Thorn (9 page)

Marcus gracefully floated his burly body above Amy’s head, and whispered to her in his silky smooth voice. “Look at Lexa. Just look at her charm. She’s so outgoing, so good with people.” He coiled his body around her shoulders. “Why can’t you be like that, Amy?”

So they’re just here to assert their control of Amy.
That was a relief… but also sad. Thorn had been with Amy so long—on a human timescale—and knew her so well. Seeing her stuck in the rear of another social experience made Thorn long for her company as much as she longed for acceptance. Indeed, in the midst of Marcus’s followers, Thorn felt just as lost as she must have.

Other demons joined in the whispers, no doubt to mark their territory like the wolves they were.

“You ugly,” Shenzuul whispered to Amy.

Another demon drifted down to Amy’s other ear. “They like her better than you.”

Many more devils swirled around the poor girl. “You should not have worn clothes so tight.”

“They can see right through you.” A tear welled up in Amy’s eye. The further they took her from him, the more desperate Thorn grew. He wished he could slaughter them all here and now, and reclaim his favorite possession.

“Try and find a man inside,” one demon said.

“You can’t find a decent man because you are ugly.”

“Ugly, yes.”

“Both inside and out.”

“And insecure.”

“No fool in his right mind would find you attractive.”

“Hideous.”

“Why are you so ugly?”

“You’re unfathomably ugly.”

“You’re beautiful.” Time seemed to freeze. Thorn couldn’t be sure why he’d said it, but at once he found it thrilling, and terrifying. Amy immediately turned away from Lexa and looked Thorn right in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” she asked him.

The other demons had suddenly vanished. Where had they gone? Thorn checked behind him to see who Amy was talking to, but all he found was a stack of barstools.
Surely she can’t see…

When he turned back to face her, he turned a little too far, and his shoulder bumped into her. And he
felt
it. Thorn looked into her eyes again, and for the first time in thirteen years, she looked back.

“Do I know you?” she said, recognition glimmering faintly on her face.

Thorn searched for words, but remained speechless.

“Amy, come on!” Lexa called. She and Kelly were heading toward a private booth with Antonio’s crew.

“Sorry, I’ll be right there.” Amy turned back to Thorn, but this time she looked through him, at the barstools. As he watched her scan the vicinity, he noticed that the other demons were back, and completely motionless. They all gaped at him.

“Amy, what are you doing?” Lexa called.

“There was just a guy here,” Amy said. She scanned the room again and soon gave up, though Thorn still stood before her. “Huh.” She followed Lexa to the booth.

In awe, Thorn watched her go.
What…?
Even Marcus and Shenzuul appeared dumbfounded by what had just happened.

A devil moved between Amy and Thorn, blocking Thorn’s line of sight. The demon stared him up and down as if afraid to speak, then said, “You broke the Second Rule.”

How?
Thorn was still in shock.

They took him to the Judge.

Family and friends of the deceased wore grays and blacks—the same colors as the clouds above them. The cemetery had erected a pavilion over the small crowd, but despite the threatening sky, rain did not fall. At least, not yet. Thorn watched the gloomy gathering from the back seat of a car he shared with Amy and a few of her supposed friends. He’d spent the last few days with her, trying to understand what had happened Friday night.

His disgrace had been so great that his enemies had left her to him, as far as he could tell. Most of his followers had abandoned him, and Thorn feared that the next time he found himself alone, Marcus and Shenzuul would appear out of the darkness—and their faces would be the last he ever saw.

Thorn had seldom known such desperation. If he could prove he’d had no hand in what happened, his name would be cleared, and his followers, and therefore his safety, might return. So far, Amy remained as oblivious to his presence as ever. He was certain she’d seen him in the club last night, but he still had no idea
how
.

At least the Judge had sided with him. “Thorn,” he’d said, as Thorn entered the courtroom for the second time in a week, “my man. Word on the street is you revealed yourself to a human.” Thorn tried to explain himself, even boast in his defense that he’d recently killed an angel, but as usual, the Judge’s mind had been made up before the hearing even began. Only this time, the verdict was helpful. “You all tuck your ugly tails between your legs and crawl back to your holes. Or make up a better story next time. This is Thorn, my peeps. One of the baddest badasses this side of the Mississippi. If he were gonna break the Second Rule, you think he would have done it in public? Nuh-uh.”

