by Hunter Blain
“What reason would he have to be on Earth? And why the hell are you here?”
“Gabriel must have sent him to keep an eye on you, abomination.” As he finished his thought, a million interactions between Da and me flashed through my mind in an instant.
“It-it makes sense,” I began. “He has tried to guide me toward the Light for so long. Heh, I called him my Devil’s Advocate. I think…I think I always knew. I just couldn’t believe an angel would want to be my friend, much less help me.” Something tickled the back of my mind. “Hey, Val, why would he pretend to be a five-inch faerie, but then tell me the truth about being an angel?”
“Would you have acted differently if you had known he was an angel?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have been trying to do good, correct?”
“Yeah. Da has helped immensely.”
“Precisely my point. You did those things you considered good because you wanted to. Had you known Da was Raziel, it would have changed your behavior. You might have always been hesitant to fully embrace your good side because you would have thought you had to instead of wanted to.”
“Then why tell me the truth?”
“Raziel doesn’t lie.”
“Heh. Sonofa…” I said, shaking my head in wonderment.
“You need to get my brother, abomination.”
“Dude, why do you feathery fucks keep calling me that? It’s getting old.”
“You don’t know, do you?” Val asked.
“Know what?!” I demanded. “That I’m a human with a demon fused into my soul and DNA?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Destiny is stopping me. I am not here to interfere in the affairs of man. Your future is in your own hands.”
“Why are you here, then?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“I know you, John. This will not be dropped until I relent. So, I will save us both time and frustration by telling you as much as you need to know.”
“Good. Because right now, you and I have some trust issues to work out.”
“I didn’t agree with Father or Samael. I believe in live and let live without intervention. I was neither jealous nor infatuated with the humans Father created and wanted no part in their petty squabble.”
“Whoa. Pretty bold to call God petty.”
“You and Samael would get along.”
“Huh? How so?” I asked, confused.
“I didn’t call Father petty. I said their disagreement was petty. Please try not to put words in my mouth, you hairless monkey.” He smiled at the insult, more in friendly jest than contempt at my transgression.
“You gonna continue the story?” I suggested.
“I thought it was evident, but sure, allow me to dumb things down for you: I didn’t like either side’s stance and went out the back door while they fought. I have been content to live among the humans since the dawn of your time.”
“My time?”
“Wasn’t it you who pointed out the relativistic nature of time? The universe was created long before humans were even an idea in Father’s imagination.”
“Right. I knew that,” I claimed. “Go on.”
“I can’t make it any dumber for you,” Valenta said with a straight face.
“Well, try. Let’s start with what’s your angelic name.”
“Though it is unimportant, the name Father gave me is Varhmiel. I abandoned my name and title when I left the Silver City. My name is Valenta. I chose it. I like it. It’s mine.”
“Respect,” I said while nodding my head in appreciation. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
“What’s your next question? I know you have one,” Val prodded, planting his hands on his hips.
“What have you been doing all this time?”
“Protecting the supernatural community.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
He shifted his weight onto one foot in agitation before saying, “Maybe I feel akin to them. Maybe this is my entertainment. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I want no part of mortal lives, and the supernaturals don’t fall into the category.” His agitation was shifting toward aggression.
“Dude, I get it. Calm your tits, alright?” I told Val while holding my palms out in false surrender. He responded by narrowing his eyes. “I love how you’re the one mad at me. Hey, raise your hand if you didn’t lie to your friend about your entire existence.” I struck my point home like a hammer on a nail by dramatically throwing a hand into the air.
“I never lied, child. I simply didn’t tell you, or anyone else for that matter, what I truly was. To use your language, it was never your fucking business, bitch.”
“Oh shit!” I exclaimed, putting a fist up to my open mouth and tittering. “That was awesome. Okay, we are friends again.”
“Oh, good,” Val said as he began shrinking back to man-size. As he did, I became aware that he had looked comical behind the bar at his full height.
“I would ask what’s up with the accent, but I’m afraid you’d use my own logic of blending in against me and make me feel like a dummy.”
“Smart,” Val said with a grin. Then his face went flat in an instant as he turned and began walking toward the back room doors. “Follow me.”
I did as instructed and followed Val into the kitchen. Once through the doors, he turned and headed toward the darkened corner where a metal door led to the basement. He waved his hand over the doors and whispered something that could have been mistaken for Latin, though it was a dialect I had never heard.
The door popped and slowly began opening.
“This way,” Valenta directed, taking the steps made of stone.
“Follow me. This way,” I whispered to myself, making an exaggerated face and bobbing my head back and forth in mockery. “Any other cliché phrases you wanna add?”
From below came a muffled, “Shut the fuck up and get down here.”
“Oh, damn. Didn’t know angels could curse!” I said, taking the steps two at a time until I reached my guide.
“And why’s that? They’re just words you people made up.”
“What do you mean ‘you people’?” I told him in an urban accent.
“You are exhausting,” Val said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I get that a lot.”
