The Devil's Highway (Journeyman Book 4)

by Golden Czermak

  “The three of us?” Marcus said excitedly as he walked past the hospital bed on his way toward the exit. He picked up a whiff of tea tree and mint coming from Gage, though he knew better than to say anything.

  “Nah, just you and me,” Gage replied, wondering what that expression on Marcus’ face meant. “I'm still finalizing the plan, but we're going to be jumping into Colorado and then driving down from there. I don’t wanna risk us popping in too close without gettin’ a feel for the situation first.”

  “I’ll be staying here and tending to Joey,” Adrienne added. “Also helping Henry or the doctors out where needed.”

  Marcus liked the sound of that and with a bright smile he departed.

  “You think he’ll be okay?” Ady asked.

  “He’s got to be,” Gage replied. “We all do.”

  THE LESSER’S BODY hit the hard floor as a withered husk, his formerly fitted suit now flapping around as he rolled down the stone steps, stopping as his vacant eyes looked out toward the breach above.

  “That was an intense one,” Dajjal said as he drew the last remnants of the demon’s soul – still writhing – in through his nose and mouth. It felt like pure ecstasy and he didn’t think he could stop partaking in such delights from time to time. “That little shit was quite a fighter.”

  The mysterious Nabila had departed a little less than an hour ago, managing to break Botis’ seal and reopen the door, but Dajjal wasn’t up to full strength at the time so he didn’t immediately head through the portal.

  That was nothing a light snack couldn’t take care of and now that he was finally renewed, he changed into his fetching gray suit and red shirt – one of his favorite outfits.

  What are you doing? a distant voice asked him.

  “Nothing,” Dajjal muttered back, “other than sustaining myself in these difficult times.”

  I am not talking about that, idiot. It’s all of this fascination with human attire and prestige that is worrisome.

  “We have been over this before and I am not that interested in carrying on another long conversation with myself” Dajjal said. “All I will say is hubris is one of the seven deadly sins, is it not? I am merely embracing that which is dear to us.”

  There is no doubting that it is one of the seven, but too much of anything can set you on a path of destruction, Dajjal. You know this as well as anyone, for it was how you were imprisoned in the first place after the Fall. Not to mention you have heard it from many different sources by now.

  “Many sources who are now silent.”

  Except for Nabila. Try to tell yourself that you are correct all you want, but the reality is you are being irrational in your sense of superiority. Not to mention these issues you keep having with your vessel manifesting from time to–

  “Let me stop you right there,” Dajjal hissed; was it irrational for him to be arguing with himself? “Wilson Drake is not in control of my thoughts or my faculties.”

  Are you so sure?

  “Yes!”

  Well, just remember Dajjal, you are but a demon, not a god.

  “…Yet.”

  You will learn the error of your ways soon enough. Dajjal’s inner voice faded as he gazed into the darkness beyond the door, whirls of snow and ice pelting him.

  “Well, I suppose it best that Botis isn’t given much more of a lead than he already has,” he said aloud, focusing on the task ahead. Two massive black wings expanded behind him, wide and menacing even as loose feathers and down were whisked away by the wind. “Now let’s see if this last meal will allow me to reach back home…”

  The great demon stretched out his arms and thought about his hallowed weapons and armor from long ago, during the time of the War of Heaven. It had all been left in the depths of Hell since departed so quickly, taking up residence in Wilson’s body.

  Nothing happened at first, but Dajjal strode forward nevertheless. However, before his foot came down it felt heavier and here was an unmistakable clang when it made contact with the ground. Looking to his feet, a luminous red sabaton had covered his boots, glowing like molten lava. Piece by piece, the ancient armor encased him as he strode until just ahead of the threshold, where the final piece appeared. It was a marvelous skull helmet through which his red eyes shone out. With his armor in place, a flaming sword appeared in his spiked right gauntlet and a shield emblazoned with a goat skull appeared in his left.

  “Still fits like a charm!” Dajjal said, most pleased as he moved around. “Now to take this out for a spin!”

