by Matt Drabble
“Here you are my old friend”, Michael lifted the sod covered horizontal door, Azazel looked down into the illuminated gloom and smiled.
McCullum drove bothered by the inexplicable dull ache in his right arm and the realisation that he seemed to have lost a day somewhere, he did not remember waking up with such an injury this morning, in fact when he tried to think of this morning his mind was full of an impenetrable muggy haze that blocked any memory recall. The roads were now quiet having passed whatever small amount of commuter traffic would have been found, he was heading towards Haverfordwest, a largish town that housed the biggest of the Pembrokeshire Police Stations. A text message had informed him that his way had been paved again by Irving’s prepping phone calls from the capital; the locals had been informed that a senior detective on the news worthy Cardiff murders would be following a significant but highly confidential lead and was to be afforded all necessary assistance. McCullum knew from experience that the flash of a senior warrant card would be met with movie star fawning, down here the majority of an officers time was spent mopping up domestics and weekend fallouts, he had served a little over three years in uniform here and had never come close to an investigation of any kind, most cases, even those of a serious nature were swept up inside of the first hour, a quick scout around swiftly filled note books with eyewitness accounts leading to arrests of suspects still wearing the criminal evidence all over their fronts and expressions of disbelief as to how quickly a Friday night punch-up turned into a life sentence. He passed over the Cleddau Bridge choking at the toll fee and settled into the slow moving traffic stacking up behind an oblivious tractor driver advancing through his day seemingly without a care; he envied the elderly farmer greatly but soon grew tired of his mocking contentment, McCullum pulled off the main road taking advantage of his knowledge of the back roads, his mother had once, he stopped mid thought and his mind changed the subject without consent. He was passing through a picture village that lined the estuary with sublime tranquil water views, up ahead there was a car pulled over suffering from engine trouble of some kind, he was not feeling in the most charitable mood and was going to avoid the driver until he caught sight of a truly stunning pair of legs perched on impractical heels leaning under the bonnet, suddenly he felt in a more charitable mood. He pulled in behind the car and after a quick check over his hair and a swift tie straighten he exited and strolled over to the driver,
“Morning” he offered cheerily, the woman pulled into full view and stole the breath from his lungs with one small smile,
“Morning” she replied, her voice was soft and husky
McCullum was startled into an uncharacteristic silence, whilst his dating record was not exactly threatening to break any records it was not through lack of offers, he had always found women easier to talk to and his lack of desperation around the fairer sex had always attracted more than it had dissuaded. The woman was tall and statuesque, her legs were long and athletic, his figure was slim but taut and healthy encased in an expensive looking suit tailored to perfection, it suddenly dawned on him that he had been staring in silence for what seemed like hours, a quick glance to her face told him that if she was offended she hid it well behind a warm smile,
“My names Brendon” he barely managed
“Pleased to meet you Brendon” she smiled “I’m Lucy”.
A hand brushed gently across his forehead with a feather light touch, as his mind slowly emerged from the darkness, he felt the smooth fragrant skin as it stroked his rough check in an intimate motion.
“Your dreams smell bad Baine” a man’s soft voice penetrated his haze, “Why must you swim against the tide, it would be just so much easier for all of us if you were to assimilate into our cause, I could give you anything that your heart desires, money, power, women, fear, love, respect, anything that lies under the sun Baine, anything”
He opened his eyes into the gloomy surroundings, Azazel’s face hung over his as he knelt beside him, his expression was one of gentle concern, but he did not trust it, they all seemed capable of impersonating human emotions flawlessly but their eyes remained dark, always hiding their true intentions, he knew this because he had looked upon his own face many times aping appropriate interactions as he had moved throughout this world. He spat a look at him that made him withdraw his hand, a momentary flash of anger passed across his eyes, his expression remained the same but his eyes had given the game away.
“Is there nothing that I can offer you Baine, the whole world lays at our feet for the taking?” Azazel spoke as though explain simple arithmetic to a child
Baine was immediately sharp; he cleared his thoughts quickly of his dancer, instinctively knowing that she would be in danger if revealed, he felt his senses return reluctantly, his limbs strengthened and he began to take in his surroundings. It appeared to be a large pit of some kind, the floor was hardened earth as were the walls, there seemed to be no electricity and the only light came from the dancing flicker of candlelight, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, a quick touch to his head and face told him that his wounds were already beginning to heal. Azazel paced around the pit slowly and with total confidence,
“We have your book Baine, we have your secrets and those of your kin, you have nothing left to you other than compliance”
Azazel sounded arrogant and confident, a sudden flash of intuition raced through Baine’s mind, he had no reason to believe it but he did,
“You can’t read it can you?”, he laughed, the hard kick from his new looking sturdy hiking boots told him that he was right, even the stream of fresh blood that ran from his broken nose could not dampen his savage joy, for the very first time since this all began he was not completely under their control. Azazel’s furious face told him that this was unexpected, his features were now contorted with anger and just the smallest hint of fear, Baine drank this look in using his emotions to sustain him.
“It means nothing Baine” he reached down and sank his nails into his cheeks painfully wrenching his head up off of the floor, spittle flew from his mouth as his fury ran away unchecked.
