by Alex Siegel
Virgil still had to stop him though. Murder was still murder.
Alfred continued to flip through the notebook. After a few pages, his eyes lit up.
"Jackpot!" he said. "This is exactly what I was hoping to find."
He held out the book, and everybody else leaned in. A detailed description of a religious ritual filled an entire page. It mentioned specific types of candles, talismans, and other materials.
"What good does that do?" Lisa said.
"I'll tell you outside." Alfred turned to Mackey. "I need to keep your scrapbook for a while. I'll be sure you get it back."
Mackey appeared anxious but said nothing. Everybody but him left the mobile home.
Virgil looked up at a blue sky and smiled. He was still taking great pleasure in his trip to Earth. Every minute was a treasure, and he was trying to remember as much as possible, so he could relive the memories back in Limbo.
"What's your plan?" Lisa said.
"Simple," Alfred said. "I'm sure Daniel is performing exactly the same ceremonies as last time. He is a creature of habit. His ceremonies require specific materials." He opened the notebook. "A silver chalice, white candles, a brass bell with crucifix engravings, powdered amethyst, white sage paper, and incense made from pine grown in the Holy Land. He won't vary from the formula. We just need to figure out who the local suppliers are. Maybe one of them might remember seeing Daniel."
Virgil smiled. "That's genius, but it will involve a lot of leg work and research."
"Mei can help with that. She can consult the magic internet."
Virgil winced. They had just made a long drive from Chinatown, and now they had to go all the way back. Alfred's plan was a good one though, and Virgil certainly had nothing better to suggest.
"Let's go," he said.
Chapter Eight
Franklin Mackay was peeking out through the front window of his trailer. He watched the group of police officers get in their cars and drive off. He exhaled. That went pretty well, he thought.
A man stepped out of the neighboring trailer. He was wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and running shoes. He glanced in both directions nervously before jogging over. Mackay quickly opened the door to let him in.
"Were those the ones we expected?"
"I think so," Mackay said. "They asked the right questions. They claimed they were cops."
"And you gave them the scrapbook?"
"Yes."
The man nodded. "Good. I took some pictures. I think my boss will be pleased."
"When will I see Daniel again?" Mackay said.
"I don't know."
"And I was promised money."
The man gave Mackay a hard look. "You're very demanding for a guy who is basically just a zoo janitor."
"I did my part," Mackay said, "now you do yours."
"I need to make a call first. I'll get back to you."
The man left the trailer and returned to his own.
* * *
Ken Walton was riding in the back of his limousine. Sunlight filtered in through tinted windows and reflected from gold fixtures. He was listening to Nocturnes by Claude Debussy using a sound system that would've made any audiophile envious. The soft tones and slow pace of the music soothed his nerves. The only other sound was the air-conditioner blowing gently on his face.
Two bodyguards shared the rear compartment of the limousine with Walton, but he was effectively alone. No conversation interfered with the thoughts roaming around in his head. He wondered what was happening back at his office. He was the chairman and CEO of a huge conglomerate which included pharmaceutical manufacture, hospitals, health insurance, textiles, cosmetics, and athletic equipment. Normally, his responsibilities as a powerful executive consumed every bit of his time, but he hadn't been to his office in two weeks. He had more important things to worry about, such as the fate of his immortal soul.
The music stopped, and a pleasant ringing replaced it. Somebody was calling him on his private line.
He pressed a button in a control panel on the ceiling. "Yes?"
"This is James Devaney, sir. I'm the guy babysitting Franklin Mackay."
"You have something to report?" Walton said.
"Yes, sir. Five people just visited him. They were asking about Daniel. Mackay gave them the scrapbook."
"Excellent."
"I have some pictures, sir," Devaney said. "I can send them with my phone."
"Go ahead."
Walton turned on a computer screen built into the side of the limousine. The screen had touch sensitivity and worked like the surface of a smart phone.
Pictures appeared on the screen, and he flipped through them with his finger. The pictures showed three men and two women. One of the women was black, but the rest were white. All of them wore cheap business suits appropriate for police detectives.
Walton knew at least two were fiends, but Hell had done a good job of simulating humanity. They didn't have horns or bat wings. He certainly would never suspect they were supernatural creatures if he had met them on the street.
"These are good," Walton said. "Now we know the face of our enemy."
"Mackey was asking about Daniel. He wants to see his boyfriend again."
"Daniel is busy. Tell Mackey the one romantic encounter will probably be the last."
"Should I pay him?" Devaney said.
"Yes, but warn him also. If he talks to anybody about this matter, you'll come back and silence him."
"Why don't I just kill him right now and save you some money?"
"Too risky," Walton said. "If the enemy hears about his death or disappearance, they'll become suspicious."
He had another reason for not killing Mackey. The souls of the dead could be interrogated. If Mackey spilled his guts to the lords of Hell, the plan would be in jeopardy. Walton's secret boss had assured him that wouldn't happen in this particular case, but Walton wasn't taking any unnecessary chances. It was better to keep Mackey alive and quiet.
"Yes, sir," Devaney said. "I'll pay him now."
