Tales Of The Abysmal Plane (Zoë Martinique Short Stories) (The Zoë Martinique Investigation Series)

by Phaedra Weldon

  The doorbell sounded, and Joe answered it.

  Daniel stood outside. It was his old friend, but it wasn't. He and Daniel had been partners a long time ago, before Heather cheated on Daniel. And Daniel had somehow blamed Joe. Then they'd paired up again. But that time, Daniel had been possessed by Zoë's Horror—and well—it'd all gone to shit after that.

  Daniel was different now. Still tall and slender, with longish brown hair and deep blue eyes. But Joe sensed something else about him. Something different. Aloof. Rhonda claimed it was how a Revenant felt to someone who was sensitive. It's how she'd always sensed Jason with Mephistopheles.

  Maybe it was the First Born within Daniel. Inanna. The name of a Sumerian Goddess.

  His old friend gave him a sad smile. "Are you going to invite me in, or do we stand here making goo-goo eyes?"

  Joe blinked and shook his head. "Sorry. Do you really have to be invited in—like in the movies?" He stood to the side as Daniel swept in, bringing with him the smells of the outside. Dust, oil, and decay.

  "No," he said. "But the need for invitation does pertain to letting a First Born in." He removed his duster and handed it to Joe. Beneath it, Daniel was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He wore dusty boots and a single necklace.

  The one Joe had given Zoë months ago. They'd found it in her room after she vanished, and Daniel claimed it. Joe didn't argue. His feelings really didn't come into play, did they?

  Daniel and Azrael regarded one another. On one level they were siblings—Inanna being Azrael's sister. And on another level, the two were enemies. Azrael had almost killed Daniel nearly a year ago. And Joe was sure Daniel wasn't quite as forgiving as he'd like to think he was.

  "Daniel—you need anything?"

  "No. I'm fine. Unless you have a Coke? It settles my stomach."

  "Uh oh. Bad news?"

  Daniel sighed as he stood at the counter. Azrael stood and carried the bowl with him, eating the grapes like popcorn. He slid onto a stool at the counter and kept eating. Joe filled a glass with ice and pulled up a two-liter from beneath the counter. "I stored the page Azrael found with the others. But as before, we have no way of knowing how many are left to find until Rhonda can do the organization."

  "I don't see how you can so easily trust Rhonda." Joe looked at each of them. They all knew that he and the witch had had a relationship during the time when Zoë had banished Rhonda from her side. But after what'd happened with Dags at Rodriguez's place in Alpharetta, and then after Zoë vanished and Rhonda ordered the Society to cover everything up…it was that gone-to-shit thing again.

  It'd been obvious to Joe that Rhonda had it bad for Dags, and yet Dags' heart belonged to Zoë.

  And Joe? What do I feel? And what does it matter? I always do what I feel is right.

  But as time passed, things didn't feel so black and white. Good or bad. Everything was still so…vague.

  Daniel poured the Coke and watched the bubbles fizzle down. "I don't. But she's the only hope we have of putting those pages back in the right way. I don't know of another witch who can do it. And besides," he refocused on Joe and lifted the glass. "She loves him. I know she won't hurt him."

  "What about Nona?" Azrael said. He had his elbows on the counter. "Why is Dags with that Society?"

  "Because he gets the best care there," Joe said. "Though I think Stella's going to win custody. She's been in touch with Dags' family and they've given her power of attorney for him—" he shrugged. "As long as he's diagnosed as not being able to take care of himself." He looked at Daniel. "I thought vampires couldn't eat or drink real food."

  Daniel finished the Coke and then belched as he set it down. "Eventually I won't. But right now, my body still needs food. Inanna on the other hand—"

  Joe held up his hand. "I got it, I got it. And you've already taken care of that, right?"

  "I'm still hungry." And he stared at Joe.

  I hate it when he does that. Freaks me out.

  Azrael poured another glass of milk. "So Stella is gonna get the twerp?"

  "If all goes well. The Society has no familial claim to him, and since Miss Rosenberg has brought Darren's condition to the attention of the courts, he has to be evaluated." He pulled his phone from his back pocket and checked the messages. "They're set to have him examined over at Northside Hospital in two days. Once she gets him away from the Society, then Rhonda will have the opportunity to do her thing."

