The Rise of Babylon

by G. A. Rael

  "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Herrin," she said quietly. "I had no idea."

  "No, I reckon not," Mrs. Herrin muttered. "You're the closest thing I've got to a daughter and I don't intend to ever go through that again. I don't care what harebrained scheme you've got goin' on. If you plan to up and disappear, I want to know about it. Do I make myself clear, girl?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Herrin," Jordan said somberly. Inside, despite the guilt, her heart was lighter than it had been in a long time. Her own mother had never shown such emotion the one time she had tried to run away. Instead, she had received the beating of her life for missing service and humiliating her father. There had never been a mention of concern as to what might have happened to her. Like the angels, her parents had simply been furious that she had taken something that belonged to them.

  "Now," Mrs. Herrin said, collecting herself with one final sniff. "Who else have you seen since you got back?"

  “Chase,” she replied, hesitating before adding, "and Darren."

  Mrs. Herrin huffed. “The boy has been a mess ever since you disappeared. Chase, too." She added the last grudgingly.

  “I’m sure Darren is just stressed out over the breakup with Allison.”

  Mrs. Herrin arched an eyebrow. "And what do you think that was over?"

  “Certainly not me,” said Jordan. She stood. “I should probably get back to work. I’ve got three months of back orders to take care of.”

  "Before you go and do that, I think you owe me a straight answer about something."

  "Anything." Anything Mrs. Herrin would think to ask, at least.

  "What really happened? I don't believe that bullshit story you told the police about leaving and 'finding yourself' for one second."

  "I can't tell you, and before you get angry, just remember that you said you wanted the honest answer,” Jordan said quickly. It seemed to prevent the lecture she could already see brewing in the woman's mind. "I'd rather just tell you as much of the truth as I can, which is that it's complicated and telling you would only put you in danger. I thought I was keeping you and everyone else safer by leaving, but I know now what a bad idea that was.”

  “And here I thought you were just trying to skip out on the wedding if you were alive,” Mrs. Herrin said dryly.

  “Of course not.”

  “You might change your mind once you meet the Wyldes,” the woman drawled. “They’re a real pair.”

  Jordan sighed. Missing out on the chance to meet Chase’s parents would have been the only silver lining of an eternity spent in Paradise, that was for sure. “I’m sure they'll be just thrilled to have some backwoods hick for a daughter-in-law."

  "Your accent is slipping," the woman said wryly. "I take it you were hiding out down south for a while."

  "Not as far south as you'd think," said Jordan. Hermes gave a snort of approval at the inside joke.

  "So the engagement is still on?”

  "Yes, and I don't appreciate that doubtful tone of yours. A person can get a lot of perspective in three months," said Jordan. Or three million. “I’m heading out. I still need some packing supplies, so text me if you need anything.”

  “Oh, so you’re done resisting the technological revolution?”

  “Chase insisted, and I’m already in hot water,” Jordan said, holding up her new phone. At least she knew there was no way her father could have gotten that number. Even Hermes didn’t have it yet and she hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  "It's your lucky day. Cindy and Tina are on vacation so you won't get mobbed by them."

  "That's good," Jordan said, breathing a sigh of relief as she stood with the cat in her arms. He gave a startled cry. “I’ll take Hermes along. He’s about due for his shots anyway and I’m sure Darren won’t mind a walk-in.”

  "Poor thing," Mrs. Herrin said, tilting her head. "I've gotten attached to him."

  "He'll be fine," Jordan assured her, holding the cat close to her chest as he rumbled with agitation. "He just loves the vet."

  As Jordan walked out the door and down the path toward Darren's clinic, she held the writhing cat close so he couldn't transform without risking exposure. "Oh, no you don’t,“ she hissed, hoping no one would notice that she was talking to her cat. She reminded herself that they had plenty of better reasons to gawk, not the least of all her recent status as a not-so-missing person. "You're staying just like this so I can keep an eye on you. Even you have too much shame to transform in the town square."

  She hoped.

