Katherine Bailey pulled into the parking lot outside Jesus’ apartment block. Cramped with garbage, burnt out wrecks, derelicts, no functioning vehicles. As the headlights flashed engaging the alarm and the doors all clunked, their locks briefly securing them, she looked around. Under the stairs at the side of the apartment block she saw a kid, young, dirty.
‘How much would someone pay you to tell them this car was here, waiting to be stolen?’ she asked him, pointing.
The young boy, no more than twelve at most, smiled, his dirty, hard face glowing slightly through the grime. His dark skin shined under the pale luminescence of the few unbroken lights. ‘Twenty bucks usually.’
Katherine grimaced. ‘Twenty bucks? Phew! Business good?’
The boy’s smile broadened. ‘Not really.’
Katherine crouched down in front of him, reached in her bag for some money. ‘Tell you what. How about I give you thirty bucks, and you stop anyone from taking my car?’ The boy nodded vigorously, stretching out one grubby hand. Katherine held the money out, then pulled it back just before he could grab it. ‘You’re not going to stiff me are you? I can trust you?’
The boy nodded again, his smile so innocent despite the fact that he was up this late making unsavoury deals to prevent grand theft auto. ‘I’m honest, lady. My word is my band,’ he said, his eyes serious.
‘You mean, your word is your bond?’
The boy giggled. ‘Whatever.’
Katherine handed him the money. ‘I’m relying on you, my friend, okay?’
The boy saluted her like a cheeky private, tucked the money into his jeans pocket. Katherine smiled and headed for the stairs to the apartment block’s front doors. Thirty bucks! Pretty damned expensive parking fee. Still, it was a hell of a lot cheaper than an insurance hike for a stolen car claim, not to mention the thought of being stuck out here without a vehicle. She knew the car was guaranteed to be gone if she just left it there. Paradoxically enough, kids like that little guy outside actually were pretty honest in their own way. She had kept her car safe in a similar way a few times now. Rates were rising though.
There was a crackle from the speaker on the doorbell. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Jesus, it’s Katherine.’
‘Hi, come on up.’ There was a buzz and a click as the door released. Katherine tried to ignore the noxious smell that was encrusted into the very walls of the place from years of abuse, piss, vomit, a dozen other foul ingredients. She stepped carefully over the inert forms on the stairs, careful not to wake them from their stupor. Or discover they wouldn’t wake up again. A syringe crunched under her heel as she turned onto the landing leading to Jesus’ apartment.
She saw Jesus’ apologetic little face peeking through the door as she approached, a grin splitting his tanned features as she caught his eye.
‘How’s it going, Jesus?’
He stepped back from the door, holding it open for her. ‘Very good, very good. Please, come in.’
Jesus’ apartment was a pleasant relief after the stairs and hallway leading to it. It was warm, bright, tidy, clean. Everything the rest of the area was not. A little oasis in a hideous desert. Jesus engaged several deadbolts on the door, their heavy thunk reassuring, before he turned to face Katherine again. ‘You want drink, Miss Katherine?’ he asked, rubbing his hands nervously together, moving from one foot to the other.
Katherine sat down in an overstuffed, orange fabric armchair. Straight from the sixties, comfortable beyond its years. ‘Sure, what do you got?’
Jesus grinned impishly, his smile not unlike that of the boy downstairs. ‘Tequila? Or I have little whisky or beer.’
‘I’ll take a beer, thanks.’
‘Okay.’ Jesus disappeared through a plastic bead curtain, clinking sounds of bottles and glasses. He returned a second later, held out a Budweiser and a glass. The cap was already popped. Katherine smiled her thanks, gently tilted the glass to pour the beer. Jesus did the same, sitting down opposite her in an identical chair. The only difference between the two chairs was the slightly more threadbare arms on the one in which Jesus sat. The TV was on, the sound down, black and white cars chasing each other through rainy streets.
‘Not interrupting your show am I?’ Katherine asked, nodding toward the set. The beer tasted good.
Jesus shook his head. ‘I see enough already. Same as all the others. The black man with the shiny head,’ he pointed at the driver of one of the cars as it skidded down a litter strewn alley, ‘he going to catch the bad guy. The bad guy is not the Italian he chases now though. He will work it out.’
‘You got it all worked out, huh?’
Jesus shrugged. ‘Most these shows, they all the same underneath.’ His lined face was sad for a moment. When he looked up from the TV he was smiling again. ‘You want to see fax papers?’
Katherine wondered how much it had cost him, in money and soul, to get across the border, away from the dangers of his previous life. Into an infested shithole like this. ‘Sure, let’s see.’
Jesus grabbed a large manilla envelope from a rickety wooden side table. ‘Is all in there, Miss Katherine. Is interesting stuff.’
