“And not have me punch myself in the face again?”
“Maybe,” Jeremiah conceded, “but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Demons have two forms; we can be fearsome incarnations of the malice in our souls, or we can look like mortals, both forms permanently bestowed or chosen, respectively, at the time of our Fall. Our battle forms vary from demon to demon, as do our mortal forms. So, yes; I do look like a demon, as much as any fallen angel does anyway. We’re like snowflakes. And, given that we’re going to Las Vegas, I should hope we see other demons with the frequency we would see a snowflake. Most of us aren’t very nice.”
“So, why am I here?”
“Mmm…Another poorly phrased question. If you’re asking why you’re physically located here, in this room, it’s because we haven’t left yet. I intend to remedy that shortly. Why you’re with me is a longer story. Until we can get on the road, let’s just say that not all prophets are trained by other prophets. Some are special cases and require special attention. Don’t let it go to your head, kid, but you are such a case.”
“So, if you’re really a demon, what do you do, besides make kids punch themselves in the face?”
Jeremiah wore a bemused look of exasperation. “You still don’t believe? Really? Do I need to show you again?”
“No!” Dylan answered emphatically. “And how do I know that wasn’t hypnotism?”
“It wasn’t. And I can prove what I say to you, beyond a shadow of any doubt, but you aren’t going to like it.”
“And why is that?” the boy demanded toughly.
With a roll of his eyes, Jeremiah stood up from the table, shut the blinds, walked over to stand five feet in front of Dylan, and suddenly burst into flame. Dylan fell backwards out of his chair. He blinked twice to verify that a man-sized pillar of fire was now positioned where Jeremiah had been standing. The flames licked the ceiling, but it didn’t catch, neither did the carpet. In fact, Dylan, not far from the fire himself, couldn’t feel any heat coming from it.
“What the--”
Before he could finish, a loud, echoing voice, which made him face away and cower, boomed from the pillar: “Because, Kid, I don’t have an extra pair of pants!”
Vaguely, Dylan noted the warm trickle running down his leg and took Jeremiah’s point. It was then that he believed—as had been predicted: beyond a shadow of any doubt, that Jeremiah Felangelli was a demon.
Chapter 2
“Muriel,” a distorted voice from the computer’s speakers began, “I’m glad you could make it so quickly. I need your help.”
The recently fallen angel had taken the human form of a woman. It wasn’t a particularly common practice, but she had always felt more of a connection to the gender, and it was complimentary that women had taken her name. There were Michaels, Gabriels, and Raphaels all over the world. It seemed fitting that, every once in a while, she’d get a Muriel.
Glaring at the computer monitor with swirling colors, she thought they were called screensavers, she couldn’t help wondering what other new, interesting devices she’d be introduced to. In her short time on Earth, she’d developed quite a fascination for human technology. She happened to know for a fact that very few of humanity’s innovations had supernatural origins. To their credit, humans were crafty.
“I didn’t feel as though I had a choice,” she admitted. “I was…compelled. I see that fealty works much the same down here as it does in Heaven. So, one of the little fiefdoms has decided to try to pick me up in the wake of Metatron’s removal. Do you think that wise? I’ve heard it said that the recently fallen are the most dangerous demons.”
The voice chuckled. “You were compelled, remember? Surely, you don’t believe that I could command you from such a distance if I weren’t completely capable of subduing whatever primal urges you displayed. That said, I haven’t noticed much. You seem to have gained control very quickly. I’m impressed.”
Muriel huffed. “You shouldn’t be. I’ve always been very strong-willed. In the end, that’s what got me booted. It was bound to catch up with me eventually. So, who are you? That’s the question. The demon who hides behind speakers and a video camera, not even bold enough to use his mortal voice, summons me here as if I were a slave.”
