Battle Lines (The Ethereal War Book 2)

by Greg Ballan

  Erik looked over at Martin. The old man grinned, taking some solace knowing his son's killer was dead. "Your thief killed several good men. That blood is on your hands. You hired him. You bear the responsibility too."

  Collins shook his head. "You can blame me all you want. I was just doing what I was ordered to do. It's what I've done and what those working for the forces of Light have done for centuries, dating back to when this country was founded."

  Erik's curiosity piqued. "Explain."

  Collins laughed. "Special Agent Knight, I don't have the time to give you a history lesson but ask yourself this, how did a ragtag bunch of farmers defeat the mightiest army on the planet and gain their independence? Do you really think Washington and his pathetic army won that war without divine interference? Lucifer had blocked France's involvement initially but somehow your side was able to overturn his leverage allowing the French Navy to blockade the colonies, cutting off the British Army. Ethereals were on both sides of that conflict. The forces of Light wanted to establish America as a new country. Our side didn't. We found order under English rule and we had King George's ear. But that's a history lesson for another time."

  Martin looked pale. "How can you willingly work for the devil? Can you please explain that to me? You know what Lucifer is and what happens to those who follow him? Are you that attached to power and wealth that you'd sacrifice your soul for a few decades of it?"

  Collins shook his head. "There's a saying, Mr. Denton. History is written by the victors, not the vanquished. You're getting a very one-sided view of the war between Light and Dark, good and bad, or 'Evil' as we've been so successfully branded. Our side is more about freedom of choice and expression and not nearly so bound to rules and regulations as are the stiff, unrelenting Lords of Light. You believe God to be this merciful, forgiving being of eternal love and sunshine. You believe those who worship other deities will have their souls burn for eternity. True, some souls do get damnation. The rapists, murderers, molesters, the real salt of the Earth nasties do get what the Bible refers to as the sea of fire. The forces of darkness don't want those souls either, but as part of losing the war and being cast out, we have the thankless job of dealing with and housing the truly vile." Collins took another sip from his scotch. "Humans aren't the only evil in the universe, gentlemen, but I know you're already aware of that. We have to manage all kinds of nasty souls. Most make human beings look like tame little kittens and puppies. You accuse me of being evil. I've never personally killed a single being." He looked over at Erik and Martin. "Can you both make that same claim? You've both killed under orders, I assume, given the nature of your jobs." He pointed directly at Erik. "You just killed one of my guards, I've read parts of your file, Mr. Knight. You're not all lily white and satin. I follow orders from my employer and sometimes bad things occur, but we have the tougher job. We have to house all these loons. Your side gets all the nice, peace loving, happy souls. We house the scum of the Earth. It does tend to make one jaded after several hundred years."

  Erik steepled his hands on the charred conference table, his eyes burning with intensity. "Lucifer didn't want mankind to develop. He didn't want us to have dominion on this planet. You're serving an entity that wanted our species eradicated."

  Collins shook his head. "That's more propaganda from your side. You don't see the big picture, Agent Knight. Earth is just a pinhead in a vast ocean. The contest is cosmic in scale and larger than our limited human brains can fathom."

  Before Collins could continue, Erik cut him off with a curt gesture. "I'm not here to discuss semantics or theology. I'm here to recover what you stole and apparently had stolen from you. I'm here to assure my son's survival. Beyond that, I don't care if you hump goats and sacrifice chickens or make plans to rule every galaxy for light-years around." Erik leaned forward menacingly, his eyes burning blue embers. "I want to know everything you know about Molec, his possible contacts, where his human agents are and any other tidbits you've picked up." He reached across the table, grabbing the lapel of Collins' custom tailored suit. "And so help me God, if I find out you're holding out on me I'll come back here and burn a hole clean through you."

