“Lay off him,” said Celeste. “Luther’s the closest thing Alistair has to a son. He just can’t accept what’s clear to everyone else.”
“And do you accept it?” asked Hem.
Celeste looked up at her bodyguard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s nothing, mistress. I apologize for speaking out of turn.”
“A-ha!”
Celeste and Hem looked into the kitchen at Alistair’s exclamation. He held up a fresh bottle of Jameson’s as if it were a trophy he’d just won. He stumbled out the kitchen, unscrewing the bottle as he walked.
“The Irish can’t make a whiskey as good as the Scots, but it’s better than that piss-water you bloody yanks try to pass off.”
Alistair made it back to the couch and plopped down, then began drinking straight from the bottle. Celeste returned to the couch and sat down beside him. She reached for the bottle to try and take it from him, but Alistair kept pulling away.
“Okay, I think that’s enough,” she said and took the bottle in one hand and pulled it from his grasp. She planted her other hand firmly on his chest and used her vampiric strength to keep him pinned to the couch. Celeste set the bottle on the ground in front of the couch.
“The *hic* irony of a vampire telling me I drink too much isn’t lost on me.”
“Maybe so, but you might want to think about switching it up,” said Celeste. “When was the last time you drank something that wasn’t fermented?”
“I might’ve swallowed some water in the shower…”
“Judging by the smell, I’m guessing that wasn’t this morning.”
Alistair shook his head. “Must’ve been…” He started counting silently while staring at his fingers. “’Bout a week ago.”
“And what about the Sons of Solomon?” she asked. “What do they say about your attempts to keep finding a cure for Luther?”
Alistair waved his hand dismissively. “They say it’s a lost cause. Bag of cunts, the lot of ’em.”
“Maybe they’re right. Did you ever consider that?”
Alistair narrowed his eyes at Celeste. “Don’t tell me you’re givin’ up on ’im, too, love.”
“I wish things were different, but we have to look at the facts,” said Celeste. “He’s not the same Luther we knew. He’s given in to the darkness. How are we supposed to bring him back from that?”
“The answer’s…somewhere…” Alistair looked around the room, gesturing at the books. He climbed off the couch and onto the floor, crawling amongst the open books and looking at different pages. “It’s in here, I know it.”
“Alistair, stop.” Celeste got off the couch and put a hand on his shoulder to pull him towards her. “Doesn’t matter how many spells you know, how many grimoires you’ve read, you still can’t draw blood from a stone.”
“Not true.” Alistair held up one of the books. “This one’s got a transmutation spell that makes it possible.”
“I wasn’t being literal, it’s just—” She sighed. “Forget it. Alistair, you’re a brilliant mystic. There are other things you should worry about than Luther. Other ways you can help.”
“There’s only one mission,” said Alistair. “You don’t understand. There’s a prophecy to consider. Luther has to come back so he can fulfill it.”
“It’s going to take more than some vague prophecy written thousands of years ago to bring him back.” Celeste stood and started to walk to the door. “I kept coming here out of respect for you and respect for the man Luther Cross used to be. But it looks like you’re intent to spiral into your own darkness.”
“Yeah, go on, get outta here,” said Alistair, retrieving his bottle. He climbed back onto the couch and slumped on there, drinking the whiskey straight.
“I did everything I could,” said Celeste. “I tried to reason with him, tried to appeal to the feelings he and I used to share, risked my own existence by making contact with the Sons of Solomon, and it meant jack. Luther Cross is gone. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”
“Get out!” shouted Alistair and he threw the bottle.
Celeste ducked as the bottle flew over her head, smashing against the wall. The remnants of the whiskey dripped down the wall, puddling on the floor.
Hem crossed the distance between him and Alistair in a flash. In the time it took to blink, he’d already had his hand around Alistair’s throat and hefted him off the couch. Alistair struggled against the grip, trying to kick the behemoth, but it was useless.
“I should snap your neck right now, you drunken cur,” said Hem.
