Devil's Shadow (Luther Cross Book 3)

by Percival Constantine

  The valet brought around the car and I started the drive back to my Gold Coast condo. I pulled into the underground parking garage and my headlights fell on a valet standing wait. I stopped in front of him and got out of the Camaro, leaving the engine running. My eyes studied the face of the young, unfamiliar valet. I shut the door.

  “Where’s Jack?” I asked.

  “Your regular valet was a bit tired, so I came to talk instead,” said the valet. His blue eyes began to glow, and light emerged from his back.

  “Oh, shit…” I muttered. “You’re an angel.”

  13

  The angel rose above the ground as wings made of light grew from his back. He held his arms out, staring down at me with bright, azure eyes. I was sure he was about to attack me, but he didn’t. In the end, he returned back to the ground and his wings receded, his eyes going back to normal. The light show had been nothing more than him trying to impress me.

  Or intimidate.

  I wasn’t in the mood to deal with angels tonight. I leaned against the car and lit a cigarette. After taking a long, slow drag, I looked at the angel and said, “You know the economy’s in the toilet when an angel has to settle for a valet gig.”

  “I’d like a word with you, Luther Cross,” he said.

  “There were a bunch in that sentence—have a good night.” I started to walk towards the elevator, but the angel stood in my path. I groaned. “What? I’ve had a long night.”

  “You’re a curious creature,” he said, tilting his head to the side in a sudden jerk. “An angel of the Lord appears before you, and you scoff.”

  “Hate to disappoint you, but I’m not the churchgoing type. And you’re not the first angel I’ve seen. On a cold day, my shoulder still hurts from where Azrael stabbed me.”

  “My name is Gabriel,” he said. “I’m—”

  “An archangel. Yeah, I know all about you. You’re the guy who likes to play the trumpet.”

  “I’m also a messenger, and that’s why I’ve come to you this evening,” said Gabriel. “I have questions. About Raziel.”

  “I haven’t spoken to Raz in months.”

  “You’re not alone in that.”

  That was curious. I stood up straight and stepped closer to Gabriel, looking him in the eyes. “He hasn’t been around?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “He hasn’t been to Eden in some time. All attempts to contact him have failed.”

  Explained why he hadn’t reached out to me. Funny, all this time I thought I’d just gotten really good at avoiding angels—or really lucky. Now, it turned out there was no one to avoid. In a way, it was kind of funny.

  “We’ve been searching for him, but have had no luck,” said Gabriel. “The Divine Choir dispatched me to enlist your aid. We understand you are something of a detective. And despite your…handicap…you’ve proven helpful to our cause in the past.”

  I arched my brow. “Handicap? You mean the fact that I’m part-demon.”

  Gabriel looked down and cleared his throat. “Yes, that.”

  “It’s not a handicap, choirboy. It’s what I am.”

  “I know you and Raziel had a relationship.”

  I chuckled and patted Gabriel on the shoulder. “Nah, I don’t swing that way.”

  “I meant you were friends.”

  “I know what you meant. And you’re still wrong,” I said. “I worked for Raz on occasion. At other times, he was a useful source of information. Running an angelic embassy right here in Chicago and all.”

  “Did you know Eden keeps a record of everyone who passes through its door?” asked Gabriel. “And up until a few months ago, your visits there had greatly increased.”

  “What can I say, I like the view. Now if you’ll excuse me…” I walked past Gabriel, and this time, he didn’t try and stop me. But he did call after me.

  “We would like to hire you, Mr. Cross.”

  I stopped and sighed, then slowly turned around. “Come again?”

  “The Divine Choir. We wish to hire you so you can ascertain the whereabouts of Raziel,” he said. “We are prepared to reward you handsomely for your efforts.”

  “Flyboys are willing to get their hands dirty by associating with a filthy cambion, eh?” I asked. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “But—”

  “It’s not my fault your boy went missing,” I said. “And I’ve had my fill of working with angels. Life’s too short to waste it dealing with pompous, arrogant celestial beings. You want to find Raziel, you can do it yourself.”