  Collins trembled, showing abject fear for the first time. "That's the problem, I don't know much about Molec. Just that he was Lucifer's right hand during the first Ethereal War that occurred in Heaven. Molec didn't want a direct war, he wanted a stealth overthrow. After the war was lost, Molec was discontent serving under Lucifer. He did to Lucifer what Lucifer tried to do in Heaven. Molec failed, but the archdemon was able to flee and disappear. Molec has been able to hide when it serves his purpose." Collins drained his glass. "And it serves his purpose. The archdemon is powerful, clever, and a master of stealth. Not even your forces have been able to hunt him down."

  Erik released the speaker from his grip. Collins sat and straightened out his jacket. "Where did you hide the relic?"

  Collins shook his head. "A secure vault outside of DC. I don't know the exact location. Even we keep secrets from each other. We knew we had a hot potato and we wanted to effectively put it on ice for a while until we could figure out what to do with it. We had even gone so far as to inform the forces of Light that we had the relic and we were in the process of returning it to avoid escalating the hostility and put the genie back in the bottle!"

  "Who constitutes we?" Denton pressed.

  Erik flexed his fingers into a fist and cracked his knuckles. "Names."

  Collins flinched. "The vault belongs to one of my colleagues, Senator Paul McMahon."

  ◆◆◆

  "Do you think Collins gave us everything?" Martin sipped lukewarm coffee from a paper cup.

  Erik snorted. "I highly doubt it. But he gave us a lead and pretty much confirmed what we learned from O'Malley. Collins wasn't going to rat out his boss." Erik's brow furrowed. "He gave us just enough to avoid having a hole burned through him while at the same time keeping his soul from being snuffed out by Lucifer for betrayal." The moody detective smirked. "Collins is a damn good politician. He sees the bigger game, Counselor, and understands it on a level we don't and probably never will."

  Denton tossed his cup into a nearby trash barrel. "I don't think I want to understand this game. I already have problems sleeping. If I know any more, they're gonna have to fit me for one of those funny white jackets and book me a padded cell."

  "They can book a room for me right next to you." Erik pointed toward a large building. "McMahon's in a meeting there. Let's go make his day more complicated."

  "Do you think Collins tipped him off?"

  Erik grinned. "I have no doubt."

  Erik and Martin entered the conference facility. Erik's senses were on alert for more altered humans. To his surprise, every person in the building was human. There was no sense of ethereal or demonic presence within anyone. "Regular folk, Counselor."

  Denton visibly relaxed. "Thank God!"

  Erik nodded. "I'll take whatever help we can get at this point."

  Erik strolled into the spacious office suite. He asked a clerk to point out the office of Paul McMahon. The young girl pointed down the large foyer toward an imposing doorway. The detective walked the short distance. Martin followed quietly behind, his hand hovering near his Colt .45 auto pistol.

  Erik spotted the bold lettering on the heavy double doors. "Well, Counselor, this is the place."

  McMahon's office suite was palatial—more so than even the nearby senate majority leader's office. It was clear to both men that McMahon was the real power broker of the senate. Erik walked up to another stunningly attractive young woman. "Good afternoon." He flashed his CIA credentials. "I'm here to see Senator McMahon. I have a feeling I'm expected."

  Denton flashed his credentials while nervously looking for guards or demonic reinforcements.

  "Yes, the senator is expecting you, Mr. Knight, Mr. Denton." She smiled, almost seductively. "I'll be ordering a late lunch for the senator. May I get something for the two of you?"

&nbs
p; Erik raised an eyebrow, then glanced over at Martin who shook his head. "Thank you but we're fine."

  The administrative assistant tapped her intercom, "Senator, your three o'clock appointment is here."

  "Send them in," a disembodied voice answered.

  "This isn't what I expected," Denton whispered, following Erik toward the large doors.

  "I don't think they want another violent display featuring Esper or demonic power. This war is supposed to be low key. The more we slug it out in public, the harder it is to keep the conflict private."

  Erik opened the door, stepping into the spacious office. McMahon stood up from behind his desk.

  "Gentlemen, come in, please be seated." He gestured toward a large, plush sofa. "We have a great deal that needs to be discussed."

