at the sphere. “It’s there, isn’t it?”

  The sphere spun faster and faster, four feet off the ground, then rocketed toward Edgar.

  Jake tackled his friend, knocking him to the wet roof, and the sphere sped through the space where he had just stood and shrank until he could no longer see it.

  “What is it?” Edgar said.

  “Her soul. She wants to kick your ass, or she wants to possess you. I don’t like either option.”

  The sphere ricocheted off four imaginary walls, drawing their attention to each point on the roof.

  Jake sprang to his feet. “Get behind me.”

  Edgar stood behind him and Jake held the sword. The sphere shot in their direction, and he swung the sword. The sphere stopped an inch shy of the sword’s point and hovered, spinning in place. An appendage burst from its rear and rose three feet into the air, comprised of five segments and a stinger the size of Jake’s hunting knife. Jake recognized the appendage as the tail of a scorpion. The tail lunged at him, and he deflected the stinger with his sword.

  Edgar moved off to the side and aimed his Glock at the shape-shifting sphere while Jake parried the stinger with

  his sword.

  “Come, woman.”

  Jake glanced in the direction of the voice and saw a man wearing a rain slicker and matching hat.

  “Carlos?” Edgar said.

  Jake looked at Edgar.

  “Uh, he gave me a lift here in his boat.”

  The appendage disappeared inside the sphere, which retreated across the roof.

  Carlos raised one hand, stopping it. “I said come.”

  The thunder had returned.

  Carlos’s body expanded beneath his slicker, and he threw his hat aside, revealing salt-and-pepper hair. His skull and bones split apart as a monstrous figure grew out of his tattered body. The figure tore the slicker from his frame with throbbing hands and revealed the volcanic blood and pulsing black light within his transparent body, two pinpricks of light centered within the sockets of his polished black skull. He stood seven feet tall.

  “You’ve gone too far, Lilitu. Your time is at an end.” Cain beckoned to the sphere with both hands. “Come t
o me. Serve our master.”

  The sphere floated to Cain in starts and stops. He spread his arms wide and absorbed her into his chest. His body trembled and he sank to his knees, throwing back his head and releasing an orgasmic moan that caused Jake to shudder. Then he bowed his head, stood, and looked Jake in the eye. “That was good. She was the best ever.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear it,” Jake said.

  Cain looked at Edgar. “Bird man.”

  A seam opened in the air behind Cain, sucking him through it, and he vanished.

  Edgar blinked. “What the fuck?”

  “Lilith pissed off the very forces that gave her power. They wanted her gone, and they wanted me to do the deed, but they didn’t think I was in any shape to do it alone, so they helped you get here to give me a hand.”

  “You’ve encountered these forces before?”

  “It will be better for you if you don’t know any more than I’ve already said.”

  “I think you’re right.” He looked at the mass of flesh on the roof. “Who was this?”

  Jake swallowed. “Laurel.”

  Edgar stared at her. “That’s too bad.”

  “How much of that did you see?”

  “Enough. Maria told me as much as I could handle and told me to go to your office, but when me and Carlos saw those ruins we didn’t think we’d get close enough. Then I saw your friend with the dreadlocks, so I came up here.”

  “Good thing for me you still have your cop instincts and that Maria called you. And that you got a little help—”

  Edgar raised both hands. “Don’t say it.”

  Helicopters droned in the distance.

  “Let’s go,” Jake said. “This street is about to become the biggest news in the city.”

  Edgar gestured to the corpses on the roof. “What about them?”

  Jake shrugged. “It’s not my responsibility to cover this stuff up. Maybe it’s time people started learning the truth about the universe.”

  “Laurel deserves a decent funeral.”

  “Which one would you bury? And how would you transport the body without implicating us both? This city isn’t going back to normal anytime soon.”

  31

  Maria sprinted through the carpeted corridor ahead of Bernie, relieved to set foot on dry flooring again. His flashlight cast eerie shadows on the walls. Drawing her Glock, she stopped at Alice’s unit and pounded on the door. She pushed the doorbell, knowing it wouldn’t work, and pounded on the door again.

  “Shana, open up! It’s me, Maria.”

  Bernie looked at the other doors. None of them opened. He drew his Glock.

  Maria kicked the door but it didn’t open. Aiming the gun at the lock on the door, she looked away. “Fire in the hole.”

  She fired, the round sparking the lot and ricocheting. She fired again, this time at the doorknob’s joint, and the door opened at her touch. Bernie moved closer to her, and she took the rescue helmet from his head, put it on hers, and almost tripped over Alice’s corpse, which lay in a pool of blood.

  “Score one for Team Raheem,” Bernie said.

  Maria ran down the hall with her gun held before her. “Shana!”

  A bedroom door at the end of the hall opened, and a small figure stepped out, blinking at the light on Maria’s head.

  “Don’t shoot,” Shana said.

  Maria holstered her weapon. “No one is shooting anyone. It’s me, Maria.”

  Shana stood in the doorway, her chest heaving. “Y-you came . . .”

  Kneeling before the girl, Maria cradled her. “Of course I came, sweetie. I promised you I’d be there for you if you needed me.”

  The child sobbed. “I didn’t know if you got my text, and I was afraid they’d hear me if I called you, and I didn’t know if you could get here in the storm—”

  Maria shushed her. “I know. We’re taking you away. Let’s get your things from your room, okay?”

