Demon (30 page)

You can't kill this one, Mike,
he thought.
No shit.

He holstered the gun and carried the CO
₂
bottle like a staff in both hands. Through a watertight door, Mike saw several more bodies. He slowed and waited for them to spring up and fly at him.

They didn't.

He walked between them, cautiously, sweat dripping from his face, expecting their hands to grasp his ankles at any moment.

They didn't.

Mike breathed easier once he had the bodies safely behind him. Even then, though, thoughts of dead bodies springing to life behind him coursed through his mind.

The passageway hooked left and then right. Mike passed a room with
SUPPLY
engraved on a brass plaque on the door. As he turned right, Mike stepped over a knee knocker and into another passageway leading past frame fourteen.

Almost at the front of the ship, Mike saw Schiffer sitting on top of a hatch, fiddling with a combination lock. No other bodies lay within sight, so Mike lowered the CO
₂
bottle to the deck and drew the Beretta and aimed it at Schiffer's head.

He approached slowly, the gun steady in his hands. When he was within six feet, Schiffer looked up, and it took all of Mike's composure and experience not to scream.

The skin on Schiffer's hands had apparently fallen off or disappeared or whatever skin did when it was no longer needed. So had the muscles and tendons and ligaments. All that remained were the small bones of the hands—the carpals and metacarpals and phalanges.

Mike fired three rounds: one in the forehead and two in the chest. Schiffer responded by scratching at the new wounds briefly before returning to the lock, as if the bullets piercing him had been nothing more than a brief annoyance. Mike went to fire another round but froze, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

You can't kill this one.

He watched the bony digits fiddle with the combination lock as Schiffer's eyes locked on him. Pieces of skin on the man's face had also vanished, exposing muscles around the cheekbones and jaw, as if someone had driven by and flayed certain pieces only to drive off.

“I believe I have run out of escape routes,” Schiffer said.

Only it didn't sound like Schiffer. At least not the Schiffer Mike had talked to. The voice was deeper now, almost guttural. As if the person—or thing, if it was a thing—spoke with his stomach instead of a mouth.

Mike kept the gun level and pointed. “Looks that way.”

“It also appears your path has come to an end.”

Mike shrugged. “Maybe it has.”

“It has.”

You can't kill this one.

“Well, then, what happens next?”

Schiffer shook his head. “Why are you not afraid?”

“Oh, I'm afraid.” Mike had broken out in cold sweats from trying to keep from shaking.

“Why did you not flee then?”

“Not an option.”

“Even when the bodies attacked you, you fought them off and still pursued me.”

“Is that what you wanted, me to run away?”

“It would have been better for me, yes.”

“Why's that?”

“You would not comprehend it.”

Mike glanced at his watch and knew he still had to buy more time. “Try me.”

Schiffer held his boney right hand up. “This body is not my true form. It is merely a vessel.”

“Because you're a demon.”

If looks could kill, Schiffer's would have torn Mike's heart out. “I am no demon, human.”

“Well, excuse me all to hell.”

Schiffer spat and said something in a language Mike had never heard before. More skin fell from his face.

“I am what you clay people call an ‘angel.' A Throne to be exact.”

Mike's hair wanted to stand on end. He wanted to run, but the fact that he needed more time, that the crew needed more time, cemented him in place.

“Bullshit,” Mike said. “Angels don't possess people.”

“Not all angels like humans.”

“Is that why you were imprisoned?”

Schiffer looked away. “You have seen it?”

“Box under the sand made of weird material and tons of unknown writing carved into the walls. Yeah, I've seen it.”

“The writing is angelic. My crimes and punishment carved over and over. A reminder for eternity.”

Need to keep him talking,
Mike thought. “So, what'd you do?”

“Rebelled.” Schiffer looked at his hands and his body. “I sided against mankind. And we lost. I was stripped of my light and imprisoned beneath mankind as punishment. I cannot exist outside of the prison unless I inhabit a human vessel. And I can inhabit a vessel for only a short time before it decomposes.”

