by J. L. Murray
"One more thing before we go," I said. "You need to try not to look at the blood, if there is any."
"I’ll try."
"Don’t try," I said. "Just do it. I have a sick Baba to take care of. I’m not dying tonight."
Gage nodded. "I can try to do that spell that sucked the Dark back down," he said. "But if there is still a connection between them, it will take your dad with it."
"We can’t have Abaddon killing any more people," I said. "If we can stop him, we will."
I drove the few blocks until I could see the black of the river. A white mist of fog swirled up the riverbank and down the street, making the creepy neighborhood even creepier. I put the car in park behind the mottled yellow building, its tin exterior dotted with rust and graffiti. As I got out of the car, I realized the white mist wasn’t fog at all. It was ghosts.
There were thousands of them. Maybe more. Mostly men, but some women too. I stood frozen to the spot. I’d never seen so many in one place.
"What’s the holdup, sis?" whispered Gage, clutching his satchel. "You see something?"
"There are so many," I said. "Jesus, Bobby, I’ve never seen so many."
The ethereal form of a man stopped in front of me. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding hollow. "I recognize you. You’re the Slobodian girl. You can see me, can’t you?"
"Yes," I whispered, "but I’m in a hurry."
"To get that demon fella, I guess," said the man. He was dressed just like Miklos and Otto. Shiny suit, shiny shoes. "Better him than me."
"You saw him?" I said. "Is Sasha still alive? My father, Alexei Slobodian."
"Yeah, I know him," he said coldly. "Sasha’s alive all right. Guy’s made of steel or something."
I turned to Gage. "Sasha’s alive," I said. "They’re still in the warehouse.
"Funny thing," said the ghost. "I think that demon guy could see us. We’re used to being ignored, but he was growling and snarling and trying not to touch us."
"Really?" I said. "That must have pissed you off, that he didn’t want you to touch him."
"I was just sort of surprised at the time," said the ghost. "We never see someone that can see us back. Now two in one day. How about that?"
A woman in spike heels and fishnets joined the man. "What’s going on, Tommy?" she said.
"This here’s the Slobodian kid," he said. "She can see us."
"Is that so?" she said.
Another man joined them, then an old man with a fedora, and a homely woman that looked like she’d been a secretary in the sixties. Soon there was a crowd of people clamoring to get a look at me.
"Stop," I said, just above a whisper, but probably still too loud. I was hoping we could get into the warehouse and size up the situation before Abaddon knew we were there. They all started to simmer down as I motioned for them to be quiet. "Look," I said. "I’ve got to stop that demon that’s in that warehouse. If you help me, I’ll try my best to help you."
"How can we help?" asked the first ghost I’d talked to.
"I’ll try to help you move on," I said.
"Yeah, but move on where?" said the secretary in a nasally voice. "I don’t want to go to Hell."
"Screw that," said someone in the back that sounded like a three-pack-a-day smoker. "Anything’s better’n this shit. Just wandering around all day and all night. No end in sight. I’ll take fire over this any day."
There was a murmur of agreement. "Hey miss," said the guy in the suit. "What do we have to do?"
"Wait about ten minutes, then follow me into that warehouse. Can you do that?" Another murmur of agreement. "Can you spread the word? When you get there, go for the demon. I know a lot of you have a beef with my father, and that’s fine. But save it for later. He can’t see you, anyway."
"What was that all about?" said Gage.
"Oh, you know me. Making friends wherever I go." I led the way around the building, the boards of the walkway on the riverbank creaking and groaning softly as we went. It might have been better to just bounce in the front door, but I figured Abaddon wouldn’t think about watching the back door, unless he’d rooted through my father’s head about it.
The door was lying across the boardwalk, holes kicked into the rotting wood. There was a stale smell of urine in the doorway. Probably squatters breaking in, but not staying more than a night after they saw all the old bloodstains on the cracked cement floor. I walked down the aisle, stacked on both sides with barrels of god-knows-what. I could hear voices in front of us. I looked back at Bobby. He was in the zone. The symbols in his book were glowing and he was staring at it transfixed. He was stumbling along behind me and I hoped he wouldn’t trip. I held up a hand as the rows of barrels stopped and the room opened up in front of us.