Katherine took a swig of her beer, put it on the floor at her feet. She opened the envelope and shook the contents out. There was a map, with handwritten notes here and there, rough arrows, circled town names. A brief note from the foreman of the site, informing Pedro Sanchez of their find. Apparently the site was being financed by Pedro himself, not through the museum. Interesting. If all this was correct, Pedro could just have hooked himself quite a lucrative little find. There were various progress reports, salvage of some bones, remains of some buildings. Then there was a full report detailing the tomb they had uncovered, with supporting photographs. The photos were not too clear, the photocopier struggling to pick out the detail that the fax machine had already blurred. There was one picture, taken underground, of a middle-aged man with a scrubby beard and a heavily patterned poncho, grinning at the camera while pointing to a small alcove which housed a glassy, stylised skull, reflecting the light from the camera flash. After that was a close-up of the skull, with a dirty, wrinkled hand resting beside it, presumably for the sake of scale.
Jesus stretched his neck to see which picture Katherine was so fascinated by, but said nothing. He was quiet the whole time as she looked through all he had for her. After a few minutes she looked up, her expression showing her pleasure. Jesus grinned when he saw that. ‘Good?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes, Jesus, this is very good. What more has happened since these pictures were taken?’
‘As far as I know, nothing more. Pedro, he say to man on telephone not to move anything or dig any more until he arrive. He say that he want everything properly logged and he will oversee.’ The expression of concentration on Jesus’ face showed that he was doing his best to quote directly from the telephone conversation he had overheard.
Katherine nodded slowly, looking at the pictures again, her face thoughtful. ‘I have to get there as soon as possible. I’d better wake David.’
Jesus raised an eyebrow. ‘Who David?’ he asked, trying to sound casual.
Katherine smiled slightly in spite of herself. ‘My editor.’
‘Oh, editor.’
‘My editor. Well, my friend, you have done a great job here, absolutely excellent. You’ve earned this.’ She handed him a small envelope.
Jesus dipped his head in thanks as he took it. ‘You make my life much easier, Miss Katherine. Thank you very much. I just hope that Senor Sanchez will not hate me should he ever find out.’
‘You know, I think he’d understand,’ she said, and she meant it. ‘Thank you, Jesus, you’re a good man.’ She picked up her Budweiser, drained the last of it in one refreshing gulp. ‘I’d better get a move on. David will be upset enough when I wake him up. If I get there quickly enough, I might just catch him before he goes to bed.’
Jesus stood up from his chair to see her out. ‘Okay, Miss Katherine. You be careful now.’
‘Sure, Jesus. And thanks again.’
He opened the front door, stood back to let her through. ‘I always here you know, Miss Katherine. You can visit anytime.’ His face was slightly downturned, not quite looking in her eyes.
‘I know, Jesus. Thanks. See you later, all right?’
Jesus smiled, his apologetic face soft, resigned. ‘Sure. Bye bye.’
Katherine leaned forward and quickly kissed Jesus’ rough brown cheek. ‘I mean it,’ she said, ‘thanks a lot.’
He grinned impishly, his cheeks seeming to go a slightly deeper shade of tan. ‘Is no problem, Miss Katherine.’
She picked her way back downstairs as carefully as she had come up, using her long legs to take more than one step at a time. She was sad thinking about Jesus. He was such a good man, so kind and gentle. If anyone in the world deserved a contented life and the love of a good woman it was Jesus, yet his lot was different. It pained her to consider his loneliness, his isolation, from his roots and culture as much as from people in general. Maybe one day a beautiful woman would visit the museum and see the mild-mannered janitor there, mopping or dusting, and maybe she would talk to him and become a part of his life. Katherine laughed without much humour. That’s probably his fantasy too.
She stepped out into the dim car park then sighed at the sight of her little white car, seemingly unharmed. The little boy sat at the foot of the stairs, grinning up at her.
‘Told you it would be okay, lady. Told you I was honest.’
Katherine sat down on the step beside him. ‘You certainly did. I didn’t doubt you for a moment.’
The boy laughed. ‘Yeah, right! That’s why you looked so worried when you came out the door!’
‘I guess I was a little concerned. But hey, look, nothing to fear, huh?’
‘Nothing to fear. Not with me on your side.’
Katherine looked at his serious young eyes for a second. ‘What are you going to spend the money on?’
‘Why?’ Defensive.
‘Oh, I’m just curious.’
‘I’ll give some of it to my mom, she works too hard. I’ll keep the rest for myself.’
‘You’re a good boy, then. I’m glad you help your mom get by.’
The boy’s face was suddenly hard, eyes flinty. ‘Somebody has to since we ain’t got no dad no more. And Marsha’s pregnant now.’
‘That makes you the man of the house then?’
The boy looked straight into Katherine’s eyes, pinning her with his anger. ‘Nah, that makes Michael the man of the house, but he’s so fucked on crack all the time that he don’t know what time it is.’
Katherine shook her head slowly. ‘That’s not good. At least you know not to get into that, right? Your mom can rely on you can’t she?’
‘Yeah, she can rely on me. Shame I can’t rely on nobody but me either.’
Katherine nodded, not knowing what to say. Eventually, ‘Get yourself something nice with that money okay. Something special just for you.’
The anger drained from the boys face, his cheeky smile slowly returning. ‘Gonna try and get me a GI Joe. Terry got one on his birthday, said he’d sell it for ten bucks.’
Katherine smiled at him, trying not to let the tears come. ‘Cool. That’d be fun.’
The boy nodded. ‘Sure would.’