He stopped then, turned, and looked at me with a wrinkled brow. “And yet you continue down the path of incessant pestering. Why?”
“I’m me. Take it or leave it. I’m not going to pretend to be someone else or walk on eggshells.”
After a noticeable pause, his features relaxed before turning to continue his walk through the tunnel.
It was a damp, cool, concrete tunnel with a perforated grate as the floor. Our footsteps echoed against the walls. Some water was evident underneath the grate in a thin, silver line against the lights overhead. Along the walls were metal shelves illuminated by fluorescent ballasts. A variety of goodies sat on the shelves, with the first three bays entirely occupied by bottles of liquor. My eyes latched onto my familiar Jack and Blood, and I unconsciously licked my lips. The next bay had different meats that had been dried and preserved.
After that were sections of shelving containing military-style lockboxes.
“What’s in—”
“Don’t ask,” Val interrupted. It took me by surprise, and I looked at him in a new light.
“Got it,” I answered as my eyes went back to the boxes that were now near irresistible. They appeared to glow like a birthday present you were dying to open. You know the one. I wanted, no, needed to open one or all of them.
My footsteps slowed, prompting Val to turn and aggressively clear his throat.
“What lies ahead is more precious to you than any trinket in those chests.”
“Then you won’t mind if I take a gander,” I said as my hands caressed a case. I could see from the corner of my eye that Val had
crossed his arms in agitated waiting.
I slowly opened the closest box, expecting a golden light to emanate. None came. Inside was a foam liner with holes that perfectly held its contents, one of which was a mason jar filled with salt and flakes of something else. I gingerly lifted the jar and peered inside, slowly moving the container in my hands. Intermixed with the white grains at a 10-1 ratio were reflective flecks. Some were darker, while others reflected the light brilliantly.
“Iron and silver,” Val answered my silent question flatly.
My face slightly contorted in a frown as I nodded my head in both admiration and fear while muttering, “Not bad.” I wasn’t sure what creature would need a salt circle infused with both iron and silver to be contained. Salt was predominantly enough to contain even the strongest of demons.
Setting the jar back in its place, I picked up a sealed glass case that held an old, long, rusty nail.
I shot a look at Val and said, “No way.”
“Yes. One of the nails from the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth.”
“How do you have it?”
“Boy, I’m an angel who’s been on Earth since before Eve took a bite of the forbidden fruit. I was there when Christ died for your sins. It took everything in me to restrain myself from freeing him, damn what Father had to say. Mankind didn’t deserve his love after the atrocities they committed.”
“Thought you didn’t care either way,” I said softly, aware of the delicate eggs on which I walked.
“There is a difference between staying neutral and not acting. How was I supposed to let God’s son be tortured for countless hours for a species that didn’t appreciate the gift? I had taken a step forward and was about to summon my gladius when, in the middle of his agony, he stopped screaming and looked right at me; but only for the briefest of moments. It was long enough for me to understand that it was what he wanted.”
“He wanted to die a historically gruesome death?”
“Of course not, John. What he wanted was to save all of mankind, no matter the cost.”
I looked back at the nail, feeling the weight of its significance in my hand.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
“I don’t know. They could be anywhere.”
“Aren’t some of them on display somewhere? Like, doesn’t the church have them or something?”
“Their authenticity cannot be concluded. I believe the church simply uses them as a symbol, regardless of their origin. Humans crave symbolism in the divine.”
“Hmm,” I exhaled while putting the nail back in its slot. “How do you know this one is real?”
“I watched as they removed his body. A Roman guard pulled the nails out and set them, carelessly, in a bag. To him, Jesus was another criminal that deserved punishment, just like all the others before him. He didn’t care about the significance of those pieces of metal, and treated them as such. One fell to the ground as he fumbled while putting them all in his bag. He even looked down at it and shrugged, not even caring enough to take the time and bend down to retrieve what he had dropped. As he moved on to the other bodies, I simply walked over and picked it up before disappearing into the night.”
As he finished, I noticed an empty slot where a spearhead had been.
“What’s this?” I asked, pointing to the empty space.
“It was the Spear of Destiny,” Val breathed out, letting his head hang low and arms uncross and fall to his sides.
“You mean the spear that killed Christ?” My eyes shot from him to the case and back again. I could sense his trepidation. “Where the hell is it?”
“I was forced to make a trade a while back.”
Whirling on him, I cried out, “What the feck did you trade it for? What could be more important than the Spear of Destiny? Doesn’t that have like superpowers or something?”
Fierce eyes lifted from the ground to burrow a hole through my head. “I have my reasons,” Val growled in warning.
Throwing my hands up in placation, I said, “Got it. Understood. Noooooo problemo.”
I closed the lid to the crate and walked to Val, who had resumed his way down the stone corridor. In short order, we arrived to a circular room at the end of the tunnel. Within the rock walls of the round room were doorways that led into smaller rooms. I counted seven in total.
Val continued straight ahead into one of the rooms, where a wooden arch was the only item in the chamber. It had the depiction of a castle growing in the middle of a tree that reached into the clouds etched into the wood.
