by M. K. Gibson
The giant clan leader ordered the mercs to spread out to locate the source of the signal they had been tracking. They obeyed quietly. It was obvious what they were looking for.
Us.
I turned back to Grimm and whispered the situation to him. He shook his head. We both knew this was a bad way. If we chose to fight, the odds were against us. But the alternative, being taken in to Archduke Abraxas, seemed worse.
“Salem, come out. Your fight is over. If you persist in hiding, we have authorization to kill you,” the giant figure boomed. Definitely not like Kitsune. The Techkuza must have had this guy groomed and ready for command. In the old days I could have bribed Kitsune to give me intel on targets, and then scavenged any items of interest before the authorities could show. This guy seemed far less fun.
“It is not like we are well hidden,” Grimm said. “This project has only one freestanding structure and we are hiding behind it. No spell of mine or cloaker you may possess will mask the isotopes in our systems.”
“So the short answer is we’re boned,” I said.
“Indeed.”
“Freaking great.”
“Last chance, lightrunner. That building is not going to save you,” the giant Cyberai bellowed.
“What do you think?” Grimm asked me.
“I think we stick to the plan I drafted up.”
“That? I thought that was a joke. Something to keep your demon ally occupied.”
“Well, it was, sorta. But it’s also our only real shot right now,” I said to Grimm.
He closed his eyes and shook his head a little. Then he waved his hand dismissively. “Fine.”
Two Cyberai turned the corner of the building’s shadow and spotted us. Their plasma katanas were lit and humming. Grimm and I stood and put our arms in the air. The Cyberai foot soldiers waved their humming blades for us to move out into the open. We complied, and walked out into the center of the run-down park. The moonlight was barely visible. This section of town was lit by cheap public lighting and the smog overhead wasn’t controlled by the industrial scrubbers. No one cares how the poor live. At least they had a park.
More Cyberai de-cloaked and the park was full of them. I could smell the plasma and tech. When no one spoke for a moment or two, I got sick of my arms in the air. They were beginning to ache and I felt stupid. I put them down and reached into my jacket for a smoke. The Cyberai came on guard until it was obvious I was not reaching for a weapon. Grimm brought his arms down and folded them across his chest. Still no one spoke.
“OK, we’re out. Can we get a move on to whatever the hell it is you have planned? I do have a life, you know,” I said.
I wanted to believe it was bravado, but truth was I was getting sick of all this. The attacks, the posturing. If some unknown fucker was moving against me, I just wanted it out in the open. If it was Archduke Abraxas, then so be it. I’d never met the demon, but I promised myself he would never forget me. I’d make sure he’d regret making an enemy of me.
“Slow down. Relax. Contemplate your situation,” said the booming voice. The giant war leader came toward us. The Cyberai parted, allowing him to come into the circle they had formed around us. I was wrong; this beast was over seven feet tall. And huge. Upon closer inspection I saw his arm cannon was a WELKER Fusion Cannon with X25 25mm grenade launcher. Serious firepower that didn’t come from New Golgotha. That make of weapon came from Trinity Neon, the Asian supercity on the other side of the planet. Home of the Techkuza.
“All right, I am relaxed and contemplating. Mind filling me in on the situation there, Megatron?” I said to the giant. He looked at me steadily, obviously not one to be rattled by banter.
“My name is Kuma. We have been contracted to deliver you to Archduke Abraxas at his palace. Preferably alive.”
“Kuma, eh? I thought you had authorization to kill us?”
“I would have told you I was a pretty pretty princess if it would mean you came out and we did not have to carpet bomb the area,” Kuma said. “Abraxas wants you himself. Dead and no deal.” It seemed the mech mountain had something of a sense of humor. Another time and I could have a beer with this guy.
“So you need us alive, huh?”
“Well, there is a small fee for dead. Actually it is substantial, but nothing compared to the alive price,” Kuma said.
