by J. R. Mabry
“What do you mean?”
“Sigils got us into this. Sigils will get us out.”
“We are not invoking demons to keep other demons at bay,” Richard said.
“Who said anything about demons?” Marco said. “I’m not the expert in Enochian magick that Terry is, but I hold my own.” He rummaged for a pad of paper and fished a pen out of his pocket. “Here,” he quickly sketched a sigil and handed it to Richard. Then he sketched another for himself.
“Who’s sigil is this?” Richard asked. It didn’t look even vaguely familiar to him.
“The Angel of the Air,” Marco said. “I figure, he served Kat pretty well. He might as well be watching out for us, too.”
“Don’t we need to activate these?” Richard asked.
“You’re on better terms with such folks,” Marco said, grimacing. “I was hoping you’d do that.”
Richard shrugged. “Worth a try,” he admitted. He closed his eyes and sank into vision. Tobias nudged his hand again. “Shhhh, Toby. Not now.” He stepped through the Void and looked around. The change in temperature was substantial—it was much warmer in the Void. He raised his voice, sending out a call to the Sandalphon. He sidestepped some tumbleweeds and marveled at the distant mountains as he waited. Before too long, he saw two Sandalphon approaching from the distance. It took several minutes for them to lumber up to him, but when they arrived, he reached out and touched the fur of the first one to reach him. “I need your help, brothers.” He had no idea the gender of the Sandalphon, but he hoped his familial address would be taken in the spirit he intended. “I call upon the Angel of the Air.”
Immediately the air before his eyes began to swirl, creating an opening, a vertical vortex. Goose bumps erupted over Richard’s arms as a being with a thousand eyes emerged from the portal. A thousand arms wielded a thousand swords, as lightning flashed all around it. Richard leaned against the Sandalphon and tried not to tremble. He held up the two sigils. “We are going into danger, sir. We’re going into territories controlled by demons. We seek your favor and your protection. We wish to wear your sigil. We ask you to own these, to…bind yourself to them…so that you will be with us, so that no harm will come to us while we seek to get to safety.”
A thunderbolt erupted from the angel and struck the sigils. Richard jumped back and dropped them. Looking down at where they lay on the ground, Richard saw that they glowed with a golden light that seemed to come from the inside. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” Richard said, scooping up the scraps of paper and holding them tightly to his chest.
“Thank you for your time, sir,” Richard said, bowing deeply.
One second there was thunder and the buzz of electricity in the air and the sound of whooshing swords, and the next there was nothing—just the gentle stirring of the breeze in that warm place. Richard did not see where the angel had gone, but it was clear that he had gone. He reached up and stroked the fur of the Sandalphon that had been supporting him. “Thank you, dear friends. As always. Thank you.”
He raised his leg and stepped through the Void again. He opened his eyes.
“That took a while,” Marco said.
“Sandalphon move slow,” Richard said. He handed Marco one of the sigils.
“Whoa, this is glowing.”
“It’s activated,” Richard said. “This was a great idea.” He stuffed his copy of the sigil into his front right pocket. “Let’s go.” He swung back the door.
Tobias hopped out first and instantly pissed on the grass.
“Sorry, boy. I should have thought of that.”
“Now that you mention it…” Marco said.
They took turns using the toilet at Maggie’s place, and then they set out. Richard turned left onto Oxford Street and headed for the University. Marco walked beside him, while Tobias scouted a couple yards ahead. On their right they passed an agricultural field owned and operated by UC Berkeley. “Don’t look,” Richard said.
“Don’t look at wh—oh,” Marco stopped and stared. About five yards from them a couple were making love on the ground. Both were completely naked, and although both were moaning, it was clear that it must have been painful for both of them, as there was blood pouring from their union. Richard tried not to look, but it was too late. “That…does not look fun,” Marco said.
“It looks like they’ve been at it for hours. Maybe all night. A lust demon, no doubt. I wonder if they feel the pain.”
