False Gods

by Nazri Noor

  Again Florian lunged, and again he missed, his huge fist just sailing through thin air as the vampire weaved and dodged in a flurry of hair and leather. I thought I caught the jangle of jewelry, too, silvery accessories worn on its fingers and throat that glimmered in the moonlight.

  “Don’t you think I’m trying?” Florian roared. “I can’t catch the fucker. He’s too fast.”

  He? Florian must have caught enough of a glimpse of the vampire’s face to tell, not that it mattered. A vampire was a full threat under most circumstances, but a starving one, even worse. I extended my hand, catching the sword I summoned from the Vestments as it entered our reality, clutching its hilt tight. Then I entered the fray, prepared to stab the vampire through the heart.

  Prepared to try, rather. Florian wasn’t kidding. Watching the two fight from a distance was disorienting enough, but trying to predict where the vampire was going, or where it had been, for that matter, was a pointless exercise.

  The soles of its boots tapped at the pavement as it danced around the two of us, like it was so very pleased to exercise its agility and physical superiority. It slowed down long enough for me to see its profile, though, and how it was transfixed by Florian. Vampires were just animals, after all. It was far more interested in the larger, meatier prey. So be it. I wasn’t complaining.

  Again I thrust my blade at where the vampire should have been standing, and again it vanished from view with its monstrous speed. Florian swung his fist in a wide arc, and I thought that he was just about to catch the vampire’s stomach on the end of his knuckles. But the thing pivoted at the last second, somehow bypassing Florian’s limbs entirely – and latching its mouth onto his neck.

  “Florian!”

  I thought that Florian would at least cry out in pain, or make some initial effort to shake the vampire off his body. But he just kind of stood there smacking at the creature, shoving at it and failing to get it to detach from his throat.

  “Come on,” Florian whined. “Get off.”

  I planted my sword into the pavement, panting and leaning onto it like a cane. “Oh my God. Dude. Is it – is your skin too thick for fangs to penetrate?”

  “Yep,” Florian said, completely unperturbed by the fact that the vampire was still desperately trying to suck his blood through his neck. “Ow, okay, that smarted. Come on, knock it off. Cut it out.”

  I could just hear the vampire’s muffled grunting as it wrapped its arms and legs around Florian’s torso, trying to get a better grip. Wait. That voice sounded familiar.

  Florian shoved at the vampire again. “Okay, now you’re just way overstepping your bounds, Mr. Vampire. Look at this pervert.”

  My sword clattered to the ground, falling from my grasp as my mouth fell open with realization. “Florian. Step away from the vampire.”

  “It’s fine, I’ll just call up some vines to stake him through the heart.”

  “No, don’t do that.”

  “Okay, cool, through the face it is, then. Geez, Mason.”

  The vampire and I cried out at the same time. “Wait.”

  Detaching itself from Florian’s neck at last, the vampire – the pale man – stepped away, his eyes wide. He looked me up and down, his face blooming with recognition. “Mason? Is that you?”

  I sighed. It was inevitable. The past really does catch up with you, no matter how hard you try to outrun it.

  “Settle down, guys. Florian, this is an old friend of mine, from the Boneyard. I’d like you to meet Sterling.”

  24

  The vampire – Sterling, that was his name – grinned at me with a mouth full of neatly maintained fangs, his eyes lighting up. I smiled bashfully back. I never thought I’d be so happy to see the old bloodsucker. He clapped me on the back, hard enough to make me recoil. The guy never really knew his own strength.

  “It’s so good to see you, you cheeky bastard.” Sterling cupped his chin in his hand as he looked me over and beamed like he hadn’t seen me in years. “We thought you’d skipped town.”

  I gestured down at myself, then spread my arms. “Here I am. Well, sort of. I still live in Valero, except that I kind of don’t.”

  Sterling cocked an eyebrow. “You found yourself another interdimensional home realm to squat in?”

  “Hey, now.” I bristled, lifting my latte up to my lips, blowing across the top of the cup. “Squat is a very strong word.”

