The Devil's Soldier (20 page)

33

Night had fallen a few hours ago, and Alarica was bored and angry. She had been sitting on the second floor of the White House in some snooty-hootie space called the East Sitting room for the last two hours. At first, the mustard colored walls hadn't seemed so bad, the only thing in the room she sort of liked, but after looking at them for way too long, she was ready to paint them with her own blood. The only thing stopping her was Boaz's command not to destroy, kill, or harm anything or anyone while they were in the White House.

This literally was torture for her—losing her agency. Her mind was spinning with everything she wanted to do, including pulling a loose thread on the Queen Anne chair next to her, but she couldn't make her hand move to accomplish the task. The thought must fall under the command of not harming anything.

At the entrance to the room stood two tall security guards. She would've tried to harass them but someone else had gotten to them first. She suspected Boaz. They stood erect, their heads tilted way back and eyelids frozen open. Because she was bored, she had tried pulling the lids back down, but a magical force had cemented them open.

She stood and paced the room for the hundredth time. It had been three weeks since Eve had gone bye-bye and she'd taken over. So far, her return had been pretty uneventful, other than them leaving for D.C.

Boaz had very little time for her, yet he wouldn't let her leave, either. A few times, he had let her cause several explosions in different parts of the city near where he would take her out to eat. She liked this, enjoyed the expressions of fear and panic of the people as they ran away. This was just a taste of how people would react when she finally ruled. If she could ever get out from beneath Boaz's thumb, that was.

Although she enjoyed the destruction, she hated that it was at Boaz's command. At night, they would watch the news. The FBI claimed Supernaturals were responsible for the attacks and must be stopped. No one had any real leads on who, except for maybe the Deific, was being hammered by the media.

Alarica had never met Charlie personally, but she had Eve's memory of him. He had given a couple of interviews claiming they knew nothing of the attacks and were merely an accounting agency, but then a photo of the recently deceased vampire, Alana, had appeared, showing her leaving the Deific.

Boaz was smart. And so was this new President Alarica had yet to meet. She didn't like the way Boaz spoke about him, as if he was this all-knowing, all-powerful Supreme Being. As far as she was concerned, she was the only Supreme Being in the galaxy.

Footsteps came toward the sitting room. Another tall man appeared in the same condition as the other two—head tilted back and eyes open wide. Alarica was surprised he had been able to walk without tripping. It was a disturbing image that she liked.

"The President is ready to see you now," the man said.

She stood. "It's about time."

"Follow me." The man turned and led her back down the center hall.

The floor was covered by three massive red rugs and the ceiling was at least twenty feet high, just like in the sitting room. The man stopped in front of the door to the—Alarica glanced at a small metal plaque—Yellow Oval Room and opened the
door
. Two men stood.

"Come in, Alarica," Boaz said. "I want you to meet President Russell."

She stepped into the circular shaped room. It was yellow like the sitting room, but a shade lighter. There was a fireplace on the far wall and a large, boring landscaped picture hanging above the white mantel.

Boaz and the President were staring at her expectantly. The President was extremely handsome, more so in person. He was tall with sandy blond hair and a tanned complexion. He was smiling, but there was something that felt off about the motion. Maybe it was the way the air seemed to bend around him, an illusion most people, including Supernaturals, wouldn't notice. The President was definitely a Supernatural, but she couldn't tell what kind.

"Are you expecting me to curtsy or something?" she asked, when neither of them said anything else.

"Alarica," Boaz warned, but the President stopped him.

"It's okay. I admire her candor. It's rather refreshing to someone in my position." The President came toward her, his hand outstretched. "It's nice to finally meet you. Boaz has told me so much about you."

She shook his hand, noting that it was unusually warm but not sweaty. "What exactly are you, Mr. President?"

Boaz cleared his throat, but Alarica wouldn't look at him. She wanted to find out as much as she could about this attractive creature that Boaz revered. Maybe the President would help her if she played her cards right.

"Please, call me Tom. Have a seat, and I'll explain what I can."

"I prefer to stand," she said. She didn't want him to ever think that she could be controlled like the many others around him.

"Very well."

He walked to a table near the window and poured wine into a glass that looked like it had already been used. Next to it was another glass. He and Boaz had already toasted to something. Her eyes flashed to Boaz. He was observing her carefully beneath hooded eyes, probably deciding if he should jump in and simply force her to do whatever Tom asked. She had to make sure that didn't happen. They needed to trust that she
wanted
to do what they said, but without it being obvious, or Boaz would never believe her. She better change her attitude and quick.

"Would you like some?" Tom asked, offering his own
glass
.

