by E. A. Copen
She conceded the point with a tilt of her head. She stood on the porch, watching as I buckled Remy in, and stayed there until we were out of the driveway.
The drive across town was awful. Hundreds of extra cars filled the roads, all full of impatient people trying to get their last-minute supplies before the shops all closed tomorrow. There was a wreck over near the Superdome that had traffic backed up for miles. I stared at the brake lights in front of me, stomach growling, wishing I’d thought to get something for myself to eat.
I’d hit a brick wall. I couldn’t find anything on this monster, had no idea how to protect myself against it—let alone anyone else—and I didn’t know where I stood with Emma. Everything she’d said just confused me more. She cared and she wanted to make things work, but she was scared I was crowding her? Maybe I’d pushed too hard. Tried to move things too fast. Was there any way to fix things, or was it too late?
I closed my eyes a moment, remembering the kiss in Emma’s guest room. It didn’t seem too late. If I could help her put this case to bed, maybe that’d take enough pressure off her. If I cleaned up Pony’s old place real nice overnight, I might convince her to hide there a few days. Phone off. Internet unplugged. Just me and her and Remy. Candles, a little mood music, and maybe a little palm reading, and I was pretty sure I could convince her to stay over.
A horn blared, and I jerked awake to see the stopped traffic in front of me had moved on. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep. Man, did I need that coffee.
Rather than wait until I got home, I pulled off at the next exit and grabbed one from a fast food place. Drive-thru coffee came in two varieties: scalding hot or gross and lukewarm. The one I got fit the latter category, but at least the thick, tarry liquid wasn’t too hot to chug. I gulped it down and got back on the road.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, it had worn off. Getting Remy inside and through a change and another feeding went by in an exhausted blur. She’d been in the car with Emma all day, though, so she needed some time on her stomach, which the doctors said would make her strong. I rolled out the playmat I bought for her, put down a couple of safe toys, and sat in Pony’s armchair, another cup of steaming coffee by my side. See? I could do this staying awake forever thing.
Until I couldn’t.
Sleep overtook me even as I fought it, and I found myself standing outside my body, looking down. The living room was exactly how it’d been when I fell asleep, except years seemed to have passed. I had grown thin, skeletal even. A long beard crawled down my chin and into my lap. It was full of rats. They crawled in and out of my beard and through a hole they’d gnawed into my stomach, squeaking. Flies buzzed around my head. I don’t know how, but in the dream, I knew I wasn’t dead. Just asleep, and even in my sleep I could feel the rats chewing on my insides.
I turned away from my body to look around the room. The furniture was rotten as if it’d been exposed to the elements for years. Cobwebs and dust covered everything. Old food rotted on dishes in the sink.
A floorboard creaked behind me. Remy! I’d forgotten about her. But after all this time…And the rats.
I didn’t want to see, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Slowly, I turned around, but I didn’t find the corpse of a child behind me. She was older, but still young with her back to me. Somehow, her hair had turned silver. She’d colored part of it purple, but just a few streaks. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it was her. Remy, my daughter.
Her head tilted to the side. “Why didn’t you stop them?”
“Stop who?” I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, feel the rats scurrying around in my gut even though I was no longer in my body. “Stop them from doing what?”
As if in answer, she pointed skyward.
I looked up.
The roof had been peeled away, leaving behind only a few rotten timbers. Above, a blood-red sky swirled by with streaks of veiny blue. The sun throbbed behind a crimson cloud like a bloody heart beating to an uneven tempo.
Without warning, the house disappeared, crumbling to dust and taking my body with it. I was transported to the Quarter, but it was empty. No tourists walked the streets. No neon glowed in the broken windows. No music played. Silence reigned. Even the plastic bags and papers blowing through the empty streets made no sound.
I wandered the dead streets without a destination or purpose, searching for some clue as to what happened. There were no bodies to examine in the streets, nor in the buildings. I even walked over to Nate’s and found the place empty as if they’d just gotten up and left.
