by Tim Marquitz
I wanted to be mad, to be disgusted by Baalth’s manipulations and efforts to reclaim the power he’d lost, but I couldn’t find it in me to be surprised. His nature was exactly why God had taken his power rather than ask for his help. He’d always been that way. Baalth was the epitome of a demon lieutenant, the perfect complement to my father’s rule in Hell. He was exactly what he was, and it was what he would always be.
Without saying a word, I took a step forward and held the dagger out to him, pommel first. That caught him off guard. He stared at it, and then at me, his sunken eyes shifting back and forth between the two as I pushed it further in his direction.
“It’s yours,” I said. “You earned it.” He didn’t move, so I wiggled the blade again. “On the planet for a week, your power gone, you still managed to blackmail an ancient alien into following your lead, mobilize an army, and trick both Longinus and Christ into the crosshairs of your scheme, all without anyone realizing it until it was too late.” I held the blade out still. “This is your Oscar.”
Baalth held his ground, searching my eyes. He wouldn’t find anything there but cold emptiness. After a long moment of silence, he finally took a hesitant step forward and reached the dagger. I spun the weapon around as he came close, cinching a hand on the back of Baalth’s neck and driving the blade into his chest. He grunted, eyes dimming, and went silent.
“No one fucks with my family.”
With so little of his essence remaining to him, the dagger killed him instantly, so I let his withered carcass drop to the floor. While I could forgive just about anything else Baalth might have done—the list of his affronts damn near endless—there was no way I could allow him to put Karra and our child at risk. I slipped the weapon back into my belt and went to the door he’d come out of. My hand shook as I pulled it open.
There, in what was little more than a broom closet, was Karra. She stood inside a containment case, her hazel eyes peering at me through the litter of wards that empowered the glass prison. I swallowed against the sudden realization that she was awake inside the thing. Pinned in tight, unable to do anything but stand in place, she’d been there for over a week. That was more than I could bear.
I rushed over and punched my fingers through the facing at the bottom, ripping it away to keep the shards from striking her. There was a flutter of energy as the case resisted, but it wasn’t meant to keep people out, only in. Karra sagged as the dampening magic died, the stasis releasing her from its pressure. She stumbled from the case and into my arms.
“I’m so sorry,” I told her, the words muffled as I buried my face in her shoulder, her arms squeezing me with all her might.
Her skin felt cold, and she trembled in my embrace. I held her as tight as I dared, reveling in the closeness of her, in the joy of finding her alive. The tiny thump of my child’s heartbeat danced against my senses, and I clasped them even tighter, reveling in the sound. I needed this, needed them in my arms.
Despite it all, a looming bleakness gnawed at me. Guilt whispered its sublime misery into my ears. This moment was fleeting, and far sooner than I could wish, it would end. The tears that fell from my eyes would not be the only ones I shed today, nor would they be the last that slipped free.
Karra stiffened after a moment, and I felt the inevitable wave of dread approach. She pulled away slowly, peeling her body from mine. Silver marred her beautiful cheeks, and I wondered if I’d ever see her face without the pain I saw reflected on it then.
“Frank?” For a long, drawn out moment, that was all she said as her senses rippled across my skin.
My arms slumped to my sides as soon as we were apart. It was hard to catch my breath, my chest constricted. There was no hiding what I’d done. “I’m sorry,” I told her again, knowing the words could never repair the piece of her heart I’d ripped from her life. She’d gone through hell, suffered and risked everything to bring Longinus back to life, and I’d taken him away from her.
“My father?” She stared at me, her face fluctuating between hatred and sorrow, disgust and pity. It settled somewhere in between, and I felt the sudden gush of warmth streaming down my cheeks at seeing it.
“I…I had no choice.” It sounded so pathetic.
Her hands went to her stomach, fingers unconsciously massaging her belly through her shirt. I longed to do the same. She swallowed and drew a stuttered breath. “I…I—”
“I know,” I told her, barely able to speak myself.
I understood, from the instant I’d decided to kill Longinus, what that choice would mean for her…for us, but there’d been no way around it. Longinus was willing to die to rescue her, was happy to do so if it meant Karra lived on. He’d done just that, but for her, it was the end of everything she’d worked so hard to accomplish. His essence now a part of mine, there would be no chance of resurrection, no return to life even with her necromantic skills.
Worse still, there was no way for her to heal from what I’d done. I would forever be salt in the wound of her loss, a constant reminder that I’d killed the man she’d loved most in the world. I, her lover, the father of her child, had killed her dad. There was no escaping that sad and brutal truth.
“I know,” I repeated at a loss for words, slipping Longinus’ sword belt loose and handing it over to her. She took it instinctively, without even looking, her knuckles white about the sheath. “Just let me get you both home, and then you can do what you must.”
Karra sobbed and gave the shallowest of nods, and I turned away, unable to watch the grief that flooded her features. I’d come all this way to save her…to save them…and I’d accomplished that. If there was nothing else for me in the ashes of my deeds, that would have to be enough.