  The skinny, leather-loving vampire called Sterling was one of the guys I lived with back at the Boneyard, someone I considered a friend, despite his occasional histrionics and terribly arrogant attitude. It was actually so surprising for me to see this side of him, all sentimental and friendly.

  But as Sterling himself had told me enough times in the past, all the people he knew, everyone he loved died off around him as he lived on in vampiric immortality. Sterling loved blood, and sex, and more sex, but above all things else, he valued his friends. I respected that.

  As an apology for trying to suck Florian’s blood out, Sterling had very kindly offered to take us out for coffee on the spot. We went straight to Human Beans, of course. It was a good chance to catch up, and truthfully I was glad that he’d come along to take the wind out of my anger-driven and totally disorganized plan of going straight for Mistleteinn.

  I didn’t think I’d ever be so grateful for a vampire attack. The weirdest part was how Sterling admitted that he wasn’t even all that hungry for blood, just really, really bored. Classic Sterling. He did make up for it in spades, though.

  He bought me and Florian quiches for dinner, plus some pastries. Florian was digging into his third serving of cake. Carrot, this time, after a slice of chocolate ganache and what might have been red velvet.

  Sterling played with his lighter as he grinned at me, its metal case clicking as he flicked it open and shut. At some point in the past I admit that I might have found it annoying, but now? It was so familiar, and comforting. Metallic, fidgety music to my ears.

  “So you’re saying that you never left Valero after all?” Sterling tapped his nail on the side of his cup, a cute little demitasse with a single shot of espresso, just the way he liked it.

  I shrugged. “You know, I thought about all the places I could go, and I just kind of ended up staying.”

  “Face it, Mace.” Florian gave me an apologetic smile, a little spot of chocolate frosting still on his bottom lip. “The reason you didn’t move away was because you wanted to be found.”

  “I agree with the tree man.” Sterling cocked an eyebrow at Florian. “Human plant? Look, what are you? You taste like a garden salad.”

  “Alraune, actually.” Florian rubbed his neck, the little indentations from Sterling’s fangs already faded and healing over. “Long story. I am a plant person, basically. That’s all you need to know.”

  “He’s been a damn good friend to me, too.” Florian smiled at me as he shoved another forkful of carrot cake in his mouth. “And you won’t believe who the two of us are living with now.” I attempted a naughty, teasing grin before I blurted out the answer anyway. “Artemis. It’s Artemis. We live in her domicile.”

  Sterling shook his head. “You’re really making something for yourself, Mason, aren’t you? Gotta admit, I was a bit shocked when you said you were planning to leave the Boneyard.”

  That was the place I used to call home. The Boneyard was also an interdimensional space, owned by the lich named Carver, the man who served as both my mentor and a kind of father figure for the entire time I lived under his protection. And it truly felt like home, too.

  The Boneyard was a place for misfits to gather, where a werewolf, a vampire, a shadow mage, and even a necromancer with only good intentions could live without fear of persecution from the sometimes prejudiced community of the arcane underground. It was also where I met Dustin Graves, the man I jokingly, tauntingly called my father, and the entire reason I left in the first place.

  “I know it was sudden,” I said, sighing. “But I didn’t want to make tro
uble for everyone. That ritual Dustin performed, it sent all those swords that we borrowed scattering. You remember Mammon, right? Demon Prince of Greed? It wasn’t happy about losing its sword. And neither was Loki.”

  Sterling tossed back his espresso in one shot, grimaced, then leaned back in his chair, scoffing. “Loki. I remember that dickhole. God, what a prick. And I suppose he’s commissioned – sorry, blackmailed, more likely, the two of you into finding the sword for him.”

  “Three whole weapons, actually.” Florian put down his fork long enough to contribute to the conversation, taking a quick sip of water while he was at it. “So far we’ve found one.”

  “The second one’s in Los Angeles.” I gestured at Florian. “We were about to make our way there when you, um, dropped in on us.”

  Sterling frowned. “And how exactly were you going to get there? A bus, at this time of night? Surely not.”

  I picked up my latte again, slurping it noisily so that I wouldn’t have to answer. Sterling sighed.

