Devil's Descent (Luther Cross Book 2)

by Percival Constantine

  Raziel returned the smile and looked over to the bar in the corner, where a young, unassuming man stood. “Did you hear that, Garret? Pyriel would like a White Russian.”

  “Yessir,” replied the bartender as he went about preparing the drink.

  Raziel turned to the other angel. “Anything for you, Zadkiel?”

  “I’m fine; would just like to know why we’re meeting here,” said Zadkiel. “You know I don’t like leaving the celestial plane unless absolutely necessary.”

  “I promise you, it is.” Raziel gestured to a table surrounded by chairs—the only form of furniture other than the bar. “Please, have a seat.”

  The two angels nodded and walked towards the table, where Zadkiel immediately sat. Pyriel pulled out his chair, but then paused before he cast a questioning look at his host. “Why four chairs? Is Garret going to be joining us?”

  “No, but I have another guest coming.” Raziel looked down at the silver watch around his wrist. “And he’s late, which is typical.”

  Pyriel said nothing else, just pulled out his chair and took a seat. Raziel sat at the head of the table just as Garret approached with a tray. He set the White Russian in front of Pyriel, a glass of brandy for Raziel, and provided another glass of brandy, resting it in front of the empty seat.

  “Who’s this other guest?” asked Zadkiel. “I was under the impression you had something important to discuss, something for angelic ears only.”

  “We’ll wait until he arrives.” Raziel sipped his drink and the three brothers sat in silence.

  Minutes passed, and then they heard the sound of footsteps coming up the circular staircase from Eden’s main floor. The man who stepped off the final step wore a charcoal suit with a crimson silk shirt. He walked with a cane topped with a crystal orb, and his long, silver hair hung over his shoulders.

  “Gentlemen, it’s been too long,” said the new arrival, his bright, yellow eyes flashing with his smile.

  “What in the name of creation is this, Raziel?” asked Zadkiel, instantly rising to his feet. He held out his hand, blue flames starting to generate in his palm.

  Raziel held up his own hand to try and calm his brother. “Relax. Asmodeus is here because I invited him.”

  “Yes, please do relax, Zad,” said Asmodeus as he sat in the empty seat. “We’re all friends here. Or should I say family?”

  “You’re no family of mine, demon!” spat Zadkiel. He pointed an accusatory finger at Asmodeus. “You lost that the day you sided with the Morningstar!”

  Asmodeus rolled his eyes and took a sip of his brandy. “Really, Zad, you ought to walk outside those pearly gates a little more often. The eons have not been kind to your social graces.”

  “My name is Zadkiel. You will say it properly, or you won’t say it at all.”

  “Just take a breath, boys,” said Pyriel with a sigh. “We don’t want to start a war.”

  “Pyriel is right; there are far more important things to worry about than past feuds,” said Raziel.

  “You call betraying the Host and open rebellion a minor feud?” asked Zadkiel.

  “Compared to what we may be facing, yes.” Raziel glared at his brother. “Now, please, sit. There’s much to discuss.”

  Asmodeus smirked and nodded. “You heard our host, Zad-ki-el.” He emphasized each syllable of the angel’s name.

  Zadkiel grunted and sat back down, the soulfire that had been building in his hand dissipating. “Fine. Why am I in the company of this demon scum, brother?”

  “There was an incident a few months ago,” said Raziel. “I’m sure you’re all well-acquainted with Luther Cross.”

  “The cambion?” asked Zadkiel. “Do we have permission to kill him yet?”

  “No. Cross…stumbled onto something,” said Raziel. “A mystic pregnancy. Based on information he had at the time, Cross’ assumption was that the girl was carrying a cambion. She was tricked by a man claiming to work for Heaven, as were a few other girls. Cross believed the man was actually working with a demon, trying to breed an army of cambions. But, as the case went on, the truth came to light. In reality, this man was telling the truth—he was working for an angel, and the girl was carrying a nephilim.”

  Raziel paused to sip his brandy, and it was a pause met by silence from his guests.

  He set the glass on the table and leaned back in his chair. “That is the situation we’re faced with.”

