by Wall, Nathan
“Waiting for someone? No?” she asked. He raised an eyebrow at her and kept silent. She giggled. “If you’re stand-offish because there’s a demon in this shell and not a soul, then that is kind of rude… Unless this shell isn’t your type of thing, in which case I can rent another for the night and let you play with it. Man whores are more common nowadays, if that’s what you’re into.”
“I am waiting for someone and it would be impolite to cut short a conversation with you upon their arrival. Nor would it be any more acceptable to neglect them in order to finish out formalities with you.” Horus looked at her and she cast an air-headed, blank eyed smile while licking her lips.
“You’re cute,” she laughed, rubbing his head and messing his hair. “You can be done with me whenever you’d like.”
“Tunrida,” the demon at the pool table grumbled. She looked his way and he stomped his feet. “You shouldn’t fraternize with him.”
“It’s my night off, hun, I can frat all I’d like with whomever.” She flashed her middle finger, stuck her tongue out, and looked back at Horus. “Where was we?”
“Your night off?” Horus asked. If Tunrida knew the other demons in the pub, then they likely worked together. And if it was their night off, then why were they so far outside the urban areas where they thrived and were made less of a target for angels? “Kind of far from civilization, aren’t you?
“I’m in the city all the time. It’s a never ending rat-race.” She held two fingers up for the bartender and two stiff-whiskies were placed in front of them. “But out here in the countryside, I can just relax. Also, the human pickings are a lot less crafty out here than their city counterparts. It’s more fun ruining their innocence.” She giggled and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “What about you, hunk-a-luv? What’s got ya out this way?”
“I’m meeting a friend. Remember?”
“What are’s ya anyway?” She leaned back and looked him over. “I can’t quite make it out.”
“I’m just an abomination…”
“Aren’t we all?” She laughed loudly and dug her elbow into his side. Her hand slid up his leg and onto his crotch. “You like that?”
The placement of the hand was enjoyable, but not the person the hand was attached to. He squirmed out of the way. “That wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me.”
“Oh please, you make me blush.” She straddled him and wrapped her arms around the back of his head. “This meat suit has been scored on more times than Man-U with Wayne Rooney trying to play defense. It don’t hurt me none.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Never mind.” She licked his cheek and whispered into his ear, “Seems your friend is late. Perhaps I can help you find them after…”
From what Horus grew to know of Harold, he was a creature of habit. If he wasn’t going to show, then something had changed for him. A long night was likely in store, but that didn’t mean he cared to spend it with a demon whore grinding against him.
“I need to make a call.” He stood from the table and walked towards the back of the establishment. Near the rear, just past the restrooms, was a sauna area. It hadn’t been there before. Curious, Horus decided to check it out.
The air was stifling and he could barely see his nose through the steam. The water in a trough to his left bubbled with volcanic power. He leaned over the long and narrow wooden bucket, examining the dark, murky water being used to bathe in. The water shimmered when he got close, and a whispering murmur escaped the bubbles.
Come. The voice was breathy and reserved. Find what you seek… The voice faded in and out. He could hear it only when he breathed in the steam that broke free of each bubble.
“You care to have your fortune told?” Tunrida asked. Horus spun around and she was unclothed, leaning against the wall, with only a towel covering her from her hips down. “Or was it just an invite?”
“I’m unfamiliar with this place,” he replied. His mind felt off. Lethargic. Scatterbrained. Everywhere yet nowhere. Why was he here, again?
Tunrida took his hand and escorted him further into the bathhouse. “We’ll see if the wise one is willing and available to see what lies ahead for you.” She skipped along, tugging his arm. He stutter-stepped forward and went cross-eyed. “Oh, shit, there’s a line.”
Horus swayed in a circle. His hazy vision was able to make out two or three changelings waiting in line for the stall at the end of the room. When they reached the final stall, they would turn and face away from the half-open door.
The more he inhaled the steam, the stronger the urge his aurascales placed upon him to release them. He was in the den of demons and releasing his armor would set them all off. In this state, he was in no place to take them on.