  I flicked the cigarette at Gabriel and it bounced off his chest. I boarded the elevator and hit the button for the top floor.

  First Asmodeus gets stuck in Purgatory, and now Raziel was missing. The common link between them? Me. And they were the only ones in Heaven or Hell who knew about Dakota Reed and her nephilim baby. The only ones who knew there was a rogue angel trying to bring about the apocalypse.

  Couldn’t be a coincidence. I turn Luxton over to Raziel and then he goes missing. If the angels didn’t know where he was, had to be the rogue who got rid of him. Meant Raziel was probably dead by now.

  I got off the elevator and approached my apartment. With my hand hovering over the knob, I spoke the word “Aperio,” and the door unlocked. Why bother with a key when you could magically keep your place locked up?

  I went into my office and took off my leather jacket, throwing it over the high-backed desk chair. Bookshelves lined the walls of my home office and I started looking over them, my finger running across the spines as I searched for the right book. Finally, I stopped on one and pulled it out.

  Leather-bound with weathered pages. It was a thick volume, too, and tall, almost like an atlas. I carried it from my office to the living room and gently set it on the coffee table. After I fixed myself a drink and started playing music from my phone to the Bluetooth speaker, I sat on the couch and examined the book’s cover.

  A circle was embedded into the cover. Inside it was a six-pointed star, and a dot was placed between each point. The Seal of Solomon and the mark of the order that continued his legacy. This was an encyclopedia of all known demons the Sons of Solomon had gathered information on over the centuries. Wasn’t complete, but it included references to more specific texts. And if I was going to get some more information on who I was dealing with, this was the place to start.

  I searched through the beginning of the book until I found an entry for Abraxas. Seemed he was a big deal back in the day. Some ancient cultures worshipped him as a god in his own right. But in truth, he was an angel who had rebelled alongside Lucifer. Most of the angels who’d joined Lucifer’s rebellion were part of the seraph order. Powerful, but not among the elite.

  According to this, Abraxas was different. Like Lucifer, he, too, had been an archangel. And seemed he was Lucifer’s top general during the rebellion. I paused from reading to take a drink and think over those words. This guy was almost as powerful as the Devil himself. No wonder Lucifer would’ve been suspicious of him. And that explained how he could gather the kind of power to make the Abraxas Stone.

  I kept reading. What followed tracked with what Lilith told me. Solomon had personally defeated Abraxas, so naturally, this section would have the most information. There were references to a volume of Solomon’s journal for the complete story. But though it talked about how Solomon had banished Abraxas and destroyed the stone, there wasn’t any additional detail. No mention of what kind of spell he used in the banishment, how he’d destroyed the stone, or where the remains of the stone were now.

  The journal might have that information. Except I didn’t have any copies of Solomon’s journal, so I was back to square one. Lilith knew more than she was letting on, and that bothered me. Going into a situation like this blind wasn’t something that appealed to me.

  I continued flipping through the pages until I came to an entry on Lilith. I’d read over this entry many times during my studies, so nothing new jumped out at me. Except now, having met her, her
face kept intruding on my thoughts as I tried to read.

  I closed the book and leaned into the couch. Drowsiness was starting to take hold. It’d been a long day. Now I was joining up with a demon to go against my former colleagues. Few months ago, that wouldn’t have sat well with me. But I was a different man now. And if making deals with the likes of Lilith and Iblis was what I needed to get what I wanted, then that’s what I’d do.

  I woke with a start on the couch. Light filtered in through the room around the edges of the curtains. Must’ve dozed off and slept all through the night. I looked at the scotch on the coffee table and saw the ice had completely melted.

  After rubbing my eyes and trying to fight off the urge to go back to sleep, I stood and walked over to the balcony. But when I opened the curtains, I saw that it wasn’t morning at all. The light that had been filtering in? It was from fire.

