The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two (10 page)

Fallen followed the letter of the Compact
like jailhouse lawyers, convicts who studied law to force their own
release. Knowledge and command of all the loopholes in Cosmic law
was a driving force in their Infernal lives.

Demons were ungoverned twists of passion, and
subordinate to Fallen for that very reason. They paid lip service
to the Compact, but were not bound by it. They adopted affectations
of sophistication to counter the perception that they were
subordinate. A Demon once explained that they were powerful beings
that predated human civilization. They evolved alongside humanity
from dim dark beginnings and were around before the Egyptians, the
Romans, or the Stone Age Britons invented their complicated
religions. Ancient humans actually begged them to play God. The
association corrupted them all eventually. The arrival of the One
God created a psychological self-destruction felt by all.

This God and his followers called Demons
evil, and cast them in the Pit. But something must have happened to
the One God, because the Change came and ended their long period of
bondage. The Angels had returned, and Fallen walked the earth in
little disguise. But the Unholy Compact remained as an ancient
agreement that all feared breaking in case that brought the One
God’s return.

Felon was meeting with Baron Balg, a powerful
Demon who claimed to be three thousand years old. He paid well.
Balg’s personal assistant, Senji Shaiko had set up the meeting and
its location.

Felon uncurled his hands and nonchalantly
dropped them into his coat pockets as he walked down the ramp. His
numb fingers rested on his gun.

A figure stood at the far end of the parking
garage, shadowy in the dim overhead light. Balg wore a black
broad-brimmed pimp’s hat with a long scarlet trench coat. Red and
white wingtips protruded from beneath dark purple trousers. A
calfskin glove covered the hand that twirled an obsidian walking
stick. Long curved ram’s horns arced through the brim of the
Demon’s hat. His eyes had an amber glow that flared a deeper red
when he caught Felon’s gaze.

“My dear, Felon.” His voice was harsh and
gravely. His face though human, had bestial qualities: broad nose
and wide mouth full of sharp tiger’s teeth. A fringe of dark hair
followed the underside of his jaw. “Sorry for the short notice!”
Neither of them wasted time on a handshake.

Felon nodded. Demons liked to intimidate.
Since Balg could take any shape, the assassin knew he had left his
horns on for a reason.

“Felon...” The Demon’s features fell as the
assassin approached. “You look exceptionally grim today.”

Felon twisted his lips, hating the small
talk.

“Cold?” Balg gestured with his cane and a
ring of foot-tall flames grew up around them, colored them with
passionate red light.

Felon snarled. It was foolish to make an
obvious show of force when their meeting place had been chosen for
secrecy.

“The City is bothering you, no?” Balg’s
features twisted with concern.

“Irrelevant.” The assassin fished in his coat
pockets for a cigarette. He lit one.

“Relevance is relative,” Balg said. A cigar
appeared in his hand, lit and smoking. He took a deep pull on it.
“A revelation for you, perhaps?” He laughed low and coarsely.

Felon’s back warmed from the ring of
flame.

“Oh, can’t we drop this sad back and forth?
We’re friends. Let’s talk like friends!” Balg smiled fiercely.

Felon said nothing. His face was stone.

Balg’s features dropped as he studied the
assassin’s face, and then broke into a toothy grin. “You are a
fucking snake. I offered the sign of friendship. Please feel free
to take me up on it at your leisure.” Balg straightened, both hands
resting on his cane. “You have worked for me before and completed
each task with your painstaking professionalism. You’re the best in
the business.” The Demon stepped smoothly forward, reached out to
slip a hand under Felon’s elbow and then thought better of it,
drawing him on with a nod of his head. “Of course, you’re the
only
one in the business.” The ring of flames broke before
them as they walked, the fire now tracing a path on either side.
They crossed the slush-covered garage floor.

Felon drew in on his cigarette.

“And normally, the objects of my disaffection
are of the human or...” He smiled and pointed upward with his cane.
“
Other
variety. But, I have a special job I would like you
to take care of that involves a competing organization.”

