Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen)

by Babbitt, Aaron

  Instantly, Matt felt like shit. “Wait,” he called.

  Alex stopped but didn't turn around.

  Matt didn’t know how the attacker had become the victim, but he felt very strongly that Alex was telling the truth, and it didn’t really surprise him that Jeremiah hadn’t told the boy the truth about the relationship between him and Liz. That seemed exactly like the kind of information Jeremiah would leave out for his own amusement. It was just like the amusement Matt was sure the demon was getting from knowing that Matt had that picture of Alex mutilating himself, and Jeremiah had made it a point to show Elizabeth before he gave it to Matt. This had all been planned. Jeremiah had designed this conflict for some twisted reason.

  “I’m sorry,” Matt continued. “I think it was me who made the mistake. Please forgive me.”

  Alex was glad that Matt couldn’t see him breathe a sigh of relief or know that his heart had been beating pretty fast. He slowly turned around to face Matt.

  Alex smiled. “I already have.” On second thought, he added, “Is there any way I could get that picture back?”

  Matt returned the smile. “I’ll get it for you myself.”

  ***

  Abigail Martin got off the plane and strode into the airport with her carry-on luggage. She walked with a confidence and a force that parted crowds of people before her. Her short-cut, blond hair had a tint of red to it, enough that anyone who looked at her could see the Irish influence in her blood. She wore her reading glasses propped up in her hair, and her sophistication preceded her in the way she dressed. Her body and face were finally beginning to reflect middle-age, but her eyes were ancient. With her glasses on, she looked stern and ready to match anyone in an intellectual debate. With her eyes naked, she was even more intimidating. Everyone who passed her had an eerie sense that his or her very soul was exposed. And, when she did not actively suppress her abilities, they were.

  She went to retrieve her other bags from the conveyer and noticed that someone was holding a sign with her name on it. She smiled. I think not, she said to herself.

  Not only did she not need anyone to get her from point A to point B, but she seriously doubted that Jeremiah would be that blatant. She kept walking without even getting her things. She only had clothes in there anyway. The man with the sign must have seen a picture of her already because, when she passed by him, he put away his sign and followed. She sighed inwardly. Great, she thought. Conflict had already found her.

  She kept walking, and he kept following. Abbie knew he wouldn’t try anything in the airport, but once she got to the street, he might attempt to force her into a car. No matter. Whoever had sent him must not have fully prepared the would-be kidnapper for what he was getting into. She hoped he’d live to regret the mistake. After all, she wasn’t a murderer, but she had killed many people—and countless demons—who had been unaware or disbelieving of the reputation she’d garnered. This one was only human, though—not a rogue prophet or a demon; that much was a relief. She knew, though, that if she didn’t make this getaway quick, he might get help. That was a risk she’d preferred not to take.

  As she walked out the automated doors, she could feel that her stalker was still trailing, but closing his distance. She hailed a cab, and within moments, one stopped for her. She just had a way with people. Abbie opened the door and threw her bag inside when she felt a hand firmly grasp her right elbow.

  “I think you should come with me, Ms. Martin,” a gruff voice explained from behind her.

  She turned slowly and locked eyes with him. He hesitated, but his resolve was laudable. He gripped her arm even tighter. “My associates,” he added, “desire to speak with you.”

  She turned to the cab driver. “Kindly wait for me. I’ll only be a moment.” He nodded and told her that the meter was running. She thanked him and turned back to her assailant. “Listen to me, child. Your associates—though masters I think may be more fitting—and I have nothing to talk about. You can either release me, or you can spend the next thirty minutes or so thrashing right here on the ground for the world to see. I am not a cruel woman, but I’m not going with you. The choice is yours.”

  He smiled the arrogant smile of any man who believes he has captured a powerless woman. He got close and whispered in her ear, “If you don’t play nice, all I have to do is tell my masters that you met a tragic end. I admire your spunk, though. You and I might have a romp before I put a bullet in your head.”

  Abbie sighed. “Suit yourself.”

  Wave upon wave of horrors flooded the kidnapper’s mind. He was reliving his childhood, and he could feel the savage beatings his father would administer to him with a belt. He saw his mother stepping in to save her little boy but diverting the beating to herself instead. He could feel the children in school tormenting him for his family’s poverty and his father’s drunkenness. He agonized over his fraternity hazing and how much the other guys had berated him. The pain and humiliation of boot camp haunted him. He visualized some of the missions he had been sent on in the army. He could see his dying comrades. He watched in terror as he saw himself killing the enemy. He heard himself scream for the torment to stop, but it wouldn’t. Then, he saw that monster, Patheus, disemboweling Trent. He could feel the same monster’s acrid breath on his face as he told him that this would be his last mission if he failed. The fears cycled around and around in his head, and they were all he could think of.

  Abbie looked at him in regret. She hadn’t wanted it to come to this, and he would probably die for his failure. But she had neither the time to concern herself with him nor the ability to do much about his destiny. He should have chosen his life path a little better.

