Collateral Damage (Demon Squad Book 8) (18 page)

He spat at me, and I grinned. His resistance would make it all the more enjoyable.

Twenty-One

I spent the night in Hell, but I wasn’t the only one.

Though it was the God-proof room to be more correct. As it turned out, the priest had been more than helpful with regards to Trinity. Add that to a little deductive reasoning—which Scarlett had actually put together once I’d told the group what Lance had said, much to the disappointment of my pride—and we had everything we needed to defeat the holy rollers. A quick plunge into the essence of Longinus helped to confirm it for me, at least in my heart if not my head.

Covered in guts and viscera, I sat outside of the cells that had been crafted in the heart of the God-proof room, clutching a meaty slab of muscle in my hand. My fingers squeezed and relaxed, blood pooling in my palm and dripping thickly to the floor.

“Rise and shine, assholes.” Despite the fifty feet of stone between me and the surviving members of Trinity, my voice carried through to them. They raged and stormed and threw themselves against the stone walls to no effect. Just like the kid had with me. I smiled.

“I learned something about you today, Trinity,” I called out, only barely able to hear their response. It wasn’t polite. “It would appear you are much less powerful when separated from the little threesome you’ve got going on. Split you apart and you’re not firing on all cylinders.”

It hadn’t sunk in when we’d killed the Son the first time that’s what had happened. Caught up in vengeance, I simply thought our surprise ambush had worked, but the reinforced metal of the trap they’d set had affected their powers. They’d weakened themselves, expecting us to walk into the trap, not get caught in one themselves.

Longinus’s act of splitting them apart in Limbo was more than simple psychological torture. They would go insane together as easily as they would alone, but he knew their powers fed off one another. He’d separated them to make them weak so they’d never be able to escape Limbo. That was a torture a million miles beyond death, something Longinus would have enjoyed.

“Now there’s only two of you.” I squeezed the heart in my hand even harder, jets of blood spewing free of it. “I know you felt me kill the Son,” I told them, unable to stop smiling. He died painfully, his torment lasting all through the night until I couldn’t hold back any longer. I ripped his heart free of his chest and watched him collapse against the restraints, the last flicker of his life slipping away.

I’d regret my cruelty later when what I’d done settled over me, but Karra deserved justice and my soul cried out for vengeance. Death wasn’t enough for the kid who stole the mother of my child away. Maybe I’d taken it too far, but I wasn’t gonna cry about it.

“And soon there will be none.”

Their voices cried out, screaming obscenities and threats and the biting words of their Lord, but none of that was gonna help them. God had abandoned them long ago, and the man they followed claiming to be Jesus was nothing more than a pretender to the throne. He’d get his soon enough. Right now, they were in the hands of the Devil.

I said my goodbyes to Trinity, wishing them a horrific eternity in the void, and triggered the mystical device I’d put in place inside the wall of their prisons.

A bigger nerd would have made a Star Wars joke as a great, grinding arose, slabs of stone sliding across stone. Above it all, I heard Trinity’s screams, and I willed them louder, letting the sound build until it hurt my eardrums. They shrieked and hissed and prayed and cried, and I savored every moment of it until the walls closed in with a resounding
boom
, bringing silence to Hell once more.

I let the heart slip from my hand. It was almost over.

#

The morning light brought presents with it.

Camped out at the old, abandoned airstrip where Karra had resurrected her father so long ago, I stood waiting as a black cargo van drove down the runway toward me. The sunlight reflected off its roof, and the essence of the people inside pecked at my senses. It was a good feeling.

The van pulled up in front of me, and I could see the driver staring at me through the windshield. She looked nervous as she climbed out of the van.

“Grace,” I said, acknowledging her. She gave me the barest of nods and opened the side door. I smiled, seeing what waited for me inside.

Thud stood in the back, clutching to a man who had been secured with duct tape—almost mummified—and blinded with a black hood over his head. I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. Thud tossed him out of the van without ceremony. The captive stumbled and crashed to the tarmac, unable to arrest his fall. No one else bothered to try. He landed with a muffled grunt.

“And you gagged him,” I noted. “How nice.”

Thud shrugged. “He talked too much.”

“Like someone else I know.”

He grunted, getting ready to say something back, but Grace shut the door, cutting him off. “He’s all yours,” she said. “Shaw expects you to hold up your end of the bargain, you know?” She handed me the silver die I’d tossed in the street.