  Looking ahead, he bent down at the knees and by a magical force was launched forward like a rocket, flying through the portal and departing from the Earth. Shortly after, he emerged on the other side with a great boom, tearing through a cavernous passageway and out across the icy wastelands. The air was crisp and the wind beneath his wings felt remarkable, especially now he was able to fly around wide open spaces again.

  “So this is what greatness feels like,” he said, racing over the barren ice toward the languid waters of a majestic fjord.

  Passing over the shimmering blur, he was tempted to skim the surface until spotting a school of strange creatures swimming in the deep. The huge beasts were nearly black beneath the water, though the parts of their blistered skin and limbs that breached the surface were actually blue. The urge to smite them in some way came over him – just for fun – but before he could snap his fingers, an irresistible feeling snatched his attention and pulled it toward the southeast.

  Is that where you’ve gone, Botis? Dajjal thought, racing past a couple of icy pillars that were bordering the fjord. I am coming for you and the –

  Something struck his side, sending the demon toppling right into the ground where he landed on his back, engulfed in a cloud of fluttering snow. Dajjal looked skyward, heart far from steady, as a large boulder was plummeting toward him.

  “What the fuck is this?” he barked, thrusting his wings to get out of the way of certain death. The boulder narrowly missed, smashing into the ground and buckling throughout before collapsing into a large pile of debris.

  Safe, Dajjal shot into the air once more. Turning around, he saw that the two pillars he passed were in fact giants forged right out of the ice, monstrous in size just like the wolf that nearly managed to kill him.

  Why is everything so big here? he thought. No matter, this should be easy! Ice stands no chance against fire, especially mine!

  “Bring it!” Dajjal challenged and the closest one accepted.

  Distinctly feminine in appearance, the giant held out her hand and a cold wind was drawn into it, blasting back out as a rain of frozen spears that were sent directly toward Dajjal.

  Quickly the demon moved back over the water attempting to get out of range, taking out a few spikes that got too close for comfort with blasts of fire. There were several times that he was nearly impaled by misjudgment before reaching a safe distance, caused by the excessive amount vapor that blocked his view with each vaporized spear.

  The giant sank to her knees to recuperate, her spikes falling harmlessly into the sparkling depths.

  Harmless at least for Dajjal and not so much the creatures beneath; the waters soon growing red with blood.

  As if it were a signal, the other giant took over, stepping on the surface of the lake which instantly froze beneath his feet. He moved across the surface slowly at first but quickly picked up pace until running at a full sprint.

  “Well that’s inventive,” Dajjal said spitefully, sending a scorching ball of hellfire down toward his pursuer before flying even higher to get away. As the flames struck, the icy supports melted away, the water boiled, and the giant plunged wholly into the depths.

  Dajjal gloated. “That should teach you to mess with a –”

  The water began to freeze again and with a mighty roar the giant pulled himself up onto a newly formed chunk of ice. Thrusting an arm skyward, the liquid beneath Dajjal rose to follow, becoming an immense column in its own right. It stretched higher and
higher in pursuit of the demon, narrowing to a point which swiftly closed the gap.

  Luckily Dajjal saw and heard it coming, suddenly banking toward the southeast at full speed. The sound of a sonic boom echoed off the fjord’s sheer mountains as the Crown continued to call for him, driven louder by his ravenous want for it.

  Suddenly, the column of water froze, groaning under incredible stress. It then shattered, its sharp fragments following Dajjal like a homing beacon.

  He managed to dodge most of them, but a few shards were able to tear through and sever his right wing. As it spun off in one direction, he plunged toward the ground in another. Not about to perish alone, Dajjal eyed the floating giant through his watery vision and shouted at the top of his lungs.

  “DIE you bastard!”

  Throwing his flaming sword at his foe, he guided it right to the target. Before reaching the giant, it began to spin, soaring straight through the creature’s abdomen vanquished in a burst of hellfire. While that giant’s body toppled into the water, the sword was already on its way to the giant still on the shore. Rising, her legs were sheared clean off and the bulk of her fell to the snowy ground with a crash. The sword then flew up into the air, turning in place, then sped back down to impale the wounded giant in the head.

