Rusty Nails (The Dade Gibson Case Files)

by Jason Brannon

  “She’s a dope dealer?”

  Pyriel nodded. “Richard Edgemore was one of the pushers who could get the angels what they wanted. I think it’s safe to assume that Mama’s looking for what’s left of Edgemore’s stash.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why she hired Dade to find his bones. It’s not like a map to the drugs is chiseled into his femur or anything.”

  “No, but in the right hands, they can provide a lot of answers. Without a proper burial, Richard Edgemore will be condemned to a life of limbo, stuck between this world and the hereafter. He’ll give up the location of the drugs just to find a sense of peace. If whoever questions him knows what they’re doing, they’ll get the answers they want.”

  “After seeing Louise Hartwell blow an angel’s head off with a high caliber handgun, I’d say it’s safe to assume that she’s ruthless enough to do something like that. Of course, that still doesn’t explain why she pulled the trigger in the first place.”

  Pyriel rested his forehead against the wall as he contemplated the reasons. “It’s becoming harder and harder to get the drug now. Nobody knows how to make it and nobody’s really sure where it comes from. Richard was the distributor. He never told who supplied him and nobody asked so long as they got what they wanted.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I think it’s becoming pretty clear that Mama’s about to run out of Rusty Nails. She probably stages a deal, takes the money, and then shoots the customer so she won’t have to deplenish her supply.”

  “Smart. And she still gets the money.”

  “It’s a dangerous business,” Pyriel said, running his hands over the rough stones, hoping for a way out. “There is nothing smart about it. She’s in over her head.”

  “And Dade’s involved in almost every aspect of this.”

  “How deeply is he involved?”

  “Hip deep.”

  “Edgemore’s remains were being kept in one of the rooms here. I saw the bones with my own eyes before they caught me and injected me. Maybe if we got our hands on them we would have something to bargain with.”

  “So angels are to blame for the theft of the remains,” Liz said, putting the pieces together.

  “It would seem that way, yes. Rumor has it that Samael’s got a voracious appetite for the drug. In fact, Mama’s is his supplier. I’m sure he’s doing all he can to make sure he doesn’t run out any time soon.”

  “Samael?” Liz said as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

  “The angel of death.”

  “That’s the real reason she shot that angel in the hotel room then. She’s afraid of what Samael might do to her if she doesn’t have any of the guilt-drug to satisfy his fix.”

  “She’s a smart girl to be afraid of Samael. The angel of death isn’t an angel you dismiss easily.”

  “Dade’s in real trouble, isn’t he?” Liz asked hesitantly.

  “I’m afraid so,” Pyriel said. “We are too if we don’t get out of here.”

  “I understand the motive behind getting you addicted to Rusty Nails. That’s a strategic move on the rebels part. Sort of like a recruitment drive. What I don’t understand is why they’ve locked you up. If you’re one of them now, you should be out fighting for the cause.”

  Pyriel sighed. “I was a member of the highest order of war seraphim. I was one of God’s elite. The addicted are naturally suspicious of me. In the past, I was the one who upheld the laws of Heaven. Now, I’m the one breaking them. They’re still not sure what side I’m on. They’re suspicious of tricks. It’s easier to just lock me up and see how I react than to let me roam free and potentially destroy everything they cherish.”

  “But you’re not on their side, right?”

  “I’m kind of in between sides right now,” Pyriel admitted. “I’ve sinned and distanced myself from God. But that doesn’t mean I’m against Him. More than anything, I want to resume my rightful position in the kingdom. That will require atonement and forgiveness. That is what I want more than anything else.”

  “I think a good way to begin would be to break us out of here. Don’t you think?”

  Pyriel sighed. He was involved with this woman’s troubles whether he wanted to be or not. In a way though it was a welcome relief from his own problem with the addiction. In fact, if he focused all his energy on breaking the two of them out he might actually forget about the need. He doubted it would be that simple. But it was enough to be able to hope again.