  Shana nodded.

  Maria wiped the tears from her eyes, then turned to Bernie. “Find some garbage bags in the kitchen so we can put her clothes in them.”

  Bernie gazed into the living room. “It stopped raining.”

  “Really? Then it’s over.”

  Jake won.

  At least she hoped so.

  Jake and Edgar exited the Flatiron Building, and Jake stood looking at Ripper’s corpse for a moment. Edgar wore the ATAC 3000 on his back, and Jake retrieved the ammo clips for it from Ripper’s pockets.

  “He was a good man. I’m not looking forward to telling Carrie the news.”

  They moved on through the still water. Garbage and furniture floated around them. At least four helicopters circled the immediate area, sweeping the disaster site with searchlights.

  “You said that thing was Lilian’s soul,” Edgar said.

  “I’m afraid you’ll see more things like that,” Jake said. He hoped he was wrong. “Chalk it up to Katrina’s curse on you.”

  By the time they reached the mountain of debris between Madison and Park, an entire fleet of rescue boats roared past Broadway, and dozens of uniformed police crawled over the debris across the street. The two men scrambled up the limestone rock pile, anxious to get inside before any authorities stopped them.

  “Give me a boost,” Jake said. He had said the same thing to Edgar what felt like a lifetime ago when they had sneaked into Katrina and Prince Malachai’s Black Magic and zonbie factory in the Bronx.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” Edgar said.

  Edgar laced his fingers together and gave Jake a boost to the same window Jake and Ripper had used to exit the building. A searchlight pinned them as Jake helped Edgar inside. He counted the strobes of six boats passing the Tower and six more behind them. He and Edgar retreated into the office before the police in the chopper could respond.

  In the corridor, Edgar discarded his poncho and took a flashlight from his shoulder bag. He wore Timberlands, blue jeans, and a T-shirt beneath a light jacket.

  They climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, and Jake unlocked the door and opened it.

  Edgar whistled at the sight of the office.

  Jake splashed water; Carrie hadn’t mopped any of it. “Carrie?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Jake grabbed a candle burning on Carrie’s desk and sloshed through the reception area to his empty office, then checked his bedroom. “She’s gone.”

  Edgar stood in the office doorway. “Maybe she got scared and took off. Can you blame her?”

  Staring below the monitors on the wall, Jake crossed the office, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. He kneeled in the water and dialed the combinations on the safe, then opened the door and held the candle inside. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut.

  “What is it?”

  “She stole my files,” Jake said. “She sent Ripper with me so she’d be alone in here.” She sent him to his death.

  “Anything important?”

  “Old Nick’s Afterlife project.”

  “What could she want with that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  But the possibilities terrified him.

  Jake entered Detective Bureau Manhattan on East Twenty-first Street two hours later. The lights were on thanks to the generator, and about a hundred civilians crowded the stairway. He made his way between the people, some of them sleeping. A baby he didn’t see cried.

  A female PO stood at the top of the stairs. “Can I help you, sir?”

  He appreciated that she didn’t recognize him. “I’m here to see Maria Vasquez.”

  “You know her?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “I’ll tell her you’re here. What’s your name?”

  “Jake Helman.”

  The woman’s expression turned queer, but she walked in the direction of the squad room.

  Jake gazed at the miserable-looking people below.

  A moment later Maria appeared with the PO.

  “What time do yo
u get off work?” he said in a joking tone.

  “No time soon.” She took his hand and led him around the corner, out of sight of the crowd, and embraced him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  He had missed the feeling of her warmth. “Me, too.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I swam. It’s cheaper than taking a taxi.”

  “Is our problem solved?”

  “Of course. That’s what I do: solve problems.” He lowered his voice. “Our friend the raven helped me. He’s trying to find a way back to Queens. We didn’t think it would look good if we both walked in here.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Ripper’s dead and Carrie flew the coop with my computer files. She took Afterlife. That’s one reason I’m here—to file a report.”

  Maria raised her eyebrows. “You’ll walk out of here with a report number and nothing else. No one has time for something like that.”

  “At least she’ll be in the system. You’ve got power here. I don’t. Maybe you can be of assistance in that area.”

  “Don’t expect me to risk my job for one of your crazy situations.” She cast a furtive glance both ways. “Why would the little schemer want Afterlife?”

  “I don’t know but it can’t be good. I’ll file a legit report, and if you feel like helping out, no harm done. How’s Shana?”

  Maria nodded inside the squad room, where Jake saw Bernie Reinhardt showing a little girl a card trick. Papa Joe’s daughter, Alice Morton’s niece, Prince Malachai’s cousin—quite a bloodline.

  “She’s okay, thank God. Raheem’s people killed Alice right in front of her.”

  “Did she get a look at them?”

  “It was too dark.”

  From the tone of her voice, Jake gathered it would have been too dark even if the lights had been on. “You did the right thing going to her.”

  “I hope so. We’re waiting for social services to come get her.” She paused. “I hate to see her go.”

  Jake tried to read the look in her eyes. “Maybe you should foster her.”

  “On a cop’s schedule? Right.”

  “Get your mother to help. She’s been bugging you for grandkids, right? Make two birds happy with one stone.”