Echoes of the Past (Demon Squad) (2 page)

He didn’t even crack a smile. “There may well be, but I cannot say for certain. Even to my people, God’s plans and motivations are a mystery. I know only that your universe, as well as my own, are but parts of a larger plot whose purpose we are not meant to fathom.”

“So, y’all are no better off than us, huh?”

Hasstor
laughed. His voice was a deep rumble that stirred the fog. “In our relations to God, we are most definitely no more informed.”

It was strangely comforting to know humanity wasn’t the only species getting screwed by the powers that be. Chalk one up for equality.

“Is this an impending doom type of scenario, or will I get to take a nap first?” I could really use one.

It’s hard to believe that just days before I was fighting to save Heaven from rogue archangels, werewolves, and vampires, oh my. The unexpected arrival of my cousin, Scarlett, beat to hell, set it all off. The
Nephilim
sent to finish the job were only the icing on the crap cake to follow.

After jet-setting around the world —Iran, Saudi Arabia…Hell —in a race to get to Heaven ahead of the supernatural rabble looking to plant their flag, and to escape the deadly storms that scoured the planet as the Tree of Life shared its death throes, I just wasn’t in the mood for any more apocalyptic bullshit.

Abe’s funeral was the culmination of it all. I watched from the trees as friends and family gathered at the grave, but not me. My mentor,
my
friend, the closest I’ve ever had to a human father, was laid to rest, and I was in the nosebleed seats. Even the cemetery workers got a better view. It was all just too much.

Hasstor’s face settled into an amused grin. “Lucifer did not provide me with a timeline, but neither did he convey the sense his fears were imminent. I believe he is simply being cautious, for even he does not know the full extent of what his and God’s forces face.”

That was encouraging. Nothing like saving the Earth only to find out the rest of the universe is on the verge of obliteration.
How Douglas Adams.
All I needed was a towel and a fish to shove up my ass. Right then, I almost wished
Xyx
had
brought me here to be executed. It certainly would have saved me a bunch of stress. “Was there anything else Uncle Lou wanted passed on, like maybe asking how his beloved nephew is doing?
Anything non-apocalyptic like that?”

“The tome and the warning were all he sent.”

Never any love for poor old Frank. Maybe I was just deluded, thinking I was more important to my uncle than I really was. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised, though. You don’t earn the title the
Father of Lies
by being honest. It still sucked, but that’s what I get for thinking I’m special.

“It is time for me to leave, Triggaltheron.
Xyx
waits to aid my return to our world, but Jonas Black and Ethan White will remain. They will report on Earth’s progress and
yours
as well.” He held out a green gem wrapped in a strange, shifting, gray metal that looked almost liquid. “This is a summoning stone. With it close by, you can call them to you should you need their assistance or necessity demands you forward a message to Lucifer.”

I didn’t think that was likely as I took the gem, but I could imagine a few scenarios where being able to summon a couple of Black and White targets to take the heat off my back would be nice. As I was thinking that, a subtle hint of power rippled against my senses.
Hasstor
drew on his magic, and the fog danced chaotic at his feet.

“It would be best if the earthlings at large were kept ignorant of the universes beyond their borders. They are too fragile a species to grasp the complexities of their true place in the grand scheme of life.”

Half human myself, I wasn’t sure how to take that, but I let it go. I’ve had enough fights outside of my weight class lately to know better than to take this one on. I plastered on my best
I’m-Gonna-Screw-Your-Daughter
look, nodded, and waved goodbye. A split second later, Hasstor’s spell took hold, and I was whisked away.

I could have sworn Squirmy winked at me.

Chapter Two

Much to my surprise, I arrived back in my living room, in the exact same spot
Xyx
picked me up.
Convenient.

I didn’t know how long I’d been gone—time in alternate dimensions always a bit screwy in comparison to Earth—but I knew it had been a little while, at least; long enough to ruin my day. My senses pinged on an empty house.
Karra
and Chatterbox were already gone, leaving me alone. That was the last thing I wanted to be.