I saw two figures. My father was lying on his back on the cement. His lips were moving and I could hear his voice very faintly. I could tell by the rhythm and the position of his hands that he was saying a prayer. Abaddon was circling him like a predator. The pink thread had gone from his neck and he had grown back to his previous height. He stopped pacing and looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor. He reared back and then lunged at my father. His great hands clutched my father’s chest and I saw sparks come off of them. My father’s body shook like he was being electrocuted. Abaddon stood up and surveyed his work. For a moment I thought he was dead, but after a long hesitation, he heaved a great sigh as the breath returned to his body and he curled into a ball on his side. There was a sound like wheezing coming from him.
"Why won’t you die?" screamed Abaddon. His voice was just as ominous as the voice that had been in my head, though now it sounded panicky and frustrated. "Is it the connection?" he said. "Answer me, Slobodian!"
"If you just wait," said my father, in a voice almost too low to hear, "I’ll be dead soon. If you just wait."
"I don’t want to wait," said Abaddon. "I have things to do. I am a demon lord and I do not wait. So just die." He lunged again and he and my father vibrated once again, the sparks shooting out. The same thing happened. My father lay gasping after a moment of stillness. He just laid there limply, shaking his head."
"You can’t kill me," he said. "No one can. No one ever has been able to. But this disease? It’s doing a job of it. Just like my daughter will do a job on you. Put you back in your place."
"The girl?" said Abaddon. "She can’t touch me."
"She is a Slobodian," he said. "She will find a way. She is here. I can feel it. She sees you, demon. No one makes a fool of Alexei Slobodian and lives."
Abaddon looked up and sniffed the air. "And she brought a friend," he said. And smiled.
I took a step toward him. I could hear Gage speaking softly behind me.
I felt the pressure in my head again, and I thought I would be sick. But I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. There was muted laughter and I knew at once that no one else would be able to hear it. "You are persistent, little one," said Abaddon’s voice. I clenched my teeth. The feeling of someone else in my head was not something I enjoyed. It felt a lot like a migraine. "So you’ve come back. Maybe you do want to die, after all. You and your friend."
"You can try," I said. "But I think you might find us harder to kill than the others."
"So bold," said the voice in my head. He said it almost in a tender way. I clenched my jaw harder. "Your heart will taste like sugar." I listened for Gage, but he apparently hadn’t reached fever pitch yet. He was still talking in the strange non-language.
I was walking slowly toward Abaddon. He had completely forgotten about my father, who was watching the demon with a calculating look.
"I’m just wondering something," I said. "Maybe you can help me. Why does an all-powerful demon lord leave Hell to come and kill a few humans? For kicks? Seems like an awfully time-consuming hobby."
The laugh came again like ragged fingernails in my skull. "You assume too much, little one. Who said I just came here to kill a few humans? Maybe I’m tired of my dark pit. Perhaps I
want a whole world. I could be a god here."
"So you’re just going to kill us all?" I said. "That’ll take years at the rate you’re going." Sasha had rolled onto his side and pushed himself to a sitting position. I recognized the look on his face. I’d been on the other end of that look a lot as a child. When my father had been drinking. It was the look he got right before he let loose a hard slap or started screaming. Sasha was pissed.
"Not me, little one," came the voice. "My legion."
"Legion?" I said, stalling my slow walk. "What do you mean legion?"
"They’ll come later, don’t you worry. Did you like my Dark? You’d see more of those, if you live. But you’ll be gone by then. Like one of these vile ghosts. No room in Heaven or Hell for you."
I was halfway across the room. Abaddon was standing perfectly still, his eyes trained on me. He was in no hurry. His overconfidence could be an advantage. "Why don’t you like the ghosts, Abaddon?" I said. "You can see them, can’t you?"
"As can you," he said. "They are repugnant, don’t you agree? More disgusting than even the humans."
"Why?"
