Infernal Affairs

by Declan Finn

  God is perfect. God’s Word is flawless; he shields all who take refuge in him. For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God?

  I knew it was probably a bad idea and that it was going to suck, but I grabbed at the cocoon around Ormeno, my hands covered in my own blood.

  The shadows recoiled against the touch of my blood.

  I blinked, shaken. The shadows that lashed out at me had thrown things at me or had disappeared after cutting me. Even the shadow darts had struck my chest…but had dissipated against the blood on my chest.

  I reached for the shadow binding Ormeno’s right leg. It recoiled into the floor, cowering from the touch of my blood.

  I felt the footstep behind me more than I heard it. I dove forward as Hoynes slammed his fist down where I had been a moment before. His fist punched through the floor. He ripped out a water pipe and wielded it like a baseball bat.

  I rolled past the katana that Ormeno dropped, picking it up in my left hand as I came to my feet. I whirled, meeting the pipe coming in as an overhead strike. I pushed back against it and attacked in a backhanded swing. Hoynes blocked it with speed I couldn’t believe. But it didn’t matter, because I smashed my head against his—specifically, I slammed the right side of my face against him, the side covered in my blood.

  Hoynes recoiled, screaming in pain. He scrambled away from me, passing even Ormeno. I lunged for him, katana held out for a left-side swing. He swung the pipe to block me.

  My lunge didn’t stop but kept going as I levitated at him. I dropped a knee for his face, making it a whole new level of flying knee.

  I whirled at Hoynes, bringing the sword down in an overhead strike. The shadows moved and blocked it for him. It ripped the sword from my hand and passed it to Hoynes, who drew it toward him like he was a Jedi.

  It didn’t matter. It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; He causes me to stand on the heights. He trains my hands for battle; my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

  The shadows moved around me, gaining substance and form. I brought up my hands—mostly my left, since my right arm was screaming at me to stop abusing it in this fashion—and waved everything to come and get me.

  You make your saving help my shield, and your right hand sustains me … which is a good thing, since my right is shot.

  Your help has made me great.

  I burst to one side as Hoynes came in with the sword, flailing past my right side. You provide a broad path for my feet, so that my ankles do not give way. I pursued my enemies and overtook them; I did not turn back till they were destroyed.

  I side-kicked into Hoynes’ knee, causing it to buckle and making him twist. I crushed them so that they could not rise; they fell beneath my feet.

  A shadow lashed out for me, and I swatted at it with my blood covered hand. It burned and pulled back. You armed me with strength for battle.

  I spun in a left roundhouse as Hoynes spun to his right, bringing up the sword. His face ran right into my fist, with the combined force of both of our body weights. You humbled my adversaries before me.

  Hoynes rolled like a log, back into the ruined kitchen. He scrambled to his feet. Backing away like that made me turned back to the shadows in the living room. They had coalesced into one malevolent, hulking pool of darkness. It reared back and roared like a tiger.

  Then the ziplock bags fell at its feet. I realized what they were and hurled myself to the left before they detonated into giant fireballs.

  The shadows didn’t like the fire. The shadow creature’s legs disappeared out from under it, consumed by the flash. It fell back into the living room, which was the one place it shouldn’t have gone. More bags flew in on its chest, bursting into flame and burning a hole in the chest of the creature. It melted into the rug and slithered back to Hoynes.

  The cocoon holding Ormeno melted away as well, revealing a ruined, headless stump of what used to be Rene Ormeno.

  Alex Packard walked into the room with a swagger. “Don’t like it when the odds are a bit more balanced, do you, buddy.”

  The last of the shadow darted into Hoynes, and he stood up, his spine ramrod straight. He chuckled. “You think that having two of you makes things easier on you? I don’t think so.”

  I knew what he meant in a split second. The shadow matter had a limit effect on me. It could touch me for a few seconds. It meant that Hoynes’ power as a warlock couldn’t affect me, through the grace of God—exactly because of the grace of God. That’s why he hadn’t grabbed me or threw fireballs at me or even electrocuted me with lightning from his fingers.