She shook her head.

He took a sip then lowered the cup. "First, I am like you—a Supernatural—if you haven't already sensed. There is no name for me. I am my own species as I was one of the Firsts."

"First what?" she asked.

"The first to be cursed with unique abilities. They were meant to be a curse, anyway, and for a time they were. I was hunted for centuries for my ability to use magic, among other things, but after some time, I learned to control and hone my skills.  I also learned to blend into the human world where I have remained for over a millennia, living one life after another. Only occasionally would I cross paths with a Supernatural, but they rarely recognized me as one of them. That's how good I have become at pretending I'm human."

He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped again. "For the longest time, I've helped shape the world into what I thought it should be, but never in the spotlight. I remained in the shadows, controlling every major world event, but no longer. It's time I was in the spotlight."

Alarica groaned inwardly. Maybe she was wrong about Tom. It felt like he would be more competition than any kind of ally.

"What do you want with me?" she asked. If he couldn't help her, she didn't want to waste her time with him.

Tom lowered himself into a straight back chair. "As you've heard, Supernaturals are no longer a secret to the world."

"Thanks to you," she muttered.

"The problem is, so far, humans haven't really seen one in action. They only have my word, and in the eyes of some, this isn't good enough." He crossed his legs. "That's where you come in."

"Me?"

"I need you to cause some serious trouble but get caught in the act. On film."

"And where exactly can I do that?"

Tom glanced at his watch. "In about thirty minutes, the FBI will be storming a club where a Supernatural is about to attack. Or so an anonymous tip will say."

Alarica flashed her eyes to Boaz. He was watching her intently.

"Those FBI agents will have body cameras on them. They will capture everything you do."

"Which will be what, exactly?" As much as she liked using magic, she wanted it to be on her own terms.

"I'll let you decide. Just make sure there's lots of damage."

"Human?"

He shrugged. "Like I said, whatever you want."

This excited her, and she smiled. One day she would rule, and she wanted the world to know her face and fear it. Might as well get started sooner rather than later.

Tom stood. "A couple of things you should know. First, the club isn't in DC. It's back in New York City, so you'll have to teleport yourself there. Do you know how to do that?"

"Of course."

"Second, there will be a few Supernaturals on the FBI team, handpicked by me. This won't be a problem, will it?"

"I welcome the challenge."

"Third," he said, walking over to her, "as beautiful as you are, you can't look like yourself."

She stepped back. "Deal breaker. I'm going as myself or not at all."

Tom looked back at Boaz.

Boaz sighed. "Do I need to remind you that I can just make you do it? Would you prefer that?"

"What's in it for me?" she asked. If she couldn't go as herself, then there sure as hell better be a reward or something.

"What would you like?" Tom asked.

She thought for a moment. For the last several days, she had caused plenty of mayhem. That was fun, but there was still something very important she needed to do. A debt had to be paid.

"I want revenge on Lucien."

The corners of Boaz's mouth turned up. "I'll have him delivered to you as soon as possible. And, Alarica?"

"Yes?"

"I'm ordering you to kill him."

34

Lucien stared out the second-story window of the building across from the Deific. The smell of cinnamon and
coffee
wafted up from the cafe below him. They had only been open a week after having been closed for two while the owners hired new staff and remodeled the inside, thanks to the Diablos who had destroyed the place. The Deific had given them an anonymous donation to cover the costs.

At least they were doing well from all the new attention placed on the Deific. They should've closed an hour
ago
, but a swarm of reporters had kept them open.

A few of the reporters still lingered outside the Deific's door, hoping to question Charlie who hadn't left yet. Charlie had already been interviewed four times, but refused to do any more. He had answered everyone's questions and provided documentation to the media proving they were just an accounting agency, but rumors continued to circulate about their involvement in the Supernatural world, thanks to the President.

"She's not going to show up," Henry said as he walked into the living room. "It's been three weeks."

"Perhaps." Lucien suspected that Alarica would try to attack the Deific, but as more days passed, his hope waned.

At least he didn't have to go far to watch the building as it was right across the street. Shortly after the President's announcement, Henry admitted that he owned all of the apartments above the café. This proved to be useful, especially for Charlie, who was able to sneak over when needed.

"There was another incident," Henry said. He walked to a window close to Lucien's and parted the curtain to peek out.

"How many?"

Ever since the truth about Supernaturals had been revealed, there had been an increase in criminal activity. People began to accuse their neighbors, friends, or coworkers of being a Supernatural. If anyone even appeared different, suddenly they were a werewolf, vampire, demon, faye, witch, or whatever else their imaginations could come up with. Sometimes they were right, sometimes they weren't. Either way, the confrontations often turned violent.

