“Okay,” I said, adjusting the seat a little, letting it lean back. “So where were you thinking?”
“There’s a place called Pinchot State Forest,” said Gabe. “It’s about three hours out of Jersey if you stick to the highways, and we’re most of the way there already. It’s pretty heavily wooded, but still a tourist-y area, so I figure it strikes the right balance between the two. Much better than Ellis Island.”
I mulled over the idea in my head. I really knew nothing about the area, but Gabe’s logic was sound. It had trees and cover and road access, and was easily to get to, but there wasn’t that much there we could damage, either.
“It sounds good,” I said, gently spinning the lens cap dagger in my hand.
“Careful with that,” said Gabe, ominously. “You know how sharp it is.”
“Hey, my finger stopped bleeding eventually.”
He overtook another vehicle, an SUV full of screaming children and a flamboyantly gay couple trying frantically to control them from the front two seats. “That it did, eventually.”
“So all’s right in the world.” I took in a deep breath and adjusted the car’s AC, turning the temperature up. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just accustomed to a much hotter temperature.”
“I’d prefer the car to be a little less hotter than Hell itself,” said Gabe, although his smile said he really didn’t mind at all. “You know. Just saying.”
I was feeling chatty so I rambled a bit. “It’s funny. Everyone says Hell is hot, because that’s just what we anticipate, but the reality is that it’s just like Heaven, only the opposite. We don’t really have a set theme; just a kind of…universal displeasure engine, just like you’ve got. It makes everyone’s stay as terrible as possible. For the ‘patrons’ I mean. For us? It’s lovely.”
Gabe sounded somewhat disappointed. “How can you love torturing people?” he asked, seriousness soaking into every word. “How can someone like you, someone so nice and kind…ever get off on such hate and anger and violence?”
“We have to do our job,” I said, practically quoting from the Hell Staff Orientation Manual. “Nobody cheers for the garbage collector, the state executioner, the prison warden. But ugly, smelly, distasteful jobs are a part of everything. If Hell wasn’t a punishment, what point would there be in being good?”
“There are plenty of atheists in Heaven,” he said, telling me something I already knew very well. “It’s not a matter of belief. Of fear. You can’t be afraid of what you don’t believe exists.”
“Some people,” I said, “make their Hell on Earth. They push everyone away with their anger, their betrayals, their lies. That’s enough to keep them in order until they find out that their suffering has only just begun.”
The conversation’s grim tone had cast a pallor over everything. We drove in silence for a little while longer, Gabe dodging around traffic, and by the time we turned off the Interstate the sun was going down again. I wondered for a moment what it must be like to get tired…hungry. Bored. Sick. I’d thrown up recently which was a totally new experience for me. Maybe Lucifer had given me that, for some unknowable reason, a lesson for some great thing in the future.
Or maybe being thrown around from dimension to dimension and having half your mind put back into your brain in an instant wasn’t good for your biological equilibrium, even for demons. Who could say.
Gabe spoke first, his tone quiet and genuine. “I’m sorry about Asmodeus.”
As tempting as it was to agree and blame the little toad for skipping out on us even when we’d given him an easy out, I knew that wasn’t true. “It’s shitty, but…he wouldn’t have been that useful. He’s a distraction at best, and whenever I come up with a solid plan, he just seems to ruin it. It’s like he takes good ideas and warps them. Twists them. Regurgitates them back to you as his own. He's basically the Google Translate of intellectual thought.”
Gabe laughed at that, seemingly amused. “I get it,” he said, “and believe me, on some level I’m kind of glad he’s not here. But…I dunno. It seems like you two have a bit of a bond. Like he’s your friend.”
“Demons mostly don’t really do friends,” I said, staring out the window at the setting sun. “Not with each other at any rate, although there is a certain camaraderie there that I actually think is nice, but no. We’re more…co-workers.”
That seemed to put him off a bit. “I’d like to think we were friends,” he said, a little more guarded than I expected. “And…I don’t know if you feel the same, but one day I’d love to be more than just friends.”