  “Amateurs. We’ll rent a car.” He perked up and thumbed himself in the chest. “I’ll rent the car. We’ll make this an adventure.”

  Cautiously, I leaned a little closer across the table, trying to contain my excitement. “You’re really going to help us?”

  “I said I was bored tonight, didn’t I? Might as well have some fun. I’ll drive us there. We’ll kick some door downs, collect some heads. Just like old times, eh, Mace?” His fangs gleamed as he grinned, his eyes burning with malevolent joy. Sterling pumped his fists above his head, a boy in the body of a centuries-old vampire. “Woo. Road trip!”

  25

  Sterling’s rental smelled so close to new, that weird, tantalizing odor that comes with a spiffy, fresh car. Plush leather seats, too, nice and warm from the inside. Florian sat in the back. I had a good feeling that he was doing pretty much the same as me: trying not to show just how impressed we were by the luxurious everything of the very expensive and very stylish car Sterling had hired for our little adventure.

  “I can always loan you the money, you know.” Sterling’s leather-gloved hands squeaked as they maneuvered the steering wheel, gripping tight. How he managed to find leather driving gloves on such short notice was anybody’s guess.

  “No,” I said. “That’s okay, man. It’s the principle of it.”

  “Suit yourself.” He squeaked again as he shrugged, his leather jacket rubbing against the car’s leather interior. I wondered if that was a bad thing, if the proximity would set either vampire or vehicle on fire, or at least give them little friction burns.

  I breathed in again, casually taking in the smell of extravagance and old – very, very old money. The boys at the Boneyard and I had agreed on one thing about our vampire friend. Sterling probably wasn’t his real name, just an alias he picked up over the decades, and it was fitting because of how well he handled his finances.

  Sterling was no stranger to excess, but it felt like he had a near limitless supply of currency. He was generous about it, too, paying for the group whenever we went out to eat. If I had to guess, he was doing something similar to how Loki had worked things out for his own corporate empire. Multiple identities, that is, inheritance passing down between the same person under a different name. Absolute decades worth of compound interest on top made it so that they never wanted for anything.

  But borrowing the money just wouldn’t feel right. This was something I had to earn for myself. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and despite no one on planet earth asking me to prove that, I had to establish it for myself. I was going to pay for that stupid enchanted leather thong or whatever it was with my own two hands. Or with Florian’s.

  Granted, I felt a little bad about using him to brew up the stock we meant to sell to Dionysus, but the plan was always to pay him back, even if it meant owing him for the rest of my nephilim life, however many years that was.

  Sterling’s fingers kept hovering near the switch to open the driver seat windows. The guy loved to smoke, having nothing to fear from tobacco’s terrible effects, but even he knew that we shouldn’t be smelling up a rental, especially one this snazzy.

  “How much does this Beatrice woman want from you again?”

  I winced. “Well, considering how much she dislikes me, I’m worried she’s gonna bump up the price some more. I don’t like it. But last we checked, she wanted ten grand.”

  Sterling whistled. “Ah. Yeah. That’s got to smart. But you do what you gotta do, eh?”

  I nodded. “Loki promised to pay me the full amount, with a bonus for returning all three weapons. Gambanteinn’s hanging out back at Artemis’s domicile. So Mistleteinn is supposed to be with this collector guy we’re visiting.”

  Someone in the greater Los Angeles area, according to the slip of paper I found in Arachne’s fortune cookie. A man by the name of Wyatt Whateley, who lived in the Silver Lake district. Pricy place, which probably meant security systems, or even hired muscle.

  “And the last sword?” Sterling looked away from driving long enough to stare me in the eye.

  I turned over my shoulder, locking gazes with Florian, who only nodded at me encouragingly. “According to Arachne, it’s with this dude named Quilliam. Bad news all around. He tried to capture me and take me to one of the prime hells. Long, long story.”

  Sterling’s fingers flexed and squeaked excitedly as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter, his fangs gleaming with wet glee. “Sounds like a fight. One of the prime hells, eh? Is he a demon, then?”