  "I didn't realize Dags had any living family." Daniel pursed his lips. "Where are they if they're giving her power of attorney?"

  "Somewhere in England, at the moment," Joe said as he shoved his phone back into is pocket. "His aunt's there. And they're not that close—which is something I got from Stella."

  "Don't think it's going to be that easy," Daniel said. "Just showing up and having him examined—you think they're just going to hand over a treasure like him. There's a Grimoire inside of him. A very powerful book that the other Revenants want, as do the Ethereals. And the Revenants are already moving on the Society of Ishmael."

  "Moving how?" Azrael said.

  Daniel shook his head. "I don't know. But you can pretty much bet if they're moving, then the Ethereals are as well. But the Ethereals will attack us," and he pointed to himself and then Azrael, "And the Society, simultaneously."

  "Great," Azrael gulped half the glass of milk and set it down, sporting a milk mustache. "They're not going to play by the rules."

  Daniel

  "SO maybe we should just do this before the hearing," Azrael said, as he continued polishing off the grapes. "You know, plug in what we found, and see what we got."

  Daniel gave him a sour face. "And what if we manage to get Rhonda near enough to do this, and she finds out there's nothing she can do—there's too much gone."

  Azrael shrugged. "We stitch him back up and keep looking." His tone sounded odd to Daniel, more so to Inanna. Strained. Maybe even a bit tired. "Look—we're running out of time. Do you two even realize what's happening as we stand here having our little meet-and-greet every week?"

  Daniel nodded. "I do. I saw it tonight."

  Azrael dropped a handful of grapes as he turned and looked into Daniel's eyes. "Here? You saw one," he pointed to the floor. "In this town?"

  Joe held up his beer and lifted his shoulders. "Saw what?"

  Daniel held up a hand. "Let me explain first—for Joe?"

  Azrael's eyebrows knitted, but he agreed and continued eating grapes.

  Daniel turned to Joe. He felt his features shift ever so slightly as he released physical control to Inanna. He could see that the transformation was happening in the expression of his old friend's face. Joe tried to hide his revulsion, but he'd always been a bad liar. "You understand the hierarchies involved in the Abysmal plane?"

  "Yeah…sorta," Joe said as he leaned against the counter, his beer forgotten. "There's Phantasm, and then the First Borns. Then you get the whole trickle-down thing with Symbionts, Fetches, Daemons, Spectres, Shades, Ghosts—" he leaned to the side, his brows arched high in question.

  "Yes—in a manner of speaking," Daniel said. "My father—Sameal—had some kind of hierarchy set up, but once he lost interest, it sort of disintegrated into what you know now. Sophia had pretty much turned it into a system of everything obeyed her."

  Joe nodded. Azrael looked at his bowl.

  "What the Ethereals have over the Abysmal plane isn't strength, but order. They govern the Ethereal Plane as if it were the military. Every creature knows its place, and every creature does its job. If it fails, it's cast down to the Abysmal." Daniel leaned against the bar as Inanna spoke. "Under the Seraphim, the equivalent of the Phantasm, there are the Choirs, what would be the equal to the First Borns. And even they have a pecking order among themselves."

  "Are there as many of these Choirs as there are of the First Borns?" Joe asked.

  Daniel shook his head. "Not as in how many children father had. The Seraphim doesn't like to give up power. And with each cre
ation, it's required to do so—because when you create something—much like when a mother gestates a child—the parent gives up a part of him or herself to give life. The Choirs are set up as Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, and Arcs."

  "Arcs," Joe said.

  "As in Arch Angel," Azrael said, as he spit a seed from a grape back into his bowl. "It's a fucking joke."

  But Daniel continued his tale without glancing at Azrael. It was an old argument, and one Inanna didn't feel like getting into at that moment. "Arcs are power Ethereals. They possess the four elements of creation—earth, air, fire, and water. They're again, like the Phantasm and Seraphim, titles filled by creatures. And they are the lowest of the Choirs."

