Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei (36 page)

“It’s obvious. When Chris hit Karl, Asmodeus was forced out and he had to go somewhere quick or fizzle up.”

“Karl’s wife was there too. Asmodeus could be in her.” Though I had a tough time imaging that. I doubted Mrs
Roeben would have been a push over.

“But that doesn’t fit the facts. Asmodeus said he’d have to get someone else to discover who murdered Gerry. That would indicate you were his first choice.”

“It was Ivan who came to me, though. Not Chris.”

Erin gave me a patient look. “And who put the idea in his head? Chris came here the day before Ivan called you. He came to find out if we knew anyone who might have a ‘different’ means of looking into the case.”

She had a point. A very good, and probably correct, point. I carefully kept my mouth shut on the thought perhaps that was a big part of why she’d been grumpy with me that first day. Passed over right in her own office—twice.

“So how did Asmodeus know about you, and how did he link you to this firm?”

My hand shot into the air. “Oh, miss, I know this one.”

Erin wasn’t as amused as she should have been. Arms crossed, eyebrows raised, she waited for my answer.

“The supernatural community is as gossipy as a CWA meeting and Kermit is the biggest mouth around. All that stuff with Veilchen, Martínez and the werewolf was like verbal crack for a while there. You, me and Merce were legends. A few questions here and there and Asmodeus would have had all the information he needed.”

Erin looked more than a trifle horrified.

“And,” I continued, my brain kicking into high gear, “that would explain how he hid himself that night at Ivan and Brad’s.”

“Hid himself?”

“The whole reason I risked bringing Mercy was so she could sniff out any potential wackiness around Chris. All she got was garlic. Once Mercy got a whiff of that, she backed off. Didn’t get close enough to scent anything more.”

“Even if there had been no personal connection between Gerry and Ivan, he would have come here.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not going to escape this madness… ever.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” she said with more than a touch of irony. “What now?” No irony there, just grim determination.

I looked at my watch. “I’ve got an hour or so before I have to be at the airport. I’m thinking breakfast, a shirt and a taxi home. Not necessarily in that order.”

“You can’t go home and get back to the airport in any amount of reasonable time. And just because the sun’s up doesn’t mean you’re protected from Amaya.” She grabbed the car keys and headed for the door. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

While Erin was gone, I made good use of her phone and the bathroom at the end of the hall. By the time she returned, I had a good portion of the day sorted out.

“Eat,” Erin said, plonking a take away bag of hash browns and muffins in front of me. “Dress.” A pile of clothes was shoved into my arms. “And hurry. If we leave now we can beat the traffic to the airport.”

I dressed first. Jeans that were about the right length but bigger in the waist than I was. There was a belt to fix that, thankfully. I’ve already been through the indignity of talking to police in a public arena sans pants. The ensemble was completed with a dark blue chambray work shirt. ‘Bill’s Electrical Services’ was embroidered over the pocket. The
Ls were lightning bolts.

Felt more than a little strange wearing Erin’s husband’s clothes, and to make it worse, Erin wouldn’t look at me for longer than a second or two at a time. The ride down to the car park was, understandably, tense. The drive to the airport was not so tense. Erin let me eat in the car and then demanded her half of everything.

“We’re still missing something,” Erin said, licking hash brown crumbs off her fingertips.

“Coffee?”

“No. Information. What is it Asmodeus wants?”

“The research. He wanted me to find out who killed Gerry because he thought that person was the most likely suspect to have stolen the research.” As I spoke I realised just what Erin was getting at. “But why did he help them in first place? He’s not an altruistic soul.”

Erin twitched her left shoulder where his mark was. “Not in the least. What do we know about his past?”

“He’s the Lord of Lust and... I’m tapped.”

Glancing at me, Erin muttered, “Get yourself a library card. An hour of reading yesterday and I know more about your enemy than you do after three days.”

“Okay, Ms
Bigshot Detective, let’s hear it.”

Bristling, she said, “The first knowledge of Asmodeus was in ancient Persia, where he was known as
Aeshma. In Persia, he was one of their archangels. In Hebrew, he was part of the seraphim, the highest order of angels, before he fell from Heaven. When the Christians adopted him, he became the third deadly sin, lust. All in all, he was one nasty character, breaking up marriages, inspiring jealously and anger wherever he went. Then,” she said with storytelling amounts of portent, “Beelzebub betrayed him to King Solomon, who bound him and had him flogged and tortured.”

Solomon. So that’s why Amaya kept harping on about him. He could draw demons into our realm bodily and when he’d had Asmodeus, he hadn’t treated him well.

“He seems to have bounced back well,” I muttered.