  “This…is madness,” said Zadkiel. “Cross must’ve been mistaken.”

  “No mistake,” said Asmodeus. “Whoever’s pulling the strings sent Azrael after him. No demon, not even Lucifer himself, could swing that.”

  “If Azrael was after him, how does he still draw breath?” asked Zadkiel.

  “I intervened on Cross’ behalf,” said Raziel.

  Pyriel narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You took a stand against the Angel of Death? Siding with a cambion, of all people? You do realize the consequences that could bring, don’t you?”

  “I’m not an idiot, so don’t speak to me like one,” said Raziel. “I knew what I was doing.”

  “And the girl?” asked Zadkiel. “Where is she now?”

  “Safe.”

  “That’s not an answer, Raziel,” said Pyriel.

  Raziel sighed. “I need to be clear about something. The creation of nephilim is strictly forbidden by the armistice between Heaven and Hell. Should the Infernal Court learn about this—”

  “He sits on the Court.” Zadkiel pointed at Asmodeus. “How could you risk bringing him to this meeting? Letting him know all of this?”

  “Because I helped Cross,” said Asmodeus.

  “Well, what do you expect? Hellspawn stick together,” said Pyriel.

  “The last thing I want is the Court learning about this,” said Asmodeus. “It would lead to a celestial war that would consume the earth.”

  “You care about humans now?” asked Pyriel.

  “Do you have any idea how entertaining those talking monkeys are?” asked Asmodeus. “It’s better than Netflix. Which we also wouldn’t have without them.”

  “Asmodeus can provide us with valuable insight—the insight of a Hell Lord,” said Raziel. “But what we need to do now is learn who is behind this rebellion.”

  “And how do we know it’s not one of your friends?” asked Asmodeus, casting suspicious glances at both Pyriel and Zadkiel.

  “How do you know it’s not me?” asked Raziel.

  Asmodeus scoffed and took another sip. He didn’t answer.

  “There are no beings I trust more than these two angels,” said Raziel. “Like you, they have no desire to see another war.”

  “I don’t know about that. Zad seems like he’s got a good bit of rage he needs to work off,” said Asmodeus. “How about you stay planetside for a while? The touch of a good woman would probably do wonders for you.”

  “I wouldn’t dare lower myself.”

  Asmodeus shrugged. “I know a great gay bar in Wrigleyville.”

  Zadkiel slammed a clenched fist on the table and Asmodeus chuckled. Raziel held his arms to quiet them down. “That’s enough. We need to work together on this.”

  “So, what do you propose we do?” asked Pyriel. “We can’t exactly run a paternity test.”

  “No, but we do have one lead,” said Raziel. “Joseph Luxton.”

  “Who’s that?” asked Pyriel.

  “The one our mysterious feathered friend recruited to find these girls. As far as we know, he’s the only one who can give us the angel’s name,” said Asmodeus. “But there’s just one problem—he’s dead.”

  “That would only be a problem if we were mortals,” said Zadkiel.

  “His soul’s not in Hell; I checked,” said Asmodeus. “And with all Luxton’s done, Angel X couldn’t get him into Heaven without revealing himself.”

  “Asmodeus is right. To get such a tainted soul into Heaven would raise suspicions,” said Raziel.

  “Maybe he’s a ghost?” asked Pyriel. “
Keeping him on earth, hiding him in plain sight.”

  Raziel shook his head. “Unlikely. Would be easier to find him if he were. There’s only one place his soul could be, a place where both angels and demons fear to tread.”

  “Purgatory,” said Zadkiel. “You wish to open the gates to Purgatory? Such a thing has never been done before.”

  “A full assault on Purgatory would tip off our enemy,” said Asmodeus. “What we need is stealth. Raziel and I could go alone.”

  “You think we’d trust our brother alone with you?” asked Zadkiel.

  Asmodeus opened his mouth in mock despair. “Words can be hurtful, Zad.”

  “Asmodeus won’t harm me; he has just as much to lose from this as we do,” said Raziel. “Should the Infernal Court—or, God forbid, Lucifer himself—learn of this, there’s no telling what chaos would unfold. I believe we can trust him.”

