by Kyoko M
“I read something long ago. It might have just been an old legend, but it spoke of a weapon that could be forged in order to destroy a demon’s soul. It would have to be made from the most impure silver in all of the world. If I were able to attain it, then the angels would be able to do more than just send the demons back to Hell. They could eliminate them entirely.”
“Wow, that’s quite a legend. Where did you read that?”
“In a library as a kid. When I grew up and went back, I couldn’t find that text again. However, I never found anything else to substantiate the claim. It seems it was just a legend after all.”
He lowered his gaze to the smoke-colored carpet. “I realize now that I was naïve. The demons are far more resourceful and ruthless than I predicted. They will find the rest of the coins if we don’t stop them and they will use them to kill every angel they can.”
“Alright,” I said. “Then we’ll go find the rest of them. We still haven’t found a method to destroy them, but at the very least, we can keep them out of the demons’ hands.”
Jordan checked her cell phone. “It’s pretty late. Think we can catch a flight out of Manhattan at this hour?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. Most airports are large and easy to lose someone in. We’re better off driving to a remote airstrip and borrowing one of Gabriel’s private jets.”
I glanced at Faust. “Got a car?”
He gave me a sheepish look. “I, uh, have been using public transportation for the sake of paranoia. I cannot sense demons, nor could I sense a car bomb.”
He had a point. “The coffee shop across the street has free Wi-Fi,” I said. “I’ll get us a car. You two stay here and call me if anything happens.”
I donned my suit jacket, grabbed my laptop and its bag, and headed out the door without a goodbye. Just as well. I needed space to think. I’d considered asking Jordan to do it, but she was twenty-four years old. The legal age to rent a car was twenty-five.
I bought myself a coffee just to be courteous and rented a car without a hiccup. The rental place was only a few blocks away, meaning we could leave soon. I was itchy to get out of Manhattan. Demons loved this city. It was a breeding ground for all kinds of sin, and I didn’t need to tempt fate any more than I already had.
My brain kept flashing back to several minutes ago, particularly the long, smooth line of Jordan’s leg. I became so distracted by it that I bumped into a man on the way out the door. I muttered an apology and kept going, irritated with myself. Was my libido that insistent? Why couldn’t I focus?
However, as I waited at the crosswalk outside of the shop, I started noticing the state of my health. The blood loss hadn’t done me any favors, but something else was bothering me. My hands trembled slightly and my stomach felt like it was twisting itself into a great big painful knot.
I massaged the bridge of my nose as a headache began to throb through my skull. I sniffed the coffee, unable to smell anything. Had I been drugged? Poisoned? What the hell was wrong with me?
The crosswalk light changed and I stumbled across the street, fumbling in my pocket for my phone as it rang. My feet felt heavy with every step, as if someone had tied a ball-and-chain to my ankles. I managed to get inside the hotel, but I couldn’t stand up straight any longer. My laptop bag dug into my shoulder, seeming to weigh a thousand pounds.
My arms finally gave out. The cell phone, the laptop bag, and the coffee spilled onto the carpet.
Something fell out beside the phone, now freed from my pocket. My watery eyes couldn’t focus on it at first. I collapsed to my knees and that was when I saw it.
A silver coin.
The man I’d bumped into at the coffee shop had slipped a Judas coin into my jacket.
The thought didn’t last long. Darkness devoured me whole.
I woke up nauseous and sore. Wasn’t the first time, not with my lifestyle. I knew exactly what to do in a kidnapping situation. Calm down. Breathe slowly. Lower your heart rate. Find out how you’ve been restrained.
I was blindfolded. My arms were bound with handcuffs behind my back. I shifted my wrists to and fro. Something flaked against my skin. Probably blood. Our captors had killed a demon to make restraints to hold me. However, they had done me one better and cuffed my arms to my legs. If I pulled upward, it yanked my ankles back. They were smart.
It took some effort, but I managed to tap the toe of my ridiculously expensive dress shoes against the floor. The sound bounced and echoed. The room was large and had concrete floors. I couldn’t hear anything aside from my own breathing. A headache rocketed through my skull. It felt like there were nails driven into my temples. I hadn’t experienced pain to quite this intensity before.
I tried stretching my energy outward to sense the presence of the archdemons, but nothing happened. Cold fear flooded my veins. My powers—all of them—were gone. No energy, no increased strength, no connection to the astral plane, nothing. I was no more than human.
I leaned back in my seat, but then the base of my skull smacked against someone else’s.
“Ow!” Jordan said. “Could you watch it, please?”
“Jor,” I breathed in relief. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m just tied up for the billionth time. God, why couldn’t I have just been born a normal girl? By all accounts, I should be a frickin’ photographer or a novelist or something,” she griped, sounding exhausted. I couldn’t blame her. Even by my standards, she had horrendously bad luck.
“No idea,” I said, and it was a genuine answer. “Can you move?”
“Not much. Arms are handcuffed to my ankles. Chair’s bolted to the floor. They spared no expense, it seems.”
“Well, they didn’t take us far. Doesn’t feel like we’ve been out long. I ate before the party and I’m not hungry yet. Can’t have been more than a couple of hours. What happened after I left? How’d they get you?”