“Hem, put him down,” said Celeste. “He’s not worth it. He’s nothing but a broken shell. Leave him here to drink himself to death.”
Hem huffed and narrowed his red eyes at Alistair. He threw him back on the couch. “Do the world a favor and have the good sense to die sooner rather than later.”
Alistair coughed as Hem returned to the door. He opened it for Celeste and led her out the apartment. They descended the stairs in silence and left the building, walking towards the town car.
“Will this be the last time?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Celeste. “Alistair needs help. He needs to know that he’s still got someone he can count on.”
“Is that all it is?”
Celeste stepped in front of Hem and stopped, turning to face him. She folded her arms and stared up at him in defiance. The yeti almost seemed to shrink under her glare.
“I’m starting to get annoyed by these little comments, Hem. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I’m…concerned,” he said. “You keep returning to this place. You say it’s because you want to help Carraway, but I wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“Carraway copes with Cross’ transformation by drinking too much and seeking out potential cures,” said Hem. “Could it be that the reason you keep returning to check on him is because you’re holding out hope he might have found something?”
“No,” said Celeste without a second’s hesitation.
“Are you cer—”
“Hem, remember where your bread is buttered,” she said. “We’re not going to have this conversation again, do you understand? The Luther Cross I knew is dead. I’ve come to accept that. I just want Alistair to accept it before the delusion kills him.”
Hem nodded. “Understood, mistress.”
“Good, now take me home,” she said, turning around and walking through the front gate towards the town car. “And I swear to god, if you say one more word about this, I’m replacing you with a golem.”
7
After I returned from Hell, I dove back into research mode. Must’ve gone through an entire pack of cigarettes doing it, too, because before I knew it, I was on my last one. When I looked at the clock, I saw it was already after eight in the evening. Not only had I worked through lunch, but dinner as well.
I rubbed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, holding up the notebook I’d been scribbling in. I’d compiled several pages of notes, but as I read them over now, I started to wonder just how much use any of this was. I tried to see if I could find any common links between the different legends of the nephilim, and while there were a few, there were also twice as many contradictions.
In short, the message from the voices of the past boiled down to, ‘fuck off, figure it out for yourself.’
That’d be helpful if this Malcolm kid turned out to be the driving force of the apocalypse. Wouldn’t that be ironic—the Anti-Christ turning out to be not the son of the devil, but the son of an angel.
I needed to get some food. I got up from the desk and went to the kitchen to dig around the refrigerator. Unfortunately, wasn’t a whole lot in there. Not unless I wanted to make a pickle-and-mustard sandwich. Ordering in seemed like the only option. I closed the refrigerator and opened a drawer under the counter where I kept a stack of delivery menus.
I was debating the merits of Thai, Chinese, and d
eep dish pizza when my phone pierced the silence. When I looked at the screen, the caller ID was blocked. That was always a good sign. But I decided to take a chance and answer it. Figured it might be Morrison, still trying to beg for help.
“Luther Cross,” I said when I answered.
There was silence on the other end. But then, a chuckle. And finally, a greeting. “Hello, Luther. It’s been a dog’s age.”
I recognized the voice and it made the peach-fuzz on the back of my neck stand up straight. Smooth and rich, with just a hint of malevolence. It was a voice I’d never forget.
“Who is this?” I asked, playing dumb.
“You don’t recognize my voice? I’m crushed.”
“This is the voice of a dead man,” I said. “Or rather, a dead demon.”
“Yes well, rumors of my demise were grossly exaggerated.”
“What do you want, Asmodeus?” I asked.
“I’d like to have a drink. On neutral ground, as we did almost a year ago. Say thirty minutes?”
“I haven’t eaten all day, I was just about to order in,” I said. “Might have to pass.”
“I insist,” said Asmodeus. “We’ll make a meal of it, my treat.”
If Asmodeus wanted something, he wouldn’t hesitate until he got it. Meeting him with my eyes open was probably a smarter move than waiting for him to strike when my back was turned. And I had questions for him, too. Not only about how he got out of Purgatory, but he was also around when the nephilim were. He was someone who could tell me what to expect.