"Two dead. A couple burned in their home." Henry let go of the curtains and stepped back.

"Were they Supernaturals?"

"The woman was a witch, but low level, nothing dangerous."

Lucien swallowed despite his throat being dry. So many attacks. So many deaths. He and Henry had tried to stop what they could, but it was hard to know when the violence was going to occur—there were so many of them! Humans assaulting Supernaturals and vice-versa. Alarica was attacking both with no thought as to what she was killing as long as blood was drawn.

At first, Lucien had been able to sense her, so great was her evil, but now with the whole world in turmoil, darkness seemed to be everywhere. Charlie was having the same issue. His psychic abilities were only working locally. The only real advantage they had was the fact Charlie still had a couple of loyal contacts within the CIA and FBI that still fed him information.

Across the street, the Deific front door opened.

"Charlie's off," Lucien said.

Liane wasn't with him this time, which meant Henry would stay. Henry still didn't want anyone even remotely connected to Boaz to know about him. Lucien didn't blame him. He still wasn't sure about Liane, although he did have to admit that she had been a big
help
the last few weeks in stopping many any fighting.

Charlie glanced up to Lucien's window and nodded briefly. There was a tightness in the way he moved, and his face was pinched. Something was wrong. Charlie waved away a couple of the reporters before ducking into a cab. The cab would drive him two blocks then drop off. From there, Charlie would walk back to the rear of the building Henry and Lucien was in and sneak inside to meet them.

Ten minutes later, Charlie swung open the door. "We have a problem."

"What is it?" Henry asked. He shifted his weight to the edge of the sofa.

"I got a call from Ryan over at the FBI. The DSRD's special unit was deployed to a club on the other side of town. They received a tip that a powerful witch was going to attack it later tonight."

Lucien jumped to his feet. "Alarica."

"That's what I was thinking too, but I can't sense her," Charlie said. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "We need to get there."

"Are they going to evacuate the building, or is this strictly a reconnaissance mission?" Henry asked.

"Just recon at this point, but I've got a feeling something bad is going to happen."

Lucien walked to the door, his stomach tightening. He had learned to listen a long time ago to Charlie's "bad feelings."

"Let's go then." Henry rose. "We need to be careful, though. The DSRD will have their Supernaturals, and I don't think they are going to be on our side."

"I want Liane to meet us there," Charlie said. Before Henry could disagree, he added, "She's been extremely helpful with other Supernaturals, and where we are fighting a witch, she may prove useful. Plus, I won't point you out to her. You can blend in with everyone else."

"Fine. Let's just get there quickly. We must get Eve back. If Alarica shows up, this may be our only chance." Henry crossed the room to a wooden chest in the corner and opened its top. He reached inside and withdrew several weapons before tossing a dagger to Lucien, followed by a wooden stake.

"Do you still have a pistol?" he asked Charlie

Charlie opened the right side of his jacket, revealing a Berretta tucked into in a shoulder holster.

"I'll drive," Lucien said and walked out.

"I'll meet you there," Henry called after him and Charlie.

Lucien turned around to protest that they should all stick together, but Henry was already gone. Henry rarely traveled by any motorized vehicle. He preferred to use magic to transport him wherever he went—a skill Lucien hoped to accomplish one day.

"I hate when he does that," Charlie said, following after Lucien.

Lucien took the stairs to the building's basement garage and jumped behind the steering wheel of his SUV.  He wasn't a fan of fighting witches, as he never knew what their strengths were until the middle of a battle. At least with other Supernaturals, he had a general idea how to fight them, but witches often dealt more with the mind and, right now, his felt fragile. It had been too long since he'd seen Eve, and her absence seemed to have weakened him.

While Lucien drove to the other side of the city, Charlie called Liane and explained what they were doing. Lucien listened in.

"Do you need my help?" Liane asked. Her voice sounded tired, as if she had just woken up.

"If it's not too much trouble," Charlie said. "You do well against witches."

"Can I get a ride?"

"Can you take a cab? Sorry, but I'm not at the Deific."

She was silent for a few seconds then said, "Where did you say it was?"

"Roxy. It's a night club on 77
th
."

"I need to get dressed, but I should be able to get there in thirty minutes."

Charlie glanced at his watch. "That should work."

"Be careful, Charlie," she said before hanging up.

Charlie lowered the phone to his lap and peered out the window, his expression
solemn
.

"Is it
serious
?" Lucien asked.

"Is what serious?"

"Whatever it is you have going on with Liane."

"No."

"Do you want it to be?"

