The Demon Beside Me (22 page)

“But who were you?”

Once again, she gave me a carefree and innocent smile, but then her eyes flicked over to Caleb. “I am a Godslayer.”

Before I could do anything more than frown, Caleb was on his feet. Angelic magic and might poured from his presence, and every single demon in the cafe immediately snapped to attention. “You are the Betrayer!” he snarled, and his sword immediately appeared in his outstretched hand.

“Caleb, wait!”

The sword flashed down, splitting the table in half. Famine didn’t even flinch, even as the sword passed within an inch of her nose. Tink and I spilled back out of our chairs and the few true humans in the cafe started to scream. The Asmodeus guards leapt into action, a few of them taking care of the human witnesses, the rest moving in on Caleb. I held a hand up, warning them off, even as Caleb’s sword flashed forward. Famine caught the tip of his sword between her thumb and forefinger. “You did not let me finish,” she said.

Caleb’s muscles strained. “Finish what?”

“What do you think he did as he died? He cursed us, just as Lucifer cursed the Thrones. He didn’t fight back either, Gatekeeper. He knew it was to be this way. He surrendered his life.”

I held my breath. If either Caleb or Famine said one thing wrong, his identity would be blown, and nothing I could do would stop the demons in the cafe from jumping on him. Tink caught my gaze and held her hand up. A bloody rune decorated her hand. I shook my head. There wasn’t any reason for us to panic. Not yet.

“Why?” Caleb asked.

“Do you think that’s a question I can answer?”

“Yes.”

Famine let go of the tip of Caleb’s sword, then gestured for him to sit down. Caleb sat. The table snapped back into place, as if it had never broken. Tink and I picked our chairs up as well and sat as well. The tension in the room started to drain. “He cursed us. All four of us. Our identities merged. I am not solely the Betrayer, as you call him, but he is a part of me.”

I drummed my fingers on the table. “How is that possible?”

“Omnipotence,” Tink said.

“Exactly. Power that overwhelms.” Famine nodded. “Not only were we cursed, we were given power, and purpose. There was only one piece missing, and that was the other side of the scales.”

“Lucifer,” I said.

“So you’re formed out of the identities of the Betrayer and the demons who accompanied him, as well as inheriting the powers of God and Lucifer?” Caleb shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Not exactly. Those four were used as a template for our design. We are completely constructed beings, not born of life, but born of power, power which came from both sides.” Famine reached across the table toward Caleb. “We are a force of change in this world, Gatekeepers. We are here to divert the course of events away from what will be, to what should be. We are bound by contract to correct the mistakes of the past.”

I leaned back in my chair. “So you’re trying to tell us that the Lords of Heaven and Hell had this planned out?”

“The Schism was an error,” Famine said. “Both agree on that in principle, though it took far too long for them to admit to it. At that point, the differentiation between angels and demons had gone too far. They could not bring them back together as the races had become distinct, and neither would compromise their own people. In the end, what they could both agree on was that they needed to die, in order to free their respective people from their overwhelming will. They agreed that humanity was the key to bring angels and demons together once more. Finally, they agreed that while they would attempt to guide their people together peacefully, they could not force them together as they had forced them apart. And so, we exist as a tool for the Gatekeepers, who are the ones who have passed a simple test to demonstrate that cooperation between all three races was possible.”

“A tool,” I said.

“It was their hope that through visiting damage upon the human world, it would draw the Host and Choir together to aid them.”

I shuddered. “And instead, so far, I’ve screwed up and used your powers to push us further apart. I wish Conquest or War had been so forthcoming.”

Famine’s hand rested on mine. “If you know what will come about as a result of your actions, you see further into the future than we do. Don’t be afraid.”

“No, he shouldn’t be afraid.” Something thumped into the plastic tabletop, hard enough to crack it, just an inch from our hands. Tink leaned on her knife and got right in Famine’s face. “You’re the one who should be afraid. What sort of monstrous arrogance does it take to do this? Why do you hate humanity so much?”