  “Let me handle this,” he said. “I’ll get us out. It’s the least I can do.”

  Chapter 23

  Leon didn’t answer his phone when Dade tried to call him, and neither did Liz. Dade wasn’t really worried about Leon. Liz was a different story. It wasn’t like her to ignore her phone, and that break from routine was enough to put him on edge. Especially with all the other crazy stuff that was going on.

  Hoping she might have sent him an e-mail, he booted up his computer and checked his messages. None of the ones in his inbox were from Liz. However, there was a note addressed to him from someone named Samael. The name was enough to make him pause.

  The e-mail was flagged with a glaring red exclamation point. Dade double-clicked on the e-mail and saw that there was an attachment. With a trembling finger, he opened the e-mail and tried to catch his breath.

  “I’m tired of playing games here. I know you’re linked to Louise Hartwell, and like it or not, you’re now linked to me. I’ve heard stories about you. That’s why I approached you earlier about the job. The dead are my specialty, and I can call them at will. Your father was more than willing to cooperate. He knew what I was capable of if he refused to crawl out of the pit at my request and talk to his dear sweet son one last time.”

  “You will kill the boy like you’ve been asked to,” a caption beneath a picture of Liz read. She was in what looked like a dungeon of some sort. The flash revealed just enough to show drops of blood at her wrists and ankles where she had been bound and struggled to get free. “Otherwise, we will do as we please with your dear, sweet Liz. No more games. No more charades. This is as simple as I know how to put it. KILL THE BOY!”

  Dade was speechless at first, and then he was angry. He slammed the keyboard down on his desk, dislodging a few of the keys. Then, he grabbed his guns. He didn’t have a clue where to start looking for Liz or the boy, but he wasn’t going to just sit around while his world crumbled to bits.

  Thinking ahead, Dade quickly saved the pictures of Liz to a flash drive and scanned the Polaroid of the boy which he also saved. Then, he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out to find the only person in town who might be able to help him sort this whole mess out: Leon.

  Chapter 24

  Bums and winos nestled in the dark alleyways like moles hiding from the sun, and, for once, Rush was glad to be among such smelly company. Granted, the body odor of a couple of drunk old men wouldn’t be much camouflage, but he supposed that it was better than nothing under the circumstances. The war angels, of course, had a keen tracking ability, but there were limits to their intuitions. Meaning, if he stayed on the move, they would have a hard time keeping up with him.

  Although he was tired of running and tired of masquerading as someone he wasn’t, Rush had sense enough to know that Midael, the stiletto angel, would be looking for him. Things had been progressing much too well to let it all crumble down around him now. The drugs had all the angels in an uproar, and they were fighting each other without regard to the consequences. He had been waiting for this for quite a long time.

  He could hear the beat of wings on the air and could smell the fresh blood on Midael’s plumage. The assassin was close.

  Rush had any number of options available to him, but none were very appealing as they would all involve the casting away of the pitiful frail shell that had kept him hidden for so long. He needed to buy time, but Midael was among the best trackers in all of Heaven and earth. It was going to be difficult to fool him. Still, Rush knew
every trick in the book. Maybe that was because he had authored every page.

  The bums looked at him strangely as he approached them. They were huddled around a steel drum that was alive with flaming trash. Their hands were held out to the fire while a bottle was being passed around.

  “You guys look cold,” Rush said slyly.

  “Get outta here, kid,” one of the old men said. “We don’t want no trouble.”

  “I can help you get warm,” the boy said.

  “And I can help you get lost,” the old man said. “Now beat it.”

  Rush blew the old man a kiss.

  “Hey, don’t start with that funny business,” the wino said nervously.

  The other men backed away from him nervously like they were fearful of catching some dreaded disease. A worried look passed across the old man’s face like a fleeing animal. And then the stench of burning flesh made him tilt his nose to the sky. That was right before he realized the stench was coming from within.