  “Famous last words…” muttered Pyriel between sips of his White Russian.

  “And it won’t be that simple, either,” said Asmodeus. “Breaching the dimensional barrier to Purgatory is a delicate process. But once we’re in there, finding Luxton is another matter altogether. The angel will have done a fine job of hiding him. We need someone with a connection to Luxton.”

  “The girl?” asked Pyriel.

  “No, she can’t be part of this,” said Raziel. “For her safety and the safety of everyone, we have to keep her and that unborn nephilim contained. As the child grows within her, its power grows, too. It has a connection to its father, desires to be by his side.”

  “You said he had other prisoners?” asked Zadkiel.

  “They won’t be much help,” said Raziel. “All of them were left catatonic after his hold over them was broken.”

  “No doubt the angel’s work, covering his tracks,” said Asmodeus.

  “But there is someone with a connection to Luxton, someone who has fought him and can stand up to the horrors of Purgatory,” said Raziel.

  Pyriel shook his head. “You can’t be serious about this.”

  “I am,” said Raziel. “We need Luther Cross.”

  “Trusting him is a dangerous risk,” said Zadkiel. “Both him and Asmodeus, working together? How do we know this demon isn’t the cambion’s father? Maybe this is all part of his plan to exert control over his offspring?”

  “Right, I put on a fake halo and, presto, impregnated a girl with a nephilim.” Asmodeus scoffed. “Get your head out of your ass, Zadkiel. Also, Cross? We look nothing alike. He’s nowhere near as handsome as me.”

  “He may be a cambion, but he was raised by the Sons of Solomon. He knows their ways, he’s well-trained in their magicks, and he has a connection to Luxton,” said Raziel. “Whether we like it or not, Luther Cross is our only hope.”

  3

  After a shower and shave, I selected my black suit with white shirt and crimson tie from the walk-in closet. Normally, I wouldn’t go for the full suit treatment this early in the morning, but I knew I had company coming. The developer whose building I’d purged the other night was going to stop by and settle up her account.

  I stared into the mirror, finishing the final loops on the tie before drawing it up to the collar. As I sometimes do when I’m standing in front of a mirror, I took an extra moment to admire myself and gave a wink before I pulled on my suit jacket and walked from the master bathroom, through the adjoining bedroom, and into my living room.

  My condo was located on Chicago’s Gold Coast, nearby Lake Michigan and Lake Shore Drive. It was on the top floor, and for what a place like this cost, you could probably buy a few houses out in the suburbs. But then you’d be living in the suburbs, so you gotta consider the trade-off.

  The living room was spacious, with a long, leather couch, a leather recliner, glass coffee table, and a big-screen smart TV. If I’m going to binge-watch Luke Cage, I’m doing it the way it’s meant to be.

  I walked past the connected dining room, with a liquor cabinet on the left and a dining table on the right. It actually didn’t get a whole lot of use; I wasn’t much for company. In the kitchen, I made myself a pot of coffee. Once it was ready, I poured it into a cup and dropped a several spoonfuls of sugar in it. If my spoon’s not standing straight up by the time I’m done, there’s not enough sugar in the coffee.

  Mornings usually started with me taking my coffee out onto the balcony, and today was no exception. I stepped onto the balcony from the door in the dining room and sipped, leaning on the barrier and staring out over the city. It was a bright day, and the sounds of traffic below floated up to my ears.

  Chicago was a city of contrasts. You’ve got the hustle and bustle you’ll find in a place like New York, but it was tempered by the Midwestern culture. And compared to the rest of the surrounding area, Chicago’s something of an outsider. Something about that really spoke to me. When I finished my training, I could’ve gone anywhere in the world to begin working as a paranormal investigator. In the end, I chose Chicago. Not only because this city has a long history of paranormal activity, but also because of that personal connection I’d always felt when I was in this city.

  The doorbell drew me from my thoughts. I walked back into the condo and closed the balcony door behind me. After leaving the coffee on the kitchen table, I went to the front door. I opened it, and on the other side were two women who couldn’t be more different in appearance.

