Devil's Conflict

by Percival Constantine

  Once I turned off the car, I opened the glovebox and took my revolver and opened the cylinder to check it was fully loaded. Satisfied, I snapped it shut and took some speedloaders from the box so I’d have extra ammo. I also took the dagger from inside the box and made sure to affix the sheath to my belt.

  These types of weapons were most useful against demons, ghosts, and monsters. But if I was right, those wouldn’t be who came after Morrison tonight. Still, better to go in with something as opposed to nothing. And I didn’t trust my hellfire powers to not fritz out when I needed them most.

  The gun and the dagger were hidden under my leather jacket. I zipped it up and left the parking garage, walking the block down Madison to the church. The placement of it was kind of odd. Sandwiched between these two modern skyscrapers was a smaller building constructed from stone, not even reaching half the height of its neighbors, with a cross on the roof. Above the three arched doorways was a massive arch with glass inset a good distance from the outer edge. And in front of the glass in the center of the arch was a stone statue of Jesus on the cross.

  The church was obviously closed now, but that didn’t stop someone like me. I placed my hand on the door and whispered, “Aperio.” I heard the locks turn and I opened the door and stepped inside.

  I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses, trying to see if I could pick up any trace of the supernatural in here. But I felt nothing. I opened my eyes and began to walk through the church. I went into the main church and walked down the aisle, looking back and forth between the darkened pews on either side.

  It was quiet as the grave, which only served to make me suspicious. In my experience, this kind of quiet usually preceded something bad. I reached into my jacket and drew the revolver, prepared for anything.

  That preparation didn’t help much when the power suddenly came on and the church was flooded with light. I spun around, raising the gun.

  “Just what are you doing?”

  The man at the end of the aisle was dressed in a black shirt and pants with a priest’s collar. He looked on the young side, maybe late twenties or so, and seemed like he kept in shape, too.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  I kept the gun aimed at him. “Take it easy, padre.”

  “Me take it easy? You’re the one breaking into a church and pointing a gun at a priest!” he protested.

  “Let’s just say I’m not big on tithing,” I said. “To answer your question, my name’s Luther Cross. Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

  “What? Why would I have heard of you?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion. “And my God, what is wrong with your eyes?”

  There wasn’t exactly a shortage of people in Chicago who knew there were things that went bump in the night—things nobody much talked about. Because of that, there were those in the religious community who were keyed in. I’d even worked with some of them in the past. The Catholic Church in particular still performed exorcisms, so I figured there was a good chance this guy’d heard of me. Seemed I was wrong.

  “I’m just looking for someone,” I said.

  “At a church at this hour of the night?” he asked. “Who could you possibly be looking for?”

  “Me.”

  I spun on my heel towards the dais. A man emerged from behind the altar and descended the steps. The same man who came up to me at the Signature Lounge. I holstered my weapon—wouldn’t be needing it now.

  “Charles, what’s—” the priest began to say.

  Morrison held up his hand and the priest didn’t continue his sentence. “It’s all right, Tim. This man is a friend—I think.”

  “He brought a gun into the house of God.”

  “I’m guessing you do most of your preaching in blue states,” I said.

  “Tim, it’s fine. This is Luther Cross, the man I came to Chicago to see,” said Morrison as he approached me. “Luther, this is Father Timothy Cameron.”

  I glanced over my shoulder back at Father Tim and gave a quick nod. He just looked unnerved. Probably still couldn’t get over my eyes, let alone the gun.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Morrison. “I thought you said—”

  “Better question is what are you doing here?” I asked, spinning on him. “You know who’s after you, don’t you?”

  “As Tim said, this is a house of God,” said Morrison.

  “That shit might work on the lower-level Hellspawn, but not on an archdemon like Asmodeus.”

  “Asmodeus…?” Morrison gasped. “But…Dakota told me…”

  “Yeah, yeah, Asmodeus was working with Raz,” I said. “Well, that was then. Asmodeus got a better offer and now he wants that baby for his own. But he’s not even the worst of it. By coming into a place like this, you’re basically advertising yourself to the angels. And right now, angels can’t be trusted. Not when at least one of them set this whole thing up.”

  “You can’t seriously think I’m in danger here,” said Morrison.

  “Who else knows you’re here?” I asked.

  “Just Tim, I needed a place to stay and he said I could come with him here. And I felt that this church has a strong connection to the divine.”

  “Yeah, there’s a reason for that,” I said. “There’s an angelic observation point at the top of the Willis Tower. Which means there’s a massive spotlight on this area. We gotta move, now!”

  “And here I thought you wanted nothing more to do with—”

  Morrison’s sentence stopped right there. I could see the shock on his face, but I didn’t know why. His mouth slightly agape, his eyes widened. And then I realized it…once I felt the knife go into my side.

  I turned as I stumbled back into the pews, seeing Cameron standing there, a knife held in his hand, dripping with blood. His eyes had changed, taken on an unearthly appearance. I couldn’t sense the power in him before, it was hidden until now. It was like those priests the rogue angel sent after Celeste and myself last year when I was trying to find Dakota.

  “Tim…what have you done?” asked Morrison.

