God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords

by John Conroe

  Mack was gonna shit his pants when I called him about her choices, especially if I put her on the line with him. I toyed with texting him to tell him I was going to dinner with her, but found I didn’t really want to. It was just dinner—between friends—and I just wanted to keep it to myself.

  She will be yours. Sorrow had been silent for most of the afternoon. I’d almost forgotten he was in there. He only spoke four words, but they were the worst he could have said. She wasn’t going to be mine. She was in love with Chris, but the stupid book had to go and put that thought in my stupid head. Idiot.

  I sat down and pulled my Macbook from my bag, opening up a browser and searching demolition tools. Better to focus on the topic at hand than entertain ideas that would never be.

  Chapter 25 – Chris

  Tanya’s office had become a war room by the time I left. Darion sat in the conversation area, talking on his cell phone and making notes on a borrowed pad on the coffee table, no doubt firing up his firm’s staff of legal eagles to dig up dirt.

  Tanya had a small flock of her analysts by her desk, issuing orders for a microscopic investigation into the Church of the True’s finances, supporters, and connections. Myself, well, I put the Altoid tin in my pocket, waved goodbye, and headed off to church.

  Manhattan has dozens of churches, to say nothing of synagogues and temples. So I had lots of choices. However, the Grace Church on Broadway had intrigued me for the last couple of months, with its Gothic revival architecture. It looked like a cathedral from Europe, like the way a big city church is supposed to look.

  One of the security guys drove me to the church and I quickly found myself inside and just as quickly, if not quicker, Barbiel found me.

  “Christian—I did not expect you. What is that smell? Oh my, what do you have there in your pocket?” he asked, speaking the same instant he appeared. He was wearing a green and gold t-shirt that said Scorpios Rule, other signs drool and jeans that looked suspiciously designer in nature.

  “Hello Barbiel. It’s what I wanted to ask you about. We think it channels some form of Arabian demon or something, but we need to know more. Like what it could do for the wearer or to the wearer, where it might have come from, things like that?” I asked.

  “It’s foul and you’re stinking up the place with it,” he said, leaning back from me like I had body odor.

  “You can smell it? Declan thought his protections would contain it,” I said.

  “Contain the demonic essence, not its stench. It’s a lesser demon, but notable in that it was born from a human who had congress with a true demon. Because of that, it had an actual physical form. The amulet contains a piece of that form… a claw, I think,” he said, holding one hand over the tin I produced from my pocket. He backed up a step and held both hands out, palms up. Golden fire appeared, flaring above his skin without heat. “Toss it into the flames, Christian, and be done with it.”

  “Ah, no. Not yet. We need to find out more about it,” I said, launching into an explanation of the Church of the True and our suspicions.

  “So the security guy had this piece of filth?” he asked when I finished.

  “Yeah, and it blocked Nika from reading him like a book. Up until Declan stole it from him,” I said.

  “You and Lailah have come to rely on the boy a great deal,” he noted. “Another special soul you have called to your side, Malahidael. Most of the Brethren are puzzled each time you choose one and then they suddenly seem to fit in like a missing puzzle piece. This one has been in the making for as many generations as you, if not more.”

  “You know about puzzle pieces?” I asked, stalling while I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying.

  He arched elegant eyebrows. “Have you any idea how many times I have been summoned to the homes of the aged? How many chapels there are in homes of nursing?”

  “Point,” I said. Those places were where puzzles went to die.

  “When the boy was corrupted by the book, Uriel thought he was lost to your cause, but frankly he thought the same thing when you were tainted with demon blood. I told him to watch and wait. Now, instead of the book changing the boy, the boy changes the book. Fascinating. Also, did you know he is smitten with your wolf?”

  “Yeah, yeah I got that. What’s this about the boy changing the book?”

  “Sorrow is an object of Power. It should have corrupted the boy as it has corrupted everyone it has touched. That hasn’t happened. In fact, it seems as if the boy has begun to corrupt the book, as it were,” he said, smiling at his own words. Then he noticed the look on my face, which I suspect was pretty much gobsmacked. “Oh, it is not a certain thing and not at all complete. In fact, it could still go the other way if the boy loses his way. But at least Uriel has stopped his blathering.”

  “Isn’t Uriel one of the Archangels?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Barbiel was definitely outranked by Uriel.

  “And yet he still retains the ability to blather,” he said archly.

  “So back to this demon thing. Where would Cuttle get it?”

  “Is he a warrior?” Barbiel asked.

  “Well, he was a soldier, if that’s what you mean. Oh. You think he picked it up on a tour of Iraq or Afghanistan?” I asked.

