The Fallen

by R. J. Wolf

  Gary choked on his reply and shook his head in disbelief. The fallen were lost souls trapped between the normal world and hell. They were ravenous creatures that only knew hunger and destruction. They didn’t sleep, they didn’t stop, they felt no pain and they were nearly indestructible. The fallen, were the apocalypse.

  “No,” Gary muttered. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Does it matter where I heard it? It’s true.”

  “No one would do that, not even Langston is that crazy.”

  “But he is. The council has gone mad. They’ll do anything to bring an end to this world.”

  “Why?”

  Cortez let out an incredulous laugh and looked at Gary like he was a clueless child. “They’re part of the Eternal Order of the Inferni. You have to know that by now.”

  “What?”

  “The council, the oldest members. There’s a reason they’ve been there so long. There’s a reason they’re always voted back in. They control the whole damn thing.”

  “I…I, it’s impossible,” Gary shook his head in disbelief and turned back toward the water. “That’s not real, it’s not a real thing.”

  “It’s as real as you and me. And while we may have our issues, there’s no way we can let an Inferni back onto this plane.”

  “Inferni aren’t real!” Gary screamed. “That’s a fairytale.”

  “It’s not, Gary. I wish it was but it’s not.”

  “Okay, Okay. Let’s pretend I believe the legends and all the stupid bedtime stories. It wouldn’t matter anyway, Inferni have been extinct for centuries.”

  Cortez raised his eyebrows. “Have they? The commission doesn’t think so. Could you imagine that? An Inferni, here.”

  Gary sucked in a lungful of air and held it. He grabbed a rock from the ground and slung it out across the water as his mind drifted to the stories he’d heard growing up. Inferni were the stuff of dreams, fables, myths that underworlders passed down through the generations. They were the real immortals, before angels before demons, before every underworlder that walked the planet, there were the Inferni. And if they were back, they were coming to claim the world as theirs.

  The Eternal Order existed to serve the Inferni. They were extraordinarily powerful underworlders handpicked by the Inferni elite. But all of their power combined didn’t equate to one Inferni. With the Order as their right hand, the Inferni ruled the underworld for centuries until one day, they all just vanished. The order was disbanded and its remaining members hunted down. Their history was lost to the wind and only whispers survived through the years as stories told to entertain children.

  Because the Inferni were revered as fairy tale so was the truth about what happened to them. The real story faded from memory and only a few left living had the slightest inkling of why the Inferni vanished.

  “This is bad, this is so bad,” Gary growled. “What about Fretta, Olivia. There’s no way they’re part of the order.”

  “They are the only two…were the only two.”

  “What does that mean.”

  “Langston and Alexander killed Fretta. She put up one hell of a fight though, left the entire bottom floor in shambles.”

  Gary lowered his head into his hands and mumbled. He’d known Fretta for years and while the council had a strained relationship with the agents, Fretta was always fair. She was like a mentor to him during his early days and when his drinking got carried away, Fretta was the only voice in his corner.

  Blinking away the disbelief, Gary turned back to Cortez. “What about Olivia?”

  Cortez shrugged. “I don’t know. She disappeared.”

  “I need a drink.” Gary reached into his pocket then paused and cast a suspicious glance at Cortez. “Where do you fit in all of this?” he asked. “You’re just offering up all this information, for free? What do you want?”

  “I know it sounds crazy and if there was any other way, trust me, I wouldn’t be here. But I just want to help.”

  “Help? So, we team up, go fight bad guys…is that what you had in mind?”

  “Not particularly. But I do want to help. You know as well as I do, he’s the only one that can stop them.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Eric, he’s the only one that can stop the fallen. That’s the key, stop the fallen and the Order is powerless. I know you see it, you may not want to, but it’s there. Eric brought something back from hell.”

