Diary of a Demon Hunter 4: Doubly Dying

by Michele Bardsley

  She had one thing to do: kill Abatu. The rest of the world, and everyone in it, could go straight to Hell after that.

  * * *

  Getting into Hell took either being a condemned soul or a demon. Humans and other immortal beings could hitch rides with demons, but most didn’t because really, who wants to go to Hell?

  Transport to the Otherworld, the world between worlds, was a little easier. You got a god/goddess-blessed token and found a portal, you hitched a ride with a resident, or you asked for an assignment there. Neutral beings populated the Otherworld -- creatures who took neither the side of good nor of evil. However, the balance between good and evil was supposedly guided by the Otherworld High Council.

  Meelena, who’d been a revered High Priestess and long-time Council member, had slept with Abatu, then a minor king in Hell, and bore his twins. When her indiscretion had been revealed, it turned out to be the cherry topping a corruption sundae. The Council had been taking half-breeds of all kinds, in particular children of humans and demons, and indenturing them. Raphael had been such a case.

  The Council had been building its own power base. Rather than pay attention to keeping the balance between darkness and light, greed and gluttony had infiltrated their ranks. By the time they had figured out that Abatu had used their lack of vigilance to begin his own bid for power, not just for his plane of existence but for every plane, they were too late to stop him.

  And Meelena, by bearing his children, had given him the keys to ruling over all. The blood of a child born of pure good and of pure evil could kill immortals.

  As Maggie and Raphael relayed this history to the people sitting in the library, she had one thought: being right didn’t mean you were going to win. If life were about truth and justice, then right and good would always conquer wrong and evil.

  The balance worked both ways -- too much good could spoil people into laziness, into ungratefulness, into complacency. Too much evil could kill the spirit of hope, of working hard, of trying despite the odds.

  But Maggie knew even as her friends plotted about how to get into Heaven and track down Abatu that they had no guarantee of winning. If she went alone, she would risk only herself. If she died, they still had a plan. They still had Auren, who was also a child of Abatu.

  They don’t need me to succeed.

  And I don’t need them to fail.

  Raphael was pleasant to her. He treated her like he treated everyone else, but Maggie still felt the wall between them. The wall that he had erected. He knew her, heart and soul. Knew what she was capable of and he still wanted more than she could give him. She had never asked him to be any different or to be any better. That he could create such terrible expectations and call them love wasn’t fair. He wanted all. But he would get nothing.

  As the conversation drifted from saving the world to the more mundane topics, Maggie stood up. “Gotta go to the potty. Be right back.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Deb.

  “Uh, one per customer, honey.”

  “You only have one bathroom?”

  Rafe laughed. “We have several.”

  “Yeah,” said Maggie. “C’mon.”

  Deb stepped out the door and Maggie shut it behind her. “Go down the hallway, third door on your left.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Maggie looked at Deb. “I told you. I’m taking a piss.”

  “But your aura --”

  Maggie punched Deb hard in the jaw. She caught the little darling and dragged her into the bathroom. She put her into the bathtub and grimaced at the swelling on Deb’s cheek. “I don’t have time for your fucking questions. Sweet dreams, princess.” She frowned. “And, y’know, sorry about popping you one.”

  She shut the shower curtain and left the light on. Then she shut the door. Crouching to the floor, she took a silver piece of chalk made from fairy dust, demon scales, and ground angel feathers. She drew a binding symbol on the floor then pricked her finger and allow one drop of blood to lock the spell.

  Then she hurried down the hall and made a larger binding symbol on the floor outside the door of the library. She whispered words to strengthen this spell, then again pricked her finger and allowed three drops to fall within the circle. Once again, the spell was locked.

  The spells were timed. If her friends couldn’t figure out how to break her spellwork, it would release them in an hour’s time. As she stood up, she heard Sarah say, “The baby’s fussing.”

