The Lost Soul Trilogy (Primani Book 5)

by Laurie Olerich

  “And so it begins,” Raphael breathed. He stood with hooded eyes a million miles away.

  “Turn the channel,” I told Dec.

  All news channels were covering this catastrophic event. The news got worse the longer we watched. Thousands had been killed and property damage was in the billions. The terrorists had hit several government buildings and major cultural landmarks, including the Temple of Heaven. The wailing of the monks had been caught in a sound bite that the media played again and again. The furious Chinese government was pointing its finger at the United States. Our government issued a statement condemning these attacks and offering its assistance. The Chinese responded by putting their million-man military on high alert and readying its fleet. North Korea jumped in before the news was an hour old. Its leaders activated its long-range missiles and pointed them at the U.S.

  “Oh, shit!”

  “Dec, watch your language. The babies will hear you,” I corrected automatically.

  “Sorry.”

  Raphael snapped out of his trance and said, “This is Jordan’s doing. I’m guessing he’s about to unleash the virus in the U.S. and let them blame the Chinese. This is how it starts. I must reach Sean.”

  “How what starts? What’s going on?” Aisling stood in the open doorway with Sean Michael on her hip. He rubbed his brilliant blue eyes and stuck his thumb in his mouth.

  Raphael met her stare and said, “Armageddon.”

  Chapter 24: Choosing Sides

  Lucerne, Switzerland:

  SEAN PRESSED HIS BACK INTO THE WALL and fingered the haft of his knife. His spidey senses were picking up bad vibes, but he planted his boots to hold himself still. His thighs were twitching with the urge to run. He had a bad feeling about this. Using his peripheral vision, he checked out the others. A couple of lower-level demons, assistants of some kind, were working on a computer across the room. They paid no attention to Sean. An oddly pretty female demon set out a stack of papers and glided out of the room like a wraith. Dagin was here, of course. He leaned against the wall a few feet away from Sean. He picked idly at his claws as though this was the most normal thing in the world. He was nervous though; his body gave off waves of stress that Sean could sense.

  Interesting. So he didn’t know what was up either.

  Commander Whack Job was making them wait. Nothing new; he did that a lot. He thought it gave him more control. Stupid mind games didn’t worry Sean--usually. Today was different though. It felt different. Something was in the air. And it wasn’t good.

  There were five chairs around a conference table. Jordan, Sean, and Dagin would take three, but who did the other two belong to? Dagin knows, he thought. The bastard was practically shaking in his biker boots. What kind of demon would scare another demon? Dagin was old; he was powerful; he had seen pretty much everything. What would it take to freak him out? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. He studied Dagin until the demon noticed and flipped him off with a claw.

  “You want a piece of me, Primani?” he taunted under his breath with a covert glance at the door. Even he wasn’t about to give Jordan an excuse. Not the way he’d been acting since the bombings.

  J. was going way off the deep end and both of his commanders were twitchy. The last demon to question him was skinned alive--in the middle of the staff meeting. It took a long, long, long time and the screaming was deafening. Sean shuddered mentally and froze his mask in place. It was almost time for his exit strategy and he felt the ticking of the clock like a time bomb.

  Patience, he told himself. Soon he would disappear and fight from the other side where he belonged. Funny, he didn’t question good and evil any more. After mixing in with these assholes, he knew for sure he wasn’t evil. Oh, hell yeah, he might be a dick occasionally; might enjoy watching the bad guys die; might even want to drink a few beers and have meaningless sex with a stranger...even so, none of those things made him evil. These fuckers were evil with a capital E.

  Last week, one of his soldiers had literally ripped their human ally into pieces before Sean could stop him. Their mission had been to pay the man for information on a local drug dealer who they were supposed to turn. He was a valuable asset. Instead of following the plan, the crazy-ass demon got hungry for blood and butchered the informant and his 15-year old girlfriend. Sean had gutted the demon, but not before both humans were beyond saving. J. nearly tore his head off when he reported in. In addition to being thrown repeatedly into the wall, Sean had to listen to J. rant about the weakness of God for giving immoral humans free will. When he was in charge, he would simply kill anyone who threatened the stability of the human population. Sean tried to connect the junkie with J.’s rant, but lost the thread.

