Fifteen minutes passed, and he still didn’t show.
“I don’t got all night,” I whispered. Still, no response. Ah, well, if he wanted to do this the hard way, then that was his business. I took a breath and concentrated, drawing up on the magic inside me. In the darkness of the theater, I could see red light from the corner of my eyes. My own glow.
“Acclarare.”
The glow faded, and I turned my head to the left. A chill had fallen, and sitting in the seat was the translucent form of an old man dressed in a classic theater usher’s uniform. Whitey, as he was called in the neighborhood, had worked at the Music Box from the night it had opened until 1977. He’d come back to close up one night, fallen asleep on the couch, and never woke up. His spirit stuck around, watching over the old theater in little ways.
Having a friendly ghost could be helpful, so I sought him out not long after I had moved to Chicago. Knowing someone inside the veil means they can keep you posted on supernatural occurrences. And he’d proven to be an asset in the past. Though, tonight, he didn’t look too happy to see me.
“Why’d you do that?” he asked, keeping his voice a whisper.
“Why didn’t you show up right away?”
“Someone left a candy wrapper on the floor. I was just picking it up. Would’ve been here eventually if you could just be a little patient.” Whitey’s expression shifted, studying me with confusion. “Are you okay, Luther?”
“Never better.”
“You seem…different, somehow.”
“Maybe death’s finally made you senile, old man,” I said. “Anyway, I need your help. Wanna know if you’ve heard of anything lately.”
“Is that a joke?” he asked with a snicker.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because things have been ticking up in the city lately,” said Whitey. “Lotta people in the veil have been getting more restless for some reason. Lashing out, attacking people. Even ones who aren’t the vengeful type.”
That could have something to do with the case Wayne wanted me to look into. If the veil was being disturbed, that meant something was wrong.
“You know anything more yet?”
Whitey shook his head. “I’m as clueless as you.”
“Could a demonic turf war be the cause?”
Whitey gave a shrug. “It’s possible. If a powerful enough demon had used significant magic to come to town. Or a sorcerer disturbing the natural order, or an omen of something even worse.”
Sorcerer could be related to Odysseus Black, who was missing after his confrontation with Raziel and Celeste. And, of course, there was the fact that a door to Purgatory had been opened recently. Maybe this was the price for going where we shouldn’t have.
“Got anything that could put me on the right path?” I asked.
“Spirits are restless in the veil, that’s all I know. You wanna know more, how about you talk to that psychic friend of yours? Seems she’d be able to give you more insight than the ghost of an old theater manager.”
Cassandra probably could tell me more. But if Whitey was able to tell that I’d changed since Purgatory, then Cassie would definitely know. I couldn’t take that risk. She was liable to tip off someone who would get in my way.
“Thanks for updating me,” I said. “And, Whitey? Next time this happens, try reaching out to me before I come to you.”
Whitey scoffed. “You think I didn’t?”
I cocked a brow. “What are you talking about?”
“I tried reaching out to you in the Dreamscape, Luther. But for some reason, I couldn’t find you. It’s like you weren’t even there.”
That was unusual. Whitey had always been able to make contact with me in the past. But if he couldn’t now…maybe Purgatory had affected me in other ways, too.
“Is that why you seem different?” asked the old ghost. “Did something happen to you?”
“No, nothing happened. You’ve just been cooped up in this old theater too long.” I rose from the seat and started to walk to the exit.
Whitey manifested in front of me without warning. “Everything okay with you, Luther?” he asked.
“Never better.”
“You not gonna stay for the movie? It’s a good one.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Jigoku playing on the screen, then looked back at Whitey and gave him a shake of my head with a smile. “Seen it before. Plus, I’ve got some important things that need to get done if I’m gonna deal with this situation.”
Whitey gave a hesitant nod and then vanished. I left the theater and walked back to my car. I’d parked nearby, and I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket. So, the demons were making the ghosts uneasy. The angels might pick up on that soon, assuming they hadn’t already. I’d have to work fast to nip this in the bud. Wasn’t time to wait for Killian to get the necessary info. I’d have to try and turn the screws a bit, and I had an idea of where to start.
Killian had mentioned those underground bars where creatures dwelled. What he didn’t know—and what I never told him—was that I was pretty familiar with them myself. I got in my car and started heading towards one of them.
Englewood was one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city. Poverty, drug use, and crime ran rampant down there. No surprise that demons loved to inhabit that area. No shortage of desperate people they could corrupt or feed off.
From the Music Box, it was about a half-hour drive to Englewood. I made the drive in fifteen minutes. There were a few back-alley bars here you only knew about if you were stupid enough to go wandering the streets around here. I was just that kinda stupid.
Before Odysseus Black disappeared, he’d had a place of his own out in this area. His crew was still running it, but the demons and the werewolves that worked for the sorcerer didn’t like to associate much. Pretty much all the human hybrids like werewolves and vampires descended from demons. Their races had started off as cambions—half-human, half-demon, like me. But over the centuries, different species had spun off through things like magic and just plain old evolution.