  Shit. Sarah had that fancy baby monitor. The PDA-like device had audio and video. Any minute now, she would try to leave the room. Maggie hurried to the nursery. She took out a vial from her belt, unplugged the stopper, and waited precious seconds as a gray mist emitted. Soon, the entire room was filled with the harmless fog and she crept to the crib and scooped up Margie. She grabbed a blanket, a toy, and a half-full bottle. Then she hurried to the bathroom. She unlocked the spell and stepped through the door.

  Deb was sitting in the bathtub, cradling her jaw. “That hurt! Why did you hit me?”

  “Take her.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Take the baby!” Maggie leaned down and handed Margie and her things to a very reluctant Deb.

  “What are you doing, Maggie?”

  “What I have to do to protect those I love.” She looked at Margie and smiled.

  “If you don’t let us help you,” warned Deb, “you will die.”

  “I know. But I’ll take Abatu with me. Then everyone will be safe.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Maggie let the insult slide. “You’re a good kid. I wish you all the best and I really hope you find a new boyfriend.”

  She turned around and slammed the door, re-initiated the spell, and grimaced. The sounds filtering from the library were pure pissed-off. She was sorry to worry Sarah and Eltar, sorry that she was disappointing Mrs. P, and really damned sorry Raphael couldn’t love her just like she was -- flaws and all.

  He said all or nothing.

  So, he was getting nothing.

  Maggie pushed aside the regrets. She had one mission, one goal, one desire. Kill Abatu. She didn’t much care what happened after that.

  At least, that’s what she told herself.

  Maggie hurried into the bedroom and dressed herself in her battle gear. As time ticked away, she risked a trip to the lab, where she filled up a bag with everything that would fit, from holy water globes to dragonfire bullets. She didn’t know what it would take to slow down Abatu, but she’d throw everything she could at him. She also took plenty of the new prisms, including the one Rafe had made especially for Abatu.

  Maggie looked around the laboratory and sighed. She’d probably never see this place again. Her guts clenched in foreboding. Was Deb right? Was she going to die? This was the last battle. And goddamn it, she was going to win.

  She tore out a page from an old spell book and grabbed a red marker. She scribbled, “I love you, Rafe. Forever and always.” Staring at the message, she kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them against the page. “I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.”

  Maggie didn’t have it in her to write notes to the others. Rafe had called her a coward. It surprised her to realize that he’d been right. She’d been too scared to embrace her relationships, to figure out how to be happy. She was bitter. Too damned bitter.

  Maggie heaved the bag over her shoulder and left the lab. When she got to the elevator, she created another locking symbol. This one was much stronger than the others. It could not be unlocked and it was not time-released. As clever and smart as her friends were, she was sure they’d figure a way out. But not before she’d found Abatu and destroyed him.

  She removed the precious vial of blood that she’d stolen from Abatu’s safekeeping. Carefully she unstopped it and allowed three drops to fall. The symbol glowed red.

  Maggie took the elevator to the mansion. She repeated the symbol in front of the elevator, an
d took a moment to create it on the porch before the front door. The three symbols locked with each other and soon, a red glow encompassed the whole house.

  Everyone inside was now officially trapped.

  They would be really pissed-off, but they would be safe. They couldn’t get out. And no one could get in.

  Maggie took one last look at the house then turned away. Earlier in the day, she had stashed her motorcycle in the bushes near the gate. Before she got into Heaven, she needed a token and a portal location. There was only one way to get either of those objects.

  * * *

  “What has she done?” yelled Raphael. His fists were raw from banging on the library door. There was no other way out. Maggie had trapped them inside so she could go after Abatu.

  “What have you done?” asked Mrs. Pottersworth. She was pouring tea for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening.

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything.”

  “I have Elf ears, dearie.” Mrs. P’s gaze ensnared his. “I heard your conversation.”

  “That was private.”

  Mrs. P shrugged, obviously unrepentant for eavesdropping.

  Rafe threw himself into his chair, frustration and fury pulsing through him. He looked at Eltar, who held a sobbing Sarah in his lap. “She wouldn’t do anything to Margie,” he said. “Maggie would never hurt her.”

