Devil's Return

by Percival Constantine

  Alistair checked his pockets to see if he had any sort of weapon on him, just in case. But he was unarmed. He couldn’t even feel his magic. If there was a fight to be had, he’d be woefully unprepared for it.

  As the figure grew closer, Alistair got a clearer look at it. It was a man dressed from head to toe in black leather, with a helmet that covered his entire head. He rode a white motorcycle and a leather trench coat that must have been slit far up the back, because the flaps billowed in the wind like wings. The bike came to a stop just a few feet in front of Alistair.

  The man climbed off the motorcycle and stepped closer, flipping up the visor. The trench coat hung loosely by the man’s sides and the open visor cast his face in a dark shadow. He took a step towards Alistair, who instinctively took a few steps back. In the process, Alistair tripped over himself and fell onto the sand.

  The man stared down at him and reached his gloved hands for his helmet. Alistair wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but he knew it definitely wasn’t this. The man appeared to be in his sixties with hair that was a mix of black and silver with a beard to match. He also wore glasses with thick, black frames. He flashed Alistair a smile and then offered his hand.

  “Sorry about scaring you like that,” he said. “I guess the ol’ helmet can sometimes be, y’know, a little off-putting.”

  Alistair looked at the man’s face and then his hand. He accepted the hand and the mysterious, aging biker helped him to his feet.

  “You’re…uh…Alistair, right?”

  “Yes,” said Alistair as he brushed the sand from his body. “Alistair Carraway.”

  “Hi, nice to meet you.” He offered his hand to shake. “I’m Death, Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse.”

  Alistair glanced at the hand once more and then at the man’s face. He apprehensively shook the hand of Death.

  “Sorry, I’m just a little…”

  “Oh, totally, don’t even make it a thing.” Death gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re probably having a total freakout right now. All like, ‘ohmigod, it’s Death! The Grim Reaper!’”

  “Yeah…something like that…”

  “Well, to be honest, I don’t exactly get it a lot. Christ, I can’t even remember the last time someone summoned me…” Death paused and rubbed his chin. He gave up on his thoughts and shrugged. “Whatever. So hard to keep track of time when you’re a celestial being older than…uh, well, time itself.”

  “I’d imagine so,” said Alistair. “I was born before the Internet and I don’t quite understand it even now, so I…think I see your point.”

  “Exactly, that’s exactly it.”

  Death smiled and patted Alistair on the shoulder. As soon as he did, Alistair recoiled and Death chuckled. He held up his hand and pointed to it.

  “Oh, right, the hand thing. Sorry, forgot to mention. Yeah, that whole ‘Touch of Death’ thing you see in the movies, that’s not actually a thing. I could pin you down and tickle you all over your body and you’d still be alive.”

  “That’s…not as comforting as you might think,” said Alistair.

  “Just an example, I won’t really tickle you.” Death snickered and then got serious for a moment. “Unless, of course…you want me to tickle you…?”

  “I…think I’m okay, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “Very well.” Death clapped his hands. “So, onto the…uh, business as it were. You’ve summoned me, so clearly you have something you wish to talk about. How about a drink?”

  Death snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the entire landscape changed and they were sitting in chairs on a wooden pier stretched out over the sea. A small table was between the chairs with two margaritas resting on top. Death picked up one and slowly sipped it, then released a satisfied noise.

  “It’s quite peaceful out here, don’t you think?”

  Alistair picked up his drink and sipped it as well. “Wasn’t expecting Death to be a fan of margaritas on the beach.”

  “Ali, baby, I’ve watched this universe grow from nothing into…well, everything. I’ve seen it all. The Big Bang, black holes, evolution. I’ve watched stars die out. I’ve seen supernovas light up the starry sky. I’ve seen the depths of the deepest oceans and gone to the very edge of the universe itself and back again. I tell you all this so you can understand that when I say there’s nothing better than a margarita on the beach, I know what the fuck I’m talking about.”

