Hell's Pawn (25 page)

“And the real reason you want to wage war on Heaven?” John pressed.

“L ucifer’s plan,” Asmoday said. “B efore he disappeared, he was secretly organizing this war. He hadn’t told any of us about it, but the plans were left behind when he went. G athering the pantheons together, the strategic advantages they each had, all of it mapped out in careful detail. He knew what he was doing.”

“Well, that’s no surprise,” John snorted. “That’s what the Devil does, right?”

“I n fact, it isn’t,” R immon said. “L ucifer had more power in Hell than he ever did as an angel by G od’s side. That G od still had more power never bothered him. L ucifer wasn’t a fool. Second place out of billions was more than enough for him.”

“B ut he was still scared of something.” Asmoday’s chins wobbled with greater velocity as his panic increased. “W hy else would L ucifer plan a war that repulsively shares the glory with other pantheons? He knew his days were numbered!” J ohn sighed. “Did it ever occur to you that G od may have whisked the Devil away
because
of this plan?” The Archduke squirmed uncomfortably, and even though he knew it was cruel, J ohn couldn’t help but continue. “M aybe L ucifer got bored after all those millennia and decided to shake things up, have another go at that celestial throne. G od caught wind of it and decided to deal with him once and for all. And now you are walking in those very same footsteps. Why, any minute now…” Asmoday’s chins ceased quivering and his jaw set in anger. “Then explain the other pantheons, mongrel! W hy would G od run around kidnapping all of their leaders?

They were even less of a threat than L ucifer! O r do you really think they were all planning the same war?”

John didn’t, but he liked seeing Asmoday get his back up like this.

R immon cleared his throat, his instincts as ambassador kicking in. “We believe that even G od may have abdicated his throne. There may have been a coup for power. The M inisters of O rder began appearing seven human centuries ago, around the end of the crusades, and have been growing in prominence ever since. There was a dramatic increase in their numbers around the time of the disappearances. G od has often been silent, but never so much as in the last century.”

The news hit J ohn like a stone. The idea that even G od had gone missing was incomprehensible. He pictured kidnappers shoving an old, white-bearded man into the trunk of a car. The image was ridiculous, but so was the idea that something could overpower the most powerful deity in all creation. Nothing was greater than G od, right? Unless the issue wasn’t as simple as who was strongest. M aybe the position held the power and not the person. Asmoday had spoken of the great power he received once Lucifer was gone. Had the same happened elsewhere?

“Does this mean that someone else is the leader of Heaven?” John asked.

“I t could,” R immon said. “E ven so, we suspect it will take time for the usurper to step into the void of power left by G od. B ut once he does, it will be too late for any of us to act.”

“We fight now,” Asmoday said, “or we spend the rest of eternity as slaves.”

* * * * *

J ohn stirred his drink with a thin cocktail straw and wondered why it smelled like cinnamon. He had asked for a hot tea, but what J ohn received was foamy with cream and resembled a la e. R immon had said something about chai as he brought it to the table. J ohn gave a cautious sip. I f anyone but the incubus had chosen it for him, J ohn would have sent it back.

They sat together at a street side café, their table in view of the steam coach parked further down the alley. Dante had been glad for some downtime when they had gone to visit Asmoday, but he was supposed to take care of B olo. I nstead they found the dog tied to one of the coach wheels. B olo was happily watching the parade of people walking by, wagging his tail and occasionally getting petted for his efforts.

Now B olo dozed under the table as they waited. They would only be able to reach their next destination with Dante’s help and were stranded until he reappeared, but J ohn was glad for the chance to think things over. Asmoday had known less than J ohn would have liked. The Archduke was only following instructions left by his predecessor, which wasn’t encouraging. J ohn couldn’t help feeling that they were all playing at soldiers without knowing the war, and that the generals had abandoned their troops to an unseen enemy.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Rimmon said.

“Fine, but you’re ge ing a bargain. I don’t like that we’re following instructions purportedly left behind by L ucifer. That’s like finding a treasure map with a big black

‘X ’ on it. Way too convenient. S omeone was cunning enough to get the jump on the Devil, but they left his secret plans behind? I ’m starting to think they were placed there by whoever did the Devil in, which would mean we’re operating under the enemy’s instructions.”