  Alex, on the other hand…

  I held up my left fist to signal Alex to stop. I stepped between Alex and Hoynes, backing up closer to my friend. I made certain to put the couch between Hoynes and me. Some of his wounds were already healing—starting with his broken nose from earlier.

  “You’re missing the point, your dishonor.” I slipped my hand into my pocket. “You came to pick a fight with me, remember?”

  Hoynes smiled. “I remember. Your grace won’t protect you from a good old fashioned beat down!” he roared as he rushed me.

  I simply stood there and waited for him.

  And I prayed.

  You made my enemies turn their backs in flight, and I destroyed my foes.

  Every step of Hoynes put a hole in the floor and shook the house.

  They cried for help, but there was no one to save them— to the LORD, but he did not answer.

  Hoynes roared, cracking windows three miles away and making my head pound.

  I beat them as fine as windblown dust…

  He kicked the couch, and it broke in two, sending pieces to both ends of the living room.

  I trampled them like mud in the streets.

  Hoynes reached up for the sword, and the katana flew into his hands.

  The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock! Exalted be God my Savior!

  Hoynes leaped over a row of armchairs and flew for me, sword held high.

  He is the God who avenges me, who subdues nations under me, who saves me from my enemies.

  That’s when I sidestepped and flung the rosary from my left pocket into his face.

  Hoynes screamed like a normal man, swatted the rosary away from his face, and belly-flopped on the floor. Alex darted in, grabbed the sword, and pulled back.

  “Don’t mess with the Lord thy God,” I paraphrased at him. “It never ends well.”

  Hoynes growled. Suddenly, he was a blur. He had called up all of his power, all of his reserves, and unleashed. He grabbed Packard’s wrist and twisted it with an audible crunch. He chopped down on Alex’s forearm, breaking that, then smacked Alex across the face, twisting him around on the floor. He grabbed Alex’s lapels and hurled him into the foyer, next to the headless trunk that used to be Rene Ormeno.

  Hoynes whirled on me and charged. He rammed his shoulder into me so fast, I didn’t know what happened at the time. I went flying.

  I made it three feet before Hoynes caught my jacket and pulled me in, smashing his nose with mine. He held me with his right hand and punched with his left, driving it into my wounded right side over and over again. My ribs snapped one by one, turning my side into a river of fire. He punched my right shoulder, dislocating it. He knocked into my hip, and something definitely shattered. My world became nothing but pain.

  All Hoynes did was hit me, and he never went near my open wounds or the blood that had dribbled down my body.

  After an eternity (thirty seconds), Hoynes scoffed and tossed me like a discarded candy wrapper. I landed in the foyer, next to Alex.

  Hoynes leaped over the living room and landed about four feet away from us. “Well, well, what have we here? Two dead cops.”

  I reached over to feel Alex’s pulse. He was still alive for the moment.

  Hoynes kicked me in my injured side again. “So, how are you enjoying yourself? Saint? Feeling superior? Feeling holy? Feeling righteou
s?”

  I ground my teeth and pulled myself onto my left side. I propped myself up. If this was it, then I was going to meet his eye. “Enough.”

  Hoynes narrowed his eyes. “I’ve barely started.”

  I growled and ground my teeth. I pulled myself along the floor, despite feeling like I had drills boring into my bones. I dragged myself to the stairs and forced myself up. I propped my back against the stairs, so I was at least close to being upright.

  “No. Enough of this saint crap. Saint?” I spat at him. “Prophet? Like you even know the meaning of the word. What have I predicted? I can tell you Western Civilization is heading to the gutter. You can read that in the paper. That Christianity will rise again and crush demonic assholes like you, and everything you’ve supported your whole life? Read a book sometime, it’s what we do.”

  Hoynes took five steps and was over me. He placed one foot on a stair level with mine and leaned in. “Oh? And what will stop me once you’re gone?”