Beyond them, on the other side of the chain-linked fence, Richard caught sight of others. There were about a dozen people altogether, in various coital combinations. They all looked enraptured, but the rawness of their flesh told another story.
“That looks sooooo painful. Can’t we do something about that?” Marco asked.
“We can find the sigil and destroy it,” Richard said.
“Can we?”
“Do you know how long we’re going to be at this if we stop to dismantle every sigil in the East Bay?”
“Do you have something else on your calendar for today?” Marco asked.
Richard looked at his shoes. He wanted to get to Alameda, to safety, to his friends. But now it seemed like a selfish goal. There were people who needed his help even more right here. “Shit. I guess not. Let’s do it.”
“Where do we start?”
“Most of them have been on buildings. So let’s start where the action is. There’s a prefab building near where most of them are fucking.”
Richard found the gate, and was relieved to see the lock was off. He waved Tobias through and waited for Marco to pass before going in himself.
“Hey, shouldn’t we put a sigil on Toby?” Marco asked.
“No need. He’s already possessed by an angel,” Richard said.
“Right, I almost forgot about that. How did that happen, anyway?”
“The angel was delivering Kat’s brother’s soul in a mirror…um, it’s a long story actually.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“Everything is complicated around here.” They turned a corner and Richard jerked his head to avoid seeing what he had already seen. Among the rows of seedlings was a full-on orgy—even in his brief glimpse, Richard could see college students, a couple of old people, and others of various ages, all entwined, all jerking limbs and jutting pelvises, the desperate panting of people not under their own control.
And there was blood. Everywhere.
“This is not fucking pretty,” Marco said.
“You can say that again. There are some sights you just…”
“Wish you could unsee?”
“Yeah.” Richard looked up, scanning the building. “We got to find that fucking thing.”
“You wanna split up?” Marco asked.
“Maybe.” Richard purposely looked away from the orgy. Instead, he studied the complex. “There’s about six small buildings here. One of them is bound to have the sigil.”
“So let’s find it.”
“Okay, but let’s stay inside the lot—that way we won’t be too far from each other.”
“Got it.”
Richard expected Tobias to follow him, but he didn’t. Instead, the yellow dog took off on his own, between two of the middle buildings. “Gift horse. Mouth,” he said aloud. Marco had gone north, so he turned to the buildings on the south side of the lot. At first, Richard couldn’t tell what they were for. Being UC property, they might be classrooms, but as he peered into the windows, he saw lab equipment inside. That makes a lot of sense, he thought.
He turned and started. Blocking his path was a man about his own age but not as tall or as heavy. He was bearded, and there was blood on his face. His eyes were wild, his mouth open. He was naked, and his penis was swollen but dangling. It was also caked with blood. He grinned wickedly and took a step toward Richard.
“Let’s fuck,” he said, almost yelling the final word.
“Look, under normal circumstances, I’d say yes to a date,” Richard said, slowly backing away. “But I�
��ve got a feeling you’re not looking for a romantic attachment.”
“Let’s fuck,” the man repeated, advancing on him.
“Let’s not,” Richard said, turning and walking more quickly. He turned a corner—and discovered himself in a “U” created by three of the buildings, with no obvious escape route. “Oh, shit,” Richard breathed. “Why does this kind of thing always, always happen to me, God?”
The man’s grin widened, his penis stiffened and stood at full attention. His entire pelvic region was almost black with dried blood, dirt, and maybe excrement. It was hard to tell in the dark, and the floodlights that lit the fences were not pointed in Richard’s direction. The friar backed up into the U, his shoulders hugging the wall of the prefab building. The man was close enough now that Richard could smell him—a potent mixture of copper, sweat, shit, and B.O. Richard turned his face as the man pushed himself against his cassock and licked his cheek. He started to hump away at Richard, pressing him hard against the wall, and thrusting his hips in a dry frottage lubricated only by the blood seeping from his member.
