Double-Barreled Devilry

by D Michael Bartsch

  There were no visible seams or breaks in the stone. The entire chamber appeared to be one solid piece of carved stone. The Angels themselves had shaped it.

  Reaching the end of the hall, Gabriel forced me to my knees. His gauntleted fingers dug into my flesh in a flash of pain that jolted through me. I felt the pain deep in my bones as my knees collided with the stone. The length of chain forced me to hunch; my head pulled down until my chin was tucked tightly against my chest.

  I could see the edge of the dais. It held seven plain seats that seemed to grow out of the floor. The only adornment was a single sigil carved into each. The sigils each marked the place of a single Archangel. Members of the Venatori referred to them as the Angelic Thrones, but the Angels themselves would not have named them thrones. They were seats of power, but their Father was the only one worthy of a throne in their eyes.

  There was a shift in the power of the room. The air seemed to shake. The floor trembled and everything inside of me wanted to curl up and die a slow agonizing death. I slumped forward, unable to break my fall with my chained hands. I collided with the floor with a bone-crunching thud. My skull bounced off the stone, and I could taste blood as my teeth bit into the meat of my cheek.

  As quickly as it began, it ended. The feeling of overwhelming sickness passed.

  “Get up.” Gabriel said, reaching down to pull me back to my knees.

  I could see droplets of blood staining the pure white floor. I swallowed as much of it as I could.

  “Who has summoned this Council?”

  The voice was a strong basso. It echoed through the empty chamber. I could feel waves of power pass over my body with each word. The Archangels had arrived. I heard Gabriel drop down to one knee behind me.

  “Brother Gabriel, First Knight of the Venatori.”

  “Child Gabriel. Why have you summoned the Council?”

  They already knew why, but it was custom to ask why the council had been summoned.

  “You have been summoned to pass judgment. One of our own has betrayed our order. We seek justice in accordance with the Law.”

  “Who stands before us in judgment?” The voice asked. It would be Raphael. He claimed jurisdiction over the affairs of the Earth and Man.

  “Brother Michael, fully bonded Knight of the Venatori.”

  “Of what does he stand accused?” Raphael asked.

  There was no hesitation in Gabriel's response. No mercy and not a hint of sorrow that his own brother stood accused.

  “He stands accused of consorting with Hell, summoning an Elder Demon through the use of blood magic. He has bonded himself with a Demon, and most grievously, he stands accused of the murder of Sister Elena, fully bonded Knight of the Venatori.”

  I grimaced as he listed out my crimes. My great shame laid bare before the protectors of the universe.

  “These crimes are most alarming.” Raphael said. “How pleads the accused?”

  It was as if I could feel the gaze of each of the Archangels. Their attention a physical weight on my shoulders.

  I pulled in a breath and tried to swallow.

  “I admit guilt of all crimes.” I croaked. “I seek no mercy.”

  “Child Michael, you realize the punishment for such crimes?”

  A different voice spoke this time. I couldn't see who spoke, but I thought the voice belonged to Michael.

  “I do.” I said.

  “You will tell us the terms of your agreement with the Fallen. We must know what shame you have brought upon us.”

  I recognized the voice of Uriel.

  “I asked only the power to save Elena. I was deceived into believing I could save her.”

  “How could you be so stupid?” Uriel spat. “You would endanger the entire Order, face the wrath of the Father, and suffer an eternity of darkness for a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt the pain in my chest as I said it. I'd known the price when I'd summoned the Lord of Hate. I'd only hoped that Elena would at least live. Knowing she had not only made it more unbearable.

  “Foolish boy.” Uriel said. “Put him to death. Let the Fallen have his soul.”

  Several other voices spoke their agreement.

  “I would urge caution.”

  The whispered voice was barely audible, yet somehow managed to fill the entire room. It felt as if the quiet voice echoed off the inside of my skull. The voice made me tremble, for I knew whom it belonged to. Azrael, the Archangel of Death.

  “What do you see, Azrael?” Raphael asked.