  Sarah looked at him, her puffy eyes filled with worry and anger. “If even one horn on my baby’s head is nicked, I’m going to kill Maggie myself.”

  She lay on Eltar’s chest, accepting his tight hug and his low words of comfort. Rafe looked away and caught the sharp-eyed gaze of Auren, who had assumed a human form to help with the planning session. He wasn’t sure if her eyes held condemnation or concern. Truthfully, he preferred her as a kitten.

  “Rafe, I’m about to give you some unwanted advice,” said Mrs. P. “I know that you’re hurt Maggie didn’t confide in you about hiring Deb.”

  “I’m a little more hurt that she never admitted she stole one of the vials from Abatu.”

  Mrs. P nodded. “Yes, I thought as much, too.”

  Rafe slammed his fist against the arm of the chair. “I’ve given her every opportunity to tell me the truth.”

  “Maggie is operating the only way she knows how. You cannot expect her to be somebody different or better or more because you think she should be. Either you love her the way she is or you don’t.”

  He heard his “all or nothing” ultimatum echo in Mrs. P’s words. He had been patient with Maggie, waiting for the day she realized she could trust him. Then he realized she wasn’t going to trust him -- or anyone -- unless forced to face the truth about herself and her decisions.

  “I don’t expect her to be different,” he stubbornly insisted. “I expect her to trust me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love her. Because she’s going to be my wife. Because I goddamned deserve it!”

  “Maggie trusts you,” said Mrs. P. “But she doesn’t trust herself. She’s afraid of losing you. Of losing everyone who is in her life. She doesn’t know how to lean on someone completely because every time she does, that person is taken from her.”

  “I understand that,” said Rafe. At least, he believed he understood Maggie’s nature. He was beginning to see Mrs. P’s rather sharp point.

  “Has she ever asked you for anything?”

  Rafe didn’t answer. Guilt burned away his anger. Maggie had never asked him for a damned thing. She had given everything she knew how to give and he had asked for more. Was that the demon in him? Pushing and prodding until he broke her? He hated the idea that he might’ve hurt Maggie because he couldn’t control his demon side.

  “What’s the advice?” he asked gruffly.

  “Apologize,” said Mrs. P. “Beg her forgiveness and if you do love her, Rafe, don’t ever give her another ultimatum.”

  He nodded, unable to articulate his swirling thoughts. Maggie had taken a step toward him tonight and he’d pushed her away. She had told him about Deb and had he given her more time, more love, she might’ve walked the rest of the way.

  What had he done?

  “It’s probably too late,” said Auren, her voice thin with censure. “She’d rather die alone than see anyone else she loves murdered by my father.”

  “It’s not her decision,” said Eltar. “She has taken away our choices so that she might have her own way.”

  “Love and fear make us act strangely,” said Mrs. P. “Ah. There we go.”

  There was a distinct pop as the magic holding them there released. The library door swung open. Deb stood on the other side holding a sleeping Margie. The left side of her face left no doubt how Maggie had disabled her.

  “Well?” she asked. “Are we going after Maggie or not?”

  Chapter 5

  From the diary of Maggie Mortis…

  How do you say good-bye? Maybe it’s better not to say anything. Is it cruel to leave someone with no words? Given the opportunity, those left behind can create better and more tender parting scenarios. Like the orphaned child who dreams of rich and beautiful parents, a mourning soul can think up lovely things that could’ve been said or done.

  “If she’d had the time,” he’d say, “she would’ve kissed me tenderly and told me how much she loved me. Yes, that’s how it would go.”

  Better that, I think, than a scribbled note and an abandoned ring. I’m pissed-off at myself for breaking my own rules. I lied to others and to myself. I made promises I didn’t keep. I fell in love without knowing my own boundaries. I hurt Rafe. And he hurt me.

  We all have our faults, our weaknesses. Sometimes, they overshadow our good qualities. Maybe hatred drove me to abandon the ones I loved to go after the one I hate. Yes, I want revenge. Saving the world is a very distant third on my list of reasons to pursue Abatu.