“You may have been strong in Heaven,” the voice replied, “but you’re still young as a demon. I’m confident I have tricks that you haven’t considered. As to why I hide, it’s because I’m not stupid. I may be able to control you, but there are others out there I can’t control. And, in Metatron’s absence, more than one of us are vying for control of the horde, taking whatever we can get. Right now, you are what I can get.”
“Who are you?”
Adversary laughed. “I’m not giving you my name. Names have power. For the time being, you may refer to me as Adversary, or master, if you prefer.”
Muriel snorted. “Calling yourself Adversary seems like a confrontational—not to mention arrogant—way to begin a relationship.”
She fell to her knees. It felt like her essence was being ripped from her mortal shell. She didn’t know much; she had no idea what this was or why it was happening, but she knew she didn’t want anything to do with Hell. Terror possessed her. Then, it just stopped.
“I will seem however I wish,” Adversary responded. “And arrogance refers to an exaggerated feeling of importance. Calling myself Adversary is completely accurate.”
“What do you want from me?” Muriel whispered.
“You’ll be the first of many,” Adversary predicted. “They’re already on their way.”
***
After a ride in a rental to the airport, a short trip on what Jeremiah claimed was his own jet, and another car ride—this one chauffeured in a black sedan with tinted windows, they came to a stop before a large hotel, flanked by two flashing casinos. It had giant pillars, four on each side of a marble walkway, leading up to a set of revolving doors. Dylan’s eyes wandered toward the top of the hotel to a sign that read “Prometheus” in giant, red, neon, blinking letters. Two men in suits came out to greet the car, open the doors, and escort them inside. As neither Jeremiah nor Dylan had any luggage, the young man just had to wonder whether or not they would have carried his belongings inside for him.
“Is this where you live?”
“Where we live,” Jeremiah corrected. “Yes…Thirty-fifth floor, the penthouse.”
“Ooh,” Dylan said, stepping out of the car to behold the majesty of the hotel in front of him. “You’ve got the penthouse, classy.”
“We’ve got the penthouse, Kid,” the demon stressed. “I own the building, as well as that casino,” he added, motioning to the towering collection of glass, steel, and pulsing lights next to the hotel, which had the same name. “The Prometheus will be home for a little while,” Jeremiah explained. “I hope and think you’ll like it. However, with you having been in the system for so long, I’ll probably have to teach you how to live in comfort.”
Dylan peered at the pillars as he walked between them. They also appeared to be marble, but black to contrast with the white walkway. Above the entryway was a statue of a man, chained to a boulder, with a large bird perched on his chest, and two burning braziers stood on either side of the door.
“Who’s the guy?” Dylan asked.
“The statue is Prometheus,” Jeremiah answered, “for whom the casino and hotel are named. He was a titan from Greek myth who was punished for a very long time because he brought the precious gift of fire to humanity.”
“What about the bird?”
The demon laughed darkly as they approached the revolving doors. “The bird is the punishment. The hero, Prometheus, is doomed to have his liver eaten by an eagle every day, until, eventually, Hercules saves him.”
“Brutal,” the boy noted.
“Indeed.” With an almost sad shake of his head, Jeremiah continued, “But let us not dwell on sad tales from mythology. It’s time to write new stories.”
Dylan followed Jeremiah through a rev
olving door and into a massive, luxurious lobby. The walls were lined with wood carvings; the floor was a plush, red carpet; the furniture was some kind of leather—Dylan assumed they’d been imported from somewhere, and a crystal chandelier hung high above their heads. He wanted to stop and stare, but Jeremiah didn’t afford him the time; the demon kept walking, eventually leaving the two men in suits behind. The boy had to move fast to keep up, and, by the time they got to the elevator, he was winded.
“Is something chasing us?” he demanded as they waited for the doors to open.
Jeremiah arched an eyebrow and looked in the direction they just came. “I should hope not.”
“You just seem like you’re in a hurry.”
“We have things to do. And there may not be something chasing us now, but I can’t promise that will always be the case. The sooner I train you to do whatever it is that you’re supposed to do, the sooner you can leave, and we need not see each other ever again.”
