Devil's Descent (Luther Cross Book 2)

by Percival Constantine

  “You bastard!” she screamed.

  “A lady like you shouldn’t use such language.”

  Odysseus turned away from Hem’s body and walked over to Raziel. For some reason, the angel wouldn’t move. He just stood there, completely motionless. Odysseus stepped around Raziel, looking him over from head to toe.

  “I never thought I’d have an angel to play with.” Odysseus set his hand on Raziel’s head. “I wonder what sort of secrets I might be able to pluck from your mind. The kind of things that I’m sure Heaven wouldn’t want getting into my hands.”

  “Why don’t you try asking your new BFF?” asked Celeste.

  “I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous,” said Odysseus. “I wonder…if I crushed his head while he was standing here, powerless, would he die? Would he reform in Heaven? What does it take to kill an angel?”

  “You can’t seriously be that stupid,” she said. “You kill an angel, you’ll have a lot more problems to deal with than me.”

  “If that were true, then why don’t I hear them rushing to his defense? No heavenly choirs, no judgmental trumpets, no flapping wings. The only thing I can hear is the sound of your pathetic attempts to threaten me.”

  Odysseus moved away from Raziel, and he knelt down in front of Celeste. He reached a hand out and gently ran a finger down her cheek. His very touch made her feel like throwing up.

  “You and I should be friends, Celeste,” he said. “After all, we made a deal all those years ago. You stay out of my neck of the woods, I let you continue your business as normal.”

  “That was before you tried to have me killed.”

  “Oh, that was just business,” he said. “You have something I need. Provided you cooperate, your angel friend doesn’t get his wings deep-fried. I’ll even throw in a bonus and resurrect your little monster friend over there.”

  She spat in Odysseus’ face. He sighed and took a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe it off.

  “I’m not telling you a goddamn thing, so you may as well just kill me now.”

  “You think it’s that easy, do you? You’re such a stupid little girl. Don’t you realize that if I desired it, I could have you killed like that?” He snapped his fingers. “Why do you think you were even let through the front door?”

  Celeste’s eyes widened as the realization struck her. “You set this up…”

  Odysseus chuckled. “Now you’re getting it. I could have had you brought to me at any time. But you’re not the one I needed.”

  Celeste looked at Raziel with fear in her eyes, then at the sigils above his head that had rendered him powerless. “You wanted Raz.”

  “I did. You see, getting Raziel to come down from his ivory tower is no easy feat,” said Odysseus. “I had to make him think his plan was in jeopardy. That I knew a way to find Cross in Purgatory through you.”

  “So you knew about that, too?” asked Celeste.

  “Of course.” Odysseus rose to his feet. “As I said, I’m very well-connected. I know Cross is in Purgatory, and I know he’s there with that little Korean witch, the turncoat demon, and the first murderer. Cross isn’t my concern. That little ragtag group will never be able to escape Purgatory. Not once the king of the castle gets home.”

  “What king? What are you talking about?”

  Odysseus shrugged as he took a fresh cigar from a wooden box on his desk. “It’s not important.” He cut the tip of the cigar with a cutter and placed it in his mouth. With a snap of his finger, the tip of the cigar lit and Odysseus began puffing on it. “All you need to know is that Luther and his friends are never coming back to this plane again.”

  Celeste groaned. That meant her and Raziel were the only ones who knew about the angel’s plan. And she just hand-delivered the both of them to Black…

  “Once Raziel feared someone could ruin his plan through you, he would have to leave the safety of Eden in order to offer his protection. I made it easy for you to find me,” said Odysseus.

  “So what happens now? What’s the angel’s plan?”

  “Damned if I know. He just needed the two of you removed from the board. Provided me with the spell and said so long as I took care of you, you were mine to do with as I please,” said Odysseus. “Now I have an angel of my own to play with. And I meant what I said; I’m looking forward to finding out what sort of secrets he has to show me.”

