Beyond the Veil

by Tim Marquitz

  Shit, it was probably part of the package deal he’d been handed by God when he was booted from Heaven. Though shalt not pass Go. Though shalt not collect two hundred dollars. My life had already been planned out, and all I’d done was make it harder by resisting every effort Lucifer made to prepare me for the inevitable.

  That thought sunk into my stomach like a stone. My anger ignited a moment later.

  He could have told me. He could have sat me down and explained all this. I probably wouldn’t have done anything different than I had as far as my life went, which is a sad statement as to the level of my motivation, but at least I would have known. Karra wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d realized I was Lucifer’s son sooner. When Gorath came knocking, looking for Daddy, I would have known to protect her better, to keep her with me rather than chasing her away. I thought I was saving her from getting involved, but I’d only made it easier for Gorath to grab her when it should have been me.

  With those thoughts filling my head, my feet scraping unconsciously across the sidewalk, I stumbled across a stone and nearly fell flat on my face. I cursed under my breath and hopped up off my knees, then went to lean into the nearby wall so I could catch my breath. Paranoia had my eyes on a swivel, looking to see if anyone had seen my graceless display of dumbrobatics, and I suddenly noticed I was just across the street from the shop Jesus had taken us to.

  I dusted my pants and was ready to start off again when I spied an alien stroll out of the shop’s door. He waved a friendly goodbye over his shoulder as he swung the door shut. His loose shirt caught the handle as he did, forcing him to step back quickly or have it ripped off. He cursed as he yanked it free, my eyes drawn to a dark splotch on his skin. There, where it had been hidden under the shirt he was wrangling to get control of, was a circular tattoo inked into his ribs. It was the same black phoenix that was on the aliens who’d attacked us back with the old man and girl.

  I jumped into the nearby alley to keep him from spotting me just before he got his shirt corralled. He strutted down the street with only a cursory look around, clearly less concerned with social faux pas than I was. Lucky bastard. I followed after him a moment later without even thinking about it. There wasn’t much cover on the battered sidewalk, and I was pretty much out in the open, but my gut was telling me to stay on the customer rather than see Jo. Just as it was with Longinus earlier, it was like I’d walked into a girl’s locker room; something was fishy.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why someone working for Gorath would be hanging out with one of Jesus’ buddies. I got the shifty shopkeeper aspect of it, the snitch playing both sides of the fence since it was clear one of the invaders would leave sooner or later, but the Eidolon were chewing up the potential for profit across the board. Why would Jo risk dealing with them…unless that was how he got his information; little leaks in the Eidolon infrastructure he was exploiting before it all went bust.

  A sudden rush of hope warmed my skin. If Jo was reaching out to the Eidolon for the inside scoop, the alien strutting down the street like he didn’t have a care in the world probably knew something worth asking him about. Even if he didn’t, it was obvious he was confident in his cover of average, ordinary citizen. There was a good chance he would lead me to a gathering of his fellow Eidolon where I could learn more about them. If all else failed, I could always go back and question Jo. Knowing a little more about his latest customer might be the screw I needed to twist for information.

  Either way, opportunities were opening up that I hadn’t had just a few minutes prior, which was always a good thing. I stuck with the tattooed dude. Oblivious, or simply unconcerned, he walked on without casting a single glance behind. He knew where he was going and clearly had no expectations of being hassled along the way. That worked in my favor because all he had to do was look back and he would know I was following him.

  The other Felurians out on the streets continued to do the same as they had since we’d shown up. As soon as they saw me, they veered off but their tentativeness was an asset rather than a liability. They walked with their chins down and eyes on the ground. It wasn’t until they were almost on top of me that they realized I was there and shifted gears. That kept the alien I was following from noticing any additional weirdness on their part. They were past him and out of his line of sight when they had their little hissy fits of Chihuahua panic. I was doubly grateful they didn’t piss themselves when they looked up to see me…though, admittedly, that would have been funny.

