by Tim Marquitz
It went pretty well…for a while. Whatever creatures loomed in the darkness, they’d chosen to do so elsewhere, which was fine with me. I hadn’t realized how much of a head start the devourer had gotten on me while I waited for everyone to pass out so I needed the peace to focus.
The passing trees were a blur of sameness, so much so that I eventually stopped flitting and flirting and just started walking, dragging the spear point across them to mark my path. It reminded me too much of a game of hide and seek I’d played with Baalth when I first came to Hell. I counted and he’d teleported to Earth while I searched. It took three days before anyone bothered to tell me Lucifer had sent him on a mission. Asshole.
It made me glad I killed him.
That warm moment aside, I was starting to wonder just what Mia was so afraid of when I stumbled right on top of a perfect example.
No longer pretending to have ninja skills, I stepped around a tree and came to a sudden, gut-wrenching halt. Just ten yards from where I stood was yet another fine example of God’s creativity, if not His sense of proportion or sense.
If you thought the platypus was a deformed, odd-looking thing, let me tell you, it has absolutely nothing on its precursor.
Over fifteen feet tall, the platymonster’s bill jutted out three feet from its face, but it looked much more like an alligator’s maw than a duck bill. Teeth that reminded me of mutant chainsaws lined the edge, both on the inside and outside. There must have been hundreds of them, but I wasn’t about to sit there and count. Bulbous eyes swam in pitch black pools, reddened stripes flitting in their depths.
Fortunately, the thing hadn’t seen me, but there was no telling how good its sense of smell was, not that I saw a nose anywhere on it. I jumped behind a nearby trunk, keeping an eye on the thing just in case.
It stood on its hind feet…fins…feet-fins—whatever—and clawed at a different tree, reaching for something apparently hidden in the branches. Its sloped back reminded me of Godzilla. Serrated spikes erupted from its spine and ran the length of it, a trailing mountain range, until they morphed into a furry tail, which just happened to be shaped like a le fleur de-lis, each point tapering into a razored edge of dark bone.
The thing squeak-roared—it was so cuuuuuuute—at whatever it had treed, ripping handfuls of branches and leaves down as it tried to reach its quarry. I was glad for whatever was up there and certainly didn’t want to trade places with it. I backed away slowly, making sure the nearest tree stayed between me and the flustered beast, and ran off behind its back. If it noticed, it didn’t let on.
After I was certain I’d gone far enough to avoid it, its frustrated squeals fading into the distance, I turned back the direction I’d been going initially and started off once more. This time I made sure to go full-stealth. If that was what innocent little platypuses looked like here, I sure as hell didn’t want to run across a real predator. I really wasn’t in the mood to be romanced by a wolver-rex or whatever represented the apex critters in this world.
A little more cautious this time around, I kept my head in the game and wound my way through the woods, avoiding anything making strange noises rather than seeking it out. It was kind of counter-productive, seeing how I was actually looking for the devourer, but it made me feel a little better about my chances of surviving until morning.
It wasn’t until I heard a shout that sounded distinctly human that I changed my strategy. It burst from the woods in stuttered, violent tones.
Undead asshole puckered, I ran toward the noise, spear in hand. Halfway there I wondered if I was being an idiot. Well, more than usual. If Mia was a good example of her people, the rest would be hunkered down someplace safe until morning. This wouldn’t be any of them. Who did that leave?
My skull vibrated with the likelihood of who it was, and my feet dug into the soft earth in response. Unfortunately, I hadn’t stopped soon enough.
Way quicker than I had intended, I found myself in the middle of a cluster of trees just a short distance from two folks I’d really hoped to never run across again: Venai and Rebecca Shaw. And it was just my luck that the devourer was there with them. Well, more like it was on top of them, and we’re not talking missionary, though it certainly looked like someone was getting screwed.
“Revenge!”