I opened the fridge and promptly covered my nose against the stench of food rotting in darkness. My stomach rebelled, and I gagged on bile. And here I didn’t think you could be sick in dreams.
The fridge door hung loosely open when I let it go to lean on their kitchen table, the same kitchen table where Leah and her sister Sarah had been sitting at tea just the other day. It crumbled under my weight, turning to a pile of ash on the floor. I stared at the ash, a feeling of significance lurking at the edge of my consciousness. This meant something, but whatever it was, I couldn’t grasp it.
When I walked out of Nate’s, she was standing at the end of the driveway, staring at the empty street. Her snow-white hair waved in the air as if it were alive, though there was no wind.
“What is this?” I asked, closing on her.
But she didn’t speak. Not with words, anyway. The sound of thousands of insect carapaces skittering over glass filled the air.
The queasy feeling returned. I reached out to grip her shoulder, though I didn’t want to. Something was wrong with Remy, and I didn’t want to see what, but I had to.
I spun her around.
Remy’s face was gone, hollowed out as if someone had just cut it away and opened her skull. The thing staring back at me had two huge black honeycomb eyes. Her nose was an empty section of bone, just two holes drilled in her face. In place of a mouth, a long, straw-like tongue poised in a tight curl. Sharp mandibles flexed on either side.
I recoiled at the sight of the monster’s face, stumbling back. My foot caught on something in the driveway, and I fell flat on my ass. The shock of the impact reverberated up my spine and left me unable to move thanks to the pain.
Pain? In a dream? That shouldn’t have been happening.
The fly-faced version of Remy stepped closer. “I see you, Horseman.”
I swallowed, but my tongue felt like it was made of sandpaper. Swallowing just pushed the same dryness into my throat, making me unable to speak.
Human hands stretched out toward me, palms up as if inviting me to take her hand. “No more fighting. It’s time to rest. To sleep. You’ve worked so hard already.”
It was within arm’s reach, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Unbearable tiredness settled into my limbs. I could’ve curled up on the driveway for a nap if I wasn’t so terrified by the monster in front of me.
The putrid scent of rot and decay washed over me as the thing knelt in front of me. Its soft hands brushed against my face tenderly. The straw-like tongue flexed before snapping out like a whip. I grunted as it stabbed through my diaphragm. Comfortable warmth flooded my body as if the thing had injected me with something. My limbs went rigid in response, paralyzed. The monster’s sharp tongue flexed inside me, wriggling, digging deeper until thick lumps appeared in the straw. With a slurping noise, it sucked them up, drinking the magic out of me.
I felt it go, felt my power drain away and die. With every swallow, the monster feeding on me became more powerful. Magic buzzed around it like an aura of flies, the buzzing growing higher pitched as time marched on.
Pressure built in my chest as if someone were inflating a balloon inside me. I tried to draw a breath but couldn’t.
I would die here, eaten by something out of a David Cronenberg horror flick.
A sound echoed through the sky, three sharp knocks. Bang, bang, bang! The sky lit up with each one. On the third k
nock, the monster ripped its tongue out of my body and turned to face something on its left. With an inhuman hiss that should’ve been impossible given the construction of the thing’s mouth, it dropped me to the pavement.
I surged out of my chair with a snarl and unleashed a spell that sliced through the pictures on the wall and punched a hole the size of my fist between the living room and bedroom. One of the picture frames snapped in two, the lower half clattering loudly to the floor.
Remy wailed.
Remy! Panic struck me in a cold sweat as I dropped to my knees to inspect my daughter. Her face was red and scrunched up while she screamed, and she needed a change, but otherwise, she seemed just fine.
The other half of the picture frame finally fell. I stared at it while guilt settled in the pit of my stomach. She might not have been fine if she’d been about four feet taller. Had anyone been standing there, that spell would’ve taken their head clean off. I didn’t even know I could do that. Such destructive, violent spells came from a place of panic and strong emotion. Fear for my life.