  I am not sorry that I’m going after that demon bastard. I will not be sorry if I lose my life in the attempt. Don’t get me wrong, I have regrets… but killing Abatu will never be one of them.

  * * *

  The club’s name was Midnight, at least in this century. For as long as there’d been a city, Celeste Duvall had offered a neutral play place for any creature. So long as demon, angel, vampire, werewolf, human, or half-breed stepped foot on her property, all agreed to no battles or bloodshed.

  Creatures were allowed to indulge in any sinful or saintly pleasure. Celeste had no truck with wrong or with right. Celeste was a neutral, a former resident of the Otherworld, who found Earth amusing and exciting.

  Celeste loved two things: money and sex. Anything expensive and shiny drew her interest, whether it was jewelry or walked on two (or more) legs. In fact, as Maggie was allowed entrance into Celeste’s inner domain, she got to witness the stacked blonde getting fucked by two men. She was chained to the ceiling, one man entering her anally and the other thrusting his impressive member into her pussy. Sulfur twined with the smells of incense and raw sex.

  Incubus times two. Oh, for the love of -- Maggie sighed and crossed her arms, impatient. “I’ll wait outside.”

  “I like it better with someone to watch,” gasped Celeste. The lover so joyously fucking her ass grabbed her breasts and plucked at her nipples. Celeste moaned loudly.

  The incubus in front of Celeste kissed her with enthusiasm. From Maggie’s perspective, he appeared to be trying to choke the woman with his tongue. She broke away, her expression turning rapturous. “Yes!” she screamed. “Yes!”

  As Celeste orgasmed, the two men allowed themselves the same indulgence. Maggie sat on the black divan and picked up one of Celeste’s magazines. It was the new edition of Cosmo. She flipped through the pages, not really interested in the information. But it was better than watching the threesome try to extract from each other and get cleaned up.

  Finally, Celeste, in a robe thank the Goddess, dropped beside Maggie and lit up a clove cigarette. “Well, well, well… to what do I owe the honor? You haven�
��t been to the club in a while.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “So I’ve heard. That Raphael is yummy.”

  “He asked me to marry him.”

  Celeste’s arched brows rose. “Did he? That’s fabulous. When’s the wedding?”

  “I’ll let you know,” said Maggie. It’ll be on the twelfth of fucking never. “I need a token to Heaven and a portal location.”

  “You don’t ask for much.” Celeste blew out a stream of spicy smoke. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Money.”

  “I have money. Lots of it. What else can you offer?”

  “Five prisms and a gun that shoots dragonfire bullets.”

  “I’m not interested in holding cells for demons. And I know several dragons who’d be more than happy to give me their fire.” Celeste’s blue eyes held amusement. Maggie had forgotten how much the woman liked to negotiate.

  “I don’t have time for this shit,” said Maggie. She plucked off the ring with its glittering demon sapphire and handed it to Celeste. “Demonfire jewel. I know you don’t have one of these.”

  “It’s gorgeous!” Celeste stubbed out her cigarette in a glass ashtray and took the ring. “Demons rarely make such gems. They have to put a lot of effort, not to mention something of themselves into the stone. What do you think he added to yours?”

  His heart. She was sure he took a piece of his own heart to craft the ring. And now, she was trading it to this bitch for the chance at vengeance. Instead of answering Celeste’s question, she merely shrugged.

  The blonde looked at Maggie, her perfect lips pulling into a frown. “This is your engagement ring.”

  “Do we have a bargain?”

  “You’re a fool to give up his ring, darling. Demons, half-breeds or not, do not lightly forgive disrespect of their gifts.”

  Maggie resisted the urge to scream. Instead, she sucked in a steadying breath. “Do we have a deal?”

  Celeste considered her for an ungodly amount of time. Then she nodded. “It’s your choice.” She rose from the divan and looked at Maggie. “Such choices can be a real bitch.”