by Hunter Blain
“Knowing Ulric,” I began, “he would probably wear the Hell-made armor and clothes like a badge of honor and authority. When I spoke to him, he seemed all-in on the idea of Samael taking over Heaven, allowing for him to reign in Hell.”
“I think John’s right,” Locke admitted, as if it pained him to do so. “Lucifer can be quite convincing by playing on one’s fears or ambitions.”
“Ulric is all ambition,” I drawled, placing one hand on my armrest while the other combed my fingers through my black hair. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I looked at the tips of my strands and admired the lack of split ends after my stint in Faerie. They had done a fine job sanding down the rough edges of my appearance. Even my beard was straighter, with defining lines.
“Can we use his own ambition against him?” Depweg asked.
“Oh, I like that idea,” Hayley piggybacked.
“Later,” I interjected while dropping my hand to my lap. “For now, you guys need to figure out a way to get into Ulric’s secured resting spot while I go talk to Collin and Val.”
“What do you mean, ‘you guys’?” Magni asked, glancing around the room.
Ludvig answered for me. “He means dat it will be day when we infiltrate his base, dat I agree will most likely be secured.”
“Oh, without a doubt, it will be,” I affirmed, thinking about the safe house Depweg and the twins had burned down. Ulric had easily secured all manners of supernatural thugs to work for him.
Locke spoke up, “Now that he is the Grand Master, we can confidently assume that it will be warlocks protecting him.”
I looked around the room before asking, “Are you guys good with that?”
“Piece of cake,” Warden Broadway confidently said.
Ludvig nodded at me while crossing his arms over his huge chest. Damn, he was a big mofo.
I turned to Locke and arched an eyebrow in question.
“Oh . . . I, ah, honestly don’t know. If I was still a warlock myself, then I would agree wholeheartedly. But I am relatively new to this whole wizard thing.”
“Then binge-watch the freaking Harry Potter movies, followed by Lord of the Rings, and then read a Dresden or Nate Temple book after. Jeez. It can’t be that hard to yell lightning bolt over and over while throwing magic at someone. That LARPing kid on the youtubes did it!”
Hayley held up a finger, pulling my focus toward her. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. I think Locke will be a truly powerful wizard one day, but it will take time. Time that we don’t have right now, according to you.”
“Yeah.” Joey squinted his eyes at me. “Why are we having to move so quickly on this? I mean, we have the belt, so Ulric won’t be able to use the set, right?”
My mind flashed to Dawson as he faded into a mist and sunk down through the floor of Hell.
“I’m scared.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I had to clear it while coming up with a lie on the fly. “Look! I’m sure I’ve said it before, but procrastination is a lot like masturbation. Sure, it might feel good at the time, but in the end, you’re just fucking yourself. The longer we wait, the more of a chance Ulric has to plan a trap or some shit. He knows we can’t just let him have the celestial armor all willy-nilly! Plus, he correctly might assume I won’t let him keep my damn coat and beanie, even if he doesn’t know the exact details of why.” I was referring to Da making the coat for me by using pieces provided by my dear friends. There was no way Ulric could know about that.
My eyes flicked to Joey, and I wanted to ask if he had told Ulric how important my coat and beanie were to me, but it didn’t matter. Our plans wouldn’t change. If I asked him now, it would only serve to embarrass him further.
“Remember,” I addressed the group, “Smash and grab only. No killing Ulric.”
“The ‘smash’ part of that is confusing. When Hulk says smash, he isn’t exactly subtle, now is he?” Hayley said sarcastically.
“Infiltrate and extract,” Depweg provided. “Do not engage the target.”
“Yeah, what he said,” I said, pointing a finger at Depweg while nodding my head enthusiastically. He always knew how to make my words sound all official and stuff.
“Alright, John. I got it from here,” Depweg finished as he looked at the large Swedish man and nodded. I was beyond impressed with Depweg’s capacity to forgive the Hunter so easily after capturing the pack and imprisoning them for a year. Then again, Depweg had a full understanding of what was at stake. Having someone on our team as competent in battle as Ludvig was . . . well, it was beyond measure. Truth be told, I was happy to have the Swede on the team. Whether it was because Magni had come with as a package deal or because the large man was a powerful ally was beside the point. A win/win in my diary— I mean, notebook! Not that other thing.
I nodded my head once, content in knowing the people around me were more than capable of dealing with Ulric alone, and turned to make my way outside with a dry-mouthed gulp.
Chapter 16
Once outside the mausoleum, I set my jaw and placed complete confidence in my friends below. Besides, I was the crazy one who was not once, but twice going to Hell. And to make matters even more delicious, I was going to take the escalator to the basement of the freaking boiler room! Oh boy, oh boy, I couldn’t wait!
I brought my hood up and stuck my hands into the pocket on the front of my hoodie, deep in thought.
How was I going to break it to Val that I had lost Christ’s freaking nail, and now wanted another one! Even I was shaking my head at the stupidity of the notion. I knew he’d only had the one, but he probably knew the whereabouts of at least another one of the remaining two.