R immon smiled around the edge of his coffee cup until he had finished sipping. “I don’t think I’ve ever met such a suspicious mind,” he said with a chuckle.

“I ’m just ge ing started. I f someone
is
strong enough to take down the most powerful gods of each pantheon, why stop there? They could have finished the job and taken down the smaller gods, if that’s what they wanted. Then there’s R a, who certainly appeared free to me. No, we’re still missing a piece of the puzzle, which means we don’t know if what we’re doing is right or not.”

“I think it is,” R immon said without hesitation. “W hatever we’re up against had reason for wanting the realms separated and at each other’s throats. The glass man in the Norse realm only revealed himself when a truce became imminent. B ringing the pantheons together is the first step in the right direction. W hat we choose to do once we’re all together is another matter.”

J ohn sighed. “I hope you’re right. W hoever is in charge of P urgatory probably wants to shape the rest of the afterlife in its image, and that frightens me. B eing dead should mean having more freedom than we had in life, but something out there wants to make us all prisoners.”

R immon set his coffee down and considered J ohn carefully. “You’re an old soul, J ohn, but don’t let them sell you their fear. We won’t fall. Not as long as we’re together.”

That “together” no doubt referred to the different pantheons rather than the two of them. W hich was a shame really, because he wouldn’t mind exploring that particular avenue. J ohn felt, and not for the first time, like asking R immon if he even stood a chance.

“I know the question on your mind,” Rimmon said.

John refused to blush, and for once the rest of him complied. “Do you?”

“It’s the same thing you asked Dante.”

Uh, no.
Rimmon definitely didn’t know what John was thinking.

“You want to know what it is that makes you special,” Rimmon continued.

“Is there enough time in the day?” John quipped, earning him a smile.

“I mean what Asmoday kept from you that first day in his office. Dante was telling you the truth when he said that it’s something good. I hope one day to tell you everything you deserve to know, but doing so means we will have to say goodbye.” John cocked an eyebrow. “And you aren’t ready for that?”

“None of us are, but I believe what you said about freedom. You should choose for yourself. If you insist on knowing, I will tell you now, but please heed my warning.”

“If you tell me, I won’t be able to see you again?”

“Not for a very long time, I suspect.”

“And Dante or Bolo?”

The dog grumbled from beneath the table.

Rimmon smiled. “I doubt there are many places Bolo couldn’t follow you.” And it was that smile that was terribly unfair, because not seeing it anymore was the price of learning the truth, and R immon had to know that J ohn wasn’t willing to pay.

Wasn’t interest always obvious? E motions like these were always visible to the naked eye.

“Dante’s back,” J ohn said, nodding at the steam coach. “And by the look of things, he’s very, very drunk.”

J ohn wouldn’t have minded joining him. He was glad for the distraction. This way he wouldn’t have to tell R immon his choice, wouldn’t have to acknowledge that he was— W hat? I n love with the demon? J ohn knew so li le about R immon. He didn’t even understand what an incubus was. Not fully. He didn’t know if demons were born or somehow created, if they had families, went to school, or even experienced childhood. He didn’t know R immon’s past and barely knew any details of his present.

Logically, John shouldn’t feel anything for him but friendship.

E xcept that he had touched R immon’s heart, his essence, and had unequivocally known in that moment that R immon was good. That he was also handsome and intelligent had been obvious from their first encounter. E verything else was just details. L ove wasn’t blind, but it was very, very stupid, and J ohn was having an increasingly hard time ignoring its call. B ut he had an escape plan. I f his feelings ever became too much to bear, then he would ask R immon to tell him the truth, and they would be parted.

“L et’s do this,” J ohn said, pushing away the bastardized tea and standing. “G e ing Dante to play dress-up will be easier while he’s drunk.” Dante had opened the coach door and was resting his upper body on one of the velvet cushions while the rest of him was still in the street. A series of miserable groans accompanied their efforts to get him upright again.