“Of course she does.” I shooed the girl away, and she didn’t bother to argue. She got into the van and started it up, tearing off down the runway, happy to be gone.

I waited until they vanished in the distance before reaching down and plucking the hood from the man lying on the asphalt.

“Hello, Judas. I’d been wondering where you’d run off to.”

#

“You can’t do this to me!” Judas screamed from the pit I’d placed him in. His resemblance to Jesus was uncanny. Well, more that his resemblance to the westernized version of Christ was spot on. That’s how he’d sold himself to Trinity, preying on their ignorance. Who better to imitate Jesus than the guy who knew him personally and had sold him down the river?

“Who says I can’t?”

“God will strike you down. He will see what I did for him, and He will know you as the foul serpent of Satan that you are. He won’t let you do this.”

“You mean like how he wouldn’t grant you eternal life, and then exile you to a prison realm outside of existence because he cares so much about you?”

Judas snarled. “I have served my penance, and I serve God. He will…”

I let him bluster on for a while, pretty much ignoring him, knowing he couldn’t go anywhere. The rebar stakes I’d driven through his hands and feet—crucifix-style, mind you—held him in place, the hooks at the top keeping him from pulling his hands free. When there was a lull in his tirade, I cut him off.

“You’ve been gone a long, long time, Judas. Did you really think God would just accept you back into the fold after what you did to His son?” I tossed the thirty-sided die into the hole with him.

He stared at it without understanding its significance.

“That’s the price of
your
betrayal,” I said, baring my teeth. “Thirty pieces of silver, more than a fair trade for what you’ve taken from me.” A cold chill settled over me as I thought of Karra. “God is gone, Judas, and he’s never coming back. That’s something Shaw never told you when she picked you up after Azrael’s thrashing. But why would she? You wanted redemption after all your years in the wasteland, and you were stupid enough to let her convince you that you’d find it by spilling the blood of Satan’s son.”

He glared at me from the pit, unable to speak.

“Everything she told you is a lie, except the part about me being the new Devil. There is no redemption waiting for you. Not now, not ever. Those days are gone, fled into the sky along with God and Lucifer, but there is one thing that you can be sure of.”

I raised a hand, and it was greeted with a quiet rumble and a loud, repetitive beeping from behind me.

“You can be absolutely certain that God’s
gift
of eternal life is the one thing of Him you still possess.” I stepped away from the hole as the truck backed to the edge, coming to a grinding halt. I grinned down at Judas. “You can also rest assured that I have learned the lessons of my father more than adequately. He’d be proud of what I’ve done here today.” I drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, the air bitter on my tongue. “You, on the other hand, won’t appreciate the lesson one bit.”

I waved at Marcus to start his work. He flipped me off as he clambered from the cab, and then pulled the trough from the back of the mixer, settling it over the massive pit.

“This is going to take at least five truckloads,” he complained. “I’m going to be here all damn night, asshole.”

“Bill me for your time,” I answered. “I’m good for it. Or would you rather I keep you locked up in Hell a little longer?”

He shrugged, not bothering to argue, and opened the feed in a hurry to get done. Wet cement gushed down the trough. It fell into the hole with a heavy
splat
, an ominous sense of finality to it. Judas howled, only then realizing what I intended.

“I’ll kill you, demon!”

“Best close your mouth,” I shouted down to him over the sound of the mixing truck. “I can’t imagine you want concrete in your mouth for all eternity.”

He thrashed against the spikes, watching in terror as the hole filled around him, unable to do anything. His eyes were wild, and they bulged from their sockets as he screamed himself hoarse.

I stood and watched until he disappeared beneath the sea of gray.

Epilogue

Still covered in the blood of the Son, I returned to where I’d left Styg.

He met me just inside the door. His pale face was a serpent’s nest of black veins that pulsed and throbbed, squirming beneath his skin. His red eyes looked shades darker than they had earlier, as though he’d filled them with blood and they’d overflowed. Crimson tears stained his craggy cheeks, and he look spent, exhausted. He stared at me without blinking. He shook his head as I met his gaze. Fear shadowed his sharp features.

That was all I needed to know about the task I’d set him to.

He’d failed.