“Mom? Dad?” Dawson had said, breaking my heart into a million little pieces before it was run over by an industrial road roller. My own parents crept into my thoughts, and I knew I had to save Dawson, no matter how scared I was.
You’re sure I need the celestial armor to get to Sheol? I asked Baleius, seeking a clearer understanding of things to come.
Yes.
Don’t suppose you can maybe clarify a tad? It just doesn’t make sense to me.
Which part?
Oh, I don’t know . . . all of it?
Now it is your turn to clarify a tad, Baleius lightly mocked.
I went to Hell before by using Lily’s blood, right?
Enchanted blood, Baleius corrected.
That’s what I said, enchanted blood. Anyway, I went below just fine with only that. Why do I need the armor this time?
First, you’ll need the armor to cancel the time dilation when going to Faerie to get said blood. Second, you didn’t use the blood to get to Hell. The doorway in Gehenna let you in. You needed to get to the in-between to first access the door. Or, to be more specific, you needed to separate your soul from your body.
Right, so why can’t I do that again?
To start, you don’t need the door in Gehenna any longer. With the armor, you can shift straight to Hell with my help. But to answer your question, you can’t go to the in-between twice. I lifted a finger and opened my mouth to inhale when he continued, And before you ask, you can’t separate your soul from your soul, right? You need the armor to go to Hell.
I still don’t follow.
Rubbing his brow, Baleius continued, John, the celestial armor will allow you to shift planes and enter Hell while your soul and body are still one. That’s the important thing to pay attention to. Then you shift to the in-between to gain access to Sheol.
Why can’t I just go straight there?
I think I understand the parenting jokes on TV and in movies now, Baleius exhaled as he leaned back on the couch, running a hand down his face.
He looked at me, noting that I was awaiting an answer to the nonstop string of questions that probably seemed obvious to him.
John, just trust me when I say this is the safest course of action. The only other way I know to get to Sheol is for your soul to die.
I, ah, still don’t follow. Wh
y can’t we just shift straight there from here while in the armor?
Do you know why a soul goes to Heaven or Hell once a mortal dies?
Do I know why? Sure, I guess. Their sins and good deeds are weighed against each other or something, right?
Who, or what, determines whether a soul is worthy of Heaven or not?
I, ah, don’t know.
No one does. It’s just how things are. The same applies to why you can’t shift straight to Sheol. It’s the law of things.
Then, um, how do souls even end up in Sheol? You know, if an angel is killed during battle in Heaven or whatever.
I want to point out that, once again, it is the law of things, but that’s actually a great question that I’ve never been able to find an answer to. It is similar to what is on the other side of black holes. We don’t know, and can probably never know. What I do know is, when a soul dies, it ends up in the Hell of Hell. It’s the same for angels and demons; at least, I think.
You think?
Well, I’ve only ever met one being, ever, that said they knew how to get in and out of Sheol. Cut me some slack! This might all be a moot point anyway.
How’s that?
We are assuming your friends will successfully retrieve the armor, his voice shifted, almost like he was trying to whisper a secret to himself, without accidentally killing Ulric.
What was that?
Hmm? Oh, nothing, he finished, ignoring my question. Damn, that was annoying. Was this what I was like?
I decided to let it go, seeing as how he was right. They would need to not engage Ulric in order to save all of creation. A dark thought came over me. Or save themselves. Ulric was all-powerful now, thanks to that asshat, Satan. I didn’t know how my friends would be able to stop him before he picked them all off, one at a time. Knowing Ulric, he would do it slowly, too, intentionally prolonging their torture to emphasize how pathetic and lacking in thought their plan had been.
I brought up my phone and selected Collin from my favorites list. A deep breath expanded my lungs as I held my thumb and index finger up to my face.
“Good evening, John,” Collin said. There was something behind his tone that suggested he knew I was calling for something. I really did need to call my friends in a social setting more.
“I’ll cut to it,” I let out with a burst of air.
“Oh? Please do.”
“Have you had any luck finding another nail?”
“Why yes, yes, we have, actually. Both, in fact.”
I raised my face, which I hadn’t noticed had drifted toward the ground, and exclaimed, “You did?! Where are they?”
“If I may politely inquire as to why you are in need of another?” I didn’t like his tone, which suggested he already knew the answer.
“I lost mine,” I answered flatly and without moving my jaw.
“Ulric?”
“Ulric,” I let out in another exhale.
“Sooo,” Collin said in a long note as he pieced his thoughts together, “you need another nail to fight Ulric?”
“Track him, actually. I need something he has to, um, go back to Hell,” I whispered the last part, almost embarrassingly.
Ignoring the part about Hell for now, Collin asked, “And if I were able to find him without loaning you another nail containing the blood of our Lord and Savior?” His message was clear: Use my resources instead of such a powerful artifact, especially after you lost one.
My feet crunched on random pebbles as I walked toward Valenta’s on autopilot.
“I suppose that would be helpful, though I cringe to think about not having an all-powerful artifact to defend myself against the überstrong Ulric in an effort to get the first nail back.”
“I can hear your blatant manipulation disguised as casual lamentation.”
