Warrior Angel

by Margaret

  Derek was still pacing when his phone rang. He stared at it. He’d been thinking so much about Zanus, he had the strange feeling this had something to do with the archfiend. Derek glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past midnight.

  He picked up the phone. “Yeah,” he answered warily.

  “Derek, it’s William.”

  “What is it?” Derek asked, alarmed. William never called him.

  “I was going to ask you the same question?” William sounded upset. “What did you do tonight?”

  Derek shrugged. “Me? Nothing.”

  “Derek,” William returned, “you can’t lie to me. I’m like Santa Claus. I know if you’ve been bad or good—”

  “I may have had a little altercation with Zanus,” said Derek.

  “May have?” William repeated.

  “All right. I twisted his arm,” Derek admitted. “He knows I am a heavenly warrior. He called me ‘Commander.’ But I didn’t have a choice. He was trying to force Rachel to let him come up to her apartment. She asked me to stop him and I had to do what she asked. It’s my job—”

  “It’s not your job to twist the arm of an archfiend!” William groaned. “I might have known you’d do something bone-headed like this. I’ve received information from Archangel Michael that the Dark Angels are meeting tonight, and I think you and Rachel are the reason. Zanus is afraid you’re going to try to influence her.”

  “He’s right,” said Derek grimly. “Where is this meeting?” he asked in casual tones.

  “Some bar called Apokalypse. Nice name, huh? Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. I just want you to remain alert and from now on—”

  “I’ll do that.” Derek started to hang up the phone.

  “Don’t you hang up on me!” William was practically shouting into the receiver. “I know what you’re thinking and don’t even consider it. You keep out of this, do you hear me? Derek, I’m ordering you to stay out of this—”

  “William, this isn’t something I’d ordinarily say to an angel, but—go to hell!”

  “Derek!” William cried urgently. “Listen to me. I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how you’ll react, but I’m beginning to suspect that something’s not right in Heaven and that you could be walk—”

  Derek slammed down the phone. He felt good, better than he had in a long time. At last he could take action and help Rachel make her decision.

  Derek quickly dialed her apartment. The phone rang several times. She wouldn’t recognize his number and she’d be afraid to answer. He hung up, dialed again.

  “Pick it up!” he urged her mentally.

  “Hello?” Rachel answered in trepidation. “Who is this?”

  “Rachel, it’s Derek.”

  “He’s not here, is he?” Rachel said, frightened. “Zanus? He didn’t come back?”

  “No, but this is about him.” Derek wondered how he was going to explain. He decided a little lying was in order. What she had said the other night in the coffee shop gave him an idea. “Listen, Rachel, I have not been exactly honest with you. The truth is I belong to an organization that sent me here to keep an eye on Zanus…”

  He waited for her reaction. There was silence, then she said quietly, “I knew it…”

  “Zanus is a really bad man, Rachel, and I can prove it to you. I need you to put on some jeans or something inconspicuous and some sensible shoes”—he emphasized this—“and meet me downstairs by the back door so the night man doesn’t get curious. I have something to show you tonight, something that might help you…figure out some things.”

  There was another moment of silence, then she said, “Give me five minutes.”

  “Oh, and do what you can to disguise yourself,” Derek added. “He must not recognize us.”

  Derek grabbed the only street clothes he owned—jeans, a white tank top, leather jacket, and boots. He looked up the address for the Apokalypse in the phone book, consulted a map, located the street, and then waited for Rachel by the back door, where the deliveries were made.

  She came out of the service elevator and Derek went to meet her. She was dressed in blue jeans, a sweater, a hoody and tennis shoes, and she had suddenly acquired long red hair and smoky-lensed glasses.

  “Halloween,” she said in reply to Derek’s startled glance. She looked at him and her gaze was serious. “I think you should tell me what’s going on.”

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I cannot. I have already broken the rules as it is by letting you in on this much.” He shrugged. “They are probably going to take me off this assignment anyway. The truth is…” He drew in a deep breath, gazed down at her. “I’ve become emotionally involved.”