"Good," Walton said. "Stay at your post. Keep an eye on Mackey in case he has second thoughts. Bye."
He pressed a button to end the call.
He settled back into his soft seat which was covered in black suede. He smiled with satisfaction even though he knew the game was far from over. The demons were following the trail of breadcrumbs exactly as he had planned.
A half-hour later, Walton heard the tires rolling over gravel. The limousine slowed to a gentle stop.
The bodyguards got out first, and when they gave the all-clear, Walton emerged. It was an unseasonably warm, muggy afternoon. He couldn't wait for cooler weather. He took off his jacket and tossed it back into the limousine. His shirt and tie would be good enough.
He looked over at an old factory with brick walls and a wooden roof. The red bricks had cracked and settled over the years, but the building still stood. Giant smokestacks reached high in the sky. Train tracks crossed the side, but rust had pitted the rails, and weeds grew between the ties.
A long time ago, the place had been a candy factory. After the factory had declared bankruptcy and the workers had left, vagrants had moved in. A week ago, Walton had sent thugs to clear the place, and now it was a construction site.
Cement trucks were lined up in front with their barrels spinning. The sounds of power tools emanated from the factory. A whole fleet of cars and pickup trucks were parked wherever there was space.
Walton walked into the factory and looked around. The interior had been cleared to create an open space big enough for a jumbo jet to use as a hangar. Sparks rained down as welders worked in the high rafters. On the ground, men were cutting the concrete floor with giant circular saws. A group of blacksmiths in the corner were shaping hot metal using torches and hammers.
Walton spotted a short man carrying a set of blueprints. His yellow hard hat matched his yellow safety vest. His blue jeans were a size too big, but a belt held them up. He was walking quickly and gi
ving instructions to the workers.
"Hey!" Walton yelled. "Gadberry!"
The short man looked. "Mr. Walton?" He ran over to Walton. "I wasn't expecting you, sir."
"This is a surprise inspection, and I have to say I'm already a little disappointed. You still have a lot to do. Why aren't the underground lifts done?"
"I have shifts scheduled all night tonight and all day tomorrow. We can't work any faster."
Gadberry had bags under his eyes, and his face was slack, but Walton didn't feel bad for him. Gadberry was being paid well for his trouble.
"Then be creative," Walton said. "The deadline can't be moved. As long as I'm here, I might as well get a tour."
"Of course, sir. Follow me."
Gadberry walked over to a flight of stairs which stood against the wall. The plain steel stairs were a new addition. Posts and beams still had scorch marks from being welded.
Gadberry led Walton up the stairs and onto a catwalk which hung from the ceiling. The catwalk swung and flexed slightly when Walton put his weight on it.
"Is this thing safe?" he said nervously.
"It should be," Gadberry said. "We built it exactly as specified in the blueprints. I assume your architect did the engineering analysis."
That statement didn't comfort Walton. The design process had been hurried and chaotic. He wasn't sure if any kind of engineering analysis had happened.
He looked down at the floor. The basic structure of the demon trap was apparent from this perspective. Bars of iron formed a geometrically perfect star with seven points. The bars were straight to within a thousandth of an inch, and the iron met the laboratory standard for chemical purity.
A circular moat surrounded the star. The moat was dry now, and the black rubber lining was visible. Special salt water would flood into the moat when the trap was sprung.
Structures made of polished aluminum hung above the trap on thin wires. The intricate sculptures formed complex, three-dimensional shapes. To most people, they were just interesting pieces of abstract art, but Walton knew them to be angelic symbols capable of hypnotizing demons. They would descend into place at the right moment.
The world's most expensive fire sprinkler system was the "teeth" in the trap. Pipes and nozzles made of custom silver alloy would spray holy water onto the floor of the factory, destroying any demons trapped there. Walton looked up at big tanks attached to the ceiling. Angelic writing was drawn on the highly polished surfaces using gold leaf.
"Make sure those tanks are clean on the inside before you fill them," he said. "Flush them with detergent and steam. There can't be the slightest bit of contamination."
"Yes, sir," Gadberry said. "I wish you would tell me what all this is for. It feels very... cultish."
"None of your business. You're being paid to follow instructions. Now show me where I'll be standing."
They continued along the catwalk until they came to a steel structure the size and shape of a tool shed. Walton stepped through the open door, and the floor inside felt much more solid than the catwalk. The shed had round windows in the walls and floor, providing views of the entire factory. He took a close look at a window and saw the glass was two inches thick.
"Everything is bulletproof," Gadberry said, "just like you specified. You could survive a war in here."
Walton nodded. "What if the catwalk is destroyed? How do I get down?"
Gadberry pointed to a red button. "Hoists will lower the entire room to the floor."
"Excellent work. Now you just need to finish the project and get your guys out of here."
"I'm doing my best."
Walton stepped out of the shed and looked down at the iron star again. He wondered if demons could feel pain. If so, they certainly would tomorrow night.
* * *
Daniel Shipman was crouched behind a pine tree. According to the information he had been given, the target would make his appearance shortly.
