Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) (14 page)

“Nearly 2,000 years passed, in which I did many very evil things.
 
I commanded thousands of fallen angels.
 
I created devious corporations, fostered misleading religions to dominate the people, played advisor to government leaders all over the world, assassinated human inconveniences, started wars, participated in genocides, identified and corrupted hundreds of prophets, and committed atrocious deeds that you would not be able to wrap your mind around.

“About fifty years ago, I was betrayed by a group of demons and mortals.
 
It cost many of them their lives, but they defeated me.
 
For all intents and purposes, they killed me.
 
The carnage I had wreaked upon the planet was finally at an end.
 
I could feel my essence parting from my body, the tendrils of Hell pulling me down.
 
It was then, that something whisked me away, and I was standing, face-to-face—in a manner of speaking—with the archangel, Raphael.

He told me that I had a choice: I could begin training people to change the world, just like I had with Jesus.
 
If I behaved and did as I was told, God might accept me back into His flock.
 
Or he could let me go, and I would continue my descent into Hell.
 
I gave serious thought to it.
 
I had mixed feelings about the whole affair.
 
I wanted release from the torment I was feeling.
 
On the other hand, something inside of me wanted to live and return to Heaven once more.
 
I accepted his offer, and I have been training prophets and gaining resources ever since.”

Then, Jeremiah’s phone rang.
 
He pulled it out, and before he could answer, someone on the other end started speaking very rapidly.

“I’m on my way.
 
Just make sure no one tries to stop me,” was all Jeremiah said to the other person before hanging up the phone.
 
“We have become rushed,” Jeremiah informed Alex.
 
“Hold on.”

The speedometer reached one-hundred-thirty and held there until they reached the city limits of Amarillo.
 
They had passed more than one cop on their way, who did nothing as they blew past him at sixty miles over the speed limit.
 
Jeremiah flew across town until they were in front of what looked to be a warehouse.
 
There was a scorched hole in the front of the building, and bodies were everywhere.
 
There were two shiny, black sedans parked close to the street.
 
Two other cars looked like they may have been white at one time, but their front ends were scorched.
 
There was no glass in either of them.
 
It looked like something had exploded right in front of the building and blown a big hole in one wall.

Jeremiah turned to Alex.
 
“When I get out, get into the driver’s seat.
 
If I’m not the first one you see come out, drive away as fast as you can.
 
There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Are we in danger?” Alex asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” the demon replied.

With that, Jeremiah got out of the car, shut the door, and walked toward the building.

***

Matt and Elizabeth flew down the stairs, and once to the bottom, Matt slammed his hand on the panic button.
 
He hoped that Marla would get the message and contact Jeremiah.
 
Then, they heard gunfire.
 
It was coming from right outside the door.

“Go!”
 
Matt yelled at Liz as he pointed to the door across the room.
 
Elizabeth looked at him questioningly until he said, “I’ll be all right, but you need to get out of here.
 
Unlatch the safety on the gun.
 
I’ll knock twice before coming into that room, but kill anything else that comes through without knocking.”

Elizabeth looked truly frightened, but Matt turned her toward the door and pushed.
 
She kept running in the direction Matt pushed her until she found a door.
 
She opened it, ran inside, and hid behind several stacks of boxes.
 
Her hand was trembling so; she didn’t think there was any feasible way for her to accurately shoot at something, but she nevertheless gripped the .38 so firmly that her knuckles turned white.

Matt pulled another gun from his other hip and aimed them both at the door.
 
The gunfire stopped.
 
Matt cocked his eyebrow and studied the door intently.
 
He replaced one gun, and his hand went to his waist.
 
It came back up with a grenade.

The door opened, and there were people on the other side that he had never seen before.
 
There was an instant of surprise as they watched the greenish-gray, egg-looking missile sail toward them.
 
Matt dove behind a tall stack of boxes, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the assailants also diving for cover.
 

There was a deafening explosion, and shrapnel from the grenade and the wall around the door ricocheted everywhere.
 
In fact, Matt got a generous cut across his cheek from something that had bounced his way.
 
When his hearing returned, he could make out moans and screams.
 
He examined himself, and it seemed that the only wound he’d gotten was a scratch across the cheek.
 
He peered over the boxes, and he could see injured people everywhere.

One guy was trying to help another up when a bullet from Matt’s gun fell him, as well.
 
Two more came in through the hole that used to be the door.
 
Matt put a bullet in the abdomen of the one on the right, and then, again, dropped behind the boxes.
 
It wasn’t a moment too soon, either.
 
Automatic fire began ripping the boxes apart.
 
Matt ducked and ran to the other side of the room.
 
As he did that, he put a well-placed bullet into the throat of the gunman who was firing at him.
 
He could make out a gurgle and yells from outside as another car pulled up.
 