  “A man.” He responded. “Broken, shamed, damned.”

  “He is no longer a man.” Uriel said.

  “Whole, he is not. However, he is still created in the image of our Father, brother. Beyond his broken spirit, there still resides the presence of Heaven. His bond remains. His death will claim the life of his Bondmate.”

  “How is this possible?” Gabriel asked from behind me.

  “It is not.” Stated Uriel, flatly. “Light and Dark cannot exist together. It is an anathema.”

  “Uriel is correct. His bond is most surely broken.” Said Raphael.

  This was unexpected. When an acolyte becomes a Knight, they were bonded with an Angel. The bond allows for the Father's Enlightenment to enter the Knight. Through it, Knights gained strength, the strength to fight against the forces of Hell. It is forbidden for Angels to interfere directly in the affairs of men. However, mankind needs protection against the Demon Horde. The bond provides that protection.

  I, like the rest of the Angelic Council, had assumed that selling my soul would remove my bond. Azrael thought differently, which meant that if I were to die, my Bondmate would perish as well.

  “The council has spoken.” Uriel said. “The boy dies.”

  “I believe that Raphael rules here.” Azrael said.

  I had never before seen or heard of the Angelic Council disagreeing. My actions had clearly shaken them as well.

  “I do indeed.” Raphael said. “The accused has admitted guilt, and the punishment for his crimes is clear under the law. We cannot stay judgment. His Bondmate’s life may be forfeit. Regardless, the penalty can only be death.”

  I nodded my head, knowing that my fate was sealed.

  “No.”

  It was the loudest whisper I'd ever heard.

  “No?” Uriel asked. “You do not rule this council either, Azrael. The judgment has been passed. The boy dies.”

  “I will not claim his life knowing that our brother will perish.”

  “You would go against the judgment of this council?” Raphael asked.

  “If I must.” He whispered.

  “Then I'll do it myself!” Uriel bellowed.

  I heard the clink of armor as he stood. He leapt from the dais, and the ground shook as he crashed into the floor in front of me. I could see his golden armor, glowing with its own light. The chainmail beneath the plates seemed to be made of living flames. I heard the rush of air as Uriel summoned his sword. I felt the heat on the back of my neck as the fiery weapon materialized.

  I kept my eyes open, ready to face death. I was not given the chance. Something grabbed me, and I was flung through the air. I crashed in a heap on my back. My wrists and neck were jerked as my legs tried in vain to sprawl. I rolled to my side and looked back toward the dais. Two figures stood at the foot of the platform. Uriel in his radiant armor, fiery red hair flowing freely past his shoulders. He held his gladius. The weapon swirled and twisted in the air. It was made of living fire, the blade rending not only flesh but the soul as well.

  Azrael's longsword had stayed the weapon. His own weapon was made frozen black flames. Where the two blades met, there was a crackling of power that glittered in the air.

  Azrael stood tall. He wore no armor, shrouded in his dark robes. The hood drawn up, face lost in the shadows. All that could be seen were the glowing, blueish-white sigils tattooed across his face.

  “Brothers!”

  Raphael shouted with such force tha
t it shook the room. I felt the sound wash over me and quiver my stomach. The remaining Archangels stood on the dais, Raphael in the center. His hand was outstretched, ready to summon his blade. His own armor a complex maze of red and white lines that surrounded a pure white cross on his chest. His black skin glowed with power. His eyes were ablaze with an azure light.

  “Stay your weapons.” Raphael said. His voice wasn't the powerful force it had been, but it was still resolute.

  Uriel released his grip on the gladius and the flaming sword dissipated into nothing. Azrael took a step back and banished his own blade.

  “You dare defy the will of the council, brother?” Uriel asked.

  “I am not subject to the laws of this council.” Azrael said, softly.

  “The council has dominion on all matters concerning the Holy Order and the fate of the Father's children.” Raphael said. “I have been entrusted with the protection of this place. Judgment has been passed. The child dies. The Law requires it.”

  “Agreed.” Uriel said.