  Joe frowned. "Wow…the way it's always been taught here, the archangels seemed to be the top bananas. So, where does Adiran fit in?"

  "He is a Virtue," Daniel said. "These creatures usually are created by human souls who've transmigrated—like he did after the experiments of Domas. They're the idea Choirs—because they possess human souls. They can inspire mankind to achieve greatness. Adiran Martinique is the one who conceived the idea of placing his daughter inside the Abysmic throne."

  "To control—" Azrael stopped, and his milky-white eyes widened as he looked at Daniel. "No…"

  Daniel gave the First Born an almost imperceptible shake of the head, but said nothing. Inanna fluttered surprise inside of him. She'd not realized Azrael hadn't figured it out until now. But they needed to talk in private before speaking with the human.

  Joe seemed not to notice. "So—I'm assuming Adiran didn't know Azrael here would interfere?"

  "Not at all. Contrary to popular myth and belief—no one can tell the future. Because of cause and effect. But the rules of domination set forth by the Seraphim are the same as put forth by Sun Tzu. The first order of business so they can clean up the Planes, now that the Phantasm is under their control, is to get rid of the Abysmal influences, which means the Revenants themselves, and anything else originating from the Abysmal Plane now residing in the Physical Plane. As well as Societies."

  "Like the Society of Ishmael."

  "I'm afraid so," Daniel reached up and ran his long fingers through his hair. "Public influence will work—but it will take time. The Virtues are already working on this—if you've been reading the news or watching the TV. Thirteen secret societies, or cults, already have been raided all over the United States. Many of their members were killed when they fought back."

  "They didn't fight back," Azrael said. He pushed the bowl away. "They just simply chose to believe different. So they were offed. Plain as that."

  "I'm afraid my brother is right. The Virtues and the Cherubim are working in tandem to weed out these societies, cults, what have you, and expose them." Daniel looked at Azrael.

  "And you saw one?" Azrael said.

  Joe narrowed his eyes. "You saw a Virtue? Or a Cherubim?"

  Daniel looked at Joe. "A Cherubim. She is overseeing the Virtues." He looked at Azrael again. "She didn't see me. But I could feel her looking."

  "You're sure?" Azrael had stopped eating grapes. "You're really sure it was a Cherubim?"

  Again, Daniel nodded. "You think I do not know the stench of our old enemy, brother?" Inanna said the last word with contempt. "I could see her aura burning brighter than the rest. A light in the darkness—she is nothing but flame drawing in moths to burn."

  Not all the remaining Revenants got along—most of them believed their youngest—Azrael—to be a turncoat. A traitor. A sellout to the previous Phantasm, their sister, Sophia. None of them understood what Azrael had gone through—though Daniel/Inanna suspected it—to grow as strong as he had. He'd broken the spell Sophia had cast over him—with Zoë's help.

  And he'd never looked back.

  Joe looked from Daniel to Azrael. "Okay—so this Cherubim is here watching over the Virtues who are now destroying secret societies—right?" He held up his hand.

  Daniel nodded, as his voice faded to normal. Inanna had released control. "Yeah…they've declared war on them for now. You get rid of the Societies that know the truth and spread your own version of the truth—well, that's one large stream of information working against you—silenced."

  With a short sigh, Azrael stood, moved to the French doors, then walked out onto the balcony. Joe lived in a nice high-rise in Sandy Springs. Near Perimeter Station, but not in it. Joe had told Daniel he'd chosen it because he could see the lights of downtown Atlanta when he stood outside, and below him there was nothing but trees.

  Daniel turned to Joe once Azrael was outside. "I told Rhonda—about the Cherubim. And the Virtues. She's going to alert her staff and get all of them dispersed as best as possible. As much as I don't like the idea, we're going to need to get Dags away from the Society before the Virtues bring them under fire."

  Joe remembered his beer and picked it up. He held it near his mouth, but didn't drink. "So—the Ethereals want Dags because of the Grimoire. And because of Zoë—though I'm not sure I understand how it all ties in to one another. Do you believe their attacking the Societies has a two-fold purpose then?"