Katherine stood up, looking down at the boy. ‘Hey, thanks.’
‘No problemo,’ he said, saluting her like he had before. Katherine returned his salute, making him giggle.
She saw him watching her in the beam of her headlights as she swung out of the car park and headed back for the highway. How could a world exist where a kid had to help support his family when all he wanted for himself was a cheap plastic toy? No matter what he did, it was unlikely that he would ever be more than a statistic.
She reached into her bag for her cellphone, used her thumb to dial David’s home number. She was biting her lower lip in worry as it rang, Please don’t lose it, Dave. There was a click as the phone was answered sooner than she had expected. Maybe he was still up. She recognised his voice straight away. And she recognised his mood. ‘What?’ Curt, gruff.
Katherine took a deep breath, then, ‘David, it’s Katherine. I’m really sorry about this, but I got something really hot and time is of the essence.’
‘Oh, really. So much so that it can’t wait till morning?’ He was on the verge of yelling at her.
‘Yeah, Dave, really. You got to look at this stuff. I’m on my way to your house. Just ten minutes and one phone call, that’s all I ask. Please?’
There was a moment of near silence, just slow, measured breath. ‘All right Katherine, but this had better be good.’ The phone went down before she could answer.
She winced slightly, but smiled too. Got him!
Fifteen minutes later she pulled onto the gravel driveway in front of David Beech’s detached house. The door opened as she got out of her car, manilla envelope in hand. David stood there in pyjamas and dressing gown, scowling slightly. She waved at him as she walked up the driveway.
‘This had better be good, Katherine,’ he warned her again as she reached the step.
‘It is, Dave, it really is.’
He stepped back from the door. ‘Come in, go into the kitchen.’
David’s house was big and well furnished, his editor’s wage obviously seeing him comfortably toward retirement. He still had a few years left before that, but not too many. His kids were grown and flown and he and his wife had the big house to themselves. There was no sign of Jean, presumably already in bed.
Katherine pulled out a chair at the round pine breakfast table, sat down. As David sat down opposite her, she shook out the contents of the envelope. ‘I’ll get straight to the point, David. I want to go to Rio via Guatemala. I’ll fly out tomorrow if possible.’
David looked up at her, running one hand through his peppery hair. ‘Why?’
She pushed all the photocopies over to him. ‘Check this out. You know about the crystal skull phenomena?’
‘Vaguely. Go on.’
‘Well, this site is current. That skull right there was discovered just in the last couple of days. The financier of the site has halted all proceedings till he gets there to oversee everything in person, and he can only just have arrived. This is hot, David. If I can get out there tomorrow, I can muscle my way in, cover the recovery of the skull, anything else that comes up. I can even get an article to you by deadline if I’m lucky. Or I can get all the first hand details now, get a prelim out to you and do a full spread when I get back for next issue.’
David looked through all the documents, saying nothing for a few minutes. Katherine knew her editor well enough by now to keep quiet while he thought. She chewed her bottom lip, waiting. After a while he looked up. ‘Where do you get this stuff, Katherine?’ he asked, waving the papers at her. He held up a hand before she could answer. ‘Tell you what. You promise me that something on this will be in my e-mail by Friday pm and I’ll see what I can do.’
Katherine beamed. ‘If I can leave tomorrow, then I can spend Wednesday night and Thursday gathering information. I can put something together by Friday lunchtime and get it to you no problem.’
‘You promise? This is only really hot if we can beat the dailies. If you don’t get there and this guy decides to get extra funding by organising a press conference and raising interest then it’s useless to us.’
Katherine nodded. ‘I know. I promise, Friday pm, not a second later, maybe even sooner. I’ll make sure we get an exclusive; he can go to whoever he likes after our issue’s out.’
David smiled. ‘You’re a piece of work, you know that? Let’s see if we can get you a flight.’ He got up and went to the telephone on the wall by the kitchen counter. Katherine leaned back in her chair, silently congratulating herself. A few minutes later David came back, sat down again. He slid a piece of paper over to her. ‘You leave at 5 am, be there by 4 am for check-in.’ He looked at his watch, grinned at her mischievously. ‘Think you can make that?’
Katherine nodded. ‘Sure thing, I can sleep on the plane. I’d better go home and pack.’
David stood up with her, headed for the door. ‘You’ll have to rearrange your flight to Rio. That’s your problem, all right?’
‘Sure. I’ll do it when I get to the airport. Thanks, Dave, you’re a hero!’ She kissed him on the cheek as she stepped out the door.
He swung a kick at her backside as she hopped down the steps. ‘Get outta here. Send me a good story!’
‘I will, Dave. You know me.’
He laughed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dressing gown. ‘Yeah, I know you.’
He watched her back out of the driveway, then shut the door as she pulled away into the street. He didn’t return her wave, but she saw his smile as the door closed. She headed for home, making a mental list of all the things she would need to pack, for the three weeks in the Amazon as well as for Guatemala. That was all right, she worked well under pressure. Still thinking about her packing she reached for her cellphone again. As she thumbed the menu to Peter’s number she braced herself for his disappointment.
‘Katherine?’
‘Hiya, Peter, did I wake you?’
