Niki Slobodian 04 - The Devil Was an Angel

by J. L. Murray

  “Seriously?” I said. I looked at him, then back at the road.

  “It was one of my weaker moments,” he said. “It did not end well.”

  “Worse than her dying?” I said. “Twice?”

  “Worse than her dying,” he said. “It ended up being three times. She came back...wrong.”

  “Wrong how?”

  “She was like an animal,” he said. “A wild thing. She scratched and clawed and bit. When I looked into her eyes, there was nothing there. Not even a spark.” He paused and I could see him fidgeting with his hands out of the corner of my eye. “I don't think she had a soul.”

  “What happened?” I said softly.

  For a long time he didn't speak. I thought maybe he had decided not to tell me. But finally he took a breath and let it out slowly. “I kept her tied up for a time,” he said. “I fed her, bathed her, took care of her. She seemed like she was getting better after a few months. So one day, I untied her.” I glanced at Lucifer. His eyes were closed, his face tensed and full of pain. “She tried to rip my throat out with her teeth,” he said. “She got out the door before I could recover. I found her...” He stopped, shaking his head. He smiled bitterly. “I found her eating a demon woman's entrails. The woman was still alive.”

  “Jesus,” I said.

  “I had to kill her,” he said. “It wasn't her. It wasn't Cass. And the lords threatened to rebel if I didn't do something about her. In the end, it seemed the kindest thing for her.”

  “And then you went to Sheol,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “And you stayed with her.”

  “Yes.”

  We pulled up to Bobby's house and I cut the engine. I turned in my seat to look at him. “There's nothing for you to feel guilty about, you know,” I said.

  “There is everything to feel guilty about,” he said. “It's basically my function. To look into people's guilt. If I didn't feel my own, what kind of devil would I be?” He managed a half-smile.

  “You did it out of love, though. Isn't that the most noble reason?”

  “It was selfishness,” he said. “I didn't want to live without her. And there were consequences. So many consequences.”

  “Has anyone ever come back like they used to be?” I said.

  “Only one that I know of,” he said.

  “Who?”

  “The necromancer's wife.”

  “Can I ask you something personal?” I said. He nodded, but eyed me suspiciously. “Do you still want her back? I mean, if it wasn't dark magic, and you knew there would be no consequences, if you knew it would work. Would you bring her back?”

  He looked at me. His dark eyes shifted, the depths of dark shapes upon dark shapes mesmerizing. “No,” he said finally.

  “After all you did for her?” I said. “After everything. After you went crazy for her. You wouldn't want her back?”

  “You misunderstand something, Niki,” said Lucifer. “What you see now is what I have become. After her death. What you call crazy, that is what I was. Sheol didn't drive me mad. It drove me sane. Those little glimpses you see, the bursts of my old self that shine through occasionally, that is only a fraction of what I was. What I was, back then, so many years ago...” He shook his head, but didn't look away from me. “It was so much worse that I hope you will ever know. And I have to fight it every day. So no, I would not bring her back. Not for anything. The dead should stay dead. I don't need to learn that lesson again.” He frowned at me, his eyes sad. “And I don't want to be that man ever again.”

  I swallowed, unsure what to say. “I'm sorry,” I said.

  He actually smiled. “You say that so much,” he said. “But I think you actually mean it every time.”

  So it was possible to bring Sam back. With potentially horrifying consequences. The idea weighed heavily in my gut. I wondered if I would be able to do what Lucifer had done. Would I kill Sam if he went wrong? If he was hurting people? Was I capable of stopping him? I knew the answer, though. I would have no choice. I would do it, but I would die inside. I would shrivel up, or go just as crazy as Lucifer did. I cleared my throat.

  “Do you still love her?” I said.

  He seemed to ponder the question. “Not love, no,” he said. “I don't know what you'd call it. Fond memories perhaps. Thankfulness for causing a change in me. But it was so long ago. Centuries by your standards. Even my kind tends to forget so quickly. Just as I'm sure you've practically forgotten the love you had with Eli.”