  As she had promised, he was thrashing around on the ground. His hands gripped the sides of his head like he could pull the tormenting images out, but she had seen this far too many times. If he was lucky, an ambulance would come through and pick him up to take him to the psychiatric ward. It seemed more likely, though, that he would be ignored and walked around.

  She sat down in the cab and took one last look at him. “Men usually only romp with me once, Mr. Franklin. After that, they don’t think it’s worth the effort for some reason.”

  The cab driver examined her in his rearview, confused. “What did you say ma’am?” He must not have noticed the convulsing man on the sidewalk.

  “Nothing,” she answered, looking forward. “University of Nevada, Las Vegas, please.”

  The cab left, and a crowd of people stood and stared as Chuck Franklin writhed from the abuse of demons only he could see.

  ***

  Alex followed Matt into the house, pleased that he was able to diffuse the situation. He guessed that training would take place later. For right now, he was happy just knowing that he may have turned an enemy into a friend. He could sense Matt’s relief, too. Now, the hard part was going to be to win Elizabeth’s heart. He didn’t know why he still felt a deep love for her after she’d tried to completely tear him down, but something inside him still longed for her affection.

  Matt was explaining the intricacies of the security in Jeremiah’s mansion. Alex was only catching part of it because he was in a dream world where he and Elizabeth could be happy together and not one where she threatened to make him disappear. When he had seen her resting, peacefully, in the backseat of Jeremiah’s car, he didn’t think that their relationship would have come to this—and so quickly. He actually felt like he had a chance when Marla had told him that Matt wasn’t interested, but now he just filed it away as impossible.

  “And, with a press of a button,” Matt was saying, “any door can become prison bars.”

  “Really?” Alex played along.

  “Absolutely. We haven’t had a need to use many of our security measures yet, but I’m sure the day will come.” He motioned to the foyer they were in. “In fact, this may be the most impressive example. Though it looks pretty, this room can quickly become a death trap.”

  Alex looked around. He wasn’t su
re how “pretty” it looked. The gothic pictures in conjunction with the ornate staircases and marble floors made the room look old. There was a beauty here, but Alex wasn’t sure that it was something he could appreciate. And the picture of Jeremiah in his crusader get-up was a bit disheartening.

  “Alex,” a voice came from the top of the stairs.

  Alex looked up and saw Marla. He waved, happily. She must have guessed what had happened because she started smiling.

  “You need to be in the library in half an hour,” she informed him. “Can you be ready by then?”

  He looked at Matt. Matt nodded and said, “Yeah, our practice is done for today, and you didn’t even have to break a sweat.”

  If only you knew, Alex thought. “Sure,” he answered, trying to remember where Jeremiah had indicated the library was. “Can you take me there?”

  “Yeah,” Matt and Marla replied in chorus.

  “Oh, right,” Matt said, looking embarrassed.

  Marla was already descending the stairs. “Yeah, Alex. I’ll take you. I should get you acquainted with the area you’ll be studying in before you meet your tutors anyway.”

  “Liz and I will probably watch a movie or something tonight. Do you want to come?” Matt asked, expectantly.

  “I don’t think she likes me,” Alex responded.

  “Nonsense. She’s just a little rough around the edges until you get to know her.”

  No, really. I don’t think you understand, Alex thought, but instead he just shrugged his shoulders.

  Matt laughed. “That noncommittal attitude will get you nowhere with her. If you plan to ever win her heart, you’re going to have to toughen up. Besides, we’re all going to have to work together, and I’ve heard you’re the linchpin.”

  “I don’t know that I’d give me that kind of credit,” Alex returned.

  “You surprise me more and more every day,” Matt said and continued up the stairs. “I’ll get that thing for you, and I’ll plan to see you tonight.”

  “Okay,” Alex agreed skeptically.

  After Matt was out of earshot, Marla leaned close. “See? I told you everything would work out.”

  “Yeah. Everything seemed to work out fine.” As long as Elizabeth doesn’t murder me in my sleep.

  Marla walked Alex through the halls. He felt a little more at ease when he recognized his room as they passed by it. At the end of the hallway, Alex saw a pair of huge double-doors. They were open, and Alex could see what looked to be unlimited shelves of books. He stepped into the library, which could have been twice the size of his house in Kingstone, and gaped in awe. There were all sorts of people moving around everywhere. He couldn’t distinguish between who the librarians were and who the scholars were, if there was even a difference. He scanned the area to see if any of them looked to be the “teacher-type,” but they all pretty much looked the same.

  Marla pointed to a staircase. “The conference room is upstairs. That’s where you’ll be getting tutored and studying. All of your textbooks, along with your teachers, will be up there shortly, if they’re not already.” She pointed to a desk behind which people were rummaging through books, looking at the spines and sorting them. “Those are the librarians. If you need anything, they’ll be more than happy to give you directions or even get you what you need themselves.”

  She waved her hand to encompass everyone else in the library. “Most of the other people are researching something or other. Many work for Jeremiah, but some of the others are here because this is one of the oldest libraries in the world, not this room but the collection it holds. There are transcripts in here that precede the fall of Rome. Of course, none of those copies are available to anyone other than Jeremiah non-electronically. There is no other library in the world that can boast the degree of literature on angels and demons that Jeremiah has collected here.

