Good Intentions 3: Personal Demons (40 page)

Her vision returned to more immediate matters. Her subjects knelt and waited. They’d been ready to do that the first time she touched the crown, but none of the rest of this happened before.

Baal had been weakened before the fight,
she remembered.
He’d come to the mortal world to inhabit a mortal body, which I destroyed. Then he opened a spontaneous portal from these plains. So much power expended, and then he was slain by an angel’s blade. He’d been weakened. The crown has had this time to recover. All this time, and all this blood…

Lorelei held the crown to her lips and blew across it a soft, cleansing flame. The fire came so easily now. Blood and debris burned away, leaving the metal red hot in her hands. It didn’t burn her at all.

She placed it upon her head.

No one spoke. Across the Ashen Plain, she heard only the soft whistle of the wind. So much for the better. She didn’t want to hear any cheering.

Then a low moan of pain broke the silence. Lorelei glanced over to Terrez, who lay on his back in a gory, bloody mess. “Hank, finish your meal,” she said absently. The general’s eyes went wide with fear and shock in the single heartbeat between her words and Hank’s eager return to his ravenous work.

“Does anyone else need a lesson in etiquette?” she asked. Her words echoed across the plain. No one spoke. No one dared. As it should be.

She considered her thoughts again. Considered herself. As her eyes wandered, they fell upon an incubus kneeling before her. He was undeniably handsome, his chiseled body clad in only a loincloth. She couldn’t remember his name. It didn’t really matter. The sight of him reminded her of the hunger of lust. She still felt that. She still felt that mystic connection to her prey…
but only the one connection
, she thought with a flash of sadness, and then building anger.

This power had not come without cost, and that cost filled her with rage. “I will not be the only one to pay for this,” she hissed to herself.

“Scouts!” she called. A dozen winged demons stood from the crowd, some with human bodies like her own and others in a variety of far more twisted shapes. “Somewhere in the realm of Sammael, you will find Lydia. Sammael himself is not there. You will find her and bring her to me, wherever I am.” Several of them blinked in surprise and apprehension. Others hid it well, but she knew they all hesitated. “Go.”

Lorelei felt the heat of the crown resting on her head as she spoke and as the scouts took to the air. Not one objected. All of them flew quickly. Soon, each of them faded from sight as they wrapped themselves in powers of stealth.

“Seers,” she beckoned. A handful of advisors crept forth, most of them badly wounded. Such demons were not meant for extended fighting. She felt no pity for them. “Is this everyone? What of Baal’s servants in the mortal world? Did they return?”

Robed heads twisted and turned, looking over the kneeling horde. “No, Lady Lorelei,” said one. “Your command to fight for the crown reached every corner of your realm, but not the world beyond.”

Her eyes narrowed. She remembered this one. He’d been a close advisor of Baal. That meant he doubtlessly remembered her service to his old master very well. She hated him for that.

Not important now,
she reminded herself.
He’s not the one who cost you so dearly. You’ll have your revenge against him later.

“Recall them,” ordered Lorelei. “Now. All of them. They will drop whatever they are doing. I care not what it costs me in the mortal realm. Bring them back now.”

The seers shuffled together. Their body language suggested doubt and surprise, but none objected. Lorelei turned her attention to the thousands of remaining demons. “I have no speech for you. I bring only commands. Rest. Recover. In two hours, we go to war. Every one of you will march and fight.”

She finally heard gasps of surprise. A few heads turned as demons looked to their neighbors to share their shock and doubt. Most thought Lorelei’s imperious glare kept the crowd silent, but she knew it was the power of the crown. She felt it heat up around her head again as her servants obeyed and stifled any dissent.

In the few moments since she’d first touched the crown, she’d learned much of its nature. Her new knowledge gave her the slightest glimmer of hope.

“My lady Lorelei,” ventured a demon to her side. Kierrk once again mindfully kept his face pushed to the ground in a display of submission. “What of the Damned? Is it your wish to leave the lake and the forges untended?”