He yawned at the other end. ‘Kinda. I fell asleep on the couch. I was hoping you might ring earlier, I have to work tomorrow.’
‘Peter, honey, I know, but guess what?’
There was a short laugh at the other end. ‘Change of plans, you’re going to South America tomorrow and you only have tonight to see me. Just as well I’m a vigorous man, Kath!’
Katherine winced again. ‘Oh, shit, Peter. The news isn’t even that good.’ She felt him deflate slightly at the other end. ‘I have to leave right away.’
‘Right away? Shit, Kath, I haven’t seen you all week and now you’re leaving for another, what, month, with no notice at all. This is hard, babe, you know that?’
‘I know, Peter, but I have a lead on such a hot story and I can get there on my way...’ Katherine paused, knowing her enthusiasm was a little insensitive. ‘I guess you don’t really give a damn, huh?’
There was a moment of silence from the other end. ‘Not really, Kath, no. Are you driving to the airport now?’
‘No, I’m going home to pack. I have to be there at about 4am. But I promise, Peter, when I get back this time I’ll be owed a real rest. Like a real holiday. What about you and me take a few days somewhere nice, where there’s nothing to do?’
Peter laughed. ‘How about my bedroom?’
‘That sounds like a good idea, honey!’
There was another moment of silence, then Peter spoke again. ‘Will you, though? Will you take a few days when you get back? ‘Cause this is getting really hard for me, Kath, and I don’t want to look forward for a month and only have another let down.’
There was slight tear in Katherine’s eye. Peter was such a nice man, she really didn’t deserve him. ‘I really promise. I get back on a Tuesday. Give me the rest of that week to put whatever I’ve gathered together and the following week I’m yours. I’ll book off the whole week. We could even go down to the Keys maybe, or an island.’
‘You know what?’ Peter’s voice sounded a little less sad.
‘What?’
‘I’m gonna make you seal that promise with a kiss. I’ll be at the airport from three forty five and you’d better be there to give me enough kisses to last while you’re gone!’
‘But Peter, you have to work and it’s already late.’
‘What do I care? I’ve got a month of early nights coming up ‘cause I’ll have nothing else to do.’
Katherine laughed. ‘You are cruel, Peter. I... I’d love to see you at the airport.’
‘Okay, I’ll wait by Information.’ He blew a kiss down the phone then hung up.
Katherine was smiling as she drove towards her house. She pocketed her phone and took a deep breath. As she approached home she gently shook her head. Shit, I nearly told him that I love him!
Isiah sat in a big, overstuffed armchair by the window, studiously rolling himself a cigarette. He had an immortal body, immune to disease and illness of just about every kind. Anything that did get him he could easily cure himself of, so smoking was not a health risk. Just something to do which he enjoyed, like his occasional beers, the rare joint.
He had gone through a period of sheer rebellion many, many years ago, pure defiance. Immortal body, no limits was his maxim for a few years. He had dived headlong into a life of utter hedonism, consuming drugs and alcohol like his life depended on it. He had an outstanding reputation in the area where he had lived, partyman extraordinaire. Then he eventually calmed down. It got tiresome after a while. The Balance had been patient, understanding even. It was fun while it lasted.
He knew it was corny, smoking after sex, but it was one of the times he enjoyed a cigarette most. He watched the hooker, Stephanie, Steph to her friends, pulling on a long robe, covering her nakedness. He was disappointed as she pulled the belt tight, she was good to look at, voluptuous, curved. He was already dressed, satisfied.
She smiled as he lit his cigarette.
He smiled back at her. ‘What’s funny?’
‘Nothing. Just thinking how pleased I am that you chose me tonight.’
His smile broadened slightly. ‘Oh? Why?’
She shook her head, her long, wavy hair stroking her smooth shoulders. ‘You’re good. And you’re gentle.’
Isiah just nodded, watching her as he drew on his cigarette. She reached towards him, wiggling her fingers at his hand. He handed her the neatly rolled smoke. She took a long, deep draw. ‘Thanks,’ she said through smoke, handing it back.
‘Why do you do it?’ Isiah asked. Looking up into her big, green eyes he added, ‘You don’t have to tell me.’
Steph thought for a while. ‘Look at it like an investment. There’s no other job that I can do and pull in nearly the same amount of money. I’m saving. When I have enough stashed away I’ll give it up for something easier and safer. It’s an age-old excuse for my line of work, but a true one.’
‘It can be a pretty rough way to earn.’ Statement.
‘Sure it can, but I’m a careful girl! I’m my own boss, I don’t do drugs, keep my head down, if you’ll pardon the pun.’
Isiah smiled, she was a nice girl. ‘So how much longer do you think you’ll work the street?’
‘Another year, tops. Then I’m out.’
Isiah took another toke of his cigarette then offered it back to her, looking thoughtfully into her eyes. His gaze could be disarmingly direct, his black eyes mesmerising, but she didn’t seem phased. ‘You look so serious, man.’
‘Got a lot on my mind.’
‘Did I help you forget it for a while?’
