Devil's Descent (Luther Cross Book 2)

by Percival Constantine

  “You are lost, Mr. Cross,” said Moore. “And not only in the sense of location.”

  “A man without a purpose—”

  “—Is like a ship without a rudder.”

  “All right, I’ve had just about enough of this weird routine you guys got goin’ on.” I raised the knife again, fixing my gaze on each of them. “I want to know what you are, how you found me, and I want to know where I can find my friends.”

  Grant and Moore sighed in unison. They shook their heads and clicked their tongues, each movement and sound perfectly matched. It was like they were the same person split into two bodies.

  “We have told you who we are, Mr. Cross,” said Moore.

  “I was pretty specific—what are you?”

  “What we are is of even less concern than who,” said Grant.

  Moore reached his hand out and gripped my arm. He was able to push it back down with almost no effort. Also because, for some reason, I didn’t put up any resistance. “This is the domain of our employer.”

  “What, this run-down shithole?” I asked.

  “No, this domain,” said Grant.

  “You mean Purgatory,” I said. “What do you mean your employer runs it? No one runs Purgatory.”

  Grant and Moore looked at each other and they laughed. It sounded chilling, echoing everywhere all around me. The two of them turned and stared at me from behind their sunglasses once more, their lips curled in sinister grins.

  “Oh yes, Mr. Cross. Purgatory has a master,” said Moore.

  “We have been sent by him to issue a warning,” said Grant.

  “Let me guess: ‘get out or else?’” I asked.

  The wide grins faded and they looked almost disappointed. The two of them exchanged glances.

  “Drat and bother, Mr. Grant,” said Moore.

  “I concur, Mr. Moore,” said Grant. “I do so wish we would have had the chance to say it first.”

  “I dunno what sort of freak show you two wandered out of, but I know a thing or two, and I know that Purgatory isn’t under anyone’s control,” I said.

  “Regardless of your misconceptions, we were tasked with delivering a message,” said Moore.

  “And deliver it we have,” said Grant. “Good day to you, Mr. Cross.”

  They both bowed in unison. When they rose up, Moore gave me a crooked smile. “I do so hope our paths will not cross again.”

  “For your sake,” said Grant.

  Each spun on their heel, and together, they walked towards the door, side by side, moving in lock-step. I watched them as they left the apartment, and wondered just what the hell was going on.

  17

  I woke up on the couch some time later. Couldn’t be sure how long I’d actually slept for, but I had to assume it was long enough for me to feel pretty refreshed. Most of the fatigue was gone and I barely felt any pain in my arm. I sat up and untied the makeshift bandage and inspected the wound to find it had healed up pretty nice.

  One less problem to worry about, but it’d been replaced by two more in the form of Grant and Moore. Not sure who those Agent Smith-looking assholes were, but I already knew I wasn’t in any hurry to find out.

  I took a cigarette from the case I’d left on the coffee table and lit it with the Zippo. While smoking, I went to the window and pulled back curtains to peer out onto the street. It still looked like a ghost town out there. Even though I was pretty sure it would be futile, I checked my phone anyway. And sure enough, NO SERVICE.

  I admittedly didn’t know a whole lot about this place—no one really did. It wasn’t like Heaven or Hell, where angels and demons would come to our world and pass on word of what they were like. Sure, about nine-tenths of it was probably bull, but it gave those of us in the supernatural circles at least an idea of what to expect.

  Not so with Purgatory. With the exception of Cain, no one had ever escaped. You either served your time and got beamed up to Heaven, or you stayed here to rot. There was no third option. And since there weren’t any survivors, no one ever got to tell the tale. That was probably why even Asmodeus had been surprised by the anansi.

  But what little I did know—what every written record seemed to indicate—was that Purgatory was lawless. Heaven was governed by the Divine Choir, who held absolute control over everything. And Hell was divided up into different territories, each one ruled by an archdemon. The Hell Lords made up what was known as the Infernal Court. Think of the Five Families in New York back in the day.