  I rolled my eyes, even that felt like it hurt. “Like God needs me to take you out. Evil overreaches and crushes itself. It’s your nature. You always lose in the end. If nothing else, time will do it.”

  Hoynes grabbed my chin and forced me to focus on him. His demonic fires poured into my eyes. “Listen to me, little man. I have been here in many guises for many years. Centuries. I was here back when your grandparents were not even dreamed of. I lasted on dribs and drabs of power, killing those I needed for a few more years of power.”

  I blinked, confused for only a moment. “You couldn’t kill fast enough, could you?”

  Hoynes smiled. “Yes. You see? That wasn’t very hard, was it? I was tempted to move to Europe. Then I founded the Women’s Health Corps, and I had more power than I knew what to do with. How do you like that? Prophet?”

  I channeled all of my rage into the roar that erupted from me. “Enough! Fuck you and your saint. And your prophet. I’m not a prophet of the Lord. If I were a prophet of the Lord, you think I would have spent my time fighting you? You think I would have gone through all this trouble? I’m an okay human being who hopes to one day get to Heaven. Maybe take care of my family while I’m at it. If I were a prophet of the Lord, you stupid sack of crap, then let fire come down and destroy you and all of your men.”

  Hoynes smiled and shook his head, entertained. He opened his mouth to gloat once more …

  And then we both heard it. It was a faint, far away whistle. It was like the sound of a cartoon bomb. The sound got slowly and surely louder as the source came closer.

  I then realized that I might have gone a step too far.

  Without any warning, I delivered a left jab straight up, into Hoynes’ crotch. It wasn’t a simple tap strike. My knuckles hit his pelvic bone.

  The whistle was louder.

  God. Please. Now, were the only coherent thoughts I could piece together.

  I shot up off my back and levitated straight for Alex. I scooped him up in my good arm, and sped directly for the French doors. The whistle was loud and unbearable.

  We crashed through the doors and into the backyard. We dropped into the dirt near the bushes at the back. We were only a few feet from where they once had the giant statue to Moloch.

  Then a fireball as big as the house smashed into the former home of the Women’s Health Corps and blew it up. The wreckage flew fifty feet into the air as a geyser of fire ripped it all to pieces and sent it flying. The various and sundry parts hovered in the air, as though suspended, for only a moment, but came crashing back down to the Earth.

  Alex and I stayed perfectly still for a long, long time, settled in and ready to pass out.

  “I think I may have overdone it,” I said to the night sky.

  Alex laughed, then groaned in pain. “Nah. It’s just about the right temperature to deep-fry his ass.”

  I laughed. It hurt. “Okay, Lord. You win,” I told him. “I’m convinced.”

  You exalted me above my foes; from a violent man you rescued me. Therefore I will praise you, LORD, among the nations; I will sing the praises of your name.

  The wreck shuddered, and I didn’t give it any attention, until it sounded like a very familiar pattern.

  It was someone clearing away wreckage. Aw crap. Dear God, give me a few more minutes of mobility, and I’ll see what I can do about killing this son of a bitch.

  Mayor Hoynes smashed through the rubble like Superman buried under a building. He came down with a crash, landing on his feet only three meters away from us. He gasped for air, out of breath. Digging yourself out from underneath wreckage like that must have been difficult.

  “You think … that … will stop me. I was in the Great Chicago Fire. Hell … I started it. This … is … a … camp fire.”

  I had a sinking feeling in my gut. We were out of ammo. We were out of steam. We were technically out of backup. My ribs were broken. I would never walk right again.

  We were toast.

  God. Let us not go down without taking him with us.

  Hoynes straightened, took a step, and froze. He strained to lift his back foot, but it wouldn’t move. He tried to pull back his other foot, but it wouldn’t move either.

  In the brightly burning flames from the house, Hoynes’ shadow had grown huge.

  And Hoynes’ shadow bent around, towards the burning wreckage, and held Hoynes’ feet in place.

