Queen of the Fallen (Second Death Book 2)

by Brian Rella

  As he approached the front door, he heard shouting coming from inside.

  “Goddammit, where’s my fucking beer, you ugly bitch!”

  “Fuck you, you crippled bastard. You’re horrible. Horrible! Get your own damn beer,” a woman screamed back.

  “Lovely,” Roy remarked snidely as he got to the top of the ramp. “Shall I knock? Oh, why bother?”

  Roy pushed open the door and stepped inside. The smells of beer and body odor nearly knocked him backward. He waved his hand in front of his face and scrunched his nose.

  Gazing around, the house was a shambles. There was filth everywhere. Bags of garbage lined the hallway, the paint was peeling off the walls, and the TV blared in the background with a drawling sportscaster all excited about the final laps of what sounded like a car race.

  “Goddammit, I said get me a beer!”

  A hunched-over woman lurched past the hall, not noticing Roy as he stood there, grinning. She was oddly shaped and deformed, looking as though she had something oblong growing out the top of her head. The hornlike protrusion had strands of hair attached to it that waved in the air when she staggered by. In her hand, an open beer can sloshed and spilled on the floor. Roy followed her quietly and leaned against the edge of the door frame that opened into the living room, taking in what could have passed as a scene from The Twilight Zone.

  “You want it, have it!” she screamed, and shook it all over him.

  “You fucking whore!” the man screamed back, and tried to ram her with his wheelchair.

  “Excuse me,” Roy said. “But is this the Hailey house?”

  The woman with the horn on her head turned to him, revealing her half-melted face. One of her eyes had been moved to the center of her forehead, he noted. It blinked at him.

  “Oh, aren’t you a beauty?” Roy sniggered.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the man in the wheelchair said.

  “Me?” Roy said.

  “Yeah, asshole. I said, who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”

  “Asshole? Moi?” Roy chuckled.

  “Get out of here,” the hideous woman said. “We don’t want any.” Roy noticed she also had a prosthetic leg.

  “Look, jack-off, I don’t know who you are, but get the fuck outta here!” the man spat.

  “So, you must be Steve, and you must be Karen. Well, aren’t you two the handsome couple?” Roy said. He couldn’t help himself. The twisted teasing just kept coming. I could do this all day.

  The man in the wheelchair reached suddenly under the blanket on his lap and Roy was looking down the barrel of a shotgun. A crooked smile curled up his lip and he met Steve’s eyes, unshaken by the buckshot a trigger pull away from filling his big belly full of lead.

  “You’ve got exactly two seconds to get outta here or I’m gonna—”

  From behind Steve, an oily, black shadow rose, blocking out the TV behind him, and dimming the light in the room. Torsos and mouths multiplied, filling the room with a squirming mass that floated silently above Steve and Karen. One of Legion’s members hissed and lunged at Steve. In a blur, Legion’s crimson lips closed over his hand that held the gun and jerked away. Blood spurted from where Steve’s hand used to be and it took him a few seconds to react. He saw the spewing blood first, and a confused look crossed his face. That changed when he glanced down where his hand used to be and hollered at the sight of the gory stump at the end of his arm.

  “Oh, shut the fuck up,” Roy giggled. “Legion?”

  The singular torso of Legion that had dined on Steve’s digits divided into three. Two of the demons launched at Steve and took hold of his forearms with their teeth, hoisting him into the air. He dangled there, looking like Jesus on the cross, his mostly crippled body unable to move while his blood pooled beneath him. His screams were cut off when the third member of Legion wrapped around his neck and kissed him with its full red lips. When the demon pulled back, most of Steve’s lower face and throat were gone. He sputtered and quivered in the air as he bled out hovering over his living room floor.

  Karen screamed and hobbled for the back door. “Grab her,” Roy said. Legion wrapped around her, holding her in place, shrieking like a banshee, that one eye in the center of her forehead blinking rapidly and wandering all over the room, searching for some way out of this nightmare.