  “Except you’re forgetting one thing,” said Celeste. “You’ve just become a loose end. Do you think the angel’s just going to let you walk free now that you know what he’s planning?”

  “Of course,” said Odysseus. “I’ve been walking this earth for a very long time, so I’m adaptable. Turn this planet into a Heaven or a Hell—makes no difference to me. I’ll find a way to profit one way or the other. Always have, always will.”

  “You’re an idiot, Black,” she said. “There won’t be a planet when the dust settles. If there’s a war, it’s going to destroy everything.”

  “They said the same thing about both World Wars, and yet, here we are,” said Odysseus. “The planet will survive. And until the fireworks start, I get to have some fun.”

  The door to the office opened and two lycans entered, fully transformed. Odysseus pointed at Raziel and Celeste with the tip of his cigar. “Take them both downstairs. Be careful with the angel; I don’t want him damaged.”

  “What about the big guy?” asked one of the lycans.

  Odysseus cast a glance at Hem’s body. “Dump him in the river. He’s no use to us.”

  One of the lycans came over to Celeste and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She tried to struggle, but of course it wasn’t any use. She couldn’t even see Odysseus, but it didn’t stop her from trying to issue another threat.

  “I swear, I’ll find some way out of this,” she said. “And when I do, I’m going to kill you.”

  Odysseus’ laughter followed as she was carried out of his office.

  22

  This wasn’t how I had expected things to go. I’d planned to use the dreamscape to reach out to Tessa. Instead, I ended up getting caught dreamwalking through my own mind. Walking through Purgatory, I’d just kept getting lost trying to find my way back to the others. I’d hoped dreamwalking would allow me to reach out to Tessa, but I guessed Purgatory wasn’t going to make things that easy on me.

  “Gotta tell ya, Luther, I’m a little lost here.” The voice came from Wayne Cooper as he walked beside me down the sidewalk, heading towards the LaSalle Street Bridge. “You come outta nowhere, looking older than the last time we met, and you tell me you need me to come with you to the Sears Tower?”

  For some reason, my mind had conjured up a version of Wayne from shortly after we first met. And since that was about ten years ago, guess it must’ve been before they changed the name of the Tower.

  “It’s a little complicated, Coop.”

  “And why couldn’t we take my car again?”

  We came to a stop at the corner of LaSalle and Kinzie. By my estimate, we had about twenty more minutes of walking, and if Wayne was gonna keep asking questions the whole way, it’d just annoy the crap out of me. And who knew, maybe telling him what was going on would make things move a bit smoother.

  “You’re not real,” I said.

  Wayne balked. “Come again?”

  “None of this is real,” I said. “This is called the dreamscape. In reality, we’ve known each other for years.”

  “You been drinking?”

  “I wish.” While we waited for the light to change, I lit a cigarette and offered one to Wayne. He turned it down. “To make a long story short, I got trapped in my own subconscious and my subconscious decided to whip up downtown Chicago as the setting. Anytime we use a door, even on a car, we could be transported to another place. Or at least I would—little less sure about you.”

  “So why the Tower?”

  I looked up as I drew on the cigarette, seeing the Tower high above the skyline. “In my world, you can enter a di
mensional gateway by going to the top. Might be a way out of here.”

  “But you said doors take you somewhere else. How do you know going through the front entrance of the Tower won’t take you somewhere else?”

  “I don’t,” I said. “But it’s the only chance I’ve got.”

  “Then why do you need me?”

  “Just a feeling. Something tells me having a friendly face around could come in handy.”

  The light turned green and the walk signal came on. I started to cross, but noticed Wayne was still standing there. I stopped in the middle of the intersection and looked at him. “You comin’ or what?”

  Wayne scratched behind his head and sighed. After a shake of his head, he said, “What the hell…”

  We crossed Kinzie and continued on. A short distance later, we reached the bridge, but it was raised as a boat passed down the river. I was getting nervous, expecting some of the defenses to come after me. They were treating me as the threat, though, and that wasn’t normal. The subconscious defenses only kicked in when a dreamwalker went into someone else’s mind. It shouldn’t have been targeting me when I was basically lucid dreaming in my own mind.

