Confessions of a Demon

by S. L. Wright

  I picked up the handset and, with a shaking hand, dialed the number. It rang twice as I clutched the phone to my ear. People were drifting onto the platform to wait for the next subway train, but I leaned my forehead against the thickly painted beam to avoid looking at them. Everything depended on this call.

  Revel answered. I was glad I didn’t have to go through one of his minions this time.

  “Revel…,” I said, my voice husky. “Did you know Vex kidnapped me off the street and took me prisoner?”

  “Allay! Thank God. Vex said you were in danger. He said he had to lock you up to keep you safe.”

  “Of course he did. And you believed every word.”

  “What did you expect me to do? Storm the bastions of the Fellowship? I told Vex I had to see you. When he seemed reluctant, I called in a favor. He agreed to let me see you tomorrow. Where are you now?”

  Actually, that sounded plausible enough. “Did you tell Shock what happened to me?”

  “Are you kidding? There would be no stopping her from doing something stupid, and then you’d never forgive me. Vex wouldn’t take kindly to her interfering.”

  I wasn’t about to tell Revel that Vex was no longer a threat. I needed to hoard my valuable information—it was all I had to trade. Everyone would find out soon enough. “I’m in the subway. I just escaped from Dread’s giant iron cage where he tortures people. If you have Zeal’s number, you should tell her to go check on Dread before someone finds him. I locked him in his own cage, nearly drained empty.”

  There was absolute silence on his end, a telling reaction. All I could hear was dank dripping and the distant noise of horns on the street above. Revel was a smart man; he would be assessing this information from every angle. “Allay, you’re in serious danger. I’ll come get you. I’ll take you someplace out of the city, somewhere safe—”

  “No, thanks.” That wasn’t what I needed from him.

  “Allay, if you don’t trust me, why did you call?” he asked in exasperation.

  Revel might mean well, but he had only a limited amount of power and influence. Even with Vex out of the picture, I doubted he would fare well in a standoff with Dread. And there was certainly nothing he could do to stop Ram from getting to Shock. Ram could pose as a pool boy and kill her anytime he wanted to.

  I needed to find a way to make Ram leave Shock alone. But how could I do that? He claimed he admired me, even cared about me, but he still justified himself in trying to kill someone I considered a sister. How could you convince someone like that? How could you influence someone who didn’t have a conscience?

  I had to find some reason, something that would keep him away from Shock even after I was gone. The first place to start was to find out if Ram had been telling Vex the truth about his past and why he killed his offspring. “What do you know about Mithra?” I asked Revel.

  His surprise couldn’t have been more complete. “Mithra? As in the Roman cult?”

  “Earlier than that. Mesopotamian Mithra. Does that legend have anything to do with demons?”

  The rising sound of clack-clacking as a subway train rushed into the station made me put my hand over the mouthpiece. I couldn’t hear myself, much less Revel. “Wait a sec!”

  The brakes of the train squealed as it ground to a halt, discharging people. The people who had gathered nearby entered the train, and the doors pinged to close. I couldn’t hear again until it pulled out of the station, and everyone was streaming past me to the exit.

  “Okay, go ahead,” I told him, adding another quarter to the phone.

  “There is something… the first recorded instance of a ‘demon’ was by the Sumarians around 1500 BC, in some of the earliest human writings. It describes an ancient myth, the Persian god Mithra, who lived for thousands of years and used his powers as an angelic mediator between heaven and Earth, as judge and preserver of the created world. When I examined the tablet, I saw another cuneiform figure combined with the name Mithra—it means ‘come together.’ ”

  “Merge,” I breathed.

  “Yes, I suppose. This symbol appears in more than one tablet. The most interesting may have been written by demons for other demons. Some attributes are clearly demon—he never sleeps, never eats, but is sustained on pure faith, a self-perpetuating, ephemeral being.”

  So Ram was telling the truth about his progenitor. “What was he like?”