Fallen
. Felon thought. Whacking Fallen
was dangerous. They had no allegiance with their own kind and had
little to do with each other. Put Fallen out of the way: wash a
partner out of the firm. Bump someone off that occupies space in
the chain above you, or someone who is busily climbing below—the
ends justified the means every time. Business was harsh in the
Infernal world, and few would seek revenge for a dead competitor.
But, all Divine creatures felt the transgression of a mortal
stepping beyond his place. And like it or not, they were Fallen,
and had fought the Great War against Heaven. Felon would be a fool
to think that there were no quiet alliances, and no chance of
revenge. It was big money.

Balg’s massive brow wrinkled. “I didn’t quite
catch that. You must forgive me but you were thinking about
something there, and I almost caught it.” He chortled. “
You
force me to read body language!”

Felon’s stomach tightened. Balg was testing
him.

The Demon chuckled. “Mirgeth, a Fallen of
some power, has taken it upon himself to fall rather lustfully for
a certain young human woman, with whom I have similar intentions.
Unlike myself, he tries to win her affections with lust. He has for
some time been sending her an Incubus to tend to her physical needs
in her sleep. Such attentions are dangerous to a mortal, for there
is no satiation for the Incubus. He will always please her, for he
himself will never be pleased.”

“Who does Mirgeth run with?” Felon shook his
head.

“A freelancer formerly with Lucifer,” Balg
said and smiled with yellowed carnivore teeth. “Don’t misunderstand
me, my wolf. Mirgeth isn’t the target. This is
family
business. I want you to hit the Incubus who has been rather
successfully foiling my attempts to woo the young maiden. With him
prodding her every fucking night, why send flowers?”

Woo
. Felon knew what that meant. The
Incubus was interfering with Balg’s attempt at manipulation or
outright possession. Incubi and their female counterparts,
Succubae, were Demons. They were a subclass of that Infernal type,
much like Cherubs were of Angels.

He nodded. Felon knew that Incubi were
dangerous creatures that could use sexuality as a weapon. Not
Fallen, but killing them wasn’t easy.

“I’ll need access to her home. And there’s
the chance she will see me. I don’t like that and if she’s yours, I
can’t put a bullet in her.”

“Of course not, Felon. No. No. No bullet’s in
her—please! Remove the Incubus. I understand there is a great deal
of risk. But like anything,” Balg said with a chuckle, “you will
have a price, Felon. Do not worry about access to her bedchambers;
I have a copy of her house key for you. And I know her habits and
patterns. I watch her,” he said huskily, a string of saliva
suddenly running past his fangs. “I shall tell you exactly when you
can enter her home.”

“
You
whack him,” Felon growled.
“Family. You’ve got the right.”

“Actually, Felon he is family.” Balg’s eyes
glowed along with his cigar. “Stahn is a relative of mine. I
suppose a
nephew
in your terms. I would be uncomfortable
punishing him personally.”

“Price,” Felon started, before any more
information was imparted. The assassin didn’t want to know the rest
until his price was accepted.

“Of course.” Balg’s smile resembled a snarl.
“Fifty thousand dollars in lost Incan gold. That is the ore value,
some of the artifacts are worth twice that, should you endeavor to
sell them
as is
.”

“Eighty grand in ingots,” Felon said. He
wasn’t interested in fencing antiques. “Forty up front delivered to
the Coastview Hotel by six tonight.” He lit another cigarette,
turning to conceal the shiver that ran through his hands.

Eighty grand and you take the starch out of
that little prick.” Smiling, Balg drew a tube of rolled parchment
from his coat. “The customary contract.” He handed it to Felon.

Moving under the flickering fluorescent,
Felon unrolled the parchment. He scanned it while searching an
inner pocket for his magnifying glass. The assassin had bargained
for information about such an item with another employer. A special
film on the lens showed any magic script. He went over the contract
with the treated glass. Balg’s invisible seal was there, a
disemboweled ram crucified on jagged swords, but that was
customary. He put the glass away.

“Pen.” The Demon reached around him. Felon
took the steel quill from the heavy hand, and punctured the fleshy
part of his thumb with it. Dark blood seeped up the length of the
nib. He signed and handed the quill to Balg who drew some of his
own blood and signed.

“Very well, Felon.” Balg put the contract
away, before giving him an envelope. “The address, her habits, and
the key I mentioned are inside.”

Felon shook the envelope.

“It’s a pity you can’t kill him slowly,” Balg
said, bloodlust bringing more saliva from his fangs. “But I
understand the limitations of your abilities.”