“More than just fiends you mean,” I said, grinning.
“Not funny. And stop deflecting. I’m asking you out here.”
“Hey, you’re the one who believes all that stuff about being together forever and ever, or whatever nonsense Heaven talks about.” I snickered. “I mean, we met in a broom closet.”
“Technically,” said Gabe, the ghost of a smile trailing over his face. “We actually met outside Damien’s house. You and I just…knew each other in the Biblical sense in that place. And I think it was a pantry, actually.”
“That’s just a funny word for a broom closet.”
“No, a pantry has food.”
“That’s a larder.”
He stuck out his tongue. “Your face is a larder. And…I actually think it was a cupboard. I remember tea cups.”
“I wasn’t paying attention to the tea cups,” I said, smirking.
“After about ten seconds, neither was I.”
The memory amused me, lifting me out of the little funk that I’d found myself in. “I guess.” Doubt began to seep in to replace the dampened mood. “Pretty sure there’s some rule on the books about the two of us doing that kind of stuff. Pretty sure.”
“That kind of thing?” asked Gabe. “Dating?”
“Yeah. I mean, does it really come as a surprise that Heaven and Hell might not like their foot soldiers fucking in a broom closet?”
“It wasn’t a broom closet, we covered this. And…yeah, I know. I think it might be a big part of why I got the boot from Heaven.” He sighed, taking a hand off the wheel to run his cheek. “Take this however you want, but Heaven is a lot more judge-y than Hell when it comes to this kind of stuff.”
True enough. There was no reason to suspect anything else. Although the presence of the BDSM gear in the brief stay I’d had kind of said otherwise. Maybe things weren’t quite so bad.
The car turned off toward a smaller, dirt track through the woods, and I realised for the first time that there was a car following us, its headlights on and shining in through the rear window. “Guess it worked,” I said, craning my neck to see. “I count…three cars.”
“Oh,” said Gabe, his tone deflating somewhat. “Three of them. At least. And possibly more…” he blew out a long, low, dejected sigh. “Yippee.”
Gotta Stop Somewhere
Pinchot State Forest
New York State
We were definitely being followed. No prizes for guessing who. We didn’t even discuss it. We both knew.
Gabe drove deeper into the forest, along narrow dirt roads that swung back and forth, climbed and dipped. We passed the occasional cottage with lights on, but for the most part, the only other living souls we saw were in the cars behind us, patiently following us along the road to…wherever the hell we were going.
“You okay?” asked Gabe, eyes flicking over to me. “You’re playing with that knife-thing a lot.”
I gripped the lens cap hilt a little tighter, grinning at him. “Eager to put it to use,” I said, twisting my head around and risking a glance behind us. “I wonder why they’re just following. It’s kind of eerie. No guns, no beeping horns, no trying to run us off the road…just following behind at a steady, constant pace.”
“Because,” said Gabe, “they don’t have to. At absolute best, we’ll run out of fuel eventually.”
“Okay. Well, that explains it.”
Gabe indicated and p
ulled over, the car gently rolling to a stop. There were no cottages, no lights, nothing but the moon above and the headlights of the various cars. The night vision of celestials and demons alike was good, so I had no illusions about my capabilities, but it was…unsettling. The bright pallor of the headlights cast sharp shadows over the forest, the trees making thick slices in the headlight beams, chopping off bits until nothing was left.
I heard doors opening and slamming shut behind me. I tried to count them. One, two, three, four, five.
Five. Damn. I couldn’t help but look down at the sharp blade in my hand, the glamer working hard to conceal itself, to make it seem to all the world like a completely ordinary piece of photography equipment, unremarkable and unobtrusive.
“Hope the smell isn’t a problem,” I said.
“I’ve been getting used to it.” Gabe unclipped his seatbelt and opened the door. “But the fresh air will probably help.”
We had no idea if the nephilim would be able to smell the blade as he could, but we had no way of testing it and no time to do so if we could. I too unclipped myself and stepped out of the car.