My heart skipped a beat at seeing the defeat in his posture, and I looked beyond him to see Karra lying in the center of his circle, just as she had been before I’d left: head still separated from her neck, her skin waxen. I pushed past Styg and went to her, kneeling at her side. My hand clasped hers, its coldness chilling me to the bone.

Where I’d expected to see life and vitality returned, I saw only death. Her eyes were empty black pits, sunken into her face. Where there’d been semblance warmth left in her flesh, there was none now. Her skin had grown sallow, sinking in on her, bones jutting out against the pale canvas. There was nothing left of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I heard Styg ask behind me, barely registering his question. He moved around and dropped into a squat in front of me, asking again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice was like a bee trapped inside my ear. I shook my head to chase the sound away, accidentally meeting his eyes. The sense of what he was asking became clear. “Tell you what?” I choked out, my throat parched.

“That she was a necromancer,” he answered. “Had I known…” His voice faded into silence, and he stared at me for a long time before I heard him again. “There is nothing I can do for her. There is nothing
anyone
can do.”

His words were nails, pounded into the coffin that was me. I collapsed onto Karra’s body, wracked with sobs, the last of my hopes dashed.

“She’s gone,” Styg said, and then I heard nothing.

Want more Demon Squad excitement? Keep reading for a short story featuring Lucifer!

Trials of the Morning Star

Blood drops on roses and ransom notes written. Pustules and bruises and flesh that is bitten. Body bags all wrapped up with rotten gut strings.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Well, not really, but when you’re the Morning Star, Satan, the eternal thorn in the Almighty’s side, there are certain expectations of a guy. Kill a few folks and you’re a murderer. Kill millions and they call you God.

Guess we know who won the PR battle.

But all that’s water under the ark, these days. I’m just another cog in the war machine. Never thought I’d find myself here, though, slipping the yoke over my shoulders again, but it was that or stare down the rogue’s gallery of God’s past on my own. Turns out, I’m not the only devil He’s pissed off. Not even close.

The blade slid nicely through the angel’s throat, the spray of blood warming my fingers. The sentry twitched and jerked as his final breath hissed from the wound, and then went still. His weight slumped against my hold, and I let him drop. He collapsed with a sullen
thump
, the sound mirroring my disappointed sigh.

Crimson dribbled from the dagger,
drip
,
drip
,
drip
, the woeful leak a sad metaphor for the mission God had sent me on. Unable to call upon my magic lest my target sense me coming, I was forced to do things the hard way; stealth and steel. A chuckle welled at the thought. It’d been a long, long time since I’d had to take matters into my own hands so literally. Can’t say I liked it.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a little dirt under the nails, but I didn’t wage war against Heaven so I could do grunt work. Better to reign in Hell and all that. I was only here because ol’ Yahweh needed the sharpest knife in the rack, and that’s me. It didn’t make me feel any better about it, though. I was still traipsing through an alien encampment, billions and billions of miles from home, all so I could kill someone who could have been me a couple thousand years back. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me, nor was the danger. I spill a little blood today and tilt the odds, who’s to say it’s not me catching a blade in the liver the next time a point needed to be made?

I shook off an uncomfortable chill and stared out across the white sea of tents that glistened in the darkness, a pair of larger, more majestic ones visible near the rear of the camp. General Ilfaar had brought his forces to the stony shelf of the planet Kurikal in anticipation of his mystics cleaving a hole through the very fabric of the universe. Trapped after God set the locks on the Shal Ko’ra—the nexus of worlds—to slow the advance of the Aliterean Consortium, the enemy had become quite industrious with their tactics. Again and again, they poked holes through frayed dimensional walls so their legions could spill into our space without warning. It was effective.

We’d lost four planets and hundreds of thousands of soldiers to these surprise attacks before we even realized what the Alitereans were doing. Worse still, their success only fueled their ambition. We barely finished washing the blood from our boots from the previous assault when the next began. They were wearing us thin while God played his pawns at defense. He’d given in to my pleas to take the fight to them at last.

I kicked dirt over the fallen angel’s wound, quelling the coppery stink that tickled my nose. He was the first to die tonight, but he wouldn’t be the last. Yahweh had unleashed me as an abject lesson in pre-emptive violence. It was a role I was happy to play after so many defeats.