As soon I realized I was coming back from my unexpected jaunt across the universe, and wasn’t gonna die, I’d started imagining being with
Karra
more. Together again for such a short time, the shadow of Abe’s death lingering over the last couple days of relative peace after the Heaven debacle, I just wanted to cuddle.

Yeah, I said it.

But as usual, especially of late, my uncle and
his
needs and machinations trumped any of my insignificant wants and desires. It felt like a bad marriage; ‘til death do I get screwed. Not that it did me any good to complain. The big boys were gonna play their reindeer games regardless, and the little folks would be the ones to pay for it. It had always been that way. Expecting my lot to be any different now was like hoping a politician would make good on his campaign promises. It just wasn’t gonna happen.

Still upset about Abe, I wasn’t in the mood to give a damn about Lucifer’s bullshit. It wouldn’t be going away anytime soon, so why bother? In the mood for a beer, I went to the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. A couple of cold
Budweisers
stared back at me from inside. I pulled one out and realized I couldn’t open the damn thing with Lucifer’s tome still in my hand. Not up for a jaunt to Hell just yet, wanting to call
Karra
first, I needed someplace safe to stick the stupid thing. The first place that came to mind was rather rude, but then I glanced down at the crisper drawer, full of old and wilted vegetables, and it hit me that was the perfect place for it. No one would dig through my shriveled tomatoes and brown lettuce looking for anything, let alone a book no one in the universe even knew existed.

I yanked the drawer open and dropped the book inside, rearranging all the plastic bags of fruits and vegetables so they completely covered the book. Not even sure why I had the damn things to begin with, I topped the wilted mess off with a hairy plum just for the ambiance. Once that was done, I shut the fridge and popped the top off the beer. The first sip was cold and refreshing and made me want a dozen more. Given all that had happened lately, a good and sloppy fifteen minute drunk was in order. A two minute liaison with a gorgeous blond certainly wouldn’t ruin my mood any either.

Thunder rumbled as I made my way back to the living room, and I heard the patter of rain striking the roof. It’d been coming down pretty steadily since the Tree of Life started its recovery from Gabriel’s assault on Heaven, nature doing its best to repair the damage it had wrought. As I turned into the foyer, I could smell the moisture in the air. It’s thick, musky scent was a huge difference from the normally dry, desert air of El Paseo. It was a pleasant change from the oppressive, summer heat.

A flash of lightning drew my attention to the front door, bright light peeking through the frame and illuminating the wall in a golden sliver. Drops of rain splattered through the crack and wet the floor, and I realized the door was open. I thought
Karra
might have left it that way when she left, but that didn’t make sense. She would have taken the portal seeing how she was carrying Chatterbox. Hard to slip out unnoticed with a severed zombie head that never shuts up stuffed under your arm.

My senses not picking up anything in or around the house, I figured the storm had blown it open. Ethan and Jonas had burnt the wards out when they’d come to collect me the first time, so I wasn’t
too
worried about it, but paranoia runs deep in my blood. I pushed my will out further and scanned the area. There was nothing unusual.

I peered outside. The night was quiet, and the street empty, unlike the last time I’d answered my door. The slight wind fluttered past me and chilly water splashed against my cheeks, the rain blowing straight toward the front of the house. It felt good. I took another sip of my beer and watched the shower for a minute, standing in the doorway. Lightning crackled in the distance and lit up my front yard, drawing my attention to something reflective on the sidewalk. I stepped off the porch and went to where I’d seen the flicker.

It was a silver-looking coin, the size of a half-dollar, lying on the ground. Picking it up, it was heavy in my hand and a little rough, as though it were made of pewter. I glanced at the coin and saw it had a design on its face. It was like one of the old Batman TV series sound effect balloons. Jagged edges in tinted red made it look like an explosion. The word
Bam!
was
printed on it in bold, black lettering.

