“You want me to call him, ask him for help with my powers.”
“You used to work with Luther, the last time he saw you, you were with me. Odysseus Black is easily the most powerful sorcerer in the city, possibly even the country, and he’s more vain than the Carly Simon song,” said Alistair. “You call him, tell him I couldn’t help you and you’ve decided to reach out to him.”
“He’ll want something in return, you know that,” said Tessa.
“I know. And I have something for you to give him.”
Tessa’s brows knitted together. “What are you talking about?”
“When I found Luther last time, he was being held in Edgewater Medical Center. To get him out of there, we had to go up against Cain,” said Alistair. “I trapped him by summoning all the spirits in the place. He’s still in there.”
“What does Cain have to do with any of this?”
“Cain can’t be killed and he’s escaped Purgatory numerous times. Black will be very interested in having a chat with him.”
“Don’t you think he’s been used enough?” asked Tessa. “He was living a solitary, peaceful life before he got dragged back into this. And now you want to use him just like Raziel and Asmodeus did.”
“Not want, but will,” said Alistair.
“What about the other side of that coin? Black with that kind of firepower on his side?”
“It’s a bridge to cross later, love. But if you’ve got any other ideas, I’m all ears.”
Tessa huffed. She had nothing to offer. “And what makes you think Black will leave his office to come visit me? Why wouldn’t he just invite me there?”
“You tell him for safety reasons, you want to talk on neutral ground, a public place,” said Alistair. “Trust me, he’ll go for it.”
Tessa shook her head and stood. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this…”
“You’re letting me because you know as well as I do it’s the only option we’ve got,” said Alistair. “Black will take most of his entourage with him, leaving just a few for me to deal with. I can distract a handful of lycans. Then I break in, get the book, and get out, erasing any trace I was ever there.”
“And what about when Black returns? Sees that the book’s gone? He’s going to note the coincidental timing,” said Tessa.
“I’ve got that covered. A fake with a glamour spell applied. Will hold up for a week…or until he uses it. We just have to hope he won’t have a reason to use it yet.”
“That’s a big risk.”
Alistair nodded. “We’re up against the wall, we work with what we have. Hopefully we’ll be able to use the spell to bring back Luther before Black realizes it’s gone.”
Tessa reached into her pocket and took out her phone. “Okay, I’m making the call.”
18
Whitey looked understandably confused and I felt the same as him. A minute ago, we were sitting in a bar having a chat with an angel. The next, we’re back in front of the Southport Station.
“You wanna tell me what just happened?” he asked.
“Fucking angels. They can be a huge pain in the ass,” I replied. “So what now, Mr. Spirit Guide?”
Whitey shrugged. “This is all getting a bit out of my comfort zone. When we were just walking through your memories, that was one thing. But now you’re chit-chatting with angels and brushing it off like it’s no big deal. You made a deal with the devil and it seems like nothing to you.”
“It’s not nothing, but I learned long ago to pick my battles,” I said. “But what are we supposed to do now? Is the memory walk thing over? Did I tap into my inner child or whatever it is I’m supposed to do here?”
Whitey shook his head. “I really don’t know. You’re involved in some heavy shit, man. Far above my pay grade. You know I never even saw a wraith until tonight? And I’ve been dead for decades.”
I sighed. I hated feeling useless but that was the position I’d found myself in. If we weren’t being pulled back into the memory, what else could I do but wait until either Alistair and Tessa were able to pull off their plan or until Gabriel reached out again? Meanwhile, I still had Dakota to worry about. Nimuel managed to cast that protection spell, but things had a way of going off the rails, and I had a pit in my stomach that told me something wasn’t quite right.
“There has to be something I can do,” I said.
“We believe we can provide you with assistance in that area, Mr. Cross.”
The two voices came out of nowhere. They echoed around us, speaking in unison, a bit of a creepy sing-song vibe to them. I turned around, trying to find where they were coming from. Those were two voices I’d hoped I’d never have to hear again.
The two men stepped out of the darkness of an alley, their hands clasped behind their back, walking side by side in synchronous step. Both wore sunglasses and fine, black suits, and both had pale skin. Where they differed was one had a full head of hair and a neatly-trimmed beard, while the other lacked even a speck of hair on his head.
“Who are these guys?” asked Whitey.
“Grant and Moore, agents of Purgatory,” I said. “Thought I killed you two fucks.”
They both chuckled, and once more creepily in unison.
“Why Mr. Cross, as you yourself said, we are agents of Purgatory,” said Grant. “Is that not correct, Mr. Moore?”
“Indeed it is, Mr. Grant,” said Moore. “And as such, Mr. Cross, we live so long as our master decrees it.”
“Maybe you can’t die, but you can be defeated. If I could do it in Purgatory, I can definitely do it here,” I said.
“But back then, Mr. Cross, you had something of an unfair advantage,” said Moore.
“And yet now, your dark side seems suppressed,” said Grant. “Pity, I quite liked that aspect of yourself.”
“I must concur. It was deliciously deviant.”
“Quite so, quite so. Why oh why would you ever seek to rid yourself of something so malicious?”
