A Candle in the Sun

by L. J. LaBarthe

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Adramelek said. “When I was given the leaflet describing the kind of work your employers do, I felt as if I’d been given a great blessing.” He was very glad Ondrass wasn’t there—he wasn’t sure that his friend would be able to stop himself from laughing. Although, Adramelek thought, he could hear Lucifer chortling in the depths of his mind, and the sound of his lord and lover’s amusement made him feel a little better about what he was doing. His first instinct had been to grab the doctor, teleport somewhere, and proceed to interrogate him, but that would have only alerted Transom Corp. that something was going on. This ridiculous charade would have to suffice.

  “I quite understand,” Dr. Markham said. “I’ve met many parents who have felt the same way. I understand that your son is very ill.”

  “Yes. He has Hodgkin’s Lymphoma,” Adramelek said. “I’ve been told that there’s no hope for him now that the disease has progressed too far.”

  “Terrible,” Dr. Markham said sympathetically. “But nothing is ever as bad as it seems. We have had some success with other patients with the disease, and they’ve made a full recovery.”

  “It seems almost too good to be true,” Adramelek said. “I’ll be honest, Doctor, I’m not entirely sure that I believe that this isn’t just some form of snake oil.”

  Dr. Markham smiled at that. “I’ve heard that many times, too, but I assure you, the treatment does work. We have two patients in recovery in the clinic right now, if you’d like to meet them.”

  “Be very careful, Adry.” Lucifer’s voice in Adramelek’s mind was deadly serious. “See if you can get a reading on them with your power, but don’t give the game away while you do it.”

  “Of course not.” And aloud, Adramelek said, “I would love to meet them, thank you.” He hoped he looked suitably fatuous, a man grasping desperately for hope, even as he felt disgusted with himself. Transom’s staff preying on the fears of humans who had lost all hope like this, particularly the fears of loved ones watching their relatives die slow and painful deaths, casting about for any sort of salvation, sickened him.

  “Then please come with me,” Dr. Markham said. He got to his feet and went to the door, opened it, and gestured to Adramelek, indicating that he should follow him. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  They left the office and walked down the corridor, talking of unimportant things: the weather, the price of gas, the cost of a gallon of milk, wasn’t it terrible the state of the roads these days, who can depend on a government to do anything right, honestly, things should be so much better. Adramelek found his first opinion of Dr. Markham to be confirmed. He was a man who believed with every fiber of his being in what he was doing, and nothing would convince him otherwise.

  There was another concern, however, and Adramelek communicated it to Lucifer. “I get the feeling that the people I’m about to see have actually been cured. What do we do then? If there is actually a legitimate treatment?”

  “Get as much evidence as possible and show Raphael. I concur, Adramelek. Something else is going on here, and I believe this doctor is unaware of the truth behind Transom Corp. and thinks that the whole operation is altruistic.”

  “Great. So there are those working with these assholes who have no idea of the real agenda.”

  “I think that sums it up.”

  “In here, you’ll see our two latest success stories. This is James; he had leprosy. Can you imagine? Leprosy in this day and age and he’d never been to India!” Dr. Markham shook his head as he gestured to a young man in his twenties sitting up in a hospital bed, reading a book. “Hello James,” Dr. Markham said. “This is Mr. Smith.”

  “Hey.” James didn’t look up from his book.

  “And hey to you,” Adramelek said.

  James looked up. “You’re not like the others. They usually burst into tears when they see what a medical miracle I am.”

  Adramelek grinned at him. “I can’t imagine why. You’re a rather surly sort of medical miracle.”

  James burst out laughing. “I like you. You’ve got to keep a sense of humor when everything’s going to shit, don’t you think? So I was dying, the leprosy was pretty bad. And the doc here and his team of whiz kids fixed me up. Good as new. Once I’m discharged from here, I’m going back to Borneo.”

  “Is that where you got leprosy?” Adramelek asked.

  “Yeah. There was an outbreak, and I happened to catch it. Shit happens.”