Dylan glared at him. “You don’t have to sound so excited.”
“Nothing personal, Kid, but you and I would never mix very well.”
“Oh. Because you’re a demon?”
“Shh!” the demon ordered, grabbing the boy’s shoulder and leading him into the opening elevator.
When the doors shut, Jeremiah opened a panel underneath the controls, stuck a key inside, and turned it. A light beyond 34 with no numbers on it lit up, and the elevator began to ascend.
“Never speak about your true nature or my true nature in public. Ever. Never confide in someone unless you’re positive he or she is also a prophet. And, even then, never speak of me.”
“Why are you worried?” Dylan almost whispered. “You’re a badass right?”
The demon nodded. “Yes, I am. But there are other badasses out there, and sometimes they team up. Plus, I always have you as a hindrance. Again, nothing personal.”
After a moment of silence to absorb what the demon was telling him, Dylan sighed. “This is going to be dangerous, isn’t it?”
Jeremiah laughed. “At times, I’m sure, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe and to teach you how to protect yourself. I’m good at this; I promise. I’ve been doing it for a long time, and I believe my success rate is pretty high.”
“You believe?”
“Well, even prophets die,” Jeremiah admitted. “Everything does eventually. It’s conceivable that a prophet could live indefinitely, but I’ve never known it to happen, and I’ve been around for a while.”
“What kills prophets?”
Jeremiah sighed. “Typically, demons.”
“Demons…Like you?”
“This seems redundant, but yes, I am a demon. Anyway, this will be home for a little while. I’ve been thinking about building a place on a plot of land I’ve got outside the city limits, but nothing has really called to me yet. For now, I suppose you’ll have to make do with this,” he said as the doors opened to reveal Jeremiah’s palatial abode.
Dylan was awestruck as he peered into the penthouse from the elevator. He could see a big screen TV, a stereo, computer, at least one console system, an alarm panel with an intercom on the wall before him, and furniture that looked comfortable enough to spend all day in. All in all, this would have been a treasure trove in the ghetto—ripe for the pillaging while the unsuspecting resident was away, but here, on Jeremiah’s turf, Dylan felt out of place and alone.
Jeremiah’s arm came out to catch the elevator door as it started to close, and, with his other hand, he gently nudged Dylan out, announcing, “This would be our stop.”
The boy slowly stepped into a living room with high ceilings and a plate glass door that opened onto a balcony with what looked to be an amazing view. The square footage of the living room alone was greater than that of the house he’d most recently lived in. Off to his right, he noticed a hallway that ended in a kitchen.
“There’s a bathroom, rec room, library, and kitchen down there,” Jeremiah informed him. Then, pointing to a hallway off of the opposite side of the living room, he added, “And the master bedroom, two guest rooms (all with private commodes), and a study are down that hallway. My bedroom is on the end, and I gave you the next largest.”
Dylan nodded wordlessly and looked over at the entertainment system.
The demon laughed. “Oh, that. Yeah, that’s all you. I don’t have any use for games, music, or VCRs. I will rarely use the cable and television for news. Aside from that, everything you see there is brand new, for your benefit. Enjoy.”
“This is all…for me?”
Jeremiah nodded. “Yep. So you can stop worrying about how you’ll get it out of here.”
Dylan paled.
“Relax. I expected as much. I know where you came from, and I know your track record. I also know that you’ve recently spent a little time in juvie for trespassing and theft.”
“I didn’t do that!” Dylan once more protested.
“Oh, I know,” Jeremiah assured him. “The charges were entirely fiction. There never was a robbery; you were framed, Kid. You spent a year of your life in a very scary place, far from friends and family, accused of a crime you couldn’t have possibly committed. I can’t even say that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The truth is: You were targeted.”
“By who?”
The demon pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “By me, of course.”