“What can I say, just wasn’t a good fit.” I reached into my jacket and drew the revolver. “But if you two want to see just how tough I am, I’ll show you. I already took down the last asshole Thanatos sent my way.”
“So we’ve been made aware,” they said together.
“Whitey,” I said, never breaking eye contact with the two agents. “I want you to run. Go back to the Music Box and stay there.”
“But what about—”
“I said go. I don’t want you mixing it up with these two.”
Whitey vanished, leaving me alone in the street with Grant and Moore. It was strangely quiet, not a car or a living soul in sight. I felt like I was in a Mexican standoff in an old western flick.
Grant raised a black-gloved hand to his sunglasses and smiled at me. I remembered his trick from Purgatory, or at least what Tessa told me about it. Knew whatever I did, I had to keep from looking into his eyes.
So as soon as I saw his hand go up, my gun matched his movements and I pulled the trigger. The bullet flew with perfect accuracy and blew his thumb and index finger clean off his hand. Grant’s smile turned into a frown and he looked at the stump where his digits once were. Oil-like black blood bubbled out from the wounds. But other than the frown, Grant remained remarkably stoic.
“Did you see what he did to my hand, Mr. Moore?”
“How very rude of him, Mr. Grant. Shall I reprimand him on your behalf?”
“You are most kind, Mr. Moore.”
“Not at all, my good man. Not at all. T’would be my pleasure.”
Moore stepped forward and this was something else I remembered. His beard started growing longer, stretching out into dozens of tendrils, all of them snaking their way towards me. I holstered the gun and reached behind my back. Just as in the dreamscape, I was able to summon what I needed and my dagger was there in its sheath. I drew it and moved quickly to avoid the tendrils, cutting through them whenever I could.
But for every tendril I cut, it seemed like anot
her five took its place. Moore’s beard was like the freaking hydra from Greek mythology, but infinitely more annoying.
I grabbed one of the tendrils as it came for me and whispered, “Ignis.” Fire flowed from my hand and lit the tendril on fire, moving back up to Moore’s face. But just as it was about to reach the end, Grant grabbed the tendril with his good hand and snuffed out the flame.
“Bad form, Mr. Cross,” he said.
“Very bad form indeed,” said Moore.
One of the tendrils managed to wrap around my ankle and I was yanked into the air, hanging upside-down. Other tendrils quickly followed. I tried to fight them off, but it wasn’t any use. Within seconds, I was rendered immobile by a Purgatory demon’s beard.
Talk about sentences you never thought you’d have to utter.
Moore’s tendrils brought me in closer and held me down on the ground. Grant walked up and sat on my chest, staring down into my eyes. He reached for his sunglasses with his good hand and started to raise them up. I shut my eyes, trying to keep myself from looking. But something tugged at my lids, forcing them open. I saw more of the bearded tendrils out of the corners of my eyes, no doubt what was keeping me from not looking.
Grant raised his sunglasses up to his forehead and I could do nothing else but stare into the empty sockets where his eyes should have been. I looked deep into the darkness of those sockets, and something happened.
I felt like I was swallowed up in that darkness, and soon I found myself floating in an endless, black void. I tried to get some sense of direction, but I couldn’t tell which way was up. A strobe suddenly went off, blinding me by switching back and forth between light and darkness. A high-pitched wail came next, accompanying the strobe. It caused me to clench my teeth and cringe as I tried to drive the sound out.
I raised my hands to my ears, trying to cover them so I could at least drown out the sound. But for some reason, I couldn’t make contact. No matter how hard I tried, my hands couldn’t find my ears. I looked down at my hands and saw them shrinking and growing, almost in a kaleidoscope-like effect.
Sickness overcame me. I vomited and it hit what I thought might be the ground. But when I reached out for that area, my hand still couldn’t find any purchase. The vomit remained in place, though, and it started bubbling. It started to change, going from a yellowish color to red. And then it spread out.
I tried to back away, but even though I felt lightless, it still seemed like I was restrained somehow. Something rose from the crimson puddle, starting to take the form of a red-skinned demon with horns protruding from his head. His eyes were bright yellow and he had hooves for feet and a pointed chin. Flames circled out from his nostrils and when he smiled at me, I saw rows of razor-sharp fangs.
“You’re disappointing me, sonny-boy,” the demon said and reached out with a massive, clawed hand.
His hand wrapped around my torso and he pulled my body close to his face. I could feel the heat from the flames and his breath stank of sulfur. I struggled against his grip, but he was far too strong for me. I looked into his yellow eyes, hoping that there was something I could do to him, use my powers in some way.
Apparently, he could sense what I was doing and it made him laugh. “Your tricks won’t work on me, boy. You’re a disgrace to your heritage. I never should have wasted my seed on such a miserable failure.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I said. “Making me think I’m speaking to Abraxas, try and get me all mopey about my daddy issues. That’s some real bush-league shit, Grant. You should try doing better.”
The demon roared and slammed me onto the ground. I pulled myself up just in time to see him disintegrate back into the puddle. It spread again, this time reaching for me. The liquid started flowing over me, stretching over my body and then my head. It reached my mouth last, at which point it started moving inside me as well.