  Like the head of a match, the man burst into flames, fiery bits and pieces of him showering those around him in a disgusting rain. Wherever the fire touched, it caught, and soon all four of the bums were a screaming, lunatic chorus. The gagging smell of sizzling skin and roasting flesh was sickening. It was just enough to throw an angel’s senses into a tailspin. Rush walked away, satisfied with himself, thinking not for the first time that the shrieking of burning men ranked right up there with the most beautiful of operas.

  Once the beating of wings on the air started to grow louder again, Rush threw open the door that led to the kitchen of an old abandoned restaurant and ran inside. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they figured out where he was. Until then, however, he was going to make the most of it.

  He shrugged out of the skin as if it were a raincoat. And then he stretched his wings, grateful to be free, if for only a few moments.

  Chapter 25

  The thing that confused Abbadon, the watcher, the most about this mysterious child was the sheer inconsistency of all involved parties. He had watched the boy knowingly addict a wounded angel to Rusty Nails, simultaneously healing him and turning him away from God. Yet Samael and his goons were the ones who were trying to kill him. They were the bad guys in all of this, the ones who should have openly supported such a defiance of God. Nonetheless, Midael was obviously out to kill the boy. And his allegiance was to Samael. Which meant that the angel of death had some reason for wanting the child out of the way.

  At the moment, Abbadon didn’t know what to do. He didn’t dare go back to the Ninth Order of Angelic Hosts for fear of missing something vitally important, and he couldn’t simply make his presence known with so many assassins flying around like vultures on the scent of dead meat. So he did the only thing that was familiar to him. He dug out the green fairy, the spoon, and the sugar, and let his mind drift for a few minutes. Normally the absinthe made him feel better, relaxed him. Not today. Not after all he’d seen.

  He had watched the boy duck into an abandoned kitchen, and from his vantage point at the top of one of the city’s innumerable office buildings, he could see that Midael was having a hard time picking up the scent. He’d seen what happened to those bums and knew that Rush had something to do with it even though he hadn’t laid so much as a hand on the old geezer’s unwashed flesh. That’s what made Abbadon hesitate before rushing down to see what the boy was doing. The child was obviously powerful. That much was established. Yet it was on whose authority he drew that power which concerned Abbadon. As far as he’d been able to learn, nobody knew anything about the child. And in the realms of the dead, it was quite a feat to keep a bit of intelligence out of the air. It was also a little frightening.

  He made it down to the street just in time to glimpse the outline of angel wings through the window. But then he heard Midael and his goons arriving and knew that he didn’t have time to stick around and contemplate the significance of such a sight. The assassins would cut him up just as easily as they would the boy. Easier, in fact, since he would eventually be the one holding the key to their prison. As Keeper of the Keys to the Bottomless Pit, he knew he would never win any popularity contests.

  Chapter 26

  The need gripped Samael like a strong hand. He tore the door off of an old Chevy and flung it into the depths of Reznick’s Junkyard. Louise Hartwell knew better than to speak to him at a time like this. She had seen his anger in action and knew that it was best to simply leave him alone until he got control of himself. She put her hand in her coat pocket and breathed a sigh of relief at the touch of the syringe. Yet there was a sense of anxiety underlying that relief. There wouldn’t be many more chances like this where she was protected unless she found out where Edgemore had hidden what was left of the Rusty Nails.

  “None of this is going like I planned,” the death angel growled as he continued systematically destroying the Chevy. “I was going to stage a revolt. I was going to take charge of the nine orders. I was going to overthrow Heaven and succeed where Lucifer failed. But then everybody gets a taste of this new miracle guilt-drug and everything goes to Hell. Now nobody cares who they fight. There is no sense of allegiance. It’s every angel for himself. I don’t have an army of troops before. I’ve got a bunch of wide-eyed slack-jawed zombies who would just as soon tear my throat out as they would look at me.”

  Louise winced at the screech of torn metal. Samael had peeled the roof back like it was a can of sardines.

  “You’ll find Edgemore’s stash,” she reassured him, hoping he couldn’t read the true motives that lurked behind her eyes.