  I had two theories to explain it. One was that it was simply more of Purgatory screwing with me. Just like how I couldn’t reach Tessa through the dreamscape and how I couldn’t really sense magical energy here. That was the theory I hoped was true.

  The other one? It was a lot scarier. Meant Purgatory was changing me, or that the demon inside me now controlled my subconscious. He’d been getting stronger ever since I’d arrived. I also worried that if I was in my subconscious, was there a chance he could get out and take control of my body?

  The boat had passed through, but the bridge wasn’t lowering. That wasn’t a good sign. It never took this long for the bridge to lower again. I looked at the other people waiting to cross, but no one seemed bothered by it. Checked Wayne and even he seemed nonplussed.

  “Something’s wrong,” I said, flicking the cigarette into the river.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  I reached behind my back, taking the revolver from my waistband and getting it ready. Wayne had a look of shock on his face, and he grabbed my arm, pushing it back down. I glared at him.

  “Are you nuts? Why are you whipping out a gun in broad daylight? There’s no threat.”

  “That’s what you think,” I said.

  A thunderous boom was heard and the ground shook. Wayne was knocked off his feet, but I steadied myself against a lamppost. In the center of the intersection, there was a man kneeling, raising his fist from the point of impact. He stood, and I saw he wore a cloak, his blue eyes crackling with holy power. He held out his hand and soulfire appeared in his palm, extending upward and taking the shape of a flaming sword.

  “Cross,” he said in a deep voice.

  “Dammit!” I raised my gun and opened fire. The bullets slammed into him, but did little to slow his approach.

  “What is that?” asked Wayne, getting to his feet.

  “Azrael, the Angel of Death,” I said. My subconscious sure didn’t screw around when it came to intruders. Guess that was a good thing under most circumstances, but this, unfortunately, was not one of them. “What are you waiting for? Start shooting!”

  Wayne nodded and drew his sidearm, firing rounds into the angel as well. Azrael charged. The bullets did nothing, and there was only one thing to do now. I turned and ran down the street, shouting for Wayne to follow.

  “What fresh hell have you sucked me into this time, Cross?” Wayne shouted over the sounds of screams and honking horns coming from all around.

  “My own, apparently!”

  I hopped the railing, rushing down the steps to the River Walk with Wayne trying to keep up. Every now and then, we’d turn to fire a few more shots. Azrael wasn’t slowing down. We charged past the outdoor dining areas of the restaurants along the walk, rushing for the stairs at the other end and leading up to Clark Street.

  A shadow passed overhead. I stopped and saw Azrael flying over us, then descending, crashing right down in front of the stairs, his massive wingspan unfurling. He pointed the sword at me, a gesture that he was waiting for me to make the next move.

  I looked to the right. If we jumped in the river and tried to swim, it wouldn’t be as fast as going on foot. Azrael could easily swoop in and grab me. To my right was the entrance to one of the restaurants. I didn’t like the idea of retreating, not when we were so close. But I also had no choice.

  “This way!” I darted for the door, and Wayne followed. I knocked over a waiter just as he came out carrying a tray of food and barreled through the door.

  I fell to the ground and blinked. My body ached, but I was in one piece. And as I got to my feet, I saw I was somewhere else. I looked around for Wayne, trying to see if he managed to make the trip with me.

  “Coop?”

  “Here…”

  Looking to the source of the groan, I saw Wayne was lying on his back a few feet away from me. I went to his side and helped him stand. He rubbed the spot behind his head where he’d hit the ground.

  “Jesus, what was that?” Wayne looked around. “Where are we?”

  I glanced around, too. We were in a large, round room constructed completely of large, white stones. The roof had a dome with a glass skylight. Against the walls, I saw racks of weapons. Swords, daggers, staves, axes. And when I looked down at the ground, I noticed there was a symbol painted. A large circle with a six-pointed star.

