Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen)

by Babbitt, Aaron

  He opened the book and just stared at it for minutes. The words wouldn’t coalesce into thought for him. He closed his eyes, and, for the first time in a very long time, he found himself praying for guidance. Instantly, Alex found himself in another place.

  Alex’s father stood there, and the boy could feel warmth emanate from him. “You have sought me, and I am here,” the image said.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt Matt,” Alex began. “How do I make him see that I meant no offense?”

  James Tanner sat on a chair that Alex hadn’t seen there a second ago. He motioned for the boy to come over. As he did, Alex saw that there was another chair across from his father. He sat down.

  “Truth will be your salvation,” his father stated. “Matt is good; he just isn’t at peace. Many fears drive his life right now. Show him no cause to be afraid, and he will listen.”

  “Elizabeth hates me too,” Alex explained.

  His father smiled. “Hate can never be strong if the one wielding it has more love than hate in her heart. Trust that love will win out.”

  Alex thought on this for a moment. Though he didn’t know what he was going to do to smooth things over, he suddenly felt encouraged. He changed the subject. “So what is it that you want from me?”

  “I simply want you to unite your brothers and sisters under a banner of goodness and love. Then, I want you to lead them in uniting the world.”

  “Why can’t you just make everyone love each other? Why do you need my help?”

  “Free will is vital,” his father replied. “It’s every bit as important as the growth it will take for mankind to achieve a lasting happiness. People must make up their own minds as to what they want and how far they’re willing to go to get it. All choices and actions must be their own.”

  “What if they don’t believe or trust me?”

  His father took his hand. “I told you, Alex, truth will be your salvation. You will be surprised how easily people listen when truth is staring them in the face. Don’t stray from the truth, and your path will be much easier.”

  Alex decided it was time to ask a question that had been haunting him for days. “Will I ever get to see my parents again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will I put them in danger?”

  His father suddenly looked grim. “It depends on when and how you see them.”

  Alex contemplated this. “I’m scared,” he admitted.

  “I know.” Alex’s father-image still had him by the hand. He squeezed, and Alex could feel something pass into him. He felt more at ease than he had been in a long time. This, he realized, was pure faith. He no longer felt afraid. “It’s time for you to be getting back now,” his father told him, “but I will always be watching you, and you should not go so long without talking to me.”

  Alex smiled and nodded. He looked down in his lap, and when he looked up again, he saw that he was sitting in front of his desk, staring at Leviticus. Someone was knocking. He remembered that his breakfast was coming, and this was probably room service. He opened the door and found that he was right. The man at the door presented him with a tray very similar to the one he had seen on the previous morning. He was relieved because last night it had occurred to him that he hadn’t told anyone what he wanted for breakfast, only that he wanted it brought to him in the morning. The man delivering his meal told Alex that if he’d leave his room unlocked when he leaves in the morning, the house servants would clean up and deliver fresh clothes—along with anything else he might need.

  Alex assured him that he would and thanked him for the service. The waiter nodded his acknowledgement, gave the tray to him, and left. Alex devoured his breakfast, and, after doing so, he looked at the clock. He still had thirty minutes before he needed to be out on the lawn, and that was probably ample time to let his food settle. He picked up the Bible and continued to trudge through Leviticus.

  ***

  About the time that Alex was getting his breakfast, Matt was being woken up by

  Liz. The two of them had passed out before the end of the movie, which was fine because the comedy had proven to not be quite as funny as they’d hoped. Sore and queasy from his partying last night, he wasn’t sure he was up to sparring, but today, more than ever, he needed to put on a good show. Matt reluctantly left Elizabeth’s room and walked to his own to dress for practice.

  He put on his black, Jiu-Jitsu gi and trudged out to the lawn. He never ate breakfast until after practice; it didn’t do any good to work out on a full stomach. Actually, eating before he did strenuous training only served to make him tired and upset his stomach and bowels—no, thank you. And he liked working on an empty stomach; it made him feel like he was earning his meal by the time he elected to take it, usually around noon.

  As he passed guards, they saluted him. He always found the tradition ironic. Matt had never held any rank in any military branch, but money could buy him any rank he wanted. On this property, he was a general. He never saluted back. It didn’t seem to matter. He’d heard that Higgins once threatened any guard on the premises with an ass-kicking if they didn’t show Matt the respect of a commanding officer, and even Higgins followed that rule. Every time Matt saw the retired colonel, he got saluted.

  Upon a far hill, Matt spied his two newest recruits sparring. They looked to be doing rather well for hired guns. As much as Jeremiah had shelled out for them, they’d better have some martial prowess. By the time the mercenaries got to him for training, they should have already spent years studying rudimentary combat. Rudimentary in that they knew how to fight in normal—even extraordinary—combat situations. His job was to teach them tactics against the supernatural. Though none of these guards had had the experience of fighting demons and, in the best of circumstances, never would, they had to be trained for the worst.