  “The mythology of Mithra echoes most creation myths. He was born from a rock, witnessed by shepherds. The sun god sent his messenger, the raven, to Mithra and ordered him to sacrifice a bull. Mithra did so reluctantly, turning his face away in sorrow. The white bull transformed into the moon, and Mithra’s cloak became the vault of the sky. The plants and animals sprang from the bull’s body. Seasons and time were created as the sun and moon began to alternate between light and darkness. The four elements came into being—air, fire, earth, and water. Creatures of the dark were also raised, starting the struggle between good and evil. Mithra supposedly joined the sun god and had a common meal, then drove with him to the end of the world. After that, Mithra returned to fight the forces of evil.”

  “That’s not exactly helpful.”

  “If you tell me why you want to know, maybe I can narrow it down for you, Allay. Otherwise you’re getting the wiki version.”

  Actually that was the one quality I still managed to admire about Revel; he was insatiably curious and always wanted to know more. I remembered grilling him like this for hours during our summer of love, asking him about demons and the odd words that rose in my memory, unbidden reminders of Plea. Revel could talk by the hour, by the day, long winding ruminations about where we came from and why we existed.

  Was I ready to trust Revel again? I needed to trust him to bring him into my confidence.

  “Do you know that Vex has plans for Glory?” I abruptly asked.

  “No.” His interest was piqued. “What is it? Tell me, Allay.”

  “You must have heard something.”

  There was shifting on the other end. “There’s a lot of activity among the Vex demons; that’s all I know. Four came through JFK earlier today. I think Goad’s involved.”

  “But you don’t know what’s up?”

  “No, but I bet you do,” he said eagerly. “I’ve answered all your questions, Allay. Turnabout is fair play.”

  That told me what I needed to know. I was almost positive he knew nothing about the strike tonight against Glory, or he wouldn’t be so flippant about everything.

  That meant Revel wasn’t part of Vex’s inner circle. That meant he wasn’t completely irredeemable.

  “I know who the stealth demon is, the demon assassin. It was that guy, Theo Ram.”

  “Him?” Stunned silence filled the line. Then he added, “The agency did say they didn’t have an employee who fit that description. I thought he worked for Vex.”

  “Nope, he has his own agenda.” I gave him the short version of Ram’s history and motivation for killing his distant progeny. “I need to know everything you can find out about him—and Merge—so I can stop him from killing Shock.”

  “Ram! As in the goat? Or ramming something? I guess it doesn’t matter. It’ll take time to run this through my database. Ram, Mithra, Merge, and Bedlam. That covers most of human history, Allay.”

  “I know, but do what you can. And please… I know that telling you this is like making a public broadcast, but if you could keep it under wraps, at least for another day, it could save Shock’s life.” It wasn’t likely Mystify would talk about his progenitor anytime soon. He must know he should keep it secret for his own safety. That made it very valuable information, for the next little while.

  He sounded worried again. “What are you going to do, Allay?”

  “The only other person who may know more about Ram is Glory. Vex was convinced she was working with him. There’s a chance that’s true. She may know how to call him off Shock.”

  “Allay, you can’t go to Glory. Vex says she’s tried to
kill you.”

  “It was Pique who tried to kill me. Who knows who he’s taking orders from?” I bit my lip, about to add that it really didn’t matter. I was already sitting on death row.

  “You have to listen to me this time, Allay. You walked in off the street to see Vex on a whim, and look where you ended up! What makes you think Glory will be any kinder? She’s never even met you.”

  “This time I have something the big boss needs—information that will save her life.”

  “It has to do with Vex and what Goad’s planning,” Revel said, as if he had me figured out.

  “Stay out of it, Revel. Things got messed up last time because you called and warned Dread I was coming.” That wasn’t true, but I didn’t want to let Mr. Busybody interfere again. I had to be the one to tell Glory about the attack planned for tonight. Was it rolling forward without Vex? Or would his death be enough to derail it?

  “Let me help you,” he insisted, partly exasperated and partly pleading.

  A series of beeps warned me that we were being cut off. I had run through all my change, and the dollar bill was useless. “I’ll call back as soon as I can. Tell Shock I’m taking care of it.”