“Heard some commotion outside. It turns out they barricaded the door and started pumping in sleeping gas through the vents. There wasn’t a window in that room, if you recall. It knocked us out in less than five minutes.”
She sighed. “So what’s the prognosis? Torture and then death?”
“Most likely.”
“Fantastic. We’re boned.”
A weak chuckle spilled out of my lips. “You always were eloquent.”
“Oh, eat me, Michael.”
“Is that your final request? Because I’d break out of these handcuffs for that.”
She made a noise like she was hiding a laugh. “Now you want to be funny. That’s great. Could have used that humor ten months ago.”
I then realized what she was doing. We had no idea if our kidnappers were listening in. We had to keep the conversation off of our current mission because most likely, our backup was coming for us. The only problem was that I didn’t know if they’d get here in time. We very well might be dead in a few minutes. And we had plenty of dirty laundry to air before then.
“Do you really want to get into that now?” I asked. “Before we’re about to bite the big one?”
“Why not? If I don’t, I might come back as a ghost and then Myra will have to fulfill my final wish, which I suspect would be kicking your sorry ass.”
“So what? You’re blaming this whole thing on me now?”
“Look, I tried to work it out with you. You’re the one who decided to be a dick.”
My anger came rushing back. “I had a pretty damn good excuse.”
“Don’t give me that. You knew I didn’t sleep with Belial. You knew that and you still decided to push me away.”
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? That’s who you are, Jordan. You have so many walls to climb that I felt like freaking Spider-Man. It took me months to get anything out of you and even then, you were still holding back.”
“Yeah, it’s all my fault, right? It’s not like I had a traumatic childhood that makes it impossible for me to open up to others because I’m scared they’ll go postal an
d physically abuse me. Oh, wait. Yes, I did.”
I shook my head. “That’s not good enough. You let Belial drive a wedge between us. You can’t admit to yourself that you want him and that’s why it was so easy for us to break up.”
“Easy?” she whispered. “You think it was easy? Am I not remembering that night correctly?”
I hadn’t turned in my apartment keys yet. Move out day was tomorrow. I should have scheduled to leave earlier because the doorknob turned and Jordan walked in using her key.
“Michael, I need to talk to you. Now.”
She stopped in the entrance to the den. She stared around at the boxes hiding all my things—TV, dishes, clothing, DVDs, books—and the shrink-wrap on the couch and dressers.
“What’s going on?”
I took a deep breath, setting down the box I’d been moving towards the front of the room.
“I’m leaving for a mission.”
Jordan took a moment to absorb this information. “Were you going to tell me before or after you left?”
I resisted the urge to sigh. “I didn’t want to start an argument.”
“You didn’t, huh?” she said in an unnervingly calm tone as she walked towards me. It was like watching the ocean before a tsunami hit the beach.
“What mission?”
“It’s confidential.”
“I see. And how long will you be gone?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
She finally met my gaze, her brown eyes like twin orbs of fire. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Whatever you want, Jordan. This isn’t about us. It’s a mission. I have to follow orders.”
I started to turn away, but she caught my arm. I stayed still. She touched my cheek, making me face her. Again, her voice came out deathly calm. “Look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t about us. If you say it and mean it, I’ll walk right out of this apartment and leave you alone.”
My jaw clenched. She’d hit me where it hurt. Neither of us was going to pull our punches tonight. Not now. It was too late. “What do you want me to say, Jordan?”
“How can you ask me that? You know damn well what you’re supposed to say right now. That you won’t be gone long. That you love me and you’re doing this to protect me. That you’ll call me to let me know you’re okay. That you actually want this marriage to work.”
“I’m not going to say that.”
“No fucking shit, Michael. Is this what you want? Were you just stringing me along two months ago when you promised you’d come back and start our marriage over? What do you want? Just tell me the truth.”
“Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“I’m a grown ass woman. I can handle it.”
“Fine.” I straightened up. “I don’t think I can forgive you for what you did. I know I said I would, but things are different now. I can’t continue this relationship with you anymore.”
Jordan stared me down. “And is this coming from you…or the Commander?”
I tensed. “What does it matter?”
“It matters because the Michael I know said he loved me. He said he would love me until the stars turn cold and fall into the ocean and the mountains crumble and the universe unravels into the abyss. None of those things have happened. So I’m led to believe that the man I’m speaking to right now is not my husband.”
“Not anymore,” I whispered, unable to keep the malice from creeping into my tone.
She swayed, tears finally welling up in her eyes. She touched my cheek again, her voice cracking and trembling at the edges. “Amor, please, listen to yourself. This isn’t you. You’re a good man. I know that.”
She kissed me. Her lips were soft and warm.
And I felt nothing.
Jordan pulled away, stroking the side of my chin, searching desperately for a reaction.
“Are you done?”
My words hit her like a slap in the face. She dropped her hand and stepped back. I saw her rebuilding the walls between us, the walls that had taken me two years to tear apart. The woman I married vanished behind them. Something inside me screamed, but I told it to shut up because I was doing the right thing. I knew it.
