by Trisha Telep
It figures.
The third man, however, growled in pain but seemed otherwise unaffected by the silver slugs dipped in holy water. So, not a keeper then. And not a human either.
Cain understood why when the man whirled around. Massive wings shredded the long coat, spread high and wide. Contrary to popular belief, angel wings weren’t feathered but made of tough hide like those of demons. In fact, the only distinguishing factor between the two – other than their disposition – was the smell. Cain swore under his breath. He didn’t have time for this.
“Thanks for the hand,” he growled for Bethany’s benefit. No doubt she was already long gone.
Grinning, the angel began to pull a sword from within what remained of his coat. Cain didn’t wait to see the tip before he emptied his magazine. Each slug propelled the snarling angel back a step. Barely. When Cain knew he’d just chambered the last shell, he slipped his Luger out. A gold bullet ought to do the trick.
With a smile, the angel bowed slightly. “Wait.”
“Oh? Okay.”
Cain fired twice. Both times, the angel used his blade to smack the bullets away. Deafening metal-against-metal clangs made Cain’s teeth hurt.
“I can help you, monkey-man,” the angel said.
“Shutting up would help.”
The angel smiled. A bit too wide, a bit too forced. Mimicking humans. They could never get it right and could never understand it wasn’t about the mouth. It was all in the eyes. And theirs never smiled.
“I can help you get back.”
Cain aimed straight between the thing’s eyes. Maybe he’d get lucky and blind it long enough to slip his last rosary shell in his shotgun. “Get back where?”
“Here.” The angel’s grin widened, as did his wings. Like a hawk trapping its prey. “You could have another chance at life. If you give me what she stole.”
“Life? I tried it once, it wasn’t all that.” Liar. He’d do anything for another shot. “Plus, why don’t you take the soul yourself? Oh, that’s right, you can’t, it has to be freely given.”
“You wasted yours away,” the angel snarled. Greed and anger blasted out in a furious wave that hit Cain in the chest. “You took His gift, and threw it back at Him. But I can help you get back in His good graces, monkey-man. He is forgiving.”
The wall of rage dissipated and Cain shook his head. “You’re no more in his good graces than I am, so quit flapping your wings.”
“Hey.” Bethany slowly walked around the concrete ramp, hands well in view. A little black pouch dangled from one. “Here, take it.”
Cain couldn’t believe she’d returned. Maybe she wasn’t all bad. Just mostly bad. “Bethany, don’t—”
“Freely given?” The angel cut Cain off and turned slightly in Bethany’s direction. Avarice narrowed his eyes. His fingers twitched by his side. The sword tip wavered just the slightest bit. For an angel to get his hands on a bit of human soul was like an addict finding half a pound of cocaine. Jackpot.
“Yeah.” She flicked a quick glance at Cain. “I don’t want to go back to the eighth. Please, okay, please give me another chance. Here, that soul is yours.”
The pouch dangled invitingly at the end of its cord. Bethany’s hand trembled.
His nostrils and eyes flared, the angel bent over to take the little pouch from the much smaller woman.
Cain wouldn’t get another chance like this.
Years of practice kicked in. Within a second, a rosary shell was loaded into the shotgun. Thunder reverberated when he shot the renegade angel. For a split second, he thought he’d missed as the thing straightened, rage and hatred disfiguring the handsome face and making him even more imposing. Everything slowed, time itself ticked away one grain at a time. The silvery wire spread, each dot like a silver teardrop, flew at the angel’s neck, where it bit into the flesh, sliced right through and embedded itself into the concrete wall behind. The wings shook with a spasm. Bethany cursed. Cain barely had time to protect his face with his arm when ashes and embers swirled like a mini twister, higher, wider, peppered him with burning bits, disintegrated into black smoke until only a scuff marked the angel’s spot. Through the smoke, Bethany’s face was like a tiny white moon, eyes huge.
Cain slipped his Luger into its holster. “You’re a good liar. You had me going with that pouch. That a decoy?”
She beamed. “Smart and beautiful. I have it all.”
