In twenty-four hours, I'd gone from comfortably living in my hovel to having to worry about whether I was going to live to see the end of next week.
“Go find my daughter he says. Find the guy who took her. Like it's some damn walk in the park. Why would I even need backup? It's not like he could have a pack of hungry ghouls who wanted to eat me. Why would I possibly need Andrej or his mighty men to come with me?” I muttered.
Working for Balthazar wasn't ideal, but it was something I'd done before. I'd hunted warlocks and Hellions. This particular warlock seemed to be better than most. A lot of times, when someone summoned a Hellion up from Downtown, it was just some poor kid who was too dumb to know what they were dealing with. The magic that had been in the warehouse, summoning up a pack of ghouls, and setting a trap for me, that was the work of someone with skill. I hated the talented ones. They were always the hardest to track down and kill. They were usually the craziest too.
I got a rag out and started cleaning off the blood that was dried on the Glock's grip. I used a cotton swab to clean in all of the nooks and crannies. Leaving your blood around was a bad habit in the circles I ran in. Any number of things could be done with someone's blood. Luckily for me, I was immune to all of the nasty magic that someone could throw at me if they got a few drops of blood. I still didn't like leaving it around. It’s the principle of the thing. Plus, the last thing I needed was some Hellion to get a taste for me.
Cleaned and oiled, I reassembled the Glock. I loaded up a magazine and sighted down the gun, lining up a shot at center mass on the sloppy drunk woman stumbling down the street on the TV. Satisfied, I set the gun down on the table and leaned back. I ran my hand around the sides of the couch cushions and came back up with a fifth of Jack. The bottle was almost drained. I unscrewed the lid and sipped the Tennessee sour.
Drinking reminded me of the Taft House, which reminded me of Prufrock.
“Son of a bitch.” I said.
I muttered a lot of other nonsense under my breath. Leaning over to grab my jacket, I fished his card out of the inside pocket. I'd hoped that it had all been a fever dream caused by an infected cut. Naturally, the cut wasn't infected, and Prufrock was a very real douche bag. He unsettled me more than anything else. He was an unknown and that worried me more than anything else.
Prufrock had to have deep pull in a lot of places to know who I was. I'd erased who I used to be when I got out of the Void. I knew that I would end up back there if anyone found out who I was, and he had threatened me with that. I needed to make some phone calls to see if anyone in town had ever heard of him. I just hoped that finding out more about him would make me feel better, and not worse.
I was about to look for my phone when someone knocked on my door. The sound was deep, the type of knock when someone was pounding with the meaty part of their fist. It was the type of knocking that usually didn't take a hint if you ignored it, which is the worst kind.
I pulled myself off of the couch, grabbed the Glock, and walked over to the door, sipping from the bottle as I did. I looked through the peephole and saw Talia Reznik's face filling up the glass.
“Great.” I said.
I capped the bottle and slid it in my back pocket. After that, I opened the door.
“Talia.”
It was all I could get out before she forced her way into my apartment. I looked out and saw Andrej sitting on the steps. Two of his guys stood watch at the top of the stairs.
“Close the door.” Talia said. “We need to talk in private.”
“Door stay open.” Andrej said.
Andrej sounded particularly Slavic. That meant he was upset about something. When he got angry, his English broke and his accent came out.
Talia turned heel and poked her head out of the door.
“You don't tell me what to do. You work for me.”
“I work for your father. You don't want to be alone with him.”
He nodded his head in my direction when he said it. I'd say that I was upset about it, but to be honest, I suppose I couldn't blame anyone if they didn't want their twenty-something daughter alone with me. It was all superficial of course. I wouldn't ever do anything, but I looked like the type of guy who would.
“Isn't he the person, my father, hired to find me and the person who attacked me?” Talia asked.
“Da.”
“Then why wouldn't I be safe with him? Are you suggesting that the man who has been tasked with finding my attacker would attack me himself?”
Andrej shook his head.
“Then I'm closing the door. If you hear any screams, I trust that a closed door won't prevent you from protecting me. With all the faith my father puts in you, I hope it's not misplaced.”
With that, she slammed the door and turned to me. I was smiling like an idiot because of the way she'd handled Andrej. She must have gone to see a healer after she left the warehouse. Her lip was no longer split, and her black eye was gone. No makeup was that good. Balthazar kept several healers on the payroll for just that purpose.
My smile must have come off wrong because she huffed at me with a disgusted look and walked away.
I watched her walk around my apartment. She was wearing a pair of black jeans. They weren't quite painted on, but the way they were hugging her ass, I would have assumed she was sewn into the seat of them. The fact that she was wearing a glossy pair of white pumps was only adding to the effect.
The shoes matched her white v-neck shirt. It was one of those ones that were just a little sheer and cut in a way that guided your eyes down to where they shouldn't be looking. Like so much of women's fashion, it was a trap. Admiral Akbar style. The golden locket hung down, dangling in the danger zone.
“You gonna keep staring like a creep, or are you going to ask me what I'm doing here?”
She turned back to face me. Her auburn and blonde highlighted hair was back in a ponytail that swayed and bounced when she moved. She glanced up and down at me. I realized that I wasn't wearing a shirt. To be honest, I was lucky I'd put on pants after taking a shower.