Twenty-Four
With Karra stumbling along behind me, I returned to Rala’s to collect her and Jesus. Vol was even more reluctant to let her go than he had been to watch over Jesus, but I finally convinced him by bringing him along and offering him a deal of his own. Our little ragtag group of walking and emotionally wounded gathered together, I led them to Ulverton Square.
Calar appeared a moment after we’d arrived. He reached out for the son, and I smacked his hands away.
“I’ll carry him…until I’ve seen God.” I let a waft of my power loose, aiming it his direction so it didn’t ping Karra.
The angel snarled at me, but he took the warning seriously. We were through the portal and into the hall of the Almighty after just a few short minutes. God was there waiting. Once more he’d taken on the form of the old, wise man.
“Bring my Son here,” He said the instant we stepped through the cloud wall.
I shook my head. “I’ll have your word first.” It was a dangerous game I was playing, but I’d had it on good authority there was room to maneuver. If nothing else, Daddy taught me that.
The Almighty stared a moment, no expression on His face, relenting a few moments later. “Tell me your terms.”
My breath eased through my lips in a relieved sigh. I’d expected more resistance. Perhaps he knew what I wanted already and decided it was a fair trade. “I ask only that you heal this child,” I motioned to Rala, “and send all of us, Rala, Vol, Karra and the child she carries, and me back to Earth, unharmed and whole, without delay or equivocation.”
“What of the deal that was made for my assistance in finding young Karra?” A flicker of a smile graced his lips.
“That deal wasn’t made with me, and you won’t leash me to it.” I wanted to feel confident, wanted to feel as though the defiance I was showing meant something, but I knew better. We weren’t really bargaining…I was asking permission, and there was no mistaking it for anything but what it was. “However, I’ve ended the rebellion that soiled your son’s Eidolon efforts, so perhaps that might buy us some leeway.”
Without waiting, I walked over and lay Jesus on the table before God. It was time to earn some good will if there was any to be had. He glanced down at His son, but His expression was unreadable. I laid the golden da
gger on Christ’s chest a few seconds after, the combined energies of Jesus, Longinus, and Baalth burning inside. God looked up at me.
“So, do we have a deal?” I knew I was pushing it by being so blunt, but it wasn’t like I had anything to lose.
God grinned, and then nodded. “So be it, Frank, but know this: There will come a time when this war finds its way to Earth, and I expect your cooperation when that time comes.”
Again, I wasn’t being offered a choice. He was issuing a declaration of intent. I simply nodded, grateful for what I’d been given. I could expect nothing more.
“Farewell, Frank,” were the last words He spoke.
We were gone without so much as a wave.
Epilogue
God had been true to His word. Karra and the baby and I were returned to Earth, along with Vol and Rala, none of us the worse for wear; at least not physically.
I set the aliens up with digs in Hell and promised I’d do what I could to make their lives better than the ones they’d left behind. It was a tall order, but with the keys to the castle, I figured I could make it work.
As for Karra, she still couldn’t bring herself to speak to me. She’d gone off on her own, and I’d let her. As much as I wanted to scream, to rant and rave and fight and bawl, she walked away without either of us saying so much as a single word. I stood stoic as the door closed between us. There was no defense for what I’d done, no explanation that would ever make it better. I’d killed her father and stolen everything that was him.
It had been weeks since Karra left, and I’d heard nothing from her, not that I’d expected to. I hadn’t even dared go topside, fearful of what might happen, of how DRAC and the Department of Supernatural Investigation might react to the new me. There’d been enough misery of late, and I didn’t want to share it as much as it begged for company. Alone was best, I’d decided.
I had no doubt the bridges were still burning, and I wanted no part of the repairs until I was certain they’d cooled some; if they ever did. Things were different now, and there was no hope of them ever returning to how they used to be. There was only forward from here. Perhaps that was how Lucifer felt when God cast him out of Heaven. Make the most of what you’re given because it can all be taken away at any moment.
It was a bitter lesson to learn.
I strolled through the corridors of my father’s gift to me, as I had a thousand times since I’d returned to Hell, and let my thoughts circle like a murder of crows inside my head. They would peck me to death one day, of that I was certain, but if that was my destiny, so be it. I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I walked on, just to have something to do besides sulk, when a muffled warbling drew my attention. The sound was distorted by the emptiness of Lucifer’s chambers, the curving corridors and sprawling depths, so I chased after it, the strangeness of it comforting for some odd reason. By the time I reached the room from which the sound originated, the slightest flicker of a smile had fallen warm upon my lips.
The vicious bark of Dark Angel’s “The Promise of Agony” met me at the door. I stepped inside at the chorus and joined in.
Chatterbox crooned a welcome, and if only for a moment, I’d found a sliver of peace.
Read on for a bonus short story in the
Demon Squad Universe
The End Begins
(Katon)
The vampire smiled in the darkness.
He knew I hunted him. Unlike his brethren who died in their pseudo-sleep, entombed within their earthen haunts as they awaited the demise of the sun, this vampire was ready. His makeshift crypt was empty when I pried it open.
I’d killed all the others as I’d been ordered by Command, but this last one had other plans.