“On the contrary” Baine managed despite her excruciating grip, “It means everything”
He threw him back onto the ground wiping his hands against his jeans as though disgusted by the very touch of him,
“As you wish” he spoke softly regaining some of her self control, “You will tell me everything Baine, I can assure you of that, you will tell me what you found at the Cathedral and everything that you know” as he spoke he moved toward the side of the pit and ascended the crudely dug stairs he climbed out leaving him alone, he paused at the top and looked back at him, “Before this night is over you will beg before me on your knees, you will beg for my mercy, you will scream my name and choke on your own blood”
Baine lashed out in the only way he could from his prone position,
“You know Azazel, you just made my list, it’s not a long one, but you won’t like being on it”
The walls echoed with raging screams punctuated with the sounds of stomping boots on flesh and bone.
McCullum rolled over exhausted and fully sated, his surroundings were cheap and tawdry much like the two hours he had just spent with Lucy, the woman was an enigma, in the space of literally minutes she had him in the passenger seat of her car driving towards the nearest hotel. Never before had he been so completely opened up and laid bare by anyone, let alone so swiftly, he had told her every aspect of his life from the time as a child he stole a mars bar from Woolworths to his encounter with his father and the mission that he was currently on. Even as the words and truth poured unabated from his drying lips his brain refused to halt its revelations, they had talked, he had shared and then they had rutted like feral animals, her appetite was insatiable and she had driven him to the point of collapse and when finally he had crumbled into complete fatigue, he had laid his head across her sweating chest and slept like a baby and for the first time in days his dreams were peaceful and cl
ean. He awoke when the day was old and growing into evening shades, he looked around and realised just how poor their surroundings were, the wallpaper was faded and peeling, a smell of damp rot clouded the air, whether it came from the walls or the floor he could not fully tell. He sat up in the frankly unhygienic sheets and spotted Lucy’s silhouette framed by the window, a thin trail of smoke from her lit cigarette floated upwards from her still naked body, McCullum felt an unwanted tug of desire coarse through his still aching groin.
“Lucy?” his voice sounded hollow and echoed across the space between them as though he was unsure if she was even real
“I’m still here Brendon” her voice drifted back from the shadows laced with sadness
McCullum raised himself from the bed unconcerned by his own nakedness, “Are you alright?” he offered, she maintained her view out of the window and pushed out a hand towards him without looking back, he took the hand, it was warm and welcoming
“Just wait for now Brendon, this is all rather new to me”
Her voice sounded strained and close to tears so he took her hand and held it tightly hoping to convey his strength through their grip, they stood as one silhouette until the dying day passed through evening and into night.
The pit was lit by the wall mounted burning torches casting long concealing shadows, Baine had walked his encasing circumference several times upon recovering his consciousness, pacing to slow the building anger that threatened to cloud his thoughts and confuse his mind. In the past few days he had come to know of his own limitations and quickly realised that strategic planning was perhaps not his forte in this life. He had lost the book and the parchment that he had retrieved from under the Cathedral, without his father’s book he felt disconnected from his families experience and help and the persistent and unwelcome emotion of failure stank from his every pore. It had been a dizzying journey of self-discovery, he had begun this new period of existence in a contented haze of purpose and perfection, and his movements had meaning and significance. He had targets to hunt and killings to plan, he was a shark, a single minded single purposed machine and now it had all gone to hell. Somehow this time around he had developed a sense of self that he had never experienced before; he had been awakened from his slumber by Gabriel’s will and a dancer’s swirl. Suddenly he wanted, and needed her, he could feel the bitter pangs of loss and regret that tainted his emotions and affected his plans, never before had he felt doubt, but he felt it now and it was sour in his mouth and acidic in his stomach.
The pit was around twelve feet deep and it appeared to be roughly square stretching more than twenty feet on all sides from him as he stood in the centre, above was blackness; he had been alone since Raphael had left angrily, his footsteps dissipating beyond his sight and eventually his hearing. In the last few minutes however there had been sounds of movement growing, feet were shuffling closer to the pit’s edge and despite his limited viewing ability he could clearly sense himself being eagerly observed, a dim light began to grow closer, a figure dressed in long robes became clear at the far end, the figure held a lit torch illuminating himself. The figure began moving around the pit edge lighting torches as he passed, eventually the flames on all sides shed passable light into Baines surroundings, he could now see about twenty people of varying shapes and sizes all cloaked in the same long robes, their faces obscured by heavy hoods. The first figure wore a white robe in stark contrast to the black ones worn by his companions, he held his arms aloft and out stretched, the others immediately paid full and respectful attention,
“BAINE” he commanded in a strong authoritative voice, “Turn and face your true destiny, you are not here upon this earth to fulfil the lofty ideals of fantasy and fiction, you are not here to save mankind from the apocalypse of fallen angels, my name is Michael and I am here to watch you die in pieces”
“Well now chief” spat Baine, “How about you shank your ass down here and we’ll go round and round”
“Don’t think that I’m not tempted you stinking bag of bones, but I would not care to soil my hands upon your flesh, your demise shall be a spectator sport designed to show the new order of my rightful ascension to lead us into the new world born of real power and not from the pages of fairy tales”.
