by Debra Dunbar
The corpse hardly looked human. It seemed more statue than flesh, with pore–less skin devoid of color. With some dread, I lay my hands on its flesh and sent my personal energy within. I’d never examined an angel’s corporeal form in this way. Gregory and I had always been intimate as beings of spirit, and he staunchly resisted any more than cursory physical closeness. Every now and then, he’d slip and caress my face, or rub my hair between his fingers, but any move on my part was quickly rebuffed. This was the first time I’d ever really been able to see how angels put together their physical bodies. It baffled me. Nerve endings were intact for function, but disconnected from pleasure and pain receptors in the brain. Hearing, smell, taste, and vision were dulled. The odd skin texture helped block all but the most vital sensory input. I shook my head, thinking this was a terrible waste.
“Well?” I could sense Gregory’s impatience.
I hesitated, reluctant to disclose what I still didn’t understand. It wasn’t what the angel’s body revealed that perplexed me, it was what it didn’t. There were none of the restraint marks that the demons’ had had. None. He seemed healthy and hale, not a mark on him. There were no indications he’d been in a battle when he’d died. In fact, the expression on his face looked …shocked. Like his death had come out of nowhere and surprised him. He was drained, devoured right out of his corporeal form, but his death had differences when compared to the others. They had been stripped clean, even some of their physical form rendered oddly sterile. This angel had traces remaining. It was as if his death had been a quick, desperate action, with little time for a thorough job. Maybe it was a different killer. Or maybe the killer just hadn’t had a lot of time for this one.
“Cockroach, there are things you aren’t telling me.” Gregory’s voice held a warning note.
I threw up my hands. “I don’t know. It’s different than the demons. Perhaps the killer was in a hurry with this one, or nervous, because he was an angel.”
“Or maybe a different killer,” Gregory mused, echoing my thoughts.
Once again I explored the corpse, taking especial care to examine the faint traces of angel energy that remained. His removal had been incomplete, and there was enough of him probably for the angels to positively identify. There were bits along his torso, and one good–sized chunk at his hand.
I paused, sucking in a breath. Because there, on the piece of him left in his hand, was a scar. A recent scar, barely a day old when he’d been killed. It hadn’t healed, hadn’t even begun to close over. And I recognized this scar.
“What?” Gregory asked, seeing my startled expression.
“This angel …it’s the same one that chased me through Frederick. The one I told you about. The one I summoned you in a panic over.”
He came to stand over my shoulder, the heat from his power leak searing along my back. “This is not good, little Cockroach. It further implicates you in these devourings.”
I winced. “Yeah, I get that.”
“How can you tell it was the same angel? He was devoured. Nothing remains.”
I shook my head. “It was sloppy, hurried. There are parts of him still here, and this part I’d damaged when he grabbed me in the alley. It can’t be a coincidence. It’s in the same place, and it was small enough that he might not have bothered to fast track any healing before he died.”
“That attack on you happened right after the demon was found in Damascus.” His words were right next to my ear. “So close. I could see there might be a connection, but why would his body have been found in Mexico?”
I turned to face him and caught my breath at how near we were. “Demons don’t bother to move bodies. We don’t bother to cover things up, or hide murders. We’ll deny it, blame it on someone else, but we don’t move bodies.”
So either something important took the angel immediately to Mexico, where he was killed, or he was killed in Maryland and there was a specific reason to move the body.
“Who would care to move an angel killed by a devouring spirit?” I asked. And why would they bother?
He looked over my head, focusing into the distance as he thought, but his hand reached up to rub a lock of my hair rhythmically between his fingers. It was a strange habit of his, and I loved it.
“His choir, maybe? Perhaps there were activities occurring in the Maryland area and they didn’t want him to be associated with them.”
“What activities were there in Maryland besides a devoured demon?” I asked, knowing his logic was headed down the same path as mine.
He shook his head and looked down, his eyes meeting mine. “None. I keep a close eye on that area, as I have a particularly troublesome Cockroach to look after.”
“So his choir, or whoever moved the body, didn’t want him connected with the devouring demon that killed him?” I asked, ignoring the thrill I felt at his comment.
Gregory shrugged. “Or he wasn’t killed in Maryland. Perhaps his involvement with the devoured demons found along the east of the continent led to a trip west.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “We keep uncovering more questions and no answers. How does any of this make sense?”
The angel’s eyes narrowed and I felt a shiver down my spine. “I have an idea. But first, we must stop this devouring spirit before he becomes any more powerful. I want to find answers as badly as you do, little Cockroach, but we can’t let our quest for the truth blind us to the crisis before us.”
I wasn’t as convinced of this crisis as he was, but I agreed. Something bothered me, but regardless of that nagging intuition, I knew I needed to find Baphomet’s killer and bring about justice. It wasn’t very demonic of me, but I felt I owed it to my friend to avenge his untimely death.
~18~
We’d snagged a rental SUV toward the city. I was driving, as Gregory lacked both the skill and the desire to do so. The city of Juneau was about seven miles to the south, along a narrow strip of coast between the channel to the west and the massive ice field and mountain ranges to the east. I was a bit bummed we didn’t have the time to head a tiny bit north toward the Mendenhall glacier. I longed to see it before the massive ice formation melted into the ever–increasing lake.