Richard turned his face away and tried to grab the man’s hands, pushing himself off of the wall with one foot. The man proved to be unreasonably strong, however, and slammed him back against the wall. Richard heard something crack in his own head, which he had no choice but to ignore as he put every ounce of strength into shoving the man away. But the man had reached through the front of his cassock now and was already fumbling at his belt. Richard opened his mouth and bit the man’s nose, hard.
The man howled, but Richard held on, feeling the gristle of the cartilage slide between his teeth. He brought his knee up with force and caught the man directly in the testicles, after which the man issued a high-pitched howl of pain and crumpled to the ground, writhing and clutching at his genitals. Richard lost no time, springing directly over the man and running headlong toward the corner of the building. He heard Tobias bark, and followed the sound of it. He was winded when he saw Marco walking toward the barking dog from the other direction.
Toby was acting like he’d treed a squirrel. He was greatly agitated, pointing with his nose, barking, and walking in a quick circle before starting the cycle again.
“Well, bingo,” Marco said as they drew closer.
Richard raised his eyes to where Tobias was pointing. A large sigil, about four feet across, had been spray painted on the building’s side. Above it, attached to a nail, was the activated parchment.
“You all right?” Marco asked.
“Don’t I look all right?”
“Your hair is messed up and your cassock is smeared with blood exactly over your privates. I think it’s a fair question.”
Richard ignored his question, fair or not. “Give me a hand up, will you?”
Marco interlaced his fingers and offered his hands to Richard to step into. Tobias continued barking and circling. Balancing himself against the wall, Richard pushed up against Marco’s hands and snagged the parchment from off the nail on the first try.
As soon as he hit the ground, Marco was already fishing in his pocket. He pulled out an old-fashioned styled cigarette lighter. He pulled back the silver cover and turned the flint wheel with his thumb.
Richard caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he jerked his head to the right, just in time to see his attacker spring out of shadow and lunge at him. He dropped and rolled, kicking at the man’s feet, trying to throw him off balance. “Will you hurry up with that thing?” he called to Marco.
It took Marco several desperate tries to light the wick of the lighter. When he finally did, he hastily held it under the scrap of parchment in his other hand. The activated sigil lit quickly, and as it burned a scream escaped it.
The man was hovering over Richard now, about to force himself on him again, when suddenly the ferocity drained from his face, and reason returned to his eyes. “What the fuck…am I doing?” he asked. He looked down at himself, and a look of sheer horror overtook his face. His lower lip began to shiver, and his eyes were wide with shock. He sank to the ground and once more clutched at his genitals, this time whimpering with what Richard took to be an unholy mixture of pain and confusion and grief.
Marco offered his hand. Richard took it and resumed his feet. Tobias was sniffing at the man.
“Toby, give the man some room,” Richard snapped. The dog ignored him, sniffing all the more eagerly. Richard finally grabbed his collar and enforced his command.
“That screaming always gives me the willies,” Marco said.
“I’d have thought you’d be used to shit like that by now.”
“You never get used to shit like that.”
Richard turned around and was relieved to see that the writhing in the field had stopped. Instead, people were starting to scream—some with surprise, some with outrage and alarm, but most with pain. Richard stepped to where most of them could see him. “Listen up, everyone!” He said. “I’m sure you feel violated. I’m sure you’re in pain. You have all been…well, brainwashed. You’ve been oppressed by a lust demon. It’s not your fault. The spell has been broken. Please don’t waste any time blaming yourselves—or each other. None of this is your fault. You are all victims. Instead, please have compassion on each other and take care of each other. The hospitals are overrun, so please help clean each other up. Wash, apply some antibiotic ointment, and put some bandages on. Stay inside and keep your heads low.”
“Who are you?” asked one of the young women.
Richard didn’t answer her. He only turned back to Marco. “So…where does God want us to go next?”
43
Dylan’s eyelid flickered. “Hey, baby,” Susan said. “We made it. We’re safe.”