  They were standing beneath the bright security light in the back of the building. He smiled to see a blush spread over her cheeks.

  She reached out and took hold of his hand. “I hope they don’t take you off this assignment.”

  “You have to trust me, Rachel. Can you do that?”

  She regarded him steadfastly, gazed at him intently. “Things like this only happen on television.”

  “I wish they did,” said Derek earnestly. “I truly wish they did. We should go now. We do not have much time to lose.”

  “I do trust you,” she said and her grip on his hand tightened.

  “And I accept your trust as a sacred responsibility. I will not let anything happen to you. I swear on my honor as a…”

  “As a what?” she asked, as they were walking through the parking lot.

  “As your doorman,” he said, smiling at her. “Here is the address. I don’t know the city that well. Do you know how to get there?”

  Rachel looked at the note. “Yes, I know the street. It’s not far. You know,” she added, as they headed down the sidewalk. “I guessed you were ex-military. You are, aren’t you?”

  Derek was startled. “You did? How?”

  Rachel shrugged. “The way you carry yourself. Strong and proud and unafraid.” She bit her lip and blinked back sudden tears. “I’ve been a fool, haven’t I?”

  “It was not your fault,” said Derek. “You could not know.”

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me the truth about Zanus?”

  “I cannot,” said Derek grimly. “But he can.”

  At Rachel’s direction, they headed for the nearest el train station, there wasn’t time to wait for a cab. The train was almost deserted. They sat in silence, Derek thinking how much trouble he was going to be in. He wondered what Rachel was thinking. She appeared dazed, as though she couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “This is our stop,” she said, shepherding Derek off the train.

  They located the street, which wasn’t a street so much as an alley. There was no sign of a bar. No neon lights, no door, no windows. Nothing showing any sign of life anywhere. Just a bunch of closed and boarded-up shops. Yet, this had to be the place. And, of course, the bar would be hard to find, out of the way. You couldn’t expect the Dark Ones to be holding a secret meeting in the Ritz Carlton.

  Rachel was starting to look dubious. She glanced at Derek and frowned. “Are you sure this is the right address?”

  “I’m sure,” he said.

  Derek waited. If he stood here long enough, he would see or hear something.

  “Derek, this isn’t the best neighborhood—” Rachel began.

  “Shhhh, just wait another couple of moments.”

  “Wait for what?”

  His patience was rewarded.

  A door slammed.

  “For that,” he said.

  The sound had come from an alleyway behind them. He heard two voices, those of a man and a woman. Derek walked toward the opening of an alley, keeping Rachel behind him, both of them staying in the shadows. The man and woman were headed in their direction, walking toward the street.

  The woman had bright purple hair and wore a black leather jacket adorned with chains. The man had jet black hair, done in spikes, and also wore a leather jacket and boots. The two w
ere in their own world, discussing a new band and speculating on the odds of finding a taxi at this time of night. They didn’t notice Derek or Rachel. He waited for them to pass, then continued on down the alley.

  He spotted the door and a sign above it: Club Apokalypse. The sign had apparently once been lit by a floodlight, but the lightbulb had burned out and had not been replaced, so that was the reason they hadn’t seen it earlier.

  They came to the door, but there was no way to open it.

  “What kind of bar is this?” Derek asked, frustrated.

  “It’s a private club,” said Rachel. “Members only. They probably won’t let us inside unless we know someone.”

  “Well, we do know someone,” said Derek. “Wait a moment. I don’t want him to recognize us.”

  He scruffed his hair, dragging it over his face, and turned up his jacket collar. Rachel messed up her red hair and shook it in her face. Reaching into her purse, she brought out a tube of lipstick and smeared it over her lips. She drew the hood of her jacket over her head and slouched down, hunching her shoulders.

  “Okay, follow my lead,” Derek said.

  He knocked on the door.

