God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords

by John Conroe

  “The two spent a documented thirty-three days in the mine, located adjacent to an abandoned town which was named Sweat for unknown reasons. The mine was a previously spent operation that Fierro bought on the promise of an untapped seam of gold. From what our field investigators have been able to piece together, the two used the town’s church as their base of operations. A bit more than month after setting up, they called it quits,” Kate said.

  The last picture showed a small town church complete with a gray, weathered spire, most of the buildings around it in ruins.

  “It’s here that the roots of the Church of the True were born. It seems the two wasted no time in filing paperwork for the Select of the Lord as a not-for-profit LLC. It’s also at this time that Daniel had his name changed legally to Castille and he wrote a book titled Forty Days in the Wilderness,” Kate said, stopping on a picture of a younger, poorer Castille standing with a much leaner Fierro. Castille held a bible under his left arm.

  “You’ll note the bible. From this point on, virtually every shot of Castille has that bible in it,” she said. “He claims in his book that he found the bible in the church and it brought both Fierro and himself to the Lord.”

  “How do you know it’s the same one?” Tanya asked.

  “The way he habitually holds the bible leaves the lettering on the cover almost always visible in pictures. Our analysts have been able to blow up the photos and match the wear patterns in every photo,” she said, clicking through slides till she had one that lined three photos up, side by side, all blow-ups of the bible. “Note how the word Holy is missing the H.”

  “Photo analysts? What kind of legal firm has photo analysts?” I asked Darion, who sat next to me.

  “The kind that is always ready to provide billable service to the Demidova Corp,” he said. “Now don’t interrupt her. She’s just getting to the good stuff.”

  “I want to hear more about the ghost town,” Tanya said.

  “See, that’s the good stuff I was mentioning,” Darion said.

  Kate waited till her audience had settled down, smiling.

  “Sweat, Alaska has a dark past. Founded just after the turn of the century, the town was originally part of a native community. The local Native Alaskans were basically shoved aside when a vein of gold was discovered in the mountain just north of the town. Traditional stories told that the mountain was cursed, but gold miners ignored that as superstition and mined the mountain extensively. The town of Sweat appeared almost overnight. The mine did produce gold, but the town suffered excessive violence and a high mortality rate for the entirety of the seven years it was active. Then it cleared out, with about the same speed it formed, almost overnight. The mine was said to have dried up and a series of unexplained deaths occurred in town. Some rumors hinted at the mountain’s curse; others invoked the Devil’s name. Alaskan law enforcement was negligible at the time and the deaths went uninvestigated. Since then, the mining claim has changed ownership many times over the years till Fierro bought it. He still holds title to it.”

  “What of the natives?” I asked.

  “The locals were all Athabascan, just a small community. Maybe five or six families, but they had lived in that region for generations. When they were pushed off the land by the gold miners, they moved further east to the edge of their tribal territory. Most died off over the last hundred years. We did find a survivor who married into another village. Her great-grandparents were displaced by the Sweat settlors. She herself never lived there, but she had been told tales of the cursed mountain by her grandmother. It was well-known to her people that the mountain was home to an evil spirit. Hunters who ventured too near were either never seen again or, worse, came back after murdering the rest of their hunting parties. That’s all we were able to find out,” she said reluctantly.

  “Sounds demonic,” I said, mostly to Tanya, but Kate picked up on it.

  “It does seem to fit with traditional dogma regarding demonic influence,” she said.

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Kate,” Darion said with a smirk. She flushed, just ever so slightly, really only noticeable if you had thermal vision.

  “Good presentation,” Tanya said. “What do you have for us Josh?” she asked one of her finance staff.

  Slender and slightly bookish, with dark glasses and a pinstripe suit complete with suspenders, Josh was one of her whiz kids, a young MBA straight out of Wharton who had a dazzling intellect for numbers and accounting.

  He exchanged places and looks with Kate, nodding to another staffer who manned the computer for him. At his nod, the monitor changed to show a table of numbers.

  “The Select of the Lord filed for tax exempt status in Alaska, but quickly moved operations south to Seattle, Washington. For the first three years, the church struggled financially, almost slipping into insolvency until the fortuitous death of a supporter left them with a serious bequest. The infusion of cash was enough to build a small church and keep them afloat for six more months. With that brick and mortar presence, Reverend Castille was able to attract enough members to keep the church going and purchase himself an entry-level Mercedes. Oddly enough, just as that money started to run down, another church member expired, leaving an even larger bequest. The Church expanded its headquarters and purchased a home for the good reverend.