“Oh, there’s more. Solomon got cocky, going on about how powerful the demons under his command were, but that he, a mere man, was their master. Asmodeus tricked Solomon into releasing him and Asmodeus kicked Solomon so far out of Jerusalem it took him years to get back. While Solomon was trying to get home, Asmodeus ruled in his place.”

Things clicked into place with resounding, fatal clunks. “That’s what he wants.”

“What?”

“To rule. Kermit said demons are bound by the hierarchical laws of their realm. Run of the mill demons don’t challenge the Lords, and the Lords don’t challenge the King. Asmodeus can’t go upward—”

“So he goes sideways,” Erin finished, her fingers white around the steering wheel. “He’s here to take over the world.”

On that happy note, we reached the airport and found Nick Carson waiting for us out the front. When I say waiting, I mean he was happily surrounded by a group of young girls, grinning and signing autographs.

Erin and I watched for a moment. Then we checked the photo, certain this was some international mega super star, not a shark researcher. It was him.

“Nick Carson?” I called out as we approached, just to make absolutely certain.

“Hey, Matt, right?” He glanced at my chest. “Or is it Bill?”

“It’s Matt. Borrowed shirt.”

“Ah, right. Just a moment.” Nick said quick goodbyes to the girls, which included several hugs, and while they reluctantly left, he picked up his bag and looked around. “Which car?”

Erin pointed to the BMW. He headed for it.

“What a flight. I should travel at this time of day more often. Hardly anyone else on the plane. Got a whole row to myself. Never been to Brisbane before. Is it always this muggy so early? Should have packed more shorts.”

“He’s babbling,” Erin noted, proving her credentials as an investigator.

“I guess it’s not every day some guy rings you up to tell you your dead girlfriend is really a demon and you’re the only one who can stop her from going on a mad killing rampage.”

“I guess.”

“Who were the girls?” I asked Carson as we piled into the car.

“Shark groupies.”

“Shark groupies?” From the tone of Erin’s voice, you could have been forgiven for thinking she hadn’t just spent the night in the company of a vampire, a ghoul and a couple of demons.

“Yeah, you get them. Don’t know that they’re really into the sharks, though. More into the guys who are. You know, the danger aspect. It’s a real turn on for some.”

And it probably didn’t hurt that Carson was good looking in a daredevil, boyish, roguish way with a strong hint of swashbuckling thrown in—the ship and all. At least, that was how Erin had described him. Not sure I saw it, personally.

“So, you were saying on the phone that you’ve found Amaya,” Nick said, his tone casual. “She’s not dead, not a poltergeist and apparently a demon. I mean, she can get fired up sometimes, but I never would have gone so far as to say demonic.”

Erin glanced at me as she stopped at a round-about. Her expression clearly said ‘denial.’ I grimaced in agreement.

Needless to say, Nick and I argued. By the time Erin had turned off the Inner City Bypass she’d declared that if we didn’t shut up, she’d stop and we’d have to walk the rest of the way.

At the Mentis Institute, Doc
Angelshire was on the steps waiting for us. I introduced him to the others and he led us inside. It was well before visiting hours so we got a few strange looks from staff as we headed up to Karl’s room.

“This is highly unusual,”
Angelshire said to me. “I wouldn’t normally allow so many strangers in the room with the patient.”

“I understand, doc.”

He looked at Erin and Nick over his glasses. “Bodyguards. Indeed. I do trust that such a pair of thugs as yourselves will behave. We have many sensitive cases on this floor. Any undue fuss will upset their progress. Hmm?”

My pair of thugs nodded. Erin looked amused, Nick a combination of confusion and resentment. He didn’t believe his presence would stop his girlfriend from ripping my head off. Of course, he was close to performing said deed himself. Whether he would stop her or cheer her on was a touch and go subject.

Angelshire insisted on staying in the room with us.

“I feel I must restate the fact that, even with Beatrice’s approval, I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I felt you hadn’t had a substantial effect last time,” he said as I settled into a chair by Karl’s bed.

The last time I’d seen Angelshire, he’d been well on his way to rationalising away the image of a winged, loin-clothed man. Even though he retained his dry, academic tone as he spoke, there was a haunted touch around his eyes that said he hadn’t been successful. Still, he was steering clear of mentioning the D word and I would respect that.

“Understood. I hope that, with what I learned last time, I’ll be able to have an even better effect this time.”

“I do too. Proceed with your…” He waved vaguely. “Treatment.”

“Treatment?” Nick hissed to Erin. “What’s going on?”

“Shut up and watch,” she hissed back.

Blocking them out, I concentrated on Karl. It was before breakfast today, so there was no porridge. No tears either. Maybe I had made a difference last time. Or perhaps I’d driven him so deep that tears were impossible. Here’s hoping for the former.

