by N. P. Martin
“I am.” He tasted the whiskey. Damn. Pure nectar. If he could think of no reason to be head of the High Council before, he could definitely think of one now.
“I thought you made yourself clear the last time you were here. You wanted us to leave you alone. We did.”
“I know,” Frank said nodding. “I was just wondering why the Council hasn’t taken an interest in what’s happening in the city. There’s a demon gang stealing souls, turning people into one man murder shows.”
“We’re already aware of that. We’re looking into it now.”
“Really? Just looking into it?”
“What do you want us to do, Frank? We only just found out about the whole thing. Rest assured, the demons responsible will be dealt with.”
Frank began walking around the room, mainly because he knew Leland hated people doing that. It made it harder for him to brow beat them when they weren’t standing in front of him. “Are you aware, Leland, of the ritual used to steal the souls?”
“Yes, I’m aware of it. It isn’t one that’s used often.”
Frank turned to face him. “And why is that, Leland?”
Leland’s knowing gray eyes narrowed at Frank for a moment. “You obviously have something to say, Frank. So say it.” He placed the whiskey on the coffee table altar, without having drank a drop.
“You must know about the feather, Leland. The archangel feather needed to do the ritual.”
“What about it?”
Frank smiled, shook his head, and wagged his finger at Leland. “Nice try,” he said. “You’re forgetting I know you, Leland. You make sure you know every last thing that goes inside this place. It’s how you rose to the top, after all.”
A look of anger came over Leland’s face, then he paused while he got back his icy demeanor again. “What are you getting at, Frank? This is getting tiresome and I don’t have time for games.”
“I wouldn’t call a traitor in the ranks, a game.”
“A traitor?”
“Come on, Leland. We both know there is only one way a bunch of low level demons can get their hands on an archangel feather. There’s only one that I know of, and it’s locked away here in the vaults.” Frank slammed his glass on the sacrifice table, enjoying the look of annoyance on Leland’s face as he did so. “Someone in here gave that feather to the demons.”
Leland shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. No one in this facility would do such a thing.”
Frank laughed. “As much as that’s still bullshit, someone still gave that feather out. The demons didn’t just walk in here and steal it themselves.”
“Then they must have gotten it somewhere else. We don’t know about everything that exists on this earth, you know.”
“So you’re saying that you still have the feather in the vault?”
“I’m saying, if we checked, I’m sure that would be true.”
“So you haven’t even checked yet? Jesus.”
Leland stood to face him. “Very few people have full access to the vault. I can assure you, nothing has gone missing from it.”
“So check,” Frank said, holding Leland’s gaze until the older man sighed and shook his head.
“Alright, Frank, I’ll check, but on one condition.”
It was Frank’s turn to sigh. “And what’s that?”
“If the feather is still there in the vault, I never want to see your face around here again.”
“Suits me.”
Leland went to a desk at the back of the room to use the phone that was there. Frank sat on the designer couch and helped himself to more of the whiskey. He was tempted to swipe the decanter, so fine was the liquid inside, but then thought better of it when he realized Leland would probably have him shot for doing so. The head of the High Council didn’t need much of an excuse to kill Frank anyway, not after Frank threatened to expose the man for blackmailing his way into the Council in the first place. The only reason Frank didn’t say anything at the time was because of Rachel. She had talked him out of it, saying it would just upset too many people and possibly destroy the Council. Frank didn’t have a problem with destroying the corrupt Council, but Rachel had more faith in it than he did. He was also in love with Rachel at the time, and would have done anything she asked of him.
After a few minutes of hushed conversation on the phone, Leland strode back over to Frank again. “Well, Frank,” he said, his chin up in that cocky way he always held it when he was about to screw somebody. “It looks like we won’t be seeing each other again.”
“What?” Frank shook his head. “You’re telling me you aren’t missing a damned feather? That’s bullshit.”
“It’s the truth, Frank. Michelle will be along in a second to escort you out of the Facility. I suggest you let us handle this demon gang ourselves as well.”
Frank slammed his glass on to the sacrifice table, splashing whiskey over it. He shot to his feet. “You’re up to something,” he told Leland. “You’re lying to me.”
Just then the doors opened and in walked the blonde receptionist with two men in suits behind her. Frank noticed her jacket was now unbuttoned, the Glock underneath plainly visible in its holster. “You can come with me now, Mr. Swanson.”
Frank gave Leland a last look of disdain before he walked away from the man.
“Bye, Frank,” Leland called after him and Frank gritted his teeth at the smugness in the older man’s voice.
The blonde woman called Michelle and the two dark suited security guys proceeded to escort Frank out of the Facility, the woman by his side, the other two walking behind as he was led along a maze of back corridors towards a rear exit. Obviously Leland didn’t want people to see Frank leave, knowing as he did how well Frank was thought off by most of the teachers and instructors in the place. Before he stepped out the door to the grounds at the rear of the temple, Frank turned to the blonde woman. “You seem like a good soldier. I hope you know who you’re working for.”