“We saw it with our own eyes,” a demon had said. “He left our realm for physical space. She saw him.”

“Tell me then,” the Judge replied. “How did he do it?” He turned to Thorn. “If you’re hiding any superpowers, dude, I want a piece of that. Always wanted to kick a baby with my bare foot.”

Thorn had found that oddly repulsive. Perhaps his fall from grace had momentarily weakened his taste for violence.

After the hearing, Thorn waited until all had left, fearing for his safety. The Judge took notice.

“You’re welcome to spend the night,” he offered, once they were alone.

Thorn nodded his acknowledgment.

“Just tell me something though. I’ve heard the thing about you screwing over Marcus in the War in Heaven, but that’s the distant past, man. And an understandable mistake. What makes you think he wants you dead now?”

Thorn was surprised the Judge didn’t know about Thorn’s involvement in the Constantine affair. Didn’t everyone know about that? Regardless, he wasn’t in the mood to retell the tale. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Some other time.”

“You’re not off the hook, you know,” the Judge retorted. “They say you called a girl ‘beautiful.’ That might be bullshit, but they all want blood, so I’m gonna have to dole out some kind of punishment.”

Great
, Thorn thought.
At least I have something to look forward to if I live.

Thorn spent that night with the Judge’s guards at the courthouse, his mind running in circles, planning, trying not to panic. When he emerged into daylight the next morning, his few remaining followers told him the news. Madeline was dead. As she’d been leaving a movie theater, a cruel teenager had sped past her on his bike in the parking lot, screaming obscenities at her. He’d only meant to ruffle her, but her blood pressure had been so high that she’d had a heart attack; collapsed and died on the spot. Reports were that Shenzuul had been whispering to Madeline when it happened. Marcus had whispered to the kid on the bike, and had taken credit for the kill.

Now, passing the cemetery, Thorn clung to Amy like a child to a favorite toy, fearful that his prized possession would be taken from him as well. Neither Marcus nor Shenzuul had come within sight of her over the weekend, but they were no doubt plotting a grander demise for Thorn than simply stealing his key charge.

As Amy passively watched Madeline’s funeral, Thorn brooded over the old woman’s last moments. An elderly woman sitting sad and alone at a movie theater, surrounded by dozens of uncaring young people, only to walk outside and be killed by the cruel act of a young person. It was fitting, actually, given Madeline’s paranoia toward the young. Marcus had done his research. But Madeline had deserved a quiet end. She should have died alone in a hospital bed.

There were more demons than people under Madeline’s funeral pavilion. The devils savored every drop of grief the family and friends felt over her death. Thorn himself had done as much countless times before. Under different circumstances, he might have been huddling with them now.

The demons were nearly indistinguishable from the humans, with their hard faces and dark clothing. In fact, the sight of the humans’ clothes sparked a disquieting realization, a truth that Thorn had buried deep within himself. He’d told himself that because of the time he’d spent on Wall Street, he viewed his fellow demons as wearing business suits. But as he regarded Madeline’s funeral, he remembered that they weren’t business suits at all, and never had been. To Thorn, all demons wore funeral clothes. The attire of death.

Even if the Judge’s verdict put to rest any talk of Thorn breaking the Second Rule, it would do little to quiet the rumor that he had said something
kind
to Amy.

You’re beautiful.

The whole city already knew of it. It had been a lapse in judgment, he convinced himself. A hasty decision made under pressure, to reassert his control over Amy. But he’d said something an angel might say, and that was a taboo bordering on breaking the unspoken Third Rule.

Whatever it was that happened at the club
, Thorn thought,
I have to prove myself now.

As he drifted through the streets, Thorn heard a bold, familiar voice, and moved toward it. He found the source of the voice at the intersection of Pine and Peachtree: Darnell, standing on a wooden crate, sermonizing to apathetic commuters in Atlanta’s bustling Downtown business district. His shouting carried even over the din of cell phones, construction, and traffic, but he rarely earned so much as an occasional glance from a passing pedestrian. His shabby jeans, faded T-shirt, and unkempt beard lent him the appearance of a homeless man, or at the very least a repugnant bohemian.