“Yes,” she replied. “The lake and forges have gone untended this long. They can wait a while longer.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Although we’ll need a battering ram.”

He didn’t know what the old flatbed truck carried. It reminded him of the trucks he’d seen in his last war—or two wars, really. Crates and boxes lined the covered cargo bed. Most of them sat under tarps. Everything had been loaded up before he approached the driver in the shadows of a garage in west Damascus before sunset.

Omar’s French was better than his English. Alex knew that before the two spoke, thanks to the angelic travel agent that brought him to a man who could get him out of Syria without trouble. He wouldn’t even ask for money. All Alex had to do was hide behind the cargo and not make any noise, especially at the border. Omar would take care of the rest. “Less than one hour to the border,” he said. “If there is no trouble, God willing.”

Thankfully, Rachel’s presence meant Alex didn’t have to spend the whole trip huddled under cover. She kept him concealed from mortal eyes, along with keeping him warm. Both of these things together meant they could at least sit out in the open and watch the city and then the countryside go by through the open back end of the cargo bed.

“It seems crazy to ask this guy for a ride when I wasn’t supposed to say anything to the first truck driver,” said Alex. City lights receded in the distance. Traffic grew sparse. The truck moved at a decent clip, but it wasn’t as fast as the more modern cars on the highway. At least the roads weren’t crowded. Before long, they’d become practically deserted.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t really argue with a guardian’s judgment on these things, though. If they say ask permission, we gotta do it. If they say be ghosts, then we’re ghosts.” She nudged his shoulder with hers, drawing his eyes to her grin. “I’m just sad there aren’t any good spots in here for a quickie. You don’t even have to drive this time.”

Alex chuckled. “I love you.”

“You’d better. It’s not like your other girlfriends give you dirty road sex.”

Alex looked over the cargo bed again. “If you really want to, there’s enough room down the middle here,” he noted. “Wouldn’t be very comfortable, but…”

“Oh, you insatiable slut,” Rachel laughed.

“What can I say? I’m cursed. And now here you are, teasing and mocking my condition.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, poking him. “We can’t do it here, anyway.”

“Why? Not enough time?”

“
Ana juxane
,” said a light, feminine voice that wasn’t Rachel’s. A prompt “Shhh” followed. Alex listened and turned around the other way. One of the tarps hanging over the truck’s cargo fell short of reaching the floor, allowing him to briefly catch sight of a child’s hand. It only came into sight as the truck shifted and then pulled back under cover once more.

Alex turned to Rachel with a questioning look. She gave a guilty shrug. “They can’t hear us. But I’m for keeping it PG-13 in here anyway, y’know?”

“I’m on board with that.” Despite knowing Rachel could keep them both concealed, Alex lowered his voice. “How many people are in here?”

“Only mom and her daughter there.” She seemed a bit sad as she turned to look out the back of the truck again. Alex joined her.

The early evening darkness offered little to see at first. Then, all too suddenly, it offered too much. A pair of headlights blinked on along the side of the road. A cloud of dust billowed up from behind the lights as the car peeled out to follow the truck. “Fuck,” grunted Rachel. Only a few seconds later, the truck slowed considerably.

Alex didn’t need to ask if this was trouble. “How many are there?” he asked. “Gotta be some up front to stop the truck, too, right?”

Rachel winced. “I’m sorry,” she said.

The truck’s engine shut off. Alex heard car doors open and shut not far away. The car right in front of him opened up to release a pair of men with AK-47s. The one on Alex’s right leaned around to look up along the side of the truck, presumably to watch for the truck driver. The one on the left strode up to the tailgate.

“You can’t do anything?” Alex hissed.

Rachel squeezed his hand. “No.”

He looked at the men again. Neither of them wore uniforms, nor was that any sort of military or police vehicle. It was a plain old hatchback, maybe even older than Alex. “These guys are just ordinary dudes?” he whispered. Rachel gave neither a nod nor shake of her head. She only gave another stoic, apologetic look.