I fell into Karl faster than before and found myself back in the time-space warp room. There was a couch this time, not a tight fitting lecture-hall chair. I lounged on the couch while Karl went on with his endless equations. The same resistance was there when I stood and headed toward him, though it felt weaker. I didn’t test it too far, veering toward the blank boards again. Thanks to the early morning phone call I’d put in to a sleepy Mrs Roeben, I had what I hoped was a better plan of attack this time.

Picking a board a good distance down the line, I wrote out the words to ‘Yesterday’ by the Beatles. Between the lines of lyrics, I put in extra comments. Things like ‘He’s gone.’ ‘You’re safe.’ ‘I’ll kick his arse for you.’ ‘Beatrice says come home.’

“I have already told you it will not work.”

Oh yay. So far, the plan was working nicely. I finished off the song, put the chalk down and faced the remnant of Asmodeus.

“Thing is,” I said, walking to meet him half way. At least I think it was half way. The room stretched and bent around us so I didn’t know exactly where we ended up, but it was away from Karl and the blackboards. “I don’t believe you. Why should I? Art thou not the father of lies?”

Asmodeus smiled and it was a chilly little thing. “I think you are mistaking me for someone else.”

“Really? Now who would that be? Oh, yes, of course. Lucifer. The Old Devil himself.” I looked Asmodeus over critically. “No, you’re not him, are you.”

Muscles twitched in that impressive jaw. “No. He is my Lord and King and I am his loyal servant.”

“Indeed you are. Right up there beside him.” I held up my hand up high. “Or at least, on the next step down.” I let my hand drop a bit, then a bit more. “That’s the scuttlebutt, anyway. Bet you worked hard to get there, right? Had to defeat your fellow Demon Lords, yeah? That’s just great. I mean, it’s so good to achieve your goals. Bet you’re not yet done gloating to the others. I wouldn’t be. Let me tell you about the time I took out a Primal vampire. Sliced her head right off her shoulders before she even saw the knife coming. What an achievement, right? I’m still using it to get free beers down the pub. You know what I’m talking about, don’tcha. Yeah, you do.”

From the look on his face, no he didn’t.

“Me? I’m not resting on my laurels, not at all. I’ve got this rep now as one kickarse monster slayer with a bad attitude. I figure, why not use it, eh? Gonna nail me a couple of demons, maybe take out some more were-creatures, already got a troll under my belt, or should that be bridge, eh? Get it?”

Safe to say, once more, no he didn’t.

“I’m heading for the top of the pile. Not going to stop until I’m sitting up where the air’s thin and the adulation echoes. What about you, huh? Got any more plans to move upwards?”

I gave him, oh, perhaps a second to answer.

“That’s right. You’re as high as you can get, aren’t you. No one, and I mean no one, can topple the old boy off his throne of skulls. Guess this is as far as you go, Asmodeus. Always the general, never the—”

King. I had meant to finish on king. Instead, I finished up on the floor, on my face, which hurt from more than the impact with the floor. A bare foot found my ribs and I hurtled a good distance before stopping against a wall. No time to get my breath back before Asmodeus was leaning over me, grabbing me by shirt collar and belt, tossing me like so much bad trash.

Funny thing about being in someone else’s head—a lot of you doesn’t make it in. Here, I just seemed to be Matt’s thoughts. No psychic whammy to draw on and, in this particular instant, no brain numbing berserker rage to fall back on.

Still, I managed to find my feet before Asmodeus got to me this time. I met him with a good imitation war cry and got a fist in my gut as a reward. Got him a good one, though. I hit, or very nearly hit, the tip of his wing as I went down. He swept past me, or tried to. That wing I missed hitting, I was able to grab on and haul back. Unprepared, he came crashing down on top of me.

From there on, it became a bit blurry. Okay, a lot blurry. There was kicking and punching and maybe a couple little bites here and there. And then, somehow, there was a moment of weightlessness, followed by a moment of hardness, completed by a moment of ‘oh shit’ as a half dozen blackboards collapsed on top of me.

Man, I was out of it. Really out of my head. As I lay there, buried in blackboards and chalk, I could have sworn I heard John Lennon.

Two of the blackboards went flying, revealing me to Asmodeus. I waved. He knocked my hand aside.

“I may not have the pleasure of crushing your bones between my hands,” he said, and he seemed a bit happier than before. “But at least I will have the joy of knowing that when I swallow your soul here, all that will be left in the world is your empty, slowly dying husk.”

No one had threatened to swallow me before.

Asmodeus opened his mouth wide and then opened it even wider.

Dear Lord. He meant it, literally.

With a mighty roar, a little brown shape barrelled into Asmodeus. They went flying out of my field of view. Before I could scramble out of my nest of boards, everything began to fade. Within moments, there was nothing but the grey room, and then there was Karl.