My first thought was to run, to let them take it in the pooper and be done with the bitches, but cold, logical sense convinced me otherwise. Where the fuck that came from was as much a mystery as how the Blair Witch Project managed to make hundreds of millions at the box office, but it happened. There are simply some things that can’t be explained. That being the case, I thought it best to listen to whatever otherworldly wisdom had beamed into my head and take advantage of the situation. Given what Shaw and Venai had done, I didn’t need much convincing.
This threesome was about to become a foursome.
I adjusted my shaft—the spear—in my right hand and charged. That was when I heard the reverberating shriek of one of the guardians somewhere above the canopy. You know, right after I committed, of course. I bit back the flood of epithets I wanted to spew but figured it was too late, anyway.
Shaw was beneath the devourer, fighting hands with it as it tried to eat her face, leveraging her knee between them to keep it off. I was half tempted to let it as it was less than she deserved, but the big bruiser Venai was at her side, and it looked as if she was about to succeed in yanking the devourer off the wight. Her meaty hands had seized on the misty fringes of its cloak, and she warred with the squirming thing, unable to get a solid grip but she was yanking it back regardless.
That was all the motivation I needed. I ran up behind the clusterfuck and uncorked a left hook that would have made Mike Tyson proud. Venai must have heard me at the last second, Shaw’s view blocked by the devourer, as the Nephilim turned her head just in time to catch the punch flush on the jaw. A loud thunk sounded, and Venai’s eyes rolled up into her sockets, nothing but white staring off into space. Her hands slipped loose, and she tumbled backward where she landed about ten feet away, the strange rigor mortis of unconsciousness in full effect.
The devourer didn’t even notice as it screamed its mantra. “Revenge! Too long…long…” It was too busy trying to munch down on Shaw.
Once more temptation reared its ugly little head—and I don’t mean my dick. The voices in my brain raged on about leaving Shaw to her fate, letting the devourer have its way, let God’s mystical little fun palace put an end to the threat that was the Department of Supernatural Investigation once and for all, but a single, solitary voice cried out the loudest against that plan. And for once, it wasn’t the imagined voice of my mother’s conscience.
It was my own.
And that scared the fuck out of me.
Still, despite my sudden—and weird as hell—sudden compassion, there were things that needed to be done. The dragon roar that exploded somewhere just above our heads confirmed that necessity. I looked to the devourer, realizing it held the only possible key to my being returned to my own body, and sighed, clenching my teeth at what had to be done. So, without another thought, because I would have hesitated had I let my selfishness get a foothold, I jumped on the devourer’s back and drove my spear up under its ghostly chin.
It grunted its surprise, but my aim had been true. The spear pierced its skull, bursting from the dome of its skull coated in a sickly gray mire that stunk of sewer and old death. I wrinkled my nose in futile resistance and rode the stiffening devourer down…right onto Shaw. I winked at her and splattered her face with gore as I yanked the spear free.
“I’ll ki—”
I pressed the gooey spear tip to her eye and shushed her. The crash of tree branches high above, and the furious scream of the guardian, and the spear, of course, cut her threat short. She went still, but there was no hiding the fury that distorted her pretty face. She was pissed, but I didn’t care. I had her exactly where I wanted her, and the last thing I needed was for her to open her big mouth and bring
a dragon down on top of us. She apparently didn’t want that either.
In silence, we waited as the trees rained leaves and splinters of branches over us, bits and pieces peppering my back. It was nothing compared to what might happen if I were wrong. The guardian thrashed above, ripping its way through the upper canopy. After a few tenuous moments where I thought we’d be lunch, the dragon moved on, tearing further down the tree line after whatever had drawn its attention. I only hoped the dots I was slowly connecting turned out to be correct.
Once I was sure it wasn’t coming back, I pushed the spear point against the soft yielding flesh just below Rebecca Shaw’s narrow eyeball. “Hi there. Remember me?”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me, recognition little more than pinpricks in her angry eyes.
“Here, let me give you a hint. You had your hit squad shoot me right outside my own door.”
Shaw hissed, glaring at me from around the head of the dead devourer, the soup of its skull oozing onto her chin and down into the crevice of her throat. She was a trooper, though, not complaining one bit about it.
