Resurrection (28 page)

I turned back to Longinus and jumped as I realized he was walking toward us. My heart sped up involuntarily as he came to stand before me, the cold chill of fear dancing along my spine. Karra, all smiles, wrapped herself around him in a tight embrace, burying her head in his chest. He pulled her in close with one of his massive arms while the other still gripped his sword, his dark eyes locked on mine.

“I remember you.” His voice was quiet, yet powerful.

I hesitated to confirm that, given what my uncle had done to him.

“Triggaltheron? Lucifer’s whelp.” He remembered, saying it without rancor, much to my surprise. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the blade point first into the ground and proffered his empty hand to me. “I am in your debt.”

Even more surprised by that, I shook his hand, doing my damndest to keep mine from trembling. “That’s not necessary,” I told him, manners kicking in instinctively before reason could talk them out of declining.

“Perhaps not, but you have earned my gratitude nonetheless.” He tightened his hold on Karra. She moaned happy, looking unwilling to let him go. He smiled at her response. “It seems I have returned to a world far different than the one I left. Indulge me a moment?”

I nodded, as if anyone in their right mind would say no.

“God and Lucifer: where have they gone?”

“I wish I knew,” I answered honest. “Tired of the war, they reconciled and left the world behind. No one knows where they are.”

One eyebrow raised, he looked at me unbelieving. “Reconciled?”

“It’s true,” Karra told him, pulling away from him just a little, though her hands still clutched to his frame.

His face a mask of uncertainty, he sighed, slow and thoughtful. “The order?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s not much of that these days. The soldiers still fight, but there are no generals to direct them. It’s chaos. Angels battle angels, each believing they know God’s will best. Our brethren do as they’ve always done, but now there’s no one to rein them in. And through it all, the humans are largely oblivious, caught in the middle, same as always.”

Longinus took it all in, shaking his head. “You say there are no generals, but when I awoke, I sensed an old soul whose energy felt familiar, yet I couldn’t recognize.”

“That’d be Baalth.”

His eyes widened a moment, then narrowed. “He’s come into power?” Not waiting for an answer, he took his daughter’s hand, pulling her close again. “It seems I have much to learn about this new world of ours.” He kissed Karra’s forehead gently. “I must also make up for lost time. Farewell, Triggaltheron. My conflict with Lucifer is not yours to inherit. Think of me should you find yourself in need.”

He reached down and reclaimed Katon’s sword, then bowed his head. I did the same in return.

Karra smiled at me, her eyes telling me sorry. “I’ll find you, and we’ll talk.” She mouthed thanks and gave a quick wave. A moment later, they were gone in a crackle of energy.

The last man standing on an empty field, I went over to check on Rahim. Battered, his ear swollen and leaking blood, he was at least awake. His head was propped up against the body of a fallen gaunt and he was looking off the direction I’d come. He had a smile on his weary face.

“I saw him die.” His voice was weak, but there was a satisfied lilt to it. Though he probably regretted not being the one to deliver the deathblow to Daartan, he could feel satisfied the knight got what was coming to him for his mistreatment of Katon.

While I, too, was glad Daartan was gone, not to mention Lilith, I wasn’t sure how to feel about it given the big picture. Despite his seeming kindness and the offer of help, Longinus had a track record that suggested we could be in for a rough ride. Reborn in a world with no God or Devil to keep him in his place, he was a superstar supernatural who could tear existence apart, if that was his desire. He was the Anti-Christ after all.

That was just it. We had no way of knowing where his head was after four hundred years of being dead. Would he return to business as usual, no longer leashed to Lucifer’s whims, or would the new order bring out the best in him, motivate him to reinvent himself? Only time would tell.

The not knowing scared me.

Not up to thinking about it right then, Pandora’s Box already open, it was time to go home. There was no sense in worrying about what hadn’t happened yet. So thinking, I helped Rahim to his feet and half-carried him over to where Veronica and Poe lay, the poison still holding them immobile. Setting the wizard down beside them, I contacted Michael through the open mind-link, and let him know we needed a ride.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It’d been a couple of weeks since Karra raised her father, and while there’d been a rash of storms lighting up the skies in the area, the world was still here. That’s a good thing, I guess.

Though I hadn’t seen or spoken to her, she sent me a letter apologizing for what she’d done, and hoped I would understand. I did, but it didn’t make me feel any better or worry any less. With my help, she’d set a wolf loose in the hen house and it was probably only a matter of time until the feathers started to fly. When they did, it’d be on my head.

I’m not big on guilt or regret, they only limit your options when the chips are down, but looking back, I could have done things better.

Unintentionally helping to raise an Anti-Christ aside, not everything turned out so bad. Katon had been rescued, and after a couple of days, he recovered fully. He was pissed about losing his sword, but there wasn’t much that could be done about that. The cleanup crew found one of Karra’s blades that was left behind and passed it on to Katon. It wasn’t the same, but it’d have to do.