“Okay, I’m in,” I said.
“Thirty minutes, don’t be late.”
He ended the call and I left the kitchen, going back to my office. I opened the case for my revolver and picked it up, examining the gun. It was custom-made, similar in size and design to a Magnum. Except mine had sigils carved into the barrel and along the chamber. The rounds were custom as well. Iron-forged, silver-coated hollow-points, filled with holy water, salt, and other herbs designed to fend off the supernatural.
Even though he wasn’t a Hell Lord anymore, Asmodeus was still one of The Fallen. They were the angels that joined Lucifer in his rebellion and caused the first war in Heaven. That meant he had a lot of juice and a fight with him would likely be suicide. I had to be ready for him.
Asmodeus said he wanted to meet on neutral ground, like we had almost a year ago. That was after the incident with Dakota—an incident that ended with me getting the shit kicked out of me by the Angel of Death. Asmodeus and I met here, at the Signature Lounge, and talked about our next move.
But he also mentioned dinner, so instead of the Lounge area, I entered main portion—the Signature Room. I was being cautious, my eyes carefully scanning the restaurant. Most of my energies were focused on my supernatural senses, but I wasn’t picking up anything.
With one notable exception, of course.
Asmodeus sat at the same table where we’d met last year, wearing a dark red suit with black shirt and tie. He had a large glass of brandy held in his hand and he swirled it while staring out the large window.
I approached slowly, and he turned his head the instant I reached the table. His yellow eyes smoldered and he flashed me a big, toothy smile. It was enough to send a chill down my spine.
“So good of you to come meet,” he said. “I see you’re trying out a new look. No more suits?”
“Things change,” I said and sat down across from him.
Asmodeus signaled to the waiter. “Why not take off your jacket? Get comfortable.”
“I’m more comfortable keeping it on.” I looked up at the waiter when he arrived. “Glenlivet on the rocks.”
Asmodeus tapped his glass to indicate a refill. “I think we’ll also need some menus. I believe we’re going to have dinner here.”
“The New York strip steak, medium-rare with the garlic herb butter and a side of sautéed asparagus,” I said without missing a beat.
Asmodeus smiled at me while the waiter asked for his order. “Make that two,” he said.
“Yes, sirs. I’ll be back in a moment with your drinks.” The waiter excused himself and left us alone.
“I’m surprised at you, Luther,” said Asmodeus. “I said this was my treat and expected you to order the most expensive thing on the menu. Instead, you only chose the fourth priciest item.”
“I’m not a fan of seafood and I prefer the New York strip to the filet,” I said. “My tastebuds overrode my desire to annoy you.”
“I wonder if it will be the same next time.”
“What makes you think there’s gonna be a next time?”
The drinks arrive. I started to sip my scotch, but Asmodeus held up his glass, apparently waiting for a toast. I ignored him and leaned back in my chair.
“No accounting for manners, it seems,” he said.
“How about we cut to the chase?” I asked. “Last anyone heard, you were still in Purgatory.”
“Yes, and thank you for leaving me there, by the way,” said Asmodeus. “That was quite the pleasant surprise.”
“Spare me the offended act,” I said. “I was still separated from the rest of you. And as I heard Tessa tell it later, you wanted to leave me behind.”
“We had a job to do,” said Asmodeus. “And I’m a demon, it’s different.”
“You made the choice to go off on your own. It’s nobody’s fault but your own if you got stuck.”
“Oh, but I didn’t just get left behind,” said Asmodeus, leaning forward. “I was captured.”
I drew in a sharp breath. That was when our steaks arrived. Asmodeus picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece of the strip, and bit into it. He chewed for far longer than was necessary, making a big show of how much he was enjoying the food.
“Mmm, now that is a good steak,” he said. “Do you have any idea what we had to eat in Purgatory?”
“You’re a demon, you don’t have any need for food.”