"They don’t belong," he said. "They don’t fit anywhere. They are outsiders and they do not know their place. Their touch is like worms." He spat on the floor.
"You can’t control them," I said. "That’s why you don’t like them." I could hear Gage’s cadence growing more rapid, his speech more intense.
"Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, girl," said the voice. "You can’t save your father, though. He has done things that would turn your stomach. All in the name of his own greed and lusts."
"Isn’t that what you’re doing?" I said.
"Not to my own kind," he said.
"But doing it to another kind is okay? You hypocrite."
"Your friend cannot stop me, you know," he said. "What magic trick can possibly stop me? Human magic is weak. I am going to eat three hearts before I leave here. But I’m going to enjoy yours the most."
Sasha was so quick I didn’t even see him get up. Before I could take another step he had the shimmering pink thread around Abaddon’s neck and was yanking it from behind. But the demon didn’t shrink this time. He grabbed at the thread again, just like he had before. Pink sparks shot everywhere and there was a smell of flesh burning. I put my hand in my pocket and touched the salt I had poured there. I gathered a handful, getting ready to throw it. Then several things happened at once. Gage came forward, his eyes bright, his hair on end, the Grimoire glowing in his hands. He screamed something, hunching over as he held a hand out and the cracked and stained cement opened up like a mouth, fire rising up and licking at Sasha and Abaddon’s legs. They didn’t back away. A force was pulling them back, but Abaddon was so strong that he was pulling Sasha away from the edge by the pink rope even as my father was trying to force him toward it. Then the ghosts arrived.
Like an angry mob they rushed in, pale, drawn, but no longer drifting. They had a purpose. They went straight for Abaddon, using their sheer numbers as a weapon. They couldn’t hurt him, but they reached for him, touching him, throwing themselves through his body. Some flung themselves into the fire, but came out unscathed on the other side, looking disappointed. Abaddon tried to hit at them, to push them away, but his clawed hand went right through their bodies. He backed away from the horde, looking horrified. He was right on the edge of the chasm now. Bobby was screaming in pain, but kept the portal open. It seemed to be trying to suck at Abaddon’s feet, but the demon was fighting it, using his weight to keep from tottering over. Sasha had stopped in his struggle to watch Abaddon struggle with, through his eyes, nothing. He seemed to remember what he was doing, and heaved on the pink line just as the gang of spirits rushed the demon a second time. Abaddon gagged whenever they touched him.
Alexei Slobodian looked at me then. There was determination in his eyes, but also a deep sadness. He looked back to Abaddon, then at the fire behind him. Wrapping the line of pink around his waist and securing it, nodded at me. Then he jumped like a diver into the pit of fire.
"No!" I screamed. But no one heard me over Gage’s tormented howling. The demon was having a hard time staying upright. He tottered, and seemed about to fall back, but righted himself at the last minute. I walked forward, taking my hand out of my pocket. I looked at Abaddon for a long moment. He smiled at me, his alien face taut with exertion and stress. "I pity you," I said. And I reached up on tiptoes and blew into my hand, sending a cloud of salt right into his eyes.
The truth is, salt in the eyes is never pleasant. It would have knocked anyone back even if they weren’t, apparently, deathly allergic. But as soon at the salt touched him, Abaddon screamed in pain and thrust his hands over his face. A rank steam wriggled through his fingers and even over the screaming, I heard the distinct sound of sizzling. He staggered back, and slipped on the edge of the opening, catching himself by the elbows.
His face was red, raw, like he’d been burned. His eyes were gone, the small dark holes surrounded by angry boils and an opaque liquid that his wounds were exuding. He shook his great head, like a dog that had been stung by a bee and wanted to shake the pain off. For a moment I felt compassion for him for the pain, the handicap of being blinded. I didn’t think he could heal from this like he had the bullets. But then I remembered everyone that had suffered. Even the deaths and the lives ruined from the Darks seemed related to Abaddon. I remembered the slaughtered family, the unfathomable grief of Gary Chenowith, the policeman that had died along with all the people on the highway. The woman in the blue dress, the lovers and the security from the office, Philip Morales and his sister. Judge Shandler, Mayor Delaney, and Hugh goddamn Perry. And my father. The man that had chosen badly in life, done things he regretted, abused alcohol and drugs. But he had also protected me from that life, making himself the enemy all these years to make sure I had a chance. I looked at the demon’s pitiful face then. A ball of ice had expanded in my chest. I wound back with my steel-toed boot and kicked Abaddon right under the chin.