  “Is that the Star of David?” asked Wayne. “We in a Jewish temple?”

  “Not quite,” I said. “That’s the Seal of Solomon.”

  “How can you tell the difference?”

  “The Star of David is two-dimensional. The triangles intersect.” I pointed to the lines. “These lines look interwoven. Two triangles linked together—one representing water, the other fire.”

  “You know where we are?” asked Wayne.

  “Oh yeah. This is a temple, all right. But it’s a temple belonging to the Sons of Solomon.”

  “Who?”

  “You ever read about King Solomon? Had power over demons?”

  Wayne nodded. “Yeah, that story sounds vaguely familiar.”

  “Except it wasn’t just a story, it’s historical fact,” I said. “Solomon was one of the first sorcerers. The sigils and spells he created are still used today. The Sons of Solomon carry out his legacy, protecting humanity from demons.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Wayne.

  “Because we’re the ones who raised him.”

  The voice had an English accent. I turned and saw him standing behind me. He wore a beige trench coat with white dress shirt and red tie loosely hanging from the open collar. His dark hair was graying and he looked at me with piercing blue eyes, though not like the angels’—he was human. A lit cigarette hung between his lips, and he leaned against one of the walls.

  “Who are you?” asked Wayne.

  “Alistair Carraway,” I said.

  Alistair nodded and took the cigarette from his lips. I was stunned to see him here. I hadn’t seen Alistair for years. Even when I’d lived in the temple, Alistair had only come by once in a rare while. He spent most of his time traveling the world on behalf of the Sons of Solomon.

  “You say that like it’s supposed to mean something,” said Wayne.

  “Easy, Coop,” I said. “Alistair was there the night I was born. You could say he’s the reason I became what I did.”

  “So, what, he’s like your dad or something?”

  “Or something,” said Alistair, never taking his eyes off me. He took another drag on the cigarette and smiled. “Why are you messing about in here, lad? There’s work to be done out there.”

  “You know what’s going on,” I said.

  Alistair nodded. “Of course I do. But figments like him?” He jerked his thumb to Wayne. “They aren’t helping.”

  “Figment? You’ve got some nerve—�
�

  “You’re nothing more than a manifestation of his subconscious, so do shut up until you’re spoken to,” said Alistair.

  “And you’re not?” I asked. “I’m stuck in my head; everything is a manifestation of my subconscious. It’s not the first time I’ve been shown visions of you when dreamwalking.”

  “Fine.” Alistair dropped the cigarette and reached under his coat. When he pulled his hand out, he held a revolver identical to mine. Before I could stop him, Alistair put a bullet right between Wayne’s eyes.

  “Coop!”

  Wayne’s body fell to the ground. The second it hit, it vanished, as if he’d never been there at all. Other than the smell of gunpowder, there was no evidence of Wayne’s existence. I drew my own gun and took aim, just as Alistair pointed his own at me.

  The old mage clicked his tongue. “Now, now, let’s not be too hasty, Luther.”

  “This isn’t real,” I said. “Purgatory’s trying to screw with me, showing me visions of you.”

  “No, that’s what he was doing,” said Alistair. “I’m here to help you find your way to waking up. Once you do that, you can complete your mission and get the hell out of Purgatory.”

  I hesitated, my finger resting on the trigger. Part of me said this was just a trick. Another part wanted to believe it was Alistair, coming to bail me out just like he’d done in the past.

  Alistair kept his steel-eyed gaze on me as he said, “Let’s take a breather, mate. I’ll put my gun down if you do the same.”

  He did as he said, lowering his arm. As soon as it fell to his side, he let the gun drop, clattering to the floor. I glanced down at his weapon and then back at him. I couldn’t be sure if he was telling the truth, but I also didn’t know what other choice I had. This could be a trap—it probably was. What other choice did I have?

  “Okay, old man.” I lowered my gun. “Tell me how I get back to Kansas."

  23