  “He invites some scholars to peruse his collection every now and then as a favor to his allies, but they never walk out of here without trading information with him, sometimes a book, sometimes a file, sometimes just a rumor. Whatever his motives, the brightest minds in the field jump at the chance to study for days or weeks at a time in this library. You have access to it for as long as you like. Actually, I’m sure Jeremiah would tell you to consider this your library. Just don’t burn any books or anything. I don’t think the ‘residents’ would take kindly to it. Shall we go upstairs?”

  He nodded, suddenly feeling very small in a room with great minds. “Sure.”

  They trudged up the stairs, and Alex saw even more books. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This library was definitely bigger than he’d thought when he stepped into it. It just seemed to keep on going.

  “How did Jeremiah get all of these books?” Alex asked.

  “I told you, consider his resources limitless. Remember, he has been on Earth for over 2,000 years.”

  They finally came to a thick oaken door, and Marla pushed it open. Inside, there were two older men, one middle-aged woman, and a woman who didn’t look much older than Marla. They all stood when Alex walked in the room. On the tables in front of them were five stacks of books, each at least two feet high. Alex felt any excitement he’d had earlier slip away at the daunting sight.

  “Well, I’ll leave you five to your studies,” Marla commented with a smile. She backed out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  Alex didn’t get to leave the room for four hours. By that time, his head was swimming and his stomach was growling. Marla was waiting for him outside of the conference room as he walked dazedly out.

  “Well? How did your first day go?”

  “Oh,” Alex groaned. “I think they’re going to give up on me.”

  She grinned. “I doubt it. They’re getting paid far too much.”

  “How much do I get paid?” Alex asked with a tired smile.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” Marla returned. “Money is no concern here.”

  “Well, food is a concern right now. Can we sit down and let my brain rest?”

  “Of course,” Marla said.

  They walked toward the dining hall and talked about Alex’s first day of tutoring.

  ***

  A few hours later, Jeremiah was walking up a mountain path toward a serene temple. He entered slowly and took in his surroundings. Looking upon the monks in the temple, he felt great sadness and regret. They seemed to take no notice of him. To them, he was just another tourist, coming to visit a religious icon. He saw them as a people whom he had driven from their homes and terrorized throughout the years.

  Jeremiah decided to let that thought pass for the time being. Perhaps, one day, he could be forgiven, but that was not the mission of the day. In fact, it was a new day. The sun was just coming over the horizon in India, and the monks seemed to revel in the proverbial rebirth.

  Jeremiah approached one of the monks, and, in Hindi, he asked, “Is His Holiness available?”

  The monk looked confused and hesitant; he told Jeremiah that the Dalai Lama did not take audiences with visitors.

  Jeremiah only smiled and requested, “Do this for me.”

  The monk nodded immediately and left, overcome by the urge to comply. About five minutes later, an older man came from a room at the other end of the temple. Jeremiah knew where the Dalai Lama was, and he could have simply walked back there himself, persuading any monk who tried to stop him that it was in everyone’s best interest to leave him be. However, out of a long-overdue respect, he had decided to be reasonably humble at this particular moment.

  The Lama looked sad as he approached. “Why have you come?” he spoke in English. The older man’s choice of languages surprised Jeremiah, but the demon assumed it probably best to not involve the other monks in their conversation.

  “I have come to warn you.”

  The Lama’s countenance changed but not much. “Warn me?”

  “I have reason to believe that an enemy, common to us both, will seek to destroy your way of life,” Jer
emiah responded. “I need to get you to safety.”

  The Lama smiled tiredly. “That is irony, isn’t it?”

  Jeremiah winced. He hadn’t thought the guilt would be so overwhelming. “Your way of life is in danger of extinction. One of the most powerful demons in existence plans to kill any prophet he can find, and it is only a matter of time—a very little bit, I believe—before he will come here. You and your monks will be a prime target for him.”

  “Besides, you need my help.”

  “Yes,” Jeremiah affirmed desperately.

  The Lama sighed. “You were not able to destroy our way of life. Why do you think Metatron will be any more successful?”

  Jeremiah wasn’t surprised that His Holiness knew exactly to whom he referred. “He is much more powerful than I ever was. He has survived an encounter with an angel.”

  The Lama didn’t flinch. “So did Lucifer. I am not impressed by the workings of angels and demons. Neither seeks enlightenment and are, therefore, none of my concern.”

  Jeremiah decided not to take the bait of Lucifer’s survival; getting defensive or argumentative at this point would be counterproductive. He had conversed with powerful prophets in the past. It always seemed as if they did not fear anything, but, he had found, there was much they didn’t know.

  “He won’t stop until you are no longer a threat,” Jeremiah cautioned. “It is imperative that you come with me.”

  “We were protected before when we were threatened by ‘great evil.’ Why should we abandon our home so quickly a second time?”