A chill settled over me as I felt his eyes at my back. He was toying with me. His quiet laugh echoed in the ruined halls of the abandoned warehouse, distorting his location. I tightened my grip on my pistol and turned slowly, scanning the room. The soft flutter of his movement sounded near the back of the building, but I knew better than to follow. He was luring me deeper in. Vampires didn’t make noise unless they meant to.
Instead, I headed the opposite direction, toward the exit with a casual gait, as though I hadn’t heard. The night had yet to come, and the sun still clung to the sky. I had time. If he wanted me, wanted revenge for the others, he’d have to catch up before I hit the door. I let my boots slap the stone floor as I walked. The flutter of his pursuing movement pattered nearby, along the rafters.
“Come now, hunter, do you think me so easily drawn out?” he asked from the shadows. He spoke in his native German, not bothering to care whether I understood him or not.
This one was arrogant.
“I had hoped, to be honest,” I answered in his language, one of the many I learned in my training at MI6. “Your Führer sent a dozen of you creatures here to Tobruk, and you’re the last of them.” I let out a low chuckle, certain he would hear it as clearly as though I stood beside him. “They certainly didn’t put up a fight, so why would I expect you to?”
He met my comments with his own laugh. It seemed to ooze along the ceiling. “Because I’m better than them.” A gentle breeze stirred in the darkness. He slipped into passable English, perhaps thinking it easier for me to understand. “The only reason you still live is because your boldness amuses me.”
I hadn’t stopped walking. Just a few feet from the brightness outside the warehouse, I rattled his cage to get his cold blood flowing. It was now or never. “Too bad you can’t hurt the war effort on your own, but I’m sure Hitler can recruit more of your kind. He’s sure to have plenty of German corpses lying around Berlin in the wake of our bombing. Who knows, they might even be family.”
A serpentine hiss cut the air between us. I spun to meet the sound, a smile on my face as I raised my gun. He was on me before I’d even lifted the barrel. My wrist snapped in his grip. I heard the pop before I felt it, and then sharp agony wiped my smile away. He was so much faster than I imagined. Spots of light dotted my vision, and I heard my gun clatter away despite the volume of my screams.
The next thing I knew, I was in the air. My chin bounced off my chest as he swung me over his head and slammed me to the ground. The impact forced the breath from my lungs and whiplashed my head into the floor. I felt teeth shatter, broken remnants spearing my tongue. Blackness crowded out the glimmering lights, narrowing my field of vision. I saw nothing but his grinning face as he hovered over me.
I gasped anemic as I truly saw the vampire for the first time, thinking myself delusional.
“What’s the matter, assassin? Am I not what you expected?”
He wasn’t. Not even close.
Ever since Hitler deployed vampires to the front lines to soften the populace and bleed the resistance dry ahead of Rommel’s advance, MI6 had been training soldiers to take them out. So far, we’d been pretty successful. Bound to the darkness, vampires were easy targets during the day. Once we tracked them down, it was only a matter of putting a blessed-silver bullet in their skull and lighting the body up like a torch. I’d killed over fifty that way.
But this one was different, in more ways than one.
He was black.
His brown eyes stared down at me, but he stayed where he was. Silver SS tags were pinned to the lapel of his long jacket, and he wore the traditional red armband of the Nazi party members, bold and out in the open. The swastika glared in the white circle of it. He was giving me time to work it out, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea.
His lips peeled back to display a brilliant white grin, sharpened fangs protruding at the eyeteeth. He reached down and wrapped his frigid hand around my throat. His grip was like cabled steel. “Come now, it can’t be that difficult to imagine, can it?”
He yanked me to my feet and hurled me into the wall without waiting for an answer. A great, groaning bell rang out as hit. I must have blacked out for an instant as I awoke to the wall trembling at my back. The tang of blood fil
led my mouth and ran thick down my throat. It choked me as neatly as the vampire had. My thoughts flailed inside my skull. The vampire stood before me, his smile no less broad than it had been the moment before. I reached for the knife sheathed at my back.
“What choice did I have?” He dropped to his knees before me, ignoring my obvious fumbling. “It was this or stand before a firing squad or perhaps something even worse, a cruel end by fire in one of the konzentrationslager. Hitler promised he would spare my family—my wife and boys—were I to submit, were I to become the first of his ebenholz speere.”
Ebony spears. The words circled inside my head. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for his position and the man he’d once been. We’d heard rumors of the prison camps the Nazis had built, the torture and genetic experimentation that went on there, but we’d little knowledge of specifics. All of MI6’s intelligence was second hand, word filtering to us through a handful of choked whispers, but the arrival of the German vampires gave credence to the tales.
And here before me was further proof of the depths the Nazis would go to win the war. They were recruiting blacks, men destined to die at the hands of Hitler’s legions, and mutating them to fight a cause that only furthered their enslavement, even after death. It sickened me to think about it, but I couldn’t let it get in the way of what I needed to do.
I yanked my blade free and went to drive it into his eye. He caught my wrist without even looking. The bones ground together in his grip, and he shook his head, disappointment sapping the strength from his smile. He twisted my arm up and around with a casual motion. My wrist gave way with a muffled creak, the snap of my elbow reverberating through my body. I screamed and felt my throat give away with its vehemence.
