by A. Q. Owen
That plan, however, was slow in coming. Magic, while in the mainstream, still had not been grasped by the population at large, and far too many continued to be guided by a moral compass that Lucifer had long tried to remove and, honestly, didn’t understand.
He purposely let Myra consider his answer before he responded to her question. “Yes, my generals and I believe it was a human.”
Wrinkles stretched across her cheeks. “I didn’t think we were permitted there.”
“You’re not. Somehow, someone found a way in, and I want to know who it was.”
She pondered the order for a few moments, then ticked her head to the side. “And you think it was a mage who found a way in?”
A snakelike sneer came with the question. “Possibly. We don’t know for certain.”
That was a first. In the years she’d been the ambassador of darkness for the one known to many as the devil, she’d never once heard him say he didn’t know something. She also knew better than to mention that fact.
“I’ll look into it immediately, my lord.”
“That is only one theory, though, my child.” He was quick to keep her for a few moments longer. “There is another possibility.”
“A portal?”
She’d already considered that as a possibility. Her intuition and cleverness were two things he’d appreciated immediately about her.
“You always have been so astute, my child.”
She allowed herself a grin at the compliment. “I’ve learned much from you in these years, Master.”
“Indeed.” He returned to the point of the conversation. “If a portal has opened into the Realm, that means it has been concealed. We’ve detected no such gateway, even with our considerable powers.”
That surprised her, but she didn’t say anything. He was an eternal being, a higher power that could do things she would never understand. She considered it a blessing to even be speaking with him and didn’t dare suggest his inability to locate a portal was any kind of weakness.
“You said it has been concealed.”
“That is what we believe, though we do not know how it was done. If it was a human, they must be a powerful mage, a wizard of incredible strength.”
“Or there is another possibility.” She didn’t have to say it. Myra knew that he would connect the dots faster than she could speak, if he hadn’t already considered the possibility.
“The Creator?”
“It’s possible, my lord, but you know him better than I. And your rules of engagement still escape my understanding.” She lowered her head in a symbol of humility.
He nodded, and a thin smile crept across his lips. She was certainly a worthy servant; perhaps he could reward her when the war with the Gods was over. An eternity by his side would befit her.
Her thought was one he’d considered but immediately discarded, though her bringing it up caused him to reconsider. “When he cast us into that abyss, out of the light, he locked it shut from both ends. No one can enter, and no one can leave, save for ethereal projections such as this or through possession.”
“Maybe, my lord, the Creator didn’t open the rift.”
“But he could have concealed it.” Lucifer finished her thought.
She gave another low bow of the head, confirming what she was going to say.
“That wouldn’t break the rules. In fact, it makes perfect sense. Although why would he risk sending a human into the Realm?”
Myra wasn’t sure, but she offered an answer. “Humans are…expendable.”
That’s where she was wrong. “Not to the Creator, they aren’t. To us, certainly. But not to him. He would do anything, has done anything for them. No, that isn’t why.”
“May I make a suggestion, my lord?”
He gave a nod.
“Let me see what I can find. Since the Newton’s Gate Incident, there have been many portals torn in the fabric of space-time, as you well know. Some go two directions. Others are one way. If a human came to your domain and you can’t find them, that means they are either still there or somehow managed to come back.”
“A two-way door.”
“If that person is here, we will find them, Master. And it’s possible that if they are a powerful magic user, they may have figured out a way to cloak the portal from both sides.”
“That could make your job difficult, Myra.”
“Nothing is too challenging in service to you, my great lord.”
He grinned at the way she worshipped him. He also knew how she felt about him. He sensed it every time they spoke. If she had her way, she would be the queen of the multiverse with him. Lucifer had already planned that, not because of any kind of affection or love or dab of admiration. No, the real reason was that even he enjoyed the carnal pleasures this world offered. And she pleased him greatly.
That last thought brought him to the more important reason he was here, the thing he’d been saving for her.
“There is one more thing, my dear.”
She blushed at the term of endearment. “Anything.”
“This intruder killed one of my lieutenants.”
Her face twisted and scrunched. “My lord?”
“I know,” he hissed. “It is something that we, somehow, did not foresee, even consider possible.”
“A human killed a demon?” She still didn’t believe it. “In the Realm?”
“Yes. Cut in half like a ripe melon.”
“How…how did this happen? I didn’t think your kind could…” She trailed off, feeling for a second as if she may have insulted him.
He raised an ethereal hand, signaling she’d done nothing wrong. “We are, for all intents, immortal. Until this, I never believed there was a human weapon that was capable of this.”
“What was the weapon?” The analytical investigator in her kicked in, immediately looking for answers.
“Based on the wound, I would say it’s a sword. The cut was clean, straight through. Our bone structure is much stronger than yours. Our muscles, too, are denser. And then there is our aura, a shield against any human weapons. Nothing exists in the world of man that can pierce that thin armor. That is the more concerning issue.”