  The alien wound his way through the beat up town, traveling in the opposite direction Rala had pointed us in. This side of town didn’t look any better. There were no good sides, apparently. Most of the shops were abandoned, and no one had bothered to even board them up. Broken windows led into rifled stores, and while I wasn’t sure what was of value on Feluris, what was left looked a lot like junk, to me. It was also clear the planet had taken a serious hit to its population.

  There weren’t any aliens squatting in the empty shops or camping out on the streets. It seemed there was more than enough living space for those who’d survived the war; certainly enough for them to keep out of sight. There weren’t any children that I noticed, either, or old folks and cripples. The Felurians I’d come across all seemed to be middle-aged, at least as far as I could tell, and functional. I didn’t know if that was a societal or species thing, but it was weird. As much as the Felurians were like humans, it made sense there would be kids running about and old folks screaming at them to get off the rubble. The lack of the other ends of the scale made me wonder just how bad the battle for Feluris had actually been.

  The Eidolon I was tracking slowed and brought my full attention back to him. He went on a little longer, until he came to a broad avenue, about twice the size as the other roads we’d traversed. There were only a couple of buildings lining the street at the far ends and an archaic building, which looked like a church parked dead center of the block. There were no crosses set upon the roof’s pinnacle, no Star of David, or Golden Arches, or anything to show any sort of religious denomination. It made me think all of the Felurians were like Rala and the old seer: godless heathens. I grinned bitterly at that. There were worse ways to live, but unfortunately for them, the gods they dismissed hadn’t been so considerate as to do the same.

  I slowed and let the alien put some extra distance between us. Window coverings all along our route had fluttered as we passed, making it more than obvious the neighborhood was watching. And judging from the way he was eyeballing the church, I had a feeling he was going there. The last thing I wanted to do was strut down the street and have his buddies warn him I was on his six. If he was going to meet more Eidolon, I couldn’t assume they were as careless as he was. It’d be nice, and I could certainly hope, but I’m just not that lucky.

  Sure enough, he turned along the cracked sidewalk and walked up the stairs leading to the double doors of the church. Again, he didn’t bother to look back before he pushed one of the doors open and slipped into the darkness inside. I waited a minute before I went after him, making it to the stairs without any obvious signs someone had seen me. The beat up steps loomed before me, and I wished then that I’d have hung a little closer to have seen his exact path. Cracks ran all through them, gray lines threatening to give up the ghost at any moment. I risked them in a rush of movement, skipping up the stairs on my toes, picking the most stable looking of them to place my feet as I dodged the loose chips that littered them. They held. What was even better, homeboy had left the door cracked open.

  I inched up to the darkness and peered inside. Wasn’t much to see but an empty, dilapidated foyer, filled with worn chairs and small tables, but I could hear the chatter of voices somewhere inside. They weren’t clear enough to pick out what was being said, but it was obvious there were several different people speaking, echoes resounding through the place. I squeezed through the door and stepped inside. Fortunately, the worn carpet muffled the creak of the wooden floor underneath, and th
e voices kept on without pause.

  A quick glance about told me the building hadn’t seen life in quite a long time, well before God and his cronies came to town. Cobwebs hung from the foyer ceiling like a mossy blanket. There wasn’t but an inch or two that wasn’t coated in the glistening gray. Dust stole the color from the carpet, a stirred up trail leading straight ahead. From there, another set of slightly open double doors led directly into the building. That was where I thought the voices were coming from. Off to the sides were two narrow stairwells stashed into the darker corners. They both twisted upwards to disappear into the ceiling. The voices went on, rising in volume and energy, the sound drifting in from the other room.

  No time to worry about leaving a trail behind to be noticed, I ran off to the left—probably some inherent Satanic impulse—and eased up the stairwell. Unlike those outside, these had been protected from the weather and were fairly sturdy. Also carpeted, the slight squeaks they gave off were too quiet to be heard over the noise the Eidolon guy and his buddies were making. I wound my way up the steps, vowing not to vomit at their dizzying sharpness. Whatever architect designed them was a sadist with a penchant for sharp angles and enclosed spaces. It reminded me of the grave Karra had dumped me in not too long back. Cold shivers prickled the hairs on my arms at the thought, but I shook it off. This wasn’t the time for reminiscing or I’d find myself in another hole, this time for good.