  Samael’s eyes narrowed. “Not if you find it first.”

  “I’m just trying to keep you supplied,” Louise admitted, hoping the death angel couldn’t spot her lie. “What kind of a pusher would I be if I didn’t have any merchandise to push?”

  “I‘m not the angel you want to double-cross,” Samael said.

  “Why do you want Dade Gibson to kill that boy?” Louise asked, hoping to turn the tables of the conversation.

  Samael looked at her sternly. “What do you know about that?”

  Louise was tempted to tell him that she had spies of her own, but she wasn’t prepared for a confrontation. “I hear things on the street, you know?”

  “That boy is dangerous,” Samael said. “He’s wreaking havoc on this war. I want Gibson to kill him.”

  “But you’re the death angel,” Louise reminded him.

  “Let’s just say I’m subcontracting this one out.”

  “You’re scared,” Louise said with some satisfaction. “You’re frightened of facing this child.”

  Samael ripped another door off its hinges. He threw it at a stack of smashed cars and connected. The tower of oxidized metal fell with a thunderous crash. “We’re talking about killing a twelve-year old boy here. It’s not like I’m asking him to assassinate a lawyer or anything.”

  “I still don’t understand why you want the boy dead in the first place.”

  Samael looked at her with disgust, and for the briefest of moments, she was certain that the next hunk of steel he tore away from the car would be aimed at her.

  “There are certain variables in any equation called constants. These are variables that can be calculated, measured, certified as true in every instance. The boy is not a constant. He is a wild card. I have no idea where he came from, who put him here, or what his agenda is. All I know is that he’s turning more and more of my men into slaves to the needle every day. That’s supposed to be my job.”

  “Why don’t you kill the boy yourself?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know who put him on this earth or why. If I did the job and Rush turned out to be a minion of Lucifer’s, then we could have an entirely new and unwanted facet to this war. I don’t want anymore surprises where that sort of thing is concerned. I’ve already got enough that I can’t control without adding something else to the mix. If Dade pulls the trigger, there aren’t nearl
y as many consequences involved. Yet, the end result is still the same. I don’t have to wonder anymore about my entire plan being jeopardized by a twelve-year old.”

  Louise smiled wryly at the angel of death.

  “You doubt me?” Samael asked for the second time.

  “All I’m wondering is whether or not you’ll stop using the drug too once you take it away from everyone else.”

  Samael grabbed the Chevy’s bumper and tore it away in a fierce display of muscle and anger. Louise just knew that he was going to club her over the head with it at any minute.

  “It is not your place to question me,” he said, his voice masking the rage that simmered just below the surface like water in a covered pot.

  “Fine,” Louise said, hoping he couldn’t read her blank expression or her thoughts.

  “I think you’ve got something in your pocket for me,” he said with a smile. It made Louise’s blood run cold that he could see the unseen so clearly. It made her wonder if he had any hint of what she had planned.

  Reluctantly, she handed over the syringe and walked quickly away as Samael cast off his inhibitions as easily as a worn-out shirt. She didn’t want to be around when he realized that she’d started cutting the substance in half in order to prolong her supply. Still she knew by the deafening clang of metal and the shriek of steel kissing steel that he’d figured it out.

  Chapter 27

  The kitchen was black and musty, still smelling of bacon grease and rotten produce even after so many years of inactivity. Rush waited until his eyes had adjusted to the darkness before moving through the maze of industrial-sized ovens and hanging cookware. Knowing that Midael would eventually find the door and throw it aside, Rush searched every inch of the room for a hiding place. But even the stainless-steel ovens were too small for a young boy to fit into. He had just about given up hope of preserving his identity when he saw the grease trap that was set into the concrete beneath his feet like a magician’s trapdoor. Hamburger drippings, bacon grease, several years worth of lard, and a whole lot of unidentifiable muck had pooled in fatty swirls beneath the kitchen floor. The single positive thing about it was that it only looked knee deep.