The blonde woman’s stunning face faltered slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Just pulled the door closed behind him.
When he had walked around the temple to his car again, Frank got in and slammed the steering wheel.
Son of a bitch!
Easy, Frank. You’ll give yourself a heart attack. End up down here with me.
At that moment, being in Hell with Rachel seemed a lot more preferable than the prospect of now having to go up against the High Council and the shit storm that would inevitably come from that.
CHAPTER 13
Not long after, Frank was sitting in some bar not far from the Masonic Temple. It was the kind of bar he hated. Upmarket, shiny metal furniture, staff in uniforms that cost more than the clothes he was wearing himself. Not his kind of place, but it was the first bar he spotted as he drove angrily away from the Temple, and he needed a drink. The only good thing about the bar was that there was hardly anyone in it. He guessed it wouldn’t pick up until later that evening, when it would likely be filled with guys in suits and women in expensive dresses. It would do for now. He went to the darkest corner after subconsciously checking out all the exits first. Both long standing habits of his when he went out. As he sat down with a bourbon, his phone rang. Eva. “Hey,” he said.
“I’ve managed to recruit a team for tonight,” she said. “Well, two guys anyway. Tyreese Locke and Sam Wiltshire. Good guys as you know.”
“We need to discuss that. There’s been developments. You want to meet me for a drink?”
“Okay.” Eva sounded unsure. “What’s happened?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
Frank told Eva which bar he was in and she said she would be along soon. In the meantime, he signaled to a young waitress with flame red hair and large breasts, who was trying to look busy wiping over tables and arranging coasters. She went to the bar and got Frank another bourbon, plus a mineral water for Eva when she got here. He knew Eva wouldn’t drink if she was driving.
He sat back in his se
at, allowing the shadows to envelope him while he idly admired the curvaceous form of the waitress, who was now leaning on the bar as she chatted with the barman. Frank replayed his conversation with Leland Cunningham, tried to glean from that what the head of the High Council’s game was. Blatantly lying to Frank about the missing feather. Why would he do that? Out of spite, maybe? An excuse to rid himself of Frank once and for all? As much as Frank hated the man, he still thought Leland had the best interests of the organization at heart. The man was a shameless crook, a snake in the grass no doubt, but he could usually be relied upon to shoot straight as far as fighting the darker elements that existed in the city. It seemed now, he was working to a different agenda. Frank just didn’t know what.
Not yet anyway.
A half hour and three more bourbons later, Eva arrived at the bar, looking lithe in tight black jeans and black leather jacket, her long brown hair swinging across her shoulders as she walked. “Mineral water,” Frank said, pointing to the glass as she sat down beside him. “The ice has melted.”
“How many of those have you had?” Eva asked, not judging him, just curious.
“Not enough,” he said and signaled to the waitress again, who brought him another drink a moment later.
“So what’s up?” Eva said when the waitress had gone.
“I went to see Leland Cunningham.”
Eva nodded knowingly. “And it didn’t go well, I presume.”
“Not really. He had me escorted out of the Facility.”
“Are you really surprised by that? You know he hates you, Frank. You threatened to depose him, remember?”
“I know. I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to know if the feather was still there in the vault.”
“And was it?”
“Nope. He says it was, but he was lying.”
“How do you know he was lying?”
“Come on, Eva. Apart from the man being a snake, there’s no way that feather came from anywhere else but that vault.” He shook his head. “Something’s going on and it involves Leland, maybe the whole Council, I don’t know yet. I plan to find out.”
After listening and taking a sip from her now lukewarm mineral water, Eva said, “Well, this whole thing might be bigger than we thought.”
“What do you mean?” Frank asked.
“A lot of stuff has been happening, and not just here, but in some neighboring cities as well.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Something of a supernatural uprising, it seems. Activity has increased across the board, apparently overnight.”
“Such as?”
“Mostly stuff like possessions, invading people’s minds, forcing them to murder, rape, assault, all sorts of bad things. Vampire and werewolf attacks are on the rise too, with people blatantly getting killed out in the open. It’s like they don’t care who sees them anymore.”
A deep frown was on Frank’s face. “Why would demons and the rest suddenly decide to go public like that? It doesn’t make sense. That’s not how they operate.”
“I’ve been thinking about the same thing,” Eva said.
“And?”
“Well, given the scale of this sudden uprising, it seems to me that it has all been organized somehow.” She shrugged. “As you say, this isn’t how things usually work. Someone has changed the policy.”
“Sure seems that way.” Frank signaled to the waitress again, who came smiling over. He asked for another bourbon.
“Make that two,” Eva said.
“And could you turn on the news as well, please,” Frank added.
“Sure,” the waitress said and trotted off behind the bar where she changed the channel on the big TV to the main news channel. Frank and Eva stared at the screen, barely acknowledging the waitress when she set their drinks down. The images on the TV screen were disturbing. Lots of live reports from various crime scenes, bodies covered in bloodstained sheets, people looking shocked, fearful, in pain, scared to death some of them. Locations from all around the city and some of the surrounding areas. Whole towns in chaos, people running, fearing for their lives. The whole time, reporters asking what could have caused such chaos and why were there so many sightings of “monsters”? Even the waitress and barman looked extremely uneasy as they watched the carnage unfold on the screen.