The neighborhood was a good approximation of Heaven, at least how he imagined it. Big, old trees stood in front of classic American homes. Green leaves on the branches matched pristine lawns. Only a red fire hydrant broke up the color scheme. The houses were two or even three stories tall, and each one had a distinct architectural style. The cars parked in the driveways were shiny and new.
Daniel was watching a particular street corner where a large, suburban high school was located. Today's target was a boy named Richard Conley who attended that high school. He was the star of the lacrosse team and a straight A student. He volunteered at local homeless shelters on weekends when he didn't have a big game. He was even an altar boy at his church. It was hard to imagine a soul more worthy of residing in the highest levels of Heaven.
Richard always stayed after classes to practice lacrosse. He would usually stand around for ten or fifteen minutes until his mother picked him up. According to Daniel's information, she never showed up on time.
Richard came out of the high school and went to the corner to wait. Daniel recognized the boy from a picture. His handsome face and sturdy body made Daniel feel a twinge of jealousy. Daniel had never looked that good at any point in his life. At best, he had been "nondescript."
Daniel checked for witnesses and saw the street was clear. Classes had let out an hour ago. He emerged from his hiding place.
He walked calmly but purposefully towards Richard. The boy was tall and muscular. In his previous life, Daniel would've avoided such a physically challenging target, but he wasn't human anymore. His demonic form had supernatural strength and durability despite its meek appearance. He was confident he could handle any mortal opponent and even some immortal ones.
Richard looked towards Daniel with a curious expression. There was no fear in the boy's eyes.
"Hi!" Daniel said cheerfully. "You're Richard, right?"
Richard nodded. "You know me?"
"I saw you play lacrosse the other day. You're good."
"Thank you."
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "There is something on your neck. Hold still."
Before Richard had a chance to protect himself, Daniel reached out and extruded a blade from the tip of his finger. Daniel inserted the tiny dagger into Richard's neck, severing the carotid artery. Richard jerked backwards, but he was half a second too slow.
Daniel stepped back. Richard grabbed his own neck, and blood leaked out between his fingers.
"Why?" Richard gasped.
"Because you're a good boy," Daniel said. "A very good boy. Enjoy Heaven."
Richard slumped to the pavement.
Daniel walked away. He had just committed an atrocious sin, but knowing Richard was in Paradise now eliminated any guilt. After all, the point of life was achieving a blessed afterlife. Daniel would gladly release a million souls to Heaven if he could. He was a true hero, willing to make any sacrifice for the betterment of those deserving an eternal reward. He was preventing good souls from being stained by evil by sending them off early.
Daniel wished his father had understood. After Daniel's arrest, father had visited him in prison. Daniel had tried to explain his logic in correct religious terms, but father had responded with hurtful verbal abuse. Daniel still wondered if he could've presented his argument in a more convincing manner. Of course, it was too late now.
Daniel walked around a corner and came to a busy avenue. He continued walking, glancing over his shoulder occasionally. He moved quickly but didn't run.
A black limousine rolled to a stop along the sidewalk in front of him. The car barely halted long enough for him to climb into the cool, dark interior. He closed the door, and the car pulled away.
* * *
Virgil walked into Li and Li's Electronics Boutique. He was surprised to find Mei behind the counter instead of her father. She was wearing a plain red dress which hugged her slim torso. Plastic clips made to look like butterflies held back her reddish hair. She had matching butterfly earrings.
"You're running the store by yourself?" Virgil said.
"My dad is upstairs," Mei pointed upwards. She and her father lived in an apartment above the store.
Virgil wasn't comfortable with the idea of Mei being alone. The trouble with the gangsters had happened yesterday, and some kind of retaliation was still possible. She was a very vulnerable target by herself.
"Did you hear the news?" she added.
"What news?" Virgil said.
"The boss of the Nightshade Gang killed himself. He drank poisoned tea."
Virgil stared. He couldn't escape the fact that his actions had led to the suicide. Virgil's powerful gaze had caused the boss to experience unendurable guilt. Virgil had indirectly murdered him.
Virgil turned to his teammates and saw mixed expressions. Lisa appeared not to care, Alfred had an expression of concern, and Sara was distant. Haymaker obviously had no idea what was going on.
"You were given a dangerous ability," Alfred said somberly. "Use it more cautiously in the future."
Virgil nodded.
He wondered if his standing in Hell would change. Would he receive a worse punishment when he finally returned?
He refocused on the mission and turned back to Mei. "We need your help. The terrorist we're after likes to perform a special religious ceremony. He needs specific materials. We were hoping you would put together a list of suppliers we can talk to."
He handed over Mackey's scrapbook which was already open to the right page. Mei gazed at the description of Daniel's purification ritual.
"Why are you coming to me?" she said. "I don't know anything about this kind of ceremony."
"You know how to search the internet, and I don't. I'm from the past, remember?"
She gave him a dubious look.
"Do you want a gold coin as payment? This is really important."
She faced the ceiling. "Dad!" she yelled. "Come back down, please!"
He heard footsteps thumping on the floor above. It sounded like the building was made of cheap plywood.