by M. K. Gibson
Good. That meant our contract had just begun. I needed to stall.
I saw no immediate guards. No shock troops from earlier that night outside of Dante’s. I wondered what that meant for us. Did Abraxas want us to be guests? Were we supposed to bow and scrape before this demon high lord? I have always had . . . let’s say . . . an issue with authority.
“Come closer, little smuggler, little mage,” Abraxas ordered. I felt a compulsion, like I needed to obey. It was similar to my first time seeing Vali and Vidar. The feeling that I would do anything to have them notice me and approve of me. The way a dog seeks its master’s favor. I took one step, then stopped. The world swayed. Bile rose in my throat and I fought the need to puke. I could see the same effect on Father Grimm. He had a slight chant going under his breath. A subvocalization of a spell.
“Hmm, strong. Both of you. Yours comes from exposure to our kind, I see, as well as the touch of the Arcanum. And you are . . . old,” Abraxas said as he pointed at Grimm, smiling. “You, though,” Abraxas said while looking at me, “yours is something else. Stubborn, yes. But it is as if your body is knowingly pumping out adrenaline to give you the focus to refuse.”
It was obvious he was amused and curious about us. It was also obvious his amusement would simply vanish, replaced by rage. He struck me as the type who was used to getting his way.
On a hunch, I ran my eyes through the various spectrums. Everything seemed normal at first. Yet on one wavelength, there was something special. A pulse of energy that was coming from the throne. As I watched, the energy shifted colors and danced and played around him. The unknown energy seemed to be routed to the archduke’s throne from hidden cabling. And those waves of energy were being dispersed to the various demons in the rooms, through special receptors implanted in their heads. That was supposed to be impossible. Demons and tech don’t mix.
Abraxas continued to stare at us, taking in our measure. I didn’t like it. I have never liked the feeling of some self-inflated smug punk looking at me like he was my better. Even if the smug punk was a millennia-old demon. “Do you know why you have been brought to me?” the archduke asked.
Grimm adjusted the brim of his hat. “I would assume it is related to our ongoing investigations. My only question is, how have you been made aware of it?”
I stood there and stared at Grimm, a little slack-jawed. “Jumped in with both feet, huh? No dancing around? No nimble verbal sparring?” I asked, raising my arms wide. I turned back to Abraxas and pointed at Grimm. “Fuck it, what he said.” I reached into my coat for a smoke. Before I could light it, Abraxas interrupted me.
“No smoking here, smuggler. It is offensive,” the demon said. I looked around for moment, and then turned back to the archduke, my eyebrow raised.
“Seriously? Offensive? You have blood, guts, and demon semen on your floor over there”—I thumbed behind me—“but smoking is offensive to you?” The high lord’s cold alien stare did not waver, so I put the smoke behind my ear and shrugged. When the matter was settled, Abraxas addressed us again.
“Yes, your investigations are well known to me. More importantly, you have been brought to me because you were betrayed by your friends. The barmaid who put the tracker in your beverage for my troops and the Cyberai to find you. The proprietor who sold me the knowledge of your comings and goings. You were hamstrung when you began.”
My world dimmed, and I felt like I was punched in the gut. I didn’t want to believe Ricky or Theresa had really turned on me, but the confirmation from the demon archduke not ten yards from me cemented it. Friends, huh? Grimm put his hand on my shoulder, as if reading my thoughts. It was at that moment I began to have a crisis of faith. How friends were a liability and that was the reason I really had not had any for many years. But as I followed that logic to its ultimate conclusion, I realized they must not have been my friends. Jensen had always been there. In his own way, Maz had always been there. RM had always been there.
It was I who hadn’t.
It had always been I who had not been there for the people who extended themselves to me. I was the problem. So, they betrayed me. And hell, why shouldn’t they? What had I ever really done to earn one iota of respect and trust? No, I didn’t blame them. They did what I basically told them to, in a world that taught them this was how things were done.
This demon sought to do what demons have always done—bring humans to the brink of their worst. Break them. Make them pliant for suggestion or domination. I looked at Abraxas and smiled.