Dylan opened his eye and looked around. Susan squeezed his hand. “Where are we?”
“We’re in the hospital. In Alameda.”
“What’s—” he reached up to his face, but Susan snatched at his hand and brought it back down.
“Don’t touch the bandages,” she said.
“Mah eye hurts,” he said.
“It should.” Susan’s face fell. “Honey, your eye was shredded by the glass. They couldn’t save it. They…they took it out.”
“Whuuut?” Dylan sat up in alarm.
“Shhhh…” Susan pushed him back down. “You need to rest. And…it’s not the end of the world. You have another eye, and it’s fine. You need to be grateful. You almost died. An eye is…it was a small price to pay.”
“Ah lost mah eye?” Dylan said, obviously not quite believing it.
“Yes, honey. And it’s okay. You are okay.”
“Ah lost mah fuckin’ eye…”
“The socket has to heal. That will take a couple of months. Then they can fit you for a glass eye. If you want it. It should look just like your old one.”
“’Cept it’ll never be lookin’ in quite the right direction,” Dylan pouted.
“It’ll be one more distinctive thing about you,” Susan said.
“Ah’m not sure that is a compliment,” Dylan said.
“Shhh…no fighting. Everyone’s fighting. Even here,” Susan said. “I don’t get it.”
“Mebbe Alameda isn’t immune. Mebbe there are sigils up fer…I don’t know, filial unrest demons.”
“Name one filial unrest demon.”
“Uh…you got me. Don’t mean there ain’t none.”
“When you get internet access, you and your good eye can look for one.”
This actually brightened Dylan up a bit. “Okay.”
“I think the pain medication is working.”
“Ah’ll say.”
“Don’t enjoy it too much. You might start reacting to it.”
Dylan shrank slightly. “Ah hope not.”
Just then a young woman stepped into the room, holding a cup of coffee. She was dressed in blue-gray mechanics overalls and wore a ball cap over her short, dirty blond hair. She was stocky, but still leaner than Susan. She walked with a hint of redneck
swagger. “Dylan, this is Casey.”
“Hey,” Casey said with a genuine smile.
“He’s awake,” Susan said.
“Hot damn,” Casey walked up to the bed. “How you feelin’?”
“Mah eye hurts, but not too bad,” Dylan said, his eye widening at the sight of Casey.
“Don’t let him drool on you,” Susan said. “You’re his type.”
“That was a cruel thing to say out loud,” Dylan said. “True enough, though.”
Casey blushed. “You got the wrong plumbing for my liking, boyo.”
“S’alright. I’m pretty fuckin’ taken,” Dylan conceded. “Where’s Terry and Chicken?”
“They’re at the High School Gymnasium. We have a shelter set up there.”
“Turns out we’re not the only refugees,” Susan said.
“We actually got about a thousand and a half folks, spread out across a couple shelters,” Casey said.
Dylan whistled.
“I wouldn’t want to be the mayor right now, but I gotta say, he’s doin’ a great job. Not many people thought he would, but he is.”
“Why didn’t they think he’d do a good job?” Susan asked.
Dylan tried to scoot up in his hospital bed. Susan helped him and tucked the bedclothes in around his ample frame.
“Before he was mayor, he was a professional clown. Goggles, the Steampunk clown. It was a pretty heated race,” Casey said.
Susan’s eyes widened. “Can’t wait to meet him.”
“Oh, you will. Alameda’s a small place. Even with all you refugees.”
“I hope you won’t be overrun,” Susan said.
Casey took a swig from her coffee. “Oh, we won’t. Ya’ll just made it in under the wire. We’re gonna seal up the Webster and Posey tubes later today. And we’ve already raised the drawbridges at High Street and Fruitvale. No one’s gettin’ in, no one’s gettin’ out. Unless you’re coming or going to San Francisco, that is. Ferry’s still running on the sevens.”
“What do you mean ‘on the sevens?” Susan asked