Rahim’s injuries turned out to be relatively minor, though compounded on top of his previous wounds, he was gonna need a while to recover his strength. He grumbled a lot, but he was gonna get better.

Best of all, I’d gotten to beat Marcus’s ass. That was definitely a checkmark on the plus side. Maybe the next time we butted heads, he’d keep that in mind and be less of an asshole. I doubted it, but I could hope.

We also rid the world of Daartan, his revenants, and Lilith. The last was a mixed blessing.

Though they weren’t close, Veronica still took the death of her mother hard, the roots of their relationship tangled and deep. It’d be a long time before she was okay with it, but the loss opened her eyes a little, so maybe it was for the best. She’d even taken a step toward rebuilding our burnt bridges, returning my uncle’s blood to me. She still wouldn’t tell me why took it in the first place, but I was content to have it back. It was definitely worth a couple of planks.

Lilith’s body was collected by DRAC and stored away in one of their facilities for safekeeping. Abraham learned to keep his enemies close and their corpses even closer.

As for Baalth, not much changed. His power still gnawed away at him, but what he passed on to me must have been just enough to keep it from boiling over. He even took the news of Longinus’s return without devastating any more of the city, which was nice of him.

Michael Li sure appreciated it. He and his mentalists had enough to do, wiping the minds of the citizenry and making it so there was no concerted effort to look into what had happened at Old Town or at the airfield. Those who he missed, Baalth’s money took care of. Comfortably unaware, the city wound back down to business as usual as the rebuilding began.

I was kept busy by Abraham, going over every detail I knew about Longinus and Karra; he wanted to know
everything
. It was a long and emotionally draining process, forced to remember my early years spent in Hell with Karra, without the buffer of alcohol. Some of the memories were great, things I hadn’t thought about in forever, but a lot of it was just painful. I left his office every day feeling beat, my heart a sodden mess.

Chatterbox helped to lighten the mood though. I’d gone back to retrieve him, to give him a proper burial, only to find him alive and as well as a bodiless head can be. For whatever reason, he remained animated, surviving the death of his master. Once Veronica freed him from her leash, he popped right back to his old self, breaking out into a rousing rendition of “Some Heads are Gonna Roll,” by Judas Priest. Laughing all the way home, I plopped him down in front of the TV and set the remote beside him, close enough so he could work it with his tongue. As it turned out, we had the same taste in television too. I was gonna need a raise to pay for all the porn he’d ordered, though.

In my free time, what little I had, I practiced using my newfound magic. Baalth gave me just enough to cast spells—simple bolts of energy and the like—but apparently the skill to wield it comes from somewhere less apparent. It was easy to pull the trigger, but my aim and intensity left a lot to be desired. There were a few minor mishaps where I torched the walls black in the shielded basement, but nothing got too out of hand. I was slowly getting better, but it’d be a long time before I got good.

Worn out from my attempts to harness my energies, I was kicking back with a beer, watching the fights with Chatterbox when I heard a loud crash outside. The house sensors murmured a quiet alert just before the doorknob jiggled.

Too tired to risk using my magic, I snatched up my gun and went to the door. A loud, booming knock met me halfway there. I cast a quick glance up at the camera monitor placed near the door, and sighed, slipping my gun into the waistband of my jeans.

Whipping the door open in a huff, I asked, “What do you—” The rest of my sentence died on my tongue when I saw her.

Scarlett, her blond hair singed with black and pieces torn out in chunks, stood before me. Her face was stained with crusted blood, dark scabs forming over the deep gouges running down her neck, to her chest. Her blue eyes were streaked with red, deep black circles beneath them. Her clothes were shredded in places, black and yellow bruises peeking out from beneath.

She looked at me, tears welling up in her eyes. In a rush, she grabbed my shoulders, her hands shaking and cold, her grip fierce.

“I need your help,” she gasped, her voice crackling like a forest fire. “Heaven has fallen.”

Raised on a diet of Heavy Metal and bad intentions, Tim Marquitz has always been interested in writing, but it wasn’t until about 1995 the urge became a compulsion. However, it would be many years later before the ability matched the interest. Fortunately, the two have reconciled...mostly.

Writing a mix of the dark perverse, the horrific, and the tragic, tinged with sarcasm and biting humor, he looks to leave a gaping wound in the minds of his readers like his inspirations: Clive Barker, Jim Butcher, and Stephen King.

A former grave digger, bouncer, and dedicated metalhead, Tim is a huge fan of Mixed Martial Arts, and fighting in general. Involved in the Live Action Role Playing organization, Amtgard, since he was fifteen, he derives great pleasure from bashing people into submission.

He lives in Texas with his beautiful wife and daughter, a neurotic dog and their finger-crippling cat.

Other books by Tim Marquitz from Damnation Books:

Demon Squad: Armageddon Bound

Sepulchral Earth: The Long Road

Sepulchral Earth: The Temple of the Dead

Skulls