Still, Darnell would be a grand prize for any Atlanta demon who could turn him. All of them had tried at least once, and Thorn made an attempt every week or two. Darnell was unwavering in his fight for justice, immovable in his personal morality. Despite his dingy wardrobe and his childhood in Atlanta’s slums, he held a Master’s in Philosophy from Berkeley. He was irreligious, which puzzled Atlanta’s demons, for in spite of his disbelief he was a dangerous enemy. Not because he was powerful but because he was
right
. Nearly every word he spoke was truth, and somehow no demon had ever deceived him.

Fortunately, no humans cared about an impoverished fifty-year-old shouting on a street corner. Even though demons couldn’t affect Darnell’s morals, they could influence his life choices enough that his circumstances were always dire. Preaching to the morally destitute was more important to Darnell than building a career, so ever since Thorn could remember, Darnell had been jobless, hungry, and in trouble with the police for one escapade or another. They’d once caught him pontificating in the lobby of one of the banks in Midtown. Fortunately, most passersby listened to the demons instead of Darnell. Several dozen devils were always buzzing around him.

Darnell was blunt, where the demons were subtle. He challenged, where the demons soothed. He often prattled about science, a topic of which most demons disapproved, since it incited people to question their assumptions. Fortunately most humans had been trained to look down on science as dull.

Darnell wasn’t speaking about science today, though. Thorn could scarcely believe it when he heard the words.

“It’s said that the devil’s greatest ruse was convincing the world he didn’t exist,” Darnell said, loud enough to be heard from several blocks away.

The Second Rule
, thought Thorn.

Five or six demons crawled all over Darnell whispering lies, yet he continued as if they weren’t there at all. “I say no. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing you that you are incapable of evil. ‘Evil was in slavery, evil was something Hitler did, evil is in the past. It’s not here, not now. And if it is, it’s only in the
big
things. Evil is in the golden parachutes of greedy CEOs. Or maybe in that one corrupt politician, or that criminal on the street, or that foreign genocide.’”

Amused, Thorn half-wished Marcus had been present to hear that last bit.

“But
you
. No,
you
can’t be evil. Ignoring the billion human beings around the world who live on less than a dollar a day… that’s not evil. Calling your friends with cell phones made from minerals mined by child slaves in Central Africa… that’s not evil. Hiding behind tradition, detesting anything
new
… that’s not evil either.”

“Get a job!” yelled a bystander.

“Evil knows that it’s never wrong!” Darnell called back, undaunted. “It never evaluates itself, and thus it grows entrenched. It’s everywhere, hidden from your callous eyes. Evil is a friend to both the Hamptons and the slums, to the church and to its critics, to left wing and right wing. Evil is so good at hijacking big things because no one sees the evil that lies in the small things. Evil is just as comfortable in words as in bombs. And you’re too complacent and comfortable to notice it.

“How could comfort be evil, you ask? How could apathy be evil? I guess you’ll never know until you need help from someone else. So go back to your TV. Go back to your Monday morning careers and your Friday night bars. Back to the substances you eat and drink and smoke. Go back to your easy prayers. Close your eyes! Distract yourself!”

Thorn may have been the only one present who heard him. The humans continued on just as they had, and so did the demons. All were sure they knew the rules. The world worked exactly how they decided it worked.

Thorn stopped listening to Darnell’s distinguished voice and observed the man’s body language instead. His gestures were powerful, his footing solid. His lips enunciated every syllable with enviable precision. Even the sweat on his forehead made Thorn jealous.
What purpose he has. And it’s all his own. No one chose it for him.

Even if Thorn lived another ten thousand years, would his lust for power prove a worthy purpose? The Enemy had exiled Thorn with his brothers, who had then adopted a harsh new way of living that Thorn had heeded; but did this mean his whole existence was predestined to have no ultimate meaning? “Distract yourself!” Darnell said again. But Thorn couldn’t anymore.
Why did I never consider this before?