"It doesn't matter what I want. She is a means to an end."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His silence weighted the air in the car.

"Charlie?" Lucien asked again.

"Park over there," Charlie said, pointing to a space in front of a shipping center.

Lucien drove into the empty spot and shut off the engine. "We are still several blocks away from the club."

"I know." Charlie opened his door and jumped out.

Lucien followed after, wondering if he should press the issue about Liane, but decided against it. Charlie could do what he wanted with his love life.

They were a block away when Lucien heard the club's music with his sensitive hearing. It wasn't his type of music—way too much bass—and would make it extremely difficult to hear anyone talking inside.

He and Charlie rounded the corner. There was a long line of people waiting anxiously to get inside, and by the looks of their nicer-than-usual-club attire this was a much classier place than he was expecting. The women mostly wore dresses and the men were in nicer shirts and dark slacks.

Charlie must've noticed too because he glanced down at his own pants. "I don't think I'm dressed right."

"Don't worry. I'll get us in."

"What? You don't think I could?"

Lucien looked him up and down. Charlie was still in his work clothes, tan pants and jacket, and a red polo shirt. "You look like you just left your shift at Target."

Charlie glanced down at himself again and grimaced. "Damn it."

"Follow me." Lucien led the way to the front of the line. Several people called out to them to get in back.

"This is never going to work," Charlie mumbled.

Two security guards stopped them at the door. "Did you miss the line?" the one with short hair and a Metallica t-shirt asked.

"John called us," Lucien said. "He said to come down and fix some issue with one of the speakers. We're from Electronics R Us."

"Sure you are," the other guard snorted.

Lucien gripped his upper arm. The short-haired guard reached to stop him, but Lucien grabbed his arm also. His hold was tight enough that neither of them dared move. "We don't want any trouble, but we will be going in there. Do you understand?"

Lucien looked at each of them and released his vampirism through just a gaze. Their eyes widened. One of them nodded and reached back with his free hand to open the door. Lucien released them and motioned Charlie forward, despite a sudden shout of protests from the customers in line. Before the door closed, Lucien saw the short-haired guard fumbling with a phone.

Charlie noticed too. "Those tricks don't work as well as they used to, Lucien. He's reporting you as a Supernatural."

"Let him. The DSRD is coming either way."

Lucien walked farther into the club, his hair and clothing blowing from dozens of fans mounted high along the walls. The club was packed both on the main floor and on a balcony that circled the room. Blue lights pulsed from above, illuminating the people below, flashes of their bodies moving in sync to a throbbing beat.

Charlie grabbed his arm and spoke loudly in his ear. "Liane just texted. She's almost here. I'm going to wait for her by the entrance."

Lucien nodded and turned back into the crowd. He took a second to scan the ground, looking for
anything
out of the ordinary, but saw nothing. He turned to his vampire senses. Right away, he
detected
several Supernaturals in the room, but determining if they were dangerous was going to be a little trickier.

He slipped inside the giant ever-changing organism of moving bodies and made his way toward the bar where a man with long dark hair chatted with a female. An electric energy surrounded him, unlike the humans; it flickered in the air the way an illusion appears on the horizon in the hot desert. It wasn't strong, but enough to mark him as a Supernatural.

Lucien sat on the stool next to where Long-hair chatted and expanded his hearing so he could listen in on their conversation. It took less than a minute for Lucien to determine he wasn't a threat. The woman he was with was a coworker who was trying to set him with one of her friends.

Lucien made his way to the next unusual energy force. This Supernatural was a woman with a faint animal smell. Lucien couldn't detect what
kind
, but he guessed she was a shifter. When he passed, their eyes met. She nodded in recognition and returned to the man she was with. He did not feel she was a threat.

A more powerful energy, more felt than seen, drew his attention to the balcony above. Henry was standing against the rail eyeing the crowd. He locked eyes with Lucien and motioned his head to the right. Lucien followed his gaze to a tight crowd of people all jumping up and down in front of a massive speaker. The air there was especially hazy, more so than anywhere else in the club. Somewhere within that mass was someone powerful. Lucien headed that direction.

A woman approached him and took his hand. "Want to dance?"

Lucien shook his head and kept moving, his focus on the crowd ahead. He searched for an opening into the clustered group. As soon as one opened, he dove in, but his head immediately spun and the sounds in the room slowed.

He rubbed his eyes hard, trying to clear the fog from his mind. Humans swarmed all around him, bouncing up and down and bumping into him on all sides. It took him great effort to lift his gaze. The men and women all had their heads turned downward with never-blinking eyes open wide. There was no color in them, only a never-ending black.