  A man opened it. The man’s face was covered with tattoos. There were tattoos under his eyes, above his eyebrows, and down his neck. As an odd contrast, the tattooed man was dressed in a tux. He eyed Derek and grunted.

  “Yeah?”

  Derek raised his eyebrows, as though startled by the question. “Can we come in?”

  “Members only,” said the man. “How’d you hear about this place?”

  “Zanus told me,” said Derek. He could see lights and hear the sounds of laughter in the background. “He’s having a meeting here tonight. He told me to meet him here.”

  “Zanus.” The man grunted. “Never heard of him.”

  “Well, if you do hear of him, you can tell him I came like he ordered. And you can also tell him that you were the one who wouldn’t let me inside.”

  Derek thrust his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and motioned to Rachel for them to leave. They started to walk off.

  “Hey, wait. Don’t get your shorts in a knot,” the guard grumbled. “You are a little on the grubby side to be one of us, but I guess Mr. Zanus knows what he’s doing. They’re in the back. You’re late.”

  He stepped aside to let Derek pass. The doorman stopped Rachel.

  “Who’s she? No one said anything about a woman.”

  “She’s the reason I’m late. She’s with me.” Derek winked at the doorman.

  The doorman looked her up and down. Rachel stared right back. “Like what you see?” she demanded.

  “Not particularly,” said the tattooed man, and he let her pass.

  They walked into the bar and both of them came to a stop and stared. Judging by its back-alley location, Derek had expected a dive, a low-life hangout. What he found was an upscale jazz club. The place was lit with soft blue and purple light. The waitresses, dressed in elegantly revealing satin dresses, moved quietly among the patrons seated in comfortable chairs. A trio of sax, bass, and piano occupied a raised dais, playing music that made the soul ache. Smoke hung in the air. Quiet laughter blended with the music.

  A waitress met Derek, offered to show him and Rachel to a table. “I’m meeting someone,” he told her.

  “Mr. Zanus?” The waitress smiled. “He’s over there.”

  She indicated the back of the room, gave Derek another smile and an arch glance. “If you’re interested, I get off work at four a.m.” she said, adding to Rachel. “You got lipstick on your teeth, honey.”

  Rachel took out a tissue and rubbed her teeth.

  “Now what?” She looked suddenly afraid. “You’re not going to confront Zanus here, are you? He mustn’t catch me here.”

  “He won’t know you’re here. We’re going to do a little eavesdropping, that’s all. Keep close to me.”

  Zanus and several other men were seated in high-backed black leather chairs around a table. Each man had a brandy glass in front of him and all were smoking cigars. Zanus was speaking; the others were listening intently.

  Blessing the smoke and the dim lighting, Derek led Rachel among the tables, heading for the back of the room. They kept their faces lowered. People stared at them as they passed. They did look out of place. Everyone else was wearing evening clothes, with the exception of two guys packing up instruments on the stage. The couple they’d seen must have been band members.

  Derek chose a booth near the table where Zanus was sitting. This suited his purpose perfectly. The booth was positioned so that their backs were to Zanus. The man’s deep voice carried well. Derek and Rachel could hear every word and remain hidden from view. The waitress came by and they ordered drinks, just to keep up appearances. When she brought them, neither of them touched them.

  Derek settled back to listen, then he noticed that Rachel had gone extremely pale. He reached out and took hold of her hand. She squeezed his tightly.

  “…and, Sebastian,” Zanus was saying, “I want you to report back to my office to keep watch as soon as we’re finished here. Now, to business. The female is completely under my control.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I’m sure,” said Zanus and he smiled and blew a smoke ring.

  Rachel’s face had been pale, but now it was flushed with anger. “That bastard…”

  “Shhh!” Derek warned.

  “She will execute the trades tomorrow. The Eurodollar’s price will skyrocket on false data supported by the female’s trades and then when our partners in Europe make their move, the bottom will drop out. There will be worldwide chaos.”

  “What about the female?” someone asked. “She can’t be permitted to talk.”

