Devil's Return

by Percival Constantine

  Alistair rolled his eyes. “I see Black’s been recruiting only the most intelligent the lycan community has to offer.”

  The lycan pounced and right before he did, Alistair dropped to his knees, shut his eyes, and shouted, “Corusco!” The small orb he’d created before now exploded in a brilliant flash that illuminated the entire staircase. The lycan yelped at the sudden pain inflicted on his eyes.

  He hit the stairs and began rolling down. Alistair followed him, moving further until he found his gun waiting. He knelt down and retrieved it, then followed the lycan down to the foot of the stairs. The werewolf was on his back and Alistair aimed the gun at his head.

  “C’mon, man…” he pleaded. “I’m just a guy doin’ a job. You got any idea how hard it is for lycans to find work?”

  “Not my problem, lad. Talk to your union rep about it.”

  Alistair pulled the trigger and put a bullet through the lycan’s forehead. He yelped again and then his body went limp. Alistair holstered the gun and stepped over the body, into the basement.

  “Lux,” he repeated to generate a second orb. It floated around the room and slowly grew larger, adjusting the amount of light it gave off. Now it was large and bright enough to show Alistair the entire room.

  He started to walk around the room, exploring the bookshelves and the different relics Odysseus kept down here. His library was fairly impressive. Alistair had never seen a private collection this vast before, or containing this many rare volumes. He told himself that when he had more time, he’d have to come back here and ransack the place.

  But right now, Alistair was only interested in one book in particular. He remembered the location he’d seen in his visions from the coin and he started searching for a tall, narrow podium with a bookstand on it.

  It was in the corner of the room. Alistair stepped closer and saw a large, leather-bound grimoire resting on the surface. He slowly reached for the book and turned the pages, opening to find all the text was written in Enochian, the language of the angels.

  “Son of a bitch…” he muttered as a smile started to tug at his lips. “The Book of Metatron.”

  He closed it and lifted it off the podium. This was it, this book contained the spell he’d need in order to bring Luther back from the dead. The job was a success, now all he had to do was go back to Tessa’s place and hope that she managed to handle her part of the arrangement.

  21

  Dakota looked out the window of the private plane. She felt a stirring in her arms and looked down at Malcolm as he squirmed, futilely trying to fend off sleep. Dakota tightened her grip around her son and raised her arms just enough so she could kiss his forehead. He turned his head into her chest and went motionless once more.

  She looked at the seat in front of her at Shelly, but the nun wasn’t paying her any attention. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the other side of the plane, where the priests and Morrison were huddled together and speaking in whispers. Shelly shook her head.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said. “After all those months with us…”

  Dakota looked out the window again, watching as the clouds sped past.

  “You going to say anything?” asked Shelly.

  Dakota shrugged. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, something.”

  “Okay, how about this?” Dakota looked at Shelly. “It’s over.”

  Shelly looked like she’d just been sucker-punched in the face. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Just look at our situation,” said Dakota. “I’ve been fighting this for so long, and now it seems like it was all just a big waste of time.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense.”

  “Is it nonsense?”

  “Of course it is. You—”

  “I’m just a girl from Indiana. I got suckered by a conman and roped into this craziness.” Dakota sighed. “That’s all I am. I don’t know why I thought I could run and hide from something this big.”

  Shelly leaned forward and lowered her voice, but her tone sharpened. “You can’t give up. Not after everything we’ve been through. Especially not now.”

  “And why not? Give me one good reason.”

  Shelly reached out and gently laid a hand on Malcolm’s tiny head. She stared hard at Dakota with intense, brown eyes. “That’s your reason.”

  Dakota sunk into her chair. She didn’t know how to cope with this anymore. For months, she’d put on a brave face. But now, she was afraid the walls were closing in and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  A shadow fell over them, accompanied by a throat-clearing. Shelly and Dakota looked up and saw Morrison standing over them. His face looked pained. Dakota could tell he wasn’t comfortable with the arrangement. But he went along with it anyway.