Like a bolt of lightning, a memory snapped through his brain. “Bagiennik,” he could hear Sobek proclaim. What were they again? Early forms of spirits created by Lucifer in his attempt to duplicate the human soul. Essentially, they were failed demons entrapped by water and only able to possess their prey when inhaled. They were raping his mind.
A Satyr climbed into the second to last stall and peered over the divider. Tunrida nudged Horus. “Watch,” she said, nodding at the Satyr. A vat of lava-hot water was thrown over the Satyr, melting his skin. He hit the ground and kicked in circles. His friends scooped him up and dragged him away.
“He doesn’t like to be looked at,” Tunrida said, pulling Horus to the front of the line when the Satyrs moved along. She turned him around and rubbed his face. “Bannik is wise and old. He can see into many a creature’s essence, know their struggles, and see what lies ahead.”
“No, I’m fine, really.” Horus tried to walk away, but his muscles refused to listen. The mist was in his mind. Tunrida grabbed his face and pulled him in for a long kiss. Her tongue worked into his mouth and rubbed against his teeth, a sensation he found odd yet was reluctantly attracted to.
She pulled his head back by the hair. His eyes opened and peered into her sparkling red gaze. “Relax, my hunk, and let Bannik read you.”
A pair of gnarly hands with long, pointed fingernails crawled up Horus’ back. There was a forced wheeze about the nasally breathing. Given the angle of the grasp, Horus knew Bannik had to be several feet shorter than him.
The hands crooked up between the shoulder blades, back down, and around the waist. Bannik pulled Horus’ shoulders backwards and relaxed his arms, taking the cloak off and throwing it to the side. He then tore away Horus’ puffy white shirt, splitting it all the way down. The fingernails lightly dug into his muscular back, and Tunrida ran her fingers through the hair on his chest.
“Such a man.” She stood on her tiptoes and hovered her mouth a mere inch from his, smelling his hair. “Such a warrior.”
“There is much pain,” Bannik croaked, digging further into Horus’ flesh. It hurt, but his body refused to move. “His heart is void. Suffering,” Bannik cried in a high pitched staccato. “What he seeks he finds only in death.”
“So he fails?” Turnida asked, rubbing her face along Horus’ belly as she knelt.
“Death is what he wants,” Bannik replied, pulling his fingers from Horus’ back. Blood trickled from the wounds and he licked it off. “His eye is all seeing, yet knowledge and wisdom will only come once a great pain is inflicted, and another revealed. Heaven’s elite will stand opposed.”
“I knew you were a good one.” Tunrida laughed maniacally as she undid his belt. “Anyone who stands against Heaven is worth an alliance.”
“There is power in this one, I feel it.” Bannik’s voice trembled as he spoke, breathing in. “He is descended from angels. The son of great power.”
Tunrida pulled away. “What?” she asked.
“The aura within,” Bannik said. Horus’ armor surged to the surface. “This Angel-born will be a vessel for us. I see it now.”
“An Angel-born?” she asked, shocked. Tunrida stepped back and scrunched her eyebrows. The steam swarmed around Horus, choki
ng him. He coughed as it forced its way inside his mouth. “Who in Heaven stands opposed? You said he finds death. Are you being literal or figurative?” She was panicked, as if she knew something.
“We see only glimmers in the abstract. The words are what they are.” Bannik’s voice roared as the steam all vanished inside of Horus. He could feel his hands and feet, yet no longer instructed them. There was a great burning in his chest as he stepped forward. Bannik’s previous host lay dead on the floor. “Now we have true form.”
“You’re going to have to let him go,” she said with trepidation. “The boss has need for certain plans to go accordingly. Does he stand against the Assassins?” The body of Horus closed its eyes and smelled the air, finally nodding to the question. “Leave him at once—you know not what you mess with.”
“It’s ours now.” Horus’ body smiled and grabbed Tunrida by the neck. It slowly squeezed her until she was on the brink of unconsciousness. Suddenly it released and fell to its knees, letting out a horrific scream. The steam poured out of its mouth.