  Purgatory was supposed to be completely absent of any sort of leadership or control. But Grant and Moore said Purgatory had a master. Were they just blowing smoke and trying to scare me? Maybe their master was just the biggest, baddest creature in this place. Or maybe Grant and Moore were on the level. Hard to tell, given that they seemed to delight in making their speech as cryptic as possible.

  Worst of all, whether this master was real or not, someone knew we were here. That could make things very difficult for us. Especially if Grant and Moore, or their master, had some connection with the angel. That might even be how the angel was able to hide Luxton here in the first place.

  Grant and Moore had tried to scare me off. Unfortunately for them, I don’t scare too easy. And even if I were going to leave Purgatory on their say-so, I had no idea how to go about it. What I needed to focus on now was finding the rest of the group. Retracing my steps was an exercise in frustration and confusion, so that wouldn’t work again. Instead, I needed to try magic.

  I was a little loathe to do so. In Purgatory, using magic only seemed to make the demon in me stronger, and each time I tried, I risked letting him out of the cage. But I was fresh out of options at this point. A simple locator spell shouldn’t be too difficult to pull off anyway.

  My hand still held the Zippo and I looked down at it. Had one of the key ingredients right here. Now all I needed was—

  “Goddammit!”

  A map. In order to perform a locator spell, I needed a damn map. And there’s no such thing as a map of Purgatory.

  I kicked over the table in anger. The speedloaders hit the ground, and the cigarette case snapped open when it landed, spilling the cigarettes across the floor. I stopped and realized my hand was clenched so tight, I’d snapped the cigarette in half. The demon was influencing me.

  Opening my fists was a struggle. I held my hands in front of me, staring at them and trying to loosen my fists. My fingers fought against me, but finally gave way, and the cigarette fell to the ground. I picked the table up and set it upright again, then collected everything that had been knocked off—the cigarettes, the speedloaders, the revolver, and the dagger.

  Any spell I tried while in this state would be corrupted by anger anyway. I had to calm myself. I returned to the couch and sat down, resting my hands on my knees. My eyes shut and I breathed in deep, letting the air flow all the way down. As I exhaled, I did so slowly, imagining the tension and the anger flowing out of my body.

  I tried to clear my mind. Focused only on the breath entering and leaving my body. Everything else fell away into the background, leaving it all behind. One by one, I felt each of my muscles relax, and my body became weightless.

  I continued the breathing exercises for a little while, falling into a serene meditation. When I was ready, I slowly opened my eyes. I could feel the demon inside had calmed. He wouldn’t be too much trouble now, and if I was going to perform a spell, now was the best time to do so. He might stir with it, but I’d managed to lock him away once again.

  So how was I going to find them without a locator spell? There was one thing that could possibly work. I can conjure orbs of light, normally linking them to myself or someone else. It’s how the orbs knew to follow our movements and illuminate a path. That usually worked like second nature when I was next to a person and wanted to give them a way to see in a dark area.

  That wasn’t the case here. Though, if there was one thing I’d learned from this whole ordeal, it was that souls could form links with other
souls. It was how Cain could track Luxton in Purgatory: by zeroing in on the link made when him and I were in the dreamscape. It was how I had been able to find Dakota in the dreamscape.

  The same principle would also apply to the orb. Tessa and I knew each other pretty well. I certainly knew her better than Dakota. So, if I could enter Dakota’s dreams, I should be able to conjure an orb that would lead me right to Tessa. I just needed to focus on that connection.

  I held my hand out in front of me. Before I spoke the word, I wanted to make sure I had the target in mind. I focused all my thoughts on Tessa. Imagined the first time I met her. Pictured all the times we’d laughed together over drinks, thought about the spells we’d worked on, remembered when we’d tried to use magic to find out who was behind Dakota’s pregnancy.