I stopped the Camaro right near the entrance to an alley. I knew there was a place near here. Completely unadvertised basement dive, not even a sign. When I looked out the driver-side window, I saw some guys staring at my car. Once I got out, they began to approach. They all flashed their tough-guy faces, but really, they were barely out of puberty.
I drew the revolver from the holster beneath my coat and held it pointing up to the sky. As soon as they saw the hand-cannon, they stopped in their tracks, and looks of indecision fell over them. I grinned at them and summoned magic to make my crimson eyes hum with power.
“You little shits can start somethin’ if you want, but I promise you this: I’m in no mood for bullshit tonight, and I’d have no hesitation blowing off your heads.”
The kids looked between each other and they started to back away. They tried to save face first, though. “You’re just lucky we got somewhere else to be, old man.”
“Tell your mom I said hi, you little prick.”
I waited until they left and holstered the gun. Had a feeling they might want some sort of payback and try and take it out on my car, though. So, I put my hand on the hood and channeled my magic into a barrier spell.
“Sepio.”
A flash of light surrounded the car. If they tried to take a crowbar to the Camaro, the barrier would protect it. They wouldn’t even be able to leave a fingerprint on the damn thing now.
I walked through the alley until I found narrow steps leading down to a door. I descended them and opened the door. The bar was cramped. Walls felt like they would close in on you. Dim lighting combined with clouds of smoke made it difficult to see anything. Yeah, Chicago had an indoor smoking ban, but what cop in their right mind would come here to cite anyone?
There was a pool table on one side with three guys standing around it. The shooter took a pause from his aim to glare at me, and his eyes flashed yellow when he did. I glanced arou
nd as I walked through the cramped space and saw a few other yellow eyes flash at me.
They were trying to intimidate me. That was cute. Except I could also smell the fear on all of them. I’d been causing trouble for demons ever since I had first come to this town. Didn’t matter that I was related to them or that I’d done business with Asmodeus in the past—they still wanted my head on a stick.
I didn’t flinch under their gazes, but instead I met each one with a smile to let them know they weren’t getting to me in the least. If I wanted to, I could kill everyone in this place. They knew it just as much as I did, and not a one wanted to jump in first without knowing whether or not there’d be any backup.
When I approached the bar, I chose one of the stools in the center and slid onto it. The bartender looked at me, a cigar held between his teeth. He was a big guy with long hair, his yellow eyes burning bright.
“Think I’ll have a glass of your best scotch,” I said. “Though, judging by the looks of this place, it’s probably some cheap-ass well brand.”
“You got a lotta nerve comin’ here, Cross,” said the bartender. “What’re you doin’ in this part of town anyway? Got a death wish?”
“Excuse me, sir, but I’m a paying customer. And I just ordered a drink.” I reached into my coat, and when I did, it was like you could hear every single asshole in the place clench up. But instead of the gun, I took out my wallet and produced a ten-dollar bill. I dropped it on the counter and pinned my finger on top, sliding it across the bar. “Now, are you gonna get me that drink or not?”
The bartender took a long drag on the cigar. He leaned over and opened his mouth, blowing a cloud of smoke right into my face. The smell of the cigar mixed with the stench of cheap vodka and—of course—sulfur. Not the most appetizing combination. “Go fuck yourself.”
From there, everything went red. “You just signed your death warrant.” I grabbed his hair and quickly drew the gun, placing the barrel against his face. Before anyone else could react, I pulled the trigger.
The bartender screamed, and his yellow eyes glowed with even greater intensity. The glow faded, and he collapsed, his head hitting the counter. His eyes were gone and smoke rose from the now-empty sockets.
“You piece of shit!”
I turned around and saw that all the demons in the place had risen from their seats or stepped away from the pool table. Every single one of them looked ready to throw down. About a dozen of them, in all. I’d taken on more than one demon in the past, but never this many.
Maybe I should’ve thought this through a bit more…
5
Surrounded by demons in a cramped basement bar in the middle of Englewood. And I’d just killed one of them. Not my best move. When he got in my face, I had just lost it and acted on instinct. Now, I’d have to deal with the consequences of that.
I raised my free hand in a fist and shouted, “Corusco!” When I opened my hand, a massive burst of light flashed, momentarily blinding my enemies. I opened fire on the demon who had stood at the pool table, glaring at me when I entered, and hit him in the forehead. Then I shot his partner on the other side of the table.
The demons had recovered from the quick burst of light and one of them grabbed me from behind. He pinned my arms to my sides. I struggled, but his grip was strong. A headbutt stunned him enough for me to pull away. I quickly spun to face him and put the gun to his chest, then pulled the trigger. The force of the blast threw his body back into a demon who’d been standing behind him.
Another demon tried to get to me from behind, but I was on the ball this time and elbowed him in the face to knock him back. He stumbled into the stools and I kicked him so he flew over them and hit the door. Once he struck it, I put one right between his eyes.
Four down—five, counting the bartender—about eight to go. But they were a bit more cautious now after seeing me quickly ice five demons in as many minutes. Me, I was starting to feel the rush. Adrenaline began pumping through my system. The last time I’d gotten this fired up was when I had fought Thanatos in Purgatory. I’d been able to manipulate hellfire, something I’d never been capable of before.