  “That’s the thing. We aren’t really sure, haven’t properly figured him out. I do know that he’s a magus, though. Likes to use elemental magic.” I frowned as I looked down at my lap, finding my hands already bunched into tight fists.

  “What’s a magus, exactly?” Sterling asked.

  I shrugged. “Like a sorcerer, I guess, only more of a jerk.”

  “Gigantic asshole,” Florian said. “Just colossal. Almost killed us recently.”

  I cracked my knuckles, unsurprised to find myself grinning just as happily as Sterling was. “The good news is that a mage is just a mage until you get up close and snap his neck. Then he’s just another dead guy.”

  Sterling guffawed, his laughter filling the car. “Are you serious? Wow, Mason, that’s so violent. You used to be a bloody marshmallow. Soft, cute, sweet. And superficial.”

  “Very funny,” I grumbled. “I’ve always been like this. I guess being with you guys helped me chill out a little.”

  “Oh, I don’t need reminding,” Sterling said. “First day you joined the Boneyard, you wanted to rip Dustin’s head off. Hell, even I was scared of you.”

  Florian bent closer to the front seats, suddenly curious. “Why would a vampire be so scared of a nephilim?”

  “Holy light and all that.” Sterling waved his hand and gestured, like he was pretending to cast a spell. “Divine magic. It doesn’t mesh well with being undead, you know? I don’t like the whole smiting thing. Hurts a fucking lot. And if the thing that does the smiting is powerful enough – ” He dragged a finger across his throat, making a croaking noise.

  “Good to keep in mind if I ever have to fight like a million zombies,” I said, chuckling. “Speaking of Dustin, though. Any news from him?”

  Sterling shook his head, solemn out of nowhere. “No. Dead silence. He performed the ritual, then disappeared. It’s been months, and not a peep. But he saved the world, and that’s that.” He turned his head slightly towards me, one eyebrow raised, then looked back at the street. “You haven’t asked about Asher, I noticed.”

  I sighed. I hadn’t meant to gloss over that, but I was curious, for sure. Asher was the closest thing to a best friend that I ever had. “Sorry, man. I thought – I don’t know, this sounds sappy as hell, but thinking about him makes me sad.”

  Sterling grunted, like he disapproved, but he shook his head and acquiesced. “I guess I understand that. He misses you, you know.”

  I collapsed against my seat, sighing agai
n. Florian’s eyes were burning into me, I could tell. I owed him an explanation. “Asher Mayhew was another friend from the Boneyard. We had so little in common, but we’re the same age, and when you can talk about video games there really isn’t much else you need to bond over. Good guy, had the sweetest heart. You’d never have guessed he was a necromancer.”

  That was the Boneyard for all of us: a safe haven, a home for all the misfits. Asher had been through a lot in his short life, living on the streets for too long a time, then being kidnapped and imprisoned by a druidic death cult.

  And none of that hardened any of his edges. The guy could raise the dead, summon enormous, jagged walls of ivory from beneath the earth. Fuck, he could jettison huge shards of bone from his body, using them as swords and spears. But he was always just a load of laughter and light, the Boneyard’s own heart, almost its mascot, if you didn’t count Banjo.

  Oh, Banjo’s a Welsh corgi who can make people’s heads explode. It’s this whole thing.

  I twisted around in my seat, making sure I got a good look of Sterling’s face before saying my piece. “You won’t tell Asher you saw me, will you? It isn’t safe for me to be at the Boneyard, to be around you and Carver and the others. You know that Loki isn’t the worst of this, right? I took an archangel’s sword, man. I’m only doing this to protect you guys. You have to believe me.”

  Sterling glowered at me in the brief second he took his eyes off the road. “I believe you, Mason. But I also believe that your problems can be solved more efficiently if we involved your support system in this. You know, all your friends at the Boneyard? And at the Lorica?”

  Florian gasped. “You have friends at the Lorica?”

  I shook my head impatiently. “Just a few of them, okay? They’re not all bad. Some of them understand what it’s like to be different.”

  Sterling scoffed. “Emphasis on ‘some.’”