Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1) (16 page)

Fueled by the electricity that permeated the air, they all moved to and fro with purpose, like a well oiled machine. Their hosts and associated attire looked to have been plucked right out of a high level corporate office in London and plopped right in against the decrepit innards of the long abandoned institution.

A few sat at neat little ergonomic desks lining the walls to both the left and right of the entrance arch, typing away on their glossy keyboards in front of state of the art computers. Others stood at tall wood tables distributed between the rows of desks, their gnarled tops spilling over with a wide variety of exotic ingredients. Some were pleasing to the eye, others delicious, as evidenced by a demon stealing strawberries off the table next to his station when nobody was looking. A few were downright disgusting and appropriately demonic, like the murky jar containing the brains of feral mice floating in a vinegary stock made from the full skeletons of fairies.

Yet more demons milled busily like bees in between the desks and tables, heading in and out of the run down chamber. However, all the hustle slowed to a crawl when three large shapes appeared at the entryway, following close behind Keli and Agares. Their mere presence sapped the room of its energy and the rabble made sure to clear out of the central pathway as they walked in.

Keli had donned another outfit, smoothing out the lines in her one piece of tight, form fitting leather. A deep cut plunged down the front, over her breasts and past her belly button. Its outer edges were trimmed with small black feathers, ruffling ever so slightly with each deliberate and slow step. Hardly an outfit that screamed leadership, many whispers began to fly like notes passed around a classroom when she sashayed by. It was the general consensus that one in her position should be wearing attire that garnered respect, instilled fear, or some combination thereof, instead of percolating mere lust like a majority of hers did. That said, it was pretty apparent that she gave no fucks about it. To her any sin, especially one of the seven, was something to be celebrated.

The same could not be said for Baal, one of the greatest of the seven Hell Knights who were once proud kings under Lucifer's grand rule. Time and again, he made sure plenty knew of his grievances, but those concerns and complaints were often overruled by the voices of Knights Paimon and Astaroth, who found themselves siding with her many times more than him these days.

Baal had fallen back, passively defiant, positioning himself the furthest away from Keli at the rear of the small entourage. He looked up at both Paimon and Astaroth while shaking his head subtly.

They were bookending her like some whoreific grimoire, likely mumbling ass-kissing rhetoric in each ear to see who could receive the most brown nosing credit. It was a term he coined and was particularly proud of, one most fitting for his views on their relationship.

Baal continued unabashedly behind them and was not dressed, unlike the other two, in suits, business casual, or pathetic human attire. He was traditional, his large body clad with elaborate plate armor that was forged in the deepest pits of Hell and used during the great war in Heaven ages ago.

The armor was obsidian, its close fitting helmet filigreed with traces of cold silver. His fiery eyes peered out from the slits, made more menacing by two spires that rose up on either side like horns. His large torso was covered by a full cuirass and etched in the center of it was his ornate sigil, glowing bright and orange like molten rock. The remainder of the armor was equally as robust, traces of magma lining the dark suit’s menacing spikes and sweeping curves.

His presence managed to do what Keli’s could not: exude fear-inducing intimidation upon those around him. Demons nearby shaded their eyes and turned away as he thundered by. When he opened his mouth to speak, his hoarse voice came forth from beneath the helm and caused those around him to tremble. What he said, he did so openly and without care.

“Onoskelis…” he began, hating the humanization of her name, “I have been asking you since being called forth to this dump: what is the purpose of this meeting? We have too many important things going on right now and your trivial distractions are only serving to cause major delays.”

She continued to walk as if she hadn't heard a thing. The riff between the two of them was had been building for some time, but was about to reach a head, threatening to burst like some great throbbing boil.

Her blatant disregard of him caused anger to flare in his gut. “Listen here, I -”

“We are almost to the circle,” cut in the tall man to her left, his tailored blue suit clinging well to his body as he stretched and ran a hand through his crest of red hair. He turned slightly so he could see Baal out of the corner of his dark eye and then continued.  “Respectfully, Baal, silence yourself until then.”