“Lot of scars.” She said. “Maybe you aren't such a loser after all.”
I looked down at my torso. The scars were a Jackson Pollock painting on my pale flesh. Cuts, slices, punctures, bullet wounds, claw and knife wounds, they were all a hazard in my line of work. If you ever meet a demon hunter without a mess of scars, he's either new or a coward.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Talia looked around my apartment again. She paused on the couch. My dirty clothes were laid out over one of the arms. The table in front of it was half covered with a sheet and littered with brushes and gun oils. The other half was empty beer bottles and food wrappers.
“How on earth did you ever work for my father?”
“Long story.”
I moved into the kitchenette and found a black zip hoodie. The zipper was broken, but I put it on anyway, not wanting to stay shirtless with her there.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I wanted to make sure that you were up to the job that my father gave you.”
She turned back to me. Eyeing me again, noting that I'd put on the sweatshirt.
“I asked around the club about you. I couldn't get anyone to say much. All they'd say was that you used to work for my father and that about five years ago you screwed something up. That's when you stopped working for him.
“I know Andrej knows, but he isn't saying anything. Too loyal to my father to betray any secrets.” She said.
Talia sauntered over to the counter that separated the kitchenette from the living room. She looked at it for a moment before leaning down to rest her elbows on it.
I got a great view of the bra she was wearing beneath the shirt. I felt the less reputable parts of myself start to get interested and made a point of moving out of the line of sight. Nothing about that was a good idea, despite what the seldom used parts of myself thought.
“Do you have a question, or are you
just gonna keep trying to get me to look down your shirt?” I asked.
She smiled, standing back up.
“Who are you?” She asked. “Why is everyone so tight lipped about what happened between you and my father, and why do you look so familiar?”
“Because we've met before. You were young; I don't expect you to remember. As far as who I am, I'm the guy you call when you don't have any other choice. If you wanna know why your father called me, maybe you should ask him what happened to all his other options. Cause I sure as hell wasn't his first choice, and if he got down to my name on the list, he's desperate.”
Talia cocked her head at me. She was confused. With a body like that, she was probably used to men being more accommodating to her. I'd known enough women to know better, just barely anyway.
“Well, I suppose that makes sense. Where are you on the investigation?”
“Working on it.”
“It doesn't look that way to me. It looks like your watching TV and getting drunk.”
“I took a nap too actually.”
Talia stared me down. She looked like she wanted to rip my face off and wear it.
“I feel like you aren't taking this seriously.” She said. “I would hate to have to tell my father that you were sleeping and drinking on the job.”
“I rescued you didn't I. Besides, I'm sure he expected nothing less. He knows who I am.”
I moved closer to Talia. When I pick myself up to my full height, I'm taller than most people I meet. Even with the lost muscle, I knew how to do stare down the right way, and I wasn't above intimidating a woman.
As I moved in, I towered over her.
“What you should be asking yourself, is how much does your daddy care about you? Maybe he wasn't out of options. Maybe he called me cause he doesn't really care what happens to you, but knows he needs to at least make a show of trying.
“Now, unless you need something, get the hell out of my house.”
“You call this a house?”
“Close enough.” I said.
“I'm watching you, Cain. If you screw this up, I'll find you.”
I laughed in her face.
“If I screw this up, we'll both be dead.”
She didn't seem to think that was as funny as I did. I know because she slapped me in the face and walked out the front door. I followed her to the door, watching her storm past the two bodyguards at the top. Andrej was just pulling himself up from the ground.
I decided to make things worse.
“With service like that, it's amazing more of your customers don't refuse to pay you!”
Andrej shot me a look. I could tell his heart wasn't in it, though. He did it because he was supposed to. I had a feeling that Talia was making Andrej's life a living hell, and he was okay with someone knocking her down a peg or two.
I gave him the finger and shut the door, throwing the deadbolt. Talia was mad, and Andrej was miserable. Maybe the day wasn't going to be so bad after all.
6
Everything smelled like shit. I knew most of it was my own doing. I could feel the dried filth on my legs.
I don't know how long I'd been in the cage. There was no daylight in the tunnels, and no one had come since they'd locked me away. I tried to shift some of my weight. The cage was too small to stand upright or sit down. I spent my time crouched down or leaned against the rusted iron bars.
The room was pitch black, and I could hardly make out my hands. I knew that there were five other cages in the room. They were all empty. I had brought prisoners here myself many times before. The cells were hidden deep under Vatican City. Prisoners were held for questioning, or in my case, held while awaiting trial before the Angelic Council.
I let my head rest against the bars and tried to breathe through my mouth. As best I could tell, I'd been in the cell for three days. I'd slept five times. I'd spent the first day screaming. I had to know if Elena was safe. I had to know if it had been worth it.
I heard the footsteps before I saw the torchlight flickering beneath the heavy door. Iron keys jingled as the latch snapped, and the door swung open effortlessly. Torchlight flooded the room. I blinked several times as my eyes adjusted. I knew who'd come for me before I could fully see. There had only been two people the Venatori would have sent, and the frame was too large to be Father.