  “As you can see on this table, from that point on, the church was able to maintain a stable if not exorbitant income stream. That all changed with the Battle of Washington. Reverend Castille almost instantly changed the nature of his sermons, shifting to an anti-Darkkin rhetoric that drew in much larger numbers of followers, at the same time renaming his organization. This is not surprising. Multiple surveys conducted by numerous news and think tank organizations in the weeks after Washington indicated a wide-ranging upheaval in the public’s religious views. Virtually every church on the planet has seen significant increases in membership and collection amounts. You two single-handedly brought the public back to God,” Josh said with a quick grin.

  “However, responses ranged from a renewal of traditional faith to evangelic, fire and brimstone types to even a few that preach about, ah, angels among us,” he said with a mock eye roll that made both Tanya and I laugh. From the corner of my eye, I could see Kate watching him with a new appreciation.

  “A certain percentage have come out with an anti-supernatural theme and of those, the most outspoken by far is the Church of the True. As a result, they have tapped into that segment of the population whose fears and religious fervor needed an equally fanatical outlet. The result is an explosive increase in the Church’s membership and finances. Castille almost immediately opened a satellite church in California and has announced plans for ones in Washington and here in New York.”

  “What about John Cuttle? When did he show up?” I asked.

  “He first hit the payroll just prior to the events in Washington and the name change,” Josh said.

  Kate stood up and cleared her throat. “John Augustus Cuttle is thirty-three years old and a veteran of four tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq, courtesy of the US Army. His background is special operations and his military history is a bit murky, with numerous disciplinary measures in his record. He was discharged honorably, but it seems he might have accepted the discharge as part of a deal to get him out. His superior officers almost uniformly noted he was an effective soldier with a serious authority issue. Disorderly conduct and implications of theft and intimidation are littered throughout his record. He went to work for the good reverend almost as soon as he returned home to his hometown of Seattle,” she said, giving Josh a so there look before sitting back down.

  “Could I get a copy of your notes, Kate? I want to brief my investigator,” I said.

  She looked slightly offended, at least until Darion spoke up. “His guy is an ex-intelligence operative who will infiltrate the Church and dig deeper than our people can get, Kate.”

  She nodded, looking slightly mollified.

  “Bank rec
ords indicate that Cuttle has been paid two six-figure sums already this year. Cross-referencing matches the dates closely to the dates of the accidents for two of the children. The church later made an odd grouping of payments to several other LLCs, who in turn all paid the same sums to a bank in Singapore. That bank initiated a wire to a bank in Belgium. These payments occurred just after the other two children died of medical complications,” Josh said.

  “That the result of your secret weapon digging around?” Darion asked us.

  “We have a floor full of high-level hackers who did this in their spare time. No need for special talents,” Tanya said. Both Josh and Kate looked on with interest at the conversation.

  “None of this is evidence of murder,” Darion said.

  “This is merely the beginning. Now the real digging begins. Chris’s investigator will infiltrate and we will get down to the real hacking on Cuttle’s communications and personal electronics,” Tanya said. “Our security team has skills that rival the NSA’s, only we pay better.”

  I winced a little at the mention of NSA, but I don’t think anyone caught it.

  “Okay, that sounds ominously like something I don’t want to know anything about,” Darion said. “Kate and I will leave you to your plotting,” he said, getting up, Kate following his lead.

  “Thank you Darion, Miss Doughton,” Tanya said.

  “What can we say? We live to bill… er… serve,” Darion said with a sly smile. They showed themselves out, leaving us in the room with Josh and two other finance types—as well as Arkady and Deckert, who had been silent in the shadows behind us throughout the whole thing.

  “I have some contacts in Belgium who can see about those bank wires,” Deckert said. “We may need some tech support.”

  “Chester will be more than happy to help you. Tell him that this takes priority, even over the special project,” Tanya said.

  “What about Cuttle?” Arkady asked.

  “We need to steal his phone, tablet, laptop, or any other electronics he has. Get them to Declan and he can implant his witchcraft computer virus. Then we’ll see what gets reported back,” I said.

  “Castille too?” Deckert asked.

  “No!” I said before Tanya could agree. “We keep the kid completely away from him and his bible. That’s more important than anything.”

  Tanya studied me for a second. “Is that based on your evening church service?”

  “Exactly. It could be very bad if Castille gets a chance to meet Declan. Barbiel was clear on that, if not on how or why. I think that much of the reverend’s charm and oratory ability comes from that twisted bible,” I said.

  “Got it. No Sunday school for the warlock kid,” Deckert said.

  “Exactly. We need to keep him out of trouble. How hard can that be?” I asked, knowing it might be damned well impossible.

  Chapter 28 – Declan

  I stepped off the elevator into a long hallway whose floor was concrete patterned to look like slabs of rock. Doors to individual apartments broke up the walls in a long series that ended with a single massive iron-bound door—and a vampire guard wearing a sword. Who was staring at me. My stomach rumbled. How very… Game of Thrones-ish.

