by Kyoko M
“How you feelin’, tough guy?”
“Hung over,” I admitted, and she grinned.
“Well, that’s what happens when you throw coffins at people.”
“Duly noted,” I said. “Don’t suppose you checked the news yet?”
She sighed, the grin evaporating. “It was on an hour ago. The Fonz is in critical condition. I’m pretty sure after we find all the coins, I’m heading to a non-extradition country. It won’t take the FBI long to pick up on my scent. You might get some assault charges slapped on you, but I’m sure Gabriel can work something out.”
I studied her neutral expression. She was a pretty resilient woman, but the thought of her living on her own in another country ducking the authorities made me frown. The longer she continued in this lifestyle, the more she started to resemble Andrew Bethsaida, her father figure. He’d been a Seer for close to thirty years, and he’d spent most of them on the run from both the mortal and immortal authorities. He was a good man, and he’d died saving her life. If she kept going in this manner, she’d follow him straight into an early grave.
“We’ll fix it,” I said gently. “I promise.”
She smiled, but this time it was sad. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Jordan stood, but I caught her wrist. She glanced at me, apprehensive. I tugged her back down on the bed. “When was the last time you slept?”
She wrinkled her nose, considering the question. “When Belial kidnapped us.”
I shook my head. “Take a power nap. I’ll come get you when we’re there. Can’t have both of us running on empty.”
She eyed me for a second, and then nodded. I climbed out of the bed and she curled up on the left side like always. I tugged the covers over her and left the bedroom, shutting the door. My hand lingered on the knob. We were both still angry and resentful, but somehow we kept falling into our old patterns. We’d have to talk soon. I wasn’t looking forward to it.
Avriel was up front driving. Someone had opened the fold out couch. Myra sat on the thin mattress with headphones in her ears, cleaning her M24 with precise movements. The hellhound had settled his massive furry body along her left side, his ears pricking up when I walked in. His crimson eyes opened and his upper lip curled. A growl trickled out.
I glared at him. Jordan used to accuse me of being an alpha male. Maybe she had a point.
Myra must have felt the vibration from Ace’s chest, because she flicked him in the ear and he quit making noise. He spared me one last untrustworthy look and closed his eyes, chuffing once as if to say he had me on his shit list. Like I didn’t have enough problems.
Faust sat on the couch opposite Myra with a map of the U.S. open in his lap and a red Sharpie in his hand. He’d marked all the locations of the coins hidden in the states and written small notes next to them—the dates and times when he’d left them as well as the addresses. He had a photographic memory, by the looks of things. It made me jealous.
His attire had changed—a lilac button-up shirt, violet tie with diagonal lines dancing down the front, and dark blue suit pants. He had relaxed enough to unbutton the collar and roll up his sleeves. I noted matching tattoos of the cross on the inside of both forearms. The words “confidimus in Deum” trailed down the center of each cross.
The bruises around his right eye and nose were gone, to my relief. Jordan or Myra’s work. I sat next to him, happy that my spine didn’t complain this time.
“So what should I be expecting at our next stop?” I asked.
Faust pushed up his glasses. “I wish I could tell you. After those things attacked in the cemetery, I’m not sure what to think any longer. The demons are getting desperate. Anything could happen.”
I offered him a small smile. “Welcome to my life.”
He returned it. “I have no idea how you do it, Commander. The stress of having the world on your shoulders would certainly make a lesser man buckle.”
I shrugged. “Well, when you’ve been fighting evil since the beginning of time, you learn to cope with it.”
“I envy you,” he admitted, sounding a bit shy. “The things you have seen in your lifetime must be mind-boggling. Heaven and Hell and Purgatory and the Garden of Eden. The galaxies beyond our solar system. The universe itself. The face of God. It must be an honor.”
“It is,” I said. “If I were allowed, I’d write a book about it. Then again, John Milton wasn’t half bad when he wrote Paradise Lost. That reminds me.”
