Lucas: Origins Of A Demon (9 page)

BOOK: Lucas: Origins Of A Demon
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“I didn’t expect you to. He’s a president in one of the lower levels. Not well known, but powerful nonetheless.”

“And what did you do to piss this demon off?”

“Damaged his reputation. Made him look like a fool.” Kind of what he did to Leonard actually.

“I see.” Dimitri goes back to his torture victim and cuts of the penis from off the possessed body. The demon squeals like a stuck pig, causing Lucas to wince again, especially when Dimitri sticks the dismembered penis into the demon’s mouth. “Shut up!”

“Can I count on your support?” Lucas asks.

“That depends,” Dimitri says, licking the blood from the blade. “What do I get in return?”

“What is it you want?”

Dimitri smiles. “A favor, one that I can call in at any time.”

“What kind of favor?” Lucas does not like owing favors to anyone, nor being in debt in any way. It undermines the power of his position. But with little resources available to him at present, Dimitri is the only one who can provide him with much needed support when the time comes. Dimitri may be an arrogant loose cannon, but he is also dangerous and that’s exactly what Lucas needs.

“You will know when I ask for it.”

Lucas considers for a moment, then says, “Done. Gather up as much cannon fodder as you can. I’ll be in touch.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

It is just after noon when Lucas gets another visit from Frank Swanson, the Watcher Lucas is hoping will retrieve him the artifact. Not that Frank knows that, or at least he didn’t before. As Frank waltzes into Lucas’ office in the club, the Watcher’s face bruised where he has obviously taken a beating, Lucas quickly determines from Frank’s countenance that Frank is in possession of information he didn’t have before. Predictably for a human, Frank has expected to walk into Lucas’ office and trip him up somehow with this new information. Only Lucas will not be tripped up by anyone.

“I went to check out your demon gang on the Southside last night,” Frank says, helping himself to a glass of Lucas’ expensive whiskey before sitting on the couch.

“Did you now?” Lucas says.

“Yeah. I met Krakus. Nice guy. Into getting high on human blood and throwing mass demon orgies, not to mention dabbling in torture.”

Lucas sits back in his chair, makes a steeple with his fingers. He has never heard of this Krakus. Probably some mid level demon trying to make a name for himself, though inevitably answering to a higher up. Question was, who? “Rough night, I take it?”

Frank nods. “You could say that.”

“I hope it wasn’t for nothing.”

“I found out some stuff. First, tell me your involvement in all this.”

Lucas affects confusion. “I told you, I’m not involved in any way.”

“Feathers.”

Here we go. I’ll play along, he thinks. “What?”

“Feathers. More specifically, angel feathers.”

“Angel feathers?”


Arc
hangel feathers.”

Lucas shakes his head, still affecting confusion, but also smiling underneath. The thing he has been searching for all these years is here in the city, within his grasp at last. Frank just confirmed it. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk?”

“Not yet, no.” Frank takes a drink from his glass. “What would a feather like that be worth to you, Lucas?”

More than you know, Frank, Lucas thinks. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“You’re aware of the power in a single feather, right? I’m sure you don’t need
me
to tell you how
useful
an item like that could be to a demon such as yourself. I mean, in the right hands, the possibilities could be
endless
, right? But only in the right hands. You’d have to know how to harness that power, wouldn’t you?”

Lucas listens patiently, then says, “How would you know about the feather?”

“I did my research, or rather a friend of mine did some research. It’s what we do. Anyway, she found out that in order to pull off this ritual to steal souls, you needed an archangel feather, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Lucas?”

Lucas can’t help smiling slightly. “I may have known about the feather, yes, but my first priority is getting this gang stopped.”

“I’d like to believe you, but I don’t.”

“Believe what you want. I want this gang stopped before they cause too much disruption. The feather would just be a nice bonus.” Lucas could care less about the gang and this Krakus demon. All he cares about is getting his hands on that precious feather. After that, he could deal with any miscreants himself without fear of exposure finally.

Frank gets up, refills his glass then sits back down on the couch. He had sex recently. Lucas can smell it on him, which intrigues Lucas that Frank managed to find time in between being beaten up by demons and finding out about the feather. For a Nephilim, Frank is growing on Lucas. Despite the Watcher’s bullish nature, there is a competency about him that Lucas respects. “What’s your interest in the feather? What do you need it for? You seem to be getting along just fine without it.”

“I want the feather for personal reasons,” Lucas says. “Not for any nefarious scheme that you might be thinking of.”

A snort leaves Frank. “What am I supposed to think? You’re a demon.”

“We don’t all want world domination, Frank. Some of us are happy living in peace.” I’ve learned that lesson the hard way, he thinks, and a flash of memory from his time in ancient Egypt flashes across his mind, jarring him for a second, though he doesn’t let it show on his face.

“Whatever the reason, I’m not your fetcher. If I find the feather, it’s going to the Council.”

It was Lucas’ turn to snort. “The
Watcher
High Council?”

“Well, not the damn city council. Of course the Watcher Council. We have to hand in all artifacts.”

Lucas shakes his head. Hell will freeze over before he lets the feather end up back at the Watcher Facility to be locked in a vault somewhere. “You ever wonder why the Council demands that you hand everything like that in?”

“They lock the shit up,” Frank says. “So demons like you don’t get their hands on it.”

“And what right do they have to do that?”

“Hey, it’s the Council. I don’t make the rules. It’s how it’s always been.”

Lucas leans forward in his seat. “Then ask yourself this, Frank. Where did the feather come from in the first place? Who would most likely be in possession of such a rare item?”