  “We’re…we’re still a few hours out,” he said in a soft voice. “There’s some food and drinks onboard, if you’re feeling hungry...o-or thirsty, too. And, umm, you can feel free to…uh…take a nap if you’re tired. I know the past few days, uh, haven’t been the…the easiest…”

  Shelly rose to her feet. She was taller than Morrison, and she used that to her advantage as she stared down at him. He seemed even smaller in the face of her gaze.

  “Don’t fucking talk to us, traitor,” she spat.

  “Language, young lady,” said one of the priests from his seat. “You’re supposed to be a woman of the cloth. Act appropriately.”

  “And you’re supposed to be a man of God, yet you’re serving a rogue angel,” said Shelly.

  “I’ve…actually been doing some thinking about that…” said Morrison. “And…well, I believe Raziel wasn’t completely truthful with us.”

  “What are you saying?” asked Dakota.

  “My interpretation of the facts,” said Morrison. “When you think about it, Raziel was working with a demon. Two, in fact, if you count Cross. And then Cross allies himself with Lucifer and becomes a Hell Lord himself…”

  “You’re trying to say that Raziel and Luther are the bad guys?” Dakota scoffed. “You really don’t know either of them.”

  “Angels are servants of God, my dear. They were made to obey,” said the priest, rising from his seat and coming to stand beside Morrison. “For an angel to work without the sanction of Heaven is extremely suspect.”

  He was the tallest of the priests, with short, blond hair, a beard, and beautiful blue eyes. Though Dakota couldn’t tell if those were natural or a result of the angelic power Morrison said he’d been endowed with.

  “And who exactly are you?” asked Shelly.

  “Father Elliot Ramsey,” he said with a smile and held out his hand, palm facing the floor. With that gesture, he had an expectation that his hand would be kissed, a common display of respect towards priests.

  Instead, Shelly swatted his hand away. “Go fuck yourself, too.”

  Ramsey sighed, but instead of pulling his hand away, he moved in a quick motion and grabbed Shelly’s throat, shoving her up against the window. She gasped at the motion and stared at him with fear in her eyes.

  “Stop it!” shouted Dakota.

  “I’m here because God has called to me,” said Ramsey. “Given me a holy mission to fulfill. And I won’t let some slut like you get in my way!”

  “Let her go!” Dakota pleaded.

  Ramsey looked down at her while keeping his grip on Shelly. Dakota nearly jumped when she saw his eyes and the unnerving glow in them, or the disturbing smile he proudly displayed.

  “You’re in no position to give any orders, girl. The only reason you’re still breathing is because you might prove useful. But even then, nothing matters more to our master than the child, and we’ve been instructed to use any means necessary to retrieve him. Even if that means killing you in the process.”

  “You’re insane…” muttered Dakota.

  “Father Ramsey, please,” said Morrison, laying a hand on the priest’s shoulder. “She’s unarmed and she’s no match for the power you and the other fathers possess.
She can’t pose any real threat to us.”

  Ramsey made a noise that sounded almost like a growl. He threw Shelly into her seat. Once she was able to breathe freely again, Shelly began to cough. Dakota moved from her seat across to Shelly’s to check on her, carefully cradling Malcolm in one arm as she did so.

  “Good-for-nothing whores,” muttered Ramsey.

  “Misogynist priest, imagine my surprise,” said Dakota, a statement which earned a glare from Ramsey. Dakota turned her eyes to Morrison. “Nice company you keep, Charles.”

  Morrison avoided Dakota’s stare. At least he had the decency to look ashamed of his actions. As for Ramsey, Dakota doubted he even possessed the capacity for shame.

  “Where are you taking us?” asked Dakota.

  “To a place where the child will be safe. Protected,” said Ramsey.

  “He already was,” said Shelly. “We’ve been protecting him since before he was born.”