“Yes?”
“In your research, did you ever stumble across anything other than the location of the coins? Any theories on the true properties of them?”
“Some. There is a suggestion from certain cults that if the coins were ever melted down into a weapon, it could be capable of killing an angel.”
I grimaced. “I’ve heard that rumor before.”
“There is a distressing thought I must express.”
“What?”
“Demons are fallen angels, correct?”
“Right.”
“What if…” He licked his lips. “…it is possible to send an angel to Hell?”
“That’s…” I frowned. “It should be impossible.”
“Should?”
“Yes,” I answered. “For the same reason that a demon cannot enter the gates of Heaven. We’re complete opposites. Demons are too impure to enter Heaven and angels are too pure to enter Hell.”
“I see.”
I studied his worried expression. “What made you ask?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just…
“Faust.”
He met my gaze. “When they held me captive, I heard Moloch talking to someone on a phone. I couldn’t hear much through the door, but I made out something about imprisoning an angel in Hell.”
“It can’t be done. He might have been trying to manipulate you.”
He heaved a sigh. “Thank God. It is an unsettling notion.”
“You can say that again,” I muttered.
“Still, I will pry into the matter. I heard that the safe house in Montpelier has a rather extensive library containing ancient texts. There is one particular book that is rumored to have a ceremony one can perform to temporarily enter the gates of Hell. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.”
“Right,” I said, rising. I went to the fridge and dug out a Coke, tossing one to Faust. We drank in solemn silence. I mulled over Faust’s words, assessing what angle Moloch was going for. After all, it was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JORDAN
There were a lot of things I had become accustomed to during my time as a Seer.
Hiking was not one of them.
The closest coin to us was off of the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania. Faust used to go hiking with his father and so he knew how to navigate the area. The closest I’d ever been to the woods was watching two sarcastic Internet reviewers play ‘Man vs. Wild’ the video game. I was woefully out of my element. No pun intended.
To be fair, it had nothing to do with being in shape. I hit the gym with Myra usually every other day. My issue came from being a city mouse for most of my life, so seeing nothing but the vast stretch of nature around me made me a bit nervous. The sounds were entirely different from what I’d come to known in Albany, and even Chattanooga. The last time I found myself surrounded by trees had been in the Garden of Eden with Michael at my side. The Garden had an atmosphere that entranced my mind. I ended up begging him to let me stay there forever and he had to carry me out. I tried not to think about it too much.
We’d reached Pennsylvania not long after dawn. There was plenty of sunlight to lead the way. A thin layer of snow had fallen earlier, coating the branches of trees around us. It hadn’t frozen over yet so the trail wasn’t slippery and treacherous like I’d feared.
Faust and Avriel headed the group—one with a map, the other with a GPS—leading us to the latitude and longitude he’d left the coin. The Appalachi
an Trail was often traveled, but Faust hid the coin in a lesser-known area to avoid anyone stumbling across it. Thankfully, he hadn’t divulged the exact location during Moloch’s interrogation so we still had a chance to beat the demons there.
Ace stayed on their heels; occasionally trotting ahead to sniff something he considered either interesting or a potential threat.
Myra and I followed behind the two scholars and the hound while Michael brought up the rear. Our group didn’t have any company, as most people took the trail during the warmer months. Still, after the surprise waiting for us at the cemetery, I didn’t suspect we’d be alone for long. I almost missed Belial’s methods. He was always up close and personal with his attempts at murder. Moloch seemed more like a puppet master, and thus, harder to anticipate. It took nearly all of my willpower not to jump at every noise.
Myra nudged my shoulder. “Unclench, lady. You look like you’re passing a kidney stone.”
It took me a second to realize I was frowning. Couldn’t feel it. Too cold. “Sorry. Not the outdoors-y type.”
She clucked her tongue. “You should be. It’s nice. Used to take my son out when we visited the in-laws in Maine.”