  The entire city of Chicago was burning.

  I stepped onto the balcony, watching in horror at the sight before me. The sky above was blood-red, and demons flew through the air in their true forms. I heard the sound of screams coming from below. Just what the hell was happening?

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. First person I tried calling was Celeste. But I got an error saying her number was no longer in service. I tried Tessa next—same thing. Tried Cassie, Coop—nothing. All the numbers were out of service.

  I went back inside, to my office. I could probably cast a summoning spell, see if I could get in touch with someone who might know why it looked like Chicago was at the center of the apocalypse.

  But just as I was about to open the door, something grabbed me from behind and threw me. Its strength was unreal, capable of hurling me across the entire room. I struck the window so hard, I was surprised the glass didn’t break.

  I heard footsteps approaching. The anger was building inside me. I tried to focus it, harness it. I could feel the heat beneath my skin, and as I stood, my hand lit up with hellfire. But before I could direct it, my attacker grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm behind my back.

  “That right there is how we got into this mess,” he said.

  I recognized his voice. Hadn’t expected to ever see him again. Or at least I’d hoped I’d never see him again.

  “Cain,” I said.

  “Surprised to see me?” he asked. “After your angel buddy zapped me to Antarctica?”

  “In his defense, you were trying to kill me.”

  Cain released my arm and pushed me forward. I stumbled but regained my composure and turned to face him. With both hands, I started to shape the hellfire into a ball, holding it up for the first murderer to see.

  He still looked the same. Duster coat, gun hanging from his hip, with long, straggly graying hair and a beard to match. All he needed was a hat and he’d be a perfect fit for a Sergio Leone flick.

  “Don’t bother with that, kid,” he said. “Won’t do you any good.”

  “You said this is how we got into this mess. What’d you mean?” I asked.

  “What do you think I meant?” He turned and gestured to the balcony window and the city that burned. “You’re looking at the end of days, kid. And it’s all because of you.”

  “Bullshit…” I said.

  “Did you think that rogue angel just decided to close up shop after you left Purgatory?” asked Cain. “You just made him redouble his efforts. Raziel? Dead. Asmodeus? Trapped in Purgatory. You? Off gallivanting with some demon whore. So who was left to keep Dakota Reed and her baby safe?”

  “She gave birth,” I said.

  Cain nodded. “She did. And the angel found her and killed her. Then took the nephilim under his wing. Trained the boy and the others. It sparked a massive outcry from Hell and the armistice was off. War had begun. And now, here we are.”

  “You’re saying it’s all my fault?” I asked. “Why is it on me? Why couldn’t the damn angels get their shit together?”

  “You gonna sit there whining or are you gonna stand up when your name’s called?”

  “Not my monkeys, not my circus.”

  Cain nodded. Then, he drew on me, pointing his revolver right at my head. I held up the fireball as a warning.

  “Don’t even think about it, old man,” I said.

  “You think your hellfire’s faster than my bullet?” he asked. “Let’s find out.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  I screamed, and then realized I was back on the couch. First thing I did was pat down my body, searching for any gunshot wounds. Not a single one. I looked around the room. No sign of Cain whatsoever.

  Took me a minute to get up the courage to stand. Once I did, I approached the balcony with trepidation. I slowly reached a hand out and pulled back the curtain, afraid of what might be on the other side.

  Nothing. Just the city of Chicago, lit up in the middle of the night like it usually was.

  A dream, that’s all it was. I walked back to the couch and sat down, taking a cigarette from the case on the table and lighting it. Smoke would help me calm my nerves right now.

  I couldn’t help laughing at myself. Getting all worked up like that over a stupid dream.

  Thing was, it felt like more than just a dream. A lot more real, as if I had been dreamwalking. Or if someone was trying to send me a message.