“What do you want, Trigg?”
“Ah, you do remember,” I said with a laugh. “And what makes you think I want something?”
She shrugged as best she could beneath the combined weight of me and the ghost corpse. “Because neither Venai or I are dead, and you’ve had plenty of opportunity to do us both in. Simple deduction tells me you must want something.”
“You’re pretty smart for a government agent,” I told her with a smile, giving an offhanded gesture to the still unconscious Nephilim to confirm her assessment. “And there’s still plenty of time for me to repay you in kind for our pleasant introduction.” Nothing says ‘Howdy, neighbor,’ like a bullet to the head. “With that out there in the open, I’m feeling disconcertedly generous today.”
Shaw grinned back, finding her confidence. “Are you now? And just what has brought on such unexpected and ignoble mercy from such a fine foe as yourself?”
Even with a spear to her face, the bitch was getting on my nerves. I fought the temptation to stab her by counting to ten and forced my smile wider. “Well, the truth is, we’re all pretty fucked here, but I get the feeling you’ve stumbled onto something you might just deign to share with your fellow prisoners; something that might earn you a reprieve.”
The real truth was that I was spitballing, hoping my stoic mask would hold up against her scrutiny and earn me something I didn’t already know. Shaw and Venai had separated from the group for good reason—we probably would have killed them if they hadn’t—but the fact that they were heading in the direction of the Sanctuarium Custodes without the benefit of a green-skinned guide was the first clue.
Shaw chuckled low in her throat. “Do you think so?”
I nodded, pressing the spear just hard enough to draw a dot of blood. “Oh, I do.” I met her snarl with a laugh. “It seems more than just a coincidence that both the devourer and the guardian dragon suddenly found reason to visit you at the same time.”
“Oh, but that was an unfortunate coincidence.”
A distant shuffle in the woods seeped into my ears, sending chills of worry down my spine. We weren’t gonna be alone for long. “We’re running out of time, Shaw, so let’s cut to the chase, shall we? The dragons are drawn to portals. It’s their job to keep the inmates from escaping the realm. On top of that, I’ve experienced firsthand how the devourers find purpose in those same portals, revenge calling so sweetly to them from the other side for God’s sad treatment.” A slight twitch of my hand sliced the skin of Shaw’s cheek. “What did you do to bring them both to you?”
“You’re a fool, Trigg.”
Not liking her answer, I cut another gash in her pale skin to make a point. “You don’t have your army to back you up, nor do you have any of your powers to defend or heal yourself with, and I’m getting real tired of pretending to be a nice guy.” I leaned in so our faces were so close I could smell her breath. It was like graveyard roses. “In all your research, I bet you never learned I was actually Lucifer’s son and not just his nephew.”
Her eyes went wide for just an instant before she got them under control, only confirming my statement.
“Let me be blunt here.” The quiet rustle of something coming closer continued, the sound growing louder. “I’m the new Devil, inheritor of all of Daddy Dearest’s legacy and bad fucking attitude. And if you think for one moment I’m going to let you get away with what you did without consequence, you’re sorely mistaken. If nothing else, I’ve a reputation to uphold. Can’t have some usurper getting one over on me, now can I?”
It was clear the words were sinking in. Shaw’s expression looked more and more like she had to fart and was clenching her tight little ass cheeks to keep it in. It was cute, in a way. I liked her uncomfortable.
“Now, you can either tell me what you did to draw the interest of the dragon and devourer and you get to live your life relatively Frank free from here on out. Or you can keep it bottled up, and I carve you into a million little wight pieces and feed you to whatever critter it is that’s currently stomping our direction.” I gestured behind us with my chin.
Her lips drew back into a sneer. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I, Rebecca? What do I have to lose?” I asked. “Stuck here in God’s toilet, I’m already neck deep in the shit without a plunger. My killing you doesn’t change that one bit. In fact, it cuts my list of enemies down by one, two if you count Miss Steroid Universe over there. So far I’m not seeing a downside to this option. Convince me otherwise.”