“Naturally,” I said. “You know, I was kind of a friend of your predecessor, Kitsune. We could occasionally do business. Any chance you can pick up where he left off?” I asked. Hell, it was a shot in dark. The big cyber samurai leaned in close.
“Tell you what, little man. You survive your meeting with Abraxas, and we will talk. At that time my contract with him is up.”
“What are your going rates?” I asked.
“Salem, what the hell, may I ask, are you doing?” Father Grimm asked. I guess he was getting angry standing there doing nothing.
“I’m doing what I do best. Dealing.” I turned back to Kuma. “Seriously, what are your rates?”
“Ha!” The big man laughed. “You do have some balls, I will give you that. In a way, I should be thanking you. You wiped out that outcast Kitsune and his cohort, freeing up this district. What are you proposing?”
“Grimm and I go with you,” I said, holding up a hand before Father Grimm could argue. “We go with you, and you fulfill your contract. Turn us over to Archduke Abraxas and then you are free for a new contract, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Well then…do I have a deal for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Blood, Guts, and Demon Semen
Grimm and I were airlifted to the palace of Archduke Abraxas, ruler of Ars Goetia. The Cyberai apparently had a cloaked fusion-powered WHISPER-7 Tri-Copter. A very expensive military-grade ride. We flew over New Golgotha in style. Well, relative style, being we were officially prisoners. Bounties that had been collected.
From up there, NG was spread out as far as the eye could see, industrial and decadent. The supercity had been built up and destroyed over and over in the last two centuries. Now, it was a tiered mega-monolith of chaos. Super high-rise tenant buildings interconnected by bridges and magna-train rails. Far below on the street level were the lower echelon and castoffs.
During my youth, air travel had been the norm. People had bustled from city to city. Now, it was something only the very wealthy and very connected could afford. Fossil fuel wasn’t cheap. Mankind created portable fusion cells as an alternative to oil drilling, coal mining, and other fossil fuel sources. Especially when they were shut down due to Deep One interference. By interference, I mean mass possession of the workers followed by Lovecraftian slaughter and torture. The Deep Ones’ domains were places of living nightmares.
Demonic nobility didn’t care if a bunch of humans were possessed and gouged one another’s eyes out while chanting inverted Latin in praise of some elder being. They just wanted power, be it oil and coal or fusion. Even though we had the power for air travel, the demon lords made it so most regular folk couldn’t fly without a very expensive permit, widening the gulf between the demonic rich and human poor.
But this Cyberai clan had a fusion chopper. I guess there is good money in their line of merc work. Hell, I should start my own group one day.
As we whisked over the city, in the far distance I could see the spire of the archduke. I switched vision to telescopic and gave it a good once-over. The archduke’s citadel sat atop a skyscraper, as most homes of the elite did. And this home was the stuff of legends and nightmares.
When Hell rose all those years ago, it wasn’t just demons that came here. Many of their buildings from the cities Dis and Pandaemonium came with them. Not in one piece, but in fragments, and those fragments were scattered over the globe. Much of this infernal architecture was destroyed in the wars. What remained was divvied up among the princes and their top retainers. Abraxas’s home had been airlifted to the top of the skyscraper many years ago and sat as a reminder to the peasants below
.
The citadel was vaguely mosque-like, but with seven outer minarets shaped like upward-curving tusks. The main building was midnight blue with silver accents, Abraxas’s chosen colors. It was an affront to sanity. The angles seemed off, as if made to give the viewer a headache. The building had architectural accents that seemed to defy physics while maintaining a gothic sense. Designs of torture and penance were carved into the edifice. Basically, it looked like what it was: a palace for demons sitting at 2,200 feet above the ground.
The WHISPER-7 began to make its approach to the landing pad, and I felt my nerves starting get to get jumpy. A lot was riding on things going smoothly. That was the problem when a plan had too many moving parts. Too many things could go wrong. Too many people could screw it up, and that would leave me in the hands of demonic nobility.
Grimm leaned in close as if to get a better view.