“This isn’t about hating your race,” Famine said.

“Then what the hell is it about?”

“Because you aren’t a race.”

“What?”

“Humanity is a fractured, immature species, Anna. You are broken along lines corresponding to the place where you live, where you were born, the color of your skin, the language you speak. You were not consulted in this matter because who would we consult? Every government? Every single group of rebels rising against their government? Every tribe and clan? Every town and village?”

“That’s exaggerated for effect.” Tink put just the right amount of scorn into her tone. “The demons are separated by House, aren’t they? The angels are stratified by rank. They have multiple structures too.”

I shook my head and saw Caleb smiling. “Anna,” he said. “Famine’s point is that humanity doesn’t answer to a single authority. The Host answers to their High Council. The Choir answers to the Seraphim. Humanity has never had a central government. You exist in a state that we passed out of long before the Schism.”

“We have enough examples of central authority that went terribly wrong,” she protested. “We fear that level of power. We aren’t like you!”

Famine cleared her throat. “You’d be surprised at how much humanity resembles our past incarnations.” Before Tink could continue, the Horseman plucked her knife from the table and handed it back to her. “I have already said too much. Gatekeepers, your decision remains. Where shall I strike?”

“What will the effects of your actions be?” I asked.

“Within days, you will hear of massive crop failures and similar disasters. Don’t take it as a literal famine. The damage is mostly economic in nature.”

I looked across the table at Tink, then over at Caleb. “What do you think?”

“Based on what we have heard here,” Caleb said slowly, “I wonder if we should take action against a well-off country or region, so that we can attempt to convince the Host and Choir to act.”

“Acting against some sort of major power would also create some sort of power vacuum,” I said.

“We don’t want to do anything that would destabilize a region, let alone the whole world,” Tink said. “What we need to do is act against a region that everyone will want to help. If we can get the world to buy into the idea, maybe we can get your people to do so as well.”

I leaned forward and grinned. “It’ll be easy to get the Host to buy in. All I have to do is point out that if we’re going to lose everything to the Choir anyways, we might as well spend all of our resources trying to help. Maybe it’ll even shame the Choir into acting as well. That is, if you think the Seraphim are capable of feeling shame, Caleb.”

He snorted. “That’s a good question, but I believe I can at least force it into the general consciousness of the Choir. It might shake them up a bit.”

“So that brings us again to the central point. Where?” I asked. “Famine, any advice?” The Horseman had her head down on the table, either sleeping or pretending to be asleep. For a moment, she looked cute again.

Caleb shook his head. I looked across at Tink and she scowled, but I could tell she had something on her mind. “It’s nothing,” she said.

“What?”

“Well, I was thinking about a place that most of the world would love to help if something went terribly wrong. It’s sort of dangerous though, because they’re almost certifiably insane, but I think it’s worth the risk.”

“So tell us already.”

She glared at me. “North Korea.”

I considered it. They were dangerous, yes, but their economy was already in shambles. Pushing them over the edge could very well result in an uprising, one that the world couldn’t ignore. Western governments would jump at the chance to step in and neutralize the threat of what they considered a rogue state. South Korea would consider it a chance for reunification. China wouldn’t be happy at the possibility of a new threat, but it would also neutralize the cancerous growth on their border.

“It sounds acceptable to me,” Caleb said. “You’re right, it’s dangerous, but I don’t see any other place we could affect that would have the impact we need.”

“I don’t like thinking about what it’s going to do to their people,” I said.

“They’re already living on the verge of starvation under a totalitarian regime,” Tink said. “They practically worship their Great Leader, who I’m pretty sure is just plain nuts. I don’t think we can make it much worse than that.”

“All right. So I can influence the Host. Caleb can attempt to shame the Choir into following suit. Tink, do you think that you can pass a message up to the Northeastern Regional Conclave? I assume there’s a higher level that they can pass the word along to. We’ll mobilize everything we can. Maybe we should even consider going there ourselves.”