  Gary didn’t reply. He turned and looked out to the water. A swarm of dark clouds amassed in the distance, illuminated by the moon’s glow. Cortez was right, a war was coming, unlike any war before it or any war that would come after. Gary could feel the change and maybe it was time for old enemies to become allies.

  Cortez watched Gary in silence, his eyes soaking in a picture of the world that humans would never know. His view was full of colors and sounds imperceptible for most and a frame of reference that spanned more than five centuries. While the sun was death, the night for Cortez was a brilliant image.

  He made a muffled sound and cleared his throat as the minutes ticked away. He’d tried to impress a sense of urgency on Gary but it didn’t seem like it was setting in. “Gary?” he called.

  “We have a week,” Gary said grimly.

  “What?”

  “A week until the shade is thin enough, until Eric can rescue Anna. How are they gonna release the fallen?”

  “They need two elders. They don’t have them yet.”

  “There are no more elders, Cortez. The accords made sure of that.”

  “That’s not what I hear. In fact, that’s why they’ve sent so many to California. The elders are here.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, find out. You wanna help? Find me something I can actually act on.”

  Cortez glared at him and nodded. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

  “You know how to find me.” Gary started to walk off but turned and extended his arm.

  Cortez paused and looked at him with a strange face. Shrugging, he reached out and shook his hand, cracking a little smile. Gary nodded then turned and started back toward the road.

  As he walked toward civilization, the weight of everything Cortez told him slowly started to press on him. The fallen would decimate the world, zeroes wouldn’t stand a chance and thousands of underworlders would die in the fight. It was a reality that he couldn’t let happen, he’d kill Langston himself if he had to. But there was something worse, if the Order was back that meant they were looking for Inferni. And Inferni existed, no one was safe.

  “I’m gonna need a lot more liquor,” Gary grumbled to himself.

  “Hey?” a voice suddenly called from behind him.

  Gary turned around just as something whacked him over the head and everything went black.

  CHAPTER 13

  EMPTY PROMISES

  Eric didn’t enjoy the corvette as much as he thought he would. One of the things that hadn’t returned was his memory of driving stick shift. That mixed with LA traffic made his commute back to the hotel a nightmare.

  Sighing, he crawled out of the car and glared at it. He contemplated setting the thing on fire and probably would’ve if Castillo hadn’t stepped out of the shadows.

  “What are you doing here?” Eric asked.

  “Wanted to talk. Can I buy you a drink inside?”

  “We just talked, Castillo.”

  “It’s not something I wanted to discuss in front of the entire group.”

  Eric gave him a strange look. He and Castillo weren’t exactly friends but they were fighting for the same side. After a labored pause, Eric smiled. “Sure. Come on.”

  They made their way inside where Eric was quickly headed off by Safron.

  “Mr. Strange,” he greeted.

  “What’s up Safron?”

  Safron glanced at Castillo then grabbed Eric by the arm and stepped to the side. “Perhaps, we should speak in private.”

  Eric leaned
his head back and sighed. “I’ll meet you at the bar,” he turned to Castillo and grumbled.

  “No problem,” Castillo replied.

  Eric followed Safron to a room off to the side and stepped inside. Safron closed the door then turned to face him. He had a grim look on his face and was hesitant to speak.

  “Is all of this necessary?” Eric asked.

  “It is. Unfortunately, the druid has taken refuge with a local vampire coven. I’ve tried to reach terms with their leader, but as yet he’s proved quite difficult to contact.”

  “Is that normal…a druid hiding with vampires?”

  “Mr. Strange, you’ll come to find nothing is normal here.”

  “Okay…is that it?”

  “There is more. Unfortunately, your new friend, it’s his coven.”

  Eric tried hide the anger in his face. He wasn’t sure how much Safron knew but if that was true, it would mean Gary’s own brother was moving against them. “How do you know that?” Eric asked in an almost accusing tone.

  “It’s my job to know,” Safron said with a smile then straightened his face. “I hope you’ll come to find that I’m an ally, Mr. Strange. Come by the desk at midnight. I’d like to show you something.” Safron bowed then turned and walked out of the room.