Gabriel moved into the room silently. His face was bathed in dancing shadows. I could see the grim expression on his face. Two hooded acolytes flowed into the room behind him. They stood in the darkness just beyond the torchlight. I wondered how they had been selected for this particular duty.
“Gabriel.”
My throat cracked. I'd screamed myself hoarse the first day and had had no water since. I could taste blood when I swallowed. My body wasn't healing as it should. I'd lost the Enlightenment.
“You're to be brought before the Council to stand trial for your crimes. Will you come willingly or have you lost every shred of honor?”
It cut like a knife to hear him speak the words. I'd traded my honor away. I had to know it was all worth it.
“Elena.” I croaked. “What of Elena?”
He stood in silence for what seemed to be an eternity. His eyes were black in the light. He stared beyond my flesh and into the shredded remnants of my blackened soul.
“Dead.” He said.
I stopped feeling the painful cramps. I couldn't feel anything as my chest heaved and my stomach dropped. Tears flowed freely. They stung as they rolled down my cheeks. The sobbing shook loose waves of snot that poured down the back of my throat and face. I was forced to open my mouth to breathe, pulling in ragged breaths. Spittle flew freely from my mouth and threatened to choke me. I gagged and shrieked.
“Pull him out.” Gabriel ordered.
I collapsed to the floor as they opened the cage. The rough stone cut my knees. I couldn't feel the pain. I could barely breathe as I sobbed. My wrists and ankles were shackled together. They fitted me with an iron collar, and a thick chain was run from my neck, connecting my wrists and terminating at my ankles. The length of heavy iron was too short for me to stand upright. I was forced to hunch as they pulled me to my feet.
“Quiet yourself.” Gabriel said. “You've caused enough disgrace already. Have the decency to face your fate with dignity.”
I couldn't speak. I tried to slow my breathing but choked as the huffs of breath pushed their way out.
I was pushed forward, and my feet moved. I shuffled awkwardly, unable to take full strides with the chain connecting my feet. I worked to control my breathing, forcing myself to swallow two heavy gulps of snot. I dared not spit them out on the ground. The show of disrespect would be too much.
I took deep breaths, trying to control my racing heartbeat. Elena was dead. I'd lost her despite what I'd done. Even in all the pain, I couldn't help but feel a fountain of hatred sprout up somewhere inside of me. I'd been lied to. The lying bastard had told me that I could save her. I'd given it all to save her. Now, I was left with nothing.
We walked in the near darkness. Gabriel led the way, moving through the stone tunnels ahead of us. The sewers were a maze of chambers and tunnels designed to be a prison in and of itself in the case that someone should ever escape the cells. Unless you knew the way out, you could wander for weeks before you ever found a way out.
The clinking of my chains echoed down the stone. I could barely hear it. I only faintly was aware that both acolytes had their hands on my upper arms, keeping me moving forward. My mind was drifting back to another set of tunnels, not unlike these. The place where it all started. The place where I started my journey to damnation.
As we came to a dead end, Gabriel placed his hand on the stone wall and spoke the command. I felt a strange sensation as the magic crackled to life. My skin prickled, and I shivered involuntarily, almost as if a chill had cut through the air.
Bright blue light started to bloom from a section of the wall and the brick simply disappeared in a flash. There was a small roo
m beyond. We followed Gabriel in.
He muttered another word of Angelic speech, and the section of wall reappeared, leaving us in a white marble room three strides across and a head taller than most men. The floor rumbled, and the lift started to rise. I could feel the motion, but only barely. My feet started to go numb, the sensation spreading up to my knees before dissipating.
I wasn't sure what the feeling was, but I knew that it had to be related to my shame. I'd disgraced myself and let Elena die. Whatever I was feeling was surely a punishment for such a horrid act.
Tears fell down my face in the silence. My stench filled the small room quickly. I could barely smell it. My nose was clogged to the point where I needed to breathe through my mouth. I could taste the dirty soaked tears that leaked into the corners of my mouth.
Gabriel kept his back to me. He wore his gleaming white and blue armor. The enameled steel glowed in the light. The large blue sigil on his back stared at me as I looked on in silence. I knew the symbol well. I had worn it on my armor as well.
Hammer of God.
It was who we were. Who I had been. I didn't know what I was anymore.
The lift slowed and came to a halt. The feeling in my feet came back. The doorway appeared in another wave of chills. I followed Gabriel into the long hallway.
Prisoners were usually hooded for their walk to the Hall of Angels. The Venatori sanctuary was a holy place, and the very act of some warlock or sympathizer even looking on it could blemish the purity. I was different. I was to see my shame. I couldn't raise my head to look, but I could see legs and feet lining the hall on both sides. Everyone had come to see my judgment. They would have gone in to see the Council with me if they could.
I shuffled after Gabriel. My chains made the only noise in the hall. All in attendance were either too shocked or outraged to speak. I knew they were watching me with disdain. I was the first knight ever to face the Angelic Council for judgment. There had been acolytes over the centuries who'd betrayed the order but never had a fully mantled and bonded Knight faced judgment for treason.
Double-Barreled Devilry Page 8