I was falling again, except this time, it wasn’t a black void. I saw flames all around. The wail from before was now a cacophony of screams. I hit something, but it wasn’t the ground. I looked down and saw a mass of bodies beneath me. Their arms reached for me, their faces wearing tortured expressions. They grabbed hold of my clothes and pulled be down with them.
I tried to stay above, tried to reach up and grab hold of something. It was useless. Soon, I was pulled down with them and when I reached the bottom, the world turned upside-down.
Now I was in chains and on my knees. There was a massive throne constructed of bones before me. The man who sat there rose to his feet and started descending the steps down to my level. He held a golden trident in his hand and when I looked up, I saw my demonic form. Horns, pointed ears, a forked tongue that snaked out at moments.
“We’re going to have some fun with you, Luther,” he said.
But then, I felt myself retreating. As if I was being pulled out. Everything that just happened felt like it was happening again, but in reverse. I finally gasped when I was back in the real world, looking up at Grant’s face.
The smile was gone. Now his mouth was open in a horrified expression. And a white light shone behind him. Grant collapsed on top of me.
The tendrils retreated and I was free. I got to my feet and saw Moore was facing something else. A bright light. It flashed even brighter and suddenly, Moore fell to his knees and then his body slumped over.
I held up my hand, trying to shield my eyes from the brightness. What was it? An angel? Did Gabriel come to my rescue?
The light began to fade and I saw a figure in the center of it. A figure that slumped over once the light vanished. I ran over to see the face of my savior and was surprised at who it was.
“Whitey?”
The old ghost coughed. “I-I’m your spirit guide. Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t stop ’em from hurting you.” His voice was weak and he looked pale.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Spirits are made of energy,” he said and then with a chuckle, continued. “Guess you could say I went nuclear on those bastards.”
His laughter turned into a nasty cough.
“Take it easy, pal,” I said. “What are you saying?”
Whitey looked up at me and tried to reach a hand for me, but it fell limp, like he lacked the strength to move much more.
“You’re on your own now, Luther.”
His head fell limp and his body faded away. I turned around and looked at where Grant and Moore fell, but both of them were gone, too. Grant said they couldn’t die, though, not as long as Thanatos willed their existence. That meant I probably wasn’t done with them.
Whitey, on the other hand, sacrificed his very existence just to give me a fighting chance. I had to figure out my next move, for his sake more than any other. Couldn’t let his sacrifice be for nothing.
I rose to my feet and looked off into the distance. I could see the Willis Tower as part of the city’s skyline. Pyriel ran Eden these days and he wasn’t a fan of mine. Sure, I could just sit and wait for Alistair to resurrect me or I could hope Gabriel finished his own investigation.
But I wasn’t in the mood to do either of those things. I had to get on top of the situation and Eden seemed as good a place as any to start.
19
Tessa nervously checked her cell phone to see the current time. She’d been doing it every few seconds ever since she sat down. Last night she’d made contact with Odysseus and he agreed to meet her in the Signature Lounge at ten o’clock tonight.
Her nail anxiously tapped the side of her beer glass, her eyes looking back and forth between the front entrance, the skyline outside the window she was seated beside, and her drink. The one thought that kept running through her mind was how crazy this plan was and how Alistair Carraway was going to end up getting the both of them killed.
She had no other choice, though. Alistair was right about how important Luther was to stopping this whole thing and the only way they could get to Luther is if they had Odysseus’ book. But the whole thing still made her hair stand on end.
He walked through the lounge, dressed in a tan suit with a matching fedora. Once he caught sight of Tessa, he approached the table, his two bodyguards following close behind. When he arrived in front of her, he smiled down at her and tipped his hat.
“Ms. Kang, gotta say I was more than a little surprised to get your call,” he said, taking off his hat and sitting across from her.
Tessa glanced at the bodyguards out of the corner of her eye. “Do your attack dogs have to tower over us while we talk?”
Odysseus rubbed his bearded chin and without looking away from Tessa, said, “Boys, go have yourselves a drink at the bar. Put it on my tab.”
“Your tab, huh?” asked Tessa as the bodyguards walked away. “Didn’t think you ever drank outside of your place.”
“On occasion,” said Odysseus. “Not all my clients are willing to come out to Englewood. So during those times, I’ll meet somewhere else.”
“Guess it came as no surprise that I didn’t want to meet there.”
“Not in the least. Though I’m curious why you came to me,” said Odysseus. “Alistair Carraway’s no slouch in the magic department. Even got connections with the Sons. If anyone has the resources to help you with your powers…”
“That’s what I thought, too.” Tessa finished the rest of her beer and set the glass down.
Odysseus watched the movement and raised his hand, gently waving his fingers. A moment later, a waiter approached. Odysseus didn’t even make eye contact with him, just pointed at the glass.
“Another beer for the lady,” he said. “And I’ll have a godfather. Put ’em both on my tab.”
“Of course, Mr. Black,” said the waiter and then excused himself.
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