“This is a doorway to Faerie, isn’t it?” I asked, pointing at the carvings Valenta had made into the wood.
“Yes.”
“I always wondered where you got your enchanted consumables from.” Turning back to where we had come from and hooking a thumb in the air, I asked, “Where do the other doorways lead to?”
“Never you mind. If you want to find Raziel, here is your path.” Val touched the wooden arch, and a portal shimmered into existence. Darkness was on the other side. Like a foreboding kind of dark that signifies it might not be the best decision to go into it.
“You, ah, wanna come with?”
“I cannot interfere.”
“Neat. Super neat. Just…just plain neat,” I said defeated as I took a step toward the gate.
“What are you doing?” Val exclaimed, somehow turning the gate off before I could cross the threshold. I couldn’t see a switch anywhere.
“Um, going in?”
“Alone? Might I suggest rescuing your werewolf friends first?”
“Right. That’s a good idea,” I exhaled, letting my nerves settle.
“John,” Val began with a concerned face, “you really need to think these things through. If you die, all of creation is at risk. Do you understand?”
“I, ah, I…” I tripped over my own words before the truth came pouring out. “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, Val. I question my every decision because there’s so much riding on me. I-I can’t bear the weight of the entire world and every soul that has ever lived. I mean, seriously, how could anyone be responsible for more souls than what’s even fathomable? You might as well ask me to count the grains of sand on every beach in the world.”
Val nodded his head, accepting my answer. “We are never given more than we can bear, John. You carry a weight that only you can endure.”
“I don’t know about that, man. Depweg has a pretty solid head on his shoulders,” I responded as I crossed my arms and shrugged my shoulders.
“I’m sure that he does. But, if I may ask, when was the last time you saw him under extreme duress?”
“Define extreme.”
“I don’t think I need to, and you don’t need to answer. It’s a moot point regardless. As long as you realize you are meant to carry this burden because you can,” Val said. “I’m confident your friends will have their parts to play as well.”
“I hadn’t really thought about that,” I admitted as we walked back the way we had come. If I was the king on the chessboard of eternity, my friends made up all the other crucial pieces. They would lay down their lives to protect me. Some would even sacrifice themselves to give our side a slight edge. And that’s what really kept me up at day.
“People see the good in you, John. They see the evil too, don’t get me wrong on that. Whether you realize it or not, you inspire those around you.”
“I do? If I have good and evil, how do I inspire them?” I asked, genuinely intrigued at an angel’s answer on the matter.
“You fight your inner demon relentlessly. Did you know that you are the first supernatural to resist his predatory nature and use his abilities for the betterment of mankind?”
“What? That can’t be true,” I said, disbelieving. “What about Depweg? Or, heck, even Locke, for Lilith’s sake.”
“Your friends came after you, so you are still the first. Besides, ask him what he was like before meeting you, John.” Val stopped and stared into my eyes then, si
gnaling an entire encyclopedia of information with just a glance. “The reason he is who he is today is because he found you when he did. It stands to reason that if you had come across him even one day prior, you would have killed him without a second thought. That situation with the Jewish boy and the werewolf hunter really shook things up for him. And if I were to be honest with you, I don’t think his sanity would have held if you hadn’t stumbled upon him.”
The back of my neck tingled, and I could feel the hairs stand on end as I thought of how close I had been to never knowing my best friend.
Val noticed as I shuddered at the thought and reassured me by saying, “Everything happens for a reason, John. Remember that.”
I didn’t know what to say as we made our way back through the room of portals and past the crates. I glanced at the one I had opened, feeling the significance of its contents. Though, to be fair, right now everything felt significant to me. I was dealing with a lot of emotions, thoughts, and self-doubt that I could do this.
After we were back in the bar, I poured myself a much-needed shot all the way to the brim of the glass. I called out, “Skol,” to the empty bar before downing the drink. I was going to need all the confidence I could muster.
12
It took almost an entire week to lure out the Hunter—Ludvig Mansson. All I needed was a consistent trail of decimated bodies that looked as if they had been torn apart by enormous dogs. It was kind of fun to artfully manifest bloodwolves from my hands to eat the flesh of evil men, of whom apparently there was a surplus. By the same token, I took note that there was hardly a supe to be found in the region, which resulted in an excess of fair game for me. It was morbidly akin to hunting wolves completely out of an area, resulting in deer overpopulation. The world needed a checks and balances system or the scales would tip.
After the flesh was consumed by my bloodwolves, I would absorb the blood from the meat while passing the muscle, bone, and skin to the ground. So as not to be suspicious, I would then bag all of the leftover meat, leaving only the bones, and take the flesh to one of the many feeding grounds. There was plenty of wildlife on the outskirts of Houston that wouldn’t waste a free meal. I smiled, then, in remembrance of the alligator pets I once had many years ago. After I had been tracked down due to my predictable behavior, I had decided it was best to spread the love when I needed to dispose of my edible evidence.