He aimed the shotgun at her. “No more tricks, Bethany. Give me the secrets.”
In the distance, the flap of wings heralded the spawns’ return, their cackling and shrieking growing louder. Shit.
A blast of wind fretted her hair. She backed against the ramp. “I wasn’t lying to you. I need this.”
“Argh, come on! You think I’m—”
Cain froze and looked up into the sky. He felt them clearly now. Close. Very close. By the sound, he knew there were hundreds of them. Carrions. He wouldn’t have time to make it to his car.
She approached despite the barrel of the gun digging in her chest. “We need to work together. If we make it to dawn, we’ll be okay.”
He checked his watch. 04:33 glowed aqua-green. “Shut up. Let me think.”
Unfortunately, Bethany was right. No time to reach his car and lose them in narrow alleys. Even less time to find the temporary sanctuary of a church and wait for daylight. They’d have to fight them out here in the open, in the dark. If he died before getting the secrets, he’d go back to Berith empty-handed. He should’ve stayed in bed.
“If you stab me in the back again . . .”
To his astonishment, she winked. “I may not be a good woman, Cain, but I’m a smart one.”
“What do you have left?” He had one magazine left for his shotgun, some incendiary magnesium shells, the four gold bullets that remained in his Luger, and his knives. Not that these would help much against spawns, only against fellow keepers. He threw her a dark look. Maybe he should get rid of her now and hope to get lucky with the demonic hordes. Yeah, his luck had been so good so far . . .
She checked her various straps, winced. “I don’t have enough.”
The first spawn landed not ten feet away, spread its wings wide and let out an ear-piercing shriek of triumph.
A very bad day, indeed.
Three
Other shrieks echoed around them, a dozen, a hundred, more. Countless demonic wings flapped in the night sky, creating snow twisters that temporarily blinded Cain and sent icy pellets into his eyes and mouth. They abraded his skin when they sliced into his ruined coat and exposed hands. Growling, he charged into the underground parking, Bethany on his heels. Booms reverberated as she peppered their escape with bullets.
“Don’t waste your ammo!”
Fluorescent tubes fluttered to life when they triggered the motion sensors, but immediately blinked out as the demonic hordes followed them underground. They couldn’t do anything against daylight, but artificial light and fragile conductors were no match against the vile presence. Yellow placards flashed by, parsing the Olympic grounds into sectors and levels. A maze of concrete. Cain tried to read as best he could as he sprinted down the gentle incline, gripped the corner of a metal handrail and leaped over it so he could open the door leading to the stairs. The concrete well leading upwards smelled of urine and humidity. Behind him, Bethany cursed under her breath. Two by two, they climbed up to the first level. He was about to get out that way when she grabbed his coat and yanked him back.
“Wait!” she panted. “Dawn. It’s close. Let’s fight. Outside.”
“Too late!” He yanked his coat out of her hand and would have kept on going when a faint sound stopped him cold, all but froze the blood in his veins. It came from inside the stairwell, below them. Close.
“Brother Cain,” called a man. The whisper grew to chuckles. “I know you are here.”
Berith had found a human to possess.
Bethany pointed her submachine gun into the space between the handrail and arc
hed to get a better shot. “I can see him,” she mouthed silently.
The urge to take the secrets from her almost overtook him. It’d be easy. The pouch was right there at her belt, not four feet away, and contained the little black box. He was stronger, he could take it by force and push her into the void. By the time Asmodeus brought her back, Berith would have the bit of soul he wanted. Maybe their deal wouldn’t be over.
But it wouldn’t change a damn thing, would it? Berith would find some other reason to torture him. He never lacked imagination that one. Fuck him. If he wanted to get the secrets, he could move his demonic ass and come get them.
Cain shook his head no at Bethany – this was an innocent man possessed by the demon – and resumed climbing the stairs. Bethany followed but clearly would have preferred putting a few bullets in their pursuer.
“There.” He pointed to the third line of text on a nearby placard. Tour de Montréal.