  Daniel crossed his left arm over his chest, rested his elbow on that forearm, and tapped his chin with his right index finger. "Of course. They're trying to find Dags. They know he's being kept in one—"

  "Wait—wait. Nona is taking care of Dags. You mean Adiran doesn't know where they are?"

  "Yes," Daniel picked up the glass of Coke and sipped it again. It did ease his stomach and the worry that gnawed at him there. Inanna was good to him and soothed him as best she could. But he was worried about Zoë. "He knows where Dags is."

  "That doesn't make sense."

  "I know," Daniel set the glass down and looked at the French door where Azrael stood just outside. "Apparently Adiran hasn't told the others. He's keeping it a secret. I suspect he's actually helping her hide Dags."

  "Why?"

  Daniel felt Inanna surface again, and together they spoke. "We don't know. And that's what scares us. But no matter what—we're getting Dags out tomorrow night. Rhonda is going to help."

  Rhonda

  RHONDA pressed herself against the wall and hoped the shadow of the alcove hid her from the two Society guards who patrolled the third level of the compound. This is my house—how did it get to me sneaking around in it like some common criminal?

  Might be because she was about to let three of the Society's Hit List in the back door.

  The compound was as impressive from the outside as it was from the inside. Spanning three city blocks, but located outside the mainstream of things in Alpharetta, the building was hidden from any service roads by acres of trees—mostly cypress, as they hid the most behind thick foliage. The long, winding driveway led up to the impressive estate, complete with Roman columns and a double staircase to the front door.

  Secret doors were concealed behind the brick wall facade, their locations known only to a few of the members. One of those was Rhonda Orly, the "head" of the Society.

  She laughed at that thought, as the guards passed by, and she tiptoed a few more feet to the security main control room. Head of the Society. I'm only the head when it's convenient to have it lopped off these days.

  Two doors stood side by side. The one on the right led directly into a room full of staff monitoring the thirty-seven cameras on the property. The door on the left led to the room housing the servers that maintained a perfect balance of control and secrecy.

  With a glance down the hall, she turned the knob on the left door. It was open—the security head for the evening was a bit lax when it came to his area. Rhonda had been watching him for weeks, ever since the stories started breaking about other groups similar to the Society of Ishmael being invaded by the military and everyone inside branded a terrorist. The climate on the outside had grown hostile to any company or group that looked cultish or even had the word society, organization and corporation attached to it.

  None of the Wall Street conglomera
tes had been touched so far—just those entities legally and illegally created in the southern states.

  Daniel had warned her the Seraphim was starting a war—and its first targets were the groups. Within twenty-four hours, he'd been proven right. The Society's members were in an uproar, some of them having listened to her in the last meeting when she insisted this was the work of the Ethereals, and they were after the Grimoire. It'd taken a debate that lasted twelve hours before they decided unanimously to move the Grimoire to a safer location.

  Rhonda voted for it—but only as a distraction for them to get Dags out of the building and safely spirited away. She'd agreed to try the ritual Maureen had performed and put what pages they had back and in the right order. But she needed a safe place, far away from the Society's and the Ethereals' meddling.

  Once the word was handed down when and where to move the Grimoire, she'd contacted Daniel and Joe.

  And now the two of them, plus Azrael, would be at the back door waiting on her to let them in.

  She locked the door, pretty sure this security guy would think he'd come back and locked it, and then settled on a folding chair she'd slid into the room the night before when she'd monitored the man's habits. Once certain she wouldn't be disturbed, Rhonda reached up into the Veil and pulled out her iPad. With a grin, she launched an app she'd written the other night and connected with the system.

  Within three minutes, she had total control.

  It was good to be the boss.

  Now it was time to signal Daniel. She cleared her mind and thought of him, thought of the First Born in side of him. Ever since she'd heard Jason's First Born, Mephistopheles, Rhonda had discovered she could hear Inanna as well. And Inanna didn't seem to mind sharing her thoughts. They were different from Mephistopheles'—much darker. Less forgiving. Rhonda could tell she was devoted to Daniel in her heart and soul—if First Borns had those in any sense of their meaning—but she gave little care to anyone or anything else.