Juliet was there, her hands firmly on her hips, waiting for us with what I swore was an eager look on her synthetic face. Two nephilim on each side of her formed a wedge with her at the tip. It seemed eye-rollingly perfect for them to have such a perfectly rigid, perfectly shaped formation. Very efficient.
I slipped effortlessly into my true form. Horns, wings, cloven hooves and tail all made an appearance.
“So,” she said, an edge of triumph gilding her otherwise robotic voice. “Last time it was just you, Lord Gabriel, who came to me. This time it is the pair of you. I’m afraid that our deal is off the table…my masters have commanded your destruction for repeated violations of our sovereignty, and the sovereignty of the mortal realm. There can be no more deals. Escape and we will hunt you. Fight and we will defeat you. It matters not, the outcome is decided. Your lives end here, tonight, in that field to my left. You will die cold, alone, and in whichever order I feel brings me the most satisfaction.”
I coughed politely. “Okay. That’s great. So, hey, guys? Behind her?” I smiled and blew Juliet a little kiss. “Gabe told me he nailed your boss’s butthole. No, seriously, he did. Right in all up in there. Pow!”
Juliet’s features hardened. The other nephilim, all female as she was, did not react beyond a slight titter.
Gabe reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I told you not to tell her…”
“I’m just saying,” I said.
“So,” said Juliet, her tone acidic. “Are those the words you want on your tombstone?”
Time to show our hand. I looked to Gabe, then back to her, holding up the lens cap, making sure the headlight of their car could catch it. “See this?”
She squinted, almost—almost!—as though immediately suspicious of the thing, but after a brief second’s pause, Juliet shrugged. “More of your inane babble, is it?”
Great. I pointed to one of her minions. “Hey, that one. Yeah. The one with the…boobs.”
“They all have boobs,” hissed Gabe.
The nephilim I had pointed to stepped forward, boldly striding toward me. “My name is Zulu-Mike-Kilo-Seven-One-Three. I represent the Nephilim Establishment. I am here to terminate you.”
“Terminate you,” I echoed in my best Arnie accent, holding my arms out like a robot. “Boop beep. I’m going to call you Zulu.”
Juliet sneered at me, her synthetic face scrunching up into a scowl. “Ensure that you do not destroy her completely, Zulu-Mike-Kilo-Seven-One-Three. I would prefer to administer the death blow myself.”
“As you wish,” said Zulu. She flexed her arms, adjusted her stance, and then stepped into my range.
I gripped the lens cap tightly, trusting that the blade was truly and completely invisible in the gloom, and as Zulu swung her fist at me to bash my skull in, I ever so gracefully lopped it off with a single swing.
Zulu howled like a banshee, clutching the stump of her severed arm, a look of utter panic crossing her synthetic features. From the injury black blood poured as though from an opened firehose, igniting in blue-green flames as it touched the atmosphere—neat!—and splattering on the ground, casting lurid, dancing shadows in all directions. The fire crept up Zulu’s mutilated arm, seeming to burrow inside the limb, wiggling into her torso.
With a flash of light and a bone-chilling scream, she burst into green flames and in moments was nothing more than a pile of dust.
“Impossible,” gasped Juliet, a genuine look of shock on her face, staring at the smouldering pile of ash that, only seconds ago, was her cocky minion. “No nephilim has been killed in…in—centuries! Or longer!”
“Now that,” I said, “is good words to put on your tombstone.”
“Aww, I think you made her reboot,” said Gabe. We high-fived.
The tension in the air changed and, suddenly, for the very first time since I had met the nephilim I felt as though the ball was firmly in our court. We were on the offensive.
“Get them!” roared Juliet, jabbing an angry finger at us.
Gabe drew his pistol, pulling back the slide with a click and the hum of building energy. I gripped my blade tightly. The other nephilim crept toward me, much more cautious than their friend, and Juliet’s eyes stared daggers at me the whole time.
It was on.