  “I'm not sure I ever loved him,” I said. “Not really.”

  “You will forget Samael, too,” said Lucifer, his eyes studying my face.

  “I don't know about that,” I said.

  He nodded. “You will. It will hurt less to forget.”

  “It never stops hurting,” I said. “He died for me.”

  “But it will.” He nodded to Bobby's house. “Come, let's find your friend. We're wasting time sitting here.”

  We got out of the car and started toward the house. “Thank you for telling me all that,” I said. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Rare for an angel, is it not?” he said.

  I laughed, but something about the comment, so casual as to be accidental, irked me somewhere in the back of my mind. I shrugged off the feeling and focused on Bobby.

  TEN

  The door was unlocked. As soon as I entered, I felt it. An intense pull in my chest. I gasped, the sensation surprising me. It didn't normally come on so suddenly when I was in the world. It tended to be more gradual. But this was different. Lucifer took my arm, helping me stand up straight. After a moment I was able to stand on my own. It still hurt, but it wasn't a shock-to-the-system kind of pain. I looked around.

  “What the hell happened here?” I said.

  Bobby's cute little family home had been confiscated when he'd been outed as an Abby, but he had managed to buy it back at auction after he started working for Sam. It was usually tidy and well-kept, considering the massive piles of old books against every wall, filling every crevice, and covering every surface.

  Now, books were scattered everywhere, lying face-down on the floor, knocked off their piles. One had been thrown at the wall so hard that it stuck there, half hanging out of the hole in the plaster. There were food dishes everywhere and the pungent smell of mold in the air. There was another smell, too, fainter than the mold, but distinctive enough that I would recognize it anywhere. It was blood.

  Trying my hardest to ignore the tugging in my chest, urging me the other direction, I turned and walked through the other side of the living room. A white door was stained with the reddish-brown smears of dried blood. It looked as though bloodied hands has grasped at the door, smearing it all the way down to the doorknob. I reached out and turned the knob, bracing myself.

  The small bathroom had only a toilet and sink, and nearly every surface was smeared in blood. One large dried hand print covered the entire mirror, as though someone had leaned against it over the sink. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand when the smell hit me. It was blood, that much was certain, but it smelled rancid, like rotten meat. There was also the faint smell of vomit.

  I peered in the small garbage can and frowned. I lifted one of those pint bags that blood banks use for blood donations. I fished around in the trash, holding my breath and found four mostly-empty bags, cut open and dripping. They were also the source of the smell. I turned on the faucet with my wrist, avoiding most of the dried blood, and rinsed my hands. I closed the door behind me when I stepped out. I could hear Lucifer's footsteps on the other side of the house.

  What the hell was going on here? Bobby had big problems with blood. He couldn't even look at it without throwing up. That would explain the vomit smell. Had someone done this to him? Surely he hadn't done it himself. What would be the point of it? Unless he really was going crazy again.

  I walked back through the living room and into the kitchen. The mold smell was strongest here. One peek into the sink told me
why. I grimaced at the dishes covered in green. The counters were filthy and lined with empty bottles of booze. Several empty, grease-covered pizza boxes lay strewn on the table. Lucifer entered from the hallway.

  “He's not here,” he said. “But I found his wife.”

  I followed him down the hall, where the air cleared a bit. I felt the pain in my chest intensify, but tried to breathe through it. I stopped in front of the first door. Boards had been hurriedly nailed across the door frame, some of the nails sticking out at an odd angle, as though someone had been in a big hurry to block off the room. I touched the door.

  “What is it?” said Lucifer.

  “Can't you feel it?” I said.

  “Feel what?”

  “This is where they died,” I said. “His wife and son. That's why it's boarded up. Bobby must have done it.”

  Lucifer shook his head. “If it bothered him so much, why did he keep living here? Why stay in a place that causes you so much pain?”