He opened the door, let it clatter against the wall then soundlessly began to climb to the next level. Grinning, his impromptu ally followed, passed and afforded him a very nice view of her body clad in white vinyl and black straps. He’d always wondered what she’d done to end up in hell.
Their ploy must have worked because the door opened and closed below them, noisily, the sound like gunshot. While Berith searched that level, Cain would be on his way to his true destination – the Tower of Montreal. It’d give them a couple minutes tops before Berith sensed, even in his diminished form, he’d been duped. If Cain was going to piss off his demon master, he might as well go all the way. Plus, Bethany was right. Dawn wasn’t that far off, so if they could make sure to be outdoors when the sun crested the horizon, the spawns wouldn’t be able to tolerate the light. Neither would Berith. Cain could buy a few precious hours of peace before . . .
For the first time in his second life – his existence, Berith had called it – he was sick of it all. Sick of always running, always fighting, always dying. Again and again and again. He’d love to just stay dead one time. Life just wasn’t worth it. Not when he ended up in hell every time.
But then again, after what he’d done, he deserved to fry.
She must have guessed their destination because Bethany planted an index finger on the placard. Dark eyes stared back at him to wait for confirmation. Like a team player. He hadn’t been on any “team” in ages, if ever. When he’d been a living, breathing man with a soul, a lot of people had looked at him for guidance, for instructions and directives. He’d been the older brother, the firstborn son. Until that day he’d found out his brother had betrayed him – or so Cain had thought. The rage had been too much to contain.
Cain pushed the memories down and nodded to Bethany.
A tic pulled at her cheek. Maybe she was trying to work the situation to her advantage. He wouldn’t put it past her to try to double-cross him, even with untold spawns on their heels and a demon in corporeal form within shouting distance. Cain gripped his shotgun a bit tighter. He didn’t want to hurt her, for some strange reason didn’t want to be the one to send her for another trip downstairs. Not Bethany. She might be a pain in the butt, but for a keeper, she wasn’t all that bad.
She flashed him a smile and rolled her finger by her temple. “As cute as you’re crazy,” she whispered.
Yeah, crazy, damned, and soon, back in hell.
When they arrived on the main level, Cain pressed his open hand on the door, pushed just enough to get a glimpse of what waited for them on the terrace. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t smell anything either. But across the large concrete expense, reflections in the mammoth glass walls flitted back and forth, like vultures circling a dying beast. The spawns must have flown up to a safer height – for them – to get a better look.
A warm body pressed against his side as Bethany squeezed into the embrasure so she could get a look, too. His breath caught. It’d been so long.
“We have half a chance.” Bethany pulled back. Cold replaced warmth and made him shiver. “If that.”
“It’s better than sitting on our hands and waiting for it.” He checked his pockets to make sure he’d counted the shells right the first time. Not enough. Not nearly. This whole thing wasn’t going to end nicely for either of them. Berith already knew Cain was fucking with him, so there’d be no break that way even if he managed to take the secrets from the other keeper. But Asmodeus didn’t know anything yet. Bethany still had a chance to bring the secrets back to her master. It was only logical. Unless he was going soft for her again, thinking with his dick instead of his brain.
Cain leaned back against the wall as he checked and rechecked his ammo supply and the silvery shotgun’s functionality. “Go. I’ll keep them busy.”
“What?”
“Don’t make me repeat something so stupid, okay?”
Bethany planted herself in front of him, close enough for Cain to feel her warmth again. But it was more than warmth he saw in her expressive face. White-hot anger. “You think I’m that kind of woman?”
“Says the girl who lied to my face about ten times in the past two hours.”
“I won’t let you take the hit for me.”
“I would if it were me.”
“Bullshit. You’re a decent guy, even if you work very hard at playing the asshole.”
Cain peeled his back from the concrete wall. As much as arguing with the pain in the butt made him feel more alive than he’d felt in years, they didn’t have time for this. “Fine. Stay here and get a faceful of spawn. Just don’t call me asshole again. Ever.”
She cracked an irreverent grin. “Then stop acting like one.”
“Ready?”