  Erik studied the room carefully, scanning each corner, looking for a random energy signature or heat source. He found nothing.

  "Relax, Mr. Knight, there're no hidden entities or boogeymen hiding in the corners or closets."

  Erik tilted his head slightly to one side. "Trust but verify, Senator. You'll forgive me if I don't trust you."

  The senator laughed as he took a seat across from them. He leaned back crossing his legs. "You're picking a fight with the wrong people, gentlemen. We didn't put a price on your kid, and we were hoodwinked into stealing Light's precious little trinket."

  The detective shrugged his shoulders. "But you want him just the same. I got the story from Speaker Collins, at least as much as he felt he'd give me and keep his head firmly on his shoulders and his soul from the burning pit of your employer."

  McMahon laughed. "If only it was that simple, but I won't waste time trying to convince you. Your mind is firmly made up and your allegiance to Light is already established for better or worse."

  The condescension in the politician's voice was unmistakable. Erik sighed. They didn't have time for more verbal sparring or philosophical debate. "Senator, I'm going to be very brief. I want to know where you hid the Ruby Crucifix. I want to study the area myself. If I have to beat the location from you I can do that or you can keep your ribs and legs intact and simply tell me what I want to know."

  McMahon raised an eyebrow. "Are you threatening me? I'm a senior senator! I have connections you can't even comprehend…" He picked up a nearby phone, "With one call, Special Agent Knight, one call and I can…"

  The detective's arm struck cobra fast, snaring the arrogant politician, tossing him across the palatial office suite. He landed in a crumpled heap crushing the coffee table under his backside. Before McMahon could gather his senses, Erik's fist slammed into his jaw. His eyes crossed. Erik studied him. As his eyes aligned on him, he grabbed the senator by his thousand-dollar suit jacket.

  Erik waited until he was certain the arrogant politician focused on him. McMahon stirred and looked down at the agent with terror in his eyes. "I'm going to ask you again, Senator. Where did you stash the cross?"

  McMahon kept quiet. Erik's eyes began to burn. He probed the outermost layers of the politician's mind, peeling through piles of useless information and an increasing miasma of mounting fear, which clouded his thoughts. The senator thrashed about, desperately attempting to free himself.

  "Stop that!" The diaphanous miasma became solid walls as McMahon struggled to erect some type of defense against the psychic probing. Erik tore through each mental barrier, inexorably pushing deeper into McMahon's thoughts. "I can rip the information from your mind, McMahon or you can simply give me what I want."

  The senator fell limp as a wet washcloth. "Fine, you win! I'll take you to the vault. Just get out of my head!"

  Erik tossed the senator several feet back to his large chair. "NOW Senator, I don't have time to fence words with your anymore. I'm trying to do you a favor, you arrogant bastard by finding the object you had stolen from under your very nose. The least you could do is help me out."

  McMahon rubbed his temples. "You're a Light soldier. You claim you don't trust us. We feel the same way about you. I don't trust you for a second. You're not even human anymore. They took that from you and you're too damn blind to see it. You're all wrapped up in your holier-than-thou self-righteousness." McMahon spat blood from his ruined lip. "The world is more than just your harlot wife and child, Special Agent Knight, bigger than your puny life and desires."

  "I just got that lecture from your cohort. I'm not concerned with the rest of the world right now and I didn't ask to get involved. You sent Bartholomew and the Quints for my son. Molec sent other assassins to kill him. So now I'm involved and whether you or your boss like it or not, I'm going to clean up this mess and go back to my little corner of the world." Erik held up a burning fist. "And if you get in my way…."

  McMahon flinched. "Save the sideshow, you freak. I'll take you to the vault. But you won't find anything. The agent of Light that was there didn't find anything. What makes you better equipped than an Ethereal soldier?"

  Erik lowered his arm. "I'm a detective, Senator. I don't think there are many detectives floating around the heavenly clouds."