  “Why go there, then?”

  James shrugged. “I’m an aid worker. I work for an NGO over there.”

  “Ah.” Adramelek nodded. “I understand.” He extended his hand for James to shake, carefully concealing a touch of power in his palm. As soon as James shook his hand in a firm grip, Adramelek used his power to collect a sample of skin and a reading of the man’s aura—both regarding his health and his soul. It was unnoticeable, and when he released James’s hand, Adramelek used his power to secrete the skin in a sterile container that he’d pocketed before arriving at the clinic.

  “Interesting readings in his aura,” Lucifer mused in Adramelek’s mind as the doctor led him down to the second patient.

  “This is Anna; she had lung cancer,” Dr. Markham said. Adramelek nodded in greeting.

  The young woman in the bed looked at Adramelek suspiciously. “Have you come to stare at me to see if your relatives can benefit from a miracle?”

  “Something like that,” Adramelek said.

  “At least you’re honest.”

  “So I take it the treatment worked?”

  “Oh yeah.” Anna shrugged. “I’m right as rain.”

  “You don’t seem too happy, though,” Adramelek said.

  She looked away. “My family paid for the treatment, but they haven’t bothered to see me or call me or e-mail me for years. They don’t care, so long as I don’t die on the street and bring bad press to their name.”

  Adramelek frowned, making a mental note to pay her family a visit later. “Why would it be so terrible to admit that their daughter was sick and got better after treatment?”

  Anna turned back to him. There were tears in her eyes. “I’m the black sheep. If you don’t know what that’s like….”

  “Oh, I know,” Adramelek said gently. “Believe me, child, I know.”

  Anna stared at him, hard and unblinking and he returned her gaze. Finally she let out a slow breath and nodded. “I think you do, too. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry for me, Anna,” Adramelek said. He moved to sit beside her bed. “Who’re your family?”

  “The Waterman-Lethbridges of New York City,” she said in a toneless voice. “They love my older sister; she married the son of a media mogul. They hate me because I loved a woman and then I got sick.”

  Adramelek dipped his hand into the inner pocket in his jacket and pulled out a slim white card. He took her hand in his own and pressed the card into her palm, making sure his actions went undetected. He took a sample of her DNA while he closed her fingers over it and read her aura as he had with James. Leaning close, he murmured, “Keep that hidden. Give me a call when you’re discharged and I’ll help you out.”

  She nodded as he stood back. “Thank you. But… why?”

  Adramelek smiled at her. “Injustice and prejudice disgust me, Anna. I think that sums it up.”

  Anna smiled at him in return and the expression lit up her face. “Thank you,” she said again.

  Adramelek winked at her. “No charge.”

  She laughed. “I’m glad to have met you.”

  “Likewise, child.” He waved at her as Dr. Markham led him away, and as they returned to the man’s office, Adramelek made certain the skin samples he’d taken from the two were well secured.

  “That was a very good thing you did,” Lucifer said.

  “Her family is big money. They own a LOT of the postwar IT industry. I’m going to have a lot of fun making sure they lose a lot of that money and repent their sins at leisure.”


  “We may be evil, but we do understand justice. And”—Lucifer’s mental voice became teasing—“I know you’ll enjoy it. Once a Throne, always a Throne, eh?”

  “Bite your tongue.” But Adramelek hid his grin behind a cough, and when he was seated once again in Dr. Markham’s office, the door closed behind them, he had pasted the expression of cautious hope back onto his face.

  “So what do you think?” Dr. Markham asked.

  “I think that I’m astonished. I’ve never seen such a cure. How do I get my son to receive treatment?”

  Dr. Markham smiled. “If you give me the details of his specialists, I’ll look at his charts and files and send you the paperwork to fill in. If you get that back to me quick smart, then I can start the process to get him enrolled in care. There is, of course, a cost….”

  “No cost is too much,” Adramelek interrupted. “I’ll have those files sent to you today, Doctor.”

  “Then I look forward to treating your son and getting him the care and healing that he needs,” Dr. Markham said.