I looked up to see a flash in the distance, above the rooftops of the house across the street. My mind processed it as lightning, but something more primal screamed a warning.

A bee sting of agony screamed to life at my forehead. My legs collapsed and I was knocked backwards onto the porch, crashing hard into the ground. Stars swirled before my eyes and I couldn’t see. I tried to get up, but my arms and legs were numb. I couldn’t feel them. My thoughts stumbled all over each other as I tried to think.

The stars winked out one by one as blackness flooded the edges of my vision. I felt my body convulse…and then I felt nothing.

Chapter Three

“I told you he’d survive.”

A strange, smooth voice filtered through my ears and slid muffled into my brain. I heard the words, but I couldn’t make much sense of them; they sounded almost foreign. Pain flitted at the edge of my senses, muted and nagging more than debilitating, but it was there. Bright dots danced across the screens of my eyelids, but I was afraid to open them. There was a slight sense of motion and pressure inside my skull. It felt like there was a worm wiggling its way out of my brain.

“Damn. That’s some freaky shit right there,” another voice said from somewhere above me, this one rougher as though it belonged to a lifelong smoker. It sounded clearer than the first.

Cold and dizzy, I lay there as consciousness
bitchslapped
me into coherence and chased the pain away. The skin at my forehead twitched and something warm and wet slid down the side of my head, bouncing off my ear and
thumping
to the floor beside me. Logic and reasonable thought came back, at least as much as I was capable of, and it hit me what happened.

I’d been shot
.

“What.
The.
Fuck?” Fury burned my cheeks and filled my veins with adrenaline. I sat up in a rush and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the barrel of my .45 leveled at my face. My heart stilled in my chest. You think I’d be used to it by now.

“We both know what kind of bullets are in this, so let’s keep it civil.”

I glared past the barrel to the hand holding it, then up the black-clad arm to the man behind it. Dressed in what closely resembled a SWAT uniform, though with no identifying markings, the man who held my gun was older, but there was no taking his age for weakness. Shaved bald, his bushy eyebrows only had a sprinkling of black amidst the gray, but they drew my attention to the swirling green of his eyes. Narrowed, they stared at me from a sharp-featured face without expression. The only sign of life was the tiny flicker of the muscle of his jaw beneath his leathered skin. He reminded me a lot of Poe. He held the gun steady.

“Civil? You shot me in the head.”

“Actually,
he
did.” He motioned to a man standing behind him in the small, featureless room without taking his eyes, or the gun, off me.

Also dressed in SWAT regalia, the other guy was easily a foot and a half shorter than the first, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in girth. His arms stretched the fabric of his sleeves to its fullest, like he was smuggling mutant coconuts. The mass of his chest put McConnell to shame, and his short legs were thick as columns running down from the puffed up flak jacket. A little darker than Katon, his brown eyes stared at me from a round face. Even his cheeks were muscular. He held up a sniper rifle and wiggled it, smiling as he did.

“That’s Captain Emmett Johnson,” the older man told me, once more gesturing to the dwarf. “I’m Colonial Eli Castor, and you are Frank ‘Triggaltheron’ Trigg.”

“Thanks for telling me who I am.” My eyes drifted to Johnson. “I had forgotten seeing how a chunk of my brain was splattered across the sidewalk.” That seemed to amuse him. His smile grew wider.

“Well, Mister Trigg, I apologize for our abrasive introduction, but we felt it best to set the tone of our discussion early so we might head off any possible hostility…on your part, of course. I hope you understand,” Castor stated, as he pointed to a chair at my back. “Have a seat, please.”

“Of course.”
Pleasantries aside, I knew a threat when I heard one. I had no idea who the hell these guys were, but they’d made their point by putting a bullet into my skull right outside my own home. They also knew about the DA slayers and my name—all of it—so they were connected to the supernatural world somehow.