  The cat finally settled down, but Jordan knew she was going to hear it the moment they were alone. She opened the door to the animal clinic and looked around, her pulse quickening. Hermes had supposedly been keeping an eye on Darren the night before, but Jordan still wasn't quite sure what she would find.

  Darren was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear a dog barking ferociously at something in the back. She crept closer and peered into the exam room to find a beautiful golden retriever with strawberry blond fur barking furiously at someone outside of her view.

  "Doctor?" the woman holding the dog's leash called nervously. Jordan recognized her as Cindy's friend, Lee. The family dog bared his teeth and, for a moment, his goofy face morphed into a sobering reminder of his lupine ancestry.

  "I'm sorry, Dr. St. Clair," Lee said as Jordan slipped into the room. "I don't know what's gotten into Beau. You've known him since he was a puppy, he's usually such a sweetheart."

  There was no answer. Darren was standing on the other side of the room, staring blankly past the dog. His arms hung limply at his sides and a clipboard dangled precariously between his fingertips. Jordan felt sure that a good breeze was all it would take to knock him over.

  "Is everything alright?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

  Lee stared at her like she was seeing a ghost. "You're back?"

  "Sure am. Gotta be on time for those yearly shots," Jordan said, having come to the conclusion that brevity was the only way to address the controversy surrounding her return. "The white cat was straining in her arms again, hissing at Beau.

  The dog ignored him completely. His eyes remained fixed on Darren, unblinking.

  "Dr. St. Clair?" Lee asked warily.

  When he didn't respond, Jordan tried with, "Darren?"

  Darren jolted and his head turned jerkily as if by a crank. He was staring past her, too. His eyes were dull like all the light had been drained from them, leaving his gunmetal irises flat like stone.

  Jordan placed Hermes on the exam table, a safe distance from the dog. "Lee, I think maybe you had better bring Beau back another time."

  "Is he alright?" the woman asked, eying Darren like he was a malfunctioning robot who might explode at any moment.

  "He's fine, he just has low blood sugar episodes sometimes," Jordan said, touching his arm. Even through his shirt, she could feel that his skin was colder than it had been the night before.

  Darren jolted at the touch. For one fleeting moment, Jordan worried that he was going to attack one of them, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed to relax.

  "Oh," said Lee. She seemed to only partly buy the explanation, but she tugged on Beau's leash and led him through the door. "Well, if that's the case, you'd better get him some orange juice or something. Tell him to call me about rescheduling once he's better."

  "Will do," Jordan promised, closing the door as soon as Lee and Beau were gone. She turned to Hermes immediately. "What's wrong with him? How do I fix it?"

  The cat raised its paw and began to groom itself fastidiously, ignoring her. Jordan's eyes narrowed. "Oh, so that's how it is," she muttered, leading Darren over to the table. He sat down without protest, but when she tried to force him to lie down, he wouldn't budge.

  The cat watched in amusement, flicking its tail.

  Jordan placed her hands on Darren's shoulders and tried to get him to meet her eyes. "Darren?" she began hopefully. "It's me, Jordan. You remember me, right?"

  His hand covered hers and the ring humm
ed with warmth. He nodded slowly.

  "Good," she said, straightening her back. "That's good. Just focus on the sound of my voice, and —” She broke off as Darren grabbed her and held her to his chest. It was enough to knock the wind out of her. He buried his face in her neck and let out a growl she could only hope was more affectionate than aggressive. "Okay, I guess that works, too."

  At least he hadn't broken anything this time.

  "Jordan," he groaned.

  "Yeah, it's me," she said, stroking his hair. One wrong move and she was keenly aware that her back was in danger of snapping and Hermes didn't seem to be in a mood to put her back together again. "I'm here."

  "I think I like him better this way," said Hermes. "There's something to be said for a man who just sits around and looks pretty without thoughts and words ruining everything, don't you think?"

  Jordan jolted at the sound of his voice and felt her back crack when Darren's hold didn't loosen. Fortunately, it seemed to be just a minor realignment rather than anything serious. When she finally managed to wriggle out of Darren's vice grip, Hermes was perched on the counter. To her relief, he was still partially clothed in skintight leather jeans.

