Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) (5 page)

A grunt escaped him as he hit.
 
The wind was knocked out of him, and his guns went sliding across the floor.
 
He thought he may have also broken something in his left forearm in that last roll down the stairs.

Only barely acknowledging his newly acquired injuries, Matt deftly moved to retrieve his guns.
 
He ran, as well as he could with the injuries he’d sustained, to the door he’d come in.
 
His car should only be about thirty feet from the exit.
 
Provided no one was waiting for him there, it should provide a pretty easy getaway.

The door was open when he got there, casting an eerie glow of moonlight into the room.
 
He couldn’t remember if the men who had brought him in left it open or not.
 
It seemed a little too inviting.
 
With a .45 in his right hand and a .38 in his throbbing left, he approached cautiously.
 
Matt wasn’t sure he could fire straight with his arm messed up, but he might have to at least bluff it.

As he feared, someone was standing at his car.
 
The man who now leaned against the passenger side of the car was at least six inches taller than Matt, had dark hair, sported a drab gray overcoat and a pair of glasses, and peered at Matt through them with intensity.
 
This was, undoubtedly, the cause of Matt’s mental alarm.

A deep voice, devoid of warmth and a human soul intoned, “Matthew Hartley, I presume.”

Matt leveled his guns at the demon and walked slowly toward his car.
 
“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“I’ve heard of you,” the other retorted blandly.
 
“And you fit the description,” he added, looking Matt up and down.
 
“You’re 5’9”.
 
You weigh close to one hundred seventy pounds.
 
Your hair’s light brown, and your eyes are blue.
 
You’re also—I must say—dressed to kill.
 
But the most telling fact is that you are walking out of
this
building, armed with no less than three guns and a hand grenade.
 
What, no blade?
 
You also have a little blood on your shirt from one of those four mafia goons you just gunned down.
 
Now, how about you give me a chance, huh?
 
All I want to do is help you.”

Matt laughed and stopped where he was.
 
“You want to help me?
 
You have three seconds left on this earth, motherfucker; you better do what you can.
 
Since you know me so well, you probably know that I’ve killed every demon who’s come to me looking for a fight.”

Without missing a beat, the other replied, “Jeremiah has lied to you.”

“What?”

“I see my time has been extended.
 
Jeremiah is using you and others to accomplish something that he is unable to do himself.
 
He will try to make himself king, and the three of you will be lucky to make it out alive.
 
I know Jeremiah well.
 
I used to work very closely with him.
 
He cannot defeat what he is up against by himself, so he is recruiting fodder.
 
Even in the very unlikely chance that he should win, he would probably kill you.
 
He might let you live, but do you really want to take that chance?”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Patheus.
 
I’m surprised that he has never spoken of me.”

“You’re a demon.
 
Why should I trust anything you’re telling me?”

Though it was hard to see in the soft glow of the street lights, Matt could make out that Patheus rolled his eyes.
 
“If I didn’t think you could be saved, I would have already killed you.
 
I’m sure that Jeremiah has probably promised some pretty impressive things.
 
However, I’ve decided to offer you a better deal.
 
Do you mind putting those guns down now?”

“No,” Matt said.
 
“I think I like them fine where they are.
 
I still don’t trust you.”

“Oh, really?”
 
And then the demon was gone.

Matt spun around, aiming the gun in every direction, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing out there.
 
When he turned back around, there was a movement, and something slammed into him hard, knocking him to the ground.
 
His guns again went flying in different directions once more.
 
A large, clawed hand took hold of his throat and was lifting him off the ground.
 

Matt found himself staring at a creature that seemed to be shrouded in complete darkness.
 
There were no discernible eyes at all.
 
The sockets just looked like openings into black holes.
 
The face and arms resembled the shiny blackness of onyx, and they seemed almost translucent.
 
There was movement beneath the surface of the “skin,” like the pulsing of black blood.

The voice swept over Matt like a breeze on a frigid day.
 
“It would be wise of you to reconsider whom you trust and whom you do not.
 
Up until this point, I had not been hostile, and you repay that by threatening me at gunpoint.
 
Where I come from, that’s considered uncivilized.
 
And your guns won’t do much to me, anyway.”

Matt was losing consciousness.
 
He knew if he didn’t do something soon, he would be dead.
 
Jeremiah had given him something
special
for a situation of this severity, and it was no surprise that Patheus hadn’t identified it along with all the other weapons.
 
A knife sprang from a hidden sheath strapped to Matt’s forearm.
 
Mustering what remained of his consciousness and energy, he shoved it up through the demon’s arm; it cut so easily, and the knife’s point appeared through the top of the monster’s arm.
 
The skin around the knife began to sizzle, and tar-like blood oozed out of the freshly created wound.
 

Patheus bellowed, and his grip on Matt’s throat weakened.
 