  I could see the other angels nodding as well.

  “You may have authority in matters of the Children, but I alone hold the power of Life and Death. None of you will strike down the child. To do so would be a violation of the law.” Azrael said.

  “Our brother speaks truth. He alone may take the life of one of the children. For any of the rest of us to do so would be a direct interference, and as such, prohibited under the law.” Said Zadkiel. Speaking for the first time.

  “And when our brother refuses to do his duty, what then?” Uriel asked.

  I looked on in fearful awe. It was unheard of for the Council to have a disagreement of any magnitude much less open hostility. Gabriel had scrambled away, hunching on his knees a dozen paces away from the Archangels. I could not blame him. They were the most powerful creatures in all of creation. They had the power to rend time and space.

  “The council has spoken, Azrael. You are honor bound to carry out the sentence.”

  There was a silence that seemed to last an eternity. Azrael turned his hooded face away from his brothers and toward myself. I looked deep into the shadows of his cowl. The sigils still glowed in a faint light. He turned back.

  “Bind their ears.” He said.

  There was an instantaneous snap of energy. My stomach lurched, and I heaved. Coughing brought the taste of blood to my throat.

  “It is done.” Raphael said.

  “What revelation do you bring to the council?” Michael asked.

  I got my coughing under control and looked on. The magic hadn't worked on me. I had been subject to their deafening spells before. They reserved them only for times when what was spoken would be a direct interference in the affairs of men. Whatever had happened when I'd lost the Enlightenment, it had made me immune to their magic's touch.

  “I have consulted the book.” Azrael said.

  As the Archangel of Life and Death, Azrael was the keeper of the Book of Life. It held the names of all creation. Their life and death were recorded there at the time before time.

  “What did it say of the betrayer?” Raphael asked.

  “His time has not yet come.”

  “How can this be?” Zadkiel asked.

  “The will of our Father is mysterious.” Azrael said.

  “If not death, what do you suggest? We cannot allow him to go unpunished for his crimes.”

  “Banishment.”

  “He cannot be allowed to roam freely!” Uriel shouted.

  Azrael turned his head to the angel.

  “In Purgatory.” He whispered. “A fate worse than death.”

  Everything inside of me froze to ice. Banishment to Purgatory was unheard of. The place between was reserved for souls awaiting the end of days.

  The Angel of Death turned back to me.

  “We will send him to Purgatory to await the final days. He will face judgment by the Father at the end of days. Should he be called before that, he will face his sentence then.”

  The council looked at each other in turn, a chorus of nodding heads.

  “May the Father have mercy on his soul.” Michael said.

  “What soul?” Uriel spat.

  There was a snap, and the spinning feeling in my stomach vanished.

  “Has judgment been decided?” Gabriel asked.

  He was still on his knees, face to the floor.

  “It has.” Raphael said. “The council sentences the accused to banishment in Purgatory, where he shall await the Day of Judgment.”

  “A wise punishment.”

  Gabriel spoke slowly, clearly confused by the sentence.

  “Azrael, you may administer the sentence.”

  The sweeping shadow crossed the floor in a few long strides. Bending down, his gloved hands grasped the chain connected my hands, feet, and neck and crushed the lengths of it to dust.

  “Stand, child.”

  I pushed myself to my feet. Azrael summoned his great longsword. The frozen blade grew out of nothing to appear in his outstretched hand. He uttered a word and the sigils deep inside his hood flared. He waved the blade with a flick of his wrist, and it seemed to cut the air itself. A tear appeared in front of me. I stared out into nothingness. It was not darkness. It was the lack of all things. Words cannot describe what was beyond the rift, for there was nothing to describe.

  The pit of my stomach dropped again as the rift opened further, and I almost dropped to my knees.

  “Enter child.” Azrael whispered.

  I stared hard at the rift, afraid to move forward. Deep inside, I knew that I needed to summon myself to move, but I couldn't manage it. A hand pressed against my back, nudging me forward. The touch was gentle and completely unexpected from the powerful creature.