Shadows danced in the breeze as I slipped between the rows of fluttering tents, only the sounds of an army confident in its advantage stirred beneath the gentle bluster. Angels slept in clusters behind their canopied walls, their whispered breaths and soft rustles an open invitation to this wolf among sheep, but it was not their blood I hungered for. No, I had come for the shepherd. It was his heart I wanted to feel beat within my clenched fist, the last of his life oozing through my fingers. Only when Ilfaar was dead, and the legion of masters at his back joined him, would I be free to leave God behind with His blessing.

The sooner, the better.

A second
sentry
slid lifeless beneath my blade as I crept through the darkness, weaving a silent course through the gathered army who’d no clue their final moments were upon them. A smile warmed my cheeks at the thought.
Perhaps I doth protest too much.
The sticky warmth that glued my hand to hilt brought back memories I’d long repressed. To my surprise, they were not unwelcome.

I swallowed back a chuckle and continued on, circling through the corridors of white until I came across the first of the more ornate tents near the rear of the camp, mystical symbols woven into the seams. My eyes traced their lines as I drew closer, marveling at the intricacy of the work that had gone into the wards that shielded the occupants inside. The magic hummed so low as to be felt deep within the marrow of my bones. These mystics knew their craft, no doubt, and they were smart, careful. Unlike the rest of the camp, the wizards hadn’t placed their lives solely in the hands of lackadaisical guards. Too bad the wards were just as useless.

A wave set the gold thread to sparking. There was the vaguest of flickers as the seams sizzled and turned black, lines of ash swept away at the wind’s caress, barely a wisp of char scenting the air. I inched my head alongside the canvas wall and listened, picking out the murmured exhalations just the other side. They hadn’t noticed the failing of their protective spells. It seemed not all of my skills had atrophied in my eons away from the battlefield.

A quick thrust slid the point of my sword through the tent wall. There was a muffled crunch on the other side as cartilage gave way, then bone behind it, and I felt my blade slink into a sheath of welcoming meat. There was a sudden spasm at the tip, a fish squirming on the hook, and then all went still. A sigh slipped from deflating lungs and silence returned.

I waited a moment to ensure I hadn’t been heard before drawing my sword back, letting its weight and razored edge cleave through the wall until the weapon slid free at the dirt and opened the way ahead. A delicate push moved the flap of canvas aside, and I slipped into the gloomy tent.

The first of the mystics sagged in his cot, crimson seeping into the feathered mattress and pooling beneath him, the ruin of his ear apparent even in the darkness. Another wizard slept just yards away. Her breasts rose and fell with an easy rhythm beneath the thin sheet that covered her. Blond-red hair made a halo about her head, but there was no mistaking the alien cast to her features.

Oversized round eyes were sealed behind great, shaded lids, the slope of her nose jutting from her face with feline grace. Her upper lip was swollen above a mouth of fangs, which just peeked out white between the darker lines of the mystic’s mouth. Long white whiskers fluttered at her every breath. I stared at her a moment while I hovered above.

God’s other creations—both angelic and demonic—always amazed me no matter how long I spent in the trenches against them. There’d been no limit to His imagination as He sowed His seed across the vast universes, searching for some magical ingredient for peace while choking on the bitter poison of free will. He’d yet to find the right combination for His master plan, whatever it was, but I had to give Him credit for persistence. Discarding worlds like a snake sheds its skin, God left behind a thousand universes lost in the madness of never understanding their creator.

I put my hand over the mystic’s mouth and slid my sword into the crook behind her chin. Muscles went rigid at my touch. She hissed into my palm, eyes exploding into wideness only to roll into their sockets as steel punctured brain. Her resistance fell away, and she eased back onto the cot without a sound, her alien physiology denying me even the barest hint of pleasure through a soul transfer.

The angel stared blindly, pathetic in her death, but I couldn’t scrape together two moist shits to care. While I understood her desire to lash out at the God who abandoned her and her people so long ago, the decision to make an enemy of me was
never
the right choice.

I turned from the corpse and scanned the bunks on the other side of the tent. Both were empty, sheets in disarray. I bit back a curse and made my way toward the front tent flap, feet fluttering across the thick carpets the mystics had spread across the ground. The plan had been to bring the wizards to heel before I set Ilfaar’s head upon a stake, but that clearly was not in the cards. This late at night, it was likely they were seeing to their master or preparing the dimensional wall for its eventual dissolution. Neither endeavor overly concerned me, but I’d hoped to rattle the dear general’s cage first, make a grand entrance, if you will. Wars are more often won by impression than steel.