  Adramelek leaned forward, offering the man his hand to shake. Dr. Markham took it, and on a whim, Adramelek repeated his earlier processes and took a sample of the man’s skin cells for DNA. “I appreciate everything you’re doing, Doctor. I’m very relieved to have had this process go so smoothly—and so quickly. Honestly, this is quite a breath of fresh air. It’s been so much easier and simpler than I had imagined.”

  “We don’t believe in wasting time, Mr. Smith. Good health is a right, after all, and it shouldn’t be a privilege. The only reason it costs so much right now is that tests are still underway to make the treatment more cost-effective. It’s my hope, and the hope of my colleagues, that soon the treatment can be offered worldwide to all those who suffer incurable disease and terminal illness with only a minimal fee required.”

  “Well,” Adramelek released Dr. Markham’s hand and stood up, “I hope that day comes soon. For now, though, I’m glad and grateful that you can treat my son. I’ll have Andrew’s files sent today, as I said, and I hope we can get him admitted to the clinic by the end of the week.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem at all,” Dr. Markham said. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith.”

  “Likewise, Doctor. Please, no need to show me out. I’m sure you have much to do, and I won’t keep you. Thank you again.”

  “I look forward to seeing you again soon,” Dr. Markham said.

  “As do I. Good-bye.” Adramelek let himself out of the office and quickly walked out of the clinic to the parking lot where the expensive BMW coupe was parked. Once inside the car, he started the engine and drove away, swearing to himself.

  The radio crackled and then Adramelek heard Lucifer’s voice. “That was extremely interesting, Adry,” the Devil said.

  “And infuriating. He had absolutely no damn idea what Transom Corp. actually does.”

  “Yes, that was a surprise.” Lucifer hummed softly. “And there were some interesting things in the auras of those two patients who’d been cured.”

  “Oh?” Adramelek navigated the switchback roads with ease, noting that not only were they new, probably laid down after the war, but they were also badly maintained.

  “There’s a lot of synthetic magic in them.”

  “Which is what Minnie reported to us,” Adramelek mused.

  “Yes. Which leads me to pose a new hypothesis. What if these success stories are treated, but with this magic possessed by the coven? What if it isn’t medicine at all, but just a random selection of patients who are cured and sent out to show what wonders and marvels can be done at Transom’s facility? A hook by which to catch the fish, so to speak.”

  Adramelek frowned as he digested that. “You know, I think you’re onto something there. You could have bowled me over with one of my own wing feathers when I saw James and Anna.”

  “Indeed. I was just as surprised. But their auras… well, you’ll see when you get back to Ondrass’s building. How far do you intend to drive?”

  “Not far. I’m going to teleport in a moment.”

  “Good. I don’t like this part of the world. It’s tainted.”

  “What?” Adramelek shot the radio a look of surprise.

  “Can’t you feel it?” Lucifer paused, and Adramelek guessed that he was reaching out with his power, searching for danger. He wasn’t entirely surprised when Lucifer hissed, the sound coming through clearly on the radio. “Adry, ’port now.”

  Adramelek didn’t even question it. He just did it. He concentrated and moved himself and the car from the isolated winding road in Colorado to the streets on the outskirts of Portland’s city limits.

  “What was there?” he asked as he pulled the car over onto the road’s shoulder.

  Lucifer was growling. Normally, the sound would send shivers of delighted anticipation of hours and hours of passion down Adramelek’s spine; right now, he felt as if a fist had gripped his heart.

  “Those witches were waiting. They were around the corner.”

  “Then they’ll let that doctor know that I’m an Archdemon!”

  Lucifer snorted. “No, they won’t. They had no idea who was driving towards them; they were there for the sole reason to kidnap passersby for their overlords. Imagine their glee if they’d caught you, an Archdemon. And not just an Archdemon, but the Archdemon who was once an angel and is now Lucifer Morningstar’s lover.”

  Adramelek scowled. “I’d have made them pay very dearly for anything they attempted to do to me.”