  And I recalled Tessa saving my life from a possessed Dakota with a dangerous blood spell—remembered the concern I had felt when I was worried she might be killed. Thought about how I had picked her off the ground, healed her.

  I had her image in my mind. My thoughts were completely centered on Tessa, and I spoke the word. “Lux.”

  The glowing sphere of light flared to life within the palm of my hand instantly. For a moment, it sat there, but then it raised off my palm. I lowered my hand, staring at the light as it slowly began to move around. It flitted from side to side, then started to circle me.

  “Okay, now I need you to find Tessa,” I said.

  The orb moved away from my body, and it started going to the door. I started to follow, but then the orb stopped. When it moved again, this time it was to the kitchen. I stood and watched. The orb continued on its path, seemingly getting lost and then choosing another direction. From the kitchen to the bedroom, to the living room, back to the front door, then to the bathroom, then circling around me once again.

  “Would you make up your damn mind already?”

  The orb went crazy. It zig-zagged all across the room, moving so fast it became a yellow blur shooting around. The entire apartment was illuminated through the orb’s constant movements.

  “Stop!” I shouted.

  The orb refused to obey me. It just kept bouncing all over the place, completely out of control, faster and faster until I couldn’t even see it move anymore. It seemed to be everywhere at once. And then, all of a sudden, the light just extinguished.

  “Shit.” I sighed and returned to the couch, taking a fresh cigarette and lighting it. I leaned back against the cushions and thought about what my next move would be. Guess Purgatory even screwed with the navigational abilities of my light spheres. How was I supposed to find Tessa and the others now?

  There was only one way left that I knew about, and it was also the one I wanted to try the least. The dreamscape. I could use my connection to Tessa to try and contact her through her dreams. Even if she were awake, I might be able to reach her somehow. With that connection established, maybe Cain could track me just like he was able to track Luxton.

  The magical energy required for a dreamwalk was pretty intense. I’d be taking a big risk here. There would be no better opportunity for the demon to escape his cage. And if he got out here in Purgatory, no telling what sort of damage he might do.

  That wasn’t the only problem with this plan. Of course not; that would make things too simple. Another issue was if the light sphere went crazy trying to use my connection to find Tessa, what would happen if I tried to dreamwalk and couldn’t make contact? Would I just stay right here, or would my consciousness be lost somewhere in the dreamscape?

  Dreamwalking was a risky endeavor, especially when you and the subject were in different locations. The last time I had tried it alone, I had tried to liberate a demon from the body of a little girl. I’d succeeded, but in the process, the girl had ended up in a coma. When I’d tried it with Dakota, I’d had Cassandra backing me up. Now, I was going to try it myself again, and in a place that had a track record of screwing with my powers.

  I tried to think of something else while I continued to smoke. Magic was all around, so I couldn’t rely on my senses to try and find them, and the last time I’d tried to go out on foot, I’d just got lost. If I went out there, I might be able to find Grant and Moore again, tell them I’d be willing to leave right away so long as I could do it with the others.

  But those two didn’t seem like the helpful type. And their parting words had been a not-so-subtle suggestion that I wouldn’t enjoy a second meeting. It’d be best to stay off their radar as much as possible.

  I’d smoked the cigarette down to the filter and stamped it out on the coffee table’s surface. Not like the thing was in the best condition to begin with.

  Dreamwalking was the only card I had left to play.

  I didn’t have the benefit of Cassie’s magic hookah this time. So, I took the knife and began carving a sigil on the floor, one used to focus my energy and make contact. There were different ways of making sigils, and the actual symbol itself wasn’t as important as the intent the sorcerer imbued within it. Some people liked to write out the intention, folding the letters together until it became something useable.

  That was the method the monks taught me. But it had always come as second nature to me. I never had to write out the intention. I thought of what I wanted to do, and the sigil just sort of appeared in my mind. Probably had something to do with my demonic heritage.