  The stairs opened up onto a narrow landing, a number of wooden benches stretched across the space. Just in front of them was a short wall with an ornate railing that curved across the top of it. The voices were louder as I crept between the rows and toward the balcony. The gray creep of spider webs clung to the ceiling of the landing just as it had the foyer below, but the roof angled upward into a great arch the closer I came to the edge. I could smell the cloying scent of dust and moldy rot in the air as I settled in at the edge of the balcony. The voices went on without interruption.

  “This is foolish, Hurn,” I heard someone say, my gaze darting between the railing and wall to see who spoke.

  It didn’t take but a second to realize it was an angel, and only a second longer than that to recognize him as one of the ones who had been there with Jesus when Longinus and I arrived. He stood imperious, hands on his hips, his spotless white robes flowing to his sandaled feet. The scowl that darkened his face was fierce. He stared at the alien I’d followed, who stood there with his arms spread in passive defiance.

  “I already told you, this order isn’t from me,” the dude I presumed was Hurn said. “It comes from the boss himself.”

  “But it makes no sense.” He turned and looked to the handful of aliens who stood at his back. They looked to their feet, almost in unison, before the angel returned his attention to the messenger with a snarl. “Why would he ask this of me?”

  Hurn shrugged. “It’s not my job to question his commands, Iriaal, just to pass them on. Has it become yours?”

  The angel stared for a moment without saying anything. His temples thrummed with his anger. When he finally spoke, he huffed in disgust of whatever he’d been told to do before I showed up. “So be it. Tell him I’ll do as commanded, but I do not like this.”

  With Iriaal taking orders from one of the Eidolon, it was clear he was hedging his bets, which got me wondering whose side he was really on.

  Hurn bowed shallow. “I’ll inform the master—”

  The angel waved him off. “Just go. Your presence sickens me.” The henchmen muttered at his back emphasizing the unspoken threat.

  I thought about chasing after the alien messenger, the easier target and all, but Iriaal’s sideways dealings had me curious. He was off to do something he didn’t want to do, and that almost guaranteed it was going to be something interesting and potentially useful to me. It might still have nothing to do with Karra, but then again, maybe it did. I couldn’t risk letting him out of my sight, just in case.

  Hurn snorted and walked off, and I ducked lower as he stormed through the double doors just below where I crouched on the balcony. I felt the frame rattle as he slammed them shut behind him, the thud echoing through the church an instant later. The vibrations traveled through the weakened wood, all the way to the ceiling, and set off a shower of dust, which rained down over the landing. It hit me full in the face as I glanced up out of instinct at the movement. I horked in a mouthful and barely swallowed a sneeze, damn near blowing my eyes out of their sockets. I wiped away the clinging dust only to realize the room had gone silent. The subtle flicker of magical senses swirled around me a heartbeat later.

  They knew I was there.

  I pulled my guns and stood. There was no point in hiding anymore, the element of surprise buggered and left beaten on the side of the road. In the barren waste of magical background noise, I might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said kick me, I’m not from here.

  “Demon!” The angel spat the word as he saw me, all eyes aimed my direction. “Who are you? Who sent you to spy on us?”

  The aliens yanked out their blades without bothering to wait for an answer, the ring of steel resounding in the desolate church. They scattered across the room and started toward me. The look in their eyes told me I wouldn’t be getting anything from them without a fight.

  Can’t say I minded too much.

  Eleven

  A wise man once said, ‘If you can’t eat it or fuck it, then kill it.’ The saying definitely applied here.

  “Bring him to me,” the angel demanded, a sharp finger pointed my way.