“Do you know what you are doing?” he asked. He had given me a lot of latitude in this move. And over our time together, I had come to like the man. I would hate to have it all go tits up because I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was.
“Don’t know,” I said honestly. “But our only alternative would have been to fight our way free of Kuma’s clan and remain on the run. Either we confront the powers that be who want us and get shit settled, or run and hide, not knowing when the next hit squad is coming.” As I said it, I realized the truth in my own words. We could have probably beaten Kuma and his men. We could have fled and regrouped with the people of Midheim. But it would only be a matter of time. The nobility would have sent wave after wave of forces to kill us. Demons don’t see pyrrhic victories as fruitless.
“That is true. It will be refreshing to face our opposition for once, to see the king rather than face pawns and knights.”
“We should play chess sometime when this is all over,” I said.
“Truthfully, I hate the game. Indulgent and narcissistic, with a limited battle space and patterns rooted in mathematical tradition,” Grimm said.
This surprised me. I always figured old-timers loved the game for the pace, thought, and strategy. “Really? What game do you prefer then?” I asked.
“Paintball,” Grimm said stoically. I barked a burst of laughter and tried not to fall out of the open chopper bay door.
“Paintball?”
“Yes. Game of kings. Strategic, athletic, team-oriented, and if you are smart, you can use your dimwitted teammates as human shields. I do miss paintball.” Before Grimm could say another word, Kuma’s voice came over the WHISPER-7’s loudspeaker.
“Five minutes until we land. Once we turn you over to the archduke, our contract with him will be fulfilled.”
I leaned away from the door and looked at Kuma in the passenger seat. “Are we to be bound and presented like prize pigs?”
Kuma turned around and faced me. He had the kabuto war helmet off and I could see the cybernetic interface ports along the shaved sides of his head. He had a strong jaw, blue eyes, and blond hair. Not exactly the Asian ideal. “Our orders were to retrieve you and deliver you as unharmed as possible. Apparently, you are some kind of guests tonight.”
I lit a smoke, which was a challenge in an open-door chopper. “Those were your orders? What about the ones Kitsune had? Pretty sure he wasn’t planning on bringing me in one piece to anyone. He was out for blood. Why the change?”
Kuma looked confused. “I have no information about that. This was the first Techuza contract by Abraxas concerning you. Whatever Kitsune was up to was not sanctioned by the Techuza. For his failure, his remaining vassals were killed, his title and domain stripped. When he was stricken from all Techuza documents, his district was open.”
I looked to Grimm, who sat back in his cargo chair. He nodded and I knew Kuma was telling the truth.
I leaned back in the seat and took in that piece of information. So Kitsune’s attack was independent of all this. I wish I had had time to sit down with Jensen to get the data from Kitsune’s mask. I took one last good look at the citadel, then concentrated and sent a short burst signal back to my parents and T in my lair.
Instructions.
The message was short and to the point. Being this close to the archduke’s home, I couldn’t be sure about the tech surrounding it. What they could and couldn’t intercept. No, my short message would have to suffice. Now I had to stall.
The WHISPER-7 banked one last time, coming in for the landing. Below us was a landing pad that was also a courtyard leading to the citadel itself. The whole courtyard was a massive medieval-style oval garden supported by two arched struts. It was almost civilized. Almost. The topiaries and statue fountains depicted grotesque mutilation. A long stone walkway went from the landing pad to the citadel’s twenty-five-foot doors, which were carved from inferium and looked like bloodied and mutilated angel wings.
The chopper landed gently and we disembarked. The Cyberai circled us, plasma katanas ignited. Kuma led the way and we walked toward the entrance, which opened slowly. Strange—I heard music that sounded like a stringed orchestra playing White Zombie covers.
********
Grimm and I were led into the great hall of the citadel. A grand string orchestra was there and they were covering demon-themed metal music. I saw demons and humans dancing in what looked like a mockery of a royal ball. In other words, if a royal ball were part orgy and blood sacrifice.