“I was not talking to you, Astaroth,” Baal stated, waving a gauntlet dismissively his way. “I know traditions, something this bitch could use a major lesson in, and I do not need anyone's permission to speak. I can see now that the Prince of Inquisitions has been reduced to a mere lap dog, as if parading around wearing a soulless ginger weren't enough.”

“Stop it, the both of you! No wonder a congregation hasn't been called in years. You should know better than to bicker in front of the lessers!” the other man snapped, his blood red suit and jet black hair standing out from the drab blacks and grays of the other demons about which he spoke. “Be silent until we -”

“Reach the damn circle, yes Paimon,” Baal interrupted while shaking his head, pinching his fingers together mockingly as if they were speaking his words. He then pointed it ahead. “Ah, it seems at last we have arrived, so I bid the two of you to shut the fuck up.”

“Always the instigator!” Astaroth popped off, turning to face him with fists balled up and sparking. He was not intimidated in the slightest by the dark armor in front of him, so similar to what he had also worn during the war. “For one that touts the old ways so frequently, how quick you are to forego the very foundations of our beliefs. The hierarchy is everything!”

Agares crossed the threshold first into the celebrated circle, actually a line of dried blood that outlined a semi-circular area where the cafeteria’s kitchens once were. It was about twenty feet in diameter, its primary purpose to serve as a place of council and debate amongst the great demons. The size and shape of this one paled vastly in comparison to the ones of old that surrounded entire temples. Keli and her two yes-men took up in the rough center as Baal followed, last to enter.

He thrust a metal arm out to his side expectantly and suddenly, a large sword appeared in his hand out of thin air; its blade like ruby and its skull-adorned hilt of black diamond. Twisting in his hand like a key, smoke rose up from the line, wrapping around the five of them like an opaque shield. From the inside, they could see out at the inquisitive faces in the room, but to an outside observer all sights and sounds could not escape past the swirling barrier.  

“Now may I speak?” Baal asked sarcastically, shoving the blade into the cracked floor. It singed back at its master as if to grant him permission.

“Baal, you must learn to control yourself! We are already having enough trouble keeping the lessers in line,” said Paimon, “and certainly do not need to stoke the fires of their protests. We would be much further along in our plans if we had a more… obedient workforce. Operations around the Great Lakes alone could be doubled if we didn’t have constant bickering amongst the staff.”

“Workforce?” Baal scoffed at the notion. “That Paimon, is one of our greatest problems right there: they are not workers; they are slaves meant to serve us. Back to the hierarchy you all are so quick to tout, there shouldn't even be a need to reference performance or output or the numbers that you cling so desperately to like haggard maids.”

Astaroth shifted his weight from leg to leg, back and forth to stem his temptation to silence Baal. He knew damn well he could not do a thing about it; at least not yet. Even a pop to the chin would be difficult with that helmet on.

“You speak to me as if this budding insurrection is my fault,” Baal continued as Astaroth dipped his head and turned away, “yet I am not the one bringing in new age ideas and corrupting the older, purer ways.” He directed his gaze over to Keli, who had remained silent while her dogs attacked. “Need I remind all of you that I am the only one appropriately dressed for this occasion?”

The two Knights couldn't dodge that fact but Astaroth had reached his fill of Baal’s arrogance and started to retort, “To deny change is to invite one's own -”

Keli spoke at last, “No need to bother, Astaroth. Baal is closed minded. Ancient.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Baal asked, clearly not offended. “I'm not surprised to hear such things from a lesser that is wearing shoes that are far too big for her own hooves”.

Back and forth more insults were exchanged; heavy, powerful and hurtful.

“In Lucifer's name enough!” shouted Agares over the noise, having had enough. His outburst managed to silence them all but quickly he shrank back to normal, realizing all eyes were now on him. “My…  apologies,” he muttered, bowing his head low.