“What was that?” Horus breathed in and coughed. His aurascales had forced the water demons from his body. He could taste blood on his tongue. The steam gathered together, taking the form of a dragon.
The body Bennik had used as a host reanimated and shrieked. A shield materialized over Horus’ left arm and the dragon attacked. The beast dissipated in a plume of steam and regrouped behind him. Horus scooped Tunrida up and ran for the rear of the building. A cross-bow of light scintillated over his wrist in place of the shield and blasted a hole through the back wall. Cold air surged into the bathhouse with tsunami force and bludgeoned the dragon. Horus turned to see Bannik screech and run away.
The rain had slowed to a lazy drizzle. He knelt in the muddy creek and laid Tunrida over his lap, moving the wet strands of hair out of her face and caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. The sound of a gathering demon cackle on the opposite side of the building built into a howl. His fingers swiped along the wrist pad and his shuttle soon swooped in over head. It decloaked and lowered to the ground, hatch opening. He tossed Tunrida inside, hopped in the pilot’s seat, and sped off into the early morning sky before the stalking clan of demons could swarm him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Set III
Svarog was dead and Set didn’t know who was responsible. That meant it wasn’t one of his allies. To further his anxiousness, word had spread to him that Gabriel had enacted the ‘Song of Father.’ Since Raphael didn’t alert Set of the impending call by Gabriel before sending the Assassins on their mission, it was likely nothing more than a ploy to coax the traitor into showing their hand. Hopefully, Raphael had been coy about the whole thing. Set had no other choice than to continue with the plan. If Raphael had blown his cover, then Heaven’s guard would’ve already descended upon Set and the others to arrest them.
The trio waited on the rooftop of a Hong Kong skyscraper. To their left, Kowloon Bay reflected the many colors of the night time city skyline. The flashing neon lights were a formidable opponent to the radiance of their aurascales. Hundreds of naval vessels stretched out over the horizon. The humans were preparing for something to happen; they just didn’t know when it would take place or who would be the opposing force.
Sif and Hermes sat with their backs resting against a large air duct. Behind them the enormous ventilation system rattled. Set was perched on the edge of the roof with his feet dangling over the bustling city streets.
“They’re late!” Hermes yelled out. He never missed a chance to dickishly nitpick at the smallest details. “What are we even doing here? I don’t believe this was the destination in the crystal.”
“See for yourself.” Set tossed Hermes the crystal and jetted to his feet.
“What are we looking for?” Sif asked, her leather cloak sliding along the ground behind her feet as she walked circles around Set. “This seems a strange location. We will not find much up here.”
“Not a what, but a who,” Set replied. For the moment, the less he said the better.
“It doesn’t speak to me,” Hermes said, throwing the crystal back to Set with force. Set caught it without looking, which pissed Hermes off. “We never finished our conversation.”
“I suspect when our guest arrives, you’ll not want to.” Set squinted imperiously, causing his fellow Assassin to shrink back.
The hot magenta flash of a rift opening to Set’s right matched the flare of the digital billboard advertising a casual sex dating site. An overweight half-breed with a scruffy beard, escorted by a group of demons, approached Set.
“Finally, you arrive. Could you graveling, repugnant fools be any more irritating than you already are?” Set chided the group of a dozen demons. When one of them attempted to speak, he cut them off. “Hold your tongue or lose it. I don’t care to hear your excuses. They would be only lies anyway, as that’s all your retarded kind is capable of.”
“We don’t have to listen to this.” One of the demons spit on Set’s boot. “They can do their own footwork.”
“You intrude on my patience by thinking yourself worthy of speaking to me.” The three blades elongated around Set’s left hand. In a quick blur, the serrated edges sliced through the demon’s neck and returned to their resting position. The arrogant demon’s head hit the ground, followed by his body a few seconds later. “Anyone else?” The other demons stepped away from their friend’s twitching body. Set nodded at the plump half-breed, who was none too happy to be in his situation. “Half-breed, you’ve ninety seconds to get to the point.”