  Eric stood there for a while after Safron left. He wanted to trust him but there was something about Safron that made the hair on his neck stand. And he couldn’t see Richard getting involved. Castillo was responsible for the all of the help they’d gotten so far. It didn’t make sense for him to be working with the druids, which meant the commission.

  When Eric finally made it to the bar, he found Castillo entertaining a table of women. They were laughing as he mimed some dramatic story and wooed them with his boyish charm. Eric made a detour to the front bar and stopped to grab a drink.

  “What’ll it be, Eric?” Edgar asked as he cleaned a mug with a dingy white rag.

  “Something out of a bottle,” Eric replied and shot him a wary glance.

  Edgar ignored him and popped the cap off a bottle of ale. “Your buddy is quite the lady’s man.”

  “My buddy?”

  “Yeah, made it a point to let it be known he was here with you.”

  “Thanks Edgar,” Eric said as he grabbed his bottle and made his way toward Castillo’s table.

  “Eric!” Castillo said in excitement. He jumped up, knocking several drinks over in the process. “What took you so long?”

  “Nothing. Who are your friends?”

  Castillo waved them off. “Fang groupies.”

  Eric frowned. “What did you need to talk about?”

  Castillo looked around the bar and spotted an open table in the back. He tipped his head toward the corner and Eric followed.

  “So, Richard…I’m guessing you know all about that, between Gary and him?”

  “I got the condensed version the other day.”

  “It’s sensitive. For years Gary was actually hunting him. Killed some of the coven in the process, but Richard decreed no one lay a finger on Gary.”

  “That’s nice of him.”

  Castillo grinned. “Richard is um, he’s special…one of a kind.”

  “You’re telling me no one has ever turned a warlock before?”

  “No. I mean, sure people have tried. But they die…they’re not like humans.”

  “What?”

  “Warlocks. They’re not exactly human. Vampires are either bitten or born. Half of the humans that are turned die before the process completes. The virus we carry is very deadly. But no one has ever turned a warlock, or a witch for that matter. It’s like a blending of the two species. Richard is very special and also very powerful. He retained all of his warlock powers but gained all the strengths of a vampire.”

  Eric raised his eyebrows. “So, Richard is some kind of super vampire. Does this story get worse?”

  “He didn’t take the last conversation with Gary very well. He left, and we haven’t seen him in days.”

  “What do you want me to do, kid?”

  “I’m not a kid…I’d appreciate if you didn’t call me one.”

  Eric narrowed his eyes and sat up. “You came here for me. I didn’t track you down…kid.”

  Castillo cracked a smile. “Fair enough. My point is, I’m worried about Richard. I know Gary is your friend, so I thought you might want to know that his brother went missing.”

  “Why don’t you tell Gary?”

  “Aside from the fact that he’s not here, Gary still hates vampires. It’s a big step this whole coalition thing.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that,” Eric grinned then finished his drink. “What do you suggest?”

  “There’s something else I need to tell you.” Castillo took a deep breath and looked around the room. The crowd had thinned and now it was just the two of them and a table of rugged looking lycan.

  Eric gave him a serious look and chewed the inside of his jaw. Castillo had been beating around the bush for a while and he was wondering when he’d get to the real issue.

  “He didn’t just vanish,” Castillo started. “He was looking into you.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I don’t exactly know. He started rambling about your lineage and, and elders and all types of crazy stuff. He met with some gypsy and then he was gone.”

  “Did he look into any druids?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Eric looked up to a clock on the wall and yawned. It was nearly midnight and he was starting to worry about Gary. He should’ve been back already and now that Richard was missing, Eric’s mind was starting to wander down dark tunnels.

  “That’s a fascinating story, Castillo,” Eric finally said. “But um, it’s getting late and “I’ve gotta meet someone. Come by my room at sundown tomorrow. I’ll help you look for your fearless leader then.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Tomorrow, you can explain it all tomorrow.”