  “Fair point,” said Alistair. He took another sip. “Quite good, by the way.”

  “Cheers to that.” Death held up his glass and then took another sip. “So, the Book of Metatron. How’d a surly Englishman at serious risk of lung and liver disease get his hands on something that unique?”

  “Took some doing, actually,” said Alistair. “But the reason…do you already know the reason?”

  Death hesitated and then gave a nod. “I’ve got an inkling. Your surrogate son is dead, he’s the key to fulfilling a prophecy. Though whether that prophecy be for good or evil is anyone’s guess, mine included. Of course, good and evil are kind of…childish concepts to one such as myself. But regardless, you want me to bring him back to life.”

  “That’s correct,” said Alistair. “As you said, he’s the key to a prophecy, and—”

  “I’m gonna stop you right there, Ali,” said Death. “Look, I know to you this whole ‘end of the world’ stuff seems like…well, the end of the world. But to me, it’s really just a case of the Mondays. A bit of a bummer, sure, but it’ll be over soon and tomorrow’s another day.”

  “Are you basically saying the entirety of existence is just like a single day for you?”

  “More or less, yeah. Again, I’m older than time, Ali. This stuff just isn’t that important to me.”

  “If it’s not that important, then would it be an issue for you to help me?”

  “Here’s the thing: it’s not about me, it’s about you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What I mean is that there’s a price to everything in existence, and that includes this favor you’re asking of me. Now could I resurrect Luther Cross? Of course I could. Wouldn’t take much of anything, just a snap of the fingers and it’s done.”

  “But…?”

  “But even if I do that, you’ll still lose him,” said Death. “He’ll never be what you hoped he’d be. Yet he also won’t be what you feared, either. He’ll be…something that will surprise everyone.”

  “You can’t be more specific?” asked Alistair.

  Death shook his head. “No, it’s not in my power.” Then, he chuckled. “I’m just kidding, it’s totally within my power.”

  “But you still won’t tell me, will you?”

  “I won’t,” said Death. “’Cause I’m a dick.”

  “At least you’re upfront about it, can’t fault you for that,” said Alistair as he took another sip of the margarita.

  “Are you willing to accept what Luther will become?”

  Alistair sipped his drink and gave it some thought. He always hoped he’d be able to change Luther from what Abraxas’ intentions were, prove that nurture would win out over nature. Have him be a warrior for good.

  However, his greatest fear was that Luther would give in to his nature and become exactly what his father intended. A destroyer of worlds and defiler of humanity.

  What Death said suggested Luther would be neither of those things. That there was a third option Alistair had never considered. Whatever that was, Alistair supposed it was at least better than what he feared most. It was worth the chance.

  “I will,” said Alistair. “I’ll accept it. Whatever it may be.”

  “You sure? No backsies.”

  Alistair nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Death raised his hand and snapped his fingers. He paused for a moment and then sipped his drink again. “Okay, it’s done.”

  “That’s it…?” asked Alistair.

  “Might take some time for the change to reverberate in t
he real world, but basically yeah, that’s it,” said Death. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “There’s one thing,” said Alistair. “Cain.”

  “Ah yes, the first murderer. Interesting fella. Kind of intense, though. What about him?”

  “He wants to die. I was hoping that—”

  “He doesn’t want to die.”

  “But…”

  “I know what he says. Truth of the matter is, Cain doesn’t really know what he wants. It’s like Jagger said, ‘you can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need.’”

  “Wisdom from the Rolling Stones?” asked Alistair.

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Death. “I’ll send you back. And if you see Cain, tell him I asked he see this thing through. Then once it’s all over, if he still wants to die, I’ll see to it that his existence is brought to an end.”

  “He won’t believe me.”

  “He will if you give him this.”

  Death held out his hand and a sickle appeared. It looked ancient, with a blade that wasn’t perfectly formed and appeared rusty and a handle that seemed to be ripped from a tree with no finishing whatsoever.