“I will remember your interest in my
limitations.” Felon slid the envelope into his coat. “When?”

“Kill Stahn tonight.” The Demon’s lips drew
back in a grotesque grin. “You may have to leave town soon.
Everyone’s talking about the Cherubs. Paid for one and he whacks
the other for fun.” He showed his canines. “Contact my office
uptown for the rest of your fee.”

Balg faded out of sight. The magical fires
flickered and were gone. The assassin shivered on his way up to the
car. Felon got in, started the engine, and turned the heat up to
full. He would look in the envelope when he saw the gold.

14 – Distraction

Mr. Jay had a
thing
for women. That’s
what he called it:
a thing
! Dawn regretted asking him about
it. “Look at them, Dawn. How can I love just one?”

Well what was that supposed to mean? Dawn
didn’t understand his
wandering eye
so it frightened her and
being permanently prepubescent left her little to work with.

“You won’t understand,” he explained whenever
the subject came up. “You aren’t built for it—and you may never be.
The whole business must be alien to you—picture books or not.
Understanding
why
is irrelevant.” A spider of his fingers
ran through her hair. “They are honey to me. And I’m a bee.”

Well what was that supposed to mean? Dawn
liked honey too and loved finding it on their travels in broken
hives and abandoned houses. But she didn’t think she was a bee. She
loved honey, but knew it could be trouble. Dawn warned, “Too much
will give you a sore belly.”

“If only, darling,” Mr. Jay moaned wistfully.
“If only.”

It was because of his
thing
for women
that she still didn’t know why the men were chasing them. In her
heart of hearts the forever girl knew that his thing for women
would never harm her; but it filled her with dread just the same.
She just didn’t understand it. So she was sometimes overwhelmed by
a fear that Mr. Jay would one day prefer the company of women to
hers. Dawn felt queasy just thinking of the things women could do.
She’d heard enough from some of the older kids at the Nurserywood.
And a bad one Kevin once showed her a magazine.
Yuck
!

Dawn’s inner voice suggested that Mr. Jay
might meet a nice woman who would like Dawn—perhaps a woman like
her mother. But the forever girl hesitated to accept that. She just
couldn’t take the chance.

Dawn contemplated these notions where she hid
under the stairs that led up to this
new
woman’s apartment.
Waiting was okay; she did a lot of waiting. And hiding too, there
was lots of that. Mr. Jay was her only friend, and she knew he
cared about her—in fact he went out of his way for her. His
thing
was beyond her and she had to learn to let it go.

This woman had caught Mr. Jay’s wandering eye
not long after the taxicab dropped them off. She was dark-haired
and of a pre-Change twenty or so—though Dawn was never good at
guessing grownup ages. This woman showed off her bumpy woman’s body
in tight black clothing and wore sunglasses.
Sunglasses
? The
forever girl couldn’t believe it. The sun hadn’t broken cloud in a
hundred years.

It was Dawn who first caught the woman’s
eye—dressed as she was as a dark-bearded midget.

“How sweet!” the woman trilled from the
doorway of a coffeehouse. “Such a cute little man.” She dropped to
her knees so quickly that it startled Dawn—her nerves still blazing
from the chase.

“Forgive me, little friend!” The woman
gasped, shocked by the speed with which Dawn had moved. The forever
girl watched her from behind Mr. Jay’s knees. “I just wanted to see
your face!” The woman rose to her full height, eyes locking on Mr.
Jay’s before exclaiming, “Your little friend is shy!”

“Wouldn’t you be?” The magician looked her up
and down replying. “Frankly, the world has become a frightening
place for
me
!”

The woman regarded him quickly before
replying, “For me also.” Her features softened as she smiled down
at Dawn’s bearded features. “I’m so sorry.”

Dawn only managed a suspicious half-smile and
growled assent before Mr. Jay began, “We’re entertainers…”

His voice took on a tone that Dawn knew all
too well. He had a voice for entertaining on the sidewalks and one
for talking to Dawn, and another voice for talking to women. After
a few minutes discussion, Dawn discovered that the woman’s name was
Carmen, was marooned in the City after the Change so long ago, and
still didn’t know if her parents in Paris were alive or dead.