He didn’t need further explanation. She couldn’t give it, anyway. This was probably bad, and whatever inexplicable rules she had to follow as an angel meant she could not interfere.

Even without all his faint, spotty memories of previous lives to help him, Alex could figure this out quickly enough: desperate times, crumbling government control, and a lonely stretch of road. “We’re getting
jacked
?”

One of the men set his foot on the bumper and grabbed the top of the tailgate. Rachel tugged Alex over to get him out of the man’s way. “All I can do is hide you,” she whispered. “Fucking damn it, I’m sorry.”

The men outside the truck talked. Alex heard the truck driver’s door shut. A voice barked orders. The one in the cargo bed pulled a tarp loose and looked over the markings on the boxes. It was all in Arabic, so Alex had no clue what anything was. The stranger took mild interest.

“Can’t the driver’s angel help him?” asked Alex.

“Not if she isn’t here. And I can’t interfere in this. It’s stupid, complicated
shit
.”

He scowled. The bandit—someone Alex used to be decided these men were “bandits,” though the term “highwayman” rattled around in his head, too—popped open a couple more of the boxes. He wasn’t taking his time.

“You can’t, but I can, right?” Alex looked from Rachel to the bandit and back again. The bandit was only a step and a half away. Rachel’s expression hinted at more complications—but not an outright “no.”

The bandit announced something in Arabic. From outside the cargo bed, Alex heard a thump, an “Oof!” and the shuffle of someone trying to stay upright and failing. The bandit turned around and put his hand on the tarp covering the truck’s other hidden passengers.

He froze when he felt the blade at his throat. The bandit never saw it coming, and had no plan for what to do about it.

In truth, neither did the sword’s owner. Alex clenched his teeth, not knowing what else he could possibly do when he’d stood up and left Rachel’s protection. She stayed curled up against the tailgate, watching without comment or interference.

Alex cursed silently. He couldn’t do
nothing
, so he was stuck with whatever this would become.

This guy and the other by the car
, he thought.
Gotta be at least two up front, maybe more
. In the two seconds since he’d stood up, Alex realized he had to follow through. He grabbed the bandit’s rifle with his free hand, whipped the blade of the gladius away from the man’s neck and slammed the pommel into the side of his head.

It would have to be enough. Alex didn’t wait as the man fell out the back. He planted one foot on the tailgate to leap out, going right by Rachel on his way to take out the next enemy. The second bandit looked up as he heard the ruckus, but didn’t get out a warning cry, let alone a shot from his weapon. His first glance at Alex included the sight of an AK-47’s wooden stock swinging into his face at a brutal arc.

The impact nearly broke his jaw, but it didn’t put him out of the fight. The force of his head landing on the pavement did that.

Two down. Alex kicked the second man’s rifle away and made one quick peek around the side of the truck. He couldn’t see the driver, nor the other bandits, but they had to be up there. As long as he heard them talking, he knew he still had the drop on them. It wouldn’t last long. Alex moved quietly, taking the sort of careful, measured steps he’d learned as other men. Most such experience didn’t benefit from clear, flat concrete to walk on.

The driver knelt before his own truck with his hands behind his head. Only two men stood over him, one looking through his wallet and the other keeping a skittish, easily distracted watch over their prisoner. Alex took advantage over the latter, rushing in to slam the butt of his rifle up under the man’s jaw. Such an uppercut from an open hand could knock a man out; a solid weapon was even better for the job.

Three down. He leveled the rifle at the last. “Hands up,” he ordered. “Drop it all. Hands up!”

The fourth bandit looked at Alex in complete shock. He didn’t move.

“Now!” Alex roared.

He got the message. The bandit’s rifle and the stolen wallet in his hands both fell to the pavement.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked in French, not fully turning his head to the driver. “Omar?”

“Y-yes. I am okay.”

“Good.” He stepped up to the last bandit standing and nudged him back before kicking the man’s gun off the side of the road. “I need you to translate for me.”