  It was all he could do to not mention that demons were actually more immoral than the drug dealing informant. Instead of mouthing off, he clamped his jaws together and took his punishment without complaining.

  Later that night he’d sat in his room, healing his bruises and searching his soul. He’d decided he was through walking the tightrope between good and evil. He’d pushed the limits a hell of a lot more than he should’ve. It was time to get his ass in gear and put both feet on the right side permanently. No more fucking around. He was Primani. He served a higher purpose and by the angels, he was going to destroy Jordan if it was the last thing he did. Humans weren’t perfect, but then neither was he, although to be honest, he was pretty damn close.

  Still, they needed someone to look out for them and protect them from evil. That was his job. This undercover gig was his way of making up for being an asshole earlier this year. He was done beating himself up over garbage that was in the past. It was a new day.

  Thinking back on that night, he congratulated himself for the progress he’d made. Shit, who needs therapy? Not me, I’m good. Hey, I’m not even pissed off anymore! Look at the progress I’ve made! He scratched at his jaw and smothered a smile at his self-discovery. He was healed.

  Halle-fuckin-lujah and amen.

  Bored and restless, Dagin nudged at Sean saying, “Hey! You remember that time in Budapest when you picked up that Russian chick? Man, she was hot.”

  Not one of his shining moments. He didn’t like to think about it; didn’t like to be reminded of it either.

  Dagin needled him some more. He slipped into a chummy tone of voice, just two old friends reminiscing...“Come on, man, you remember her, don’t you? Tall, blond? Tits out to the wall?” He shrugged at Sean’s non-response and laughed softly. “I never thanked you for her. She died well; I have to give her props for that. No begging for her life or any of that pathetic bullshit. Just glared into my eyes right up to her last drop of blood. She was a good little informant. I missed her when she was gone.”

  One day soon, he was going to stick a blade in Dagin. It was going to feel frickin’ amazing. He’d enjoy the pop of his skin just before the blade slid into the muscle and slippery guts. He’d twist the blade and let the girly squeals of pain wash over him like a song. In the meantime, Sean scowled at the idiot next to him and shrugged.

  “Shit happens. Can’t save everybody.”

  Dagin was about to say something more when Kyrrin scurried into the room. He kept his eyes glued to his notes as he passed by the big demon. Dagin stuck out a boot and tripped him. The little assistant was about to crack his noggin on the table when Sean reached out and snatched his shirt. Kyrrin stumbled but caught himself.

  The door opened and Jordan strolled into the room. Everyone stood up straight and waited respectfully until he took his seat at the table. Sean swallowed uneasily and forced his emotions to go flat. Jordan’s eyes gleamed yellow, his face ashen and papery. Red sores dotted his arms.

  The smell of insanity swirled around him like cheap cologne.

  Shit, shit, shit. This was getting bad...

  Sean and Dagin made a move to sit down but were frozen in place by Jordan’s uplifted palm. Kyrrin cleared his throat. His eyes cut to the doorway before turning to his notebook again.

>   “Before we begin today’s meeting, I need to introduce the Commander’s distinguished guest and the newest member of the staff. Please wait until he’s seated before you take your own seats.”

  WTF? That sinking feeling was back and Sean’s gut tightened painfully. As the door opened, he sensed it before he smelled it--raw power so strong it sucked the oxygen from the air.

  The raven-haired demon stepped into the room and every hair on Sean’s body stood up in protest. His balls retreated to his chest. Not much scared him, but this motherfucker did.

  His face was dark and hauntingly, frighteningly made. Like an obsidian carving, he was all hard angles and sharp corners. He towered above everyone in the room; his shoulders brushed the sides of the doorframe. His haughty expression and frigid black eyes sent fear through Dagin too. Sean felt a tremor run through him and heard his heartbeat quicken.

  Kyrrin’s voice trembled as he announced him. “It is my pleasure to announce Irku, the Harbinger of Death; the Reaper of Souls. Throughout history, he’s been known as the King of Nightmares, the Bringer of Sorrow, and the Eater of Souls. In modern times, he’s known affectionately as the Harbinger of Doom, the Magnificent Destroyer, and the Keeper of the Apocalypse...”