  McMahon shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." He frowned, clearly frustrated. "Let's just get this over with. I have other matters that need my attention."

  Denton pointed toward the door. "After you, Senator."

  The limousine ride to the vault was silent. The large car pulled up alongside a remote storage facility. McMahon flashed his credentials to the four large, heavily armed guards. The men nodded curtly waving them through. The car pulled up to an innocuous warehouse.

  "We're here." The driver opened the door. McMahon got out of the car, Erik and Martin right behind him. The senator walked toward a dilapidated doorway. He pressed a series of buttons on a keypad. The doorway opened revealing an elevator. McMahon stepped in, looking back at Erik and Martin. "Well?"

  Erik scanned the area intently,

  "What's wrong?" Denton nudged his friend's arm.

  "There's no one else here, Counselor. If this is supposed to be some hidden treasure trove, I'd expect to see more guards, more patrols either human or non-human."

  Denton nodded. "I suspect this is the senator's private collection of goodies, perhaps some that he acquired by less than appropriate means. More security usually draws more attention." The agents entered the elevator.

  "It's a long way down." McMahon pressed a blue button and the elevator began to descend.

  "How far down?" Denton watched blank level indicator.

  "Over 300 feet. The vault is composed of hi-tensile steel and duraplast concrete with reinforced rebar."

  "Does every one of the DC elite have a private storage vault?" Erik placed his hand against the elevator wall sensing the slight vibrations.

  McMahon shook his head. "Not everyone, Agent Knight. I've acquired several unique items during my tenure as a senator and I'd rather keep them out of the public eye and off the tax records."

  Before Erik could reply, the elevator stopped and the door opened. He stared down an impossibly long, lit hallway. "Good lord, just how big is this place?"

  McMahon actually laughed. "The hallway is nearly two hundred feet. The vault itself is a fifty-foot cube, impregnable to even the heaviest bunker bombs."

  As Erik approached the vault, his Esper senses detected the trace presence of supernatural energies. McMahon was telling the truth. Supernatural beings had been here, both demonic and divine. McMahon punched several keys into a large control panel, then slid a card through a reader. He approached the door and endured a retinal scan. A computerized voice confirmed his identity and the door creaked as a heavy bolt slid free unlocking the massive alloy door.

  The senior senator opened the doorway and both agents followed him inside. Erik exhaled in disbelief at the number of gold bars neatly stacked in a corner. He spotted several paintings. One looked familiar and he recognized it from a news story. "The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum theft. You have the paintings!"

  McMahon's shark-like grin spoke volumes. "I wo
uldn't have figured you for an art buff, Agent Knight."

  Denton examined the paintings. "This is a huge mystery, Senator. How in the Hell did you get these? The FBI and the Boston PD have been looking for these for twenty-six years."

  "And they'll keep looking, gentlemen." McMahon added with an iron tone in his voice.

  "I'm not here for artwork, just point out where the relic was stored."

  McMahon pointed toward the far end of the vault by an open safe. "There."

  Erik walked over and could sense a powerful impression. The closer he got to the open safe, the more powerful the feeling became. The detective had to step back from the intense sensations. "Damn!"

  "What is it?"

  "The residual psychic feedback is incredible. I have to erect a mental shield just to get close to the safe."

  Denton shrugged. "I don't feel anything. I'm glad I'm just a mere human." Denton studied his friend. "Are you sure you're okay? Your face looks pale."

  Erik approached the safe, keeping his mental shield in place. He examined the safe. It had been ripped open like the one under St. Martha's Chapel. Sadly the detective had no suspect since Lazarus had been dusted after his theft. "Your thief is definitely demonic, Senator, and I can only guess that he found a way to further contain the relic. The sensations here are powerful but they seem muted, like a residual echo." Erik looked over at Martin. "I don't understand this, Counselor. How could a creature of darkness make off with this thing and not get vaporized? The relic had to be expelled from the Talithum containment to give off such a powerful residual echo. This is dozens of times more powerful than what I felt at Vatican City."