The time and spiritual pain to reshape a body around his twisted soul was well worth it. He had been back in the action for more than a month, and he had revived all of his old connections. His survival after the angelic encounter and the rumors that surrounded it caused the other demons to fear him more than they had before he disappeared—except Jeremiah.
In the last month, Metatron had learned that not only did his old comrade live, but he was working against him and had been doing so, secretively, for almost fifty years. Recently, after Metatron’s disappearance, Jeremiah had been making more overt steps to regain a foothold. It had hurt Metatron to learn that Jeremiah was plotting and scheming against him. They had been friends; they had fought together—for Heaven and against it. The worthless Patheus was doing nothing to stop Jeremiah, but he did seem to be doing something to fuel Jeremiah’s rush. And, for that, Metatron would have to have a serious talk with him.
Perhaps, it was time for Metatron to come out of hiding, anyway. For God, he had killed the firstborn children of the Egyptian heathens. Most of the plagues designed to thin humanity’s population were created by him and Michael. He personally delivered them to those populations that needed to be taught a lesson. He was the one to coax Mount Thera to erupt and wipe out a civilization that was growing far too fast for anyone’s good.
He was one of the two in Sodom when Lot and his family were delivered from the destruction of the city. There was never a chance for Sodom. Heaven does not send the Voice of God, one of several Angels of Death, to negotiate. Metatron had already redirected the course of several small asteroids before entering the city. Those who saw the burning death headed their direction in time ran. Most never saw it coming, though, and those who ran were hunted down and slaughtered.
There were fables made later as to why the city was destroyed, but the fact of the matter is that the entire city—with the exception of Lot and his family—was a stronghold of demons and evil prophets. The whole population was being directed by Lucifer and conspired to kill Lot’s family, then move on to kill Abraham’s, eliminating all of the potential prophets in the region.
Metatron and Michael had arrived in the city with the express purpose of protecting Lot and Abraham from the amassing horde. But God, being omniscient and all, knew that the demons would not relent. After it was clear that Lot would not succumb to bribes, taunts, or threats, an attack was launched. The timing could not have been more perfect. The demons burst into their battle forms moments before the first meteorite demolished a nearby building and sent a shockwave through the town.
In addition, Heaven approached this situation a little differently than it had with Eden. Where Jeremiah and his troupe of angels had semi-mortal—and therefore susceptible—bodies, Metatron and Michael were fully angelic. The demons and false prophets fell by the dozens under the swords of the two archangels. Burning rocks falling from the sky killed many more.
In the end, Lot and his family made it away safely. No one was turned into a pillar of salt, despite the trite story of a disobedient wife. Abraham and his family lived to produce a lineage of prophets—remarkable in itself, as prophets are, under any other circumstance, sterile.
But that was all in the past. Since the Fall, Metatron had been single-handedly responsible for more deaths than any human tyrant could have ever dreamed. He did this in the role of general, king, politician, and advisor. When he felt like he needed to take a hand in death directly, he would personally kill hundreds of people at a time. Nothing could sate his lust for blood, pain, and death. He had been an Angel of Death in Heaven, and he still thought that title fitting. At some point, God decided that He’d had enough and ordered that an angel put a stop to this rogue killing. This, along with other near-Hell experiences, had caused Metatron to reevaluate his position. His methods would have to be more subtle in the future.
Metatron had resolved to set things right, and the first way to do that was going to be eliminate Jeremiah the Ungrateful. Jeremiah didn’t realize that, on this planet, Metatron was a god. Metatron was sad that he had to make the choice, but the errant demon would have to learn who was truly in command.
***
The compound was absolutely huge. The mansion in the center was bigger, in fact, than Alex’s high school. It was lit up, too. Through perfect night, Alex could see it approaching from far away. They were stopped six times at checkpoints along the way. The biggest mansion Alex had ever seen stood just ahead. People were going in and out of it. There were sheds all around that Alex could only assume held supplies and equipment. There were other buildings that looked to be servants’ quarters. There were ATVs parked around a large structure that Alex took to be the security headquarters. Men came out with rifles strapped to their backs and confirmed his suspicion. Alex chuckled about it, but the scene in front of him made him wonder how much like this Waco or Jonestown would have looked.
“Welcome home,” Jeremiah said as he pulled up to an eight-car garage.
Five men in suits immediately approached the car. “Good to see you, sir,” the biggest one greeted.
Alex looked to Jeremiah, but it was Matt who answered. “It’s good to be back, Higgins. Anything happen while we were gone?”
“No,” he replied, sticking his huge head into the window, “but it looks like you’ve seen some action. Where are the others?”
Jeremiah opened the door and responded dryly, “They’re dead, Higgins.” Then, the demon’s tone brightened. “But they died for a good cause.”
Higgins pulled his head out of the window and scowled at Jeremiah as the demon was coming, slowly, out of the car. “We’re all pawns to you, aren’t we?”
Jeremiah sighed and turned to Higgins. He looked at the burly man for a second and then began to walk around the car. “They were pawns, Higgins. You’re more like...a knight.” As he got around to where Higgins was standing, he added, “Is that clear?”