***
Lonny came out of the bathroom in his apartment, and was startled to see Teacher sitting on his futon, reading one of his magazines. He regretted leaving the bathroom door opened and almost went back to spray air freshener, but he shrugged and decided that a potential stink would just have to be the consequence for the unannounced arrival.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he confessed, looking around at the mess on the floor and wincing at the half-eaten slice of pizza on the paper plate sitting next to Teacher on the futon.
“Please, forgive my intrusion. Your privacy should be respected, but I wanted to talk to you on some matters of urgency, and I’m not really good with telephones or being in public.”
Lonny nodded. “Fair enough.”
He cleared off the other side of the futon and sat down. Teacher took one more perplexed look at the magazine, shut it, and put it back on the coffee table.
“Are you happy?” he asked Lonny.
After a moment’s thought, the young man replied, “Yeah, I think so. Why do you ask?”
“I mean, with me as a teacher. Do you feel like you’re getting everything you need?”
“You’ve saved my life twice now. I don’t think I could ask for more.”
Teacher cleared his throat and shifted around a little. “I’m glad I could keep you safe, Lonny; don’t doubt that, and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of. I’m just not sure I’m really suited to being a mentor. You deserve someone with some experience as a teacher. I’m just an old war horse.”
“I don’t really want a different teacher,” Lonny responded.
The blunt retort had been unexpected. Raul looked at Lonny and stammered, “What--? Lonny, I’m not a teacher. Just because I can blow up one of those monsters doesn’t mean that I’m qualified to show a teenage empath how to use his powers.”
“I trust you,” Lonny countered softly.
“Then, trust me when I say that there are others out there who would make much better instructors. I’m four hundred years old. It’s hard for me to connect with someone your age.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Teacher replied with a vehement rasp. “You did nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m old and stuck in my ways. I haven’t tried to teach anyone anything of importance in more than a century. You should have someone who thinks like you do, someone closer to your own age.”
“That seems counterintuitive.”
Teacher sighed. “You’re right. It is.”
“Am I not progressing fast enough? I can do better.”
&n
bsp; With a slow shake of his head, Teacher said, “You may not be able to sense past the barrier I have around my mind, but I’m sincere. If you can do better, then you should strive to, but I have no criticisms regarding your progress. You usually exceed my expectations.
“Look, I don’t want you to think this is your fault. I’m just grumpy, tired, and I tend to keep to myself. You’re a good kid—guy. Let me introduce you to someone who has empathic or telepathic abilities. I know a few; I’m sure you’ll like one of them.”
“I signed onto this because you promised you would train and protect me,” Lonny replied seriously. “I lied to my parents and have all but gone into hiding because you said everyone would be safer that way. If you aren’t going to teach me anymore, I think I’d rather go home to Kentucky.”
“You can’t go home, Lonny,” Teacher explained, “not with everything you’ve seen and two demonic attacks in such a short time.”
“So I guess we know each other’s terms.”
“This isn’t fair, Lonny.”
Lonny kicked his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back. “It isn’t fair that I have a gift that puts me in danger. It isn’t fair that I had to break up with my sexy girlfriend to move across the country away from my friends and family. And it isn’t fair that the one person I trust, the person who promised to protect me, is basically dumping me because he’s too old.”
Teacher bowed his hooded head. “Point taken.”
Lonny, pleased with his negotiation skills, pulled a tray out from underneath the futon that had a sack of weed, a pipe, and a package of rolling papers on it and set it on his lap before remembering he had company. That was probably due to the joint he’d smoked earlier.
“Um, did you want a hit?” he asked sheepishly.
“No.”
“Do you mind if I take a couple?”
Teacher looked up and cocked his head. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“What? Why?”
“If we’re going to approach this honestly, then I’m going to do the best job I can. I’m skeptical that you can do much for your music or learn about yourself and your abilities if you’re high. And, naturally, smoking anything will hamper your ability to perform vocally. You should flush it.”
Beyond the Shadows (To Absolve the Fallen Book 0) Page 3