He cautiously opened his mouth, speaking with a British accent. “I spoke to Svarog...”
“Were you the last to see him alive?” Set interrupted.
The half-breed struggled to talk, grabbing his shoulder. The gesture was irritating. Set tore away the shirt’s collar, exposing three slashing scars just below the clavicle. The blades elongated from over his wrist, matching the marks, and the man squirmed.
“You remember the sting?” Set leaned over the prisoner with a chilling smirk and breathed down his neck. “Yes, now you’re familiar. We’re forever connected, you and I. The refreshing cool of your parents’ blood on my hands is in my mind like yesterday’s memories.”
“Are you going to let him speak or torment him further?” Hermes asked, agitated just as Set expected.
“That depends,” Set replied.
“On what?” Hermes asked.
“Whether or not you’d like to speak in his stead.” Set held the blades up to the prisoner’s throat, which seemed to bring relief to Hermes’ face. “You’d have me take his head?”
“He’s the reason we’re here, right?” Hermes relaxed and sat down. “If you want to kill Harold, then have at it. Make our job that much more difficult.”
Set nodded. “You would like that.” He stopped walking mid-stride and Hermes’ face fell. The half-breed’s name was never mentioned. Set could tell Hermes knew he’d given away his hand, but decided to momentarily let it pass as if it had gone unnoticed. There was a nervous silence.
“Do we still get paid if you kill the prisoner?” another demon asked. Set sighed heavily, emphasizing his annoyance with the question. “I’ll shut up.”
“That would be in your best interest,” Set said through his teeth and looked at the half-breed prisoner he now knew was named Harold. “Ninety seconds, half-breed,” Set reminded him.
“I have information on the remake you seek,” Harold stuttered. Set’s curiosity was piqued, so he smiled. Harold asked, “Do I get more time?”
“You can spend it, but your words must earn it. If not, I’ll seek retribution for the debt in the form of blood.” Set towered over Harold and forced him away from the other Assassins who were now standing at attention. “Get on with it.”
“I’ve seen him, met him, and guided him to another realm. I can give you his location, but I ask for certain reassurances.”
“Of course you do,” Set replied sarcas
tically. “We are but genies in your care.”
“I, uh…” Harold swallowed. His jugular pulsated with trepidation. He rubbed his hands together and wiped the sweat off onto his pants. “He resides in the realm of Danu, an Architect...”
“Yes, I know who Danu is.” Set rubbed his face, agitated.
“Danu?” Hermes asked. The mention of her name seemed to chill his blood. That probably meant Athena was in play. “I don’t understand.”
“No?” Set asked, sure by Hermes’ forced ignorant tone that he did. “One of the original seven to create existence, and she doesn’t ring a bell? Danu, Ra, Chronos, Odin, Durga, Nüwa and the All Mighty Father himself, God. Of course, we all know who got the lion’s share of credit.”
“God is the only creator we know. To say otherwise is treason,” Hermes said.
“Please, you can cut the crap. We both know we’re past that,” Set replied. It was time to gamble. If Heaven’s guard wasn’t descending upon them, then Raphael had control on his end of the board. “Danu being involved doesn’t so much complicate things, but make them interesting.”
“So you can’t track him there?” Harold asked, somewhat relieved.
“The only question, really, is what does an Architect want with a remake?” The interrogation was lacking flare and Set wanted to provide it. He tossed Harold across the roof. The half-breed rolled to the very edge. He pushed up but Set’s feet were already at his head. Set lifted him off the ground and held him over the drop. “You’re out of time. Earn more. Fill in all the blanks.”
Hermes sat forward. A knife slid into his grasp. His eyes honed in on beads of sweat forming on Harold’s brow line. Sif steadied him. Their gazes connected. She shook her head. Hermes relaxed.
“Is there something you’d like to keep him from saying?” Set asked Hermes. The subordinate Assassin didn’t respond.
“There’s a child. A young boy in her possession for over a human decade,” Harold choked the words out. “The remake and his followers sought Danu. The boy is siblings with a friend of the remake.”