Bethany lost her smile. She shortened the sling on her submachine gun so it rested directly on her chest, pulled a fresh magazine – her last that Cain could see – from her belt and clipped it on her harness. To Cain’s shock, she fished a gold-coloured grenade from her jacket pocket.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t use these?”
He would’ve loved having a bit of time to ask where she got her gear. In fact, he would’ve loved just spending some time with her without having half of hell trying to make ribbons of them. “The glass wall across the terrace, the funicular to the tower is there. I’ll make us a door as we run for it.”
Before he could react, Bethany fisted the front of his ruined coat, hoisted herself up to him and kissed him square on the mouth. “I don’t care what they say, I like you.”
It took him a good five seconds to get his wits about him once more. The timing couldn’t possibly have been worse. He took a long breath, nodded.
“Here we go.”
Cain kicked the door wide and ran out.
They barely made it ten feet when the first few spawns to catch a whiff of them wailed and screeched a warning to the rest of the horde. Like fingernails on blackboard. The sky became alive with black wings as the air filled with the smell of ash and sulphur. Concrete chunks rained down around them, broken loose by talons and claws, or ridged wings hitting walls as the spawns spiralled downwards to catch their prey. Cain fired ten shots out of his thirty-two magazine before he’d taken ten steps. The glass wall was still at least 300 feet away. By his side, Bethany’s small black MP5 tack-tack-tacked death at eleven bullets a second. He hoped the trigger-happy woman would keep a few for later because something told him they were in for more “fun”.
As if the power of his thought alone had made the real thing manifest itself, gunshot that was neither hers nor his echoed around them. Muzzle flashes to the right registered in the corner of his eye. More keepers. Dammit.
“Cain!” Bethany yelled. “Door!”
Just as Cain aimed his shotgun in front of him and fired, a giant spawn landed ahead of them, blocking their access to the tower base. Cain fired half a dozen slugs into the spawn. He’d never seen one so big. Leathery wings made miniature tornadoes of snow when it raised itself to its fullest. The thing must have been twenty feet tall!
A
small golden item arced ahead of them.
Bethany skidded to a halt, gripped his coat tails, which barely slowed Cain. He understood a split second before thunder temporarily deafened him. He only had time to turn his face away. The detonation happened right between the spawn’s legs. It blew up in a giant geyser of gooey chunks and thick, dark liquid that splattered in a wide radius. Bethany and he were pelted with debris both hard and soft, liquid and solid. More spawns landed around them. Some seemed more interested in feeding off their brethren’s remains than in attacking the two humans, but others came for them. One in particular made a beeline for Bethany. She turned her MP5 to it, let fly bullets that slowed the beast. But didn’t stop it.
Cain could do nothing but watch from the corner of his eye as half a dozen smaller spawns came at him, wings spread and talons out. His shotgun recoiled with each shot. His wrist throbbed but he kept going.
When Bethany screamed – pain had a universal sound, no matter the victim’s location, age or culture – Cain whipped around, thinking he could pump a few into the spawns after her. Too late.
Like in a slow-motion movie, the demonic fiend struck in an arc. Bethany caught the taloned appendage in the side, bent over the limb before being projected sideways. More gunshot from the other keepers erupted in tiny concrete volcanoes around him. They had seconds before the enemy closed in enough to place their bullets with more accuracy.
While Bethany tumbled to a stop, Cain pumped one, two, three, four shots into the advancing spawn. Finally, he hit its head. He didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before he ran to Bethany, who struggled to stand.
“I—I’m good.” She slung her submachine gun in front, stumbled forward. “I’m good.”
Together, they ran at the wall of glass panels. As he’d said he would, Cain fired a single shot at the connection between two panels. For a second, the wall turned milky-white. Just when Cain was considering wasting another round on his “door”, the wall disintegrated into a cascade of cubic diamonds. Broken tempered glass crunched like gravel when Bethany and Cain rushed into the base of the tower. A counter curved away from the wall and would provide temporary shelter as they waited for the funicular elevator. Bullets hit the marble wall on either side of the steel doors. Cain crawled amidst the raining debris, mashed the button on the access panel.