  "How are you dressed? I thought you said transforming with clothes on would ruin them."

  "Fabric can't survive a transformation. Only flesh."

  "You mean leather?" she asked hopefully.

  "Of a sort." He smirked at her horrified reaction. “I’m kidding. Don’t be so droll.”

  Jordan groaned, reminding herself that she had more pressing matters to deal with. “Just tell me what’s wrong with him.”

  "He's a zombie. He needs to consume flesh on the full moon or his kind gets a bit… hangry."

  “Flesh?” Jordan gulped. “What kind?”

  “The two-legged variety. All monsters are bound to the limitations of their true forms on the moon that rules them. You saw me in all my demonic glory the other night. Werewolves are forced to take their beast shapes on the wolf moon, obviously, and zombies return to whatever stage of decomposition they'd be in if they had stayed dead. They also need to feed or they'll decompose eventually. Any full moon amplifies the monstrous traits, but zombies and werewolves seem particularly affected.”

  Jordan grimaced. “How do I wake him up?"

  "I don't know," the demon mused, circling the exam table. He took Darren's face in his hand and turned it every which way. "Maybe it's because he hasn’t fed yet. Maybe I overestimated how close he needs to be to his soul to function. It's hard to say."

  “You say ‘feed’ like it’s just a simple matter of going to the store and picking up a slab of human meat.”

  Hermes shrugged. "Most humans feed on flesh every day."

  "Not human flesh!"

  "Darren isn't human anymore. Contrary to popular belief, here in the real world, zombies still munch brains and vampires still suck blood."

  Jordan's head spun and she found herself leaning against the exam table just in case she fainted. Hermes' chivalry was selective, as she had learned, and she didn't trust that he would catch her if she fell.

  "We're going to table the 'things that are and aren't real' discussion for a time when I can handle it," she said, taking a few deep breaths. "Can you please just help me get him upstairs?"

  "Since you asked so nicely," said Hermes, placing an affectionate hand on both of their heads. By the time he had given Jordan's hair a single stroke, she found herself in the middle of Darren's apartment. Hermes settled Darren on the couch before disappearing into his room. By the time he emerged, he’d put on one of Darren’s T-shirts.

  "Your boyfriend is not a snazzy dresser, but at least he buys nice socks," said Hermes, sauntering into the living room. "Wonder if he has equally decent taste in beer."

  Jordan draped a blanket over Darren, coaxing him into a reclining position. She stroked his hair and when her fingertips brushed his forehead, she found herself hoping it wasn't just her imagination that he seemed a little less frigid than before.

  "Gluten-free hummus?" Hermes cried from the kitchen, waving a tub over his head. "Chickpeas are always gluten-free, for God's sake! Shameless marketers— Ooh, beer." His tone changed as he popped the top off a fresh bottle and took a long sip.

  "When you're done raiding his fridge, would you mind helping me out here?"

  "Sure," said Hermes, settling on the floor in front of the couch with his legs crossed. He closed his eyes and stretched his long fingers over Darren's head, letting out a deep, focused breath. Jordan watched intently as he began stroking the vet's face. "There, there. It's okay. I'm here," he purred, mimicking Jordan's accent and tone. He opened one eye as if to check on the results. "I don't think I have the same effect. You'd better try for yourself."

  Jordan swatted his arm. "That's not what I meant! Use your spooky demon powers to fix him."

  "My spooky demon powers work magic, not miracles."

  "You're the one who raised him from the dead!"

  "Actually, that was you. Remember? Do I need to get the e-reader out to review the finer points of your contract?" he taunted. "Reading comprehension obviously wasn't your strong suit in homeschooling. Tell me, did you even graduate first in your class?"

  Jordan gritted her teeth. "Sometimes you can be a real prick, you know that?"

  "This prick just broke your ass out of Paradise, so have a little respect."

  "I'll respect you when your lies stop infecting the lives of everyone I love."