  “I’m sure, and I don’t care. You are mine, Adramelek.” Lucifer’s voice was firm. “No one will dispose of you or experiment on you or anything else. I will not allow it.”

  Adramelek purred. He couldn’t help it. “I love it when you talk like that, Lightbringer.”

  “I’ll remember that for next time you visit me.” Lucifer chuckled softly. “Now get to Raphael and the others and report. The sooner you all deal with this Transom lot, the sooner you come home to me.”

  Adramelek started the car again and pulled out into the road. “I can’t wait for that part.”

  “Good. Neither can I. Hell isn’t the same without you, beloved.”

  Adramelek reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers over the radio. Lucifer hummed again and Adramelek sighed. “Soon,” he said.

  “Yes,” Lucifer said. “Soon.”

  “THIS IS disquieting.” Michael was frowning. In retrospect, Adramelek thought, Michael was always frowning. Perhaps if he smiled, the world would end in a burst of sheer amazement at seeing a happy expression on the Archangel’s face.

  “I was not particularly pleased by this turn of events, no,” Adramelek said. “What do you think, Raphael?”

  Raphael, in contrast to Michael, looked tired. He looked as if all the worries of the world rested on his shoulders, and his usually cheerful face was careworn. At Adramelek’s question, Raphael heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know how they did it, but they did cure these two. The samples you got—and I don’t want to know how you did that—prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  “Lucifer thinks it’s due to their witches and this synthetic magic,” Adramelek said.

  “It’s possible, I suppose. I won’t know for certain until we get a clearer picture of what this magic is.” Raphael ran both of his hands over his hair and then scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands. “I hate this,” he muttered.

  For a moment, Adramelek sympathized with him. He didn’t like the situation any more than Raphael, but where Raphael seemed to be despondent, Adramelek was angry. Michael was frowning, Raphael was sad, and Adramelek wondered if any of the Archangels felt a more positive emotion. Such as rage.

  His silent question to himself was answered a moment later as Gabriel banged his fist on the tabletop, making all the glasses jump along with everyone. “Stop being so down,” Gabriel said. “Being down ain’t gonna achieve anything. We can c
ry later. Now, we should be getting pissed and looking to deal with this shit before too many more people get hurt. Adramelek got us great information. We know these fuckers can do what they promise, and we also know they won’t do it except as a show. Hell, we don’t know what they’re doing their miracles with, except it’s some sort of magic like what those fucking witches are using. Now we should be getting ready to take down Transom and gut ’em all like pigs.”

  “Language, Gabriel,” Michael said.

  Adramelek rolled his eyes.

  “Michael, shut up.” It was Uriel, and he looked as angry as Gabriel sounded. “Scolding us all isn’t going to achieve anything. Gabe’s right. We need to stop weeping and wailing and wringing our hands—metaphorically or otherwise—and get our asses into gear and start doing shit. We need to fix this. What are we? Archangels and Archdemons or big girls’ blouses?”

  “Language,” Michael said, a little more firmly.

  “Gentlemen,” Ondrass cut in, “if I may. We have some fine information. Raziel is currently with his friend, the learned gentleman at CERN. I am confident that the two of them will come up with the necessary means to neutralize this synthetic magic. I will therefore not think about that problem, as it is in extremely capable hands. The professor at CERN is a genius, and I see no concerns with his work. What we must do now is to determine what, exactly, our plan of attack is.

  “Therefore, I propose the following. Raphael, take Israfel and Tabbris and investigate these success stories more closely. What I feel you should be looking for is what happens to them after some time has passed. Do these patients relapse into their original critical conditions, or do they go on to lead full and healthy lives? I want to know how long and how potent this synthetic magic is. If it is little more than a smokescreen, we can use that. Yes, yes, it’s all terribly sad that the people promised a genie in a bottle had their hopes destroyed, but it’s worse that so many of my kind, humanity, and the monsters died in horrendous ways to achieve it. And in far greater numbers than those healed.”