Tales of the Fallen Book I: Awakenings (7 page)

When the sound finally abated, Mal found himself on his knees in the middle of what used to be the top floor of Jericho White’s office building. He was trembling, but not with fear, with power. The Blade of Undoing was still clutched in his hand and he could feel its vibration coursing through his body. It sang to him.

He stood and let the power overtake his battered body and let loose a roar loud enough for the entire city to hear.

He turned to leave, his decision made. He needed to pay an old friend a visit and thank him for all the wonderful gifts he had given him. Then Gregory would feel the sting of
undoing
. And after that Mal would seek out every last angel and undo them in turn.

Gregory was right about one thing. Mal would open the gates of Heaven, but there would be no parade of forgotten angels trailing him through. For when Mal was done slaughtering the angels here on earth he was going for the ones in Heaven.
Oh yeah
, Mal thought,
Heaven will be mine.
Because when he finished with those sons-of-bitches, he was going after God. And that motherfucker was gonna pay.

—

Daddy Demon’s Day Out

Travis watched as the claw emerged from the wall of smoke before him. The skin was green, or red, or reddish green, he couldn’t tell. Travis shrugged—it was
some
color—who cares? His nose twitched as a horrid stench invaded it, reaching deep into his body, wrapping around his brain, snaking down into his stomach, through to his lower guts and out his asshole with a meaty, slightly wet-sounding and totally violent fart. Travis blushed.

A low rumbling sound arose from the wall of smoke. “Nice one.”

All the previous
blush
left Travis’ face in a flash, replaced, instead, with a deathly pale white. “Uh-uh,” he stammered and took a step back as the claw began fanning the smoke away in a way that Travis found kind of…
girlie.

Then he heard a heavy blowing sound—like you make when blowing out a candle, only wetter—but not as wet as Travis’ earlier fart, of which he was certain there had to be visible evidence marking his shorts—and the wall of smoke began to disappear and the space was soon filled with a creature even Travis wasn’t expecting.
 

Travis stood there, his jaw hanging so low that it was possible he would begin drooling any second. Either that, or he was going to piss himself.

Travis followed the claw up and up. It flowed into an arm as big as Travis’ torso. Ridiculously defined muscles were covered with a roadwork of veins and sinew that led to the beast’s body which was easily three men wide. Well, at least two big men and maybe one skinny. And on top of the torso sat such an abortion of God’s creation Travis didn’t know whether to feel pity or scrub pots with the thing’s face. Travis’ neck began to hurt from looking up at the beast that was easily eight feet tall. He wanted to look away, but he was so entranced—or was it disgusted—that he just couldn’t. And Travis continued staring even as the massive claw—the palm of which was bigger than Travis’ head—reached out toward him. He didn’t even notice as the claw moved close, closer, so close to Travis’ face. The talons curled slightly in. And the thumb and middle finger came together and then…

…thwick…

…flicked Travis square in the forehead.

“Snap out of it, Chico,” the booming voice said flatly. “I know, I know, I’m so fucking gorgeous you just can’t stop staring, right?”

“Uh-uh,” Travis said, continuing his new adventures in eloquence.

The beast put both arms out, palms facing Travis. “Wait, wait!” he said, motioning with his hands in a, once-again, girlie way. “You think this is good? You need to see the backside.” And with that the beast jumped up, spun around in the air, landing with a resounding
thud
and cocked his ass out for Travis to see, which wasn’t hard since the creature, being eight feet tall…well…his ass was kind of right in Travis’ line of sight.

“Take a look at that, my man. Tell me that isn’t the sweetest ass you’ve ever seen on this plane or any other.”

Travis took a small step back, thought about it, and took a
big
step even further back, gave a quick nod and agreed. “Um, yeah. It’s a very…nice ass.”

The beast wiggled his glorious ass at Travis. “Damn straight, Chico. This thing is a bitch magnet.” Then he wagged it one more time, slapped it hard on the right cheek, jumped up, spun around again, and landed facing Travis, his huge, red, cat eyes focusing on the trembling little shit before him.

“Alright, Chico. What the hell do you want?”

The question snapped Travis out of his stupor and he immediately launched into his well-practiced speech: “For years I have sought the means to summon you, oh Lord. I have scoured the globe searching for the spell that would bring you to me and deliver me that which my heart so desires.” Travis emphasized parts of his speech with hand gestures that the beast deemed forced and staged. “From the great plains of Africa, to caves buried deep in the South American jungles and in the highest mountains of Asia, I have…”

“Wait a sec…”

“…killed and destroyed countless in the search for…”

“Hold on now…”

“…the one thing that would…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

One thing a person should always know when dealing with an eight-foot-tall demon, when they tell you to “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you…shut the fuck up. So that’s what Travis did.

“Look at me, Chico.” The beast leaned down so he was eye to eye with Travis. “Do I fucking look like I care what you did to summon me? Huh,
do I?”

Travis was as surprised by the question as he was by the fresh, minty breath of the beast. He kind of expected: dead, rotten meat, sulfur, a huge unwashed ass. Still, Travis was told he would have to show his dedication to the demon. Show the trials and difficulties he went through to acquire the spell and the implements needed to summon the beast. “Well, I was told I had to…”

“Yeah, yeah.” The beast stood back up to full height, rolling his eyes. “I know, you were told I need to know just how much you went through to call me, blah, fucking blah.”

“But…” Travis feebly tried to interject.

“See, Chico, you ain’t the first to call me and it’s always the same old story and I don’t really fucking care anymore. Besides, all you had to do was go to a machine at a small grocery store on 5th and 26th and the spell is in one of those temporary tattoo dispensers, you dumbass.” The beast shook his head in disgust at Travis. “So tell me what you want and we can get this shit over with.”