  “Allay, where are—”

  The dial tone cut him off. I held on to the receiver—it felt smooth with age and was comforting in my hand. I hoped I could trust Revel, but I couldn’t rely on it.

  He was right about one thing—I couldn’t risk going straight to Glory. If Vex was right, she had already tried to kill me a couple of times. I had to approach her very carefully so she wouldn’t shoot first and ask questions later.

  The only demon of that lineage that I had anything in common with was Lash—surely I could convince Lash that I was telling the truth when it came to Dread.

  I knew where to find Lash—she was living with Crave in his Harlem brownstone. I’d seen one of the Post headlines calling it the LOVE NEST ON 117TH STREET. The picture spread had included a close-up of the double door with its number, sixty-nine, making a visual double entendre between the address and the sexual shenanigans of the young artisan and his cougar mistress.

  Time to make a trip to Harlem.

  19

  I caught the 3 train up to 116th Street. Glory’s last residence had been in Hong Kong, where she’d been queen of the karaoke scene. When Hong Kong reverted to Chinese control in the mid-1990s, she had come to New York and chose the only large unclaimed territory left in Manhattan—Harlem. Glory had assumed the persona of a late-thirtysomething African American singer named Selma Brown. Selma invested in dozens of empty hulks of brownstones and restored them. Some had been sold and others were occupied by her demon cohorts, helping to initiate the wave of gentrification in central Harlem.

  Only on brief, rare occasions throughout history had Vex and Glory lived in the same city. According to Revel, the first time was in Rome, and it had been sacked by the Visigoths because of them.

  As the subway car rocked, whizzing through the dark tunnels, I hoped I was right about this.

  I got brief flashes of other demons’ signatures as the train stopped at the stations along the Upper West Side. There seemed to be a larger number of them than usual. After the Central Park North stop, the train entered Harlem, so the demons I sensed after that belonged to Glory.

  At the 116th Street stop, I was ready and the first one through the doors. I ran down the concrete tunnel past the turnstiles and up the steps. I reached the sidewalk, which glistened from the rain, and rounded the corner without anyone calling out to me. On Lenox, the cracked and buckled asphalt gave my shoes a better grip. I darted across as soon as there was a break in traffic and turned down 117th Street at a dead sprint. An aggravated horn blared out behind me. A disgruntled cabbie or two were low on my list of priorities.

  Then I sensed Crave and Lash—their identities were written in their signatures. Lash was a stinging sensation that made my skin hum, whereas Crave seemed to be at the center of a whirlpool, pulling me down to him.

  I ran past nearly identical brownstones, one after the other. Those with lit-up facades had clearly been restored, while others had bricked- in windows and stone crumbling under the city pollution. I was amazed not to be stopped before I reached the long brownstone stoop with a heavy, carved railing leading up to Crave’s house.

  The element of surprise did have advantages. But I could feel other signatures overlapping as demons began to converge on me. They were starting to blur together, so I couldn’t tell if Glory was among them.

  I ran up and rang the doorbell repeatedly. The lamp cast a warm glow on the landing. “Lash, I need to see you.” I called directly into the camera positioned over the intercom, hoping to get her full attention. “I’ve just escaped from Dread’s cage.”

  People on the street were watching me. An entire family, including white- haired grandparents and a fat, shiny baby, filled the front steps two doors down, enjoying the fresh night air after the rain. Two demons were hurrying toward me from both ends of the block, closing in on Crave’s house. They slowed, watching me warily as they approached. Another demon was coming up the other side of the street. Such a demon convergence, all for little ol’ me.

  “What do you want?” sounded a male voice from the intercom.

  “I’ve come to warn you. Vex has sent Goad and his horde to attack Glory, including everyone in her line who lives in Harlem.” I wasn’t about to bring Ram into this, not until I was talking to Glory.

  The demons on the street heard me, and they exchanged looks as if I must be crazy. The neighboring family was watching with frank interest, as if they were used to all kinds of goings-on at this house.