‘Oh yeah, you did that.’ She handed back the cigarette, leaned back on the bed, supporting herself with her arms behind her. She ignored her robe as it fell open, revealing that enticing nakedness again. ‘Good. It’s nice to know I’m good at my job!’
‘I guess there’s a certain amount of pride in a job well done.’
She giggled girlishly. ‘Of course. Like I said, sometimes I get to really enjoy my work.’
It was still raining outside, the staccato beat of the drops on the window was a lonely sound, but comforting. Isiah looked out, watched the familiar game of chase down the grubby glass pane. He sighed deeply as he ground out the butt of his cigarette in a battered brass ashtray on the windowsill. Steph stepped off the bed, letting her robe fall fully open. She knelt astride his lap in the big armchair. Her butt was warm on his knees, the smell of sex still on her, intoxicating.
She leaned forward, hot breath on his neck, caressing. ‘You seem so sad. How about another one. No charge.’
Isiah ran his hands gently over her shoulders, down her arms, breathing deeply of her luxuriant hair. His thumbs gently brushed the swell of her breasts. ‘I really don’t have the time. I would love to stay here with you for days, but I really don’t have the time.’
She leaned back again, her eyes sad. ‘That is a shame. Maybe you’ll come to see me again one day?’
‘Maybe I will.’
Steph kissed him firmly, her lips warm, full. She slid slowly from his lap, temptress, pulled her robe back about her. Isiah pulled money from his wallet, twice as much as she had asked for. ‘Don’t argue,’ he said in response to her raised eyebrow. ‘You deserve it and I can afford it. One step closer to a new career.’
She slipped the folded bills into one of the big pockets of her robe. Her smile was sad. ‘Thanks. You’re something different, you know?’
‘You don’t know the half of it.’
The rain outside was cool and refreshing, the swoosh of a passing car like a tripswitch back into reality. Isiah’s reality at least. He took a deep breath, Time to get to work. Looking around for somewhere quiet, he realised how empty the streets were, almost deserted. It was late after all, and wet. And people tended to stay home after dark in neighbourhoods like this. He stepped back into the shadows, turned his face up to enjoy the cool rain for a moment.
As heaviness washed over him, molecular cohesion, he created a flame in the oil lamp, tired of the longhand human methods for the time being. The tomb sprang into flickering orange light, the sarcophagus housing the corpse of Andre Todd seemingly untouched. He lifted the heavy stone lid clear, resting it on the floor, leaning against the side of the big coffin. Andre’s face was peaceful in repose, though more discoloured now. The coolness of the crypt had protected the body to a certain degree, preventing decomposition. It would be all right for a few more hours yet. Time enough. After a moments thought, Isiah replaced the heavy lid, just in case.
He looked around himself critically. This place was a bit cramped for what he had to do, but it would have to suffice. He needed two things now. Information and a disguise. There was a way of killing two birds with one stone. The Realm of Hell was enormous, plane upon plane of suffering, torture, degradation. The combined beliefs of millions of people, alive and dead, shaped it into a sprawling, incomprehensible dimension, as good as infinite. Lucifer ruled his Realm with a certain omnipotence, shared by all the gods and deities of man, the only way they could exist. But they were as fallible as any other being. Isiah needed a clue, somewhere to start looking. Reduce the size of the haystack before he started searching for the needle.
He knew Satan would be taking a rather more personal hand in the suffering of Samuel Harrigan. How to get close to Samuel without alerting the Devil himself? All generals had lieutenants. Isiah sat on the cold stone floor of the tomb and closed his eyes, drew in his will. He smiled slightly at images of chalk circles, complex sigils, black candles, sacrifice. It was all a matter of what you believed. The only real key was knowing exactly who you wanted, by name. And, of course, the power to survive.
There were a million places in Hell ruled by other demons, all reporting to Satan in their own gristly way. Isiah needed one that would know of Satan’s current dealings without being too close for his absence to be noticed. He let his will go, directing a summons deep into the Realm of Hell, calling out a hideous name in an ancient, foul tongue. There was a psychic growl of anger in response, distant, defiant. Isiah increased the pressure, called out again, Come here. The growl became a roar, nearer, deafening inside Isiah’s mind, tearing at the walls of his consciousness. He persevered, flexing mental muscles, asserting his authority. The roar became a scream of rage, hot, liquid sound. Isiah grimaced, the scream red pain in his mind. Then a sudden physical sensation of presence, smell of sulphur and other fetid secretions. The tomb was as hot as a furnace, green and red light, glowing, flickering. Isiah snapped open his eyes.
A huge bulk stood before him, massively muscled shoulders pressed against the ceiling of the tomb, twisted, heavy browed face leering within inches of his own, foul breath like a searing wind in his eyes. Isiah immediately powered out a punch, crashing into the middle of that hideous face, rocking the distorted head back up against the ceiling. Breathing as deeply and evenly as possible, desperately trying to conceal his trembling, Isiah slowly stood, stepped back a pace.
