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Demon Accords 6: Forced Ascent

Page 24

by John Conroe


  “But let’s hear more about that breakfast you were bragging about,” she said to me. ‘Sos sat up from the floor in wolf form and looked at me expectantly as well.

  “Well, let me see what I can rustle up,” I said, stepping over to the stairs to the lower level. Behind me, I heard, “Hey, Stacia, after you help the boss with the news crews, what say I treat you to lunch?” Stevens asked.

  “Stevens, if you don’t get your hand off my hip, I’m gonna skip breakfast and have you for lunch,” she replied.

  “Ooo, promises, promises,” he laughed. At least someone wasn’t put off by her other form.

  Down below, I found the galley and rummaged around, finding premixed eggs, frozen hash browns, and microwavable bacon. The coffee was already on. Ten minutes later, I had a huge tray of food to carry back up to the main level.

  Stacia was already seated up front, watching the news.

  I handed her a heaping plate of food and put a big mixing bowl of eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns on the floor for Awasos, who started hoovering the whole mix up. Finally, I took my seat next to Stacia with my own plate.

  “What’s the deal?”

  “Well, the coverage of the street fight is really pretty awesome. Some of those camera guys are gonna win awards. The anchors are interviewing everyone and anyone with any idea of what it’s all about. The guy on right now is a scientist trying to claim that the demons are just extraterrestrials, not really evil. The other two guest are crucifying him, sorry, no pun intended, and the anchors are siding with them. I think, Chris, if nothing else, we’ve managed to make religion more popular, pretty much overnight. Now of course, there’s backlash against the standard Halloween trick-or-treating traditions. Also, every cult on the planet has come out of the woodwork to claim it’s the Rapture or the end of times or something like that. You really do need to address it… this morning.”

  “And tell them what?”

  “First, tell them it will be okay, ‘cause that’s what they want and need to hear. Then give them your advice. ‘Cause they need that, too.”

  “What advice?”

  “Listen, this is your moment to tell the whole country, scratch that, the whole world everything you want them to do to make your job easier and them safer. Just lay it out.”

  On the floor, the metal mixing bowl rattled as ‘Sos licked it sparkly clean, giving me something to focus on while my thoughts raced each other around my head. After a moment, I grabbed a pen and paper and started my list. Stacia, nibbling a piece of bacon, looked over my shoulder and made suggestions. Fifteen minutes later, it was mostly done.

  “Alright, let’s do this,” I said.

  “Well, maybe we should clean up and change clothes first?” she suggested.

  Forty minutes after that, we were ready to go. Stacia looked me up and down, nodding to herself. I was wearing jeans, boots and, in a concession to her, a button-down checked shirt that looked a bit better than my standard t-shirt. She too was wearing jeans, cowgirl boots, a dark clingy shirt, and some kind of complicated half shawl-half sweater thingy that looked trendy. Around us, Benson, Stevens, and Hedges were gearing up like they were going to war. Tactical vests, earpieces, ballistic sunglasses, and AR-15 rifles. Their vests all had the word Security across the back and on the breast patch as well.

  “Benson, you’re point; Hedges, you’ve got the tail position; Stevens on the outside edge. Watch the airport cops and look for hostiles in the crowd. I’ll call it from in here,” Deckert told his guys as he opened the plane door. Giant Benson headed out first, then Stevens, then Awasos, with myself and Stacia following. Hedges came last.

  Even as we took our first steps off the plane, while the door was still closing behind us, I could hear the television anchors on the TV behind us announcing our appearance to the world while the crowd outside the fence suddenly started to shout.

  The noise swelled as we drew closer to the fence. The line of airport police and TSA agents along the fence turned to watch us approach, their shifting body language as anxious as the crowd.

  A tall, auburn-haired police sergeant headed to us, eyes uncertain as he recognized Stacia and myself.

  “Hey Sergeant. We thought we should say a few words, see if maybe we can’t get some of them to go home,” I said. “I’m Chris Gordon and this is Stacia Reynolds.” I held out my hand and watched him war with himself, trying to decide whether to shake it or back away. Finally, after an awkward few seconds, he leaned forward and grabbed my hand in a quick shake, then shook Stacia’s.

  “I’m Sergeant Timmons, Metro Washington Airport Authority,” he said. Up close, his face was covered in freckles. “Any help getting them to leave would be appreciated. But, they’re pretty volatile, Sir. Be careful.”

  “Can we stand on the roof of the SUV?” I asked, pointing to a K-9 unit vehicle parked conveniently near the fence.

  “Yeah, ah let me get something for you to climb up with,” he said.

  “Not necessary Sarge,” I said, leaping lightly to the roof of the vehicle. A moment later, Stacia landed next to me. The crowd went silent at our casual display of inhuman athleticism.

  I got nervous, fumbling in my back pocket for my notes, staring at the sea of faces staring back.

  “Ah, hi, I’m Chris Gordon,” I said a bit haltingly, finally getting my sheet of paper out. “I, ah, brought notes.”