Everyone Has Their Tricks
Pinchot State Forest
New York State
Having seen their friend put down with ease, two of the three remaining nephilim enforcers advanced on me, cautious and guarded. Juliet and the other one moved toward Gabe, their fists enlarging, ready to strike.
The confusion on all their faces was clear. I had been so swift with my strike, the lighting so poor, they hadn’t worked out what I had done yet. Or so I hoped.
I pursed my lips, as though getting ready to blow another kiss. The two nephilim dove out of the way, frantically, as though I had tossed a grenade.
Oh, this was fun. I rushed toward one, flexing my muscles, and I raised the dagger high above my head to strike.
Unfortunately, I was enjoying it a little too much. The nephilim rolled out of the way of my blow and the blade sunk up to the handle into the ground. I slashed after her, totally missing and overextending my arm.
The second nephilim leapt towards me, and I couldn’t defend myself properly. Her fist slammed into my ribs, blasting the wind out of me. Before I could even process this, the first one kicked me in the groin.
Fighting multiple people at once was very difficult. I was not an experienced fighter, even if I was quick and strong and tough. The nephilim had the coordination and sense to attack as one unit.
Limping backward, I snarled and extended the claws on my free hand, sliding my fingernails out into long, thick, sharp razors. I wanted to make some clever quip about the groin-kick, something about how if they wanted to get between my legs, yada yada, but it didn’t come out. My adrenaline was too high.
Crack! Gabe fired his gun, the bright light of his holy weapon blasting into Juliet. Unlike other times where the weapon’s impact had seemingly affected her, this time she seemed to shrug it off. Looks like we weren’t the only ones who had been preparing for a fight.
No time to think about that now. I ducked another incoming blow, but the other nephilim clipped me on the shoulder pretty good and I knew I had to give more ground. I shuffled back, making an ineffectual stab at the retreating hand, nicking it on its index finger.
Barely a scratch. I expected the creature to burst into flames as the other one had, but as I watched, the nephilim dispassionately tore off its own finger, throwing the severed limb over its shoulder, obviously thinking the same thing I was.
Well. Things were just starting to get interesting. I stepped back again, Gabe’s firearm blasting away beside me.
We needed to get airborne. “Up!” I said to him, focusing on bringing my wings out.
&nb
sp; Before I could finish the transformation, a nephilim fist slammed into the side of my jaw, sending me sprawling on the hard gravel. The lens cap fell out of my hand and bounced away, clattering as it rolled somewhere I could no longer see.
Shit. Shit.
The nephilim leapt upon me, their fists leading the way, smashing down at my back, pummelling my body in waves; I curled my still-growing wings around my body, feebly trying to shield myself.
Gabe’s gun blasted into their backs, blowing the two nephilim off balance and spraying black blood all over my boots. He lifted off, feathered wings carrying him into the night air, rapidly squeezing the trigger, each action sending white-yellow holy bolts down onto his enemies.
But I needed the weapon. I tried to focus through the pain. It couldn’t have gone far; its round shape was only an illusion. It was, in reality, long and thin and had a hilt. There was no way it had gone far, but the ground was full of gravel, all seemingly round things, and the car headlights made the shadows of everything oval-lish and long.
No time to look. No time to think. I moved into a crouch, coiled my legs and leapt high into the air, wings flapping as I gained altitude.
Juliet and the nephilim below me stared up at us.
“You know how this works,” said Juliet. Gabe shot her in the head—the round bounced off, flying into the sky, leaving a thick trail of golden sparks behind it before it burned out. She didn’t even seem to notice. “You fly, we come get you…there is no escape into the air.”
I honestly wasn’t trying to escape. I searched frantically for the lens cap. It wasn’t anywhere I could see. Maybe under the tyre…maybe it had bounced off the road and into the bush. Finding it then would be extremely difficult.
Juliet’s limbs extended, her arms growing. She drew the electric whip she had used before, bouncing on legs that were, suddenly, unnaturally springy. I had seen this move before. I knew what to expect.
But I didn’t have my weapon.
20 Shades of Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Collection Page 124