  “Demonic attacks sound like protection to you, do they?” asked Ramsey.

  “Father, let me have a word with them,” said Morrison.

  Ramsey hesitated but then nodded and returned to the other priests. Morrison knelt down before Shelly and Dakota. He sighed before he spoke.

  “I’m sorry about all this, I really am.”

  “Bullshit,” said Shelly.

  “How could you, after everything?” asked Dakota. “And what was all that about destroying Luther?”

  “For every prophecy you find in the Bible, there are about a half-dozen that have never been revealed to the public,” said Morrison. “The Opus Dei keeps a strict accounting of these prophecies. It discusses the offspring of man and angel and man and demon and how they will consume the globe in conflict.”

  “Cambions and the nephilim,” said Dakota.

  “Precisely. The prophecy goes on to state that the forces of Hell will have a general leading their armies. This general will be the child of a human woman and one of the Fallen—the first demons,” said Morrison.

  “And you think Luther will become that general?” asked Dakota.

  Morrison nodded. “Think about it, Dakota. He’s already become a Hell Lord. And now that his physical body is dead, there’s nothing tying him to this world anymore.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Dakota.

  “You can’t know that,” said Morrison.

  “I do know it, because Luther’s spirit is still around.”

  “She’s telling the truth,” said Shelly. “We spoke to him through the babaylan. He helped us when we were in trouble.”

  “Then where is he now?” asked Morrison.

  “The babaylan said he was on his own path,” said Shelly.

  “That probably means he’s returned to Hell,” said Morrison. “You can’t trust him, Dakota. The angel behind all this, he’s trying to do God’s work by eradicating evil and closing the gates of Hell forever. And then, there will be peace on Earth for all eternity.”

  “It’s a fairy tale,” said Dakota. “You’re still buying into this notion that everything is black and white, but the world is more complicated than that.”

  “It’s not, Cross just confused you,” said Morrison. “You’ve been chosen for a higher purpose.”

  Dakota scoffed. “You don’t get it, do you? I wasn’t granted some great honor. That angel raped me.”

  Morrison shook his head. “No, you’re not thinking clearly…”

  “What else would you call it, Morrison?” she asked, her volume rising as she felt her blood begin to boil. The tension grew thick and her loud voice startled Malcolm. He started to cry and Dakota turned her attention to him.

  “I should…leave you two alone,” said Morrison, rising to his feet. “If you want to take me up on the offer of food or drink, just ask. I’ll be…over there…”

  Dakota was focused on calming Malcolm down and within a few minutes, his crying grew softer before it stopped completely. Shelly moved from her seat to sit next to Dakota.

  “Would you like me to take him for a while?” she asked.

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  “Are you really?” asked Shelly.

  “I should be the one asking you.” Dakota reached a hand for Shelly’s throat. There was a red mark where Ramsey grabbed her. She tried to inspect it, but Shelly pulled away and rubbed her neck with her own hand.

  “I’ll be fine, I’ve suffered worse.” Shelly glanced over her shoulder. “Do you think he’s telling the truth? About Luther?”

  “I’m sure he believes he is. But I’ve seen too much and I know that the world is more complicated than he thinks.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

  “No, no it doesn’t,” said Dakota. “But I know Luther Cross. He’s got rough edges, that’s true. He’s also got a good soul and he’ll do what’s right. Sometimes it may take him a while to get to that point, but he’ll come through in the end, like he always does.”

  “You have a lot of faith in him,” said Shelly.

  “That’s what happens when someone saves your life.”

  “So what do we do about our situation?” asked Shelly.

  Dakota sighed. “I really don’t know. For all the good that spell did, now we’re being brought right to the angel behind all this. And all because Raziel didn’t vet Charles properly.”