  The heavy iron-work and glass door opened, revealing an old-fashioned tiled foyer. Crave glowered down at me. “I know you need to rekindle yourself, Allay, but you’re far too weak to mount an attack on us. If you think to try, then try it with me.”

  I stared at him openmouthed. Power emanated from Crave; he seemed to exert a magnetic attraction. Maybe it was his seductive signature. He had an imposing presence, wearing black from his polished boots to his collared shirt, casually untucked from his pants. His persona had dusky skin and black hair, with big dark Latino eyes. But his aquiline nose and chiseled features harked back to a European origin.

  I had to remind myself to answer him. “How on Earth could I hurt you?” My voice lowered so the family couldn’t overhear. “Vex is dead. He ordered Goad and his horde to attack Harlem tonight. It may be too late to stop it.”

  This time it was Crave who gaped at me. I thought he looked even more appealing when he wasn’t trying to be so fierce. “Vex is dead?”

  “Saw it with my own eyes.”

  Lash appeared behind Crave. “My God, how did it happen?” She struck a dramatic pose, one hand clutching the mahogany jamb of the inner door. The long skirt of her white robe swirled around her high- heeled slippers—the kind that went out of style fifty years ago. Her pale blond ringlets were gathered loosely in an artful up-do. She looked like a leading lady on American Movie Classics, except in color instead of black and white.

  Then Lash got a good look at me and broke her pose, exclaiming, “That’s my Prada dress! What have you done to it?”

  I looked down at the filmy dress, the black, purple, and green wash of colors that looked something like irises if you squinted. It had mostly dried on my trip uptown, but the bottom was looking a lot more bedraggled than when I had put it on. “Sorry. I took it from your closet. My own clothes were covered in blood.”

  Lash looked up at Crave. “That’s definitely my dress.” Then she noticed the partially healed bruises on my neck. Her lips narrowed in recognition. “Let her inside, Crave.”

  I followed them into the sumptuous parlor floor, decorated with antique furniture of the same era as the pristine mold ings, tin ceilings, and fretwork in the archways. I settled down on an ornate sofa, feeling very tired. Since demons didn’t sleep, I took it for a sign of my impending doom. Without my core to powe
r me, I would gradually fade away.

  To keep things simple, I started with Goad kidnapping me off the street. I described how Dread had locked me in the cage and tortured Theo Ram and me.

  Lash wasn’t the least bit surprised about the cage part, but she didn’t react to Ram’s name. Perhaps Glory hadn’t told her about Ram. Meanwhile, Crave was indignant. “That’s ridiculous. We’re forbidden from imprisoning other demons. Glory and Vex wouldn’t allow another Bedlam to rise up.”

  Lash gave him a look as if he were a child. I’d seen Revel look at Shock in the same way, and both of them treated me like that in turn. There was a terrible ageism among the demons measured in centuries rather than decades.

  “He put your offspring in the cage, didn’t he? Before he ate them,” I asked Lash, “did he put you in the cage, too?”

  Lash stiffened in outrage. “I wasn’t one of his play toys.” But she was too shocked and taken aback for it to be anything but a sham.

  I had guessed her secret. “I thought so.”

  Lash’s gaze finally broke from mine, her shoulders slumping. Her aura flared with conflicting emotions—fear, sadness, anger, pain. “Now everyone will know,” she wailed. “They’ll assume it because of who I am.”

  I couldn’t help her there. There was no hiding it now. I’d already told Revel about Dread’s cage. I’d also practically shouted it on the street.

  Crave was also staring at Lash, his eyes narrowed. After a few moments, Lash protested, “It’s not my fault I like to be forced. I was made that way. Dread needed my fear to satisfy him.”

  “The perfect symbiotic relationship,” I agreed. “As long as it’s consensual.”

  “It was; it was.” Lash looked off to the side. “For a long time we were partners in everything. It wasn’t all… erotic stimulation.”

  “I noticed that Dread calls you ‘my wife’ instead of by your name,” I pointed out. “As though that’s the most important thing about you.”