“What happens if you come off that throne, Abby? Will you lose access to the souls you are siphoning? Will the power you are sending to your sycophants vanish? Will you begin to show your age?” I asked in rapid fire. Old lawyer trick, back when lawyers existed. Ask questions quickly to unsettle your opponent.
“Jumped right in there, I see,” Grimm mumbled loud enough for me to hear.
“Oh, bite me. Just back me up,” I whispered back. “How about it, Abby? What’s your plan now? To rest your royal ass on that throne forever?”
Abraxas rose to his full height and walked toward us. I switched my vision and I could see the power from the throne was still with him. He was still awash in the power of souls.
Shit.
“What you think you know, you do not. You still live because I allow it. Your underground lair exists because I have not destroyed it. Your world remains because I am a merciful god,” Abraxas boomed. The power coming from him nearly drove me to my knees.
“So merciful you firebombed my lair, killing the helpless refugees outside?” Grimm growled.
“Your carnival lair exists beyond the kingdoms of New Golgotha and in truth, beyond my reach. However, I did not attack your home,” Abraxas said. While I am not Grimm when it comes to reading people, I could clearly see the shock in Grimm’s face. Abraxas had told the truth.
“So what’s your plan then, Abby? You going to kill us because we know too much?”
The giant demon gestured to the great hall. “Little smuggler, look around. The dukes, barons, and lords of the Central Kingdom are all here. They all obey my command. Their continued existence and their peasants' existences are all predicated on my will.”
“What’s your point, big man?” I asked.
“My point,” Abraxas began as he came in very close to me, bending down to put us on eye level and nearly nose-to-nose, “is that if I wanted you dead, you would be.” The power coming from him now was almost unbearable. My knees began to buckle on their own. My legs trembled. My lower lip began to quake. He was exuding pure will against us.
“Then why bring us here at all?” Grimm asked.
Abraxas turned to Grimm. “Ancient human mage, I wanted to take in the measure of those insects that have drawn my attention. Since you reside in my domain, you are mine to collect and do with as I will. Now, both of you, KNEEL!” Abraxas commanded.
His wings popped open, expanding wide to emphasize the command. Waves of unseen power rippled from him. Being this close to him, I couldn’t help but obey. My body reacted to the force of his will. I dropped to my knees and my head hit the floor. I literally prostrated myself before him. A tiny spark within reminded myself that this was not by choice. Grimm, however, remained standing.
I don’t know how he did it, but by God he stood. And he looked pissed.
“No,” Grimm replied. I turned my head slightly up to see what was going on. Grimm’s eyes had begun to glow. Then, his body seemed washed in a nimbus of light. The light seemed to push Abraxas back. Not much, but definitely a little. I could feel my legs working again.
The music had suddenly stopped. The demons in the room began to mutter. They were afraid. This human had stood up to the archduke and was repelling his will. The lesser demons themselves were becoming rattled and inching away. I was sure it was the same power Grimm had used against Maz back in Grimm’s catacombs.
“KNEEL!” the High Demon roared. His wings were fully extended as he stood and took a fighting stan
ce. Grimm himself now stood fully, taking a similar stance with his knees bent and balanced. His hands were balled into tight fists. I felt I could rise on my own accord. Grimm and Abraxas’s battle of will had released me.
“NO!” Father Grimm roared back. “Petty spawn of Mammon, scion of Greed. The True Language was bestowed upon me by The First of the Fourteen. Your kind holds no power over me!”
“You shall not pass!” I yelled.
Grimm turned his head toward me. While I could not see his eyes due to the power rushing through him, I know a “shut the fuck up” look when I see one. Instead, I drew my pistols and leveled them at the remaining demons in the room. Grimm returned to his struggle.
Abraxas began to sweat. Grimm was soaked in it. I remembered reading stories of the samurai, that sometimes they would have a staring competition before the fight, a battle of will. And sometimes, the one who flinched first never even drew his weapon. He knew the battle was over before it had even begun and would walk away the loser. I wasn’t sure if that was going on between Abraxas and Grimm, but I really hoped Grimm won. We were two thousand plus feet up in a citadel constructed in Hell surrounded by demonic nobility and no doubt armed guards were coming at any moment. Not an ideal place to lose.