“Hey, my lamenting is far from casual.”
“Once something is repeated enough as to become a habit, distinctions such as ‘casual’ do come into play quite naturally.”
“Lilith damn it, just give me a freaking nail,” I blurted out, frustration dripping from my voice. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”
“Speaking of, may I ask why you are going back to Hell?”
I brought him up on the situation, not holding anything back.
There was a flash of light from behind, and I whirled around to see SAC Collin Baker standing a few paces away from me. He lowered his hand, smiling at the shriek that may or may not have escaped from my lips.
I quickly brought my phone down and closed my fingers, effectively hanging up the call.
“You and your stupid, awesome, sciency magic.”
“That might be why I am here,” Collin said with a widening smile that was normally reserved for a parent on Christmas morning as their child shook a present from under the tree.
“O . . . kay?”
“I can’t, in good conscience, give you another nail of Christ after you lost one already. I hope you can understand my hesitation.”
I frowned in disappointment rather than anger, mostly because he was dead-on. Or should I say, undead-on. Nice.
“As a consolation, I bring you this,” Collin said as he held out his hand.
I opened my palm and Collin dropped a phone in it, though I could tell it was heavier than a normal one. Picking it up with my free hand, I held the metallic circlet in my hand and shrugged to the government man in front of me.
“Tap it to your old phone. It is set in clone mode.”
“O . . . kay?” I repeated while doing as instructed and touching the new phone with the old device. There was a chime, and the new metallic band flashed green.
“Good. Now, dispose of your old phone and try on that bad boy.”
Collin was excited about something, and it was almost contagious. I took off my old phone, dropping it into a pocket of my black jeans, and slipped on the new model, securing it in place.
“Open it up,” Collin instructed. I brought the screen to life by extending my thumb and index finger into an L shape. It looked like my normal home screen.
“I don’t get it.”
“You will. Firstly, you’ll notice everything is the same, right?”
“Right?”
“So, it will function just like your old phone, but with a few key differences.”
“Like what?”
“Eager, aren’t we?” Collin asked as he smiled at my lack of patience. “Well, for one, it is nearly indestructible. For most people, I would say it is impossible to break, but I know you all too well.”
“I am hard on things,” I admitted while thinking of my Battlefield Earth collectable cups, decimated just like the movie’s ratings and John Travolta’s career.
“The last little bit of information that will be of interest to you is the portal feature.”
“Pa-papapa-pa-papa-portal fa-feature?” I eloquently elaborated extremely efficiently.
“I figured you’d be happy about that.”
“Happier than a green belt in the lumber section at Home Depot!”
Collin stifled a small chuckle at how hilarious I was.
“I am curious, though, how it will work with you.”
“How so?”
“Well, the U.S. Government is not magically inclined, despite what a surprisingly large amount of the population believes.”
“Sooo?”
“So, we had to first identify how the, erm, test subject, was able to shift planes. Once we deduced the frequency given off by the live cells, we traced the process back until we were no longer able to comprehend its mechanisms.”
“Magic?”
“Magic.”
“Damn crafty faeries,” I pretended to sympathize while looking at my shiny new toy. My finger went toward the hologram screen and an unnamed icon.
“Please don’t.”
“Why come?” I asked with my finger still hovering over the button. Now I wanted to press it more than ever, so I pressed it. Nothing happened.
; “First, you must select an end location using the map application. Then you let the device charge for about two minutes. After the charge is complete, you press the icon, and a surge of amplified electromagnetism resonates the living cells within the device and creates a portal around your skin.”
“But I pressed it and nothing happened.”
“I know. It won’t work unless you follow the instructions.”
“Then why say, ‘please don’t’?”
“Just wanted to see how well you followed directions.”
“And?”
“And . . . and what? You failed.”
“I’m, ah, beginning to notice a disturbing lack of trust between us, CB.”
“I literally just told you not to press the button, and what did you do?”
“I pressed the button.” For the first time since I could recall, Collin wasn’t smiling anymore. “But, I mean, that’s no reason to not trust me. Know what I mean?”
“You also want me to give you another nail of Christ, after you basically gave yours to Ulric. How long did you even have the first one, if I may ask?”
“I don’t really see how that’s relevant,” I tried to segue as I continued to walk the remaining block to Valenta’s.
After a few steps where only the sound of my boots padding on the asphalt was heard, Collin proceeded to catch up. But it wasn’t a hurried catch up, more like one out of annoyance.
“I’m going to take your comment at face value. And when I say face value, I mean the complete opposite of what came out of your mouth.”
I held up my right hand and regarded my watchless wrist while announcing, “Three nights. That’s how long it took for you to get sick of me. Which, if I’m being honest, is probably a record.”
“In which direction?”
“Hmm?”
“You said it’s a record. A record for what? Is three days the shortest or longest time before you became too much?”
“Longest.”
Collin and I walked in silence as we approached the saloon doors.
“You know, John,” he began, stopping. I turned to face him with an expression that was anticipating what he was going to say. “If you’re going down the highway, and everyone else is going the wrong way . . . it’s probably not them. Do you get what I’m saying?”