For a split second, I imagined Emma trying to wake me from a nightmare only to have me lash out with that instead of waking gracefully. I could kill someone. The thought sent chills down my spine.
I jumped when someone pounded on the front door.
“Lazarus!” called a smooth male voice on the other side. “Lazarus, wake up!”
Detective Moses? What the hell was he doing here? How’d he know where I lived? Better question, how’d he know I was asleep?
I picked up Remy, pressing her to my shoulder, and went to open the front door.
Moses was an old cop just a few months away from retiring. White dusted his dark, slick hair where it peeked out from under his dark fedora. He’d grown a mustache that gave him a more grandfatherly look.
Officially, I guess he was still Emma’s partner, though he hadn’t done much in the field lately. He had a bad knee, and with retirement closing in, the force wanted to keep him from doing any more damage.
Standing on my front porch in the yellow glow of the porch light, the white trench coat hanging loosely from his shoulders, he looked like he’d just come off the set of a neo-noir flick.
His bushy eyebrows drew together with worry and panic danced in his eyes. He glanced first at me, then at Remy, before lowering his fist. He’d been about to knock another time.
“Moses,” I said, my voice carefully neutral, “what are you doing here so late? Figured you’d be with your family for the holidays.”
“I…” His mouth hung open a minute before he snapped it shut and swallowed. “Thanksgiving’s not until tomorrow, you know. Guess I’m burnin’ the midnight oil.”
I leaned out the front door. The only car in the driveway was mine. “You walk here?”
“Took a cab.”
I eyed him suspiciously. With his bad knee, he couldn’t have walked, but why take a cab? He had his own car. “And how’d you know where I lived anyway?”
“It’s not like it’s a secret, is it?” He huffed. “You going to invite me in? That baby’ll catch a cold if you leave her to cry in the draft much longer.”
Something didn’t add up, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly I thought was wrong. Moses had always been a little on the odd side, but he was a good guy. One of the best. I didn’t say that about every cop who shot me in the hand.
“Come on in.” I pushed the door open wider and then stepped aside to hold it with my body.
Detective Moses removed his hat and stepped inside. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and scanned the house top to bottom as if he were looking for something.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” I said and swung the door closed.
He ran his fingers nervously over the brim of his hat before stepping further into the house a few steps. “Fifty-five years I been in this town, doin’ this job for twenty. I thought I’d seen it all until you came along, you know?”
“What’s going on, Moses?” I walked away from the door. “How’d you know I was asleep? Why drive all the way out here at practically midnight? If something’s wrong, just tell me.”
He sighed. “There’s somethin’ I gotta tell you, but you aren’t gonna like it. And you can’t tell Emma. You’ve got to swear.”
I blinked. This was unlike the easy-going Detective Moses Moses I knew. Alarm bells were going off in my head, but they didn’t mesh with what I knew about the old man. He wasn’t a threat. Was he?
Just in case, I readied a spell and moved Remy away from him.
Moses adjusted his trench coat before turning to face me. He frowned at the protective stance I’d taken. “You remember that guy from the bar? That half-angel? The Nephilim?”
He meant Josiah. I hadn’t figured it out until I spent several days in Hell with the guy, though.
I flexed my fingers, ready to unleash a spell. “How do you know what he was?”
The old cop sighed and spread his arms out. “’’Cause I know His image when I see it, even if it’s buried deep in diluted DNA. I seen enough angels to know what I’m looking at. Give me some credit, Laz.”
“What are you saying?”
Moses stood up straighter. “I ain’t human. I’m one of them. An angel. And we got to talk about what’s happening in this city.”
Chapter Nine
“Holy shit,” I muttered, “you’re an angel? Since when?”
“How long have you been human?” He shook his head. “Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.”
Point for Moses. It wasn’t like he just woke up one Sunday and decided to become one. I didn’t know much about angels, demons, half-angels, and that stuff. Most of my dealings as the Pale Horseman had been directly with gods, or so I thought. I hadn’t even thought angels were real until I met Josiah. Even then, it took seeing him unleash a spell that melted demons for me to truly believe. And he was only a half-angel, the child of one of the Fallen and a human.