As the man spoke Baine noticed a large wooden crate being dragged towards the pits edge, four of the larger companions struggled against its weight, Baine could not see Michael’s face but he could feel the excitement radiating from his hooded form, the four men gradually pushed the container to the edge where it dangled over for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually the heavy crate eased over the edge before toppling over and crashing down hard onto the dirt floor uplifting a cloud of dust that stung Baine’s eyes and clogged his throat, the container leaned drunkenly to one side as its sides bulged from the impact, Baine moved closer tilting his head to one side out of curiosity, suddenly the weakened crate exploded and a dark shape launched itself furiously toward him, before he could avoid the contact it was on him in a blaze of razor teeth and claws.
Michael watched the squirming figures as they fought for control, he felt the power of his followers swell through him, and the figures stood eagerly devouring the sight of the Betrayer Baine brought to kneel before his doom at Michael’s design. He hated the theatrical nature of the robes and candlelight covenants, his new order would be an organisation forged in the fires of the business world cutting a bloody swathe through the international markets, and he had no desire to revel in pagan rituals worshipping supposedly icons of evil. Both of the old orders had been founded by fallen angels, whom, spurned by an ungrateful God, had merely wanted a world of their own, oceans of time had passed as the earth grew older and yet the world was still but a child, Gabriel had revelled in the worship laid upon him by the humans, the cross breeding had brought about the bastardised distortions of their views. It was merely the Grigori’s un-wavering devotion and violent methods that had been taken as some kind of immorality, once Lucifer had witnessed the power that this held over some of the humans she had set about spreading the illusion far and wide, for some reason mankind had developed a lust for the darker side of their nature. Michael had no stomach for these indulgences, this world had much potential, but the new order needed financial funds as the humans seemed to worship this God over any other, once he had disposed of this Baine character and with it shattered the myths and legends that swirled amongst many of their followers, he would have exposed Lucifer for the fraud that she had become and he could take his rightful place at the head of the table.
He leaned over the pit, all the while watching the human faces as they peered desperately at the struggle below, one of the powers of the fallen ones was the ability to reanimate the dead, he had taken the largest most powerful Rottweiler that he could find scheduled for death because of its violent and dangerous nature. He had obtained the corpse from one of his many sources and brought the animal back, faster and more powerful than when it was alive, he had taken on the duty himself of systematically starving and torturing the creature until it had been driven into a raging frenzy, now the dead thing was venting itself on the unfortunate Baine.
Lucifer’s head was spinning out of control and threatening to explode, she could not believe the growing and deeply troubling human emotion cesspit that confusingly churned her mind and affected all reason. She had identified McCullum as a useful tool to be taken and used to the Grigori’s best interests, she had used this form to seduce countless humans of both genders several times relishing in the power that it exuded over men in particular, but now she found herself greatly troubled by her feelings that tugged her toward the comfort of another’s touch and the warmth of their embrace. She had dressed slowly attempting to use the process of dressing as way of reapplying her armoured coat again; she had caught the man McCullum gazing at her from the bed and found an alien genuine smile creep across her lips before she could stop it. She hated herself for getting distracted at such a crucial juncture after all of the ce
nturies that passed like the creeping clouds on a still summer day, this was the time finally for clarity and precision and not ridiculous school girl crushes, she had been notified by a loyal follower of Michael’s betrayal of the 11th Order and his recruitment of both Azazel and Samyaza. She was sure that Gabriel would already be taking steps to take full advantage of the dissension in both of the Orders ranks. She knew that her desire for the Cube was matched only by his, the time now was so very close and mistakes could not be afforded, she knew that McCullum had been touched by Gabriel and played for a fool ever since. It was McCullum’s tale of woe that had surprisingly touched what passed through the cold dark space where a heart should be eliciting a momentary isolated spark. She had fallen into his leaking eyes and warm arms and found a comfort and joy never before experienced since her conception at the very dawn of time. She still did not fully understand the human condition but even she instinctively knew that McCullum would not want to know that he had beaten his own mother to death barely twenty four hours earlier, she thought that she would be able to counteract Gabriel’s control over him as long as they were close. Given the size of Michael’s following she now felt that she could not trust any of the members, the time was too close and the prize was too damn near to risk it all especially when her instincts were not functioning at full capacity. She would have to proceed alone, well; she looked across the room at McCullum who was by now fully dressed, smiling and waiting, not quite alone. She knew only too well that they would become increasingly isolated and that the Grigori had been corrupted to such an extent that she doubted that many members even remembered the cause, let alone still believed as she did. The Grigori had been forged in the hearts of the Archangels with the sole purpose of transforming the world into their own paradise, however as the centuries passed this bastardised version had long become obsessed with the materialistic vanity of humanity. Her vision had long since drifted away despite her best efforts, but once she had the Cube it could all be set right, the Cube held the power to shape the world as she saw fit and all of her children could all be saved from themselves and gathered unto her, even the 11th Order could be made to see the light and feel her love. There would have to be examples made obviously, she would be just but fair and the rivers would run red with the blood of the disbelievers for a while but then the world would embrace her vision and lay before her.