  “Silence her, but do not kill her,” Roy said to Legion.

  The demon obeyed, twisting its silky black body around her mouth like a gag.

  “Look at him,” Roy said, pointing to Steve. “You want to end up like that?”

  The eye on her forehead followed his finger to Steve, who had begun his transformation and absorption into Legion. His hair fell out. His skin turned black. His eyes closed into his skull and his mouth turned crimson and fishlike, with rows of teeth lining back into his deep, dark hole of a mouth.

  She shook her head violently.

  “Good. Now I’m going to release you, and you’re not going to scream anymore. If you do, well, you know…”

  The demon released its hold on her mouth and she heaved in deep breaths. A moan began to build and Roy shook his finger at her.

  “Uh-uh. What did I say?”

  She turned to him and her breath caught. She stopped moaning and slumped in the demon’s grasp. “Just kill me,” she said. “Kill me quickly.” A tear streaked down from the eye on her head and Roy was momentarily transfixed by it.

  His fixation moved between her tear-streaked forehead and the horn on her head for a long moment, and finally he quaked with laughter. “God, you…you are one…ugly bitch.” The words sputtered through his guffawing, and his belly shaking. “That slut daughter of yours…she sure did a number on you!” His mouth opened so wide that it almost eclipsed his double chins.

  She started to moan again.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll be nice,” Roy said. “I just want to know one thing and then I’ll leave, okay?”

  Karen stopped moaning and glanced up at him. She nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “Now, where can I find Jessie and this fucking King of the Fallen, hmm?”

  Karen stared at him blankly. “I don’t know where Jessie is. She was in Chicago like I tol’ the po-lice. What’s the King of the Fallen?”

  “That just won’t do, Mrs. Hailey,” Roy said, his eyes narrowing. The demon that was once Steve swooped in front of her and hissed. She cowered and tried to pull away. The demon’s teeth snapped at her and she yelped like a puppy.

  “I…I don’t know,” she stammered. “A man came looking for her when we were in the hospital. Maybe he knows.”

  “A man, you say? Hmm. Does the man have a name?”

  “I don’t know,” she quivered.

  “You don’t know anything, do you? Oh well. You’ll make an interesting addition to Legion. That eye and that face…you are like a living Picasso! But, seriously, you’re not helping yourself, Mrs. Hailey. I suppose you’ve served your purpose, then.”

  “Wait! Marie. Marie might know.”

  “Marie? Good. Now, who and where is Marie?”

  “She has an apartment in town. I’ll give you the address. She’s my…my step-daughter.”

  “Well I hope she got your husband’s looks,” he bellowed, and shook, positively giddy at his improv stand-up routine. “Very good, Mrs. Hailey. Whisper the address to my companion, will you?”

  Legion launched at her, stopping millimeters away from her mouth. She whispered the address to his slick, black, faceless shape, and then Legion devoured her a chunk at a time.

  Now, let’s go see Marie.

  20

  TITUS

  October 27, 2015

  Fort Tuthill, Arizona

  Two testing chambers lined the west wall of the underground facility. The group stopped in front of Test Room A, and Fallston opened the heavy steel door with his keycard. The General, his two officers, and Titus filed inside.

  “Nora, would you mind starting the camera in Test Room A, please? And als
o move the video conference from the General’s office to the testing room,” Fallston said, speaking into the intercom on the wall.

  “Yes, Doctor,” she replied.

  Inside the testing chamber was a small observation room with a conference table and a large flat-panel television. On the table were pairs of dark goggles, one pair for each person. The flat-panel screen came to life, and filled with large faces of the generals from Rand’s office.