  As I trudged toward that big, gothic-looking door, I noticed the artwork that took up space on the expanses of sheetrock that didn’t have doors. Not that I recognized any of it, but it gave me somewhere to look besides the vampire who was glaring my way—the vampire with only one arm. Well, one and a half. He seemed to be missing his left forearm and hand, but that didn’t appear to bother him a great deal. My stomach rumbled again. It wasn’t hunger, but more crampy. Maybe it was the Indian food the night before with Stacia. But I woke up normal and was hungry for lunch in the corporate dining room. The lunch tacos had tasted fine. Still, something was a bit off.

  When I got up close, the guard tensed, just slightly. In fact, I might have missed it completely if I hadn’t been through all that painful training with Tanya, Lydia, Arkady, Nika, and Stacia. Not to mention Chris. Who I was here to see.

  “Ah, hi. I’m here to see Chris and maybe Tanya, not sure,” I said. His nametag said Dave Lo and now that I was closer, I could see his features were Asian.

  “These are the Queen’s quarters. Interns don’t belong here,” he said.

  “Unless they call you here. Chris and Tanya. She’s your queen, right?” I asked. His expression was solid as stone.

  “We are the Outer Guard. We protect the Queen,” he said, which made me look around for the others in we.

  “Look, that’s cool. But Chris called me down on my phone,” I said, reaching for said cellular. There was a blur and a flash of steel and I found a long, sharp, shiny sword pointed at my throat. I could see enough detail to note the lines of silver woven into the folded steel blade.

  My shields were up, feet locked to the floor, drawing power from Earth, and I backed up a step. Behind me, the elevator doors opened again, but I dared not look.

  Claws click-clacked on the concrete and Dave’s glance flickered to whatever was coming down the hall, then back to me, unconcerned.

  I backed up two more steps and turned. Awasos in wolf form was almost at my back and as he got to me, he flowed around me and sat down, his furry haunches basically on my feet. Facing Dave the guard, he yawned in the face of the sword, showing a ridiculously massive jaw with enough teeth to make a shark jealous.

  Dave frowned at the display, looking slight uncertain for the first time. A door behind me opened and when I glanced back, I saw a college-aged girl who was anything but.

  “Hey Declan, watcha doing?” Katrina asked as she locked her door.

  “Supposed to be seeing Chris and Tanya, but Dave here won’t even announce me.”

  “Ah, you’ve met IQ-So-Low of the Outer Clods,” she said coming up beside me.

  “You used to be one of us, Katrina,” Dave said, frowning and still holding his sword rock steady. “What’s the matter with the were-bear-wolf?” he asked.

  “Nothing. He merely dislikes morons. I share that trait. Tell me, Brains-So-Slow, why are you holding Chris’s intern at swordpoint? Perhaps the correct response in this instance is to announce him?” Katrina asked.

  “Interns aren’t allowed here,” he said, frowning.

  “Well, see, they are if Chris or Tanya calls them here. When that happens, you’re not supposed to threaten them with a sword. You knock on the door and tell the power couple that the intern is here. That way, the were-bear-wolf, whose name is Awasos, by the way, won’t rip your only remaining arm off at the shoulder for threatening his friend. You know? The witch kid that gave Chris back all his memories? The same kid that if you touched him with that sword would probably send enough volts through it to make you into a permanent night light. Why don’t you just announce him, Slave, er, Dave?” she said.

  The sword wavered and then drooped. Dave backed up and knocked on the big, castle-looking door.

  “Right, lesson over. Next time, Declan, just blast him and be done with it. Nobody will even miss him,” Katrina said. I gave her a nod, more in thanks than agreement. She just snorted softly, turning and walking toward the elevator.

  The big door opened and Chris peered out. “Oh, hey, Declan. Come on in. I see you’ve met Dave.”

  Dave’s jaw was clenched and I couldn’t read his expression, but my money was on anger at Katrina’s comments. Anger, which likely was splashing onto me by association. Great. That’s me, making friends all over the place.

  ‘Sos clicked-clacked into the apartment ahead of me and I followed, literally at his tail, eager to have the door between me and the sullen guard.

  The inside was a surprise. I expected posh. Upper East side meets Taj Mahal or something. Instead, it was more L.L. Bean meets retro industrial. Actually, it was just eclectic.

  A rustic hand-crafted twig rocking chair in the corner, Hudson Bay blanket draped over the back of the leather sofa, coffee table made from an iron-wheeled industrial dolly, concret
e kitchen countertops, granite tile kitchen floor, copper range hood, black appliances, gas fireplace, reclaimed barn beam mantle, Japanese long and short sword set racked on a long, thin table behind the sofa, flatscreen television hung above the mantle, Turkish rugs on the floor, cast iron stools at the kitchen island, six-person dining table with steel legs and reclaimed barn wood top; somehow it all worked. It was one big great room, combining kitchen, dining, and family room. Doorways led off to what I supposed were the bedroom and bathroom.