The demon howled in rage, its massive arms flying out, dripping, taloned hands reaching for his throat, face. Isiah threw up a wall of pure energy, a shield of will, proof that he was far more powerful than the demon. The huge rippling arms shuddered as they crashed into the invisible barrier, barely a handspan from Isiah’s soft neck. The demon screamed in rage again, the sound bouncing around the tiny space. Isiah grimaced, his eardrums threatening to burst. In a voice reverberating with his power he commanded, ‘Silence.’ The voice was not a shout, but it boomed out, louder than the demon’s wails.
The demon narrowed its burning eyes, leaned close, baring its long, curved teeth, sharp, deadly forest. ‘How dare you!’
‘I dare nothing, you disgusting abomination. I simply do as I please.’ He had it now. It knew it was trapped here all the time it could not get to him. ‘You’ll tell me answers to what I ask. Eventually I’ll let you go.’
The demon growled, low, deep. ‘Why should I help you at all, Interferer? Lucifer will crush you.’
‘First, he’d have to know. Then he’d have to beat me. Neither of those things is going to happen. You will answer me.’
The demon sneered, thick, viscous saliva dripping from its twisted jaws. ‘Will I?’
Isiah gathered his will again, released a slow pain of energy at the demon, drilling between the very molecules of its being, then began closing a psychic grip about it, crushing it. ‘I can trap you in an eternity of suffering and pain. I can ensure that you never see Hell again.’ The demon roared in rage, its hideous face twisted in pain and anger. ‘I can even deliver you to angels. You’d be amazed how nasty they can be. They’re used to killing after all, God’s soldiers.’
The demon screamed, beating on Isiah’s mental shield. ‘Send me back, you fucking worm!’
‘You gonna tell me what I want to know?’
Suddenly the demon calmed, sitting back on its haunches. Its anger was still well in evidence, it oozed malevolence from every atom, but it knew it was trapped. ‘You can ask what you will, Interferer. I won’t promise any answers.’
Isiah smiled. ‘Where is Samuel Harrigan?’
The demon chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. ‘Are you still trying to get to that piece of shit? He is beyond you.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that. Where is he?’
‘Lucifer has him. He’s getting used to the idea of his new home.’
‘Has he accepted it yet?’
The demon grinned. ‘I see where you are heading with this. No, not yet. It takes some time to understand the concept.’
‘I can imagine.’ Isiah breathed an internal sigh of relief, at least he wasn’t too late. ‘So where in Hell is he?’
‘Deep, Interferer. Very, very deep.’
‘Deeper than all the priests and bishops in Purgatory? Deeper than the souls of the Damned, waiting for resolution?’
‘Much deeper. Lakes of fire burn far above him.’ The demon leaned forward, one long, gnarled finger pointing up under Isiah’s chin. ‘You would have to go to the very Pit of Hell to reach him, Interferer. Are you up to that? You would be torn to shreds before you took a single step if you appeared there.’
Isiah nodded slowly, that was as much as he had suspected. ‘Indeed I would. If anything realised it was me.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean.’
‘I’m afraid you are going to be my disguise.’
The demon’s heavy brows creased together in a deep frown. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
Isiah said nothing for a moment as he took a visual and mental note of the demon, forming a complete image in his mind. Then he forced his consciousness into the demon’s own, driving down into its foul memories, hateful emotions. The demon roared in rage, its hands flying up to either side of its head, like it was holding its skull from bursting. ‘What the fuck are you doing? Get out of my mind!’ Isiah persevered, his face a mask of concentration, taking every last detail of the demon’s persona in a blueprint he could copy, imitate. The demon roared on. ‘I’ll rip your heart out, you fuck! I’ll tear your soul apart!’
With a gasp, Isiah pulled back, releasing his grip on the demon’s mind. He staggered slightly from the effort. Immediately the demon lunged for him, trying to catch him while he was weak, but his shield was strong. The demon’s yell of impotent rage was deafening.
Isiah took a deep breath, steadied himself. ‘Now we need someone to babysit you for a while. Keep you out of the way while I’m gone.’
The demon’s eyes narrowed. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Well, I can’t simply destroy you. That would just cast you straight back into Hell, and that’s exactly where I don’t want you to be.’
Isiah closed his eyes, called out across the dimensions. The demon’s roars were muffled while he concentrated. Then its screams of rage turned into wails of sheer terror and pain as the small tomb filled with bright white light and pure divinity. The demon forced himself back into the corner, folding his arms across his face, whimpering in horror.
Gabriel looked at Isiah, a mischievous smile twitching the corners of his beautiful mouth. ‘I wondered if you’d call me.’
Isiah could relax now, the demon utterly powerless in the presence of such intense holy energy. ‘Do me a favour, Gabriel?’ he asked, smiling as well.
Gabriel inclined his head gracefully. ‘I’d love to, Isiah. How long do you want him kept quiet for?’
‘A few days? Till all this is over?’
Gabriel nodded, his full blond hair bobbing. ‘No problem. You realise it’s not entirely obeying the rules, of course.’
Isiah raised his hands, palms upwards in supplication. ‘My very existence bends the rules.’
‘Indeed it does, Interferer.’ Gabriel’s tone was mocking. ‘You’ve helped us often enough. And hindered us actually, but we’re nothing if not forgiving.’
Isiah laughed. ‘You’re far too sarcastic for an angel.’