We were driving along a typical throughway—straight and narrow, with trees and various buildings to one side, an expanse of floodplain and marsh to the other. Thick, grey clouds hung low over the horizon, covering the tips of the impressive mountain range we’d seen when we’d flown in. A light mist clouded the windshield and forced me to turn on the wipers. I knew Juneau got more than its fair share of rain, but I’d hoped for more pleasant weather than this chilly wetness. June was far more “summery” back in Maryland.
This part of Alaska was strange. The groups of the tiny wild gates revealed themselves every half mile or so, and the rest of the atmosphere seemed thin, as if it were on the verge of becoming a giant passageway. Aside from the supernatural, Juneau seemed to be little bits and chunks of habitable land separated by vertical rock, thick forest, and huge bodies of water. The humans had done their best, carving small sections of usable territory from a harsh and brutal nature. The actual city of Juneau was small — smaller than many of the quaint towns back in Maryland. There were no hundred–story high–rises, no ornate monuments to mankind’s hubris. Everything seemed to realize it existed on a razor’s edge, at the fickle whim of Mother Nature.
As we pulled into the north end of the city, where a harbor full of boats lined the channel to our right, I jumped to feel the jolt of electricity through my thigh. With an apologetic look at Gregory, I pulled the SUV over and yanked the mirror from my pocket.
“Iblis.” The voice over the device trembled with relief and gratitude. “We are forever in your debt. We’ve lost five since you initially turned us away. The remaining ten of us would not be alive if not for your generous protection.”
I felt a stab of guilt. Damn Dar for turning them back. I needed to have a serious conversation with him about this.
“Are
you Raim’s steward? The head of his household?” I needed to make sure I was getting my information from the closest source.
“Yes, my former master was the demon known as Raim. If we can do anything for you, Iblis, please name it. Anything.”
Again I felt that twinge of guilt. But there was a murderer on the loose, and I didn’t have much time to find out what was going on before Gregory took matters into his own hands. “Did he devour? I know there are rumors, but I need to know if you have any knowledge beyond gossip.”
There was a lengthy pause. Gratitude was one thing, but betraying a past master, even one you thought was dead, was a matter for careful consideration.
“Once. Just the once that I am aware of.” The steward sighed, and I could feel his anxiety. “Raim was a strong demon; he had no need to resort to such disgusting methods in the normal course of things. Once, when he found himself in fear for his life, he devoured his attacker. I’ve never known him to do that before or after. He may have had the ability and the inclination, but he clearly had the fortitude to keep his perversions in check.”
I winced. Perversions. Ouch.
I’d devoured more demons than Raim. Had he just been good at hiding it, or had something set him off? Or were we completely going down the wrong path?
“Do you know anything about the project he was doing with Baphomet?”
Again the steward hesitated. “Baphomet approached our master, needing some particular skills of his for this project. At first he wasn’t interested, but Baphomet made it worth Raim’s while to partner with him. I believe they were bringing low–level demons across the gates for some gain. The details, I do not know.”
Baphomet’s steward had indicated the same. Was this all a red herring? Perhaps Raim’s “perversions” had nothing to do with the demon deaths and Baphomet’s murder. Perhaps he’d also been caught in this whole mess as a victim, and was being implicated simply because he had the ability to devour. Or perhaps I was desperately trying to make excuses for this demon, unwilling to admit to something that could very well be my own future.
“When is the last time you heard from Raim? Do you know what human form and identity he was using at the moment?”
“Paul Yong,” the steward replied promptly. “About a week ago, he contacted us to say he was becoming bored with the project he was doing and was concerned that one of the partners was not completely trustworthy. He planned to return to Hel this week after the last batch of demons came over to them. We never heard from him after that. He wasn’t the sort of master who communicated frequently, so we didn’t become concerned until a few days ago. When Baphomet’s steward contacted us yesterday with the news of their master’s demise, we knew the worst had occurred.”
“Thank you for your honesty.”
“Iblis, we are so very grateful for your protection. If there is anything we can do for you, any activity you wish us to undertake, we will do so without hesitation.”
I shifted uncomfortably. Maybe I’d been here, living the life of a human for too long, but his offer made me feel oddly guilty, like I was some kind of slave master.
“Just relax and take some time to adjust. I value your contributions to our household and will definitely let you know how you and the others can be useful in the future.”
I disconnected the line and glanced over to find Gregory regarding me with a rather sappy look. It was even more unsettling than the steward’s professions of service and loyalty.
“What? What the fuck is that look for?”
“I think my little Cockroach protests too much,” he said with a grin. “Could it be that I sit beside an angel after all?”
“Fuck you,” I told him, pulling the SUV back onto the freeway.
We drove a few moments in silence. I felt his amusement, his smug satisfaction, and it grated like sandpaper on my emotions. He’d overheard way too many personal conversation in the last few hours, and he’d clearly gotten the wrong idea about me. I’d set him straight earlier about my unwillingness to rehabilitate to his angelic standards. I didn’t want him reviving that particular project. It was time for us to get back to the business at hand.