  Ignore that, Luther. You’re working with demons, Raz is missing, Cain’s still out there, and weird shit’s been going on lately. That’s all it comes down to. Just your mind trying to process everything that’s happened.

  I continued smoking in silence for another few minutes. As soon as the cigarette was done, I stamped out the remains in the ashtray and retired to my bedroom.

  14

  Detective Wayne Cooper walked up to the front entrance of a high-rise condominium in the affluent Lincoln Park neighborhood. He flashed his badge at the doorman and was granted entry without a word of objection.

  Wayne took his phone from his pocket and looked at the address he’d typed into his note app. The unit he was looking for was located on the fifteenth floor. Wayne stepped into the elevator and hit the button, taking a breath as he tried to mentally run through what he would say.

  He never expected he would come here. Never dreamed a day would come when he’d have to go through channels like these. But Luther wasn’t returning his calls, and after their last meeting, plus what he did at the strip club, Wayne had a feeling Luther wasn’t who he needed to try and talk to anymore.

  The elevator dinged on arrival and the doors opened. Wayne walked down the corridor, and when he found the right apartment, he knocked on the door. A moment later, the door opened, and he gasped, taking a step back.

  Wayne hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he knew what he didn’t expect. And that was a hulk of a man with a bald head, extremely pale skin, and beady, red eyes. The brute’s throat rumbled with a growl and Wayne felt his mouth go dry, the ability for him to produce any sound momentarily gone.

  “What do you want?” asked the bald man, his voice reverberating.

  Wayne found his voice again, but the only thing he could utter were the words, “C-Celeste King—”

  The beast’s arm reached out, grabbing Wayne by his throat and raising him off the floor. Wayne looked into those red eyes and furiously hit the massive arms, trying to get this…thing to put him down.

  “And what do you want with Celeste King?” he asked.

  Wayne’s mind started racing with possibilities. Had this creature killed Celeste? If that were the case, where would Wayne go next? That’s assuming he even got out of this situation alive, which now wasn’t looking very likely…

  “Hem!”

  The voice belonged to a woman, and it came from inside the apartment. It drew the beast’s attention. Wayne tried to peer around to see who spoke, but the creature’s massive frame prevented him from doing so. But he could still hear her speaking.

  “Enough of that—put him down right now!”

  The beast huffed and opened
his hand. Wayne dropped to the floor and had to pick himself up. He brushed off his clothes and Hem moved away from the door, which gave Wayne enough space to enter. He did, and when he stepped inside, he saw a woman with pale skin—though not as pale as Hem’s—and short, black hair. She was dressed in a simple black halter top and tight jeans, her arms folded as she studied her new visitor.

  “You’re Luther’s friend,” she said. “The detective, right?”

  “You remembered,” said Wayne. “Wayne Cooper.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” she said.

  Celeste King was a vampire, and she ran an escort service, one which provided vampires to human clients. The vampires would drain a little blood from the humans, for a price. Wayne had never quite understood it, but from what Luther had tried to explain to him once, it was apparently a euphoric experience.

  But a few years ago, a vampire hunter had come to town and had been killing off Celeste’s escorts. Wayne caught the case and Luther acted as a consultant for him. Luther had eventually found the hunter and killed him, and as Celeste was a witness, Wayne had questioned her.

  “So, what can I do for you, Detective Cooper?” she asked.

  “You can call me Wayne, or Coop, if you like.” Wayne gave a glance at the big guy, who still stared at him. “What’s with him?”

  “Hem’s my bodyguard,” said Celeste. “Don’t mind him; he’s just a bit overprotective.”

  “I don’t like him,” said Hem.

  “At the moment, I’m not too fond of you myself, so let’s call it even,” said Wayne.

  “So, what’s this about? Never expected to see you show up on my doorstep.” Celeste walked over to a bar and produced a bottle of red wine, which she poured into a glass. As she was pouring, she paused and looked back at Wayne. “By the way, how’d you even know where to find me?”