  One was of Asian descent with her hair cut short in a jagged style, dyed bright red. She had rings adorning her fingers and was dressed in a T-shirt that read “NORMAL PEOPLE SCARE ME” under a leather jacket. The other was a middle-aged white woman in a pants suit, her long, blond hair tied behind her in a bun and a pair of black-rimmed glasses resting on her nose. She held a briefcase by her side.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake,” said the redhead with a smile. “I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance you were still sleeping.”

  “Good to see you, too, Tessa.”

  Tessa Kang was one of the best witches in the tri-state area. If you wanted a conjuring done, you couldn’t do much better than her. She was also a friend, and she’d been known to toss me some clients from time to time. In this case, she had introduced me to Hallie Stein. I hugged Tessa, then extended my arm to Hallie.

  “Mrs. Stein, good to see you again,” I said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cross.” She smiled and shook my hand.

  “Come on inside.” I held the door open and the two women walked into the apartment. I didn’t have an office of my own—didn’t seem like much point. Most of my clients I dealt with over the phone, and when a meeting was required, I went to their place.

  But on occasion, a client would come by here, so that was the main purpose I kept a dining room table. Tessa led Hallie to the table and they both sat on one end. I stopped at the chair across from them.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked. “Coffee? Tea? Scotch?”

  Tessa rolled her eyes. “It’s ten in the morning, Luther.”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes you just need a drink.”

  “No, thank you, I’m fine,” said Hallie.

  I looked at Tessa and she shook her head. Satisfied, I sat down at the table and sipped my coffee. When I set it down, I looked across at Hallie. “Like I told you on the phone, I went to the site and there was definitely something going on there. Several spirits were there, not all of them malevolent. But there was a pretty powerful poltergeist controlling them.”

  “Were you able to get rid of it?” asked Hallie.

  I nodded. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Mrs. Stein. The building’s clean. I even went back down there yesterday to double-check for any lingering spectral energy, but found nothing.”

  Hallie’s shoulders dropped and a smile formed on her face as she sighed. “That’s such a relief. I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Cross.”

  “Just doin’ my job, ma’am,” I said. “Only thanks I need is a check for my services.”

  “Right, right, of course.” Hal
lie placed her briefcase on the table and opened it up. She produced a checkbook and quickly wrote my name on it. “How much was it we agreed on?”

  “Twenty thousand,” I said. Hallie nodded and filled in the correct amount. I noticed Tessa staring at me from out of the corner of my eye and I shot her a look telling her to keep quiet. I knew I was gonna pay for that once Hallie left.

  Hallie tore the check out and set it in the middle of the table. I picked it up and looked at it, resisting the urge to smirk. Folding the check and placing it in my pocket, I stood and held out my hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Stein.”

  “No, thank you,” said Hallie, rising and shaking my hand with vigor. “I don’t know what we would have done if not for you. We probably would have had to sell the property at a massive loss.”

  “Well, now you can get back to finishing it up.”

  Hallie nodded. “Really, thank you so much. So you’re certain it’s all fine now?”

  “Positive. I might take things slowly at first, just to be safe. And if anything comes up, just give me a call.”

  “I will. Thank you again.”

  Tessa stood from her chair. “C’mon, Hallie, I’ll walk you out,” she said, while staring at me.

  I sat back down and finished the rest of my coffee. Once I heard the door close, I knew shit was about to go down, so I braced myself as Tessa stormed back into the room.

  “Twenty thousand dollars, Luther? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I took a breath. “Ease up, Tess. Maybe you’re all about using your skills and knowledge altruistically, but I’ve got bills to pay.”

  “Why do you have to charge that much?”

  “It’s simple—she can afford it,” I said. “The Steins own a lot of real estate; they’ve got the cash.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Sure it is. Look, I charge on a sliding scale, you know that. I didn’t charge Stella Ferguson for helping her grandson a few months back, or—” I stopped myself.

  “Or what?” asked Tessa. “You talking about Dakota?”