That same feeling washed over me again, and this time, I relished it. I held out my free hand and it burst into flame. The demons recognized what it was, too—they could sense it. And as soon as they saw the red flames, they started to back away. I could feel the power growing within me and it made me smile.
I stretched out my arm and the hellfire flowed from my palm, striking the nearest demon. He screamed as the flames utterly consumed him, quickly leaving nothing behind, not even ash. And then there were seven.
None of the demons would be the next to jump into the fire—literally. I concentrated and the hellfire in my hand extended, taking form and molding into a blade. I lunged for another demon, slicing into his neck, and both his body and head vaporized before they hit the floor, the hellfire completely annihilating them. Six.
“Who wants to be next?” I asked.
Silence fell over the entire bar. I was ready for more, but someone else wasn’t. A column of flames suddenly appeared behind the bar and took the shape of a man with brown skin, short black hair, and a white suit. It drew everyone’s attention, and the demons quickly took a knee. I studied the man behind the bar, and he smiled at me while looking back with his yellow eyes.
“And just who are you?” I asked.
“Iblis,” he said. “I think you and I need to have a chat, Mr. Cross.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“It is why you came here, isn’t it? Surely, we can be civilized about this. You put away your gun and your…flaming sword, and we’ll have a quiet drink somewhere a bit less…seedy.”
Seems I’d managed to cause enough of a stir to get the attention of someone who mattered. Sizing up Iblis proved a bit difficult. Normally, I could get a pretty good read on people, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Maybe he was trying to lure me into a false sense of security before he tried to kill me, or maybe he was intrigued by what he had seen me do. One thing I was certain of, though—he wasn’t afraid. Or if he was, he hid it really well.
The hellfire receded into my hand and I stood up straight, then holstered my gun. “All right, let’s hear what you have to say.”
Iblis gave a grin in response. “Excellent.” He held up his fingers and snapped.
The next thing I knew, we were sitting in a booth in the corner of a small restaurant. Very few people were around. Lighting was low and the few guests there smoked with impunity, ignoring the ‘NO SMOKING’ sign behind the bar—no doubt only put there for the benefit of inspectors.
An older Asian man in his sixties carried over a tray with two shrimp cocktails resting on top, as well as an unlabeled bottle. He set the cocktails in front of both myself and Iblis, then showed the demon the bottle. Iblis gave an approving nod and the waiter set the bottle in the center of the table.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Edgewater,” said Iblis.
That was north of my place, right near the border of Evanston and located on the lakefront. “What are we doing in Edgewater?”
“This little restaurant is my personal favorite.” Iblis took one of the four shrimp from the edge of the large glass and dipped it in the red sauce. He bit into the shrimp and discarded the tail on a small plate.
I had one of my own shrimp and then studied the bottle. It was filled with some kind of golden liquid, but most surprising of all was the cobra staring out from inside the bottle. Its mouth was open and between its jaws was another, smaller snake. I picked up the bottle, scrunching my brow as I looked the snake in its lifeless eyes.
“And this?”
“Rượu rắn,” said Iblis. “More commonly known as snake wine.”
There were two large shot glasses on the table. Iblis brought them closer and gestured for the bottle. I handed it to him and he pulled the cork out, then filled each glass almost to the edge with the snake wine.
After replacing the cork and setting the bottle back in the middle of the table, Iblis picked up his glass. But me, I just stared at mine.
“You don’t actually expect me to drink that, do you?” I asked.
“Come on, Luther. You only live once.”
Jury was still out on that one. But what the hell. I picked up the glass and looked at Iblis, who seemed ready to make a toast.
“To what one hopes will be a productive evening,” he said.
We clinked our glasses together and Iblis took the entire shot in one gulp. I sipped mine a little more slowly. I was a bit surprised by the taste. I expected something like battery acid, but this was pretty good. Wasn’t Laphroaig-good, but few things could be.
“What do you think?” asked Iblis.
“Not bad.” I set the glass down and had another shrimp. “Why’d you want to chat?”
“Why did you see fit to attack my men?” asked Iblis.
“Your men?” I asked. “Never seen you around these parts before. Thought I knew all the powerful players in Chicago.”
“Flatterer.” Iblis helped himself to another drink. “As a matter of fact, I normally reside somewhere much warmer.”
“Let me guess. Hell?”
“Los Angeles,” he said. “Though, yes, Hell as well.”
“So, what brings you to the Windy City?” I asked. “Other than snake wine and shrimp, that is.”
“Don’t forget the pizza,” he said. “But what really brought me here was a certain vacancy. Not many are willing to talk openly about it, but Asmodeus is missing. It’s created something of a concern out here. And other demons are moving in.”
“You’re more powerful than the average hellspawn, I can sense that much. No need to possess some poor bastard—you’ve got the mojo to go corporeal.”
“Indeed I do.” Iblis looked down at himself. “And it’s quite a nice form I’ve designed, don’t you think?”
Devil's Shadow Page 3