Matt, taking advantage of the opportunity, pushed his foot against Patheus’s chest and propelled himself backward away from the monster, ripping the knife loose.
 
As soon as Matt hit the ground, he had drawn yet another gun, a second .45, from the waistline of his pants, but once more, there was nobody there.
 

“Didn’t see that one coming, did you?” Matt whispered to the air.
 

He retrieved his weapons, returned them to their holsters, and ran to his car like his life depended on it—for good reason.

***

Jeremiah walked out of the house, still looking like he did after the battle; Alex couldn’t tell if his demeanor was solemn or contemplative.
 
And, with the background of night, Jeremiah looked truly ominous.
 
Alex did not feel that he had completely recovered from what he’d witnessed, but he decided he might be ready to continue his mental battle with a fallen angel who only dealt in ambiguities and riddles.

“Finish the story,” he told the demon.

Just then, a ringing of a cell phone came from Jeremiah’s general area.
 
Jeremiah held up one finger to tell Alex to hold on for a minute, but Alex wasn’t going to have it.

“No.
 
You brought me into this...this...I don’t even know what this is.
 
I don’t know how long I’ve been gone, and my parents probably have the FBI out looking for me.”

“Your parents think you’re dead.
 
Your car was found in a lake bed almost seven hours ago, and it was reported that the body in the car was a positive match for you—down to the last detail.
 
The body your parents viewed obviously wasn’t yours, but I paid good money to make it seem that way.
 
They’re grieving as we speak.
 
Now, please, I really have to take this call.”
 

He pulled out the phone, flipped it open, and answered, “Yes?”
 

Alex just stared at him in awe.

Jeremiah stood there for a second, not saying anything.
 
Alex could hear someone speaking in very raised tones on the other end.
 
“Settle down,” Jeremiah said.
 
“You’re not dead, which surprises me....What is it with you people thinking I’m a liar?...Uh huh....Patheus?
 
Really?
 
I didn’t expect to hear from him so soon.
 
Don’t underestimate him—he’s not working alone.
 
I will guarantee that someone is pulling his strings....It’s a little late in the game to be thinking that I will betray you.
 
He played the oldest trick in the book—a demon offering you the world for a change of heart....Well, did you get me more mercenaries?...
 
A trap, huh?
 
In that case, I guess you killed them....
 
Probably a good thing....
 
Yeah, I told you it’s a special knife....
 
Listen, I’ve got some things I have to take care of.
 
Go back to where the two of you are staying, and see if Liz knows anything.
 
Remember that I will be meeting up with you shortly.”
 
With that, he flipped the phone closed, hanging up without even giving the other person a chance to respond.

He looked at Alex.
 
“Okay, I’ll finish the story.”

“My parents think I’m dead?”

“Yes, and that’s how it’ll stay.”

“No,” Alex yelled at him.
 
“I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just do that to people.”

“I told you to keep calm.
 
Raising your voice isn’t going to intimidate me.
 
You have been chosen to do something very important.
 
If people were to know that you’re alive, where your location is, and who your parents are, you could all die.
 

“Furthermore, I am quite aware of who I am and what I can do.
 
What seems to be increasingly difficult is convincing you of that.
 
If you could know all of the ends and outs of this, you might feel better, but I certainly wouldn’t.
 
You are going to have to start having a little faith in me.”

“Faith?!”
 
Alex laughed.
 
“With people calling you, accusing you of lying to and betraying them?
 
I don’t think so.
 
You won’t even trust me enough to let me in on the fairly important details, like...I don’t know...that I might very well die, that my parents are in mourning for no good reason, that you can cause people’s bodies to explode into flames.
 
I think these are all pretty important.
 
You may think I don’t need to know, but I think I don’t need to help you.
 
I think that my parents need to know that I’m alive.
 
I think you’re a psycho who has nothing good planned for me or anyone else.”

Jeremiah sneered at him.
 
“This may surprise you, but you weren’t chosen for your brains.
 
Your face is what’s important, your tone of voice, your way with people, but I am definitely not concerned with what you
think
.
 
You should have faith in me
because
of what you just witnessed.
 
I have risked my life and the lives of many others to ensure your safety.
 
I have no plans for you one way or another, beyond getting you ready to use what you have.
 
Goodness comes from someone else—someone who still has the ability to love you ridiculous humans.
 
And, incidentally, He is the one who chose you.
 
So don’t blame me when you feel frustrated.
 
I know the stress of trying to perform perfectly.
 
You always have free will.
 
You can walk away from this right now, but you have no idea what it’ll cost you.
 

“There may come a time when you can go back to your parents.
 
There may come a time when I feel confident that you can keep yourself safe.
 
There may even be a day when I no longer feel like I have to fear that grunts from some unknown adversary will rip your head off and nullify all that I’ve worked for.
 
But, judging from the events of late, I don’t believe that day will be anytime soon.
 
So you can go, but I’ll consider you dead, and I will not waste my resources on you.