  Shelly looked at the priests. Dakota could tell by her body language that she was sizing them up, wondering if it would be possible to take them out. Dakota decided to put an end to that thinking right away. She laid a hand on Shelly’s shoulder and the beautiful young woman turned to look at her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” said Dakota. “You felt Ramsey’s strength. Now imagine that times three. And you don’t have any weapons, they put them all in the hold.”

  “They did, didn’t they?” asked Shelly.

  “I know, that’s what I said.”

  “No, I mean, why would they bring the weapons at all?” asked Shelly. “Why not just leave them behind?”

  “I’m…not sure?” asked Dakota. “But even if there was a reason for it, what could you do with them? These guys aren’t demons. I don’t even know if there are any weapons that can hurt angels.”

  “Only thing I can think of is they’re expecting some trouble and they want to be ready,” said Shelly.

  “They did say they want to destroy Luther, you think this is related to it somehow?” asked Dakota.

  “Might be,” said Shelly. “They summon his spirit and then destroy it.”

  Dakota looked out the window. That’s why they needed her alive. She thought it was because of the baby. The first pregnancy took with her, so maybe the angel wanted to go for another, start building his army. But the real reason they needed her had now become clear.

  They wanted to exploit her connection to Luther in order to summon him into a trap.

  22

  I was learning more and more about how to use this ghost mojo to my benefit, but one trick I hadn’t figured out yet was teleporting. I’d seen other ghosts do it before, so I knew it was possible. Just didn’t know how to cross that threshold. So instead, I had to walk the distance to the Willis Tower.

  The nice thing about not having a physical body anymore meant that I never once felt tired. In fact, I could run full-out and get there faster than usual without getting winded or needing to take a break. That alone felt kind of liberating.

  Once I got there, I walked through the doors and waited at the elevators with everyone else. The elevator was cramped, and I actually had someone standing in the same spot as me. I didn’t feel anything, and maybe he didn’t either, other than an occasional shiver as the elevator rose. But the whole idea of it made me a little uneasy.

  Little by little, everyone left the elevator and I was alone. I looked at the elevator controls and concentrated. This was the moment of truth. I’d fought wraiths and Grant and Moore, but they were disembodied, same as me. Would be different affecting the physical world.

  I took a
breath and closed my eyes. I imagined my hand becoming solid and I reached out, touching my finger to a spot above the elevator buttons. I could feel the cold metal beneath and opened my eyes.

  Now for the next part. I kept my focus as I traced the pattern of an Enochian sigil and whispered the incantation. I wasn’t sure if this would work for ghosts, but I had to try. After I finished, I moved my hand away and looked at the spot.

  At first, there was nothing. Why are you surprised? I asked myself. Why should it work for a ghost?

  But then, a soft glow appeared. It formed into a white button and I smiled. It had worked. I pushed the button and the elevator lurched upward at breakneck speed, so fast you’d think it would shoot right out the top of the building.

  The elevator stopped suddenly and the doors opened to reveal the white decor of Eden. I stepped out and looked around, wondering if anyone could see me. This wasn’t like Earth. Eden existed in a pocket dimension and served as a kind of embassy for Heaven. Different dimensions had different rules.

  More than that, the people here weren’t the average human. Some weren’t even human at all. The ones who were tended to be more sensitive to the presence of the supernatural. They could see things Joe Six-Pack would never notice.

  If anyone could see me, they didn’t acknowledge my presence. I moved through the club, heading towards the bar. The bartender, Garret, looked at me and then did a double-take. He squinted as he studied me before slowly making his way over.

  “Mr. Cross…?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Good to see you, Garret. My usual?”

  “Right, Laphroaig.” Garret poured the scotch and set the glass in front of me.

  I accepted it with a smile and reached for the glass. I was able to pick it up without a problem, without even concentrating. I took a sip. It was the first drink I’d had since before my little chat with Lucifer. That felt like an eternity ago.

  Garret never broke his stare. I tried to ignore it at first, but after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I finally felt I’d had enough. I set the glass down and cleared my throat.