  The conference table and flat-panel faced another, larger room, closed off with thick steel walls on three sides and titanium-laced glass that allowed people in the observation room to look into the larger room, Fallston explained. The overhead lighting allowed for a semi-reflection off the glass, and Titus caught a glimpse of his reflection in the wide window. He looked like a hobo from the seventies, and like he’d been sleeping in a sandbox—which, technically, he had been. Even in the less than perfect reflected image the glass produced, it was easy to tell he hadn’t had a haircut in forever, maybe longer. His hair made his head look like an enormous, misshapen, black light bulb. His face was ruddy and weathered, caked with sand-mud in spots, giving his complexion an uneven look. His clothes were slipshod and tattered; his undershirt had once been white, but was now more the color of his skin.

  He looked like an animal, and realized he smelled like one too. An image of Pig-Pen from the Snoopy cartoons filled his mind, and he imagined the stink waves floating in the air around him. Even the fleas wanted nothing to do with him he was certain. He darted his eyes away from his image, uneasy and self-conscious for the first time in a long time. How long have I been out there? Too long, man, too long…

  “Impenetrable,” Fallston said, tapping the glass. “Please, General, you and your men sit here,” he said, motioning to the table. “I will ready the device and then Titus can go get us a specimen.”

  Fallston went to the back wall and slid a metal panel up, revealing a control center. He pushed a few buttons on a keyboard and a soft hum came from the inner chamber. The men all glanced at the noise and watched the shiny silver cannon rise from the floor within the chamber. Fallston clattered at the keyboard and Titus heard the low whine of some kind of hidden equipment spinning up.

  “First a test shot to ensure the device is working properly, before we have a specimen,” the doctor said. “Please put your goggles on, gentlemen.”

  They all obliged. The background whine grew louder and reached its peak. “Ready?” Dr. Fallston asked the room.

  The General nodded. “Proceed, Doctor.”

  The doctor grinned and typed the last few key strokes into the terminal. Red crosshairs appeared on the wall. A burst of blue light shot from the cannon, making the air crackle. The beam struck the center of the crosshairs, and a small swirl of smoke flowed from a black mark on the wall.

  “Excellent,” Fallston said, almost giddily. “Mr. Titus, would you mind getting us a specimen now, please?”

  “Nothing happened,” Titus said.

  “The wall and the glass in the observation chamber are neutral. They have neither light nor dark energy, so the beam had no effect. I assure you, had a demonic entity been in the chamber, the results would have been quite different.”

  “And what if I were the target? How does the beam affect Watchers, or humans for that matter?” Titus asked.

  “In our tests it has no effect on either, but of course those are just lab tests as you pointed out earlier, and we will need to conduct further tests to confirm our initial findings,” the doctor said flatly.

  Titus grunted in reply. “You’re not testing that damn thing on me,” he said.

  “I have no intention to, Mr. Titus,” the doctor said defensively.

  “Titus,” Rand said. “I understand your concerns. I think what the doctor is saying is that we have a prototype and this is our first live test. We have human volunteers”—he motioned to the stoic men behind him—“and we will look for volunteers from the Watcher community as well. But we have no intention of zapping you or anyone else without consent.”

  Titus nodded, still suspicious and not trying to hide that fact. He didn’t trust these people. They had treated him well and had been straight up with him over the years, but still, something wasn’t on the level here. He kept it to himself for now.

  “I’ll go get your imp,” he said.

  The doctor tapped on the keys and the door to the chamber opened. Titus stepped inside and went to the back wall. He sat cross-legged on the floor, closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing.

  “Sev’nal ves’spe-an mesh al’faz!” he said, and opened his eyes. The walls and floor began to fall away around him, and were replaced with the barren, scorched land of the Second Death.

  Crooked, blackened, leafless trees stabbed at the air, reaching for the dark sky above. Fires burned in the distance. Titus stood as the wind howled, blowing the tails of his leather coat behind him. He squinted into the setting orange sun, a permanent fixture in the sky, and began his search for an imp.

  He leaned into the wind, following his intuition. A short distance down a rocky path, he came across a small group of imps feasting on some kind of winged beast, half bird, half lizard. It was still alive and squawking as the imps tore at it and ate its flesh.