‘Got to have a sense of humour, Isiah. Eternity would have been a long haul without it.’
‘Tell me about it. And I’ve had a fraction of yours.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Thanks, Gabriel. I owe you one.’
‘Yes, you do. Mind your eyes.’
Isiah turned his back to the perfect angel. He heard Gabriel’s melodious voice, ‘Come on then, Hellspawn.’ The demon’s scream was horrible as it was plucked away. Isiah almost felt sorry for it. Almost. The intense light burned for a second, then darkness but for the soft orange flicker of the oil lamp. Isiah slumped to the floor, sitting cross legged, elbows on his knees, face in his palms. He took a few minutes, gathering himself, mentally getting his breath back.
He was as ready as he could be now. When he sent his astral self into Hell he could take any image he chose. The demon’s image was not hard to create. He also had a blueprint of the demon’s consciousness which he would lay over his own, disguising his mental and psychic presence. Satan himself would see through it, but the subterfuge should hold for anything else he might encounter. With a bit of luck it would anyway.
And now he knew more or less where to go as well. When the demon had referred to the ‘very Pit of Hell’ he had meant Satan’s own homeland in the Realm. The twisted, terrible place where the Devil himself actually lived. Not any of the sub-Realms, not any of the various Planes of Hell, or any of a million other options. Typical. Even so, the Pit of Hell would be a huge, incomprehensible dimension. Isiah had never been that deep before, but there was no choice.
He sighed deeply, then closed his eyes and began mentally constructing his disguise.
Carlos slewed the jeep in a wide slide out the front of a rickety wood and tin house, deep in the foliage of a remote, quiet area of the Guatemalan jungle. Orange light glowed through dirty windows, flooding dimly across a broken wooden porch. As Carlos killed the engine, silence dropping heavily around him like a shroud, a wedge of light spread across the rough road. A bulky silhouette broke the shaft of light, broad shoulders, large head. A bottle of clear liquid glinted as it was hefted in a wave of greeting. Carlos hopped from the jeep, wincing slightly at the pain lancing through his still tender leg, stiff from sitting so long. As the subtle buzz and susurration of the nightlife rose again he raised a hand in return. ‘Good to see you, Rat.’
‘It’s been too long, Carlos. Way too long.’
The two men clamped each other in a rough embrace on the porch. ‘Come in,’ Rat said, his large, muscled arm draped over Carlos’ shoulder, guiding him through the door. Inside large fans rattled noisily, dirty tablecloths flapping. It was a welcome relief after the humid heat of the night. The large main room was full of all kinds of furniture, in various states of decay, dirty crockery lay around, crushed beer cans littered the floor. The tidiest area of the room was a large table with various forms of electronic equipment, radios, radar, television, neatly arranged. Rat pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth, took a long drink. He sucked air through his teeth, lips pulled back, as he swallowed, handing the bottle to Carlos. ‘It’s fucking harsh stuff, my friend, but it eases the pain!’
Carlos laughed, taking a long swig himself. He winced as it burned down his throat, lava and nails. ‘You’re not joking! Is Esme around?’
Rat pulled a sour face. ‘No, man. She fucked off a couple of weeks ago. She’ll be back in time, the whore.’
‘So you been alone for a while, huh?’ He pushed some dirty clothes from a camp chair onto the floor, slumped down.
Rat sat on a wobbly stool opposite him. ‘Yeah. It’s not so bad really. You gonna stay long?’
Carlos shook his head. ‘Not too long, man, I got business to attend to. Tomorrow I’ll have to sort out some stuff, I need hardware.’
‘No problem, my friend. You know the score, whatever you need.’ He pointed to the bottle in Carlos’ hand. ‘Not planning on rising too early are you?’
Carlos grinned, swallowing another mouthful. ‘No. You got more of these?’ Handing the bottle back.
‘Of course. More than enough!’
‘Then tonight we drink. Tomorrow I’ll prepare some things and leave early the next day, okay?’
‘Sure. So what exactly do you need?’
Carlos leant back, thinking. ‘I’ll need a good rifle. Russian?’ Rat nodded, a slightly knowing smile twitching his lips. ‘Good. Plus a couple of handguns, semi’s, plenty of ammo, grenades, silencers for the pistols, a few more bits and pieces. Nothing out of the ordinary.’
‘The standard itinerary, huh? We can organise all that tomorrow.’ He slapped at a mosquito feasting on his bulky forearm, then took another swig from the bottle. Handing it back, ‘Where you gotta go?’
Carlos shrugged. ‘North, up nearer the border. Got a score to settle before re-establishing my position in the game.’ The fire water was beginning to warm his belly and numb the pain in his leg and head.
Rat raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘It won’t take you long to get back in the thick of things, Carlos.’
‘Of course.’
There was a few moments silence, but for the buzz of insects. Both men took turns on the bottle which was rapidly running low. Rat wandered over to the kitchen area, sink overloaded with dirty dishes, came back with a fresh bottle.
Carlos smirked as Rat came back. Rat looked at him questioningly. ‘What?’
Carlos laughed. ‘Look at this place, man! The dishes, the clothes. The place is a fucking pig sty! You said Esme been gone, how long? A couple of weeks?’