  “He said he got the house back so he wouldn't forget them,” I said.

  I turned to Lucifer. “Do you get the feeling that anyone else was here? I mean, the whole house looks either like a crazy person squatted here, or there was some kind of fight. But I don't get the impression that anyone else was here.”

  “Let's just talk to his wife's spirit before you jump to conclusions,” he said. “Don't commit him to the asylum just yet.”

  “I don't think they call it that anymore,” I said.

  “What do they call it?”

  I shrugged. “No idea. Loony bin?”

  I followed him to the end of the short hallway and we walked into a bedroom. Besides a faint smell of sweat, it was fairly clean relative to the rest of the house. The blankets on the bed were rumpled and unmade. There was very little else in the room: A dresser with nothing on top but a photograph in a frame, a window covered in dusty blinds, and a ghost.

  The catch in my chest felt like someone tugging a meat hook through my body when I saw her. She looked exactly the same as she had the last time I had seen her, except for an expression of horror when I walked into the room. She was plump with bobbed dark hair and a pretty face. She shook her head, her mouth forming words that I couldn't hear.

  “Niki, I presume you've met Sarah Gage,” said Lucifer formally.

  “We met briefly,” I said. “What's she doing?”

  “She only started doing that when she saw you,” said Lucifer. “I suspect your job title may have something to do with it.”

  I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sarah,” I said. “You know me. Try to remember. I'm Bobby's friend.”

  She stopped shaking her head, but she still looked frightened. She focused her eyes on me. “Death,” she said. “Not again, please. I'm sorry I ran.”

  “Look at me, Sarah,” I said. “We've met before. Before I was Death. Remember?”

  She blinked at me. Slowly her face relaxed. She frowned. “Niki?” she said, unsure. “How?”

  “It's a long story,” I said. “But my friend here seems to think that the old Death used dark magic to keep you safe. That's why you were allowed to stay for so long.”

  “Is that normal?” she said.

  “No,” I said. “But he was Bobby's boss.”

  “Sam?” she said, flummoxed.

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “Him.”

  “I didn't know,” she said. She sat down on the floor. “I don't know anything anymore.”

  “Do you know where Bobby is?” I said.

  She looked at me quickly. “Why?”

  “He's missing,” I said. “I'm worried about him.”

  “You're going to take him,” she said. Her voice was mournful. “You're going to kill him, aren't you? That's what Death does.”

  “It doesn't work that way,” I said. “ Someone has to die before I help them cross over. And Bobby isn't dead, Sarah. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you going to send me away?” she said.

  I hesitated. “Yes. I have to. As soon as I came here, the spell must have been broken. It hurts like hell just sitting here with you.”

  “It hurts?” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “You're not supposed to be here, Sarah. Do you understand that?”

  She nodded and her face crumpled. Silvery tears ran down her face. “I couldn't help him, Niki. I tried. I talked and yelled and screamed, but he couldn't hear me. I thought if I was here I could look after him. But all I do is remember. I remember it all, and then I forget it again. And then I remember it again and it's like I'm living it all over again, every time. I'll find myself alone and I'm just screaming. Just screaming all by myself. There's no blood, and my son's corpse isn't in my lap. No one sees, no one remembers. Just Bobby.”

  “Sarah, I need you to focus,” I said. Lucifer sat next to me on the bed, watching us with rapt interest. She nodded. “Where's Bobby?”

  “I don't know,” she said.

  “Please, Sarah – “

  “I really don't know where he is,” she said, interrupting. “I'm telling you the truth. He just took off. It's not like I could stop him.”

  “I believe you,” I said. “It's okay. Just tell me what the hell is going on here. Is Bobby going crazy again?”

  “It's not craziness,” she said, her voice suddenly low and steady. “It's revenge.”

  “Revenge?” I said. “Against who? The guys that killed you?”

  “Wasn't a guy,” she said. “It was a demon. But he was funny. He had some human parts. And these eyes that made you want to crawl inside yourself.”