  Cameron turned to Morrison and smiled. It was the smile of a man who completely believed in his convictions. I hated people like that. Always be skeptical of true believers—they’re usually the first to do something stupid.

  “I did what I had to do, Charles. What the angels told me must be done.” He pointed at me. “Do you know what he is? He’s a Lord of Hell. The offspring of one of the worst demons in history.”

  “Yeah, like your dad was so perfect…” I muttered, pressing my hand to the wound. I whispered under my breath, summoning magic to heal where I was stabbed. The attack was just a flesh wound, hadn’t pierced anything important, and I could feel the flesh knitting itself back together.

  “Heaven needs us, Charles,” said Cameron, moving closer to Morrison. But the older man took a step back. “I know all about the child. The angels told me. They need him, need him to bring about the Second Coming.”

  “Tim, stop…” Morrison shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. The angel you’ve been talking to, he’s—”

  “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re wrong!”

  Father Timothy Cameron was now completely focused on Morrison. That gave me an opportunity. I drew the gun and raised it up, taking careful aim while Cameron moved closer to Morrison.

  “He showed me the truth. The one you spoke to, that was the lie! You’ve been deceived, Charles, can’t you see?”

  I pulled the trigger. Morrison gasped as the bullet went right through Cameron’s head, splattering blood on the old man’s face. Cameron’s body collapsed to the ground and I walked up to it, pulling the trigger until the cylinder was empty.

  “Dear God…” muttered Morrison, falling to his knees and staring at Cameron’s body. He looked up at me, his eyes starting to water. “Wh-what have you done?”

  “It’s called saving your ass.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Now come on. We’ve gotta get you somewhere h
idden before flyboy sends more wing-nuts after us.”

  10

  Morrison was still looking over his shoulder as I drove out the parking garage and put St. Peter’s in my rear-view mirror. It took him a few blocks before he faced forward in his seat and rubbed his face.

  “What happened back there?”

  “The angel who impregnated Dakota, the one who wants the baby. He’s pulled this trick before. Finds believers, imbues them with some of his power, and sends them out into the world to do his dirty work,” I said. “Keeps him from revealing himself and keeps both Heaven and Hell from knowing that something is up.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you had to kill Tim.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you in the mood to be tortured? Feel a little itch that can only be scratched by a hot poker? Because had I known that, I would’ve just left you there.”

  “The sarcasm’s uncalled for…” he muttered. “Tim was a friend, that’s all. Helped the Opus Dei whenever we needed him to.”

  “He probably thought he still was, right up until the end. The other poor bastards the angel tricked certainly thought they were.”

  “I don’t think I understand why you’re here, though,” he said. “You made it pretty clear that you wanted to stay out of this. So why come for me? And why would Asmodeus be after Malcolm?”

  I gripped the steering wheel as I raced through traffic towards Logan Square. I didn’t know how much I wanted to tell Morrison. Still wasn’t entirely sure I could trust him. Something inside me pushed me to come clean with him.

  “Asmodeus was trapped in Purgatory,” I said.

  “What?”

  “It’s a long story. Simple version is this: to secure his release, he promised to bring the baby to Thanatos, Purgatory’s ruler. That means this conflict that’s been brewing between two sides turns into a three-way—and not the fun kind.”

  “What makes you think Asmodeus knows about me? You don’t think Raziel told him something, do you?” asked Morrison.

  I shook my head. “Raz isn’t stupid—or wasn’t stupid, might be more accurate.”

  “You think he’s dead, don’t you?”

  “Or as good as. But no, I’m sure he didn’t tell anyone about you or where he stashed Dakota. That doesn’t mean Asmodeus doesn’t know other ways of finding you.”

  “Such as…?”

  I glanced at him quickly and then back at the road. “Well for starters, how about when you walked up to me in the Signature Lounge advertising your name and the fact that you know Dakota?”

  “Dakota said you frequented that place, how else was I supposed to find you?” asked Morrison.

  “I’ve got a goddamn webpage, asshole,” I said.

  “And you would’ve responded to an email?”

  I scoffed. Okay, given what happened the first time I met Morrison, couldn’t say it would have. I’d probably have deleted the damn thing and never given it another thought.

  “Point is you gotta be more careful, especially in this city,” I said. “This ain’t…wherever the hell you’re from.”

  “Dayton.”

  “Right, this ain’t Dayton,” I continued. “For whatever reason, there’s a lot of supernatural energy emanating from this city. Maybe it’s from that dimensional hot spot above the Willis Tower or maybe it’s something else. That means Chicago is a place where you’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. And Asmodeus? He used to go to the Signature Lounge a lot before he got sent to Purgatory. There’s no doubt he’s got contacts there who would’ve told him about anything strange.”

  “I see your point,” said Morrison. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I can tell. Makes me wonder why Raz brought you into this in the first place.”

  “Perhaps because he thought he could count on you, too.”

  I felt Morrison’s eyes on me, but ignored them and accelerated the car. I didn’t know why, but I felt the pangs of guilt at his words. Almost made me sick to admit it. What did I owe this asshole? Or Raz for that matter?