  “I only wanted to save her.” I said.

  With that, I stepped forward into the nothingness.

  I woke up to the sound of a blaring horn. The world came into focus around me. It was raining, and traffic was touch and go. I let my foot off the brake and rolled forward. The dreams were starting again, and I hated it. I'd told myself that I was only going to close my eyes for a second. I was exhausted, sour, and in need of a stiff drink.

  I'd gone home to pick up a gun and headed out to Glyph's place. I had a feeling all of this was connected. Whoever was wearing Glyph's face was probably the same bastard that had tried to kill me at the warehouse, or they were working together. Either way, I had a debt to settle with him, and a ton of money to collect.

  I'd only gone up against a soul monger once before. That had been back when I was still a full hunter in the Venatori. Some French bastard had started stealing souls all over Paris. I'd been part of the team assigned to track him down. We'd lost several hunters that day. I'd lost myself as a result.

  I parked up the street and killed the lights. I'd wanted to bring an AA12, but Andrej's boys hadn't given me a replacement yet. Plus, even a neighborhood as bad as Glyph's would call the police at some point. I thought thirty shotgun rounds going off in a manner of seconds would be pushing it a little. I'd grabbed a Ruger 22 Charger. The pistol was about as long as a sawed-off shotgun and was a pretty handy varmint gun. Of course, loaded up with subsonic ammo, a red dot sight on, and an oil filter screwed on the end, it was also a pretty handy gun to have in the city as well.

  I didn't get to use it much, since most of the things I hunt need something a whole lot bigger than a .22 to take them down. The beauty of Warlocks was that they were still human, and most of them were too hopped up on a power trip to even think about wearing a vest. The thought that something as trivial as a gun could kill them never crossed their minds.

  I kept the gun close to my body and walked up the sidewalk. Nothing to see, just a man on a mission to kill a soul stealing Warlock. Cutting across the front yard, I came to the door at an angle, making sure to stay out of the line of sight. I slid my back against the wall, the Ruger ready.

  I ducked my head to look into the door's broken window. He hadn't bot
hered covering it. I didn't see anyone when I looked in. I angled my body to see in as much as possible. Nothing. It was dark in the house, and I could barely see through to the kitchen.

  Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I grabbed the handle and pushed in the door. I flipped on the Surefire light mounted to the Ruger's bottom rail. The oil filter blocked some of the light, but the rest of the 500-lumen stream of bright white light punched through the darkness. My eyes blinked in the sudden light. Anyone on the receiving end of that would be blinded while I pumped them full of tiny holes.

  I kept a low weaver stance, the gun an extension of my arms, sweeping for a target. I cleared three rooms in under thirty seconds, years of instinct and muscle memory flooding back to me as I moved from room to room.

  I swept the ground floor twice. I didn't find anyone. The house was empty as far as I could tell. If the Soul Monger had been staying there, he wasn't on the ground floor. That left one place to check, the basement lab.

  Glyph did a majority of his prep work in the bottom floor of the house. It was a pretty sweet set up. He'd only let me down there one time. I'd sucked the juice out of half a dozen things he'd been working on in about thirty seconds. He'd been understandably upset afterward.

  I could feel the hum of the magic beneath me as I moved throughout the house. I walked to the kitchen and pulled open the pantry. There was a ratty old rug on the floor inside the small kitchen closet. I pushed it aside with my foot to reveal the trap door that led to the downstairs. I grabbed the handle and felt the energy rush into my palm, dissipating within me. The ward was similar to the one that had been meant to blast me into human paste when I broke the window earlier.

  There was an audible pop as the magic released from the dormant ward and flowed into my body. Every once in awhile being a soulless bastard had its perks. Not often, but occasionally.

  I shook the pins and needles out of my hand before pulling open the door. I made my way down the steep staircase beneath, cautiously.

  Halfway into the darkness, the motion sensors kicked on, and the room flooded with light. They were electric, technology over magic. It wasn't as mysterious, but you didn't have to waste time recharging spells every few months.