. “So where in Juneau is this gate? When should we expect Raim to get here? Are you angels somehow tracking his progress, or guessing?”
Gregory looked at me with an intense stare. “So, this Raim you’ve been talking about is our devouring spirit? I overheard his choir say he devoured once, but is that rumor? The demon who tried to get through the gate in Seattle may not be him — it may be a different demon.”
“Well, I’m making some assumptions. He came over with Baphomet, and they seemed to have had a partnership of sorts. There are rumors he devoured. I can’t believe there are three of us here. That’s too much of a coincidence, even for me to swallow.”
Gregory shook his head. “So the dead demon in Seattle, your friend, this Baphomet, was in partnership with our suspected killer. The devouring spirit snapped, and your friend somehow got caught in the crossfire?”
“I don’t know,” I tried to think through the various angles. “He was only known to devour that once. Why would he leave Seattle to go munch up a bunch of demons on the east coast, then return to devour an angel and his former partner? It doesn’t make sense. If he’d snapped, he would have started with Baphomet and worked his way around the Seattle area.”
“Perhaps their project involved work on the east coast and that is where he began to devour. Or perhaps their project involved using his devouring abilities for some gain, and he lost control and turned on his partner.”
I caught my breath at the last theory, taking my eyes off the road to glance at Gregory. Would that be me someday? Only devouring as need, then turning on someone I cared about, taking them by surprise? Would it be Dar? Leethu? Or even the angel beside me?
“That is why you cannot devour again,” Gregory replied, reading my thoughts. “The more you devour, the greater the likelihood that you will lose control. It’s a slippery slope, little Cockroach.”
The air was heavy with thoughts of my bad habit and my probable future.
I finally broke the silence. “I don’t know if the killer is Raim or not. You work on trying to secure the gate and catch whoever it was that tried to get through in Seattle, and I’ll track down Raim. If these two are one in the same, then our efforts will double the chance of catching him. If not, then Raim may shed further light on what happened.”
He considered my words, but I felt a worry coming from him, concern for my wellbeing.
“Agreed,” he finally replied.
“So where is the gate? How do we know when the demon is arriving? Or is he already here?”
Gregory tried to scoot further back, but the seat was as far as it could go. An American SUV had tons of legroom, but not as much as a six–and–a–half–foot–tall angel needed. His knees were absurdly close to his face. He looked uncomfortable, and I got a perverse pleasure seeing him folded up like an accordion in the front seat.
“There is one major airport, one seaplane base, and four helipads in Juneau. That doesn’t count any of the small, unofficial landing areas. Juneau may not have land access, but there are a million ways this demon can arrive via air or water.”
I took my eyes off the road to give him a reproving glance. He was an angel. I’d expected more from him. “So you have no fucking idea when he’s arriving or how he’s getting here?”
The angel shifted in his too–small seat. “No.”
I yanked the car over to the side of the road and pulled the emergency break, stepping out as I dialed Wyatt’s number.
“Hey babe, you in Alaska yet?” His voice was cheerful and affectionate, and I felt a surge of longing. I was on the opposite end of the continent, but if I closed my eyes, I could still feel his skin against mine, smell warmth, man, Wyatt.
“Yeah, finally.” My voice was full of regret. “Gregory stole a private plane, so we made it in first thing. How are you? How are the girl
s?”
“They’re off at the mall, then lunch somewhere. Nyalla now has a cell phone and actually ordered dinner last night while we were out. Her English has gotten really good — she’s smart and seems to have a knack for languages.”
I could hear his pride, but couldn’t help a quick stab of worry. “Which mall?”
“Tyson’s corner. Don’t worry, I told Amber she wasn’t to set foot in Columbia Mall.” I took a deep breath in relief. There wasn’t much I could do from Alaska if the half–elf tried to get through a gate to Hel.
“Can you research something for me?” I asked, longing to wrap this whole thing up and get home. I missed him, missed my dog, missed my horses and my rental properties, missed the hot wings at the Eastside Tavern.
“Of course,” he said cheerfully. “Whatcha got?”
“Raim, aka Paul Yong, may be our guy. We’re not sure, but either way, he’s a demon of interest, and I’d like to talk to him. His household hasn’t heard from him in ages. Can you see if there’s anything on him in the last couple of days? Hits on his credit report, possibly cell phone calls?”
“Sure. I’ll see if I can hack into any of his credit card accounts for recent activity, too. I take it location is important?”
“Yeah. He could be anywhere. If he’s our guy, though, he’ll probably be either in Seattle, or heading up here to Alaska.”
I heard Wyatt typing. “Do you also want me to check all flights yesterday and today into Juneau from Seattle?”
“From Anchorage, Ketichikan, Skagway, and Vancouver too. That should cover air travel unless he flies a small plane into a private airport.”
“I’ll check into water travel from Skagway and Ketchikan also. I doubt he would have taken a boat from any further than that. Do you want me to scan for stolen planes? Yong didn’t have a pilot’s license, but other humans the demon Owned may have known how to fly.”
Wyatt knew us so well. I loved working with him on these projects. His mind flew alongside mine almost as though we were one in thought.