“No need to apologize, Duke Agares. You're right of course,” Paimon said reassuringly, noting that Baal and Astaroth were continuing to eye each other up. “You two, save the cat fighting for later and if you must, you can whip out our vessel’s dicks then to measure who is bigger. Keli, Your Grace, please… why have you called us here?”

Moving to the side so she could address everyone in front of her, she began. “As we’ve wasted precious time, I’ll cut straight to the point. I think it is time we began implementing Infernal Tide.”

All three knights were wide eyed. That was certainly an end goal of theirs, but to suggest starting its operation now while a majority of preparations hadn’t even begun was a bit surprising.

“What brings you to this decision?” Paimon asked apprehensively.

“This would be quite the large undertaking,” Astaroth followed, taking Paimon’s tone of voice as his own.

“No, Astaroth, this would be quite the
stupid
undertaking at this stage,” Baal said with absolutely no filter.

“I didn’t say we would be finishing it by tomorrow,” said an embittered Keli. “I merely stated that I think it's time to begin implementing it. Why, you ask? Gage Crosse appears to be heading west…”

Those words were enough to renew Paimon’s interest and Astaroth nodded as well, but Baal was still being his stubborn self.

“You do realize where he is likely heading, don't you?” Paimon said. “One of the Solo -”

“Of course I do,” he interjected. “I’m not ignorant of the facts, but my point is, we shouldn't be leaping right into the final plan. These things take time, patience and skill. There are several hurdles to overcome first in order to ensure such a colossal plan flows without issue. With the rabble now protesting the way they are, do you really think things will go smoothly for us and that we can afford such things? We must bring order to that mess first. My stance is to focus on freeing the other four Knights from their prisons and using them to oversee operations before we tread too far down this path.”

Keli exhaled. “There just isn't time for all of that.”

Baal ended up laughing at her. “We're immortal, girl! There is all the time in the world.”

“If we are right, Gage will arrive at his home later today,” she said, “and should he get his hands on it, our problems will multiply. What would you have us do then?”

“Why are we bowing to the whims of this mortal?” questioned Baal, who could not fathom the power this one stupid mortal had over all of demonkind. “Are we so crippled now that a bag of watery meat holds that much sway over us? He should be killed. Now.”

Paimon rubbed his forehead. One of the problems with human hosts was that the demons were subject to their ailments and a massive migraine had started to build in his head. “What do you think we have been trying to do for the past three years, invite him over for brunch?”

The mood was fast becoming rocky and Agares wouldn't be interjecting this time. He slinked behind Keli as Baal continued to assert himself over the others, who continued to side with her in turn.

“We would be far better off if Dajjal were here,” Baal finally proclaimed.

Keli's eyes burst into flames at the mere mention of that demon. “Absolutely not!”

Paimon stepped between the two of them and his expression was gravely serious. He addressed Baal directly. “You cannot think the Deceiver would care about any of us if he were above ground?”

“Yes, I do think that,” Baal affirmed. “He would be doing a damn sight better than this debacle we called an operation. ‘The Night’ we call ourselves, yet we act as though we are blinded by the dark, instead of using it to our advantage. Dajjal would keep Hell first and foremost.”

“I have had enough!” Keli shouted, overwhelmed by her hatred of Dajjal and Baal’s support of him. “What is your problem with me, Baal?”

“Have you not been listening,
lesser
? Oh, where shall I begin?” he mocked. “You are playing a very dangerous game, miss, and you best realize this before you end up… getting hurt.”

“Your Graces,” Agares finally cut in with a hushed breath, “the masses can be updated later on our plans. You both should go and calm yourselves so we can discuss matters with level heads.” His eyes raised slyly and they met with Baal’s, ending their journey with a wink.

“I've grown tired of this,” the armored demon expressed. “We are obviously done here. Call me when there is need for a real Hell Knight.”

Grasping the handle of the embedded sword, he yanked it out of the floor and turned it again in hand. In an instant he vanished, the smoke around them burning itself away to leave the four of them exposed to the gawking control room.

“Don't you all have work to do?” Keli asked as she stormed out of the room, all eyes on her for all the wrong reasons.