  The first of the aliens darted toward the doors below. I leaned over the balcony for a better shot only to realize he’d been a lure, and I found myself stretched out and vulnerable. A second alien sprung off the back of a wooden bench and leapt into the air. He hurtled toward me at the very edge of my peripheral vision. Steel gleamed in his hand. A toothy grin appeared as he was about to clear the railing, his sword arcing toward me. I turned and smiled back, then shot him in the mouth.

  His teeth exploded like a bombed Chiclet factory, tiny pieces of them flying in every direction. The force of the shot stopped his flight cold. The alien’s chin snapped to his chest, and he dropped without fanfare, bouncing off the railing and kicking up dust as he slid down the wall. A trickle of green blood followed after him. His body hit the ground with a moist thump.

  And then there were two of them on the landing at my back, one charging at me from each direction. I popped a shot off at both without bothering to aim and jumped over the balcony. I thought I heard a grunt of impact but didn’t look back. While the minions might be able to give me a hard time, they weren’t gonna do much more than slow me down. The angel was the meal in the midst of all these alien appetizers. If there was something to be learned, he would be the one to know it.

  Iriaal growled as I cleared the edge of the balcony and dropped toward him, but I couldn’t blame him his rudeness. I gave him good reason not to like me by taking potshots at his face. He mustered a magical shield and deflected my bullets easily enough. They whined into the darkness as he drew a short blade from a sheath I hadn’t seen strapped at his back. I almost laughed. This angel was a serious, old school Heavenly warrior. He was bringing a knife to a gunfight.

  It was time to bring him into the modern age.

  I imagined boots the size of kayaks and willed my magic to make them real just before I hit. His smile melted when he realized what I’d done, but it was too late to get out of the way. My magic hit his and momentum won out. There was an electric crackle, the sound of a cattle prod hitting a slab of meat, and the angel went flying. Arms and legs waving behind him like banners, he flew across the room and slammed into the dais at the far end. The wooden podium shattered, and the angel went down in a shower of splinters, stirring up a storm of gray soot.

  Unfortunately, like all my other relationships, my flirtation with gravity turned sour. The ground smacked me in the ass, and I tumbled into the aisle between the nearest rows of benches. The threadb
are carpet didn’t do shit to soften the landing. Dust and dirt puffed up all around me, a swirl of gray and brown that choked the air and grasped at my lungs. I scrambled to my feet after an awkward roll and felt the sting of steel as it was dragged across my back. One of the aliens stood right behind me. The cut wasn’t deep, but not for his lack of trying. Blood warmed my spine and leaked into my ass crack, which tickled more than you’d think.

  The alien pressed forward to finish the job. I kicked a leg out from under him and squeezed off a couple of rounds into his chest as he stumbled forward. His sword shimmered past as I sidestepped the blow. I was just about to pat myself on the back when I realized I’d moved right into the path of the angel.

  His magic roared to life not five feet from where I stood. I could feel its essence and smell the metallic tang as a bolt of energy smacked into me. Skin sizzled, and I ducked away, the acrid char of burnt meat replacing the mystical sear. As much as it stung, it reminded me I hadn’t eaten in a while. I was imagining a thick and juicy steak while I rolled between the benches to escape the continuing burst of energy, and a thought hit me.

  The blast hadn’t hurt half as much as I expected it to. A quick glance explained why. While all the hair on my forearm had been singed off, the flesh a nice shade of red, it hadn’t even blistered. My shirt wafted with tendrils of smoke, but even it was whole. I glanced behind me to see the benches still standing, only tiny flickers of flame brightening the blackened wood. The carpet hadn’t fared as well, however, its ratty weave catching fire in several places.

  Once out the other side of the row, I looked for Iriaal and spied him right where he’d been a moment ago. He had an ‘Oh shit’ expression on his face when he saw me pop up. As close as I was when he hit me, I should have been sloughing flesh like ice cream off a cone in the Sahara, but he’d barely toasted the surface. Either he’d spent his load earlier and had yet to recover or he was a pinch hitter for the peewee leagues. Both were good for me.