I softened my gaze on her. “How is he?”
Myra shrugged. “Good. Getting straight A’s as always. He’s even got a crush on some girl on the Debate team. He tells me he might want to go to law school at Yale someday.”
“Ha. You, the mother of a lawyer? When hell freezes over.”
She grinned. “We’ll see about that. Wouldn’t mind retiring early. Plus, there’d be someone other than me to bail your sorry ass out of trouble.”
I adopted an offended look. “Hey, I’ve been good recently. You’re the one who rammed your truck into a bar.”
“It was your idea.”
“Hold up,” Michael interrupted. We all stopped, facing the archangel. Myra’s shotgun was strapped to his broad back. He slid it around to his front, green eyes scanning the treetops. I held my breath, keeping still and listening out as well.
After a minute, Michael motioned for us to go forward. “False alarm.”
We kept walking along the trail. Myra tossed a furtive glance over her shoulder. “If he gets wound any tighter, he’s gonna snap.”
“Can you blame the guy?”
She sent me a sly grin. “Well, I know exactly what’ll take care of that. A bite of the dark chocolate.”
I smacked her in the arm, which she probably didn’t feel through her parka. Thankfully, Michael stayed several paces behind us so he hadn’t heard her. I hoped. “Would you give it a rest, Quagmire?”
“Giggity,” she said, earning herself a glare. “But seriously, are you really going to keep this up?”
“Keep what up?”
“This whole tsundere deal you’ve got going on.”
I frowned. I watched enough anime to know what that was: a character, typically female, who had a hard exterior and protested that she didn’t like someone when deep down she was crazy about them. “I’m not—”
“—yes, you are,” she said with complete confidence. “You can’t leave the guy hanging forever. When are you going to talk to him about this mess you’re in?”
I stared at the ground, focusing on the boot prints the former angel and the archaeologist had left in their wake. “Eventually, alright? We have enough shit to deal with as it is. Besides, why do you care so much?”
“Living vicariously, darling. At least one of us should be gettin’ some.”
I raised my eyes to the heavens. “What did I do to deserve this?”
Faust spoke up. “We’re almost there. It’s just through this passage.”
He pointed to our left and we trailed him. The trees were packed in close here so we had a hard time staying together as we weaved through them. Clumps of snow fell here and there. I looked up to make sure there wasn’t some sniper hiding up in the treetops. Be vewy, vewy quiet, I’m hunting Seers, huh-huh-huh-huh.
Faust came up to a large fallen log at one of the steeper ridges of the forest and knelt. He stuck his gloved hand inside, digging through several piles of loam, dead leaves, and twigs until he withdrew a small brown pouch. He handed it to Avriel, who wrapped it in the sackcloth, and voila, we were done.
“One more down,” I said with a sigh, turning around to head back the way we came. I had taken exactly one step when Ace growled. I froze.
The hellhound shoved past the five of us until he was closest to the part of the trail we deviated from, his head low, shoulders hunched in attack position. I squinted through the dense trees and stretched my energy outward, attempting to sense the disturbance.
A black shape grew in the distance, moving slowly but surely towards us. However, the energy was wrong. It didn’t read like a demon.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, glancing at Michael.
He grabbed the binoculars tied to his belt to take a look. He lowered them rather slowly, his face paling.
“Get out of here. Now.”
“What? Isn’t it just a hellhound?”
“No,” Michael said as he raised the shotgun. “Bigger.”
He ushered me behind him, taking aim. I backpedaled, motioning for Myra, Avriel, and Faust to do the same.
“Bigger? What’s bigger than a hellhound?”
“A bear.”
My jaw dropped. At last, the creature ambled close enough that I could see it clearly. The average adult black bear in the northeast weighed between two hundred and five hundred pounds and was about four to six feet long. This particular bear made them all look like a bunch of chumps. On all fours, it was over six feet tall. Black bears typically had short fur, but its fur was long and matted. Its paws left prints almost a foot in diameter in the dirt and snow. Ropes of drool hung from its open jaws. It didn’t click in my head until I looked into its eyes. Burning red.