Rat laughed in spite of himself. ‘What can I say, man? I need a good woman to take care of the little things.’
‘One little thing in particular, choir boy!’
Rat swung at Carlos, missing. ‘Fuck you, iron man! What would you know anyway? Have you ever had a woman?’ Rat sat down and opened the second bottle, taking a swig then passing it over. Carlos looked at him, his gaze level, penetrating. After a moment Rat looked away. ‘All right, man, all right. You never talk about the personal stuff. Your choice.’
Carlos took a long draw from the bottle. The numbness was spreading to his senses now, affecting mind and body with the cotton wool security of inebriation. ‘Aw, Rat. You’re my brother, you know that.’
‘I know, I know. I shouldn’t ask you personal shit.’
Carlos handed back the bottle. ‘I’ve had women. I take what I want, when I want it. Often in the jungle, you come across these little settlements along the logging roads, by the rivers. There’s plenty of women there.’
Rat moved from the stool over to a small, cracked leather sofa. Pushing clothes and papers to one end he slumped down in the gap. He was nearer to Carlos now and more relaxed. The bottle passed between them again. ‘That’s different,’ he said quietly.
‘Different? How?’
‘Well, you know, man... rape is more like power than sex. I raped a girl before and it felt good, but it didn’t feel like making love. You ever really made love?’ Rat looked up sharply as the last words left his mouth, his eyes wide, wondering if maybe he had gone into territory too personal.
Carlos didn’t look at him, stared instead at the neck of the bottle in his hand. He was quiet for a few moments. Eventually, ‘I thought I loved a girl once. Maybe I did. When I was young, first in the game.’
‘You made a name for yourself real young, huh?’
Carlos nodded. ‘I was still a teenager when I led my first team. There was a girl in our camp. She was beautiful, man. You know, real beauty. Strong and cold, but beautiful. One time I took out a team and she came too. When I saw her kill it was amazing. Such efficiency. So ruthless.’ He barked out a short laugh. ‘A girl after my own heart, eh?’ He passed the bottle back, looking up from his reverie.
Rat smiled. ‘So you and her? Made for each other?’
‘I was bitter man. Even then. I’d had a life of pain and killing. It was all I knew, all I cared about. All I believed in. I had no intention of falling in love. I mean, seriously, that’s gonna cramp your style, right? Too many emotions. You let your emotions carry you away and you lose focus. You fuck too much, you get weak in the knees.’
Rat watched Carlos quietly, sipping from the bottle. After a moment, Carlos staring silently at nothing, Rat passed him the bottle back. ‘So you never..?’
Carlos looked up sharply. ‘Yeah, we did. That’s how I learned what I just told you. I got emotional and lost focus. I fucked day and night and got weak. One day it nearly killed me, when our camp was raided. I was weak, off guard, lying there with her.’
‘What happened?’
‘We fought back and we were okay in the long run. But it was close. It was the closest I’d ever come to being killed by the enemy and I didn’t like that. I knew that there was no way that I could function if she was still a part of my life. I love the kill, Rat, you know that. If there’s one thing I can’t live without, it’s the kill. Being with her was compromising that.’
‘So what’d you do?’
Carlos looked up, pinning Rat with his dark green eyes over the top of the bottle. ‘What do you think? I killed her.’
Rat stared back silently for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the floor. ‘Fuck, man, that’s cold!’
‘There’s no greater glory. I’ve never found a killing rush quite like that since. That was something beyond, man. A lesser man would claim he got close to the divine at that moment.’
‘A lesser man? You don’t think it was a divine moment? Seems a little outside the realm of the holy, I guess!’
Carlos grunted. ‘There’s no divine, Rat. The greatest, clearest rush of all is when a man, mind and body, is in absolute synchronicity with the universe, right at the moment of the kill. When life and death meet in the space of a heartbeat.’
Rat sat silently, shook his head. After a moment he asked, ‘How did you kill her?’
‘You really don’t want to know, my friend. And I don’t want to tell you. You keep hold of your Esme if she ever comes back. If you can enjoy love, then make the most of it. For me it’s too rough, too confusing. Like clay mud in a clear stream. I gotta keep my stream clear, my focus to a pinpoint.’
‘You’re a driven man, my brother. Couldn’t you one day just settle down and chill out? Finally relax. Maybe then you could find love again.’
‘I don’t want it. I don’t want to settle down. I don’t want to stagnate. I live for the game, Rat. Without it, there’s nothing.’
‘One day the game might kill you, Carlos. I mean, you’re the best there is, everybody worth shit knows that. But one day, you know... maybe...?’
‘Can you imagine the mean-ass motherfucker that could take me out?’
Rat laughed. ‘Jesus, no! It’s beyond my imagination!’
‘This game isn’t killing me any time soon, Rat. I’m the god of what I do. Everybody else worships at my altar!’ He laughed, loud and cruel.
Rat laughed too, shaking his head in bemusement. He nodded at Carlos’ outstretched leg. ‘So what’s up there, man? Where you been?’
Carlos sneered, running a hand gently over his thigh. ‘Let me tell you about this idiot German I had to work with.’