  Titus extended his arms at the imp closest to him and growled, “Fe’nath burath’ u!” Bands of blue light wrapped around the imp, and it fell to the floor screeching and hissing. The other imps scattered and Titus ran over to his prisoner. He knelt at its side, placing his hands on it. Satisfied it was secure, he spoke the spell to return to the land of the living.

  “Ses’nan ves’spe-an mesh al’vool!”

  A portal opened in front of him, leading to the land of the living. He picked up the struggling imp and stepped through. The gateway to the Realm of the Second Death closed behind them and he threw the imp into the corner of the room.

  He tapped on the glass for the doctor to let him out of the chamber, and the door opened. He stepped through and slammed the door closed.

  “Never seen anything like it,” one of the Generals on the screen said. Titus glanced at him.

  “Doctor?” the General asked.

  Fallston was mesmerized by the imp. He was staring at it and Titus swore he saw drool forming at his lip.

  “Kill the damn thing, Doctor,” General Rand ordered.

  Doctor Fallston snapped out of his trance and tapped on the keyboard. The equipment whined in the background. The imp steadied itself on the ground and screeched at them. It spit a lava-like ooze at the glass behind which Titus was standing. The glass began to smoke and melt. Titus frowned and glared at the doctor.

  “Now, Fallston. Now!” Titus said.

  The doctor’s lips drew a straight line as he pressed the final commands on the keyboard. The crosshairs appeared on the imp’s chest. Another keystroke and the cannon fired, striking the imp directly in the chest.

  The screeching was deafening, and everyone in the room other than Titus covered their ears. They watched as the imp’s skin ignited in blue flame and jagged pieces of charred, blue-black flesh flaked off its body and into the air. After a few seconds, the screeching stopped, the imp seemed to tremble and bulge, and finally it exploded into blue fire that flashed the chamber for an instant. When it was all over, there was no trace of the imp.

  “Excellent,” Fallston said. His fingers were steepled under his chin.

  “Very good, Doctor,” General Rand said, smiling. “We have our first successful live test.”

  As Titus stared at the chamber, he wondered for the second time: What would that thing do to me?

  Titus was finally alone with Rand in his office.

  “Have a seat, Titus,” the General said, stepping behind him to close the door to his office, giving them privacy. The General was one of the few people Titus had some measure of trust for. It had been the General that had recruited Titus when he left the Order and was looking for another way to stay in the fight against the Fallen. T
hat was twenty years ago, and the General had been straight up with Titus since they met, and had earned his respect.

  The DED device was a concern. The test had been successful, but testing it on an imp was like seeing if crushing an ant with your shoe would kill it. The Fallen he had battled were much more powerful than an imp, and one small test didn’t make the case for Titus. He explained his feelings to the General as Rand opened his desk drawer and pulled out two Cuban cigars, offering one to Titus. The General brought a lighter out and lit them both up. Titus leaned back in his chair, watching the pungent smoke drift to the ceiling, enjoying the sweet tangy tobacco while listening to the General’s response.

  “I understand what you’re saying. Hell, I ain’t so sure this thing is for real either. And that doctor—well, he just gives me the heebie-jeebies. More of a mad scientist than a doctor. But you can’t argue that the test on the imp wasn’t successful. It looks promising.”

  “Promising, yes, but not foolproof. We need much more testing before we use that thing in the field. You have no idea what it will do to humans—or Watchers like me.”

  “I agree, but the only way we will find out is by more testing, and that means taking it into the field. Unless you have a better idea?”

  He did. Titus had thought about this and decided before he came into the room to discuss it with Rand. When he had lost Domino, he had lost more than just his wife. He’d lost his confidence as a Watcher, and as a hunter and killer. He’d left the Order, playing it safe, consulting for the government, occasionally bringing them specimens from the Second Death, giving them blood samples, but remaining mostly on the sidelines in the war against the Fallen.

  It was time he got back in the game. It was time he stopped being afraid and started fighting again. The DED weapon was promising and gave him something else he had lost a long time ago. Hope.