  No, I wasn’t doing it for them. I wasn’t even doing it for Dakota. This was all about keeping my ass out of the fire. I had to stay focused and finish this job. Get this bastard somewhere safe and then get the help I needed to end this.

  “Where are we going?” asked Morrison.

  “Somewhere you’ll be safe.”

  “Your condo?”

  “Asmodeus would expect that. It might be shielded, but he could still blow the damn building to hell if he wanted to make a statement. And I’ve got no clue what tricks he picked up down in Purgatory. So I’m taking you to the next best thing.”

  And taking you right to someone who made it pretty clear she hated my damn guts. But I was running low on options. I had a plan, and that plan required help to execute. If I was going to get out of this thing in one piece, then like it or not, I had to turn to someone who wanted my balls in a vice.

  “Get the fuck off my doorstep!”

  I had my hands up, staring down the barrel of a shotgun. Holding the gun was a young Asian woman with short, black hair, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, and her eyes looking as angry as a pack of pissed-off rabid dogs.

  “Nice to see you too, Tess,” I said.

  “This is a friend of yours?” asked Morrison, huddling behind me.

  “Was,” said Tessa. “Now give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow a hole through your arrogant ass.”

  “Well, for one, because I need your help,” I said. “And two, you should really stand a few feet back when you point a gun at someone.”

  In a rapid movement, I snatched the gun by the barrel and tore it from her hands. I flipped the gun and pointed it at her. Tessa groaned and raised her arms.

  “Dammit…” she muttered.

  “Get inside, Tess. We need to have a chat and I want to introduce you to my new buddy.”

  Tessa backed through the door of her shop, The Sanctum. I followed her in, keeping the gun aimed at her chest, and Morrison walked behind me. Once inside, I lowered the gun and removed the shells.

  “There, now we can all be friends again.” I tossed the unloaded shotgun back to her. “What are you doing with that thing anyway? Thought you hated guns.”

  She caught it and held it by her side. “I do. But my magic’s on the fritz, no thanks to you, and I’ve got enemies to worry about. Same as you. Though probably not as many.”

  “What do you mean your magic’s on the fritz?” I asked. “And why’s that my fault?”

  “Ever since Purgatory, my spells haven’t been quite so reliable. Tried a few different things, but no luck stabilizing it so far. So thanks for dragging me along for the ride.” Tessa looked at Morrison. “Now who’s this?”

  “Charles Morrison, meet Tessa Kang,” I said, stepping aside so the two could get a good look at each other. “Tessa’s one of the most powerful witches in the county.”

  “Was,” she corrected and offered a hand to Morrison. “Nice to meet you.” She nodded her head in my direction. “He’s an asshole, by the way.”

  “I’m starting to realize that,” said Morrison, shaking her hand with a smile.

  “I’m standing right here,” I said.

  “And we don’t give a shit,” said Tessa. “So, thanks for stopping by. Luther, make sure the door hits you on the ass on your way out.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” I said. “Not until we got what I came for.”

  Tessa folded her arms and stared up at me. If her magic wasn’t so hot, that meant she could be vulnerable to my power of manipulation. I started to channel the energy in my body, but before I could focus through my eyes and start to influence her, something stopped me. It was as if the power was shut down inside me, like someone flicked a switch.

  “Well? I’m waiting,” she said.

  I blinked. “Chuck here was sent by Raziel to watch over Dakota.”

  “Dakota Reed?” Tessa looked from me and walked over to Morris
on. “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine,” said Morrison with a smile. “She gave birth to a lovely boy.”

  “Wow,” said Tessa. “And the baby…?”

  “He’s perfectly normal, so far as we can tell.”

  As they talked about babies, I was trying to figure out what suddenly stopped me from using my powers on Tessa. It seemed like a glitch, because for whatever reason, I could feel the energy inside me once more. Was it some kind of ward Tessa had on her place, was she playing coy about her magic, or something else?

  “We’ve got more important things to talk about than babies,” I said. “Such as who’s after that kid. Asmodeus made a deal with Thanatos—the baby for his freedom.”

  “Oh shit…” muttered Tessa. “And Asmodeus is back? You’ve seen him?”

  “Yeah, he’s not exactly playing with a full deck. Now you see why I need your help?”

  “What do you expect me to do? Even if my powers were working, I’m no match for Asmodeus.”

  “No, but you can help me summon someone who is.”

  “Who do you plan on summoning?” asked Morrison.

  “There’s an angel named Gabriel. He appeared to me a few months ago asking about Raz’s disappearance. I got the sense he wasn’t involved with this nephilim crap. If anyone can help, it might be him.”

  “You don’t need me to summon an angel,” said Tessa. “You’ve got plenty of power to do that on your own.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” I said.

  “Since when?”

  “Hell Lords can’t call on angels.”

  I watched as the color drained from Tessa’s face. She looked almost sick at the sound of what she’d just heard. Her eyes narrowed and her brows knit together. “You…you’re a Hell Lord now?”

  “Asmodeus’ realm. Or, former realm.”

  Tessa walked right up to me and slapped my face as hard as she could. “You son of a bitch. You really did let Purgatory corrupt you, didn’t you? When Celeste needed my help tracking you, I thought it was bad—I just never realized how bad it got.”