If Moses was the real deal…
I sucked in a breath and took a peek at his soul. I’d done it before more than once and never seen anything out of the ordinary, but maybe I’d missed something.
Moses’ frown deepened. “Please don’t do that. You ain’t going to see anything new.”
“But you don’t look like an angel. Where're your wings? And your…” I gestured to his head, searching for the word.
He sighed and snapped his hat in his hand. In a flash, it transformed from a faded fedora into a circlet of golden light. “Better?” he asked, dropping it crookedly on his head.
I stared at him, unable to formulate a reaction. How is a guy supposed to react to discovering his girlfriend’s partner is a certified angel?
Moses’ nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. He turned his attention to the coffee pot and pointed at it. “You mind if I…?”
I gestured to the pot of coffee and realized for the first time that Remy was still whimpering and trying to eat her fist. Damn, kid. Do you ever stop eating?
While I warmed up one of her bottles, Moses fixed himself a cup of black coffee and leaned on the counter casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my kitchen. “Suppose I should get the explaining out of the way, so you’ll quit staring at me.”
“Ya think? Why don’t you look different? Josiah had a weird soul. Yours is normal except for a little black spot. Why?”
Moses shrugged. “That little black spot is me. I’ve spent decades hiding my true self. Can’t show it to humans. Melts their eyes. Some humans, they’re gifted. Lots in this city have the Sight and can see true forms one way or another. Have to keep it under lock and key all the time, or you’d have people’s eyes melting out of their heads left and right.”
I pulled the bottle from the pot of water and put it in Remy’s mouth, leaning against the counter next to Moses. “What about your estranged daughter? All this about the bad knee? The high cholesterol?”
“Clever cover story.” He sipped his coffee.
“Well,” said Moses after clearing his throat and adjusting his coat, “not always. Look, the short version is this. There are a couple thousand of us on Earth, sent to watch and report back. We’re forbidden from the most part from interfering directly, but if we keep our heads down and don’t cause too much trouble, we can do what any normal human can to make a difference. It’s how I got into police work. New Orleans was my assignment. Watch and report. Orders came down from Michael some two hundred years ago. I been here in one form or another ever since. Any more questions?”
I tried to wrap my brain around it, but somehow, I was stuck. Why hadn’t I seen it? Why hadn’t anyone? Because I wasn’t looking. I had no reason to suspect Moses was anything other than what he claimed to be.
“So, if you’re an angel, when Vesta kidnapped you—”
He nodded. “I almost broke my cover then. Closest I ever came. Didn’t know you’d taken on the Horseman mantle. As I was lyin’ there, body all broken up and twisted, I was fightin’ with myself. I could’ve zapped my way out of there, but then I would’ve needed to reinvent myself. New vessel. New life. New story. I was comfortable. If you hadn’t come along when you did, though, I would’ve had no choice.”
Something about that made me irrationally angry. I’d charged in there to save his ass, and he was never really in any danger. I swallowed the anger and turned to him, shifting Remy in my arms. “Why reveal yourself now?”
If a crazed Roman goddess didn’t make him break cover, whatever was going on had to be bad. Seriously bad.
“Because you kicked off Directive Seventy-Seven.” He pushed off the counter and paced to the living room where he eased onto the sofa, coffee cup in hand.
“I don’t know what Directive Seventy-Seven is, but it doesn’t sound good.” I went to join him, sitting in the armchair.
Moses’ tone was grave. “It’s not. With Lucifer dead, and the line of succession unclear, She’ol is quickly dissolving into civil war. Parties both in Hell and on Earth seek to claim the crown he wore and the mantle of power that comes with it. With Hell’s forces disorganized and scattered among various warring generals and supernatural entities, leadership thinks it’s a prime time to hit them. Defeat the forces of Hell once and for all.” He closed his eyes and recited, “And He gathered them together in the place known in the Hebrew tongue as Armageddon.”