He ran up to the door behind which Elizabeth hid and knocked twice, clearly.
 
Then, he opened the door.
 
To his horror, he saw Elizabeth standing there, and someone stood behind her with a gun to her head.

“Oh,” the burly man behind Liz growled, “you’re good.
 
But I don’t think you’re good enough to salvage this situation.
 
Drop the guns.”

Matt, who had already raised both gun-toting hands to aim directly at the mongoloid-looking individual considered this.
 
“I don’t think so.
 
You’ll kill us one way or another.
 
I can at least ask you to go down with us.”

The man smiled; his canines grew into sharp fangs, skin turned red, eyes glinted yellow, and when he spoke, gray mist poured out of his mouth and over Elizabeth’s shoulder.
 
She moaned weakly from the pain.

“Do you really think your manmade weapons can hurt
me
?” the demon hissed.
 
“I tell you what...You can drop the weapons, and I will make her death painless.
 
Or you can hold onto them, if it makes you feel better, and I will leave you paralyzed to watch the group of men, running into this building as we speak, gang rape her before I dig my fingers into your eye sockets and rip off the top half of your skull.”

Matt dropped the guns and braced for the impact he knew was coming.
 
And, sure enough, someone rammed into him from behind, sending him to the floor.
 
He fell with a grunt as the air in his lungs was pushed out, violently, by the impact.
 
Then, he was in a choke hold.
 
Elizabeth was screaming, and the demon grabbed her by the shirt and slammed her up against the wall.

“Wait!”
 
The demon yelled as he seemed to be sensing something on the air.
 
“We need to leave.
 
Release the boy.”

The men obeyed, and Matt gasped for air that didn’t want to come.

The demon released Elizabeth, who was unconscious, and moved toward Matt.
 
“Tell us where the closest exit is, or she dies.”

Matt looked to his guns and looked around at the four other people in the room besides Liz, the demon, and himself, and he decided to cooperate.
 
He got up slowly and pointed to the wall behind the demon.

“What?”
 
The demon laughed.
 
“A secret exit?”

“Of course,” Matt responded, coughing, still trying to get air.
 
“Did you expect us to leave you a trail to track us down with?”

The demon backhanded Matt and sent the prophet flying backwards into the other room.
 
Two of the monster’s goons approached Matt, drew their guns, and leveled them at him.

“It looks,” the demon mused as he entered the room with Elizabeth in tow, “like I’m about to earn a promotion.”

Matt was trying to regain his footing; that blow had really disoriented him.
 
He looked to the demon.
 
Realizing that he and Elizabeth would probably die there, Matt decided he would kill at least one of them before that happened.
 
He had lowered into a cat stance when the demon, who was grinning at the spectacle, looked past him and dropped Liz.

“Boss, I didn’t think you would be here.”

Matt spun around, and Patheus was standing there pushing his glasses farther up on his nose.

“Well,” Patheus replied, “I would imagine you don’t do very much thinking at all.
 
You have created quite a mess here that I’m going to have to clean up.”

The lesser demon looked stunned.
 
“But, Boss, I’m only doing what you ordered me to do.”

Patheus looked up at him and grinned.
 
“The confirmation wasn’t necessary, but it does piss me off a little.
 
Now, I’ll thank you to step away from the girl.”

The other demon did as he was bid, approached cautiously, and looked questioningly at his master.
 
“Wait, you’re not--”

Patheus’s right hand flew up and took hold of Shule’s lower jaw.
 
The other hand palmed his face.
 
With a single hard tug, and a sickening pop, the mandible was removed.
 
Shule stumbled backward, stunned, and looked like he was going to scream.
 
Instead, both he and Patheus burst into flames.
 

A deep, resonating voice from within the flame boomed, “You’re right.
 
I’m not.”

The two mercenaries were still holding guns on Matt when the combustion happened.
 
Their eyes went to the scene long enough for Matt to spring up and grab the barrels of both guns.
 
He snapped them—and the fingers holding them—backwards with lightning speed.
 
There was a crack from bones and tissues giving way, and the pressure fired the guns once, harmlessly, into the air.
 
In an instant, Matt had both guns, one in each hand, and shot each of the owners in the head.
 
They fell with a thump as Matt dispatched the two standing behind them.
 
He turned back to the fire, and there was only Jeremiah standing over a pile of ash.

“What took you so goddamned long?” Matt demanded.

Jeremiah suddenly looked very exhausted and frail.
 
“It looks like I got here just in time.”

“We lost ten very good men,” Matt replied.

“We’ll lose more than that,” Jeremiah contended, “if we don’t leave this place and go home.
 
You’re hurt.”

“So were we sent here to get ambushed?” Matt asked, ignoring the diversion.

“No,” Jeremiah returned, sighing.
 
“You were sent here to rendezvous with us, which you’ve done.
 
Now, we can all go, together.”