Higgins averted his eyes and answered, “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Jeremiah said without missing a beat. “Here’s the problem. It is possible that we should be expecting company soon. I want you to double the watch for at least a week. No one is to enter or leave this compound without Matt or me hearing about it. You can trust that Marla will get us that message as soon as she receives it.” Jeremiah motioned to the back seat. “See him? That’s Alex, and under no condition is he to leave the compound. I don’t care if it looks like I am walking him out—stop me.”
“Why him?” Matt asked.
“Simple, Matt. He’s the linchpin. If he doesn’t live—or isn’t on our side—we don’t win. You know how many people I’ve heard channel the voice of God? Two.”
“Wait,” Elizabeth protested as she was getting out of the car behind Matt. “We don’t know that Alex was channeling anything. You jump to conclusions because he spouted ambiguous portents? What he told us was as worthless as horoscopes in predicting the future.”
Jeremiah smiled and turned to Alex, who was now getting out of the car. “What wonderful Hebrew you speak.”
“I don’t speak Hebrew,” Alex replied.
“Oh, but you were. You told me of things that only one other mortal ever knew of—and some things that even the angels in Heaven never knew. I don’t care what you know or don’t know, Elizabeth. Prophets don’t just pop up every day. They have to be inspired. Alex has the potential to rival any prophet in history.
“Who knows? The three of you may even be able to stop a demon. Wouldn’t that be a novel concept? In fact, you and Matt can weave your hate for me all throughout him, turn him against me, and the three of you could send me to Hell forever. But, whatever you do, give him the respect he deserves.”
Elizabeth and Matt were silent and staring at Higgins and the five men standing behind him. Jeremiah turned around. Higgins’s jaw had dropped. He looked as though he disbelieved, but there was something nagging.
Jeremiah laughed. “Right. I remember. We’re not supposed to talk to the help about super
natural things because they wouldn’t understand.”
Matt cocked his eyebrow. “It was you who told us that.”
Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the people gawking at him. “Look, I’m a demon. You probably think that I’m some weird cult leader with a thing for mouthy teenagers. And you’ll probably go right on thinking that. Just remember, one day, when you’re watching my property because I pay you exorbitant amounts of money, if you see something that looks unholy, your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. It needs to die.”
Higgins shook his head as if he was dazed. “Whatever, man,” he replied. “You pay us, and we’ll keep watching.”
“Of course you will,” Jeremiah agreed cheerfully as he started walking toward the house. “That’s why you guys are so good at what you do. And, Higgins...” Jeremiah added as he turned around and tapped his temple. “I don’t mind if you think I’m crazy or a liar, but thoughts of mutiny and heroism, no matter how fleeting, are dangerous.”
“My god,” Higgins gasped.
“I’m not,” Jeremiah responded, “but I may be the closest being you’ve ever seen.”
Higgins looked a little shaken.
“You are starting to comprehend. This won’t be easy for any of you, but remember you are on the good side. Keep doing what you do, and I have faith that everything will work out just fine.” Looking satisfied, he continued walking toward the mansion.
Alex couldn’t believe his eyes. The foyer was magnificent. The floor was marble, and three massive, crystal chandeliers poured light into every corner. There were twin staircases climbing opposing sides of the room to a balcony, maybe fifty feet above his head.
There were paintings all around the walls. The context of some was easily decipherable; others were very abstract and impressionistic. Any of them could have been pulled from someone’s nightmare. Most illustrated scenes that Alex could only guess related to historical events; there was death in all of those. Jeremiah’s walls looked like a war zone, and many of the portraits depicted exactly that. In the middle, right in front of Alex, between the two staircases, was a portrait at least ten feet high, one of Jeremiah. It seemed very old, and it didn’t surprise Alex to see Jeremiah covered in black chain armor, sitting in a throne, with a long sword propped against right knee, his hand resting on the pommel, and his left holding a golden ball with a cross attached (which Alex would later learn was named the globus cruciger). Long, black hair threatened to hide his face, but it served to frame his gray eyes and wicked smirk. To call the portrait eerie would have been an understatement.
Alex heard Jeremiah comment from behind him, “That was painted about eight hundred years ago,” he said. “The treatment it has required over the years, even with it being encased in glass, could make a poor man rich. It serves to remind me of where I’ve been.”
Matt chuckled and put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “If you get lost in this castle there are intercoms in almost every room.”
Elizabeth walked past them without saying a word. She headed up the stairs. Alex watched her as she walked. She had a presence that enthralled and chilled him at the same time. Matt followed behind her.
“Come,” Jeremiah commanded, pulling Alex out of his reverie, “I’ll show you to your room.” As they walked into a hallway beneath Jeremiah’s portrait, the demon continued, “We’ll put you on the ground floor for right now. That way it will be less confusing for you to find your way around initially.”
They probably passed twenty doors on either side of the hallway before stopping at one. Jeremiah put his hand on a control pad by the door. It scanned his hand, beeped twice and there was a click. Jeremiah pushed it open, and Alex stood and stared at the biggest bedroom he had ever seen, the lights coming to life on their own.