  All around us, the shadows began to move and come alive. They screamed with the shrillness of a thousand nightmares. They broke loose from their moorings and reached out.

  Hoynes held up his hands. “No. No, you can’t do this to me. Not now,” he screamed. He pointed to me. “Your payment is right there. Just let me go. I can deliver him to you.”

  The shadows wrapped around his arms and legs, much like they had with Ormeno only minutes ago. They slid around his arms and legs like the darkest, sketchiest, tentacle hentai I could imagine. They covered his hands and feet and slid over his skin like living oil.

  The monstrosities and horrors that had been after us at Hoynes’ bidding had turned on him.

  “Always feed your pets, Rickie,” Alex scoffed. “Hungry dogs know no loyalty.”

  Hoynes began to scream. His cries went up in a wail as the living shadows crawled up his legs and disappeared into his pants. “No. Not that! Not that! AHHHHAHHHHHHHHHHH.” The screams went on until the shadows skittered and slid into his mouth and poured down his throat.

  Hoynes fell forward, and the shadows dragged him, kicking and gurgling all the way back into the house fire. Straight into Hell.

  I looked at Alex and shrugged. “The Wages of Sin. I guess that's what happens when you don't pay your power bill on time.”

  Packard shrugged. “Eh. I thought that's what happens when you don't pay your exorcist bill. You get repossessed.”

  I groaned in pain. That joke was as bad as all of my ribs being broken.

  Chapter 23

  Devil’s Advocate

  “So, Detective Thomas Nolan, you've only killed the mayor, a score of cops, rampaged through two rich communities, angered two entire minority communities, and you've also disposed of the Deputy Mayor. Give me one really good flipping reason why you shouldn't be thrown into the deepest darkest cell in Rikers and see if you survive the night.”

  The acting Mayor was a gay bastard…so much so that it had been part of his campaign slogan when he ran in the primaries against Hoynes. Hoynes had won in a landslide, despite acting Mayor Lawson being gay, black, and “underprivileged” (defined as having no father, but waltzing through schools on minority quotas and lazy teachers, and getting into Columbia on the strength of a “Why Iran is the best country on Earth” essay—that was the actual title).

  The mind boggled to truly wrap around the stupidity being thrown around so casually. Despite having been beaten and stabbed to within an inch of my life by the forces of Hell, I think this stupidity was actually getting on my nerves even more than Hoynes ever had.

  Threatening to throw m
e—not Alex, not D, no one else but me—into Rikers was insane. Especially since I was in a wheelchair, half-wrapped like a mummy. My arm was in a cast, my ribs were wrapped, my hip was bad enough that I might not walk straight ever again. And this idiot thought to throw me in jail?

  What a moron.

  However, I had to give him this—the smell of evil had been purged from City Hall. Without Hoynes and Baracus, the scent that had made me sick to my stomach had dissipated. There was some lingering stench here and there, but I had assumed that came with politics in general.

  While I let the threats roll over me, Mariel was nowhere near as amused. She had been the one to wheel me in. Given what had happened with the previous occupant of the Mayor’s office, she wasn’t going to let me alone while I was anywhere near City Hall.

  My wife stood up, leaned over the desk and grabbed the acting Mayor by the lapels. She dragged him forward and said, in a low, deadly whisper, “Listen to me, you sniveling little bitch. My husband nearly died saving this city from horrors you can’t even imagine, and you’re going to threaten to throw him in jail? Are you insane!”

  Lawson pulled Mariel’s hands off of him. “How dare you insult my being gay!”

  Mariel blinked, furrowed her brow, and cocked her head to one side. She looked to me and asked, “He’s gay? Since when?”

  I shrugged with my left shoulder. “It was in the primaries.”

  Mariel rolled her eyes. “Like I care who Demoncrats nominate.”

  “Madam! If you please!” he shrilled.

  Before the screaming match could continue, the door burst open. In strode Father Richard Freeman, in full church regalia. His black cassock was trimmed in red, with matching buttons, a purple sash around his waist. He looked annoyed.