“Fine. Have it your way, you cold bastard.”
She pulled off her wedding ring and threw it at me. It bounced off my chest.
“Goodbye, Michael.”
She stormed out. The door slammed, echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. I stood there for a long moment, knelt, picked up the ring, and slid it onto my pinky finger. Then I finished packing and I left everything I knew behind.
“No,” I said. “I guess it wasn’t easy. But it looks like you got along fine without me.”
“Fine,” she laughed—a sound that was like lemon juice being poured down my ear. “God, you’re still an oblivious moron.”
“You lived your life without me for twenty-one years, Jordan. You clearly didn’t need me then and I doubt you need me now.”
“You think I didn’t need you, huh? Well, maybe I should tell you a little story that happened seven and a half months ago. Once, there was a girl named Jordan. Last October, Jordan and her best friend Gabriel saved her father from a mobster named Lamont Brooks. He was a very bad man so they went to Detroit and they put him in jail. Then, not long after Jordan’s husband left, Lamont’s daughter Bridgett came looking for her. She was very unhappy that her father now walked with a limp and was living in prison, so she kidnapped Jordan.”
I froze, my heart pounding fast enough to hurt as she continued. “She tied Jordan up in a basement and then she beat her for hours. Hours. She was going to kill her when a Seer named Myra showed up. You see, Myra had heard about Jordan through the grapevine and wanted to team up to give them both a better chance of making it to retirement age. So Myra followed the bad guys. She cut Jordan loose and killed Bridgett and all her bad men. The end.”
I bowed my head. Damn it. Damn it all to hell. “I…didn’t know that happened.”
“No one does. Just me, Myra, and Belial, somehow. Wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard tipped Lamont’s daughter off just to get back at me for killing him.”
“Jordan—”
“No,” she cut me off. “You don’t get to apologize. You left. You left me after you promised to come back. So just sit there and think about that before they come in here and chop us into pieces. Let it be the last thing in your head before you die.”
My throat felt tight. I had been wrong. I thought leaving her would spare her any further pain. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was an oblivious moron. Big strong Michael the archangel, so sexist and sure of himself that he hadn’t been there to stop a bunch of jackals from beating his wife damn near to death. God damn my soul.
Before I could say anything else, I heard the wrenching sound of a metal door opening. I snapped upward in my chair, tilting my head to hear better. Footsteps. Just one set, though, not two. Strange.
Someone started to slow clap. I immediately knew who it was. “And that is the final scene of the soap opera known as ‘Touched by an Angel in my Pants’.”
“Get bent, Belial,” Jordan growled.
“Oh, now you offer,” the archdemon sniffed. “Too late. That ship has sunk. I told you when I was in your bed that I would enjoy killing you someday. That day is today.”
“He was in bed with you?” I murmured out of one side of my mouth.
“Shut up, you idiot,” Jordan hissed back. “Is this really the time for that? We’re gonna die. Don’t give him the satisfaction of being jealous before we go.”
“Oh, I have that and more, my pet.” More footsteps. I strained against my handcuffs, but I knew it was fruitless. There was no way I’d get out of them.
There was a rustling sound and then light pressure against the back of my head. Seconds later, he removed my blindfold. Bright light pierced my pupils for several seconds before I could focus on the bastard. He was dressed in all black—a button-up shirt and slacks that cost more than
a month’s rent at a townhouse in LA. His long hair was tied back, proof that he knew things were going to get messy soon.
“So tell me,” I said, smirking. “How does it feel taking orders from Moloch?”
He sent me a withering stare. “Almost as good as it feels knowing it took you this long to figure out we were working together.”
“Working together? I thought you were his bitch.”
He punched me in the jaw. The blow split my lip. I spat a thin stream of blood on the ground. “You hit like a girl. No offense, Jordan.”
“None taken.”
Belial let out a dramatic sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe I will have to put up with these wisecracks while I’m trying to murder you both.”
“It is what it is, Bels,” Jordan said. “You knew ahead of time that we’d be like this. Maybe you shouldn’t have signed up for it.”
He shrugged and then slipped Jordan’s blindfold off. “True, but the benefits outweigh the costs. I’ll endure having to work with a Neanderthal if I get to off the two of you.”
“So I guess that conjugal thing is off the table then?” Jordan asked.
I bristled, stifling another jealous question. Belial grinned. “Afraid so, my dear. Then again, taking you in front of your husband would be an added bonus.”
“Touch her and I’ll rip your intestines out through your asshole,” I snarled automatically, launching myself at him to no avail. The chair wobbled, but didn’t snap free of the floor.
Belial patted my cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re angry. Too bad you go first.”
He reached behind his back and withdrew a knife almost the size of his forearm. It was a Jay Hendrickson custom knife, one of the finest I’d ever seen. The blade was about eight inches long, its mahogany handle inlaid with silver that spelled out the demon’s name in cursive, the metal so brilliant that I knew he’d polished it beforehand. Jordan’s head was tilted towards us and panic flooded across her face as she saw it.
“Belial,” she said slowly. “Listen to me.”