  “Once it’s over, if he wants to die, he just needs to cut his own throat with this sickle. But it will only work once this is all over.”

  Alistair reached his hand out and took the sickle from Death. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Been a pleasure, Ali. Hope you enjoyed the margarita, but now it’s time for you to go.”

  Death snapped his fingers again.

  Alistair awoke and found he was back on the rooftop, kneeling in the center of the sigil. He looked at his hands and saw that the cuts had been healed, though dried blood had caked on his palms. Both Tessa and Cain stood outside the sigil, staring at him. Alistair looked down where the dagger had been and saw it was replaced by the sickle Death had given him.

  “What happened?” asked Tessa.

  Alistair picked up the sickle and slowly moved outside the sigil. “I met him.”

  “Death?” asked Tessa.

  Alistair nodded. “He was…interesting. Big fan of margaritas.”

  “Margaritas…?” asked Tessa, squinting as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

  “He said he’d do it, bring Luther back,” said Alistair.

  “What about me?” Cain stepped towards Alistair, reaching for his weapon.

  Alistair looked up at Cain. “I asked about you. He said you had to see this through. And then after it was over, if you still wanted to die, he would grant you your wish.”

  “How do I know this isn’t another trick?”

  Alistair held the sickle out for Cain. “He said once this is over, all you need to do is cut your throat with this. But it’ll only work at that point.”

  Cain looked down at the sickle. He slowly reached for it and then took it from Alistair. Cain held it up and examined the weapon, then moved it under his coat, where it vanished from sight.

  “If this is some kinda con, I’ll kill you, too.”

  Alistair nodded and looked at Tessa. “So, I sense something different about you as well.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird,” said Tessa, holding up her hands and magical energy appearing between her fingers. “It just sort of…happened.”

  “No it didn’t,” he said. “It’s what you needed. To accept what you are and your place in all this. You forgot it after Purgatory, but now…”

  Tessa smiled. “Now I know what I’m supposed to do.” She looked down at her hands and then the smile faded from her face. Her hands dropped to the sides and she looked at Alistair. “Wait…what about Luther?”

  Alistair smiled and turned away, walking to the edge of the roof. “We just have to have patience. And faith. He’ll be back soon.”

  34

  Morrison was true to his word and released me from the binding spell Ramsey used to trap me. He then released Dakota and Shelly from the chains and we regrouped to discuss our options.

  “What now?” asked Dakota.

  “You three get outta here, go find somewhere safe to lay low,” I said. “Soon as the coast is clear, get back to the States.”

  “That’s not happening,” said Dakota.

  “I’m not playing.”

  “Neither am I. Ramsey has my son and I’m not leaving without him,” she said. “Besides, you’re still a ghost, how are you going to carry him out?”

  “I’ve picked up some tricks since I last saw you,” I said.

  “Doesn’t matter, I’m taking Malcolm out of here myself.”

  “And I go where she goes,” said Shelly.

  “Likewise, I have my own sins to atone for,” said Morrison. “So I’ll be staying as well.”

  I sighed. This definitely wasn’t how I pictured things going, but supposed there was no option now. I resigned myself to accepting their help and nodded.

  “Okay fine, but you follow my lead,” I said. “Anything you can use as a weapon?”

  “We had a small arsenal when they took us,” said Shelly.

  “And they still have them, I know where they are,” said Morrison.

  “All right, you all get the weapons, I’ll start to thin out the herd a bit,” I said.

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Dakota.

  I flashed her a smile. “I’m a ghost, so I’m gonna haunt the shit outta them.”

  Elliot Ramsey looked down into the face of Malcolm Luther Reed. The baby stared up at him with his purple eyes, turning his head slightly to the side as he examined the priest’s face. Ramsey smiled at the boy and reached into the crib, carefully lifting him out. He held the baby up for the other two priests to see.