  His own training had come directly from Jeremiah. The demon had taught him how to fend off supernatural strength and speed in the best ways a human was capable of. Matt had trained all day long for two years under the demon himself and the best martial arts masters in the country. Since then, Matt had continued his training, going as far as to test his own speed against rubber bullets. Needless to say, he’d taken many welts and bruises—and even some scars—from the many times he’d failed to be quite fast enough to dodge them. But, when he was in full swing, he was much faster than any human should be, and all of his guards knew it.

  Only once had he been forced to use that speed and his extensive knowledge of martial arts against one of his own, but that memory lived on as legend in all of them and gained him the respect that he needed to lead his small army.

  The man had not liked Matt since he’d learned that Matt was gay. He would mutter things he thought Matt either wouldn’t hear or wouldn’t respond to. Eventually, after a particularly grueling session, he lost what little discretion he’d had and explained to Matt that he’d be damned if he was going to take orders from a fag. As recompense, Matt informed the mercenary that he would be aiding the cleaning staff with the toilets for a month. That, it seemed, was the final insult, and the guard lunged at him.

  Those who were there whisper that they never even saw Matt move. He had broken the man’s right arm in three places, dislocated his wrist, and given him a concussion before the guard had even completed his swing. The prophet immediately had the guard taken to the infirmary. He called Jeremiah to tell him what had happened, scared that there could be some serious repercussions. Jeremiah returned to the compound that day, and the guard was never seen again.

  Matt sometimes wondered what happened to the guard, but his intuition told him that Jeremiah had disposed of the disrespectful hired gun in his usual manner. Further, judging by the way that Higgins had dealt with those who’d witnessed the event, he couldn’t be sure that the demon was the only one involved.

  Higgins was a good man—completely capable of holding his own in Matt’s absence. He had retired with the rank of colonel before going into the much more lucrative business of
mercenary work. He never trusted Jeremiah, but he loved Matt like a brother-in-arms. In turn, Matt implicitly trusted him as his right-hand man. The pair of them worked tirelessly to keep the retired special ops commandos trained and poised to strike. There were always training missions for the troops to go on, and it seemed like each was more creative than the last. Most of these were designed by Higgins, but every time Matt learned of a new technique that would aid in the battle against other demons, that took precedence over anything else. Those, however, were few and far between, as there wasn’t just a whole lot known about the combat of the unholy.

  “Good,” Matt said as he got to the area where the rookies were training. “You’re prompt—even early.” With lightning speed, he moved between them and snatched both of their sidearms as they saluted him. “Disarm me,” he ordered.

  They looked befuddled. They’d barely seen him move, let alone confiscate their pistols. They even looked to their sides to make sure that the guns he held in his hands were theirs. They were. The guard on Matt’s left looked up in time to see the sidekick that landed him on his back. The other went for Matt’s right arm, but that arm was already moving to intersect. Before the man could react, the gun was securely positioned at his neck. He paused, seeing defeat, but the encounter, it seemed, was not over. Matt dropped and threw his left leg at the standing guard’s feet. The mercenary tried to react, but the sweep came too quickly. Then, he too was on the ground. A gun was leveled at each of them, and they stared up at Matt blankly.

  “Your respect for me is similar to the fear you may feel in battle,” Matt explained. “If you come across something that you’re not accustomed to seeing, you might freeze. I assure you, it would be your death to do so.”

  “How’d you move that fast?” one of the guards gasped.

  Matt smiled. “I don’t move as fast as some. In the future,” Matt continued, “it may be wise not to bring guns to practice. I know that you’ve been told to not let them leave your sides, but I think this can be an exception.”

  They looked at each other and nodded, a weak laugh escaping their lips. Matt flipped the guns around to present the butts to them. They took their pistols and looked at them in awe. It didn’t escape either one that, at some point during the encounter, Matt had enabled the safeties—probably immediately after he’d taken them, but with that kind of speed, they couldn’t know for sure.

  For the next several minutes, Matt worked with them on other moves—blocks and parries that might be able to counter blinding speed or demon-powered punches. Eventually, he stepped back and let them continue on their own, and he thought about another upcoming encounter that he was both looking forward to and dreading.

  ***

  Elizabeth sat down at her computer with a cappuccino in her hand. She rifled through her emails with a typical lackluster, until she got to one from master@jeremiah.net. She hated it when Jeremiah sent her emails. They were always heavily encrypted, and they sometimes took a half hour to decode. She set down her cappuccino and began to work on it. After, surprisingly, only five minutes, the message opened in a manner that she could read it.

  Liz,

  Moving forward, I believe that we should consider previous allies less than reliable. I think it’s wise to know where our enemies and allies might be hiding. I have enclosed access codes to databases within the F.B.I, C.I.A, Department of Defense, and Homeland Security. Use what I have given you wisely. Then, discard it. I have been told in no uncertain terms that what you have in front of you is very hush-hush, and should someone find his database being accessed, we might not stay hidden long. Once you have definitely located Patheus, we will make a surgical strike on his stronghold.

  Happy hunting.

  Jeremiah

  Elizabeth was more than pissed. A job like that could take months! And, of course, this was not something she could give to her assistants to help with. They’d fumble around, and the mansion would be discovered by the end of the night, if they were lucky. She sighed and clicked on the attachment. It, too, was encrypted. She cursed under her breath. This was going to be a long day.