Travis was a little dumbfounded. He knew what he wanted, but
that
came at the end of his speech. And now he scrambled to run through his entire diatribe in his mind.
What did I want?
he thought.
Fuck!
“Well…”

But before he could get anything else out, the giant claw quickly dropped and clamped to his head. Travis soon found himself about two feet off the ground looking directly into the demon’s face, and once again, smelling his lovely, minty breath.

“And let me say this up front, Chico. It had better be fucking good or I’m gonna swallow you whole and let you pass through my digestive system alive. And believe me, there are nasty-ass things down there.” Travis’ eyes were wide with fear and he felt a nice warmth spread down his left leg. “Ever heard of a bunklewart?” Travis tried to shake his head, but since it was held firmly in place by the beast’s grip, he just sort of shook in the air like a ragdoll. “Nasty little bugger. Ate it on a dare a couple millennia ago. Little bastard is still down there. Likes to poke his head out every now and then when I take a dump. Never been able to get him out, though. You
do not
want to meet him in a dark place. And trust me, Chico, it’s damn dark all up in my hole. Know what I mean?”

Again Travis tried to nod, only hurting his neck in the process. Then the beast let go and Travis fell in a heap on the floor. He quickly gathered his legs under him and stood, brushing himself off.

“You can’t harm me. You serve me,” Travis said only half -believing what he was saying.

“Wanna try that one out?” The demon’s eyes glowed as the corners of his deformed mouth turned upward.

The grin that crossed the beast’s face told Travis that he had received some even more bad information.
Shit!
he thought. “But I thought if I called you to me you would have to do what I commanded.”

The beast huffed, disgusted. “I don’t have to do shit for you, my man. I
can
do something for you as a reward for bringing me up out of The Pit, but I don’t
have
to.”

Travis looked around confused and eventually glanced at the ground at the large circle he had put there to contain the demon. He felt a glimmer of hope. He spent years killing virgins, cremating them and gathering their ashes to form the circle. He waved his hand toward the ring of gray dust. “The Circle of Confinement bids you stay where you were summoned. You cannot…”

But before he could finish the beast dropped to his knees, leaned down and stuck his right nostril—which was about ten times the size of his left—into the circle of virgin ashes. He put all his weight on one knee, cocked his glorious ass in the air and spun himself around a full 360 degrees. It happened in a flash and when he was finished, the entire ring of ash was gone, inhaled deeply into the beast’s cavernous nostril.

“Your ‘Circle of Confinement’ blows, Chico.” And he jumped up, leaned into Travis and said softly while tapping his ash-covered nostril, “Between me and you…some of them weren’t virgins.”

Travis was stunned…all that work.

“But I wouldn’t worry about it,” consoled the demon, “pretty much impossible to find a hundred virgins these days. Shit, even back in the day it was hard to find a good crop of virgins.” The demon struck a demure pose and his voice changed to that of a young woman, “Why I assure you, sir, my yummy bits remain as kosher as the day I was born.” Then he dropped the woman act. “Meanwhile, she just got done spreading her
virginal
herpes to the entire infield of the 1919 Brooklyn Dodgers.” Then he shook his head sadly. “Women, huh?”

Travis stepped backwards, and kept moving until the back of his legs met the seat of a chair and he collapsed into its worn leather. All that he worked for, everything he had planned for so long…all for nothing. He was devastated.

The beast, seeing Travis’ hound dog expression, slowly approached him. He crouched down, tilted his head and gave Travis a look of concern. Or what he thought was one. His gnarled and lumpy face was hard to read.

“Look… Uh, what’s your name, Chico?”

Travis muttered something.

“What? Speak up, boy.”

“Travis. I said my name is Travis.”

“Well, Travis, what say you and I hit the town? See some sights, maybe a little rape, slaughter some innocents, get a cheese steak…? But between you and me, I say we get the cheese steak first. I’m freakin’ hungry. Whadda’ya say?”

Travis looked up into the demon’s grotesque face. “Do I have a choice?” he asked with a little more than a hint of bitterness in his voice.

The demon moved in close, practically touching Travis’ nose with his own. Or it might have been his cheek or lip—who knows—it all blended together into a lumpy mess. Kind of like head cheese, without the gelatinous goo to give it some shape. “Check your tone with me, little man. I’m pretty easy going, but don’t think for a minute I won’t snap your neck,” he threatened. But then he pulled back and mussed up Travis’ hair. “And besides, play along and we’ll see what we can do about these
desires
of yours.”

Travis was stunned. “You mean you still might grant me…”

“Ah, ah, ah… We’ll see. Depends on how I feel after we go apeshit out on the town. We have fun, I’ll listen to what you want. But not until then. Deal?”

Travis’ spirits soared. Finally, some hope. “Okay. Whatever you want to do.” He stood, smoothing his clothes. “Where to first?”

The demon stood to full height, put his claw to his chin and adopted a look of serious pondering. “Hmmm. You know what… I would kill for a frappuccino. Is there a Starbucks around?”

Travis let out an amused huff. “Isn’t there always?”

The demon let loose a tremendous laugh that shook the floor. “True dat, my man. True dat.” Then he slapped Travis on the back, almost knocking him to his knees. “Lead on, chico, lead on. But you might wanna change your pants…you pissed yourself.”

Travis blushed with embarrassment.

««—»»

Travis had seen some pretty sick shit. A lot of it had even been at his hands.
 
But right now, the display in front of him was rivaling even the sickest stuff he had done.

The beast sat in front of Travis consuming his fifteenth cheese steak. But Travis wasn’t sure if even one complete sandwich had made it into that atrocious mouth. The remnants of the other fourteen lay strewn in a good three-foot circle around their table. It was a blast zone of soggy bread, slimy, grilled onions and peppers mixed with some low-grade meat.