  The crowd laughed a little, some of the tension bleeding off.

  “Ah, this is my associate, Stacia Reynolds,” I said, giving her a moment to wave a cute little wave. “We just got up, so excuse the confusion… busy night.” More laughter.

  “So, I thought we could go over some things. Things you all can do tonight to protect yourselves and your families,” I started.

  “What are you going to do?” a voice yelled out from the crowd.

  “Well, we’re gonna look for the bad spots… the worst of the worst. Then we’ll do what we do.”

  “How will you know… where the worst sites are?” another voice asked.

  “Well, a combination of monitoring the news, police bands, and instinct. My instinct,” I said. “See, I’ve been doing this my whole life and I get these… feelings? Images? Anyway, we’ll find the worst of the worst and we’ll shut them down. But we can’t get to all of them, so the smaller ones, we’ll have to ignore for now.”

  “What, you’re just gonna leave those behind?” a reporter who had wormed his way to the front asked, holding up a microphone.

  “Have to. We’re only one team. Can’t be everywhere at once. But, remember, these things don’t usually just pop open unless one of two things has happened. One, a previous gateway was opened sometime in the past. That can leave enough of a trace or pattern for a new one to open when the dimensions thin. Didn’t used to be a big problem, but the Large Hadron Collider has weakened our protections.

  “The second way these things open is if someone deliberately opens them. Drawing the forms, saying the spells, calling or inviting prime evil into our world. So, tonight, being Halloween and all that, you’ll need to do a few things. Keep your kids at home, especially the teens, lock your doors and windows, burn sage if you have it, line the openings to your home with salt and iron. But the biggest thing? Don’t call the damned things here. If you’re watching this now, thinking tonight would be a great time to gather some friends and play with the occult, think again. So far, none of the people who have accidentally or deliberately opened a Hell gate have lived. They’re always the first to die. So don’t fiddle with spooky stuff tonight, okay? Leave the creep factor alone. No circles or pentagrams unless you’re a practitioner of witchcraft and actually know what you’re doing. In fact, it might be a good night to go to church, at least this year,” I said.

  “So trick or treating is evil?” someone asked.

  “Don’t be absurd. I did it last year with my goddaughter. This year, it’s a bad idea just because it exposes your young ones at night, possibly the worst night. Remember, the or
iginal reason for the costumes and jack-o’-lanterns was to scare away evil spirits that crossed over on Halloween. This has been going on a long, long time. The LHC just gave it a huge helping hand is all. I’m told that the government has some technology that may be able to close Hellgates. We’ll see.”

  “The same government that’s been hunting you and launching missiles at civilians?” the reporter asked.

  “Yeah, we have our issues, don’t we,” I said. That got a laugh as well.

  “What is the best church or religion?” someone called out.

  “The one you’re at,” I replied. More chuckles. “No, really. It doesn’t matter. Whatever faith you practice is the right one. Christian, Judaism, Muslim, Hinduism, Wicca, Druidism, Native spirituality… it doesn’t matter.”

  “But you went to a Catholic church,” the same voice yelled.

  “It was handy,” I said with a shrug, “I was raised Protestant, but I’ve been in temples and synagogues, churchs, graveyards, even burial grounds. As long as the concepts of good are cherished over the principles of evil, and you’re comfortable with it, then it’s the right one. God doesn’t judge religions… he judges souls.”

  “What does He say? What does God tell you?”

  “Nothing. I don’t speak to God. I’m not his mouthpiece, I’m not any kind of preacher; I’m not here to spread His word and all that. I’m simply a soldier, a fighter.”

  “What about the rest of the world? What will they do?” another called out.

  “For tonight, they’ll have to rely on their own religious experts. They all have them. After tomorrow, we’ll probably look at traveling to those countries that’ll have us to settle their really big problems. As long as they’re not shooting at us, that is,” I said.

  “You mean like here, in the country of your birth?” another reporter asked. The press was beginning to take over the front line.

  “Yeah. It’s a bitch, isn’t it?” I asked right back. Laughter.

  “You blew the fingers off my husband’s hand,” a woman a few rows back interjected into the gap in the conversation. The crowd got real quiet.

  “He a cop?” I asked.

  She nodded. “City cop responding to the attacks… just doing his job.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. We were just trying to do our jobs as well. But we can’t take fire from both enemies and allies. Can’t do it. I’m sure I hurt a lot of others, too. The people I was trying to protect shot my associate to death. I wasn’t going to allow any more of my people to die.” Actually, I had been about to slaughter hundreds of innocent cops and agents when Stacia snapped me out of it. I thought it best to leave that part unmentioned.

  “He’s not perfect and he’s super protective of his own,” Stacia suddenly interjected. “Could it have been handled differently? Sure. But despite being more than human in some ways, he’s still human at heart. And he has a temper. If he’s putting his life and his people’s lives on the line for you and you shoot him or them? Well, his temper snaps. And with the heat of battle and taking fire from supposed allies, well, shit happens. Could it have been better? Yeah. Could it have been worse? No cop died at his hands. I really wish the reverse was true.”