She heard his words. Coming from anyone else, they would have been accompanied by a layer of concern or worry. In the case of the dark lord, he almost sounded curious, even playful. What was it she was sensing? Was it hope?
“I will scour the planet for this vermin and bring him to justice for you, my lord. His head will sit on the tip of that blade for what he’s done.”
Lucifer shook his head. “Killing whoever this brigand might be isn’t the purpose of bringing this up. While, certainly, they must die, revenge isn’t what’s on my mind.”
She cocked her head sideways, curiosity piqued.
“Whoever this person is somehow found a way to forge a weapon that could kill an immortal, something that could pierce through our ethereal armor.”
“That would take something of incredible power, a magic unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“Or something else?”
“Something…else?” She wasn’t sure where he was going with this.
“We considered the possibility that the Creator made this weapon and brought it here.”
“But that’s not what you think now?”
“No.” His voice echoed in the chamber. “The Gods wouldn’t interfere in such a way. It’s not how they operate. They prefer to use subtler methods.”
“So, it was some kind of magic that forged this blade.”
“Alchemy.”
Her eyelids blinked rapidly, the pupils widening. Alchemy? She knew about it from books, fiction she’d read as a child, but in her years since forming Dark Cell she’d never—to her knowledge—met an alchemist. He might as well have told her that a unicorn created the sword that killed his lieutenant.
Myra knew better than to question his judgment. It had never been incorrect or misguided. His insight was unchallenged in
all things. If he believed it was an alchemist, then she did as well.
“I see you have your doubts about my solution to this question?” He spoke evenly.
Her head twitched to the left. “No, my lord. I would never doubt you. It’s just that…”
“You’ve never seen an alchemist before, never heard of them.”
“Heard of them, yes, but only in legends, fairy tales.”
“The world is changing, Myra. This universe is changing. Long ago, I sent one of my best to instruct humans in the dark arts of alchemy: how it could be used for greed, murder, and any selfish act you could think of. It corrupted thousands, and in turn, their corruption spread like a virus, infecting the planet.”
“What happened?”
“The Creator sent judges to wipe them out and banished the angel responsible for his teachings, exiling him to the deep abyss for ten thousand years.”
She considered the extraordinary amount of time in grave silence.
“When the judges exterminated my alchemists,” he went on, “only the ones who served the light remained.”
“How many?” Myra’s tone was blunt.
“We handled most of them long ago. It’s amazing what one can do with a little…religious fervor. My angels persuaded the churches and temples of old to persecute anyone who dared practice arcane arts such as magic or alchemy. With a single, broad stroke, we wiped the white alchemists from the planet.”
She knew what he meant by white alchemists. It was the term given to those who served the Gods. They did things by the rules set forth by the Creator, obedient to his path without regard to questioning why. Such blind trust was something she admired in prisoners, people she used for her own ends, but not in those who worked for the other side.
Myra was careful how she phrased the next question. “So, does that mean you may have missed a few?”
“It’s possible,” he sighed. “Our senses detect things in the quantum fabric that humans still cannot. We scoured the earth for them, sending those under our influence to execute any they found, including many who had nothing to do with it, just to be sure.” He paused. “But yes, it is possible one or two slipped through our fingers. How? Perhaps they had grown in power to the point where they could cloak their locations. A spell here, a glyph there. We did our best to scrub that knowledge from the minds of men. Perhaps our plan had been implemented too soon. Now, however, magic and science are combining and accelerating the planet at an incredible rate, hurtling it toward a new future. Alchemy, it seems, still has a root somewhere.”
“And you want me to kill that root?”
“No.” He waved his hand, dismissing the offer. “I will take care of the alchemist. I don’t know how they have avoided my detection, but now that I’m aware of their presence I will find them. I want you to take care of the person who killed my lieutenant, Ashgog.”
“Once I’ve found them and executed them, what would you like me to do with the sword, my master?”
“Bring it to me.”
A wry grin creased her lips as the formation of his plan came together in her mind. Myra could see exactly what he wanted with this weapon. “You’re going to use it to kill the Creator, aren’t you?”
His facial expression remained stoic, overflowing with determination. “Yes. And then I will be able to break these chains and enforce my rule on the entire multiverse.”
17
Orion pounded on the door for the third time. Water shook from his sleeves and fist with every rap. The rain poured down around him, his only respite from the deluge a tiny canopy that extended out from the wall and over the steps.
He was about to hit the door again, ready to break it down if needed, when a light flickered on inside through one of the windows to his right.
Orion glanced over one shoulder and then the other, checking the nearly empty streets and sidewalks to make sure he wasn’t followed. A young couple meandered along on the other side of the street, apparently not caring that they were being soaked by the downpour. One taxi sat at the next intersection, waiting on the light to turn green. Otherwise, only parked cars lined the streets along the curbs.