“We have something for you, Dante,” R immon said as they leaned him against the side of the coach. “Something valuable.”

“Goodies?” Dante asked.

“O h, yes.” R immon took a long, thin box from his cloak and opened it. E ven in the limited light of the alleyway, the contents glimmered.

“W hat’s that?” Dante asked, some sobriety returning to his interested eyes. I n the center of the box lay a necklace, its gold band wide and thick in order to support its six apple-sized jewels. To each side of this necklace were two smaller bracelets, each sporting one large gem.

J ohn couldn’t say much for their style, but their worth must have been phenomenal. The jewelry had a presence of its own, as if it were a living being. This is what R immon had meant regarding true value in the afterlife. The resemblance of precious minerals meant nothing; it was their power and singularity that gave them worth. Asmoday’s eyes had been greedy and reluctant when he had handed them over, but he had no choice if they were to reach their next destination. These three pieces of jewelry were called the R egression R egalia, and their power was about to be demonstrated.

“Take a look at these beauties,” R immon said to Dante. “There isn’t anything else like them in all of existence. Their value is incalculable. W ouldn’t you like to wear them?”

“I’d rather pawn them, but whatever gets your rocks off,” Dante slurred.

“You’d better help him,” John said after Dante made a clumsy swipe at the box.

He watched as the demon adorned Dante with each piece, resisting the urge to crack a joke. No ma er how special the R egression R egalia might be, they were still tacky. Dante looked like a child playing dress-up in grandma’s old costume jewelry.

The innocent image was somewhat ruined when the Irishman passed out.

“Do we need him awake to do this?” John asked.

“It’s probably better if he isn’t. Are we ready?”

J ohn hesitated. They hadn’t even explained to Dante what they were about to do.

O n the other hand, there was a good chance that Dante wouldn’t have immediately understood. John hadn’t at first. He never had much faith in the idea of past lives since everyone turned out to be C leopatra, C aesar, or some other glorious historical figure, but according to Asmoday, reincarnation was real. Now J ohn had a chance to see proof.

He reached for the bracelet on Dante’s right wrist, the one set with a gigantic diamond, rather than the bracelet with the dark stone. O nce touched, the diamond began to glow, sending a chain reaction across the jewels of the necklace. S oon Dante was invisible behind their bright light. W hen the light eventually faded, Dante had undergone a complete transformation. He now was in his late fifties, his red hair thin and his beer belly huge compared to his skinny arms and legs. He opened his eyes and glared up at them.

“I s there a reason you two poofs are staring at me?” he said in a thick Australian accent.

“Not particularly,” Rimmon said, reaching down to touch the diamond again.

“I thought he was supposed to be C hinese?” J ohn said as the Australian man was lost to the light of the gems.

“M ust be one life further back,” R immon said. “I sensed it while possessing him, but this is hardly a perfect science.”

John sighed. This seemed a tremendous effort just to hitch a ride to the Taoist realm.

Their normal method of using a redeemed soul wasn’t possible, since no viable candidates were available in Hell. R immon had suggested using the R egression R egalia to bring Dante back to a previous life, hopefully one with a connection to the realm they were trying to reach.

The lights cleared a second time, revealing a small Asian woman with white hair fashioned into a bun. S he had lived a much longer life than either of her successors, and had likely died of old age. S hrewd eyes considered each of them before she stood up. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully.

“You are not my ancestors.”

The first impression was that she spoke E nglish with an impossibly thick accent, when in reality she was speaking her native J apanese. B ut language is universal in the afterlife, and J ohn could understand her perfectly. He did a mental double take.

Japanese?
He didn’t know the language, but he’d seen enough subtitled anime to differentiate it from Chinese.

“She’s not—”

“I know,” Rimmon said.

“Maybe we need to go back another life?”

The demon shook his head. “This is the one I sensed. W hat religion are you?” he asked the woman. “Shinto?”

S he nodded briskly, her eyes darting down the alleyway in each direction. Was she thinking of running? J ohn changed his position, keeping her between him and the coach. Rimmon picked up on this too and moved closer to her.