  She was dead by the time Dajjal struck the ground, too, his armor severely beaten, but still intact.

  Dajjal laid in place for a few minutes, his sword returning to his hand before vanishing in a plume of dark smoke.

  “I fucking hate the cold…” he said, craning his head in the direction of the Crown. “I’m coming for you Botis… shortly…after a few more minutes.”

  THE HIGHWAY SEEMED to go on forever in a straight line and Marcus couldn’t help himself, groaning loudly. He and Gage were road tripping toward Bennett Peak and secretly he hoped it would be the last time they would ever have to see that godforsaken place in the middle of the New Mexico wasteland.

  They had arrived a couple hours north, meeting up with Journeyman Allison Porter at her salvage yard in Dove Creek. She reminded Gage a lot of Adrienne, replacing her brunette hair with a deeper black matching his own. In any case, after much to do about the lack of any available trucks, Gage settled with her on a boxy Buick Electra for the ride.

  He had once again taken control of the radio, classic rock tunes filling the car since they headed out about an hour ago. Though Marcus didn’t mind it, he longed to hear some classical music or instrumentals.

  “Sorry for the long-ass run down this beast of a highway,” Gage apologized, looking over Marcus’ way. The threat of anything but potential road kill leaping out in front of them was minimal, as they could see a billion miles down the otherwise empty road. “Just wanted to make sure we didn't get caught up in any traffic around Durango if we’d come from the east. I don't think I could stomach seein’ that amount of destruction again, though somethin’ tells me Dajjal is gonna try to make sure it’s all we’ll ever see. More reason for us to make sure we kick his ass so far back to Hell that he’ll never crawl back out again.”

  “We could do that, or kill the fucker,” Marcus said with a blunt whisper.

  Gage started to chuckle. “Well, Marcus that’s sort of what I was suggesting.”

  He gave Gage a loose shrug, followed by a distinct meh. “So, Durango…” he carried on. “That's where Evans was amassing his forces before Keli surprised him with an attack, right?”

  “Yeppers, that’s the same place,” Gage responded. “His two comrades and the rest of the town were wiped clean off the map when Baal decided to tango with an Ifrit.”

  “I thought so,” Marcus replied, sighing. “It’ll be good to finally see this threat in the rear view.”

  “Ah, ya even have road puns now?” Gage observed proudly, noting Marcus was letting his beard get a little bit wild. “I’m rubbin’ off on the ol’ fuzz master. I agree with what you’re sayin’ though. It’ll definitely be good to end this, at least until the next threat comes along. Seems our world has a knack for such things, don’t it?”

  “True,” Marcus agreed, trying not to let melancholy take hold. “You know, on a good note, I've seen more towns over these past few months than I ever had before. I prefer looking at them from the Odyssey though; street level seems to take forever and don't even get me started on travel by bubble.”

  Gage reached over as Fat Bottomed Girls ended and scrolled through the radio until he found something more to Marcus’ liking. “Speaking of the ship, sorry I stopped ya looking at the upgrades before we left. I know how much ya wanted to, but I figured we could do it when we get back – somethin’ to look forward to.”

  Marcus nodded. “Plus, Om should be back from Halifax by then.”

  “That's right… what’s Jiminy doin’ up that way?”

  “Haha. He's overseeing the final touches on a couple smaller airships,” Marcus told him. “They'd been in production for some time, but due to our encounter in Peru the assembly schedule was brought forward… at warp speed. If I recall their names, they're the Iliad and the Homer. Supposedly, they're more nimble than the Odyssey, but I think that's just Jones blustering; I'd like to determine that first hand for myself.”

  Gage agreed, saying, “I'm sure ours has more character. Regardless, the Order’s certainly been busy reading the old Greek poems, eh?” He squinted his eyes as a passing road sign glared across them. “I guess we have the humans on the Council to thank for the improved schedule?”