Locks clicked inside the door. When it swung open, a seam of dim light poured out. Steve pulled it open farther the second he saw how wet Orion was.
“Oh? Come in. Get out of the rain?”
Orion didn’t need a second invite. He stepped into the cool, dry air of the foyer as Steve quickly closed the door and locked it.
“What are you doing here? You know what time it is? You in trouble?”
Orion shook off some of the rain from his shirt and pants, letting the water fall onto a welcome mat.
“That’s a lot of questions. You don’t happen to have a few dry clothes I could get into, do you?”
“No. I mean, yeah,” Steve corrected. “Sorry, yes. Right this way. Let’s get you a warm shower, and then I’ve got some things that should fit you.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
The priest led the way up a flight of stairs to the immediate left and then straight ahead to a small guest bathroom.
He handed Orion a towel. “I’ll get you some fresh clothes, and we can throw those in the dryer when you’re done. Then you can tell me what happened.”
Orion agreed with a nod, and Steve stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Fifteen minutes later, Orion stepped out of the bathroom with a T-shirt that was at least a size too big and sweat pants that were hanging on for dear life. He felt like an idiot, but he was dry and warm, so he wasn't about to complain.
He made his way back downstairs where Steve had turned on a few more lights and poured a couple of whiskeys into two shot glasses. As Orion rounded the bottom of the stairs, the priest pushed one of the drinks toward him and raised his own as he stood behind the little kitchen counter.
“It’s not fancy, but it’ll warm the soul.”
Orion took the drink and downed it in one toss. He winced as the familiar burn that came with almost every first drink singed his throat. Then the welcome warmth seeped through his abdomen and into his blood.
“Good enough for me,” he said. “And to answer your questions, yes, I know what time it is. I’m sorry to come here at this hour, but I couldn’t stay at my place.”
“Yeah, what’s going on? Does this have anything to do with those people we saw there earlier today?”
Orion nodded. “Yeah.”
He paused, looking down at the empty glass for a second.
“Oh, sorry,” Steve opened the bottle again and poured in another round for his guest, topping off his own while he was at it.
Orion raised the second glass appreciatively, tipping it toward his friend, and then downed it as fast as the first. He set the little cup down on the counter and turned toward the modest living room. The space was narrow and fairly tight, only fifteen feet across, but it was more than enough room for a guy living on his own. An old brown leather couch sat flush to the back wall facing a flatscreen television on the other. A glass-top coffee table was in the center, between two club chairs.
Orion shuffled over to the chair facing the door and eased into it.
“They’re some kind of agency that monitors magic users,” Orion said. “I’ve never heard of them before, and I was in that arena for several years.”
“Right,” Steve said. “Back when you worked for the government.”
“Yep. I had decently high clearance, so if there was something in the works, I would have heard about it.”
“Maybe.”
Orion’s head flicked up for a second. The gesture came with a derisive snort. “Yeah, no kidding. Those government organizations have secrets on secrets. Still, some kind of agency that was being equipped to track magic?” He shook his head. “I don’t know a lot of people who could have kept that a secret. I should have heard something.”
“So, maybe they’ve not been around long.” Steve took another sip of his still ha
lf-full drink.
“I thought about that.”
“How did you find out who they were, what they were up to?”
“I climbed the fire escape up to my place. When I got there, they were in my apartment. I waited until they left, or so I thought. I guess they knew I was there. Some woman, name of Myra Koch, came back in and had a little chat. She’s in charge of that little operation, based on what I was able to gather.”
Steve’s eyebrows pinched together. “Myra Koch? Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“It didn’t for me, either. And she looks like she’s maybe five or ten years older than me. Which means we would have been running with the same crowds at the same time, possibly. I guess it depends on how long she’s been in the game.”
“What did she want?” Steve peered over the rim of his glass.
“Felt like a warning shot at first.”
The priest’s face lengthened, one eyebrow raised. “Warning shot?”
“She said they detected a power spike…in my home. I have no idea how something like that would even work.”
“Something like what?”
Steve, apparently, needed things spelled out for him.
“A detection system like that,” Orion explained. “That’s unheard of. I mean, back when I was working for the government, we had some pretty sick tech. Hell, they had a tracking system for planes in the 1990s that could pinpoint the exact location of any aircraft anywhere in the world.”
“Is that true?”
“Yeah,” Orion said with a chuckle. “And that was way before my time.”
“Wow.” Steve took another draw from the glass, this time a little bigger than before. “I had no idea.”
“That’s just the beginning, man. These types, they’re ruthless. If you knew about some of the stuff they’ve done—hell, stuff I’ve done—you’d probably get sick to your stomach.”