  Kyrrin’s voice droned on and on as he included every one of the ancient demon’s titles. There were more than any other demon, except Satan and Lilith. Like them, he’d been around at the dawn of time. He was known by every culture across every continent in every time period except the last millennium.

  A thousand or so years ago, he’d been defeated, banished.

  By angels.

  Sean swallowed and closed his eyes. Oh shit. His eyes popped open again when Kyrrin finished with, “and Slayer of Angels.”

  Heaven help us. Irku was back.

  As if reading Sean’s mind, Irku’s black eyes locked onto his with so much force that Sean staggered back a step. The immense power of the demon’s will burned straight into his mind. His eyes demanded, no, compelled Sean to open up, let him in. A quiet voice said to give him what he wants or he’ll just take it--Slowly and painfully. Much easier to just give in...

  Over my dead body!

  Sean ground his teeth together and held the wall of protection solid inside his mind. The only memories the demon would see were the evil ones. He’d see only the acts of destruction, the murders, and Sean’s satisfaction with his new place in Hell. All the carefully constructed memories that would show proof of Sean’s fallen angel status. Sean was sweating with the effort to hold the shutters in place when Irku abruptly looked away.

  The disconnection was a physical thing, like someone driving an ice pick into his frontal cortex. As Irku turned to the table, he unfolded his black feathered wings and stretched them before tucking them against his back. Ho-ly God. They stretched from wall to wall.

  Irku’s stone face was perfectly composed, but a hot coal burned in the depths of his eyes. He stared at Sean; the room went deadly quiet. Dagin sidled out of the line of fire.

  The corners of Irku’s mouth turned up in amusement and he said, “Greetings, old friend. What an unexpected surprise.”

  The deep voice rang off of the walls and reverberated inside Sean’s mind. The table shook sending papers spilling to the floor. Sean felt the words crawl over his skin like ants--biting, stinging, burrowing into his flesh. He gasped as someone wrapped a hand around his heart and crushed it. As fast as it came, the pain was gone. Sean was on his knees.

  He willed his heart to stop stampeding and kept his eyes lowered. Stay in control. Don’t look up. Easier said than done. EVERY instinct screamed to fight.

  He was in trouble.

  Serious trouble.

  It was sooooo time to get out of here!

  Manhattan, New York:

  Sean! Are you all right?

  Raphael’s tone was terse with worry, but this was a very bad time. Sean glanced over at Dagin. He didn’t dare use telepathy this close. He was tailing the demon in ghost mode. Dagin had shimmered out after the endless staff meeting and Sean had latched onto his scent and followed. They had rematerialized next to Saint Patrick’s cathedral on Fifth Avenue. It was nearly time for Friday evening mass.

  Masquerading as a silver-haired human now, Dagin wore a long black raincoat for protection from the misting rain that fell over the bustling city. Sean’s sensitive hearing picked up the faint clinking of metal canisters bumping together. He smelled the sickness. His stomach tightened. Calm the fuck down, he told himself. This was just another op. Stakes were high, true; but they always were. That’s why he had a job.

  Crowds of humans flocked up and down the sidewalks on both sides of the building while hundreds of devout Catholics and a few tourists slowly shuffled through the ornate front doors. The church could hold roughly 2,000 people at a time.

  Aaaannd, it was Good Friday...the place would be packed.

  The incubation period for Variola Major is about 12 days. These people will remember Christ and then walk out of here covered with virus. By the time they showed symptoms, the angels only knew how many more people they’d contaminate. Could be hundreds, could be thousands. Multiply that...it’s ground zero on a big scale. Very clever, J.

  Dagin nonchalantly headed for a side entrance, then disappeared in the middle of the sidewalk. Sean blinked. What the hell? Peering intently around him, he caught a colorless disturbance in the air near the door. He blinked again and brought Dagin into sharp focus. Oh, you can run, but you can’t hide. Dagin was using a spell to throw people off. Fortunately for him, demons sucked at magic.

  With eyes glued to his prey, he called for orders.