The demons in the great hall began to circle us. The crablike hellions were scuttling for position. If they were becoming clearheaded enough to jockey for a strategic position, it meant Grimm was losing. Well, I wasn’t going to wait for a fair fight to finish. Not when it wasn’t in our favor.
I checked the charge on my guns, flipped them to full auto, and unleashed a torrent of blasts against the demons in the great hall. I made sure a few blasts hit the tortured humans who had their guts hanging out. I may not have been able to save them, but I’d be damned if they had to suffer any longer.
Those that weren’t hit dove for cover. I used that moment to fire a few shots at Abraxas himself. The Hell Steel armor he wore absorbed much of the impact. One of the shots hit him square in the face, but with little physical effect. The soul-powered will he was using must have created a psionic force field around him. But the blast did stagger him enough that Grimm’s will shoved him back hard. The giant demon fell on his ass, and their battle was over.
Grimm slumped and I caught him. “Nice job, old man,” I said.
Grimm just shook his head. “Too powerful. So many souls. I couldn’t beat him,” he said in short panting breaths. I supported Grimm and kept my free arm out, pistol tracking any movement. Grimm recovered after a moment and stood on his own.
“We need to get out of here.”
“Yeah, no kidding. You have any ideas?”
“Outside,” he panted. “No time for your plan. I might be able to reduce our mass and we can jump.” I looked at him like he was crazy. But considering the alternative, we didn’t have much choice.
“Go. I’ll cover us,” I said. Grimm began to shuffle toward the back end of the hall, which led to the exterior grounds and the heli-pad.
I moved slowly, taking in the scene. Demons were coming out from behind their hiding places of overturned tables. Small items were flittering around the room telekinetically. I felt the temperature in the room physically drop. Abraxas himself had made it to his wobbly feet. He rested one hand on his throne, no doubt drawing more power. We didn’t have much time.
As I got to the door I addressed the room. “Lords, ladies, and . . . fucked up crab people, it has been a pleasure. Always remember two humans kicked your ass tonight, and if you ever make a play for us again I will make sure tonight’s memory will be a fairy tale by comparison.” I took the smoke from behind my ear and lit it. I breathed the smoke deeply, and then I started to cough. I coughed harder. Abraxas was smiling. Then he began to laugh.
I could barely make out his laughing because the room was now laughing. A hall full of demons laughing at you while surrounded by Hell-inspired art and guts will haunt you way worse than a dream about being naked at school.
“I told you smoking was offensive. Not to me, but to Pazuzu,” Abraxas said, his voice smug in his knowledge of victory.
I tried to ask who the hell Pazuzu was, but all that came out was a retching dry heave. I couldn’t breathe. My vision was getting dim around the edges. I could heal from about anything, but I needed to breathe to do it. I saw a figure coalesce before me. He had four wings, a lion-like face, talons, and a tail. And then my mother’s teaching popped into my head. Pazuzu, Babylonian deity and master of wind demons. I looked behind me and before I blacked out, I saw Grimm lying face down in the courtyard, not breathing.
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Embers and Stone, Bile and Teeth
A long time ago . . .
The man known as Sergeant RJ “Lucky” Doral was presumed dead—KIA, the report would later read. His convoy had been assaulted by hellions and there were no survivors. Only pieces of the squad remained. Sergeant Doral had no known family to receive a condolence letter. In fact, due to the war, the US Post Office had been dissolved. The men who served with him and for him held a small wake in his honor. Alcohol flowed and stories were told of how “the Sarge” was the luckiest SOB they had ever known. He had a knack for finding his way out of situations and surviving any attack. He also knew how to find provisions in the middle of nowhere. They saluted and drank to his memory.