It is pretty obvious to Lucas what is going on. Someone at the Watcher Facility is playing games. The Facility is the reason Lucas came to Mercy City in the first place, because he heard the head of the Watcher High Council had come into possession of an archangel feather. How, Lucas had no idea, because Lucas has spent the last two centuries searching for an archangel feather and has never found one. It was never confirmed to Lucas if the feather actually was locked up in the Facility vaults, at least not until he heard about the gang led by Krakus. And now Frank is confirming it again.

Going by the look on Frank’s face, it has suddenly dawned on him where the feather might have come from. From his own organization. “Shit,” he says.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

After his visit from Isis, things changed drastically for Lucas. Where once he was content to rule from the shadows, he was now filled with a massive ambition to step out into the light and rule the entire lands of ancient Egypt. And he didn’t just want to stop there. Like Alexander the Great before him, Lucas desired to conquer everywhere. He wanted to go down in the history texts as the greatest of all rulers, the mightiest of all leaders.

If he was honest with himself, his new desire to be known as a conqueror and leader didn’t just materialize from nothing. Ever since he was a kid, he dreamed one day of sitting on the throne his father occupied, but knew he never would, as he had nine older brothers who would get the throne before him, and that’s even if they managed to outlive his father, who always seemed in abundant good health, even for his advanced age.

At a certain point though, Lucas buried whatever notion he had of one day claiming the throne, admitting to himself that it would never happen. So he turned his attention to other ways to gain power and influence, namely the dark arts he ended up mastering like few ever had.

But when Isis showed up and told him it was possible he could take the throne from his father and rule over the lands, the long buried ambition took the bait and rose up in him once more. According to Isis, if Lucas just handed over his soul to her, his ascension to power would be a foregone conclusion. In return for his soul, Lucas would have the backing of the gods themselves, even more so than his father, the Pharaoh. “You cannot lose, Lucas Rameses,” Isis whispered in his ear after they had finished their lovemaking, and what sweet lovemaking it was. Lucas had never experienced such bliss in his entire life, not with a mortal woman anyway. Afterwards, as he lay on the bed in complete serenity, he felt like a changed man. He felt self-actualized at last, having now become the kind of man that he never even knew he yearned to become until he became it. The kind of man who would rise up and take as much power as he wanted, and oh, there was so much power out there to take.

 

 

After a short and painless ritual that involved Lucas signing his name at the bottom of a parchment scroll, his soul belonged to Isis. “It is done,” she said, standing over him as he lay on the floor trying to decide if he felt any different without a soul. So far, he didn’t.

“What happens now?” he asked.

“Now,” Isis said, smiling. “Now you begin to fulfill your destiny, Lucas Rameses.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

 

 

It didn’t take long for Lucas to gather up an army big enough to challenge his father, King Rameses II. Even without the backing of the gods, he still would have managed it, given the power and influence he already had at his fingertips.

Then he went to speak to his father.

Lucas hadn’t spoken to his father in over ten years, not since the King banished him from the palace. They met in the King’s private quarters. Two bodyguards stood by the door with swords and long spears. His father sat in a large wooden chair as he drank wine from a gold cup and eyed his son with a modicum of suspicion and barely disguised distaste. The King was too long in the tooth, and too careful, to get misty-eyed over the return of his son. “So what brings you here?” the King asked. “You refused my past invitations. What has changed your mind, my son?”

Lucas stood a few feet from his father, refusing to sit. Despite being nearly sixty years old, Lucas’s father looked good, his dark skin clear and relatively wrinkle free, his musculature still tight under his robes. His dark eyes still held the same look of arrogance that Lucas always remembered, and Lucas promised himself that when he became King, he would not adopt the same arrogant demeanor. “I came to give you a fair warning, father,” Lucas said. He still felt nervous in his fathers presence, despite himself, though he hoped it didn’t show.

“A warning?” The King immediately tensed up as if getting ready admonish Lucas for his arrogance. “What about?”

“I am taking your throne.”

King Rameses II laughed, long and hard. Lucas waited patiently, trying not to be rattled by his father’s reaction. When he finally stopped laughing, Lucas’ father shook his head and said, “My son, you have grown more arrogant than I ever thought you would. You used to be the humble one out of all your brothers. What happened to you?”

Lucas gritted his teeth for a moment, then made himself relax. “I don’t expect you to understand. I just expect you to know that your rule is coming to an end, father. I have the backing of the gods themselves. If you surrender now, you will avoid much bloodshed.”

The King’s face darkened. “The gods? What would you know of the gods, you fool? You know nothing!”

“I know more than you think.”

The King stared hard at Lucas for a long time. “No one challenges me in my own palace,” he said. “Not even my son. Guards!”

Within seconds, Lucas was seized upon by the two bodyguards in the room. They took tight grips on both his arms. “You are making a mistake, father.”

The King rose from his chair, drawing himself up to his full height. “You are the one who made a mistake coming here. Your mistake will cost you your life.”

At that moment, Lucas forced his way inside the heads of the two bodyguards through mental will alone, whereupon he turned their brains to mush inside their skulls. Their grip on his arms loosened immediately and the two guards fell dead to the floor. Lucas stood looking at his father, who was appalled but still defiant as he drew his sword and went to attack Lucas. Lucas put out a hand and the King stopped dead in his tracks like he had run into an invisible brick wall.

“What witchery is this?” the King said. “Release me!”

Lucas did not release his father, but instead exerted a slight pressure in the King’s skull, forcing the King to drop his sword and wince with pain. “I could kill you now in an instant,” Lucas said. “But I will not, father. I will allow you to fight me on the battle field so you can die with honor.”

BOOK: Lucas: Origins Of A Demon
3.97Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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