“The lights have motion sensors,” Jeremiah explained. “It’s nice to not have to stumble around in the middle of the night in a room like this looking for a switch.” He pointed to the bed, “This room came with a king size feather mattress. If you want to switch it out with something else just let someone in the help know. I don’t know if you would prefer a smaller bed or if you’re allergic to feathers, but I find these most comfortable when I feel like lying down.” He motioned over to one corner. “You have a bar over there. That door is the bathroom. And you’ll need to talk to Elizabeth about the rules for using the computers. There are usernames, passwords, and such that need to be discussed.”
Alex looked around in awe. “Are their bedrooms as nice?”
Jeremiah considered the room. “Better, I’d imagine. Matt and Elizabeth have been here for four and three years, respectively. They’ve had time to set everything up the way they want it.” He walked across the room to a door on the other side. “Most of the rooms in this building have more than one entrance. This one was made for times when haste is important. Most of the time, you’ll probably only use the other door. In fact, this one only opens from the inside, and every time it does open, security monitors it and has to make a report. In this case, it’s just easier to get where we’re going by taking shortcuts, and security can just make another report.”
Jeremiah opened the door and motioned for Alex to walk through. “Right across the hall,” the demon continued, “is the conference hall. Most of our household meetings take place there. This house is free of any kind of spying devices that we haven’t put there ourselves, but I just feel safer in there. We run scanning sweeps of it every day.” They took a left and walked down the hallway. “That’s the library ahead,” Jeremiah stated. “It’s going to be where you will be spending most of your near future. I’ve hired tutors for you, and I’ve even implemented a chemistry lab. We need to get you caught up on your education, so you can go to a university this semester.”
“Why am I going to college? I thought I needed to help you fight demons.”
“No,” Jeremiah corrected, suddenly looking very serious. “I don’t want you to fight demons. To do so would very likely result in your death. Leave that to me and Matt. We’re the most experienced. Your job will be different. For that you will need to go to college—more specifically a university.”
“But you still haven’t told me what I’ll be doing in school.”
Jeremiah shrugged. “Whatever people do in school. Read a book, get high, take tests, get oral sex from a busty blond, I don’t care. I’ve never had a formal education, so I’ll leave your activities in the hands of someone with more experience. Just try to win over some hearts and minds while you’re there.”
They rounded the corner, and Alex could smell something being cooked. “What is that?”
Jeremiah sniffed the air. “That would be boiled shrimp. The kitchen is perpetually making and serving food. People are on all different shifts around here, and someone is always eating. I have a rotating kitchen staff to suit the needs of everyone here.”
“How many people live here?” Alex asked in wonderment.
“There are 418 people in about a five square mile compound.”
“What do they do?”
Jeremiah laughed. “Anything I need them to do.” He pointed across the hallway. “That’s the dining hall. Like I said, at any given time there are people in it. You don’t have to eat there, of course. You may eat in your room or anywhere else you want. It makes no difference to me.”
“There you are,” a female voice sounded from down the hallway. Jeremiah flinched.
Alex turned and saw a very self-assured, beautiful, black woman, who looked to be about forty, walking down the hall toward them. She seemed to be on a mission.
“Is she a prophet, too?”
“No, she’s a bitch,” Jeremiah whispered. “Marla. I have battled countless demons and prophets, but she will prove to be my bane.”
“You just drive on in and not even tell me you’re here, huh?” she said as she got closer. “You give me so much hell—pun intended--”
“How clever,” the demon interrupted.
“--for not be
ing able to keep up with your sporadic, sometimes thoughtless, behavior,” she continued. “Then, you don’t even tell me when you get here.” Jeremiah made to interrupt her again, but she waved her hand dismissively. “You know what? I don’t want to hear it. Oh, Alex,” she stated, as if only then realizing that he was there, “so good to have you. Has he been treating you okay?”
Jeremiah was fuming. “How dare you bark orders at me, cut me off, and then go on like I’m not even standing here.”
Marla, who was still smiling at Alex, rolled her eyes. “Jeremiah, you need someone every now and then to tell you that you’re spewing shit. And, as far as I can tell, that seems to be my job description.”
“You insolent--”
Marla once again cut him off. “Sticks and stones, Jeremiah. You can’t kill me because you need to be good. You can’t fire me because no one knows how to coalesce your operations like I do. What’s a demon to do? Oh, I know! He tells everyone on the front lawn that he is a demon. That should work wonders.”
“I will do whatever I please on my property,” Jeremiah growled, “with my property.”
Marla smiled wryly at the comment, “We’re property, hmm? You’re sounding more human with every passing day.”
***
When Patheus returned to his den, satisfied that his plans were well on the way to fruition, one of his guards was standing outside of his door looking fidgety.
“What?” Patheus snarled.
“Uh,” the guard stammered, “there’s a man waiting inside your office. He said it was important.”
“And you just let him in, I suppose...”
Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) Page 11