“And if it decomposes, you go back to prison.”

“Or I invade another body and defeat the soul.”

Mike lowered his gun, his hands shaking. “So I guess I'm your next vessel.”

Schiffer nodded. “You should have run away.”

“Why, if you need me?”

“Because each battle weakens me. I have almost lost several fights already. And I am not confident what the outcome with yours will be, you who pursues angels.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Mike squatted and looked at his watch. Only a few more minutes. “Why does everyone kill each other?”

More skin fell from Schiffer's face and arms. All of his teeth were visible. “Part of the punishment. Where I dwell, chaos reigns. When I fight the soul, chaos destroys everyone near. When I am victorious, chaos destroys the host.”

Mike sighed. “Sounds like you were better off in prison.”

“Man was better off with me in prison.” Schiffer closed his eyes. “God chose you above the rest of us, honored you by creating you in His image, allowed you to choose whether you even believe in Him or not. Angels know He exists and when we protested that decision, when we executed our free will not to bow before you, we were punished harsher than your ancestors who fell in the Garden. And now you sit here before me and say it would be better for me in my prison. Well, human, I am no longer cold and alone.”

Mike looked around and then back at Schiffer. “You got buddies here?”

“What?”

“Well, you said you're not cold and alone. Don't know what that means, but I got news for you; you're alone. And if temperature has anything to do with it, well, buy a heater.”

Schiffer sprang forward and got nose to nose with Mike. “I have been cut off from
God
! Forsaken! Abandoned! You do not know what that feels like because you do not even know if He exists! But I do, and it is a fate worse than hell!”

Mike refused to blink even though his insides softened like jelly. “And do you feel God now, demon?”

Schiffer gritted his teeth and Mike saw all of them rub together.

“Your soul will soon feel me, human.”

“So, you're real. And heaven's real. And hell—”

“Is real.”

It's real,
Mike thought.
And what happens to a natural-born killer when he dies?

Mike remembered the people he had killed and wondered how he would be judged as a result. Was he righteous or just a devil with a gun? Knowing now there was more than his conscience to battle scared the hell out of him. But he could change it, right? He could be the good shepherd from now on.

“You can't judge yourself.”
Gunny Lowe's voice echoed in his head.
“But you will be judged.”

Mike's radio crackled. “Mike, it's Temms. All personnel are clear of the ship.”

Schiffer looked at the radio and then back to Mike. “What did he say?”

Mike smiled, relief pumping through his veins. “Everyone's off the ship. Well, everyone but me. Looks like I'm your last stop.”

Schiffer backed away and fell on his ass. “Gone?”

Mike nodded. “Yep.”

“It is over.” Schiffer buried his face in his boney hands. “That is why you came down here? To distract me?”

“Well, I came to keep you from making everyone go bat-shit crazy and kill each other. I didn't understand the whole body-jumping thing at the time. Figured I could occupy you long enough for them to get off.”

Schiffer lifted his head. Almost all the skin on his face was gone. “You chose to sacrifice yourself to save them.”

Mike shrugged. “Didn't look at it that way. I can't kill you, so I kill myself to win.”

“But you came nonetheless.”

“I don't care if I die or not. Those people do. If some demon kills me, so what? I've been dying on the inside for a long time.”

Schiffer chuckled. “My name is Semyaza, human.”

“Mike.” He felt suddenly uncomfortable at the laughter. “What's so funny?”

“Besides the fact that you are the first human I have ever talked to? Someone told me man would best me, defeat me. I assumed it would be an actual battle. Flesh against flesh. I did not expect a man to willingly give himself to me, so to speak.”

Mike nodded. “I see. So does that mean you're giving up?”

“I could take your body but I'd have nowhere to go. Stuck at sea with no other possible vessels after you and this one rapidly decomposing. I am doomed, Mike.”