  “That would be logical. I’m puzzled that it led him to a church, unless as you say, this church is not truly of Yahweh. Tell me more about this bible that the false preacher carries?” he asked. “That is much more worrisome. Corrupting the Word of God is exceedingly difficult. However, if it is accomplished, the resulting book becomes a powerful weapon of Lucifer’s minions.”

  “How powerful?” I asked.

  “The boy was easily able to snatch the demon necklace from its holder, no? Yet the bible was beyond both his powers and the power lent to him by Sorrow. In fact, it would be wise to keep the boy away from the preacher. Remember I said the boy could still turn out wrong?”

  “Yeah, I was gonna ask you about that,” I said.

  “I should hope so. The one with the bible is one of the possible ways he could be turned against you.”

  “What are the others?” I asked.

  “Temptation is greatest among them. He has vast power and he is not of the Brethren as you and Lailah are. Yet he does not abuse it, instead showing great strength of character. But what if he did, Christian? What if something pushed him over the edge?”

  “You’re saying he could go over to the dark side if he lost his temper? But he’s lost it before?” I asked.

  “Has he? Truly? He became enraged when the blonde wolf was injured, but that is part of his pattern. He protects his friends and cherished ones. The closest he has come so far was when he was beaten by the wolf boy at his place of learning. His power was bound in that instance, which was a good thing, for it gave him time to put things in perspective. But now he carries a dark object inside him, one that will twist his perspective if something similar were to happen again.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Bubble wrap him?”

  He looked at me confused and I was about to explain but a sudden look of enlightenment came over him.

  “You mean shelter him from the world? No, that is something you must not do. He has an important role to play, as do you and all of your team. And you all must come to it of your own free wills. No, I would just make sure he is not drawn into something that leaves him feeling as he did that day in his school. This time, he will lash out and with what Yahweh has given him to bear, it will be bad.”

  “Do you know where this is all headed?” I asked the angel.

  “No, of course not. I am given pieces of it to work on, but I am just a soldier in God’s army just as you are. I do understand the way He works, if not how or why. In fact, come to think of it, I may have a better grasp of that than Uriel and some of the others.”

  “You speak of us having free will but following some unknown plan of God’s that is incredibly complicated and almost foreordained. I don’t see how that’
s free will?” I asked.

  “When a watchmaker builds a watch, he finds or makes each piece, planning how it will fit together with the rest. Each working according to its nature. Then, when it is all together, he tries it out. Sometimes it works immediately, but mostly he must tweak this piece or tune that one, even having to occasionally replace one entirely. When he is done, the watch will usually run. But if the springs are wound too tight or made too stiff, the strain can strip gears or cause a part to break or fail.

  “Christian, Yahweh has been building these clockworks since time began. Infinite skill can look much like fate, but there are still parts that can break or fail.”

  I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying, but imagining a machine made up of human lives that was hundreds of years in the making was too much for me.

  “So what do we do?”

  “First, do you have the demon in the can? Good, throw it here,” he said, his tone instructive.

  I tossed the Altoid tin to him but instead of catching it on his open palm, he instead produced the same golden fire and the tin disappeared in a puff of greasy black smoke.

  “Hah, now maybe that stink will clear,” he said, looking sly. My rather naïve angel was getting tricky.

  “Now you must follow your instincts. You and Lailah are fine hunters. You will work together to defeat this false preacher, but you must keep the boy separate from him or that part will fail and the watch will explode,” he said.

  “Great, we were relying on Declan’s skills to find evidence linking the Church of the True to the murders of those children,” I said.

  “And you still can. Just don’t use him when you confront the preacher. Keep him busy on another important task. Him and the wolf girl. She will distract him. And also know that in this, Sorrow will be your ally, as the book will not want its charge exposed to the twisted Word.”

  “Charge? I thought it was trying to use Declan to further its master’s dark plan?”

  “No, the book was created to assist the dark witch. Now it has modified its mission. It seeks to assist the witch’s line,” Barbiel said.

  “Line? Declan is related to the witch that wrote Sorrow?”

  “He is her direct descendent. It is not by accident that he is as powerful as he is. It comes to him from both his mother and father’s lineage. Were you not listening when I said he was as long in the making as you were?”

  “God plays the long game, huh?”

  “The longest,” he agreed.

  I was filled with conflicting emotions, confusion being chief among them. But also, I was anxious about making a mistake, guilty at having to manipulate my intern and Stacia, and deep inside there was a tiny something that if I was truly honest might be jealousy. Some part of me had grown used to being the object of Stacia’s affection and I found a roiling sense of dissatisfaction with throwing her at Declan.

  But I belonged to Tanya and she to me. The beautiful wolf girl would need to find her own happiness, whether it was with another were or possibly a teen witch who was only a few years younger then her.