Seemed I would be made to do things the hard way.

As I passed the center pole that held the tent’s roof aloft, the barest of mystical touches tickled my senses. Reined in as they were, I was surprised I’d felt anything at all with as muted as the
ping
was. I turned to look at the pole, spying a tiny, wooden shelf set just above eye level and hidden in shadow. Whispers of energy spoke to me as I listened. My fingers slid across the protruding ledge and settled on a small, smooth stone. Embers of mystical energy radiated from its core at my touch, sending pulses tingling down my arm. I slipped it from the shelf and took a look.

The stone was a cipher, and my stomach soured at seeing it. The pulses of energy it gave off dredged up familiar energies I hadn’t expected to feel again so soon.
Why would—?

The scrape of feet snapped my attention back to the tent flap as it was yanked open.

“Who are—?” was all the entering mystic got out before my sword sunk into his throat, the thrown blade severing his tenuous grasp on life. The second wizard shrieked and darted off as her companion crumpled.

“Damn it,” I cursed, making no effort to muffle my voice.
What difference did it make now?
The mystic’s shouts wailed in the night, a wave of others joining in. The flock knew a predator was among them.
I might as well be Triggaltheron for all my flailing about.

Stealth cast to the wayside, it was time to do what I’d come here to do. I slipped the cipher into a pouch at my belt, and then retrieved my sword, tugging it loose of the mystic’s neck before stepping through the tent flap to meet the enemy. Content to sow uncertainty, I held tightly to the leash of my magic.

Soldiers swirled between the tents, struggling with their armor and armaments while I strode into their midst. Wide eyes met my casual stare. I turned my back on their frantic efforts and spun about to meet Ilfaar, his mystical signature signaling his approach from the largest tent just a short distance away. He walked toward me with undisguised arrogance, his robes fluttering, a hand encrusted in golden rings held up to stay his troops.

“Welcome, servant of God.” A smile graced his blue-black lips, the centipede of his mustache crawling over his upper lip, its ends wiggling well past mid chest. The red dots of his eyes locked on mine, his shaven scalp a moon of darkness against the backdrop of white tents. His cheeks bubbled alongside his grin. The naked steel clutched in his hand, however, was the lie to his confidence.

“Ilfaar,” I answered. “You know well enough why I’m here.”

He nodded, casting an amused glance at his mystic before looking back to me. “I do, of course, but do you, demon?”

As had been the case with the other supernatural beings I’d faced down during Yahweh’s war, there’d been no lack of hubris in our confrontations. I almost felt sorry for God having to reign over such sycophants.

Almost.

“Come now, Ilfaar, let us not play games.” I drew in a deep breath and steadied my gaze on the general. “Your options are simple: Surrender and I take command of your forces when I’m done with you or consign them to death by your foolishness. Which is it to be?”

“There’s another option you’ve overlooked, demon.”

This would, of course, be the moment when he spouts some nonsense about killing me.

“You can die.”

I laughed and shook my head. I’d hoped for something more poetic, more imaginative perhaps, but I’d long ago learned to lower my expectations. It was time to set an example. I spread my arms and returned Ilfaar’s leering grin. His fell from his lips as I called my magic to bear.

Clouds welled overhead before even the first of the soldiers came at my back, deeper shades of black amidst the gray. The sky rumbled, and the ground trembled in reply, vibrations skittering beneath the surface.

“Kill him!” Ilfaar screamed. His bluster was drowned in the fury of the growing storm.

A flash of brilliance exploded above, stealing the color from the world for just an instant, a cold drizzle falling in its wake, raining down over the gathered troops.

“Master!” his wizard shouted, pointing upward as she cowered at the general’s side, but Ilfaar didn’t need her warning to realize what I had in store. The first of the screams were sufficient. My smile broadened as Ilfaar stared past my shoulder to see the inevitable ruin of his forces.

The silver dots whistled as they fell to earth, their passage hastened by the lash of my will. Angels shrieked as the heavens spilled forth murder. Steel clanged on steel, the sound only slightly louder than the dull
slap
of wet meat as the makeshift artillery peeled through flesh and bone. Gurgled shouts joined the cacophony accompanied by the
fwip
of canvas tents giving way beneath the hail of mercurial death and stumbling corpses. Somewhere, Dante rolled in his grave at having missed such a display.