  I looked at Lucifer, who was staring at Sarah.

  “What was his name?” he said.

  She made a face like she had tasted something bitter. “Kane. His name was Kane.”

  A heavy silence filled the room. Sarah looked from me to Lucifer and back to me, unsure why we had fallen silent. I glanced at Lucifer, who was staring at the ghost, a stunned expression on his face.

  I cleared my throat. “Sarah,” I said slowly. “Do you remember how he did it?”

  “It's all I can remember,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “Over and over again. He made me watch when my son died. It was fast, but it seemed like it lasted an eternity.” Her voice was hollow, even more so than her spirit quality would warrant. She had relived it so many times that it had become simply a festering bitterness inside her. It would be a kindness to let her finally sleep, after all these years. “His friend, or whatever he was. He had these boots,” she went on, her expression disgusted. “He brought it right down on Rob's little face.” She put her face in her hands and sobbed, her body shaking. I started to go to her, but Lucifer touched my arm.

  “You can't touch her,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

  “She's miserable,” I said. “Look at her.”

  “Do you want to find your friend?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, but turned my attention to Sarah. “Why is the house like this?” I said. She was still sniffling, but she looked up at me like she had forgotten I was there. “Why are there blood bags in the bathroom? The books all over the living room? What's Bobby been doing?”

  “Don't you understand?” she said. She looked from me to Lucifer. She sighed. “Everything Bobby has done, ever since we died, has been to find that son of a bitch that murdered my child and me. Everything.”

  I remembered something Bobby had said to me when I had learned of his tragic past. He had said that someday he was going to find the demon bastard that killed his family. “Working for Sam?” I said.

  “He needed money. And the casting he did for the angel was practice.” She frowned. “I didn't know he was Death. I never saw him in person. Except once. When he came to take me. I didn't know it was the same guy.”

  “It took me a while, too,” I said. Lucifer raised an eyebrow at me, but I ignored him. “What about the blood in the bathroom?” I said.

  “The blood made him sick,” she said. “He had to get
used to it. I watched him rub it all over his body. He threw up so many times. Once he even passed out on the floor.” She bit her lip. “I tried to wake him, but he didn't hear me.”

  “He was desensitizing himself?” I said. “Did it work?”

  “I don't remember,” she said, seeming genuinely saddened at the fact. “I'm missing chunks. They're just...forgotten. Dark.”

  “It happens when you're dead,” I said. I remembered that part, too. It was horrible, the forgetting. “What was he looking for in the books?”

  “I'm not sure,” she said. “He was muttering a lot, and he said your name a few times. But I don't know what he was looking for.” She put her chin on her knees. “I don't think he found it. He started yelling. Throwing books. That's when he left.”

  “How did he know it was Kane?” said Lucifer. “When you died, how did he know?”

  “I can't tell you that,” she said.

  “Why not?” I said.

  “We're never supposed to tell. Not ever.”

  “Sarah, if Bobby is in trouble, if he's looking for Kane, he could get killed.” I was starting to feel like I was being torn in two by the pain. I needed to let her go soon. “You have to tell us how he knew.”

  She frowned at me, chewing her lip. “They knew each other,” she said finally. “Kane finally found us. It was my fault, I told Bobby to take the offer. I thought it would save us. Bobby wanted to run again.” She shook her head. “I should have listened. I made him stay.”

  “Why was Kane looking for Bobby Gage?” said Lucifer. “That doesn't make sense.”

  “Kane wasn't looking for Bobby Gage,” said Sarah. “He was looking for Paul Watts.”

  “Who the hell is Paul Watts?” I said.

  A sly smile spread across Sarah's slightly translucent face. “You never did figure it out. A smart girl like you. There is no Bobby Gage. It's just a name.”

  I stared at her. “What do you mean?” I said.

  “When I met him, his name was Paul,” she said. “He wasn't Bobby until we ran.”