By the end of the first demon war, nearly ten years of fighting had weakened mankind. It had ground them down to be supplicant to the demons. All over the world there were reports that the gods of myth and legends rose up to help mankind. That Thor and Hercules fought side by side against the warriors of Hell. And, sadly, that they had died side by side. Every country reported the rise and fall of folklore heroes. Man couldn’t fight against the power of Hell. Demons invaded everywhere. They were in our homes and in our dreams. Their power could not be denied.
That was until ADAM-1 was created, the first cyborg of many created by man and DARPA. During his life, ADAM-1 was a simple man, a real estate appraiser with an incredible head for numbers and rational thought. He had joined his local militia like many did. His asthma prevented him from fighting as well as the other men, so ADAM-1 volunteered for an experimental program. He followed in the footsteps of his comic book hero and was transformed. ADAM-1 set the stage. A new evolution of weapons-grade human ingenuity. With a swell of powerful pride and a mind for revenge, mankind rose from the ashes fifteen years after the end of the first war, and thus the Second Demon War had begun.
And from the time after the first and into the second war, a private citizen named Reynolds was there supplying weapons, food, and tech. For a nominal fee, of course. Reynolds would later be recognized as the spitting image of Sgt. RJ “Lucky” Doral. Reynolds would acknowledge this to men who had served with “Lucky,” and admit that Doral had been his father. Reynolds only wanted to do his part to help the war effort.
Battles were waged. The war was fought, this one lasting over twenty years. And in that time, the man known as Reynolds grew quite rich. Mankind lost again, even with the advent of the ADAM project. The Accords were signed in blood. Demons took their place as the ruling class while mankind worked and slaved for them. Humans, for the most part, were left to their own lives. They rebuilt the civilization that the last forty years had destroyed. Layer upon layer, with no planning, the cities were erected. The Abomination class of demons were exiled to the lands outside the city and left to fend for themselves. The animal-minded brutes destroyed mostly everything they came across and then slowly started dying off when food ran out.
Mankind’s only real job was to keep the demons in pleasure, free of labor. And thus the new era of servant and master was born.
The war profiteer known as Reynolds had grown so rich, he was able to buy a large tract of land in what once was central Maryland. The hilly area wasn’t good for much. It would never be zoned for housing or commercial use. Other than landfill purposes, the demons had no idea what to do with it. Since th
e demons had been impressed with his methods and ability to survive and thrive, and they believed the land was useless, they approved the sale. All within his lineage would have rights to the land. The demons did not know what was under the ground there. But Reynolds did.
********
Now . . .
I slowly came to, rolled over, and took a deep breath. “I swear, to any fucking god that is still listening, the next motherfucker who knocks me out and doesn’t kill me, I will pull apart with my bare hands!” I yelled without opening my eyes.
“Yes, you do seem to be knocked unconscious quite a bit. That cannot be good for you,” I heard Grimm say from somewhere close by. I had to laugh at myself a little. It did seem that I had been knocked out a lot in the last few weeks. I chuckled aloud and felt the rough dryness of my throat. Asphyxiation will do that, I suppose.
I sat up slowly. Wherever I was, it was almost pitch black. I took a deep breath and coughed a little. The demon Pazuzu had done a hell of a job nearly suffocating me. I could tell my lungs were on the mend, but I was gnawingly hungry. If I didn’t get food soon, my body would start using my fat reserves for energy and eventually my lean muscle.
I checked my gear, and my pistols were missing. No doubt confiscated. But my tech bracers were still intact. I had them booby-trapped to deep fry any idiot who tampered with them. Well, except for T. But I doubt the archduke had his own Tesla hanging around. Odds were there was a hellion in the archduke’s employ with a stump where his hand used to be. Good. Fuck Stumpy.
I switched my eyes to the night vision setting and took a look around. I was in a holding cell. It was only partly original Hell-wrought construction. I could tell because the walls were lined with serrated tusks pointing in every direction. Amid the reeking teeth were eyes, and only some were human. The eyes were in constant motion, and they seem to have been sewn into the wall, optic nerve and all. The walls and floor were made of a stonelike material I did not recognize. It looked like fossilized blood. The way sap turns to amber.