He lost his grip with his elbows, and tried to hang on by his long talons. But they slipped on the cement slowly with a scraping noise. He screamed as he fell into the raging fire. The floor closed up as soon as his horns cleared, and it was suddenly quiet in the warehouse, the only light a bare bulb swinging back and forth. The crowd of spirits stared in disbelief at the spot where Abaddon had disappeared. There was a dull thud and I looked over to see that Gage was on the floor. I ran to him, my legs wobbly.
"Bobby, you okay?" I said.
"All good," he slurred. "Just need a little nap." He let out a long snore.
"Miss Slobodian?" I looked up to see the spirits, the man in the suit in front, their ringleader, apparently. "We’ve all been dead for a good while now," he said. "We’re not like the fresh ones, craving their lives, wanting to be back with loved ones. We’ve all been dead so long we barely remember living. We only want rest now. We would be obliged if you would hold up your end of the bargain and help us."
I nodded, looking at Gage. He was sleeping, his cheek squished against the filthy cement. I took off my coat and slipped it under his head. "I’ll try," I said.
Chapter Eighteen
Helping the ghosts wasn’t as simple as I thought. I tried all the tricks that usually worked, talking out their deaths, making sure they weren’t feeling an intense amount of guilt, seeing if they hated or loved something enough to keep them here. None of my tried and true methods worked on any of them. There was no swirling, no dispersing into the air. Nothing. This was getting a lot harder.
I apologized hundreds of times, and finally the ghosts filed out through the wall, angrily denouncing charlatans and cheats. I felt like a fraud. What good was my gift if I couldn’t help anyone? I had always been uneasy with my ability, but the truth was that I couldn’t have accomplished any of the things in my life without it. It helped in my work. The spirits of the victims had helped me track and shoot down Gabe Condry, the serial killer, before he tortured
any more women. That led Hugh Perry to single me out, but I had done good. I had helped a lot of people. Just because the living trumped the dead didn’t mean that I was heartless. And now it was time to stop running from my ability and start appreciating it. But why couldn’t I get anyone to cross over? Was it because they were long-dead? Maybe it only worked for the short-timers. I would have to ask Sam. He seemed to know a lot about these things.
I crouched down next to Gage. "Just me and you, Bobby," I said. I looked down and saw that the toe of my boot was covered in the slime that had been all over Abaddon’s face. I wrinkled my nose at the smell. I found an old advertisement-only newspaper in the corner and wiped my boot off with it. I sat next to Gage and waited. I knew I couldn’t move him by myself, and I couldn’t just leave him here. Best to just wait it out. I was in no hurry now anyway.
There was a faint scritching noise somewhere in the warehouse. With the high ceiling the sound echoed so it was impossible to tell where it was coming from. It sounded like rats. I grabbed what was left of the newspaper and rolled it into a tube to swat the vermin away if they came near us. I heard the noise again, then louder. There must have been a lot of rats around here.
I heard a car pull up outside. The engine turned off and I could hear the faint sound of someone walking over the gravel outside. I reached for my coat pocket under Gage’s enormous head, but realized after I grabbed the Marakov that it was still out of bullets. I’d never bothered reloading it. I trained it at the door anyway. I’d just have to bluff.
The great door scraped and screeched sideways and Eli walked in. "Jesus, Niki. Put that thing away. You okay?" he said, striding over to me.
"Notice anything?" I said.
He looked around. "Did you change your hair?"
"No. But I did help vanquish a demon. And I’m the only one still standing."
"You’re sitting."
"That is only because my legs won’t hold me. Help me up, would you? I think there are rats in here. I heard them scratching."