  ***

  Alex walked out into the sunlight. It hit him hard. He squinted and wondered if he should’ve asked the servant to bring him sunglasses. Then, he decided that sparring with Matt while wearing sunglasses probably wouldn’t have been prudent and abandoned the notion.

  It didn’t take him long to find Matt. He was on the same hill he’d been practicing on the previous day. Alex walked slowly toward what he thought might prove to be a very dangerous locale indeed. Matt was training with two guards, and his movements seemed to be only a blur. He thought that it might just be the distance he was away from the scene or that his eyes were tired from a week of uneasy sleep, but as the two fell in an almost simultaneous motion, Alex decided that Matt’s moves probably looked like a blur even to the other combatants.

  Alex shook his head and walked faster toward his destination. By the time he’d gotten there, Matt had already effectively disabled the guards three more times, and he looked as if he were about to do it again. And, as if sensing Alex’s arrival, he stopped, bowed, and the two who were with him left. They each picked up a gun, and, as they came down the hill toward Alex, they told him with a hint of irony, “Good luck,” and continued on their way.

  Matt turned and peered down at Alex. He didn’t seem to be as accommodating has he’d been the last two days. “Morning,” he acknowledged.

  Alex looked up at him, determined not to show fear. “Hi,” he replied.

  “Are you ready to learn some basic defensive moves?”

  Alex breathed deeply and said, “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. But first, I need to set the record straight.”

  Matt waved his hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Alex squinted a little because the sun was in his eyes. “No, I think it is necessary. You and I got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to explain why.”

  “I am well aware of why we got off on the wrong foot.”

  Alex shook his head. “I don’t think so. Unless I’m mistaken, you think I hate you.”

  “Listen, Alex,” Matt began, “I don’t expect someone like you to understand what it’s like--”

  “You’re right,” Alex interrupted, gauging Matt’s reaction. “I don’t understand, but I’d like to. First, however, I need you to understand something. Up until Marla told me, after you and I spoke yesterday, that you were g—uh—homosexual, I had no idea.”

  Matt winced at Alex’s correction. The word “gay” wasn’t taboo. “Faggot” hurt a little, and “queer” was outdated, but “homosexual” implied too much care. “You didn’t know that I was gay?” Matt emphasized the word to prove the point. “I doubt that.”

  Alex softly bit his bottom lip and paused to consider his next words very carefully, “Okay. But the truth is that I thought you and Elizabeth were a couple.” Alex proceeded very slowly, “And everything Jeremiah has told me about you two seemed to indicate that I was right.”

  Matt looked incredulous. “Well, it must seem painfully obvious to you now that you were wrong.”

  “Yes,” Alex replied, “it does, but you need to understand that any discomfort I may’ve shown came from my attraction to Elizabeth and the belief that you knew about it and were offended. Actually, I was relieved to find out that you were gay.” Alex had noticed Matt’s emphasis and decided it prudent not to use the “h-word” again.

  Matt narrowed his eyes and seemed to ponder Alex’s words. Then, he nodded his head. “You know, Jeremiah gave a picture of you to me. You were topless, and you were holding a knife. He said he thought I ‘might enjoy it.’ It seems you’re a masochist; I guess it make’s sense, though. After all, you are here.

  “I don’t know if I enjoyed the picture, but it was informative. From what I can see, the two of us are not as different as you think. And you are kind of cute in a frail, helpless sort of way.”

  Several things occurred to Alex
simultaneously. First, he realized that Matt wasn’t lying about seeing the picture and was certainly baiting Alex for a response. It also occurred to him that Jeremiah had made a point of taking a rather bizarre picture of Alex, and that caused him to wonder if this confrontation had been the demon’s goal. Finally, the conversation with Elizabeth came back to him, and this was all starting to seem like a conspiracy.

  Alex sighed and responded, “I don’t deserve this treatment.”

  Matt was taken aback. That was certainly not the response he expected. He thought Alex would cringe from the revelation, which he definitely did, but after that, Matt was sure he would take the defensive stance so commonly associated with a homophobe under attack or being hit on. The boy’s response was too mature to indicate that he was afraid of what Matt had said.

  Alex added, “And, now that you, Jeremiah, and Elizabeth have completely humiliated me, maybe I’m in a position to be frank.”

  Matt was stunned. He had nothing to say as Alex continued calmly.

  “I don’t care that you’re gay, and I was never scared of you being gay. I suppose it’s possible that you’re never going to believe that, but you should give me a chance to explain. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that I should be able to tell my side without you mocking and antagonizing me. As someone who has probably been bullied for something he can’t and won’t change, I would think that you’d be a little more open-minded. Instead, you have jumped to irrational conclusions based on little or no evidence. You hit on me by calling me ‘frail’ and ‘helpless.’ If I came out here to defend myself and my actions, I think I’ve done so admirably. I didn’t come out here to be attacked by you. Now, I feel that it was a mistake to come out here at all.” With that, Alex turned and started walking away.