  “She will be so distraught over what she has done that she will kill herself.” Zanus spoke matter-of-factly, without emotion.

  “Are you sure?” the man sounded dubious. “You can’t trust these humans.”

  “I am sure,” Zanus replied, adding coldly, “we will make sure.”

  Rachel gave a little gasp and covered her mouth with her hand. She rose quickly to her feet. “Let’s go!” she said shakily.

  Derek stood up. They’d heard enough.

  They wended their way among the tables, Rachel taking the lead and Derek following, keeping one eye on Zanus. None of his group had noticed them. They were almost at the door when the waitress cried, “Hey, stop those two! They didn’t pay their bar tab!”

  “Run!” Derek told Rachel, giving her a shove.

  She looked back at him, her face strained.

  “Get out of here!” he ordered. “He can’t see you!”

  Rachel hesitated a moment, then did as he ordered. She ran. The tattooed bouncer made a move to stop her. As he put his hands on her, Rachel kneed him in the groin. He doubled over with a groan, grabbing at himself.

  Rachel darted out the door.

  A blow on the back of Derek’s right knee knocked his leg out from under him. He stumbled and fell flat on the floor.

  “He’s drunk!” said a woman in disgust.

  Derek twisted around to see the man who had kicked him, one of Zanus’s associates. He looked down at Derek and smiled.

  “I think we should take a walk to help you sober up, Commander. These gentlemen will be happy to assist you.”

  Four men stood over him, staring down at him as he tried to pick himself up off the floor. He cursed himself for a fool. Now he realized what William had been trying to tell him if Derek had taken the time to listen.

  You could be walking into a trap!

  Zanus caught Derek’s eye and raised his cigar to him.

  “What about the redhead, boss?” the man asked over his shoulder. “Do we go after her?”

  “What do you think, stupid?” Zanus asked, putting his cigar to his lips.

  One guy ran out of the bar in pursuit of Rachel. She had a good head start and Derek could only hope she got away safely. There was not
hing he could do for her now, except put in a prayer to those Higher Up. He wouldn’t pray for himself; he’d tried that before and God had spurned him. But Heaven might be more disposed to look out for Rachel.

  Two of the four guys seized hold of Derek, grabbing him by the arms. They jerked him off his feet and hustled him out the door, held open by the guy with the tattoos, who was standing all hunched over. He glared at Derek. “Tell your girlfriend she’ll pay for this.”

  Derek just grunted.

  “Work him over, boys, enough to take the fight out of him, then haul him off to headquarters. Mr. Zanus wants to finish the discussion in person,” the tattooed guy ordered and slammed shut the door.

  Derek struggled to free himself, but the four men were big and strong and knew their business. They carried Derek out into the alley, and pitched him up against the wall.

  He landed hard and fell to the street. One of them came at him, ready to kick him. Derek rolled away, flipped over onto his stomach, and jumped to his feet. He put his back to the wall and considered his options.

  There weren’t many.

  The alley was a cul-de-sac, only one way out, and Zanus’s minions were between him and the exit. He had no weapon, only his fists. At least, he thought, they’re not armed. But they were eight fists to his two. He needed something to even the odds. His gaze fell on a beer bottle that had rolled up against the wall.

  He wondered why the thugs hadn’t rushed him yet. Looking back at them, he saw the reason and his heart sank.

  He’d been wrong. They did have weapons. They had the weapons of the damned.

  The thugs were no longer thugs. They were demons who had crawled up from depths of the pit. It was as if he could see them burning in the flames. Their flesh blackened and withered on their bones. Dark wings sprouted from their backs. Their teeth sharpened to fangs, their fingernails lengthened to claws.

  He recognized them—demon minions who served the archfiends. For centuries, he’d fought their kind in Purgatory. But then he’d had his flaming sword and the power of Heaven in his arms and hands. Here he had nothing but a beer bottle. And, somehow, he didn’t think God was going to bless that beer bottle.