It was a freaking hellbear.
The hellbear came to a stop about five feet away from Ace and eyed him. He then opened his mouth and let out one of the loudest roars I’d ever witnessed, second only to the Leviathan. It sent a shockwave of sound straight at us, knocking old birds’ nests out of the trees above. I covered my ears as the sound blasted through my eardrums and sent huge shivers all down my spine. My teeth rattled inside my skull.
“Oh, this is just fucked up!” Myra snarled, checking the sights on her M24. I couldn’t have agreed more.
The bear tossed a pawful of dirt behind it, its head lowering. It was about to charge. Fantastic.
Michael immediately barked out orders. “Faust, Avriel, find a way around to the trail. Myra, get to higher ground. Jordan, stay out of range and be ready to try and use a blood spell on the bastard. I’ll lay down cover fire. Go!”
The bear charged. The ground actually shook as it launched itself at us, bellowing as it ran. Michael and Ace both stood their ground. The rest of us scattered—Avriel and Faust running through the thicket of trees behind them, Myra climbing the ridge above us, me sliding down to the ledge below.
When the bear was within range, Ace pounced. He landed on its neck, digging his blunt claws into its mane and biting the back of its skull. The bear stumbled, thrashing its head to and fro. Ace’s jaws sunk in deeper, but the bear swiped an enormous paw at him and knocked him off. Ace hit the ground on his back and scrambled to get on his feet as the bear brought the same paw down.
Michael opened fire, aiming for its head. The bear missed Ace by several inches as the bullets tore into its hide below the neck, splattering blood over the snow. It fixed its blazing eyes on the archangel, then swiped Ace aside as it surged forward. The hellhound smacked into a boulder behind him and stayed down.
I stood below them, watching with horror as Michael kept firing, but the bear didn’t slow down. He’d never get through that damn pelt with a shotgun. Myra was several yards away, shimmying up the thick branches of a tree. There was no way I could make a blood trap. I’d need physical contact with the damned beast and it would
rip my arm right off if I tried it. The blood circle in the cemetery worked because Michael corralled the hounds into the spot. He couldn’t deter the bear with the gunshots. I wouldn’t have enough time. Dammit!
Michael dodged to the side as the bear charged, firing several more shots at its turned back. The creature wheeled around and kept coming as if never even feeling the wounds. Blood poured down its legs as it swiped at him. He’d have to retreat soon, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would catch him on foot.
Panicked, I ripped off my parka and shoveled the mounds of snow around me into it. I shut my eyes and said the fastest, most powerful prayer I knew. I stood and ran towards the two of them, slinging the snow across the bear. It splattered all along the animal’s spine and hind legs. Steam boiled upward, and the bear shrieked in definite pain as the purified snow ate into its skin. Score one for us.
The bear’s head whipped around and those red eyes found me. Oh. Right. Run, idiot.
I raced through the trees in the direction I’d seen Avriel and Faust leave in. Twigs cracked and rocks tumbled down the mountainside as the beast chased after me. I poured on every last bit of my agility, running hard and fast, leaping over boulders and frozen logs along the narrow pathway. The bear roared again, close enough to make the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up.
I skidded to a stop mere inches away from a cliff side. The mountainside was too steep to run uphill or downhill. The ground was at least thirty feet below me. I’d break my legs if I tried to make it. The other side was a six-foot jump, and I was not part-grasshopper. Shit!
The bear barreled through the trees, its frothing jaws open and ready to bite my skull clean in half. I held out my hands, shouting, “Strike!”
Ten shards of energy flew straight and true at the hellbear, slicing into its legs, its shoulders, and its chest, but it didn’t slow him down. Just before it came close enough to hit me, three gunshots bit through the morning air.