“Not on your life,” Caleb said. “That’s a security nightmare. Imagine what would happen if Victor found out what ship or plane you were on.”

“Oh, please. We could use part of the portal network to cross to South Korea or Japan.”

“So imagine what would happen if he found you in Purgatory.”

“What, do you think he could find me in the few minutes it takes to cross from one portal to another?”

“Do you really think it would be worth the risk?”

I sighed. “I don’t feel right about doing it and then staying here. I think we at least have the responsibility of seeing this happen.”

“We have a higher responsibility than that,” Tink said. “Demon, far be it from me to encourage your cowardice, but this time you do need to think about staying alive. The best thing for you to do is to find a hole to hide in for the next two months.”

“I agree with Anna,” Caleb said. “If that wasn’t obvious already.”

“I still don’t like it, but you’re right. Damn you both. Famine. Wake up.”

Her head popped up as I shook her. “So, North Korea?”

“You were only pretending to sleep.”

“Do you really think I need to?”

I smiled and she smiled back. “Thanks for the help, Famine.”

She winked at me. “My brothers are going to be pissed off at me. So, Gatekeeper, shall I exercise my power?”

“Go to it,” I said.

Famine stood up. With a resounding crash, a black horse smashed through the main entrance of the cafe, the glass melting away in midair. The little girl turned into an armored knight between one second and the next, vaulting up onto the back of her horse and seizing the reins in one hand. In the other, she held a pair of balances high. The visor pointed toward me, and I nodded.

“Gatekeeper,” she said. “One more thing. You have a dangerous spell upon you. It lingers.” Before I could respond, her horse kicked and bore her away through the ceiling, leaving a blazing afterimage in its wake.

I blinked and the image faded. The entrance was back in one piece, as if it had never been shattered, and not one person in the cafe had even reacted. “I guess that was meant just for us,” I said.

“They do enjoy their dramatic exits,” Caleb said.

“Well, let’s get on with this,” I said, pushing my chair back and standing up. “We’ve got a lot of fast talking to do in the next couple of weeks.” I had more than that on my mind, though. Some sort of lingering magical effect? It had to do something with my inability to convert ichor. Only two mages had access to me during the past two months, as far as I knew. I suspected I knew which one had left me a parting gift.

The results of the famine were beyond my wildest hopes and fears. Two days after we met with Famine, news reports showed major crop failures sweeping the nation. A simple bug ate through their food, something that was resistant to their primitive pesticides. The next day, thousands flooded the capital, begging their Great Leader for help, food, relief from the hunger gnawing at them.

The reaction of the Great Leader was obvious to everyone outside of that country. Troops marched in. Safeties came off. Unlike Tiananmen Square, there was no man who stood in front of a line of tanks. No one took pictures. The military simply faced off with thousands of starving civilians.

They followed orders.

Even North Korea couldn’t hide what had happened. Rumors had it that in the days following the Pyongyang Massacre, several of their officers defected. Other rumors said that several South Korean intelligence agents had broken cover to report what had happened. Even more rumors said that the US had watched it live, with satellite cameras focused on the city as the first shots rang out.

I assumed all of the rumors were true. I watched the news along with millions of other people, the eyes of the world focused upon the mysterious rogue state. News pundits wondered if this was going to be the event that overthrew the government. I suspected it would be, but I had rather specialized information.

The turning point arrived two weeks later when the DMZ suddenly came alive with civilians. The North Korean military was always prepared to deal with would-be defectors, but even the most heavily militarized border in the world couldn’t deal with the number of civilians heading for them. In some places, the civilians were turned back. In others, they were forced back. Those who survived kept returning. Rumors had it that the Chinese border was equally flooded.

Twenty-eight days after I had authorized the famine, they finally reached the breaking point. The DMZ was once again flooded with refugees, but this time, they refused to leave. The military was hesitant to open fire on their own people a third time. They may have been starting to feel the effects of the famine themselves. In several places along the border, the People’s Army broke down and allowed people to flee south. Some of them may even have followed. Some of them may even have survived their flight.