  “Look at him,” said Ramsey. “This child will be our savior. He shall punish the wicked and lead the righteous into Heaven, where our eternal reward awaits.”

  “Should we really be keeping them alive?”

  “Father Caruso, are you doubting what the angel told us?”

  Caruso shook his head. “No, Father. I’m just—”

  “The angel was quite specific,” said the third priest, Father Valenti. “The girl should be kept alive. Did you forget what he said, Father? She’s the holy mother, she’ll be as venerated as Mary herself.”

  Caruso nodded. “Yes, I understand that. But…she’s so headstrong. And the other one with her…”

  “She’s problematic, true, but the angel believes she can be redeemed.” Ramsey set the child back in the crib and turned to the priests. He set his hands on their shoulders. “We must have faith, brothers. Together, we’ll cleanse this world.”

  The temperature in the room plummeted. Ramsey noticed it himself as soon as he could see his breath. He looked at Caruso and Valenti and saw they were starting to be affected by the cold as well.

  “What’s happening?” asked Valenti.

  “Cross.” Ramsey’s eyes flashed blue. “Go. Check the binding spell. If he somehow escaped, I want you to find him and eliminate him before he can cause further trouble.”

  “What will you do, Father?” asked Caruso.

  “I’ll protect the child. Now hurry!”

  Caruso and Valenti both left the room. Once they were gone, Ramsey turned back to Malcolm and reached a hand down to stroke the tiny amount of hair atop his small head.

  “It’s okay, little one. I won’t let them corrupt you.”

  Caruso and Valenti entered the cathedral to find it was empty. Valenti moved to the pews where the girls were shackled, but saw only their chains lying there. As he looked around, Caruso moved past him, approaching the dais.

  Valenti stood and walked back towards the narthex, checking to see if he’d missed anything. He retreated back down the nave towards the transept and explored each side. Nothing.

  “Where did they go?” he asked.

  “Father, come here.”

  Valenti looked at Caruso, who knelt on the dais. He ascended the steps and came up beside his fellow pries
t. Caruso pointed to the sigil on the ground, particularly the area where the circle was broken.

  “Someone released Cross from the binding,” said Caruso.

  “Not possible, the girls were chained, they couldn’t have—” Valenti paused when he realized just what this meant. “Brother Morrison?”

  Caruso nodded and rose to his feet. “Only one it could have been.”

  “But he’s been dedicated to the Opus Dei for decades.”

  “The temptations of Hell are clearly powerful enough to corrupt even one of our own,” said Caruso. “Go after the weapons, make sure they’re secure.”

  Valenti nodded and left Caruso alone. Caruso knelt back down by the sigil and placed his hand on it. His eyes began to hum with blue energy as he concentrated, trying to see if he could sense Luther’s presence.

  Caruso did feel something in the sigil. He stood, holding his hand out, his eyes continuing to glow as he scanned the cathedral for the ghost. He could feel the same presence.

  “I know you’re here, Cross,” he said as he moved down the steps from the dais. “Make this easy on yourself.”

  The temperature dropped just as it did before, but Caruso wouldn’t be deterred. He continued to try and scan for Luther’s presence.

  The pews started to shake. At first it was quietly, then it grew louder. Caruso turned from side to side, trying to get a read on where Luther was doing this from. But it felt like the spirit was everywhere.

  “Did you really think it was going to be that easy, Caruso?”

  Caruso didn’t know where Luther was coming from. The voice echoed throughout the cathedral. And as the temperature dropped, his heart rate increased.

  “Come out, Cross. I can make your end peaceful or painful, the choice is yours.”

  Silence. For a moment, Caruso thought maybe he’d frightened the spirit. But then, laughter. Low at first, then slowly growing in volume, the echo carrying it on into a cacophony. It quickly grew louder, until it was positively deafening.

  Caruso fell to his knees, clasping his ears in a vain attempt to block the sound.