Shaw gave a lavender glare but held silent, and I wondered if she’d some distant connection to the devourer to share such unique eye color.
“Last chance, bitch,” I told her with another poke of the spear, drawing a bloody circle on her pale skin.
Her face held its rigid defiance for another few seconds before resolving into something less aggressive, though even that was relative. There’s not much difference between a saber-toothed tiger and a lion looking to rip your throat out. “Fine, I’ll tell you what I know.”
A grin stretched my lips at her resignation.
I’m nothing if not charming.
Nine
(Scarlett)
In a flicker, Rachelle’s will had warped dimensions to accommodate our passage, and we were returned to Old Town, where she dropped us off and remained safely inside her portal, awaiting our call.
At our arrival, the bleakness that had always loomed over the annex of El Paseo threatened to swallow me. Baalth had surrendered the city to Frank, but it was no less vile for the transfer of power. Yet there was something different about its feel, something unexpected. Now that we were there, the stench of evil rang against my senses. Its frigid fingers felt familiar but recognition fled from me, leaving me empty of hope in its retreat. I wanted nothing more than for all of this to be a dream, but there was no mistaking this sad mission for anything but the cruel reality it was. My cousin had wrought ruin as had always been expected of him, as had been foretold, but it all felt wrong, though I couldn’t say why.
“This place feels…strange,” I told the others. The aftertaste of ash was the same as it had been when Frank had ripped the bones from my side, but there was an underlying coldness, the grip of an eager grave.
Uriel only nodded at my statement, glancing about the battlefield where Frank had defeated all of DRAC…and Katon.
My heart went out to him, wondering how he fared and if I would ever again see his sharpened smile, feel his cool lips upon mine. I felt my stomach sour at the thought of losing him. My hands clenched tight, preferring fury to sadness. That bitter roil inside, I found myself grateful for the wash of energy that tingled across my skin, which drew me from my morbid reverie.
“Ah, what a pleasure it is to see you again, Scarlett, and alive, at that,” a voice I recognized instantly called out from across the way. The last filaments of doubt I’d held out for vanis
hed at hearing the smug condescension that spilled from him with casual ease.
I spun about, rage gathering in my wake as I yanked Everto Trucido from its sheath. I would have answers even if they were spewed in blood. “You backstabbing bastard,” I screamed, the words barely out of my mouth before I found myself rushing at Frank. Uriel’s powerful hand gripped my arm and stopped my charge.
“Be still, Scarlett,” he told me, the words demanding obedience. My limbs froze in his grasp in defiance of my fury.
Frank stood against the wreckage of a building on the other side of the street, grim arrogance gleaming from his smile. He spread his arms in welcome, but there was no warmth burning in his eyes. Whatever familial loyalty or love he might have once carried in his heart was gone now. Of that, there was no doubt. He truly was Satan now, in more than title alone.
Power wafted off him in fetid, dark waves, each setting my skin to squirm. Longinus’ stolen magic was an ashen reminder of just how powerful Frank had become in a few short months. Its touch had clearly eaten him from the inside.
“And Uriel,” Frank continued. “This is truly a surprise of tremendous magnitude and an honor, no doubt. What have I done to warrant such austere company?”
The guardian of Eden countered Frank’s grin with a stolid expression without so much as a flutter of his eyelids. He pulled me back to his side as a parent might rein in a recalcitrant child, easing past me to confront Frank.
“It would seem circumstances are not what I was led to believe.”
“What…?” Uriel’s statement was a slap to the face. I spun on him, my thoughts tangled fish in the net of my mind. “Can you not feel that?” I shouted. “Can you not sense the danger he presents?” Even though it was Frank I warned the guardian of, I couldn’t help but feel my hatred scorch my cheeks. For all the good he’d done, he had cast it all aside with his rampage, with what he’d done to Katon and the others. Face to face with his insolence, I had no doubt as to his condemnation. It had to be done. “He must be stopped.”