The patrons were nobility from across New Golgotha. I saw several of the barons from the Central Duchy, with their lord retainers. Prominent humans were also attending. Their titles may have given them the air of equality to several of the lords, but everyone knew that the minions of Hell were the ruling class.
The great hall, which also served as a throne room, was enormous and rectangular. It had a huge vaulted domed ceiling with arches and alcoves, covered with murals depicting the fall of Lucifer and the rise of Hell. The floor was black mahogany with a thick coat of clear glass over bones. Thousands upon thousands of bones. Not all were human, but no doubt the human ones were fallen enemies from the great wars. Seven stained glass windows faced out over the city along the long outer wall. Each depicted the first of the Fallen, the original demons. The Princes. The first evils, the Seven Deadly Sins. However, the stained glass depiction of Lucifer, the Morningstar and Demon of Pride, was marred. Black and white paint had been thrown haphazardly across it, while the other six were clearly visible and in truth, beautiful: Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Ba’al, and Belphegor.
In the center of the great hall, crab-legged hellions tortured and mutilated three young human girls and four young human men. They had been tied and bound to torture devices. Blood was on the floor and the young people wailed and begged for help. They begged for mercy.
They begged to be killed.
Pieces of them were on the floor or in buckets. Tongues, eyelids, lower jaws, and teeth were identifiable among the lumps of flesh. My stomach lurched a little and I had to hold my composure. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard Kuma growl a little under his breath.
Around the bloodied victims and all around the great hall, demons of all types danced and laughed, drank and fucked. They reveled in their debauchery, in their knowledge that they were the god kings of this world. Occasionally a demon would grab a human and take them right there on that bloody floor. Offspring of human and demons rarely lived. Those that did were usually born as succubae and incubae. Sometimes—well, sometimes, they were something worse.
Something strange caught my eye, and considering the mutilation of flesh and human effluence present, that was saying something. What I saw was a demon lord amidst his carnal fury reach out and pull a human girl to him, with nothing but his will. If what Maz said was true, then these demons were displaying power fueled by human souls, like the old days of Hell. The question was, how did they get them? Did they bring their power with them from the pit and were flaunting the last of their reserves? Or had they found a new way to replenish themselves?
I no
dded at the display of power, and Father Grimm nodded slightly. He had caught it also. I could see his eyes moving about. He was trying to puzzle it out himself.
As we walked down the great hall, the nobility and patrons gave us a wide berth. We continued to the far end to a raised dais. On a throne made of azurite and gilded in hematite sat Archduke Abraxas, High Lord of Hell, ruler of Ars Goetia and the host for this evening. As we approached, I felt raw power coming from him in palpable waves.
He was very large, even for a demon, pushing eleven feet tall. He was dressed in black hell-made battle armor lacquered in blue and silver accents. His skin glittered a deep gold, almost bronze. He was a descendent of Mammon then, Sin of Greed. His horns sprouted like a ram’s on either side his bleached white hair’s widow’s peak. His dragon-like wings furled and unfurled as he watched the celebration with the lustful eyes of a voyeur. He had a relatively human face, with slightly pointed and exaggerated features. His eyes, though, were pure red with white irises shaped like x’s. As we approached, I saw those eyes widen.
The Cyberai stopped at once, as if on cue. Kuma marched an additional three paces and knelt to one knee several paces away from and directly in front of the dais. He placed his weapon arm behind his back and closed a fist over his chest. “High Lord, Archduke Abraxas, my clan and I return with the targets you requested. Our contract is fulfilled.”
“Indeed. You have done well, Kuma. Your clan lives up to its reputation. Your fee’s balance will be transferred immediately.” Abraxas nodded to one of the crablike hellions, this one in a tuxedo, who then scuttled off to do his master’s bidding. “You and your Cyberai are dismissed,” Abraxas said. His voice was strong, deep, and commanding. The voice of a leader.
Kuma nodded at his dismissal. He rose to his full height, did an about-face, and began marching out. As he passed Grimm and me, I caught the slightest wink from him.