  On top of all of that was the unease of tackling an unholy object that dressed like a holy one and could not only block Declan and his internal grimoire, but actually turn him to its own path. I said goodbye to my angelic contact and headed for the car and Deckert’s driver. Tanya and I had some major planning to do.

  Chapter 26 – Declan

  I would have known it for a Pack hangout even if half the customers and all of the restaurant’s staff hadn’t greeted Stacia by name. First, there were the sidelong looks that I got as I trailed in after her. Every one of those glances said you don’t belong here—locals only. Then, there was the sniffing. Either most of them wore fur when the moon was full or I had stumbled into a major cocaine den. Honestly, the Malleks needed to spend some time coaching their people to act a bit more human and a little less like bloodhounds on a hot scent.

  The part that threw me was that it was an Indian Thai fusion place, with a very simple name, Gita’s.

  The staff seemed all of the same family, the women beautiful in the manner of Bollywood actresses, the males all lean and muscular. Stacia knew every one of them, although their greetings ranged from effusive by the guys to a mixture of reserved and warm from the women. By that, I mean it was obvious that some of the females liked her and a couple were blatantly jealous of the attention she got.

  That seemed to be the same kind of reception that the customers gave her as well. Men smiling, women mostly not. I hadn’t realized that extraordinary looks might bring along a burden as well as grant its holder privileges. The looks that I got, after it was clear that I was with her, were the opposite. At least from the males. Instant hostility. The females were just speculative.

  Indian music played in hidden speakers and the air smelled of curry and other spices. The room was painted in bright reds and yellows, with Indian tapestries on several of the walls.

  Stacia seemed comfortable with the greetings that were friendly and just ignored everyone else. A woman came out of the back, seemingly just a bit older than the waitresses, and she smiled hugely at the sight of the blonde werewolf in front of me.

  “Stacia dear, you have been avoiding us,” she admonished with a warm smile, grasping both of Stacia’s outstretched hands.

  “No Gita, I’ve been very, very busy with work,” Stacia said. Gita studied her for a moment before pulling her into a hug, her eyes now focused on me over Stacia’s shoulder.

  She released Stacia and turned my way. “Hi, I’m the work that’s been keeping her busy,” I said before either of them could speak.

  “Gita, this is Declan. He’s Chris and Tanya’s intern this summer,” Stacia said. Around us, the conversations had quieted and I could almost feel the restaurant’s inhabitants listening from every part of the large room, not even attempting to hide their interest.

  “Intern? What would they need with an intern?” Gita asked, eyes alight with intense curiosity.

  Stacia quirked a grin in my direction, keeping quiet and leaving me on my own to answer her.

  “Well, they sponsor my school, so you know, I guess they feel obligated to host a kid,” I said, trying to figure out what to say.

  A definitely unfeminine snort sounded next to me, causing both Gita and I to glance at an amused Stacia. Gita’s eyes lingered on Stacia for a moment before coming back to me.

  “School. I believe they sponsor a school in Vermont,” she said, a furrow forming between her brows as she tried to solve the puzzle.

  “That’s the very one,” I said, nodding and wishing like hell that the amused blonde at my side would take over this painful conversation.

  “You go to Arcane?” Gita asked tentatively.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then you might know young Mr. Tinkelli over there?” she suggested, turning and pointing at a family of four seated in a corner booth who were watching us with undisguised interest. The parents turned to the older of their two children, a male my age who was trying to hide behind his menu. With that ploy obviously not working, Morgan Tinkelli met my eyes and offered a little wave. I waved back. “Hey Morgan,” I said, keeping my voice at the same speaking volume that we had been using. He nodded, and I saw his lips form a “Hey Declan” although I couldn’t actually hear it.

  “You are not one of us,” Gita stated, not unkindly.

  “No ma’am. I’m a different breed of kid,” I said.

  “Gita, do you have room for us?” Stacia broke in, ending my immediate misery. “We’ve been working hard today and we’re ravished.”

  “Of course, dear,” Gita said, still studying me. Then her manner turned businesslike and she led us to a small table near the back by the door I assumed was for the kitchen. One of the younger girls came over, smiling at Stacia and looking me up and down curiously as she handed us menus.

  When the same young girl came back to pour ice water, her mother came with her with a starter plate of chicken kabobs.
I ordered a chicken curry that seemed safe and Stacia ordered about four other dishes including basmati rice with peas, some kind of spiced potato balls, coconut battered shrimp, and pad thai noodles with beef.

  “You like spicy?” she asked.

  “We’re talking food, right?” I asked back.

  “Hah, big talker. Runs from little Aussie girls,” she said.

  “Well, she and her friends blame me for the nasty effects of the bitters mixture they drank in the bar the other night. If I run from her now, it’s because she’ll be waving a knife.”

  “Shouldn’t she blame her boss, Tanya, for that? You just played bartender, right?” she asked.