Mike didn't say anything.

“I finally see what makes you humans so special.”

“What's that?” Mike said.

“Your ignorance.”

Now Mike chuckled.

“You laugh, but it is true. Your ignorance is what allows you to make sacrifices. Angels do not die for one another because we do not die. Therefore, we do not sacrifice for one another. We follow orders. We can make choices, but faith does not matter to us. In my case, pride was my downfall because I was not willing to have faith in man. I refused to sacrifice position for you.

“If humans knew without a doubt their souls lived beyond their flesh, would people still willingly take that leap? Would they still sacrifice what is sacred, or would they become more reckless with their mortal possessions? If you knew what I know, I doubt you would have risked your life for all those people because you would know that there is more beyond this realm.”

Mike rubbed his head, trying to comprehend everything he'd just heard.

Semyaza chuckled again. “Do not try to understand it all. Just know I refused to sacrifice my position in favor of man. I thought man was nothing more than an animated ball of clay. I see now you are more complex. You sacrifice for the good of others. Faith does not matter to angels, but trust does. I wish I had maintained my trust. My loyalty. For that, I am sorry.”

Mike only nodded.

Semyaza looked at his hands and flexed his fingers. “I am tired of this existence, Mike. And I think I am going to surrender it now.”

“Okay.” Sweat dripped from Mike's face.

“I would put that gun out of arm's reach. When I release my grip, chaos will reign for a few moments until I am away from here. I would hate to have shared this conversation with you only to see you kill yourself.”

Mike nodded and flipped the safety on the Beretta and slid it across the deck away from him.

“Good-bye,” Semyaza said.

Mike said half a syllable, when his world went dark.

CHAPTER FORTY

T
he trance broke and Mike found himself kneeling in front of a bulkhead, his hands braced on it, and his head reared back as if prepared to head butt the steel.

Dizzy, exhausted, and drained, Mike pushed off the wall and landed on his ass and sucked in a deep lungful of air. To his right he saw Schiffer slumped over; all of the flesh and muscle had dissolved into powder on the deck around his skeleton.

“It's over.” Mike wiped the sweat from his face with both hands. “I hope.”

He found the radio on the deck a few feet away. He crawled over and picked it up and cued it. “Captain Temms.”

“Mike?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, we figured you were dead when you didn't respond.”

“I was in the middle of something.”

Temms paused on the other end and then said, “Is it over?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“How do you know?”

“Long story.”

“What was it?”

Mike glanced at the skeleton. “Long story. I'd say it's probably safe to come on board but would wait awhile longer. I'll stay here and see what happens.”

“All right, Mike. We'll stay a few hundred yards off the ship.”

“Okay.” Mike sat up quickly. “Hey, that sub isn't getting ready to sink me is it?”

“No,” Temms said. “We haven't called it in yet. I'll take care of it.”

“Don't sink my ass.”

Temms laughed. “We'll do our best.”

Mike set the radio down.

“It doesn't matter how many I kill,” Mike said, looking at Schiffer's remains.

For the first time in a long time, the weight of so many ghosts on his shoulders lifted. He sighed and closed his eyes.

S
emyaza found himself teetering on the edge of a cliff above a dark chasm. Around him, the blackness of damnation watched in silence. He looked down at himself and found he had been given his true form back.

“You look surprised, Semyaza.”

He found Uriel standing at his side, appearing in the human form he had chosen earlier.

“This is not my prison.”

“No,” Uriel said. “It is not.”

“What is happening, Uriel?”

“I told you man would best you.”

“Yes, you did. But you also said I would return to my prison.”

Uriel shrugged. “Things have changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were penitent, Semyaza. At last you recognized the folly of your pride. You have earned your freedom from your prison and will be judged.”

Semyaza tried to say something but could not. “I . . . I . . . you mean, I am being damned?”

Uriel nodded. “I am sorry, Semyaza. You have earned judgment, but you have also earned your place in hell.”