  “Jane mainly, Quileth as well,” Marcus noted. “Nothing against Drogir and Tyrol of course.”

  It was Gage's turn to nod. “Nah, they're good – more hands on with their approaches.”

  “Just like a certain guy I know…”

  Gage grinned. “Wonder who. Anyway, back to what you were sayin’ earlier, there’s definitely a lot to see out here no matter the method. There are some stunning places in the world and others you can't forget fast enough, if ever. The road certainly opens up when you’re out in the field and if ya ain’t cautious, it’ll lead you astray. Admittedly, that’s what I used to enjoy about my time as a trucker before all this demonic bullshit came crashing into my life.”

  “You; a trucker? Never!” Marcus said sarcastically, being met by Gage’s ever-present furrowed brow. “Yikes. There’s that look again.”

  “Oh please, ya fucker. Ya know I don’t mean too much by it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Marcus acknowledged, smiling. “So was there was a time you didn’t know about the Journeymen?”

  “Yessir, in fact I had no clue anything paranormal existed until after my folks were killed. They managed to keep me well protected, or ignorant, depending on how ya look at things.”

  “I don’t think they meant any ill will,” Marcus reassured. “I’ve known about the reality of the world for most of my life – from the time our family were plagued by ghosts in one of our early homes.”

  “That must’ve been interesting!”

  “To say the least, but enough about me for now. Back to Mr. Crosse the Trucker – what sort of things did you haul? Dip and cigars I bet.”

  “Hey now, I haven’t used dip in a long while I’ll have you know,” Gage said, pretending to be offended.

  “Except for that can of mint last night.”

  “Yeah, well who’s keeping’ tabs anyway? Since your nosey ass asked, I used to run cargo on two main routes from Corona on one end all the way to New Orleans. They intersected in good ol’ Denver but ya know, you’d think I would have stopped by home a lot more so I could get some of Momma’s fine cooking.

  “You didn’t?”

  Gage fell quiet for a time before answering. “Sadly, no.”

  “Well damn, in any case that’s a long ass drive.”

  “Hell yeah it was, but ya get used to it after a while.” Gage shifted uncomfortably in the Buick’s seat. “That or your ass falls off, like mine’s about to.”

  Marcus let out a much needed laugh. “Speaking of the road, it’s been gre
at to leave the confines of the office. I really wish I had done so much sooner.”

  “But you had no reason to?”

  “Well,” Marcus answered hesitantly. “I did with my brother, but I think I found more motivation in hitting the road with your team – you and Ady are great and Joey, well, you know my feelings about him.”

  “That I do, my man,” Gage agreed. As the conversation trailed off, he was thinking this was as good a time as any to ask about Ty, so he threw out the fishing line to see if Marcus would bite, knowing the topic of discussion was a sensitive one. “So… ya wanna talk about your brother any?”

  He put his arm on beside the window and tapped the glass a couple of times, waiting on an answer.

  Marcus looked briefly out the window at the streaks of brown flying by. “Not much choice, but you do deserve to know what our deal is. My side of the coin at least; I’m sure Ty has a vastly different story.”

  “We all do, Marcus. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Ya did give him a call, right?”

  “You know I did, Gage. Especially after you threatened to throttle me if I didn't.”

  Gage laughed so hard he started coughing. “I did not!”

  “Might as well have,” Marcus answered. “That mean-mug you manage to muster is quite intimidating. There wasn’t a response from him before we left.”

  “Think there will be?”

  “Who the hell knows. Part of me hopes so, but the majority hopes not.”

  “I for one hope he does, if nothing else other than to close that line as a potential for a cure.”

  There was a brief silence before Marcus resumed talking about his brother. “Ty’s my younger brother by a couple of years. Like I told you, we were both exposed to the supernatural early in our lives – ghosts when we were living out in New England. After fixing that problem we were off again, always on the move. My dad Theodore was a field Journeyman along with mom.”

  “What was her name?” Gage asked.

  “Martha,” Marcus replied. “Lots of Ts and Ms in our family, eh?”