  Hermes rolled his eyes. "It's always about your melodrama, you never ask how my day is going."

  "I don't need to ask how your day is going, Hermes," Jordan said flatly. "I already know because you always spend it finding new ways to make mine as miserable as possible."

  "Here we go again. It's a shame you're a witch, because you would have made one hell of a martyr."

  "Oh, and that's another thing," she said, crossing her arms. “Samael told me no one starts out as a witch. I could have been a prophet, if I hadn’t met you.”

  He scoffed. "Sanctimony went out of style about ten seasons ago, darling. Besides, if you think you could have hacked it as a prophet, you're kidding yourself. I did you a favor."

  "Why?" she demanded. "Because I'm so weak I couldn't possibly have anything of value to contribute without your guidance? Because Heaven would never take a 'soul slut,' as you put it?"

  "There you go with the martyr act again."

  "Then what?"

  If Hermes was ever planning to give her an answer, Darren's groans cut him off.

  "Stop bickering," he pleaded, shielding his eyes from the light. "My head."

  Jordan jumped up to turn out the lamp nearest to him. "Can I get you anything?" she asked worriedly.

  "Hungry," Darren grumbled.

  "Okay, can I make you something to eat?"

  "Don't bother," said Hermes. "The entire fridge is full of kale and other things God created to make people sad. I'll go out and get him something a little more substantial."

  He was gone before she could thank him. Sighing, Jordan settled in next to Darren. "Sorry about that. How are you feeling?"

  "Dead," he muttered. "What happened with Beau? One minute he was growling at me, the next I don't remember."

  "I told Lee to take him home," said Jordan. "You kind of spaced out."

  "Oh."

  She frowned, making note of his relief. "You thought you hurt him, didn't you?"

  "I wasn't sure," he admitted. "I'm not really myself."

  "You will be," Jordan said with more confidence than she actually had.

  "I'm sorry about last night."

  "Why? I've been meaning to apologize to you. What I said about my feelings for Chase was true, but that doesn’t mean I had to say it so harshly.”

  "I'm glad you did. I needed to hear the truth, and as much as it hurt, I don't think I would have believed you if you had sugarcoated it. I never should’ve ambushed you about your relationship, and I definitely shouldn't have kisse
d you. I was just so relieved to see you again and with all those memories and feelings flooding back all at once, I made the mistake of thinking we could just pick up where we left off and you'd come running into my arms. As usual, I was only thinking about what I wanted."

  "Darren --"

  "No. I jumped the gun and I'm sorry. Kissing you, even protecting you, those were privileges I gave up a long time ago. You've been through so much that I can't even begin to imagine, and he's been there for you through all of it in ways I haven't. If I was in your shoes and someone attacked the one person who'd been there for me, I'd have done a hell of a lot more than put them in their place."

  "It's fine, really," she murmured. "You've been through a lot yourself. I shouldn't have been so..."

  "Sanctimonious?" he offered, giving her a tired smile.

  Jordan smiled back. "That seems to be the word of the day. Can you forgive me? Not just for last night, but for everything."

  "There's nothing to forgive," he said, hesitating. "Well, maybe making an executive decision to wipe my memories. I guess I can forgive you for that."

  "That seems fair."

  A moment later, Hermes appeared by the door and Jordan jolted. No matter how many times it happened, she knew she would never get used to his teleportation. "Oh, good, you're just talking. I was worried I'd walk in on something gross.”

  "You could have knocked," said Jordan.

  "Could have." He crossed the room holding a plain white foam cup with a straw in it. When he offered it to Darren, the veterinarian looked appropriately wary.

  "What is this?"

  "It's a protein shake," Hermes replied.

  "How is that supposed to help him?" Jordan asked.

  "Sometimes the simplest fixes are the best. A little nutrient boost might be all our boy needs to get back on his feet."

  "I don't know," Darren said, slipping the paper cap off the straw. "I haven't been able to hold anything down since..." He trailed off and sniffed the top of the cup. "What's that smell?"

  Jordan couldn't smell anything and eyed the cup with growing suspicion.