  Castillo started to object, but Eric stood up and tipped his head. Castillo frowned and took another sip of his drink. “Have a goodnight,” he mumbled.

  Eric turned and left the bar. The lycans mumbled under their breath as he passed, and he had a feeling they weren’t there just for the drinks. Divisions in the underworld were a real thing and it didn’t take long for the whispers to start about the loose partnership Gary and Eric had created. Most weren’t happy with it.

  “I thought you forgot,” Safron said as Eric neared the front desk.

  “No, just got a little tied up.”

  Safron smiled. “Give me a moment,” he said and vanished into the back.

  The lobby of the hotel was eerily quiet. Generally, the night was the busiest time, but more guests had been creeping out into the city and coming back with the rising sun. As more underworlders arrived the balance shifted, and Eric could feel the crescendo of power.

  “I thought that was you,” a voice suddenly called out from the door.

  Eric turned and found Laurel gliding toward him. Her shotgun swayed from side to side across her hip like she was in an old western movie. Her long, red hair flailed behind her like flames.

  “Deputy Laurel Mason,” Eric said with a smile. “Last time I saw you, you accused me of being the anti-Christ.”

  She laughed. “I just call em like I see em. You steal any souls yet?”

  “Getting around to it.”

  “Well, be careful out there,” Laurel finished then grabbed her things and headed for the door. “You feel that don’t you, demon lover?” she turned and asked.

  “Feel what?”

  “It’s almost time, any day now.”

  Eric watched her leave and wondered how much he could learn from her about the area and the hotel. She was a hunter and seemed to have an intuition about the shade and everything going on. He planned to look her up when he had more time.

  “Sorry, for the delay,” Safron said, pulling Eric back to the present.
“If you’ll follow me.”

  Safron walked through a door behind the desk and waited until Eric was inside. He closed the door behind him then pressed his hand against the back wall. A line of creases appeared, exposing a false door.

  “What is this?” Eric asked with skepticism.

  “You will see.”

  They stepped through the entrance and a light turned on above them. It illuminated rows of wooden shelves that lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling. Each shelf was packed with glass vials and bottles that looked ancient. In the center of the room was a podium with a tattered book sitting on top.

  “I understand you require a means to enter Hell…I assume the reason for your demon tears.”

  Eric didn’t respond.

  Safron walked to a shelf on the right and grabbed a bottle. He cleaned it off with his thumb then held it out toward Eric. “This should do.”

  “What is this?”

  “The potion your Oracle gave you ingredients for.”

  Eric hesitated and Safron smiled.

  “It is my job, Mr. Strange, to know as much as I can about our guests. You will find I and the hotel can be quite a resource. Anything you need we are at your disposal.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because now we trust you.” Safron placed the bottle into Eric’s hand. “I see you carry an enchanted pistol. May I see it?”

  Eric tucked the bottle into his pocket then pulled the gun from his waist and handed it to Safron. Smiling, he opened the cylinder and spun it then aimed the weapon toward the wall and stared down the fixed sights.

  “Well balanced, effective,” he mumbled. Opening the cylinder again he dumped the ammo into his hand and looked over the golden shells. “Subpar if not hardly adequate. Follow me, Mr. Strange.”

  Safron walked through another hidden door. The lights inside of the room were already burning and a man dressed in a white t-shirt and with a brown smock was hunkered over a work desk.

  “Antwon,” Safron said as he stepped closer. “I didn’t expect you to be working.”

  The stubbly-faced blacksmith looked up and sneered. “What else would ya have me doing?” he grumbled in a thick Irish accent.

  Eric stared at him, soaking in his appearance. His head was full of fiery, wild strands. His thick, auburn beard and bushy eyebrows stood out like a stop sign. Eric smiled, and a small chuckle escaped.