“Holy shit,” Frank said. “I had no idea things were this bad. How is it all happening so damn fast?”
Eva downed her bourbon in one. “It’s been planned. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Frank turned his head towards the front door of the bar. The door was open and the sounds of sirens nearby poured through it like bad omens. “The question is though, planned by who?”
CHAPTER 14
Frank was driving back to the cabin, sunglasses on against the late afternoon sun beaming through his windshield, Judas Priest’s “Victim of Changes” blasting from the speakers. The music helped him think, and right then he was trying to work out why the city was suddenly going to hell in a hand basket. He was also wondering what Leland Cunningham had to do with it all, as Frank was sure the old snake was involved somehow. Maybe Leland even gave that demon gang the feather himself, though that still didn’t explain why he would do so in the first place. Leland was a power mad megalomaniac, but Frank doubted the man would want the city he had been protecting for decades brought to its knees by the very darkness Leland himself helped to fight against. If Frank hadn’t met the man this afternoon in person, he would have said Leland had lost the plot, gone over the edge finally. But Leland seemed in full control of his faculties when he and Frank had talked. He was as in control as ever. That, more than anything, was what worried Frank.
The turn off for the dirt road that led up to the cabin was coming up. Just as Frank was shifting down the gears to turn, Lucas appeared in the front passenger seat beside him. “Fuck!” Frank shouted in surprise, the Chevy veering off to the left too soon, about to hit a tree along the roadside, the only thing stopping it being Frank slamming on the brakes.
“Hey, Frank.”
“What the fuck?” Frank exclaimed. “I nearly hit that fucking tree!”
Lucas seemed amused by Frank’s outburst. “You’re quite funny when you’re angry. Anybody ever tell you that?”
Frank stared at Lucas for a moment, then reversed the car back a bit, drove forward and then on to the dirt road that led up the mountainside, thick pine trees on either side. Frank took his sunglasses off, tossed them on the dash where they bumped around as the car drove over the uneven surface of the road. “A simple phone call would have done, you know. You didn’t have to invade my car like this.”
“I wanted to speak to you in person,” Lucas said. “Mind if I turn the music down?”
Frank flashed Lucas a look. “Yes, actually.”
“It doesn’t surprise me you like heavy metal, Frank.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just mean you look like you would like heavy metal. Maybe it’s the hair. You ever think about seeing a barber? A shorter look would be better on you, I think.”
Frank changed gears as the road steepened up. “Are you kidding me? You’re giving me style tips now? You’re a demon, for Christ’s sake. Demons don’t give out style tips. How long have you been here anyway?”
“A few minutes.”
“Funny. I mean here, on earth.”
“Over two thousand years at this point. Long enough to know that I like it better than Hell.”
“How high up the ranks are you?”
“None of that really matters now, Frank,” Lucas said, picking something of his gray suit, a look of mild disgust on his face. “I’m something of an independent operator these days, a bit like yourself.”
“So you have nothing to do with this sudden uprising that’s happening right now?”
“No, I don’t.”
Frank turned off the road and on to another short stretch of road that brought them to the ca
bin in less than a minute. When he stopped the car, Frank said, “Why should I believe you?”
Lucas didn’t seem bothered by Frank’s suspicion of him. “I gave you information. Told you about the feather. Told you where to find the gang in the Southside. Why would I tell you that if I was part of this uprising, as you call it?”
“Because you want the feather,” Frank said undoing his seatbelt, turning round slightly so he was facing the demon in the front seat.
“Precisely. I want the feather. That’s all.”
“So why can’t you get it yourself?”
“I told you, I can’t be seen going up against other demons. An infraction like that would be investigated and too many of Hell’s ruling class would like nothing more than to see me back there so they can destroy me.”
Frank smiled. “You’re a wanted man?”
“You could say that. Tried to be a player back in Hell. It didn’t work out. Made too many enemies. I’ve learned my lesson now.”
“I’m sure you have,” Frank said. “I’m going inside for a drink. I’d invite you in but you’d never get through the door. I make sure to keep my cabin warded against demons.”
“Frank, wait,” Lucas said as Frank was about to get out of the car. “I have something to tell you about your friend, Rachel. I think you’re going want to hear it.”
Frank froze with his hand on the door handle for a moment and then turned his head slowly. “What?” he said in a low voice.
“I can give you the demon who took her, Frank, the one who has her soul. You could have her back.”
Imagine that, Frank. You could have me back. Do you believe him?
Frank sat there imaging having Rachel back again, how good it would feel to put his arms around her, to speak to her, to ask forgiveness for ruining her life. He would gladly sacrifice himself just to give her a second chance, to give her the life that she still should have been leading if it wasn’t for him, to allow her to be a mother to her kids again, both of which probably needed her desperately at this point. “But she’s dead.”