“True,” he said while cutting off another piece. “But I do enjoy it. It’s one of the reasons I chose to spend so much time on Earth, particularly here of all places. Very few cities in the world have the culinary diversity of Chicago.”
I was so hungry I could’ve eaten the steak with my bare hands. But I kept myself restrained and matched Asmodeus’ pace. Didn’t want to show any hint of weakness around him, no matter how small.
“Something I don’t understand,” I said. “If you were captured, how did you escape? I met Thanatos and his errand boys. They’re no slouches.”
“Very true. In fact, they’re quite adept at torture. I’m half-tempted to try and woo Mr. Grant and Mr. Moore away from Purgatory. They’d be wonderful additions to my torture crew.”
Asmodeus paused to sip his drink and take a bite of asparagus. I just kept eating in silence. Give him just enough to start talking and let him go on, that was my plan.
“But then again, I suppose I no longer have a torture crew, do I?” he asked. “Nor do I even have a realm of my own anymore.”
And there it was. Asmodeus knew I’d taken over his realm. It’s why he invited me out. Neutral ground, so he could make me feel safe. Now he was going to try and intimidate me. Threaten me. Do whatever it took to make me doubt myself.
“I’m amazed at you, Luther,” said Asmodeus. “Not only did you leave me behind to rot, but while I was being held prisoner by one of the most despicable beings in the universe, you slept with my wife and moved into my home. I always knew you were a bastard, but that—”
“Let’s put our cards on the table, shall we?” I set down my knife and fork and stared hard across the table. “You’re not the only one who went through some changes. Cain wants me dead, and he’s out there somewhere. Raziel’s now missing, which means the rogue angel that started all this has probably killed him, and that means my ass is his prime target. I needed protection, so I got it from wherever I could find it. And the one who offered that protection was Lilith.”
“So what are you saying, she cam
e to you?” Asmodeus scoffed. “I don’t believe she’d do something like that.”
“Don’t you?” I asked. “You turned on her, gave her up to save your own ass. You were captured because you thought trying to find me in Purgatory was too risky. So don’t talk to me about betrayal, you fucking hypocrite.”
“Careful, Luther,” he said with a hiss. “You go too far.”
“You were gone and your territory was in chaos with different factions vying for control,” I said. “Lilith had a way to clamp down on it and I agreed. I don’t give a rat’s ass about ruling, I was just trying to stop things from getting out of control before the angels decided to step in.”
“And what of the mission that started all this?” asked Asmodeus. “If Raziel is missing, what does that mean about Dakota Reed and her little bundle of joy?”
I narrowed my eyes. It was starting to make sense. Asmodeus wasn’t here about his realm or Lilith. He had something else in mind. Thanatos wasn’t a fan of letting people escape Purgatory. So if he had Asmodeus captive and let him go, there was a reason for that.
“A lot of time has passed. Surely she must have given birth by now.”
“You made a deal,” I said. “You made a deal with Thanatos, didn’t you?”
Asmodeus chuckled and cut off another piece of his steak. “Don’t act so hurt, Luther. You betray me, I betray you, and ’round and ’round we go.”
“What did you promise Thanatos?” I asked.
Asmodeus finished off the rest of his food, then picked up the napkin from his lap to wipe his mouth. “Now, that was exquisite. I’d try to woo the chef away from here, but—oh wait, you took my club as well.”
“What. Did. You. Promise?”
The demon chuckled and leaned back in his chair, sipping his brandy. “Interesting little bit of information about our friend, Thanatos. Now, he wouldn’t tell me the name of the angel who entrusted him with the soul of Joseph Luxton. But it seems he wasn’t aware of this nephilim nonsense. And having a bargaining chip like that in his pocket…”
“You stupid son of a bitch,” I muttered, rising to my feet. The heat was building up inside of me, boiling under my skin. “You’re planning to turn over one of the most powerful beings in the universe to the Lord of Purgatory?”
Devil's Conflict Page 5