  “You’re a werewolf, right?” someone else asked. I didn’t think the topic with the cop’s wife was finished. I certainly didn’t feel like it was, but the crowd was on to a new one. One that was way more interesting than wounded first responders. Maybe Tanya would have some ideas for handling those I had hurt after this was over.

  “Yes, I am,” Stacia said.

  “Are there more of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are they, and where are the vampires?”

  “Well, my vampires are sleeping,” I said, pointing up at the sun. “That big ball of fire makes them mostly pass out. But if you’re asking where the weres and vampires are in general, well… everywhere. All around. They always have been.”

  “Who are they? How do we know? How do we protect ourselves?”

  “They’re your neighbors, co-workers, bosses, employees, and associates. Weres have mostly normal lives. Doctors, nurses, teachers, cops, brokers, all the same jobs that you have. Vampires are a bit daylight-impaired so they have slightly different lifestyles but not usually drastically so. They work night shifts and night jobs. And compared to humans, their numbers are very, very low. As for protecting yourselves, I’d say you’re in much greater danger from car accidents, slips in the tub, binge drinking, and heart attacks than being wounded or worse by a supernatural. See, they police themselves, punishing and removing those supernaturals that prey on humans. Protecting the secret,” I said.

  “But now the secret is out. How does that change things?” another yell.

  “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, because demons are the real problem here, not weres and vampires. Let me ask you a question. Tonight, let’s say you’re at your local church for an impromptu pot luck dinner and anti-demon sing-along.” Nervous chuckles from the crowd. “And let’s say the worst happens and someone manning the front door sees a fellow church member just outside being attacked by a demon. Who would you want to go help them? Your sixty-year-old church secretary or someone like Stacia here, who can fight a demon face to face and win?”

  “She’s welcome to guard my body tonight or any night,” a young man yelled out.

  “Sorry dude. I’ve got his back tonight,” Stacia said, thumbing at me. “And his back takes a whole lot of watching. You saw the fight on television, right? You think what he does is easy?”

  “How close a call was it? With the President and that woman who was a demon?” a woman reporter asked.

  “I don’t know any of the details about where the Prez was or wasn’t during the fight, but it was our worst fight yet. Amaymon was frankly a touch out of my league. I had a lot of help.”

  “What was that fight in the church yard? Who actually killed the demon?” another reporter asked.

  “Who do you think he was?” I asked him right back.

  “An angel?” he finally, tentatively guessed.

  “His name is Barbiel, and he’s the Angel of October,” I said, nodding.

  “You speak with angels?”

  “Just him. He’s my… handler.”

  “What’s it like?”

  I laughed. “Not as grand as it sounds. They don’t understand this,” I answered, waving my arms all around at everything. “They don’t understand life.”

  “Why can’t he come and close the gates? Why can’t the other angels come, too?” some voice asked.

  “Because there are rules and agreements. Accords that both good and evil must follow or else face all-out war. Angels can appear on hallowed ground, but not off it. That’s why your churches and temples will be the safest places to be tonight.”

  “There aren’t enough churches and places of worship. What’ll we do?” someone asked, voice panicky.

  “First step: don’t panic. Second: organize. You’ve got the entire today—daylight portion anyway—to get things figured out. Most of you are fine in your homes, that is if they’re real homes with family and respect. By the way, you heard me mention graveyards, right? Some are hallowed ground. Blessed by the churches. Despite the horror movie stereotype, they’re off limits to evil. At least if they’ve been kept consecrated.”

  “You’re suggesting that we, what? Party in a cemetery?” the first reporter asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Worse comes to worse—yeah. Beats dying on the street. My first choice would be all night Mass, worship service, or just your basic church sleepover. But if you find yourself out and exposed, then a handy church cemetery will keep you safe. Couple other things. The demons you saw us fight last night came through in their own forms. Usually demons come through without corporeal presence—just in spirit form. That’s the whole possession thing. If you encounter someone possessed, do not engage in co
nversation with them. Don’t try to restrain them or exorcise them. If you can trap them in a room or something, fine, but really, just stay away. Demons are the supernatural world’s experts at psychological warfare. They will know your deepest, darkest secrets and they’ll use them against you. So don’t engage unless you have absolutely no choice.”

  “Is there any hope?” a woman in the second row back asked.

  “What? Of course! We won last night. We stopped Hell’s best-laid plan. So tonight has the potential to be bad, but it doesn’t have to be. Listen, if we don’t muck with the supernatural tonight, then the only gates will be the old, existing trace gates. We’ll have fewer incursions and less to clean up. If you all are locked behind family thresholds or tucked away in churches and synagogues, then there’s no one to terrorize or try to possess. Tomorrow the sun will rise and we’ll sweep up the trash.”

 

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