  Carving a sigil was harder than painting one or drawing it in chalk. Took longer to do and wasn’t as pretty, with jagged corners. But I’d managed to do it. I could’ve used blood, but that would’ve taken quite a lot out of me. And whenever you used a blood spell, you were playing with fire. I didn’t want to give the demon anything more he could use to get out.

  I sat in the center of the sigil and closed my eyes. Now I just had to hope this would work…

  18

  Celeste sat in the backseat of her limousine, beside Raziel. Odysseus Black primarily operated out of Englewood, one of the highest crime areas of Chicago, located on the South Side. She’d had some issues with Black in the past and the last thing she wanted to do was to cross swords with a sorcerer as powerful as him.

  “Your driver,” said Raziel, breaking the silence that had existed since they went back for the car. “He isn’t human, correct?”

  “Was it the pointy ears that tipped you off?” asked Celeste.

  “Angels can see things other beings cannot. But I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a creature like him before.”

  “Well, for starters, he’s not a ‘creature,’ he’s my friend.”

  “My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to offend,” said Raziel. “So what is he?”

  “A yeti.”

  “A…yeti?” asked Raziel, looking at her with a puzzled expression. “I thought they were extinct.”

  “Most of them are, but there are still a few out there,” said Celeste. “They’re not all rampaging beasts. Hem was part of a tribe in Nepal that kept to themselves. Before I started my business, I did some traveling around the world. I saved his life, and by the code of his tribe, that meant he was indebted to me. So, he came back to Chicago with me, started working as my bodyguard.”

  “Interesting that I never heard of him before tonight.”

  “Since I retired from meeting clients myself, there hasn’t been a whole lot of bodyguarding for him to do. He comes with me when I need him to, but mostly I have him watch out for my vamps.”

  “Then I’m glad you brought him with us,” said Raziel. “If this Odysseus Black is as powerful as you say, Hem could prove useful.”

  “How long have you been in Chicago anyway, Raz?”

  “Technically, I’m not. Eden is—”

  “Right, outside our dimension. Luther told me,” said Celeste. “I guess you don’t venture out very much.”

  “I try not to make a habit of it.”

  “Well, Odysseus Black basically runs the supernatural underworld in Englewood. We first crossed paths a few years ago, as I was getting myself establish
ed. Had a few clients there. Soon as Black found out I was doing business, he made some pretty convincing threats. Tried to get me to give him a cut of my profits.”

  “What happened?”

  Celeste looked away, staring out the window. “He nearly killed me. Would have if Hem hadn’t intervened. We ended up coming to an arrangement, though. As long as I stayed out of his territory, he’d leave me be. Ended up losing my clients out in the area, but it was a sacrifice that needed to be made.”

  “And the lycans?”

  “Black primarily employs them as enforcers. He’s used other monsters before, but once you’ve established yourself as the alpha, lycans are loyal to a fault. They don’t ask questions and they can cause a lot of damage.”

  “The perfect soldiers.”

  Celeste looked back at Raziel. “One thing I don’t get, though. Black may be powerful, but he’s a nasty individual. Last time I dealt with this angel’s lackeys, they were holy men empowered by him. So why not give some of his power to other preachers? They’d probably be more effective than lycans, and they’d be a lot more loyal than Black. He wouldn’t do something like this out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “My suspicion is that Luxton was the one who chose those men,” said Raziel. “I believe he hoped the lycans would extract the information they needed for you, and then kill you. Given your history with Black, anyone would assume it was just a matter between the two of you. No one would have suspected Heavenly intervention.”

  Returning her gaze to the window, Celeste grew nervous as they drove through the streets of Englewood. They drove past old homes, some with boarded windows, and shops with graffiti on the brick surfaces.

  The car rolled to a stop. The divider lowered, allowing Hem to look over his shoulder and into the back. “Mistress, we’ve arrived.”

  Celeste nodded. She waited for Hem to turn off the car and approach the back door. It wasn’t that she needed him to open it for her, but Hem always told her he felt escorting her from the car was part of his duty, so she humored him.