“What’re you gonna do?” asked Rachel. Alex blinked, realizing she stood next to him. She’d probably been at his side the whole time.

He turned his attention back to the last bandit. “Highway robbery.”

Three minutes later, Alex watched from the back of the flatbed as the four men kneeling on the side of the road shrank in the distance. He laid the AK-47 aside, satisfied that he wouldn’t need it now. The attackers wouldn’t be able to give chase, anyway. Not before they changed out the flattened tires of their vehicles.

“White savior complex my ass,” Alex grumbled.

He looked over to Rachel, who’d taken up her spot again. He gestured to the covered tarp that still hid Omar’s other passengers and raised his eyebrows with an unspoken question.

“We can talk,” she said. “They know you’re here now, but I can cover up our conversation.”

He looked down to the pile of wallets, guns, and other loot by his lap. The biggest prize sat in a transparent plastic box. Alex figured even bandits had to eat. He hadn’t expected Tupperware. His last meal had come from a drive-thru on the way to the casino with Molly and Onyx. Despite Rachel’s aid, the food inside the plastic box practically called to him.

Alex slid the lunch under the tarp to his side. A pair of hands snatched it up immediately.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“What? No. Fuck no. Are you kidding?”

He shrugged. “You aren’t always easy to read. And you said you couldn’t interfere. Did I put you in a bind with this?”

“No. You’re a mortal. You made your own decisions. Like I knew you would. This will get around and maybe I’ll take some shit for it from other angels, but fuck ‘em. I kept out of it and we’re only here by extraordinarily fucked up circumstances, anyway.”

Alex listened as he sorted through the wallets. He suspected the cash wasn’t exclusively from one country or another. Even with the same Arabic numerals used in the US, he had no clue if the haul amounted to much. Still, it had to be better than nothing.

“You’ve stepped in before, though,” he said. “You jumped in the first time I was kidnapped, and those were ordinary jerk-off criminals like these dudes. And you got into the fight when you found me in the desert. Weren’t those guys mortals, too?”

“More or less,” she answered reluctantly. “That wasn’t as complicated, though.”

Alex slid the collected cash under the tarp. It, too, was promptly claimed. He heard nothing in response. He couldn’t blame them for staying hidden.

That thought prompted another. He looked to Rachel. “Did those guys still have angels?” he asked in shock.

She winced. “Aw, for fuck’s sake, babe…”

“They did, didn’t they? How the—Rachel, how the hell do guys like that still have guardians when they’re pulling people over and robbing them? And maybe worse?”

“Alex, it’s a war. Shit’s fucked up for everyone. People are just tryin’ to get by. How many shitty things do you think you did back in the day?”

His jaw dropped. “But I—” he began, and then stopped.

He’d been a Viking raider. A Roman legionnaire in the conquest of Gaul. All of that and more. The small collection of guns and wallets on the floor between him and the angel silently attested to old habits.

“You never did anything
unforgivable
, Alex,” said Rachel. “If you had, you wouldn’t be here now at all. You shouldn’t second-guess yourself about it, either. Not in a whole ‘nother life. Those were different times. You did the best you could to be a good man back then, just like you do now.”

She answered his stunned silence with a shrug. “Like I said, it’s complicated. And that’s way more than I ever wanted you to know in the first place.”

Alex swallowed hard. He looked out the back of the truck again, but their attackers were now long out of sight. “I almost killed all four of those guys,” he said. “Part of me felt stupid as hell for
not
taking them out.”

“Yeah. I knew that might happen.”

“And you wouldn’t have stopped me?”

“No,” she said. “That’s not how this works. But I wasn’t worried about you going too far one way or the other. I believe in you, Alex.”

Something inside him melted. Her presence and her touch could heal his wounds and even his psyche. Rachel effortlessly chased away fear, fatigue, and injury, but her divine powers rarely
resolved
the things that troubled him. Often enough, she did that with the same love as any ordinary mortal.