  Raphael? I’m trailing Dagin. He’s going to release the virus. Do I stop him?

  He flattened himself into a shadow and held his breath. Come on, come on. He didn’t know the archangel’s plan. It might be important to let the virus go in order to bring about other events. Sometimes bad things had to happen.

  Dagin paused and glanced around him. His eyes settled on Sean for a second too long and Sean froze. Turning away again, the demon pressed his hand to the locked door. Sean heard the soft snick of metal as the lock opened.

  Raphael! We’re running out of time. What’s it gonna be?

  Dagin slipped inside the building. Sean followed like a current of air. He didn’t have time to wait for orders. This was about to go down right now. Taking no response as permission to proceed, he moved in. It was do or die. He had to get back to the real world anyway.

  His cover was useless now. Irku knew him.

  Remembered him.

  His fate would be worse than death if he went back to Jordan.

  Damn it, he’d ask for forgiveness later.

  He entered through the same door and scanned for Dagin in the darkness. Okay douche bag, where are you? Pausing to get his bearings, he considered Jordan’s plan. What’s the best way to release an aerosol? His brain threw that around for a minute and the light bulb went off.

  Sean headed for the air handling system. The big building had to have a furnace down here...that meant air distribution. Best way to spread the virus: quick, simple, effective.

  The sound of metal hitting the concrete floor froze him in place. The sound was close. He blended into the wall and listened. He could just make out the sound of soft breathing in front of him. He slid his blade from its hidden sheath and focused on Dagin.

  He glided forward and hissed as a gleaming pipe nearly took his face off. Jumping back, he ducked as the air whooshed past his ear. Dagin laughed meanly as he swung the metal pipe at Sean’s head like a baseball bat.

  “Did you really think you could follow me? Christ, you’re an idiot!” He’d switched back to his MMA fighter persona, dark eyes gleaming in the darkness, muscles bulging in a red muscle shirt.

  Ducking and dodging lightning fast, Sean lunged at Dagin’s gut and slashed him with the blade. The demon grunted at the pain but kept coming.

  Sean laughed with cockiness that Killian would beat
his ass for. “You played right into my hands. This is perfect. You. Me. Shiny weapons.” He considered the knife and casually wiped the blood on his pants.

  Growling with fury, Dagin swung the pipe at his ribs, Sean twisted out of the way but not fast enough. The impact sent him staggering into a table. Piles of old newspapers went careening to the floor in a cloud of dust.

  Springing back to his feet, his eyes went flat and he ground out, “Now you’ve gone and pissed me the fuck off.”

  He felt the heat in his eyes and let his powers take over. Ignoring the pain in his side, Sean unleashed his strongest weapon. As the killing energy rushed to his fingers, he feinted to the left and threw the bolt of energy into Dagin’s chest just as he lunged. The hiss of pain put a smile on his face.

  “Awww, did that hurt?”

  Acrid black smoke poured from the hole, but he still had fight in him. Throwing a fireball of his own, Dagin snarled, “Weak, Primani. That’s the best you got? You’re gettin’ old.”

  Sean held up a hand and the fireball bounced off of the invisible barrier and hit Dagin in the chest sending him stumbling backwards. Sucking air through his teeth, Sean said, “Shit, man. Bet that hurt!”

  Dagin touched the burning hole with an expression of complete shock. His claws curled against his flesh as the truth hit him. He was screwed.

  Surprise, motherfucker. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

  Sean kicked him with a roundhouse that forced the demon to his knees.

  Playtime was over.

  Time to burn and bolt.

  With one last grim smile, he pointed his index finger at Dagin’s eye.

  “Bang!”

  Panicked, Dagin tried to shimmer. His body grew transparent as Sean released the beam of energy. The light hit Dagin’s eye just as his molecules expanded for flight. Halted in mid-shimmer, his form tripped and his features became solid and then transparent again. The demon fought against the force holding him to the ground. His body arched and twisted in pain. Tendrils of flame licked at the hem of the muscle shirt before engulfing it in phosphorus fire. His mouth opened in a howl as the brilliant strands of energy whipped around his body, faster and faster, until he exploded into a million particles of glowing ash.